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pinkrelish · 2 years ago

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𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬.

ex-con!linecook!eddie x fem!reader

✶Steve messed up. He assured you over and over again that you could have the spare bedroom in his apartment, but while you took your time mulling over his offer, someone else moved in: his down-and-out best friend who needed a place to stay. When you show up at Steve's door with little warning due to your job relocating you, he suggests you and Eddie share the bedroom. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Besides the fact Eddie hated you, and in turn, you hated Eddie.✶

NSFW — smut, masturbation, eddie watches porn, dry humping, cumming in pants, reader flashes her bra & wears a pencil skirt, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, there was only one bed(room)

↳ teaser oneshot | [wc: 9.3k] | series tba!

⋅line cook hc from @bewilderedbunny⋅

Steve was a nice guy. Really.

He was your pen pal since meeting at summer camp when you were both eight-years-old. He was sweet, and wrote you back within a week, without fail. He was your first kiss one sweltering afternoon on the dock over the lake; a quick peck when the counselors weren’t looking. He was one of your first contacts in your flip phone, and his picture occupied the first circle when you got a smartphone, after pestering him to meet up with you in Indianapolis, snapping the pic at a crosswalk; a day where your conversations spanned nothing and everything. What was there to talk about when you talked via pencil, pen, markers, emojis, and photos for years, and suddenly forgot the past decade when you encircled your arms around each other?

He was a nice guy throughout all of college. He’d text you during class. You’d text him from states away, falling asleep at your dormroom desk. He worked at his father’s business. You started as an unpaid intern collecting coffee orders, and pulling all-nighters doing spreadsheet grunt work your superiors didn’t deem worthy of their time.

Stevie 🌞: just quit your job and live with me!

Stevie 🌞: I still have that spare bedroom

Stevie 🌞: rent free

Year after year, you always declined. Climbing the ranks at your job was important to you; and one day it paid off. They were relocating you to the Chicago, and if you didn’t take their pitiful relocation package, you’d get a decent advance on your next paycheck (which was dire considering your salary was roughly the same, despite the ever increasing cost of living); and knowing Steve always had that spare furnished bedroom, and most of your belongings could fit into your car (as long as you didn’t need to see out the rear window), it seemed like a done deal.

Until you surprised him.

You: hey! can i move in w you? my jobs relocating me to chicago and i might already be two hours out. sorry i didn’t text sooner. i had to leave my apartment asap. fuck paying for the damage cindy’s doberman did to that place 😬

Stevie 🌞: Lets talk when you get here

Stevie 🌞: I’ll meet you for coffee

Let’s talk? Never a good sign, even when he was smiling at you from over his latte.

————

“My friend needed the spare room, but he’s a good guy, I swear,” he told you.

“He’s just a little rough around the edges,” he told you.

“He’s understanding; I’m sure you two will get along,” he told you.

“He can make space in the closet for your stuff, and one of you can sleep on the couch,” he told you. “Maybe you can alternate! Bed, couch. It's not like I’m charging him rent, so he should be cool with you living with us until you can afford to move out, or whatever. No big deal. I don’t really care when, you know that. No rush.”

Right. Just share the room.

You weren’t present for the conversation; Steve and Eddie were in the bedroom while you stood awkwardly in the living room, but the result of the exchange made quite the first impression.

“I dunno,” Steve’s voice carried, “maybe you could work something out like you get the room Monday through Wednesday, and she gets it Thursday through Saturday. Sunday’s up in the air?”

“Oh, just share the room like I used to, huh?” Eddie asked, alluding to the life he lived several months ago. “Finally got some privacy to breathe around here, and now you’ve invited some chick to live with us without telling me? Actually–no–you invited her to live here. In my room. No heads up.”

Steve’s wince was audible in his heavy sigh. “You work weird hours, you probably won’t even have to interact with her. C’mon, man. She’s been my friend since we were kids, and it’s just until she finds her own place. She’s cool. She’ll sleep on the couch, or whatever if it really bothers you; just like, let her keep her clothes and shit in here, and let her use the computer for work.”

“Whatever, man.”

“Eddie, wait!”

Thunderous footsteps and a seething, “Fuck this,” followed the heightened emotions, and before you could straighten your spine, you were introduced to your new roommate.

His pace faltered, not expecting you to be standing there. The fine wrinkles in the outer corner of his eyes pinched tighter, and his long hair flowed around a faded black snake tattoo on his throat, stretching across the strained tendons it was inked over, reaching the twitching muscle in his jaw from his clenched teeth. It took him a narrow-eyed glance to sum you and your pink luggage up, and place you firmly in the ‘I don’t like you’ category in his mind, and he continued his march.

“Hi! I’m–”

Your outstretched hand went ignored as he passed you.

He shoved on his boots, and slammed the front door behind him, rattling every piece of metal in the apartment. You stared at where he was just standing, vision marked with a black silhouette of the good guy you’d be sharing intimate space with for the next.. however long, and still with your hand out, you swiveled to Steve. “Yeah, he seems nice.”

————

Eddie Munson glared at your very existence. He wore a permanent crease between his brows when you were in his vicinity. Apprehension tensed his muscles when your soft gaze slid from Steve, to him. There was distaste in his frown. He rolled his eyes when you laughed too loud at the TV. His voice was vitriol, words clipped when he had to speak to you. His shoulders hiked to his ears when you entered the kitchen for a glass of water and caught him mid-chew on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich after he got home from work. When it was your turn to sleep in the bed, he made it a point to come home as loud as possible–yanking open the drawers on the dresser, waking the computer to blazing home screen, and leaving the light on when he went to shower across the hallway, pretending he didn’t hear you grumble at him to turn it off.

You wore a sleep mask to bed after that.

And when you slept on the couch, it was the only time he cooked for himself. Scraping pans across the burners, clinking silverware, gathering his hair off his neck and twisting it between his laced fingers, creating a cradle for him to drop his head back and sigh at the ceiling, just loud enough to stir you from your sleep.

You wore earplugs to bed after that.

Eddie Munson made it known you were not welcomed in his territory, and saw your accidental warm smile thrown vaguely in his direction as a threat to his well being.

But as much as he ensured misery every second you had the fortune of spending in his presence, you weren’t so innocent of terrorizing his every waking moment either..

Soon, Monday through Wednesday, and Thursday through Saturday, and a chance at a lazy Sunday were not enough.

————

When Steve was home, he acted as the mediator when it came to you two being at each other’s throats after another vicious stare-off. Currently, Eddie was standing with his arms crossed, leaned against the counter with his cheeks darkened to a fleshy red, and you were pacing the kitchen, wrapped in a bath towel, stating your case to Steve. You argued since most of the hair clogging the drain belonged to Eddie, he should be the one to clean it. And Steve, not knowing how to interpret Eddie’s steely focus on the fridge as if you didn’t exist, nor the fact a woman was dripping wet and yelling at him, he put his hands up in defense.

He edged away from your ire until he was at the cabinet housing a toothpick dispenser, and depressed the mechanism for one to roll out. He snapped it, put his hands behind his back, and shuffled the two ends into his palm, and had you choose one. Eddie kept his gaze averted, but grasped the other.

You held the long end of the toothpick above your head with a smile to rival the kitchen’s daylight bulbs searing into your retinas. You were the winner, and Eddie was the loser who had to clean the bathroom.

This worked swell when Steve was around to mitigate the tension. But when he was on a business trip, or out on a date, the Bed Schedule was a formality at best, and largely ignored at worst.

Meaning, the bets, deals, and favors began.

They started small: Rock, paper, scissors; winner gets dibs on those just-washed sheets. Flip a coin and see who has to rough it in the living room for the next two nights. Draw the shorter toothpick and try not to stab it in Eddie’s eye when he smirked.

But those were childish games. It was the deals and favors that proved more interesting.

“Can you help me punch holes in these?” you asked, voice high and urgent as you rushed to grab your color coded pie charts from the printer and clip them into a presentation binder.

He scoffed from the bedroom doorway, smelling of fryer oil and bacon grease. “What makes you think I want to help you after cooking for assholes all night?”

“Because you’re nice, and you love me.”

“I despise you,” he corrected, crossing his arms tight over his chest. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while you organized the pages, resisting the bait to give him what he wants, but you knew in your heart it was the only way to not be late for work this morning.

“Fine. You can have the bed tonight.”

He stayed put. “Nope. You know I’m working the overnight shift until Thursday.” That way, he slept while you were at work, and you slept while he was at work.

You glanced at the blue dawn creeping in from the window, then red the time on your watch. “Okay, fine, whatever! Have it all next week. I don’t give a fuck, just help me!”

Reveling in his victory, his plush lips stretched into a wide grin, showing too much teeth. He sauntered at his leisure, closing his eyes half-way, and gazing at you down the long slope of his nose. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he mocked.

You wanted to strangle him.

–And another time–

“Shut the fuck up for an entire day, and you can have to whole fucking closet,” Eddie snapped after your fifth instance of complaining about your professional office clothes not having available hangers due to him taking them for his old, ratty band tees.

Centering yourself, you brushed the dust off your favorite pants after finding them wadded up on the floor, and whispered, “I hope a rogue knife finds its way into your thumb again tomorrow.”

You swore you saw his hand flex out the corner of your eye, reacting to your curse.

–And the week after that–

You: come help me bring up these groceries

You: elevators broken

You: we can race up the stairs

You: loser washes dishes and takes out the trash

😒dumb: as long as the loser doesn’t cry about it when she sleeps on the couch

You: whatever

😒dumb: i’ll even give you a head start to make it fair

Struck with being that person grinning down at your phone in the stuffy underground parking garage, you gilded your thumbs over the keyboard in a fluttery tease.

You: you just want an excuse to stare at my ass

It took Eddie longer to reply, fumbling with his phone to find the emoji keyboard, only to send–

😒dumb: 🙄

–And the week after that–

“Get a life, you fucking loser,” you yelled from within the metal cylinder of the dryer, bent over on your hands and knees to wrestle your silk blouse free from where it was tangled in a rope of bedsheets, after you told him–explicitly–to never wash it because he’d do it wrong.

He merely watched you struggle from the sidelines, informing you, “You’re the one who asked me to do laundry. Don’t toss your precious, delicate shirts on the bathroom floor if you don’t want them thrown in with everything else. And by the way, I did my part of the deal, so the room is still mine tonight.” As a bonus, he added as he walked away, “Suck my dick, sweetheart.”

Your gums ached from how hard you clenched your teeth. You didn’t leave your blouse on the floor. He did, when he went hunting for his wallet he left in his jeans, and dumped all the clothes out of both baskets, mixing your work clothes with his.

That night, you locked him out of the bedroom. Fuck him.

————

After tireless days of the same back and forth, the juvenile deals and favors were losing their significance. Someone needed to up the ante. And a certain line you two skirted taunted you both, but remained uncrossed until..

————

The hallway leading to your apartment was stale with inactivity. Most people had been home for hours, or were back from bars and crashed on the couch, drooling on their girlfriend’s favorite decorative pillow–the kind with the pom poms. You thought of them with envy. Snoring, dreaming of some blissful shit like sheep hopping a pasture fence. But not you. Your 9 to 5 extended far past those numbers on the clock. It skipped right over them, just like you were skipped over in meetings, being told the extra burden you were taking on was good for the company, and the programs you were learning would be paid in experience. Bullshit. You were tired, and the last thing you needed was some long haired man stubbing his toe on the coffee table to wake you up–morning or night.

But perhaps you were blessed.

You opened the door to near-darkness. Not a lamp, or TV on inside to show someone was home. Not a groan, sigh, or blast of music funneling from a set of oversized headphones. Not a creak of movement from the hallway, or bathroom; surrendering your heartbeat as the loudest feedback.

It appeared you were alone. What a wonderful thing.

The muffled thud of the low pile rug under your heels gave way to silky sweeps of plush carpet welcoming your aching pantyhose-covered feet. Moving further into the apartment, you knew the shapes to avoid in the dim light coming from above the stove, casting the coffee table and scattered stools at the breakfast bar in shadow.

Groggy from exhaustion, you blinked at the spice cabinet door Eddie left open before leaving for his shift. During a conversation with Steve, you let it slip that people who leave the cabinet doors open annoy you, so of course he began leaving one open as a greeting when you came home.

You closed it with your right hand, swinging your laptop bag wildly, and before you could react, the strap caught the top of the glass sugar jar and knocked it over in a wincing crash. Luckily, after peeping one eye open, you assessed nothing broke, but now there was a streak of glittery white dust on the countertop you definitely weren’t going to clean up.

Maybe you could strike a deal with Eddie to wipe it up for you. It was–in a way–his fault, since he left the cabinet door open. If you didn’t need to close it, none of this would’ve happened..

You made a gagging sound.

Since when did your immediate thought process swing to him, and how do you get it to stop? It was bad enough you peeked around the corner into the hallway, praying, praying, praying the bedroom light was off, and feeling your body slump with utter relief when it was. Being on the same planet as him was hell, you didn’t need your private thoughts to linger on him, too.

Mentally dismissing Eddie Munson from your brainspace, you invited yourself into the bedroom. You sought the cushy mattress to cradle your weary body after a long day, and the nest of cozy fleece blankets to swaddle you as you drifted to sleep. Unfortunately, the idiot’s pillow smelled far too much like him; cigarettes and cheap vanilla cologne combined with his hair products, burning your nose like toasted sugar. Despicable. Just the worst. You should exchange it with your own pillow, but you forgot it on the couch, and the couch was so very, very far away..

~~~

Eddie sat crouched in the alleyway outside of Benny’s Diner with a stubby cigarette balanced between his lips, blowing the smoke out in a slow exhale like a roll of fog on a misty morning. Cold emanated from the bricks pricking the expanse of his shoulders, and the night air chilled his damp shirt to his sticky skin, erupting goosebumps along his forearms. Standing around him were the other cooks on break. He didn’t share a common language with them outside of gestures, curse words, and kitchen lingo, but they gathered in a semi-circle as if to include him.

His shift was over. He’d technically clocked out, but he loitered until their vices were stomped under their shoes, and he snuffed his glowing ash on the wall behind him, and followed them inside.

Washing his hands first, he dried them on the towel tucked under the string of his apron tied around his waist, and set up a space on the flat top for him to occupy since the dinner rush had long since died, and the only patrons on the floor were drunks wandering in for greasy hashbrowns. He grabbed the four quart Cambro from the fridge beneath the prep area, and ladled enough batter for two large pancakes. Borrowing a station, he sliced up a ripe banana from the walk-in, and dropped it into a hot pan with a bit of butter, caramelizing them on the range while he waited for the pancakes to be flipped.

The guys behind him read off the few tickets, and carried their conversation from earlier. Eddie caught some of it, learning a few words here or there, but regardless of the language barrier, he knew they were talking about him. They were snickering with their heads together, pointing at the pancakes he was making despite being clocked out.

Eddie spoke with a sneaky grin, “If I make them for her, she’ll leave me the fuck alone on my day off.”

The guys may not have understood entirely what he meant, but his sunny disposition juxtaposed by his wry gaze communicated a universal plight: girls.

One of their hands landed hard between Eddie’s shoulder blades when they doubled over in a belly laugh, and the other one made whip-cracking sounds, calling him the same slang word he called the married cooks. It wasn’t worth it to attempt to correct them that these pancakes were not for his girl, but for his future migraine, so he hummed along with them, and flipped the pancakes with his right hand while tossing the bananas with a swift jerk of his left.

After their gossip, they went back to work, and Eddie grabbed a to-go container, loading it with the two pancakes and sliding the caramelized bananas on top. He brought it to the prep area to drizzle with chocolate sauce, and finished it off with heart-shaped strawberries, a dusting of powdered sugar, and a sprig of mint. He didn’t cut the strawberries that way with ulterior motives, it was just something he did when he had spare time in the morning. Cutting a wedge out of the stemmed top, and slicing them vertical. The customers liked it. It was cute, supposedly. There were no hidden intentions to him taking his time to place them just so around the box; it was merely him taking pride in how he plated his dish.

Clamping the container shut, he untied his apron, changed his shoes, and left out the back entrance, kicking pebbles under the crescent moon, and walking through the front door of the next building over. Gray concrete, a faulty elevator, ugly rugs to feign elegance, and high rise as far as ‘high rise when you live next a bunch of squatty buildings’ went. It was home, and it was blissfully dark inside.

Eddie worked his feet out of his tied-once-and-never-untied street shoes, and dropped his non-slip clogs next to them in a loud clatter.

He breathed. Inhaled deep. Sighed through his nose.

Quiet. Peaceful respite behind his eyelids.

The adrenaline ebbed. The hours of shouting and being shouted at, metal on metal clangs, timer beeps, and mechanical whirr of a ticket being printed out would never cease haunting his mind, but he should stop flinching from the imaginary sounds after a few hours. The pain stretching the length of his back should ease under a hot shower. The throbbing ache in his knees should lessen once he sleeps. The fatigue, like needles driven into his bones, should heal so he could be on his feet for thirteen more hours tomorrow.

Warmth worked its way beyond the calluses creating a barrier in his palm supporting the styrofoam container. Syrupy sweet hot sugar invaded his nostrils from the pancake bribe, battling the stench of his dried sweat and body odor baked into his t-shirt. The tiled entryway beneath his feet woke him out of his daze, and he slid his heavy-lidded gaze to the vacant couch; the comforter was folded, and the pillow was propped up, unslept on.

Briefly he wondered if you went out with your friends after work. But as he approached the kitchen, his dreams were crushed by a single closed cabinet door.

You were home.

You were home, and you weren’t on the couch, nor in the shower.

Eddie allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he hung his head back. In that position, he rolled the disappointment out of his shoulders, and braced them with something new.

Irritation.

Tamping the frustration in the pit of his stomach from bubbling up, he exhaled another calming breath, and opened the fridge, placing the pancakes exactly front and center amongst the fresh produce he was sometimes excited to create with, and sometimes slammed to the bottom of the trash when he was too exhausted and uninspired to do anything with their rotten corpses.

He prepared his expression into one of unbudging indifference. Flat, and unwilling to back down.

And yet, his nose scrunched when he pushed open the bedroom door, and there you were, as predicted, lounging amongst your hideous blankets spilling out from under you as if you were an opulent pearl nestled within an oyster shell.

The resentment built as he assessed your form delicately painted in a red glow from the ugly neon sign in the shape of a lipstick kiss tacked alongside his favorite band posters. He’d only lived with Steve long enough to feel comfortable decorating the blank walls, and you ruined the Rob Halford flow three days into your invasion. Your face was highlighted by the dim blue light of your laptop resting on your stomach, rising and falling with each gentle breath, and you were haloed by the Himalayan salt lamp crowding the nightstand. It’s trendy, you explained.

With vehemence, he flickered the light switch.

You cringed from the bright assault, and clacked your fingers on the keyboard, pretending you weren’t dozing off a second ago. “Can you go away?”

“What’re you doing in here?”

Unimpressed by his tone, you glazed your response in insolence. “What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m minding my own business.” At that, your attitude was solidified, along with how this interaction would go.

Eddie stared at you for a long minute. Not once did you acknowledge him. He watched your eyes dart across the screen, probably watching one of those Youtube videos where girls walked around exciting cities with a camera way too close to their face, and he dragged his gaze downwards, noticing you were still in your work clothes; though, your blouse and skirt were disheveled, and your pantyhose were discarded on the floor, still holding the vague shape of your legs, resembling a flattened rotisserie chicken.

He focused on your eyes again. Bloodshot, rimmed in red with a suggestion of water clinging to the outer corners where your eyelashes met, and sporting a hefty burden of bags beneath them.

“It’s Wednesday,” he reminded you, voice heavy in his chest, but sounding scratchy, and hollow. His throat was shot.

“Mm,” you hummed and glanced at the clock in the corner of your screen, “it’s Thursday, actually.”

White hot anger boiled in his veins, striking his skin like a leather lash. It simmered, popped, sizzled, boiled over. The yelling, the timers, the cacophonous clanging. The ticket machine, the keyboard, the stinging cut on his thumb. Smug fucking brat laying in his bed on his night to have it. It was sudden, it was stark, and it was hatred.

“Make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“A fucking deal,” he repeated. “You know, like we’ve been making?” He stopped himself short of calling you a dirty name, but you must’ve gathered it from his tongue’s hesitation, because you turned your head a few degrees to challenge his temper.

“Oh, lucky for you, there was a two-for-one deal at the store.”

You waved two middle fingers at him, showing a bit of teeth with your crooked grin.

The hatred festered, but not as vicious. The anger was there–oh, the anger was there–but the energy to keep this going hit its peak, and fizzled. There was no sense in reasoning with you. The pancakes in the fridge were for a different occasion, he couldn’t waste them on this, and he was too tired to come up with his own bet, deal, or favor. “Just think of something so we can get this over with,” he nearly begged.

After some consideration, you held your fist out for rock, paper, scissors.

“Where’s the option for a gun in my mouth?”

“Harsh,” you pouted. Instead, you pointed at the 20 sided die on the desk. He inclined his head, shaking it with a slow sort of intention, eyes wide to express his warning to knock it off, and give him a true answer, something to make this worthwhile.

Finding the whole ordeal dull, you returned your attention to your laptop, pressing the white earbud into your ear before unpausing the video.

It took seconds off his life, but you finally spoke again.

“How long were you in prison? Six years? Bet it’s been a while since you’ve seen one of these in the flesh.” Due to your satin cream blouse being unbuttoned at the neck, you dipped your thumb under the collar, and traced the vibrant temptation of your red bra strap in a long, deliberate stroke. You hooked the soft pad of your thumb under the luxury, and brought it out for his viewing pleasure. A moment later, you snapped it to your skin, and went back to typing, not once breaking concentration with your video.

Eddie’s fascination, however, was trained on the dainty crimson gift slipping under the shimmery cream, sliding against the soft slope of your shoulder.

Heat thrummed in his chest. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, sloshing his blood like viscous tidal waves, muting the clacky sound of your keyboard. Anger mixed with something more, something worse. It warmed his cheeks, and reignited the cold sweat prickling his back. It honed his curiosity, sinking every detail of the second tortoiseshell button on your blouse into his mind. Memorizing how the fabric around it went taut, and glinted honey at the height of your breath. Noticing how the bottom of your shirt was wrinkled and pulled slack, but still tucked into your pencil skirt. Remembering how the tight material hugged your thighs when you traipsed around the apartment. Although, the navy blue number was less defined now, fitting looser around your hips.

He didn’t know how long he was fixated by your clothing, until you sighed.

“Not enough for you?”

You asked it with forced casualness, he could tell. Your voice was too even, tone too polite, eyebrows too raised in mock indifference. You were introducing a line that had yet to be crossed. A door which, when opened, would give access to more possibilities than the usual bets, deals, and favors. An enticing offer, and he didn’t deny the nervous flutter of intrigue arousing his blood elsewhere.

But past the line was dangerous territory. Right? That’s where things got muddied, and feelings got involved.

Or maybe not. Because, above all else, he hated you, and you hated him.

This was a deal like any other.

“Maybe this’ll help,” you said, never breaking eyesight from the screen, its colors reflecting in your pupils.

You were the epitome of cool pinching the blouse between your fingers and slotting the buttons through the holes one after the other. Down, down, down to your navel, tugging either side of the shirt open, letting the elegant cream frame the aggressive scarlet.

Eddie was taken off guard.

The bra was more akin to lingerie than he expected. Its cups contained you like a poorly kept secret. Curves of red peonies covered your nipples–hard bud pressing against the center of the flower from the thrill of exploring a new end to your daily arguments. Your areolas peeked from between the petals, where the intricate lacework went see through, granting him a preview to the smooth flesh beneath.

Click clack, click clack, space bar, space bar, space bar, he swore you pressed your arms together to make your breasts rounder. Actually, he didn’t need to second guess. He saw the cusp of cleavage squish before his very eyes.

“Satisfied?” you inquired.

No, he ached.

The voice in his head was so automatic, so sure, he didn’t question it, either.

When he refused to verbalize the things which made him nauseous, his opulent pearl rolled onto her shoulder and lifted the laptop the pillow, turning over onto her stomach to engage with it solely, circling a manicured fingernail over the trackpad, and clicking.

To his surprise, the video on screen wasn’t of the vapid people you watched, but of a troubleshooting guide to the program your company was having you learn in order to teach it to the higher ups next week. (Or so he heard when you told Steve yesterday.) You tabbed out of the video, fixed a property in a column, checked the statistic it was evaluating, and added in an aesthetically pleasing green color before tabbing back.

He couldn’t parse how he felt about you having to do more thankless tasks off the clock, especially when you were clearly tired, but something else stole the last of his fiery anger, and doused his willpower to resist a glance.

Your habit of unzipping your skirt as soon as you walked into the apartment proved evident when you rolled over. The silky polyester lining slipped against your skin, shifting the long zipper from your hip to your backside. The halves parted, showing the end of the cream blouse, and a peek of skin. You adjusted how you laid, rocking your hips back and forth until you sank into the plush blankets, and propped your chin in your palm when you weren’t typing. Small movements working the skirt higher, and higher, bunching the fabric around the fat of your ass. Squirming, and stretching, tugging on your blouse, pulling, pulling, blouse, skirt, blouse, skirt, and then he saw it..

Red.

Delicate, feminine.

Tucked, hidden from anyone’s view but his, were the matching red panties to your bra. Trapped in a valley between thighs and ass, and stretching over the swell of your heat, embellishing the mouth watering desire in opaque lace strained firm against the outline of his treasure.

Eddie swallowed.

“Why’re you still in here?” you asked with a bite of annoyance. “You got to see a girl’s bra for the first time ever, probably. You should be celebrating, throwing yourself a party. In the living room. On the couch.”

The anger had returned like a slap of reality across his cheek. He narrowed his eyes at the back of your head, remembering why he loathed you with every fiber of his being. “I’ve seen a bra before.”

“Pictures don’t count.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Your body jolted with a snort, and he flung open the door hard enough for it to bounce off the door stop. He heard your infuriating inhale, and slapped the lightswitch off, shutting the door behind him with excessive force before you could ask more demands of him. Gladly, he closed himself out of his own bedroom. The physical barrier under his trembling fist had never felt better, still gripping the knob as if he’d go back in there.

He wouldn’t.

He let go of the chilled metal and stalked down the hall, curbing himself from stomping out his frustration, only to throw himself onto the couch. Stomach burning with hunger, hatred. Chest heaving with rage. Pulse rising in his throat, beating against the ball chain necklace he wore. Breathing so hard, sounding as if he’d ran laps before collapsing onto his bed for the night, crossing his arms to squeeze his biceps, massaging his fingers down the muscle. Occupying himself. Distracting himself.

It wasn’t working.

He was mad.

Furious.

Draping his hand over his eyes, he gave himself a moment to make a decision, and pushed his bangs off his forehead. They stayed in their gravity defying position due to the oil. He needed to shower. He needed to clean himself of this day, and go to sleep. But he couldn’t.

The fever in his veins was too distracting. He needed to take care of it. Get rid of it.

Sitting up, he unfolded the comforter from the end of the couch, and propped the pillow against the armrest to angle his head slightly up, where he could see the hallway.

From his front pocket, he collected his phone and laid it on his stomach while he unbuttoned his pants, pinching the waistband together and pulling the zipper down, sighing through his nose at the relief of the lines he was crossing.

He grasped his phone and brought it close to his face. Cupped in one palm, and using the other hand to tap it twice. A streak of perspiration was left on the screen where he swiped in his passcode, using his index finger to open a private browser and type in a porn site. Any porn site. Whichever variation of the word porn + noun he thought of first. It didn’t matter much to him; that’s not where his preferences lie.

office worker

co-worker

secretary

office worker tight skirt

office worker pov skirt grinding

His brain went stupid for synonyms trying to narrow down his search. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew the ultra HD, professionally lit, fakey acting wasn’t it. He scrolled, and scrolled. Narrowed his search again. Ticked off boxes on the side. Tried broader genres. Went back to the results he was on, and traveled down the rabbit hole a few more pages until, at last, he found what suited him.

The thumbnail appeared promising. Dimly lit, sorta bad quality, and clearly shot at home with a woman whose body type wasn’t far off from what he was hoping for. He even appreciated the visual similarities in the amateur actress’ navy blue skirt, and off-white blouse. As long as he scrolled down a tad to crop out her face, it was perfect. Plus, it was easier to insert himself into the scene that way.

He clicked it, and– ”Jesus Christ,” he turned down the volume as quickly as he could, accidentally pressing down the two buttons on the side that took a screenshot and saved it to his gallery.

The video started a little further into the act than he anticipated.

Such a fucking idiot, Eddie, Jesus Christ. Sitting in thick silence, he waited to see if you’d heard, and once his face calmed of the embarrassed flush stinging his cheeks, he moved on.

Eddie worked his right hand under the comforter, but heeded his boxers as a layer of separation. At the first contact with the parts of him he denied aching for the bane of his existence, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Gently, he raked his fingernails down the base of his shaft, and over his balls. He cupped them. Felt their heft. Cradled them and dragged them softly upwards, letting them fall and stretch before repeating the motion, enjoying the tickly sensation of being the first thing he touched. His most sensitive, most susceptible part of himself. Meanly ignoring the other part of him twitching, throbbing, begging to be catered to.

He kept some fraction of his brain alert to the hallway, senses sharpened by the spike of adrenaline, listening out for any sound of you exiting the room. But most of him was focused on hitting the play button, sticking to his decision that he couldn’t wait to do this in the shower. He needed it now.

It started with the woman already in motion. Shot from the guy’s point of view laying on the bed, his obvious hardon pressing through his slacks into her pussy grinding down on him. Her skirt lifted with each motion, showing her black underwear. Not that he was complaining they weren’t red, but he didn’t concentrate on them.

He switched from playing with his balls to gripping his cock. Finally. It buzzed with the rush of pleasure, harder than it had ever been, even in his youth. His fingers hardly met through his boxers, but he encircled them the best he could, and started with fast, desperate, stunted strokes, getting himself to where the guy in the video was in a matter of pent-up seconds, clenching his ass to buck his hips up. Heart pounding. Inhales shaky from the speed at which he took care of his problem, exhales interrupted by muted huffs.

Maybe he should be embarrassed, but it didn’t take him long to feel that encouragement to keep going, keep going, keep going. Where each frantic pump along his length was better than the last. Where each accidental graze of his fingers over the lipped edge of his tip sprinted towards his bliss.

In the video, the woman dipped a finger between her lips and moved her panties aside.

There was a low hum in the back of his throat, engrossed by the wet warmth opposed to his dry fist.

Metal knob turning–door creaking–carpet groaning, step, step, step–

It was a fucking miracle he managed to close out of the window in his panic. His thumb missed it the first two times as fear coated him in a cold sweat, and the phone fell out of his palm, smacking him in the chin as you rounded the corner.

You didn’t spare him the time of day as you walked into the kitchen and got a glass from the cabinet. Didn’t bother looking at him as you stood at the fridge with your hip cocked out, holding the cup under the outer dispenser and depressing the button for ice.

The fridge made a mechanical whirr, and filled your glass. Ker-chunk, ker-chunk, ker-chunk, the ice cubes tinked into the cup for the longest seconds of his life. His hand was frozen mid-tug on his dick, and you were wearing an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else. Truly, it hardly covered your ass. It clung to your hips, brushed the height of your thighs, and suddenly, he was checking how obvious the bulk of the comforter was over his lap, and if it creased when he moved his hand upwards.

Nothing. Not a fold out of place. He could keep it up. Stroke, by stroke, brushing his fingers over the head only, testing his limits to keep discreet while you switched to the other spout on the fridge for water.

Even when you turned to him, he massaged himself over his boxers, soaking the sticky slick beads of precum into the fabric.

“What?”

Your tone didn’t deter him from tracing the underside of his swollen head, caressing the glans with the same sort of sentiment he experienced in the homemade porn between a real couple–all gentle and nice.

He mustered enough brain cells to respond, “What? I’m already sleeping on the couch. Can’t you leave me alone for one night? Or are you that desperate for attention?”

None the wiser, you took a sip from your glass, and folded your other arm across your stomach, making it obvious from the natural sway that you weren’t wearing a bra. Probably weren’t wearing panties either..

Swallowing the ice cold water with a satisfied ‘ah’, you went on your merry way. “Just came to gawk at the bridge troll, is all. Night night!” Your annoying farewell was followed by the creak of the door, and the faint click of it closing.

What a fucking irritating person.

The anger bristled again. Definitely anger. It was there, lurking, when he rubbed at the sore spot on his chin and picked up his phone, unlocking it to stare at the homescreen.

There was no patience within him to find the video. Besides, the sanitized professional thumbnails on the homepage were enough to have him dropping his phone to the cushion crevices beside him, surrendering himself to his imagination. Nothing lived up to the scenarios in his head, anyway.

Before getting ahead of himself, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic waistband, and gripped himself wholly. There was no sense in denying what he wanted: the raw desire of his hand wrapped firmly around his cock, not caring about creating a mess. It could be cleaned up later. He needed this. Now.

He immersed himself in the fantasy.

The visuals took place minutes ago, if he hadn’t backed down. It was based on you refusing to give him the bed, and instead of walking away from your bratty attitude, he lifted his chin, and broadened his chest with a confidence he didn’t possess. Fantasy Eddie had the courage to kneel on the mattress like he belonged there. Your body would dip, rock towards his imposing knees straddling either side of your calves, and in his strongest dreams, he acted out what should’ve happened.

If he had his way, he would begin with your hips. A single strong palm on the curve would have you hiking them up to greet him, and he was a gentleman. As soon as you presented him with the opportunity, he was scrambling to spread your legs so he could dip between them, eager to please. He wanted to know the sensation of coarse red lace scratching across his tongue; it would be a novelty only he would know. His hands would be on your upper thighs, bringing you closer, closer, to where his mouth awaited you. Persuading your face to the sheets. Putting a wicked arch in your back, granting him permission.

He’d angle his mouth to your clothed clit and collect spit to his bottom lip, parting, and lapping his tongue over the pretty thing, suckling it through the fabric. His nose would be to your cunt, inhaling the musky pheromones. Didn’t matter how long you’d been at work, proving yourself to people who would never appreciate you like he did. He cherished every bit of you so much. The heady scent intoxicated him like a drug, the dimples when he smashed the fat of your ass around his face, your silly whine when he pressed kisses up your pretty pussy. The anger was gone. Like that, he adored you. After all, you craved him. And it’d been a long time since he was wanted. It felt nice to not be rejected.

Eddie, Fantasy You gasped when the wet sound of him sucking your clit through your panties grew in fervor. He was drunk on you. Trying hard. Giving more. Licking at the dark patch he created. God, he loved it. He loved the evidence. He could suckle, moan, flatten his tongue like torture and just breathe on you until he fell asleep, waking up to nudge his teeth over the sensitive areas you presented to him. Spending hours getting you to your peak, over and over.

But in reality, he was approaching his end rather quickly.

My turn, sweetheart, he regretfully informed you.

Getting to his knees, he positioned himself behind you. His cock slotted so nicely against you; red lace meeting unzipped gray uniform pants, and he wasted no time stoking the flames from where he left off.

He clapped your cheeks around the hard outline of his cock. His black boxers stretched to their limits to contain him. There was a dark patch at the tip peeking out between your ass, growing with each slow, assertive grind he committed to, fucking himself into the curve of your cunt with ragged breaths. Losing himself. Mouth agape, and eyebrows pinched as his needy head was swallowed when he rocked his hips back, and reappeared with a rough thrust.

Again, it didn’t take long until he needed a break to make himself last longer.

He draped his weight over you as he slid his rough, calloused palms up the backs of your thighs, creating goosebumps along the sensitive flesh on his way to your sorry excuse for skirt. He bunched the pitiful thing to your waist, and reached for the hem of your shirt.

You hummed in approval, pressing against his lap.

It was hard to balance, but you supported him as he yanked your blouse up–sucking in a sharp breath when you moaned, and rutted yourself on his length–and he brushed his fingers along your soft skin in search for the bra clasp, and when he found it, he pulled the band tight. The latch gave. He caught sudden heft in his palm, cupping you and the bra together, massaging lightly until your nipple slotted between the base of two of his fingers, and he applied the gentlest pressure.

Oh fuck, you whined so nicely for him.

They’re extra sensitive after being caged all day, you explained.

Yeah? Does it feel good?

You nodded, cheek smashed against the wrinkled sheets.

He pinched harder.

Saliva gathered at the corner of your lips, spilling in a sticky string as you dragged your head in another nod, heavy-lidded eyes just visible through your lashes, open mouth panting for him.

True satisfaction spread like weightlessness from the pit of anger in his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to be making you feel good, not the person ruining the one place he found peace after six years of paranoia, but here he was, wishing the taste of your pussy lasted longer in his mouth. Here he was, anchoring his forearm alongside yours, gripping the same sheet you gripped while he beared his weight down on you, and pressed kisses to your clothed shoulders.

His other hand was trapped between you and the bed, but each pulse around your nipple was another long stroke on his cock.

The scene had been set. The build up and story line were crafted. Now, he could play.

He worked kisses under your collar, tasting the sheen of sweat at your hairline, leaving trails of spit to cool as he lolled his head on top of yours, resting his forehead amongst your hair, and he put his lips to the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver beneath him.

Do you think you can treat me that way, and get away with it? Fantasy Him asked. Think you can boss me around whenever you want? He punctuated his question with a hard, unexpected thrust, earning a gasp from your pretty mouth.

Turn over. He didn’t command it verbally, but when he took away his hand to smack the side of your ass, and sat back, you were aware of his unstated switch in position.

You laid on your back, legs spread for him. Skirt bunched around your hips, blouse fallen open, except for the one button remaining. He grasped his cock, and stroked himself through his boxers for you. His brows were drawn together in a gentle question, gaze locked onto yours. This was supposed to be about him, but he still asked, Is this okay? Is this what you want?

The source of his anger, his rage, his frustration–all the blame, burdens, and negativity he attributed to a single woman–opened her arms to him, and nodded.

He passed over your pussy to praise kisses to your stomach. Deft fingers working to undo the last button on your blouse, and explore upwards. Wet smacks of his sloppy gifts arched your back the higher he traveled, molding his large hands to your body. Brushing his rough fingers to the junction of your inner thigh and hip, and spreading you open so your pussy swallowed the fabric, wedging the red lace tight to your clit for later. Up, up, his kisses covered you, until he nosed at the underwire of your bra, and lifted it out of the way.

Fuck, Eddie.

You pushed his hair out of his face. The shorter curls fell from the low bun at his nape, and you tucked them behind his ear so you could watch his tongue lap and swirl at your nipple. Your fluttery moans were heaven, as were your tits being shoved in his mouth. You squirmed for him, clamored for him. You wanted him, needed him. Did you care that his hair was greasy? Did you care that dried salt crystals from sweat scratched your fingers when you cradled his jaw? Did you care about his smell from thirteen hours of being in a hot kitchen when you cupped him under the armpits, encouraging him with a buck of your hips to get back to business?

He supposed not, since it was his fantasy.

But just like reality, you were trying to boss him around.

Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?

You could hardly meet his gaze, eyes so heavy with lust you couldn’t keep them open long enough to beg.

He aligned himself, nudging the tip of his cock to your clit, and he savored the experience of watching the bliss wash over you. It took him a beat to realize, but he moaned in response to your moan. Watching you react from where he picked up his head from your chest, memorizing the fake vision of your face losing the usual harsh distaste for him. Your lips were better this way–lush, and making an effort to sound out his name as he drew his hips back–not sneering because you had the displeasure of asking him a question.

Still, he drove forward with haste. Cotton on lace. Layers of separation. Anything else was too intimate for how he wanted to fuck you, rough and fast, caring only about himself and not about your poor neglected clit, swollen and pleading for his soft tongue, only to get rough, unmeasured thrusts. Messy, and unintentional, and denying. Until you made them work for you.

You used the meat of his shoulders as leverage. Digging your fingers in, holding tight as you rocked with him and raised your legs, wrapping them around his ass. The squeeze of your thighs, and pressure built from your locked ankles tipped you into a better position, and now, his entire length was flush to your clit, not simply passing over the top of it.

All of him was touching you, touching you, touching you. Trapping his cock between your stomachs, damp with reignited sweat. Back to rutting against one another at a desperate pace, chasing the tension, the high. The snap of his hips. Your stuttered groans for more. The anger, the hatred. Festering under the surface, bubbling in your insolence. Present in his teeth grazing your throat, nipping at the pulse, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting.

You’re gonna make me cum. Even Fantasy You said it in a lower register, reaching where the molten resentment laid dormant.

He found the same gravelly animosity and warned you, “I’m too close, I’m too close.”

You cradled him tighter, burying your heads in each other’s embrace. Muscles quivering from effort, burning with each grind, tensing under curious hands finding new places to cling to, curves to admire. Until they stayed put.

Nails bit flesh. Strong fingers dug painfully at bone. Mouths fell open. Eyes closed. Writhing flesh on fabric, and flesh, you trembled under him.

I’m–mm, Eddie–I’m cumming–

His thrusts faltered, jerking into short bursts, and his gracious moans went high and tight in his throat, spilling out as he panted, “You make me feel so good, baby. Fucked you so good. I can’t–I’m cumming–fuck–”

Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–

–”Fuck,” he babbled aloud.

The climax took him to the dark apartment. The overwhelming shadows of sleeping in the lonely living room on the flat couch under an extra blanket not yet broken of its factory starch, scratchy on the skin. His muscles were still tensed into him curling in on himself, lifting his aching neck and shoulders off the pillow for a few more pumps of his hand sliding over his slick shaft, spreading the warmth oozing towards his hip, no doubt tangling the curly thatch of hair above the base. In lip-biting silence, he stroked himself, not daring to breathe after he knew he said something out loud from his imagination. He listened. Eyes straining to see the hallway.

His bangs stuck to the heavy sweat on his forehead.

His entire body was heated beyond belief.

Anticipation sat heavy on his tongue.

But as he came down from his peak, nothing happened. He stayed lonely. His heartbeat pounded against the guitar pick sticking to his chest, and that was it. Now his head was cleared of distractions, and he could sleep. The fantasy was a fantasy, and in this reality, he wouldn’t do this again. It was too weird to muddy the multitude of negative feelings he had for you with.. whatever this was.

A release, that’s what this was.

Kicking the blanket off, he swung his legs to the side to sit up, socked feet softened by the plush carpet. He pressed his palm over the sticky substance dripping downward, and soaked it up to the best of his ability. And as his cum hit the fresh air, and his inhale was cut short as he smelled his shirt, he thought about the shower he needed. And he thought about the dark patch on his boxers. And he thought about his clothes in the dresser in the bedroom.

Looking down, he inspected his gray pants, and groaned.

They were ruined.

So, so ruined and obvious as to what he was doing.

There was no way he could go into there and grab new clothes for a shower. The thought of facing you after this, and you seeing him in this pathetic state–and God, if you knew it was because of you, and because he couldn’t control himself–he’d rather die than admit you did this to him.

Fuck.

Couldn’t even go to his own room for some fucking clothes so he could shower after working all day.

Yeah, that confirmed it. He fucking hated you.

Hated you even more when he thought about you sleeping on his mattress, wrapped snug in his bedsheets wearing only a t-shirt with nothing else to cover you, and his dick twitched again for that red lace he knew was discarded in the laundry basket.

“Fuck my life.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #linecook!eddie #roommate!eddie #ex-con!eddie

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enhypens-hoe · 1 year ago

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milf (teaser!!) - Jeon Jungkook

🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨

🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪

(pics. from pinterest but I made the banner myself)

pairing: hot neighbor!nonidol Jungkook x female milf reader

genre: smut, one-shot, age gap (32 and 24) hot neighbor

summary: You and your husband Hoseok have a 6 year-old. You want your marriage with Hoseok to work out but he’s making it difficult. Even throughout these hard times you would not change your life for the world. Well.. what happens when you find out you have a new neighbor but to your surprise he was truly the hottest man you have ever seen.

warnings: cursing, cheating, smut, not much aftercare :/ (tbh jk can’t rlly shower her with love because they choose to have sex at the worst times so he just cleans her quickly sorryyy), breast play, riding (car sex), ass slapping (light), unprotected sex (please use protection), kind of mean dom! jk, sub!reader, bj, doggy style (hitting from the back), slightly possessive jk? dirty talk, age gap, breeding, mention of pregnancy (reader does not get pregnant), pet names, hair tugging, use of (slut, whore, etc.)

ft: le sserafim's Yun-jin (she's aged up to 32) & BTS J-hope (he’s aged up to 33)

Milf -Jjk

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“Have you seen him?!” your best friend Yunjin shouts in your ear while pushing her cart. You two were out grocery shopping while the kids were in school. Yunjin decided to join since she was off of work.

Yunjin and you have been best friends from 2nd grade up until college and after that. You guys met your husbands in college, but Yunjin got divorced last year. Yunjin got pregnant around the same time as you and moved next door. You couldn’t be happier. Her son and your son are best friends I know it’s cliche but whatever. Apparently, we have a new neighbor and according to her he is very attractive. Piercings, tattoos, muscles, he has a motorcycle, can cook, etc. he has it all. She caught a glimpse of him when she came to pick up her son Chul from his playdate with Eun-Woo and she won’t stop drooling over him.

"No actually I haven't. I have been so busy with Eun-Woo starting school I haven't even introduced myself." you say scrunching your eyebrows still recovering by Yunjin's shouting. You weren't very convinced that your new neighbor was as hot as Yunjin was making it seem. "And let me remind you I'm married remember?" you announce as you show her your hand wiggling the finger that the diamond sat on.

Yunjin rolled her eyes lightly smacking your hand away. "Right, I forgot... whatever, this guy has the moms all over him. They are going after him like he's some piece of meat." Yunjin pouts wishing she got some time alone to talk to Jungkook. "And you aren't going after him... for his meat?" She side eyes you while you're looking for cereal. "I'm telling you ___ he's exactly your type and if you don't believe me just introduce yourself besides its the friendly neighbor thing to do." she said as she had a small smile on her face.

"I don't know Yunjin maybe if I get the time I can meet your next husband" you whisper to her as you both laugh.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You get home and place your bags down in the kitchen. You look up and see the time on the stove. 1:00pm… you still had an hour and forty minutes until Eun-Woo got out of school. You hear light talking coming from down the hall so Hoseok must be home in his office. You don't even bother telling him you are home because he hasn't been paying attention to you anyway.

Yunjin was right it wouldn't hurt to greet your new neighbor. The last thing you want is to seem rude and be the only one who has not introduced yourself to him. So, you made chocolate chip cookies since it would be wrong to go empty handed. You walked towards Jungkook’s house with the container in your hand slightly nervous.

You lifted your fist ready to knock but the door swung open before you could. "Hi l'm-oh" Your eyes slightly widened as you looked up at him. He towered over you wearing a white fitted short sleeve shirt which exposed his arm tattoos and muscles. He had black fluffy hair and a lip piercing. You could see the outline of his abs through the shirt and his big doe eyes were so pretty looking down at you.

“Hey…” he spoke with a small smirk plastered on his face. You were not being very discreet when checking him out. It’s not like he was hiding the way he was looking at your boobs either. “Oh Hi... I’m sorry I just.. um I wanted to introduce myself I live right across from you I’m ___. I made you these.” You say softly while sticking out the container. He smiled at you looking at the container then back at you. His smile is so nice holy fuck. “Thank you so much. My hands are dirty so I can't grab the container. Would you mind coming in?” he asked. You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn't go in it's clear that he thinks you're attractive and well you think he is too.. it's just wrong. “Sure.”

“Great thank you. You can put the cookies on the counter I’m going to wash my hands.” he told you letting you walk in first. His place was organized it was way different than you expected. He walked over to his sink and started washing his hands. His hands are even attractive what the fuck.

Yunjin was right... he's exactly your type. shit…

“Why are your hands so dirty.” you ask trying to make small talk. He looks up at you for a moment then nods his head to the direction of the window. You see the black motorcycle with his initials written on the side in a small cursive font. “I’m fixing it. Somethings wrong with the pipe.” Wiping his hands on a small cloth... he still had something black smeared on his jaw and a little on his arm, but you didn't say anything. He walked over to you and stood quiet for a bit.

“Are you doing anything today?” He questioned analyzing your face. You tried to look somewhere else. You didn’t want to make eye contact with him feeling nervous under his gaze. “I have to pick up my son Eun-Woo from school in forty minutes and cook” you admit.

“Oh, you’re a mom huh.” he’s not really asking its more of a statement. The look on his face shockingly does not show any signs of disappointment. “Do you have a husband? I haven’t seen him with you.” he pushes.

“Yea I do. We just… we aren’t going through the best time right now that's all. It happens to a lot of people though.” you tell him trying to reassure yourself realizing you overshared god you hate when you do that. “Hmm… I don’t know how he does it I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you.” he admits playing with a strand of your hair and using his hand to tilt your jaw up. You two look at each other and you know what you are going to do next is wrong, but you can’t help it. His lips crash onto yours and you grab at his arm. The kiss turns into a heated make out session running your hands through his hair. You hesitate for a moment wondering if you should take it further. You start unbuckling his belt slightly pulling his pants down.

"Is this, okay?" you ask pulling away from his lips as he tries leaning forward to kiss you again. "Yes, shit" he answers before reattaching his lips to yours as you softly palm him through his boxers. You push his chest slightly and get on your knee's looking up at him through your lashes. He threw his head back mouth slightly open and his eyes closed. His face alone has you wet.

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jazi’s note: hii omg I’m so excited to release this fic I’ve had the idea for a while, but I recently realized that I want to put it out. Sorry, if it is not the best it is my first time writing a fic so, please be patient with my writing journey. I hope to put out more fics and I want them to get better as I go. Reposts, likes, comments, & follows are well appreciated love you all hope you have an amazing day!! :)

(Also, I can start a taglist if anyone is interested?! If you would like to be tagged, send an ask and lmk!! & if anyone decides to use the banner, please give me credit!!🤍)

taglist for ‘Milf’ is closed

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perfectlyoongi · 6 months ago

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BOYFRIEND!NAMJOON who invites you for sunrise bike rides. for him, Namjoon didn't mind waking up early or sleeping little; for Namjoon, there was no more beautiful time of day than sunrise, where everyone still sleeps and your promises and confessions are forever kept in the first rays of the sun. “i could swear you were painted with the colors of dawn, all of you is hope and harmony.”

BOYFRIEND!NAMJOON who sends you gym photos because he knows perfectly well that you always get shy. Namjoon was a teaser by nature and when he discovered that the photos he sent you were forever saved on your phone after making you even more in love with him, Namjoon didn't waste any opportunity to brighten your day. “you can deny whatever you want, i know you get completely crazy every time you see the mt pics.”

BOYFRIEND!NAMJOON who takes you on random trips around the world as a way of showing his love for you. almost always a surprise, Namjoon didn't mind paying any price if that meant you would have the best moments of your life; planning everything in detail, Namjoon's itinerary was full of adventures, romance and memories that you would forever keep in your heart. “we’re going to travel all over the world. let’s leave our love marked on the sidewalks of every city so they can see that we will always be together.”

BOYFRIEND!NAMJOON who takes photos of you in front of works of art because, for him, your beauty becomes divine when framed by mystical meanings. so many colors and shapes, textures and atmospheres lit up endless rooms, but even so, Namjoon could only see you, sculpted, drawn, shaped by all the talented hands you were seeing. “i know i'm always repeating myself, but i never tire of reminding you that you, your very essence is a work of art.”

BOYFRIEND!NAMJOON who asks you for massages when he comes home after an intense workout or a more challenging practice. completely tired, dragging his steps with the weight of a complicated day, Namjoon would walk to you, laying down exhausted on the bed and waiting, with his eyes closed ready to relax and, who knows, sleep, for you to give him a massage. “just… just touch me like only you know how to touch me. my body needs the magic of your hands.”

BOYFRIEND!NAMJOON who buys you clothes in the same color and pattern as his so you can match without being too obvious. he knew it was a bit of a cliché and cringe, so Namjoon never admitted that he did it on purpose; Namjoon felt good seeing you wearing the clothes he offered you and, if they ended up being like his, it would just be a bonus, right? “i swear i didn’t realize it’s the same as my coat! oh… i already put the receipt in the trash... you really have to use it now. sorry.”

BOYFRIEND!NAMJOON who told you he loved you for the first time before going on a particularly longer tour. Namjoon's heart was heavy when he said goodbye to you, the touch of your hands in his doing little to appease his premature longing; he spoke quietly, declaiming his words like a promise, guaranteeing that his heart would be yours forever. “i’ll be back quickly, yea? i love you.”

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melefim · 3 months ago

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This is about Dead Boy Detectives but also applies elsewhere:

I know it can be hard to just talk to random people you meet about things you’re passionate about, but legit it works. If you can push past the social anxiety (I know it’s hard, I struggle with it too) you’ll be surprised how receptive people can be!

One of the best things we can do to up the chances of getting the show renewed is to get the views up, and while rewatches are great, more and newer viewers are even better. So whenever I can, I’ve been talking the show up to everyone I see.

I just checked my car in for service and the gal taking my info was STOKED when I told her about it because she was looking for a new show to watch. Grabbed her phone and added it to her Netflix list as I was standing there.

The little old lady who does safety inspections at work apparently loves Halloween and all things spooky.

The new security guard mentioned his husband and was excited when I told him about how refreshing the queer normalization is in the show (and showing him a pic of Lukas Gage as the Cat King definitely didn’t hurt either).

The head of Facilities has been watching Doctor Who since the first episode in the 60s and was intrigued by the quirky, campy aspects of it.

There are so many aspects to this show, so many angles of interest, you’ll be surprised how quickly you can sell people on it sometimes!

For me, the ‘opener’ I’ve found most effective is something along the lines of “Hey, I know this is super random, but do you like Sci-fi/fantasy/spooky stuff?” From there, a yes leads into “There’s this show I absolutely love called Dead Boy Detectives on Netflix, you should check it out!” And a bit of info on the show. (It’s about two ghosts that solve supernatural mysteries! It’s fun and weird and funny and so well made!) If there’s time, I’ll pull up the trailer or the teaser for them to watch. Far more often then not, they’re interested.

And if they say no? “Yeah, the genre’s not for everyone. But if you know anyone who does like it, you should have them check out Dead Boy Detectives, it’s super good.”

They may or may not be interested. They might watch it or they might not, could recommend it to others or forget about it completely. But they definitely won’t do any of that if they don’t know it exists.

Right now, I know of 21 people that I’ve told about the show who have come back and told me they loved it. 7 of those have also told me they told their friends and family about it and they’re now watching it too. (And those are just the ones who’ve come back to me about it- there could be even more!)

If there’s one thing I learned from being on a competitive Gish team for a decade, it’s that you never know who will say yes when you ask them something random!

It can be scary to put yourself out there. I really, truly get that. But if you’re able to push past it, it’s truly an effective way to spread the word.

#dead boy detectives #save dead boy detectives #dbda #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #dead boy detective agency #payneland

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neo-zone · 5 months ago

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Sweet Home 3 Teaser Personal Breakdown

youtube

As what I feared, Sergeant Tak and Sang-won collabed (for the lack of better word). The people showing symptoms, instead of being isolated in certain place outside the stadium until they die (if my memory is correct), will be taken to wherever the Neohuman gang intended to further undergo monsterization process and if some are lucky enough, will be Neohumans (since we know not all people become Neohumans, some turn into pure full monster form)

Dr. Lim is pretty much alive, doing the announcement on the beginning of the trailer (well I thought Sang-won gonna give him double amount of karma for the torturous experiment he volunteered, apparently a too high expectation my bad). My assumption is after the encounter in the last episode of season 2, he made an agreement with Sang-won (probably to save his ass) and let him to the stadium

Yi-kyung's daughter is also inside the stadium now. Hm, wonder how and when she get in 🤔 What is she gonna do in season 3? Whose side she's on? Or she's still on her own side with the non-Neohuman monsters like the ones she has befriended (notice that none of them are Neohumans)? We shall see

Now I remember why the high school shaman girl in Exhuma felt familiar, turned out few months before the movie, she played the monster girl Sergeant Kim met in the last episode of season 2 where his platoon went inside the facility (now she's outside with the others). Yeah, definitely a polar opposite role. Strange I didn't saw her actress name in the SH2 cast list, I wonder why

Some glimpses of tragedy and doom that will happen to the soldiers (and if my memory is correct there's the sick woman with military boyfriend as well). It's not pretty, I know

We got action duo Eun-yu and Chan-young obviously fighting the monsters (and probably Neohumans too). His fans on twt pointing out in an understandable fear because of the genre that this little sneak peak might be summarizing his final appearances (as in death flag), but let's see when the season is released. I'm positive he's gonna survive, but if he got the Ji-su treatment, welp won't be surprised again this time

The scene where everyone (including Hyun-su and not just the stadium survivors) gathered outside, I wonder what was that for? 🤔 There are some monster cocoons as well

Only Kim and one of his crew who survived Bamseom?

Where did Hyun-su get the cool black suit? Did he go to another shopping mall like at the early episodes of season 2? Have he consider wearing a sleeveless cloth because it's a shame the expensive sleeve got ripped again

My bad feeling and paranoia is skyrocketing again with that Eun-hyeok only scene 😶 Yeah I know he literally walked with Eun-yu and Hyun-su on the first official teaser pic back in February. But better safe than sorry, I never trust that kind of blank sinister look and head tilting

Hoooo, Hyun-su is talking about taking out and killing Sang-won? 👀 Can't wait for the unlimited stabbing and flirting between them (featuring Eun-hyeok if the battle royal gonna be real)

We (I mean Hyun-su) gonna fight a bigger protein monster?

Who does Sang-won refer to with the "we'll meet soon? Hyun-su? His biological child?

Good luck with your family drama and inner monster struggle, Yi-kyung. Wish you all the best

Please do correct me if I'm wrong or add what you noticed but I didn't on the reply. Thank you

#sweet home #sweet home netflix #sweet home 3 #sweet home season 3

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just-orbiting-you · 4 months ago

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hi:) totally agree with your post. I guess I don’t understand why Tae posts what he does, when he does. It always seems semi calculated. He can’t *not* know that a lot of his fans are tkkrs. He even reposted something on his IG from a massive tkkr account, like? And it just always seems to divert the tkkrs attention back to him and jk in very calculated ways. Posting a travel pic and long caption just before the jikook travel show teaser is pretty on the nose lol. but I don’t understand, also he gets to have his nice time with his (was?) girlfriend and then also feeds the tkkrs(& of course gets jm hate in the process) the best of both worlds for him? strange.

hey anon!

i've had feelings about this for a long time. and i think you're exactly right: he has to be aware of his fan-base's preferences. of course this is just a theoretical idea but i think the conversation is worth having.

and going back to in the soop one, when he is talking to jungkook, tae says that he wants to know army loves him, he craves it (paraphrase). i would like to hazard a guess that he has searched for what will give him the exact attention he wants, and that is posting about jungkook.

i thought the shirtless facetime call pic was weird to post to back in december, with the caption "hyung is going in first, go safely tomorrow." jimin went too, you know, but no post for him. and taehyung playing the hyung card feels abnormal; i have not really witnessed that as a part of their dynamic. all of this to almost drift the conversation away from jikook enlisting together.

and OH MY GOD. the caption over jungkook's face today that says "so pretty i could die." that is like a t@ekook victory for them, but to me it screams fan service-y vibes. jikook are as close as they are and they're not running around instagram posting like that. sometimes other members would make comments on posts hyping each other up, but not to that degree. on a picture where you can barely see his face wearing a neon tracksuit, he's so pretty. good god. it just feels overly exaggerated for fan reaction.

with how he posts about jungkook, it just feels like 🙋‍♂️im here too!! 🙋‍♂️. i travel with jungkook too!! 🙋‍♂️ look at us.🙋‍♂️ im his hyung too!🙋‍♂️

and its kinda sad. because i think jungkook has made it clear who he chooses and i think it is purely incidental from him since he has other interests at heart.

and yeah, a lot of tae's behavior i am deeming as attention seeking jimin does the same in his lives, on his instagram, in regular conversation in other videos specifically about jungkook. BUT. the catch is, that there's a similar amount of video evidence that jungkook does the exact same thing about jimin. there's the reciprocation in jikook that t@ekook just do not have. point blank. which in itself, debunks the whole ship.

so the evidence is piling up around tae that he has a flippant, spontaneous, almost irresponsible facade, but actually could be choosing to purposefully attract attention to himself for his own benefit through the use of his younger bandmate. again, a theoretical, but thanks for joining in on my thoughts.

#this was a ramble my apologies #jikook #taehyung critical?#vminkook dynamics

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pickmedolls · 1 month ago

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𓉸ྀི ݁ ˖ ◜ PICK ME...OR SHOULD I SAY YUE & KIKO @ FICFEST '24 (WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?)

Despite being listed as official guests and even confirmed for a performance, the hottest group of the moment, Pick Me, was a no-show—well, sort of. This year’s FicFest Awards (@thatsofic) only saw two of the group’s members: leader Feng Yue and main dancer Kiko Mori, both there just to present awards. So, where were the other three? And why were Yue and Kiko strictly forbidden from mentioning Pick Me, not even to introduce themselves in their interviews? We’re all itching to know the truth, so let’s dive into the latest gossip, shall we?

First things first: as most of you already know, rumor has it that Pick Me is set to have a comeback in the next few weeks. But given all the chaos surrounding the promotions for their last mini-album, DOLL SUMMER, and the infamous drama between Yue and two of her members, Rosie and Jules, it’s no surprise Heartbreak Entertainment might want to keep Pick Me out of the limelight for a while—especially at a huge, high-profile event like FicFest.

What started as unproven accusations now seems an undeniable reality: there’s some serious friction (or dare I say, bad blood?) between certain members of the group. Not that it's entirely a bad thing, though. This shows the girls as real people with real personalities that, apparently, clash more than Heartbreak would like. But here's the thing: this inner tension is starting to take a toll on the group’s general image and promo work, and even Heartbreak Entertainment—famously lenient and transparent with their idols—seems to have finally hit its limit.

So, was keeping them out of the spotlight really the best move? I mean, look at us now—still talking about them, all because the full group didn’t show up at the awards.

But hey, as they say, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth! Even though Pick Me’s absence as a full group was definitely felt, Yue and Kiko totally held it together at the awards, avoiding any major drama and, shockingly, sticking to the Pick Me ban—well, mostly. The duo arrived together, both dressed to the nines and effortlessly stealing the spotlight from some of the nominees.

They rocked the red carpet, stopping to chat with Cleo and answer some fun questions, and snapped some photos at the photocall. Throughout the ceremony, they sat side by side, singing and having fun during some performances, while also mingling and taking selfies with other idols at others. When it came time to present their awards, they both delivered memorable moments. Yue dazzled everyone with her signature charisma, and Kiko was as sweet as pie, practically glowing when she handed the award to none other than the girls from Venus.

But you know what they say: a picture is worth a thousand words, so imagine twelve (three of which are high-quality videos!). Let’s dive into the girls’ posts!

YUE+FINN COLLAB (@bluwavez)

There’s nothing Yue loves more than putting on a good show, and what better way to do that than by posting a pic with none other than the officially recognized and award-winning it boy, Finn Lee? And what a photo it is! They’ve completely broken the internet with their posts, and fans are absolutely thrilled about this iconic duo. Don’t be shocked if you start seeing this particular pic as the profile photo of your Twitter moots—I've done the same.

Oh, I almost forgot! This pic was taken during EVERMORE’s performance. Very on brand for Yue, I must say.

CHIT CHAT WITH CLEO (@hausofanya)

Yue has decided to share a sneak peek from her interview with Cleo. Think of it as a little teaser before the full interview drops! While we don’t know exactly what she was asked, here’s what Yue had to say in response: “It is what it is, right? Not everyone has taste. But don’t worry, there are plenty of other awards we’ve been nominated for, and I’m sure we’ll win some of those.”

Okay, I guess it’s not too hard to guess what the question was. But what she said! Don't forget to vote for Pick Me in all those other awards we all know about.

BEHIND THE SCENES

This third photo is pretty self-explanatory. Just take a moment to appreciate her beauty and her talent for looking effortlessly gorgeous in every shot!

OUTFIT APPRECIATION

According to Yue herself, this stunning dress is from Fancì Club. It’s not the first time she’s collaborated with this brand, which has become such an essential part of her identity as an artist. It’s just so Yue! The color, the shape of the dress, the flowers—absolutely fabulous!

#YUKO 4 EVER!

You can't have a recap of the night without a pic of our two dolls! Once again, the photo speaks for itself. What’s interesting, though, is that unlike Yue, Kiko hasn’t posted any photos with her friend and leader. I wonder why.

...ANTIVILLAIN'S HANSE? (@disgracefiles)

I have to admit, this photo has left me the most shook of the six. Here we have none other than one of the hottest boys of the moment, Choi Hanse, who just so happens to be Jules’s ex-groupmate from 2LUVU. So, I guess it shouldn’t be a shock that these two know each other and seem to get along. Or should it? Given the recent tension between Yue and Jules, things are a bit muddled—especially with that half-heart gesture Yue is throwing at him!

PINK (BY PINK) MENTION

I love this little clip of Kiko's outfit! Since there's no audio, I’ll share the transcription of Kiko's response to Cleo about the dress: “I’m wearing Pink by Pink. It’s my groupmate’s very own brand, she’s literally so talented! We worked together on this dress for the last month, and I couldn’t be happier with the outcome. I think it’s so me, and I really like that.”

PD48 REUNION (@snspice & @ratedstar)

No, this is not a drill! We’ve had a Produce 48 reunion at these awards, and it was absolutely heartwarming! If you found yourself tearing up when you saw it, you’re not alone—I did too! It happens to the best of us.

Several clips have captured Kiko, SNS' Nami and Jellib's Jooe wandering around the event, hand in hand, beaming with joy. This particular photo was snapped on the red carpet, right after Kiko and Jooe sprinted over to Nami, who was busy posing with her group. They enveloped her in a hug filled with laughter and happy tears. I adore these three so much, they hold a special place in my heart!

SHE'S JUST A FANGIRL (@venusvity)

Despite everything, this has to be my favorite photo. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you—it's a pic of Kiko holding a snapshot of our favorite it girl, Baebi. But it’s not just any photo; it’s signed! Rumor has it that Kiko approached her during one of the commercial breaks at the awards and shily asked her to sign it right then and there. Witnesses say the interaction was absolutely adorable, and Baebi was the sweetest, even inviting both Kiko and Yue to the after-party that Venus was hosting after the awards. Kiko is truly a ray of sunshine and must be protected at all costs!

EVERYONE'S FAV PRODUCER (@allta1k)

Not surprisingly, here’s a photo of Kiko with her favorite producer and friend, Heidi from Girls Talk! At this point, we all know these two get along fabulously, but fans have been over the moon to see this picture. They both look stunning and so happy to be together! Speaking of the possible future comeback of Pick Me, could Heidi be behind the upcoming songs? We certainly hope so!

BOO BORING!

There’s not much to say about this photo. Just an attempt at an aesthetic shot from the moment Kiko presented the award for Best Discography. Boo! There were a thousand ways to make this picture more interesting, but hey, nobody's perfect!

MORE PD48 (EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU KIKO)

We’re wrapping up this multimedia recap with a little clip of our three Produce 48 girls sitting together at the start of the awards. Emphasis on "start" because they later had to sit in their respective spots with their respective groups. Still, they gifted us plenty of cute moments throughout the night, from knowing glances exchanged from opposite ends of the venue to sweet little chats during commercial breaks. It’s clear that for Kiko, the highlight of the night was reuniting with her friends. Isn’t that just adorable?

#𓉸ྀི ݁ ˖ ◜ do mi ti 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦? 𓂃 development #fictional idol community #fictional idol oc #fictional kpop idol #kpop oc #kpop gg #ficfest #ficfest awards

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s-4pphics · 1 year ago

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dial. teaser (e.w)

wc;cw: idk almost 1k not quite doe, fratadjacent!ellie back in this hoe, all ocs r black coded big purr <3, dubcon, parties, ellie being sexy, SMUT MDNI, not really yet but later y’all know the deal🤨, descriptions of sex and brief mentions of psychedelics?, omg am i finally gonna have pwp :3

dash sleep lol

TWO STORIES @ THA SAME TIME????3!3&3

im not a texter lol

You gnawed at your nails as you looked down at the burning screen of your phone, waiting for your friend’s friend’s reply while pacing around you and your roommates’ small room.

Your heart pounded against your chest with anxiety as you hastily waited for her reply. Please don’t make this awkward! Please!

You nearly jumped from the rugged floor to the ceiling when your device dinged again. And again. And one more time for good measure!

You sighed with relief, your fingers tapping on your screen with vigor.

You bit the skin on your lip and decided to test her.

You saw the small bubble pop up on your gray screen before it disappeared. Your nerves almost picked up before you received another message from her.

Oh, shit. You fucked up. Maybe being an asshole isn't the way—

Your cheeks burned instantly; you should’ve never taken your Hennessy-filled yard cup to a fucking frat house!

You woke up to a slew of text messages from… everyone? How many people did you approach last night?! You had texts from random contacts that you saved, firl wit fake nut on her face? haha in particular, asking if you made it home safe or could send titty pics🥺, and it made you want to crawl into a dirt hole and die.

When Dina sent you a bunch of rushed texts asking if you smashed her best friend, you nearly fainted. Not only was your first rule of conduct broken — never fuck your friends or their friends! — but now you had to deal with your friends' side-eyeing you for fucking the one person they told you not to! You almost wanted to say that you didn’t fuck her, and it was all a prank, but by the large, dark spots and bite marks on your neck, nobody would believe you.

You’ve never met Ellie before last night. Her and Dina are super close, according to your friend, and she apparently sells shrooms to other students after finals week? You saw her in passing on occasion, and she acknowledged you sometimes, but you knew nothing about her, despite Dina telling you to leave her the hell alone, bitch. You don’t need those problems.

So how the fuck did you end up laid out across her roommate’s bed with her… fat dick in your throat?! And why is fucking her all that you remember from last night!

You, by the grace of god, recall all the events: her tugging at your waist to pull you closer, the whispers and sucks on your ear, the slaps and scratches on your ass when she dug your guts out!

You wanted to cry.

You felt tears jerk in your eyes at her aloofness. You were about to FaceTime her before another text appeared and soothed you.

Before your fingers could type out another sloppy apology, a text from said psycho popped up on your screen. And you tapped it on accident; You need to turn off your read receipts!

… Your tummy swirled. Only a little. You shook your head like she was there with you.

For what, bitch! You didn’t do anything! You could hear your sock-covered feet padding across the floor as you nervously stomped around the small space.

You typed and sent your reply, your thumbnail in between your teeth and stomach in knots. You hated how your pussy prayed for her to undo them soon.

You remember her so well, it frightened you.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before another message from her popped up. The knots in your gut tightened against your will.

You forgot to breathe when you replied to her in approval, anticipation of seeing the red-haired, big-dicked girl beaming through your heart.

1, 2, 3, four, five

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #fratadjacent!ellie #works 𖧧࣪#lesbian #ellie williams x you #black!oc #ellie williams x black!oc

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nagy-bari · 10 months ago

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after 4+ years and some slow letter exchange they finally meet up again.

wife's design by that teaser dropped (not confirmed) and backed up by the daughters (eye shape, hair color and shape)

and yes they are over 30, and Chilchuck's nerves/job sterss caught up with him, and hey maybe the wife was also a little stressed? who knows? maybe i'm just a sucker for older characters?

sorry for the mess of image placing, read the pages from right to left aaand for my handwriting, if you cannot read, check the pic descriptions.

based on the headcanons of the wonderful Fumi from right here,

i'm a sucker for slow re-build, i want them to talk and settle back into being close friends, i'm okay with no romance but please let them talk, and check up on each other from time to time, maybe roommates if they feel too alone later on, just please please let them have closure. and friendship.

but if they do make up and rebuild their marriage as well, i won't complain. i just think they would have little games of surprising the other cause they have to re-learn all the quirks and new habits, but falling into old habits and jokes would be just sweet, like rediscovering why you love someone as they are is just- the best? like yeah i love you cause of this and this and this and it's amazing be it your friend or family or partner (i guess? no personal memory on that but following the old greek love is more than romance yada yada i'm rambling)

#chilchuck's wife #chilchuck tims #spoilers #heavy speculations #original fanart #original fanart comic #help i'm worse than Marcille with this #i know i should give them their privacy #like yeah we'll never know #but i wanna see them being okay! i need to know they can talk still!

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bp-zb1fics · 2 years ago

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My heart keeps on

pairing: na kamden x secret s/o reader

pronouns: none used

genre: canonverse (finale), angst ish, fluff

tw/tags: long distance relationship, very emo in general, a lot of tears LIKE A LOT, you surprise kamden twice, citing ep 12 as my ref for all this, kinda secret relationship, realities of dating a trainee/idol, reunions so more emo, cuddles, cheek kissing, using a pic as a page break, yes the title is fr kam’s rap in switch ty for noticing 💜

wc: 2178

summary: kamden hasn’t seen you in over a year. you surprise him.

a/n this was supposed to be a gift fic for 101 followers but y'all are 200 now 😭😱 omg so thanks so much for supporting my little blog!!! I know this took a little longer than expected so thanks so much for patiently waiting! 💜Special thanks to the anon who sent me an ask about missing kamden and especially to @seok02 for giving me the motivation to finish this fic and kinda just helping me with the overall process 💜💜💜

check my pinned for more fics!

“Star Creator, we always thank you and love you!”

They wrap up the pajama party livestream, thanking the staff and staying to chat as the cameras are switched off. (Or so they think, lol)

“The vibe was pretty good,” Kamden tells Matthew. The other boy agreeing instantly.

“I think we were able to show new sides of ourselves.”

Suddenly the staff play a recording, surprising them all. It’s video messages from Star creators all over the world for them to watch. Kamden grabs a fluffy pillow as he watches everyone slowly get emotional. Seungeon cries. Zhang Hao cries. Yujin cries. Almost everyone is crying.

Kamden gets a message from a fan in Norway, which is pretty cool. Then, something he never expected happens. He recognises your voice before he even realises it’s you.

“Kamden, annyeong~”

The pillow falls off his lap.

It’s you. It’s really you. You who he hasn’t been able to video call in a few days because of practice and your schedule and the time difference. He almost calls out your name but it sits tight in his throat, unable to reach you.

You’re on screen, wearing one of the shirts you’ve stolen from him, holding onto the plushie he bought for you at that silly little shop after you insisted it looked like him. God, he hasn’t seen you in over a year.

“Dude, you okay?” Jay asks him softly.

He must look like an idiot, eyes blown wide, mouth slightly open, hanging onto every word that comes out of your mouth.

“I’ve been watching Boy’s Planet since the teasers were released. And you’ve always been my favourite.”

Kamden knows. You’ve been spamming your chat with him with all these little clips from the PR videos to the behind the scenes footage. Screenshots of you voting for him on the Mnet+ app, comments you’ve left on his fancam videos, even the funny memes you found of him on Twitter all greet him when he opens his phone after practice.

Hope my favourite trainee is doing well and staying healthy! Take care of yourself and know I’m always rooting for you! I love and miss you so much! Hoping for your debut!

Your messages are his favourite. And speaking of:

“I’ve made a little compilation of photos right here. I hope you like how I decorated them, I really tried my best~”

All the trainees ooh and ahh over the handmade album you bring up to the screen compiled with photos of him from the program and cute little notes and stickers. Kamden can’t move, can’t talk.

Because that’s your album, the one you had insisted on starting when he and you began dating. He knows that if you flipped to the other pages, it would be full of photos of both of you, dates, anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, awards that either of you might have won, events that were important to you or him or both of you, everything carefully labelled. It was one of your favourite things to print out all the photos and he’d help you decorate them.

He can’t believe you kept that up after he left for Korea.

“You’ve stood out to me in every performance. You’re so talented and so many people are cheering you on so please remember to have confidence in yourself.” Your voice wavers a little towards the end of the sentence and as slight as it is, he catches that. He knows you.

Kamden only registers the wetness on his cheeks when the tears are already going, fast and furious. He reaches up, trying to dab them away gently with his sleeve. On screen, you blink rapidly and he knows you’re trying your best not to cry either. Even thousands of miles away, on a video you probably recorded weeks ago, you and him are still in sync. Maybe the rest of the trainees don’t see it but he does. Of course he does.

“I hope you take care of yourself always. Make sure to eat enough and get enough rest. I’ll be voting for you everyday so just do your best in practice and performing and us Star Creators will take care of the rest. We’ll support you so you can achieve your dream of debuting~”

To everyone else, you were just a particularly supportive fan. But to Kamden, you were his person, the one he was devoted to and he can’t help it, sobbing a little into his sleeve. Several pats on the back as the other trainees around him try to comfort him. He can’t help but cry even more. Why were you so far away? Why couldn’t you be here where he could hug you and kiss you and just be with you?

“Na Kamden hwaiting! Saranghae~”

That’s it. He turns and buries his face fully into his hands as if doing that would soak up all the tears that won’t stop coming. Matthew and Jay have scooted over, voices overlapping as they rub his shoulders and back and ask what’s wrong. Even Zhang Hao’s hovering a little on the side, equally concerned.

Maybe he’ll say something later, when there are no mics and no cameras. He’s been training for years and you’ve both agreed that in a career like the one he aspires to get into, keeping it quiet would be the best. Idols don’t date. Idols don’t have a significant other in a whole other country that they call when they can find free time. Even when it comes to casual conversation where there isn’t a camera directly trained on them, Kamden just doesn’t say anything.

They do ask him later. And when he says you’re a close friend he hasn’t seen in awhile, their faces light up in recognition. He leaves it at that.

You walk into the arena with a little trepidation.

It’s all been a blur. Packing your things, flying to Korea, meeting up with Kamden’s mom and brother who have been kind enough to get you a ticket pass for the family section. Of course, he has no idea you’re even here.

You’re quite a bit more nervous about surprising him than you thought. While you’d give anything to see him again, it was a little risky in such a public venue with so many people watching and cameras everywhere filming almost any angle. Maybe you can be discreet enough if you do break down but Kamden’s on stage, the spotlights bright and on him. Fans are probably filming him on their own devices.

At this point, you’ll just have to trust your boyfriend to keep his reactions to a believable level. You don’t stand too close to his family, trying to keep your distance but also staying near enough that you’d be in the same general direction if Kamden glanced your way.

You end up on the side, along with a few other people who seem to be dressed as discreetly as you, masks on too. The looks you exchange seem to come to a general understanding of why you’re all here and who you’re here for.

Kamden doesn’t notice you when the Top 18 first file in. You don’t expect him to but you see him though. There’s a growing knot in your stomach, emotions welling up from actually seeing him not through a screen but so close that you could walk on stage and touch him. You don’t do that, of course. But still, he’s so near that it almost hurts not being able to throw yourself into his arms for a hug.

You’ve wanted this so much, especially after more than a year of not seeing him. But right now, you feel frozen. You only watch as they start getting into positions for the signal song. Fans are cheering, even the family members and friends of the trainees are calling out words of support. Still, your voice sticks to your throat, as much as you want to shout out, something keeps you from doing it.

Good thing Kamden’s brother does it for you. It probably surprises you and his mom more than it should but who can blame you when he almost never does that? Kamden’s surprised too, maybe it’s a twin thing but he immediately stands up straighter looking for where his brother’s voice is coming from.

And then he sees you.

His eyes meet yours and they widen considerably. His mouth even drops open a little. You’re smiling so much and you’re sure it shows from how your eyes crinkle, just a little glossy. But you’re not going to cry just yet. Instead, you wave at him. He can’t do much more than give a little wave back before they seem to be ready to start filming.

Suddenly, your heart feels just a little lighter. You step back and watch him dance the signal song. You’ve seen him do it a thousand times, every time you stream his video. It feels so surreal, being able to see it like this, right in front of you. When the song ends, you see his eyes flick back in your direction, searching for your face. When he finds it, his expression brightens.

It’s amazing, watching someone you love do what they love. Sure, you’ve seen Kamden dance, you’ve gotten him to sing and even rap for you a little before. But it’s different with the stage and the lights and the crowd and he looks so comfortable there. You laugh when you see the Jelly Pop teaser, maybe you’ll get him to wear that dress again, just so you can get photos. The final song is almost bittersweet and you try your best but a few tears do slip out.

He’s messaged you about barely making it to the finale, you’ve monitored the program, watched his rank. You both know his chances are slim. But they’re possible. Still, he’s told you that he’s prepared for the equal possibility of not debuting. His company should have plans, he assured you. You watch him walk over to every one of his fellow trainees who’ve made it to debut, offering hugs and congratulating them. And as the number of spots dwindle, you keep your hopes up but you begin to accept it as well.

By the time they’ve called third, you watch as he walks over to Matthew, one of the trainees he’s closest with from what he’s told you. Maybe he lingers a little longer. Maybe you catch his eyes as he looks over. Hwaiting! You mouth, shaking your fists a little in encouragement. The emotions are swirling inside you. When the camera pans over to him, he’s teary eyed, covering his face the way he always does when he gets like that. You can’t help it. The emotions are starting to spill over and you breathe between the occasional tears.

After they announce the ninth place, everything suddenly starts moving so fast and so slow. They wrap up filming. The audience begins to file out. The cameras switch off one by one. You go backstage.

When he walks in, mic gone, still in that uniform that you keep teasing about, you don’t hold back. His arms wrap around you and you fall into him, holding him so tightly you wish you didn’t need to let go. And then both of you start crying.

“I missed you so much, Kam.” You’re holding onto the fabric of his jacket, gripping at it so desperately you’re almost afraid it might rip.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” He manages, his head somehow buried on your shoulder, tears soaking the cloth of your shirt.

“Surprise?” It comes out weak, a little shaky as you both laugh brokenly through your sobs.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He holds you even tighter, like he’s afraid you might fade into thin air.

“I’ll be here for a while.” You tell him. “I wish I could’ve come sooner but-”

“It’s okay seriously, you’re here now.” If he squeezes you anymore, you feel like your heart might burst. “I’m so happy to see you.”

He goes back with you. There’s few brief introductions to Jay and Matthew and a few other trainees he’s grown close with, nudges and knowing looks and raised eyebrows. But it’s nothing to stress about, you manage to make it back under the radar.

You feel him watching you as you grab a few more things from your suitcase after both of you have showered and you’re wearing another one of his old shirts. Before you know it, your legs are tangled together, your head resting on his shoulder, your hands intertwined.

“I don’t want to sleep,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to wake up and find out this is a dream and you aren’t here.”

“You aren’t dreaming, Kam.” You reassure him, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. Even in the privacy of this room, he blushes.

“Even if I didn’t make it, at least I have you.”

“You do, Kam. You always do.” And you know he will make it, one day.

#boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet x reader #boys planet drabbles #boys planet mnet #kpop fics #boys planet 999 #kpop scenarios #boys planet fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop fanfics #kpop fanfic #na kamden #boys planet kamden #na kamden x reader #kamden fic #thanks for 200 followers 💜#gift fic #bp-zb1 fics

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anidrawsfanart · 1 year ago

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I just watched Glitch X !!!! It was so much fun!!! The Gaslight district sounds interesting…..anyways, we just got a sneak peek into episodes 7 and 8!!! I would like to take the time to dissect it! (Heads up: I’m not the best at analyzing/dissecting things)

So the teaser opens up with what seems to be after the elevator drops???

It’s honestly kinda hard to make out…

Next we see N and Uzi hugging eachother and then UZI CRIES?????? HOLY SHIT

You know shit is about to go down when a character that literally never cries on screen before ACTUALLY cries on screen

I think that’s when N told Uzi that she eventually has to die soon….and I can’t tell where they exactly are

Next we see N getting forcefully dragged away, and in the behind him is a bunch of hands

At first I was kinda confused….but then I remembered all the way back in episode 2 where Uzi, N and Thad went back to the colony where they saw a human hand crawling towards them

Leading it to be revealed to be eldritch J

Which means…..V didn’t make it. The very thing that’s pulling N away could be eldritch V

Although, why does it have multiple hands instead of one?? Could there be the other disassembly drones clones that died??? I don’t really know

Next we got the sentinels with chains and it looks like they might be outside of the manor (UPDATE: I just realized that this is a cathedral and not the manor, somebody also reblogged this and point it out. I was pretty tired when I made this lol)

This could probably be a flash back

Then we get this shot

NORI’S ROOM????? WERE GONNA LEARN MORE ABOUT NORI??? NORI FLASHBACK???? IS THAT TESSA’S HAND???? OR IS THAT SOMEONE ELSE’S????

I think they might have found Nori’s old room where she was being experimented at the time (???)…maybe this isn’t a flashback, also it looks like Nori had a similar personality to Uzi, like mother like daughter lol

Then we see N and Uzi hearing something from behind them

Because of the similar background from the second pic and the shade of red on them, I think this could be moments before N gets taken away by eldritch V or whatever eldritch(es) it could be

Finally we get this

@bigtittiecomitte pointed out that Uzi seems to be holding a cross on her other hand….maybe they are in a church???

Also N intertwining his hand with Uzi’s looking like he’s trying to calm her down, only for cyn (taking over Uzi) to hurt him

I’m VERY excited for the season finale!!!!

#murder drones #murder drones ep 7 & 8 #uzi doorman #serial designation n #eldritch v (possibly)#WOOOOOOOO #HYPEEEEEEEE LTHSRIRUGSGDFJORORWYSY

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xiumya · 4 months ago

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Midnight Snacks | KTH

Title: Midnight Snacks (Teaser)

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: around 1500

Warnings: Minors DNI! While this teaser is mild, my writing is NOT appropriate for minors. Will block any users without age in bio, no exceptions. Please be honest.

Tags: Angst, smut(not in teaser), Sneaky Links, Hidden identity

Summary: You thought you were past your childish insecurities. You thought you steeled yourself against the idea of romance and relationships. You didnt want it, you didn't need it, nor did you seek it out. But Tae? You never expected him to be the one to shake you to core core...

AN: This is just a teaser of a WIP i was inspired to write from one of Tae's lives before he enlisted. This is my first time posting my work at least not since my Amino days. I'm not sure how long the completed work will be, but I hope it becomes something you all look forward to reading🥰. This is just one of my babies and there is more to come in the future... Let me know what you think!

You tossed and turned in a bad attempt at trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. It's like the bed had suddenly turned into the most uncomfortable piece of furniture you owned. But it wasn’t, and you knew that. The problem was him. You never expected to become a fiend. In fact, you never expected anything from him. Not his gaze. Not his interest. Not him dicking you down so good your body is now restless.

You sigh and pull a pillow over your face, kicking your feet while using the pillow to muffle the sound as you loudly groan in frustration. “Fuck you Kim Taehyung....” you whisper into the darkness of the room. That’s the problem though. You want to fuck him, and he has been M.I.A. You know a lot is going on for him, but damn not even phone sex? Oh well, maybe that toy you bought could... who are you kidding, it could never. You kicked the blankets back and got out of bed, grabbing and draping a light robe over your short set as you made your way to the kitchen. You tossed your phone on the counter, deciding to have a late-night snack before forcing yourself to sleep. You did your best to ignore the conclusion your heart and mind had come to. The conclusion that made sense of why you were really so restless. The conclusion that honestly scared you shitless.

It didn’t make sense in your world. He didn't make sense in your world. But is that really a bad thing?

Your phone vibrated, lighting up with a notification. “Hmm? Tae is live?..... Asshole” you said tapping on it. you smiled at the screen, seeing that the chaos he caused yesterday with a single pic of cut hair was just a prank against his fans. You bit your lip, taking in how good he looks with his new haircut.

“Let’s play with fire, hmmm....”

You grabbed a bowl of cherries, sitting at the island on the nearest bar stool. You were determined to get a rise out of him and set out on your mission. It was likely he wouldn’t even see your messages, so no matter what, it's all for giggles on your part. He played music and sang along and for a moment you found yourself mesmerized; swaying to the melody of his voice and allowing it to reach every fiber of your being. You found yourself pressing your thighs together, the feeling that had formed between them a stark reminder of your initial task.

LayOverMeTae: I see we’re working fuckboi hours, huh?

LayOverMeTae: have you eaten today? How about a midnight snack?

You saw his eyes scanning the screen as he read the comments. It was slight, but something he read caused his mouth to quirk up into a smirk. With that, you could only assume he read your comment but, more than likely it was a reaction to the multitude of users asking the same questions. He reached over grabbing his phone, scrolling before finding what he was looking for. He tapped away on the screen for a moment before placing the device off screen again. He leaned closer to the camera, a smug grin on his face.

“I just ordered something to eat everyone. Let's see how long it takes to get here.”

A text message popped up on your screen no sooner than he said that. You smirked, a giddiness building in your stomach as you tapped on his name.

The Sneakiest Link: I'm ravenous. You should come feed me....

You didn't waste any time getting ready to leave the house. You replaced your robe with a hoodie instead, not bothering to change the short set you were wearing. You pulled on a pair of Ugg’s and left the house. You kept the live playing on your phone, smiling as he played some Keyshia Cole. “What you know about Keyshia, Tae” you said to yourself. You stopped at a red light; Tae’s live still playing on your phone as you hummed along to the songs.

“What did I order? Hmmmm?” you hear him read a comment, amusement in his voice.

“Guess! If you guess right, I’ll tell you and eat it while on this live. If not........I'll still eat it, just not with you all watching”.

You heard the teasing tone in his voice; pure mischief and chaos. While Army took it as an innocent game with their idol, you knew better. You knew the devilish games he liked to play, and you knew it was why you felt a knot twist in the pit of your stomach. Excitement. You were almost at his place when a thought struck you. This is Tae, there’s a VERY HIGH chance he just wanted you to bring him food. “Fuck..aren’t we a little too ready?” you ask aloud, addressing the organ between your legs. You turned the car around and headed back to the food stall you saw not too long ago. “His ass better be grateful. I know he would use that damn Tata mic face against me....” you groan as you walk up to the food stall. You got back into the car, an order of everything the sweet lady had available in hand. One thing you came to know about Tae, his appetite was just as big as his sex drive.

You sat in your car, a sudden feeling that maybe you were too eager to see him, gripping you. A feeling that maybe you were, once again, reading too much into the situation between the two of you. Maybe he just wanted a feast of the body and not this domestically sweet gesture of you bringing him food. You stared at your phone, still in its mount and playing the live, suddenly feeling like a fool for giving into your base desires. You knew when you started seeing him, that it had to be no strings attached; no expectations of anything more than what it was, is what you told yourself. So why now do you feel anything towards the idea of it being more? You glance at the bag of food, then to the back seat where you keep an overnight bag just in case, the weight of what the two represents for you feeling entirely too heavy. In a moment when you really shouldn’t be thinking about any of this, you find your self-doubt and slight insecurities taking hold of you. You had essentially given up on relationships and dating, the weight of having your expectations shattered became too much, and you essentially gave up on it by pouring yourself into your work at a neck-break pace. Moments like this rarely surfaced’ at least not until you met Tae.

You shake your head clear of the thoughts “Get it together Y/N, it's just fucking food…” grabbing the bag and your phone, exiting the car. You made your way up to his condo, turning the live off as you approached his front door. “Here we go...” you said, taking a breath and pressing the doorbell.

You tucked your phone in your hoodie pocket and held the bag of food up in front of the camera. You knew it would take him a moment, to answer since he was still doing his live. Not too long passed before you heard the locks turning on his door

Tae’s POV

It had been quite a while since he last saw you. He found that thought to be bothersome to him for some reason. The two of you were hot and heavy for a while, but now it seems like you may have lost interest. Between both of your schedules being hectic and with everything that has been happening, neither of you has really had the time to hook up. At least that’s what he tells himself to keep from thinking about the worst-case scenario; from thinking about how uncanny coincidences turned into a series of hook ups; from thinking about how he may want even more than just late nights and stolen moments. To keep from thinking that maybe that’s all you really want from him. But it was whatever. Between work and his pending military enlistment, would it even be worth it to keep something going?

“Taehyung? Are you even listening?” his manager’s voice pulled him from the riddle of his thoughts. “Don’t go out anywhere tonight. After your little haircut stunt, I’m pretty sure if you are spotted Army will cause a scene”. Ah right.... the picture. A grin pulls across his features, a tell that he found what he did hilarious. Army would be upset, but it would help soften the blow for when he finally does cut it all off. His manager leaves him, reminding him to not go out anywhere, not even the convenience store. Well fuck, there goes his plan for a midnight stroll.

He scrolled TikTok for a while before deciding to go live on Weverse. At the very least he could alleviate his boredom with Army. Plus, if you weren’t already asleep, you would tune in. Right? He grabbed a hoodie and headed to his computer room. He scrolled through his playlists, before selecting one to match his mood. He listened and scrolled for a bit before turning his camera on and starting his live.

“Annyeong...” he greeted his viewers as he saw comments flooding in. He smiled at the camera, a look of mischief shining through as he read comments about his hair. He knew well that Army were going through various mourning stages thinking he had cut all his hair off. The panic they had that he was already the trademark egghead for military enlistment kind of amused him. “You’re all surprised huh? I didn't really cut it off, just a trim” he explained. He read comments and listened to songs for a bit, enjoying this time. He had to admit that it was nice, but he was growing a bit bored.

He watched as multiple comments, asking had he had eaten dinner, began to flood the screen. He hadn’t eaten anything except a piece of fruit earlier in the night, but Army didn’t really need to know that, right? He watched the screen as he sang along, a particular comment catching his attention.

LayOverMeTae? The name was unique, he had to give them that. He couldn’t be sure, since you never told him your username, but the comment reeked of you. “A midnight snack huh?” he thought to himself. A smirk appeared on his face as he grabbed his phone to text you, scrolling past the barrage of unread messages to find yours

Might be Satan?: I'm ravenous. You should come feed me....

#kim taehyung #bts #tae x reader #layover #bts smut #bts x reader #taehyung #bts au

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