#whipped sugar scrubs

[heartnosekid]

foreverskrubs413 on ig

[themindfulnessofslowliving]

Part of Self Care is treating yourself to things that make you feel good. I purchased these whipped sugar scrubs from Underworld Connection. ( Leah Mouse). They are amazing!

[gottastim]

lunarglowskinco on ig

[spacegirlstims]

day 12: your favorite season (or holiday)

fall and halloween!

for @deadboystims 300 follower event!

1 / 2 / 3 4 / 5 / 6 7 / 8 / 9

[gmanmedias]

THE STARLING SPREADS HER WINGS, THE MOTH IS PULLING HER STRINGS

💚 💚 💚

⚪️ ⚪️ ⚪️

💚 💚 💚

37/37: Doc Scratch

[maria-julia--lorette-andela]

[scentofsagittarius]

Please follow the link to answer my 10-question survey to help me perfect my business!!!

Free testers available..

[writtenbymoonflower]

how about

and hear me out

room mate! marauders who are obsessed with their shy roomate

oh trust me, hunny, i am hearing you. hope this is okay! shy gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: nothing really, just fluff, reader is very flustered

1.1k words

Your eyes were blurry as you shuffled into the sunny kitchen. You weren’t used to waking up to the curtains open and breakfast on the stove. You’d lived with people before of course, but none as lively as this bunch. You weren’t complaining, though, you were quickly warming to them, even though you had probably spoken a total of 50 words to your new housemates in the three weeks you had lived with them. Most of these words likely consisting of sorry, excuse me, thank you. 

They had been talking though. Ever since the day you met they had been treating you like their best friend. Not even that. They were all best friends. (Though you considered that wasn’t all, on more than one occasion you had caught Sirius with his head in James’ lap, or Remus’ legs swung over one of the other boys. You had also observed a fair number of kisses between the three boys). But rather, they treated you like something precious, like a porcelain doll they were begging to get a hold of.

That thought made you immediately think of the nickname Sirius (or ‘Pads’ as the boys occasionally called him) had stuck you with. 

“Hey, dollface! You sleep well?” The coal-haired boy looked like he was itching to beckon you under his arm, but resisted. You were thankful, not knowing if you could survive that.

“It was good.” You hummed, barely legible to James over the sound of his bacon sizzling. You padded over to the breakfast table, sitting one chair away from Sirius and his huge bowl of cereal. No sooner had you sat down when a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you by a spindly hand. 

“Here you go, dovey.” Remus sat in the chair between you and Sirius. 

“Oi, Moons. You’re blocking my view.” You turned in your chair to look behind you at the ‘view’ he was referring to, brows scrunching in confusion when all you saw was the archway. You heard a light chuckle from Remus and a snicker from Sirius as you whipped back around. The possible meaning dawned on you, making you his your heated face in your mug.

“Don’t torture the poor thing.” James scolded, giving a (what you were sure he believed was comforting) squeeze to your shoulder before he sat on your other side.

“I never tortured anyone.” Remus corrected from behind his morning paper, slowly eating a cup of berry-yogurt. “Collective punishment is a war crime, Prongs” 

“Leavin’ me to the wolves huh, Moons?” Sirius sassed, sipping on his coffee that was mostly just cream and sugar. 

“Oh trust me, I’m sure we all know how much you’d love to be left to the wolf.” James smirked, clearly in on a joke that you had no idea about. He abandoned his teasing to turn to you, fixing a horribly kind look that made your tummy turn to mush. “There is some bacon and eggs on the stove for breakfast, but I’m sure Sirius would let you into his cereal.” 

“There’s also yogurt.” Remus looked pointedly to his near-empty cup. 

“Oh no, I’m okay. I could never take your food. I’m not hungry anyway.” You muttered into your mug. 

“You’ve gotta eat somethin’ babydoll. Can’t have you skipping meals.” Sirius had a playful, if not protective tilt to his tone. 

“I’ll find somethin’ don’t worry.” You scrubbed your bleary eyes with irritated cadence, still on the brink of sleep despite the warm caffeine swirling in your system. Thick fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull your offending hand away. 

“Gentle, sweetheart.” James scolded lightly. “Gonna hurt yourself like that.” He squeezed your hand before letting it go but it felt oddly like your face and your lungs were being squeezed as well. If this was the boys normal, you weren’t sure if you were going to survive. 

You mumbled a sorry looking at the mahogany table like it held the meaning of life, or the extra hour of sleep you desperately craved. 

“What’ve we told you? You say sorry too much, sweet thing. It’s like, your favorite word or something.” Sirius laughed, slurping down his cereal milk and licking his chops. You bit back another apology and rubbed your eyes again, though much more gentle this time. James cooed in sympathy. 

“You still sleepy?” He rubbed your back again, which made you both more heated and more drowsy. 

“Yeah.” You hummed, shamefaced as you played with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You were thankful that you were still too shy to not wear long pants around them, because they would definitely be able to tell how tensed your legs were. Remus set his paper down.

“Do you have work today, love?” 

“No, ‘s my day off.” James grinned at that, but Sirius spoke up. 

“Happy coincidence! It’s ours too.” He grinned. “How about we all watch something? We can put something on in the lounge room and you can catch a bit of sleep on the settee?” He suggested. You shrunk at the thought of sleeping in front of them, but weren’t opposed to the idea.

“We’ll make sure to wake you up so you don’t sleep the day away.” James added, still rubbing your back. You were easily convinced. 

“Okay, that does sound nice.” Barely above a whisper. 

“We can all have a big lunch when you get up, too. Maybe we could go out?” Remus suggested as he led you gently to the living room. You tried to make your way to the armchair, but you were tugged to the couch. 

“That won’t be comfy, dollface. Here you go.” Sirius sat on the settee close to one arm, Remus by the other. Sirius pulled you between them while James sat on the floor and you whined in protest. 

“No, I’ll move. You sit here, James.”

Remus swore that was the loudest he had ever heard you speak. 

“No, I’m good right here. Thanks though, sweetness.” James reassured. He was sat in the middle, though rather close to Remus so the mousy boy could reach out with one hand and scratch James�� scalp, roving his long fingers through the thick curls. You were so distracted that you were startled when Sirius tugged on you again, maneuvering your head onto a pillow that laid on his lap. You tensed before relaxing into his warmth. You tucked your legs into yourself as Remus covered you with a blanket before going back to loving on James. 

“There you go, baby. That feel nice?” Sirius said, unfamiliarly soft as he stroked your hair, hand a welcome warmth on your scalp. 

Baby. Baby. Baby.

It would surprise you if you woke up from this nap. Your heart had nearly stopped on the spot.

[thetxtdevil]

Blueberry Pie

Soobin x Reader

summary: A day of cleaning turns into a lovely day of baking and sex

content: short and sweet smut :) bf soobin, gf reader, vaginal fingering, penetration, no protection, pull-out

word count: 1.3k

the fruit collection

with loathing painted all over your facial expression, you reach further into the unmaintained refrigerator, blaming no one else but yourself for making it a mess. you were originally relaxing with your boyfriend, soobin, when you got up to get a snack the smell of rotting food hit your nose. loudly, you moan in disgust knowing what you have to do.

now you were crouched down cleaning out the fridge. realizing how much take-out you've been eating from the lack of fresh leftovers and an abundance of spoiled food.

"thats done for, thats nasty, i guess this can hold on for a little longer..."

soobin looks at you with an expression opposite from yours, he couldn't help but find your current attitude cute. loves when you’re doing the bare minimum because he loves you that much. although he could watch you all day he decided to help by going through the pantry also seeing things that may need to be thrown out.

your ears perk when a loud beeping comes from the fridge telling you to close the door. stretching out of your crouched position, you walk over to soobin to see how he is doing. you then notice a cluster of flour, baking powder, sugar, extract laying out excluded from the pantry. looking back at soobin you caught him staring, he quickly focuses on the cereal boxes.

you walk towards him "the baking stuff looks fine i don't think we need to throw them out" you say trying to get in his line of sight.

"yes they're fine but,,," he finally glances at you, something about your smirk gets him going "maybe we can make something?"

you hum at his request looking over at the pile he made and then to the fridge.

"i think we have blueberries that survived the clean-out"

"blueberry pie?" soobin grins leaning into you for a small peck of the lips.

"blueberry pie indeed."

and there you two were making the filling for the pie. soobin close to you making it difficult to move, but you didn't mind the attention.

"can you pour 2/3 cup of sugar, sugar?" you ask while throwing a berry in your mouth.

soobin blushes at the given nickname and does what you ask. handing you the measuring cup of sugar he leans on the counter watching you whip the filling ingredients. you glance over at him with a smile you reach for leftover blueberries, feeding one to him. he accepts the offer staring into your eyes, lips close to your fingers, he eats the berry satisfied by your blushed face.

you shake your head "you're trouble binnie"

you pour the filling into the dough bowl. the dark blue color in contrast of the light beige dough made your mouth water. soobin rolls out more dough and cuts it into strips. both of you intricately cross the dough making a criss-cross pattern. holding up you look at the beauty that you guys made you place it in the oven. straightening your back you twist your body to look at your boyfriend. ignoring the fact that he was checking out your ass you lean forward to kiss him. then you continue to clean up the kitchen.

soobin again watches you keeping a close eye on your movements. how you arms flex when carrying the bags of sugar and flour back into the pantry. how your lip pout in concentration whipping way any crumbs. he can't help but to look at the curve of your body when you're hunched over at the kitchen sink. soobin didn't care for the taste of the pie when he really wanted a taste of you.

he struts over to you wrapping his big arms around your waist. your look up over your shoulder to see him staring at you. you smile and go back to scrubbing a bowl. soobin lowers his head to your neck and kisses the skin. his hands start to wonder your body then grinds against your ass. you realized you lost all attention to the dishes when you scrubbing came to a halt and the sponge was out of your hand. you turn your head to soobin again, cupping his face, and kissing him deeply. you turn your body to get into a more comfortable angle. soobin's wondering hands lowered themselves, one being on your hip and the other between your legs.

you gasp at the feeling "was this your plan all along?"

he flashes you a dimple smile before continuing the make out session. you start to move your hip with soobins hands to get more of that pleasurable feeling. leaning your head back you bring your hands to your breast rubbing the harden nipples.

"god you're hot" soobin whispers to you.

his hand from your hips to you hands he takes one of them off. soobin bows his head in between your boobs and begins to suck and bite your free nipple. you whine and getting irritably hot, you grab to his shirt to get his attention.

"want your dick" you pant at him.

his head snaps up looking at your frustrated pout he was making sure he heard you right. you give him a little whine from your impatience he instantly flips you back towards the sink. tearing your shorts along with your panties down, soobin looks down smirking at the dark patch dampening the cloth. chest on your back, fingers back to your cunt, he whispers into your ear "are you sure that you weren't planning this all along?"

with a firm grip on your hips, he pushes them back to his pressing his hard-on. you groan knowing he was as horny as you and bend your back to display yourself to him. soobin pushes a his two fingers past your fold and into your pussy. you lay your head down on the counter top, eyes closed to concentrate every feeling you had of his curling finger pressing against your gummy walls.

"please, soobin" you whine moving your pussy closer and closer to him.

soobin sighs at you lovely whines and silently agrees to let you have what you want. while still having his long fingers inside you, he drags his shorts down. lining his girthy cock to your soaked hole teasing the tip until slamming his whole girth stretch you out nicely. soobin doesn't wait to move, he wanted to do this all afternoon while cleaning. what a patient boy :( soaking in your warmth and tightness and your pornographic moans. you had your head on your arm protecting your skull from being thrusted into the granite. the heat from both your boyfriend and the oven cooking the pie was overstimulating.

*beeeeeep*

your eye widen "the pie!" you turn your head towards the timer to see it was out

soobin's thrust hesitate for a second just to become as fast as he could. he leans over you back bitting your sensitive skin. wrapping his hand over to your sensitive clit to rub giving your belly a pleasurable heat feeling.

"are you going to last any longer" kissing your shoulder while watching your head frantically shake side to side.

he smirks adding more power to his thrusts to have that feeling of your pussy clenching around him. whiny moan fell from you lips as your cum drips. soobin pulls out quickly jerking himself to cum on your back and your plush bottom. you stay bent over, back rising and falling trying to catch your breathe. you yelps at a feeling of your boyfriends tongue cleaning up his mess.

enough energy to lift your body up and reach for a cup filling it with water. soobin kisses your forehead say sweet things.

"you're forgetting the pie" soobin whispers into your ear

you eyes bulge out of your head rushing over to the oven half naked to grab oven mitts. lifting the pie out of the oven you place the beloved sweet on the countertop. steam flourished from the dessert, the tart yet sweet scent filling your nostrils. the crust was dark close to be burnt but the reason for your forgetfulness you deemed to be valid.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil 🫐

[heartnosekid]

missmechellescreations on ig

[najia-cooks]

[ID: Diamond-shaped cake slices arranged into a layered star shape, topped with powdered sugar, with dates and prunes placed around the edge of the plate. Two plates of Italian Christmas cookies are in the background. End ID]

Whole orange cake with sumac and pink peppercorn

This moist, flavorful cake is inspired by Sicilian torta all’arancia (orange cake) and Moroccan مَسْكُوتة‎ ("maskūta"). There is no peeling, zesting, or juicing of oranges required; oranges are added whole, and lend the citrus oils in their peels, the sweetness and flavor of their juice, and the tenderness of their pulp to the final cake.

Maskouta is a wheat-flour-based cake that often comes in orange or yoghurt varieties—this recipe combines both versions. The addition of yoghurt makes the cake incredibly tender, and adds a smooth tartness that perfectly balances the brightness, robustness, and slight bitterness of the citrus oils that infuse the cake. Cardamom and orange blossom water, both occasional additions in Moroccan orange cakes, add delicate aromatics that further round out the flavor of the cake; sumac and pink peppercorn add a sour, fizzling touch that draws the brightness of the orange to a head at the front of the palate.

Recipe under the cut!

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Ingredients:

2 whole organic oranges

1 3/4 cup (210g) flour

1 1/2 tsp sumac

3/4 tsp pink peppercorn

6 green cardamom pods

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp kosher salt

2 tsp orange blossom water

3 Tbsp olive oil

1/3 cup non-dairy yoghurt

1/2 cup non-dairy margarine, softened

1 cup vegetarian granulated sugar

Sicilian and Moroccan orange cakes do not usually include butter; however, I find that a creaming method, which incorporates air into a solid fat such as margarine, helps replace some of the leavening power of whipped eggs.

Instructions:

1. Scrub oranges thoroughly. Submerge them in cool water (weighing them down with a plate) and soak overnight.

This step removes some of the bitterness of the orange peels. If you don't have time for soaking, or if you very much dislike any amount of bitterness in sweets, zest the oranges by taking off just the orange layer of the peel with a microplane or vegetable peeler; set zest aside. Remove as much of the white pith as you can and discard. Use the zest and the peeled orange slices in place of the whole oranges.

2. Remove oranges from water. Blend them, along with orange blossom water, until homogenous. The mixture does not need to be completely liquid.

3. Toast cardamom pods and pink peppercorns in a dry skillet on medium heat until fragrant. Grind in a spice mill, or with a mortar and pestle. Combine dry ingredients (spices, flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda) in a mixing bowl.

3. Cream margarine in a large mixing bowl with an electric hand mixer for 30 seconds, until fluffy. Add sugar and cream for 2 minutes, until aerated.

3. Gradually add pulverized oranges and fold in. Add olive oil and yoghurt and fold to combine.

4. Slowly add dry ingredients and gently fold until combined. You should get a fairly thick batter.

5. Prepare a 9" x 13" (about 22 x 33 cm) glass cake pan with oil or margarine. Pour in batter and flatten with a rubber spatula.

6. Bake in the bottom of an oven at 350 °F (175 °C) for 50 minutes, or until a toothpick entered into the center of the cake comes out clean.

7. Once cake has cooled, cut into slices and arrange as desired. Top with powdered sugar.

[gottastim]

savybeautyllc on ig

[biscuitdolly]

hello! luv ur blog! tips r very useful! may i ask 4 any brand recommendations when it comes to body care pls? ty 4 ur time!

body care recommendations ౨ৎ

so sorry for the lack of posts! taking some time for myself because i slipped out of a routine, tryna get back on track ♡

i use a lot of things for body care, but here are my favourites!

O1 , dermaveen

as someone who suffers from eczema, dermaveen helps me sm! i love their lotion and unscented soap! they never flare up my skin, break me out or anything of the sort! i especially love their lotion after shaving , which i usually use in par with a scented one !!

O2 , philosophy

philosophy has the sweetest smelling body washes ever! my favourite is birthday cake !! super sugary sweet and leaves my smelling good and feeling fresh!

O3 , frank body

their sugar scrub is the best exfoliator i've ever used! gets rid of all the dead skin, and leaves my skin silky smooth! i use it before shaving for the best effect!

i also love their clearing body wash! it helped sm with my bacne ♡

O4 , sundae body

SUNDAE BODY UGHH ♡♡♡ my personal favourite whips of theirs are 'very vanilla' and 'cherry on top' !! the scent lasts SO LONG and it has such fun cute packaging !! i always get compliments that i smell good even if i'm not wearing perfume !!

O5 , miss dior body milk

not necessarily a brand more a single product,, but god this stuff smells good! leaves me smelling elegant and is super moisturizing but without the sticky feeling after!

hope this helps!!

[redrose10]

yoongi - 50

This one got a way from me a little, but I hope you like it!

#50 People are Staring

Warnings: Swearing, slightly suggestive, mean CEO Yoongi

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You profusely apologized once again for the long wait times even though it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault that this was one of the only cafes in the city. It wasn’t your fault that this cafe was located right at the entrance level of one of the the biggest and busiest corporate offices in the city, probably the state. It wasn’t your fault that your co-workers all quit or got fired within the last week leaving you with just the new guy, Jungkook.

He was a nice kid and a hard worker, but he was still not familiar with most of the drinks so you had him on the register while you did your best to get the orders done.

You looked at the receipt for the next drink,

Large coffee

2 pumps vanilla

3 pumps peppermint

2 pumps mocha

Almond milk

Whipped cream

Chocolate drizzle

Chocolate cookie crumble

Whatever happened to just coffee with cream and sugar you thought as you began to work on the drink.

Just as you finished up Jungkook came over with a scared look on his face, “Umm Y/N there is a guy at the counter who wants to speak to the manager.”

“Okay, I’ll handle it. Please take this drink for order 377.”, you sighed.

Even though you technically weren’t the manager you were the closest there was right now so you mentally prepared yourself before grabbing a handful of free drink coupons as an apology and heading towards the counter.

You came to a halt feeling your stomach drop at the sight of Min Yoongi. The incredibly handsome incredibly rude super scary CEO of MYG INC. which was located on the top floor of the office building. You’d had several encounters with him. He never smiled, hardly ever looked up from his phone and if he did it was only to make a comment belittling or complaining about something. He stopped by 4 out of 5 days a week but sent his assistant Hobi on the fifth day who was a welcomed break.

You cleared your throat before speaking, “M-Mr.Min, how can I help you?”

He looked down at you through narrowed eyes, “Y/N, I’ve been in line for almost twenty minutes. That is completely unacceptable for a mediocre cup of coffee.”

You nodded with you lips in a tight smile, “Of course sir. I apologize. It’s just Jungkook and I and he is new. We’re trying our best.”

“Yeah well it’s clearly not good enough.”, he scoffed.

You took a deep breath to keep yourself calm, before sliding over the coupons, “Again I apologize Mr.Min. Here are coupons for some free drinks.”

“Ha I don’t need a free drink. Clearly I can afford a $5 coffee which shouldn’t take this long to receive. Do better.”, he spat before grabbing his coffee from the counter and heading towards the elevators.

“Wow he’s an intimidating asshole.”, Jungkook whispered next to you.

“Yeah uh he’s something for sure.”, you sniffled trying to hold back some tears.

Over the next couple weeks things improved slightly. Jungkook was getting quicker and the owner hired two more employees, Jimin and Taehyung.

Your classes had started up again so you were moved to the evening shift which you were so thankful for. It was a little slower and you no longer had to deal with Yoongi.

Clocking in for your shift you got a text from the owner,

Jin (Boss man): Hey there’s a new guy starting tonight. He’s only working a few hours a week. Something about learning to deal with people blah blah blah. Please show him the ropes.

You: Sure thing

JIN (Boss man): He’s really handsome by the way. NO OFFICE SEX!!!

You chuckled as you tucked away your phone ready to get this shift over. The first couple hours flew by even though it was relatively slow. You had your back turned to the counter as you scrubbed away at one of the machines.

From behind you someone cleared their throat making you jump.

If you had a million guesses you never would’ve been correct about who was standing behind you in uniform.

“Uh Mr. Min?”, you questioned.

He looked more pissed off than ever.

“Y/N, I guess I am your new coworker for the next several weeks. Maybe I’ll be able to to come up with a better system to solve the slow service around here.”

“Umm uh sir? W-what do you mean coworker?”

He rolled his eyes, “Obviously I mean we are working together.”

“I know what a coworker is. My question is why is a billionaire ceo working at a coffee shop for minimum wage?”

“Because my lovely parents think I need to learn some humility and how to talk to people other than just demanding things. They said I do this or they’re removing me from the company so I have no choice.”, he said picking at some lint on his shirt.

“So I’m working here a few hours a week. I figured if anyone knows some humbleness it’s a nobody coffee maker.”

Great. Just great. Just when you thought things were looking up now you have to deal with this arrogance and rudeness.

But being the reliable hard worker you are you sucked it up, “Okay sir. The easiest thing is to learn the register first.”

He followed you over to where the computer was located.

“Okay so this row is the specials. This row is basic coffees. Then when you select a coffee it asks if you want to add any thing. That’s where you’ll find the flavorings and toppings. This row is cold drinks. This row is baked good.”

You noticed he was very quiet so when you looked up you weren’t surprised to see him staring at some blond in a short pencil skirt sitting at one of the cafe tables.

“Are you even listening?”, you questioned.

“Y/N, I run a billion dollar company. I think I can figure out a few buttons on a computer screen at a coffee shop.”, he smirked.

“Okay sir, here’s your first customer.”, you smiled as an older woman came up to the register.

“Hi, welcome to Jin’s Java House, how can I help you?”, he greeted her.

“Sure can I get a medium coffee with two pumps of hazelnut, half a pump of vanilla but make sure it’s only half a pump. Last time they definitely put too much. Then also add a caramel swirl and use half oat milk half almond milk that is warmed up so it doesn’t cool the coffee too much. I also want a banana nut muffin on the side but warm it up also.”

You felt a deep happiness as you watched Yoongi’s fingers hover over the buttons unsure of how to complete the order. Reluctantly he looked at you for assistance.

You showed him how to type in the order while Jimin got to work making it.

That was definitely a humbling experience for Yoongi who was much more open to help after that.

Working at the coffee shop certainly seemed to bring a change in Yoongi. He was friendlier, calmer. One night he even apologized for always treating you so coldly, especially that one day he made you cry. He said he came down later in the day to apologize then but you were already gone and it bothered him ever since. The two of you became a lot closer and you might’ve started to developed a small crush instead of just pure hatred for him.

You were most surprised when he agreed to work with you during a Saturday morning shift. It was a last resort when you texted him explaining the situation and that you were going to be working by yourself. When he showed up Saturday morning bright and early you were in shock. He looked even hotter than usual in his ripped jeans and sneakers and the cafe shirt. His hair just combed through and messy instead of styled back. He wore glasses instead of his usual contacts. He looked good as he greeted you with a gummy smile.

The shift was BUSY. You felt like you were running around nonstop. Yoongi even broke a sweat which you didn’t think was possible.

“I have to go in the back and get more ice water. The machine is overheating again.”, you said pointing at the old espresso maker.

“I’m just going to suck it up and buy Jin a new one. That cheap bastard. This is ridiculous.”, he shook his head.

The bucket was heavy as you did your best to carry it up front without spilling any.

“Hey Y/N, how do I ring up a strawberry milk tea aga-“

Before he could finish Yoongi turned around and crashed into you spilling the ice water all over you and the black coffee he was holding all over himself.

You hissed from the coldness running down your body.

“Oh my god I am so sorry Y/N. I didn’t see yo-“

Yoongi stopped speaking rendered silent.

He came to stand in front of you when you noticed the coffee spilled all over his jeans and shoes, “Oh sir I am so sorry. I didn’t even notice. I can’t afford to buy you new ones but I’ll try to clean them the best I can.”

You noticed the waiting area full of customers all staring at you. Mostly in silence, a few chuckles. Your cheeks started heating back up even though your body was cold from the water.

“People are staring.”, you whispered.

“Um yeah uh. Probably because um…”

You’d never seen the CEO so flustered. A blush crept up his next to his cheeks before he continued, “It’s probably because your shirt is uh…is kind of see through right now.”

You looked down in horror realizing that the water had turned your white work shirt completely see through revealing your white lace bra underneath.

You ran in the back looking for another shirt to change into when Yoongi followed close behind.

“I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry sir. I’m sorry about your clothes and I’m sorry I embarrassed myself in front of you and now you’re never going to like someone like me and ugh I’m so dumb. Why didn’t I wear an apron today?”, you were rambling on and not even realizing what you’d said when Yoongi came and stood in front of you again handing you a shirt he had found, “Y/N, you have to stop calling me sir. Please. Especially when you’re standing in front of me with your bra on display.”

“Um sir…I mean Mr.Min I…It’s a habit.”, you said even more embarrassed.

“Mr. Min isn’t any better.”, he shook his head.

“Here put this shirt on and then let’s go out there and finish this shift so we can go back to my place, have dinner, and then I can see this lace on full display while I make you call me sir in all kinds of ways.”, he said with a smirk just inches away from your face, “Otherwise I might just have to take you here. And Jin is going to be very upset that we broke the no office sex rule.” Your eyes widened with excitement as you quickly changed before following after him reeling with desire.

[sssilverstoned]

sympathy for the devil ꩜ cl16

type: fluff? besties to lovers? let's say that. a friend is done dirty but is she really a friend? debatable. flashbacks, angst-ish (a guilty conscience is always a great outfit addition, no?)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: language, suggestive but no smut (finger sucking. i was in a mood,) charles is a reformed cheater, so let's say some moral ambiguity all around

lily said: hello hello! welcome to the inner workings of my hyper fixation on summer romances and a couple of bestieeeees who should just be a couple. now that this guy is out the way, i'd love to formally open requests! a drabble, fic, oneshot, hit my line ! we can get into the details of who i do and don't write for later <3

You are not a terrible person. You're not even a bad person, truly. It's something you repeat to yourself like a mantra as you look away from Charles's side profile across the long table.

He's looking like summertime, soft like an afternoon nap, but sharp like a stinging on your skin from too many 5 more minutes called from the patio. His neck is elongated slightly, trying to hear Joris's story over Mirabel's loud laughter. When he leans like that, you can see a peak of the remnants of the hickey you sucked into his pale skin the evening before. Your stomach hurts.

Charles's own nose is red, he's scrunching it on occasion like no one will notice his discomfort, and his necessity for aloe vera. You've packed it in your bag because you know he wouldn't have. He knows to ask you for it later.

You excuse yourself from the long table, your dinner in front of you looking great, but you were nowhere near hungry. When you push your chair back to stand, it makes a low noise against the floor of the garden, and his head whips to you immediately.

It was your friend group's traditional holiday you were gathered for, an annual week at Mirabel's family home right on the water. 4 girls and 5 boys, room assignments remaining relatively static throughout the years. There was that one year Clara and Sammy shared a room, but, as both of them would easily say, it wouldn't be happening again.

"Everything okay, y/n/n?" Peter asks from your diagonal, which makes more heads turn to your now standing figure. You let out an uncomfortable huff, disguised as a laugh. Charles can read you like his favorite book.

Your linen dress clings to your body, yet flows off you effortlessly. He remembers seeing it on a hook in your room, wondering how it would look on your figure when he pretended to not watch you change tops. Reality was always better than fantasy, this he knew for certain.

"I'm alright, just chilly. Want to grab my sweater."

"I'll go with you, want to charge my phone anyway," Emma smiles up at you from her seat, standing up as well.

Charles follows your figure with your eyes until you disappear into Mirabel's villa, then continues to pretend to be listening to whatever Peter has begun rambling about.

"Did you see the way he and Oliver left the pantry in disarray this morning?" Emma's practically hissing her disdain, her shorter legs pumping overtime to catch your gait. You were hoping she couldn't.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Charles," she gags. "Tried to cook breakfast, and of course it was shit. Can't believe you didn't know."

You did, you helped him clean it up.

"I feel like it's quite hard to burn oatmeal," you snort, scrubbing the pot.

"Too much sugar in the pot, I suppose. That's how you make yours, yes? With brown sugar?"

You look back at him from where he was leaning against the counter, watching you help him fix his mess. Oliver had cleaned up the spilled flour on the floor of the pantry, then ran out to get pastries from a bakery before the rest of the villa woke up and threatened his life.

"Surprised you remember how I like my breakfast," you say.

"Why?" he asks, cocking his head. "I know a lot about you."

You click your tongue, suddenly shy under his intentional gaze. Your focus is back on the pot, and a stubborn clump of congealed oats. Charles peers around the kitchen quickly, before coming up behind you, a large hand circling your waist.

"How did you sleep? I realize I didn't ever ask," He drops a kiss to the crown of your head when he finishes speaking, and your breath hitches. Not with love or affection, but with a strike of fear, almost. It was an open air kitchen, and while everyone seemed to be sleeping in, you never really could know who may be stirring about.

"Slept fine. Kept the windows open," you shared a room with Clara on these trips, you two were always the closest of the girls growing up and never minded sharing. She didn't say anything when you came in at 2 am with mussed hair and swollen lips, and you were grateful for it.

"You could have stayed, Joris didn't come in until late."

You finally bristle, dropping the pot onto the drying rack. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

You turn in his grasp, eyebrows frayed in the middle of your face. He hates when you look at him like this. "Y/n, we're not children anymore. We're two consenting adults."

"Emma will hate me."

"And is that worth your happiness? Whether or not your friend, who you aren't that close to, by the way, is mad at you?"

"You cheated on her, Charles."

You clear your throat as you blink away the memory. Emma scoffs again at the thought of Charles. "He even had the gall to come out on the patio at the same time as me this afternoon."

"Everyone was on the patio, Emma," you level, already getting irritated with her tone. She irritated you often, Charles wasn't necessarily wrong about your lack of proximity to her. She was always a bit bratty, but had too much history with the group to be left behind, no matter how much she seemed to irk everyone. "You can't expect him to walk on eggshells around you, he's still a part of the group."

Emma stops walking, but you keep pace. "Are you defending a cheater, y/n?" You're glad you didn't stop.

Your eye twitches, and you're glad that she can't see it. This conversation was draining you, yet it's barely started, and already, it's over. She did this nearly every time they were in the same vicinity, and it was getting old. Or maybe, it was the guilt that you were fucking her ex-boyfriend.

It was a mistake that they dated in the first place. He had just broken up with his long term girlfirend, someone you all never seemed to get along with, and Emma's eyes were always slightly googly for the boy. Her attention was more palpable, and better received, than the rest. So they began to fool around, began to hold hands a bit more at group dinners. You heard her say 'boyfriend' much more than he did, though.

The cheating was a bit egregious, even for Charles. For the sake of everyone's friendships, his romance with her was kept under wraps, the superiority of a professional PR team apparent over gossip columns and nosy fans. It was the nosy fans, unfortunately, that had found Charles in a club somewhere in Italy with his tongue down some model's throat.

She cried, shouted, did everything but rip her own hair out at the photos that surfaced. Perhaps it hurt her most that people were excited to see Charles with the woman, finally seen with someone that wasn't an engineer or Vasseur. They didn't know about her, and frankly, they never would. She was never terribly important to Charles, everyone knew that, and now she did too.

The group had moved on, sans Emma. No one really made fusses about it in the first place, their relationship running its course over only about 3 months. The boys saw it coming and, well, the girls had warned her. A rebound was always obvious to those watching.

The worst part, the part that made you feel so ill all the time, is Charles wanted to be yours, and you wanted to be anywhere but the villa.

You grab your sweater off of the chair at the vanity mirror in your room, bristling at the chill coming from the open window you had left during the night, and now day. You hear the laughter of your friends, of Peter shouting over Oliver, and Charles laughing from his belly. You hate that you can tell his laughter from the rest.

When you sit back down at the table, Clara waits for you to scoot your chair back in and place the napkin in your lap. "You lost her inside, eh?"

You crack a smile, Clara was your most blunt, and funniest, friend. "Had to, lest I hear about Charles's trespasses again."

Clara chuckles into her wine glass. "If only she knew."

In a lowered voice, you turn closer to her. "I think she may actually lose her mind if she found out, Clara."

She rolls her eyes. "Find out what? That you two are obsessed with each other, yet you won't take him seriously? That she was collateral? Shit happens."

"That's not what this is."

"Please. He'd marry you tomorrow if given the opportunity, y/n. Deep down, she knows that was never her anyway."

When you look back up at Charles, he's already looking at you, looking so endearing that you have to look back down at your chicken and roasted vegetables. You're still not hungry.

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It happened quickly, but the buildup seemed to make it inevitable. You were always a friend of the leclercs, your mother's growing an affinity for each other when you were quite young. You grew up alongside the boys, Charles always having a soft spot for you in particular. Charles escorted you every time your father hosted a gala, and voluntarily was your designated driver on nights out. One in particular, 6 months ago, sealed fates.

"Charlie, just take one shot."

"If I take a shot, I won't be driving," he laughs at you, looking at you with little twinkles in his eyes. He and Emma had just finally broken up, the past 3 months couldn't be categorized as anything but odd. After they had notified the group, in their own respective ways, you had seemed to have gotten your fun loving, a tad awkward, but always down for what you were plotting, Charlie back. He had agreed in a heartbeat to meet you and Clara at the club. It makes you grin.

"That's fine, uber exists. Have fun for once, please?" You pout, tequila speaking for you. Everything was already a bit hazy, much funnier than normal, and less serious.

"Yeah, come on Chaaaarlie," Clara giggles knowingly. He'd do anything if you asked for it, this was a fact.

With a shake of his head and faked disdain, he downs the shot, hears your cheers, and suddenly, one shot is seven and you're both screaming the lyrics to an old Fergie song that blasts through the speakers.

Heels were a bad, but stunning, idea. You felt cute and confident, but by the time you had stopped dancing like a mad person to get a drink of water, the balls of your feet began to throb.

"Please don't take your shoes off in this place," Charles begs.

"Don't be my father," you frown. "My feet hurt."

"Your feelings will be what's hurting when someone steals these off the section couch," he points to your feet, and there was a touch of validity. They were Jimmy Choos, after all, and cost more than you could comprehend. Charles often went overboard on your birthday gifts.

"I'll take that risk."

"I'll hold them."

"You won't," you say with a laugh, used to his dramatics. But he shocks you, gingerly picking them off the couch and holding them on his index and middle finger.

"Charlie, put my shoes down."

"I will do no such thing."

Somehow, somewhere between promising Clara you'd text her when the uber dropped you and Charles off at his place, helping him get the key into the lock of his door, and sitting on his kitchen island, Charles finds himself in between your legs, staring into your eyes that had glitter and mascara surrounding them.

It wasn't normal of "best friends" to be around each other like this. He knew that. He hadn't wanted to be just your best friend in a while though, but having you in that capacity was better than nothing at all. Especially when he had seemingly bounced from one girlfriend to the other, and deep down, he knew it was because he was bored. They weren't you, no matter how much imitation was attempted. Perhaps the only person who was aloof to his truest desires, was you.

"You looked very pretty tonight, y/n/n."

"You looked dashing yourself," you wink, "the girls in there told you that though, no?"

He rolls his eyes. "That wasn't anything. Just fans, same shit as usual."

"You usually are being hit on by pretty girls, is what you're saying?" You continue to tease. Charles can't stand your smart mouth sometimes, especially how much he can't help but love it.

"To be fair, I don't really notice. I'm always looking at you, anyway."

You don't have a response for that. He's never said it outright, never crossing the line. But now he has, and there's no going back.

"Charles, you just broke up with Emma."

"I know,"

"You cheated on her."

"I know,"

"I'm your best friend."

His turn to grin. "I know."

In a fashion completely unlike you, throwing caution to the wind felt like the only option, pulling him in with your legs, locking around the back of his waist, lips pressed onto his, hair between your fingers. He tastes like tequila and mint gum, like the things you regret yet adore. He wonders if this means the same to you as it means to him.

When you wake up in his bed, makeup removed and your favorite shirt of his draped over your body, you inhale deeply when you feel the familiar soreness stretching through your lower half, and the weight of his arm roped around your body. Now that you've gotten your taste, you weren't giving it up.

"Did you pack the aloe vera?" You hear him from your doorway, blinking back from yet another memory.

"'S in the bathroom, look in the blue toiletry bag," you call, not looking away from where you were taking your hooped earrings out in the mirror. It was a domestic encounter in a way, like a scene taken out of context 20 years from now. Maybe one day, you'd be on holiday with a family of your own, enjoying silence once your kids were asleep after playing in the water all day. Maybe you'd be actually sharing a room, instead of whatever the fuck this was.

"You seemed off at dinner, everything okay?" Charles asks, rubbing the gel on his soon-to-be-peeling nose.

"Fine," you shrug, turning back to look at him, and not just his reflection. "Just wasn't so hungry. And cold, like I said."

He chuckles a little to himself. "I could tell," he nods with his head down to your chest. Your nipples had pearled, and supposedly, had been pearled, and were obvious through the thin fabric of your fitting dress.

"Jesus Charles," you berate, turning back to your mirror. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a man," he corrects. "Who's seen what's under that dress and thinks it's a great sight. But I also like your mind and your personality and all that, of course." Idiot. He sits on your bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard as he watches you get ready for bed. Domesticity. "Will you be going back to Monaco after this?"

"No, visiting Clara's family in the states for a little."

He makes a discontent noise. "How long?"

"A week," you answer. "Miami."

"Fun, going to go out?"

"What is it to you?" You ask, half jokingly, half alerted by his series of questions.

He shrugs this time. "Care about you, want to know what your plans are. Is it a crime?"

"No, just makes me fear you're in love with me."

"I'm on my way to that, I tell you that all the time. And you make jokes because you know it's true."

You stand up from the vanity, looking at him with an expression that makes his heart hurt. It's that wounded puppy look, the way you used to look at Arthur when Charles would tell him to fuck off from trying to hang out with the two of you as teenagers.

"I don't really know what to say when you say those things." He stands up from your bed, meeting you where you stand in the middle of you and Clara's room. He still smells just like all your favorite aspects of summer, and that tired look in his eyes from a day of relaxation and release melts you. "I know I'm in my head."

"'S a good head to be in." He moves the strans of your hair that were falling over your forehead behind your ear, smoothing his fingers over your jawline until his fingers lift your chin. "That's better. Couldn't see your face."

"What is this, Charlie?" Your eyes search his, and he hates how scared you look. "Like, seriously. We, we fuck, we sleep in the same bed more than we don't."

"We always have done that, you've shared with Enzo and Arthur before too I'm sure."

"Don't be dense."

"I think that's just how I am, mon amour."

"Such a shithead," you mutter with a huff, annoyed with his smug expression. "I'm being serious. If sex is just what you want, or need, right now, I don't think I can do this anymore."

"It's much more than that to me, don't insult me," He no longer has a grin on his face, mouth turned much more stoic. "My actions precede me, yes," you withold commentary on that, "but I'd never do anything to hurt you, y/n/n. I care about you, think about you all the time, want you wherever I am, always."

A part of you thinks this is what you've always wanted to hear. A gorgeous, successful, personable man who you've grown to trust infallibly your whole life is 5 feet short of professing his love for you, and yet, you can't let yourself fully be happy. Because for the last 6 months, you've ducked and dodged your own friends, not wanting them to know about the two of you. He did cheat, for crying out loud. On someone you have baby photos with. No matter how annoying, or selfish, she comes off, Emma wasn't going anywhere in your life. And you'd be devastated if she did this to you, so he remained your dirty little secret.

"Am I interrupting?" Clara says teasingly from the doorway, a wine glass still in her hands. "Sorry, Mirabel wanted me to check on you."

You clear your throat and step away from Charles. "Not at all. Charlie's got a sun burn."

"Ah. You are pale," Clara notes. "Figures."

"Thanks, Clar."

"Still drinking?" You nod toward her glass. "Pour me one, will you?"

"Sure will." She turns, and you make to follow.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, I think."

"Y/n,"

"Not right now," you say firmly, "please?"

And you've got that withered look, that look that screams exhaustion. Guilt's gonna kill him one day, he's sure.

"Fine."

And with that, you head out the door, leaving Charles in your room, regretting not telling you how he felt about you when his girlfriend told him to. Before Emma took that mantle instead, and before you started looking at him like it was hard to do so.

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Sammy brings it up first, but the entirety of the day was the beginning of the end of secrecy.

The next day had been decided as a boat day, everyone prepared for another long day in the sun, this time on the open waves. The girls had all gone below deck, in search of champagne and a bottle opener, and Sammy and Charles were far enough from Oliver, Joris, and Peter for them to hear a conversation.

"I've got a question I think," Sammy asks. He makes an affirmative noise, head leaned back against the cushions of the lounger, sunglasses sliding down his still peeling nose. "Are you and y/n hooking up?"

Charles immeditely looks up at Sammy, mouth open in a scramble for the most believable way to say no. "No, ah, why would you say that?" oh dear.

"Mate," Sammy winces.

"Fuck me," Charles yanks the glasses off and wipes both hands over his face. He keeps them there when he asks, "how?"

"Leaving hickeys is one thing, her jewelry on your bedside table is another." The central heating unit for their floor was in Joris and Charles's room, Sammy did go to adjust it yesterday morning. Fuck. "Does Emma know?"

"No," Charles says quickly. "No. Y/n doesn't want anyone to."

Sammy quirks his mouth to the side. "Well, are you dating?"

"No,"

"Ah." Sammy looks out on the water, stewing over this confirmed theory of his. You all suddenly appear from inside, cheering with a bottle clutched in Emma's hand, you with the opener. When he looks back at Charles, he sees that even though all four of you stand there he's looking at you. This must be sympathy for the devil, Sammy thinks, because why else is he feeling bad for someone whose problem was multiple attractive women had feelings for him?

"Charlie, can you help?" you pout, unable to get the cork loose from the bottle. It was obvious you were tipsy, drunk even, you all had been drinking since the sun came up.

"Fucks sake y/n, use your arm!" Clara groans. Sammy looks back at Charles, willing him with his brain to not be at your beck and call for once.

"I've got it," Charles chuckles, like an idiot, if you ask Sammy. He pops it, a cheer coming from the group at the appearance of bubbles and spray. It gets all over his hands as he attempts to hold the bottle away from his body, and he shakes the excess off as the cheers continue. Oliver whisks the bottle away to be divied up between everyone's cups, and Charles goes inside to wash his hands off. You slink off behind him, unbeknownst to him, or the rest of your friends, except for Emma, whose interest is piqued by your sudden absences.

"Thanks for the help," your voice is sweet in the silence of the kitchenette.

His head whips to your figure, slightly startled by your presence. You're barefoot, a brown bikini only covering what's absolutely necessary to be covered. He can't tell if he loves it or he hates it. Your open button up shirt tossed on as a cover up intrigues him, because, is that his?

"Is that my shirt?" Charles repeats, out loud this time, eyes trained like heat seekers as you move close. His hands lay in the towel, champagne still dripping off his fingers. You've seemed to have distracted his process.

"No, but it seems like you would love it if it was."

He raises his shoulders. "You're welcome to them."

You hum, "good to know." You're looking at him like prey, it makes his throat dry and he's not sure what to say. You're always the bubbly one, the sunshine when he's being grumpy and difficult.

Charles lifts his hands from the towel that he still hasn't utilized yet, pushing his luck by placing a hand on your hip. He plays with the string on your right hip, fingers begging to untie the bow. "You only like talking to me when we're in kitchens, huh?"

He makes you laugh with that, or maybe it's the alchohol making you do it. "I always like talking to you. It's you that can't keep hands to yourself."

A hand slides up his chest, resting casually, yet his heart races faster. That familiar, warm feeling settles in his lower stomach, and he wills himself not to harden like a teenager. "We both have a problem with hands, I see."

You tilt your head in challenge. You pull his hand off of your hip and lift it, analyzing the digits still drenched in champagne. And to his utter surprise, you take his index finger into your mouth. The eye contact you hold as you do so has his mouth dropping open slightly in a daze, mind going to static as he feels the warmth and wetness, the pucker of your lips. You hum as you release his finger with a pop, licking your lips.

"Don't think I have a problem with your hands at all, Charles."

Charles, not Charlie. He's ruined.

How you saunter away after that leaves him gobsmacked, flustered, and most of all, hoping this boat would be docking soon.

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"I have an offer for you," is how you start the conversation. You're all showered, evening attire thrown on and awaiting the metaphorical dinner bell. The two of you plus Peter were sat out on the patio, and were left alone when Peter ran in to the bathroom for a moment.

"When I come back home, we should go on date."

Charles thinks he mishears you. "What?"

"A date, Charlie. You know, when two people who share a romantic interest go out toge-"

"Enough, smartass," He stops your condescension. "You would go on one with me?"

You take a deep breath. "Yeah, I would. I like you, and all that."

"And all that," he repeats. "What every man wants to hear."

"Do you want to go on the date or not?"

"I do, I really do. Have wanted to for a while, you know."

You smile softly, resting your head on the lounger. "I know."

"Dinner's ready," Emma comes out to announce. When she sees it's only the two of you, her expression changes slightly, something only you'd notice after years of experiencing emotions from her. "Where's Peter?"

"Bathroom," you answer easily. Emma looks at the two of you intently, and Charles turns towards the water, not really interested in making conversation with the woman who's profusely stated her aversion to him.

"Hm. Well, come down soon."

When she closes the glass doors, Charles all but laughs out loud. "What a nightmare."

"Your ex," you rebut, "can't believe that to this day. If you didn't like her, why'd you do it?"

"Because I didn't think I could have you."

His veins fill with regret when he says it, he knows its not fair. But it's true, you know it as well. "Well, no more collateral damage, then." You stand up from the lounger, brushing down your dress. "Pick a good restaurant for the date."

Dinner begins well, Mirabel telling stories and Oliver denying them all. It's when the laughter dies down after Joris recounts their last trip to Nice that things begin to slant.

"Y/n/n," Emma calls from down the table. You turn to her, as everyone does.

"Yeah, Em?"

"I just have been dying to know," she starts, clasping her hands under her chin. "How long have you and Charles been fucking?"

Peter chokes on his wine. The table is utterly silent, and everyone's face carries the same shocked expression. And, wow, you've pictured this moment dozens of ways and hundreds of times, but honestly, this one was rare form. But after everything, especially today, caution was once again to the wind.

"About 6 months," you calmly answer, reaching for your glass. "Give or take."

"You bitch," she hisses. "Are you not even ashamed of yourself?"

"Are you not going to address Charles in the slightest, or is it just y/n's fault that they have sex?" Clara asks, and Mirabel and Oliver can't help the snicker in their chests. Sammy takes another piece of salmon from the middle platter.

"Yes, I could have said something," you mull.

Emma looks around, utter disbelief on her face as it seems everyone's refusing to intervene on this one. You can't blame them, and those who did know, well, their wine glasses are filled.

Emma gets up from the table with a curse of Charles's name and a disgusted look your way, and Clara clears her throat.

"So, anyone have any recommendations for clubs in Miami?"