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#and everyone seems to say it differently but it doesn’t matter because i can never remember HOW
wonryllis · 1 month
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watermelon sugar (m) | sim jaeyun.
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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?
preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.
or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.
meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader
genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, SMUT MDNI!!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessions?, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.
word count. 13,488 unedited! it's word vomit.
warnings. fingering, dry humping, dirty talkkk lots and lots of it, nasty freak jake with innocent(seems to be) girlie, experienced x inexperienced(virgin but has idea), pussy slapping, somewhat drunk sex but there's consent consent, oral (m rec.) different scenes, p in v (unprotected! but pls pls pls do not do this ever use protection!!!!!) multiple orgasms (f.rec), overstimuation(f.rec) and somewhat (m.rec), spitting? slight nipple play, jake is rough and filthy, with heavyyyyy corruption kink it's all throughout the story, strength kink, size difference “i worship the ground you walk on” energy but still dominant jake, jake has soooo many dirty inner thoughts about you it's innumerable. he's a simp for you so you're a slut for him— i guess that's them?
theme song. animals by maroon 5 (jake pov), into you by ariana grande (yn pov)
﹙★﹚ ࣪DRABBLES (coming soon)
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` author notes. im sorry for making you guys wait three extra weeks I hope y'all still want to read this,, what do i say it was so horrible before the revamp, thankfully it's so much better now and the smut god, it was so hard to write it i hope it's good enough. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!!
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“i don’t mind this feeling.”
YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT, WHATEVER IS HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU BOTH, BUT YOU LIKE IT. IT FEELS SILLY AND FRAGILE AND GOOD. perhaps a little too good.
god forbid what you had done in your past life to get a roommate like jake, a complete package; a concoction of all classic kinds of roommate one could possibly expect. you aren’t complaining though he takes care of you in every way he possibly could. making you feel like you are his entire world revolves around you, from his time home to the hours he spends on the field. one would ask anything of him and his answer would surely include you in one way or another, everyone knew it, everyone could see it, the way he feels.
he makes you breakfast, he helps with the cleaning- you both actually have it planned to have a cleaning day every week to polish the apartment. he cooks for you and he does the dishes more than often than not, the only exception being the time when you insist deathly on doing it yourself because come on you gotta do at least some thing around the house.
to add to the perfect mixture of god gifted man, he video games in his room with the door shut so that the sound of him shouting at the screen doesn’t disturb you. does the laundry- even your bras and underwear, he’s just too used to those clothings to give a care to get embarrassed (outwardly). he would never admit the way they get him all hot and bothered when he thinks of all the places those fabrics have touched. how wild his imagination runs and all the things he wishes he could do to you. all the sounds he could get, out of you and all the things you'd taste of.
you are his candy (well not exactly ‘his’ but according to him this nickname of yours is only and I repeat only reserved for him) literally because you are all over sweets all the damn time and figureratively because he’d die to have a taste of you; the forbidden fruit of his life, too innocent for a person like him to ruin. but lord would he give up everything to land a chance to lay his hands on you not so innocently.
this man does not give a fuck about who is not you, and maybe occasionally spare a care for his two best friends who so far have only been blessed enough to know your name because jake has made it clear that you're off-limits and if they ever dare to do anything given the opportunity he'd rip off this balls and feed it to ducks (he's serious he swears)
getting to the real point of your dynamic: the only drawback— jake sim is a renowned fuckboy on campus, the heartbreak prince and you, his miss americana as they all like to call it. it is a daily routine, having to find a new girl in the house and ofttimes hearing them even with your door closed and your hands pressed on your ears. at first it felt disgusting, then you got used to it, and now very recently you’ve been feeling weirdly dejected. a certain kind of hatred towards the girls, something you can’t pin point exactly to why and what it is.
“candy, my laptop broke down again!” jake's raspy voice dances through the little cracks of the bathroom door as you prepare for a quick shower. you sigh, tightening the towel wrapped around you before stepping out. a short knock at his batman poster door left ajar, and he's whipping his head to have a look at you as if he knew you'd be in the middle of washing up. a little secret, yes he knew because everytime ahead of bathtime you make sure to have a sip of your watermelon slush stack from the fridge and the sound of it's door reaches his room just right to let him know.
he remains seated on his bed, a sheepish smile on his face. your eyes fall at his desk to see his laptop closed, he tricked you, and like always you fell for it,“maybe if you used your school laptop to study instead of playing games on it, this wouldn't happen all the time. but i assume you probably did it to get me here, it’s not gonna work everytime yun,” you click your tongue in feigned annoyance making him grin wider,“well it does work everytime though,” he knows how to have you on his tail just like you know how to have him wrapped around your finger. it only seems fair, you both know what gets the other going and you use it to your advantage.
“what is it?” asking in a sing song tone, you plop down on his desk chair. spinning in rounds with your legs out swinging, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair while looking up at the phosphorescent glow-in-the-dark stickers you had forcefully put up on the ceiling of his room. a funny memory of jake trying to stop you because it would defeat the whole image of his room only to fold when you gave him the puppy doe eyes, baby talking that you really wanted to do it. it doesn't take much to have jake cave in, just one look from you and the boy is a flatline. fuckboy? he is that to everyone but to you he's practically whatever you want him to be, though you have never really had a talk about it.
“actually eunsang, she-” there is a hesitation is his tone you are well aware of, having almost a clear idea of what he's about to say,“i told- no warned you not to get involved with her for a second time, didn’t i?” you scold, feeling that little twinge of hurt knowing he probably will keep on being involved with girls like this no matter what you say. it's the one thing where you don't have him under your spell. or that's you think, i mean you you have no idea do you of how much he wants you. just like how you have no idea how much you want him.
“yes but it happened and now she’s after me all the time, she even showed up to my soccer practice yesterday! please just this one time, please help me get rid of her,” clamping together his hands in a plea, jake pouts as best as he can, giving you his puppy eyes. but when you don’t show a reaction of any sort he resorts to the next best guaranteed thing: bribery,“i’ll buy you tons of watermelon lollipops! from your favorite brand that too!” eyes sparkling with hope and expections of having you fall for it, like you do every single time, he waits. albeit patterns break, in everything and everyone.
“no, i’m on a diet. i gave up on sweets, what if i get diabetes? will you,” you point at him dramatically,“take responsibility?” to which his stance morphs into one of stunned. he would gladly take responsibility for you at any given chance, but it's one of more gravity and significance than diabetes. and he's sure he's not one you should be in care of as more than anything that you are right now. he's too corrupted and you are too naive.
“yes of course i’ll help you take your meds and-” he mumbles in a quick, hurried note aware that you’ll not let him answer if he’s not fast enough. you still beat him to it though, speaking loud over and above his voice, to drown out his words despite hearing them quite clearly,“will you? NO you will not! so let me just shower peacefully before i get the urge to lock you in the bathroom when you’re in there later,” with a silence after, one that has jake grinning again at your cuteness, you take it as a que to rush out swiftly. trying to make it to the bathroom before he decides to use his strength against you and hold you down wherever he wants. which though hasn't been often, has always left you breathless and flustered to a point you refuse to admit.
training to become an athlete, a buff center forward in comparison to you who barely puts effort into doing even a little bit of yoga once a month. it’s obvious he’ll have you give in if he wants but he’s too sweet to force you. and of course it's obvious, the tension of the strength kink that looms over in the room.
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it comes as a shock to you when the next day, the first thing you see waking up in the morning and walking into the living room: is eunsang standing by the kitchen counter. and important point: clad in one of jake’s dress shirts that you recognize from doing his laundry occasionally, pouring herself a glass of water. oh you had to see this coming, this is jake we're talking about will be really ever like ever not bring over girls? no matter if they're clingy or not. the answer is ambiguous and definitely not to your favor.
she’s shares a small smile upon noticing you, a friendly smile which you know is obviously fake. she’s doing it just to look good and polite in jake’s eyes. just to show that she's not bothered by you, because as said everyone knows if they don't like you then they automatically are on jake sim's blacklist. and being the star player of the team, his acquaintance is more or less influential to a large extent, so note to be taken be nice to candy to not be on the cross out list.
however as sad as it is to say it’s of no use. she’s not even there in his eyes to begin with. the moment the jake comes out of his room, his field of vision doesn’t include her. passing by her very visible figure like she’s a microscopic bug to ruffle your hair in a dotting manner, his morning voice coming out in an adoring essence,“good morning, candy,” he smiles and scrunches up his nose when he notices the baby cat you both adopted last month, curled up in the corner of the couch,“and mei,” he acknowledges your pet kitty but not the girl he brought home, that should speak volumes to you, jake thinks. treating you like candy of his world you are, shouldn't that be the ultimate giveaway of his feelings? like even his hookups can see how down bad he is for you why is it that you're the only one who can't? he wants you to know but at the same time he feels he's not right for you, a dilemma he handles by fucking up over and over again.
wishing him morning in response you give him a look which silently delivers your question of what is going on. you did hear them last night (more like her), but you didn’t know it was her her. you weren’t even expecting her to be the one. after the conversation with jake yesterday, she was the last person you would have ever assumed. he sends you a flying look that he’ll explain everything later, shushing you off before you speak out loud.
“yunie,” your ears perk up at her voice, eyes narrowing in a deadly stare at the nickname you exclusively call him with, leaving her crusty mouth. certainly, like jake you blossom a definite possession over names too. perhaps it's the effect of living with him 24/7 but you seem to have picked up a lot of his antics.
jake’s eyes shift to look at you for a moment and then he’s running a hand through his hair, dropping his sweet conduct to get back into his usual cold fuckboy self. he absolutely does not like the way your brows turn down and the pretty smile you were previously adorning for him falling off your pretty lips. he can tolerate anything but seeing you bothered in any way. “you’re still here? it's better if you leave soon, candy doesn’t like all this,” walking around her to the other side of the counter and into the kitchen to open the upper cabinets, jake ignores her like a plague as if he wasn't showing her heaven last night. but alas, nothing comes above you, she should have known that.
“what do you want for breakfast candy? should i make you some toast? or do you want your usual dose of sugar?” his palms rest on the granite countertop, leaning against it slightly while turning to fix his gaze on you. it makes eunsang rage with anger, throwing you a demeaning look before she disappears into jake's room.
the moment his bedroom door closes, you feel the unfamiliar weight on your shoulders relax a tad bit,“my watermelon slush please,” finding your cozy spot on the kitchen counter, you give him your most adorable pout feeling like you had to gain back his warmth after the hookup. your legs dangle over the height between, toes softly brushing against jake's calves every two seconds. watching him prepare your drink, you decide to voice out the thing that had been disturbing since the moment you walked out your room,”did you like make a friends with benefit kind of arrangement or something?” it comes out in a low whisper, afraid if you said it too loud it'd come true. the thought of it disturbs you for some reason, it’s not new for you to see random girls in your apartment; or to hear them while they’re at it. yet it still gives you a sort of uneasy feeling, something you do not like feeling.
“it was a last time kind of deal actually,” he stops briefly to give you a quilty smile. finishing your sweet slushy just as eunsang hastily steps out, wearing what you assume her clothes from the previous night. she slows down to observe as jake hands you the cup, repulsively watching you take a sip,“is it good?” hearing him speak in a tone way different than the one she’s acquainted with him using with her has stomp her way out in a grumpy fit.
looking up from the edge of your cup with hopes to give her a sly stare, your eyes follow her figure, flinching silently when she bangs the door close harshly,“bitch,” you comment, hooded orbs shifting back to jake who scowls in disapproval,”language candy,” he reminds, knowing very well it does nothing to stop you.
“sorry yunie but she's so agressive, and for what?” you whine.
“from what i’ve seen, you’re way more aggressive,” jake laughs softly, index finger coming to poke at your cheek tenderly.
with full cheeks, you grin like a cheshire cat and jake feels his heart rate speeding up, who gave you the permission to be the cutest person he's ever known? the urge to kiss you just keeps growing with each passing day and with with each little sneaky smile and doe eyes you give him.
“we need to get the groceries this week, i have after classes soccer practice for the next four days and we're not gonna last that long,” the thought of spending the next four evenings alone in the unit is gloomier than the half assed ham and cheese toast jake makes for himself. if only you said yes to some proper breakfast, his taste buds and stomach wouldn't be suffering so much.
you nod as if he has eyes on his back, knowing well he's gonna want you with him but not force you, if you'd say no. whatever you want, is whatever he does.
“‘m gonna go take a shower first then,” hopping down, you place your empty mug in the sink, and skip to your room to take your bath supplies.
“let’s shower together,” jake's friskiness thrives in the way he shouts with an undertone of mischief. watching you with a teasing gaze as you step out the threshold of your bedroom door. a tiny smirk spreading onto his lips when you scrunch your nose in a grimace. cute, he mouths thinking you wouldn't notice but god you do. he's clearly joking but you can’t help feeling flustered internally. keeping up with his flirty and touchy stunts and tricks should have made it easier for you by now, but over a year in and you're yet to find yourself getting used to it. he’s too attractive and hot to get used to; at least that’s what excuse your brain gives you, which honestly is true to some extent. his looks score a lot of points and you can't deny that.
“and if we get locked in there, who’s gonna get us out? you know the door lock has problems,” you complain in a soft groan which, in his eyes is more adorable with the little annoyance you show. if you think you could ever intimidate him, you probably will because he'll melt right away to even think of a counter back.
his stance straightens at that, a fleeting look of flabbergast clouding his face before he’s breaking out in a taunt of smile, eyes closing in on you in a brazen look,“so does that mean if the lock was fine you’d actually shower together with me,” he feels this triumph of emotions, a sudden rush of sugar at the realization that'd probably maybe perhaps someday let him get in the shower together with you. the sheer excitement he experiences through his veins is over the roof, just the possibility of something so intimate with you is a bite of golden spoon for him.
he purposely stops all he’s doing to stare at you, moving his eyebrows cheekily, trying to provoke you,“i never said that,” you stick your tongue out at him, closing the door in a soft slam and crying out a ‘you’re sick in the head!’
“only for you!” jake yells back, chuckling to himself as he leaves the room.
two hours later you’re both strolling through the isles of shelving, bright florescent lighting, end displays of popular products, sale signs, banners with store mottoes, isle signs with product locations, rows and rows of household products and everything you'd always spend lots of time looking through until jake has to drag you back home.
he pushes the cart while you look around for items to throw in and cross out one by one from your checklist. the way you both discuss and bicker over what to keep in the cart and what not to every two minutes will lead any sane person to conclude you as a couple. you both would also admit it feels as such. how he insists on taking what you like while you argue that you’re on a diet and need to cut down on the consumption and desires of your sweet tooth. it feels sweet, he feels sweet. and you make him want to coddle you so bad, like what do you mean you're on a diet? you're perfect already. too perfect for him.
“i’m taking the pop tarts!” you hear him shout from two or probably three Isles away while you look through some new make up launches,”…okay fine!” capturing the attention of an old couple who glance at your way and mutter something you don’t quite catch but you assume it’s probably about how annoying you both are, shouting at the mart.
“yunie look these are so pretty,” you point at the line of lipgloss as jake comes over with cart. he hums in agreement, watching you scan through the shades in an animated mood, mumbling over the names and speaking of how it'd look good for an everyday look or with summer dress you recently got. oh how smitten he feels, observing the way you seem so pumped up simply over gloss.
“there's no mirror— “
“try it on me,” oh he's bewitched under your spell.
jake stands still as you apply the mauve on him, staring at you through hooded eyes,”oh, this one’s really pretty on you!” you beam, looking up at him as if he could see it too.
“it'd look prettier on you,” he's hardly able to whisper out, gaze trained on the way you part your lips while you wipe it off his and apply another. if he didn't have a strong self control, by now he would have shoved his tongue down your throat in the dirtiest and messiest kiss you'd ever known. knocking your breath out, as well as his. he's already on the verge of losing it with every little touch you leave on his lips, wetting your own as a habit.
“which one should i take?” you ask something cutely, jake almost feels guilty for the thoughts swimming in his head.
“i’ll buy all of it for you, we can do something like a chapstick challenge you know. the one where you kiss and guess the flavor,” he teases loving the tiny exasperated glare you throw him. “yunn, be serious! which one?”
“these two?” he points to ones you commented were pretty feeling impatient at the conjured up image of you wearing the colors on with you tiny, sexy little sundresses you got hidden in your closet. please feel guilty man he thinks.
in the end jake (successfully) convinces you to continue your diet later over the summer break offering to help you with it. and grabs a bunch of packets of your favorite snacks, your favorite brand’s watermelon lollipops and not to forget the fruit itself. checking all out he insists on carrying everything himself, only handing you the little bag that held your lollies in case you'd want one on the way back.
the subway is more crowded than usual, scarcely any seat left. it takes you a whole minute to scan around for an empty one, immediately encouraging jake to take it. a silly game of rock paper scissors to decide who stands, insisting firmly that he sit when you end up winning. the grocery bags rest by his foot and you stand between his legs, holding onto the bar wobbling every now and then. it’s just one stop left when jake suddenly pulls you onto his lap, adjusting you comfortably on his thighs and placing his hands on your legs possessively. you turn to look at him, lashes brushing against his skin and lips parting in the slightest at the adrenaline you feel pumping into your fast beating heart. the muscles in his chest feel firm at the faint touch of your back against him, the thumping of his own heart similar to that of yours.
he leans closer to whisper in your ear,“that creep right there kept staring you up and down,” pointing with a discreet move of his eyes as he drills holes through his stern gaze fixed on the said guy. you on the other hand, grow hot with irritation, perhaps just as hot and bothered you are feeling jake pressed so close. an abrupt and sharp impulse of anger.
“i’ll show him the fuck he was staring at," you mutter out, teeth gritted, and hands almost forming into fists, expression as innocent as always. jake seems to catch on to what you’re about to do and before you can get up from lap, his hold on you gets tighter,"okay, i know you hate this candy, but i don’t want you getting hurt in any way, if he does anything i’ll make sure to set him right, for now i think he got it that he’s not gonna stare at you however he wants,” hand grabing yours in gentle caresses along the expanse of your arm. delicate and slow like a soothing rub. his touch just as enticing and stimulating it is, is also calming, knowing exactly how to pacify your hot headedness. jake finds that really hot about you, the way you look like you couldn't harm a bug but he's seen you throw kicks and punches (for the right reasons) ‘looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you’ he never knew that's his type. sometimes and really only some rare times he wonders if you're not as innocent as he thinks you are, getting rock hard at the thought of it, dick twitching multiple times imagining you saying and doing things that an angel like you shouldn't be.
for the rest of the ride he manages to lull you back to your sweet candy mode, making you laugh at his lame pick up lines, and occasionally tickling your sides. head falling back into his shoulder in cute giggles and hips rolling on him, damn only he knows how bad he's holding back. as shameless as he is he'd probably jump your bones right infront of everyone to see. thankfully you bring the decency in your relationship.
when your stop comes, he intertwines his fingers you as you walk out the compartment, just in case you decide to give the dude a slap before leaving.
“'m gonna flatten out all your abs today, you'll need to gym again,” jake chuckles, feeling you roll over his body like mei’s lint roller as he lays on your favorite fluffy kuromi rug typing away on his laptop an essay deadlined for tomorrow. the weight of your body on and off and the touch of your hot skin he feels funsies,“you do this all the time, candy and my abs have never left. how can i let them? knowing how much you love it,” reaching behind to hold you still on his back. you are glad he can't see the way your cheeks warm up at that, a bashful look on your face remembering all the times he's caught you ogling at his body.
“why are you sulking?” he asks when you don't respond with a whine like you usually do. aware that you behave this way either when you’re over the top bathing in happiness or dissatisfied with something.
“’m gonna gain weight now because of you, i’ll see all the snacks and sweets in the pantry and not be able to resist binge eating,” you lightly punch at the curve of his shoulders, dropping your head into the crook of his neck in a pout. jake turns around swiftly to hold you in a hug, wanting nothing more than to cheer you up,“i love your belly anyhow, whether it’s visible or not,” giving the plump flesh of your stomach a zephyr-like pinch. you wince playfully drawing back inches to tease him only to drop down into his arms to hug him back seconds later,“yeah whatever,” his words make you feel butterflies, a turmoil of frenzy and fuzzy feelings, cheeks growing warm once again, and the warmth spreading all over your mind this time. why does he have to be so sweet to you?
you both stay like that for a while breathing slowly, and taking in the comfort of a hug, the room saturated with a restful and serene silence. you’re the first to pull away,“you should finish that essay, i have to prepare for my test next week,” jake groans at the loss of your touch, wailing out with his hands as you leave the room.
”i’m joining you as soon as i finish this!”
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four days later on the weekend, you sit on the couch alone, wrapped in the thin lilac charmeuse blanket jake got for you (he said it the softness of it, reminded him of you.) waiting for your him to join you. eight in the morning with ‘tangled’ running on the tv, it's not something jake would ever want to do, but he gives in because you like it; bonus sometimes when you get a little sleepy, he grabs the chance to cuddle you as close as he can, leaving a few fluttering kisses on your temple and cheeks. he's grateful you never say anything about it and just let him be.
“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards jake as he walks out his room. his headset rests loosely around his neck, half naked, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and his black hair all dishevelled: looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. “yeah sure,” the rasp in his voice as he mumbles out softly gives away the fact that he probably stayed up all night again.
taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon, jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch, and extending it out for you to eat,“here you go, candy,” he does it quite often, infact he loves to feed you. seeing your cheeks full and your eyes sparkling makes him feel fond as much as it turns him on. picturing you the same way on your knees between his legs with his dick stuffed in your mouth. choking and gagging on him, tears dropping down your pretty eyes while you stare up at him with this same doe look. it'd be heaven. even more so if he would have to teach you how to do it right, further fueling the massive corruption kink he seems to have harboured after meeting you.
he passes you melon after you take the bite, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. eyes trained on the way you fill in more in your mouth than you can handle, face all round and full,”eat slowly,” he flicks at your forehead.
“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he adds a minute later, raising his brows subtly.
“well, first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your hook-ups i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you spit a seed at him. one that due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest. damn those muscles they get you feelings things you probably shouldn't be.
putting away the watermelon on your tea table, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off in a crackle of laughter,“this is public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”
“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.
“well that is exactly what you are!” you throw the closest cushion at his face. grinning with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.
“no don't do this me,”
“change the sheets then, it's your turn this week,” turning away from him, you fix your eyes on rapunzel climbing down the tower. trying to avoid the way he stares at you with betrayal, immediately scooting over to tickle you.
“you cheeky liar it's your turn,” his hands glossing over your ticklish areas.
“i love you,” in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, you shout. pushing against him to escape only to have your wrists pulled away, held together in a tight grasp and pinned above your head. “candy! i love you is not gonna get you out of chores come on i'll help you. we'll watch tangled later. together, i promise,” his laughter dies down with every word he utters, whispering out the last part as he becomes aware of the proximity between you two. so close you both think, breaths slowing down and heartbeats picking up the pace with each passing second.
“we're doing this okay?” jake whispers again, albeit, his tone a tad bit more heavy and bothered. an ambiguous daze clouding over, as if he is talking about something entirely different than just changing sheets. a twinge of lust bubbling inside. having you under him like this makes him realize just how desperately he wants you, and how bad his strength kink blooms for you. to have you whimpering and moaning, gaze all hazy as you let him do whatever he wants with you. damn he feels his dick twitch at that, gulping nervously hoping you wouldn't notice.
“you look like eugene,” you mumble out suddenly and jake feels his thirst rise off the roof, because the size difference between the characters? he wouldn't deny he thought of you the first time he saw the animation. wanting you have you in his arms the same way.
“then you must be my rapunzel,” you feel even more flustered if that's possible, your stomach twisting and twirling at his words until,”now come on we gotta keep the house clean for mother gothel,” jake let's his grip on you loosen, taking a moment to get off you.
“yunie!”
“i'll make you some sweet soy-glazed potatoes too later,” he voice drowns out as he enters you bedroom first.
“well i guess it's okay then,” you giggle following after him.
“candy that's not how you tuck in the corners,” jake scolds you for nth time, running after you to fix the edges you mess up deliberately time and again. “hey! candy! get down!” you make it a chaos for him, jumping onto the unmade bed and messing up the sheets all the way.
“oops,” there's a devilish grin on your face as jake pauses to watch you have your sugar rush episode.
“if you wanna wrestle again and end up under me, just say so,” he teases, inching closer and grabbing you by the waist. you both laugh again as if you weren't dripping with need for each other just moments ago. he picks you up and walks to the door putting you down by the sill,”i seriously need to get this done, you go and peel the potatoes for me,” you can't cook for the sake of god and letting you use knives is like a deathwish, jake can only hope peeling will keep you busy and safe enough to not end up with cuts anywhere.
the doorbell rings just as you step into the kitchen, walking back to the front in a sluggish sigh. feeling utter regret for answering the door, the instant you notice the figure outside. not wanting to reveal the presence to jake, you shut the door behind.
he peeps out your room at the sound of it, shrugging it off as nothing because you’ve done it lot many times: when your friends show up because you simply don’t want them to fall under his radar as prey.
you spare an indifferent glance at the way eunsang stands tall; hands folded with a cocky look on her rather gorgeous face. she's a beauty and you hate to admit that, a vibe so opposite of you it makes you insecure considering jake's hooked up with her more than a few times. “i’m here to see jake,” she states, tilting her head to point over at the closed door, all the sugary honeyed act she keeps up around him nowhere to be seen.
“and he doesn’t want to see you, didn’t he tell you it was the last time,” you counterattack, folding your arms and straightening up to look intimidating. your stare is one of taunt, carrying a gaze of boredom in hopes to establish that you're one to reckon with.
“are you jake? i said i want to talk to jake not you,” her heels click in impatience and underlying disgust in the tone she uses with you gets on your nerves.
you close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the annoyance in you before it turns into anger, tongue poking at the side of your cheek, “and are you deaf? i said he does not want to talk to you,” assert dominance, assert dominance you repeat over and over in your head.
but what she says next makes you lose your temper.
jake, the very epicenter of it all, on the other hand has no idea of what's going on outside until there's a scream that sounds too much like you, one turning into many more. it's frantic and inhumane, the speed at which he runs out. dropping everything and anything. there in broad daylight he finds you and eunsang trying to rip each other's hair out in the thankfully empty hallway. he doesn't know if he should be worried more about your scalp hurting or your throat tearing from how loudly you scream over eunsang. his hands flail as he contemplates on breaking the fight or letting you calm down, which you probably won't as he knows. he grabs onto eunsang's hands on your head trying to loosen her grip on your hair, concerned over the pain you must be feeling while you're there now trying to kick her between her legs. she's shocked to say the least, watching him latch you off her in a swift motion and throw you over his shoulder. he takes you back inside quickly, groaning at your fists pounding against his back in a protest,”fucking let go of me! i’m gonna give her a good piece of my mind!”
“candy language!” putting you down by the kitchen softly, he grasps the side of your arms and forces you to look into his eyes,“stop fighting all the time, stay here i’ll talk to her, okay?” he speaks slowly as an attempt to calm you. when you wiggle off in a scornful shrug, he asks again, this time moving to cup your face, a tender look in his eyes,“okay?” you nod in a defeated sigh and he's out the door before you can say anything else. you're upset, really upset, you know what you did outside was not decent yet you can't get over the fact that he left you in here to go back to talk to her. he was on your tail last week trying to beg you to help him get rid of her and even shooed her out the unit harshly, what more is there to talk about?
truth to be told, this was how he first met you, or should he say saw you. it was the move in day, he had all the necessities for the week packed in a travel suitcase, with the other stuff to be brought in later on. he was waiting for the elevator in the lobby, more tense and anxious than ever to meet the girl he was going to be living with a good four years of his college life. hoping she'd not treat him like some stranger, or be someone impossible to get close to hash live with. along with little bits of curiosity and hopes again, that she'd be a pretty and sweet girl maybe someone help could form some kind of benefits with.
however never in a million years did he ever expect it to be the cute yet fierce girl in the elevator. to say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement, he was literally blown off his feet, scared or impressed, his confusion was massive. when the doors of the elevator had opened he had found you slapping a middle aged man,”fun? you think groping my butt ‘s fun, you sicko,” kicking him in the balls next. hard. jake had gulped at that, hard. heart on a pause. the look of feigned innocence on your face as you did all that. damn jake swears it was that moment he fell. maybe not romantically but you definitely got his dick hard.
you looked super cute, and you knew how to fight, jake thought he hit the jackpot when you turned out to be his roommate. pretty you were, definitely, and sweet wasn't even a question; you were sweet to him and you are a lot of sweet. the only thing that remains a mystery till now is if you'd taste as sweet. jake hopes he can find that out.
he returns a few minutes later, lips pursed in a small smile as he shuts the front door. it grows even wider when his eyes find you,“so your soy glazed potatoes,” he chuckles walking over to the kitchen and getting other things out.
“she called me a slut for living with a guy like you and i was in the midst of giving her a lecture on actually how good of a person you are-” you bang on the counter with a thud and turn around to face him,“and you dragged me in!” whinning in a pout that looked as upset as your furrowed brows.
jake glances over in amusement, halting to give you another grin as he boops your nose gently,“my darling candy, i’m only good to you,” the glare you throw his way only makes him snicker with adoration. the little flicker of bashfulness you feel making you break out in a smile which (thankfully, for you) jake doesn't notice.
“whatever, i’m gonna take a long shower. do not disturb me!” you leave in a rush afraid if you stay too long he'd see it all on your face.
ten minutes later, as you tiptoe to get your favorite shower gel from the shelf above the mirror, luck decides to remind you why you shouldn't ever stay away from jake sim. feet slipping on the wet floor, body colliding against the cold tiles in a thud loud enough to have jake come running.
“candy, you're okay? what happened? should i open the door? ‘m coming in,” his voice is laced with worry, snapping open the door to find you laying flat down, though to his relief not unconscious. he picks you carefully, bringing you to your room and seating you on the edge of the bed to check for any injuries. hands delicately caressing all over and asking if it hurts any where,”you're so clumsy, always getting me worried like shit,”
“language,” you giggle, trying to make him laugh and it works.
“sorry, just please be careful, okay?” his fingers brush back your hair as you give him a small nod,“do you feel pain anywhere?” another nod, and this one ticks his alarms.
“where!” your fingers reach out to press against the brooding crease between his brows, attempting to remove the frown from his face. and jake melts at that, feeling his heart flutter at your cuteness, god he loves this side of you so much.
“you little demon, look what happens if you don't shower with me,” laughing out together, oh how he wishes it were like this forever. and jake sim has never thought of a forever ever before.
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a month passes by in the blink of an eye, your routines and relationship staying the same as always, classes, his soccer practice and your weekly cleaning day. but what seems to have changed is his routine of bringing over girls, the number alarmingly cutting down day by day (which currently sits at zero) and what you haven’t noticed- his display of affection towards you growing more and more. yet you think nothing special of it, assuming that perhaps now he got a grip over himself. which is partially true. jake thought of you as deserving someone better, so it was only right that he became better. and what better way than to start with quitting the position of campus’ resident fuckboy.
after an all nighter the previous day, coming back from your classes you get straight to bed. changing you clothes and getting tucked under the blanket from around eight in the evening. jake returns from his soccer practice later, unaware of the fact that you're already passed out. opening your door to let you know of his night out plans,“candy, i’m gonna go out with jay and sunghoon! make sure to have your dinne- oh you were sleeping? i didn’t know i’m so sorry candy,” he mumbles out in a soft whisper towards the end, supressing a smile watching your sleepy figure under the covers. trying to rub out the drowsiness from your eyes; heavy blinking and a small pout, his cute girl.
“it’s okay no need to get up, go back to sleep, i’ll be back in the morning,” approaching the bed as you lay back down, he pats your head in a 'sleep well’ before leaving.
it's probably past midnight when you wake up to constant ringing of calls. fumbling around for your phone in a daze only to find a dozen calls from an unknown number and a bunch of texts from the same. it's jay, asking you to get jake from the bar they're at. saying the guy's refusing to go back with anyone that's not you: whining for your presence and making it hard for his two friends.
'where is my candy?’ jay and sunghoon are sick and tired of hearing it all night.
by the time you get him back to the apartment, it's three and your bones hurt from the weight of his body leaning all over you. it doesn't help that all he does is giggle and throw himself over you. there's been a lot of times you have seen him drunk, probably more than a dozen, but he's never looked as wasted as today. sunghoon told you it's because he drank way more than usual, and unbeknownst to you that you are the sole reason, you wonder of the things that plague his mind to the extent of drinking so much.
dragging him into his room you have him sit on his bed, going through his closet and getting him a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt you can grab. “come on yunie, get changed,” you hand him the clothes, turning away when he takes everything off nonchalantly. even though he likely would rather want you to look, from the many times he's said it before ‘why’re you looking away, candy it's all for you,’ his exact words. the bane of your existence.
after he's changed, you wipe the sweat off his body with a wet towel as much as you can. giving him a glass of water before leaving for your room when he grabs your wrist and stops you with his puppy eyes.
in the morning, around noon jake is the first one to wake up and having no memory of the previous night besides the fact that he was drunk. he sits at his desk chair, hands in his hair, watching you sleep on the other side of his bed, clad in his shirt. it’s like he feels everything is over and done from here. he did what he swore never to do, this was the very first thing he pinned on his mind as an important note: not using you even if he has very obvious feelings for you. he tugs on his hair in frustration, angry at himself for not staying in his lane when drunk. with his head hung in guilt, he doesn't notice you stirring awake, sitting up at the sight of his hunched figure.
“yun? are you okay? is the hangover severe? should i make you something for it?” startled at your soft voice, he flinches visibly. a thousand scenarios running through his mind and not one ends up good.
“you don’t even know any hangover recipes,” jake mumbles almost inaudibly.
“i can just search on the internet and try my best, it’s not like i’ll give you anything inedible,” you teaee, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere you feel in the air.
it takes him a moment to speak again, sounding as miserable as he has never before,“candy i’m,” he halts, gulping to hold back the lump in his throat,“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to, i don’t why i, it's all my fault,” he stops again, leaving you confused and dumbfounded,“what are you saying? what apology?” it is when his eyes shift to stare at what you’re clad in, staying there for a hard minute when you get a rough idea of what he could be thinking of. your cheeks grow hot at the realization, shaking your head when unholy images pop up in your subconscious.
but the butterflies fly away just as fast as they came as his words dawn uppn you. even if it didn’t happen the fact that he wouldn’t mean it, want it, regret it has something in you twisting in pain, are you so bad? or that he actually really thinks of you as his little sister? that you read his affections wrong, assumed his feelings differently? your heart breaks more than a little at that.
“why? is it because i’m not like the others you have been with? because i’m not like eunsang? or because i’m not her? the one you were smiling so hard after talking to? are you dating he-”
“that’s the problem! you’re not like her! you’re not like anyone i've known before! you’re special and i’m afraid i’ll lose you, things will change and just i’ll have to get over you without even getting a chance,” it's the first time he's ever raised his voice at you, and the first time ever he's sounded so desperate, weak and dejected. so vulnerable.
the split moment of sadness dissipates with every word that sinks in. the revelation of a(n after)drunk confession. the fact that you're a different kind of special to him, that he would want a chance to be with you, that he's afraid to lose you. you supres the urge to laugh when it all settles into your understanding. having a better grasp over the bigger picture. your steps are slow and calculated as you walk over to him, sitting across his lap and cupping his cheeks in a fleeting breath of courage. his eyes almost bulge out when you brush your lips lightly against his, mumbling softly,“nothing happened, but if you still want i can give you a chance, it’s going to be hard though tolerating me, think wisely,” you giggle and jake malfunctions for an instant before grabbing you in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
“of course, of course i do want it, i’ve always wanted it,” chanting out in a trance.
“your lips tasted like watermelon,” he mutters out some time after, eyes locking with yours in an intense pull. still in a daze that out of all the bad things that could've happened it was none. literally none plus you perhaps wanting him just as much as he wants you.
“i had some in the morning before you woke up, anyhow yours taste like alcohol and your breath is horrible, go and freshen up,” you push at his shoulder, getting off him to leave the room to cook something. probably (as you said) a recipe searched up on the web, hopefully edible enough for a hungover person.
when he comes out later, all showered and back to the jake you know: the one who likes his hair slightly messy and almost never in a shirt. “why were- are you wearing my shirt then?”
“you practically begged me to last night while sobbing for i don’t know what reason,” he's a bit flustered at that, but hey, it's what got him here, you gotta do what you gotta do.
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“candy, you wanna go out tonight? jay and sunghoon wanted to hang out but i don't wanna leave you so i said i’d bring you along,” jake asks, knocking at your door.
it takes you a little over a minute to open up but jake's does not mind it at all for obvious reasons, his jaw comically falling to the floor when you walk out in your tiny little blue sundress and the shade of lipgloss he was dying to see you in. you're unreal.
“yes! i heard you on call earlier,”
“oh my god candy, gimme a princess twirl,” the amount of desire he feels for you right now is unfathomable. biting his lips at the sight of your lace panties underneath that faintly flash him in the mini twirl you do. can you get any hotter?
“just fifteen minutes and i'll be ready,” he got ten minutes to do something about the boner he just popped, and it's more than enough to have him rub one out with what he just saw. maybe add a little hint of imagination and wondering what you'd sound like if he were to touch you down there. especially given the fact that the likelihood of it happening were through the roof now. you almost kissed last week, anything could happen at this point. and jake's dick gets impossibly sensitive at the odds of it.
at the restaurant, jay and sunghoon sit in an awkward silence, watching you both be all over each other. when they agreed for jake to bring his girl along, they didn't expect it to be so bad.
“um jake talks a lot about you,” sunghoon says trying to start a conversation that he knows probably wouldn't go anywhere.
“he does? that's so sweet,” you smile, giggling over something jake whispers in your ear, his hand palming over the plush of your exposed thighs,”what do you wanna eat?” sunghoon nerves feel boiled at the way jake completely skips over his attempt to talk to you. while jay sips at wine, agonizingly slow knowing this is how it's gonna be from now on. their friend is a changed man.
“i have this picture of jake from middle school, you'd love to see it i promise,” a little tipsy, sunghoon's persistence to put himself in the equation albeit admirable, annoys the fuck out of jake, scowling at the other well of aware of the so called picture he wants to share.
“jay man, take care of him. candy and i are going home,” jake gives them a tight lipped smile, holding your rather drunk self (it's just wine you had said)
“see you later ca- y/n,” at first jay leans in for a friendly hug but— nevermind. the way jake stares at him is scarily weird.
jake makes sure to have you sit on the couch before he leaves to get you water but you're sprawled out on the floor when he comes back. mumbling something about how cool the tiles feel against your skin,”come on you should drink some water,” jake pulls you up on your ass, sitting cross legged on the floor beside you. his hand softly holds the back of your head as he brings the glass to your mouth.
“alright say, what did you wanna say?”
“i wanna kiss you,” if jake thinks the pout on your lips is the cutest thing ever then the words you say must have to be the hottest thing ever. how can a simple word like kiss make his heart flutter so bad? and it's not even lust at this point.
he fulfils your wish without a thought, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. sucking on your bottom lip a second long before he pulls away and boops your nose. no tongue and no other intentions. the after taste of your gloss lingering in his mouth.
“let me tell you a secret,” you whisper out, moving over to his lap, knees on the floor each side.
“i knew you stole my kuromi panties,” he's shocked you know about it, he made sure to be extra careful with it, though his nasty ass was internally hoping you'd catch him.
“mhm, i do have it with me but it's not really wearable now,” he did not see this becoming something sexual but the moment you brought up the panties, you might as well have brought up his dick. man practically re-lived every single time he used it to jerk off, all those orgasms coming to life at once.
“you need to punished!” you whine,
“what do you wanna do?” and jake feels his dick get harder at that.
“can we kiss again?” oh my god, you make him feel so fuzzy and horny at the same time, it's unbelievable. in the guide of jake sim: to make him horny is relatively easy, to get him all fuzzy is once in a lifetime and to get him both at the same time is impossible. yet you do it so effortlessly.
jake answers you with his lips against yours again, relishing in the feeling of them on his own. all those times he wondered of how it'd feel like to kiss you seemed so lame now that he actually did. no imagination could ever come close to way he feels right now. his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls away for a moment,”i wanna love you so much and take you on cute little dates and buy you all the food you want and fuck you so hard you only remember my name,”he mumbles against your lips in a bit whisper, letting you take a breath before he dives right back in. this time he lets his tongue slide in, rubbing against your own for a short while only to pull back and go for another trying to keep your lips pressed together for as long as he could. finally pulling away when he feels you push against him a little too roughly, a crawl of shudders all over his skin at the roll of your hips against his bulge.
“wan’ you to fuck me too,” you whine, this time desperately.
“fuck candy, you're drunk we shouldn't be doing this,” he reminds, failing miserably to hold himself back. his hands keep twitching to just grab your hips and grind you down on his dick until you're both cumming together.
“i’m not, i swear. i just drank a little because i couldn't have done this all sober,” even through the layers of clothes, jake can feel your neediness dropping with the way you roll your hips harder against him. speeding up when you think he's pushing you away, but he's just grabbing you closer by the waist. he can't deny how wanted he feels right now, feeling like he'd explode any second. the fuck were you so horny for him?
“are you sure this is okay?” he asks again. no matter how bad he's dying to fuck you, he'll never do it if you don't to.
“‘s okay, please yunie,” you feel his hands slide along your thighs and in between your legs. fingers faintly brushing over the wet patch on your panties in a sharp inhale. he grazes two fingers against your clit, testing the waters. rubbing harder when he feels your breathing pick up it's pace, switching to spank your clit impossibly fast having lost control at the sound of your wanton whimpers.
“don’t move and take it baby,” jake growls, pushing you flush against his chest, making your back arch more and more into him. tits bouncing right up in his face as he bends down to nibble as the exposed skin between them.
he stops for a moment only to push your panties to the side and touch you raw. rubbing rougher and so intense, your legs feel number from pleasure,”has anyone touched you like before?” his jaw clenches hard, eyes dark with want as they remain fixated at the sight of his hands on your pussy. fuck he finally knows what touching you feels like.
“ngh— no, fuck!” and it boosts jake's ego through the roof, he doesn't think he's ever felt as horny as he feels right now. the thought of being the first to touch you in your princess parts, the first you have seen you putty like this, the first to be the one to get you like this. fuck, fuck, fuck! he feels so turned on it's literally inhumane. precum oozing out his tip with every twitch of his dick.
“mm, gonna put my fingers in you,” you feel one of jake's fingers press into you, sliding inside easily with how dripping wet you are. the pornographic moan you let out when he slowly slips in another and curves up has his dick twitch so damn hard he thinks he just came untouched. you sound so cute yet so fucking hot, his mind is in a spiral of everything he wants to do to have you moan like that again and again until you're so drunk on pleasure, you only want him all the time.
“shit you're so tight and warm, can't imagine how good you'd feel around my cock,” his eyes keenly hooked on the way you raise your hips to meet the thrusts halfway,”y-yun, ‘s feels too g-good ah,”
“fuck you're so hot and so perfect for me,” his words travel straight to your core having you clench tight around his fingers and all of a sudden you find your oragasm hitting you as violently as jake continues to run you through it, fast and painfully pleasurable. enamoured and obsessed with the way your doe eyes struggle to stay open, mouth parting in a loud whine, back arching and hips shooting up. god you're a piece of art and jake doesn't think he's ever gonna want anyone other than you.
he immediately stands up with you in his arms, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing you gently on the cold marble. his fingers run through your hair in a soft caress, tucking in the messy strands behind your ears,”you sure you want this? we can stop here if you want. just say the word and i’ll stop,”
“wan’ yun to be my first,” you whimper wearily, jake feels his heart skip a couple of beats. your first, he wants to be your last too and you to be his last.
”gonna make you cum so much harder on my cock,” he places his hands on your thighs in a tight grip and forces them apart fervently. he so damn wants to eat you out but he also wants to feel you cum around his cock, it's a hard choice to make but his cock feels so angry and heavy slick from all the precum he shot out each time you whimpered or moaned or whined, if he'd wait to get his dick wet he'd probably actually come untouched from your sounds and reactions alone. and only god knows(jay too oops) how bad jake sim wants the first time he cums with you to be deep inside you. so much so that he might develop a kink of getting you knocked up (nope you're too young for that!)
he takes his pants off in a snap, practically ripping his boxers along with it, grabbing his rock hard dick, throbbing and red at the tip and trusting into his fist a couple of times. breathing heavy at the way you watch him with your lips between your teeth. he wonders how good it'd feel to watch you touch yourself while he does the same, cumming together with your eyes locked. but he probably doesn't have that kind of self control to just watch you touch yourself, when he can do it himself?
he taps his tip against your clit for a hot minute sliding it along your folds in a strained groan. you're so embarrassing wet, it's like jake could shove himself inside immediately and your you'd hardly feel pain for a while. however, holding back his desires, he pushes into you slowly, holding your body close and stroking your back soothingly,”let me know when i can move,” a tender kiss at your forehead, trying to make sure you know you have the say it in.
jake groans as you give him the go seconds later,”mhmmm candy⁠— baby,” moaning soft and lustful as he pulls out till the tip and thrusts all the way in. your insides feel so warm and gummy, walls clenching around him crazy tight. he thinks he'll lose his mind and end up cumming embarrassingly fast like a teen getting pussy for the first time. the way he feels the pleasure throb in his veins so intense all over his body, it's almost numbing.
your hands loop around his neck, fingers scratching at his back as he pounds into you rough, his pace hard and fast pushing all his body weight against you.
“don't think i can ever get enough of you,”
the sight of the thin straps of your dress slipped to the sides, tits almost spilling out of the front gets jake going, fueling him to grab at you anywhere and everywhere his hands can possibly go,”tell me im dreaming fuckkk— i've wanted you for so long, can't count the number of times i've jerked off to the thought of having you like this, so pretty and dumb under me,” all those evenings when you roamed around the unit in the shortest shorts and the smallest crops, driving him mad shit insane, having to sneak off into the bathroom multiple times. fisting his cock hard, groaning and biting back his moans as he got off to the thought of you, while you sat all unaware and innocent on the other side of the wall.
he stops abruptly, pulling out in a frenzy and turning you around on your heels and pushing you by the back of your neck to lay against the cool granite. one hand going down to grab at your thigh and hook it up on the counter, drooling at the way your pussy glistens from the angle. he shoves his dick back in without a warning, feeling your ass collide against him harsh yet fervid.
you both pant in rasps when his cock hits a sensitive spot inside you. he shifts to angle himself just right to repeatedly brush against that spot and you mewl out loud at that, so loud your neighbours probably know what you're up to.
“fuck i can't stand not seeing your cute face,” jake bends over to grab you by your throat, pulling you up and flush against him, head resting back at his shoulders as he forces to look at him, fingers gripping your jaw softly,”eyes on me, okay baby?” grunting from deep within his chest, a wild grin on his face as he watches you get lost in ecstasy,”i’ll get you addicted to my cock,” just like how addicted he already is with your pussy and everything about you.
his other hand reaches up to tug the front of your dress down, groping up one of your tits, a silk touch to see your reaction. loving the way it's so obvious how sensitive you are there. mouth parting open with you in sensuous gasps as he twists your nipple harshly, rubbing the tip with his thumb. your walls clench a little too hard and your back arches off as you push your hips back into him, the tell tale signs of you getting close,”my baby's gonna cum for me?”
holding your jaw to have your eyes trained on him, he unexpectedly inserts his thumb in your mouth pressing against your wet tongue, your red swollen lips too tempting to resist,“fuck yes, show me how pretty you cum,” you mumble out a series of incoherent words in hazy chant.
the hand on your breast slips down to your lower abdomen pressing rashly against his bulge, feeling faint movement of his cock deep inside you. fuck you're so small and delicate. his hold on you tightening as his calloused fingers find your neglected bud, rolling it in quick, tight circles. it's so painful yet you feel so good, tears wailing down your cheeks as your orgasm crashes hard, overwhelming and violent, thighs trembling and pussy clenching uncontrollably. jake's continues to rub your clit, helping you ride out your high. eyes fluttering shut, and swallowing thickly at the sensation of you creaking over his sensitive length, cock throbbing impossibly hard.
jake refuses to stop even after you have come down,”one more candy, i know you can do one more for me,” hips hammering into you at full force, and lips finding yours in ragged breaths. and it dawns on you what exactly you have gotten yourself into when you feel the two of his fingers protruding at your entrance, trying to push in beside his cock,“if you try to close your legs i'm gonna punish you,” he warns making you whine into his mouth.
in a flash he turns your body to face his, quickly shoving his cock and fingers back into you. his other hand spanking the skin of your ass and kneading it a soft caress after. he eyes hypnotized at the view of you taking him in, a white ring of your cum adorning the base of his cock. he spits at your clit, once again toying with the engorged bud, pinching and flicking,”“gonna make you cum until you pass out, fuck i really wanna do that⁠—” your hand darts out to grip at jake's wrist, feeling too overwhelmed with hypersensitivity. wanting to shy away but the pleasure’s so good you can't bring yourself to push him away.
“but it's your first time,” jake mumbles between hoarse grunts.
before you can even realize it yourself your third orgasm courses through you vehemently. body jerking and twitching, almost falling over if not for jake's hold. jets of cum gushing out as you moan loud.
feeling you spill down his cock, all warm and tight, his brutal rhythm falters,”fuck- ‘m gonna cum,” eyes locking with yours as he thrusts once, twice and then stills, burying himself deep, streams of cum shooting out. hot spurt after spurt, swollen cock twitching against your walls. goosebumps all over, his legs quiver from how hard he came.
he stays quiet and motionless for a while, his arms wrapped around your shaking body. breathing in the scent of your shampoo, trying to calm his pounding heart and cock.
“you good candy? i’m sorry, i think i went a little rough on you,” you nuzzle into him in quiet,’its okay’ as he strokes your head, leaving fluttering kisses over your face. picking you up by the thighs he brings you to your bed, laying you down and gently pulling out. groaning at the way all your mixed cum oozes out, pretty little hole clenching around nothing.
exhausted, you let your mind drift, feeling the drowsiness kick in while jake bends between your legs with a wet towel. whining wearily, when his lips wrap around your nub in a suck, the wet sensation of his tongue against your clit like a shot of electricity,”sorry, baby just had to do that once,” he knew he didn't just call you candy for nothing and he was right. grining sheepishly as he wipes the rest of the cum off, cleaning you all up.
“you're nasty,” you manage to whisper out.
“only for you,” the touch of his body is hot and comforting, arms around your waist cuddling closely(and half naked).
“let's shower together in the morning, wanna eat you out so-”
“jake!”
“what? it's the truth!”
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the following around four in the afternoon before jake has to leave for his soccer practice, you approach him on the couch, as always re-watching an episode of vincenzo. you haven't talked much about labels, but it's known to everyone that you're sorta together. more like jake is taken by you. his friends weren't too surprised to know about you both, it was obvious jake had the hots for you and from the little hangout at the restaurant they figured it all worked out for him.
“incoming, pocky!” you sit beside him with a banana flavored pocky stick between your teeth, leaning in teasingly.
“oh you want me so bad,” he plays along inch closer and biting it off in a snap, lips barely brushing against yours.
pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed into his chest, he locks you in place, chuckling at the way you attempt to escape. his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you surrender in seconds, switching to watching the show absent-mindedly,”my parents wanted to meet you,” he drops the bomb, tracing random letters on your skin to distract of the fact that he just mention a meeting with parents.
“as my roommate, actually,” quickly adding the important point, fingers poking at your cheeks like jello.
“so suddenly though?” you think back on all the things you have ever done to him, for them to want to see you. perhaps they think of you as a snobby girl who’s indulging their son’s already unpleasant habits.
“they’ve actually been wanting to meet you for the past three months, i was putting it off but now summer break is starting next week and i have no more excuses to give,” hugging you, he rests his head on the curve of your neck, breathing in the smell of watermelon that surrounds you after you had basically devoured a whole at lunch. “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, i’ll talk to them,” he assures, not wanting you to feel obligated to agree, or force yourself despite being uncomfortable.
“no it’s okay, we can go meet them. how long will the drive be?” fumbling with his red knuckles, your mind wanders off to when he fingered you, growing hot and embarrassed all of a sudden. hardly listening in on his answers.
when jake leaves for his soccer practice, you find time to complete the trivial chores around the house. watering the plants with a pout, missing jake more than ever. you have completely different majors and you are not in any clubs either to stay after classes. the only time you spend together being the one at the apartment which is also cut down by his frequent practice sessions, sometimes in the morning during weekends and normally most evenings on weekdays. it makes you ponder on whether you should try out for any club, after all these years doing something else besides studying. but you have no idea what you should consider, having no knowledge on which clubs you could be eligible to join.
it takes you two whole weeks and a bunch of outfit checks to find yourself on your way to meet jake's parents. feeling almost weird and exhilarating at how his parents and his older brother welcome you. treating you so well even though they recognize you as nothing more than just his college apartment roommate who helps fix his laptop and tolerates the boy knowing the kind of womanizer he is. appearing more as a meeting with in-laws when you jake and you are not even official yet, more so they have no idea of what's going between you two.
they try their best to make you feel at home. during the lunch as jake had told them beforehand, his mother had a few sweet dishes prepared for you, coddling you just as jake does back at your unit. they talk to you about casual things including your likes and dislikes, what major you are in, whether jake treats you well, if you have any complaints regarding his behavior. it doesn’t feel as awkward as you as thought it would and you didn't have to put on any act as you prepared yourself to do.
in the beginning of your roommate journey, his accent, his voice was the first thing to attract you but slowly as you explored his personality you came to like him for more than just what attracted you to him. now you as you spend time with people closest to him, you understand where he got it all from. the sweet person he is, which you never expected a fuckboy to be, you didn’t even have an ounce of hope that he’ll acknowledge your presence in the apartment when you got to know about his playing around conduct. yet he turned out to be the sweetest boy you’ve ever come around in your life ( and the nastiest perhaps, )
when you are sitting alone with his brother, while jake is away downstairs to bring you something sugary to eat, his brother takes it as a chance to share his thoughts,“you know until i heard him call you candy a while ago, i was under the impression that 'candy’,” he quotes it specially with a movement of his fingers,“is supposedly a cheerleader fling of his after i saw the contact name showing up when he got a call the last time he was here,” giving you a sly look as he catches sight of jake approaching,“turns out it’s you, i never knew he is the type to give such sweet, unique petnames,”
before you leave in the evening, jake makes sure to let them know that you’re toegther, and that he’s not playing around this time. he’s willing to give effort into it and change his usual ways of living, to be better for himself and as well as for you.
on your way there you had thought of a lot things, had a lot of assumptions and expectations. even prepared yourself to hear things that’ll stick to you not so positively. but what stays in your mind now is completely unexpected and opposite of what you had internally composed yourself for. it’s all you can think of in the car and after you’re back in the comfort of your familiar apartment.
cheerleader, not a bad idea—
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“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.
“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.
“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of you is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.
“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.
“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.
3K notes · View notes
dollfacefantasy · 6 months
Text
Hold My Calls
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pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: you teasing leon about his flip phone leads to some fun
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fucking during a phone call, age gap, daddy kink, praise/degradation, over-stimulation
word count: 2.9k
a/n: hey everyone school is kicking my ass rn, but i am back with another one. thank you so much for the support on my last post that meant the world to me. i don't care if this is not technologically accurate or whatever just let me be delusional in peace. as always comments and reblogs are appreciated and i will give you special smooches in return <3 also thank you too my loves @tosuckmyweenis @kaitkatme @chasingkennedy @explorevenus @sleepyluxe @death-paint @petitecolibri for helping me come up with ideas for this one and/or beta reading - ily all sm :)
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When you started dating Leon Kennedy, obviously you knew there was an age gap. You figured it wasn’t a big deal. He’s only thirty-six. That isn’t that much older. And for the most part, that was true. The difference in years never seemed to play a huge part in how you loved each other. But there was one thing that reminded you of this man’s age.
He had a fucking flip phone.
Honestly, it didn’t even say much about his age. It highlighted his stubbornness. He was not incompetent. His job had him working with all kinds of shit that you didn’t even try to understand, so it’s not like he can’t work a smartphone. He just doesn’t want to.
It didn’t really matter. If anything, it was kind of cute. The way he fumbled with the buttons that were too small for his fingers. The loud chiming ringtone that he would grumble about yet never turn down. The sight of him trying to find the right distance to hold the phone away from his face so he could read the font. You had heart eyes on your first date when this man popped in a CD because he couldn’t use the aux with his flip phone. They were simple quirks, but they were just so endearing to you. You’d tease him about being outdated, and he’d put up with it cause it was you.
“Why do I need anything more? This thing can call you, and that’s all I really need,” he’d say with a teasing expression when you’d crack a joke.
You’d roll your eyes at the excessive charm, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, but-”
And he’d cut you off with a kiss. “Trust me. I like it. It’s simple. Plus it’s like indestructible. But if I ever want an upgrade, you’ll be the first to know.”
The only time Leon ever considered ditching his trusty flip phone and upgrading to something more advanced was when you would send him nudes. Seeing the masterpiece that is your body reduced to a handful of pixels on the tiny screen drove him fucking wild. Upon hearing the chime of his phone and seeing the small image of you gracing his screen, he’d find a moment alone to try and see the details. He’d hold the phone two inches away from his face trying to make out every last curve. Days when he got those pictures ended with nights where you got fucked on every surface in the house.
He’d come home from work, his eyes full of lust before he even saw you. You’d glide into the room with a knowing smile on your face. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.
“Hi, baby. How was work?” you ask, feigning innocence. You close the distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around him.
“Oh, you care about my work now, huh?” he asks, a smirk creeping onto his face as his arms return your embrace, “Doesn’t seem like it when you send me those cute pictures during the day, distracting me, making me think about you when I should be focused.”
Your lips part and your eyebrows raise in mock offense. “I only send those to help you, motivate you,” you tease as your fingers coast along his biceps, “Maybe if you had a real phone they wouldn’t bother you so much. You’d be able to see everything clearly and not be left imagining.”
“I don’t need to stress about pictures though when I got the real thing waiting at home for me every night,” he purrs as he leans in and starts kissing you.
You return the kiss with the same level of passion, lips moving with his as the two of you stumble over to the couch. You fall back onto the cushions with Leon on top of you. His hands already roam your body and begin removing articles of clothing. He wasn’t in the mood to take his time after having that grainy image of you gnawing at his mind all day.
“Fuck, baby. Every time… I can never get enough,” he grunts as he yanks your top over your head and tosses it to the side. His hands rub up and down your sides, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your sensitive skin and making you squirm. In no time though, they’re on your breasts. He kneads the plump flesh as his lips trail down to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva-coated skin in their wake.
He’s all over you all at once it seems. It’s overwhelming in the best way. You’re moaning and writhing on the couch, nearly trying to hump his leg while one of your hands tugs at his hair. You bite your lip and whimper as his lips move down over the swell of your chest.
He grabs your hips firmly and presses them down to the couch. His half-lidded eyes look up at you momentarily. “Quit squirming,” he breathes. He gives your chest a few more kisses while keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Need time with my pretty girl after I’ve been aching for her all day.”
You give a weak nod and focus on controlling your movements as he tugs your shorts off and drops them.
“Good girl,” he mutters before attaching his lips to one of your nipples and swirling his tongue around the peak. He hums in satisfaction as he feels the bud in his mouth. His fingers lazily stroke up and down your folds over your panties. He disconnects his mouth momentarily and looks up at you again with a smirk on his face.
“So wet already?” he teases, now being his turn to look smug, “You want me just as bad, don’t you? That’s why you send those pictures right? You’re missing Daddy while he’s at work?”
“Mhm, miss you so bad. It drives me crazy,” you say. A whimper escapes you as his fingers apply more pressure and his movements more strategically target your clit.
“I can tell. Makes you act like a little slut, huh?” he asks before he kisses down your stomach to the hem of your panties.
You feel your face getting hot at his comment, but you nod anyway. You bite your lip and keep your eyes locked with his.
He chuckles at your timid confirmation. “That’s ok, honey. Daddy’s here now. I’m gonna make sure you get all the attention you need. Can’t have my girl left wanting,” he says, pulling down your panties and putting them with your other discarded clothes.
He loops his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer so that you’re angled in a way he can reach you from his position on his knees. Your back is flat on the couch, and your legs are held over his shoulders. He doesn’t waste time, licking a stripe up your cunt and then delving his tongue inside of you.
Your head falls back onto the cushion in response. A moan escapes your throat at the sensation. Your sounds only increase in frequency and volume as he grips you tighter and fucks his tongue in and out of you. He watches you, relishing how he can pleasure you with so few touches. His tongue laps up your wetness and his mouth finds your clit again, sucking and flicking against the bundle of nerves just how you like.
His name and a variety of expletives leave your mouth while your hand slides into his hair and holds the blonde locks. Your hips twitch from the rising feelings of ecstasy in your tummy, but Leon’s hands keep you firmly in place. He devours you like a starved man, the hours of torture that little picture inflicted on him all paying off right now.
He’s skillfully swirling patterns onto your clit and occasionally exploring your insides. He knows you’re close because he can feel the way you’re pulsing and hear the way your moans and whines reach that slightly higher pitch. It only makes him work with more dedication.
“That’s right, sweetheart. C’mon, give it to Daddy. Let me taste it,” he grunts as he continues working you to the edge.
You cry out, your thighs quivering and your hips bucking as you succumb to release. You’re moaning with abandon, fingers clutching his hair as tight as possible. He groans into you from the sight in front of him.
You ride the high and he continues with his mouth throughout. When you reach the seeming conclusion, your chest is heaving and your limbs feel heavy, but Leon doesn’t stop. He continues on as if you were still on the way to your climax instead of coming down.
“Too much,” you whimper as your hips jerk and your hands make a weak attempt to push his head away, “Daddy, please.”
“Daddy, please?” he mocks with a laugh, “But this is what you wanted, babydoll. You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”
You whine, hips still squirming as your retort dies in your throat. It felt euphoric, it was just so much. This was what you wanted though.
“That’s what I thought,” he says before burying his face between your thighs again.
He continues eating you out until you’re an absolute mess. Your eyes are rolling back, nonstop whimpers fall from your lips, and your twitching thighs are clamped around Leon’s head. It was what he’d been wanting to see since he’d heard that chime in his back pocket.
“I’m gonna cum,” you slur. Your head felt cloudy from the numerous orgasms he’d brought you. A strangled cry tears through you as your body moves like it’s possessed. You convulse on the couch while his mouth makes you see stars for the umpteenth time.
Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity of your release, and finally, he starts easing off of you. He pulls your thighs off of his head and leans back. He wipes his chin that’s coated in your slick and licks his fingers. Seeing that alone has you clench around nothing which in turn spreads a smirk on his face.
“Good girl, baby,” he coos, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”
He stands up from his knees, grunting as he gets to his feet and taking a moment to stretch. You can tell the extended amount of time in the position put some strain on him. Your lips curl into a small smile while adoration fills your hazy eyes.
“Your joints locking up on you, old man?” you tease with a quiet laugh.
“Don’t start,” he says, trying to sound stern, but you can see him suppressing his own smile, “Especially since I know you want more.”
That shuts you up because he’s right. He shakes his head and makes a mock sound of disappointment.
“I know you, baby. My dirty girl. Made you cum how many times, and you still want more,” he says. He begins stripping off his clothes into a pile next to yours. “My little whore would never turn down a chance to take my cock.”
Once his clothes are off, he languidly strokes himself a few times and climbs on top of you. He peppers some kisses on your face and starts to slide inside you. You were more than ready but still sensitive from the recent series of highs.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll get you full of my cum in no time. Fuck all that neediness right out,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath on you sending chills down your spine.
You mewl and tighten around him in more ways than one. Your arms cling to his torso that hovers above you while your walls squeeze around him to take him deeper. He grunts and his head falls forward a little as he feels sparks of pleasure in his abdomen.
“There you go, angel. Taking me so perfect. My pretty girl. Made for me,” he says into your ear as he sinks into you completely.
You nod mindlessly, your head fogging up again as he fills you. He presses sloppy kisses to your neck as he starts pumping in and out. You’re both breathing heavily and allowing the pleasure to take over. One of your hands slides to his hair to rub his head while his hips snap against you.
He’s falling into the perfect rhythm with you, one that’s driving you both toward the goal line, when suddenly you hear a muffled guitar strum coming from the floor. Leon groans and you burst into laughter as you hear the ringtone you had set for him as a joke.
His movements get weaker as his focus is drawn elsewhere, but he doesn’t stop rocking his hips. He reaches down to the floor where his phone is ringing in the pocket of his crumpled pants. He fishes it out and shifts so he’s kneeling while drilling into you.
He holds the phone up and squints to read the tiny caller ID on the flip phone which makes you laugh harder through moans. He smirks at your laughter and clamps a hand over your mouth. “Shut up, I gotta take this,” he says teasingly.
He whips open the phone, the maneuver causing you to moan and squeeze around him again. He winces at the sensation, nearly unable to restrain himself from giving into his carnal urges to groan and slam into you harder.
Your eyes widen as he brings the phone to his ear without stopping his hips and in the most monotonous voice says “Kennedy here.”
It’s good that his hand is over your mouth to keep you quiet. The contrast of his movements and that voice have the sparks of pleasure igniting into flames in your belly. Seeing how he handles his dumbass flip phone so smoothly has your arousal nearly pooling on the couch.
He listens to the call while grinning at you struggling to keep yourself somewhat under control. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds about right,” he drones as the person on the other end goes on and on.
His strokes are just as deep as before, nudging you in the perfect spots repeatedly. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself getting near the peak. A soft whimper escapes you, loud enough to pierce the barrier of Leon’s hand. His hips sputter at the noise and his face contorts. He lets out a quiet grunt but quickly catches himself before losing it further.
“What? Yeah, I’m listening,” he says, his tone growing a little impatient, “Look, I’m just wrapped up in something right now. Could you not have just told me this before I left?”
You know he’s getting closer himself and struggling to hold back. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes are projecting his rising frustration he has for the person who made this call.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, effectively ending the conversation. 
Then, to hang up, he doesn’t press a button. Instead, he flicks his wrist and shuts the flip phone with a clack.
You throw your head back against the couch cushion and a loud moan rips through your throat. You shudder as a wave of pleasure courses through you after witnessing something so unexplainably hot.
His eyebrows raise in amusement, noticing how much you enjoyed that. “Hmm, I’m not hearing any complaints about the phone now,” he says. He’s trying to tease, but his voice is husky with arousal. He maintains his grin as he drops the phone to the floor again and returns to his previous position which was closer to you.
“Careful, you’re gonna break it,” you whimper.
“Nah baby, I told you that thing is indestructible,” he breathes and starts pounding you into the couch mercilessly.
You bite your lip and resume clinging to him, your fingers digging into his back. You both are panting, expressions going lax as you focus on chasing the high.
“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you mewl, unable to contain yourself for much longer.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says into your ear, his voice taking on more of a growl, “Daddy’s right there with you. You deserve it for being so good for me. Being nice and quiet while I was on the phone.”
As soon as you have permission, you give into another release. Your legs shake and your arms cling to him tighter as the euphoria shoots through you. You’re gasping for air and whining while squirming beneath him. Soon it’s just too much for Leon. He tightens his grip on you and slams deep before groaning and draining himself inside of you.
He rocks in and out a few more times before slowly pulling out. He then sits up on the couch and sinks back into the cushions. You follow by sitting up as well and curling up against his side. He pulls you into his lap, stroking your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while until he gazes down at you with a smug look in his eyes.
“I knew the flip phone was a turn-on,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.
You scoff. “It is not. It was just… it was the situation,” you defend.
“Sure, but you were tightest when I was messing with the phone,” he says knowingly.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
He laughs at your stubbornness and gives you another kiss. “You can admit it, baby. I won’t judge. Really, if you like it that much, maybe I’ll show you how strong it can vibrate later.”
4K notes · View notes
sixosix · 6 months
Text
(OFFICIALLY) SWEPT OFF YOUR FEET
i. summary in which everyone knew you were in a relationship, except for you.
ii. warnings wc 1.5k, profanity, reader will be angry: couple fight scene but not really, alhaitham is kinda dumb here, but he loves you and you love him and that's all that matters, ending is kinda lame... ft. tighnari and cyno
iii. written for my big sibling @earthtooz hope u like this one earf ily
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“Hey, Alhaitham?”
He hums noncommittally.
You nestle further in his arm that’s draped lazily over your shoulder, his other hand and his attention occupied by a book. He doesn’t respond again, but he does glance at you for a moment while you shift, adjusting his arm more comfortably.
“Tighnari sent me a letter the other day.”
“Hm.”
“And it was real sweet, you know. He sent over fruits and told me you have your share in my package. He didn’t want to send them to you because he said the fruits would have expired by the time you’d read the letter.” Alhaitham doesn’t deny it. “But I read something extremely strange in the letter that had me dropping the fruits out of pure shock.”
Alhaitham still doesn’t reply. But you know him well enough to know that he’s no longer reading—just keeping appearances.
“Did you read it?”
“...No.”
Obviously. “Ah, well. Let me quote it, as I feel the need to share it with you as well.” You sit up straight and push Alhaitham’s book away from his line of view. “He said, ‘For the insufferable, lovely couple. It’s been a while since you two have visited. How are you and Alhaitham doing? Write back soon.’ And then he taped a flower.”
Alhaitham’s mouth twitches into a half-smile. “You look miffed.”
You scowl. “Alhaitham, of course I’m miffed! Since when were we a lovely couple? And why are you not surprised? Were you the one to prank them?”
“No one’s trying to fool anyone,” he says smoothly, picking up his book once again. As if he just hasn’t caused your crisis. “Tighnari is simply being a good friend and looking for something to nag us about.”
“Alhaitham, since when were we a couple?” you demanded again, shaking his arm. “Did I miss something? Did I wake up one day and forget about being in a relationship with you?”
“Haven’t we always been in one?”
“No, we have not?”
Alhaitham casts you a glance. “You sound unsure.”
“Because you seem so sure of yourself for no reason,” you fume, itching with the urge to hurl the book at his face. “I didn’t even know you were even into me like that!”
“I let you kiss me on the cheek every night before you leave my house. Sometimes, you don’t even leave my house, so we sleep on the same bed.” As if that explains anything. And did he fling out these reasons to Tighnari, too?
“Well, I do it because I’ve been doing it since we were, like, six. And you never told me to stop. Plus, it’s just a cheek kiss—that’s way different from an actual kiss actual couples do,” you say, getting increasingly infuriated with each word that’s coming out your mouth. Why do you have to explain how relationships work to Alhaitham? Surely he’s read a guide about love in the millions of books he’s touched?
“I don’t see why you wouldn’t start kissing me the way couples do, then.”
Oh, this bitch. “So you knew that I liked you?” Your voice wavers, and you feel a little pathetic. “And that’s what prompted you to start spreading lies to everyone? Is this some joke to you?”
Immediately, his expression is swept off of amusement. “Y/N,” he says as you feel your lips tremble. “Y/N, that’s not—”
“Shut up,” you say. “How long has this been going on? Since when have I been outside of the biggest inside joke, huh?”
“It’s not like that. I thought—”
“Oh, you thought, didn’t you? Yet you didn’t think I don’t want my feelings to be played like—like—” You can’t even bring yourself to say this. You know that Alhaitham can be mean when he wants to be, but making a joke out of the feelings you’ve desperately hidden for years?
“I need to leave.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to announce it. Was it because you rarely even leave his place? Each step feels wrong. You don’t want to be mad at Alhaitham to this extent but you’re hurt.
You ignore Alhaitham’s hurried, “Where are you going?” because you don’t have an answer to that. Wherever you go, you always end up in Alhaitham’s arms.
You forcefully push the door open and march off, head spinning, humiliated. You hear Alhaitham’s steps fall into place after yours. It’s pissing you off even more that Alhaitham doesn’t even look the slightest bit frazzled, as if you impulsively sprinting off is just a walk in the block for him.
Then you spot Cyno in the middle of a street. He catches your wrist before you can avoid him.
He blinks, mildly surprised to see it’s just you and not some food stall thief. “Y/N.” Cyno tilts his head slightly to acknowledge the man a few feet away from you. “Alhaitham. Is something the matter?”
“It’s nothing!” You don’t question why or how Cyno is here, shoving him aside—which proved to be a little difficult given how he’s pretty strong for such a tiny man.
“You’re crying,” Cyno points out as you try to push him away as if you aren’t aware of how your face feels uncomfortably hot and how tears are sliding off your cheeks.
“It’s a marital dispute,” Alhaitham says, directly behind you.
His voice makes you scowl. So infuriatingly sexy, and you’re mad at it. “We’re not married!”
Cyno nods, serious. “Yes, I only heard about the engagement.” At your stunned silence and Alhaitham’s reluctant stillness, Cyno clears his throat and steps aside. “I suppose I’ll leave you two to it. I don’t know how relationships work.”
You groan as Cyno walks off, “Great, so even Cyno thinks we’re a couple. Who’s next, Lesser Lord Kusanali?”
Alhaitham looks away. “Well—”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Your wrist seems keen on being dragged around by men today, it seems. Alhaitham firmly tugs at your arm, pulling you close to his chest, his gaze intensely searching yours. But all he would be able to see is your scowl. And all you can see is his handsome face.
“Y/N,” Alhaitham says, your name in his voice a sweet murmur. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t think you would react that way.”
“What, you think I’d just roll with it?” you spit with dripping bitterness.
“Yes.” You're taken aback as you gaze at him and find his expression to be entirely genuine and open. “We fell into a friendship so easily. I fell in love with you the same way: naturally. I thought…” And then his usually blank face twists into something unpleasant. “Forgive me.”
“Alhaitham, you idiot. You bastard. Do you have any idea how relationships work?”
“No. All I know is how to be with you.” He wipes a tear off your cheek. “But it appears I’m not even doing that right.”
“Fuck you.” You bat his hand away. His face falls. “You don’t get to act all sweet to me like that. I spent years thinking you would never see me that way, and you get to decide one morning that we’re in a relationship, just like that?”
“You’ve liked me for years?” Alhaitham’s eyes are a bit wide, totally missing the point.
“Alhaitham.”
“I ask you out every dinner. And you say yes each time.”
“I didn’t think you meant it like that!”
“I did mean it like that,” Alhaitham says, and again with that ‘so sure of myself’ personality. You hate it. You love it. “And I meant everything I’ve ever said to you like that. I didn’t tell anyone anything; they just assumed on their own, and only then did I realize how it did seem that way. It was my selfishness that didn’t try to deny their assumptions.”
Alhaitham’s usually so difficult to speak to, especially when it comes to expressing his true emotions. You often find yourself filling the silence, and he seems content with it. However, he appears desperate at this moment, as though you’re planning on leaving if he doesn’t give you a reason to stay.
You are too weak. “So you like me.”
“I do.”
“…And you want to… be in a relationship with me.” Alhaitham nods. You're beginning to feel flustered as the realization sets in that the man you've always dreamt of is holding you intimately in the middle of nowhere, and also confessing that he feels the same way. “Ask me out properly, then.”
Alhaitham looks at you incredulously. Did he think it was over?
“Do it, Alhaitham. Woo me. Win me over. Sweep me off my feet.”
“...Y/N,” he hesitates, his face tinted pink, vaguely embarrassed. “Go out with me. In that way.”
It sounds demanding and clumsy, but it’s perfectly Alhaitham, so your heart beats out of your chest and your face splits into a grin all the same.
You wrap your arms around his neck. “If you’re gonna be my boyfriend, you’re going to do it right, you hear me? You won’t just let me do anything. And you will start—officially—tomorrow by telling everyone that we are not engaged nor married.”
Alhaitham dips his head down, your chin trapped by his fingers. “We will be, eventually, though. And I can just start now. Officially.”
Your confusion doesn’t last for even a second when his lips meet yours in a kiss. You’ve been wooed. Won over. Swept off your feet.
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earth i hope u know it took me months to find a good plot for your man this was a feat in itself. also i copy pasted your tags love u.
also if u caught the title while it was called swept over your feet shut up…. Please. this didnt have a title originally 🙁
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trafltr · 11 months
Text
SHE’S MY COLLAR. eren jaeger
── eren knows you, he can deal with you; but sometimes, your obsessions can be too much, even for him.
content contains : nerdy!eren x dumb!gf so real, reader is needy and obsessed with eren, nsfw, unprotected sex, riding, dumbification, ‘just the tip’ moment, size kink kinda, slight cervix kissing, dick drunk reader & pussydrunk eren, creampie. wc: 2.2k. minors do not interact thanks &lt;3
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god, you’re annoying sometimes.
unfortunately, you can never seem to realize that your boyfriend is a busy person—or anyone, really, for that matter. it’s like you believe everyone is just as carefree as you; leaving things up to the ‘fate of the universe’ and ditching responsibilities to constantly hang out with eren, essentially leaving him to deal with your eccentricity and fixations.
and it comes as no surprise to learn that he just happens to be the latest one.
it’s different from your other ones—they were much easier. because he could simply just take you to the nearest parlour and buy you scoops and tubs of your favourite ice cream, or spend his latest internship check on your wardrobe and be done with it for a favourable amount of time. but with this? you’ve been as insatiable as they come.
eren can count on two hands how many times you’ve begged him, with tears clumping your dark lashes and patchy mascara, to get away from assignments, studying, classes—even work—just to come see you in the past week. and of course, they all ended the same way; with swollen lips, limbs sore from how you held your legs to your torso as he rutted his hips into the fat of your ass, your messy cunt full of his cum, and both his face and sheets stained with your juices. he doesn’t doubt he’s been shooting blanks for the last few times, too.
but still, the worst part about it all is the fact that he just can’t bring himself to say no to you—despite all of his damned efforts to do so.
“‘ren, you should pay attention to your girlfriend.” you groan, neck curling backwards as you crane your head up to look at him. you’re planted near his left leg as he works away at the desk in his bedroom, completely ignoring your words while pages of code reflect on his glasses. “i don’t wanna sit down here anymore.”
‘i’ve been paying attention to you all week’, he wants to say—but would rather opt for the regular ‘im busy’ rather than anything else that could potentially hurt your feelings. and eren knows you’re immune to it, how if you had a dollar for every time those words left his mouth, you’d be fucking millionaire most likely—but he does it anyways.
it’s laughable, how you offered to sit there yourself as opposed to his lap because he said you would distract him if you did. yet here you were still doing the same thing; looking up at him with that subtle pout and eyes full of adoration of some sort—the kind that has his dick swelling at an embarrassingly quick rate.
“can you take a break? i miss you s’much it hurts.”
eren recognizes the drag in your voice in almost a second. as if uttering a silent prayer, he keeps his breath in the tunnel of his throat when you lazily hug him, hardened nipples brushing against his bare leg through the thin fabric of your tank top. he knows he’s taking you for granted. shit...just how many guys would pay money for this sight; the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on asking him for attention. in all honesty, you’re not the best influence, but it’s gruelling trying not to give in to you.
“fine.” the four letter word is all you need as an invitation to jump from the seat near his chair and into his legs, which widen just a teeny bit for your comfort as you straddle him.
the feeling of your arms wrapped around Eren’s slender waist whilst burying your head in his chest burns through his clothing and into his skin. instead of focusing on how your acrylics gently rake up and down his back, he chooses to open up his phone, mindlessly swiping between different page screens and periodically opening up the ‘settings’ which seem to be so important.
honestly, you just needed to be close to him; close enough to bunch his shirt in your hands while you get a whiff of his body soap and cologne—the same one lingering in your apartment, your clothes, everything. but ugh, his scent alone isn’t capable of grant your contentment; you need him inside of you—his muddled moans flowing into your mouth as you tangle your fingers within his hair, the way his brows pull together when he frantically rubs and your clit, desperate to get you crying for him.
the thought of him alone is more than enough to get you off, and just for a moment you forget eren’s there. too stuck in your head and up in the clouds, you fail to notice the way your body subconsciously rocks itself on his lap, arms tightening in the embrace as you tense from the slight stimulation to your cunt.
and eren. . .he watches with wide eyes full of surprise, his phone falling to the floor with a thud. there’s no other way to describe the sight other than pretty—your eyes are squeezed shut with fickle breaths and lips jutted out into a pout; the same pout you give when it’s just not hitting right. but he can feel all of you rubbing against his crotch, even the damp spot forming on the centre point of his grey sweatshorts.
fuck, he concludes that you must not be wearing anything under the satin shorts hugging your legs. sooner or later, you’d be the death of him.
eren jaeger: death by pussy.
doesn’t sound too bad, considering what he knows he’s in for.
“i need it eren, can’t cum without it.” you ramble the same words that you’ve been saying for the last week, eyes glossed over when you look up at his flushed face. when he tries to speak, you’re quick to cut him off, “just the tip, promise—i promise…”
eren’s almost unsure how he finds himself mindlessly nodding along, as if your whines and pleas are like a coercive drug, “just the tip…”
you repeat those three words over—like it’s more of a mantra to yourself rather than a word of reassurance to your boyfriend—as you clumsily pull one leg out of the confinement of your shorts, giving him the perfect view of your sheened over pussy. just the tip, you mumble, drooling at the sight of eren tugging his pants further down his legs to free his dick, all achey and upright, standing against his torso as he breathes heavily.
your cunt throbs when you line yourself over him, dragging his leaky tip across your folds and sensitive clit. it’s easily one of the best reliefs you could ask for, eyes flitting around in the back of your head as you lean into his shoulder. poor eren could probably cum straight like this, seeing you use him like a damned fuck toy—seeing how horny you are for only him.
his moans only add fuel to the fire, pushing you to try your luck at sliding down his bulbous head before stopping right where it ends. he’s just so big, stretching out your hole with just the tip alone—leaving you to mutter a string of jumbled up curses as your body leans forward into him.
“does it feel good, baby?” the hoarseness in his voice is difficult to miss, it’s as if his throat is closing up with every passing moment. you’ve never tried this before, but the vice grip your cunt has on the most sensitive part of him has him wishing you’d done this much sooner.
“yeah—yeah, it feels really-”
your last word comes out in choked whine, breath hitching when his middle and ring finger find their way to your clit, tracing feather-light circle on the bud.
you want eren to make you cum—you’re so desperate that you resort to steadily rutting yourself down on his tip, focused enough to not break your promise to him. there’s a steadily approaching burn in your thighs: it’s a burn that makes you want to cry, makes you want to beg him to make the pain go away and make you finish—but you hold your tongue.
eren’s lips can only part at your unexpected determination, showcasing the sharp bottom teeth that look so much like fangs. you don’t think when you move a hand to his flushed face, your thumb messily slipping inside his mouth and padding the surface of his canines. your other hand makes its way to his glasses, gently pushing them back up the bridge of his nose before meeting his swollen lips with your own.
the residue of the strawberry cake you fed him hours prior is still lingering on his tongue, you can at least make that out as you swirl your own in his mouth.
the voice in your head chanting ‘just the tip’ is growing fainter and quieter, as if it’s moving from the front of your brain all the way to the back of your head, alongside all of the other forgotten things that seemed to hold no importance to you anymore. you want to feel all of him, the pulse of his cock that seems to barely match his heartbeat, the prominent vein running up the length, and the delicious curve that jutted up right against your walls.
“‘ren, don’t wanna hold out anymore.” relentless is what you’re becoming, tired of the way that your pussy grows achey with every passing moment—it’s not enough.
“you said just the t-tip.”
“i don’t fucking want just the tip!” the tears brimming your eyes are growing more apparent, to the point where eren can’t just simply ignore them. “gotta—you gotta let me have it all!”
eren feels like he’s lost his mind: you’re already driving yourself onto his dick, a silent scream falling from your lips as you split yourself open with his sheer thickness. your hands reach to grab whatever they can, one on the back of his searing nape, and the other on top of his own.
the sought out feeling of being full makes your head almost go haywire, stumbling over words as he bottoms out, tip feathering kisses to your cervix, “i’m sososo obsessed with you eren.”
and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s sososo obsessed with you too. despite all of his complaints, there’s still a longing to give you everything you want—need, even. he can’t help but sigh when your walls start to flutter around him, as if your pussy is welcoming him like it always has.
with your guidance, he moves a hand up your shirt and towards to chest, taking your puffy nipples in hand, rolling and prodding at it before messily taking one into his mouth.
“just…right there—”
your words are less than coherent—too busy slamming yourself back down onto him to make any sense to your boyfriend, who looks at you with his brows pulled together. it’s the same look he gives when he wants to say how ditzy you can be sometimes, but you just can’t help it!
there’s a thickening ring of cream near his base, and the squelching sounds of your cunt fucking him dumb overpowers any other sounds in the room. you sniffle and whine as your pace falters, legs giving out from your sporadic bouncing as you fall into eren. it’s almost a wonder how ‘just the tip’ turned into his tip and much more, but you don’t care enough, too eager to grind your hips along his pelvis, barely moving on his length as you play with your clit.
“you can’t do that...” he finds himself mumbling out. how is it fair for you to do all of this to him, making his dick a fucking mess just to finish it all by your self; without him. “c’mon baby, that’s so unfair” he continues to mumble about how ‘unfair’ it is as he grabs a vice hold of your hips, steadying them in place for a moment and lifting you off of him, just to slam you back down with a pace more fervent than before—one that knocks the fucking wind out of your lungs and roughly brings you back down to earth.
and the trip back down hits as hard as his thrusts. the pace is unforgiving, one that you almost didn’t know he had—barring your body to his chest to easily make you meet him halfway as he fucks up into you with low remorse. his eagerness has dick slipping out of your hole and sliding up against your swollen clit, involuntary spreading the mix of your slick and his pre everywhere between the two of you.
“feel’s so good—yeahyeahyeah—don’t stop ‘ren…” you babble run on sentences that would’ve made zero sense had eren not known you. but he does: he knows the way your brain seemed to shut down while fucking you, and how your velvety walls essentially have been warped by his cock pummelling into you at any given moment.
the arch in your back is irregular, dipped beautifully for eren to hesitantly trace lines up and down the expanse of bare skin. your pussy is the best (and only) one he’s ever had, and there’s nothing that’ll ever change that fact.
because who else’s moans will sound like a god-gifted symphony from heaven? who else’s cunt will tighten around him like so the way you do when you’re cumming, translucent white slick dragging down all over and down to pants? who else will whine and cry his name the way you do? who else will make him happily empty his balls inside of them just because they begged and asked?
nobody.
after all, you’re one of a kind.
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webslingingslasher · 1 year
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hey, i loveee your writings! i was wondering if you could write a fic or one shot of peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings? ending is up to you! thanks!
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dunno how i feel about this
You were many things. 
Beautiful, talented, smart, caring, affectionate, loyal, honest, needy. 
Needy. 
Needy, needy, needy. 
Needy, he called you needy. 
Were you needy? You didn’t think so, but then again, would you be aware if you were? 
Maybe he didn’t mean it, it was a private conversation. He could’ve been just venting, ranting about small things. You’ve done it before with your friends, it could be harmless. 
But, god it hurt. It was so casual coming from his mouth, like it’s a common thought passing through his mind. 
“Hi petey,” you said with a hum, he had just left yours to hang out with his friends when he called. 
Silence drifted on the line. 
“Petey?” 
Shuffles, maybe a cough? Murmured voices, nothing too solid. 
“Peter, you there?” 
Laughs break through, you understand it was a buttdial. 
You were about to hang up but Peter moved around, suddenly the voices were crystal clear. 
“So, how is it with your girl, parker?” 
You think it’s Mark. 
It’s wrong to eavesdrop but if your partner accidentally called while they were about to talk about you, wouldn’t you listen, just for a second? 
Notes from future self, don’t. 
“Eh,” you imagine him rubbing at the back of his head, “good, good. It’s good.” 
Good? 
Good, that’s it?��
Good? 
You thought everything was great, wonderful in fact. When your friends ask about Peter you take your time on the soapbox preaching, he wants to end the conversation immediately. 
Is that a good sign or a really bad sign? 
“Just good? Don’t tell me she stopped putting out, I know how chicks are.” 
“Don’t talk about her like that, Logan.” 
Peter came to your defense, point one for parker. 
On the other side of the line Logan holds his hands up in surrender, “didn’t mean to poke the bear there, parker. Get your girl to suck your dick, you’ll be fine.” 
Next time you see Logan you’ll clobber him. 
Peter grunts, he’s never liked Logan and neither did the friend group. But every group needed that one person that was mutually hated so there was always something to joke and talk about. 
“She sucks my dick just fine, you sound jealous. I’m sure she’s got a friend that’ll pity fuck you.” 
Your eyebrows furrow, Peter doesn’t talk like that. At least not around you, is this what the ‘saturday’s are for the boys’ boys mean when they say locker room talk? 
Mark cuts back in, he lights up a joint. 
“I’m sure parker is just fine, he can barely rip himself away from Y/N.” He coughs on the smoke between laughs, Peter stays quiet. He’s wondering if he should tell his friends this, it’s nothing serious and it didn’t really bother him, and he didn’t want to say anything to you because he knows you’d take offense and stop it; and he’d miss it way too much. 
“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem.” 
He mumbled it, but he said it and what the fuck did that mean? 
You couldn’t stop now, you pray he doesn’t see you’re connected to the call. 
“Trouble in paradise? Do tell.” Mark offers the joint to Peter, he accepts it and passes it to Logan. 
“Sometimes I feel like she’s all over me and needs me for everything, I dunno.” 
Peter tugs at his hair, he’s not saying it right. 
“I think I feel like no matter how much I’m there it’s not enough, she’s so needy.” 
Gut punch. You took such a sharp inhale you have to stop breathing to make sure Peter didn’t pick up on it. You’re reeling trying to look at it from his side, you didn’t seem needy, but everyone’s idea of needy must be different. 
Sure, you do try to extend his visits for as long as possible but that’s because some weeks you feel like you don’t see him but for a few hours and you’re willing to scrape up as much time as possible. And because you love him. And sure, there have been times you ask him to do things or help you but you love watching him fix things around your apartment and have him take extra time to dote on you. And because you love him. 
You want to hang up, you don’t want to know why he thinks you’re needy. If you do then you’ll spiral and question everything you do from here on out. 
On Peter’s end he pulled his phone out to check to see the time, and if you’ve texted. His eyes widen at the screen, he feels like he stopped breathing before he whispered a “fuck” under his breath, he looked at the screen and tried to pretend it wasn’t real. 
It was. Bold and in his face, your saved name and small lettering below it, ‘call connected’ you’ve been on the line for six minutes. You heard absolutely everything, in a panic he hung up the call which was the worst thing he could’ve done, because now you know he knows, and suddenly you realized that if he thought you were needy you’d show him you weren’t. 
—----------------------------------
There is no surprise your boyfriend is pounding on the door. 
Not loudly, but constant and quickly, demanding to not be ignored. 
Like his four missed calls. 
After two straight minutes of his rapping you finally swung the door open, waiting for him to bombard you with reason and apologies. He looked surprised. Peter opens and closes his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say exactly.
Your eyebrow raises at his silence, “you had forty minutes, four missed calls, seven ignored texts, banged on my door for two minutes, and in all that time you didn’t think of one thing to say?” 
“I’m sorry?” He looks sheepish, he gave a tiny shrug. Hoping you’ll find him cute enough to be let off the hook, like a kid with cookie crumbs around his mouth claiming he didn’t know who ate them. 
You run your tongue over your teeth and click them, “yeah, no.” You try to swing the door shut and he foot catches it. 
“Baby,” he catches your eyes, his own look wet and sad. He looked remorseful for his words but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.” 
You know what you want to say, you want to tell him that it hurt your feelings, that you didn’t know you were being that way, why he didn’t tell you, why he felt that way, a million things ran through your mind. 
But that would make him right. Needy about answers, about why he would think that. That would prove him right, and you weren’t needy, you didn’t think you were but anything he might deem as needy wouldn’t be done anymore. 
“It’s okay.” 
Peter pulls his head back, he’s unsure if you know what you said. 
“It’s…okay?” 
You nod, “yeah, sure, I understand, you were just venting, and I shouldn’t have been listening.” 
“But that doesn’t make it okay, because if you did that to me I’d be hurt.” 
But I wouldn’t do that, I only praise you around my friends.  
“Yeah, well, fuck around and find out, you know.” 
It feels off, this is why Peter didn’t want to tell you anything. He knew you’d pull away from him, you already are. 
“Wanna watch a movie? I heard there’s -” he tries to move around your shoulder to come in but you move to block him entirely. He looks at you half confused, half offended. 
You didn’t need him. He had plans with his friends and you weren’t about to prove them all right and have Peter come running back to you, like he always does, and try to fix things. 
This time Peter wouldn’t fix things, you were. It was clear what he didn’t like, so you’ll stop doing it. 
“Don’t you have plans tonight?” 
Peter snorts, “since when do you care? You always beg me to stay with you anyways.” 
Is that one? One of the things that made him think you were needy? 
Not tonight. 
“I won’t beg tonight then, go have fun.” 
Peter regrets everything about the past two hours, he should’ve stayed when you asked the first time. 
“I have more fun with you, lemme in.” Peter tried to push past but you were adamant he leaves. 
“Go smoke some weed with Mark, come back when you have the munchies. I’ll make cookies.” 
Peter shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hang out with them right now, I want to hang out with you.” He tries to move past you for the third time, you put a hand on his chest to push him back.
“No you don’t. You feel guilty and want to prove something to me or yourself or whatever, and I don’t need Logan thinking if you don’t grovel at my feet then I’ll stop sucking your dick.” 
Peter jumps in immediately, “that was fucked up, and I know I said some shitty things too but I didn’t want him thinking I wasn’t getting laid.” His eyes blow up, he moves his hands around, “not that that matters! Cause I’d love you no matter how much we had sex, but we are having sex and he-” 
You hold up a hand to stop him, “I don’t know where you think that’s going but it’s nowhere good. You’re just digging a deeper hole.” 
Peter’s voice is panicked, “there’s a hole?” 
You sigh and clasp your hands, you point them at his chest. 
“I’m not mad and I don’t need you here, I also don’t need you trying to make a point about not meaning it. You said it and you meant it, don’t lie to my face. Either man up or go back to your friends.” 
You were right, this is going nowhere good and Peter knows it. 
“This shouldn’t be a fight, right?” 
You shrug, “I dunno.” 
Peter pleads with you, he wants anything, something he can work off of. 
“I’m sorry, I really am.” He reaches for your hands and you let him hold them, he rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands. 
“Are you sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?” 
Peter doesn’t know how to respond yet, he doesn’t know how to be honest without offending you and he doesn’t want one thing to change. 
“I just….” He groans and tilts his head back, “can I please come inside?” 
You take him in and decide it’s okay for him to enter, your head looks at your roommates door to make sure it’s still closed. 
Peter flops on the couch and slaps the coffee table, you take a seat where he called and waited. 
“You’re not needy. Not at all, and don’t think I’m just saying that because I think that’s what you want to hear. Needy is the wrong word, it makes you seem annoying or unbearable and I promise you’re my most favorite person in the world, so it’s not that.” 
You whisper your words, your thumbnail being nibbled on. 
“So what did you mean?” 
“I don’t even know!” Peter stresses his point, you can see how upset he is, that he not only said it, but couldn’t place it. 
“I just think maybe,” he groans, he doesn’t like being vulnerable. He’s the strong one in the relationship, it wasn’t very manly to cry over loving your girlfriend too much. 
Peter rubs at his cheek and shrugs, “I don’t know.” 
Your eyes narrow, “liar.” 
Peter folds his cards, the only thing he has to lose here is you, and he will if he doesn’t be honest. But it’s a whole new level to him, a layer he’s about to peel back, one that isn’t so light and happy. It’s a side very few people have seen, he’s scared to show it to you. 
“Can we talk?” 
You look at him oddly, “we are?” 
“Private.” 
You’re confused but lead him to your bedroom. Peter didn’t know how to tell you he was about to cry, but when he did he didn’t want your roommate seeing it. 
You wait for Peter’s lead when you reach your room, he pushes you towards your bed for you to take a seat, he stands between your legs and cups your face. Peter tilts your head up until he’s looking down into your eyes, he looks troubled. A small tired grin hugged his lips, “hi baby.” 
“Hi, peter.” you whispered soft, his thumb brushed your bottom lip. 
He takes in a deep breath like he’s remembered the task at hand. 
“I’m about to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, and it’s a different Peter than you’re used to.” Peter presses a kiss to your forehead and steps back, this time he takes a seat at your desk chair. 
“I don’t think you're needy. I don’t even know what to say, cause like, fuck… I don’t, look, spider-man has a lot of people that need him, right? And he works hard all day and has no one to share it with, but I do. I get to tell you about my shit days, and you’ll patch me up and I’ll pretend to leave just so you can ask me to stay over, and honestly? It feels nice to have someone who needs Peter and not spider-man for once.” 
You try to speak but he stops you, he looks like he’s about to cry. 
“I look forward to it too much. I fucking sit here and play pretend, like it’s a chore to spend time with you, and you always ask me how I do it so good and I’m just so used to hiding it. I’m so used to hiding this lonely feeling, like nothing is enough, and then I had you.” 
Peter shakes his head slowly, he wipes at his nose. Tears drop casually with every few blinks as he speaks, you want to hold him to you forever. 
“I didn’t have to do anything because you did, you made all the decisions I wanted to in the first place. I love when you ask me to fix things, and when you want me to spend every second with you, when you want me to skip a night out, when you get me to stay over for the third night in a row.” 
Peter wipes his eyes, he sniffs and breathes out shakily, this is what it’s about, right? 
“Baby, you aren’t needy. I am.”
“And you projected that on me.” It wasn’t a question. 
He laughs, a tear drips down his nose, he wipes it away.
“I’ve never felt so needed and wanted in my life, and I am so terrified I’ll fuck it up and lose it all.” 
You’d never do that, if the relationship ends it won’t be on your terms.
Finally you stand and sit on his lap, he welcomes you and for the first time you notice how tight he’s always wanted to hold you, forever stuck in his grasp. You straighten the collar on his shirt and fix his hair, his eyes shiny from his tears. 
“You could, you could fuck it all up and lose it.” 
You press your forehead against his, “but I need you too much.” 
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kumawaii · 3 months
Text
SWEETHEART | LSM
cw - yandere themes, possessiveness, toxic behaviors, mentions of blackmail, unprotected sex, riding, recording, creampie
— this is my first request! hope you like it my dear anon!
∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘
bestie!seokmin is an absolute sweetheart. he lives to make people happy, and you’re no exception. it’s so common, that you often feel bad for monopolizing his time. he always assures you that he wouldn’t have it any other way, and that’s enough to make any potential guilt vanish. which is good because your best friend hates to see you upset.
you don’t think anything of bestie!seokmin always following you around. he’s like a breath of fresh air and a burst of sunshine rolled up into a tall, handsome package. you two being attached by the hip is nothing new. you’re so used to it that you can’t really remember a time when it wasn’t like that.
it’s comforting having bestie!seokmin by your side. he’s the one guy who’s never let you down, and probably never will.
things never change between you two. even when you get a boyfriend everything remains the same. it’s odd, though. bestie!seokmin isn’t a fan of your new man despite him liking everyone. he’s still polite, ever the sweetheart you know him to be. which you’re grateful for. none of your relationships ever seem to last lately, so you hoped this time is different.
what you don’t know is that bestie!seokmin has no intentions of letting that happen. he’s been successful in undermining your other relationships and eventually ruining them, and this time will be no different. it’s hard at first because your new boyfriend is by far the most decent one out of the bunch of losers you brought around. but that doesn’t matter. he’s not right for you, and he’s going to prove it.
“why don’t you like him?” you ask, not liking that one of the most important people in your life doesn’t like your boyfriend.
seokmin is good at hiding the bitterness he feels. a small soft smile lifts his lips as he looks at you. “honestly? i don’t like his vibe. there’s something off about him.”
bestie!seokmin pulls you into a hug when you visibly deflate at his words. he apologizes into your hair, rubbing comforting circles on your back. instead of listing off all the reasons you should leave that loser behind, he tells you to be careful. after all, guys are pigs.
it takes a bit of time, but eventually the plan set in motion comes to fruition. it’s sunday night, aka your and bestie!seokmin’s movie night. you’re cuddled into his side when you get a notification. as soon as you look at it, your stomach drops. it’s a hey girlie… text from an unknown number with an attachment to accompany it. with trembling fingers, you open it.
as always, bestie!seokmin is there to comfort you when the image is revealed to be your boyfriend at some sleazy party. that scum had lied and said he was staying in to study for an upcoming exam. instead he was getting drunk with some girl in his lap practically dry humping him. it’s very easy for you to send him a breakup text seconds after you watch the video.
you cry into bestie!seokmin’s chest not knowing how bittersweet he feels. on one hand, blackmailing his ex into setting up your now ex boyfriend worked perfectly. however, now he’s left with your heart ache which he fucking hates. wasting your tears on such a worthless guy isn’t right, and he lets you know that.
“i-i just wish i could make him feel as bad as i do.”
seokmin tries not to sound too eager as he says his next words. “you can.”
you can’t regret listening to bestie!seokmin’s advice. he was right from the beginning, and he was right now. slowly sinking down on his thick cock feels so fucking good that you can’t even think of the idiot who lied to you. even with your camera pointing at your naked bodies, all you can think about is seokmin and his big cock.
“fuck, angel.” seokmin moans gutturally as he tosses his head back on the couch. “you feel so fucking good.”
you moan along with him as soon as you sink down all the way. he’s balls deep inside you, and you’ve never felt better. bestie!seokmin lifts his head and looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. it makes your heart jerk as you lean forward to capture his lips. the kiss is sloppy and needy. you swallow each other’s moans as you slowly start grinding your hips.
his dick is so big that you can feel him in your stomach. your pace is slow, but you already feel like you’re on the verge of cumming. the camera is doing an excellent job at capturing the erotic sight of your juices dripping down bestie!seokmin’s cock. it drips down to his heavy balls, and it makes something in the two of you snap.
“fuck my cock, baby.” seokmin urges you, groaning when you start bouncing eagerly on his dick. “that’s it. use me.”
his words sound so desperate and needy that you feel your pussy drip with more arousal. you’re moaning loudly and wantonly as you use his cock like a personal fucktoy. the coil in your stomach is close to snapping, especially when bestie!seokmin brings his hand up to play with your bouncing tits.
you’ve never been so turned on. all your senses are invaded by the carnal haze of sex — the harsh sound of skin slapping, the lewd squelching, and the filthy moans mixing in together. bestie!seokmin can only moan about how tight your pretty pussy feels as he’s consumed by the same dizzying sensation. he’s slowly losing his mind, and he’s loving every second of it.
“your dick is so big!” you cry out when seokmin starts to meet your movements with sharp thrusts. he’s slamming his fat tip against the most sensitive part inside you, and it’s not long before you’re covering his dick with your orgasm.
your moans turn into loud cries of ecstasy when seokmin’s big hands slide down your body to grab your ass. he kneads it roughly as he helps you bounce on his cock while fucking up into your sweet little cunt. you’re a naked goddess on top of him, and he knows he’ll never be able to let you go after this. by the way your pussy keeps clenching around him, you feel the same way.
“cum inside me!” you mewl, eager to feel him stuff you full.
bestie!seokmin smirks into the camera before he gives you what you want, knowing your idiot ex boyfriend is going to watch as he stuffs you full of his cum. he keeps fucking it into you until you’re nothing more than a whimpering mess. he spreads your ass cheeks as his cock slowly pops out of you, making sure your phone captures your tight little hole leaking with his cum.
you lay on his chest for a moment before you slowly lift your head up, mouth messily covering his once again. there’s no room for any guilt. not even as bestie!seokmin sends the filthy video to your ex. it’s the best revenge. especially because now it’s official that only he can have you in such a way.
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vxiphoid · 9 months
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EXIXIR OF EMOTIONS
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❨ summary ❩ genshin › more than friends? moments. is he feeling too much or too little?
tags ✧ gn!reader, fluff, modern au (?), friends to lovers, y’all are dorks, the sweetest of feelings.
amanuensis’ message ⊹ y’all are not just friends babes, smooch.
⌜ O.7+ ⌟
♫ lover boy - phum viphurit
genshin masterlist
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CUDDLING.
“you’ll put me to sleep at this rate.”
“its not like i’m going anywhere anytime soon. i like you here, in this moment. just sleep.”
— there’s absolutely nothing better than hearing your beating heart while he rests over you. no better feeling than your hands carding through his hair, braiding a few small pieces he was sure not to remove. he listens to your absentminded humming, your muted whispers about how soft his hair is, and the delighted thrum of your heart. his hand finds your unoccupied one and you were quick to interlock fingers, a reassuring squeeze following shortly after. maybe a small nap wouldn’t be so bad, little did he know you weren’t that far behind him.
AETHER, kaveh, WANDERER, zhongli, shikanoin heizou, BAIZHU, ayato, gorou, venti.
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
LATE NIGHT TALKS.
u up? ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀2:23 am (read)
been up ever since i heard your ringtone, are you alright? ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 2:23 am (read)
— you have a different ringtone from everyone else in his contacts for times like this. honestly, it doesn’t matter if you want to rant, call, or even plan something like going for a walk, his answer will always be yes. its the yearning need to hear you laugh over the phone, even if he did see you three hours ago. babble on about the first thing that comes to your mind, watching you light up as you spoke. he’s sure he has heart eyes as his pupils as he takes you in for the umpteenth time tonight.
XIAO, DILUC, childe, kaedehara kazuha, shikanoin heizou.
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
LISTENING TO HIM GEEK OUT.
“sorry, i’m talking your ear off.”
“no, keep talking. i love your voice. what happened then?”
— its the complete adoration and love swirling in your eyes that makes him lose his train of thought. he notices when he turns to see if you’re still following, the smile adorning your face spreads wider under his gaze. what are you trying to do? give him a heart attack? don’t look at him like that (please do, he’s literally in shambles.) you’re so willing to listen to him even when you dont understand the topic. give me a night, ill have it all memorized and we can talk about it together, you’d say. how could you be so perfect?
ITTO, KAEYA, thoma, ALHAITHAM, tighnari, CYNO.
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
D.I.YING CLOTHES TOGETHER.
“and then the needle goes through here…”
“please don’t poke yourself—”
— you texted him about some moss embroidery on a sweater you had saw on pinterest and he was already on his way to pick you up and run to the nearest store for yarn and string. he found two old similar sweaters in the depths of his drawers and you were quick to get to work. he could barely pay attention to his own stuff because your shoulder kept brushing his… by the end of it, made with your hello kitty bandaged fingers, on the very end of his sleeve was his own embroidered moss and your initial.
AETHER, BAIZHU, albedo, VENTI, kaveh, zhongli.
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
DANCING TOGETHER.
“no but, what if i fall? that would be embarrassing.”
“i would catch you. always.”
— having his hand interlocked with yours has never felt so faultless, he’s been close but never this close. the amount of times he’s wanted to play with your hands but refuse because of the fear of making you uncomfortable yet you seemed so at ease grabbing his hands to mess with his knuckles at any given time. your hand that was splayed out on his chest traced little hearts into the fabric while you studied his face. for a second, he swore you leaned in.. that was until you stumbled on his foot. instincts kicked in quicker than he could react, tugging you flush against him. well that was embarrassing… even then, both your laughter, firstly stiffed, echoed throughout the atmosphere.
ALHAITHAM, ayato, DAINSLEIF, tighnari, KAEYA, THOMA.
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
KISSING HIS SCARS.
“why do you do this?”
“i want you to know i accept every part of you.”
— weither that be his hands, his arms, back, neck, waist, there’s no place that your lips don’t leave a tingling feeling upon his skin. it’s how you say hello, its how you say goodbye, it’s so frequent he finds himself counting the mere seconds of the intimate interaction. how you lingered for a second longer one day or a second less the next. you’ve found scars on him where he didn’t even know he had-including the invisible scar you insisted he had on the corner of his mouth that you’d pecked last.
AETHER, albedo, childe, CYNO, dainsleif, DILUC, gorou, itto, KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, XIAO, WANDERER.
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itsyoursunshinebabe · 11 months
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Them with their babies- JJK headcanons
Characters: Yuta Okkotsu, Megumi Fushiguro, Toge Inumaki, Yuji Itadori
TW: female reader, pregnancy, bad grammar
All characters are aged up!!!!!!
ENJOY~
Yuta Okkotsu:
Say what you want but I’m a hundred percent sure that he has a son. Who is just like his papa but with your eye colour. Even his personality is the same as Yuta’s.
When you announced your pregnancy poor moonboy was shocked. He didn’t know how to react, so he just stood there in awe. After like twenty minutes he finally embraced you and told you how happy he was.
But oh boy...he was scared. However Yuta Okkutsu is not a lost case! He purchased tons of books about parenthood, started to follow parent blogs, read as many articles as he could and even asked his sensei, who already had two daughters. (And regretted doing that)
Your pregnancy was smooth, aside from his occasional internal panic, though he never let you know how scared he actually felt.
The birth part was a mess and Yuta would not like to talk about it! Upon seeing his son for the very first time, suddenly everything got into its place. He cried, yes and he didn’t care; his son was his joy along with you of course.
Protective af but not in an irrational way. If the baby wants to experience stuffs, as long as it doesn’t hurts him, let him do it.
“Dada, me fell” Yuta just smiles because he told the little guy soooo many times to put away his toys so this wouldn’t happen. Was he right? Yes. Would he brag about it? Noooo. (A little)
Can be savage at times, but mostly he is a sweet, devoted father.
Megumi Fushiguro
R e s p o n s i b l e
Don’t expect passionate outburst because it won’t happen. He concludes your pregnancy announcement with a “hmm” and a tight embrace.
He wouldn’t be as worried as Yuta but would definitely buy many books and read articles about what to expect... and he didn’t like it at all! Those books and articles were confusing, everyone’s opinion was different so he was like “fuck it, it’s not rocket science raising a kid”.
That’s when he actually started to panic a little. Lucky for him, you kept reassuring him that he was doing a good job with treating you like a queen so his kid would be just as lucky.
Also boy dad.
The moment his little miracle was born, Megumi felt things were shifted: all the negativity disappeared and only a pleasant bliss remained; he was so thankful for you, for his little baby. The world seemed like a good place right now.
He always takes his son seriously, no matter the silly things he says or does. Megumi is well aware that his kid is just a mere child and would grow smarter day by day.
Strict and serious, and treats his son like he was just a small adult. Don’t expect baby talk or nicknames for animals and other stuffs. No. The kid is smart if he can say moo moo he can say cow as well! (That’s my opinion coming through Megumi)
Toge Inumaki
Utter panic
You know he has this thing called cursed speech. Yeah... till now he didn’t think too much about it, but holy shit there is an Inumaki baby forming inside you with probably the same curse as he’s got.
Texts his family immediately after your announcement. Who panic as well...
After a few days though Toge get ahold of himself and jump deep into the baby-mama blogs and becomes like one of them!! “Tobi started teething at 4 months, you know why? His mother gave him...strawberry puree. Can you believe it?”
Somehow now he is an expert.
Girl dad vibes! Like you can clearly see that he’s gonna sit down with his little daughter and play with her dolls, dress her in fancy clothes and have their own tea party.
As savage as he is, he’s gonna teach her how to control her cursed speech. (But would teach her some extra stuffs too, because it’s fun).
Little girl knows all the tea.
Ahaha you thought he’s gonna stop at only one child? Be prepared to have at least three other little Inumakis running around.
Yuji Itadori
Cutest purest most innocent precious sunshine boy daaaww! He’s gonna cry when you announce your pregnancy.
Probably the only one who wouldn’t panic. “I was raised just fine and my parents didn’t even know what they were doing.” Ahaha now YOU are the one who panics.
Books, articles, blogs, you know the drill...BUT he’s gonna ask Gojo sensei and would take him seriously. Man already regretted saying anything to this gorgeous himbo, but oh well.
He didn’t understand everything during your pregnancy, like your weird food cravings, moodswings, but was supportive all along.
The birth was emotional, literally everyone cried. However upon seeing his precious daughter...he showed her the biggest ear to ear smile. He couldn’t stop kissing and thanking you.
Yuji taught his little girl so many practical things and took his time to do sports with her. She is a very active kid, inheriting her father’s exciteable nature.
Also someone who wants to have a big family
Best dad ever!!!
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iamnotokaythx · 10 months
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hello! first post on this blog. how lovely! i’m not normal about miguel o’hara. specifically yandere miguel. i wrote some hcs. theres also what i believe is called a drabble down there.
warning: not proofread, lowercase, kidnapping (twice), mentions of miguels past, hcs in no particular order, sfw surprisingly, descriptive + gory threats directed at a random person, miguel is paranoid, reader is gender neutral but masculine, i haven’t watched the movie yet, i used that spanishdict.com website but i am not a native speaker so help is appreciated, lmk if i missed anything
i respect everyone’s headcanons very much but imo: y’all got yandere miguel SO terribly wrong. he is a stoic, violent asshole, yes, but think logically!!! would this man, who watched his wife and kid die, ever hurt the object of his love? /lh
i think he’d probably treat you like glass no matter how much you insist that you’re capable of autonomy and he’d try to have the patience of a saint, but it can run thin.
if he gets severely pissed off, expect furniture to be thrown and screaming to ensue—but one look at your fearful eyes, all watery as he backs you into a corner, it makes him melt and cradle you in his arms. he cares for you so, so much and would never want to scare you.
miguel is kidnapping you. absolutely no doubt about it. he can’t trust you to be in other dimensions where so many things could go wrong, where it could collapse or you could be caught in the crossfire of a canon event or—no. no, you have to stay with him, where he can watch out for you at all times. i think if you retaliated, all he’d do is restrain you in an inescapable hug and sink his fangs into your neck, putting just enough venom to make you sleep for a little. he apologizes profusely once you come to… but he doesn’t mean it. he’s sorry to hurt you, sure, but he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you safe. with him.
miguel has no qualms about hurting anyone else, though! barista seems just a little too gregarious? miguel’s talons spring from the pads of his fingers as he taps his fingers on the table. he smiles at you. it’s a warning. ‘i could kill them, you know.’ he says with his eyes. ‘right now, if i wanted to, i could rake my claws across their throat. i could pick you up and run out before anyone else caught me. before they’d even get a chance to fall to the ground dead.’ his gaze flickers to the door. he runs his tongue across his fangs. ‘or i could bite them. shoot venom all inside their bloodstream. they wouldn’t pass out like when i did it to you, they’d die. they’d die painfully and slowly, their body shutting off as the pain made them wish it happened faster. all because they were smiling at you just a little too long.’ his eyes shine with mirth. he thinks it’s all a joke. you decide to put and end to his cruel mocking by standing up abruptly, grabbing his hand, and dragging him towards a different table far away from the poor barista.
at home, he’s affectionate. so saccharinely affectionate. he doesn’t—won’t respond to his name, you have to call him some nickname or pet name or something. “miggy.” “guel.” those are accepted, but he cracks a genuine smile whenever you call him by something corny and sweet like “baby” or “love.” he’s more likely to comply to a request if you call him a pet name, but he allows you some freedoms at the least. internet: heavily monitored, only when he’s with you. tv and video games are fine, as long as they’re only local co-op or singleplayer. you’re only allowed a phone so you can text him if you need him.
he nearly always finds time for you. as soon as he’s home, he’s attached to you like a lifeline. his touch never leave your body—he’s always holding your hand or waist or kissing you from behind and murmuring words into your ear. “mi cariño, i missed you at work. i’m tired, hermoso, please can we go lay down for a little?” he’ll ask. you’ll comply, if you want, and subject yourself to being smothered in his arms for 1-3 hours while he cuddles up with you and sleeps, but if not then he’ll whine until you let him lay his head down on your lap as you watch tv and ignore him. he so desperately craves the domestic affection he once had with his family.
speaking of ignoring him, please don’t. he’ll go insane. before the first day’s up, he’ll beg you for as much as a glance towards him, even if it’s a scornful glare it means you’re functional. he’ll become more and more desperate, clinging to you and your every word, movement, and nonverbal communication. after a long time—maybe a week, if he can stand it, he’ll cry into your chest until you explain what it is you want. at that point, he’d be willing to do almost anything just for that never to happen again.
…almost anything.
(okay i’m gonna be real. i don’t know the difference between a fic or a drabble. i assume what follows is a drabble)
he wouldn’t let you leave, it’s too dangerous. you somehow managed to escape, and he tracked you down in a panic-induced frenzy. as soon as he wrapped you back in his arms, you realize you’ve seriously fucked up. he’s silent on the way back home and even silent until the next day. you wake up the next morning to the smell of bacon and you find him in the kitchen. he acts like nothing happened at all, but begins a rather unsettling spiel as you eat.
“i did some thinking. i realized… it’s just not safe for you here!” he says slowly, circling you as you stared at the sizzling food in front of you. you don’t know if you should eat or not. his hands snake up to your shoulders, giving you a gentle back rub. “so i’ve decided we need to move. somewhere where you’re safe, you know?” miguel evidently noticed you hesitation to eat. “something wrong with the food, amor? i made it just for you. at least try some.”
you decide not to eat. you make a lame excuse about not being hungry. his hands tighten around your shoulders and then just as abruptly leave your skin. “you mind telling me why you won’t eat?” he whispers in your ear. you insist that you’re just not hungry. he growls in his throat, but suddenly switches into a smile. “of course. i’ll put it in the fridge for when you want it.” miguel says gently. he wraps the plate in saran wrap and set it in the fridge. “i took a day off. looks like we’re going to be together all today now.” he says. he leads you to the couch and assumes the regular position, laying with his head on your lap.
“i love you, y/n. i really, really fucking love you. you believe me, right? you know, right? you know how much i need you? to eat, to sleep, to breathe? i need you.” he says as you watch whatever show was on. “i… i don’t feel… well, i’ll explain later. how about you lay down this time? i know you like getting massaged.” he offers. you lay down, expecting to feel his hands press the knots out from your back, but instead you feel him grab your hand. “i’m sorry. i can’t imagine this is pleasant.” he apologizes, pressing one hand to your back so that you can’t move. his other hand brings your wrist to his lips and he kisses your forearm before sinking his fangs in. within seconds, you feel more and more drowsy.
woohoo go me! i did it
anyways i’m super tired i wrote this all in one sitting
part 2
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yulin-pop · 10 months
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⤷ ✧ Green Flags
Gender neutral
- order 79 | headcanons | Heartslabyul
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Ace Trappola
— Gets along with your family
He may be a big jerk to you but when he meets your parents or any of your family he is literally perfect. He will do anything and everything to look good in front of your family. It’s for approval but he’s the type to actually care as well. If you have younger siblings then he’d be willing to babysit them and buy them things (nothing too expensive hes not that nice).
— Will call you out
This may seem like a red flag to some but disagreements in any sort of relationship is good. He would never invalidate how you feel but if you need to be set straight, then he’ll do that for you. And likewise, if you call him out then he’ll take it just as seriously. When this happens, one of you are bound to be a bit hurt but Ace is thankful that you would do that for him.
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Deuce Spade
— Waits for you
He is very patient. Every text he sends, he sits there waiting staring at his screen for a good 5 minutes, just waiting. If you two have different classes he is still dedicated to walk you to your next class. As soon as the bell rings he runs out the room and waits for you outside of yours. He’s also the one that waits for you when you tie your shoes.
— Always excited to see you
He lights up whenever he sees you. It could’ve been just a short 5 minutes and he waltz over to you like he hasn’t seen you in months. If he wasn’t so shy about it, he would pick you up off your feet and spin you around in a tight hug. He really can’t deny how much he loves being around you.
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Cater Diamond
— Hypes you up
Your personal hypeman right here! It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, your posture, location, or mood he will shower you with compliments. “O-M-G you literally look ethereal right now. C’mere!” Takes lots of photos of you. He will try his best to fix your hair or clothes if it gets messed up.
— Buys matching things
You have so many matching accessories. Keychains, hairclips, bracelets, necklaces, etc… He loves matching things and he thinks it’s just so cute to match with someone. He knows you’ll never turn him down!! If he catches you wearing it or you ask him to match it, he literally won’t shut up and he will be all over you— you’re just so cute!!
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Trey Clover
— Looks into your interests and hobbies
Not only will he listen to you talk about your interests or hobbies, he will actually try to get into it himself. He will keep you updated on his progress of your favorite show/book/game. And with hobbies he’s probably not gonna be very good at it if it’s something he hasn’t tried but at least you’re there to help him.
— Pats your head
Okay everyone needs a good head pat. It’s honestly a thing that’s never failed him (for the most part). Sometimes he’s a little awkward with physical affection even thought he actually loves it. The most casually thing is to just pat your head and say “I love you good job”.
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Riddle Rosehearts
— Listens without judgement
If you ever need to talk to him about your problems, he’s all ears. You can tell he’s listening closely because of his gaze. He really only sees you when you’re talking and nobody else. It’s very intense (゚∀゚)… Whether if you’re in the wrong or not, he doesn’t scold you on it and gives his earnest opinion.
— Checks up on you for no reason
Please pick up his calls or else he will think you got kidnapped or something. He sorta just calls you and you can hear the relief and happiness in his voice. When you two are together, he’s always staring at you— trying to read your facial expression. Don’t be surprised if he randomly stops by, he just does that. He doesn’t really have a reason nor does he have the time for that but he does it anyway.
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“Is this truly our prodigal son?” - meta ramblings about Astarion and Cazador and breaking vicious cycles
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“I didn’t have a choice… but it seems now I do.” Astarion is indeed the prodigal son in the sense that he has to return to his home in order to find himself and his purpose. 
For at least half the game, he is - at least outwardly - what he has been made to be. A pretty facade to be consumed. In the mirror he doesn’t see himself, he remembers nothing of his past, he can’t even read the words etched into his own back - he is, in all aspects, unwritten, unmade until he starts walking back into his own life. Reclaiming it. Or rather - remaking it. Because there is nothing sustainable there to reclaim, his heritage from Cazador contains nothing but death and violence. And power built on those two ingredients. Even when he claims that’s what he wants - power, walking in the sun, to never be afraid of anyone again, you can hear how hollow the desire is. Isn’t this what you want for me? he asks Tav, equal parts manipulation and the fact that he probably has no idea whatsoever how to figure out if he wants something like that for himself. He’s never had the luxury of choice. Shouldn’t I want this? When Tav later says that considering slaughter of seven thousand spawns isn’t who Astarion truly is he doesn’t even say she’s wrong, he replies: IT SHOULD BE.
“If I can’t have my freedom, then neither can they.”
Astarion is also, to use the same religious myth, the son who remained behind and keeps count. He counts the injustices done to him, he compares, he gathers bitterness and lust for revenge over two hundred years. Nobody ever did anything to help him. Nobody came to his rescue - he even says so himself early in the game that no hero saved him, it was the mindflayers who did. He admits to Gale that he’s prayed to all deities - but no one answered. When Tav prods about the countless of spawn he’ll sacrifice for his own ritual he brings up the same argument - what about what he’s owed? Everything was taken from him, too!
“You’d almost feel sorry for the poor, deluded souls. But they’re idiots who brought this on themselves, so… don’t.” 
Astarion doesn’t want to identify with the victims because then he has to identify as a victim. (Or even worse, someone who willingly accepted the offer of a vampire, aka idiot who brought this on himself.) And no matter how much he talks about what Cazador put him through, he’s not ready to do that, not fully. Instead he pushes them further away from himself, especially as his guilt and pain and self-loathing gets poured into preparing for the Ascension. That one thing that will finally separate him from everyone else, make him safe and untouchable. The others, the victims, they’re weak, pathetic, nothing like him at all, they’re too far gone, they’re different, they couldn’t survive out there so it’s better he kills them so they serve a purpose. It’s not exactly subtext, either, Tav can outright ask him if he really intends to kill them just because they remind him of himself and his voice breaks when he answers that. “They do not. That weakness inside me is dead. It’s dead. I have a higher purpose.” He comes a little bit closer to breaking out of his cycle with the Gur children, they happened not that long ago, he’s visibly moved by the fact that he had forgotten them and felt nothing when he delivered them and when Tav asks about his feelings on the subject, he admits: “I just… I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.”
But it takes the encounter with Cazador to truly break out of the pattern.
“Did I not make you who you are?” “Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?” he snaps at Astarion when you first enter his ritual. And when the camera pans to Astarion, so full of rage and fully intent on killing Cazador with his bare hands if he has to, we see that he actually does slouch. He’s that boy again.
He’s returned, the boy who caused so much trouble, who screamed the sweetest when he was tortured, who was thrown into a tomb for a year for refusing his order and who eventually stopped fighting back. Godey says: “You always were sharp, little one. Sharp enough to cut yourself.” The boy who Cazador tried to make something of, but to no avail. He was incorrigible. “I fondly remember your empty boasting, your tired jokes, your endless prattle…” All abuse aside, Cazador hurts Astarion in that precise way only a parental figure can hurt a child - through constant disappointment, the cruelty of not caring. The parent that only punishes, that sees nothing but faults. He even tells Astarion that he ought to be begging their forgiveness for coming crawling back after abandoning them. “Forgiveness? You’ve never forgiven anything.” / “No! No, fuck you and fuck everything you’ve ever done to me.”
“I’m so much more than what you made me,” Astarion tells Cazador when he finally has him on his knees, one last attack away from getting the revenge he’s dreamed of for two hundred years. When he asks Tav for help he - again - brings up the “isn’t this what you want?” Because even if he knows he’s more than what Cazador created him to be, he doesn’t know what that “much more” consists of yet. If you detect his thoughts at that moment you learn that he’s afraid, hungry, intoxicated. That all he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom to do anything - to be anything.
“I want you to live a life you’re proud of,” Tav pleads. “You can’t be proud of this.” Tav who sees someone else in him, a way forward that isn't steeped in Cazador's tyranny. Tav, who treats him like a person, with autonomy.
“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. The power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.” And it was this Astarion required to truly remake his life. Returning as the prodigal son to the place that was his home, where he was taught he amounted to nothing, that he was a means to an end, that the only way to ever feel safe in life is to hold power over someone else. 
That’s why I found his “No! No, fuck you and fuck everything you’ve done to me” so powerful, because it’s it’s much more than an insult or a protest. It’s an acknowledgement that you were hurt and that you didn’t deserve it. 
And by extension here - that you’ve hurt others in turn and they didn’t deserve it, either. That perhaps you are just the same as the weak, pathetic spawn in the dungeons. That perhaps we all are. That perhaps the true power lies in daring to hope. For forgiveness, for understanding, for more people out there to have a heart like Tav’s. That you, if you’re given a chance to make choices for yourself, can make a life you can feel proud of. Even if it means you have to let others see your shame. To care again is to live again, like Tav says while they're exploring casa Cazador. And Astarion wants to feel alive.
When you can make Astarion realise he can be better than Cazador, he immediately shows  protectiveness towards the spawn, telling his siblings to lead them to the Underdark and then telling the truth to the Gur but making sure to point out that if they come hunting - they’re hunting their own children. Cazador’s been dead for a couple of minutes and Astarion is already doing a better job as some sort of wretched father figure for these poor souls. Because he's given them freedom to make their own choices, treated them as equals. Shown them the care nobody ever showed him before. That's how you break cycles and pack one hell of an emotional punch. Fuck you and fuck everything you’ve done to me, indeed.
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carmyboobear · 1 month
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ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza
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Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)
ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4
Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it. 
Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love. 
Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you
A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!
CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza
It always stays the same. 
This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.
No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.
He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for? 
What is he even for?
These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.
Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.
Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…
The quiet is dangerous.
It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land. 
A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:
Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—
“Mornin’, Carmy.”
Until his roommate wakes up, that is. 
When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.
He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there. 
If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.  
They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home.  They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…
That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.
On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…
He’s grateful. Incredibly so.
And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—
It always stays the same. 
“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.
Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind. 
“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”
“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.
“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”
“...And that would be?”
“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look.  No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”
He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh. 
“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.” 
“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”
“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”
“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”
“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues. 
“Name one,” they argue back.
“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too. 
“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.” 
“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”
“But.”
“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new. 
“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all. 
Says more about him than them, he supposes. 
“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.” 
“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head. 
It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not. 
It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh. 
“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.
“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”
“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows. 
Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic. 
He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth. 
By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them. 
The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips. 
Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.
In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—
But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip. 
“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor. 
“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent. 
His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe. 
“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”
“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”
“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”
Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking. 
“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”
“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”
So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.
She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?
He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens. 
Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.
“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”
Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.
“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket. 
“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted. 
“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”
“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.” 
“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”
“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”
“The fuck? Why ?”
“Canceled,” he replies simply. 
“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”
“Not yet.”
“Great.”
“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”
“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere. 
“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.” 
“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”
“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”
“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”
Silence. The spark of a lighter. 
“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside. 
Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.
He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably.  There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—
Shoot me a text, okay?  
He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers. 
Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.
“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”
“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all. 
“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it. 
“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on. 
. . . . .
It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.
Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird. 
It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.
Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.
With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms. 
Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.
The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.
You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.
Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.
Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it. 
He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.
Oh, he realizes. That’s them.
The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—
There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.
Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all. 
They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron. 
His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—
“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away. 
“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself. 
He forgot.
“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.
It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.
“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings. 
“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“
“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”
“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.
“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”
“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…” They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”
“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.
“Shitty day for you, too?” 
“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”
“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”
Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too. 
“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”
“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected. 
They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue. 
“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up. 
“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?” 
“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.
“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say. 
“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”
“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.” 
He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does. 
He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.
The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else. 
He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him. 
He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—
He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.
“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”
The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him. 
This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.
He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window. 
“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”
“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window. 
“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling. 
“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused. 
Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though. 
It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed. 
He wonders if they’ve noticed. 
“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair. 
“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”
“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?” 
He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke. 
“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh. 
“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”
“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”
“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”
“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”
“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”
They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects. 
“And?”
“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.
“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.
“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.
“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight. 
“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”
“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”
“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”
They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.  
Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does. 
This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud. 
“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!” 
“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”
“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space. 
“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”
“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter. 
“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face. 
“Oh,” he reacts mildly.
“Shit, I’m so sorry—”
“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”
“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically. 
“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”
“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten. 
When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected. 
“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”
“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”
“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it. 
“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”
“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.
“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”
“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”
“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is. 
“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth. 
“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food. 
“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?” 
“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”
“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”
They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it. 
“Uh, well, they’re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.”  Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…” 
“...And?” 
They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it. 
“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”
As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does. 
“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.
Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go. 
Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?
But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.
He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten. 
The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end. 
And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed. 
“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”
“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.
“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”
“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.
Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep. 
But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.
“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Weed,” they say with a shrug. 
“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes. 
“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”
“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”
“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”
“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”
“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”
“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.
“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly. 
“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”
“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”
“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.
“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face. 
“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently. 
“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling. 
I can’t fucking do this.
The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear. 
“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.
What the fuck are you doing?
Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.
“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”
"Night,” he murmurs back.
This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it. 
He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things. 
This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.
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its-time-to-write · 8 months
Note
hi, i love your writing! could i request something where jamie and reader are dating and jamie starts introducing them to the important people in his life, like roy, keeley, the richmond boys, etc. and each time they get introduced to someone new, whenever jamie steps away, they basically get some variation of the 'you better not hurt him' talk, and when jamie finds out he's worried that reader is gunna be offended or upset but they reassure him that it's fine, they think it's cute that everyone's so protective of him and that it's nice to see him have so many people care about him
Sorry this took FOREVER. Here it is!
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the way it goes
It has been exactly twenty-one days since Jamie asked you out on a proper date, and you’re of the opinion that life can’t get much better than this. You’ve only met two of his teammates so far, (Isaac because he’s one of Jamie’s good friends and Richard because you ran into him while shopping) and honestly, they aren’t what you expected at all. 
They’re kind and they seem to genuinely like working together.
(It’s a little funny to call football “work.”)
Isaac tells Jamie to bring you next time they all hang out, and reminds him to buy more juice packs than last time so they don’t run out again.
Turns out the next “hang out,” is a night at Isaac’s, and the whole team is there with various partners and spouses. There’s a strict sweatpants-only drsesscode, and pretty much everyone is in clearly expensive matching sets. You’re grateful that Jamie shrunk a brand-new deep green set the other week, because you didn’t have time to go out and buy something new/not ratty.
There are tables of board games, a pile of snacks, and even a bar. Jamie drags you over so he can get “proper buzzed,” and requests something incredibly complicated from Beard, who appears to be the only coach present.
“Babe,” Jamie says, “you good here? I’m gonna get some food.”
You nod and watch him weave through groups of people. You lean against the bar and wait for Jamie’s drink.
“So,” says Beard, “you’re Jamie’s girlfriend.
You nod. “Yeah, I am. I’ve known him for ages, though. Since I was in uni. Always thought he was just some prick footballer trying to score, if you know what I mean.”
Beard chuckles. “I get it. He’s a bit of an asshole sometimes.”
You grin. “He’s my asshole.”
Beard slides you Jamie’s drink but before he completely lets it go, he says, “Hey.”
His voice has lost its jocularity, so you look up to meet his (very intense, slightly terrifying) eyes.
“Jamie doesn’t need his heart broken. He may have been a giant prick, but he’s different now. He’s not the kind of guy you can just screw and move on from.”
Your mouth has gone a little dry, so you just nod. Right then. You turn to go find Jamie and hope he won’t mind if you take a sip of his drink. You’re planning on staying sober tonight, so that one sip is going to have to get you through till the end.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told you to be careful with Jamie. The first time was actually Roy’s niece, Phoebe. Jamie was babysitting and he asked you to come along, so while he was paying for ice creams Phoebe tugged your arm so you’d get down to her level and said, “If you make him cry, they’ll never find you again.”
You had looked at her in shock while she matter-of-factly stated, “My Uncle Roy’s been teaching me things.”
She said the word things far too ominously for an eight year old, but then Jamie came back and she was all smiles again. 
You got a similar, equally threatening talk from Phoebe’s mum, and then from Roy, and then Roy’s girlfriend Keeley.
Variations of the “break him and I’ll break you” talk had begun to trickle in whenever you’d pick up Jamie from Nelson Road. The tone ranged from Sam’s vaguely threatening, “We all love Jamie very much. We’re incredibly protective of him,” to Jan Maas’s blunt, “If you break his heart, you will never find another date on this entire continent.
Even Ted had a comment, which was more along the lines of, Jamie’s a big softie, he doesn’t need some to play him right now, he needs a real supporter. Each time, you assured them that you weren’t going to hurt him. You didn’t ask why they thought you would be the one doing the hurting when he was the one with the reputation.
Because you are fully aware of his reputation. You hadn’t seen Lust Conquers All, but you’d seen enough clips to piece together exactly how it went. And you’d seen the details of his cheating scandals all over the papers. And dealt with him firsthand while in uni. So yeah, Jamie’s past prick-ish behavior is not a mystery to you.
You find it endearing that so many people love him enough to protect him. It’s a good sign, you think.
You find Jamie carefully stacking various snacks on a tiny, tiny plate. His face lights up when you come into view.
“Oh good,” he says. “Extra hands.” He grabs his drink with one hand and gives you the plate with the other. He starts piling on something flaky and slightly green. 
“Isaac’s girlfriend makes these fucking pistachio things, and they always go way too fast. Gotta eat them while you can,” he says while creating an engineering marvel.
“Glad you like ‘em, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice from behind you. You jump a little, and the plate wobbles. 
You turn to see Isaac with an absolutely gorgeous woman on his arm.
“I’m Stella,” she says. “It’s wonderful to meet you. We’ll have to have you two over for a real dinner.”
Jamie and Isaac quickly become engrossed in a serious discussion about football tactics, with Jamie downing his drink and then taking the plate of food from you. He was right, those pistachio things are amazing.
You chat with Stella for a little bit and learn she’s the face of a modeling agency and met Isaac during some football/branding thing.
“He was the only one during the entire shoot who made sure I was drinking enough water,” she laughs. “Who knew the way to my heart was through proper hydration?”
You talk a little longer before Jamie’s arm is snaking around your waist to whisk you off to see Dani. It goes like that for a little while until you finally settle down at one of the game tables. It’s a card game involving a lot of yelling and pointing fingers.
The house is noisy and cozy, filled to the brim with people who are just comfortable around each other, and you think you’ve never experienced something like this in your whole life.
Jamie on the other hand, is yawning a little bit. His hand, which had been on your knee tracing squiggly patterns, is starting to slow down so you put yours on top of his and whisper, “You about ready to go?”
Jamie nods and presses a kiss to the side of your head.
“Got fucking extra training tomorrow,” he quietly laments.
You get up to leave and Jamie follows suit with a very loud pronouncement that he’d rather be somewhere private, much to the amusement of the Greyhounds who begin to hoot and whistle. You roll your eyes and smack his butt on the way out.
Forty-five minutes later, Isaac’s phone dings with a photo of Jamie in a pink robe and green face mask, hair pulled back in an equally pink and fluffy headband. He’s lying on your bed and he can see the tv screen playing Notting Hill. You’ve typed, Someplace private, my ass, and Isaac just shakes his head and grins. Fucking Jamie. Prick on the outside, softie on the inside.
You better not break his heart, he writes.
HAH comes your reply a moment later. Not a chance.
“Babe, look,” you say handing Jamie your phone. “I’ve collected the whole set.”
Jamie reads your text thread then looks up at you in confusion. “What d’you mean?”
“Isaac is the only one who hasn’t like, threatened me or something if I hurt you,” you reply.
The tips of Jamie’s ears turn red. “What do you mean, the only one?” he asks. “Like, the team?”
You shake your head. “Oh no. I mean, yes, the whole team, but like pretty much everyone who works at Nelson Road.” 
Jamie’s eyes widen as you begin to list people on your fingers. “Alright, so obviously the Greyhounds, plus all the coaches, Keeley, Rebecca, Higgins, Trent, Samantha at the front desk, Gary, Phoebe and her mum, Will-” you pause. “Should I keep going?”
Jamie groans. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry. They’re all twats, except Phoebe. I swear, they’re not always like that. I’ll talk to them and make ‘em leave you alone.”
“No! You can’t let them know that you know! And…” you hesitate, “I thought it was kind of sweet. Like a green flag, you know? They all like you enough to make sure that you’ll be ok, and they want me to know I have something special. Of course, I already knew that,” you continue, “but it’s nice confirmation.” 
Oh. That’s new.
Jamie’s quiet for way too long so you look over at him. “Babe, are you crying?”
“No,” he says, choked up. “Face mask got in my fuckin’ eye.”
“It’s dried solid, babe.”
“Fine,” he says, “I might be a little. But you can’t tell anyone, especially not Ted, because then he’ll talk to me about feelings and shit, and I’d rather eat ten fucking scones than that.”
You laugh and snuggle into his side. There aren’t going to be any heartbreaks here, not if you can help it. You’re both planning on keeping the other around for the rest of your lives.
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pedrithink · 1 year
Text
opposites attract ✩ kylian mbappé
KYLIAN MBAPPÉ X READER
where there is golden retriever! kylian and his black cat girlfriend.
faceclaim: lily rose
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Liked by ethanmbappe, ynusername, and 2,363 others
ynkyliannews Y/N was spotted in a cafe in Paris. She looks marvelous 🥰 @ynusername
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mbappegirl look… i love y/n, but she should smile more.
⤷ psgfan yeah, this gives a bad image to kylian too…
ynfan1 she looks fantastic, omg!!!
mrsmbappe why is she always so serious? 😭
kyliangf she is beautiful, too bad that her way of being makes it seem that she is rude
ynfan2 love u gf
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ynusername le temps de l'amour
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k.mbappe You look amazing 😍🤤🔥🔥
ynfan1 DAMN MAMA
mbappegirl GIRL WHY U NEVER SMILE
ynfan2 we love you!!!!!!
forkyky you all the time: 😐
ethanmbappe 🖤✨
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ynkyliannews Y/N was spotted having dinner with a friend. @ynusername
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mbappegirl she never smiles like that when she is with kylian 🫢
mrsmbappe nah, for real… kylian deserves a person who treats him better.
ynfan1 y/n and kylian have always had a private relationship, she doesn't need to be smiling to show that she makes him happy
psgfan c’mon…
forkyky 🤔
kyliangf kylian is not the problem in this relationship and we all know that…
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k.mbappe De retour avec mes bébés maintenant.🇫🇷🥳
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mbappegirl how can this BABY date that girl? 😭
mrsmbappe she doesn’t even comment on his posts, omg! 🫠
psgfan playing break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored
ynfan1 KYLIAN WE WANT A COUPLE PIC
⤷ forkyky we don’t want a pic, we want him to break up.
⤷ ynfan1 @forkyky shut up
tchaga_ ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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ynkyliannews Kylian looks so cute in this photoshoot. 🥺
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mbappegirl let’s protect him for his own girlfriend 😭
ynfan1 y’all always act like she’s forcing him to date her, leave her alone!!!!
forkyky he’s such a cute and kind person, can’t say the same about his gf
ynfan2 why do you hate y/n so much? everyone has different personality
mbappemine if kylian is with her it's because she makes him happy, so as fas we must respect and support him.
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ynkyliannews Lately I've only been reading absurd comments about Y/N and I came to say that in these two years of relationship, they've always been VERY happy together. Kylian has always been honest about his feelings and i'm sure if she was mean to him they wouldn't be together. Y/N was with him through the worst and best moments of his life, always supporting him and making him smile. That's her way of being and it's not you who have to dictate how she should or shouldn't be.
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mbappemine SPILL!!!!!!
ynfan1 THANK YOU!
ynfan2 thank you for talking about this because people talked like she treated kylian poorly
mbappeyours kylian shared this on his story 🫣
kyksbaby i hope she’s fine :( she looks so cute!!!!!
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k.mbappe I heard about some comments going around about Y/N and I was disappointed to read some. This woman was by my side in my saddest moments and happiest moments, many times she is the starting point for all my peaks of uninterrupted happiness. We always had a private relationship, but I say here with all the certainty in the world that I am very happy next to this amazing, loving and generous woman. I honestly, truly, completely love her.
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ynusername you know i'm not good with words, but the only thing that matters to me is that you know how much i love you and how important you are to me. i love you in ways i have never loved anyone else.
mbappemine so happy for you guys :(
kyksbaby your happiness is what matters to us
ynfan1 kylian killing his own “fans”, as he should.
mbappeyours we will always support both of you 💗
ethanmbappe dopest person everrrr 🔥 love you sis
jkeey4 she’s fire 🥳🔥
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shadamyheadcanons · 25 days
Note
For me, Shadow and Amy's dynamic is basically two different types of touch starved in a person
((If any of the gifs on this post aren’t loading for you on mobile--like they aren’t for me--you can download them or check the sources listed. As for desktop, they play just fine, but they won’t line up next to each other like they do on mobile. Tumblr is a comedy of errors.))
Yes! Absolutely. I’ve seen tons of fans say Shadow is prickly and would respond badly to hugs, but canon says otherwise. This is a bad reaction:
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[Sonic 06]
Whenever I feel like being sad, I wonder if Bad-Future-06 Silver has ever been hugged.
This is a bad reaction:
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[Sonic Unleashed, gif source.]
And I shouldn’t have to say this, but...yeah. These are very bad reactions:
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[Sonic X]
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[Sonic Generations]
Yikes. I feel bad for both of them.
But this?
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[Sonic Adventure 2, gif source.]
This is Shadow’s only canonical hug in the games, and aside from jumping slightly from being snuck up on, he seems to like it just fine.
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Just look at that smile! He’s happy. He finds it endearing.
It was a hug from a complete stranger meant for someone else, but he still drank it in--and, given that he’d effectively just lost Maria, he really did need it. It’s the combination of Amy’s gentleness AND her speech that changed his mind. After all, if someone as sweet as her sees something in the humans, maybe they’re not so bad.
My buddy who runs @shadowxamyweek recently reblogged a post about this hug, and their tags sum it up perfectly:
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[ID: A screenshot of tags on a post. The tags read:
#official art #4kids #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #YEAH 😭 #listen I read nothing that has happened with them in SA2 as shippy - and i ship them #THIS HUG? THR SPEECH ON THE ARK? #those are two lonely kids #those are two left behind kids #those are two kids so desperate for affection #for two vastly different reasons #Amy loves with her whole chest and will never stop doing so- no matter what happens #and Shadow does too- that is key to remember- Shadow loves... so fucking much... that it hurts #you are RIGHT op when you say this is probably the first time someone has been gentle with him in a long long time #he doesn't even run away #in the game- when Amy flees- he takes a step after her- a moment's hesitation- a 'wait' #this kid NEEDED a hug #and i firmly believe part of the reason Shadow listens to Amy in the end is BECAUSE she is the only person who showed him gentleness #softness and kindness and affection #if only for a moment #fjdodhdofjgor THIS is what i mean when i say 'be gentle- be kind' #it MATTERS #it FUCKING MATTERS
End ID]
Shadow doesn’t hate hugs inherently; it’s just that no one hugs him in the first place...
...aside from one person.
Amy’s easily the most affectionate character in the cast. It’s cute at first glance, but there’s a common thread to every instance that puts a damper on it.
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She’s always, ALWAYS the initiator.
She puts more into each hug than anyone else does.
She’s always the last to pull away.
The most reciprocated Amy hug I know of in canon is this one:
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[IDW Sonic issue #22]
Which is absolutely adorable...but Amy still initiated. Because it’s always her job. Even the characters who like affection don’t need it the way she does...with one exception.
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And this tiny detail just killed me. The little, “wait, come back 😟”
It’s the only time I know of when someone has actually stepped after her like this. In a game where everyone left Amy behind, he wanted to follow her. Mister so-called-prickly didn’t want the hug to end.
Because he’s the only one who needs it as much as she does.
He wants to be held as much as she wants to hold someone else, and no one else is warm and sincere enough for it. Compare these instances:
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[IDW issue #6]
Sonic thinks Shadow is wrong about something, so he grabs Shadow’s arm to stop him, and Shadow aggressively wrenches it away and leaves.
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[Archie Sonic Universe #23]
But when Amy thinks Shadow is wrong about something and grabs his arm to stop him, he gently removes her hand and thinks about what she has to say.
Even when he doesn’t want to be touched, he makes the distinction between “don’t touch me” and “not right now, please.” These are from two different continuities, of course, but I think the point stands. Amy’s special. He’s gentler with her than he is with other people, and that’s consistent across all canons.
Side note: how often does Amy get to feel special like that? I actually really like that Sonic doesn’t place others in a hierarchy of importance, and I wouldn’t change that about him even if I could...
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[IDW issue #2]
...but Amy does play favorites. I want her to feel like she’s someone else’s favorite, too. I want her to have someone who puts her first and likes her best. I think Shadow’s more than capable of that. I believe he craves clinginess like hers deep down, even if he hasn’t consciously figured that out yet.
I have an entire tag for these two being affectionate. My favorite is probably this one.
Of course, there may be those who say I’m reading too much into one (1) hug. And you know what? Maybe they’re right! We need a bigger sample size. Sega, make more characters hug Shadow, please. Let Rouge comfort him after he confides in her about something. Have Omega give him an awkward metal embrace because he read on the internet that organic beings like that kind of thing. Make Shadow himself pull Silver into a hug when he’s breaking down crying from the stress of always having to be a hero. Show Tails accidentally grab onto him out of fear when they’re trapped in a lightning storm, and when he gets embarrassed and pulls away, have Shadow hold him for the rest of the storm and admit he’s not fond of bright lights, either.
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[Sonic Boom]
That scene where Shadow and Amy rescue Cream and Cheese from Cryptic Castle? That easily could’ve turned into a cute group hug.
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[Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)]
And I have seen some absolutely adorable fanart where he holds Cream’s hand while he and Amy lead her through Cryptic Castle to make sure she doesn’t get lost 🥺
Have Knuckles give him an empathetic bro-pat on the shoulder when he finds out Shadow’s the last one of his race, too.
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[Archie Sonic Universe #89]
Have Sonic try to hug him, and then when Shadow inevitably pushes him away and says he doesn’t do hugs, have Amy arrive and latch onto Shadow instead while he tries to stutter out an excuse as to why she’s allowed to and Sonic isn’t.
The most affection Shadow has in recent history is stuff like this...
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[Sonic Prime season 2 episode 1]
...where Sonic tries to hug him and Shadow immediately pushes him away, knocks him over, and tries to punch him in the face. Kind of says it all. Amy stands out as the only one with a good track record here.
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[IDW issue #36]
Especially when you have him look at her like this when someone else is on the receiving end of that affection.
So in the absence of further evidence, I have no choice but to interpret this in the most Shadamy way possible. Your move, Sega.
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meyobe · 8 months
Text
Pretty privilege… no Mc privilege Pt. 3
Diavolo
Mc can make him feel like a normal demon .
He knows that everyone walks around egg shells around him.
Everyone expect Mc.
Mc just see him as a demon trying his best to make everything around him better.
Ever since Mc came to the devildom he feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders.
He gets to be the child he was forced to leave behind.
Mc wants to go see a concert? He’s making sure they have pit seats.( shout-out Eras tour)
Mc is talking about their childhood and place called Chuck-E-Cheese? He canceled his plans and got stuck trying to go into the play place.
Mc talks about toys they couldn’t get as a child? He buys the toys in bulk then gives them away to donate.
All his life he’s been looking for some sort of normalcy.
With Mc he feels like a regular demon.
No rules, no stress, and no expectations.
He loves Mc plans because they are so spontaneous and wild.
No one has ever took the time to show him a new world.
He hopes one day to be as carefree as Mc.
Barbatos
Mc can make him believe in a different outcome.
He has spent his entire life living up to a certain model.
To be the perfect butler, the perfect demon.
Never out of line and well behaved.
He lives the same life year after year.
But if he’s learned anything from Mc it’s that, it’s okay to see the beauty. 
Mc has open his eyes to finding the good in situations or believing there is more to look for.
Considering his is an all knowing being, knowing how situation will end, who will perish, and what will diminish.
He doesn’t believe in lying by having faith.
Not when he knows the stone cold truth.
But it’s different now, with Mc.
He’s thankful that Mc can give him faith .
Mc points out how beautiful death is and will be? He’s always thought of it of something humans are scared of.
Mc rushes over to an old women to help her cross the road? He watches from afar, basking in what humanity means.
He never understood watching that star. Until Mc explained each one of them has a story to tell. He’s asks himself what stories?
He will never truly understand how Mc can think so positively even in bad situations.
Even when all hope seems lost.
But, it isn’t because it’s something they learned.
Rather how they were born.
Finding the beauty is what it means to be human.
Something he’ll never get to be, but he feels close to human with Mc.
Solomon
Mc’s safety is his main priority.
He is a very busy guy that does very dangerous work.
Running errands for his experiments, Missions for Diavolo,partying with Asmo.
He helps himself over anyone else, except for Mc.
He feels sane with Mc.
Not like he is a powerful sorcerer with 72 pacts, but like a teenager talking with his crush.
Mc makes him feel seen.
So in exchange, he’ll protect them until he can’t.
Mc needs help from a creep following them but he’s currently trying to tame an experiment that went wrong? He was playing a round before but now you need to go.
Mc’s found themselves lost on the streets of devildom? Just say on the phone with him I til he finds you.
Mc is going to the human world on a mission? He’s going to join Mc just to make sure their safe.
He see Mc as an extension of himself.
So full of life.
He may be existing forever but with Mc he is alive.
Hes going to protect the nature of their relationship before anything else.
Wishing that one day they’ll see him the same way.
Simeon
He will always understand.
Mc is a very important person that’s mending the 3 worlds.
He understands the stress of it all.
Mc didn’t choose to be picked for the exchange program .
He will always listen with no judgment.
He only ever wishing for peace in your life.
Mc is feeling lost? He’s right there to remind you of your meaning.
Mc gets upset about how different their life could’ve been? He agrees and tells you it unfair.
Mc is scared of what happens from here on out? He’ll be there every step of the way.
No matter how many times Mc chooses the brothers over him, he’ll always welcome them back home.
Because, he knows what you mean to everyone.
He will spend his time trying to give Mc the pieces of their life back that they lost due to the Devildom.
He makes sure Mc knows their work isn’t for nothing.
He’ll tell stories to the children in the Celestial Realm about Mc and all they achieved.
He only hopes one day Mc will pick him over his former brothers.
Luke
Mc can change his mind.
He views Mc as an equal.
Someone worth his respect. Unlike the nasty demons.
He listens very closely to Mc’s words.
Always trying to stand out amongst the demons.
He cares and wants to see Mc happy.
Even if it means playing nice.
Mc tells him to stop fighting around with Mammon? He looks at Mammon and tells him he’s s lucky Mc is here.
Mc wants him to try a dessert he isn’t fond of? He chugs it down with the biggest smile.
Mc needs to stop by store that’s said to be haunted by ghost? What, ofc he’s not staying outside!!! It’s not too scary, he needs to be there to protect Mc.
Don’t get it wrong though, as soon as Mc turns their back he sticks his tongue at Mammon.
He also spitting the dessert out. (He feels so sorry about it)
As soon has he gets to Purgatory Hall, he’s telling Simeon how creepy the store was.
Yes, he’s an angel but very more of an angel with Mc.
He stand by Mc and believes they do no wrong.
A/n: i honestly hate this sm especially Simeon’s part. I might redo this.
As for the other undateables, I’m only on lesson 30. It might be months before I meet them😭.
Ik i said i hate this, but don’t bash me. 🙏
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