#t: writing
Text
the devil has come home → charlie w.
summary → during one of your regular movie nights, charlie asks to take your relationship a step forward
word count → 3.4k
warnings → smut; virgin!charlie x f!reader, oral, literally an entire fic dedicated to charlie eating pussy idk what u want me to say, dirty talk, switch!charlie, established relationship, almost fingering, premature ejaculation, cumming untouched, overstimulation, and hair pulling
a/n → everyone and their mother is in their rory culkin era rn so here u go, whores (affectionate) <3 no but fr i watched scream 4 the other day and knew what i had to do so pls enjoy xoxo
+ bonus points to whoever can figure out the title ;)
---
Charlie shifts beside you, gnawing at his bottom lip to restrain the interruption on the tip of his tongue.
“Did you know,” he suddenly begins, unable to stop himself. “That the school is actually called Ewen High in the book?” On the screen in front of you, a meek Carrie White stumbles through the library in a scene oddly similar to your boyfriend’s own reclusive attitude, and you drag your tired eyes to meet his; wide, with an excited glint reflecting off their pale blue hue. “They renamed it in the adaptation as a nod to Psycho.”
“Really?” you ask, surprised. “I don’t think you’ve told me that one yet.” The comment, while honest, makes Charlie flustered, and he unconsciously shifts closer to the opposite end of the couch. “But I like hearing about all the facts you know,” you reassure his silent insecurity, nuzzling closer. Pressing your lips to his shoulder and kissing the soft cotton sleeve of his shirt, you continue, teasing: “Even if I have heard most of them before.” He groans, but his chest rumbles beneath you with his own restrained amusement.
Peering up at Charlie, you prepare for what is bound to be a lengthy explanation. “So, what, it’s like Norman Bates?” you ask, but Charlie simply nods, mumbling a quiet affirmation under his breath. Already, his eyes are locked back on the television, colorful lights bouncing off his face. It must be his tenth time watching the classic horror film but he stares with the amazement of a first-time viewer, as if he wasn’t rambling about something called a split diopter shot just a few scenes ago.
You can’t help but smile at his quick shift in attention, ultimately content with settling down and letting him focus. As long as a scary movie is playing, you’ll always be the second most important thing in the room to Charlie; a title you hold with pride. Unlike others in his life, his passion doesn’t bother you. In fact, you find yourself admiring his ability to juggle a film studies degree, the leadership position of your college’s cinema club, and weekly series rewatches with the rest of his busy life. Your only complaint would be having to share the small couch in his apartment with Robbie, whose presence makes the already rare mid-movie makeout session completely non-existent. Thankfully, he’s visiting family this weekend, but the lack of a clingy roommate has seemingly had zero effect on Charlie’s inclination to make a move.
So, when your boyfriend awkwardly clears his throat, you quickly tune back in, caught off-guard by the scene unfolding. On-screen is a vivid reminder of the part of your relationship that, up until now, has been virtually unexplored. Despite being unphased during the naked locker room title card, Charlie now fidgets uncomfortably as one of the male characters, whose name you can’t remember, receives a blowjob in his car. The actual act is offscreen, but there’s enough crotch-leveled head bobbing in the camera’s view to surmise what’s happening below the cutoff.
When it comes to anyone else’s sex life, Charlie is as interested as you could expect any newly independent young guy to be. If a couple is getting handsy during a party or other gathering, he’s the one to speak up and tease them about getting a room. When one of your friends unknowingly makes an innuendo, it’s him who laughs, derailing the conversation with some form of that’s what she said joke. Even during the gratuitous nudity scenes popular in his favorite genre, your boyfriend usually pairs his reddened cheeks with a low whistle of appreciation.
Simply put, Charlie is not a prude.
That fact had been what stumped you as your relationship grew, regular milestones coasting by at average speeds. It took three instances of him not reaching under your bra during makeout sessions, happily groping at your chest through two layers of clothes, for you to realize that his personal experience ended abruptly atop second base. Even when it was physically obvious he was ready to move on, Charlie had never mentioned or hinted at continuing, so neither did you. Now, it’s almost as if the glaring depiction of a couple being intimate has finally reminded him how little you two have done.
Thankfully, a bout of bad editing eases the sudden tension. “How is she talking right now?” you snort, referencing the actress’ voiceover poorly edited into the scene. Charlie flinches at your interruption, but you barely notice, too busy jabbing your pointer finger directly at the screen. “She’s still got John Travolta’s dick in her mouth!”
“Billy,” Charlie tensely corrects.
Assuming his tone is just a result of your outburst, you roll your eyes. “Whatever. All I’m saying is you can barely remember how to breathe while giving head, let alone start… I don’t know… monologuing about the girl you hate.” You huff, shaking your head. “Sorry, I won’t interrupt again. Promise,” you apologize, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you when Charlie doesn’t immediately reply. You hadn’t meant to insult him or the movie, but maybe your attempt at a bad joke had fallen short, too personal and poorly timed to do anything more than hurt his feelings.
You start to pull back, intent on apologizing again but are surprised to see Charlie already staring at you. Thinking he’s waiting for your regretful spiel, you start to speak. “I’m s-”
“I want to try,” Charlie says at the same time. The rest of your words suffocate in your hitched breath, offering a subsequent silence that he quickly tries to fill. “Giving you head or, like, e-eating you out, I mean.” The admission makes him swallow heavily, wide eyes unblinking, and you sit there motionless in surprise. When you offer little more than a shaky exhale in response, Charlie squeaks out an excuse. “Not that we - not that you have to or anything, I just…” Regret spreads across his face and you quickly recover, grabbing his shaking hand with yours.
“Okay,” you agree, trying to steady your breathing as the image of Charlie between your thighs flashes through your head. “Are you sure?” He nods so quickly that you almost blink and miss it.
“I’m definitely sure,” Charlie reassures, squeezing your fingers between his. “A-are you?”
“Definitely,” you echo, already feeling a steady warmth spread across your body. Despite your shared revelation, there’s a long moment where neither of you moves even an inch, hands clasped together as if carved from one marble stone. It isn’t until Charlie’s gaze flickers to your still-parted lips that you take the bait, reeled closer and closer until your mouth meets his.
“Fuck,” Charlie breathes, words becoming a muffled vibration when you press harder, tongue dragging to gather the taste of him. You reach for his hair now, dark waves weaving themselves between each of your fingers, and he lets out a little whimper when you tug, pulling him against you. His grip seems to have no end in sight, blindly reaching at and grasping whatever parts of you he can, fingers meeting your thighs, hips, chest, and neck. His thumbs prop up your chin, giving him the angle to lick needily inside your mouth, and you melt in his grasp, letting him take what he needs.
“Can I…” Charlie leaves a shallow bite mark on your bottom lip, soothing it with a gentle pass of his tongue. His fingers dip to the hem of your shirt now, tips brushing the inside seam. Faintly, you remember he’s never felt you here. He inches back just enough to speak clearly, voice filling the thin space between you. “Y-you can take it off and…” Already, he’s trying to pull the offending garment over your head, and you let go of his hair to help, tossing your shirt to the side the second you can.
Despite your arching into him, Charlie doesn’t immediately kiss you again, lashes fluttering as he stares shamelessly at your exposed skin. Without thinking, you reach back to undo your bra clasp with ease, straps sliding down your arms until they fall off completely. Still amazed by the previous sight, Charlie inhales sharply, pupils blown out with lust as you become barer in front of him.
“Woah…” he finally breathes, fingers tentatively brushing right below your chest. Slowly, his touch inches higher until he gives in, cupping your tits softly. The warmth between your thighs grows as he feels you in ways you’ve only imagined alone at night, eyes squeezed shut and fingers under your panties. “Holy shit.” Each exclamation falls under his breath as if he can’t contain them, commenting only to himself. “Fuck…” His grip tightens, thumbs dragging over your hardening nipples, and you sigh. “You’re so… soft.” With a grin spreading across his face, Charlie looks to you for reassurance, squeezing harder when you nod and let out a pleased sound. “D-does it feel good?”
“Mhm.” You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding, skipping beats against his hands. “You can be rougher, though,” you tell him, reaching up to lay your palms on the back of his. “I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise.” Growing more confident from your words, Charlie begins experimenting with different levels of pressure, nails digging into your skin one second and then pinching and tugging at your nipples the next. His breathing grows heavier with each passing moment, and you can’t help the low moans escaping your lips at the feeling of his desperation and the excitement radiating off of him.
And then, without needing any reassurance, Charlie replaces his hands with his mouth, sucking eagerly at every inch of your heaving chest. “S-shit,” you gasp, then let out a breathy laugh. You push some of his long hair back, tucked behind his ears, and smile at the sight of him. His eyes are closed, face red and warm, lips slick with spit as he runs his tongue against the contours of your body. “You’re so good,” you tell him, panting when he moans against you at the praise, the vibration tingling your skin. He wraps his mouth around your nipple before pulling it between his teeth, the sharp sting sending a shiver up your spine.
“I could do this forever,” Charlie lets go to admit, and then, remembering the task at hand, begins to descend lower, kissing and licking down your bare stomach. His hands steady your twitching hips, ticklish as his soft hair brushes your sensitive skin. You continue to whisper praises until he reaches the waistband of your pajama pants and halts. He swallows heavily, the movement of his bobbing throat almost audible above the drone of the television. You blindly reach for the remote and crank down the volume until it plays a low buzz of sound you can barely make out. God help him if your boyfriend gets distracted by a bucket of pig’s blood at a time like this.
“Do I just…” Charlie trails off, unable to vocalize his thoughts. Instead of answering verbally, you lift your hips, fingers meeting his. You drag the elastic past your thighs, letting Charlie pull the rest of the fabric off once it reaches your knees. He stares intently at every inch of your exposed legs, amazed by the sight, as he mindlessly tugs your feet free. It’s only when you start to move, making yourself comfortable against the arm of the couch, that Charlie finally shifts, offering you more space. He moves closer the second he’s able to occupy the emptiness between your legs.
It’s not the most ideal position but if you stop him now, Charlie might lose his boost of confidence in the few seconds it takes to walk down the hall to his room. With one knee pressed against the back of the couch, your opposite leg balancing precariously on the edge of one of the cushions, you spread out as much as you can, offering yourself to Charlie entirely. Even with your whole body on display, his eyes stay locked on one spot: the center of your underwear, where a wet spot is surely visible. You love knowing the only other time he has this look is when one of his favorite films is on.
“Is this good?” you ask, breaking him from his stupor. He blinks, confused. “The position,” you clarify, smiling at the blush that rapidly coats his cheeks.
“Y-yeah, it’s…” Charlie clears his throat, leaning in slowly. “It’s perfect. You are, I mean. You’re perfect,” he whispers, gaze darting from your face to your panties before returning. “I can see it… Does it - do you feel good?” Even with the physical proof, he seems unsure, the tone of his question bordering on disbelief. Before you can find your words, he moves in, shaky fingers meeting the inside of your thighs. “What can I do?” he asks, skin growing redder with desperation. “I-I wanna turn you on more and-”
“Charlie,” you interrupt, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You’re doing so good.” Your amazement thankfully doesn’t embarrass him, and soon enough you feel his warm exhale right where you’ve imagined him so many times before. “I-I’ll probably cum pretty fast,” you tell him, unable to make the desperate confession sound like a tease. “If you want, you can tease me through- fuck,” you gasp, feeling Charlie’s nose bump against your clothed clit, his tongue darting out to tentatively lick at the damp fabric covering you. You whimper something that vaguely sounds like his name when he presses harder, now dragging his tongue over the entirety of your core.
“Charlie,” you repeat breathlessly, grabbing at the hair that frames his face. “T-take them off, please,” you suddenly find yourself begging, hips arching for more. When lithe fingers brush against you, you almost whine at what is surely an attempt at teasing, but then Charlie is pushing your panties to the side and tentatively sucking at your now exposed cunt. Overwhelmed by the change in sensations, you buck into the feeling, immediately rewarded by the slow drag of Charlie’s tongue circling your clit before lowering to ease inside you. The technique in his actions is not lost on you and you heave in a breath, trying to speak.
“Y-you’ve really n-never?” you squeak out, thighs squeezing around his cheeks when he attempts to shake his head. When he pulls back, you shiver at the feeling of your panties sliding back into place, fabric sticking to your wet skin. Charlie looks up at you shyly, instinctively licking his lips clean of your arousal.
“I’ve… I’ve imagined this a lot,” he whispers, tone rising as he grows more confident. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” His cheeks are flushed and his body shakes as he clings to you for support in every form. “I’m just gonna take off your panties and- and I want you to cum, okay? Don’t hold it back or anything, please. I-if you need to hold me in place or move me, just do it. I’ll…” Stunned by his proclamation, you wait in awe for him to finish. “I’ll be good for you, I swear,” he finally promises.
True to his word, Charlie immediately resumes the task at hand, finally tugging your panties completely off and shoving them to the side. Despite the vulnerability of your position, laid bare for him, you can’t stop yourself from bucking your hips when he leans back in. Charlie drags a soothing palm down the inside of your thigh before his mouth is on you again, now slower and more precise. His gaze is focused, flickering between your expression and body, taking in every shift of your features and shiver that runs across you.
He starts by tasting the entirety of you, tongue flattened and firm as it glides against your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, letting you grind onto him until you both build a steady rhythm. It’s not enough to make you cum, but it isn’t meant to be; a consistent sensation that keeps you wanting more, without unbearably teasing you. That comes when Charlie begins to flick his tongue against your clit, so quickly and effortlessly that it takes your breath away. A litany of sounds escapes you as he dedicates all of his attention to your most sensitive spot, torturing it endlessly. His own moans only add to the sensation, a low vibration that seems to trail up the rest of your body, filling your head with a rhythmic buzz.
“Fuck,” you gasp, vision blurring and thighs trembling as Charlie replaces his tongue with his thumb, calloused skin circling your clit in a steady motion. With his mouth free, and between quick inhales, he starts to speak again.
“You taste so good,” he says, the vulgarity of his words no longer seeming to phase him. He rubs harder, faster, and his breathing hastens. “I-I want you to cum on my tongue, please?” His question sounds more like a plea, especially with the way he seems to pant around each word. “I’m gonna keep licking h-here, okay?” he asks, thumb dragging lower until the tip sinks into you with ease. Both of you still, the motion propelling the room into complete silence. Charlie lets a bit more of his thumb push into you before he pulls back completely, shakily exhaling. “It… You’re so warm,” he remarks, staring intently at where the arousal slowly drips from you. Like a moth to a flame, his mouth returns, messily licking clean your wetness.
You cry out his name, tugging on his hair so harshly you know it must hurt, but he doesn’t relent. Your hips buck and you grind your clit against his firm thumb, his tongue pressing inside you just as the thick digit had moments prior. Your mantra is only quietened by the sound of Charlie’s, a muffled please, please, please mouthed against your core that has you spiraling, desperation mirroring his. A quick glance shows you that while his head and hands are focused, the rest of his body is uncontrolled as he ruts against the sofa, so turned on he can’t help but chase release.
The sharp edge of your own impending orgasm hits you so hard it seems to isolate the rest of your senses, body and mind falling into an endless abyss with only Charlie’s touch anchoring you to the present. His incessant effort to satisfy himself with your pleasure intensifies everything until you find yourself succumbing to his ultimate desire. A broken admission falls from your lips as you cum on his tongue, neverending high propelled as his licking and rubbing only grow in speed and desperation. Even after you’ve stopped grinding against him, Charlie tastes you like it’s his last chance, his hips bucking wildly into the cushion below. He eventually slows, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and you’re too overwhelmed to realize what’s happened.
It takes you whimpering from overstimulation and pulling Charlie back by his hair to make him stop, his mouth chasing you even after you’ve pressed your trembling thighs together, knees digging into his heaving chest. After a few seconds, he seems to blink back some clarity, swallowing heavily and shifting back awkwardly, cheeks flushed bright red. “Charlie?” you breathe, shakily pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Are you - oh.” Despite his quick maneuvering, the new angle allows you to see the slowly spreading wet spot at the front of his jeans.
“I-I’m so sorry,” Charlie squeaks out, trying to yank himself from the couch. “Let me just - fuck, uh - go to the bathroom or something and…” When he tries to cover his crotch with his hands, you bat them away, immediately reaching for the zipper and button on his pants. “W-what are you doing?” he asks but doesn’t stop you, even when you ease his sensitive and spent cock out from his stained underwear. His expression is pure shame as he quickly hardens in your grasp, hips bucking to escape the overstimulation of your fingers wrapped around him.
“Let me return the favor,” you tell him, tilting your head softly in silent questioning. He must only think of the wetness of your mouth on him since his blush deepens, cock twitching against your slick palm. You stroke him slowly and softly until he stutters out a yes, which you reply to with a widening grin, unknowing that he’s imagined this moment more than you could ever guess.
You lean down with a teasing imitation of his previous word and Charlie suddenly feels all of his wet dreams come true.
“I want you to cum on my tongue, okay?”
#charlie walker smut#charlie walker#scream 4#scream 4 smut#rory culkin#rory culkin smut#charlie walker x reader#charlie walker imagine#charlie walker oneshot#charlie walker fanfic#scream 4 fanfic#scream 4 imagine#scream 4 oneshot#charlie walker x reader smut#fic: the devil has come home#t: writing
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
EXCHANGE/LOVE TRANSIT - S01/EP01 (pt i)
♥ SYNOPSIS: Soonyoung is a man on a mission to get his ex back, even if this means enduring watching her going on dates in a reality TV show - ok maybe he didn't think it through when he thought it was a good idea to go on said tv show. Alternatively; Soonyoung love transit episode.
♥ GENRE: (this is me trying to do) comedy, romance, a little dash of angsty (because they are exes and because it is me writing it I guess);
♥ CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 6925
♥ FEATURING: Wen Junhui as Soonyoung's number one enemy, Xu Minghao, Lee Chan, Boo Seungkwan as a cranky panelist, Seo Changbin as a normal panelist, Girls Day Yura just because I love her, Pi Cheolin as a panelist that nobody knows why he has been cast but he makes it work.
♥ PLAYLIST: 1. VINTAGE - NIKI, 2. LAS JORDANS - TINI, 3. CALL ME - RENGGA JONES, 4. STILL INTO YOU - PARAMORE, 5. LOVE LIKE THAT - SAM KIM, 6. TENTA ACREDITAR - ANAVITÓRIA, 7. URS - NIKI
♥ THEA’S NOTE: Hello hi hi everyone. I’ve been weirdly obsessed with Love transit/Exchange for quite a while. For those who have never watched it, they put 10 people together in a house - 5 couples, and make them go on a date with different people. The funny thing is that you can’t tell people who your ex is. Also after a long debate with myself, I decided to post this as a multichapetered fic. Anyways welcome to part 1, hope you enjoy it.
♥ If you want to read the rest of this/ be tagged click here ♥
♥ LOVE TRANSIT MASTERLIST
[INTERVIEW ROOM][CAMERA 1]
“Do you know you have to think about other options too, right?” The producer asks him. The giant camera is way too close to his face and the producer is sitting just under it - in a little stool that looks utterly uncomfortable. Soonyoung wants to face her, but before this question she told him three different times he needs to stare right at the camera. He is sitting so still that he can feel the energy accumulating on his body, making him almost quick in his seat.
“I am not interested in that,” Soonyoung answers - staring at the camera and trying to not blink too much even if the lights of the studio hurt his eyes.
“But the point of this program is that you are open to dating other people and let her date other people as well,” the producer insisted, and Soonyoung almost laughed. He knows that, for fucking sakes he only got his date because he is a master in rock paper scissor and his ex went on a date with fucking Junhui. He knows the point of everything, he just doesn't really care.
“Like I said, I am not interested in that, my goal with this,” He tries to explain, using his hand to point at everything, the set actually looked way better on camera and it was very flimsy in real life, and everytime he thinks he will break a fake wall. “Is that we get back together,” he grins confidently, “Sorry pd nim but we will get back together before this end.”
He hears the producer groan, he is pretty sure she shouldn’t be groaning and this won’t go to the final cut. He thinks the audio people will handle it, they probably will put a fade in music or whatever, they are professionals.
[EX-CHANGE HOUSE][CAMERAS 2, 3, 4]
When the assistant producer says that he can start walking and enter the house, Soonyoung is ready to just run. But he holds himself back, instead of running he just puts down the handle of his suitcase and grips on the strap. Like that, he thinks, it will be faster than strolling around. He starts walking, the weight on his suitcase is heavy on his arms but he is committed to that already, he won’t ask for the assistant guy to re-do his shot, and he won’t change his mind midway either, it is now a matter of pride. Soonyoung is proud - his ex always told him that - he is too proud for his own good.
He is proud enough to not drop his suitcase when he opens the gate and steps greets him, Soonyoung just groans, because he is proud but not a fool. Ok, maybe he is a fool, again, according to his ex but he likes to think that since they broke up he is a changed man. Eight months is enough time to be reborn into a new man according to Soonyoung experience. He changed his hair, it is way shorter now, and cooler - he likes to think. A few of his friends joked about his short bangs and almost shaved sides but he likes it and he even has a cool slit in his eyebrow. He also changed his clothes, he pays more attention to his clothes now and even his ex would agree with that one - or he hopes so.
His personality didn’t change that much but Soonyoung likes to think he can see things clearly now - like a fog has come down. He always was good with his goal, he stuck to it, he finished things, he was disciplined and he was focused. But he wasn’t very good with balance. His girlfriend, his ex-girlfriend, always talked about how he had those bursts of hyperfocus, she explained back then how he could dance for hours and hours without feeling his body getting exhausted but he couldn’ focus on a single task if he found anything remotely boring. But he is better now, he worked for long months on how he didn’t need to give up in other aspects of his life to succeed professionally. He learned that he doesn’t need to spend twenty hours per day in his dance studio, he learned to trust other people in that aspect.
Damn too many steps, Soonyoung thinks when he finally arrives at the door. He looks around and presses the numbers on the digital keypad, the same assistant producer guy told him a few numbers - he actually wrote down in his note app, he knows himself that he will forget in no time. But the numbers are fresh enough in his head and the doors open. Soonyoung looks around the hall and he thinks he is the first one. Well. Cool. Soonyoung drops his suitcase in the hall and takes off his shoes, walking around without a slipper on - he can’t really bother to search for one right now. He starts looking around, cameras are scattered around the house greeting him in every room.
It is fascinating really, to be a part of the tv show, Soonyoung thinks while he gives the camera in the kitchen a little hand wave. He opens the fridge and it actually has a lot of booze, damn, he is not a good drinker. He goes around the kitchen checking for appliances and almost starts the coffee machine without knowing, he was just pressing random buttons. He hopes the producer teams cut this part. After almost burning his hand with hot water he goes to the living room, one of the walls is completely glass and it makes the sun enter the house, the view of the garden is pretty cool, and there is another staircase outside leading to somewhere. The glass is so clean that when Soonyoung touches it just to see his fingertip smudges it. He exhale thought his mouth, fogging the window and draws with his fingertip a doodle - the same shape of his eyes but with a snout, a little tiger Soonyoung thinks proud of himself, when he turns around another camera is facing him and he just show his work while smiling.
There is another stair leading to the second floor. Weird obsession to have, Soonyoung thinks, staircases. He jumps two steps at a time. He roams around - the rooms seem nice, 3 upstairs and another living room, no television and thank god no cameras in the bathroom. He gets bored after a while, so he goes down to the main floor and sits on the sofa - politely, his hand on his knees. But that too gets boring really quick so he starts kicking his feets around, he did good, Soonyoung thinks to himself, he really chose a good sock today so he is not too worried he is shoeless walking around, his black socks are amazing.
After what seems like three whole hours the door opens again, he hears the sound of the padlock and his heart jumps against his chest, he almost hop on the sofa, the amount of energy he has in his body is enough to make him vibrate like a cellphone receiving a call. He stretches his neck trying to see who it is before the person enters the living room. He sees the shoes before he can actually see the person and for the size of those damn feet Soonyoung knows it is not his ex. A good looking guy enters the room, getting all shy when he sees Soonyoung.
“Hello,” the good looking guy greets him and his voice is on the lower side, Soonyoung thinks he looks so cool.
“Hello,” Soonyoung began, “I am Kwon Soonyoung,” he offered first, “your name?” he says when the good looking guy just stares at him.
“Ah, right,” the guy sitting across from Soonyoung began, “I am Jun, Wen Junhui actually, but you can call me Jun.”
“Jun,” Soonyoung mutters, it fits his name, the guy is a little weird Soonyoung thinks but it is okay.
“So, what's your favorite color?” Soonyoung asks him because he is not allowed to ask anything else really. No question about Jun’s ex, he can’t know his age either, and they are prohibited to talk about their jobs, so Soonyoung tries to make small talk in any way he can.
They fall into a weird silence after a few questions. “This is awkward,” Junhui admitted after a bit making Soonyoung laugh.
After a few minutes another guy arrives, Xu Minghao is his name and Soonyoung is pretty sure he is part of a gothic or emo band. A girl arrives after that, she is cute Soonyoung gives her that but he is not really interested. Then another girl and again a pretty girl because of course. When the fourth guy arrives Soonyoung starts to think that maybe you bailed out and the producer team might be looking for an actress to play his ex, who knows. They are in the middle of asking the blond guy his name and his color, everyone introducing themselves to the new guy when he finally hears the door again. His blood is rushing through his body. When you enter the door a ray of sunshine goes through the window and illuminates all around you, almost like a halo. Soonyoung looks behind him to check if any staff is pointing something at you but nothing.
“Hi,” you greeted looking at everyone, Soonyoung smiled at you, and damn you are even more beautiful how was that possible.
“Wow,” The blond guy says at his side, Lee Chan, he thinks and that alone makes Soonyoung perk up a little bit, “you are shoeless,” the guy added pointing at your feet.
“Ah,” You breathed, your voice low. Soonyoung knows you are shy and before he could say anything Junhui guy was already up and walking around, “I couldn’t really find a slipper.”
“Here,” Junhui gives you a pair of slippers - wait - what about him? Soonyoung thinks but apparently he doesn’t deserve Jun’s attention even though he tried his best to be polite and friendly, and before he knows he is pouting, damn.
When everyone falls silent again, Soonyoung thinks it is his time to shine, “Your name?” he asks politely, trying his best to not make clear that he is still heads over heels over you just with a simple question.
They go around names again but everything is weirdly muffed when Soonyoung focuses on you. Your hair is different now, longer he thinks. You repeat every name, the girls first then Junhui, Chan, Minghao and Soonyoung. He is the last one and he hates every name that falls off your tongue that is not his own. Soonyoung, you mumbled like everyone else's names, and it hits Soonyoung that it has been months since you called his name, and he misses it.
“Does anyone know how to cook?” Lee Chan asks, and Soonyoung is sure he will be the youngest one, there is something in him that just screams maknae.
“I-” Jun starts but when all the eyes turn into him he stutters a little bit and gets shy with all the attention, meanwhile Soonyoung just sharpens his gaze towards the guy, “I can fix something up to dinner.”
“I can help,” you declare, lifting up your hand like you are back in school or something, you are so cute, Soonyoung almost giggles, “I can do the basics so if you need any help,” you say to Jun and then it dawns on Soonyoung and before he knows he is lying through his teeth;
“I can help too,” Soonyoung volunteers, almost raising his hand like a kid in school, “I am a great cook.”
Everyone looks at him but he can only focus on the way you look at him - you know he is lying, and for a second he thinks everyones knows it too even though they just met, but he will die on this hill, he can pretend he is putting a salad together for all the people who don’t eat meat even though he is pretty sure everyone's eat meat, but he is thoughtful like that.
“Okay, so you three can go to the market and cook dinner,” says one of the girls that Soonyoung can't remember the name, “we can clean the kitchen and also the guys can help us with all the suitcases, and we sort out the rooms after dinner.”
[CAR AND MARKET][OUTSIDE CAMERA + GOPRO N 3]
“This is weird isn't it?” The Jun guy asks when you finally sit in the backseat, Soonyoung is in front of you and everything does seem incredibly weird.
“What exactly?” You ask and you hear Soonyoung laugh for the first time in a while and you don’t even know what you feel - everything seems weird, the fact that one go pro is right at your face is weird, the fact that you are in the same vehicle as Kwon Soonyoung is weird, the fact that you said yes to this weird ass idea was weird too.
“I mean,” Jun starts again, falling silent when he starts reversing the car to get out of the garage, “everything? I feel like only now everything is real and it is so weird like, what do you I will be living with my ex for a month.”
“Right?” Soonyoung pipes up, “aren’t you guys excited about that?” he asks and before you or Jun can speak up he starts again, “I am super hyped!”
“You are?” Jun asks, astonished, and you can’t blame him. One of the greatest problems in your relationship was the fact that you and Soonyoung worked somehow on different wavelengths. Soonyoung is someone that is difficult to follow, but once you know him you can start figuring out his patterns and way of thinking - he is predictable, he has a routine into his own madness.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Soonyoung says, looking at Jun and turning his whole body to look at you in the backseat, you just shrug because what else can you do really? Tell him that he is insane was not an option, that alone would make it clear that Soonyoung was your ex.
“I think the fact that this program entails living with your ex for one,” Jun says dead seriously and it is your time to laugh. You thought you would be the last one in terms of thinking this program is a good idea but apparently this Jun guy is beating you to it.
Soonyoung keeps talking about how excited he is and how fun it will be, he goes on and on about how this is an one in a lifetime type of opportunity and you know that even if he sounds a bit over the top he is being honest, and that he is - even if you and Jun finds extremely weird - very excited for it. But it is Soonyoung so of course you should’ve seen that coming.
And after just a few minutes you think that even though he cut his hair, Soonyoung didn’t change that much, when you say you are picking up a basket he is already by your side taking it off your hands, “Let me carry this and you focus on the ingredients,” he says like he has some sort of a plan but deep down you know he won’t let you carry all the weight - you always complain about having wrist pain, tendonitis is a bitch, the fact that Soonyoung still remembers make your heart grow, like a air ballon.
Back then when you were together every time you were at home he would make you drop your phone, computers were also extremely prohibited to use. If your wrist brace were on he would even attempt to feed you - you always hated that and he always threw a fit about it.
“Jun,” you call the guy walking ahead of you mindlessly, “Do you have something in mind?”
“Hmmm,” the guy ponders and you almost laugh at his confused face. He is cute. You give him that but you think that giggling at his face would be too much for one of your first interactions. “Not really,” he says scratching the back of his neck and you can feel the smile forming on your face.
“We should grill meat,” Soonyoung says proudly, bringing you back to reality, “We could buy meat.”
“I actually can make a side dish with fried vegetables,” you try, looking around to see if you can find anything to put together for dinner.
“Oh nice,” Soonyoung pipes up, giving you two thumbs ups. What a dork, but that was Soonyoung and you were used to it, at him acting like you hung the moon in the sky every time you did something that every other adult human could do. You give him a thumbs up back, and when he smiles get even bigger you think you should just run away from this whole thing.
“Then we could also buy some noodles and put everything together,” Jun says “I have a receipt that I think will work together with your veggies.”
“Great, we can cook together while Soonyoung grill the meat,” you say before you start walking by Jun’s side in a vain attempt to run away from Soonyoung.
Soonyoung acts like a kicked puppy.the whole trip to the market. Always behind you, sometimes you bump into him when you spin around looking for Jun to know if you should grab or not grab a pack of soft tofu or a pack of broccoli.
When you pick up onions or carrots, Soonyoung acts like it is the smartest thing ever, and your heart grows a little bit bigger - another pump of air. You think about how Soonyoung is still very much the same person he always was; caring and kind. Every time he assures you in a low voice like he is telling someone a secret - you can take both - he says to you when you ponder if you should buy a red or white wine, you don’t even know if other people enjoy wine but Soonyoung knows you do, and before you can think twice he grabs one bottle of each and put in the basket.
You think that this Soonyoung is the Soonyoung that you missed the most. Of course you missed the loud one, the life of the party, the one who among your friends would make his mission to get people tipsy and happy even though he can’t drink for shit. You miss the one that would make people stand up and sing and dance and every single one of your friends would get so shy while his friend would act like getting up in the middle of a bar or restaurant was not insane behavior. But this Soonyoug, the soft spoken Soonyoung - the one who would always give you assurance when you thought one of your articles was bad, the Soonyoung who always listened to you when you thought you should drop one investigation because your editor didn’t thought the piece was relevant enough, the one who when things were thought was serious and calm to listen to your every word and actually pay attention, you missed him the most, and you missed him the longest because that one vanished before you broke up.
“Stop,” you say in the lowest voice possible, bumping into him so he can give you space.
“What?” He asks - doing the exact opposite of your wishes, he drops his head even closer to you in an attempt to hear you.
“You are making it so clear that you are my ex,” You blurt out shoving Soonyong lightly, “Stop that it is supposed to be a secret.”
“I am not doing anything,” He deflected with a pout on his mouth, and it was kind of cute and you want to beat yourself up. How can you be down so bad for him? You need to get your mind straight to survive. You need at least a 5 meters distance from him.
“You are, go follow Jun,” you say, “or grab a snack or two, we are probably going to drink something”
“Ok, I can grab snacks,” Soonyoung beams, his smile back on his face, “I am great at snacks.”
“Sure you are.” You added.
You look at the camera man holding the camera a few meters away and you exhale.
Could you survive this? Could you survive 30 days of Soonyoung being back in your life? This was a dumb idea, you think while looking at the ice cream fridge, and of course it was a Sonyoung idea. You should’ve said no.
[EXCHANGE HOUSE][CAMERA 5, 7, 9]
“Why are you guys dressed up as powerpuff girls,” Soonyoung hears his ex speak up before he can ever see the other girls. Sometimes he thinks he has tunnel vision - his focus is on you, there is no space left for anyone else.
When he settles down the plastic bags on the kitchen counter and almost runs towards the living room, still a little bit weird, to have his ex right there and not be able to openly talk to her. The whole trip to the market was a torture - going to the market was something you always did with him when you were together. Soonyoung couldn’t cook to save his life so whenever you two would spend time together in his place you needed a market trip.
If Soonyoung tried hard enough you made him creamy garlic chicken pasta, his favorite. Even if you said you were already sick of eating it every week. You also made very good eggs for breakfast. Soonyoung misses those moments the most; the routine of waking up with you, he always waited for you to wake up, sometimes while you made a cup of coffee Soonyoung would run to the nearest baker and buy fresh bread.
“What?” The girl in the green tracksuit says making Soonyoung return to earth. She is setting the table and she looks so offended that he thinks she might drop a plate or two.
“Chan,” His ex called the guy that just arrived in the living room, how are you so good with names? How has Chan's name engraved in your brain already? Soonyoung almost forgot his own name today - not his ex's name though, that one he remembers, “look,” you say pointing at each one, a coy smile on her face, “Buttercup, Blossom and Bubbles.”
“Yeah, I can see it,” Chan says laughing way over too enthusiastically it wasn’t even that funny.
“Who will be the mojo jojo?” Blossom - of course the girl in red, Soonyoung understands it now, asks.
“I don't know but that leaves me as princess morbucks and I kind of hate it,” you complain, “yellow is so not my color.”
Soonyoung wants to say that you look great in yellow. That you look good in everything, that you never once looked bad in your life, but he thinks that that alone would be too much and everyone would know you are his ex, so he doesn’t say anything. He bites his own tongue - he really does and it hurts.
And if the market trip was bad, making dinner was even worse. Everything seemed awkward, you almost didn’t talk with him or Jun, thank god, but everytime you did Jun would giggle and Soonyoung thought about how that was the worst moment of his life - only second for the day of you breaking up. Jun seemed like a very shy and giggly guy, he was indeed charming, and Soonyoung hated that - he was never really a jealous guy but now here he is, freaking out because you are being nice to someone you just met.
Soonyoung thinks he is one step closer to losing his mind. Thirty days of this? He is definitely walking out of this house completely crazy. And what is even worse? Soonyoung told you three different times how he brought chicken breast, and not even once you talked about how you make a mean chicken pasta, and he has been craving that for months now. He once tried eating in a restaurant but didn’t hit the same spot.
“Can I ask you guys something?” Bubbles asks in a low voice, a cup of beer and soju in her hands. There is still a little bit of food on Soonyoung’s plate, mind you it is his second plate but he is just extremely hungry, new experiences makes him hungry. But almost everyone is finished, just munching on a few bites of meat that Soonyoung grilled - he is proud that he didn’t really burn half of it.
“Shoot,” Blossoms beams with a smile.
“Do you guys,” Bubbles starts, she sips on her drink again and he can’t blame her for relying on liquid courage. “Do you guys still have feelings for your ex or that would be weird?”
“I do,” Soonyoung says and you almost get a whiplash, the way that those words leave his mouth is so confident, so sure of his own feelings that make your head spin, “I don’t think it is weird, I mean it depends how it ended, how long was your relationship, how was your relationship,” he finishes with a shrug.
“Wouldn’t that make everything even worse?” Jun pipes up, he says not looking at anyone in particular, looking a little lost on his own feelings. Soonyoung thinks that is the booze, maybe Jun is a worse drinker than him, maybe Soonyoung wins this round. Take that Wen Junhui, Soonyoung 1, Wen Junhui 0.
“I agree with him,” you say pointing at Jun. What the fuck? Is it a tie now?
And you do in fact agree with him. Even since you stepped foot in this house and saw Soonyoung for the first time you wished you were completely over him, but apparently your heart didn’t receive the memo. Because here you were, your heart skipping a beat like a teenager everytime Soonyoung even looked at you.
“Why?” Bubbles ask you, her eyes are so big and so focused that you stutter a bit. She seems truly curious about your opinions and the way your brain was wired, even though she didn’t really seem curious about Jun.
“I just,” You stop to think a little, Soonyoung eyes are glued on you, and now you are the one who needs liquid courage but your glass is empty, “I will have to help the other girls date my ex right?” You added while looking for another beer, “that alone would be even worse if I still had feelings for my ex right?”
“I agree,” Chan says, “but i think that will be weird even if you don’t have feelings for your ex too like it is something it is weird to share in any type of situation.”
“I am the only one then?” Soonyoung asks laughing, he eats another bite of Junhui's noodles and your veggies, and drinks a gulp of his coke. He is a terrible drinker and he won’t cry on the first night.
“I don’t think you are,” Minghao starts, “but I think there are different levels to it, I am not completely over my ex either but I don’t think we should get back together so like, 70% over?”
“I am a hundred percent,” Buttercup says and you start laughing because she is so blunt, “no guys seriously,” she fusses around, “my ex is great, but I think before we broke up we already knew we were over?” She babbled again while someone pressed a cold glass on your arm. When you look at Jun giving you another glass full of beer. “Like, we are friends now and we are cool but 100% over.”
“But even if you are totally over it, being in the same house doesn't shake you up?” Blossoms asks, “because I was like that and being here and sharing this space is fucking me up.”
“Not in my case, no,” Buttercup answers, “what about you?” she says asking you
“Me?” You want to say you are over, you want to say you no longer have feelings for you ex, and you want to be cool and collected like the others, but the way Soonyoung eyes tingles when he looks at you makes you feel like you are a lonely balloon, some kid is hold you down by a flimsy thread, shaking when the wind blows; “I have no idea what I feel right now, I am all over the place.” You groan before drinking from the glass Jun handed to you.
“Ok, not over your ex then,” Buttercup says and makes the whole group laugh but Soonyoung giggles is the only one that rings in your ear.
“You are not the only one you can chill,” Minghao says to Soonyoung and Soonyoung laughs again.
“Thanks god,” Soonyoung cackled, “Imagine being the only one here who still has feelings, but I still think you guys are the weird ones.”
And it is your time to laugh. The group keeps going around asking questions, sometimes it fades to an awkward silence and Soonyoung is the one who speaks up about something completely random to make the group laugh. You guys can’t really talk about much, you can’t talk about your age, or your jobs, or your ex and how long you dated.
Your relationship with Soonyoung was not exceptional in any way. When you look back, even in the end, it was not out of this world. It was an extremely common relationship. Soonyoung was a great boyfriend but that wasn’t enough, and like every relationship ended badly, of course it did. How could it not? You know you broke up because of circumstances - back then Soonyoung was traveling every week working on a tour, his work hours were always unusual; a rehearsal starting at eight or a stage check at ten. It didn’t help that you, as well, had an insane routine, especially when it was election time. Sometimes you wish you covered fashion for a magazine and not national and international politics for one of the biggest TV channels of the country.
In the end, you and Soonyoung ended your relationship because you were too similar. Your commitment to work before anything else matched his work ethics.
You didn’t break up with Soonyoung because he was an asshole, you think that in this situation dealing with a horrible ex boyfriend would be easier; there would be no desire to try again, there would be no heart skipping a beat when Soonyoung says he still feel something for you.
When you look back at your relationship with Soonyoung you think about how it ended before you broke up, before you two come to terms that it wouldn’t work. It ended when you two were so caught up in your life you couldn’t make space for one another, and that, that alone breaks your heart. You didn’t break up because you fell out of love, you broke up because you were no longer a couple, you two no longer able to take care of each other, no longer having the energy to do so.
And that - to you sounds even worse.
“Should we share the rooms?” Minghao’s voice brings you back to reality.
“Rock, paper, scissors and the winner choose first?” Blossom questions.
“Sure.”
[EXCHANGE HOUSE][CAMERA 4, 8]
The second night in the house is somewhat the same as the first one.
Soonyoung doesn’t cook and neither do you, so you guys spend the night just talking with the other people around the table drinking. You sing a little bit, completely out of tune and your rhythm is so bad that it makes everyone laugh. and god, Soonyoung misses you so much he can feel like a physical pain - an ache in his bones, making him feel heavier than he should.
Soonyoung is laughing when he hears the doorbell rings, and everyone is startled by it.
See, the thing is - Soonyoung is not a religious man. He prayed once in a while but as he wasn’t a daily customer he thinks God was very much caught up in other people's problems, those who were more of an habitual client than Soonyoung who prays once in every six months when something goes terribly wrong in his life. But when Minghao lays all the little pics on the table after reading the cue card about the guys choosing the dates Soonyoung knows he is in for a win. If poker was that easy he would be rich.
He knows very well that the wall with a duck neon sign is your favorite coffee, the place that you two used to go to almost every day.
“How do we do this?” Soonyoung asks, all the guys look a little fascinated by the pictures while the girls look like they are about to have a heart attack.
“Do you already have your pick in mind?” Lee Chan questions him astonished.
“Of course,” Soonyoung says proudly, all eyes are on him, and before he knows he is already bending over the table and sticking his hand out, “Can I just pick or?”
“Which one?” Minghao asks, eyes fixed on Soonyoung’s hand. And the tension is so high and Soonyoung kind of loves it, it reminds him of those few minutes before entering on a stage, “What if someone else wants your picture?”
“The duck one,” Soonyoung remarked plainly because he doesn’t really see a reason to lie, “It is cute”
“Me too,” Junhui says and Soonyoung can feel the muscle of his neck almost snap, the aftermath of a whiplash. He blinks looking at the guy in the eyes and at that moment he wants to kill Junhui, he really wants to - kill his own fucking roomate in a tv show, “Let’s do rock paper scissors”
“I said first though” Soonyoung complained and it is childish but he doesn’t really care. If it is to get his way he will probably be even more childish.
“Yeah but you could pick that one if nobody wanted it,” Junhui nagged, almost matching Soonyoung in the childish level. And Soonyoung hates it, most people didn’t tried to go down on Soonyoung’s level. He is not used to someone going so low.
“Can you guys just do rock paper scissors already? It is stressing me out,” Buttercup says by your side, she is already running her nails.
“Ok, let’s go,” Soonyoung says calling Junhui onto the battlefield, he is already warming up his wrist, this is a war and he will bring up his heaviest gunnery.
And Soonyoung isn’t the number one believer, and he doubts God or Jesus or even an angel will listen to him, but yet, he prays for a second or two. And when people say three Soonyoung thinks he hears the angel’s voice singing hallelujah when he sees that Jun threw scissors against his rock.
Soonyoung wins, and he almost screams. Getting up and lifting his hand like it is a gift to beat Junhui on rock papers and scissors, he is almost vibrating - happiness filling his whole body. He looks at his own hand, the neon duck pic between his fingers, his most prized possession.
“Are you that happy?” You ask him, “that’s kinda suspicious Soonyoung.”
“Yeah,” he says, finally back in reality and sitting down after picking up the picture with the little neon duck in it, “the duck is cute there is nothing suspicious.”
“Wow,” Bubbles says laughing, “he totally chose his ex.”
“He did, didn't he?” Minghao pipes up, “thank god it will be in secret.”
[INTERVIEW ROOM][CAMERA 1]
“Why did you choose the picture with the duck?” Is the first thing the producers after the girl with the slate get off the frame.
Soonyoung feels more at ease now. He knows how it works - stare at the camera, answer the question with more than a yes or no, and let the people doing the heavy lifting in the editing room. Even though the producer is staring at him with a scowl he is somewhat used to it too, she is always like that. Even back in the interviews prior to the house, she always looked like a step away from a mental breakdown.
At some point Soonyoung just accepted that being angry and stressed may be part of her nature, some people are worriers, and he is sure that 80% of the time she is not really angry with him, so he just live his life diligently shooting her program without caring too much about it.
“Oh,” Soonyoung giggles at her bluntness, he really thinks it is funny enough to clap his hand and all that, “I knew it was my ex picture,” he says in a voice full of pride, “thank God I was super lucky, Junhui was like I want that too but-” he lifts his hand, “I really think I was blessed.”
“But why?” The producer tries again, she crosses her legs and writes something in her notebook, “We know you choose because she is your ex and you knew that it was her picture, but why”
“Ah, I think,” Soonyoung takes a pause to think about it - he really didn’t even think about why, it just felt right. “It is the first date right? So I guess it's just me trying to shoot my shot earlier on and making things clear.”
“Cut,” The producer says louder, “They are gonna be the first couple,” She says to her assistant, “there is no way we can go around without making it clear they are a couple, the editor rooms are not doing magic or miracles yet.”
#kwon soonyoung fic#kwon soonyoung fanfic#hoshi fic#hoshi fanfic#seventeen fanfic#t: seventeen#t: kwon soonyoung#t: writing#t: exchange series#t: exchange s01ep01
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
Emmett Cullen
🦋 poly emmett+rosalie 🦋
@castieltrash1
🦋 my pretty girl 🦋
@taylorsage22
#castieltrash1's vday celebration#twilight smut#twilight imagine#jasper hale#jasper hale smut#jasper hale x reader#jasper hale imagine#rosalie hale#rosalie hale x reader#rosalie hale smut#rosalie hale imagine#emmett cullen#emmett cullen x reader#emmett cullen smut#emmett cullen imagine#t: writing#answered#anonymous
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
say you'll see me again
It doesn't take much of a show from Maks to distract the people who are supposed to be in charge, he thinks, of making sure no degenerates get through the front door if they don't have an invitation. The glittery white cape is enough of a distraction, he thinks, and the rest of the costume, or lack thereof, underneath it would've been, too, on it's own, but Reid, Brennan and Benji manage to get into the party undetected through an unguarded side door, so, at least it did it's job. By the time Maks waltzes his way through the front door, Brennan has disappeared to find a drink and Benji is chatting up a girl dressed like Cleopatra, much to the chagrin of her Roman Emperor boyfriend standing right behind her.
Reid adjusts the mask on his face, preventing it from slipping off, as Maks claps him on the shoulder and proudly announces that he's done his job for the night and deserves to go "get plastered" before leaving Reid to his own devices. Truthfully, he doesn't know what to do with himself. He wouldn't say he's party-averse but usually there are rules and expectations and with this...the only requirement is he be himself or, rather, as close to himself as he can get without being found out and tossed out onto the front lawn in what he is sure would be a very public humiliation.
So, he wanders, mostly, avoiding groups of people who look like they want to have long, drawn out conversations and ends up outside in the backyard by the pool, biding his time before one of his friends realizes he's gone missing and almost creates a scene trying to find him.
(He even helps a woman dressed as an angel when he thinks she's going so quickly down the stairs adjacent to the lamp post he's near that he thinks she might trip and fall.)
(At least, that's what he tells himself because the alternative is trying to put a name to the feeling he gets when they lock eyes for the first time and at the spark that travels through his fingers when her hand touches his and that seems an even more impossible task than having to convince Benji to not start a dance battle in the living room because someone "looked at him funny.")
After watching her disappear into the pool house across the backyard, Reid goes back into the house the same way he'd come out. His friends are still...well, they're still being themselves, freely and openly and Reid almost feels jealous. Maks has requisitioned a crowd to get a rousing rendition of "What's Love Got to Do with It." going with people who are probably just as hammered as him while Benji trails after a woman dressed as a fairy and Brennan...is probably still looking for a drink, somewhere.
It doesn't take him long to find one, though, downing the glass of champagne quickly before discarding the now empty glass on a console table. Knowing that he obviously won't be missed, he slips up the staircase, vowing that if anyone wonders what he's doing up here, he'll say he's looking for the bathroom and in a place as big as this one, it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that he'd get "lost."
He stops in front of a half opened door, from what he can tell to someone's bedroom, and though he knows he shouldn't, he pushes it open slowly until he can see the backyard, again, from where he's standing in the hallway.
And there, on the balcony, is the girl with the angel wings, again.
He should leave her alone but an unseen force pulls him across the room, stopping just as he gets to the doors that lead out onto the balcony. Reid clears his throat and when he can see her shoulders tense, he almost feels bad, but then she turns around and that tension disappears when she smiles.
God, that smile.
"Overwhelmed?" He asked, stepping up towards the ledge of the balcony, hands coming up to rest on it. It's cool underneath his hands, a contrast to the warmth that currently feels like it's coursing through his veins at an alarming rate.
"Hiding," she says, simply, then as if to cut him off from asking, adds, "You don't want to know."
"Ah, okay." He nods, then after a moment, "I'm Reid."
"Jane." she counters. Nothing comes after but it's not an awkward silence, just the two of them standing there watching as light shimmers across the water of the pool below.
It's nice.
Then, there's a commotion around the corner and Bren comes skidding across the cement, frantically looking around until he spots Reid standing at the top of the stairs. "Bro, we gotta go. Code red."
"Shit." Reid mutters under his breath, turning towards Jane to echo her earlier comment about the situation, "You don't want to know."
He steps away from his spot, somewhat reluctantly, and heads down the stairs towards Bren. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he turns back to look back up them.
"Hey, Jane?" he calls out and, when she turns to look in his direction, he adds, "You make a pretty angel."
1 note
·
View note
Text
Tentateur
Miguel O'Hara x Cheated on!fem Reader
WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT at the end, bit of angst, fluff, adult situations. Cheating, divorce.
Requested here
Summary: Miguel can't stand watching you being neglected by your husband.
------
If there was something Miguel hated, was life being too generous upon those that didn't deserve it, not even the slightest. Meaning, a dickhead for a coworker and sadly, your husband.
How could such a guy like him ended up with a sweetheart like you was beyond him, The man was apathetic, little to no charm, rude and an absolute bastard.
"She's uh, my wife." He had said flatly. Your name felt like sandpaper on his tongue as it rolled out of it while introducing you to the rest at a small party at Alchemax.
Miguel had noticed the little stab of hurt crossing your angelic face. He wanted to punch him straight in the face, even some of the other couples had noticed the small tension. But you just stood there, trying to give your best smile. The golden band around your finger and the loving stare your eyes casted on your husband was a clear 'Don't even try it' for him.
But for once, Miguel didn't care.
----
He didn't exactly know how the crush on you had started. At first he thought that was just him feeling lonely and that his eyes wandered too much. But when you visited, lunch bag in hand, looking for your husband only to give him a bedazzling smile upon seeing him, and he receiving you with a tight-lipped smile, made his heart to break a little more.
"Hey" You were about to kiss him but he just backed away.
"I'm working."
"Alright, alright. See you later?"
He just gave a quick nod and put the lunchbox on his desk. There wasn't love in his goodbye kiss, Miguel noted. Once you were out, he rummaged through its contents while rolling his eyes.
He looked around and spotted Miguel with a mug on his hand.
"Hey, pal." He called and offered him.
"Want some?" Miguel seized him from head to toes but just nodded. It felt the only way that he could have a bit of you at the moment.
"Take whatever you like. Wife always goes overboard with food." Miguel took the small dessert container. It tasted divine. It only matched your own sweetness.
Lucky Bastard.
Oh he was. His eyebrows pressed together as he kept giving away all the food you had so dotingly prepared him.
----
"Can we talk about this later? You can't just keep visiting me every time you feel so"
"But you keep forgetting lunch at home, can't leave you like-"
"It's fine really, we have vending machines here." Your husband grumbled, but you couldn't help but hold the lunchbox tightly against your arms.
"I see. Sorry." You gave him a small smile, "See you later?"
"Im busy today. Might get a couple hours late. Don't wait for me."
You just nodded as Miguel jaw tensed.
How dared he?
You left.
-----
You had bumped into him at the supermarket on a weekend. Your cart was full of food, food that would end up in his hands and the rest of the team but never in your husband's mouth.
"Miguel, right?"
He nodded as he pulled some items for himself in his basket.
"Thanks for helping me." you smiled, his heart thumped harder.
"Where is..." He cleared his throat and you looked up at him.
"My husband? Oh, he said he had an extra shift today. Working in Alchemax surely is hard, I mean, I try to make it less... bad for him."
Miguel's mind was sneering, not at you but at the fake pretense of a hard working man the son of a bitch had put up with you. He knew the truth, he knew your husband only went there, did things wrong and half assed, and lately he had been flirting shamelessly with a lab technician from the upper floor.
His hatred for the man only grew, just as his admiration for you. What truly made you marry someone like him? That's the biggest question he had so far.
"I'm kind of nervous, today's our anniversary. I wanna surprise him with something" Your cheeks tinted red.
God you were killing him. He wanted to grab you gently by your shoulders, and say 'I can be better' cause of course he could, he was. You'd never have to settle for less with him.
'I appreciate you' cause he did, unlike the fool you had married. 'You'd never have to beg me' because in truth, he was already at your feet.
But you weren't his. Not yet.
-----
Sighing, Miguel put the lab test equipment away, then headed for the main office to get a couple more samples of a liquid he tried, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.
Legs wrapped around a man's waist, as his pants were down at his ankles. The woman shrieked once she noticed Miguel standing there with a frown and disgusted face. Miguel’s anger froze when the man next to her turned to be none but your husband.
The man recoiled to himself upon Miguel glaring holes his way.
----
His shoulder was poked by none other that the cheating pig.
"Uh, hey. Can we.... Can you, I mean-"
He stumbled on his words, Miguel towered over him, his eyes belittling him. He was bold.
"You saw nothing, yeah?"
And oh so phony. Disgusting.
Miguel just went back to his work.
It was the last straw.
-------
To his surprise you were sitting on a café, puffy and tear crusted eyes staring into nothingness, a phone on your hands. You knew.
He didn't know whether to approach you, or just leave you be. As much as he wanted you, he knew that coming at you in your most vulnerable state would not only make a bad impression oh him, but he didn't want to act like a vulture, looming over your broken heart for him to take.
He approached carefully.
"Hey"
"Miguel..."
"Are you okay?"
Your eyes avoided him.
"May I sit?"
You nodded with a hiccup and he offered you his handkerchief, fresh hot tears spilled in the soft fabric. His chest constricting at the sight.
"He cheated on me."
Much to your dismay, he knew. Of course, he wanted to tell you, but knowing how careless your husband acted, it was a matter of time for you to discover the cheating.
"I'm really sorry to hear that."
Shaking your head, you sniffed
"He has been doing this for months. Should've... saw this coming. I mean... I found so many pictures of a woman and... God"
He was pretty sure that he would punch the man next time he'd see him.
"He never came home to our anniversary, but even way before that. He just... I wasn't enough."
He frowned and took your hand softly.
"Stop. Cheating is a personal choice, guapa. You can't blame yourself for other's choices. He decided to do so, to trash away his marriage. It has nothing to do with you."
"Maybe if... I was-"
"No. You're... you're perfect. Puta madre, you're more than perfect. He's a lucky bastard just to have you. And... If I was him-"
He stopped his words and pursed his lips. You didn't need this. He'd have to be patient. You stared at him gently.
"I'll file for a divorce. He's barely coming home anyways and... that pretty much says on it's own that is over."
Miguel just nodded.
"Might celebrate it." You chuckled after wiping your tears.
"Can I ask you something?"
Again, you nodded.
"I know it's none of my business but, I'm just genuinely curious as to why you'd marry him?"
"Impulsiveness, I guess." you shrugged, your hand resting some inches away from his.
"He just proposed one day out of the blue, we had been dating for six months. Don't... don't look at me like that. I know it was stupid." you groaned.
"It's alright. You thought it was love." His hand inched closer, you nodded.
"We had our problems. A lot, actually. But... instead of speaking things like a fucking adult, he went on cheating."
"Mira, guapa... yo" He trailed off unsure of resisting any longer, his resolution to wait vanishing, "I know that this is a really bad time for you and-"
"Please... don't. Miguel I-"
"Just listen, ok? Please?" His hand finally took yours gently.
"I know this is the least of things you need right now, but... You have no idea how... how perfect you are. I always saw you visiting him, being loving, and he just threw all that away. He lost you. You're way too much for him."
Your body tensed upon sensing where this was going. Of course you weren't ignorant, you'd notice the glances he would give your way, the yearning in his eyes every time you kissed or acted like lovesick fool with your glacial husband.
" Let me show you, how would I treat you, if you were mine."
"Miguel, I don't want to-."
"Let me take you to dinner. If you don't like anything and I mean it, anything, I'll stop and leave you be. Just a dinner. Hell, you could ramble about him for hours and I'd just be happy for you to be there."
You sighed, it was a rather simple choice to say yes or no. There was nothing that actually tied you to your ex husband now. Just a very skewed moral code.
" Just a dinner. "
His heart fluttered and he nodded
"Just a dinner and I'll drop you home."
----
Miguel helped you out of his car, eyes drinking in your form. He would be lying if he said that he didn't feel jealous of the dress you were wearing, snugging all your curves in the right spots, just a tiny thing to make your own beauty to stand out even more. Gorgeous, flawless, divine and perfect.
You gasped at the location
"Are you sure this is the place? It's quite expensive."
Your concern was endearing, he offered you his arm and guided you inside.
"You're worth it, princesa."
The place seemed like being inspired from an old movie, elegant, classic and of course fancy. Never in your life your ex husband would actually treat you to places like these. His card would explode, he said once. Other places were good, but this was in a whole new level of luxury.
Miguel held the chair for you, and you sat, he followed.
"This place is gorgeous." He chuckled and took your hand to kiss your soft knuckles.
"Just like you."
----
Time flew, the night had been to your surprise one of the best things that you have experienced. You had tasted things that didn't know existed, Miguel had fed you the dessert, pampering you to no end. The wine was delicious.
As night advanced, his little touches had turned more and more risqué, his fingers would take a taste of your exposed thigh skin, your hands would brush his, fiery and small caresses that sparked a silent yet mutual fire.
Once home you couldn't get your hands out of eachother. He had to be careful to not rip your dress to bits, he needed you. The wet kisses in your neck and his wandering hands all over your heated body the proof of it. When was the last time that someone touched you like this?
Not even him, the man that oathed to love you and be with you through thick and thin. A gentle rub on your clit by expert fingers made you forget about him. Lock his memory in a vault and you'd throw the key somewhere. Your hips would buck against his hand, rolling on waves after waves of pleasure.
"He didn't touch you?" You shook your head as your mouth gaped open.
"When was-"
"Shut up." you moaned breathlessly. An I don't know nor care.
Your body responded so well too him, be the need you tried to sate with your own hands, or the loneliness that had made you so desperate that had you squirming and soaked and he was only using his hands so far. With Miguel, things felt differently. He did things differently. And different was good. So so good.
His hunger for you shown and conveyed in every caress and touch he gave you. He was gentle enough for his desire to permeate your skin. You didn't feel alone. You felt needed. Loved even. There was no turning back once you discarded all the clothes on both ends.
----
Opposite to what you believed, your heart wasn't flooding with guilt. No.
There were no longer what ifs and what not constantly echoing in your brain. There was no longer that constricting sensation in your chest you always had. No more uncertainty. You were free.
Last night Miguel, whose arms cradled your form to be snuggled in his chest and his thigh hooked on your hip, hoarding you. As if fearful you'd go away, had made you experience a whole new concept of pleasure. Your body soared in bliss, you were glowing, He had given you climax after climax, making every single one of them more shattering and intense than the other.
That's all you wanted really. Feel at ease and blissful. Miguel had given you that and more. More than you actually ever though deserving. It was just a matter of time that you'd finally take him whole.
You wanted him. His kindness, his care, his love, his grumpyness during mornings, the way he cursed in spanish whenever he'd stub his toe in the nightstand. You wanted it all.
Of course you had filed for a divorce as soon as you could, your husband was more than happy to comply. He hadn't been home for a while, Miguel even told you that he had quitted. It was as if the universe was removing him from your life ever since you started with Miguel a couple months ago.
But none of that mattered. Not when he had plopped you down to bed, hands holding a firm grip in your sweaty and smooth skin, hips straddling yours and plowing into you from behind, prone bone position. His hips buried himself deep, hitting that spot over and over. He wasn't gentle, but that's just exactly how you liked it.
Before you could actually reach the stars he flipped you over, your thighs resting ontop of his. He sheathed once more inside. Your phone buzzed.
You growled in annoyance, Miguel sighed. A number you knew all too well. Finally you'd get the news you so needed to hear.
"Y-Yeah?" Miguel smirked as he held your thighs together and pushed in further, his tip kissing your cervix so deliciously you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. The little baby bump in your abdomen barely noticeable.
"Shit's done. Papers are signed."
There was a bit of rustling and the clinking of glass. By his tone, you knew he was getting drunk, celebrating. Miguel took the phone and put it on speaker.
"Ya know? I'm glad I did. Couldn't stand you, nagging all the time. But I'm a free man now, baby." His gulping, something you secretly hated, could be heard on the other line.
Miguel frowned and spreaded your legs once more.
"You there?" Your ex chuckled, "It's okay if you're crying, won't judge"
So so annoying.
A smirk appeared on your face as Miguel focused the camera on your body. He then turned the video call on. The man's face instantly fell upon watching you bouncing on a cock that surely put his to shame. Spine arching, breast jiggling and mouth spewing the lewdest of moans and needy whimpers he hsd ever heard from you. One tan hand secured you in place, preventing you from squirming too much.
"Sorry, pal." He grunted as he started to ram his hips in abandonment, making your toes curl. Your face and body said it all. The video image shaking at his thrust
"Just like that, bonita?" You choked a sob as he went balls in deep, nodding and begging him for him to not stop.
"She's busy." He hung up the call before the man could say anything and tossed your phone somewhere in the bed.
You felt so good, perfect for him, And now you were all his.
------
tag list: @primroselovessupernatural
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman 2099 smut#t writes✨
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
T. S. Eliot, from The Complete Works of T. S. Eliot; "The Confidential Clerk,"
#lit#t. s. eliot#drama#fragments#words#drama collection#excerpts#selections#quotes#writings#the confidential clerk#excerpt#p
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
star trek text posts IV: the one with the anons
#it's not shitposting if you can write it off as low-stakes bg practice#art#star trek#comic#star trek tos#james t kirk#nyota uhura#spock#text post meme
62K notes
·
View notes
Text
Look at Him.
✩࿐ summary: your attempts at reentering the dating scene is foiled by your ex-husband.
warning(s): past relationship, clingy!gojo, ex-husband!gojo, co-parenting situation, crack fic. wc; 1.6k
pairing(s): gojo satoru x fem!reader
a/n: this is purely just a goof fic because i've put nothing but angst out there so far sooo have a laugh. hope yall enjoy :3
“So, what do you do for a living?”
"A teacher."
"Oh, wow! What grade, subject?"
"Uh, highschoolers and the subject kinda varies on the day."
"Like a substitute teacher?"
"Um....sure, yeah! Substitute teacher."
"That's awesome. Mad respect, kids can be demons."
You were quickly discovering that the dating field had changed in the five years that you had been married. An endless back and forth about what someone did, what's their favorite color, what's their hobbies. Boring questions that you would ask your students on the first day was used in over the table date conversation. Until, until, they got to that question they so desperately wanted to ask.
Would you want to take this back to my—
There was a vibration against your thigh as your date started to go onto a monologue about how much he disliked kids. In all honesty, you couldn't really remember his name. The introductions had been awkward and a little nerve wracking— you were almost sure he had no idea who you were either.
You tugged your phone out of your pocket and resisted the audible sigh that threatened to leave you when you saw the notification.
Satoru
please tell me why my beautiful, radiant, amazing, intelligent daughter just said her mommy is on a date.
feeling sick to my stomach, don't tell me this is true.
You rolled your eyes. Your ex-husband had always been so overdramatic. His main focus was always on the bit that could come from a situation. However, this was a quality you do used to admire about him. His ability to make any situation seem like it was a funny happenstance that you'd never encounter again.
Now, it was nothing more than a nuisance.
Satoru
oh my god, you left me on read. it's true. it's true.
i hope you know i just threw up. i threw up everywhere. i might die.
at least, tell me he's ugly. please god let him to be ugly.
A sigh, you typed out the quickest message you could without your date asking what's wrong.
You
I hope you're not ignoring said daughter to ask me about some date. I'll be home later, please refrain from texting me.
You were about to set your phone down when another text came through. This one appeared to more distraught than the last.
Satoru
o h your tone. it's over. it's really over.
i might just kill myself this is the worst night of my life.
y/n, i'm genuinely feeling sick.
please, is he ugly?
he must be boring because you're texting back.
You were almost inclined to remind Satoru you both had been divorced for a year already. That this was bound to happen and you two had, in fact, spoken about it months into the divorce. You had played with some 'what if's and there was a mutual agreement that the other wouldn't get jealous and be dramatic about the other getting in a relationship whenever the time comes. It was a surprisingly adult conversation.
You should've known better when Satoru proudly proclaimed he didn't care who you got involved with.
You
Satoru, we talked about this. We're adults and we're divorced. Please bother someone else, like Suguru.
Satoru
i don't wanna talk to suguru. i wanna talk to youuu (;﹏;)
i can't believe you've done this.
ten years. ten years of loyalty. im sick to my stomach.
You
You asked for the divorce.
"Is everything okay?"
You eyes snapped up from your phone and towards your date. He had the good grace to be wearing a relatively concerned expression, eyeing you wearily.
You quickly tucked your phone back into your pocket, ignoring the insistent vibrations it gave to smile apologetically. "I'm sorry, my daughter had an accident and I had to, you know, send a quick text to her babysitter." It was easier to explain away a daughter than it was a clingy ex-husband who was well in his dissent into insanity. Really, you were doing this guy a favor keeping him in the dark.
However, his face still paled and he straightened. "You have a kidI'm so, so sorry. I just went on a two minute rant about how much kids are equivalent to demons." He seemed to spiral as he pressed his hands against his face, uttering curses to himself. "I get so nervous with these dates. I truly meant nothing by it."
You smiled in amusement, "It's no problem, really. I'm not exactly disagreeing." He peeked from between his fingers and blinked at you dumbly. "Just because I'm a parent doesn't mean I don't agree. I mean, my kid can be a bit much sometimes. I love her, but she's a lot like her dad in that way."
It always made your chest blossom. The way Saori was a carbon copy of Satoru. From the rambunctious personality, to the piercing blue eyes, and white hair. Your genes hadn't won in the battle, but you were almost grateful. Satoru tried to tell you that she had your smile and your wit, but you weren't entirely convinced. She was Satoru and Satoru was her.
You were extremely lucky that he was a good dad.
"Oh? Do you mind me asking if her dad's still around?" His tone was indication enough: a daughter and an ex of some kind was pushing it for him.
You tensed up, feeling deep regret already. "Uh, yeah." His eyes shifted away and you reached forward, taking his hand. "But, he's not, like, crazy or anything! He's just a good dad."
Your date chuckled nervously. "I-I just don't want to get involved in some, um, some family dynamic."
You thought it was a little presumptuous of him to think this would go that far, or he'd get in the way. But you were too focused on defusing the situation.
"Oh, no, it's not like that! We've got a healthy balance, y'know? He does his piece, I do mine— that's it!"
He scrunched his face. "So... an open relationship?"
"No!" You press your hands against your face with a huff. "No, we're not together anymore. We just co-parent."
He opened his mouth to further question you when your phone vibrated very audibly. His eyebrows raising. "Your daughter?"
You sighed. "Please give me one moment."
With jerky movements, you pull your phone from your pocket. The assortment of messages that came where spread over the ten minutes you decided to ignore him.
Satoru
okay, you've got me there.
but my big heart is breaking.
i hope he's ugly and he smells.
okay, i spoke with suguru and he said i'm an idiot who should apologize.
in my defense, i'm a little itty bitty drunk. and no, saori is not awake. papa put her to bed before bringing out the whiskey.
im so sorry my beautiful deity. that not ugly, not smelly man is so lucky to be in your presence and i hope you have a good date.
also i hope he gets hit my a car.
(＾▽＾)
You
I'm going to kill you with my bare hands. Genuinely, count your days, Gojo Satoru.
Satoru
hot, hot, hot!!! (●´□`)♡
did he actually get hit by a car?
You
Is there something you want?
Satoru
him dead.
and you home :((((
You
You don't want me home. I swear to god, if you're on my couch, drinking when I get home, I will ruin your life.
Satoru
promise??? ╰(✿´⌣`✿)╯♡
but, actually, i wanted to ask your opinion on something
You
For real?
Satoru
for realsies.
[Image Attachment]
Completely blinded by your irritation, you don't even hesitate to open the picture as it loads. Although you regret it the moment it does.
It's a picture of Satoru. He's at what seems to be the beach (must've been the fun activity him and Saori were going to join Suguru for), his sunglasses were on the top of his head, and he was grinning at the picture. One hand was resting against his pectoral and the veins in his hand was prominent. An obvious attempt at being charming and flirtatious. It was working too.
If it weren't for the fact that you knew him and were his ex, you might've just swooned.
"Oh, my god, is that him?" Your date was staring at your phone with wide eyes. His face even more pale than before. He started to shake his head as he stood, snatching his jacket from the back of his chair. "No way. I am not getting involved! I'm sorry, you're a nice woman, but I know when I'm not winning. And I'm definitely not winning against that."
Your eyes widened considerably, "What? No! Please don't leave. He's an idiot, I swear there's nothing—"
"He is... a hunk. I am not. In no shape or form am I at all comparable to that. Look—" He reached forward, grabbing your phone and holding the picture up to be beside his face. "Look at the difference! Model who has won Japan's hottest man at least eight times before he's 30 to me— Look at him!"
"It's not even like that!" You snatched your phone back and stared at him in frustration. "He's my ex, I do not want him!"
He waved his hands in front of your face. "I know how this will go. You think you like me and then your super hot and super sexy ex-whatever makes you realize the familiarity is good. Then I get dumped." He straightened, latching his hands onto the lapels of his jacket. "I just realized I am a side character. In my own life. Goddammit."
He barely glanced at you as he paid for the dinner, then left as quickly as he could. Still, you didn't even know his name.
Satoru
oooo taking you awhile to respondddd
still in love with me? (人◕ω◕)
#♡ oneshot#✩࿐ t writes#gojo satoru#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fic
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
チーンホワ君の日常。
sqh’s everyday life.
#svsss#moshang#mobei jun#shang qinghua#sha hualing#scum villian self saving system#mine#i feel like they probably do things differently in the demon realm like write in blood or some sh*t lmao#rip huahua the underpaid intern but at least he gets bobby face smashes
2K notes
·
View notes
Quote
We are all different. Don’t judge, understand instead.
Roy T. Bennett
#Roy T. Bennett#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
soft domming officer K WHO SAID THAT????? i did. sorry.
switch!officer k x gn human!reader; smut, established relationship, handjob, slight orgasm denial/edging, me adding too many world-building details ♡
It’s always cold -- perpetually raining, in fact -- and the makeshift Moebius complex heaters are notoriously shoddy, but it’s the warmth of your touch, its stark contrast to the biting chill of K’s apartment, that makes him shiver. He can feel something hot brewing inside him as your fingers bypass the hem of his shirt, intent on taking it off even though he’s just put it on. Most of the time he doesn’t bother redressing at all after his shower, but work had been tiring and he knew he didn’t have the energy to take care of you the way he normally enjoyed doing.
“Sweetheart,” K murmurs, his calloused hand grabbing your wrist. Your eyes flicker to meet his, and where he expects disappointment, he finds gentle understanding instead. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, jaw tensing a bit as a wave of guilt washes over him.
“Can I help you relax?” you ask, not moving but not pulling away either. “I was just gonna focus on you, that’s all.” It’s an odd statement, one K has to replay in his head a few times before it makes sense. He’s not entirely sure what being on this side of the equation entails. He, and all the other replicants, were built to service in one way or another, and the idea of a human actively pleasing him feels wrong. Suspicion gnaws at his gut and he almost tears himself away from you entirely.
“Please, K?” Your soft words are paired with a gentle kiss to the scruffy part under his ear, and he remembers the first time you told him he was more to you than just a Nexus-9 model. He was real, in all the ways that mattered. To you, at least.
He finally nods, swallowing heavily when, instead of resuming your path up his stomach, your fingertips breach the waistband of his pants. Your other hand busies itself undoing the button and zipper at the front, and K can feel your smile against him when you notice he’s already half hard. It never takes long for him to get aroused, and by the time you wrap your fingers around him, he’s pulsing against your palm.
Part of a moan escapes his mouth before K bites down on his bottom lip, stifling the unexpected sound. He only lets go when you lean in, his eyes fluttering shut as you draw your tongue over the fresh indents in his rosy skin. For a split second, K’s glad you can’t see the flush steadily spreading across his cheeks, but the thought becomes a distant memory when the sweet taste of you hits him, and he reaches up to grab your jaw and move you closer. At first, you eagerly match his movements, tilting your head to ease the glide of your lips against his, but then you’re pulling back, and K’s groan of disappointment is far from quiet.
“Shh.” His brows furrow and all he can do is stare at the swollen and glossy state of your mouth, which he imagines somewhat mirrors his own. He faintly wonders if the disheveled sight of him pleases you the way yours does him. It must, since soon you’re lowering your head and letting a line of spit drip until it connects to his cock, gathering on the tip before gravity pulls it down the rest of his shaft. K’s breath hitches at the sensation, body stilling as your hand resumes its earlier motion with half the friction. “Better?” you murmur, making sure to twist your wrist a little with each stroke.
Besides a shuddering exhale, K remains quiet, immediately pulling you back into a kiss. You’d planned on talking him through this with some reassuring praise, but he doesn’t let you inch away for anything more than a quick inhale, barely remembering your need to breathe with the eagerness he has to feel your mouth on his. You do your best to blindly please him, squeezing the base of his cock and rolling your palm against the tip with every few strokes, but the rest of your touches are languid and met with slow rocks of K’s hips.
He knows sex doesn’t have to mean anything, not every time, at least, but in moments like these, he understands why some call it a connection. A fusing of bodies and souls. For once, he’s not sure where imitation ends and real begins.
Your rhythm steadies and you increase your pace little by little, working K closer to the edge. You’ve watched and felt him cum enough times to recognize when he’s close and, with his fingertips digging into the back of your neck and his cock twitching in your hand, it’s no surprise when he pulls away to shakily tell you. “Gonna cum,” K grunts, and you brush his nose with yours, slowing your movements until they halt completely.
“Hold it,” you breathe, fingers wrapped around the thickest part of him. While you expect a verbal objection or groan of disapproval, K doesn’t speak or move, with silent obedience underlying both. He waits for what feels like minutes but is only seconds before your fingers drag back up his spit-slick skin. “There you go, baby,” you soothe, feeling him immediately thrust needily into your open palm. “Let it out, it’s okay.”
You barely reach the head of his cock before he cums with a soft moan, dripping over the back of your palm in thick white pulses. His orgasm sears over his body and he clings even more desperately to you as you ease him through it, kissing the side of his face and slowing the motion of your hand until it ceases entirely. Even then, you don’t pull back just yet, humming softly to yourself as K catches his breath, the splotchy color in his face evening out.
“Better?” you repeat, and K doesn’t need to open his eyes to see the smug smile on your face.
“Much.”
gosling sleepover sunday
#officer k x reader#blade runner 2049 smut#officer k smut#officer k#ryan gosling#blade runner 2049#t: writing#mutuals: f1nalboys#answered
282 notes
·
View notes
Text
@chloeinletters on instagram
#writing#t#fvrt#updating the tags: i didn’t realize chloe has tumblr so i linked her ig instead of tagging her here lol oops!!!!#anyway amazing writer i feel things when i look at her account
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
desperate times call for desperate measures
Reid barely had the door opened before Maks is waving a small white envelope in his face, bounding past him wordlessly towards the couch where Brennan and Benji have been for hours already.
(Well, not wordlessly, because there’s, like, high pitched hollering about the contents of the envelope—an invitation to a costume party in The Hamptons. Reid knows this because it’s not exactly a secret. Invited or not, it seems like everyone around him has been talking about it for weeks now. He doesn’t care that he didn’t get an invite—he wasn’t planning on going, anyways.)
“We have to go,” the three of them say, almost in perfect unison. It’s unsettling how in sync they are sometimes. It’s been this way with them for as long as Reid has known them and it never gets any less creepy.
“Do we, though?” Reid asks, sinking into the only free chair, “Maks is the only one who got an invite.”
“So?” Maks pipes up, finally, “You really think they’re going to be paying attention to every single person who comes into and out of that party, especially when said people are in costume? You can gate-crash. And who knows, maybe Roselyn will be there."
Reid supposes he might have a point—nobody’s going to be paying that close attention and they could slip in unnoticed while Maks distracts the people at the door with some sort of show, which isn’t entirely out of character. Still, it’s nearly two and a half hours to The Hamptons and it’s pretty last minute.
More importantly, he doesn’t have a costume.
(He's not sure how he feels about the Roselyn comment. She's shown no interest in him, as of yet, and he's not keen on pushing it further because that wouldn't help, so.)
Still, after a moment, Reid relents. With these three, there was almost no winning any argument otherwise and this wouldn’t, at least, prolong the inevitable. “So, which one of you is lending me a costume?”
“Oh, I’ve got one you can use.” Bren says, reaching for a bag of chips on the coffee table, continuing to speak around mouthfuls, “It’s from one of those masquerade things that ended up not happening cause,” he waves a hand in the air, as if that would explain everything, “anyway, it’s like that knight in shining armour dude from the myths or whatever.”
“Lancelot?”
“Yes, professor. That dude.”
Well, there were worse costumes, he supposed, and if there was a mask involved he could remain somewhat anonymous and nobody, Roselyn included, would really figure out he wasn’t supposed to be there. He had nothing to lose, really, so the least he could do was entertain Maks (and Benji and Brennan) and go along with this.
"Alright, let's go, then." Reid pushed himself up from the chair to grab his keys from the kitchen island, "What are you going as, Maks?"
"Oh, you'll see. It's got a cape."
Of course it did.
1 note
·
View note
Text
~Imagine ~
Miguel kissing you everytime he actually does a push up.
You're underneath him, trying to keep up with his workout routine, but you're left breathless. He drags you by the ankle and hovers above as he gets in position to start his set.
You're caged underneath him, face flushed and somehow laughing at his antics, but you know he is serious when it comes to his training.
He'd kiss you as he lowered his body. And again, and again, until you trap him with your legs around his waist, and hands on his neck. To your little surprise, he lifts you without a sweat.
His lips twitch in a small smirk as you kept holding on him like a koala, until he collapses ontop of you, all air knocked out of you and that's the perfect moment he kisses you like he was intending.
Thighs on each side of his narrow slutty waist, one of his hands is enough to pin your arms above you as the other one roams the fullness of your hips, squeezing the plumpness of your ass. Tongue invading your mouth, dominating the little moist muscle effortlessly
He kisses until you squirm, begging for air, and when he breaks from you, enough to let you take deep breaths of needed air, his prongy fangs pull your bottom lip softly to then suckle at it; earning a whimper from you to then release you with a small pop
Face as stoic as usual, but eyes glinting with something you've grown to know too well. Need.
"¿Empezamos con el cardio?" (Shall we start on the cardio?)
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#atsv imagines#spiderman 2099 imagine#t writes✨
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
Fellas, if your story has...
Way too many narrators
Self-aware weird formatting
A metanarrative
Courier font
Meaningful colored text
The story existing as a piece of media within the story itself
A fucked up house
An unreliable narrator
Just way too much about the romantic lives of people who suck
That's not your story, that's
#homestuck#house of leaves#light writes#long post#h/t regicidaloptimism for help crafting this bespoke homestuck house of leaves shitpost#homestuck spoilers //#<- uh I think not major ones but I'm only partway through act 6 act 6#EDITED: wasn't actually courier in the screenshot switched it with a correct one
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
T. S. Eliot, from The Complete Works of T. S. Eliot; "The Cocktail Party,"
#lit#t. s. eliot#drama#fragments#words#the complete works of t. s. eliot#writings#quotes#the cocktail party#p
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ready-phone
Untitled
mcdarlas
McDarla
seenashwrite
...write, Nash, write.
billy-batson
say the magic word
monsterhighreviewsbr-blog
Monster High Reviews BR