he could have been feeling him up but that would be twice as awkward

A story that may have relevance for others, or then again, maybe not:

When I was in college, about ten or so years ago, I was a history major. I wanted to learn to dance, so I joined a swing dance club on campus. To my surprise, this club had about twice as many men as women (in high school, the last time I’d tried dancing, the ratio had gone the other way–lots of girls, and boys only that you could drag by their ears).

But apparently, there had been some kind of word spread specifically to the STEM guys that dance was a way that they could meet girls.

So anyway. I joined the swing dance club, and met a few guys. And at one point, when socializing with the guys outside of dance class, one of them asked me what my research was on. (I had already established that I was an honors history student doing a thesis, just as he had established that he was an honors… I’m not sure if he was CS or Math, but it was one of those.)

So I gave him the thumbnail sketch of my research. Now, to be clear, an honors senior thesis, while nothing like what a graduate student would do, was still fairly in-depth. I had to translate primary sources from the original late-Classical Latin. (My professor said, basically, that while there were plenty of translations of my source material, that I’d only be able to comfortably trust them if I had at least made a stab at a translation of my own. And he was right.) And there was so much secondary material, often contradictory, that I had been carefully sorting through.

But I was able to sift it into a three-sentence summary of my senior thesis work, you know, as one does.

So I gave him that summary, and then asked–since he was also an undergraduate senior doing an honors thesis–what his research was on.

“Oh,” he said, “you wouldn’t understand it.”

Reader, I went home in a frothing rage. Because I had thought we were playing one game–a game of ‘let’s talk about what we’re passionate about!’– and he had been playing another game, which was, one-upsmanship. I had done my best to give a basically understandable brief of my research–and he had used that against me. As if my research, my painstaking translation, my digging through archives and ILLs of esoteric works, my reading of ten thousand articles in Speculum (yes, the pre-eminent medievalist journal in North America is called Speculum, I’m sorry, it’s hilarious/sad but also true), and then my effort to sum it up for him, was nothing. Because his research into some kind of algorithm or other was just too complex for my tiny brain to conceive of. Because I just couldn’t possibly understand his work.

Now, the important note here is that the person I went home to was my senior year roommate. She was a graduate student–normally undergrads and graduate students couldn’t be roommates, but we’d been friends for years, and the tenured faculty-in-residence used his powers for good and permitted us to be roommates that year. Anyway. My senior year roommate was basically… in retrospect I think possibly an avatar of Athena. She was six feet tall, blonde, attractive in a muscular athletic way, a rock climber and racquetball player, sweet but sharp, extremely socially awkward, exceptionally kind even when it cost her to be kind, and an incredibly brilliant computer science major who spent most of her time working on extremely complicated mathematical algorithms. (Yes, I was a little in love with her, why do you ask? But she was as straight as a length of rope, and is now happily married, and so am I, so it worked out.)

(Still, yes, she is my mental image of Athena, to this day.)

Anyway, I came home in a frothing rage to my roommate, the Athena avatar. And I said, “He made me feel like such an idiot, that I could sum up my research to him but his research was just too smart for stupid little me.”

And she shut her book, and smiled at me, with her dark eyes and her high cheekbones and her bright hair, and said, “If he can’t explain his research to you, then he’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”

Now I hesitated, because I’d be in college long enough to have sort of bought into the ridiculous idea that if you couldn’t dazzle them with your brilliance, you should baffle them with your bullshit. But she said, “Look, I’ve been doing work on computer science algorithms that have significantly complicated mathematical underpinnings. What do I do?”

And I said, “Genetic algorithms–that is, self-optimizing algorithms–for prioritization, specifically for scheduling.”

“Right,” she said. “You couldn’t code them because you’re not a computer scientist or a mathematician. But you can understand what I do. If someone can’t explain it like that, it isn’t a problem with you as a person. It’s a problem with them. They either don’t understand it as well as they think they do–or they want to make you feel inferior. And neither is a positive thing.”

So. There.

If you are looking into something and have a question, and someone treats you like an idiot for not understanding right away… here is what I have to say: maybe it isn’t you who is the idiot.

Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

Summary: Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung bullied you in high school and by some sick joke the universe was playing on you, 2 years later Jungkook was attending the same University as you. Even sicker joke was being stuck with him doing a project on ‘Sex in Cinema’ for a whole semester. Go figure.

Words: 8083

Warnings: Smut, a lot of dirty talk holy shit (I can’t help it), oral, masturbation, overstimulation.

2 years earlier:

You walked down the road, almost around midnight, trying to get home as fast as possible the chilly rainy weather. Not to mention the truck that was trailing behind you and the screams and shouts of “wait up thunder thighs!” and “stop running away like a little bitch!” coming from the 3 boys who occupied it. Wrapping your arms around yourself to feel just an ounce of warmth, you willed yourself to ignore these bastards and walk faster. ‘I’m almost home, I’m almost home’ repeating it like a mantra in your head. Really, it was a stupid idea to think that you could enjoy a last high school party with your friends who were the complete opposite of you. After all, when the three most popular boys of the school were determined to make your life a living hell, why would anyone else want to treat you different in this extremely cliché scenario. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was it about you that made them hate you so much.

From the time that you can remember, and you remembered a lot, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had always despised you. It’s like they couldn’t stand your existence. When you would be at the library helping out by staying late, they would wait after school, yes they would go out of their way to stay at school longer, to make sure that your walk home was as stressful as possible. Making fun of pretty much anything and everything you did was a normal occurrence. You had just learned to live with it, but not today.

You suddenly started to slow your pace. They are cowards, you thought. What can they possibly do? Always taunting, always calling names, always making you feel shit about anything you took interest in. But they were all talk right? You thought, huffing out. People like them walk in groups because they can’t actually do anything alone. You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly stopped and turned around slowly. The truck that the boys were trailing behind you also slowed and stopped a few meters away.

The one driving was Jimin, while Taehyung sat beside him and Jungkook stood, head poking out of the truck’s opening in the ceiling. You stood defiantly, shaking from the growing rain, your hair soaked and hands tightly by your side. Silently daring them to charge the truck towards you. ‘They won’t do it, they’re cowards’ you thought, your confidence growing slowly. You couldn’t tell where this adrenaline rush had come from to give you such courage to finally stand your ground, just a few weeks away from graduation. You could see Taehyung’s cunning, and terrifyingly psychotic grin widening as he relentlessly whispered in Jimin’s ear, whose grip on the wheel was tightening as he looked you right in the eyes. Jungkook was laughing. He apparently found the situation so amusing, that you decided now to grow a spine and challenge them. Suddenly, the sound of the engine revving was as loud as the rain.

It all went pretty much downhill from there. The last thing you remembered was your too loud heartbeat, the bright flash from the truck and Jungkook’s face suddenly forming a horrified expression as if he wasn’t just laughing at you.

Present day:

You weren’t looking for him specifically among the crowd flooding into the lecture hall. But something did happen inside you when you spotted him. A kind of lightness, or a lifting of some heavy part of yourself. Everything was settling into a nice, normal routine. You were going about your daily lives in an ordinary manner, and you were doing it completely separately.

He sat in the fourth row, and you sat at the back. Only now there was no rising sense of dread. You didn’t keep your hand to yourself when the lecturer asked a question. You answered, without the background sound of someone snickering. And even when it felt as though he was looking at you, when you snuck a glance at him you only ever saw the back of his head.

He bent low over his notes, and his head occasionally lifted a little as he really listened to whatever the lecturer was saying. Once or twice you actually caught him nodding, or doing a little staggered-looking half laugh over some ridiculous concept. As if he loved it all now.

He loved it so much he was sometimes at the lectures early. You would come in with Y/B/F, still giggling over something ridiculous, and get the faint prickle that told you he was already there. Only now when it happened it didn’t make you want to cover herself up, or run and hide. There was nothing to hide from. Everything was going to be super cool and totally fine from here on in. Or it would have been, if it were not for the group project. The one that you were so excited for that you didn’t process it when your lecturer started reading out the names. You would be working with Y/B/F—that was a given. They were going to watch ridiculously filthy movies together and laugh about bobbing butts and ogle Ewan McGregor’s penis.

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you have a problem with that assignment?”

Everyone was looking at you now. No—not just looking. Examining, as though You had become a new and baffling species. The girl who was not excited about being carried by Jungkook. The creature who seemed horrified at the prospect of working with him. It made it difficult to do anything at all, even with Y/B/F urging you to say yes, yes I do have a fucking problem. Though You still didn’t expect the shake of you head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of you head and that was it. Your lecturer moved on to his next victim, leaving you in something You once had a nightmare about in ninth grade. Working with Jungkook. On a semester-long project.

About sex in cinema.

“Don’t worry, we can fix this. Just go to his office and talk to him privately about it. He would have to be Satan himself to not understand,” You heard Y/B/F whisper. But the words seemed even further away than you name had when your lecturer read it out.

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been punched. In the face. With a small nuclear blast.”

“I’m sure,” You said, but soon came to regret that firmness in your voice. The steady nod that told Y/B/F it was okay for you to go in a different direction once you were outside. It only meant that You were on your own when you got to the tiny hallway outside your lecturer’s door.

And saw that Jungkook was already waiting. Of course he was—he probably had the same concerns as you. No matter how sorry he was or what he thought of being in the red and being wrong, he would never want to work in close quarters with you for the entire semester. In fact, him being sorry likely made the situation seem worse to him. Most likely he had calculated all the awkward conversations you guys would have to have and how far apart he would have to stand to keep you comfortable, and found it as unbearable as you did.

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

Then he held up his hands, as though to calm you.

And you knew.

“All right, Y/N, I know that you’re probably thinking it’s way better if you do this project with that gal pal of yours, but wait, okay? I got reasons why this is gonna be fine.”

“Is that seriously why you’re here? To stop me asking to switch us?”

“Well…no. Not stop you exactly. Stop is a really strong word.”

“While I’m glad you’ve learned that—” You said, your voice briefly catching when you saw his wince. He winced, your mind hissed, before you forced yourself to finish. “I still think it covers what’s happening here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it for a second. Just, like, hear me out.”

“I want to. I really do. But come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday. This has all the hallmarks of some kind of trap or prank or joke at my expense.”

“How could it possibly be a trap or prank? He put people together based on…I don’t even know what he put people together based on. But it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You searched his face, looking for the lie. Waiting for him to show some hint of bullshit, beneath those too-kind eyes and his spread hands and the obvious logic of what he was saying.

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

“Okay, I buy that. I do. Yet the fact still remains: I cannot do a project with you. Ever. You have to know that doing anything like that is completely impossible for me. Right?”

“I was just thinking that maybe…maybe you could give it a chance. You know, now that we’re on speaking terms and everything is almost cool between us.”

“You think everything is cool between us?”

“Well, maybe not cool exactly. More like…okay.”

“Still need to dial it back a notch, chief.”

“Reasonable? Not bad? Kind of semi decent?”

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” You said.

“But I figure we can work on it.”

“By doing a project on sex in the cinema together?”

“Well,” he said. “When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“There’s no other way to put it! That is literally what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just…want to not get that. I want it to be easier or better or just not the way this is.”

“That could have been my daily prayer in high school, Jungkook.”

He didn’t react the way You expected to, with more weird arguing.

He just closed his eyes.

He closed them like someone had just told him his family had been in a fatal accident.

“I wish I could go back and start over again. More than wish—I would give everything I have to start over again. The wrestling, this scholarship, every party I ever went to and every fun thing I ever did. And you can choose to not believe me about that, but—”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Then why does this have to be such a big deal?”

You thought of Y/B/F saying attempted murder.

“Y/N that is fucking attempted murder. Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about anything you put him through now. His friends and him included, ran you over with a fucking truck. How much physio and other therapy sessions did you have to go through because of them, huh?”

The terror that used to flood you when he walked down the hall.

That ever-present sensation of a grille barrelling into your body.

“Because understanding that someone is truly sorry and wanting to spend huge amounts of time with them are two different things. I might see that you mean this, and know rationally that I can almost sort of trust you. Maybe I even want it to be that easy, too. But your face is the one I had nightmares about for two years. Your smile doesn’t seem happy to me. I associate it with cruelty.”

You shook your head. Glanced away from him so you didn’t have to see the defeated look on his face.

“It’s hard for me to look at you, Jungkook, no matter how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”

“That was a really well-thought-out and logically sound speech.”

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

“You don’t need one. What you’ve done here…” You gritted your teeth hard and looked at the ceiling. But this time it didn’t stop the tears. They were already welling up by the time You explained the rest to him.

“It means a lot. And a million men would never have done the same, I can promise you. I don’t have any messages from Jimin on my phone. Taehyung isn’t going to call anytime soon. It’s just you, a rare fantasy in the middle of all this dismal reality.”

He turned around when you were done. All the way around—and then his arms went up to cover his head and you understood. What you said had affected him, strongly. Maybe more than his words had affected you. It took him twice as long to get it together, and even after he had he couldn’t quite look at you. He just kept staring at the wall and clenching his jaw.

And saying things. Oh yeah, he said things, in a strained, shaky voice.

“I meant what I said, you know. That you are the very best.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to ask you not to say it again.”

“I can’t stop. I have the opposite of whatever idiocy infected me in high school.”

“What, like insane-need-to-compliment fever?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

“Well it has taken a raging hold of you, let me tell you.”

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” he said, so soft and sincere it took all your strength to stop yourself smiling in response. You could feel your lips trembling. Your cheeks ached with the effort of pinning them down, yet still You knew you were failing. You could see it in his satisfied expression.

And hear it in his words.

“That’s better. Seeing you look happy.”

“I am happy,” You said, then added without thinking: “Are you?”

Of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a polite habit, based on interactions with people other than Jungkook. People who had actual problems, who lived troubled lives, who might answer with a god no. Jungkook would never need to answer with a god no. His life was full of endless possibilities and unfettered glory. He could snap his fingers and have a thousand people follow him to the ends of the earth.

He even looked that way, in the dim light of the narrow hallway between these offices.His hair was the colour of dark chocolate. Every item of clothing suited him perfectly, from the rich grey-blue of his V-neck to the jeans he’d tucked into his timberlands. He exuded cool from every pore; he could have stepped off the cover of a magazine.Yet all you could see was his face as it slowly sagged. It was like watching someone cut the strings that had held a mask in place—a mask you hadn’t known he was wearing. You thought that smiling golden god who had tormented you was the real him, but for a second you couldn’t be sure. Just for one heart-rattling second, and then the door to the office opened and that glimpse of something else was gone—so fast You would imagine later that it had never existed. It was just a trick of the light.

Better to focus on the real and the now.

“What can I do for you two today?” Professor asked.

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

After that day, you didn’t know how or why you suddenly decided to give working with him a try, but so far, it was going…. okay. You two met up at the library, took your notes, glancing at each other once in a while, mostly Jungkook, asking each other questions relevant to their awkward topic given the situation and that was that. He made jokes sometimes that managed to get out a few carefree laughs out of you as well. It was all… comfortable. Nothing that you had expected. That is why, you decided, it was time to move on to watching actual movies for references, in your project.

It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night when you went to get him as your friend was out and that was the only time Jungkook was free after wrestling practice. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to your journey back to your dorm.

As did his silence.

He was always talking—You realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air. But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When you tilted your head a little, you could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easy-going. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way you did.

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a little…”

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

“I was just thinking what movie we should watch.”

“Oh. Oh. You mean…right now?” You asked.

“Well, that’s what you came to get me for.”

“That’s true, I did come and get you for that.”

“Unless you don’t want me in your room so late.”

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

“You’re in the Jubilee Building, right?”

You had the strongest urge to ask him how he knew. But that seemed just as weird as objecting to him being in your room.

“Yeah. You just go past the science block and then—”

“Right, right, right I got it, I got it. The statue of Heo Nanseolheon is outside it, yeah?”

“That’s the one. Then it’s the third floor. Don’t worry though, there’s an elevator.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Do you wanna let me unlock the door?” you asked standing behind him when you both reached your dorm.

“Oh shit, yeah. Yeah, go ahead,” he said moving his bulky body out of the way as you slid past him to unlock the door. Everything had returned to the way it should be now between you and Jungkook.

Except for the sexy movie you were now going to watch.

Alone. Together. On your bed. In the middle of the night.

You let him pick the movie, thinking that would make things easier somehow. Nothing could be misconstrued, at least, that way. He wouldn’t think you meant anything by your choice, whatever it might be. But you forgot that he might mean something with his choice. You watched the heroine trying to clumsily pick up the hero at the start of White Palace, and cringed so hard it felt more like a cramp in your gut. Your cheeks grew hot, in a way that made you grateful for the dim light of your feeble bedside lamp.

Otherwise he would see you face go red and know you understood his point—despite the fact that his point was fucking nonsense.

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

“Really? You think so? Like, in what way?” You asked.

“It just seems like she keeps pushing and pushing. No woman would push a guy that good-looking if he didn’t seem into it. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

You didn’t look at him, but knew he shrugged.

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe she knows he’s actually into it.”

“That could be one explanation.” Jungkook says, sighing.

“Plus she obviously gets exactly what she was looking for.” He adds.

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

Which to you didn’t seem to back up his point at all.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s having a great time getting absolutely nothing out of this.”

“That’s what this looks like to you? Like she’s getting nothing out of this?”

“Well, in movies they make it look like she is. But I doubt she really would be.”

“You doubt that giving a guy a blow job could be enjoyable for a woman.”

You glanced at him then, just to see if his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

Then had to look back at the screen quickly. If anything, his expression was worse. He had one eyebrow raised, and there was almost no humour in his eyes. This was serious somehow. Much too serious.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s not really something you do for your own enjoyment. You do it for his.”

“So to you there’s nothing pleasurable about it. Nothing sexy about having a guy at your mercy. Begging you, moaning for you, trying not to push too deep when it gets too good.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

The words came out too fast. Too disbelieving, too.

But You just couldn’t stop them. They ripped out of you before you had time to talk it over with you mind, all ragged around the edges and maybe a little breathless. Just enough that he likely heard it, and wondered why. You couldn’t tell him, however. You didn’t know yourself.You only knew that when he started talking again You had the urge to put your fingers in your ears.

“Of course I do those things. Having your cock sucked is fucking amazing,” he said, which was absolutely fine.

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

“The heat and the slickness and her looking up at you as she works it with her hands and lips and tongue. Especially the tongue. The tongue is the best part. Watching it curl right around the—”

“Well, okay, it sounds cool when you put it that way.”

God your voice sounded loud. And too fast again, too. All your words practically jumbled together.

“I don’t know what other way it could possibly be.”

“How about hold still while I fuck your face? Some guy coming right in your eye? Losing a chunk of hair because he pulled too hard?”

“You’re not serious. Tell me honestly. None of that happened.”

Now his voice was bright with amusement. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

“All of that happened. To me. More than once.”

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

He made a circle with his hand bobbing his head, as though you should know that one thing logically followed on from the other. It was all completely easy and obvious.

Instead of the hardest quiz you had ever had to get through. “Then he what? Gave me cab fare?”

“No. No. After that then this happens.”

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

Then had to look away again, quick. At your hands, at the bedspread.

At him, as he oh-so-slowly realized what your sudden awkwardness meant.

“This has never happened to you. Holy shit. You’ve never had a guy go down on you.”

“I have had a guy go down on me. I totally have.”

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look sure.”

“Well, maybe not like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it. This is actually the most basic, ordinary way to go about eating pussy.”

At those words, you could feel the fire burning on your cheeks and your breathing getting laboured. Jungkook really had no filter.

“Yeah, but this seems really exciting and sexy and hot.”

“Going down on a girl is really exciting and sexy and hot. Like I said about giving a guy head? Exactly the same principle. You get to see you writhe and shake and push herself against your mouth. Just like that, just like Sarandon is doing. Look at her. Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking,” You said, but You weren’t, not really.

You were thinking of the shiver that had gone through you when he said look, soft as butter and so oddly tender. And the way that he was looking himself, eyes almost far away.

Like he was seeing Sarandon, but putting someone else in her place.

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

“Think about his tongue slowly easing over her soft folds.”

“Is that…how…is that what you…” You said, breathlessly “Uh-huh.”

“And it works?”

You voice was a whisper now. But that was okay. His was, too. It was so low he had to lean close to ask you questions. He had to meet your gaze, and You had to meet his.

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

“Oh yeah. But you gotta take your time.”

“I see. I guess that makes sense.” You were just babbling now, trying to keep up with him.

“Let it build, nice and slow. Start by just stroking her with your fingertips. Work her, you know, until her lips part. And then when she’s all open to you, you just trace the shape of her with your tongue. Lick and lick in these ever decreasing circles until you’re right…fucking…there.”

“Where? Where…where are you?”

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew you shouldn’t as soon as it was out. Your faces were too close together now, and his body seemed to be looming over yours. That was his shoulder, almost nudging your chin. And his thigh, pressing deep and hard into yours. His answer was never going to make any of this better.

Then it came, hotter than molten lava and twice as destructive.

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

“I see. That makes sense,” You said, even though that wasn’t what you wanted to go with.

No, what you wanted to go with was more like oh my fucking God this can’t be reality.

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, or doing. She might tell you to bite, to fuck her with your tongue and fingers, harder or faster or some word that doesn’t even make sense. Hips coming up to meet you, greedy for it, horny for it, so horny she barely notices that her hand is in your hair and she’s squeezing tight enough for it to sting, so close to coming that her whole body is shuddering and shivering and flushing that deep, good pink. Soon as you see it you just know she’s burning. That her clit is aching and throbbing and her pussy is all open and slippery, and one more second of this will make her come. She’s already coming, before you even know where you’re at. Hard, hard, hard, like she never has before.”

You were holding your breath by the time he was done. You practically had to—his face was so close now you could have blinked and brushed his cheek with your eyelashes. Every word he said seemed to stroke against your face, cool at first but then more heated. As though he was starting to boil alive inside, too. Certainly he looked that way. You have never seem him flushed like this, not even when he pushed himself during a match.

Not even when he was embarrassed.

Though you supposed that wasn’t a common occurrence. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed now, and he’d just said all those words. He said clit and pussy and slippery, as if that was just a normal way to talk to your friend. And he did it all without flinching, too. Without glancing away or putting some distance between you. In fact, those eyes of his—now heavy lidded and so soft focus—seemed intent on you more than they ever had been before. They skittered all over you face, searching for something you had no idea how to give.

You didn’t even know what the something was.

You only knew that it made you forget yourself, just as he had described.

It made you search his face back, marvelling over every brutish line and gentle curve. Those lips of his, as plump as a girl’s yet so masculine at the same time. Every inch of them gleaming, as if he’d slicked them with gloss in anticipation of a kiss. Though even in that moment you didn’t really believe you wanted that. Until he whispered, low and heavy against your own lips.

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

You followed his gaze down, and took in the unmistakable sight of your hand in your lap. Really, really high up in your lap. Almost between your legs, in fact—though that was fine, it was cool, it was okay. You stuttered ‘no, no I didn’t really want to do that’, but it didn’t matter.

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

As the whole world as You knew it dissolved right in front of your eyes.

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

“Because of the film. Because of the movie.”

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

Wished hard that he hadn’t added that last part.

“If we could that would be awesome.”

“No problem. I mean it was probably inevitable that this would happen to us.”

“Probably, yeah. Almost definitely, in fact.”

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“So you just slip your hand under your waistband, and I’ll slip my hand under mine,” he said, which was fine all on its own. The problem was that he then went ahead and did it. You tried not to look, but saw anyway. You saw the way he fumbled in his haste, as though all his talk was only calm on the surface. Underneath, something was paddling frantically. It was making his cheeks pink and his body all trembly.

And his dick hard. God, his cock was hard.

You could see that without even trying at all. The curving shape beneath his sweatpants was enormous and unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been, his hand made it pretty clear. As You watched, he eased it over that solid length, before finally clasping it in a way that shoved the swollen head right up against the tented material. Now You could make out ruder details, like the thick ridge around the head, and the slit at the tip. Both pronounced, explicit, rude.

But that wasn’t what really got you.

It was the way he stopped to lick his palm, before shoving it

under his waistband.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, are you serious?”

“It’s cool. it’s fine. We don’t even have to look at each other.”

“No I guess not. I guess…I guess that I can just watch the screen.”

“We’re just two people getting off over a hot movie.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

But that wasn’t strictly true. You weren’t getting off over the movie at all. Nothing was even happening anymore—it was just rich people looking down their noses and arguments over a Dust buster. If anything, it was vaguely depressing, rather than lust-inducing. Yet still You sat there, face burning, body tender and rigid all at the same time. Half of you stuffed so full of embarrassment and shock you sort of wanted to block everything out, the other half just shamelessly straining to hear every single tiny sound he made. Never daring to look, of course, but then…

You really didn’t need to.

He made so much noise that you could make out almost everything. Every little moan and gasp—and there were a lot of them, too. Lots of thick, guttural moans that started on an ah and ended with a kind of abrupt sigh, as though a knife had sliced through his throat before he could finish. So many soft mmms and gasps, like he honestly couldn’t get enough of whatever he was doing.

Though it was the whispers that hit you hardest. They got you right in the gut, low down and deep enough to ache. Oh yeah, he murmured, as though the hottest sex in the world was happening onscreen. As though they were fucking like animals, up and down and left and right. His tone even sounded sort of tremulous, and it got more intense as time went on. Soon he was panting, and rocking, and every now and then uttering something he was clearly imagining himself doing.

“Ah, yeah, suck my cock, just like that,” he said.

Then just to make it extra agonizing, he spat into his hand.

To make it extra slick, you thought, like someone’s mouth. Someone sucking him the way he’d described, slow and steady until he was actually shuddering, right here and now. The bed was moving, at least, and it wasn’t because he was working that cock hard. He wasn’t. He was going slow, so slow, squeezing and rolling rather than the short, fast kind of thing You’d always thought guys did. They almost never seemed to do anything else in porn…but then again they never did all this other stuff, too. You dared to turn you head a little more and saw to your astonishment that he had his hand pressed to his mouth. He was almost biting his fist, chest heaving, body shivering all over—but most important, eyes closed.

He couldn’t even see you looking. You were free to do as you pleased.Yet something held you back. You couldn’t seem to do more than peek out of the corner of you eye, and even that made you feel strange. You kept getting this clenching sensation—sort of like embarrassment or humiliation—and it got worse when his back arched. When he actually said out loud that he was almost there, that he was so close, that he was gonna come all over your duvet. I need something to do it on, he said, and even that had a shameful frisson of its own. You had a brief flash of him kneeling up and suddenly coming all over your face, or maybe pulling down that ridiculously large neck hole to expose your breasts.

Followed by an image of that thick white liquid coating you, striping you face, dripping off your tight little nipples. Him pushing his cock past your lips to finish off, groaning as he flooded your mouth.

And he would have flooded it, too. You glanced at him just in time to see him shove his sweatpants down, that big dick swelling under the pressure of his too-tight grip. Thick ribbons of come already hitting his bared belly, over and over until you were sure he must be done. He had to be, yet more kept flowing over his still-working fist. You watched it run down over his fingers in slippery trails before pooling in his lap.

Though none of it was what you kept seeing behind your eyes in the aftermath. Instead, you saw the way his face had looked as he shot his load. The open mouth, and the closed eyes, and most of all the strange, wrenching vulnerability that had covered him for a moment. No mischief, no macho bullshit—just a completely open and abandoned sort of ecstasy.

And all of it for you.

He knew you had watched him. He still knew now. You flicked your eyes back to the screen as he started to catch his breath, but the first thing he did was include you.

“Guess I kind of made a mess here,” he said, everything about his tone suggesting two conspirators, finishing off their evil deed. You even got up after he’d said it, to get him a tissue.

Though when You got back he’d pretty much taken care of most of it.

You stopped in the doorway to the bathroom at the sight: Him, casually licking his messy fingers.

It took you a good two minutes after that to go over to him, with your fistful of toilet paper. And when you did go, it was on very shaky legs. Your whole body felt shaky, in fact—though not in any way you’d experienced before. This was like being full to the brim with something burning hot, skin so close to ripping that it couldn’t keep still. Sometimes you thought you could see it shivering slightly under the strain, and every inch of it was tender, so tender. His leg brushed yours as you sat down, and it was agony. You even winced—then immediately regretted it.

He had been concentrating on clean-up. Now he looked up at you sharply.

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

The problem was though; you didn’t seem fine.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your hands were fists on your thighs.

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

“Oh yeah? And what does bursting look like?”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“Is it?” You asked, voice so light it almost passed.

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

“And then there’s the fact that your nipples are like diamonds. Fuck, look how stiff they are. Isn’t that agonizing, having them like that? I bet your clit’s the same. Bet your pussy is so wet. So wet you’re making a mess of the nice, clean clothes.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and hotter as he whispered each word. By the time he was done they felt like they were going to melt right off you face. That tense, cringing feeling in your stomach was ten times worse, and that was before he got to the last point. The one about the clothes, and the mess, and oh god what if he was right? It felt as if he might be. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and everything was really slippery between your legs. You could feel it, every time You moved.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that—” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bath—and the thumb you could feel stroking over you forearm only pulled you deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching you at all.

Before you knew it, you were up to your ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” You said, too fast and too fierce.v

Though it was only afterward that you realized how it sounded: Not like someone trying to say you didn’t want to masturbate. Like someone saying that you wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then you just had to do your best not to go out of your mind.

You stopped herself from jumping up. Kept your hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made you do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, you had the urge to get up. Maybe you even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking your arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of your arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of your throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing you there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing. It was just a game, that was all—and one that you could win if you really put you mind to it. He thought he could get you so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. You were a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. You were impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where you almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of your swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through you was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to your clit, or eased a finger into your slick little hole. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure he’d touched you at all.

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

You had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching you, with his skill. He wasn’t skilful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

he worst lover you had ever had.

You had no idea why your thighs were trembling. Or what made you moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling you just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Y/N, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all You could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into you. There was no fumbling or searching. Your body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on you for hours. He knew exactly how to touch you there, and when he did you simply had to respond. Your gasp rung out in the small room.Though you vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good. you kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. You made the mistake of glancing down and all you could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give you a glimpse of your glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way you were spread around that thick intrusion…

Fuck.

You had to look at the screen just to stop yourself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while you sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered your slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until you were so beside yourself you weren’t sure you even wanted to hold back your moans. You only knew that you were still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now. It just doesn’t matter, your mind hissed, but you kept it up anyway. You held yourself more tightly and bit deep into your lip—deep enough that you tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, you shut your eyes tight. You thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching. All to no avail. He made one circle around your clit.

Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it. Your orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away your control over your body—your toes curled tight and your back arched. But most important, it took away your control over your mouth. It let one little word slip out.

Though one little word was more than enough.

“Jungkook,” You said, and after that the game was pretty much up. That was gratitude in your voice and pleasure in the sigh behind it, and all wrapped in the neat little bow of his name. There was no more pretending that it wasn’t him who had made you feel this way, or suggesting that all of this was just a game.And he knew it immediately. He kept up the thrusts of his long, thick fingers, helping you prolong the feeling of your orgasm for as long as possible. And he didn’t stop there. Your face was starting to contort from the oversensitivity and it was obvious that Jungkook knew it too from the way he bit his lip and started to purposely move his fingers faster once again.

“Ahh! J-Jungkook… I can’t….” You moaned out, though this seemed to have no effect on him as he seemed determined to elicit another orgasm from you. His fingers scraping against your tightening walls as they fought to repeatedly slam back inside you. Your thighs were shaking, your eyes half lidded, leaning back on your hands as his worked between your legs. Suddenly you gripped Jungkook’s moving hand as you came dangerously close to letting go.

“That’s it, fuck, cum again for me Y/N. I need this. You need this” He almost sounded desperate and it made you want to sob because everything was so fucking hot.

With a cry of his name, you came undone again, your body almost curling in towards itself from the sensitivity.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he said, as though you’d cried out the filthiest thing on the face of the earth. And, again, he didn’t stop there. You could hear him fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants already—though you tried to turn it into something else in your head. He was just pulling them up, you thought. They had slid down as he serviced you, that was all.

Only it wasn’t all.

When you made the mistake of glancing his way, you saw so much more than you were ready for. It was supposed to be over now, completely over, but he’d shoved everything down to mid-thigh and his cock was in his hand again and god god god why was it so arousing? You’d had cum twice already. He’d had one orgasm already, and now he was being so fucking filthy.

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

And come all over me—just like you’d imagined.

For one wild second, it even seemed like he might. He was groaning and panting and he kept saying things, incredible things like “do you see what you do to me do you get how fucking horny you make me oh fuck just hearing you moan my name”. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you knew he was close. He was going to yank your top down any second now.

Any second, you thought.

Though you didn’t realize how much you wanted it until the first thick burst slid over his fist.

Didn’t know how little control you had over herself until he grunted your name and shuddered violently, that slick fluid easing over his still-pumping fist. After all, if you’d had any you would have stayed right where you were, content to just watch.Instead of leaning forward to take that heavy, swollen, slippery head in your mouth, to catch the last ribbons of his salt-sweet cum all over your eager tongue.

“Fucking fuck, Jagiya” Jungkook cursed loudly, watching you take the head of his cock in your mouth. He slid his hands in your hair, gripping it from the bottom of your skull gently, rocking your face back and forth, riding out the last of his high. You looked up at him, eye still glassed over, breathing hard and laboured and slid the head of him out of your mouth.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was shocked at your boldness but he seemed pleasantly surprised. His pupils blown out, lips swollen, skin gleaming. He truly was a work of art. The magnitude of what you two had done hit you hard. So, naturally, there was only one thing left to do in panic.

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

A/N: So, Idk what happened but yeah hope you all enjoy. Not sure if I’ll make this a series since I’m bad at continuing ideas. I may stick to separate scenarios. I get bored easily. However, please feel free to check out my blog and send me ideas for new fics

imagine werewolf jungkook.

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

  • alpha af.
  • i’m joking of course. jungkook isn’t just the strongest in the pack but he’s also the youngest, and he doesn’t challenge the authority of his elders.
  • mostly because he’s just a really, really large puppy though.
  • he enjoys being youngest and getting into trouble and play fighting.
  • you can’t expect him to be a responsible adult and a wolf ok, he can’t do both at the same time that’s just not possible.
  • honestly this boy has too much energy he has to go running in the woods everyday just to get rid of some of it.
  • prefers doing so in his wolf form, even if that means he has to find clever ways to stash clothes around, so he doesn’t have to walk home naked.
  • in this case you two are already dating.
  • it’s been a few months now and you’re pretty happy but things are progressing kinda weirdly.
  • i mean he’s such a soft protective shy boyfriend, he really tries to take good care of you even though he’s clueless about dating kinda.
  • but like he’s always going camping with his friends, who you haven’t even met yet because he’s so weird about it, and you’re never invited to come with them and honestly you’re a little hurt.
  • and his mysterious hikes all alone that you’re not allowed to come along on either.
  • he gets really intense and kinda manic once or twice around the full moon, but you never put two and two together.
  • you had been friends for a long time before he finally asked you out and you always felt like there was a part of himself that he hid from you and you had hoped that maybe that would change.
  • and you can understand his apprehension but you still need him to talk to you about that fact. communication is key.
  • eventually you just have to confront him about all this secrecy.
  • and he doesn’t know what to say, he can’t just out his whole pack so he just kinda clams up and that’s the end of that conversation.
  • he goes to the others for help.
  • namjoon tells him that this may pose a great personal risk for all of them, but jungkook the most, and if he really believes this is the right choice then they will back him because the maknae deserves to get laid too.
  • or something like that.
  • so a few days later while you’re taking a quiet stroll in the woods, feeling kinda down about things lately, you cross paths with a wolf.
  • it’s unexpected to say the least and you just kinda freeze, panicked.
  • but he looks kinda……tame?
  • he just sits down on the path and looks at you with wide puppy eyes (just like jungkook sometimes does), not growling or anything, just tilting his head and wiggling his nose (like jungkook sometimes does)
  • and you take this opportunity to back away slowly, but the wolf follows you kinda hesitantly, whining a little.
  • until there’s a large enough tree on the side for him to sneak behind and change and you’re like ??? as the wolf goes behind the tree and
  • jungkook peaks out on the other side ?????
  • naked ? ?? ?? ?? ???? ?? ?? ? ?  ?? ????? ??? 
  • and you probably faint tbh
  • but after that (and watching him change like ten times until you can deal with the reality of your situation) things make sense and you can continue your relationship without jungkook hiding who he is.
  • and you get to go on all the hikes, and walks in the woods, and camping even, and stroke his very very very soft fur, and scratch his soft ears.
  • just bliss.
  • anyway, nsfw under the cut.

Keep reading

Milkshakes

Archie Andrews imagine request for anon

You remembered snippets.

You could remember arriving to the party with Archie at your side and you remembered the first shot of that cheap spiced rum that Reggie had at the makeshift bar in his parent’s basement – but besides that all you had were snippets.

Keep reading

The Last Word

I was rewatching that episode of Community where Abed and Troy kept hitting each other with pillows because they didn’t want their friendship to be over, and I just kind of liked the idea of an argument stretching out ridiculously long just because 2 people don’t want to stop talking ^^

college AU.

read it here on AO3!

“Dean, this is Cas - Cas, Dean,” Jo said, calling over the thudding music in the bar where they were standing, propping up the bar. She had a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and she gave him a little shake. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you guys since forever. I just know you’re gonna get on great. Cas, Dean likes philosophy, and psychology - that kind of thing!”

“I’m, uh - an armchair philosopher at best,” Dean said, throwing Jo a look that said, as clearly as he could without words, don’t play me up too much. Cas, the guy standing in front of him, was quite clearly out of Dean’s league - tall, lean, with the looks of an Athenian hero and the expression of a Roman statue, chiselled and unsmiling. Dean took a hefty swig of his drink, and smiled charmingly.

Well, he thought, you never know until you’ve tried.

“So, are you a Freud or a Jung kind of guy?” he said. Jo clapped his shoulder and moved off, evidently satisfied with the opener and feeling as though her introductory duties were complete. Dean watched after her for a second as she went, taking her social skills with her.

It wasn’t that Dean was bad in social situations - it was only that when there was just him and an undeniably cute guy, things tended to get a little… flustered. Jo, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease, and good at smoothing over the stupid things his runaway mouth tended to say -

“You can go and talk to her instead,” said Cas, and Dean started and looked back at him guiltily. Cas’ expression was unreadable, watching him watch after Jo. “Please, feel no obligation to enjoy my company.”

Dean blinked. Cas raised his eyebrows.

“I’m, uh, I’m - uh,” Dean said, wrongfooted. “I was just -”

“And I think - Jung,” Cas said, cutting through his fumbling. “Freud’s theories are too rooted in misogyny and phobia to be of any interest beyond the influential and contextual, for me.”

Dean swallowed.

This is going great, said a little voice in his head.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey sorry do you know any ‘being a couple for a case’ fic ? Thank you'

I CERTAINLY DO. It’s one of my favourite tropes of ALL TIME. Like, I reread these fics ALL THE TIME. I am just SO SAD that there’s no long-fic really strictly from Sherlock’s POV. Like I would LOVE for a fic where we see Sherlock’s thought processes about trying to get John to be his date / partner / whatever. 

FAKE RELATIONSHIP 

ANYWAY. I added a few onto this list here, but here’s a full list of the ones in my bookmarks.

  • Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M | 55,126 w.) Five months after John’s world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for. [[**FAVE. You have to check this one out!**]]
  • I can’t pretend by Salambo06 (E | 7,692 w.) - They had arrived more than a hour ago, and the moment they had walked inside the hotel reception, John had understood why Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come. Two men, posh suits and expensive watches on their wrists, had come to greet them with sharp remarks and badly hidden mockery, and John had seen red. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, mostly ignoring the two men entirely, and without thinking twice about it, John had slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and introduced himself as his husband. [[AHHH so much pining John, I love it. Sherlock is so good to him!!]]
  • A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E | 16,825 w.) John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica [[FAVE!!! MUST READ!!]]
  • Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E | 15,139 w.) - John is invited to his aunt’s Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John’s family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock. [[this one is cute]]
  • Till Death Do Us Part by prettysailorsoldier (M | 15,390 w.) - When Sherlock links a recent spree of murder-suicides to a psychologist who specializes in marriage counselling, there’s really only one thing to do: Go undercover as a couple in hopes of drawing the killer out. Faking a relationship seems easy enough, but things take a turn when their real issues start to creep into the sessions, and, all the while, a killer is watching, waiting in the shadows for their chance to strike. Part 12 of 25 Days of Johnlock [[OH GOD this one is lovely. Lots of pain but happy ending]]
  • That Partitioning of the Things of Youth by wearitcounts (Sher_locked_up) (E | 35,353 w.)Victor Trevor is in town, and nobody’s happy. [[I really like this one. Jealous John AND Sherlock and lots of Angst]].
  • What I Hide By My Language, My Body Utters by PixChuu22 (M | 9,047 w.) - Based on a prompt from Tumblr user thetwogaydetectives - “fake relationship that ends up being so real, they finally realize they are in love.” (I like this one. They end up together because of a case).
  • The Case of the Made-Up Case by DoubleNegative (T | 2,394) - Sherlock takes John to a club. For a “case.” Yes, John, a case. Part 1 of The (Secret) Adventures of Sherlock Holmes [[CUTE!]]
  • The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (E | 9,020) - John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game. Of course it’s for a case. Of course it doesn’t stay that way. Part 8 of I Blame Tumblr [[LOVE THIS ONE. It’s so cute!]]
  • A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (T | 91,009 w.)John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level… [[I love this fic. It’s a really great long-fic!]]
  • A Bit of Indulgence by beltainefaerie (NR | 3,364 w.) -  A case leads John and Sherlock to fake being boyfriends and John runs into an old acquaintance. [[This one is so domestic and cute GUH I love it.]]
  • The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (T | 47,798 w.) - Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock’s faked death and return. [[OMG this is like my FAVOURITE fic in this genre ever. It’s SO good and well characterized]].
  • Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E | 30,568 w.) “You love your mother, Sherlock?”John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”
  • Once More, With Feeling by cellard00rs (T | 21,178 w.) - To put off his meddlesome, matchmaking mother, John convinces Sherlock to play the role of his significant other. Unparalleled awkwardness ensues. [[nice amount of fluff and pining!]]
  • Hope Springs Eternal by QuinnAnderson (T | 4,054 w.) - John Watson and Sherlock Holmes go on holiday, and Sherlock has romance on the brain. [[Another cute one!]]
  • Five Times They Kissed for a Case, and One Time They Kissed for Real by fleetwood_mouse (M | 32,406) - A stolen ring! An artful blogger! And many more adventures for your enjoyment.
  • Disguises are always a self-portrait by yellowteapots (NR | 6,223 w.) - They were headed to a Pride Fest for a case-triple suicide/murder- which, of course mean they had to pretend to be couple. John had a suspicion Mycroft took a fairly sadistic glee in booking them a (single king-sized bed) room at the most romantic B&B in town. (I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH)
  • A Silver Sixpence by doodle (E | 16,400 w. LIVEJOURNAL) - John and Sherlock have to get married for a case, and learn some things about each other. I LOVE LOVE LOVE this story, though its only fault is that it’s on LiveJournal… (PITA to read on mobile)

AMNESIA:

Here are a couple where either John or Sherlock have amnesia and they think that they are each other’s husband or partner.

  • Among the Secret Things by Kate_Lear (E | 26,073 w.) - Sherlock would be the last person to describe himself as given to flights of fancy, but at the look on Lestrade’s face he could swear that something inside him curls up and dies. Part 1 of Among the Secret Things
  • What Meets the Eye by worldaccordingtofangirls (M | 8,251 w.) Amnesia is just another case to solve. Piece together unfamiliar faces, reconstruct the old identity, the lost reality. A challenge that Sherlock could even enjoy. He can read people like books. The man with the silver hair is his boss. The tottering old woman, his landlady. The girl with the worried look in her eyes…infatuated. And as for John Watson? His husband. Obviously.

“FOR A CASE” TROPE

So these aren’t necessarily relationships, or weren’t tagged as such, but contains some other “for a case” fics!

  • Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E | 151,907w.) - When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim? [[THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVE FICS OF ALL TIME. tw for gore-ish type things near the end.]]
  • It Isn’t Strange Until You Think About It by ivyblossom (T | 4,596 w.) - John tells the truth about how it happened. For some reason, “it’s for a case” always seems to do the trick.
  • The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E | 44,025 w.) - Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants for a case. [[there are some angsty bits in this, but I did giggle at a few scenes]]

OTHER SORT-OF RELATED FICS:

Here are a few that aren’t REALLY “for a case” but they end up together or the Johnlock is strong in it because of cases or because of situations.

  • Rescue by missilemuse (T | 2,574 w.) - If this was the way Sherlock Holmes loved, it was no wonder why he had avoided the damned emotion for over half of his life. Part 6 of Reichenbach To Return [[this isn’t really Johnlock, but it is… it’s non-ad10ck ad10ck. You have to read it to understand. It’s SO good and painful, trust me. Sherlock!Whump and pining]].
  • Five Times John Noticed But Didn’t Really by ScandalousMinds (T| 6,383 w.) 5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock’s relationship but really missed the obvious.
  • A Need To Know Basis by mattsloved1 (K+| 964 w., FFNet) - As the cab door shut firmly, the DI had yelled out they were to make an appearance at Scotland Yard the next day. It was while John watched London pass by that it happened. (short and sweet!! I love it!!)
  • Hallowed Eve by EventHorizon (T | 14,750 w.) - It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to let Sherlock choose the costumes for Halloween, but John never considered himself the smartest man in the room, anyway. (It’s a couple’s costume thing!)
  • Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E | 3,834 w.) - Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple’s costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn’t agree and exacts sweet revenge.
  • Maybe This Christmas by feverishsea for leopardwrites (T | 6,021 w.) Anthea has given up her life, her own desires, even her name in service of something greater than herself. But that doesn’t mean she can’t see when someone else wants something – even if she doesn’t happen to care overmuch for that person. And it doesn’t mean she isn’t willing to help. (Anthea gets the boys together)
  • You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners by ardenteurophile  (T | 23,584 w.) Sherlock takes John along for Christmas dinner with Mycroft and Mummy (And “Anthea”, too). Over the course of the evening, John realises that everyone in the room - apart from him - seems to think that he and Sherlock are a couple. Part 2 of Xmas Dinners Verse (I LOVE THIS ONE)
  • The Sexual Awakening of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson by suitesamba (M | 24,579 w.) Sherlock owes Mycroft a favor. Mycroft calls in that favor by offering Sherlock’s consulting services in a charity auction. Sherlock and John soon find themselves at the country manor of Mrs. Ives-Patton Smarmington III - not very coincidentally a long-time friend of Sherlock’s mother - where they are reluctant participants in her Murder Mystery Weekend. It’s a play within a play for Sherlock and John, and their roles for the weekend event bleed over into their real lives, waking the sleeping dragons within. Or In which John learns that Sherlock owing Mycroft a favor is very suspect, and Sherlock has a very bad idea.

Hope those satisfy! Alex also has a list that has some ACD Holmes on the list too!

Taken for Granted (pt 2)

A/N: I’ll go back to texts in the next part, it just didn’t fit with this part. Want part 3?? LET ME KNOW!

P.s. probably won’t be too active till like next week.

Part 1


You had always been close to the guys…well at least six of them. You had worked as an intern at BigHit when the guys were trainees and eventually debuted. However, you moved onto a bigger and better job, but still managed to stay good friends with the group. You somehow ended up at JYP in hopes of being a manager one day. But you were still one of their treasured friends, and they valued your input towards the group.

You don’t know when the feelings started. Well to be completely honest, you didn’t even realize you had these feelings for Namjoon. But what Hoseok said was true. You were always shy around him, but somehow making him happy became important to you. You noticed all the subtle things about him and studied him like a book unconsciously. Before you knew it, you knew all the things he loved and all the things he resented.

But he became increasingly cold towards you. He never really treated you like the other boys, who were always open and friendly with you. And maybe that’s why you fell for him. Because you had to figure him out and he was always on your mind. He became your favorite puzzle to solve and once it was solved, it became your hobby making sure the puzzle stayed whole and beautiful.

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If I Had A Star (Lin x Reader)

Word Count: 9,636 (YIKES)

Warnings: swears, little nsfw

Authors Note: I KNOW ITS LONG BUT I PROMISE YOU ITLL BE WELL WORTH IT. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT!!! IM YELLING IM SO HAPPY I FINISHED THIS!!!! 

Summary: a series of short stories to your forever. 

(each bolded word starts a new short story, the horizontal lines also divide each story.)

Dedicated to:

@hamilton-noodles Jo is a blessing to this earth. THE MOST eloquent person I have ever come across. I personally give this story to her, and all the stars in the sky. I want to publicly thank her for being one of the best people I have ever met (PERIOD) I love her so much and she is my bestest of the best friends. 

@adolescenthowell RACHAEL was my first friend on this blog and I want to thank her for reading my shit, facetiming me when I need motivation to write, and most importantly sticking by me. She is so talented and I love her. 

@fanfrickinhamiltasticimagines Sophie is the kindest human being alive. I want to give her all my thanks for proof reading for me. She is an amazing human being and so so out of this world talented. Love ya girl!

@whatdimissmotherfuckers Ruby for being such an adorable little bean. She’s the most giving yet still sassy person ever and I admire her self confidence. I hope you keep doing you babe. Her art and writing is the BESTEST. AND I ALSO LOVE HER DEARLY.

Not requested

Masterlist


If life had worked out perfectly; you would have never met him. You took the wrong train going downtown. Stupid, you knew, but being a first time New Yorker was hard. You wandered the streets aimlessly until you found a subway station late at night, hoping and praying you’d be able to find your way back home, your phone having died hours ago. You sat on a bench tapping your foot anxiously waiting for your train going up when a subway car rattled its way to your station. You were passing the doors when you saw a man runselfning down the length of the aisles in the subway car, singing loudly with a pair of headphones on. He didn’t notice you immediately, but when his eyes finally fell on you he practically tore off his headphones and stopped dead in his tracks. You gave him an awkward smile before he blushed red and returned one.

“Can you help me with directions?”

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Sleeping Over

Combined request from two anon readers for a Jax x Reader using the following prompts:

#18 - “You’re warm, s'great for cuddling.“

#36 - “Woah, I never knew you had a tattoo!”

Originally posted by marip0sadahlia

Throwing yourself down on the couch, you yawn, the episodes of today wearing you out.

Pretty much all day you’d been helping Jax redecorate the house, him deciding he wanted a fresh start combined with the fact that Abel was dying for a race car bed, so why not just give him a whole new room?

You’re probably the strongest mother figure that Abel has, although yours and Jax’s relationship is only platonic. Of course, you’d love it to be more than that, but you’re not one to push, and Jax has been through more than enough these past few months.

The man himself appears from the hallway, smirking at you before lifting your legs up and sitting down on the couch, your limbs being draped across him. “Look at you, all worn out.”

“I have been helping you since eight this morning.” you remind him, your eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. “I’d say fourteen hours of work is more than long enough to tire anybody out.”

Jax whistles lowly, his head lolling back as he looks up at the ceiling, his hands moving soothingly up and down your legs. “I guess time flies when you’re having fun, babe.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m pretty sure half of your paint went in my hair.” Jax chuckles in response, your fingers pulling at the knotted strands that are splattered with blue pigment. “I should be going anyway.”

“Or, you could stay.” Jax suggests, your cheeks tickling pink as he turns on his pleading eyes and his charming smile. Pretending to think about it for a minute, you roll your eyes, nodding in acceptance.

“Guess it makes more sense, probably easier for you to put me through more slave labour if I stay the night.” Jax smiles at you, the sight seemingly more beautiful everytime you see it. “Is it alright if I take a quick shower?”

“Sure. We could take one together, you know, save water and all that.” he says, a smirk on your lips. Sitting up, you move your legs from his lap, tapping his cheek twice before standing.

“Keep dreaming, big boy.”

You walk through to the bedroom from the bathroom, humming a random tune as the smell of Jax covers you, the combination of his shower gel and his clothes that you’re currently wearing making you smell nothing but him. Moving to the mirror, you adjust the waistband of Jax’s sweatpants, running your fingers over the inked writing on your hip.

“Woah, never knew you had a tattoo.” You almost jump out of you skin as Jax speaks from the doorway, a smirk on his lips as you look over your shoulder.

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.“ He shakes his head and smiles before stepping back and heading into the bathroom. “You still sleeping on the right side?”

The toilet flushes, followed by the running of the tap, before Jax reappears in the bedroom. “Yeah. Surprised you still remember.”

“Of course I do, I used to stop here all the time before you started being a dirty stop out.“ You tease, your heart clenching at the idea of Jax sleeping with other women. Many other women.

“Jealousy suits you, babe. You mind?“ he asks, gesturing to his shirt. You shake your head, trying to contain the flush that’s definitely crawling up your face as his toned physic comes into view. However, the knowing look in his eyes makes you think he’s already aware of the effect he has on you.

The two of you pull up the covers, slipping inside the sheets. For some people, sharing a bed with a male friend would be awkward, but for you and Jax, it was comfortable, normal.

Once he’s turned out the lights, Jax settles into the bed, the two of you facing one another, a barely there gap between your faces. “Thanks for today. Sometimes I wonder where I’d be without you.”

You smile within the moonlit room, Jax’s expression changing to a slightly more troubled one. The struggle and hurt is heavy within his eyes, the man in front of you having seen a lot more shit than most.

“Probably dead.” you deadpan, attempting to lighten the mood. You pat yourself on the back mentally when it works, Jax’s pink lips tugging up slightly. Rolling his eyes he turns onto his back, lifting his arm up and silently inviting you into him.

You comply - obviously - shifting to rest your head on his chest, his arm closing around you as you rest your palm on his chest. He sighs, content with your position, something about you just calming him like nothing else could.

“You’re warm. S'great for cuddling.” you whisper, Jax trailing his fingertips up and down your arm as you close your eyes, the melodic sound of his steady heart beat acting as your lullaby. He hums in response, a gentle kiss being placed on the top of your head.

“Abel loves having you around, you know.” Butterflies swarm your stomach at Jax’s words, your ears open and listening, your mouth not sure what to say. “So do I. Just feels right, like everything isn’t completely shit.”

“I like being here, feels like home.” you admit, placing a small, experimental kiss on Jax’s chest, his grip on your arm tightening encouragingly. Grinning to yourself, you wrap your arm around his torso, part of you wanting to see if anything progresses tomorrow and the other half wanting to stay here forever. “Goodnight, J.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” Jax says, holding you close within his arms, the two of you drifting into the best sleep you’ve had in ages.

A/N - Hope you liked this!! I wish I had me a Jax Teller 😭 maybe without the cheating😂 Check out my masterlist if you’re new, I write mainly SOA but also some SPN! Tomorrow’s imagine will be a Chibs x Reader! ❤

Just Married

Pairing: Y/N/Luke

Rating: NC-17

Request: Yes

Words: 4.000+

Summary: Wedding Smut w. you and Luke on your Honeymoon to Bora Bora

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Dangerous Man (John Wick x Reader)

Originally posted by anothermoviepage

Working at The Continental isn’t at all what you thought it’d be. 

SPOILER FREE FIC.


You smoothed out your shirt and looked in the mirror. It was your first day on the job. You were decked out head to toe in brand new clothes. All from a designer you’d never heard of. All custom made to fit you perfectly.  All completely free. On top of that, you’d be making a salary that, at entry level, was six figures. And all you had to do was deliver room service.

But there was a saying you’d heard since you were young: If it’s too good to be true, then it probably is.

You should have suspected something was off when you had to give a blood sample, a urine sample, a DNA swab, and answer a thirteen page questionnaire that included things like “list the full names of your parents, siblings, and grandparents” or “do you have any experience with sutures, cauterization, or CPR?”

And then the interview, itself, felt more like an interrogation. The whole thing gave you this weird feeling in your gut, but this was also the most exclusive hotel in New York City. Getting a room here wasn’t about whether or not you had the money, but whether or not you knew the right people, and even then, it was typically booked solid. You’d even heard a rumor that The Queen of England was denied a room once. Of course they’d be picky about their staff.

But after the lengthy interview process and dozen or so signatures on papers you probably should have read, you found out the truth about The Continental.

The manager’s name was Winston. He was nice enough, though he had a very “no nonsense” attitude about him. The more you found out about the place, though, the more you understood why. It was a safe haven for a secret society of people. Assassins. Hit men. Gang Lords. The underground elite of not only New York, but the entire world. The only currency accepted from customers were gold coins. One gold coin was the equivalent to one favor. It was a simple system, Winston explained, but complex to newcomers. You’d pick it up over time. All you needed to know was that if you got a coin, you kept a close eye on it.

Additionally, the hotel followed a strict set of rules, but the two that most concerned you were that staff was never to ask questions, and no business could ever be conducted on hotel grounds. The latter of the two should have made you feel safer, but instead, it just made you more nervous.

Upon the conclusion of your meeting with Winston, he presented you with a single gold coin. You looked at him curiously. He smiled, and said simply:

“A welcome gift.”

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Virginity

Requested - Hi! Could you write something with Aaliyah and Y/N. Like they get along pretty well and like Aaliyah asks Y/N about losing Virginity (Y/N lost it very soon) or something like that. Thanks!

Requested - Heyy, I have an imagine request 💕 so, you’re visiting Shawn in Canada and he’s busy, so you end up spending time with Aaliyah (like take her shopping or out for milkshakes or something) and Shawn finds out and he thinks it’s really sweet and fluff fluff fluff

Your name: submit What is this?

~~~

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Shawn says for what seems like the hundredth time as he glances over at you briefly before refocusing his eyes on the road in front of him.

“Don’t be.” You respond with a cheeky smile. “I get to drive your jeep and hang out with your sister, so it’s a win-win for me.”

“Have I told you lately that you’re the best?” He asks.

“Maybe once or twice,” you tease, a smile on your face as you genuinely appreciate this time you’re getting to spend with your boyfriend, even if it isn’t a lot. You came to Canada to visit him, but he ended up having to rehearse at the last minute, which kind of ruined your original plans for the afternoon.

The drive to his rehearsal space goes by far too quickly, and before you know it you’re driving his jeep out of the parking lot on your way to pick up Aaliyah from school. Since Shawn ended up being busy, you offered to pick up his sister from school and take her to the mall. You’ve grown really close to Aaliyah over the past year that you’ve been dating Shawn, and since you don’t have a younger sister, you take full advantage of getting to spend time with Aaliyah and play an older sister role in her life.

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I Will Show You - FP Jones | Riverdale

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Pairing: FP Jones x Female!Reader

Fandom: Riverdale

Warning: Mentions of sexual content & Daddy!kink, huge age difference

Wordcount: 1091


The puddle of water reflected the lights of Pop’s Chock'lit Shoppe. It was almost 11 PM but the dinner was still filled with people. A girl, around the age of seventeen, sat in a red Jeep. Loud music was playing while she scrolled through her phone. It was clear to everyone that she was waiting for someone. This, someone, was FP Jones, the fearless leader of the Southside Serpents. The Serpents lived on the south side of Riverdale and were feared by the north, west and east. They were especially known for drugs, alcohol, and stealing. The girl was born and raised as a Serpent. At some point, her parents began to care less and she began to hang out with Joaquin and he was the reason, how she met FP.

Right now, she was waiting for him. She only went with him because he promised her some food, which she probably won’t get. After all, an invisible rule said that the Serpents were actually not allowed in the other parts of Riverdale. The only thing she knew about his business was that it was with someone called Lodge. The girl moved her eyes to the nearest cars; Cheryl Blossom’s Car. She was the queen bee of Riverdale High, and the youngest and now only child of the Blossom Family.

Just because she had the money, the red-haired witch thought she could rule Riverdale, mostly the whole world. Before she could drift even more into her thoughts, the door of the driver side opened. FP had an angry look on his face while fastening his seat belts. The girl looked concerned and reached out for his hand. The older man moved his face to look at her, and his eyes soften. “Everything okay?” she asked him while he wiped the sweat away from his forehead. “Yeah, nothing your pretty head has to worry about,” he told her with a wink. The teenager girl was about to answer when she felt a pair of eyes staring at her. A waitress was staring at them, with a deathly glare. FP touched her shoulder which caused the girl to look at him again. He caressed her cheek and moved towards to kiss her.

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NIGHTFALL

Warnings: RATED M Fluffy smut, thigh riding, light dirty talk, clothed smut etc..

A/N: this is my first smut ever and i hate myself lol, i do want to start this blog up again since i’ve improved as a writer and also i want more friends!! so!!! yes !!! my request box is open!! LET THE FLOOD COME. come to meeee please.

Overview: Gryffindor reader is feeling nervous about graduating when Young!Sirius comes to console her.

Originally posted by kalaharim

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Yours to Hold

Jughead x Reader

Jughead is dating Betty,  and the reader is doing everything in their power to make sure that he doesn’t find out they like him. Based on the requested song: Yours to Hold by Skillet.

Warnings: Swearing (like one, again.)

Word Count: 2,240

A/N: This kind of took on a mind of it’s own as I kept writing. I had an idea for this being like super sad but like I never want Jug to be hurt ever so I let my hands write while my mind wandered. I was also thinking about doing a literal interpretation of the lyrics, but I wasn’t feeling that either. This felt right, i guess? It’s more metaphorical. I hope it’s still okay!


i see you standing here

but you’re so far away

starving for your attention

you don’t even know my name

Betty and Jughead had been an official couple for two months. Two months you had to push down your feelings you’ve had for him since grade nine. Two months you couldn’t walk down the hall without trying to avoid eye contact with both of them. Two months of your heart breaking over and over, every time you saw him climb to her window from your house across the street. You never pegged yourself for the girl next door, but here you were anyway. Although you were pretty sure that this time you wouldn’t be getting the guy.  It tore you up inside, always being the one that likes but isn’t liked back. It’s not like you and Jughead were close, you reasoned with yourself, so it’s not like he would’ve known, but you were good enough acquaintances to nod to each other in the hallway or share glances in the classroom when the teacher said something stupid.

You mainly knew Jughead and Betty and Archie through Veronica, your closest friend since she moved here at the end of last summer. You guys were a perfect fit, she needed someone spill her secrets to and you were someone who wouldn’t tell a soul. Who would you have to tell, anyway? The most social interaction you had was when you went to art club, but even then you kept to yourself and your drawings. Your drawings couldn’t hurt you.

What did hurt you, though, is that sometimes, on the best occasion, Jughead would come to you. Well, he would come sit beside you. You would draw in Pop’s diner late at night when you didn’t feel any inspiration from the school studio, so he would come and sit across from you with his laptop to write. It only happened once or twice, but every time it did your stomach started to turn and you couldn’t help but smile as your pencil hit the paper. It only hurt because it didn’t happen every day.

You were at your locker, going through the motions until you could go to the art room at the end of the day, and you were about to get books for your next class when Ronnie saunters up beside you.

“Hey girl, you hear the news?” she asks, her books wrapped in her arms, her bag slung over her shoulder in a way that only she could make fashionable.

“What?” you ask, exchanging the books in your hand for the ones on the top shelf. You grab your sketchbook, secretly filled with drawings and pictures taken of Ronnie’s gang, random kids in the hall, and Jughead. An overwhelmingly abundance of Jughead. You like to observe just like him, you just draw what you see instead of writing it. This sketch book was your version of his novel, which of course you heard about from Ronnie who heard it from Betty.

You probably knew more than you should about them, but whenever Ronnie started talking about them,  you didn’t stop her.

“The stuff about Polly!” she smirks, knowing that she’s just egging you on.

“Polly? Betty’s sister? Why would I care about her?” you ask, closing your locker, your face scrunching up just a bit, books in hand.

“Betty told me that there’s rough water in loveland.” she says, motioning for you to walk with her down the hall.

“Really?” you try to sound disinterested, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Mhmmmm. Betty has been so focused on her sister, and so now Jug has been cancelling plans, not showing up on time…” she trails off, looking over at you as she flips her hair over her shoulders.

“That must be… rough.” you say, unsure of how to respond.

“It’s your chance! I’ve been talking you up to all of them, I think you should make a real effort to get to know them.” she urges, turning to you and putting a hand on your arm. You were at your next class, her class just the next door down.

“You know what happened last time.” you remind her, remembering what happened when she tried to introduce you the last time. You could barely get two words out to any of them, fumbling over sentences and stuttering over the simplest of words. They all laughed it off, but there was definitely an awkward feel hanging in the air, and Jughead didn’t even look up from his laptop.

“I think you’re ready, you’re basically my best friend now, so they have to accept you. And beside, it’s my chance too.” she says, referencing her small crush on Betty as she blows a kiss and walks to her class. You sigh and roll your eyes, hoping that maybe this time she was right. Maybe this time you wouldn’t be the invisible girl in the corner, doodling in her notebook.

you’re going through so much

don’t you know that I could be the one to hold you?

It was movie night at Ronnie’s house. You were in your pajamas, which were just short shorts and a baggy t-shirt, ready to settle in to watch whatever she picked, since it was her turn.

“Did you hear?” she asks, walking in with the popcorn.

“What?” you ask, looking her up and down.

“Jug broke up with Betty.” she says, sitting down and crossing her legs.

“No, no way he would ever do that.” you say, shaking your head. That’s impossible, Jughead was head over heals for her just like you were for him, only difference is that he made his feelings public.

“He did. Betty told me that the reason he gave her was because there was someone else.” she smirks.

“No way, who?” you ask, wondering if it was maybe Josie, or even Ronnie herself.

The doorbell rings before she has a chance to answer.

“Be right back.” she says, setting the popcorn down and raising her eyebrows as she goes to the door.

A few minutes later she comes back with Archie and Jughead.

Your eyes grow wide as you stare down Veronica.
“I thought my boys could join us.” she says nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she sits down to the left of you.

Archie takes a seat next to Veronica, leaving the only spot open on the right, so of course that’s where Jug sits.

You try to give him a smile without completely embarrassing yourself, and you think you see a smile as he gives you a nod of his head, his eyes lifting to look at the screen.

“Choice of movie?” you ask Ronnie, breaking the tension that had probably only been building in your mind.

“I thought we could let them decide, since they’re new members to movie night.” she says with a smile, looking from Archie to Jughead.

“I don’t know Veronica, I think whatever you pick is probably good enough.” Archie chimes in, pulling his sleeves down as he crosses his arms. It was clear that if Archie didn’t have a crush, he definitely didn’t want to get on Ronnie’s bad side.

“Alright, Titanic it is.” she says with a small laugh, getting up to put in the movie. She then dims the lights and plops right down next to you, giving you a wink as she does.

The movie begins and you sigh in relief. There’s no more talking for at least the next three hours. You lean into the back of the sofa, ready to enjoy the movie when Jughead brushes your shoulder with his. You stiffen. Was that on purpose?

You take a deep breath and begin to relax a little. Just as you do though, Jughead puts his arm around the back of the couch, inches away from your neck.

You glance at Ronnie, wondering if she’s seeing any of this. The smirk on her face says it all. The movie isn’t even 15 minutes in and you can’t seem to stand it anymore. You get up and mumble something about getting a drink, going to her kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. You take a deep breath.

You turn around and run straight into Jughead, spilling water not only all over yourself, but all over him too.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” you manage to get out, scrambling to find where Ronnie keeps her paper towels or washcloths, or anything.

“Don’t worry about it, it fits the theme.” he says, gesturing back towards the screen. You can’t help but chuckle at the comment. Sometimes you forget how funny Jughead can be.

“Yeah I guess so. ‘I’ll never let go, Jack.’” you mimic the movie in a high pitch voice, but still low enough to not disturb your friends in the other room.

“Do you wanna get out of here? I mean Titanic is great and all, but I do not want to be here when they start making out.” he scoffs.

“Who? Rose and Jack?” you question, a look of confusion on your face. You didn’t think that part was so bad.

“No, Archie and Veronica.” he corrects, a smirk playing on his lips, “dinner at Pop’s? You’re buying. It’ll make up for the water damages.”

You turn to notice that Archie has his hand on the back of the couch over Veronica, just like Jughead did with you.

He turns and walks away without another word, going out to his car, you guessed. Only then did you start to panic. Did Jughead Jones just ask you out? Was this backwards upside down reverse april fools day or something?

You grab your backpack and head for the door, only then realizing that you’re still in pajamas. You shake your head at the thought, this wasn’t a date. This was just his lame attempt at finding an excuse to get out of movie night. This would be just like the other times, where you would sit in silence.

you will see someday

that all along the way

i was yours to hold

Sitting in Pop’s on a late Friday night was like a low-key therapy session. You just hoped Ronnie wouldn’t be too mad that you left without telling her, but she seemed preoccupied and you were pretty sure she would understand.

Jughead ordered a burger and a milkshake while you just had a water. You couldn’t risk any food stains getting in your sketchbook.

You pulled out the one you always carried around in your backpack, opening to a blank page before setting it out on the table where he could see. Unlike the last few times, though, he doesn’t pull out his laptop. He doesn’t even have his bag with him.

“No novel tonight?” you question.

He shakes his head as you pull out a pencil. He might not have his novel but you sure as hell weren’t giving up your drawing.

The first pencil stroke to the page and it’s like your hand knew automatically what to do. It went directly to the curves in his hair, the lines on his face. You were just hoping he was too focused on his food to notice.

“I’m sorry about Betty.” you say under your breath, just trying to make conversation.

“Don’t be. I realized I only liked her because she was filling a void.” he states, stirring his straw in his shake. He was trying to be poetic, you could tell.

“Void?” you ask.

“I’ve had a crush on this girl since about grade eight, been real quiet about it, not even Arch knows. We haven’t had many conversations, she seems distant, nose always in a book. I just started hanging out with her more and more recently, though, so I’m hoping I at least get a date.” he explains, hope in his eyes that you don’t see. You’re too focused on the details of his beanie.

“That’s a real quick rebound.” you say, not really paying attention.

“Not if they’ve always been there.” he says. That gets your attention, and your eyes lock with his. Was he talking about you? He couldn’t be, there was no way.

You’re too caught up in your own thoughts you don’t even realize that he’s snatched your sketchbook right from under you.

“Don’t-” you say, a little too late. He’s already looking, and that one page leads to him flipping through all of them. Page after page of his beanie, his hair, his jawline. You probably knew his features better than anyone out there.

“Wow, you really did draw me like one of the french girls.” he remarks, a huge smile on his face. You liked his smile, very much so.

He meets your gaze and sets the book down. There’s something between you, something that wasn’t there before. It was the start of something, just what it was you didn’t know yet, but it was exciting, thrilling, and it made your stomach turn into knots and your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ve always been there, Jug.” you say, finally letting it out.

“I know,” he says, leaning closer across the table, “and I’m mad at myself for taking so long to realize it.”

Closer and closer still, you close your eyes and try to brace yourself for what’s going to be the most thrilling ride of your life. Sink or swim, this ship was one you wanted to be on.   


Tag list: @always-chocolate   (if you wanna be on my tag list just ask!)

(Note: All real nhl teams are populated by fake fictional people in this fic.

Also note: I’m sorry this is disjuncted, I just needed to bang this out.

Triple note: yes this is a pride and prejudice au. 

edit: Part 1

“Brah, brah!” Shitty burst into Jack’s apartment. Jack was sitting next to his counter with a protein shake and smiling down at his phone dopily. “You gotta listen to me.” 

“The emergency key is for emergencies, Shits.” Jack sent a smiling emoji to the other person and received a string of unintelligible emojis in return. It was adorable. 

“There are two emergencies today,” Shitty said. “No, strike that, make it three. So the first emergency is that I wanted to see you.” 

“You can’t keep using that excuse to burst into my apartment whenever you feel like it.”

“Shhh,” Shitty put his hand over Jack’s mouth. “Just let me love you.”

“The second emergency is that I finally ran Chad Wickham out of Providence and I wanted to celebrate that with you,” Shitty plopped a bag of booze and snacks onto the counter.

“Shits, I’m not eating that junk,” Jack said, still looking down at his phone. “Anyway, Eric left some pie and pastries we can eat if you have to celebrate this.”

“That’s the third emergency, brah.” Shitty said seriously. “That bro is bad news. You gotta ditch him.”

Jack’s phone buzzed twice. 

Eric: Omg Shitty is there? Tell him hello from me! 

Eric: I left some banana pie in the fridge for him tell him to help himself!!! UuU

The two of them looked down at the text. 

Keep reading

Conditioned (Part 3)

(Tae questions whether his desire for you is futile but continues to let his lust drive all his decisions.)

Warning:  Around 9000 words.  Lots and lots of dirty stuff happens. Female dom, male sub. Oral.  Dry humping.  Non-traditional sense of sexual morality.  


 “I should have known you had an ulterior motive for coming here.  This place was too far away from home to come for lunch.”  Tae eyed Jin from across the table.  Jin had stopped by his apartment earlier, asking Taehyung to go eat at a new restaurant across the street from the mall.  Tae had been reluctant to go, preferring to spend his day off from work at home playing video games and ordering delivery instead of venturing out into the rain to go across town to eat.  However, Jin was insistent, saying he had a coupon that expired today and offered to pay for everything.

Now that their meal was over, the truth was coming out.  Jin had just asked the waiter to bring another order of food, wrapped to go.  “There’s no ulterior motive.  I just thought that since we were eating so close to Youngsook’s store, I’d get her some food too.  It’s one of her favorite places to eat.”

“If you wanted to see your girlfriend, you didn’t need to bring me along.  Why didn’t you just bring her here on her lunch break?” Tae knew there had to be more to this story.

“Saturdays are their busiest day, so she never leaves to get a proper meal.  She usually just gets a coffee and some bread from the bakery next door.  I’ll look like hero coming in with an honest-to-god meal from her favorite restaurant.” Jin fidgeted in his seat while looking at Tae.  “Plus, I need you there with me when I deliver the meal. She won’t throw the food at my head or yell at me if you are there.”

Tae crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows in a silent question towards Jin.

Keep reading

Obsessions Part 1

I slap the huge ass my cock is buried deep in and give one last final pulse, shoving myself as deep as I can into him with my 9 inch dick. The fatass lets out a moan and I grope his huge love handles, cumming at the same time the fat pig in front of me cums. I pull myself out, hit my wet cock against his jiggly butt, and roll him over. I fall onto his huge belly, not even sure if he can feel my toned 160lbs resting on his close to flabby 500. After a few moments of enjoying my personal water bed, I speak up.

“You should probably get going soon, it’s almost 2 am…” I say, hoping he’ll ask to stay a bit longer. But, as they always do, he takes in a deep breath and prepares to get his huge body out of bed. I help him clean off and get dressed, and within a few minutes he’s waddling out my front door. I watch him go down the apartment hallway, his ass jiggling like it had been in my bed only minutes before. As he steps in the elevator, his side moob hits the frame and sends his belly shaking. I give a casual wave and turn around to go back into my room, but I knock into something sturdy, not really paying attention this late at night. Instantly, I’m not surprised.

“Oh sorr- Wait! What the hell Carter, let me in my room.” I assertively say, trying to get passed his tall, almost naked frame. I don’t have time for his bullshit tonight. Every time I hookup with someone Carter always pops up right after they leave, like some sort of fucking stalker. He lives in the apartment opposite mine; I’d be more scared if he weren’t so literally obsessed with me. I always wonder if he stands there all night watching the peephole, waiting for me to come out. It’s fucking creepy if you ask me. Every time I hookup he saunters out in minimal clothing and gives me a hard time. I barely glance at his disciplined abs and bulging biceps. He’s got a bubble butt going on, but still not even close to big enough for my tastes.

“I’ll let you go if you answer this:” Carter says, playing coy. “You’ve had seven guys, that I know of, over in the last semester. All of them are gigantic whales, but you won’t even look twice at me.” He drops his voice and leans against the wall with his dense arm just above my shoulder, trapping me. Our faces almost touch. Despite his shit personality, he’s definitely not ugly. “What’s up with that, Josh?” He lets my name linger on his lips. God, I wish he weren’t taller than me. I wouldn’t consider myself short, standing at 5’10, but he’s 6’4 and all lean muscle. There’s no way I can escape his beefy trap.

“You’re not my type, Carter. I don’t hookup with assholes.” I aggressively explain, trying to get him to leave me alone. He smirks and half laughs.

“Apparently your ‘type’ is too fat to wipe to his own ass. Tell me I’m wrong.” He egotistically demands. He knows he’s right, I can see the victory in his shit colored, piercing eyes. He’s not going to budge.

“So what if I’m not as shallow as you?” I ask. “Maybe I don’t care about body fat percentages and negative BMI’s.”

“Say it.” He whispers. “Say you like them fat.” A strand of shitty, medium length, wavy hair falls in his face, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

I’m annoyed. “For christ’s sake Carter, I like fat guys. Not gym rats who won’t take no for an answer.  Now let me in my fucking room.” I shove him off me, he doesn’t resist. “And stop watching me through your peephole, it’s creepy as shit.” I tell him as I unlock my door.

“Like I have time for that,” Carter scoffs, watching me. “I can hear the fatties’ footsteps from a mile away, genius.” My door won’t unlock; god this is awkward. He can feel the tension too. “But hey, let me help you with that, handsome.” His tone changed to something nicer. He comes behind me, grabbing the key from my hand. He unlocks the door and squeezes my shoulder. “Goodnight.” He says, sweetly.

“Go change your underwear, I can see the precum starting to show through.” I say, shutting the door in his face. I bet those puppy dog eyes would make any other man drop his boxers immediately, but I’m not falling for it. He’ll have to gain a few hundred pound before I look twice at his twitching bulge.

/

The next day I go to my morning classes on campus, which is only a few minutes’ drive away from my single bedroom apartment. Everything’s been pretty stressful this semester, I’m really glad it’s almost over. I’ve barely gotten to hang out with my friends lately, especially with finals week approaching. It’s only my sophomore year as an art major, I shouldn’t be spending every waking moment in the studio or with my head up an art history textbook.

I grab a bite to eat on campus and head over to the student gym, looking to destress before having to write a monster essay tonight. I change clothes, put in my earbuds, and get on a vacant treadmill. Running’s always cleared my head, ever since I started doing cross country in junior high. I even got pretty good at track throughout high school. I’m zoned out, thinking about a particular race when I realize my treadmill’s going faster.

I look down and see a large hand turning my speed up. I follow the hand up a muscled arm and a broad shoulder to a face that could belong to a model. His soft lips are moving, but my music is too loud to hear. I shove his hand off my settings and take out an earbud.

“What do you want now, Carter?” I ask, not really caring to hear the answer. I don’t know if he followed me to the gym or if he just never leaves this place.

“Besides for you to go out with me tonight? I want you to turn your speed up, maybe even lift a little with me today. You know I could get you stronger.” He tells me with that shit eating smile.

I turn off my treadmill. “Look,” I reiterate. “I don’t go out with beefed up muscle jocks who stalk me. Now please, go bother any other twink in this gym.”

He’s not giving up. He sighs, “Josh, what do I have to do to get you to go out with me?”

I sigh. “If you really want me to go out with you, gain 50 lbs of fat. If you can get up to 230 lbs without working out, we have a date. Until then, you leave me the fuck alone.” He thinks for a moment before opening his dumb mouth.

“Okay, deal.” He decides, holding out his hand. I shake it, knowing he’ll never actually go through with this.

///

Over the next several weeks, I don’t see Carter. Not in our building, not in between classes, not even at the gym. I don’t hear him, I don’t smell him, I don’t even think about him. Between trying to balance my social life and figuring out how I’m going to get through finals, Carter totally escapes my mind. I even have a 400 pounder come over and, for the first time, Carter doesn’t show his creepy ass up. Maybe I had been too harsh on him, maybe he wasn’t actually stalking me. Coincidences can happen, right?

The weather gets colder and classes come to an end. The day after my last final I pack up a few of my things and get ready to drive home for the 6-week long break. On my way to my car, a pillow falls out of my box of stuff and onto the parking lot concrete.

“Here, let me get that for you,” I familiar voice calls. I turn the other way and see Carter walking over to me. He’s got a sizable greasy bag of fast food in one hand and a very large soda in the other. That’s really unusual for him. Where’s his protein powder and vegetable shakes? He puts the food down and grabs the pillow, now caked in light snow. He dusts it off and puts it back in my box.

“Hey, thanks.” I say. “… I also wanted to apologize for before. For being a dick and everything. I’m sure you’re not as bad as I made you seem, so… Sorry.” I’m not the best with apologies, but I mean what I say.

“Don’t worry about it,” Carter tells me with a shit-eating smile. “Is our deal still on?”

“What deal? OH, wait.” I remember. “Oh my god Carter, I can’t believe you took that seriously.” This fucking boy still can only think about sex.

“Hey man, we shook on it. That makes it official.” He’s not fazed by my annoyance. Maybe he’s just joking around. I wish I could see his frame better, but he’s wearing a thick coat. It’d look better on him if he gained 50 lbs, but I really hope that’s not his plan.

“Fine, you got me.” I confess. “The deal is official. I’ve got to get going, though. Got a long drive ahead of me.” We say goodbye and he hugs me. It wasn’t the worst hug in the world, he’s just so… stiff.

I put my things in my car and look in my rearview. I see Carter struggling to enter our building with so much food in his beefy hands.

////

6 weeks later. I really needed that break. I missed a lot of my friends and family back home, and it was great seeing all of them again. I really enjoyed myself, not thinking about school, stress, Carter, or anything else that’s awful.

Saying that, it all came flooding back as soon as I entered my old apartment room. As soon as I set my stuff down on the living room floor, I notice a photo in front of my door, as if someone had slid it under while I was away. It’s a picture of someone looking down on a scale reading “230.2lbs”. On the back is written “Let me know when we’re on, -Carter”. Fuck. Instantly I feel terrible for so many reasons. This can’t be real, right? I decide to just ignore it until it comes up again. Classes start up again tomorrow and I’m hardly ready, anyway.

Tonight in bed I mentally go through the timeline of everything that’s happened since we made that deal. It’s been at least two months. Can someone even gain 50 lbs in that short of a time period? This has to be a joke. No guy in their right mind would actually put on 50 lbs just for some random guy like me. It just doesn’t happen. At least, I don’t think it does.

/

On Tuesday evening I’m woken from a nap by a knock on my front door. I get off my couch and go look through the peephole to see who it is. The guy’s tall and standing kind of close, so all I can really see is his slight double chin and pudgy chest. I open the door, wanting to see who the cute pudge belongs to.

“Hey there handsome, did you see the picture?” Carter asks when I open the door.

Holy shit, though. This is definitely not the same Carter I left behind weeks and weeks ago. This man is changed, suddenly I want to impress him. I always knew that he’s a few years older than me, but I’ve never felt so young. He’s still Carter, just fatter and cute as hell. Is it bulking season, or did he do all of this for me? I’m not sure what to do in this situation, this isn’t something they teach you to deal with in college.

“Uhhhh.. Um, yea,” I stutter. “I just didn’t believe it until now. Here, come in.” I move to the side, welcoming him in. “Have a seat.” I gesture towards the couch, trying not to stare.

Trying not to stare at what? Trying not to stare at his beginner gut. It’s absolutely gorgeous in his tight blue workout tank. The smallest sliver is poking out; I can see just a hint of a stretched out happy trail. He may be 230lbs, but he’s also 6’4. Despite his height to fat ratio, he carries the weight well. He heavily walks passed me and I see his beautiful ass through his painted on light grey sweatpants. So plump, so round, so in my living room. I can’t believe this just happened. He takes a seat and sinks into the couch cushion, you can tell he’s not used to being chunky just yet. He puts a stocky arm around the back of the couch and looks back at me.

“You gonna si?” He asks with those eyes that stare into my soul. Without saying anything, I sit on the opposite end of the couch, facing him. “So…” Carter starts, awkwardly. I realize I’m just staring at him, but I don’t know what to say. How can you put words into your mouth when all you can think about is putting his dick there instead?

“Soo…” I try to start. “About the date.” He’s face goes down, like he thinks his work was all for nothing. I can tell his heart is beating as fast as mine. Do I feel like how I make him feel? Is this always how it’s been for him? “How about right now?” I ask, nervously. I can’t stop glancing down as that sliver of belly peeking out at me.

“Hmm, right now?” He’s smiling. “I dunno, I’m kind of hungry..” He puts a hand on his modest gut and sends it shaking. Two months ago there were thick abs there.

“Oh yea? Hungry for what?” I ask, ready for whatever he has to say.

“Mmmm, I dunno. Maybe some cookies, maybe some pizza… maybe some cock.” He explains, sending shivers down my spine. I think this is how every other man on earth reacted to him when he was nothing but muscle. I definitely see the appeal of him now, it’s obvious why he was so full of himself. I wonder if his sharp jawline brought the same reaction out of others that his now almost double chin is bringing out of me.

“I’ll order you a pizza,” I barter, scooting close to him. “If I get to take this off of you,” I say, pulling at his shirt. “It’s getting a little tight, don’t you think?”

He’s smiling like a dork- his cheeks have the slightest amount of fat in them. “I’ve got Pizza Hut on speed dial, I’ll take care of the pizza if you take care of the rest.” He negotiates. I nod in agreement.

After he’s done ordering a large meat-lovers and a two liter, I tug his shirt off. He’s flabby as all hell. I run my hands over him as I press my face against his. His tongue plays with mine, like he knows he’s wanted this for so long. I fee his flab, all of it. I make sure that not a single pound goes unnoticed. Before long the pizza’s here, and I send Carter off to the bedroom. When I step in the room, he’s naked with his chubby legs crossed. Saving the best for last, I guess. I take my clothes off and get on top of him, my hard cock pressing into his fat gut. I feed him slice after slice of greasy pizza, making sure he eats the crust. No calories wasted, not when you’ve got someone this beautiful to feed. His greedy mouth opens for each bite, waiting to have food shoved in him. He’s too good at this, I know he has to be into it too. When he’s eaten all of the pizza and drunken most of the soda, I pick up stray pizza sausage and throw the last bits into his mouth and kiss him long and hard. He tastes like grease; he tastes like greed. I sit back on his lap and feel his boner poking at my defined ass. I lay down next to him, feeling his fatter sides already starting to mold into my thin frame. I grab his cock and go to work, and he does the same for me. I can feel his whole body jiggling with each stroke. I kiss him, feeling his thick neck shake from the movement below. Soon, we cum at the same time.

Half an hour later we’re still in bed, my head laying on his puffy chest. We haven’t said a word. It’s not late, and I’m not tired, but I am dozing in and out of sleep. I decide to ask before he decides to leave.

“So…” I start, awkwardly. “You actually did it. You actually got fat.”

Carter takes a beat. “If you can even call me fat yet, yea I guess. I just knew that I wanted you, and that I was tired of going to the gym all the time. I was thinking about becoming a personal trainer, but I hated the thought of making other people fit all the time when I want to look like… Well, like this.” He lets his hand fall on his gut and my head bobs on his chest. “If you weren’t into it, I was just going to play it off as a hardcore bulk.”

“I definitely am into it.” I tell him, genuinely. “Also, if you ever want to go on an actual date, I think I might like that.” I don’t usually fall for guys, but this fat boy is getting to me. Maybe it’s just pillow talk, but I think I might like him.

“Yeah, I think I might like that too.” He says, and pulls me closer.

We spend the rest of the night together, not saying much. It’s nice to just be with him. Before bed I feed him some oreos and milk, which he happily devours. The tubby man can eat like a horse. I don’t ask him to stay the night, but I don’t need to. I fall asleep in his still strong arms.

//

That Friday, we have our first date. I haven’t seen him since that night we spent together. It’s only been a few days, but being away from him has given me some clarity. As much as I hate to admit it: I have a crush. It’s official. I can’t get him out of my mind. Not when I’m in class, not when I’m working out, not even when I’m with my friends. It goes without saying that I’ve been looking forward to this date since the second he left my apartment.

~~~~~~~

It’s Friday and I haven’t seen Josh in days. After months of chasing after him, giving him my all, and gaining 55lbs, we finally fucked. Four times. In one night. I’ve never chased after someone like how I chased after him. No matter what I tried, though, he always got pissed off at me for no real reason. I never cared though, I just tried to show him that I’m not as horrible as he thinks. I wish I knew why he always thought I was stalking him. We live right across from each other, went to the same university, and worked out at the same gym. I didn’t think it was a crime to say hello.

Maybe I did go overboard, though. Sometimes, he’d hookup with these gargantuan men. My temper would get the best of me, especially when it was late. Not gonna lie, I was always jealous of those men. They don’t care what size they are, they’re fat and getting fucked by Josh. There’s not more that you could want. At least, there’s not more that I could want. I don’t like to talk about it, but I’ve always wanted to let go and be fat. I fucking love food.

My friends have been concerned, but I tell them I’m just doing a long bulk. I think they see through the bullshit. I used to work out seven days a week, and that’s completely stopped. Before the deal, I can’t remember the last time I had eaten more than 2000 calories in a day. Small portions of grilled chicken salads were replaced with double quarter pounders and dozens of donuts. I think the last time I drank water was a few weeks ago. At first my body rejected soda, but now I can’t start my day without a bottle or two of coke. I received a glass dessert display for a Christmas gift a few years ago, but it hadn’t seen much action until the past few months. I forgot I had a sweet tooth. I know if I want to stuff more in me, I can always handle more sweet shit.

As I shower, I think about the way Josh smiles. I think about how one side of his face lifts slightly higher than the other and how I fall for it every time. I can’t stop playing the moment of when he first saw me after break, dozens of pounds heavier. The shock in his dark eyes, the obvious hard-on in his shorts. I knew he wanted me, and I wanted him like never before. As I lather my body, I realize how utterly fat I’ve gotten over the past two months. Instantly my cock gets hard, but it doesn’t reach the height that it used to reach. There’s too much fat blocking it. I run my hands over my chest and feel it bounce. Deep down I know I want it bigger, I want all of it bigger. I’ve been stuffing myself since the day Josh and I made that deal. I haven’t even worked out, and it shows. My legs aren’t toned, my arms are getting flabby, and my chest is looking more feminine every day.

I dry off and grab a pair of jeans. 36’s and they’re skin tight. I suck in my gut to button them, and it hurts when they finally latch. I put on a white undershirt, knowing that my fat is going to strain the buttons on the size large black button up I’m putting on. Should I wear a bowtie? No, that worked when I was slim, but not anymore. I grab my belt and put it on, but realize I can’t it to reach where it’ll fasten. Fuck. I knew I should’ve bought a bigger one, but I was too busy jerking off and eating Burger King. What about suspenders? No, there’s no way I can tuck in this shirt. Maybe soon my belly will hide my straining pant button, but not yet. I’ll just have to deal with it. I do my hair casually messy in the mirror. I’m still hot as fuck, if you ask me. Just chubby now. Hopefully Josh will be impressed with the tight clothes, I think to myself. I can’t lose him this early in.

At 7pm I make the short walk to his door, wishing that it were colder out tonight. Maybe I could wear a jacket and hide the tight shirt, but that’s not really an option. I knock on the door and Josh quickly answers. He looks adorable in a well-fitting cardigan and black skinny jeans, the kind of jeans I used to wear. As soon as he sees me he pushes his cute glasses up and takes a moment. “Hey,” I say with a smile. I want him to feel comfortable around me.

“Hey.” He says, like he’s not sure what to do. He’s eying me up and down and trying to hold back a smile. He bites his lip, I step closer.

~~~~~~~~

Carter steps closer to me and I basically lose control. I swear he looks fatter than he did days ago, but maybe it’s just the tight shirt he’s wearing. I wish he weren’t wearing an undershirt, though. Belly peeking through buttons is always a plus. Not to mention that he’s not wearing a belt. I can’t tell if it’s because his jeans are so tight that he doesn’t need one, or if he outgrew his biggest. Despite that, and despite my horniness, I really am glad to see him. That’s why as soon as things get awkward I wrap my arms around him and hug him like a child. I don’t want him to see how he makes me smile an idiot’s smile.

He takes me out to his car, a big truck. I don’t know much about cars, but I know that this is a very douchy truck. Not surprising, but I’m trying to not be judgmental. Conversation with him gets a lot more comfortable as he drives, we actually have a lot in common. Apparently he started out as an art major, too, before his parents pressured him to switch to finance. It surprises me that (ex) Big Dumb Muscle Jock Carter from across the hall actually has a personality, completed with actual emotions.

We arrive at this fancy Brazilian meat restaurant. Carter says that you pay at the beginning and servers walk around you all night offering you different meats. I can’t eat that much but it sounds like the perfect place for him.

Carter pays for me at the beginning, and I’m so thankful. This place is expensive as hell. I ask him if he’d rather go somewhere more affordable, but he says he doesn’t mind. Over dinner, Carter makes sure to say yes to whatever sample of meat is brought to him. 20 minutes in and he’s already covered in exotic barbeque sauce and straining his shirt beyond its limits.

“You might wanna slow down there,” I tell him. “It looks like that shirt might burst.”

“Oh what? You mean like this?” He asks playfully and sits up. He leans over a bit and the second to bottom black button flies off and slides under a table across from us. A few of the men look at us before realizing what happened. I can’t help but laugh. His gut shook for a solid 5 seconds after the button pop. I don’t think this kind of thing usually happens at upscale places, but nobody seems to care.

Conversation continues, and I find out that Carter actually just graduated a semester early with a degree in finance. He recently got a job as an accountant at a law firm, which I guess explains how he can afford this dinner. It’s actually nice getting to know the man behind the musc- well, fat. There’s a lot more to him than I thought. He even compliments the paintings he’s seen in my apartment. I don’t tell him that I painted them, but I do note that he likes them.

~~~~~~~~

I’m getting painfully full as I finish telling Josh about my new job. He really is everything I thought he’d be. He even laughed when I accidentally popped a shirt button from stuffing myself too much.

Speaking of stuffing myself, my pants are really tight. I can’t go on much longer, and I just grabbed a large plate of lamb. I wipe my hands off and, while Josh is talking, subtly reach down under my gut and play with my button until it pops open. My stuffed gut releases itself and I let out a deep breath of relief. Josh looks at me and then looks to the side. He casually covers his mouth, but I know he’s grinning. I think he thinks he hides it well, but his eyes give his smile away. Just for him, I grab a plate of thick sausages from a passing waiter.

////

That date ended in a lot more food, and a lot of fucking. The entire weekend went the same way. Pretty much every weekend since then has, which hasn’t been the best for work. I try to find a good balance between hanging with my new coworkers and being with Josh, but my appetite always pushed me towards Josh. It shows, too. It’s only been a couple more months but damn I’m getting big. I actually have an overhang now, and a real double chin. I get so fucking out of breath, though. We only live on the second floor but I haven’t taken the stairs in so long. Not to mention that it’s getting hot outside. I didn’t know I could sweat this much. Did you know that fat guys sweat under their moobs? Also in between our fat rolls. It’s fucking ridiculous. I can’t tell if 267lbs is worth all this effort. It’s getting hard motivating myself to get up and go to work now, when all I really want to do is eat, fuck, jerk off, and eat more.

I had to buy all new clothes when I hit 240. None of the larges were even close to buttoning, and neither were my pants. I’m glad nobody at work knows that 6 months ago I was body building, but they have noticed that I’ve put on some weight. One day, after a particularly big company lunch, I sat down in my office chair and my ass seam ripped all the way down. I had one of my buddies who, lives in my apartments, bring me another pair, which were equally as tight. I’m just glad I can hide my unbuttoned pants with my belly now. There’s not much I can do about shirts that always fucking ride up, though. I feel like a bloated balloon. A really fat balloon that can’t stop eating and is scared he’s gonna break his desk chair.

Josh fucking loves it though. He eats this shit up like how I eat cake. It’s like I’m getting addicted to fat and sugar, and I think I like it. Sometimes, especially when I’m really full, I’ll just eat more instead of fucking. I’ve been getting more fun out of it, and I can eat so much. I’ve been tracking my calories and usually I don’t eat less than 5,500 a day. I’m used to it; I’ve gotten used to the feeling of always wanting more. I think Josh is getting used to it, too. His favorite thing to do lately is to shove my man boobs together and try to fuck them. They’re not there yet, but I think they will be soon. He’ll fuck any part of me, any part that’s fat. Especially my ass. The other day he told me that my ass cheeks are getting to the size of my belly when I was 230. I almost came right there.

I’ve been gaining really fucking fast. I don’t know if I like it, and last night I brought it up with Josh before we went to get food. I told him I wanted to slow it down, but it was obvious he wanted the opposite. He told me that if I gain 40 more pounds by the end of his semester he’ll be my boyfriend. We never became official, and usually I don’t give a shit about that, but this is different. I’ve told him what I want before, but he has commitment issues. If I ever want this to turn into something other than weekend stuffings, I know what I gotta do.

It’ll be a lot easier now, considering what happened after that conversation.

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Last night I went over to Carter’s place, as I usually do, but he seemed down. Laying on his bed, shirtless and rubbing his basketball sized gut, I assumed he was hungry. But he actually said that he’s been wanting to gain slower, or even stop. He looked so cute and innocent laying on the bed with those fat cheeks that I almost said okay, but in all honesty he’s still pretty skinny in my book. If he wants to be with me, like for real, he’ll have to be bigger. I think he’ll like it, I really do. I’m just not really into relationships. I’ve got way too much other stuff on my plate, and he’s still pressuring me to be with him full time. At the same time, though, he has gained a lot for me. Not to mention we do have fun when we’re together. We’ve only argued once since we’ve been together, and that was over which fried chicken place we should go to.

I told him that if he really wants to be with me, he’d have to gain 40 lbs in two months. If he can do it, I think I’ll know he’s worth getting tied down for. We even shook on it.

After that conversation, shit hit the fan.

We were in Carter’s truck on our way to this new Korean buffet his work friends told him about. He looked really good, at least by my standards. I’ve gotten so used to seeing him in tight, stained old shirts and small sweatpants he’s too lazy to get rid of, that him wearing pants and a dress shirt was basically shocking. He did look really handsome, his thick neck taking up his collar, the way his fat ass and thighs filled out those pants. It’s hard to believe that he almost became a personal trainer. I love the chubby, studly Carter much more than the muscled up asshole I once knew him to be.

We were having our usual conversation, talking about what he’s going to eat for me after the Korean buffet, when we passed a four-way intersection. Some drunk asshole ran his light and Carter, preoccupied with thinking about food, didn’t notice. Luckily he’s okay, kind of. His hip was shattered in the wreck and has been in and out of surgery since. He’s stable now, but everyone is still on edge. Carter’s dad came to see him in the hospital for their first time in months. He barely recognized Carter at first. One of the doctors told him that I’m Carter’s friend, and his dad came to talk to me. He looks a lot like how Carter did when he was fit, just an older version. He asked about the weight gain and the accident, and I lied my ass off. Hopefully it’ll all get sorted out soon.

It’s been a long 24 hours.

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I hope you all liked part 1! If this gets over 160 notes I’ll write a part 2. And, as usual, feel free to message me with any suggestions, comments, or questions!