#I think they should experience pain or at least public shaming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawhatsoraya · 2 years

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So for my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Sanji with public nudity & chastity please? One morning, Sanji wakes up to find a chastity cage on his cock. He also finds a letter teasing him that the one who locked him is in town & has the key. But it instructs him that he must go out butt naked. If Sanji goes out clothed in any way, then the sender will hide the key forever or throw it into the sea. So the fic would be Sanji going through town without being seen in his birthday suit.

Hey hey! Here is my attempt at your request. This was a new experience for me, so I kept second guessing my writing. I decided to just go with it, and hope you enjoy it or at least some aspects of it.

A Gilded Cage

SANJI ONE SHOT | NSFW | 1.1k wc

CONTENT WARNING: Public nudity, humiliation, chastity cage, is a prolonged erection a warning? Let's consider it one because why not.

A (BADLY WRITTEN) SUMMARY: Sanji receives a present, he doesn't do well with letters, running = death, zoro is inconvenient

Warmth and light enveloped him like a cocoon; a comforting trap. Typically, he’d be up before sunrise. There was always much to do as the cook of his pirate crew. He rarely slept in. It comes as a surprise as he realizes he missed his usual wake up time, blinking slowly. His eyes are sensitive to the light, brown with flecks of gold. He brings a hand up to shield himself, a quiet yawn stretching his body.

It isn’t until he stretches his back, hands straight over his head, when something starts to feel out of the ordinary. There was a heaviness on his crotch, similar to his usual morning erection. He thinks nothing of it, casually reaches down to palm it. He never had time to take care of his own needs, but since he was running late, perhaps he’d just expend the energy after all. His fingers brush against cold metal, jolting him awake; properly this time.

In a panic, he sits up, pulls his boxers down low, and stares down to see his penis locked away, mildly erect, surrounded by small metal bars; a bird too big for its cage. There is a small lock, and his fingers fiddle with it, tugging on it hoping it would drop open. No matter how much he pulls, or strangles the lock between his hands, it won’t open. The only thing he managed was to cause himself a small amount of pain, followed by an uneasy sense of pleasure, every time he pulled the cage trapping his erection.

He stands up, pacing the room. His hands run through his blond hair. He considers smoking, hoping the familiar flavor of tobacco on his tongue will inspire him to find a solution to his problem. He could easily ask Franky for help, but that would mean having to expose himself and become the mockery of the Straw Hats for the rest of his miserable existence.

In his search for the pack of cigarettes, he finds a letter trapped under the ashtray he kept on the nightstand. It was addressed to him, in a handwriting he had never seen before.

Black Leg Sanji,

I hope morning greets you well. I took the liberty of leaving you a gilded present. Nothing is free in life, Vinsmoke Sanji. Should you notice the little lock, please know it has a key. That key has an owner. You must have guessed by now it’s me. Please find me, I’ll be wearing red shoes at the back of Small Paws cafe, and I’d be happy to hand over the key.

But you must come find me, as naked as you were born.

If you dare to defy me, and wear a single article of clothing, I will cast the key into the ocean. You’ll never see it.

I wish you luck,

Cagemaster

His hands shake as he finishes reading the letter, and grips it tightly enough for his fingers to rip holes into the parchment. The situation was ridiculous, improbable, and most of all humiliating. How had he managed to sleep through someone invading his privacy, and locking away what could possibly be his most important body part without him noticing?

Shame erupts, leaving splotches of red hues all over his chest and neck. He barely can tell his face still exists under the impactful weight of his blush. His ears are on fire, as he slips out of his t-shirt. He tries not to think of the sweat on the back of his neck as he slides out of his gray boxers. Sanji stands there, watching his reflection on the floor-length mirror.

His skin was never as tan as his crewmates, as he always opted for formal or semi formal attire. The sun only ever kissed his cheeks, his nose. It is evident by the stark contrast between his neck and face. He covers said face with hands, finding something else to be embarrassed about that wasn’t the cage wrapped around his now throbbing member. It takes a few minutes of talking to himself, convincing himself to just do it and get it over with, before he has the courage to slip away from the Thousand Sunny.

This wasn’t even a town they planned on staying long. He told himself this as he quickly evaded bumping into Nami, who was happily talking about shopping with Robin. It didn’t matter if any of the town citizens saw his bright white ass cheeks, or the freckles on his back. After all, the crew was leaving the very next day. He tells himself this, in order to steady the rapid beat of his heart. His breathing is ragged. He feels dizzy as he struggles to breathe, his back pressed against the brick wall of a local blacksmith.

The familiar gruff voice of a swordsman sends a chill down his spine. His cock twitches, and he hisses at it, wishing he could control it for once. The last thing he wanted was for Zoro to see him this way; humiliated and erect as if he knew nothing of shame. He watches him quietly from the corner of the building, and sees him scrutinizing the store’s selection. Sanji takes advantage of Zoro’s sudden interest in a whetstone to speed past the store’s entrance. He hears a feminine gasp, a shout as he runs even faster. The cage is heavy around his penis, and it bounces as he runs, sending jolts of pain to his body. He winces as he wills his long legs to reach the back of a bakery.

He hides behind two barrels, hears shouting and running. Sanji licks his lips, sees the awning of the cafe he was told to go to. Excitement and adrenaline warms his body, his hand skims across his lower belly. There’s a wet feeling at the tip of his cock, that he tries to ignore. Once he had the key he wouldn’t have to worry any longer. That had to be his ultimate goal at the moment, and not whatever his irrational penis was commanding.

Gathering courage once more, Sanji starts running. His brows knit together at the pain of the cage, the pebbles digging into the bottom of his feet. He dashes past a group of ladies who scream and drop their shopping baskets. He turns a corner towards the back, and trips. He lands painfully on his stomach, cage twisting. He sees stars, a groan elongates as it leaves his throat. A hand reaches to comfort himself, to verify that he was still whole, that it was still attached.

Before he can stand, he sees red heels before him. He thinks to talk but one is brought up, and pushed down on his back; pointy heel almost piercing his skin.

“Well, done, Black Leg,” she praises. Her voice is warm, husky, silky. It soothes his skin. There’s a tinkling sound by his chin. He glances down to see a small silver key bouncing before it stops on the cobbled road. “You can use this, if you like, or we can have a little more fun. It’s up to you.”

#sanji vinsmoke #one piece sanji #sanji smut #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic #one piece fanfic #vinsmoke sanji #fic request

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dzpenumbra · 2 years

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9/1/22

How fucked it is that you can advertise psych meds via targeted ads to people with mental health problems (so like, literally everyone) directly on their phones, cued by listening for keywords, most of the time without their knowledge. Meds that those people can't even legally purchase themselves. Like... how is this legal? I mean, let me be real about this, this isn't legal in like... most other countries in the world. So... why are we cool with this? Like, if you wanna go "we have a right to make money" or whatever, to a certain degree I get that... but where are we drawing the line? Advertising booze to alcoholics? On their phones? Because they're watching YouTube videos? Maybe even videos about quitting?

We have been in an anxiety and depression crisis as a country for nigh over a decade. I mean, that's as long as it's been known by the general public. We know very well this is a problem and have known for quite some time. Yet... we don't just allow the targeting of the traumatized as a focused demographic, we defend it. I'm sorry, I'm not cool with that. I'm not cut out to be a politician, I'm way too anxious, I've been socially deprived for way too long to have that many eyes on me comfortably. I don't want to participate in acts of expressive aggression as a way of instigating change. Violence makes me lose hope in the world. And Anger begets anger. I don't want to be a soldier or a revolutionary. We have enough people who would love to play that role, if one is needed. I am simply a survivor, who is concerned about how we treat each other. How lowly we can look at our fellow man. Our biological equals. Our brothers and sisters. And see them in profound, psyche-shattering pain. Grief, sadness, fear, shame. And not see them as someone we should be comforting and healing, but rather as a flock of sheep they can now regularly shear. A money tree, if you will.

I use phrases that I think sound fancy sometimes to sound a bit more profound, to try to stress a point. Like... if you will. It makes me sound deeeeep, right? XD I do it because I get a fun chuckle out of it. It happens a bit when my spiritual, intellectual side comes out to play. He hasn't really been around much since my panic/survival self grabbed the steering wheel.

It's crazy how multifaceted one personality can be, and how little people really want to look at what our own psyche really is. It's so fucking weird! Like, why would you NOT want to learn more about not just who you are, but what you are?! Like... think of it this way... I've used this analogy successfully before. Think back to you as a kid, whatever memory you can go into your own head like a GoPro cam with and remember what it was like to... experience that time, to make decisions within that time, to be in the present Now in that time. That is still you. That kid (for me, there's one around 6 years old, and definitely a few around the tween years) is still you.

You could imitate those thought patterns, that perspective, speak the way you used to, act the way you used to, to summon that personality to the surface. Easily! I do it when I go and look for stones in a river. I climb barefoot all over the rocks and squat on the beach digging through pebbles looking for pretty ones. I've done that exactly the same way since I was a kid. I can bring him to the surface when I need him around, with the right prompts. I think some of us are much more adept at it, or at least intentional with it, which can make them much more skilled at reacting to situations. I imagine some people kinda have a baseball team on a bench in their head, they can just call the right personality out whenever, tons of options. I have quite a few, I guess I just haven't really been paying much attention to who's been grabbing the steering wheel lately. It feels a lot like Fear. Tends to take over when I'm in survival-mode, which I absolutely have been the past few days.

But we really struggle to like... accept that we can be more than one person at a time. As a sorta... compound person? I don't know, I wanted to say fractal or something, but like... multiple sub-people within a persona, which chooses which sub-person gets filtered through. I guess spirits within a soul, maybe? And if you go around talking about being more than one person, then people really like to assume you're just mistaken, sick or confused. Like they've ever even entertained the thought! Sigh... <and facepalm>.

It's hard to relate to people about the psyche and what can happen to it when things go wrong. We all just want to compete, it feels like. We like to believe everything we know right now is real, is truth. We don't want to be wrong. But the only truth is that the truth is always changing, because Life does not stop, it keeps changing and growing. We keep learning in it's wake, in this tantalizing game of chase that we will never win. No matter how cocky we get. No matter how smart we get. No matter what fancy gadgets we invent to try to do it for us. The more we look, not only do we see more, but we create more. The more we push to learn, the more possibilities we create. We will never know everything, we will never even come close. So why the fuck does Rick at the Corner Store think he knows everything there is to know about the world? The ones who think they've got it all figured out? Do yourself a favor, watch out for those ones.

I'm in a mood tonight, I guess. Weird place in my life, weird place psychologically, as I sorta transition between two new visions of where I'm leading my life. I had a pretty clear image of what my life was going to look like in the future, a goal. A cabin in the woods not too far from civilization. I had internet there, I was streaming, doing art/music/writing/crafts/acting full-time. I had a partner, we played video games and watched movies together in our free time, and a lot of Twitch and YouTube. We'd go out in nature a LOT. I'd teach her to skateboard and snowskate, and we'd go on skate trips together. She'd probably think my cat was weird and struggle to approach her because she's getting old, but they'd get to know each other and then one day she'd lay on top of her at night instead of me and I'd be really sad, but also unbelievably happy. Maybe we'd think about kids, but not right away. Maybe she has a kid already, I don't know, I never really got to figure out where I am with that. Didn't really feel like it was at the top of anyone's conversation list with me. My life would be keeping a standard of homestead that both of us approved of. Maintain the home repairs, keep it in a condition we both agreed upon, tend to the animals, cook (or share cooking, if wanted), do laundry, put the groceries away, and to plan recreational activities and adventures. Game nights, outings, stuff like that. All the while working on whatever creative/entertainment venture inspired me. A new game playthrough with a roleplay story element to put on YouTube as a series. A series of nature illustrations. A poetry chap-book (fuck yeah I learned that word). A D&D campaign to stream. Mandalas. Grip tape art. Locally sourced natural material jewelry. You know, weird artsy shit. It would be a very busy life. Adding in kids would just make it nuts, but I'd do my very best to keep that managed, freeing my partner to pursue their passions, and not blockading them from participating in those home management activities as well. Does it sound like a clear vision of what kind of life and person I want to be? Does it sound like I want that life? Like I'd be happy in that life?

Here's the life I've resigned that one for. Fleeing to a tiny city in a panic, getting a job at some store (hopefully a gaming shop or like a weird old bookstore or something? Maybe an antique shop or a curiosity shop or something if they have one), living in an apartment that I likely won't be able to pay for myself on just that one job, so I likely will have to do a second job part-time as well, or I will still have to depend on my Mom for money. Most of my time will be spent working, cooking and cleaning, honestly. I may get a few hours in between to choose between more work with art or music practice, so I don't get rusty. Or I could use that time gaming. Or watching a stream. Or watching a show/movie/YouTube video/podcast. Or writing. But probably just one of those.

So let's really ask this. We're promised Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, right? Those are our unalienable rights, yeah? Life? I guess maybe we were just sorta saying "you get to be alive here." Not "we'll try to get you as close as we can to where you will be most harmonious, where you fit the best." Liberty? The ability to pursue that life? To be honest, I'm not quite sure I have the means to achieve that life short of a small miracle right now. Not in a way where I wouldn't be paying a crippling price, like several hour fights at least once a week. Pursuit of Happiness? Well, I guess you're always welcome to attempt to pursue happiness. I want to glaze over this one as a sorta "duh" considering the implications of the last two, but I guess it kinda needs to be said or else people will try to blockade it.

We really are shitty creatures, aren't we?

Oh well, hopefully we can just start being a bit nicer to each other and we might be able to get back into hopeful times. Harmonious times, where we're optimistic about what's around the corner, rather than flinching every time something moves. I know it's not just me doing that, but we've all developed a lot of coping mechanisms over the past couple years to keep them pretty hidden now, even from ourselves. I see them clear as day now, for the most part, and it just makes me more upset. I see so much potential in people, as individuals and what we're capable of accomplishing when we combine forces. But so many people are just in it for their own experience. They video a concert with their phone to show off to their friends later and brag, meanwhile ruining the Now experience for them and people around them. They leave trash on the ground at the swim spot by the trails I walk, and I bring their trash 100 feet up to the trailhead and throw it out for them. They just want the best life experience - the most optimized, Google recommended, 5-star reviewed, 2000x liked and retweeted experience they can get. They will cut any corners they can find to get it. They will pay a premium for it and call it the deal of a century. Are they concerned about the experience of the person 5 feet from them? Oh... suuuure... If it somehow ties back to your experience... Looking at them from your eyes, how they affect you, how they appear, how they act. Not, like... looking at life through their eyes.

How the fuck did we get from social media being the greatest opportunity to see what it's like to live in someone else's shoes, to the world's biggest popularity contest in history? Welp, corporations saw some money to be made and got their fingers in the pie and made it a game. And, of course, it's apparently a lot easier to win that game if you lie. At least a lot of people seem to think that. Now, maybe it's just whether you fit in/conform? I don't know, I've been pretty removed from social media lately, to be honest. It seems like... people are ultimately just trying to connect, but they're connecting over the wrong damn emotions. Like we want powerful interactions with eachother, intensely emotional engagements that seem like... attempts to interact. Imagine if they were attempts to bond rather than attempts to lash out, or outrage, or make an impact through inconvenience. It's hard to conceptualize that in a world rife with so much conflict, but if people somehow found a way within themselves to mutually seek bonds more often, the world would just be a much better place. Yeeeahhhh, peace and love, man! I use Nag Champa soap, okay, don't judge me! It's been a while since I did a tree-hugging post, it's nice to reconnect with this feeling.

Maybe if we, as an average, had a better relationship with emotions like love and compassion, we'd be less incline to go around picking fights with people over having different opinions. Or accusing them of nasty intentions, in a bid to paint our deepest fears on them and finally get a chance to interact with them. Maybe, just maybe, we'd think a bit more about how our actions affect others. Because we can relate to what it's like to experience the impacts and repercussions of that. Maybe we would keep our focus on what's best for all parties, and for the greater whole, and all the wholes greater than that, rather than keep our focus on just ourselves. Maybe we'd start to become better people.

How to make that transition? From focusing on "I" to focusing on "We"? Practice. But I'll tell ya, it's really goddamn hard to focus on "We" when you're really hungry, or when you haven't slept a full night in a week, or when you're overstressed from being overworked and underappreciated, or when you're worn from reliving painful memories and the frenetic energy of children, or when you've lost so much hope that all you want is to disappear into a fantasy world where your actions actually matter. But we have to keep trying. We all have to keep trying. Because we're all in this together. Even if we're not all in this together. It makes me really sad to say that, but it's also a little clever and it made me chuckle. :)

This was an intense one, but I guess I had a lot of this inside me that I needed to get out and I never really made a place to do that. Not anytime recently. This is that place for me, for now at least. Thanks for reading this. This is what my brain looks like, every fucking day, all day. Just sometimes it's not this dressed up, and this monologue is often companioned with images.

Maybe I could do the ultimate art project some day. Capture a section of my actual thoughts, just like this, as authentically as possible... and also try to capture the fleeting reference images too. Then write it all down, and draw the companion images - the mental images. Hell, I could even do a recording of it and make it a video, fuck, imagine this in VR?! It would be the closest I could get to putting another person inside my head, inside my experience of this weird, crazy, what-the-fuck-actually-is-it-experience that we call Life. The closest I could get to someone really understanding who I am, and seeing me, relating to me, bonding with me, caring about me, connecting with me. Real connection. And isn't that... what we all want?

Maybe not, maybe it's just me.

#diary #journal #spilled thoughts #stream of thoughts #stream of conscious writing

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mimzy-writing-online · 3 years

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Hello. I had a question regarding your post about blind characters. I have a character in my WIP that must cover their eyes.. but it’s blind. He may need to tell people he is blind to explain why he covers his eyes though. I was wondering how I might write this character without offending. Thank you :)

I think I want to start by explaining the “covering blind eyes” trope and why it has become a harmful trope. I think understanding why it’s hurtful helps everyone learn how to handle it better.

I would guess that the “blind people wear sunglasses” trope comes from Hollywood for the specific reason of 1. wanting to signal to the audience that the character is obviously blind and 2. avoid breaking the suspension of disbelief by preventing the audience from catching the sighted actor look at visual stimuli (because disabled characters are almost always played by able actors).

But this changed the way the public expects to experience blindness. If watching a sighted actor wear sunglasses and say he’s blind is all the exposure to the blind community a person has had, that’s the only model of blindness they’ll recognize. If they meet a blind person in real life who doesn’t wear sunglasses, it’s going to break this built perception and cause an uncomfortable cognitive dissonance.

And then there is the common “cloudy-white blank gaze” that pops up in media. It stems from the fact that cataracts is the most common cause of blindness and the appearance of severe cataracts is a cloudy film in the eyes obscuring the iris and pupil. It can also alter what color a person’s eyes appears to be, making them appear paler and grey in the beginning and then as the cataract advances it becomes more yellow/brown and alters a person’s vision to appear more yellow tinted.

There are lots of other eye conditions that makes the eyes look visibly different. Albinism for instance affects the color and structure of the iris. Eyes might be congenitally misshapen. The muscles might be weak or not work and one or both eyes point significantly outward. Someone who was born blind and experienced no visual stimuli might also have weak muscles around their eyes because they never had a reason to focus their eyes on anything.

And unfortunately humans have the habit of feeling uncomfortable when they meet someone who looks very obviously different from the norm, whether that’s a personal style choice (hair color and style, tattoos, clothing choices) or something they can’t help (a visible disability, skin color, scars).

To the paragraph above, @gothhabiba replied with: “it's very weird & ahistorical to claim that racism or ableism are some kind of natural "human" trait.. like frankly it's apologia”

You’re right, I wasn’t thinking beyond that generalization or assumption.

Perhaps a better way to put it is: I was raised in a society where I was taught from childhood to think that there was only one kind of human being to be. White, cis, straight, abled, conservative. That’s a very western thing and that’s a thing I’m going to constantly be unlearning.

Racism and ableism and homophobia aren’t innate, that’s a western thing that was forced onto the rest of the world by colonialism. And because western media created this idea that the world is white, abled, cis, straight, and Christian-value leaning, it taught people to think that was the norm so that seeing someone different from that archetype would cause a cognitive dissonance, which causes discomfort.

And instead of working past that cognitive dissonance to learn more and realize there’s so much more to life than media taught you, society encourages you to ignore that cognitive dissonance by sticking your head in the sand-- or TV screen.

So combine these two tropes or common beliefs together and you get something a little dangerous: the idea that blind people cover their eyes because they look obviously different and they’re ashamed (or should be ashamed) of that.

And if you’re someone who’s just gone blind or who was born blind and you have little to no contact with the blind community, then this societal belief that you should be ashamed of how your eyes look becomes detrimental to your self-esteem and further builds internalized ableism.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve read or watched a blind character cover their eyes with sunglasses because they were ashamed of how their eyes looked. And I distinctly remember a few times where a sighted friend of the character was trying to convince them to stop wearing sunglasses because there’s nothing wrong with looking different--which is true, but it plays into this fantasy of being the perfect abled ally who saves the blind character from being miserable.

In an ideal world, the character has no reason to believe looking different is a bad thing or diminishes their worth or makes people dislike them. And if they develop this belief, it’s more likely that someone more involved in the disabled community, most likely someone disabled themselves, will set them straight. Or that the character will learn to accept themselves on their own, looks included.

But there are some perfectly valid reasons for any blind person to wear sunglasses. They might have an interest in fashion and sunglasses complete the look they’re going for. They could want to protect their eyes from UV rays while they’re outside. They may experience light sensitivity and sunglasses reduces any discomfort or pain. Those are incredibly common reasons to wear sunglasses whether you’re sighted or blind.

But there are some more complicated situations.

In your words, your character must cover his eyes. You never specified why, so my primary guess is that he has some kind of power that is unpleasant or has devastating affects and the only way to prevent it is to keep his eyes covered. My primary guess stems from this post where an anon and I discussed a retelling of Medusa, a hypothetical blinding of oneself to avoid ever killing anyone ever again, and what I think I would do if I was in that scenario.

So how do you write a blind character who must cover their eyes and avoid some of the complications?

1. Your character must always have the ability to say “fuck off, it’s my business, I don’t have to tell you why I’m blind or why I cover my eyes.”

Most blind people really, really don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty of why they’re blind and how they feel about it and what it’s like being blind with a stranger they’ll never see again or a new acquaintance they don’t know well yet. You have exceptions to that rule where sure, educating the public about blindness is a thing you want to do and you’re committed to helping your community, but I still have days where I don’t want to talk about being blind or disclose my medical crap.

And if someone doesn’t respect their right to their privacy or pushes too much, the blind character is allowed to be angry, is allowed to tell them off and complain without anyone else in the situation vilifying them or saying they’re “overreacting” and “should have just disclosed private information because big deal or whatever.” If they are angry, that’s their right, and it’s not unreasonable, it doesn’t make them a bad person.

2. Your character should not be ashamed of being blind or of covering their eyes. It is a part of their life, they’re used to it by now, even if they weren’t in the beginning.

The shame and internalized ableism is something that should be written about, but that’s for an own-voices story with a blind author. I don’t think an abled person will ever be able to understand how much society expects you to hate yourself and your disability because “being disabled is a tragic thing that ruins your life” and how that does affect your mental health, self esteem, your relationships with others, your medical care, and what kind of accommodations you can get.

3. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few sarcastic lines in response to uncomfortable conversations.

Stranger: so what’s with the...

Blind Character: what’s with what?

S: the... you know

BC: you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific

S: Your eyes?

BC: They’re... eyes

S: but you’re...

BC: Blind?

S: uh...

BC: yeah, I’m blind. *walks away*

Or this conversation:

S: *to some other character* so why are his eyes covered?

(author’s note: which, honestly, that’s fucking rude. At least have the guts to ask me yourself)

BC: If I look anyone in the eye they instantly perish.

*awkward silence*

BC: instantly.

Friend: It’s truly tragic

BC: *melancholic* that’s how I lost my sister. *chokes up* She was so young

Or this conversation:

S: Why are you wearing that?

BC: It’s called fashion Karen!

Or this conversation:

S: are you like... blind?

BC: yes?? why wouldn’t I be?? Wait, are you sighted? Are you one of those sighted people? You poor thing! What caused you to gain your sight? Do you have a car? A bike? Were you born sighted? What’s it like to see color? Do you miss not having to see

God, I want a chance to try that last one. I haven’t interacted with a stranger in almost a year. One day...

4. Honestly, it’d also be cool if someone’s reaction to your character covering their eyes was like, “cool sunglasses,” or “cool *insert random character, even one you made up* cosplay,” (which is ten times funnier if this character is a notable figure in modern society like an actor who people might cosplay).

5. You know, if he’s covering his eyes with some kind of blindfold, he should totally have custom blindfolds for his moods. Like, I have a mask that says “suck it up buttercup” and another that says “not today” because sometimes that’s the mood. And sometimes the mood is one of my floral masks, and sometimes the mood is my cat mask.

So, just some thoughts. I hope that helps.

Edit: a commenter said: “op, unless i'm mistaken this kind of reads like anon meant the character ISN'T blind but lies about being blind to explain covering their eyes? it seems like they made a typo on the word "isn't"”

So my original response to the question was based on the assumption that the character is blind. However,

If the character is not blind, then do not under any circumstances have them lie and say they’re blind to escape a mild inconvenience.

It’s better to have the character actually explain the situation or straight up leave the conversation or invent a more ridiculous lie than to perpetuate the very real stereotype and misconception that there are people who fake being blind and therefore it’s okay to discriminate or harass them if you even suspect they’re faking.

Do not under any circumstances perpetuate that stereotype. Do not harass someone because you don’t think they’re blind enough.

#blind character #writeblr #writing community #disabled character #writing tropes #trope talk #blindness tropes #Anonymous

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ff-imagines · 3 years

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uhm this is embarrassing thing to request but,,,,,,, how bout u know,,,,,, nsfw alphabet/scenario/hcs with blobster. 👁️👄👁️. I'm sorry.

Boston lobster: nsfw alphabet

Minors dni xoxo

A - aftercare

Admittedly kinda sloppy, it doesn’t occur to him that he should probably check up on you till he’s like “oh shit humans need water” and he suddenly shoots up to grab some and come back to you lmao

If you explicitly ask you get no back talk from him, he just carries you where you need to be and makes sure you’re feeling alright.

Will be endlessly prideful if u say you can’t walk, express your soreness at your sanities risk bc he’ll bring it up for ages

B- body parts

Oh he’s got no shame to tell you he loves your ass and thighs. The type to walk by you and give you a tap on the ass while smirking to himself. Doesn't matter how much or how little you've got he’ll still ask at least once if he can fuck your thighs lmao

Does his height count? He loves how he towers over most humans and food souls alike, chances are he’s probably taller than you, and he really likes that. Sulks a bit if you’re actually taller than him lmao.

They aren’t his favourite part of him but I gotta talk about the antennae. They’re weirdly sensitive, pulling him makes him squeak, which ends with him chasing you or with him chasing you, take your pick. When he catches you he makes it his goal to find a weirdly sensitive part of your body and to tease that spot endlessly. Tickle fight ensues but it’s more like you’re suffering while he’s maniacally laughing above you.

C - cum

It’s thick as fuck and very salty, rip lmao

He likes to cum inside or on your thighs, look they’re very squishy and nice ok he can’t help it </3

He’s also obsessed with not only making you cum, but just… your cum. Amab or afab readers, he will delight in making you watch him swallow. Would also bring his hand up to make you taste yourself, grinning the whole damn way.

D - dirty secret

He’s really affected by scents. If you have a signature perfume or cologne you wear all the time it can make him unbearably horny, since the smell lingers on his sheets and on his clothes long after you’re gone.

E - experience

A fair amount, out of curiosity. Not too many times as he’s spent a lot of years in total isolation. His curiosity is a more recent development, he finds he likes the feeling but something is just missing from his hookups. Then he meets you and is like “ohhhh a relationship is what it was, damn.” Once he realizes that, and even a little bit before when he first starts noticing his internal unease, the hookups stop so he can figure out how to swallow his pride and try and ask a human out lmao

F - favorite position

He loves doggy style because it’s just so so easy to control you that way. He loves to pull you back by your arms, spearing inside you at a punishing pace.

He also would love if you were flexible enough to push into a mating press, getting right next to your ear, whispering about how close he is.

G - goofy

Surprisingly, yea! He’s actually pretty good at making fun of himself, he just doesn’t do it often and doesn’t like it when someone he’s not close to does it. He gives little teases here and there, it eases tension quite a lot.

H- hair

He doesn’t shave for shit lmao. Intense happy trail, intense amount of body hair over all, he actually prefers it that way.

He keeps the same energy with your body hair and will come out and tell you he kinda likes it if you don’t shave. Ultimately he doesn’t think on it too hard, it doesn’t bother him in the end, whatever you want, he wants too!

I- intimacy

He’s not so good at being truly intimate, it’s just not something he’s used to being. If you ever, by some miracle, convince him to let you top him, he’s actually a lot softer and it’s easier to let his feelings speak for him. He also discovers he likes getting dommed a lot but he won’t tell you that lmao

J- jerk off

Not too often, he’s either super busy or he could just find you and solve the problem in an even more satisfying way.

If he ever can’t, expect him to grab one of your shirts to press to his nose as he fists his cock, the feeling of being surrounded by you is enough to help him finish when he desperately needs it.

K- Kinks

Well, the scent thing ofc.

He’s really into risky sex, a true exhibitionist. He’s hot, you’re hot, who wouldn’t want to see you both put on a show? If it gets it into their heads that no matter how bad they want you, you belong to him, your place is right here, getting split apart on his cock, he’ll make sure the message gets across.

Huge breeding kink. Hates the idea of kids but really likes the idea of claiming your insides. He’d love to push you into the mattress and release as deep as he can go.

He’s into humiliation as well, let him tease you while calling you his sweet little whore, he'll make it worth your while.

He’d love if you let him tie you up, he’d probably get into doing fancy designs that accentuates your body in the best way. A pretty rope to tie up and dick down a pretty s/o.

Also I can’t look at his skin where he’s got that suit on and not know he’s got a daddy kink, I just can’t. He doesn’t care for anything other than the title, it’s more about power than anything else. Call him daddy in public and watch how fast you get taken to a more private area. Or, maybe a less than private area, if you’d let him.

He’s got a thing for size difference as well, he loves to loom over you, even if he isn’t actually bigger than you.

L- location

Anywhere, anytime. He’s a prideful bastard, he’ll show off his ability to get you drunk off his cock any way he can. Not only isn’t there a spot in your house he hasn’t fucked you on, there probably isn’t a place on your street either.

M- motivation

What really gets him going is seeing you when you're at your most confident. If you come to him beaming about winning an award, wearing an outfit you feel great in, even if you just say something cocky, it just makes him so proud and eager to share that confidence with you. He doesn’t want to break you down, he wants to prop you up! Tell him about how good you feel, he’ll make you feel even better <3

N- no

As much as he likes to show you off, he doesn’t actually like the thought of a third party joining in. He might be swayed if it’s someone he really trusts. He also doesn't like receiving humiliation, he’s much too prideful lmao

O- oral

Please suck him off, he’ll be kinda rough with you but he’ll be nicer if you ask. He prefers to be mean though lmao. He likes ordering you around on what to do when you’ve got his dick in your mouth, his words get more incoherent the closer he is, though.

He’s just as eager to give you head too, he treats you like a whole 7 course meal. He loves biting around your thighs before ever touching where you're desperate for him to.

P- pace

Oh he’s punishingly hard. Loves to have a fast steady pace then stop as deep as he can and roll his hips a bit to make sure you feel just how deep his dick is inside you.

There are rare days when he’s feeling soft, those days he’s slow and methodical, gripping into your hips to make sure you can’t wiggle to increase your own pleasure, he wants you to savour the high he gives you.

Q- quickies

Well, why not! So what if you’re in an alleyway near a busy street, and anyone can walk by and see you getting pounded? You’re feeling heated aren’t you? Don't kid yourself, just turn around and let him take care of you.

R- risk

He lives for it. If you’d let him he’d bounce you on his cock in a plainly public place, like a subway car.

It’s a big fantasy of his for someone who absolutely pines for you to flirt just a little too hard, you coming to him and letting him fuck your right in front of them. It fuels his pride beyond belief to show you off.

S- stamina

His refractory time is fairly low. Even if he...can? doesn't really mean he wants to. He prefers either one drawn out, long round where you’ve both been edged to the point of desperation, or a few quick rounds throughout the day.

T- toys

At first they kinda hurt his pride but then he’s like “wait I can strap them on a vibrator and just sit back and watch” and then he’s totally on board lmao.

Forcing you to sit on a chair with a vibrator he had the remote to, keeping you on the edge and smirking while you beg and snivel, having no actual plans to give into your pleading.

U- unfair

Oh fuck yea, strap in babes.

He loves loves to edge the fuck out of you, he’d drag it out for hours if you’d let him. Even better if he can tie you down so you can’t squirm away from what he’s giving you.

Overstimulation is just as exciting to him, but he actually loves it more on himself. Sometimes he’ll overstimulate himself on purpose by still continuing to buck into you even after he’s already cum, determined to chase a second high no matter how painful it feels.

V- volume

Loud groans, and he won’t stop talking. Loves to ask you questions when you’re clearly way too blissed out to answer in any sort of coherent way.

He gets a lot louder near his release, he loves to bite into your shoulder to try and muffle himself. If he decides to be bold and let you hear him, he grabs your jaw and brings his face right next to your ear. What a show off.

W- wild card

He kidnaps small items that remind him of you, not just things that smell like you. That one earring you always wear, a glove, a necklace, picks flowers that remind him of you for whatever reason, he might even go out of his way to buy things that remind him of you, keep them to himself for a while, then give it to you when he’s sure it smells enough like him. He gives your stuff back… eventually.

X- X Ray

Oh please… he spits, sweats, and bleeds big dick energy. I refuse to believe his dick isn’t big enough to make you nervous. Would have you sit on his lap and track a finger up your stomach to measure how deep his cock can go.

Y- yearning

He’s pretty likely to mold to your sexual drive. However often you need him, he’s at your beck and call. He likes to keep it closer to 2-3 times a week if he can.

Z- zzz

He doesn’t sleep all that easily at all, but it gets a little easier when he’s got you in his arms. Prefers to be big spoon, and as much as he hates getting overheated, he just can’t will himself to let go of you. It’s ironically one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had.

#food fantasy #food fantasy x reader #ff boston lobster #ff boston lobster x reader

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hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 6

A little pain relief for everything I've put you through

Read on AO3

When Azriel landed in the training ring he shook his head, exasperated with himself. Now that he was here, what exactly did he plan to do? He couldn’t very well find Gwyn’s room, shake her awake, and beg her to forgive him.

He took a moment to survey the ring, racks of wooden weapons, steel, shields. The Valkyries had grown from desperation to get Nesta on the right track to three females surviving the Blood Rite to a small legion of Illyrians, priestesses, and other fae. They would be outgrowing the space soon, and he pondered that as the stone glowed blue in the moonlight.

Gwyn had never spoken much about the Blood Rite, not that he could blame her. The Illyrian tradition was barbaric under normal circumstances, and much more so with Briallyn’s meddling – with the intention of killing all three of the females. Azriel couldn’t help but grin to himself.

How spectacularly had her plan backfired.

He had not admitted that Cassian was not the only one sleepless and mortified that week, but where the general was a barely-contained force of will and expression Azriel was schooled in hiding his emotion. He’d had to stay stoic – to find Briallyn and Koschei, to support his brother while his mate fought for her life. But his relationship with Gwyn had begun to develop by then, as well. Slowly. It was all he could do some days not to fly in and destroy them all. She had already suffered unspeakable horrors, and the possibility that she had been at the mercy of Illyrian males – bred with a thirst for blood and flesh – had been nearly unbearable.

When that general is finished hurting her she has to feel the soul-crushing terror of watching the next soldier take his place because you don’t come to save her.

He ran a hand through his onyx hair, remembering Nesta’s words. His shadows seemed to wither around him, drooping over his shoulders and wings. How had it come to this?

The shadowsinger sat himself down on the ground, knees drawn up. He rested his forearms on them and gazed at the ink-dark sky painted with stars. Much like his High Lord, seeing the stars had always been a comfort to Azriel – a reminder that he was free from the prison of his upbringing, that he had escaped and had replaced his father and brothers with a family that cared for him and showed him what love and brotherhood really meant.

His found family had grown so much in such a short time. He was grateful for that, for so many reasons. Rhys had emerged from Under the Mountain a broken male and Feyre had helped piece him back together. She had quickly become a glue for all of them, holding them tight and treating them with such love that Azriel was often awed by it. It wasn’t hard defending her, being dedicated to her safety as High Lady. She was far more than a monarch to him.

Then came Nesta and Elain, and what a storm that had been. Cassian and Nesta were meant to be since the beginning, but that path had been long and painful, and not just for his ears and the new… sanitation concerns for public living spaces in the house. Sometimes he was surprised that he counted Nesta as his friend. She had been intentionally hurtful so many times. How often had he seen the pain in his brother’s countenance because of something she had said or done? And yet now he understood her, maybe more than he cared to admit. She had been hurting and afraid and overflowing with self-loathing.

He had hurt Gwyn for those very reasons.

Gwyn.

He felt his shoulders and wings sag with the weight of Nesta’s questions tonight. Accusations thinly veiled as questions, and each one like a carefully crafted throwing knife plunged into his gut. He’d made her cry for at least the third time in as many weeks. Training and working to exhaustion, and not being able to sleep because of the worsening nightmares – nightmares that had cruelly transformed to remind her that he had abandoned her.

Even his shadows felt heavy.

The spymaster hung his head, shame like a blanket smothering him in summer heat. How could he ever forgive himself for causing that pain? It was a fate he had personally prevented, and now she was forced to experience it in her dreams. Because of him. Because he was a coward.

Azriel let his eyes drift closed and focused on his breathing. Sleep would not be an option tonight, and he could only pray that the priestess was sound asleep in the house, getting the rest she so desperately needed. Training didn’t seem to be in the cards either, as he sifted through the torrent of thoughts and emotions. He just needed to sit and think. And in the morning, he would speak with Gwyn as soon as he could. He would fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to.

“Azriel?”

The inky tendrils flitted to life around him at the sound of that voice. Cauldron damn him, of course she would find him now. But part of him was relieved to be able to talk to her so soon – that she was even here.

“Azriel, are you alright?” His heart squeezed at the softness of Gwyn’s voice, music to his ears – a sweet melody with harmonies of concern and kindness. How could she still be so kind to him?

“I don’t deserve to be asked that. Especially not by you,” he murmured, staring down at the stone between his feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Azriel.” Her soft footsteps seemed to echo in his head, a ringing alarm that she was coming closer. He didn’t want to run from her, but his heart was still racing. How could he face her inevitable rejection? He noticed her shadow fall over the space between his legs and when he looked up she was crouching in front of him, eyes shining with sincerity. “You deserve for people to care about you. And I do. I won’t just leave you out here alone when anyone could see the weight of the world pressing down on you.”

Gods, but wasn’t that exactly what he had done to her?

The shadowsinger had no air in his chest as he studied her. The expression on her face was difficult to describe – caring and teasing and scolding all rolled into glittering ocean eyes and the slightest quirk of her full lips. She rose and his gaze followed as she held her hand out to him, beckoning him to stand with her. It took more courage than he cared to admit to place his violence-scarred hands in hers, but their warmth spread through him like sunshine warming his bones as she helped him to his feet.

She didn’t let go, and that gave him the strength he needed.

“Nesta found me at the river house tonight. She had… a lot to say,” Azriel began as he saw color bloom on Gwyn’s cheeks. She looked down to their hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for her to –“ He squeezed her hands and she snapped her head back up to meet his gaze.

“I deserved every single bit of venom she threw at me, Gwyn. Do not apologize.” The shadowsinger looked down, then, unsure how to move forward or which of his many transgressions he should address first. So he asked, “Is it true? About the nightmares? That… that I don’t come for you?” He could feel the emotion catching in his throat, cracking his voice. His eyes burned as he looked back to the priestess. Her lips were pressed together as she tried to keep the silver lining her eyes from spilling down over her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered, lashes lowering as the silent tears fell. Each droplet was a nick in his heart, the guilt and pain salting those wounds. How could she be so strong, to endure this agony and yet hold the hands that caused it? He released one of the hands and lifted it to her face, hesitating with his fingers a breath away from her cheek. Azriel had his mouth open to ask if he could touch her when she leaned her face into his palm. He brushed at her tears with his thumb before bringing up his other hand, cupping her jaw.

“Gwyn,” he breathed, pleading silently for her to look at him. The shining pools that opened to him were so enthralling, depths shimmering with trepidation. Gods, what he would do to bring back the joy in those eyes. “I will always come for you. No matter what. And I will never be able to forgive myself that there might be any part of your mind or your heart or your soul that could believe otherwise.” He watched as she took a shuddering breath, but her eyes held his and he was emboldened.

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn. For all of this. I was a fool and a coward and I let my guilt and my fear own me. And it only hurt you.”

Gwyn’s hands covered the scars on his own as she pulled them away from her face, returning them to their place entwined between them. Azriel stayed silent and her head tilted as she studied him.

“What could you possibly be afraid of?” she released a hoarse, hiccupped laugh. The shadowsinger could only gulp down a breath and look toward the stars.

“I… I was afraid of the feelings I was developing for you. And of the pain I would feel when you would see all the things I have done and the monster that I am and run away from me. Or that you would be hurt because of this darkness inside of me.” His eyes had returned to hers and, while he saw understanding swimming there, her expression was uncompromising.

“Have I not been hurt already?” Her bluntness shocked him, and he felt the slightest twinge of panic that told him to run. Her fingers tightened like a vice around his hands and he saw her eyes darken, as if she knew what he was thinking. “Don’t you dare even think about running away, Azriel. Not now. I deserve better from you.” Even his shadows seemed focused on where their hands touched, intent on keeping them tied together.

She did. She deserved so much better. Better than what he’d done. Shame washed over him that he could have thought to flee from her. Again. He had already wronged her… too many times. But he had come here determined to right those wrongs. Azriel wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to give her what she deserved, if he would ever be good enough for her. But he sure as fuck was going to try.

“You’re right,” he conceded, that panic replaced by resolution and a faint, foolish glimmer of hope. “I’m not going anywhere.” She grinned softly and he thought his chest would burst from relief. They were still here, together, talking. They were going to figure this out.

“Why did you run, Azriel? If you care for me, like you say,” she demanded, that sea-deep stare piercing straight into his soul. “Why? Why are you afraid of me seeing who you are?”

He should have known that she would demand an explanation. Gwyn was strong and confident. She knew her worth and what she deserved, and him sharing the story behind all of his idiotic decisions was the very least of that. But he was not prepared, and he didn’t want to. He never wanted to darken others’ lives with his history.

“That’s… a long story, Gwyn,” he huffed, hoping that might be the end of it. But he saw her eyes, determination and challenge and fire blazing blue in the moonlight.

“We have all night.” She released his hands and gestured to the darkness around them. She would not be deterred, would not back down until she accomplished her goal. It was one of the many things he admired so much about her. “Should we sit?”

Azriel found himself smiling as he nodded, sitting cross-legged on the stone. Even though the impending admissions rang as a death knell in his mind, it warmed his heart to know that she cared so deeply – that she wanted to know the worst of him.

He had put her through enough, and he could relive his pain and push out his fear for this night, if only for her.

“I don’t know where to start.” He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he was usually good at hiding. But then Gwyn – that sweet, incredible, special female – gathered his other hand with those long, pale, graceful fingers and he felt the tension ease. He looked at her, taking in the beauty and serenity of her features. Freckles were scattered over cheeks stained pink, an encouraging smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

“The beginning seems like a good place, don’t you think?”

So that’s where he began.

~~~

Azriel was not proud that he could not find the strength to look at Gwyn as he walked her through his story, but he could still hear and feel her reactions. And he dared a glance at her from time to time, trying to read everything her eyes were saying. He told her about the cell he was kept in as a child, how little touch or affection or love he had experienced, and how the shadows around him seemed to move and react and speak. She clutched his hand tighter when he told her about what had happened to them, that his brothers had set fire to them to see how he would heal. She hadn’t said a word, but he smelled the salt from tears and felt impossibly soft strokes of her thumbs over those scars.

He explained his time in Illyria and the fearsome reputation he and Cassian had to maintain, simply to make up for the circumstances of their birth. And while Cassian had been brute force and power, Azriel was deadly calm, precision, intellect, terror. He admitted to her how he had hoped to find validation in his role as spymaster under Rhysand’s father, and that he could truly revel in his duties under the right circumstances.

“Those soldiers I killed in Sangravah,” he told her. “I would have enjoyed dragging out their deaths as long as possible for what they did to you.”

Gwyn’s hands were so gentle around his as he told her how much the death and darkness grated against his soul, and how he’d had nothing to tether him to the light. He talked to her about Mor, a waste of literal centuries. And then, somehow, he told her about Elain. Not that he’d loved her, because he never had. But that he’d felt entitled to her, like he deserved what his brothers had found with the other two sisters. That he was the third brother and she was the third sister and that was all that mattered. His entitlement, his lust and desire for the bond - as opposed to love for the person - just another ugly facet of his true self.

“So I suppose that brings me to you, to these past few weeks.” Azriel made sure to meet her gaze for this. “I panicked after the necklace, because I wasn’t prepared for what it would do to me to see that hurt in your eyes. And when I told you things would go back to normal I still didn’t know what to do. I thought distance would be best between us, because I knew you would be able to draw me out of myself. And that was dangerous.”

The shadowsinger’s throat burned with emotion when Gwyn smiled softly. He could see so much roaring in her gaze, but there was no sign of pity or disgust or fear. Azriel ran his free hand through his hair before resting it atop their other clasped hands. Wetness burned his eyes, but he didn’t care.

“When I found you in the rain that night, I could smell your tears and I saw your hands – split knuckles and bruised, swollen fingers. And,” he choked down his feelings even as the tears began their descent, “and I was torn apart with the guilt. It was my fault that you were doing that to yourself. I might has well have put those marks on you with my own two vile hands.” Azriel closed his eyes and let the tears fall – not many, but enough. The silence rang through his ears, his history hanging between them. He waited for the fear, the rejection, especially when she drew her hands away from his. But his eyes snapped open when delicate calloused fingers stroked his cheeks. Gwyn had risen to her knees to dry the wetness on them, her stare a storm of trust and understanding... and compassion.

“Thank you for telling me your story, Azriel,” she whispered. “I see you. You have nothing to fear. I’m still right here.” Then she smiled brightly, and he unraveled.

“Gwyn, I don’t know if you can ever forgive me – I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t. But I care for you as more than a teacher, more than a friend. You are a light in my dark life and these past few weeks have been miserable without you in them.” Her smile widened slightly and he reached out a thumb to catch a stray tear that had fallen from those precious, beautiful eyes. He felt his own grin pushing his cheeks against her warm hands.

“I care for you, too, Azriel. As more than a friend.”

He held that watery stare until she released his face. She stood up, brushing off her knees before reaching her hands to him again to help him to his feet. He tilted his head curiously at the determination flashing in her eyes.

“Here is what’s going to happen,” she began, looking down at her hands in his. “Before we pursue anything… romantically, I need to be sure that this isn’t something that will happen again.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she pressed her fingers against his lips. “We both have darkness and fear and I understand that. But if you feel it taking over, I need you to come to me, to talk to me. Because if I open my heart to you and this happens again – if you insist on shutting yourself off from me or deciding for me what I deserve or want – I will be heartbroken.” The confession left Azriel raw.

“What can I do, Gwyn? How can I reassure you?” He could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“We are going to go back to how things were before this mess.” She had returned her hand to his and gave both a squeeze. A shadow darted down around them, as if to approve of the contact. “The way it was that led us to realize that we feel the way we do. And you are going to prove to me that we can have what we had before I found out about that stupid, lovely necklace. Do you think you can do that?” He could have fallen to his knees seeing the hope in those ocean eyes, mirroring the spark of hope inside of him. It was something he hadn’t dared to let himself fully feel with her.

“I will.” Azriel’s voice was low and rough. “I swear it.”

“And then we can decide what comes next. And I can prove to you that your hands and your darkness are just as important to me as the rest of you.”

He was grinning like a fool, he knew. He still had a chance, because Gwyneth Berdara was the definition of grace and love. And by the Mother he would not screw this up.

He felt more than saw her wrap her arms around his back, pulling herself into him. For a moment he was frozen by the intimacy of it – shocked by her initiation of it – but he quickly let his arms settle around her waist. He breathed in, pulling her tighter, and leaned his cheek on the crown of her head.

“Don’t let me down, Shadowsinger,” she muttered into his chest. He chuckled and dared to move one hand to comb through her hair. “I want to see… what comes next.” He wanted to see, too. He wanted to know what it was like to look to the future and see more than dread and loneliness and exhaustion. He could see it with her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Berdara.”

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sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

Beautiful Just the Way You Are

word count: 1982

request:

warnings: talks of negative self-image. please don’t read if this will upset you!

a/n: this is part 5 of (undetermined) of me trying to finish requests that have been sent in ages ago. IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. it’s been hard to write but hopefully these will do. please ignore any mistakes, I typed this a bit fast and didn’t really check.

Chris

You and Chris were getting ready to go to one of his closest friend’s wedding.

This would be the first time you would meet each other so making a good first impression was a must.

Chris had gone to pick up his suit from the dry cleaners and you were currently scouring through the four dresses your sister-in-laws had lended you.

The wedding was a summer wedding and it was gonna be held on the beach.

As of recently, the heat had gotten worse each day meaning you didn’t want to be stuck in a dress that caused you to sweat like a runner after 12 miles.

Both of Chris’s sisters had noted this and unfortunately all four dresses before you were above the knee, something that made you uneasy.

It seemed that when you were going to meet people or attend public events, your insecurities crept up even more than usual and your mind would shove negative thoughts down your throat.

You were gorgeous, no doubt, but with such poisonous thoughts of yourself, you couldn't see any beauty as your reflection stared back from the mirror.

The first dress was a lacy yellow v-neck dress. It slightly flared out to the sides and it complimented your figure beautifully.

The second dress was a black bodycon, which made you want to scream. While to the average eye, your curves flourished under this dress, all you could see was a belly and hips that you wanted gone.

The third and fourth dresses were similar with thin spaghetti straps and flowy bottoms which reminded you of a bell.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris had come back sometimes in between trying on the second and third dress.

He peeked through the door, admiring how amazing you looked.

Chris kept thinking how lucky he was to have such a woman until he heard yells of anger that shook him from his daydream.

That was when you tried on the last dress and the final straw was gone.

Your anger turned into tears as you collapsed onto the food feeling nothing but pain and worthlessness.

In seconds, Chris was on the floor with you, wrapping his arms around your front where your arms were held up to your eyes.

He rocked you back and forth, shushing you gently.

“(y/n), honey, speak to me. Tell me what I can do to help you?”

Words were worthless at this point and all Chris could make out was “dress.”

He put two and two together and realized that you were upset with the way you looked.

For some time now, Chris knew this had been a problem, but he didn’t realize it would bubble up this badly.

He knew words of his compliments wouldn’t help at all because you’d just say that he was lying.

All he wanted was for you to see yourself through his point of view because you were like an angel.

“Hey, love, listen to me.”

Chris removed your hands from your eyes and looked at you in the mirror.

“You are stunning, always and forever. Your body does amazing things for you and for me.” He chuckled at the end causing you to laugh a bit, a sad smile on your face.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I would never lie to you. I made you that promise all those years ago and I will keep it forever, you understand me?”

You nodded just wanting to shrug this whole embarrassing experience off. You were never one to want people to see you like this because it felt like you were vying for attention when you weren’t.

“No, (y/n), I want you to say.”

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Yes, I know, Chris.”

He smiled and kissed your temple, “There’s my girl. Now c’mon, let's keep this dress on and I’ll help you with your makeup.

Ransom

You and Ransom were at one of Harlan’s publishing parties.

The family was up to their usual shenanigans leaving you and Ransom to sip on one too many drinks to stay interested.

One Joni walked away after trying to sell you some of her face moisturizer that cost more than the largest bag of dog food, Ransom snuck up behind you and led you to the garden, away from the sight of any house guests.

“How about we sneak away and take a dip in the pool?” His eyebrows raised teasingly and it was hard to resist such an offer.

“But Ransom, I don’t have a swimsuit!” You motioned to your maxi dress that was too pretty to damage with chlorine.

You set your drink down on the cement bench and went to sit beside it before Ransom grabbed your hand and smirked.

“Fine by me, here, simple fix!”

In seconds, Ransom slipped off your dress, not even with a tear which was shocking from his usual animalistic movements.

This left you standing in your simple undergarments, yet feeling more naked than actually being so.

Ransom placed a kiss on your head before jumping into the pool in his boxers and nothing more.

He seemed ever so happy, waving his arms for you to jump in as he shook his now mop-like hair, now looking like a wet dog.

Instead, you were sitting quietly on the ledge of the pool, arms wrapped around your waist trying to cover every inch of your exposed body.

You felt so terrible like the sight Ransom would see would be so repulsive because that was exactly what you were thinking.

When Ransom noticed that you were frozen in your spot and zoned out on some dragonfly floating in the pool, he swam closer.

Ransom placed his hands on your thighs and looked up to see tears running down your nose and cheeks, dropping onto your lap.

At his touch, you involuntarily pushed him away and Ransom respected your space, floating back a bit.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

“Ransom, I don’t want to be out here like this!”

You were on the verge of yelling, but instead kept your voice at a harsh whisper.

“Are you afraid someone will see us because (y/n) I can assure you they won’t. Plus, they’ve seen worse happen in this pool, trust me.” Ransom laughed, but you didn’t and he picked up on this, deciding to remain serious for the rest of the conversation.

“No it’s not that. I don’t want YOU to see me like this!”

The man swimming in front of you was in shock at such negative words coming from your mouth.

He looked at you as an absolute goddess and he often wondered why a beauty like you would stay with a mess like him.

Sure he was gorgeous on the outside, but you were both inside and out.

“You’re just saying that because you feel like you have to, Ransom.”

You huffed and looked the other way, not wanting to even glare at him.

Ransom laid his head on your lap in defeat.

“What do you want me to do? Worship you? Because I will! Oh (y/n), have mercy on me with your beauty! You are just so-”

At this point, Ransom was speaking as loud as possible and he knew he was getting on your nerves.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “OKAY OKAY. I BELIEVE YOU. Will you just hush now!?”

Ransom looked up with a devious glimmer in his eyes, before he pulled you into the pool and you squealed loudly.

“I think you are the one who should hush now, missy!”

Andy

Andy had just gotten off from work and you had just finished making a surprise dinner.

He was delighted at the sight of homemade chicken pot pie along with two bottles of old fashioned soda, a small tradition between the two of you.

You both settled down to watch a movie with your plates of chicken pot pie.

Andy had picked a movie that you’d never seen before and within five minutes your happy mood had morphed into insecurity.

Turning, you saw Andy intently watching the movie as the most perfect woman appeared on screen and the negativity sprawled from your mind, turning nothing into something.

While Andy just innocently enjoyed the movie, your inner saboteur told you that he was more so enjoying the sight of the gorgeous woman on screen.

After all he had been stuck with you, so you didn’t blame him.

Well he wasn’t actually stuck with you, but that's what you told yourself.

You told yourself that he just felt bad for you and that is why he stayed.

Andy noticed that halfway through the movie, you were uncharacteristically quiet and a sour pout on your face.

“Gosh, imagine looking like that! That would be a dream.” A bitter laugh ended your snide comment and Andy immediately shut off the tv.

“Why did you do that?!”

Andy just shook his head, “Because of what you said! (y/n), is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“All I said was that I wish I looked like her. What’s wrong with that?” You nonchalant shrugged and turned away from his hard stare.

“Honey, I can read you very well and I can tell that wasn’t just a joke.”

You were quiet and Andy continued to pry. He pulled you tight to his chest, murmuring whispers of praise causing you to break and cry quietly.

“See, even when you cry, you are pretty.”

Steve

The funny thing about insecurities is that it can turn someone into an absolute mess or monster.

In this instance it was both.

You and Steve were at a cafe, one that you had been visiting together for years now.

Today, it seemed that the cafe had hired new employees as at least four faces you didn’t recognize were waltzing around the kitchen.

It didn’t bother you until a complete beauty who introduced herself as Cara waited at your table.

At first it was like the green eyed monster had crawled out of you and you felt shameful all until gut intuition showed you that she was being a bit too friendly with Steve.

Little glances from across the room with flirty waves. At one point you swore that she winked at him.

Her tone would instantly change anytime she talked to you and that made your blood boil.

Steve noticed your change in attitude as a borderline scary scowl worked its way on your lips.

You were burning holes into the back of her head as you thought about how perfect the two would be together.

Steve tried to nudge your half of your sandwich to catch your attention as he was clueless to what was running through your head.

“Hey, doll. Why don’t you eat your sandwich? The flies are crazy and I can’t keep them away for long!” He swatted at the nagging flies, laughing at how the tiny creatures were defeating him, Captain America.

You didn’t hear any of what he said and instead mean words that never once came out of his mouth.

“Why don’t you go be with her. She’s so perfect for you anyway.”

You stood from the table and stormed out the door, the tiny bell above it mocking you.

Steve was utterly confused at this random outburst.

All he had mentioned was the sandwich, nothing about a girl, especially the waitress, whatever her name was.

Thinking back, Steve realized that she was flirting with him, but he was just so used to being friendly that he didn’t notice that he had put up such an illusion.

Especially one that hurt you.

The only word he was able to get out was “what” before he rushed out behind you.

He grabbed your arm and spun you to face him, not angry as he knew exactly how being insecure felt.

“(y/n), you are the only one who is perfect for me.”

You just fell into his arms, remembering that you were truly the only one for Steve.

#Steve Rogers #andy barber #Chris Evans #ransom drysdale #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale x reader

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

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Too Late: Adrien (Commission for miner249er)

Chapter 5 of the commission for @miner249er !

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The Seine became a comfort spot for Adrien after everything happened, his original comfort spot had been the top of the Eiffel Tower but with his ring gone, that wasn’t an option. Actually many places weren’t on his list of options any more due to his ring being gone and due to his identity as both Adrien Agreste: Teen Model and Heart Throb, as well as Adrien Agreste: Possible Accomplice to Hawkmoth and Mayura, and the possible face behind the cat mask, Chat Noir, became “known” after the whole Protector incident. Paris’s last akuma, and Adrien’s last normal day, last peaceful moment. He had been naïve before and hadn't even known it. He had tried too hard to get past the rose-tinted glasses his father basically prescribed he wore everyday and when he thought he had gotten rid of those he was too blind to notice the rose-tinted contact lenses he himself put in willingly every day after.

But those contacts had been dried and ripped and tossed in the trash. Now he couldn’t even take a simple walk without wearing a wig, clothes he never considered wearing before and some he knew his father wouldn’t approve of so there were some silver linings, and he would slightly contour his face and thank his old makeup artists for teaching him some makeup skills he could do himself. Plus it helped that he had been doing research on cosplaying and what it took to look like other people, tip number one was contouring your face, and that’s just what he did when he wanted to leave the house and have some alone time. True alone time, not supervised alone time with Simon, aka Gorilla, and not alone time at a distance with his mom, which he was so grateful to have back, but with the rumors surrounding his father and Nathalie and the way she came back on live TV, their alone time happened together.

It was wonderful to have his mother back, but it did not dull his pain. Not even her hugs or her kisses or her sweet words could pull him from the edge of his guilt-ridden thoughts. Every day, every damn day, he would think how this all was his fault. Maybe if he had been a better son, a better model, a better something, maybe his father wouldn’t have abused the Butterfly Miraculous the way he did. Maybe Gabriel, because even Adrien had to admit that the man was severely lacking in that department and had in a very long time, would have trusted him and told him what was going on. Then, perhaps, Adrien could have convinced his Father not to get Nathalie involved and to maybe let Ladybug help or even the Guardian. If Gabriel had just let his son in like Adrien had craved for so long, then maybe all this pain and anger wouldn’t be bleeding out of each and every pore of everyone in Paris.

Maybe then the Protector wouldn’t have had to...well, protect like she felt she had to. Adrien had never thought Marinette to be a scary girl, in fact, ‘Marinette’ and ‘scary’ in the same sentence seemed like something out of a parallel universe if anything. In his memories, because that’s all he had left of the girl, those and a broken arm and finger, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had always been happy and sweet and determined and so much more. Or, that was what he thought, that’s all he observed. He never took her sorrow or hurt seriously and it was that thought that had been plaguing him night and day ever since she went missing.

Her disappearance wasn’t the only ‘big’ thing that had happened in the honestly short amount of time he and his class encountered The Protector, he refused to call that akuma Marinette, there was just no way she thought of him and their classmates like that. There was no way. The only conclusion he could come to was that Gabriel had more control over the akuma than usual. Maybe even twisted her feelings into something darker. It has happened before...he’s sure of it. From what he knows about the Butterfly Miraculous, which was really not a lot even with his small crash course with Master Fu after he tried to make sense of everything, the Butterfly can enhance emotions. Who’s to say that he couldn’t twist those emotions? I mean...even Master Fu said he was tainting the Miraculous in ways that even he couldn’t predict. Maybe all that misuse could have changed it.

This could have been avoided . Was another constant thought that hung before him seemingly as a reminder. This should have been avoided.

Anger, no fury, overtook him but he managed to not let it out in a scream, or worse physically on something. He no longer had his usual outlet when his emotions got too big or too much, so he did the only thing he could remember his father teaching him. Mask it. Hide it all beneath a mask of indifference. Before he had hated it, hated the way Gabriel had sounded almost proud of the lesson he was giving his son, like it was one of his single most important pieces of fatherly advice he could bestow upon Adrien. Now though? Now it actually came in handy and Adrien loathed it, everything about it, but if he made a scene out in the open, it wouldn’t matter if he had a disguise on or not. People would stare, people would talk, people would try to help and he just could not handle any of that.

“We could all use you right now M’Lady…” He muttered to the air and himself, a part of him hoping that in some way the message would reach the girl he was thinking of.

That was another thing that was bringing him migraines if he thought too much about it, which he did, constantly. He didn’t just have to come to terms with the fact that one of his best friends had gotten akumatized and promptly went missing after said akumatization, or the fact Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur were basically determined to be the villains Hawkmoth and Mayura by public opinion and “coincidences” that looked an awful lot like proof, there was also the fact his mother literally rose from the grave...or from her coma that Adrien had no idea about, but to top everything off was the very real fact that Protector, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Multimouse, was actually Paris’s beloved heroine Ladybug. His mind was still trying to make it make sense. To make it all make sense. But it was that last bit that was still throwing him for a loop.

He just couldn’t seem to fuse the identities together. Both girls held importance in his life, just in different ways. There were so many memories that were thrown at him that were practically begging him to see, see how the two were actually one and the same. There was just this other part of him that refused to see it, refused to acknowledge it, because, and it was a bit embarrassing to admit even to just himself, he was mad that he had declared that he would know Ladybug anywhere. Adrien had even convinced himself that he would absolutely be able to know who she was beneath the mask if he had just seen her. Turns out he had seen her out of the mask more often than in and it hurt.

To make matters worse, if anything could even be worse , he bitterly thought as he kicked a stray stone, he was pretty sure his class knew or at least suspected he was Chat Noir after their shared Protector experience. Yet none of them said anything, there were no new rumors floating about, there were no news coverage about him in particular other than how Paris was sending his mother and him their prayers, others were not as nice and speculated they were both involved in his villainy. The biggest thing though was that no one was reaching out to him to talk about what happened, to talk about his injury and the fact that the akuma took his ring so openly in front of people, they reached out...just not for any of that. They gave their sympathy, their curiosity, their anger, but none of them asked him about being Chat Noir and it was killing him having to wait for the other shoe to drop.

If it even drops.

Adrien sighed harshly and burrowed deeper into the hoodie he had slipped on before he had snuck out of his house. While aimlessly walking he spotted a bench and promptly slumped onto it. One hand idly picked at the chipped paint of the bench while the other clutched his hoodie above his heart. It hurt. It hurt enough to make him cry and well, he was alone so why not just cry? The guilt, the shame, the anger, the loneliness, all of it had turned into some blob of a creature that took hold of his heart and squeezed. He had to close his eyes, he didn’t know why, but it felt like it was one of the only ways to get comfort. Again, he was proved wrong as he began to remember The Day of The Last Akuma as all of Paris had taken to calling it, Adrien referred to it as the day he failed Marinette.

________________________________________

Adrien winced as Marinette had taken hold of both his hands in hers, the gesture would have been sweet if it weren’t for the pressure. “ Save it. I don’t want your superficial pity. You Adrien Agreste are the biggest liar I know next to Lila. You knew she was lying. You knew she was lying from the start seeing how Ladybug told you herself that Lila and her were not friends. Oh yeah I know about that, in the park, or how about when Lila was akumatized to be the Chameleon, which by the way Lila very unoriginal and I’m fairly certain you were akumatized on purpose but hey what proof do I have right? And she pretended to be you because she didn’t like what you had to say about her lying. Yet you still didn’t tell your so called friends about her, because you don’t care about anyone but yourself! I learned that the hard way. I believed you when you said we were in this together and that if we both knew then that was enough and that we should take the moral highroad. What a joke ! I am truly disgusted with myself for ever thinking I was in love with you. ”

His hands hurt but that was nothing compared to his heart when Marinette had finished her speech, but the hurt was outweighed by his confusion. Looking around he could tell that their classmates were not expecting Marinette’s words to him. Some were probably still reeling from her harsh words about them but all eyes were on him and Marinette, and they were wide, whether it be in hurt, horror, shock, or all of the above. It seemed like the stares didn’t bother Marinette in the least, but they sure were getting to Adrien. “ W-What? You love me? ”

The hollow laugh he had gotten in reply was like a stab to the heart, he could feel Plagg scratching at his shirt from inside his white overshirt, he knew he had to get out of there so he could transform but Marinette still had a grip on him. “ Men. Of course that’s the only thing you focus on. If you actually listened to me and were a decent human being for once in your pathetic sad model life, you would have noticed that I said, was . I was in love with you, but after everything? You’re nothing but an obstacle in my way. ”

“ Mari please- ,” Adrien tried to reason with her as he tugged at his hands gently to see if there was any slack, again he winced in pain when Marinette tightened her hold, her gaze never wavering from him. The fury in her eyes could practically melt him.

“ That is not my name! If I did go by that name again you would not get to call me that anyways, nicknames are a privilege, they are shared between friends. Last I checked, we’re not friends, maybe we never were to begin with, and that goes for all of you too! ” Marinette hissed out sharply as she finally tore her gaze away from Adrien and looked at their classmates, their friends. It was the first time since this whole situation started that Adrien felt he could breathe despite the fact his hands were in an iron-clad like clutch. He didn’t have the heart to look in the eyes of everyone to see how they took Marinette’s words.

“ Marinette, this isn’t you! You need to fight the akuma, it’s making you say these things I know it is! But if you just calm down and fight it I know Ladybug and Chat Noir will be here to save the day. ” Adrien rambled away, and if he had been paying attention, he would have seen the way Marinette’s spine had straightened, how the atmosphere and temperature felt like it had dropped, and the way her calm fury took a turn. No he missed that all in favor of trying to see if one of his friends would agree with him and help him calm Marinette down long enough for him to sneak out and transform so Chat Noir could heroically swoop in to save the day.

“ Did he say akuma? ” He heard Rose semi-whisper to Juleka who merely nodded in confusion.

“ Marinette doesn’t look like an akuma though …” Nathaniel mumbled meekly.

“ Have you sheep learned nothing? There is more to people than what meets the eye.” Marinette sing-songed, and it was brief, so painfully brief but enough to draw scared gasps from everyone in the class, Marinette’s eyes had flashed from their normal cheerful blue to a darker almost violet color and the whites of her eyes turned purple. Everyone scurried back, even Mlle Bustier, all except Adrien who was still caught in her grip near the doorway that they were now blocking, and Lila who was just staring at Marinette in interest and poorly acted out fear from her seat that used to be Marinette’s. Everyone was calling out to her and telling her to run to them but the girl continued to sit there “frozen” in fear. “ And it seems like you are finally opening yours. ”

“ Oh Marinette how did this happen to you? I thought you were better than this? To get akumatized over me and showing everyone your true nature! Don’t worry guys my best friend Ladybug will be here soon to rescue us. ” Lila gushed out, not catching the wary glances that some were giving her.

“ Oh Delilah, do shut up. ” Marinette harshly mocked in response, Lila looked as though she had been smacked, everyone else was confused, Adrien included. “ What? Oh you guys didn’t know? Liar Rossi’s real name is Delilah, so let’s add that to the growing list of wrongdoings of one Delilah ‘Lila’ Rossi .”

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief when Marinette released his left arm, only to freeze when he felt her grab his right forearm with one hand, and his right hand with the other. Her fingers were so close to his ring, his heart was racing and he could feel Plagg stiffen in panic as well. “ Stop. Marinette. I’m begging you. This isn’t the way to deal with things, this will only make everything worse! ”

Marinette’s attention was torn from Lila to him and Adrien felt like he couldn’t breathe, he was sweating, and he felt like anything he did or said next would give him away as Chat Noir but he had to do something. Master Fu trusted him with this. Ladybug probably trusted him with this too, sure Fu hadn’t told him why she was gone but maybe this was a test or something? Maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Hopefully this wasn’t as serious as Fu made it out to be, because if it was he was not doing good. At all. “ Worse? No Agreste, I’m making things better. I’m protecting the people of Paris one last time from all of you, but especially from Rossi. Her lies harm people, her very being brings harm upon anyone she meets, and will continue to do so if someone doesn’t stop her. If someone doesn’t protect them from her. Since you couldn’t have a spine and keep one simple promise to be in this together with me, I have become what I needed to be and what Paris temporarily needs me to be just for today. I am its protector, I am The Protector.”

The pressure around his arm increased and he could do nothing but gasp in pain and try to pull away even as he was forced on his knees due to the pain. It was at this point that Lila got up and edged back, seeming to finally understand the danger she was in. The danger she unleashed. Marinette, no, the akuma, the Protector didn’t even spare her a glance as she added more and more pressure. The pain had distracted him from what she was doing at the same time, taking his ring. He hadn’t even noticed when finally a SNAP! rung out in the classroom and a scream could be heard. It took him a while to realize it was his own till he was cradling his limp arm to his chest and crying. He could hear the others shouting and screaming, he couldn’t see their faces through his tears. “ Here’s another lie Delilah told, and it’s fairly recent, but Ladybug and Chat Noir will not be coming to the rescue this time.”

Adrien tried to pull himself together when he no longer felt the weight of his ring, a thought struck him and it only strengthened his resolve to pull himself together despite the pain. There was no doubt that The Protector took his ring, he just hoped his classmates were more focused on his arm breaking than the ring being taken since he was almost certain that the akuma was doing nothing to hide what she took. Which meant if the class wasn’t looking at him they possibly saw Plagg being sucked back into the ring. He heard more than saw the gasps and the panic that followed, but what confused him was the sound of glass breaking-a window most likely-and the presence of the akuma leaving from beside him. He felt people swarm him and ask him questions but all he could focus on was the pain.

________________________________________

He wiped the tears that the memory brought and stood back up to resume his walk. Eventually he found himself at the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie and he just had to go inside, he had to apologize to Tom and Sabine, he had to. It was his fault their daughter was missing. So he took in a deep breath and made his way up to their apartment, it took him longer to gather courage to knock but he did eventually do that. When the door was opened, the pit of guilt in stomach grew at the sight of Tom Dupain who looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in weeks, nor had he taken the time shave, his beard taking Adrien back to when he had been akumatized into Papa Garou. Beside him, the always put-together Sabine Cheng had bags under her eyes, she was wearing what was obviously one of Tom’s t-shirts and it looked like she hadn’t brushed her hair that morning. He took one look at them and broke down in a fresh wave of tears.

“I’m so sorry!”

Next Chapter

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bluewhale52 · 3 years

Text

Little Black Book: The One Who Broke Your Heart (M)

Summary: There are a few names in your Little Black Book, and these seven hold a special place in your heart. Now that you are closing that chapter in your life, you reminisce the time and experience you have had with your seven favourite men, especially with Jung Hoseok, the one who broke your heart.

Pairing: Hoseok x female reader, a bit of Seokjin x reader

Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED.

Genre: nonidol!au, friends with benefits, angst (I hope!)

WC: 5.3k

Warning: swearing, fingering, penetrative sex, oral (m &.f receiving), outdoor sex, public sex, dance studio sex, a bit rough (I think?!)

A/N : I really wanted to add a bit of angst in this installment, and it’s my first time writing anything angsty so I hope I was able to portray the feelings and heartbreak as I imagined it in my head. Also, there’s a Seokjin cameo here- for those who are not familiar with this series, you can read the Seokjin fic (series masterlist below) so you have an idea how he fits into OC’s life and this little universe. Many apologies for errors, I am publishing this completely unedited and unbeta-ed. As always, likes, reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Thank you for reading, and enjoy!!💜

Series Masterlist: Little Black Book

You tried to stay awake, you really did. However, you struggled to keep your eyes open, even with Hoseok pounding into you from behind.

“Hobi,” you slurred. “I can’t, too drunk.”

You felt him falter. “Fuck, I think Iam too. I can’t cum.” His hands rested on your waist, and he pulled himself out. “This is such a bad idea.”

You collapsed on his bed, hand blindly grabbing a pillow and placing it under your head. “Tomorrow.” You mumbled.

“Yeah tomorrow.” Hoseok lay down beside you. You soon fell asleep.

When morning came, you woke up with a nasty hangover and Hoseok absent from his bed. You saw a glass of water and a bottle of Condition, with a handwritten note, which you purposely ignored, not ready to face reality yet. You downed the hangover drink then searched for your clothes. As you got dressed, you could not help but take a peak at the note. You saw the word ‘sorry’, and immediately you grabbed the paper, crumpled it and tossed it across Hoseok’s bedroom.

You took deep breaths, to still the nausea in your stomach, and also to pull back the tears that were threatening to spill out. You swallowed hard, and after making sure you looked decent enough for your walk of shame back to your apartment, you left Hoseok’s place without a second glance.

*******

“________, hey!”

You froze at the sound of your name, loud even with the dance music blaring. You turned to find Hoseok, weaving through bodies to get to where you were standing.

“Hi….” you greeted him weakly. He barrelled into you with a big hug.

“How have you been? WHERE have you been? I’ve been texting you!”

Your mind raced to find an excuse. “Um, you know, busy. Things just went zero to 100 after my bar exam.”

“I heard! I wanted to take you out for a celebration dinner but you never replied.” Hoseok gave you an exaggerated pout as he directed you to a quieter corner in the house. “Glad you came to this party though! How long has it been? A year?”

“Seven months.” You mumbled, your brain was still processing Hoseok standing in front of you.

“Feels so much longer when you’re not replying my texts!” Hoseok teased you. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

How could you resist his eyes and that heart shaped smile? Whatever anger and embarrassment that had bubbled up at the sight of him immediately disappeared. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I promise I won’t leave you hanging for so long next time.”

Hoseok lighted up at your nickname for him. He looked at you fondly and kissed your forehead. Your entire body went in flames, you hoped he did not notice the sudden rise in your body temperature. Hoseok dragged you out to the back garden, insisting you both needed to catch up immediately. Finding a secluded spot under a large tree, you sat side by side, watching the house party from afar.

At his request, you updated him on your life. How you got hired into one of the largest law firms in Seoul, how you worked at least ten hours a day, how you still took the subway in weekends to go to random places, how you still survived on instant foods and take-outs.

“We should take cooking classes together.” Hoseok chuckled. “I need to be able to feed myself too.”

You raised your eyebrow. “But doesn’t your girl-“

“We broke up.” Hoseok cut you off. “For good this time.”

That’s what you said seven months ago too, you wanted to say, but instead you grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “I”m sorry, Hobi.”

“We’re better like this. We’re so toxic to each other.” He squeezed your hand back. When you tried to pull away, he held it tighter. “Please don’t ghost me again. It was hell without you.”

Your head told you to stay back, but your heart said otherwise. You shuffled closer to him. “I’m sorry, Hobi. For the break up and for me not being there. I was just…” Angry. Jealous.Tired of being a rebound. “... so busy.”

“You’re here now. It’s enough.” Hoseok whispered.

You both let silence take over, only with the beats of dance music from the house in the background. Leaning back against the tree, you looked at your clasped hands. You couldn’t help but admire Hoseok’s fingers. Long, nimble and such an extension of his passion- when he danced, even his fingertips were telling a story.

Suddenly you felt your chest tighten. Something had shifted in the air. The way Hoseok held your hand was different. Your bodies were closer. You could hear his breathing, and he probably could hear yours too as well as the pounding of your heart. Your cheeks reddened as you felt him leaning closer.

“I really missed you.” He kissed your temple. You pressed your legs tighter together. “I missed you so much.”

You closed your eyes and swallowed. You knew if you turned your head, you would face him directly and there was no stopping the kiss that would come. So you kept your gaze down to where your legs were folded, focusing on the grass underneath you. His breath was hot against your ear. You shuddered, but still, you did not move. His hand moved to the small of your back, rubbing it gently. You clenched your jaw, determined not to show any reactions whatsoever.

He felt your body tensing and he sighed against your neck. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” His voice was soft yet so loud in your ears.

Did you want him to stop? No, of course not. The night of that disastrous hook up was still fresh in your mind, no matter how much you wanted to forget about it. You wanted to feel Hoseok, all of him, all over you, on you, IN you. But what happened when tomorrow came? Would it be like any other mornings, when he left crawling back to his on again-off again girlfriend, after you had dried his tears and told him his life was better off without her?

You were helpless, however, when his scent invaded your senses and clouded your mind. You could only feel his lips ghosting over your skin, his fingers pressing against your back. You exhaled sharply. “I want this, Hobi, I want this so bad.” You whimpered.

His mouth latched onto your neck, lips nipping and tongue licking at the sensitive spots. “Seven fucking months overdue.” He mumbled. “Your place or mine?”

Your eyes shot open at his question. Definitely not his place, where memories of his ex lingered. And definitely not your place- you wanted to keep your sanctuary free of whatever memories of him. “No,” you panted. “Here.”

Hoseok stopped. “Here? HERE?”

You both looked over to the house. No one seemed to notice you both were outside. No one was coming out either. Hoseok grabbed your hand as he stood up. “Let’s go to the other side of the tree. Just in case.” He sounded as breathless as you were. You followed him.

It was much darker, the tree blocking the lights from the house and the back patio, but you did not mind. You wanted pleasure, just physical pleasure, from Hoseok, and seeing his face could very well send you careening further into the hole you did not know how to climb out of.

Hoseok pressed you against the bark. He kissed you urgently, pressing his hips against yours. His knee wedged itself between your legs, and you automatically rutted against his thigh. His lips moved to your neck, and you warned him not to leave any marks. He growled at that, and yanked your top up, bunching it around your chest. He pushed your bra down, freeing your breasts and he immediately zeroed in on your nipples, alternately sucking them. You buried your fingers in his hair. “Harder, Seok.”

He followed your direction, and sucked on your nipple harshly as his fingers pinched and twisted the other. You moaned loudly.

“Fuck, your tits are amazing.” He left your nipple to start marking your breasts. You winced slightly at the pain, but you enjoyed it. “Turn around, baby.”

You turned and faced the tree. Hoseok’s chest was pressed against your back as his hands continued to massage your breasts. You felt his hard member on your back, and you reached around to stroke it over his slacks. His hands moved down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them. You wiggled your hips and helped him push the denim down to your ankles. His hand dipped into your panties, those long fingers opening your folds and feeling your wetness.

“Baby, you’re so wet.” He hisses in your ear. He slid a finger in and your sex quickly sucked it in. You both moaned, and he slid in another finger. His long digits invaded your hole and caused more of your honey to spill out. His fingers fucked you hard and fast, and your arms shot out to hold on to the tree. Your legs were becoming jelly.

You babbled his name as he inserted a third finger, stretching you out. You rested your head on the bark as you felt the heat in your core spreading. You focused on the movement of his fingers, and the sounds they were making in your hole. You arched your back, you were at the brink of your climax.

Hoseok noticed how close you were and he pulled his fingers out. “Seok, the fuck? I was so close.”

He did not answer you. Instead, you heard rustling behind you and then your panties were pulled down to your knees. A hand with sticky fingers landed on your waist, and soon you felt the blunt head of his cock at your entrance.

“You clean?”

You nodded, holding your breath. You felt his cock coming in, inch by inch, and you let out a silent scream when he slammed his hips, bottoming out in you. He leaned forward, resting his forehead by your neck. He was breathing heavily.

“Seok,” you wiggled your hips, “Hobi, fuck me. Hard.”

“Give me a second.” He whined. “I don’t want to cum too soon.”

A few seconds passed, then his hands grabbed your breasts. He squeezed them hard as he whispered, “Hold on baby, I’m going to fuck you now.”

And fuck you he did. His hips were snapping hard and fast, his cock pistoning into your cunt relentlessly. His hands were holding onto your tits tightly, using them as anchors to move your body back and forth into him. You felt his balls slapping against your clit, and you heard only the smacking of your skins, mixed with your moans.

“Oh yes, Seok. That’s it, fuck me.” You encouraged him.

“Yeah, you like this, baby?”

“Fuck yeah, you feel so good. Fuck me. Fuck me, Hobi.”

Hoseok picked up his pace and you did not think he could get any deeper. Your moans were getting animalistic, you both were focused on reaching your own climaxes. Your hand reached down and started to rub your clit. The moment your fingers touched the sensitive nub, you clenched around him, making him curse. You rubbed your button harder, and soon your legs started shaking.

“Cumming, baby? Keep rubbing your clit. Cum on my cock.”

Your orgasm hit you hard, and Hoseok continued fucking you through it. He grabbed your hand from your core and brought the fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking them. “Shit, I gotta eat you out next time.”

He continued fucking into you as you were coming down from your high, and you felt his movements getting sloppier. “Seok, come in my mouth.”

“Dirty girl.” He growled as he pulled out. You turned around, as fast as you could with panties and jeans around your ankles, and got down on your knees. He pumped his cock before you, and you could hear how wet it was, lubricated by your juices. You opened your mouth, and he pushed himself in. Wrapping your lips tight around his dick, you bobbed your head up and down, sucking him as if your life depended on it. You felt his fingers in your hair, holding your head steady as he started fucking your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck baby, I’m cumming.”

You hummed against his cock and you felt his cum spurted out in your mouth and down your throat. Hoseok cursed as he watched you greedily gobbling up his seed.

Once your heartbeats slowed down back to normal, and the lusty haze was lifted, you both hastily got dressed, avoiding each other’s eyes.

“________, I’m sorry, I didn’t know what got over me, and…”

“Hobi,” you cut him off. “It’s ok. We both needed to get it out of our system.” You wiped the corners of your mouth.

Hoseok did a final check on his zipper. “Can… can I take you out to dinner? Or something? Like a date?”

You closed your eyes. How long had you waited to hear that? “Do you think that’s a good idea, Seok? I mean, I know your history. You always go back to her.” You winced at your own words and tone.

A few seconds passed by and Hoseok still did not respond. “Let’s just stay as friends, hmm?” You offered. It’s safer that way, for me, you thought.

“Okay.” Hoseok replied softly. “Just… just don’t disappear on me again, please? It really was shit without you.” Hoseok moved closer to you and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded. It had been shit for you too.

*******

“Ah!” You screamed as the ache got too much to bear. “Hoseok, can we stop please?”

Hoseok puffed. “Come on, baby. We’ve just started.”

“Too much, Seok.” You panted.

He chuckled. “Just give me one more, hmm?”

“I can’t, I can’t, Hobi!”

“Yes you can, baby. Come on, you can do it.”

You wanted to cry, but you pushed yourself, dropping to your hands and knees.

Just one thing at a time, you told yourself. Push your feet out. Bend your elbows. Push down, then push up. Then tuck your knees back in. And stand. There. One thing at a time.

You collapsed on the studio floor. “I’ll never do this ever again. Fuck you for making me do this.”

Hoseok threw you a towel. “Come on, let’s stretch or you’ll be all sore tomorrow.”

“No.” You said defiantly, from the floor. He stood over you, arms on his hips, then nudged you with his shoe. You shot him an annoyed look. “You come down here and stretch me.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened at your remark. “Is that an invitation?”

You froze, not realising the innuendo you had blurted out. You looked at him standing by your feet. Dressed in a sleeveless baggy shirt, the front tucked into his shorts. Hair wet and skin glistening with sweat. He shouldn’t look sexy, but he was oozing with nothing but sex appeal. Your mind instantly went back to the house party ten months prior. You wondered if he thought about that night as often as you did.

He squatted next to you. You averted your gaze away from his bare thighs. Your cheeks felt hot. “It can be whatever you want it to be.” You managed to say.

Hoseok narrowed his eyes. “You sure?”

You understood his hesitation. You had been keeping your distance. You had mostly turned down his requests for dates, citing your busy work schedule though in reality you feared he would leave you for his ex-girlfriend the moment she came back to him. That was what you got for being Hoseok’s shoulder to cry on during the six years of his on-again off-again relationship.

So things had been… civil, strictly just friends. Until he invited you to join him at his studio after hours, doing his daily exercise routine. And did you buy a new pair of sports bra with a zipper at the front and leggings with little holes on the sides that go all the way to your upper thighs? And did you fantasise Hoseok taking them off of you? Yes, you definitely did.

“Yeah I’m sure. If you want to.”

Hoseok straddled you, trapping you between his legs. “Do you have any idea how hot you look in this? Shit, I’ve got a raging boner since the moment you stepped in.”

His hands were on your body, rubbing your sides up and down. “And these leggings, with your skin peaking out. Did you put these on for me, baby?”

You arched your back in pleasure as you felt his fingers trailing over your thighs, down to the back of your knees and to your ankles. He took off your shoes and your socks, then his hands moved back up to your waist. He peeled both your leggings and your thong off, quickly leaving you bare on the floor.

“God, I’ve been wanting to eat your pussy since that night.” He licked his lips.

“Hobi, I’m all sweaty.”

“I bet you taste even better then.” He shuffled to lie down next to you, and motioned you to get on his face. You blushed when you realised that the position would make you face the floor to ceiling mirror. He glanced over and smirked. “Well, enjoy watching yourself being pleasured with my tongue.”

You got yourself over his face, and lowered your body onto him. His tongue darted out for a taste, making you peeped out a small moan. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you down. Then you felt the flat of his tongue on your folds, moving over your lips all the way to your clit.

Your hands immediately grabbed his hair, for you needed something to hold on to as he continued swiping his tongue over your sex, prodding through your lips, dipping into your hole and collecting your nectar. Before long, you started to ride his face in abandon, and he pushed in two fingers into you without warning.

He fingered you hard and fast, just like that night, as if he remembered your request back then to go hard. You felt your juices leaking out, drenching his fingers and his mouth, and with a growl, he added a third finger into you.

You nearly collapsed forward at the addition, and Hoseok decided to test you further by pushing in a fourth finger. Your body shuddered and shook at the stretch, and you moaned loudly. His mouth left your sex then, and he focused on fucking you with his long digits. The sloshing sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt filled your ears, so loud even with the exercise music in the background.

“Fuck baby, cum on my face, come on.”

His voice went down several octaves than you were used to, and it turned you on even more. You felt the pressure building, the cord ready to snap. Your hole pulsated and clenched erratically around his fingers. You felt his lips closing around your clit, sucking it, as his fingers continued to piston your hole. Then you came hard, your body shaking violently on top of him, his free hand grabbed your ass cheek, desperately trying to hold you down as he continued his ministrations to prolong your orgasm. You pushed his head away when oversensitivity set in on your clit, but his fingers refused to leave your hole, merely slowing down in their rhythm.

“Hobi,” you mewled. “Want your cock now.”

Giving you pussy a last kiss, he pulled his fingers out and got himself out from under you. Your body was exhausted, and you fell forward, bracing yourself up weakly on your elbows. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, and you realised how wanton your position was, down on all fours. Hoseok was standing behind you, undoing the ties on his shorts, then pushing them and his boxers down. His cock popped out, and you could see in the mirror how long and hard it was. You swallowed.

Hoseok kneeled, and keeping your eyes locked on each other in the mirror, he pushed himself into you in one stroke. You screamed at the intrusion, and he immediately bent down to kiss your shoulders and neck to soothe you. You closed your eyes and stilled your breathing, relaxing yourself around his girth. “I’m OK Hobi, you can move.”

He kissed your neck before he straightened up, his hands gripped your waist firmly. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me when I fuck you.”

You opened them, as he asked, and you struggled to keep them open when he pulled his cock out slowly before he slammed himself back into you. You stared at his reflection. His sleeveless baggy shirt was sticking to his body, his pecs outlined clearly beneath the fabric. His jawline sharp and tight, even when he moaned out your name as he fucked you slow but hard. His cock was dragging against your walls within, and before long you felt your orgasm coming.

“Fuck, baby, you gonna cum again?” Hoseok moaned as he felt your pussy tighten around him. You breathed out a yes, and he picked up his pace. “You like me fucking you hard like this? Feel good?”

“Yeah, oh god yeah Hobi. Close, so close!” You forced your eyes open as you were starting to climax. He kept his eyes on you as he continued pounding you, moaning loudly along with you as you finally reached your second orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot.” He pulled you up against his chest and spread your legs slightly so that you could see his cock moving in and out of your pussy. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up, as the other reached for the front zipper of your sports bra. “Time to see these tits, hmm?” He whispered coarsely in your ear.

Not fully recovered from your climax, you hazily watched him pull the zipper all the way down, until the bra opened up completely, freeing your breasts. You felt smug when his chest rumbled in appreciation at the sight of your bare tits. Both his hands immediately moved up to cup your globes, his palms felt rough against your stiff nipples. You removed your sports bra completely, then reached back to grab Hoseok’s hips.

Soon you found yourself in an erotic rhythm. You bounced yourself on his cock as he stayed motionless behind you, enjoying the increasingly fucked out expression on your face and massaging your naked breasts. You gasped when he decided to meet your thrust, sending his cock deeper into your core. Liking your reaction, he did again, and again, ramming his hips against your ass harder and harder.

His grips on your breasts got tighter, his fingers digging into the flesh. He did not give you any chance to breathe, his cock plunging into your wet cunt in a maddening pace. All you could do was moan and gasp for any air you could get in between. You felt his pace got sloppy, and he released your breasts, only to pull your arms behind your back, gripping your elbows harshly.

“Watch us, baby. Watch us cum together.” He ordered.

You focused your eyes on your reflections, and the sight sent you into your third orgasm immediately. Your face was red and flushed, your mouth agape in pleasure. Your upper body arched from the way Hoseok held your arms, and your breasts were jiggling wildly from the way he was slamming into you. Your eyes moved to your sex, and you felt a sinful satisfaction when you saw your arousal dripping down your legs, juiced out by the cock that was eratically pistoning in and out of you.

Hoseok continued to pound into you mercilessly, edged on by your orgasm. He lost it when he heard you mumble ‘in me, in me’ and with one last thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could in you as he released his load. His body jerked as he cummed, and he released your elbows, only to wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest on your back, as he continued to empty himself.

You threw your head back, breathing heavily. You felt the soreness setting in, no doubt from the stupid exercise you did earlier as well as from the sex session that just happened. You felt sleepy now, tired, and your head lolled against his shoulder. Hoseok gently laid your body down, then slowly he pulled out of you. His soft cock twitched when he saw some of his cum dribble out of your cunt.

He bent down and kissed the small of your back. “Now, can I PLEASE take you out on date?”

*******

“__________, hey.”

You blinked at the sound of your name. Seokjin was waving his hand in front of you. “You okay? You just zoned out on me.”

You put your bag down, then took off your shoes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You sat yourself on the king size bed in the middle of the hotel room. Seokjin eyed you.

“Did something happen in the office?”

You shook your head.

“You sure you’re ok? You look really out of it.”

You huffed. “I’m fine, ok?”

“Well I can tell you’re not. You’re bratty and annoying but this,” he waved his hand around you, “something is really bothering you.”

You groaned and threw yourself on the bed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You bit back a sob, and when you felt a tear escape your eye, you cover your eyes with your arm. Seokjin sat next to you, his large hand gently caressed your hair.

“Ok. We don’t have to talk about it. We don’t have to do anything either, ok? We can just order food and watch a movie or something.”

You could not hold back the next sobs, and with Seokjin gently comforting you, you let it all out. The anger, the disappointment, the heartbreak, all poured out with your tears. Seokjin eventually lay down and hugged you as you cried on his chest. When you finally calmed down, you pulled back and apologised for the tear and mascara stains on his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled as you tried to wipe black stain off.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s just a shirt. You feel better?”

You sighed. No, you did not feel better, you felt even shittier, lonely even. “Yeah, thanks.” You lied.

“Want to get some food?”

You shook your head. “Help me forget, Jin?” You meekly asked.

You had to reassure Seokjin a few more times that it was indeed what you wanted. He obliged, undressing you gently before proceeding to worship your body with his mouth and fingers. When he entered you, you gasped and more tears rolled down which he kissed away. He fucked you gently, softly, almost carefully. At other times, he would fill your ears with filthy praises; this time however, he kept telling you that you were beautiful, that you felt good, that everything would be ok.

But it was not enough for you. Your mind went back to the three months you had had of dating Hoseok, before the ex-girlfriend came crawling, begging him to take her back. You knew you had no chance then, and you were grateful you had kept a close guard on your heart because- surprise, surprise- he did go back to her. As your status unceremoniously returned back to Hoseok’s friend, you buried yourself in your work. Along the way you met Seokjin, and entered into a regular hook up schedule with him. It was not planned, but it definitely helped you build your confidence back.

Until you received a text message that evening, en route to Seokjin’s hotel room, that destroyed everything all over again.

Hobi [19:03] : she left me. I don’t know what to do. Baby, I feel so lost.

Seokjin offered for you stay in his room that night, and you accepted readily.

*******

Today

“________, hey!”

Hoseok arrives at your table, and your heart takes a little leap. He is in a suit, his black hair slicked back, and his signature smile bright on his face. You smile smugly as women, and men, turn to look at him as he passes, and some even give you an evil eye for being his company for dinner.

“Hobi!” You stand up and hug him. “You look good!”

“Ah thanks, I prefer to be in more casual wear, but I figure I need to dress up for the attorney of the hour.” He winks.

“Said the choreographer of the hour.” You tease back.

You both fall into easy laughter. “It’s good to see you. Thanks for inviting me out to dinner. I know you’re super busy these days.”

“Hobi, it’s the least I could do for ghosting you… so many times.” You hide behind your wine.

“I deserve it.” Hoseok sighs. “I was a really shit friend.”

You shake your head. “We were a mess. But once we took our feelings out of the equation, it got a lot better, right?”

“No excuse though, baby. I really took advantage of you.”

“Hoseok,” you grab his hand. “I made all those decisions myself, ok? And I just muddled up the whole thing further by not being upfront with you. So, we were both idiots, but now we’re not. Can we leave it at that?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Ok, ok, fine. So what’s the occasion tonight?”

You fidget in your seat. “I want to tell you something.”

“How bad is it that you have to wine and dine me?”

You slap his arm. “Don’t joke! I’m serious!” You pout at him. “There’s this guy-“

Hoseok nearly chokes on his wine. “Oh my god, I knew it, it’s Seokjin, isn’t it? Are you finally dating your boss?”

Your mouth drops. “What? No! Ew, no! No, it’s not him.”

Hoseok doubles over on the table, taken over by laughter. You poke him. “Ok, so it’s not him… could it be… the poet?”

You blush and bury your face in your hands. Hoseok slaps the table, “Aha! Ding ding ding!” He mimics a ringing bell. “So, you’re dating?”

You nod. “We decided to give it a try. Oh my god Seok, he came by last week and it felt SO different.”

“Wow. What made it different?”

“I... I don’t know, really.” You struggle to explain. “It just felt so intimate, you know? Like with you or the others it’s just pure sex. But with him... the more we have sex, the more I feel something? And turned out he feels the same way.”

Hoseok nods his head. He is smiling at you in a way that makes you feel uneasy. “What?” You ask.

“You look happy. Was he the last dick you had?”

You cover your face in embarrassment. “I honestly couldn’t even fuck anyone after that night, Seok. He- oh my god- he just took me to another level.”

“The man with the magic tongue and the golden dick.” You both snicker at his remark. “So, no more hanky panky between us then?”

Your face and body feel warm. “Yes, no more dance studio sex, no more sex in your car, no more sex on your balcony. But I’m sure you can find others to have fun with. You work with lots of female idols these days- anyone catches your fancy?”

“Oh god, no. I can’t date any of them, I’m their choreographer! But….”

“Oh no, not the ‘but…..’.”

“... she called last week.”

You groan. “What the fuck does she want? The last time you got back together was more disastrous than all the other times before!”

“She wants to get back together. She gave me an ultimatum too- get back together with her and marry her by end of the year, or she’ll be out of my life. FOR GOOD.”

You stare at your best friend. “Don’t tell me you say yes.”

“Baby, please- you think I’d do a marriage proposal like that?” Hoseok scoffs. “I said no, of course. And I blocked her number.”

“About fucking time! Well done, you!” You high five Hoseok. He laughs heartily, then his expression turns somber.

“I wish I had blocked her out of my life earlier,” he says softly. “I wonder what would have happened between us.”

You look down at your hands. You stopped wondering about that a long time ago. “Maybe in the next life, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe. We’re better off as friends in this one, right?”

You nod wistfully. “Best friends?” You raise your wine glass. He clinks it with his glass.

“Forever and ever. In this life and the next.”

Published 15032021

#thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #noonasinnetwork #thetruthuntoldnet #purplearmynet #bts smut #bts fanfic #hoseok x you #Hoseok smut #hoseok x oc #hoseok x reader #Littleblackbook

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hitozy · 3 years

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twin stars ‹ masterlist › have you ever

𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢

Iwaizumi had forgotten how rowdy his friends are, and one isn't physically present.

He had not seen any of his friends since the wedding and even then he didn't get to see and chat with them very long, he was out of it that day. But here he is on a Friday night, with YN sitting beside him per request of the three dumbasses sitting across from them; Maki and Mattsun with Oikawa on their phone screen, demanding attention like the needy shit he has always been.

He feels you more than he hears you laugh at whatever the others are telling you and he takes a chance to take a peek, as if he hasn't been doing that since you walked out of the room to go out with him.

Your short black skirt that he had already thought was short when you were standing is even shorter now as you sat, it barely covered your ass, leaving your beautiful legs on display for all the perverts. On top of that you wore a skin tight shirt that had a boob window and he has been wanting to punch every creep that keeps on looking at it. He wants to snarl at every single person that makes a double take on her, of course she's beautiful.

She's also too good for anyone out there.

He relaxes as he watches her laugh freely, her cheeks tinted pink, her eyelashes wet from laughing so hard at his friends antics. He decided he should bring her to these reunions from now on, take her out more, she must feel lonely just doing school work and being at home since most of her friends are to engrossed on their future or on their relationships.

"Earth to Iwachan!" He felt someone smack his head, finding the culprit to be a smirking Mattsun, "We get it! You're married and happy, I mean..." Mattsun, Maki and Oikawa all turn to look at YN, "I can blame you, YN has always been the most beautiful woman in our life."

YN, used to their flirty but harmless antics snorts at it, "That's not what I heard when Hajime and I walked in as you fucked that 2nd year cheerleader. What has her name again? Mina?" She smirked at it, making Iwaizumi laugh at the memory. He had been horrified and had accidentally pulled you into the bathroom instead of running outside. Both stuffed uncomfortably in there while hearing Mattsun pound (roughly) into the poor girl until the cheerleader moaned out a 'Daddy' to Mattsun, making you both laugh and interrupted them.

Mattsun laughed at it, "I can still hear you both laughing about it! What's so wrong about having a Daddy kink, huh? YOU KINK SHAMERS!"

"You weren't even close to daddy age, Mattsun!" YN joined Iwaizumi's laughter, leaning against him for support, "You were only 18, what's so 'daddy' about that!?"

Mattsun only huffed at that and Iwaizumi thought that maybe he was angry, the slight scowl on his face as he watched YN grip his bicep as she hid behind him from laughter remained there for a long time afterwards.

―

YN had just gotten up for the bathroom when his friends sharp glances turned to him. Usually, he would ignore it since it really wasn't their business, but he know from experience that if he keeps on avoiding it, they'll get worse.

Taking a sip from his beer and without sparing a glance to any of them, he gives. "Just spit it out."

It wasn't a surprise that shittykawa was the one to initiate it, "I can't believe YN took your stupid ass in marriage."

He turned to glare at his friend on the screen, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that she could've and SHOULD HAVE gone for someone who is emotionally available and isn't still chasing after his ex."

"I- this marriage is just - it's-"

"It's what?" Mattsun interrupts him, "Convenience? Because she's your friend, so its comfortable? You think that's fair?" He scoffs at Iwaizumi and it makes him feel small, "She's so in love with you and you don't even see it," he points at his, harshly poking his chest, "its so infuriating seeing you chasing after that other bitch when YN has always been right there!" He takes a swing of his drink, obviously irritated with his wedded friend.

"I- its-... she isn't in love with me, we're friends, best friends." What the hell is wrong with his friends? "What the hell is this? Why do any of you care about me and yn? You guys said you were happy about me marrying her!"

"We were, until we saw that you aren't in love with her."

Iwaizumi feels his heart drop at his friends deadpanned expressions. He doesn't regret marrying YN, he just wishes he had done it under normal circumstances.

"I'm trying."

"We know Iwachan," he looks up to see Oikawa giving him a pained smile, "But you need to cut off Jae for good. YN deserves at least that."

"Speaking of the queen of Rome... someone is following her."

Iwaizumi feels his body tense at Mattsun's words, someone is following you? He turns a bit to catch you fast walking towards their table, a worried expression on your face. He can also see the creep walking behind you, eyeing you hungrily.

He doesn't like it.

Once she makes it to the table, all of the boys can see how out of breath she is and wonder just how long she's been trying to avoid him. She sits beside Iwaizumi, meeting no one's eye and soon enough the guy is there with a smirk, "Hey baby, why did you runaway? Come on, ditch these losers and come with me instead."

He has no right, Iwaizumi knows that he has no right to get so mad at this perverts words but he can't help the possessiveness that is pouring out of himself, blinded by rage, he acts on impulse.

Iwaizumi pulls her close to him, seating her casually on his lap and looking square at this randos eye, says, "She's taken, beat it."

When he notices that the other one is about to open his mouth, he cuts him off by kissing her instead.

The last time he had kissed her was while she was drunk and it hadn't felt right to return it since she was very out of it. Now though? Now, they're both pretty sober and in public. His friends are at arms length and he can't find it in himself to give a damn when your lips feel like the softest pillows ever.

He gripped the back of her neck to angle her face and kiss her deeply, he was surprised to feel her kissing him back with the same fervor. She took the hand he had on her knee up to her thigh, which he gripped on immediately and pressed her chest against his, her small hands clutching his shoulders as if her life depended on it.

At the back of his mind, he could hear his friends wolf whistles and a couple of others exclaiming at the way they were making out, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. She was here, she was present and so warm underneath his fingers, her lips following his, her tongue exploring his mouth just as he was with her.

He didn't know for how long they had been kissing, but when he slightly pulled apart, her lips were red and swollen, her eyes sparkled and shined like diamonds underneath the sunlight. She looked adorable and he felt his heart throb painfully in his chest.

"Well... I guess I'm not the only exhibitionist anymore, huh?"

His friends laughed when YN started to blush and the implication that was made. With Iwaizumi still feeling a bit high from what had happened, he pulled her against him close, his grip tight and barked, "Leave her alone, you pervs."

After a few jabs directed to him, they continued as if nothing had happened, though he did catch them stealing glances at him with raised eyebrows, questioning his actions at the passionate kiss he shared with her.

I don't know what's happening either, he thought as he peered down to look at her face, feeling himself blush at how small and comfortable she looked in this lap, in his arms, but I know I'm in trouble.

―

When they got home later that night, he feels himself feeling hot and bothered by every move you make. You way your hanged your purse at the entrance, the way you shook your hair out of its up do, the way you leaned forward to take of your heels.

He followed you down the hall to your shared room, watching the way your hips moved side to side tantalizingly. His hand itched, he wanted to move closer and glue himself to your back, to hold your waist in one hand as the other guided your head to kiss him, to have the hand on your waist dip down and shove his digits in your panties to find them soaking wet, to hear you sigh out his name "Hajime, please."

"Hajime."

"...Hajime?"

Your solid voice pulled him out of his trance, a blush adorning his face in shame. I need to snap out of it, its too late to be so horny about my best friend. "Yeah mochi?"

"I um..." He noticed they way she was twirling her hair around, a nervous habit she's had since they were kids and wondered what could have her in such a state. "I- urgh, there's no easy way to say it."

She smacked herself in that moment. "Mochi?!"

He would've moved forward, if it wasn't for the solid gaze she had, her shoulders pulled back, full of intent.

"Hajime, I want you to take my virginity."

... What

When words run dry, he does not try, nor do I.

We are on par.

He just is, I just am

and we just are.

He and I - Lang Leav

taglist ! @daphnxy @zukoslosthishonor @i-am-a-hoe-for-shinya @mrsdoradominguez-barnes @anejuuuuoy

a/n! went on vacation and forgot to queue the post for this chapter, im so sorry, my bad D:

#owwaw #owwaw💔#iwaizumi fic #iwaizumi hajime fic #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi smut #this a suggestive chapter not a lot is happening but just to be safe

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Her again

Title: Her again

Square Filled: Office AU

Ship: AU!Dean x Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle, Charlie Bradbury, John Winchester

Rating: explicit

Warnings: angst, language, lies, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, unrequited love?, a hint of breeding kink, consensual degrading (name calling), a hint of choking, light blow job, hand job, implied smut

Summary: At an office party you finally turn your back on Dean.

Word Count: 2,4 k

Written/Created for @spnaubingo

2020 SPN AU BINGO Masterlist

Divider by @writeyourmindaway

“Her again?” Jo huffs, watching you look at Dean who has one arm pressed against the wall to cage Lisa Braeden, the girl getting the job you wanted. “I can’t understand what everyone sees in her.”

“A dog in heat,” Charlie grunts. “Wonder how she got the job without having the qualifications Dean wanted. Do you know what that bitch did before she started working here?”

“Charlie do not use the b-word. We are all women and do not…,” Lisa turns her attention toward you, grinning wildly as Dean brushes a lash off her cheek. “Okay, she’s a bitch.”

“That chick was a fucking yoga instructor, girls,” Charlie jerks her head toward Sam who winks at you, offering you another free drink. “I should tell Sam she got the job for blowing her boss…”

“Charlie, we do not know if she got the job that way,” you watch Dean grab another drink, eyes landing on you. He raises the glass, but you do not have it in you to return the smile he gives you. “I’ll have that drink with you now.”

“Sam is fighting for your attention, girl. Go and get him, tiger,” Jo snickers at Charlies' words, pecking her friend’s cheek.

“I am not in the mood for stupid office rumors to spread. I do not need someone telling my boss I fucked his brother only as we shared a drink,” grumbling you walk toward Sam, taking the awful eggnog out of his hands.

“My brother again?” Sam muses watching his brother eye you warily as you give his younger brother a soft smile. “He’s a fool for not seeing you.”

“Well, I worked my ass off and didn’t get the position. I cannot compare with chicks like Lisa Braeden. I don’t know,” you sigh deeply, smile fading away. “Men do prefer girls like her, not me. I am awkward around men like your brother or you.”

“You are talking with me,” Sam slings one arm around your shoulders, squeezing your arm. “Maybe you should’ve told him that you like him.”

“And embarrass me even more,” deadpanning you point toward Dean who offers Lisa another drink. “Look at him, Sam he’s in his flirting modus. There is no chance he will not take her home like all the other girls. I do not want to be another notch on his belt. At least I’ll keep my dignity and do not have to do the Dean Winchester walk of shame.”

“That’s a new one,” snickering Sam looks at his brother whose jaw ticks anytime Sam touches you. “Dean Winchester walk of shame…”

“Maybe ‘I fucked my boss and now I have to quit’ would be more appropriate. I bet she is good, flexible, and all. I mean as a former yoga instruct…,” biting your tongue you pray Sam didn’t get the last words.

“I know she’s not qualified for the job, Y/N,” Sam does not like the way Dean acts around Lisa, not at all. “They have a history, okay. During his wilder times, he had an affair with her for like a week.”

“Great,” voice dripping with sarcasm you look at Sam. “He dunked his dick into her cunt and that’s the reason she got the job. A job she is not even qualified for. I worked my ass off. My relationship went downhill thanks to the fact I was married to my job. Fuck this,” you throw the glass with eggnog to the ground, glaring at Dean who turned his attention toward you.

“Y/N, calm down,” Sam tries but you push his hand away.

“This is ridiculous. Our boss fucks a yoga instructor for a week, and she gets the job Cole and I applied for. If Cole would have gotten it, I would have understood. He is longer at the company than I, has more experience but this is a shitshow and I am out of this for good. Fuck Winchester Inc. and fuck his CEO, Dean Winchester.”

Giving Sam an apologetic smile you pat his chest. “You’re not the one I hate right now. I will grab my shit and you’ll get my termination letter.” Sam can only watch you storm out of the room to rush toward your office.

“What the fuck was that Sam?” Dean gasps only catching a glimpse of you storm out of the room. Sam shrugs a smug grin on his lips.

“That was the best employee and woman for the job you gave your ex quitting her job and calling you a jerk,” Sam still grins when his brother storms after you. “I mean, you are a jerk after all.”

“Sam? What happened?” Charlie feels her legs give in. “That was not the plan! How shall we get those two together when she quits her job?”

“Relax, Charlie,” not worried at all Sam offers Charlie a self-assured smirk. “My brother will beg, plea, and fall to his knees to not lose Y/N.”

“Done?” Dean eyes you warily when you storm out of your office to leave the building. “Not even a goodbye?”

“Goodbye, jerk!” you brush past Dean, not caring he follows you. “I can’t believe you gave that yoga chick the job instead of Cole or me.” You stop in your tracks, glaring at Dean whilst you stomp your heel onto his foot, causing him to grunt in pain.

“I know, I did not deserve the position yet, but I thought I’ll give it a try. Cole, I knew he would make it, but he is great at his job. That girl can barely keep up with her tasks. She always bugs Jo to do most of her job,” you blink the tears of anger away. “I am disappointed more than I am mad. I know you tend to think with your dick but making such a lousy decision to get your dick sucked is the shadiest thing you ever did.”

“She doesn’t suck anything, Y/N,” Dean grasps for your hand but you wiggle out of his grip, giving him a warning glare. Sam, Charlie, and Jo can only watch you yell at Dean.

“Yeah, that’s the reason she got a job she’s not qualified for. I know you want to give people with less qualification or education a chance, but this is not such a job,” anger taking over you drop the box to backhand Dean. “That’s for ruining my relationship by forcing me to work my ass off for nothing.”

Rubbing his burning cheek Dean watches you pick your box back up. “There I stand, believing you and I could’ve had something. I am still the nerdy chick helping you with your grades. But this is over. Look for someone else to pamper your ego and the rest of Dean Winchester.”

“Y/N, wait,” the look on your face let Dean stop in his tracks. “She needed a job and that was the only free position, I swear.”

“Dean, we were looking for assistants, a new PR manager and so on when she started to work her. Do not underestimate me, Winchester. I am not a dumb little lamb falling for the big bad wolf,” you are half-way out of the building before Dean catches up with you.

“Wait, sweetheart,” not stopping you walk faster. “Please…”

“Won’t work anymore, Dean. Shove that sugar-sweet pet name up to your ass,” you blink the tears away, taking a deep breath. “Good thing I never told you I love you because this would’ve been embarrassing as hell,” the door slams shut behind you and Dean swallows the lump in his throat.

“Dean what the fuck!” Sam runs after his brother, watching you enter a cab. “You should’ve stopped her. That was the plan.”

“I told you he’ll mess up,” Charlie pinches the bridge of her nose. “Jo, check Y/N’s office, maybe she forgot something. Sam, you will check her termination letter. Dean, stop being a jerk.”

“She loves me,” Dean grins dreamily. “I mean, hell she loves me.”

“Uh-Dean, I hate to ruin your daydreams but at the moment she rather hates you,” Jo shrugs, giving Charlie a wink. “Don’t think she liked watching you flirt with that Braeden chick.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight this way,” Dean grunts into your ear, pressing his sweaty chest closer to you back.

He has you on your belly, legs straddled by his muscular thighs, his cock so deep inside of you it borders on pain, your boss pumps wildly into you. “You’re such a slut for my dick.”

“D’, fuck,” you whine, fighting the ropes holding your hands bound behind your back. “I want to cum.”

“Did you earn to cum?” His lips press against your ear and you shudder, feeling his tongue slide in. “You caused quite a scene there.”

“You said, oh-please right there,” Dean’s large palm wraps around your throat, forces your body to bend to his will. “Please…”

“I said, make it look believable, not fucking rip me apart,” he slams into your abused pussy, making you yelp with every thrust. “I wanted them to believe you quit.”

“Dean, please. I need it,” his free hand slips between your thighs, to toy with your pulsing nub. “I’ll do anything, Sir.”

“I know you will,” Dean muses, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Monday morning you will come to my office, apologize and I’ll yell at you while you blow me like a fucking pro.”

“All you want but please let me cum,” watching Dean in the mirror he placed opposite his bed you roll your eyes. He is grinning wickedly, loving he won the upper hand. “Please.”

“Fucking cum on my dick,” now you push back onto his length, feeling your toes curl. “I want this pussy to squeeze me, milk me dry. You know, I’ll give you all my cum until you are round. Everyone will see you are my whore.”

“Dean!” You cry out, fluttering around his twitching length. “Give me your cum, Sir. Please.” Dean approves your words, gives you shallow thrusts to ride your high out. “Please.”

“There you go, slut,” sticky cum runs down your thighs, ruining the silky sheets. “Love fucking this cunt.”

“I am sorry,” you sigh, snuggling into Dean’s chest. “You said I shall make it look believable and got carried away.” Gently stroking the cheek, you backhanded you look up at Dean. “This sucks.”

“Listen, my father is a strict bastard. Whether we keep our relationship a secret and you can have the position, or we go public and lose it all,” Dean sighs, running one large palm over your ass, squeezing it roughly.

“Lisa played her role well,” giggling you peck Dean’s cheek. “I mean, fuck me, she should get an Oscar for her performance.”

“This way we got rid of Cole without firing him,” Dean grins, moving his hand to your back to tickle your skin. “We had to make him leave on free terms, believing Lisa got the position. Next week you will come back, and I will suggest that you’ll get the position to avoid that you sue me for being a naughty boss.”

“Sounds good to me,” you love the plan Dean and you developed over the last months. “They will lose the bet too. Five hundred bucks for new shoes.”

“You were the only one betting you’ll quit during our Christmas party. I got an evil mastermind in my bed.” You nod eagerly, exclaiming you used an avatar for the bet.

“Now back to me going down on you, boss,” a low growl leaves Dean’s lips when you crawl under the blanket to have a look at his dick. “Looks good, Sir. Maybe I should,” hissing Dean lifts the blanket to watch you lick the tip.

“Sweetheart, I wanted you in my office, on your knees like a good girl but,” he throws his head back, moaning your name when you lick him all over. “Forget it, just take me in your warm mouth, baby girl.”

Voice husky, at least two octaves deeper Dean urges you on, praises your mouth, pussy, and anything he loves. “Please baby girl, suck daddy’s cock.”

You look up at Dean, giggling. “Sorry, I don’t know where this was coming from, Y/N.” His cheeks shades of pink Dean pats your head when you play with his balls. “Such a good little cocksucker. Aren’t you a good little bitch?”

“Winchester stop making me wet again, dammit,” you pump him slowly before you relax your jaw enough to try again. “If you say another word, I’ll ride that dick until it falls off.”

“Fuck me, come up here,” before you can protest Dean tosses the blanket aside, to watch you crawl onto his lap. “Now ride me until you are a mess…”

“See, we need to do something about this,” Dean points toward the faked papers you hand him this morning. “She will sue me if I do not give her the position, father.” Whilst John looks at the papers, you have a grand time teasing Dean.

His cock at your mercy you run your hand up and down his length. Moments before John waltzed into his son's office you wanted to suck your boss off. Now you have him at your mercy and enjoy every second.

“Jesus, that bitch is greedy,” John curses, just like Dean when you slap his dick. “She will sue us for your mistake. Fire Braeden, no give her a suiting position and give that greedy cunt the job. I hope you can dick her down one day for fucking with you…”

“Oh-I will dick her down, Sir,” Dean grunts feeling your hand move faster along his shaft. “Metaphorically, of course…”

“Such a needy slut,” Dean grunts, pushing upward. You are on his lap, back against his chest. His hands on your tits he let you ride him while he checks some numbers, or at least tries to do so. “Naked on your boss’s lap in the middle of your lunch break.”

“He forced me down his dick, Sir. What can I do when he wants to fuck the neediness out of me?” You grin feeling Dean’s fingers pinch your nipples.

“Now, ride me like a good girl and later we will go to my apartment and celebrate you won the bet, got the position, and my dick on the same day.”

“Deal, Mr. Winchester,” you roll your hips faster, moaning as you hit that spot making you see stars. “Now I want you to fuck me over your desk like the slut I am for you.”

“Always so needy, Ms. Y/L/N,” Dean snickers. “I’ll see what I can do for you…”

Tags in reblog.

#Her again #smut #spnaubingo #dean winchester #au dean winchester #au dean #au dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #au dean x you #office au #Supernatural fanfic #Supernatural AU #angsty #dean winchester smut

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thekingreturn · 3 years

Text

JJK Men and PDA Part 2

Getting the ones I missed with the first version of this post.

Characters: Toji, Choso, Naoya

Toji Fushiguro

In an unexpected twist Toji actually has a lot in common with Nanami insofar as PDA goes. “On” Toji (as in Toji trying to land himself a place to crash for the next few months) is another matter entirely. It’s not for nothing that he’s made a lifestyle mooching off richer women, he knows how to turn up the heat and when to play it cool, and being just roguish enough to keep their interest without getting pushed aside as a creep.

It’s different when it’s someone he actually gives a damn about. Toji’s never been particularly affectionate (at least not in an unprompted way) and will likely only be confused by more subtle attempts to get a little attention. That said, pretty minimal shame too. If you wanna crawl in his lap, hold his hand, play with his hair, so be it. Take what you need. He might be a bit of a lazy participant but this shouldn’t be mistaken as disinterest. He just doesn’t really know what kind of ruleset he’s working with. The exception is when he’s riding some high, a job that went well or a good day of gambling. It’s not long lasting but when those moments come he keeps you very close.

Most of what this comes down to is I don’t really see Toji as a big physical touch guy. As a love language (and I’m talking about actual love here), he prefers acts of service. Toji’s public displays of affection come in the form of holding doors. Always keeping track of your presence in a room. Actually paying his own way even when he really can’t afford to. Making a mental note of the kind of places you like and trying to bring you around them more often. All things that barely even indicate to the outside viewer that you ARE a couple, but….if you know Toji well, they’re enough to fluster you anyways.

Choso

Another one who’s not necessarily big on physical affection, public or not. Choso’s the kind of guy who will tell you, in a crowded restaurant, and with an absolutely straight face, that you’re simply the most beautiful person he’s ever encountered, and yet you kissing his cheek in public is what gets him to blush. The arena matters less than just the fact that you’re touching him at all. Cut the guy some slack, he’s spent a long time as a fetus in a jar and he’s only barely getting used to being embodied. Much less that body being wanted.

Physical affection with Choso is very chaste initially, like he’s testing his limits. Simple things, linking your pinkies together when you’re out in public, putting his hands on your shoulders to move out of the way. Eventually it shifts to a little more intimate: hands on your hips while you walk around, letting you lean on him while you wait, playing with your hair occasionally. He also really, really likes hand holding. Its practical and it keeps you close.

So goes the general public. Around his friends or his brothers he’s a lot more open, by which I mean he likes you kept as close as possible. Nothing too intense, just his arms wrapped around you from behind or vice versa. He likes the reassurance of knowing the people he loves are close enough to touch. He knows the pain of separation better than most; he’s not keen to experience it again

Naoya

Well we all know the man’s stated position on women and where they should walk-

Naoya’s hard to keep gender neutral on. Not because I think he has to be straight just because the dynamics are so wildly different depending on the gender identity of the partner. Remind me to start writing what he’d look like with a male s/o at some point.

Anyways. Assuming for the premise of this that you’ve done the immense heavy lifting of actually finding a place for yourself in Naoya’s heart. He’s still very “we will keep our hands off of each other in public”, especially when he’s appearing as a Zen’in clan representative. Naoya’s a guy who places an immense amount of emphasis on strength, and his definition of strength is closely related to conformity to and mastery of social presence. Appearing like a lovesick puppy OR a horny teenager in public are equally distasteful to him. His partner is there primarily as a status object, to be beheld and envied, but they shouldn’t need physical touch to understand their allegiance to him.

There’s a switch that flips once he’s around people that he doesn’t respect, simply because when Naoya feels his time is being wasted he needs to make that clear to all and sundry. You always know when he hits that point before everyone else because he looks at you and jerks his head to indicate you should come closer. Hope you’re not the type to get embarrassed because the more they keep talking the bolder he’s gonna get. Emphasizing more and more that they’re beneath his notice, its probably the most doting he’s ever been with you.

As for affection coming from you, in public it will be smacked away unless it’s happening in the above circumstance. In private he likes being spoiled, but publicly he’s not letting it get out he can’t control his partner and appear professional.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #choso #choso x reader #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in x reader #pda #headcanon

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wookie92 · 3 years

Photo

WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE A MICROPENIS

My micropenis is approximately ½ to 1 inch long when flaccid and 3.3 inches long when fully erect. When fully erect it has an upward angle and a slight banana curve. It is also very thin (2.8), though proportional to the length. According to calculations my penis has a volume of 36.19 ml / 1.22 fl oz (us). Various studies suggest that the average American penis is 2.8–3.9 inches flaccid and around 4.7–6.3 inches when erect. According to online information at SIZEMEUP, in a room of 1000 guys only 1 would be shorter than me.

In an adult, the average stretched penile length is about 13.24 cm (5.21 in.). An adult micropenis is a stretched penile length of 9.32 cm (3.67 in.) or less. Growing up I remember reading that a micropenis was defined as any penis shorter than 2.8 inches in length. But have been subsequently given new information that slid me well under the 3.67 inch upper limit.

Where Do I Stand On The Penis Size Chart?

All this to say: the majority of average flaccid penises are longer than mine when I am erect.

I cannot say that I am deeply ashamed of my micropenis, but certainly I have experienced shame with regard to my size. I can say that I am extremely self aware of my penis size. This is largely because of the of things I hear women and women say about micropenis, and people’s reaction to my own micropenis.

I can only speak from personal experience, but the number of times I have heard women making fun of men for the size of their manhood is staggering. At one time, I actually overheard three or four of my colleagues at work all agreeing that "men with small dicks should be required to wear a warning sign."

In school, especially high school and as an undergraduate, I was subject to a lot of hazing and bullying that was directly connected to my having a micropenis. As a sophomore in high school I was depantsed at the pool by three bullies when I got an unwanted erection. They lifted me up and held my arms behind me to prevent me from covering my erection so the entire PE class present saw what happened. The coach had left the pool area when it happened. While the three boys were penalized, the damage was done any my “secret” became known through out the school before the end of the day. The teasing commenced immediately and was unrelenting. Even my mother got calls from some friends who had heard about the incident (and my condition). My mother reacted in anger at me that somehow I was responsible for the situation (and her subsequent embarrassment). No empathy there. I was depantsed three more times before I graduated from high school and it was clear to me why I was being targeted.

I was on the swim team and during a competition with a neighboring town, discovered that two of the players from that town recognized me as the guy with the “baby dick” which got shouted as I started my event. So, word had spread. I felt like a pariah.

Numerous scientific studies have suggested time and again that for the majority of women in the western world, tiny penises are simply undesirable. I am 28 and have had just only three sexual experiences (through personal choice) with women, two of which were very humiliating, to say the least.

In high school, my first consensual sexual encounter was with a boy named Billy. I was 13 and he was 15. He was interested in anal sex, and wanted to top me. I was willing to bottom despite the fact that he was very well endowed. He did tease me about my micropenis, but seemed to accept it. I was not prepared for how painful the experience of bottoming would be, but he continued to be interested in me, and treated me well (we even kissed) so I was willing to continue to have sex with him as a bottom. I fell in love. Then he disclosed to his homophobic older brother that we had been having sex and that put an end to our relationship. His brother let me know (rather violently) that I was to stay away from Billy or he would castrate and kill me. Billy, who had a black eye, never spoke to me again.

My first sexual encounter with a woman happened during my Junior year in high school. She was a sophomore and I was a Junior. When I undressed I could tell she was “shocked” even though she was a virgin and had never seen a man naked. She has seen photographs of naked men, and she had a brother in college. She was well pleased with my digital and oral skills, and actually squirted into my mouth (something I didn’t even know was a “thing” that might happen). Unfortunately when I attempted to penetrate her, my condom slipped off, and my orgasm was triggered prematurely as I was trying to thrust into her. She tried to push me off of her as I locked up and started squirting, and was furious that I had ejaculated into her vagina. She said she could feel me ejaculating. She got up and douched. I was too embarrassed to speak more than an apology. I helped pay for her “morning after” pill and discovered that she had disclosed the whole evening, including my premature ejaculation, and condom mishap, to her friends.

As a freshman in college I encountered a very attractive university student who seemed to be attracted to me. When I stripped, she stared at my micropenis, giggled, and put her hand to her mouth, muttering simply "OK" in a tone that suggested she was taken aback. When it came to actually performing, first I found that the condom wouldn’t stay on, but more frustratingly, my micropenis kept falling out every time I tried to penetrate her. She actually asked the traditional joke question, "Is it in?" mistaking my penis for my finger. I wanted to die. It was clear that she was getting nothing out of the experience. I genuinely tried my best to make her happy via oral sex, but she didn't orgasm or enjoy that either. I suspect her encounter with my penis through a wet blanket over the whole experience. When at last I finally thought I was making her content, she suddenly huffed in an annoyed way and got up, saying she needed to use the restroom. And that was the end of it.

I can only imagine the level of disappointment and frustration she must have felt. It must have been a horrendous experience for her.

I decided after that to become a master of cunnilingus so that any future women I encountered would be satisfied, if not by my penis, then my oral skills would more than make up for it. And I did master the art.

While in graduate school at the University of Texas in Austin, I met and married a girl. We had engaged in some sexual activity before our marriage, so she was aware of my micropenis. However our marriage was short lived when I discovered she had been having sex with my then best friend. When I confronted her with her lack of fidelity, she blamed my shortcomings as a lover and told me that my micropenis disgusted her.

Since that time I have mainly had sexual experiences with gay men, though I had a threesome with a woman that went very well.

Aside from personal experiences, the media doesn’t help my self-esteem either. Men with small penis are an ongoing source of amusement in TV shows and movies. I noticed that penis shaming was mostly reserved for villains and comic sidekicks who were never taken seriously. There are more TV shows with “little dick jokes” than shows that don’t have them. No shows make fun of women’s breast size, but targeting men with small penises as a source of humor seems to be socially acceptable. All that tells me that the writers don’t really care if men with small penises are offended or hurt.

The way the media treats the body-shaming of men compared to the body-shaming of women is wildly different. When Donald Trump makes questionable comments about the looks of women, he rightly causes outrage. Lists and videos decrying his sexist remarks have gone viral. Yet when a naked model of Trump with a micropenis was displayed in public in New York City, it was treated like a punch line rather than an attack. Some publications even called it a wonderful piece of art. Hundreds of Americans now have selfies of them laughing at Trump and his micropenis. We defend Heidi Cruz and Megyn Kelly, but where are the people defending small penises? I am no Trump supporter, but targeting him because of his small penis seems wrong.

GUYS WITH MICROPENISES KNOW THEY ARE NOT WELL-ENDOWED, THEY DON’T NEED REMINDING OF IT.

From my experience (having read hundreds of articles, forum posts, videos, and having spoken to hundreds of men and women online), it feels safe to say that the overwhelming majority of sexual partners aren't thrilled about the prospect of sex with micropenises. And if we don’t accept that these views are likely the majority, then we are never going to challenge this blatant discrimination.

I would like to ask people to think about this: If you are attracted to somebody enough to ask them to bed, and if the guy is kind to you, is it fair to write him off based on size alone?

So what do I plan to do about my love life?

Luckily I am bisexual and enjoy the company of men as well as women. I fear that straight men with the micropenis condition suffer worse shame than men in the gay community. Let me be clear, a great many gay men are “size queens” and I have been rejected by more than a few gay men, but now that so many men can meet on line I have been able to meet men who actually “prefer” men with small dicks and so they are not surprised by what I have to offer when we meet. Many of them enjoy SPH (Small Penis Humiliation), but in my life I have adapted to being the subject of humor and, in some cases, can even find that sexually arousing.

So the answer to that question is “nothing”. I try to focus my life on my work, my writing, working out, outdoors activities, sports, and other subjects that interest me. If I started to look for love, it would just make me feel down, and I already struggle with depression and anxiety secretly. I don’t need the humiliation and hurt that looking for love would bring me. Sure, everybody gets rejected, but usually for less hurtful reasons. As a bottom, many men don’t care how well I am hung. Instead they care about how I make them feel when they fuck me, and I have learned to be a power bottom.

Guys with micropenises know we are not well-endowed, we don’t need to be reminded of it. If I’m attracted to a sexual partner, then what they have in their pants doesn’t matter to me; I care more about what that partner has in his/her heart. My extreme self-consciousness about my body makes me feel like everyone else's opinion must be right, that there is something wrong with my size. I just wish people could look past it, so I could too. Because intellectually I know my size is just a variation.

I try to look at it this way. Not everyone is attracted to red hair, or freckles, or blue eyes, or black skin, or hairy chests. People are attracted to differing qualities. As long as I can find some people who are interested in the qualities I possess, and are also interested n me personally, than I am gratified.

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