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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 3 days

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“Every year, about 25,000 (UK) women who give birth — approximately 4 per cent — are so distressed that they meet the diagnostic criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder. That makes birth one of the biggest causes of PTSD in the UK according to the Birth Trauma Association charity – probably coming second only to sexual abuse and rape. Hundreds of thousands more women are traumatised. This is a major health crisis. And yet it is barely discussed…

According to figures from NHS Resolution, the arm of the Department of Health and Social Care that handles litigation, 62 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm in 2022-23 (£6.6 billion) related to maternity.”

When my husband and I left for hospital on a Friday afternoon, we had no idea what would happen. The next few hours would change my life. For good and bad. It had all started with a cervical sweep the day before. I was 40 weeks and 4 days pregnant and, frankly, I’d had enough. My pregnancy had been uncomplicated in terms of my baby — she was healthy throughout, albeit had spent much of her time in the back-to-back position. But I had found the nine months increasingly difficult. From around 20 weeks I’d suffered from pelvic girdle pain, which, for me, meant increasingly agonising pain in my lower back. Walking and other everyday movements became difficult. The only place I felt vaguely comfortable was in water. Swimming was a relief.

Women are offered a sweep to help induce labour. A midwife inserts their finger and sweeps around your cervix. It’s about as basic as you can get. They’re trying to separate the membranes of the amniotic sac that surround the baby from your cervix. This then releases hormones, which may help start your labour. “Some women find the procedure uncomfortable or painful,” NHS guidelines say. I found it excruciating.

“Oh,” the midwife said, as I lay in a rather compromised position. “I might have broken your waters.” This didn’t make sense to me. I’d always assumed that when my waters broke, I’d know about it. Apparently not always, and I was instructed to call the hospital if contractions hadn’t begun within 24 hours as I was now potentially at risk of infection.

They didn’t start. And I did what I’d been asked. The voice on the phone was chirpy — everything sounded fine, stay at home, we’ll be seeing you soon enough. Half an hour later, my phone rang. “Where are you? You’re meant to be at the hospital,” the woman said angrily. I needed to come in immediately to be examined.

It was late Friday afternoon and it was busy. We took the last of the beds in maternity triage. And my waters broke in earnest. That solved the mystery, I suggested. No, I was told, and the water birth I’d hoped for was out of the question — too risky.

Strong and regular contractions started immediately. We were moved to a glorified cupboard that had been turned into a makeshift holding room. I was denied any pain relief because it was “too early”, and told that someone would bring me some paracetamol when they came to “examine” me.

It seems obvious when you think about it, but I had never been told what being “examined” meant. Nor thought about it. It sounds medical. But it’s literally a midwife sticking their fingers inside you. I was 3cm dilated. Plenty of time to go, apparently. It was 9.30pm. I felt sick and in enormous pain. Both were dismissed — until I vomited everywhere. And lost control of my bowels. This would happen several more times over the coming hours. I felt utterly ashamed. Again, it’s common — but I hadn’t been told.

I continued to ask for pain relief and continued to receive none. An hour later, I was 7cm dilated — in full labour — and finally received some paracetamol. There was no space on the labour ward. In just another half an hour, I was fully dilated and ready for the baby to come out. No one seemed to know what to do. The midwives were panicking. And that made me scared. This was my first baby. I didn’t know what to expect. We were rushed to the ward. Already, nothing had gone the way I wanted, or the way it had been talked about at National Childbirth Trust (NCT) classes. Eventually, I was given gas and air to ease the pain. But only for about 20 minutes. Apparently it was “distracting” me too much and I needed to push.

Two hours later there was still no baby and I was in agony. A doctor arrived, took a brief look and said cheerily, “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to get that baby out.” And then he left. My maternity notes state, “PLAN: continue pushing.” I have no idea what this refers to — like so many of my notes. There was no plan. If there was, it wasn’t one I had agreed to. Finally, after another hour the decision was made that the doctor would use a ventouse — a suction cup that sits on your baby’s head — to help deliver my baby. Apparently I consented to this, but I have no recollection of doing so. And I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know what was being asked of me. My doctor didn’t use the word ventouse. He used “Kiwi”, which is a type of ventouse. At the time, I didn’t know what either were.

I remember screaming in pain and then my daughter finally being born. She was placed on my chest for less than a minute. I was examined, told I had a fourth-degree tear that must be repaired and that I needed to sign a consent form for surgery straight away. “Look at the state of her,” my usually mild-mannered husband said. “How can she possibly sign a form?” I couldn’t. The writing on that form is barely legible, but they would not proceed without it.

I had no idea what had happened. I lay in an operating theatre in pain, silent tears rolling down my face. I was frightened. The anaesthetist was amazing and stayed with me while I was repaired. I am so grateful for that, at least. But I also feel guilty about it. It was half past three on a Saturday morning and she was the only anaesthetist on duty at the London hospital. Other women may well not have received the pain relief they needed because of me. “Will I be able to have any more children?” I asked as I stared at the ceiling.

After surgery I was moved to the high dependency unit (HDU) and reunited with my daughter. I finally held and fed her for the first time. That morning is a blur. My notes tell me we stayed in the HDU for five hours before being moved to a ward. It was there that I attempted to understand what had happened to me. I was in pain, barely able to move and soaked in blood. I asked various midwives to explain what had gone on. They repeated that I’d had a fourth-degree tear, but I didn’t know what that meant. One line, in scribbled handwriting, stands out when I look at my notes: “We don’t have any written info about fourth-degree tears.”

Eventually, a midwife appeared with some information they’d printed off after googling it. As I read it, I sobbed. I was 35 years old and thought my life was over; that I would be incontinent. And still no doctor came to explain. The medic who’d delivered my daughter was eventually marched to my bedside more than 48 hours later.

I am perhaps unusual in that I’ve always wanted children. We had done what many middle-class suburban couples did at that time and attended NCT classes. The underlying message of these was: try to avoid a caesarean section at all costs. “Natural” births were best, and even better just to breathe through it. No need for pain relief. I remember in our penultimate class bringing up the subject of tearing during labour. I had seen a TV feature on it that week and it struck me as important. “If most of us are going to tear to some degree, it would be really helpful to talk about that,” I remember saying. “It would be good to know how best to care for ourselves afterwards, that kind of thing.” The answer was no, there was no need. Instead, we proceeded to get on all fours and “moo” like cows and then practise putting nappies on a doll.

Up to nine in ten first-time mothers who have a vaginal birth will experience some sort of tear. The least invasive kind involves only the skin from the vagina and the perineum — the area between a woman’s vagina and anus. These tears usually heal quickly and without any treatment. Second-degree tears involve the muscle of the perineum and require stitches. Third and fourth-degree tears are the most serious. These involve not just tearing of the skin and muscle of the perineum but the muscle of the anus. In fourth-degree tears, the injury can extend into the lining of the bowel. These deeper tears need proper surgical repair under anaesthetic.

I don’t really have any happy memories of the first few days or weeks after we left the hospital. I was completely in love with my baby, but I felt shellshocked. I couldn’t process what had happened and there was no one who offered to help me. A different midwife was sent to our house every couple of days to weigh our daughter. I had no milk the first few days and she had lost a fair bit of weight. Even when my milk came in, I found breastfeeding painful and difficult, in large part because it hurt so much to sit down.

I cried quietly every day for several months. Often it would come completely out of nowhere. I’d be talking or watching television and I would just start to cry. Several midwives wrote in my notes in those early weeks the same phrase: “Mum is anxious.” I don’t think I was. I was traumatised. Several weeks later, I was told that I was “lucky” by the midwife examining my stitches. Apparently the doctors had done a “wonderful” job at repairing me and it looked “beautiful”. I now know that I was fortunate to be repaired properly and immediately after the birth. But the last thing I felt — then or now — was lucky.

After several months I desperately needed to have some control over my life again. I had never felt so helpless, lost and infantilised. But my overarching feeling was anger. I wrote to the chief executive and chair of the hospital to complain and was invited in for a debrief. The head of midwifery was lovely, apologised and followed through on her promise to try to prevent other women facing the appalling lack of communication I had. The hospital now has a specialist perineal health clinic too.

But the attitude of the consultant obstetrician whom I met with my husband floored us both. It was about six months after the birth, but I was still under the care of a consultant urogynaecologist. (I subsequently had two further operations: the first 14 months after giving birth to remove an undissolved stitch that was causing pain but hadn’t been spotted, and another six months after that.) My urogynaecologist had told me not even to consider giving birth vaginally again. The risk was too great, he explained. If I tore again, there was a 30 per cent chance I couldn’t be repaired and I’d be incontinent. The obstetrician said the opposite — don’t rule it out! I saw red. “How dare you,” I growled. I remember saying that he would never be so cavalier about a man’s body.

Every year, about 25,000 women who give birth — approximately 4 per cent — are so distressed that they meet the diagnostic criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder. That makes birth one of the biggest causes of PTSD in the UK according to the Birth Trauma Association charity – probably coming second only to sexual abuse and rape. Hundreds of thousands more women are traumatised. This is a major health crisis. And yet it is barely discussed.

“Birth trauma is a broad term, but generally it’s overwhelming distress that leads to a detrimental impact on well-being,” explains Susan Ayers, professor of maternal and child health at City University in London. Estimates “range massively”, she says, but having conducted research into birth trauma for almost 30 years, Ayers puts it at about a third. “If you ask women whether they thought they or their baby was going to die or be severely injured, then it’s around 19-20 [per cent] in the UK. But if people just ask women, ‘Was your birth traumatic?’ some of those estimates are up to 50 per cent.”

“I’M BEATRICE’S MUM,” EMILY SAID, introducing herself to a committee of MPs in March. “Beatrice died during labour at full term in May 2022.” Emily is one of a number of brave women who have shared their traumatic birth stories with the all-party parliamentary group (APPG) on birth trauma, during the first parliamentary inquiry into this issue.

“As soon as my labour started,” Emily explained, “I knew it wasn’t right, wasn’t normal.” The details are harrowing: a series of obvious but missed red flags and an attitude from medical professionals that can only be described as cruel. The midwife who shrugged her shoulders when Emily’s waters were meconium-stained; the consultant obstetrician who laughed at the “slimy” feel of that meconium while her hand was still inside Emily.

“The ultrasound scanning machine was brought in and showed that Beatrice’s heartbeat had stopped,” she explained. “At that point I begged, pleaded like I’ve never pleaded for anything in my life for a caesarean, and that consultant obstetrician refused. She said no. And she left.”

“It’s destroyed my life,” Emily says now. “I’m not the person I was before.”

This inquiry has been led by the APPG’s co-chairs, the Conservative MP Theo Clarke and Labour’s Rosie Duffield. They received more than 1,200 written submissions after asking women to share their experiences; that number doubles if you count the letters and emails they’ve been sent informally.

“The thing that’s really struck me is there seems to be a taboo around talking about the risk of childbirth,” Clarke tells me when I sit down with both women in Westminster. There shouldn’t be, she adds. “Something we’ve heard from a number of the mothers coming to speak to us is that there’s such a focus on the baby post-delivery, they almost forget there’s a second patient in the room, and that’s the mother.”

“I was constantly told by GPs that I had nothing wrong with me,” one mother, Sarah, told the MPs. She experienced a major tear that doctors and midwives failed to diagnose. “I was discharged two days later with [an] untreated tear, which very quickly led to enormous amounts of pain, incontinence, faecal incontinence and thinking I was going mad.”

“It’s very painful,” explained Jenny, who also experienced a serious tear that was left untreated, “but the long-term consequences of an unrepaired tear are that I had to give up my job. I’ve suffered PTSD, anxiety, depression. My activities are restricted. My life is impacted in that I have to meticulously plan my day around toilets.”

Another mother, Neera, lost three litres of blood and required more than ten hours of life-saving emergency surgery the day her daughter was born. The haemorrhage had not been picked up by staff. She said she is fortunate to have had the “means and support” to access mental healthcare over four and a half years of her five-year-old’s life. “I have personally spent over £6,000 and received more than 50 hours of mental health support,” she told parliament.

The women who have spoken to politicians as part of the inquiry had different medical experiences. But there were obvious similarities. Their concerns and their pain were dismissed. They were not treated with respect or, in some cases, like human beings. They felt helpless, angry and scared. “Nobody really cares about women,” says Kim Thomas, CEO of the Birth Trauma Association. “What we tend to find with most of these stories is there’s failure after failure after failure. Lots of things go physically wrong… and that continues afterwards in the postnatal period with really poor care.” Almost all women seeking out the charity say their experience was made much worse by the way they were treated during labour. “The number of stories we hear of women being shouted at by midwives or laughed at by midwives is quite extraordinary.”

Birth doesn’t have to be this way. And it isn’t for many women. But women, in England in particular, could — and should — be having better experiences than they are.

Let’s start with serious tears. The number one risk factor is being a first-time mum. There’s nothing much that can be done about that. But the next is having an instrumental vaginal delivery — and in particular one that uses forceps. “Data indicates that we use more forceps than other parts of Europe,” says Dr Ranee Thakar, president of the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG). While rates in several European countries hover at around 0 per cent, a 2023 study of assisted births in 13 high-income countries found England used forceps in a higher proportion of births — about 11 per cent — than any other.

There are cases where forceps must be used. When babies are premature, suction would cause too much damage to the head. But that’s doesn’t explain the discrepancy. “It’s education,” Thakar explains. “We should be trained to do both [forceps and ventouse], so that we provide the best care to women and use the right instrument for the right baby and the right mother.”

The risk of a severe tear when forceps are used is at least twice as high as with ventouse: 8-12 per cent compared with 4 per cent. Women should be told this. The recent parliamentary inquiry heard other suggestions that might explain why forceps use in England is so high. The consultant gynaecologist and obstetrician Dr Nitish Raut explained that when poor outcomes of childbirth become part of litigation, the question, “Why were forceps not applied earlier?” will be asked. Although they can cause injury to mothers, forceps are the most effective instrument for getting a baby out. If a doctor tries and fails to deliver a baby with the less invasive ventouse first, a record will be made at the hospital trust. It was suggested by others that this might also be pushing some doctors straight to forceps use even when they might not be necessary.

“Training is a really key part of everything here,” Posy Bidwell, deputy head of midwifery at South Warwickshire Foundation Trust, told MPs. “If we can train people, we can prevent these injuries happening. Many midwifery students wouldn’t know the impact that these injuries are having on women.”

Newly qualified midwives did not know enough about perineal damage, and yet they’re providing one-to-one care to women. Current training did not seem to see it as a priority: while several aspects of maternity care are mandatory each year, suturing and perineal protection are not.

Neither doctors nor midwives appear to be taught how to routinely examine women after they have given birth either. Where this was once part of mandatory medical training, doctors are no longer encouraged to do it, Raut explained.

England is short of as many as 2,500 midwives, the Royal College of Midwives (RCM) estimates, although people are wanting to train and join the profession. Donna Ockenden, who is reviewing maternity services at Nottingham and who previously did so at Shrewsbury and Telford Hospitals NHS Trust, cautions against being too optimistic, however. The focus needs to be on retention. “Two midwives don’t equal two midwives,” she told parliament, “of we are losing midwives with 20, 30, 35 years’ experience… and they’re then being replaced by a more junior workforce, who are not being supported in those early days of their career.”

In the past decade and a half, the UK has seen several NHS maternity scandals — in Morecambe Bay, Shrewsbury and Telford, and East Kent. In all these cases, some of the poor care provided to mothers and their babies was because of a push towards “normal” or “natural” birth and a desire to keep caesarean section rates low. The RCM ended its campaign for “normal births” in 2017, but its legacy persists. Some NHS trusts still talk about them today. A culture of cover-ups and a lack of care remains in others. Just last month, the Care Quality Commission found that staff at Great Western Hospital in Swindon had been downgrading third and fourth-degree tears, “which meant they were not investigated as thoroughly as they should” have been. The c-section target was only officially dropped in 2022. Does RCOG now accept that it was a mistake? “It’s difficult for me to say years later whether it was a mistake or not,” Thakar tells me. “I think there was a general trend at the time to put figures to caesarean section rates. But now we know that, we don’t do that.” It was now right that women were offered a choice; she insists she hasn’t seen an attitude against caesareans more recently.

Aside from any physical and psychological impact, traumatic births are costing the country billions. According to figures from NHS Resolution, the arm of the Department of Health and Social Care that handles litigation, 62 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm in 2022-23 (£6.6 billion) related to maternity. Of the £2.6 billion spent on clinical negligence payments that year, £1.1 billion (41 per cent) related to maternity. (As the fact-checking service Full Fact explains, the cost of harm differs from the amount actually paid out in compensation: the former includes an estimate of claims expected in the future arising from incidents in that financial year.) The year before, maternity services accounted for 60 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm (£13.6 billion). NHS England spends about £3 billion a year on maternity and neonatal services.

There is such a long way to go. The government is well behind on its long-term target of halving the rates of stillbirth and neonatal mortality by 2025; the death of mothers within 42 days of the end of pregnancy is at its highest rate in almost 20 years. And while only a handful of trusts have been subject to official investigations, there are signs that poor care is happening across the country. Only half of maternity units in England are rated good or outstanding; one in ten is inadequate. That is a damning indictment of the way so many women are cared for.

One crucial area of improvement does not cost money at all. It requires a shift in attitude to one where women are treated with respect, listened to and allowed to make informed decisions about their bodies and babies.

When I first heard of parliament’s inquiry into birth trauma, it was never my intention to share my experience. Doing so has been upsetting and uncomfortable. But as I sat listening to other women talk about how giving birth had affected them so profoundly, it felt dishonest to stay quiet. Difficult births are not something we should feel ashamed of — much as I know many women will have been, myself included.

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midnights-cosmic · 3 days

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Stay as Friends

Jeong Yunho x F!Reader

Moving on from Yunho is slow but it's sure.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Your colleague asked. You've been working non stop since you got back from your trip in Italy. It was fun and it finally brought you the peace that you've always wanted to experience.

It wasn't like you were going through a break up or what. You and Yunho weren't even official. There was no label, really. It's just complicated. You're just really grateful on what relationship you both had and cherished it. Yunho may have enjoyed that simple-no label relationship, well you did too, until you fell. Hard. You took it upon yourself to distance yourself from him. And though it hurts, you made through it.

Still, there was a bitter taste in your mouth when you saw how Yunho adjusted to that so well. There were many times that you passed by each other in the hallway where you would avoid his gaze but he would smile at you.

Or sometimes be in the same elevator, unexpectedly, in which he would greet you hello and ask you how your morning went. You would always answer with a simple 'good' then that's it. You would stand there like a pole, not moving or talking until one of you has to leave.

Who are we kidding, you've told him many times that it's not his fault, and will never be.

That was about 8 months ago. Your last day at KQ was the beginning of your getaway to Italy. Honestly, you don't know what Yunho has been up to these days. Last time you heard, Ateez has been busy for their overseas schedule and preparation for their next album.

Other than that, you don't really know what's going on in his life. There were few posts from Ateez's instagram that you'd scroll by but that's it. Nothing deeper than pictures they show on their social media account.

"I don't get what you two have." Mingi said referring to you and Yunho, while looking out the ocean. Yunho and Wooyoung were too busy trying to throw each other in the water, laughing and wrestling.

KQ's CEO decided to treat Ateez and the staff to a trip in Jeju. Every one has been working hard and because of the many success of their hard work, Jeju trip it is.

Ateez were rarely recognized here, which in times like this, is really important. They get to walk around the neighborhood and even go to food markets. Sometimes, people got curious if they are celebrities because of their stylish outfits, but none of the members really dare to mention of them being idols.

You can only guess that they also want to make the most out of this break. You're sure Ateez knows that by the time they go back to Seoul, it means back to work.

"We don't have anything." You replied after a long silence. Yunho was able to throw Wooyoung into the water but Wooyoung grabbed his shirt, dragging him along. You can hear their laughter all the way from where you and Mingi are; just a small cottage to keep you off the blazing heat and serve as a shed.

The other members are still in the house, resting from the insane long ferry ride.

"So... The holding hands, having lunch and dinner together, sleeping in your house, ordering take-outs for each other is 'nothing'?" Mingi snickered.

You shrugged your shoulders. You don't even know what you and Yunho have. None of you has ever confessed, and none of you tried to initiate the conversation on what your relationship really is.

"I really hope this all works out for you." Mingi suddenly said. He stood up and picked up his phone.

Right... The only reason why he's not sleeping now is because he wanted to catch the sunset and take pictures. The sky is slowly fading from dark blue to an orange hue with tints of pinks and purples.

"I know you like him Y/N. I can't tell if Yunho feels the same way, but I'm sure he'll understand better if you say something." You watched Mingi took his strides, his figure getting smaller and smaller from your sight.

And just like that, your eyes flickered back to where Wooyoung and Yunho was supposed to be. You were slightly taken back seeing Yunho already looking at you. You smiled and gave him a small wave.

He waved back at you, but before he could say something, Wooyoung appeared behind him and dragged him back into the ocean. The corners of your mouth turned up at the two goof balls in the water.

Wooyoung's loud yapping and Yunho's protests was all you can hear, completely shutting out the voices of people passing by and the harsh gusts of the wind.

"What's your instagram again?" Yunho furrowed his brows, trying to remember the username you mentioned a few hours ago.

"star_light.0823" You rolled your eyes.

"Star... light... dot. Zero-eight-twenty three." You watched him, sprawled in your couch like he owns it, typing away your username.

"Shocking. You're not private."

"No one would follow me anyway, except for my friends so..."

In just a few minutes, Yunho has reached your posts from way back in high school. You both laugh at some of your ridiculous heavy filtered selfies and landscape photos. Even the pictures that you've long forgotten were suddenly brought back to your memories.

"And this?" It was a photo of you holding a pepero and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

"Well, what can I say, I'm pretty and I'm popular in high school." You whipped your hair boastfully.

"Uh huh." Yunho teased. "How many peperos are these? Let me count."

"Yah!" It was clearly seen on the picture that there are only 2 boxes. The living room was filled with laughters and high school stories that whole afternoon. Both of you sharing different yet fun experiences from years ago.

"Yunho, thanks for being here with me."

"Hmm?"

"Whatever this is," You started, "I mean, I hope we could be as friends for as long as we can."

"I'll always be here for you when you need me, Y/N." He assured, and in that moment, you were satisfied. There was no label needed. Your loyalty for each other is enough to keep it.

"God, I hate it here." You mumbled under your breath. Big or small, it was dumb for you think that all agencies work the same. YG Entertainment being the bigger one, doubles the workload that you used to have in KQ. Not to mention the management were astronomically different.

If back then in KQ you can interact with artists just fine, here in YG, they are stricter. You're not allowed to talk too much with the artists unless they chat with you. Not that you're planning on getting close with the artists anyway. You already know how that turn out the last time you got close to one.

Your phone vibrated with a text message, prompting you to look. A groan escaped your lips as you were reminded of the piling folders of today's work.

I did put this phone over here so I can remember every thing I need to finish, You thought.

Expecting an urgent message from your boss, your eyes almost rolled at the back of your head when you saw that it was from your colleague and long-time friend, Jia.

Jia Jaebeom wants to say hi to you.

You This is the third time. Not interested.

Jia Boo. Single.

You poked your head from your cublicle and look for your friend. You were not surprised seeing her holding her phone, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You raised your brow back and all she did was stick her tongue out at you.

Jia Boo! Still stuck on that Ateez guy :P

You chuckled. Sometimes it really does cross your mind whether telling your friend about Yunho was a great idea.

You Nope, Italy changed me. Who's that Ateez guy again? Jia Sure sure. Jeong Yunho

You look up from your seat, watching how your friend giggle at her reply.

You What a real friend you are, bitc-- Jia Jeong Yunho :P

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile at your friend's childish behavior. Well, at least the mention of his name doesn't make you want to curl up in ball and cry like they used to. You're getting there, slowly but surely. Maybe one of these days, you'll have the guts to reach out to them again.

Even after every thing that happened, you miss their unpredictable funny moments and that familiar melody of Yunho's laugh. And maybe, just maybe, get to know each other again.

"So, you did confess?" Jia's eyes went round. "Holy shit!"

"Uhuhm." You hummed in agreement.

"And then what happened?" Jia scooted closer, nudging your shoulder at the same time.

Your heart was pounding and your mind is clouded. You're not really sure if this is the right thing to do. Honestly, you blame the book that you read last night. Something along the lines of regretting the chances you didn't take and you wouldn't see it unless you try.

The concert ended about an hour ago and you asked Yunho to meet with you at the private parking lot before you part ways. You were blowing on your freezing hands when Yunho appeared.

You both said your hi's and hello's, and for some reason, Yunho's face is flushed and his eyes are beaming. "I also want to tell you something."

You gulped, you want him to go first. Before you could tell him, Yunho started excitedly on his speech.

"Remember that girl from weeks ago?" The idol trainee, yes. You uncrossed you arms and let him continue. "Well, she attended the concert tonight and..." Yunho is practically bouncing on his toes at this point. "...And she said, hear this, I was her favorite." He was glowing like the morning sun.

"Oh..." You bit your lip. "That's really good to hear."

"Right? I think I like her, too."

Late. That's all you could think of: You're late. You relaxed your breathing and forced a smile on your lips. "I, uh..."

Yunho's eyes narrowed at you. "Something wrong?"

You shook your head, "Nope."

"Well actually," You bit the insides of your cheek. "I like you."

Every thing then was a blur. Yunho spurting words of sorry's and apologizing. He was holding your hand when he did, but you assured him that it was okay. And that this is not his fault.

You were even able to throw a line of someone being better. There would be someone out there better. It was more of a comforting word to yourself, than a joke you told Yunho.

He laughed and agreed, "I'm sure you'll find him."

"Of course, I will. Duh. Remember those peperos in high school? Psh."

"Wow, I can't believe you're a martyr, Saint Y/N." Jia teased with humor.

"What can I say, this is me." You responded.

You were staring at the series of pictures you've recently posted on Instagram. Starting from the mess of your kitchen after you and Jia baked cookies, to the mini clips in between of Jia mixing and fooling around, and finally the baked cookies. You made sure to include the first batch which was half burnt.

jiaaaaaa_ dare i say, i'm the best baker

Jia's comment was at the top, with a couple of your friends that sarcastically said it's the best looking cookies they've seen in a while.

You were about to exit the app when another notification popped up.

yu_yu.0323 liked your post yu_yu.0323 commented on your post

You can hear your heart beating from your chest. Of course, he doesn't have any profile picture on nor any info on his profile at all. But that username is and will always be familiar to you.

Absentmindedly, you clicked on it.

yu_yu.0323 the most peaceful cookies i've ever seen tbh :))

Yunho was defintely referring to the failed cookies which was either burned to crisp or the cracked ones. You don't know whether to ignore or reply even with just a simple emoji. It doesn't seem wrong to acknowledge his comment anyway.

star_light.0823 @yu_yu.0323 they really were. just not sure about it having a 'peaceful' taste.

You closed the app after that. Maybe it's better this way. No need for complicated things, just two friends interacting on social media.

You really do wish you would've just met now, though. This version of you is your best version. That version of you was a scared little girl. You would've told that girl to not run away and face it; it's okay to face rejections.

Someday, maybe you and Yunho will cross paths again. And maybe by that time, things would turn out better than it did.

[Unedited. Not yet proofread]

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #jeong yunho #jeong yunho ateez #yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho imagines

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wenjunting · 2 months

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boyhood's landing and next's wait a minute / dream world tour / attention trilogy could form connecting lore if you look at it the right way (re: dream mentions, re: clock mentions)

#hold on i will post about this one day after i figure out the next lore #yuehua'verse...#yuehua kwangya equivalent? no just kidding

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reiderwriter · 5 months

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Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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whatsnewalycat · 2 months

Text

RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

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Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next.

Channel 11: Nothing.

Channel 12: Zilch.

Channel 13: Nada.

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing.

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over.

Got enough for the kids? Over.

And leftovers. Over.

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out.

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in.

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription.

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages.

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board.

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.”

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew.

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.”

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed.

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date.

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight.

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button.

“Radio check.”

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side.

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks.

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.”

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding.

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.”

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.”

“Cloudy. Over.”

Fuck.

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues.

“Anything new with you? Over.”

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation.

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.”

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings.

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business.

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs.

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl.

Your heart skips a beat.

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation.

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert.

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk.

Indecision churns in your belly.

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say.

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow.

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over.

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you.

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown.

The lights are on.

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room.

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?”

“N-nowhere.”

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.”

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?”

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod.

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback.

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?”

“Try again.”

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?”

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?”

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog.

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.”

“I know.”��

“Then why did you?”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage.

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble.

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.”

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?”

You respond by rolling your eyes.

“Answer the question.”

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.”

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.”

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek.

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud.

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky.

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.”

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.”

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile.

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you.

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps.

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question.

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?”

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin.

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong.

You also understand that you like it.

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same.

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.”

“Fuck you.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you.

“Wrong answer.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?”

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain.

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.”

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.”

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?”

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities.

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.”

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.”

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.”

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm.

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room.

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you.

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?”

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?”

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless.

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do.

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together.

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?”

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack.

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?”

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire.

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good.

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake.

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.”

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you.

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed.

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense.

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?”

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release.

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach.

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs.

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth.

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again.

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe.

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do.

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly.

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his.

For years and years, you ached for more.

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t.

But this is something.

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel.

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?”

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?”

“Not tonight.”

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?”

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter.

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?”

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure.

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.”

“He pulled out,” you shrug.

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.”

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt.

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?”

You shake your head.

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor.

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole.

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there.

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock.

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further.

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him.

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?”

It stings a little, if you’re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper.

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.”

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes.

“What’s that?”

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?”

“That’s none of your business,” he warns.

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?”

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?”

In response, you glare at him.

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately.

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?”

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe.

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?”

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.”

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body.

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?”

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away.

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.”

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?”

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?”

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch.

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again.

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you.

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed.

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.”

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt.

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say.

“This stays between us, understand?”

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead.

“Good girl.”

[ NEXT PART ]

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why-animals-do-the-thing · 3 months

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Very, very fresh bison calf.

Months and months ago I promised y'all photos of the bison birth I was lucky enough to observe at the Cleveland Zoo last spring. As requested, they'll be under a cut, because unlike this lovely photo from the zoo announcement post, my photos are... goopy.

His name is Tighee, a name which the zoo said is "the name of a Shoshone chief."

We walked up just as things started to get going, and the story is below the cut...

This is Blue, a female bison who arrived at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo in fall of 2022 already pregnant. When we got to the habitat, there were a ton of people gathered around, and it wasn't quite clear what was going on.

Then we noticed her full udder and the extra pair of feet.

She was dead-center in the (pretty large) habitat, which was nice - though there was a crowd, she had some good distance from everyone for most of it. The calf came pretty quickly, all things considered (something especially helpful when you're holding a heavy camera up on full manual zoom without a tripod). Because she was at a distance, my friend and I spent a bunch of time showing people near us photos on my camera screen so they could get a good view.

I was honestly really surprised at the number of people who asked why the zoo staff weren't in there with her, helping her give birth. So we explained to folk that zoo staff don't normally go in with bison on a normal day because they're so big and dangerous, and that during a birth (a time of potential stress for the whole herd, the rest of whom were off to the side of that habitat) it would be especially risky to do so. But you could see people in the zoo's uniform colors clustered around the fence, keeping a close eye on her.

And then there was a calf! For folk who haven't seen what a whole amniotic sac looks like, I'm including the next couple photos.

This one is still mid-birth, as you can see. The hooves come out first, with the calf's head laying parallel to them.

Blue immediately moves to break the amniotic sac and clear the calf's airways of mucus. Om nom nom.

We have open eyes and an awake baby! The amniotic sac is full of fluid that helps protect the baby while it's in the uterus, which means once it's broken, the baby is goopy. One of mom's first jobs is to lick all of it away to dry the calf off.

A first attempt at using legs!

Nope, being born was too hard and legs don't work yet. Time to rest and recover from the effort of thinking about standing up.

The first inquisitive member of the herd, another young female, comes to check out the newest addition.

More attempts at legs! Getting better but still not coordinated enough yet.

They're starting to help the baby stand up. In a non-captive setting it would be important for him to be able to walk pretty quickly after being born, and he has to stand up to be able to nurse!

Everyone comes to check him out, now.

We have legs! They work! He hadn't quite figured out where to nurse from yet, though.

And that's your bison birth for the day!

#bison #buffalo #zoo babies #birth tw #baby bison #my photography

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sturniolosass · 2 months

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Quiet. - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: You and Matt are bored of the movie you’re watching and a few things go down… including the bed frame being broken

-based on this post i made a few days back..

Warnings: smut, swearing, choking, biting, Dom!Matt, Sub!reader…etc.

You and Matt had been together for a while now, around seven months to be exact.

Tonight Matt had decided to invite you over something you’re always down for. But as of now you we being somewhat ignored while he played a couple games of fortnite with his friends.. Chris included, Unfortunately I couldn’t help but become more and more bored by the second… wishing he’d get off the game and give me more attention.. Something I felt too bad to admit considering he’s always getting off the game when I’m around… Eventually (after 2 hours) I got fed up with just sitting around in the background so I decide to grab a extra chair from the Dinning area and sit next to him

Upon sitting the chair down Matt looks up at me and smiles.. only a quick glance so he could assess my facial movement hoping I wasn’t as mad as I seemed.. I just look at the screen..

After around 5 minutes i start to focus on the way his hands are moving.. super fast.. over the keys he pressed so delicately, it turned me on, fast.. “shut the fuck up pussy” Matt shouts at a player he killed.. I could slowly feel my pink underwear get soaked, an extra large T shirt Matt had given me keeping me from staining the chair..I slowly run my hands down to my underwear to check if i’ve made a mess on the chair, hoping Matt doesn’t catch me when my hands between my legs.. I remove my hand quickly after realizing I’ve made a nice sized puddle on the seat running to my bag I grab a clean pair of underwear and rush out to the bathroom.. Not even thinking of the puddle on the chair..

I return from the bathroom and am immediately greeted with darkness.. I was confused for a second until i hear Matt, “come over here” he speak from his bed in the darkness.. “Did you get off the game? why is it dark.” i ask still confused.. “just come here” he spouts. I climb in the bed with my two knees, immediately sweep off them and laid flat on the mattress.. Matt above me with my wrists pined down with his hands.. “you made a huge mess on my chair..” He spoke leaning down directly in my ear.. “ how am i supposed to clean that” he added

“i didn’t mean to..” i spoke… “he turns his head.. “hmm what was it? what got you all worked up” he asks one hand trailing down my stomach to reach for my pussy… “i-it was.. you playing the game.. well—your fingers specifically.. they really made me hot..” i reply lightheaded.. “is that so? what about them?” he asked pushing his hands in my underwear slowly “was it? my hand on the mouse or the keys? or was it how fast you correlated it to me holding you down and rubbing your pussy” he questioned hand reaching my hole, eventually diving in with two fingers.. I couldn’t reply, too stunned to speak as he pushed his fingers further lathering them up in my juices, he pulls his hand out sucking both fingers.. pulling my underwear down from underneath me..

Kissing down my stomach as he yanked them down.. arriving at my area placing a soft kiss almost as a sign of respect due to the fact that he’s about to devour the poor thing.. Face immediately digging in causing me to spur a few profanities “oh fu-shit- Matt” i moaned, as his tongue run up and down on my clit, sucking and slobbering all over it.. “please Matt” i beg, worried I’d make a even bigger mess than before on the chair.. He just continues to eat me out, licking in somewhat of a figure eight formation.. moaning in between every one of my moans..

Coming closer to my climax i can’t help but grab his head pushing him deeper in my ocean, tongue diving deeper than the titanic, as i begin to orgasm i start to cream, him sliding two fingers in and out of me as his tongue does the two step on my flit sends me into over drive.. In less than two minutes I’m finishing, him still pumping two fingers in and out as he smiles up at me, gorgeous blue eyes staring in my soul

Rising over me and pulling my legs down he looks me in my eyes causing me to get more wet by the minute. He leans down closer to my neck kissing down to my collar bones, “Matthew please just fuck me” I beg not being able to take his soft lips kissing all over me.. wanting for him to just be inside me already.. “i’m going as fast as i can love..be patient.” he speaks finally making it to my nipple, sucking it him between his teeth immediately, rolling his tongue around it like a lollipop, he then grabs my waist pulling himself down closer to me.. his warm body hovering over me.. he releases my nipple “are you ready love?” he asks staring up at me from my boobs “yes matt please! i-I need you!” i beg in to which he pulls his pants down his ankles and off his legs.. He positions himself to my hole, mesmerized by the juices flowing out. “ok” he smiles and slides in for the first thrust, his hands gripping his headboard above me, “aghh-Ma-you’re so big oh my-“ i moan feeling every inch of him enter me.. being shadowed by his arm hanging from the bedpost.

He continues to thrust deeper and deeper in me, brushing that spot each time “oh f-fu-Matt” i stammer. “look at me?” he tells “huh” i react unable to keep my eyes open.. “look at me, i wanna see you cum, i wanna be the last time you think of when you climax” he asks thrusting in and out in such a quick pace.. eventually i hear a crack.. unbothered by it he continues to stroke deep gripping the bed frame tighter and tighter with each thrust, becoming deeper and deeper with each stroke..

“FUCK” he moans almost as a shout.. “ouu- matthew..fuck me..goodness” a few moans utter from my breathless mouth.. I can feel myself arching my back as i let my orgasm take over me. “MATT-fuck” i scream in to which he grabs my face preventing me from screaming any louder.. I can feel him begin to increase his pace looking in my eyes “yeah, i know baby” he says “cum for me” he adds.. “just like that” he says as he pushes me to orgasm..

I watch his face contort as his thrust get violent, getting closer to his high. eyes closing as he lets out the breathiest moans “o-oh fu-ck, shi- god you feel like heaven” he breathes. eyes rolling back, and just then that’s when i hear the bed frame crack, both of us falling 20 inches to the floor, mattress and bed cot underneath us, matt still inside me. He hurriedly gets up “are you ok? are you ok?” he stammers worriedly hopping off the bed “i’m ok im just on the floor” i laugh from the angle im looking up at him.

He then helps me up and stands there thinking of a way to fix his bed, now on the floor.. He decides to remove his bed frame completely for the time being.. “Can you sit over at the desk?” he asks looking at me with a concerned look.. I just laugh and walk over and sit in his chair. He then lifts the bed up off the ground leaning it against the wall and then grabs each panel one by one taking them down to the garage..

I just decide to hop in the shower..

Once i’m out the shower i come back in the room for the second time to see Matt sitting on his bed, that is now on the floor completely made up with no bed frame.. “I didn’t know what else to do.. I can order a new one tomorrow” he states.. “haha ok, what are we gonna tell Chris and Nick” I laugh thinking of all they’d have to say… “I don’t know..Nothing for now” he chuckles.. I just hop into the bed.. “your TV is up wayyyy too high now” i laugh at his TV mounted to the wall. “stop- i’m gonna have a bed frame!!” he whines jokingly.

3 hours later…

You hear Chris and Nick in the hallway talking about a fortnite game they were playing which spikes Matt’s attention. He hops up and runs out the room..

Minutes later you hear Matt nearing the bedroom door talking to Chris.. They both enter the room in a rush to what i’m assuming is get to the fortnite launch.. “Yo what the fuck-what happened to your bed” Chris states, Nick walking in behind them.. he gives you a funny disgusted look walking out the room “You both are nasty- oh my god” he fake gags. Matt and I both look to eachother. Chris shaking his head in disapproval “i can’t believe that’s what i was hearing earlier” “I need to go” He adds walking out the room and down the steps to his. “NICK ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE” I yell.. “GIRL BYE” He shouts back from the steps leading to his room making his way up the stairs so they can all get on the game.

You and Matt just giggle with eachother before he puts his headset back on…

De End 🧌

A/N: aye i wrote this as fast as i could for yall,so you know… my bad if it isnt “perfect”, also idk if i should’ve had a tag list but.. idk lmk if yall wanna be on a tag list.. also btw message me yalll!! I BE BORED!!

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torialefay · 3 months

Text

Do You Want to Try?

daddy!chan x virgin!reader smut 🔞

✨synopsis: chan makes sure you feel comfortable during your first time <3

✨request from: @whatudowhennooneseesyou

✨ word count: ~3.4k

✨warnings: this is literally just smut, so minors dni; uses nicknames like daddy and babygirl, but this is NOT meant to in any way mirror a DD/LG scenario… absolutely no age play here

• “Do you want to try?” Chan asked, watching you wiggle on the bed, his eyes growing big.

• The two of you had been together for a couple of months. With Chan being the gentleman he is, he never explicitly brought up sex, although you could tell he wanted to.

• You weren’t oblivious to the way he would creep his hand up your thigh and hold it there, right on the inside. Sometimes he would lightly squeeze and pretend he wasn’t watching you to gage your reaction.

• Sometimes he would go as far as to walk up behind you while you were in the kitchen cooking, holding onto you from behind and pressing his growing boner against you.

• You knew what he wanted, but you also knew he’d never explicitly bring it up unless you gave him some sort of a signal.

• What Chan didn’t know is that you were a virgin.

• Were you embarrassed? Maybe a little. You knew you didn’t need to be. Chan would never judge you for something like that… And it wasn’t like he didn’t have his sneaking suspicions about it.

• He knew he made you red and nervous when he would act up around you. He thought it was way too cute. It honestly made him want to get you flustered even more. Teasing you and making subtle remarks with the tiniest hints of want in them.

• But you’d still never said it aloud. Until one day, you couldn’t help it.

• STAYs thirsted over Channie like none other. You didn’t mind it much because… hey, he’s the hottest thing ever. But after reading one post in particular, you got a bit of inspiration. It started to make you think… What if Chan really didn’t mind? What if he could show you the ropes.

• The thread was talking about Chan being into the “daddy” kink, and how he’d be very dominant but loving. It got you thinking if it was really true. And the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to test it. You couldn’t help but get a little wet thinking about him getting horny for you anyways.

• So you decided to try your best to push the nerves beside you and let yourself try something new.

• When Chan came home, you’d been waiting for him in the bedroom. Normally, you’d have been in the kitchen or the living room, so he didn’t expect to find you here. He especially didn’t expect you to be sitting on the bed as soon as he stepped in the door, pulling for his hand to bring him closer to you.

• “Channie, can you sit with me for a second?” you asked as you pulled him right to you. A look of worry spread across his face. Instead of sitting on the bed next to you, he opted to kneel right in front of you on the floor so his face could be right in front of yours.

• “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked.

• “I need to tell you something. It’s something I should have talked to you about a long time ago, but I was embarrassed.”

• “Alright, what is it?”

• “Well, I… Well you probably already figured it out, but I’ve never really had sex before…” you looked toward the corner of the room, too nervous to make eye contact with him. “And I just want you to know that I’ve been picking up on your signals, but I’ve just never done anything like that before and I really don’t know what I’m doing. Or even where to start.”

• Chan squeezed your hand, and stroked around it with his thumb, signaling for you to look back at him.

• “Do you want to try?” Chan asked, watching you wiggle on the bed, his eyes growing big.

• “I think so… I think you’d make me feel comfortable. If you’ll walk me through it?” you got the courage to say.

• Chan took your face in his hands. “Of course I will, sweetheart.” He planted a kiss to your cheek.

• As he backed his face up, he grinned.

• “And Channie, one more thing?”

• “Yes?” He leaned back until he was situated again kneeling on the ground.

• “Would you like it if I called you Daddy?”

• He smiled for a split second, not believing what he’d just heard.

• “Oh baby girl,” he said, lifting himself to his feet. He gently pushed you down so you were laying on the bed. “You don’t even know,” he smiled and threw his body down next to you. He moved himself closer into you so he could kiss your neck.

• This, you were used to. Things had gotten steamy before, but it never led past kissing. This you knew you could do well. You laid back and enjoyed the sensation of his lips connected to your neck.

• “Alright baby, I’m gonna move my hands around you a little bit. If there’s something you don’t like, you let me know and we’ll stop, okay?” He breathed out.

• Getting bolder now, knowing he was thoroughly enjoying giving this new experience to you, you replied back. “Yes daddy.”

• Chan must have really liked that, responding by biting down into your neck. The pain was there, but it was more pleasure than anything. You loved the way it felt.

• Chan slowly moved his hands along your body. Starting at your waist, he traced up and down your hips as he leaned up to join his lips with yours. He crept his hands slowly along the outline of your body until they were resting lightly over your boobs. He gave one a light squeeze and waited for your response.

• You let out a tiny moan, encouraging him to give you more. It felt good to have him massage you so gently. You always thought of sex as something to be nervous about, but maybe with Chan’s it would just be something to focus on making you feel taken care of.

• You felt as Chan started massaging harder and squeezing around, moving to the other breast.

• “Is it okay if I go under your shirt baby?” He asked.

• You nodded in response, not sure if you could really form sentences during this yet.

• He snaked his hand underneath the fabric and let it slide up your stomach until he reached the top of your bra. Scooping his hand around the top and under your boob, he gently moved the fabric of the bra to the side, exposing your breast slightly.

• Not daring to move his lips off of yours again, he slowly moved his fingers around your nipple, letting it get hard from the sensation. And you had to admit, it felt damn good. Slowly, he worked his way up to rubbing harder before taking it in between his fingers and rolling it around. You moaned at how good the pressure felt. You felt Chan smile, breaking the kiss.

• As he moved his hand to begin on the other breast, he moved his head to rest beside yours.

• “Daddy wants to watch you now, okay? I need to see your pretty face to make sure you like it.”

• “Okay,” you got out sheepishly. Suddenly, you felt a bit self-conscious knowing that Chan was going to be watching your every move. You tried to sink down into the mattress to ignore it and instead focus on the feeling of Chan on your other breast. He rubbed and pinched and rolled his fingers around under you were writhing underneath him.

• He let out a small chuckle at how cute you looked. “Feel good baby?”

• “Yes daddy.”

• “How about we get these clothes off of you? I’ll be careful and we’ll go slow, okay?”

• You nodded in agreeance. Chan took that as his cue to raise himself up off the bed and take his time with lifting your shirt off of you. He took special care as he reached around you to unclasp your bra at the back, digging his hands into the mattress to get there and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He didn’t want you to have to lift a finger.

• He slid your pants down and off of you, hooking your underwear as well so that they went with the rest.

• You felt so exposed like this. Completely naked in front of someone for the first time. It was scary, and Chan could pick up on that feeling.

• “Don’t be nervous baby, you are so so beautiful,” he said, sliding his body back to lie down next to yours. One arm held him propped up on an elbow, leaving the other to rub up and down your body.

• “Can daddy move down lower now?” He asked, once he’d settled in right next to your ear, planting small kisses to the outside of it.

• “Mmhmm,” you managed to get out.

• Chan walked his hand down to your pussy, making sure to massage all around the area before focusing in on your middle. Once he got there, he stopped himself. “This is going to make you feel good, okay? I need you to tell me when it starts feeling good, and I’ll keep doing that. Got it?”

• You writhed underneath him in anticipation. “Got it.”

• “Good girl,” he whispered, planting another kiss to your earlobe. He let a couple of fingers work themselves between your folds, admiring quickly how wet you were for him.

• “Do you feel how wet you are? That’s so good honey. I’m so proud of you.”

• You blushed in response, focusing on the feeling of his finger tips.

• He worked them slowly to where he felt your clit. You jumped a little at the sudden sensitive feeling, not knowing how to respond.

• Chan chuckled. “That’s supposed to be the part that makes you feel good. Daddy’s gonna go slow, and you should start to feel it.” He didn’t ask for permission now.

• He slowly started to move his fingers up and down over your clit. You felt your breath hitch. He continued for a little while before beginning to rub small circles around it, sending you into overdrive. Your breath started to quicken.

• “Oh good girl,” he cooed down at you. “So that’s what you like, huh?” He beamed. “Does that feel good? Tell me how it feels.”

• “It feels so good Channie.”

• “Perfect,” he smiled into you. “Daddy’s gonna move down there to get a taste, okay? I promise I won’t stop making it feel good.”

• Chan continued to rub you in just the same way until he slid himself down to where his face was hovering just over your pussy. With his tongue stuck out, he made his way in, licking up and down the folds at first. He then moved to your clit, taking over his previous motions to begin with his tongue. He felt you jolt up slightly at the new feeling, letting out a slight moan in the process.

• He hummed into you in response, the vibrations making you feel a new sensation. You suddenly didn’t know why you’d been scared to tell him for so long. Feeling him wrap his tongue up in you was the most loving, erotic sensation you’d ever felt. And god, if it didn’t make you feel like the most special person in the world.

• “Keep your eyes on daddy,” Chan said. He wasn’t mean, but you knew better than to argue him. As you looked down, you almost came immediately at the sight. His curls were tousled in every direction as his hands splayed across your hips, holding you down into him.

• When his eyes came up to connect with yours, you wanted to jump out of your skin. The look on his face of watching you, knowing how good he was making you feel was overstimulating. He kept circling your clit at just the right pace. You were sure you were going to go over the edge any second.

• Your breathing started to pick up and you felt a twitch down your leg.

• Chan brought a finger up to push inside of you slowly, wanting to give you a tiny bit more stimulation. You could feel the small extra pressure it gave to you, and coupled with how sensitive you were, you were doing everything you could to hold on. It just felt too fucking good. You felt yourself lose all thoughts and begin to drift off.

• Chan disconnected his lips from your cunt for a single moment. “Cum for daddy, baby,” he instructed before going right back to his tiny circles on your clit. Looking at his face and hearing his demand was the last thing you needed to reach your climax. Your hands flew down to his hair to hold onto his head as your legs began to twitch around him and the warm feeling spread out from your clit to the rest of your body. You suddenly started to convulse around him, moaning out for him with every last breath. You couldn’t control yourself as Chan kept lapping at you, holding your hips down to make sure you didn’t miss out on any feeling of the pleasure he could give you.

• Once he was satisfied that you were done, he lifted his face from you and raised his body up until he was resting on his knees. He smiled down at you and how out of it you looked.

• “Mmm did that make you feel good, sweetheart?” He smiled, rubbing and massaging along your thighs. You didn’t even know how to respond to that considering the way he just made you feel. You just nodded your head and smiled, moving your arms to stretch them out over your head and then cover your face in slight embarrassment.

• “How about you let daddy stretch you out a little now?” He asked, already bringing his dick to your entrance to move it around against the wetness of your lips. “Come on, don’t cover that beautiful face. Let me see you.”

• You moved your hands and arms away from your face and brought them together, clasping to each other on your chest. Chan just smiled down, admiring how cute you looked for him.

• “That’s more like it… Now, I’m gonna start slow okay? You’ll let me know if it starts to hurt or if I’m going to fast?”

• “Yes…” you whispered out, not knowing if you were really ready or not.

• “Yes what?” he peered down, stern look now on his face.

• “Yes daddy.”

• With that, he slowly began to inch himself into you. One hand resting on your thigh, the other rested just at the underside of his dick to stabilize himself as he entered. He watched intently as your pussy slowly started to open up for him, making sure to go as slowly as he possibly could. Then he made sure to go back and fixate on your face, now with furrowed brows and lips parted open.

• He continued in silence until he was all the way in, letting himself rest inside for just a moment. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he huffed out, throwing his head back. “I feel like if I start moving, I’m going to tear you apart.”

• He slowly moved himself back, centimeter by centimeter until he was pulled out of you, then slowly pushing back in. He continued this a couple more times until he could tell you were more comfortable. The look on your face had changed from uncertainty to one of actual pleasure. He could tell.

• “You’re taking me so well baby. I knew you’d be a good girl for me.” He finally let himself pull all the way back before ramming into you.

• You let out a loud moan in response, which only agged Chan on more.

• He started to thrust again, faster this time. “Oh, is that how my girl likes it? You like it like that, huh?”

• “Yes, Channie,” you moaned.

• “Ah ah ah,” he stopped pumping for a second.

• “I mean, yes daddy!” you breathed out again.

• With that, Chan picked back up, bringing himself in and out of you with a steadily quickening pace. You could tell he was getting worked up the more he pumped.

• He started to hump into it, more than just strokes now. He was getting deeper into you. You let out a rattling sigh at how good it felt.

• Something almost animalistic came over Chan. He almost looked like he wanted to consume you. His jaw locked and his eyes fixated on your face before spitting out at you every last thought he had in his mind.

• "You like it when your daddy fucks you like this, don’t you? You like letting daddy ruin you for anyone else. Being my good little perfect girl. So good for me, letting me fuck you however I want. You don’t want daddy to stop, do you?”

• At that, Chan started to pound into you, getting relentless now. His face was focused, almost looking mad. He hit the spot that you now knew would be the end of you. He kept hitting it and hitting it until you knew you weren’t going to be able to take it anymore.

• “No, don’t stop. Don’t stop,” you panted out. “Please don’t stop. It feels so good,” you were about to cry at this point, not recognizing this feeling. The feeling of breathlessness and pressure, building up, slowly working you to a point you weren’t yet familiar with.

• Chan began to moan violently, forcing himself into you with no remorse. He violently held onto your hips, slamming them down into him as he fucked you. He was going to make sure you felt all of them.

• “So good and tight… God.. FUCK,” he yelled, throwing his head back. He slammed himself in. “Fuck baby, you’re gonna make me cum.. Don’t give into me yet. You can take it. Keep fucking taking it.” He fucked himself into your as hard and fast as he could, bottoming out every time. He hit way up into your cervix and for a moment, you thought you might pass out.

• “Fucking take it, princess. Fucking take me,” he yelled, not able to stop himself.

• “Yes daddy,” you replied back, borderline crying now. He was just too good. It was all way too good.

• Hearing your new name for him was the last thing he needed. “I’m cumming... Fuck I’m cumming. Holy shit,” Chan quickly pulled himself out of you, quickly jerking his dick back and forth as cum shot out of him and onto your stomach. "Fuckkkkkkk." He couldn’t help but moan the entire time, looking at how pretty you looked with his cum all over you.

• You winced underneath him, never having seen this sight before. This was the hottest you’d ever seen him. And to think, he was doing all of this over you.

• He stroked himself up and down until every last drop of cum was out, growling at the last few drops.

• “Shit baby, hold on just a second,” he said, once he’d finally caught his breath.

• He took a few steps to the bathroom, coming back with a wet cloth to clean you off with.

• As you also had finished catching your breath, he came back up to lay himself beside you, bringing the covers up with him. He raised your head up to extend his arm underneath, and then rested it back on top of him so that you were propped up into him.

• “I’m sorry baby, I should have asked you before doing all of that at the end. I don’t know what came over me. Was it okay? Did it feel okay?”

• You took a few seconds to look into his eyes, suddenly full of love and worry.

• “It was perfect Channie. You were perfect.” You smiled at him. He shot you a huge smile back, nuzzling his head into yours and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

• “I’m so glad. You were perfect for me too. I’m so honored I could be your first.”

• You thought your heart would explode from how much love you felt for this man.

• After giving you another kiss on the cheek and lying his head down to rest on top of yours, he whispered into you. “And hopefully I’m going to be your last too.”

———————————————————————————

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zriasstuff · 27 days

Text

Slytherin boys x reader (kinky shit vol.2)

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, orgasm denial kink (?), not proof read, long lost trashy & horny draft from my wattpad era (a moment of silence for that), cringe, enjoy ?

(not that anyone rlly cares, but i thought I’d at least pull this out since i haven’t posted actual writing in 1,5 weeks, vol.1 in case you’re curious)

Mattheo Riddle:

Mattheo was incredibly skilled with his mouth, knowing just where to flick his tongue and how hard to suck on your clit to make you melt. Shaking and squirming, you’d grab onto his curly hair, and he would hold your thighs over his shoulders and bury his face deep within your sweet cunt. Always licking up every drip coming from your precious cunt and sucking his fingers clean after stretching you out.

Eventually he figured that he could make you even needier by removing himself for a few seconds. In response you would desperately pull his head closer to your cunt and whine him “don’t you dare fucking stop now”, but he’d just tease your entrance by slowly licking stripes, so you wouldn’t be able to reach your climax.

It was torture, yet you have to admit he made it worth it. “Please Matty keep going”, you’d plea, “plea- please just pleasee”, you’d just repeat that as often as you could, but he enjoyed seeing you on edge.

Tom Riddle:

It’s his favorite form of punishing you for when you act bratty towards him, or when he’s in an angry mood in general, which is quite frequently. His practice of orgasm denial involves painstakingly long teasing until your cunt is all worn out and until you basically can’t think properly anymore. All your thoughts just revolve around one thing, riding out your orgasm completely without feeling as if something was being ripped away from you instead. Tom always fucks you first, pulling out just when you’re about to cum. Instead he releases himself all over your thighs, and leaves you to your own devices. The more needy you become, the longer he’ll torture you to see your breaking point. He has a dildo his size, which he’ll fuck you with, always pulling out just when you’re about to cum. It was an endless circle, even bringing out tears in you because it’s too unbearable and you just desperately want to experience that intensive orgasm. Usually he doesn’t let you have it though. Because of that you become unbelievably horny during the next few days, wanting Tom to use you and fuck you in any sort of way, but of course he’d rather watch you squirm and whine under him. “Should’ve thought twice before being a brat”/“Only good girls derserve to cum”/“You look so pathetic, begging for my cock”

Theodore Nott:

Instead of the popular silent treatment you gave to Theo sometimes when you were mad, you also enjoyed seeing him all fidgety and out of control. “Please don’t do this”, he’d beg, but it would all be in vain. Once you decided to bounce up and down on his swollen cock, he couldn’t keep it together anymore. You didn’t allow him to grab your tits, nor to cum. Once you rode his cock long enough to get you close, you got off of him and fingered yourself in front of him until you made a mess of the sheets. His cock would just leak precum from watching you get off, but he was gonna try to not disobey you. He wasn’t allowed to cum until you gave him explicit permission. After you rode him, he was most likely a swearing mess, desperate to touch his own cock and replicate what you do to him. “That’s what you get for making me mad”, you’d tell him and he’d apologize about a thousand times. Sometimes, out of pity, you then satisfy him by allowing him to touch himself, but other times he wouldn’t be so lucky and had to wait until the next day possibly. “I swear I’ll never do it again”, he whines or “Please I’ll do anything”

Blaise Zabini:

He knows that you enjoy your orgasms way more when they’ve been delayed because then they’re just so much more intensive that way. So, when you do it, he obviously wants to make you feel good, even if that means making you feel incredibly bad, even if it’s in a good way, for a moment. His cock was big by all means, it stretched you out perfectly and fit you just right. So after he comes inside you, he makes you cockwarm him instead of pulling out completely. This way he’ll watch you struggle to not roll your hips because if you did you’d try to get him to hit your g-spot. Then, all of a sudden, he’d grab your waist, make you straddle him, and control your body movements with his hands on your waist. Blaise will pull down, and thrust into you from under you. You can’t help but let out a series of cries because Blaise pounded so deep into you that you were sure you’re insides would never recover. Although he’s lying down, he’s still the one in control, so any pleasure you get is decided by him. “Not yet babe”/“Hold on a little longer ok” As you finally get to have your orgasm, it’s the most intense yet satisfying feeling in the world.

Enzo Berkshire:

Broken was the only word to describe Enzo when he was suffering from not being able to cum due to having a cock ring on. You used it for punishing him sometimes, for unintentionally flirting with other girls, but also just for fun and to spice up your bedroom activities. It vibrated his inflated cock, but also restricted it from shooting out his sweet release. The entire room would be filled with Enzo’s variations of noises, begging and whines. “How much longer”, he keeps asking while making filthy sounds and “I can’t keep it in anymore please” he’d always plea. Enzo would also always come close to tears, though he definitely enjoyed the sinful mix of pleasure and pain too. There were also several intensity settings on the useful cock ring and any time he’d swear, you put it higher. He was entirely under your control, and anything he did would result in his cock just suffering longer from the prolonged torture. You watched him squirm in his bed, completely naked, and even humping the bed at times to get some sort of friction, but that never ended well as you would set the vibrations even higher. His cock was so close to coming, yet only measly drops of precum came out. It was truly a sight.

Draco Malfoy:

Combined with public factors, orgasm denial is your favorite way of watching your boyfriend struggle to keep it together. Otherwise everyone would find out what an obedient boy he was for you, totally unlike the usual bad boy persona he puts on. When all your friends hang out around the common room couch, near the fireplace, a blanket always covers you two. It’s normal, since everyone shares a blanket with either a friend or partner. The twist comes when you slyly slide your hands all the way down to his crotch and rub him through his pyjama pants first. Draco always inhales sharply, knowing he’ll have to be on his best behavior. He shifts all the time, trying to secretly hump himself on the palm of your hand, acting like a stupid fuck toy. So, to tell him to cut it out, you lightly squeeze his length, sending him a warning sign. He should remember that you were the one in control. When you decide he deserves it, you start massaging his cock, pumping it ever so slowly and circling your thumb over his crown. As soon as you hear the grunts, signaling that he can’t keep it in any longer, you slide your hands out of his pants again and act as you were. Draco’s own pleasure had to wait until you were in private, until then he’d quietly whine “Please let me cum, pleasee”/“I swear I’ll do anything you want”

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miserycanary · 1 month

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A FIXED HEART IN YOUR HAND ᡣ𐭩 previous ⤶

♡⃛ ‘My Hell For Your Love’ alternative ending

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: is it done? hopeless love? How Ghost is after the break-up

tags: :3..

Ghost swears he’s going crazy. In his eyes, the walls are dimmer and everything seems… out of place. He seems out of place. Not when you’re not there with him. “Fuck,” he grumbles, tilting his head back on the headboard of the bed you used to share with him. He knows it’s disgusting but he hasn’t had the courage to change the bedsheets since that day, too scared he’d forget how you smell. Ever since you came over for the last time to take your things, he lost everything in the apartment that reminds him of you— that reminds you guys happened.

It seems like he’s in a worse state than he thought when even Price came up to him, asking him to hang after work shifts. Ghost knew that he was not in the best state and everyone in the base was muttering about it. Seeing as he had nothing more to lose (you were all he had), he agreed.

The bar was filled with cigar smoke and the smell of cheap liquor. It was bustling with bodies grinding on each other everywhere. He had let himself go but his build still managed to attract stares, often getting hit on by ladies looking for someone to fix their daddy issues. And each time he turns them down until he sees a familiar figure. Like a dog, he chases someone who seems to be you but only to feel a pang of disappointment.

The night seems to pass quickly. He’s suddenly in bed with the girl who looks like you. He knows it’s wrong to play with her, but he needs you— one way or another. It just ended up with him more frustrated. She wasn’t like you. The way she felt, her look, and her voice. Everything was so different.

He didn’t even stay the night, unable to process the fact he laid with someone who wasn’t you. Placing some bills on the bedside table, Ghost takes one more look at her sleeping figure that paints a scowl on his face. Even the way she sleeps wasn’t like you at all. The walk back home was exhausting, with a cigar between his lips and a burden in his heart.

His steps halted when he found himself in the familiar street of your unit. “I’m really going nuts,” he chuckled to himself, peering up to look at your unit that always had its windows open. He was about to risk it all when he heard your laughter and a voice. The sight before him made him lose it. You had a guy over. Someone who doesn’t even look like him! Ghost snaps back when he realizes he let go of his cigar. Looking down at the still burning light, he contemplated. Was it done? Were you gone from him forever? No, right? It’s a one-night stand, convinces himself.

It wasn’t a one-night stand, he realizes. Holding the wedding invitation in his hand 2 years after that. The words printed on the dedication had his stomach churning.

‘To my old friend, Simon,

I invite you to my wedding. Thank you for being with me for many years. You have helped me become who I am today, so I would love if you’ll be there. We promised we’d be with each other during our happiest moment, right?

All love,

Y/N’

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: the last and final part. Go read the alternative ending! Sorry if it’s rushed!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

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calmcoldevening · 10 months

Text

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

#slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair

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gargoy-ross · 3 months

Text

The Vees with a s/o that likes to crochet + how they'd react if you gift them a plush of you two holding hands

First time posting on Tumblr, I know these are probably ooc. Gn reader, a bit suggestive on Val's. That's all, enjoy :)

Vox

Vox doesn't really understand your hobby, but hey, whatever makes you happy. Besides, he loves it when you run to him all giddy and exited to show off your latest creation. He'll let you sit on his lap while you crochet and he works. Just make sure your yarn doesn't get tangled up in the wires...

Giving him the plush

Keeping the gift as a surprise was hard, this man has cameras everywhere, but somehow you managed. And you're quite proud of yourself for that too. Now you're sitting in his office, waiting for him to get back from the meeting. You glance at the clock - it should end right about now.

As if on cue, Vox opens the door and as it slams shut you hear the most tired and annoyed sigh from him.

"Bad time?" You ask.

He shakes his head at the question. "Just a shitty meeting," He practically falls into his chair, "and an even shittier day."

He raises his brows and the annoyance is gone in an instant. "What's that for, doll?"

"I made this. For you." You smile awkwardly as you pass the box to him.

Vox carefully lifts the lid and takes the plush out. He examines it as if he wasn't quite sure what it was. The expression on his screen is unreadable, and his voice quieter than usual.

"You made this? You made... us?"

You nod and Vox's expression softens. He has already forgotten the stress from earlier.

"It's adorable. Thanks doll."

He smiles. Not the business man smile or the TV host smile, a genuine smile.

Valentino

Val thinks it's a waste of time. Why would you sit there, making stupid knots instead of, I don't know, spending time with him?! But, like Vox, if it makes you happy, he'll tolerate it.

Giving him the plush

You decide to present him with the plush one night after he's done with filming. So there you sit, on the couch in one of the backrooms in his studio, nervously fiddling with the gift. When Valentino steps in to the room he's surprised to see you. You don't usually spend time at the studio.

He's voice is ever so sultry when he addresses you. "Well hello sweetheart. Didn't know you were waiting for me." He then notices what your holding and snatches the plush from your hands, a teasing smile on he's face as he toys with it. "Oh my, what's this darling?"

You stand up. He cocks his head, making sure to hold the plush out of your reach.

"It's a gift. I though I'd be nice to give you something."

He's grin widens and he lifts your chin up with one of his hands. "Not exactly my style of a toy, but thank you sweetheart."

Velvet

Velvet would most be the most tolerant towards your yarn hording habits. She doesn't mind, as long as you keep your stuff separate from hers. If you have the talent, she might design accessories which she'll ask you to crochet for her. And, if you agree to it, she will make you a Sinstagram to show off all your creations.

Giving her the plush

Velvet is on her break when you decide visit her studio to give her the gift. You've put the plush in a gift bag hoping it wouldn't raise questions from her employees. While you don't think they'd make fun of you, you know how important the public appearances of you two were for Velvet.

It doesn't take long for you to find her, scrolling on her phone as she picks at her lunch. "I didn't know you were stopping by babe."

"I figured you'd be on your break about now." You say, handing her the bag. "This is for you."

She wastes no time taking the plush out. "Aww, you made us hold hands. It's adorable." She turns it around in her hands examining all the little details you've made. "You even got my outfit on point." She then leans in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'm glad you liked it."

She has to soon get back to work, her collections need to be perfect for the next show, so you bid your goodbyes. Later that day you get a notification from your Sinstagram that you've been tagged on a post. You can't help but smile when you see the photo Velvet had posted to show off the plush.

#vox x reader #velvet x reader #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #the vees x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel valentino

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imbored1201 · 4 months

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Can I request a teen barca reader who is very young and very shy and meeting the team for the first time?? Thank you and have a nice day

First Impressions

Barcelona Femeni x Teen Reader

Word Count: 1,065

You were shaking, and you didn't know why. You've always heard good things about the Barca girls; they were kind and welcoming. Maybe it was the thought of being far away from home that worried you, or maybe it was the thought of not being good enough for a team of top elite athletes.

"Y/N!" You turned and saw Jonatan, your new coach. You didn't think you would ever be here; you thought your World Cup call-up was luck, but you ended up shining and performing amazing. You had gotten lots of offers, and you chose Barcelona.

"It's nice to see you again," he said, shaking your hand and taking your luggage. "Nice to see you too," you said in a whisper. He put a hand on your shoulder and led you out of the airport.

"Okay, I know you're probably tired, but we just need to take some photos of you in the jerseys. Alexia will see us on the field so you two can meet properly and we can discuss your living arrangements." You nodded at that. You knew you were rooming with someone, but they were still figuring out who.

————

You panicked more as you guys pulled into the parking lot. There were a couple of cars there of the people who were setting up for the photos and videos.

As you entered the locker room, Alexia was already there waiting for you. She smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. "So you're the wonder kid the internet has been talking about," she said, and you blushed at that.

"I guess," she smiled as she held out your jersey. You took it from her and admired it. "I can't believe this is really happening," you muttered, and she laughed and patted your head.

"Well, believe it kid, I could already tell you're going to be the future of this team." you smiled at that. You couldn't believe La Reina just said that.

"Now it's photo time, why don't you get changed, and I'll wait out there for you, okay?" You nodded and sat down as she walked out.

You couldn't believe this was happening. You were really signed with one of the best clubs in the world at 16.

You got changed, took some pictures to post later, and made your way onto the field. Alexia smiled at you, "red and blue fit you well." She put an arm around your shoulder and took you to the photographers.

After they gave you a break from photos, you and Alexia were able to talk and get to know each other better.

—————

In Jonatan's office, you discussed school and living arrangements. "We expect a lot from you in school, okay? We need you to pass all your classes and be on top of your school work. If you need us to talk to your professor about extending a deadline due to traveling purposes, we will. If you need tutors, we will happily get you people to help you, but we expect you to bring in good grades." You nodded at that.

"Living arrangements; Alexia here will be the one taking care of you." Alexia nodded. "I have the room ready, and I'll take you to the store, so we can get paint and decorate it however you want."

"Thank you," she smiled, and put an arm around your shoulder. Everyone stood up as he dismissed everything. "I'll see you at the next practice," he told you as he hugged you.

Alexia led you to her car. "The girls wanted to throw you a small party for your signing." "Really?" She nodded. "If you want, we can move it to tomorrow."

"It's okay," she nodded as she texted the girls. "Let's get you home."

—————

As soon as you entered her place, confetti popped all over you. "Patri! I said no," Alexia told the girl who was holding a confetti popper.

"You're cleaning that up." Patri nodded and looked at you. You were hiding behind Alexia, a bit overwhelmed by all the people looking at you right now.

"She's adorable," Pina cooed as she walked to you and pinched your cheek. You blushed at that, and Alexia smacked her hand away.

"Can everyone give her space? The kid just got here." Alexia led you through the crowd of girls who were trying to talk to you.

Both of you sat on the couch, and the girls sat around you. "Hey kid," Lucy smiled at you, and you muttered a small hi back. You looked around at everyone, observing them. You obviously knew all their names.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Y/N, by the way." "Trust me, we know. You were everywhere during the World Cup" Salma said as she showed a video of a beautiful goal you had scored. It's the goal that got you a lot of attention. "Right," you mumbled, wishing you could shrink right now and get away from everyone.

"You guys are scaring her," Fridolina said as she saw the nervous look on your face. "We just want to talk to her," Lucy defended. "Can we ask her questions?" Pina looked at Alexia, who gave her a look.

"Why are you asking me? Ask her?" Pina shrugged. "Aren't you basically her mom now?" Alexia glared at her, and everyone looked back at you.

"I can answer questions," you said, making the younger girls cheer. "Are you actually 16?" Pina said quickly, wanting to get the first question.

"Pina, that is the dumbest question. She's not going to lie about her age," Jana told her, and Pina raised her hands in defense.

"Cats or dogs?" Mapi asked, "I like both," you shrugged, "Favorite players of all time?" You shrugged. "I have a couple, Messi, Ronaldinho, and Alexia." The girls awed at the last part, and you hid your face in Alexia's shoulder.

After a couple more questions, Alexia finally stopped them. "That's enough; leave her be." The girls listened, and you were given the control to put a movie on.

Patri and Pina squeezed between you and Alexia on the couch, wanting to adopt you. "We'll teach you everything" Patri told you as she put an arm around you.

—————

They did teach you everything, and after a couple of weeks, they were able to get you out of your shell, and now you were another prankster on the team.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni

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chxrryhansen · 3 months

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౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s SStan Series Rec List

here are my sebastian stan series fic recs! they are mostly bucky barnes series but mainly Au’s! i will be creating separate lists for cevans one shots and sstan one shots😚

Clockwork - @sgt-seabass

When life seems to be finally back on track, a visit by a mob boss to your dainty town changes everything. (Dark!Alpha Nick Fowler)

The Soldat And The Sparrow - @navybrat817

Your fire burns for the Winter Soldier. And one day, you'll be free. Both of you.

For The Love Of The Game - @pellucid-constellations

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

The Heart Is A Deep Ocean - @dreamlessinparis

Titanic was known as the ship of dreams. For you, it was the dream of getting home, or so you thought. From the moment you locked eyes with James Buchanan Barnes, all those dreams changed and your life was never the same.

Everything’s Better In WestView - @espinosaurusrexex

Bucky and Y/N sneak into Westview to have the perfect life. Away from late Steve and Tony, Vision and Natasha, they let themselves be consumed by suburban magic. To their surprise, however, some of these people aren’t so dead in the town. And there are some other weird things happening that make them question their sanity. But that’s okay, right? ‘Cause everything’s better in Westview.

The Bride Of Soldat - @vampy-doll

In the summer of 1986, a young woman goes missing whenever HYDRA kidnaps her to be their next experiment for the reward of their Soldat. Now, post blip, Bucky starts to remember defining details of his love, his match made in hell, and is determined to find her. But after years of isolation and torture after his escape, she isn’t who he remembers. Now they’re trying to piece together who she was pre-HYDRA to teach her how to live, without his undying love and obsession of her getting in the way. But when one head is cut off, two more shall grow in its place, leaving them to discover those behind her abduction.

Awake My Soul - @foreverindreamlandd

It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Guiding Light - @wkemeup

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

The Witness - @wkemeup

Owner of a bar full of criminals, maybe you shouldn’t be surprised when you’re the sole witness to a hydra hit. In comes Detective Barnes, the quick-witted, flirtatious cop who somehow became a regular at your misfit bar. When he takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

Under Oath - @ugh-supersoldiers

The people called for justice, the state answered. The trial of State v. Barnes is set to begin, and the odds are most certainly not in favor of the not so beloved ex Winter Soldier. That’s where you come in, the quick, smart, and all too brave lawyer set on defending and saving one Bucky Barnes from legal prosecution. The only problem? He’s not so sure he’s worth saving at all.

Just One Kiss - @sarahwroteathing

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

He’s Hazardous To My Health - @writing-for-marvel

Bucky Barnes is a beefy paramedic with a traumatic past, who has left a trail of broken hearts behind him. You are a resident doctor new to town, who barely has time to date between long shifts. When your paths cross in your ER during a disaster, is it the start of something magical, or are you destined to be just another of Bucky’s former flames?

Just Try - @waiting4inspiration

Perfectly happy with your life at the Avengers’ compound, an alpha walks into your life, flipping it completely over and revealing secrets you hoped you had buried a long time ago.

Дорогая - @waiting4inspiration

Bucky's Winter Soldier programming has been triggered. Turns out the Winter Soldier has a thing for you.

Red Ties - @sebstan2020

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend Owens. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Delicate Edges - @wkemeup

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Pride And Privacy - @adrinktostopyourthirst

Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

Feelings Are Fatal - @sunmoonandeddie

After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

Appointments - @noctumbra

bucky barnes, finally being able to live freely in 21st century, accidentally gets a fuck buddy and starts to rediscover himself. the only weird thing about this situation is that you have to make an appointment to get railed by him.

Lazarus - @sagechanoafterdark

Things are complicated between you and James Barnes. For you, life doesn’t mean much when you never stay dead for very long. But it might just be an ex-soviet assassin that convinces you to start living again.

Its A Deal - @justreadingfics

You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.

The Two Of Us - @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

Snow - @delaber

Tired of your constant bickering, Sam sends you and Bucky on a mission alone. When the worst possible outcome happens and you’re forced to spend several days together in a small cabin, you finally get to see a different, more pleasurable side to the man whose flesh you’ve always had a thorn in.

All Good Things - @sagechanoafterdark

After only three days of dealing with the annoying specter haunting you, you break the rules and accidently give a ghost a body. So what do you do when you find out the man you’re now sharing your your apartment with isn’t really a ghost and that haunted touch is a little warmer than you realized?

Welcome Home… Soldat? - @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

Heavy Metal Lover - @mypoisonedvine

every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional. (Sub!Bucky Barnes + Dominatrix!Reader)

Parent-Teacher Conference - @coffeecatsandcandles

James Barnes, a widowed single dad, had forgotten what love felt like and let it crush him, taking his daughter, Rebecca, with him. He was cold, rude, and arrogant, being one of the few teachers at Westview High School the students seemed to absolutely despise. But when you show up, a hopeful math teacher who’d previously taught Rebecca’s kindergarten class, and are adored by your students and colleagues- James’s attitude starts to change.

Duck & Cover - @whirlybirbs

you’re the howling commandos’ new medic (Sniper!Bucky Barnes)

Winter’s Mate - @maggyme13

The Winter Soldier threatens to get out of control with his instincts taking over more and more. After years of supressed ruts his body built up a resistance and Hydra need to find another solution. Deciding it would be the easiest to just give in. Hydra kidnapped the reader to turn her into a Omega in Heat using injections whenever needed.

Key’s In Your Ignition - @georgiapeach30513

Caught up in a sexual relationship with your father’s Vice President, and trying to not get caught. Blind to everything else that’s going on in the club, and even your old crush, Bucky Barnes. Not even noticing your brother and best friend flirting, until your father suddenly passes, and things in the club drastically change. (Ari Levinson + Bucky Barnes + Harvard Hottie- Hayden)

#chxrrys fic recs #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic recs #fic recs #sebastian stan x reader #nick fowler #nick fowler x reader

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project-sonadow · 4 months

Text

My [15M] rival [15/50M] has been weirdly aggressive towards me ever since he lost his memories for the second(?) time. Should I be worried about him trying to kill me again?

Summary

A post on r/relationship_advice by u/Chili_Dog1991

EDIT 1: Stop saying I'm Sonic I'm not.

EDIT 2: Okay I am Sonic. I don't see how that matters.

EDIT 3: Stop trying to figure out which of my rivals this is.

EDIT 4: Stop telling me to contact the police about his attempts to murder me or his age. It's complicated in regards to his age but he's essentially 15 and I can already defend myself way better than the police can in regards to his murder attempts. Also the police would probably try to arrest me too because they're either useless or make things actively worse.

EDIT 5: Stop DMing me to ask how murder attempts can be fun. I shouldn't have to explain this.

EDIT 6: Stop implying I'm a masochist.

EDIT 7: Stop implying I'm an adrenaline junkie. If I just wanted adrenaline I've got tons of other people who could give me that.

EDIT 8: To everyone who actually responded with advice, thank you. I attempted to talk to him about it, we fought again, and it turns out he's been acting aggressive because he doesn't know how to show affection so he just defaults to violence. We ended up holding hands after we physically couldn't fight anymore. It was a great night and I think we're together now.

EDIT 9: Which of you motherfuckers sent this to Tails.

ORIGINAL POST

Hi everyone, using a throwaway account to make this post because my little brother knows my main and the embarrassment would kill me if he ever saw this.

So for context, I've known this guy for a while now, at least in the context of my life. I've got a pretty hectic life and I'm a traveler, so I've met a lot of people and he's one of the few that's been able to keep up with me. Our first meeting was during a bit of a stressful time because he kind of inadvertently framed me for thievery (we look kinda alike and the police are stupid, it's not his fault but I was pretty pissed at the time) and got me arrested, so we ended up fighting about it in the middle of the street. I'm used to fighting and pretty good at it, so it was a surprise when he turned out to be basically my equal at it, which is pretty rare even among my other rivals. He got the upper hand on me for long enough that the police were able to arrest me again. I was pretty mad but also impressed. Our second meeting was even more stressful because I had just got out of jail after being arrested for the second time, and I was still angry about it so we fought again. I was about to win but then it turned out we were both in danger along with some friends of mine so we both left as fast as we could. Both of these times I could tell he was taking the fight seriously, but I could also tell he wasn't trying to KILL ME kill me. Y'know?

Anyway, in our next meeting he was definitely trying to kill me. Outright said it to my face. I won that fight thankfully, and I'm not even angry about it because a lot of people have tried to kill me over the years and also he has some kind of goal I was getting in the way of, and he didn't even succeed. He ended up changing his mind about that goal though, and when we next saw each other we were on the same side trying to deal with a mutual threat.

And it was at that point I kind of realized I was in love. I've never really wanted a relationship because I thought it would get in the way of my lifestyle, but with this guy specifically it wouldn't be a problem. I would have told him about it, but then I thought he died and I didn't see him for a while. I wasn't too broken up about it because we only knew each other for a couple days, but I was still sadder than I thought I would have been.

He ended up coming back to life though, and he had lost his memories for the second time in his life (long story I'm not gonna get into) and he didn't really remember me anymore. I know from a mutual friend of ours that he remembered me well enough to be annoyed by my name, which made me irrationally happy, and I think he did end up getting his memories back, but when we first saw each other he definitely didn't know who I was. We fought again, it was a tie, and then we ended up teaming up to take down a mutual enemy again.

Things have been a bit less chaotic since then. We've fought a couple more times but nothing serious, he's saved my life, I've saved his, you know how it goes. We haven't really talked about anything that happened, but that's fine because neither of us have ever been much for verbal communication and we understand each other just fine. I've tried getting over my crush on him, but that's never really worked because we see each other a lot due to our lifestyles and we have some mutual friends in common, and I like spending time with him anyways, even if we're just beating each other up most of the time.

Personality wise, he's basically my polar opposite, but we get on pretty well despite that. I think aside from my general attraction to danger and his ability to match me in a fight and a race that might be the main thing that draws me to him. I've got a lot of friends, but never one so different from me and yet so similar. He's just always been special to me.

But the main reason I'm making this post is because despite all we've been through, he still acts like we're enemies at worst and temporary allies at best. We fight almost every time we meet unless something less serious is going on, and he's pretty grumpy and mean to me all the time. I like this about him, but it does make me question if he even sees me as anything more than a rival, and I don't know how to ask him because we don't talk about weird emotional stuff. I also think that asking him directly could maybe lead to another murder attempt, which would be fun, but it's not what I'm looking for anymore. I don't mind all the fighting, but just once I'd like to kiss him on the mouth instead of punching his teeth in, y'know?

#sonadow #fanfiction #sth #sonic the hedgehog #project writes #long post

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