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#i also wrote and drew today
uncanny-tranny · 1 year
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I think people have a misconception of emotions in regards to people who take testosterone, and it's really affected the way we're treated.
For instance, take the idea that we're unfeeling beasts on testosterone - fueled only by our anger. This is misplaced precisely because it implies that those taking testosterone fundamentally change, from our emotions to our personalities. It implies that we have downgraded in some way since taking testosterone, because let's be real, who enjoys enraged people? Who wants to be an enraged person all the time?
I can only speak from personal experience, but testosterone has made me happier than anything. I can't cry as easily, but the emotions that make me cry are still there. Just because you can't physically see emotion through crying or whatever doesn't mean they don't exist. Testosterone has given me pause to actually feel - before I was just responding to stimulus, I didn't feel alive. Even when I'm angry or upset after starting testosterone, I feel alive. It's a hard feeling to convey, but I feel alive. Testosterone has not changed who I am, it's just made me happier and healthier. It's made my skies clearer.
Testosterone is a (morally) neutral hormone - we all need some level of it in our systems (this level obviously depends person-by-person), so it's weird to specifically single out those of us who take testosterone. You are absolutely entitled to say that testosterone in higher levels isn't right for you, and I respect the position. Estrogen in high levels made my life miserable, I can empathize. But please remember not to overgeneralize and say that who you are fundamentally changes, because that isn't accurate.
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tezzbot · 1 year
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merry osomatsu everypony ^_^
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i’ve been following you for a while and i legit just realized you’re the same snap on ao3
thats me thats the guy who wrote the fic where mine gets off on daigos chair
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creatediana · 4 days
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"Junho" - an exercise in willow charcoal done 4/22/2024 in about 20 minutes of Lee Junho from 2PM
#this month it will be a FULL decade since i started this blog. but we were just a few short days#of making it 10 years without my kpop obsession leaking onto this sideblog. i thought we'd make it#i thought we'd make it but we didn't#my drawing#junho#2024#2pm#lee junho#charcoal#willow charcoal#drawing exercise#i drew something else today but i'm saving it to post later#and i only wrote one poem today and it was crap. so here's an exercise#i like how most of the drawings i post to this blog are just beautiful men#it's overrepresented in my portfolio admittedly#im not exactly 'proud' of this but i do like posting my exercises now and then bc they are fun to look at#i find examining my rushed/practiced drawings to be a lot more helpful in spotting my own strengths and weaknesses#than finished drawings i put a lot of dedication in#with this one i can say that the nose is off-center and the skull doesn't go all the way around on the left#as much as it should. but since it's clearly not meant to be a fully 'good' drawing it's more forgivable#if i had slaved at this for four hours it would kill me to stare at that inaccuracy#also: this is yet another example of the 'diana likes to draw faces far more than clothes' style of portrait#it's not that i dislike drawing clothes but they are so much less fascinating to me#i could stare at faces forever. whereas fabric doesn't inspire me to craft every detail just so.#and it shouldn't. because fabric is far more forgiving than human anatomy anyway
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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years
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I will never get over the fact that canonically, kakashi's ninja way is just that he has suicidal tendencies. Other characters are out here like: oh yeah that kakashi really wants to die for the village. Hello???? You're just gonna accept that? You're just gonna conveniently use his pain to your advantage? Madness.
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i need to stop making joke ocs cuz i just end up getting way too attached to them
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potofsoup · 1 year
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Guyz I’ve been soooo blocked on creative stuff (I blame working too much and also somehow psyching myself out of writing over the summer), but I’m trying to make some progress, and I promised myself that I’d finish at least 1 fic this winter break, so here’s me, sliding in at the last minute.
Oh, it’s a Witcher fic about Geralt and Jaskier swapping clothes for funzies.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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baejax-the-great · 1 year
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who ARE you anymore ;-; i think i followed you when you posted a lot of DA
What a poignant question for the end of the year. Who am I? And who do I want to be?
It's been over ten years since I was in the circus. Ten years, and I haven't really found a use or a venue for my circus arts, which have all fallen by the wayside.
Can I truly say I'm much of a juggler anymore? Sure, the muscle memory hasn't died, but how often am I really flinging things in the air in complicated patterns? And is that how I want to be spending my time?
Clearly not, or I would be doing it.
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ashmp3 · 11 months
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went through my old blogs archive and as i feared... i was annoying about Jeonghan even when in 2015. i was 16, in love and ready to make it everyones problem. some things never change what can i say....
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chryzure-archive · 2 years
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tomorrow! am going to post next installment!
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foraging-beast · 2 years
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i’m going crazy this is my third day of not doing anything i’m going rabid going wild i’ve gotta do something
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dubiousdisco · 2 years
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ok last post about my sister but its been about 4 days but not talking to my sister has been so good to my health... like maybe dedicating 4+ hours of my day every day for 3+ years to someone who didn't acknowledge me wasn't good
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wordstome · 5 months
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kosovo maiden (könig x reader)
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Well, I did it again, gang. I wrote another story based on a painting. This one is by Uroš Predić in 1919, and was posted to Tumblr here (thanks to arcana-imperii for posting!)
I don't know anything about Kosovo, so the reader here isn't explicitly Serbian ;; please forgive me. Also, apologies for possibly inaccurate ambiguously late-1800s setting, medical information or German. Please enjoy!
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There are soldiers in the field.
You heard the sounds of battle early in the dawn, the piercing explosions of gunfire and cannons ringing out as the sun rose. You weren’t concerned at first: it was far enough away that you felt safe enough to carry on as usual. But the gunfire drew closer and closer, and by noon you could hear the shouting and the battle cries, driving you trembling into your attic with terror. Mercifully, the fighting peters out as the sun sinks lower in the sky, but when you finally work up the nerve to peek out of your window, you find to your horror that the grassy field adjacent to your humble little home is littered with the bodies of dead and dying men.
Without a single further thought to your own safety, you grab a lantern and a pitcher of water and rush into the night.
It’s awful. Most of the men left behind are already cold, some whose eyes you have to shut yourself. The ones who were able to be saved were likely evacuated by their comrades, so the only ones left to face the cruel nighttime are the ones who won’t see the morning after. A few are still conscious when you find them, but you have little more to offer them than a gentle touch and one last drink of water. Their eyes are what will haunt you most after today: slick with tears as grown men weep, all semblance of courage and proud masculinity stripped from them as they face down their imminent demise. It’s terrible, heart-wrenching, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’re the only living thing left that can offer them comfort in their last moments.
The jug of water dangles from your hand as you trudge through the field, looking for anyone at all that you can provide help to. You’ve long abandoned any hope of finding someone you can save when you come across him: the giant in the grass.
It’s well and truly nighttime at that point, your lamp the only source of light upon what seems like a sea of human misery. The light hits his face, and you gasp. Your first thought is of how huge he is, at least 200 centimeters if he were standing. Your second thought is of how handsome he is…
You jolt to attention as he shifts and groans. He’s alive! Shaking some sense into yourself, you don’t hesitate to rush to his side. Your hands roam across his body, assessing the severity of his injuries. To your surprise, he doesn’t seem to be mortally injured. They’re severe, to be sure—he won’t be able-bodied for weeks. But he’s far from at death’s door, only confused and dazed…had his comrades only left him due to his sheer size?
Using your hand to support the back of his head and neck, you tip some water into his mouth in an attempt to revive him. The man cracks an eye open, regarding you with feverish wonder.
“Ein Engel…” he murmurs. You’re too elated that he’s alive, so you don’t actually properly hear what he said. With light, deft fingers, you tear strips of his tattered shirt and use the cloth to wrap up a scrape on his arm and stem the flow of a very nasty-looking wound up along the broad plane of his torso. To your alarm, however, the man seems to slump, his head laying back as if he’s about to lose consciousness.
“No, no,” you cry in panic, shaking him without heed of his injuries. “Sir, you cannot sleep here, I am unable to carry you…you will die out here!”
He mumbles something inaudible, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn’t passed out on you yet, but you have to act quickly to properly care for his wounds. You shift your body so you can maneuver his uninjured arm onto your shoulders. Luckily, he seems to comprehend what you’re trying to do, and manages to stumble to his feet while leaning his weight on you.
It’s an awkward, fumbling dance, considering your earlier assessment of his height was correct—he’s a huge man, and his torso alone nearly dwarfs your entire figure. But with a good measure of patience, you manage to get him moving towards your house. It’s high time you returned home, as well: your stomach roils as you remember what happens to corpses left outside for scavengers to find.
The two of you stumble through the doorway of your home, you murmuring soft affirmations and encouragement to the man. He makes no indication that he understands what you’re saying, but he’s nodding along, responding to your gentle tone. You guide him to lay on your bed, his body visibly relaxing as he sinks into the mattress.
You bustle around, lighting candles, stoking your fireplace, and rummaging around for medical supplies. You return to him with a basin of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages—before stopping dead in your tracks.
In the low lamplight out in the field, you hadn’t noticed the color of the man’s uniform, much too preoccupied with his signs of life. But now the truth is laid bare in front of you as you take in his attire, eyes traveling over his broad body—
You’ve just taken in an enemy soldier.
The man has seemingly fallen asleep, likely exhausted by the battle and the effort it took to get into your home. That does nothing to assuage your fear, though: what are you going to do if he passes away right in your bed? Even worse, what are you going to do if he wakes? Will he be hostile? Will he attempt to take you as a hostage to secure safe passage out of his enemy’s territory?
It's clear to you, though, that if you don’t help this man, he will die. His wounds could easily turn septic, and then he’s a goner. You steel yourself and approach him, kneeling at his bedside.
You work slowly and carefully to reveal his injuries, wincing when they’re completely exposed. He’s no longer bleeding profusely, but he will absolutely need stitches. For now, you settle for cleaning them with a damp cloth, trying to keep infection at bay.
He must be well and truly knocked out, because he doesn’t even stir as you wrap his arm securely with clean bandages. You’re much more hesitant to deal with his chest wound: if he wakes and struggles, he could make it much worse. But his unconscious state affords you the best opportunity to stitch him up…
You furrow your brow and go to find a needle.
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You’re awoken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.
You stir from your sleep, wondering what your mother could possibly want at such an early hour. At least she put the fire on—you can hear the crackling. But why is your bed so hard? Did you fall asleep on the floor? Actually, now that you think about it, you do recall dozing off on your sheepskin rug last night, because—
Your eyes shoot open to see a huge, hulking figure standing over you.
The soldier startles when you scream, scrambling to move away from him. He cuts an intimidating figure in the early morning light: he towers over you in a state of undress, the bandages you put on him last night splotched with rusty dried blood. But you calm down as you realize he means you no harm, his hands outstretched in front of him as a show of peace: no weapons.
“Wo bin ich?” he asks. You squint at him. That sounds like German, but you can’t speak a word of it.
“I don’t speak German,” you try. He tilts his head, looking as puzzled as you feel right now.
“Never mind all of that,” you say, shaking your head and pushing yourself to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” The soldier watches with amusement as you press your hands against him, careful to avoid touching his chest where you know his wound lies, in an attempt to get him back into bed. He allows you to do so, lying back down like an obedient dog.
“Muste pissen,” he murmurs as you fuss over him. You shoot him another confused look as you check the stitches you put in his chest wound. All seems well, you note with relief.
“What?”
He huffs a sigh. He gestures towards the door, and then then to his…oh.
“I see,” you say, cheeks feeling hot. You can’t bear to look at his face, but when you do, you find he’s watching you with amusement.
You tap his chest with a finger, then mime a sewing motion. “Don’t get up on your own from now on, you could tear your stitches,” you tell him, pointing to the door and then to patting your own chest. “I’ll help you.”
He snorts, but nods. You start to unfurl the bandages on his arm, heart twinging with sympathy as he grits his teeth in pain. You bite your lip in chagrin as the wound is revealed. It was much less severe than the one on his chest, but it’s doing much worse: pus and fluids are leaking everywhere, and to your horror, you think some parts of the torn flesh might actually be turning green.
“Es sieht schlecht aus?” he asks, concerned. You put on a smile you hope is comforting and rise from his bedside to go downstairs and rummage through your cupboards.
You return to him holding a bottle of liquor, the strongest you could find. He seems to realize what you intend to do, and shifts slightly to allow you better access to his arm.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. “This is going to hurt.” Without further warning, you dump a good amount of alcohol on his wound.
“SCHEIẞE!” The bellow of pain that rips out of his throat seems to shake the very foundations of your home. You wince as he hollers and lays back heavy against your poor little bed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. That can’t have been pleasant…
“Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen,” he grits. You give him a sympathetic little pat before withdrawing to get the bandages.
He’s calmed down by the time you return to him. He watches you curiously as you wrap him up nice and snug, then turn your attentions to his chest wound. The stitches are still in place—it seems he was careful when he relieved himself—but you still need to clean and dress the wound. He lets out a sigh of relief when you opt for a clean cloth to dab away the dried blood instead of the liquor bottle.
You work quickly and efficiently, worried about him catching a cold with his chest out like this. You also can’t deny that the whole situation is starting to make you a bit shy—a foreign man, and an attractive one at that, is in your bed, shirtless, and you’re all but sprawled out on top of him to get up close to his injury. By the time you’re done, you’re fully blushing at the closeness of the contact between the two of you.
“You should be alright, it’s a good sign that you lasted through the night and haven’t developed a fever yet,” you tell him as you gather up the soiled bandages to be washed. “You’ll need to stay in bed so I can keep an eye on you—”
You’re drawn up short when you look up to see his face. Far from the angry scowl he wore when you disinfected his wound, his expression now is almost…admiring? You shift slightly, caught off guard by the adoration in this stranger’s stare, and your arm brushes against something solid and warm.
You stand up as if burned, turning to see what you just touched. To your chagrin, you find that the soldier is…well, he’s hard.
You whirl around to fix him with an outraged look, but he only laughs at you with obvious delight. What a pervert! You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do or where to look, but you’re stopped by the sensation of him reaching up and pressing a hand to your face.
You stare at him, wide-eyed, as he strokes your cheek with a sort of reverence that stops you in your tracks. “Mein Retter…” he murmurs. “Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders.”
You huff, recognizing that he’s trying to apologize. “You don’t act like an injured man at all,” you complain. A spark of mirth comes into his eye at your pouting tone as he just chuckles at you. You turn to walk away, yelping when you feel his hand brush against your bottom. You shoot him with a deadly look as he laughs again.
You scurry away, feeling awkward and hot all over. You had been so concerned last night about whether you should stay in the same house as the potentially dangerous soldier, pacing the floor and biting your nails as you pondered whether you should give him up to the local authorities. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t—they would surely have locked him in a cold cell with nobody to look after that festering gash on his shoulder, to say nothing of his chest wound. It was worth it to risk waking up to a man angry and spitting hatred at you, if you could save his life.
But now you’re realizing that you hadn’t considered the opposite possibility: that the soldier might like you a little too much.
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ein Engel = an angel Wo bin ich? = Where am I? Muste pissen = had to piss Es sieht schlecht aus? = Is it bad? Scheiße = shit Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen = That hurt worse than getting the damn wound in the first place Mein Retter = my savior Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders = I'm sorry. I couldn't help it
Once more, I wrote this in a frenzy akin to being possessed, so it's a little short. But there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading <3
@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely
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anadiasmount · 26 days
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lockeroom loving - jude bellingham x reader.
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quick sum: after the recent win, jude can't help but take you against the place where he desired most since moving to his club. one place that will forever be now tainted of you and him.
wc: 2k | masterlist | jude's masterlist
psa🗣️: i wrote this so fast so excuse any grammar and punctuation! i also used this since someone requested! he just looked so good with that leather jacket, and my thoughts were thinking 🤭🤭. this blurb does contain smut so minors dni!! warnings and themes include: (blowjob, and unprotected sex, public/ private setting) 🔞 like always enjoy!! this one is very much 🫦🫦
“what’s up with you today hmm?” jude smirks, kissing your cheek, feeling you arms wrap around his middle as you continued to nibble and peck his neck. “can’t i admire my handsome boyfriend? who has 30 g/a after todays game?” you say cheekily.
jude laughs and carries you to the locker room. “no no no jude! not here it probably smells! please jude!” you say between laughs as he sits you where his locker is. your eyes roam over the letters that spell out his last name, squirming when he kisses your neck down to your collarbone. “that’s cute,” you point at the picture of you and him during christmas, also of his family and other friends.
“gonna keep talking or let me do what you’ve been begging me for since the morning,” jude said, your thighs clenching together as his hands sneakily ran along your waist to unbutton your jeans, teasing you by slowly unzipping your zipper. “in here? it’s to risky, jude,” you breathe heavily, jude wanting to remark as you threw your head back.
jude sat on the bench, you still standing, hands resting on his leather jacket. he spread his legs, seeing his prominent bulge poke through the black sweatpants he was wearing, you coming between. “y/n, y/n, y/n…” jude taunted, his large palms rubbing your clothed ass, making lose balance. “what am i going to do with you…” he drove your teasing further.
jude took his fingers and slowly pushed your jeans down, tongue poking through his lips when he saw you wearing the white lace underwear. “i don’t think we should do this h-here jude…” you tried to reason but we’re cut off by him slapping your ass, gasping out a moan as jude rubbed the area with his hand to soothe the pain.
“i have a feeling if we wait till we get home, the whole car ride you’re going to pull one of your stunts. no one is coming in believe me…” jude brought you closer to him, kissing the skin on your tummy. your nails scratched the back of his head, bringing yourself to your knees where jude loses focus, untucking your bottom lip and tracing your lips with his thumb. you felt bold, sucking the tip of his thumb where jude chuckled cockily.
“what does my good girl want?” he tsked, watching as you removed your jacket. “what does my boyfriend want? i reckon he wants to feel my lips here?” your smaller hand traced the bulge, all the way up to his abs, now hand on his jaw, watching as jude almost twitched. his cock felt hard, he needed to relieve the tension and pressure before he came in his pants.
you leaned up, kissing his lips messily hearing as he breathed louder and groaned, tongues dancing, lips smacking. your teeth biting his bottom lip watching it pull back and go back to place, jude staring at you intensely now with plump lips, sighing heavily. you crouched down again, looking up with innocent eyes catching the side smile jude gave you.
you untied the strings of his sweatpants, looking at the doors to ensure no one was coming. as much as you enjoyed the thrill and excitement of being fucked by jude in the locker rooms, it was so risky, so perilous. jude bucked his hips up, helping you as you drew down his pants and boxers.
jude's cock twitched in your hold, looking up one more time as your tongue licked his wet tip dangerously slow. jude grunted and threw his head back, closing his eyes as his chest repeatedly moved up and down. you kissed the aching tip so gently and feathery, down the base of his cock, where your tongue traced the vein upwards he had that popped out.
"s-s-shit," jude stuttered, looking down when you finally took him between your lips, your cheeks sucked in as you worked from the tip down his shaft. your throat slowly relaxed as you took him deeper, now breathing through your nose as spurts of spit made the whole length messy. easily accessible for your hands to work the place you couldn't fully reach.
"doing so good for me, just like that angel, taking me so well against these pretty painted lips..." his words made you whimper, clenching around nothing as you looked up once again. "you can do it angel, just a little more, you can fit it all in your mouth," he breathed out, as you pulled back and nodded, stroking your hand messily on his cock. so messy and wet, lips and jaw hurting from how big he was. but you didn't want to stop, you felt the need to make him cum.
jude groaned again, itching to push you down even further when your lips made contact at the base, his thighs shaking and almost squeezing you. jude almost cumming on the spot when your tongue licked the underside of him, as he looked down at you. so focused, so pretty, so pure. he would never admit it, but having and taking you here in the locker room was one of his dreams...
"breathe... there you go... just breathe, you got this, i know my pretty girl got it..." jude said when you gagged and choked on his dick, moaning in pleasure when you retracted again, squeezing his balls to further quicken his high as you control your breathing. "you're so good at this baby, so close to cumming for you angel," jude said making you smirk as you kissed his tip again.
he could feel his orgasm through the back of his head, his head cloudy and images of you down on your knees for him, hissing when you sucked around his cock again. with one final push, jude trembled, moaning and groaning as he came into your mouth, hearing as you hummed pleasurably.
you swallowed every last bit, the whole scene playing out pornographic which flew your mind into a frenzy. you loved having him wrapped around your finger at your mercy, especially like this. his rapid breathing, playful smile, closed and hooded eyes. you wiped your hands on the clean towel nearby.
he kissed you again, bringing you to his lap where his hands stroked your thighs smoothly, down to your ass again, giving it a squeeze in appreciation. you laughed, as jude placed a wet trail of kisses down your jaw and neck. "luckiest man alive... can't believe you are real and all mine..." he whispered, making your body heat up at his words.
"all yours jude."
"get on your hands and knees for me... look into the pretty mirror behind me," jude demanded, voice deep and groggy, patting your ass gently, holding back the laugh at how quickly you listened. his hands roamed your back, still wearing his "bellingham #5" jersey. "gonna fuck you with my shirt on," he placed two kisses on each ass cheek, moving your lacy underwear to the side, your wet folds seeking through.
jude rubbed two fingers along your walls, putting them into his mouth and humming in delight, "so sweet like candy." he gently hit his cock on your skin, watching how you pulsed around nothing. tapping his tip on your clit, then dragging it all the way up to your soaking entrance.
you wanted to roll your hips back, but knowing jude, he would make you wait and tease you till you couldn't take it anymore, crying out as you begged. jude guided and edged himself into you, his girth stretching your walls as he snugs his cock deeper and deeper, inch by inch.
you held back a moan, head hanging low when he retracted and trusted back into you. jude cursed loudly, grabbing both your hips as he slowly found a comfortable pace thrusting into you. a hand reached forward, bringing your head to look at him through the mirror. "i want you to be loud, wanna hear how good i'm making you feel..." jude requested.
jude grunted, your desperate moans echoing in the room as he took you from behind. balls slapping against your clit, which increased your high more. your hands gripping the walls of his locker as you looked behind you, jude still wearing that damn black leather jacket.
since you had seen the pictures, it was all you could think of. he looked straight out of a movie, so prevailing and squared. "fuck, fuck," you hissed as his tip kissed the perfect spot inside you, hands and legs wobbly, as jude squeezed your boob. "jude please, i'm so close, so c-c-close," you warned, eyes squeezing shut at the familiar burn and coil formed in your tummy. he was so deep, that you felt every ridge of him everywhere inside you.
"i know baby, i know, can feel you wrapping so perfectly tight around me. just, fuck, just wait a little longer, a little longer for me, i'm right there with you," jude struggled to say, feeling as you clenched around him as a warning. "so proud of you, this is what you wanted right?" jude taunted seeing as you nodded rapidly, your legs practically shaking with pleasure.
"tried to test me in the morning, and before i left, what if i left you here hanging left and dry?" he pulled back, hearing as you screamed out a no. "no please, jude please," you cried pushing your hips back to feel him. "turn for me, and lay on the bench," you obliged immediately.
“your eyes are so pretty…. love watching them roll back… when i hit this spot…” jude sunk and buried his cock back into you, making your back arch and moan out at the feeling. “i love you so much… you have no idea how fucking good you feel wrapped around my cock darling… so tight…” jude praised. "i l-love you too," you say out of breath, clenching your jaw as your teeth itched with your orgasm seconds away.
jude could feel you from the back of his hands, saying your name like a devoted prayer, his lips connecting with yours as he dragged his hips and pushed his final thrust into you, making the both of you cum, as the wave inside you burst. you each trembled in pleasure, legs wrapping around him to keep him in place as he cummed into you, the familiar warm and full sensation as he came returning again.
you guys laughed, your hands going under his leather jacket and shirt to scratch and roam his back, as he kissed your chin sweetly. he kissed all the way down the valley of your breaths, watching the sticky strings pull back as he did, his white seed falling down from your entrance. you lay there completely warn out, trying to catch your breath, as you continued to process what happened.
"still with me?" jude asked, wanting to be as gentle as possible since you got sensitive after sex. he knew it might not be the correct place, but still wanted you to have and treat you with the most aftercare he could offer you. "yeah, i'm here," you reassured, feeling how he grabbed a clean towel and cleaned you up, laying a kiss on your knee.
"promise you once we get home, i'll give you a bath, the hottest one just how you like. but first I'm gonna treat you to some food, want to make sure my pretty girlfriend eats something... how does that sound?" jude showered you with love, helping you put your clothes on, and cleaning the area where it all went down.
"sounds perfect."
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NO SPOILERS FOR DRAGONS RISING S2 PRESENT‼️‼️
HAPPY S2 RELEASE !! HERE'S A LAZY COMIC I DREW FOR MY B-DAY AND SWIFTLY FORGOT TO FINISH ! ALSO I WROTE LIKE THREE PAGES FOR MY FIC TODAY SO I'M HOPING THE NEXT CHAPTER IS ALMOST ALMOST ALMOST READY 👍
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afterglowkatie · 2 days
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secret admirer | l.w.
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leah williamson x reader | 1.4k | leah had been on the receiving end of your anonymous letters not having the courage to talk to her until you get caught out
ˏˋ°•*⁀arsenal/lioness!reader - a little leah fic bc mainly leah and alexia have been living rent free in my head all day today :') but yeah! also i work 10 hour days the rest of the week so a little something until i can not be too tired to write again!
‘Ooh, Leah’s got a secret admirer,’ Keira sang out, teasing Leah while they crowded around the bouquet of flowers and note that was left sitting in Leah’s cubby. Keira took the note from Leah’s hand reading it out loud, if any one was around they’d be able to listen in to the contents.
For the last few months Leah had been finding little notes of admiration left around in places that only she would be able to find. The notes started appearing around in places when she was anywhere with arsenal. At training, their home games and also their away games. At first she thought it might’ve been a supporter anonymously giving her support and admiration from afar. It could’ve looked like that especially with some of the shorter notes being pretty generic, ‘your laugh is my favourite sound’ and ‘your smile is pretty just like you’. 
Until the longer notes made their appearance, taking the place of the shorter notes. After a month of leaving the shorter notes around for Leah to find, she hadn’t figured out it was you which made you decide to be more brave. Well as brave as you could be hiding behind anonymous letters and gifts. Your letters got longer and more personal and in depth which made Leah clue in that it wasn’t a fan and the likelihood it was some crazed stalker was quite low. 
With how personal some of the things were and that she was still receiving flowers and notes even while on camp with England, Leah started considering that it was one of her teammates who Keira had deemed her secret admirer. Even if she was unsure of who was sending and writing her these notes, Leah still thought some of them were beautifully written and even gave her the comfort she needed especially after tough games.
‘I really have no idea who is leaving these for me. Could it be someone here?’ Leah voiced the thought she had been having for a little while now, that it was one of her teammates. They both pondered the thought, realising that it was probably the only reasonable explanation on how these letters always seemed to reach Leah no matter where she was.
‘Our next mission, finding out who your secret admirer is,’ Keira laughed, slightly wiggling her eyebrows, teasing Leah even more.
‘Our next mission is training,’ Leah rolled her eyes, shaking her head and gently pushing at her best friend.
Already out on the pitch you watched as the pair walked out joining the rest of the team before training started. Ever since you met Leah you had been infatuated with her. The way she was kind and helpful to you when you started at arsenal and when you got your first call up for the lionesses, it instantly drew you in. The only problem was that you had no idea how to properly talk to her. It wasn’t unknown that Leah can be intimidating, she definitely intimidated you. Whenever you could be around her within a group setting you were always there, even from slightly afar your feelings towards Leah continued to grow. 
It frustrated you how you didn’t even know how to befriend Leah, only being able to be around her whenever other girls from either team were there. At first you weren’t even going to leave her the letters, only writing them for yourself as a way to get your feelings out. Feeling like you would implode from how greatly you were feeling for Leah, luckily writing it out had helped you. Unlucky for you that one of the letters had slipped out and fallen in a place where Leah would find it. While you never wrote your name on any, all the letters were addressed to Leah so there was no mistaking that it was for her when she eventually found it. 
When you saw Leah holding up the coloured paper you knew you had used to write out your feelings, your heart started to race. Immediately trying to think of a way you could get far away from Leah just in case. But the small smile that ghosted her lips melted your heart a little. So you continued to leave more hoping that same smile would always make its appearance, wanting nothing more than to make sure Leah was happy. In some way you could still be in her life.
Nights before matches weren’t great for you, always ending up struggling to sleep from the build up of nerves. Eventually you’d be able to push the nerves away enough to be able to sleep but tonight proved to be the hardest you’ve faced since your first national camp. Finding yourself scribbling out a little note for Leah as a way to distract you from your nerves at the match the next day. 
Not wanting to keep the letter on you knowing it would be more risky with everyone on top of each other in the hotel and thinking everyone would be asleep by now you decided to deliver the letter. Sneaking out of your room and down the hallway towards the room you knew Leah was staying in, you made sure to be quiet enough so no one would wake up and find you out in the hallway at this time knowing you couldn’t make up a lie to save your life.
Though you didn’t account for Leah to still be awake having gotten lost in all different kinds of puzzle games on her phone. You shuffled around a little outside the door to her room contemplating whether you should actually slide the letter underneath the door or throw it out and make your way back to your own room. 
Leah had heard some noises outside the door in the hallway and had gotten up to check it out, to see if it was any of her teammates needing help. She was about to open the door when she saw the familiar coloured paper and knew it was another letter. You were still standing outside the door lost in your thoughts, wishing you had more courage to actually talk to Leah, when you suddenly came face-to-face with the girl that clouded your thoughts. Leah’s face matching the same surprise and shock as your own.
‘You were the one who wrote me all these letters?’ Leah was the first on to break the silence between the two of you, quickly stepping out into the hallway beside you and quietly shutting the door, ‘Why didn’t you just come talk to me?’ 
Leah’s eyebrows furrowed a little. While she had caught your interest, little did you know that you had caught Leah’s interest. She found the way you could instantly light up the room and change a sullen atmosphere into a lighter more joyful one quite endearing. Always wanting to get to know you and talk to you more but she could never seem to get you alone, always with a group of people whenever the two of you were around each other. Leah always watched you from afar, she’d become quite proud of the footballer you’d become since she first met you. After a tough match she’d always be looking around wanting to catch a glimpse of the smile you’d always be wearing to try and cheer everyone up. Leah was relieved knowing you had been the one writing her the letters.
‘I think I practised talking to you and asking you out a couple hundred times in the mirror,’ You sighed out, softly laughing at how ridiculous you felt sharing this with Leah. But she’d already read so many letters from you so you might as well confess everything now, ‘But anonymous notes was all the courage I could muster,’ You whispered out, looking around a little fidgeting with your fingers.
‘You practised asking me out? On yourself?’ Hearing the amusement in Leah’s voice, you looked up seeing her slightly smirking at you.
‘Of course that’s what you focused on,’ You shook your head, a small smile starting to creep it’s way onto your face when it suddenly dropped and you took a deep breath, ‘Well Le, now you know that it’s me…would you want to go out with me some time?’ You raised your eyebrow in question, your eyes glimmering with hope that Leah would agree, hoping that maybe she felt the same way.
‘Hm let me see,’ Leah pulled a fake thinking face, but it made your heart deflate not realising she was setting you up and just messing around with you. Leah saw your face drop and instantly reached for your hands, interlocking your fingers with hers while she smiled softly at you, ‘Oh stop the frown, I’d love to go on a date with you,’ 
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