#it's one of those days when I want her so badly and I also want to be her so BADLY

[i-guess-im-into-this-now]

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E16 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/locations cheat sheet

Suiren - Jinshi's attendant

Lakan - mysterious officer

Basan - an officer who works in the palace

Jinshi is deeply divided on whether he should have allowed Lakan access to Maomao. He's going to feel pretty guilty if things go badly.

Jinshi explains the details of the case of the metalworker's estate to Maomao. She's always interested in a mystery.

Jinshi: What's with all the sudden enthusiasm?

Dude is asking a question he knows the answer to.

Solving mysteries is where Maomao shines. Jinshi knows this better than anyone. It's one of the things that knocked him head-over-heels for this lady. But he's a little ticked at how easily Lakan was able to hook Maomao's interest. Lakan who hasn't even met Maomao yet, knew exactly how to lure her out. Perhaps Jinshi was hoping that Maomao would refuse, and release him from the deal he made with Lakan. Why did he agree to this? Jinshi is supremely uneasy with all of it.

As the conversation progresses Jinshi takes a more comfortable position on the couch, no longer bothering to behave as a proper palace official or even an employer in front of Maomao. Rather his pose is more like the casual sprawling one might do with family or friends. Jinshi is so persistent in how he stays open and inviting to Maomao, even in his body language. In this scene, Maomao is kneeling properly at the low table. Her body language is formal.

Lakan had provided an address to follow up with the mystery if it intrigued Maomao.

Maomao: How well prepared. It's like he anticipated this happening.

I do not like this at all. This Lakan is too good at maneuvering Maomao and Jinshi.

Maomao request a day off to look in to the case, and Jinshi is not happy. Not because she's missing work around the residence, but because she walked so willingly into Lakan's well laid plan for her. He's probably also pissed at himself for allowing this, but apparently Jinshi really wants to know the rest of Lakan's courtesan story. Jinshi can't see what Lakan has planned, and he's very worried about Maomao. Suiren is completely fine with Maomao leaving. Smiling and waving? Is she actually happy that Maomao is leaving, or is she looking forward to drowning her in work when she returns? I can't read her yet. I miss Lady Gyokuyou and the Jade Pavilion ladies who were so sweet.

Basan. Another mystery. Damn those golden eyes! Who else had eyes like that?! Maomao said he looks familiar, and he does, but like who? Gaaaaah!

Basan is suppose to escort Maomao on her investigation, and he's still acting like an ass, and I'm still wondering when I can see Jinshi fight him again. Maomao says she can tolerate his bad attitude, since she views him as harmless. That's good, because sometimes with trauma, especially from sexual trauma, aggression can be a trigger. I don't like that she has to just put up with this guy's pissy attitude.

Fuck me, Basan and Gaoshun?! Well a blood relationship between the two at least explains why Jinshi and Gaoshun feel comfortable letting this guy go all around the palace with Maomao. Is Basan a child of Gaoshun or like a nephew or something? Is this going to be enough for Maomao to at least question if Gaoshun is a eunuch or not? No. The answer is no, but she should!

Of course Maomao solves the mystery that was left by the metalworker for his sons. A majority of this episode is spent unraveling this mystery, but as far as I can tell the details aren't important to the larger story, so I'm not going to bother describing the twists and turn of it. Basically we get to see how a father would rather go to extreme lengths to create a puzzle for his sons to try to solve upon his death, then give them words of encouragement or advice while he was still alive. The youngest son tries to reconcile the family by passing on compliments he heard his father say in private and never directly to his children. Maomao wisely bows out of that bullshit, but suggests they seek medical treatment from Luomen if they develop symptoms like their father had.

On the return trip, Basan gives Maomao a considering look. Perhaps he's starting to see how brilliant and capable she is? Maybe he will try to rein in his bad attitude where it comes to Maomao? Or maybe... he will fall in love with her! I don't know why I'm looking for more drama from this show, it's already angsty enough. Even so, maybe a romantic rival would help push Jinshi and Maomao past the standstill they've come to.

Lakan is back. He thanks Jinshi for Maomao's work, which I understand within the context of this show, but it still pisses me off. It smacks of misogyny as it's a subtle way of affirming Jinshi's ownership of Maomao, and demonstrates Lakan's lack of respect for women and servants.

Lakan then goes on to explain what happened sounding far too pleased, like he's already gotten everything he wanted. Jinshi knows all of this is part of a stratagem from Lakan, but what his goal is, is yet unclear. Jinshi doesn't know what happened on Maomao's outing (in his head he refers to her as "the apothecary," here which I find odd). She never reported back about her findings. And maybe that is what has Lakan looking so smug. He's uncovered that truth that Maomao is Jinshi's courtesan in name only. And even though Jinshi may be trying to hide what he feels for Maomao from Lakan, I'm sure Lakan is aware. Maomao is a soft spot to attack or control Jinshi.

Jinshi notes that Lakan is very good at discovering people with talent. And now his attention has landed on Maomao. He talks about the three sons each finding their proper place, and I can't help but think that Lakan believes "finding one's proper place," also applies to Maomao and Jinshi. It's possible that Lakan is insinuating something to Jinshi about him not being in his proper place; perhaps he knows something about Jinshi's true identity. But more likely Lakan is thinking that Maomao is not in her proper place here in Jinshi's residence. Lakan gave her a test and he was delighted by her ability to pass it. Does he intend to remove Maomao from Jinshi's employ? This guy is definitely not done with Maomao.

Lakan: The late metalworker's creations were absolutely remarkable though. There was this simple looking metal piece, that when combined with a ritual utensil... it looked truly magnificent.

I don't know what that thing is, but Lakan's scuzzy look combined with Jinshi's disgust is enough to tell me it's something terrible. What kind of ritual are they talking about here? Jinshi straight up lets us know that this is beneath him. What kind of ritual would be something that someone in Jinshi's position would never use? Jinshi knows that Lakan knows that this is not relevant or appropriate. Lakan so very clearly said it to see how Jinshi would react. And Jinshi is doing his best to hide his thoughts and reactions, but I get the feeling that Lakan can see everything. I can only guess based on the way my stomach feels nauseous watching this exchange that this item is used for something heinous like slavery or rape. Props to the storytellers here for freaking me out. I hope I'm wrong and the horrid thing is a spoon rest.

Lakan: I simply can't abide good talent being kept buried. ... Those who possess genius should receive the appropriate praise and attention.

He's going to take Maomao! Stop him Jinshi!

And Jinshi is actually VERY interested in Lakan's method of decreasing a courtesan's value. Is it that Maomao still owes money at Verdigris House? Is this time now at Jinshi's residence just boughten time, and not the end of her contract? Is this why Jinshi wants to know how to bring her price down? Does Lakan know that Maomao may still have a debt to Verdigris House?! Does he plan to buy out the rest of her time?! Hell no! I won't accept that! What the hell is happening?!

Lakan doesn't want to admit to the fucked up thing he did to that courtesan, so he tells Jinshi to ask Maomao how to reduce her price. This guy is terrible. He told Jinshi his messed up story then left off the part that Jinshi most wanted to know, with a promise to tell him if he could have a chance to test Maomao. Which Jinshi agreed to. When Maomao fulfilled her part, Lakan goes back on his word and refuses to say. Utter trash. And Jinshi let himself be sucked into Lakan's game. I hate all of this.

Then Lakan leaves a beverage for Jinshi's "serving maids," i.e. Maomao. WTF. I am so creeped out by this guy.

Lakan: Farewell. Until tomorrow that is.

Yeah, we're not getting rid of this guy any time soon.

Jinshi collapses the instant Lakan leaves. Yes, Jinshi is going to have to continue to deal with this nightmare who keeps making Jinshi's life difficult, but what is really bothering Jinshi is that he knows he fucked up. Lakan came to see how interested Jinshi is in his concubine, and baited him with his own story about a courtesan. And Jinshi showed him, that he is actually very interested in Maomao. Jinshi also let Lakan take Maomao's measure, knowing this guy has a knack for determining and using such talents. Jinshi is definitely going to blame himself for putting Maomao in this guys sights.

Gaoshun makes a request of Jinshi, that we don't get to hear about, but in the very next scene Jinshi is changing his clothes and asking Maomao to help him with some makeup so is he planning to go out in disguise somewhere? Is he going to visit the annex (one of these episodes will show me what it is!)? What did Gaoshun say to Jinshi? I guess we will find out next time, since that's where the episode ends!

I'm so creeped out by Lakan, but it feels like we are about to get into some plot stuff now, so I'm excited for that.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

Next Episode:

Coming Soon!

#the apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries #maomao #jinshi x maomao #jinshi #jinmao

[livuvur]

Oh to be Winry Rockbell... *Sighs dreamily*

#it's one of those days when I want her so badly and I also want to be her so BADLY #can you blame me tho #I was also going to draw al and win kissing passionately on the mouth like as besties but yall ain't ready for that #fullmetal alchemist #edward elric #winry rockbell #alphonse elric #fma #fmab #ed x winry #edwin #alwin #yep im making it a tag #fma art #my art

[coldflasher]

you know what’s a scam? at the end of last year i just severely stopped giving a fuck at work and i was literally spending so much time doing fuck all, messing around on my phone for most of the day only to then edit like 30k in the space of 2-3 hours after lunch, and somehow i got away with it and my quality scores were fine. this year i was like okay this is not cool, i’m gonna make a determined effort to do this properly. so now i actually focus and don’t procrastinate, and yet i’m now consistently underperforming and i’m about to be put on performance review for the second quarter in a row which is... not great

i personally think our scoring system is stupid and needs an overhaul because in spot checks, they take off the same number of points for everything. so if i were to completely fail to edit a sentence and left it in a completely unreadable state, i would only lose one point, but then i also lose a point if i misplace a hyphen. so like. last year i somehow managed to fully miss this massive sentence that ended up making no sense whatsoever, and that was fine, apparently, because i didn’t lose points in other areas, but now i’m about to be put on performance review because i missed a few commas and accidentally used a mixture of single and double speech marks in a quote

the worst part is the way they do checks is so annoying because they just pull two random papers from the past 3 months and you can GUARANTEE they will pull a shit one. you can be on top form for ages and then have one bad day and somehow they always manage to pick the one paper you made mistakes on. i’m aware that they do this on purpose to put the fear of god into you because the idea is obviously that every paper should have no mistakes but let’s be real, that’s not realistic. human error is a thing. everyone makes mistakes. and somehow they have a sixth sense for finding the papers you made those mistakes on.

the problem is that last time i went on performance review, they monitored me for a bit and then did an extra spot check and the papers they pulled that time were basically perfect. one literally had no errors and the other had like. two. so i got a near-perfect score. which probably made me look great, like i’d worked really hard to fix the issue, which to be fair, i did. and they were really happy with that. except this quarter they pulled two more and i got the exact same bad score i got last time. so now it looks like i only started putting in effort when i was being monitored and then just immediately stopped trying again as soon as i wasn’t under review which ISN’T EVEN TRUE. i’m genuinely trying, here. but i’m very aware of how bad this looks and now i’m gonna have to do another one of those awful meetings where they bring up the fact that i’m Underperforming (*already shaking and crying at the mere prospect. once again i am about to get a bad grade in having a job*) and they literally have a senior manager who just. sits in the meeting in silence. watching. and nodding. while some other guy points out all the mistakes i’ve made. because that isn’t unnerving at all

i hate employment, i want to go live in a little hobbit hole and never have to receive another performance review again

#im genuinely just not cut out for this #because like here's the thing: i clearly am capable of getting those scores #but i have not yet figured out a way to do so that doesn't involve me being so stressed and burned out #that i want to put my head through a wall #like sure i can fix all your commas but also i have to spend an hour doing unpaid overtime every day to make up for the time i spent crying #and im not being funny but IT'S COMMAS. IS IT THAT DEEP #like yes ideally i would catch them all. im aware that it's my job to do so and i'm doing my best #but when you have to edit 40k a day every single day for 5 days a week. that's a LOT of work #im starting to realize why we have such a rapid staff turnover actually #i keep thinking that it's me and im the problem and maybe i just can't hack it... but actually #looking at how many people have quit in the year i've worked there #and the fact that someone recently applauded one of my coworkers for her long service and she's literally worked there for 3 years... #maybe. this isn't a sustainable pace for a normal person to keep up with #every now and then i think about trying to get a new job but i don't handle change well #when i made the transfer to this job from my supermarket job i literally had crying meltdowns every day for the whole training period #...are we sensing a theme here? #but i got away with it cos it was all remote so they didnt know that i was handling it so badly #but the thought of getting a new job and having to learn how to do something else is just. awful. genuinely hideous #i guess im just gonna have to deal with being extremely stressed for the entire rest of this year. no matter what i have to do #make sure my next two spot checks are all perfect and hope that i also don't end up succumbing to the urge to eat my laptop #oh yeah anon if you read this im afraid i do not care if i sound like a wanker #im allowed to be a little bit of a bitch about capitalism actually. as a treat #long post for ts

[venuiscmind]

i was replaying part two and all i can think of is the scene where dina and ellie talk about if anyone is still making movies. imagine ellie doing everything she can to find a camera so you and her can make your own type of movies ?? id explode.

Only on Camera (Ellie Williams x reader smut) 18+

Hiiiiii. Loved the request and has been on my mind ever since you asked for it. Bartender Ellie is still on the way but this just inspired me so much!!! ( also this was written at 3am so pls ignore any errors ooph) (W.C 3k)

Scissoring, tribbing, fingering, oral, making out, spit play (only a tiny bit), squirting, pet names.

read this.

</3.

If you asked Ellie, she'd tell you that she never thought she would be like one of those girls that she had seen on the smut magazines or pictures she had come across in patrols or in scavenges for trading material. The thought had briefly crossed her mind while she was on a patrol with Dina, and she had asked her if she thought 'Was anyone still making movies out there.' but she kept her lips firmly shut. 

Then she had actually discovered those tapes in Eugene’s Library.

Ellie never watched them whenever she returned to the library, but she was a woman possessed. She had to make trips back whenever she was patrolling the creek trails with Dina, and she would always take some weed back with her to trade or to smoke with you. She had even began trading the leaves with the others in Jackson swapping them for little things that she thought you would love like clothes, certain snacks or trinkets you would store in safe places. 

She loved seeing you happy and sometimes wished she could capture these moments of you smiling up at her or hugging her to say thank you forever. Make them permanent and tangible so she could hold onto it for the rest of her life.  

That was when she thought back on those tapes again. Not thinking of the girls or what they were doing on them but of you, and how you would look better on camera than any of them. Clothes on or not.  

And that was how it started. Her signing in at any patrol spot and then begging her partner to give her an hour to turn the place over to find what she was looking for. She began expanding her search to places that weren't necessarily on the patrol route but still needed to be checked out, schools, malls that seemed to be as stocked as could be in the apocalypse, certain houses that hadn't been too badly ransacked and lone stores that could have what she needed. 

Nothing. To say she was getting frustrated was an understatement, but she didn't give up. She wanted to try. So, she kept looking and bribing her partner to look the other way. Then one day it clicked. After weeks of ransacking and mauling properties she looked in the place where it had all started. She tied Shimmer outside of Eugene's library and got to work immediately.  

Finally in one of the drawers she found a handheld camera, still in good condition and as luck would have it still had storage. "Yes." She sighed into her frozen hands and silently thanked the soul of the now deceased Eugene. She stuffed the camera into her backpack and rode back to Jackson with a new stride in her step.  

She didn't bring up the idea to you immediately, but she did bring the camera to show you. Despite her frantic search Ellie wanted to ease the idea of being on tape onto you as gently as possible. But it didn't take long for her to ask. 

It was a rare evening that the both of you had off, Ellie relieved from her patrols for the day and you from your duties in the stables and gardens of Jackson. You spent it how you always did. At each other's respective houses, this time it was at Ellie's, and you had spent the day watching movies and keeping each other warm against the bitter cold of the town's winters.  

You started off watching the first few films side by side, sharing a blanket, then Ellie took your legs and swung them over her lap in the name if making you comfier. Soon after you had simply gravitated towards each other, each movement had you growing closer, negating any space between the two of you until you had gotten close enough to sit in her lap.  

You slid your leg on the other side of hers, so that you could straddle her and hear her ask a simple "you okay to keep going?" Your responses were always the same. A small kiss to her lips and a "yes els, keep going." mumbled against her lips. 

The dim light of the movie, kept Ellie's flushed face visible to you as you stroked the side of her face and leaned in, being met by her halfway as she arched up to kiss you. You always felt so foggy whenever you kissed her.  

Like all the heat in your body would suddenly flare up and you could short circuit. You felt as though your heartbeat had started for the first time and you couldn't get any oxygen into your lungs. But you didn't need any. Ellie was all you needed. With her hands gripping your waist before moving the soft flesh of your ass.  

You moaned into her mouth at the touch, sliding your hands up into her hoodie palming her tits and sliding your tongue into her mouth which was already open and accepting you into her. Your heart suddenly swelled at this, feeling the love the girl under you held for you and only you.  

Ellie leaned back and pulled away from you leaning her head against the arm of the couch, looking at you for a second, lips shiny with a small string of spit connecting the two of you together. She wanted to ask you desperately but didn't to make things weird now especially when she wanted to take care of you. You saw the furrow on her brow and whispered to her "Els, are you okay over there?" looking at the expression on her face. You moved to get off, but she kept her hands firmly planted before opening her eyes fully and settling them onto you.  

"Y-yeah just wanted to ask you about something. You can a hundred percent say no, but I just wanted to see if you maybe wanted to-" "It's about that camera, isn't it?" You cut off your poor girl's rambles feeling she'd never actually ask and keep circling. You looked into her eyes lovingly and smiled softly, continuing to stroke the swells of her cheeks.  

"I want to if you want to els." This caused Ellie to groan under you and offer reassurance of "we can stop anytime you want just say," or "we don't have to you know?". You knew she was assuming and worrying you were doing this for her, but the idea had popped into your head ever since she placed the camera into your hands. You wanted to make sure your love lasted forever. On film and with each other too. You lead Ellie to her bed, hand in hand and sat her down, kissing her before setting the camera up on her desk opposite the bed, facing the both of you before flicking it on and confirming the red dot was flickering. 

You turned to her pulling your shirt over your head and placing it on her desk and heard her breath hitch at the act that she would have this captured on film forever. 

You looked back at the girl on her bed, elbows holding her up as she leaned back on them gazing up at you with her shining green eyes. "C'mere." she said holding her hands out to you beckoning you over.  

You took them and she pulled you down onto the bed, the movement causing you to realise how much slick had pooled between your legs and probably coated your underwear.  

Ellie kissed your cheeks before pulling off her hoodie and her jeans, leaving her in a black wifebeater and her underwear. You took a shaky deep breath as she crawled in the space where your legs were open and lay on top of you, who wrapped your thighs around her middle in response to the intrusion of your space.  

You helped her pull off your pants leaving you only in your underwear. You shivered and pulled her in for a kiss which she gave you but quickly pulled back in favour of getting up and gripping your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed to make sure the camera would get all of what you were giving her making your shriek at the sudden movement. 

You huffed and cried out as she placed a kiss to your underwear. "shh" Ellie placated you rubbing her hands up your thighs to soothe you. She mouthed at you through the garments, listening to you shuffle and moan out at the contact. Her tongue traced around your clit before sucking on the bundle of nerves, making you cover your mouth as your jaw loosened and moans escaped your lips.  

"Ellie, please don't tease I can't take it." you groaned, but the girl was through tormenting you, pushing your underwear aside to taste you properly, spitting on your clit before sucking in your clit again. She slid her fingers against your folds, feeling you shiver against her, as she pushed into you, and settled against the spongy spot inside you. She didn't stay still though, as per your request. She never was good at denying you anything.  

She couldn't get enough of the taste sticking to her tongue and decided she wanted more before shoving her tongue inside of you after sliding her fingers out of you gently. You were so close you sobbed telling her and reached out to pull her short hair closer to your body scratching at the back of your neck. She loved when you did this groaning at the small bits of pain you were giving her she thought while her nose bumped against your clit due to your hips moving.

She hoped the camera wouldn't pick up on the way she was grinding against her own legs folded beneath her, to get some friction from the wetness in her underwear.  

She felt you cream and cum around her tongue, she lapped up as much as she could, tasting the tartness and sweetness of you in her mouth as you came on her lips. She pulled away once she felt you whine, knowing you would be overstimulated too fast if she continued so she kissed her way back up your body, grasped your jaw and you opened your lips before she even said the word "open." 

She let the liquid pool into her mouth then spat straight onto your outstretched tongue. She pushed her fingers into your mouth and felt you swallow around them. Ellie groaned watching you swallow yourself down with blown out pupils. "That's it." she said watching you, "My fucking good girl." You hummed, suckling on her thumb until there was nothing of you left to devour.  

You leaned up to kiss her then whispered in her ear "want you on me els, please?" You leaned back feeling yourself clench around nothing, aching again to feel her again. Ellie let you wrap her arms around her neck, pressing your tits against hers and kissing up her jawline to try and convince her of something she was going to do from the start.  

"Of course, baby." she whispered, kissing your cheeks back and cradling your head. She began taking off the rest of her clothes as you leaned back, letting her climb on top of you. She grabbed the back of your knees spreading them, moulding you into the position she wanted you in. You complied with her, running your hands down the lines of her abs, completely enamoured with the girl on top of you.  

She sank down slowly biting her full lips between her teeth to bite back the moans that were threatening to escape them. You wanted to hear her though, so you grabbed onto her hips gently to start fucking back onto her, coaxing her voice out of her lungs. She gasped and moaned, feeling your clits bump and your collective wetness start to mix together. "holy fuck." she groaned. She would never get used to the feeling of grinding against you. Every time she did it, she felt like she was living for the first time.  

She looked at you, blushing and trying to keep humping against her without finishing before her and had to close her eyes so as not to cum at the sight of it alone but fuck she was close. "Think I'm goanna cum oh shit-." She said cutting herself off as she felt the heat rise in her core and down to her clit as she felt herself tighten again. "so close els, cum on me please." You begged the girl above you. 

She came listening to your babbling underneath you. Ellie gushed and came just as her clit glided up against you, completely coated in your slick and felt herself float out of her body as her eyes rolled back into her skull. She also felt herself gush and squirt around you, holding onto your hands to keep herself grounded and so she didn't fall off your quivering body. She triggered your own orgasm as she felt your folds shake, squeezing around nothing but her slick.  

Once she finished panting and recovered from her orgasm she got up, remembering the camera was still on the both of you. She turned it off watching the light blink out and went back into bed after grabbing towels to clean you both. She dressed you in a shirt and kissed you.  

"Thank you, pretty girl. Can't wait to watch it." She grinned looking over at you while tossing the camera between her hands, as you blushed and covered your face, before jokingly slapping her arm. 

"As long as we watch it together, I want to see you squirt on me." It was her turn to blush at this, but she leaned in before closing her eyes to kiss you again and say, "Love you baby." in a hushed and enamoured tone. 

"Love you too els." You said fondly, wrapping your arms around the girl, covering you both in her sheets and nuzzling her nose.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x y/n #ellei williams tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #the last of us part ii #tlou2 #ellie smut

[fettuccin-e]

Patience Long Gone

Kinktober Day 4: Thigh Riding

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, thigh riding obviously, praise, dry humping (yeah that's right nobody gets naked), Jackson!era, Joel talks dirty yeah I said it (w/c: 1.1K)

A/N: Ayo first Joel fic and it's during Kinktober ofc. I have been reading too many Joel fics to not partake in the old man thirst okay. And also have you seen this gif??? I want to ride that man's thigh like its a rodeo okay!! (For the month I have been following this list by flightlessangelwings!)

He can’t fuck you like he wants to, not right now. And God, Joel wants to, so badly. But there’s no time. There’s never any fucking time.

He hadn’t minded the hustle and bustle of Jackson when he and Ellie first arrived. He’d been grateful for the distraction, for the feeling of being useful again. He’d been grateful for the patrols, the odd repairs around town that didn’t require any socializing, content in his solitude with Ellie safe and sound within the town’s walls.

And then he’d met you. Sweet, soft, you, that doesn’t take any of his bullshit, forces him out of his shell with your sharp wit and endless patience. You, who Tommy introduced to him as the town veterinarian, until you became so much more. You, who asked him to fix your doorframe so, so sweetly, and not five minutes into his work, dragged him into your home and into your bed.

He never truly left.

But there’s no time to treat you like he wants to, fuck you like both of you need. There’s always something else, a threat at the border, an emergency in the stables. He hasn’t seen you cum in weeks, and the thought makes him shudder. He has the most beautiful woman in this entire godforsaken world, and he can’t even find the time to make her feel so fucking good.

It’s one of those few moments where you both are home, exhausted but not nearly tired enough to sleep. You’d crawled into his lap like a damn cat, planting yourself on his thick thigh, all languid grace and allure that has his cock aching in his jeans.

You curl two fists into his shirt, pulling him to your lips, and fuck, this is nothing like the stolen kisses you share in the spare moments you find with each other. This is water in the desert. This is life, not just survival. You’re so fucking soft against him, you scent invading his nose.

“Missed you,” you breathe between kisses, “Missed you so much, Joel.”

He groans, curling his fingers into your hair. He licks softly at your bottom lip, begging wordlessly for you to open for him. You do, without hesitation, and moan in a way that has his head spinning as he licks into your mouth. 

“God, sweetheart,” he grumbles as you break apart for breath. “You’re so goddamn pretty. Missed you too, sweet girl, been missin’ you so fuckin’ bad.”

He lets his hands explore you, roaming down your back, up under your shirt to feel that soft, soft skin. He paws over the curve of your ass, and he can’t help but smirk into your mouth as your hips buck forward.

“Needy,” he drawls, but he pushes on your ass again, making your hips buck forward along his thigh. Fuck, it’s good, the way you moan so pretty for him. “You wanna cum, pretty girl?” he croons. You nod so hard he thinks your head may fly off, but you seem to think better of it far too soon for his liking, shaking your head, as if to dismiss the very thought of chasing your own pleasure.

“I’m supposed to help Maria- fuck,” you curse as he leans down to sink his teeth into your neck. “I’m supposed to help Maria with the horses, Joel.”

“She can wait,” he growls, and he pulls on your hips, dragging you up his thigh. You keen involuntarily, the seam of your jeans pressing so hard, so perfect into your clit. “Just want you to feel good, wanna make you feel good.”

His voice is dark, a rasp that has your pussy soaking through your panties. He’s so big, so broad, and his thigh is providing a kind of pressure against your cunt that you haven’t felt for so long. It’s too much of a temptation for you to ignore. You pull your hips back again in a slow, sure drag, before humping back forward. You tuck your face into the crook of Joel’s neck as you let out a high-pitched whine.

“Good fucking girl, sound so pretty for me,” he murmurs, “Don’t that feel nice?” 

You nod frantically into his skin, hands fisting into his shirt so tight your knuckles go pale. You hump your hips forward, again and again and again, moaning as your clit throbs in your panties. Joel’s grip remains tight on your hips, helping you along, pressing you down harder. Your head swims, tears springing to your eyes.

“Need to cum,” you gasp, wriggling your hips in desperate little grinds. “Need to cum so fucking bad, Joel, fuck- I’m, I need it, ah-” You feel desperate, needy, unable to string together a sentence is you hump Joel’s thigh like an animal.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, grumbling and wonderful. “I’m gonna make you cum right now, okay sweetheart? And when you get home tonight, I’ll be here to do it again and again, right baby?” The thought has you aching, desperately humping into his jeans. You’re so close, you’re so fucking close.

“I’ll lay you down in our bed, sweet girl, and I’ll eat that pretty cunt out like you deserve, fuck, haven’t tasted you in so fucking long.” Joel pulls you along his thigh as he speaks, flexing the muscle underneath that makes the pressure so much more devastating. “And then I’ll sink my cock into your pretty little pussy, fuck you full of me, baby. I’ll keep stuffin’ you full, make you cum so much you soak the sheets through, and I’ll just keep goin’, right baby? God, I’ll make sure you can’t fuckin’ walk tomorrow,” he snarls his words, a violent, primal promise that has your body quaking in his hold as you cum against his thigh.

You sob with the force of your orgasm, curling into Joel’s solid body as he holds you through it, cooing into your ear how good you are, how gorgeous you look. It’s like you can’t suck enough air into your lungs, trying to get ahold of yourself again. Joel never lets you go, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

When you finally regain control of your breath, your body, you can only tilt your head to his lips to kiss him softly, gently. 

“You didn’t get to cum,” you whine, and Joel chuckles at how forlorn you sound. His beautiful, perfect girl, so caring, so doting.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he grumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “When you get home tonight, I have plans for both of us that’ll have us wrung fuckin’ dry by mornin’.”

#you know what they say #save a horse etc etc #love you joel love you love you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou smut

[zriasstuff]

Them watching you get ready <3

Slytherin boys x reader fluff headcanons (warning:delulu asf)

the collage isn’t the best, but at least you have all 6 faces now

It’s date-night, but you seem to be taking quite some time to get ready…

Tom Riddle:

Let’s be honest for a second and admit that if you were taking your sweet sweet time, he’d curse at you because everything has to go according to his schedule (i even doubt that he’d do the whole “date-night” thing, but that’s a separate issue)

He’d turn more impatient by the second and barge into your dorm/bathroom without knocking

Tom would rush you so badly and keep telling you to hurry up while rolling his eyes

While you’re doing your makeup he’d pick up each product with disgust and tell you that you look just fine

When you tell him that you need more time, he tells you that there wouldn’t be a date anymore if you didn’t follow him, besides he’d lecture you on your poor time management

Eventually he drags you out with him and dryly compliments you like “see, i told you you look good” (but innerly he enjoyed that you put in effort and wanted to look good for him, even if it took some time)

Mattheo Riddle:

He wouldn’t rush you when you tell him you need more time, instead he’d take advantage of watching you get ready

When you choose your clothes, he’d encourage you to do a little fashion show for him and he would tell you that you looked perfect in every single one

He would tell you to choose a short and tight dress though, we all know why ;)

During make-up he is totally one of those guys who say “it’s all the same shade”, and in reality it’s like maroon and bright red

As a joke he’d also apply some of the products, but wipe them off immediately because he feels too emasculated

When you ask him if you could do make-up on him some day he’d simply reply “sure, but then i would get to do whatever i want with you”

Draco Malfoy:

When you offer him to watch you get ready, since you still aren’t done, he immediately accepts

Draco totally loves seeing you get ready too because during your relationship he has spoiled you so much that half your closet/vanity is basically from him

Since he grew up close to his mother, he has actually spent a lot of time in his childhood going to barbers/salons/boutiques with her

So from that he has gained excellent taste, even helps you with styling your hair, and helps you pick out accessories

He knows how long this stuff can take, so he just takes the time to make you feel beautiful and confident, showering you with compliments and pecks “you look so good in the things i buy you darling”/“you are always so gorgeous and sexy”

Theodore Nott:

He wouldn’t mind that you were not on time, the date started the second he saw you, so you getting ready was just time that you could spend together too

You are afraid it takes away the surprise factor at first, but it’s not a big deal to him

When you start to change into different outfits, he’s always there to help you undress/unzip the dresses, taking the opportunity to smoothly move his hands down your body

That would just eventually turn into a makeout session though, you just couldn’t resist when he was being that touchy and ravishing too

It takes quite some time for you to actually get ready in the end because he always distracts you in the process, but in the end you would both have had a fun time

Blaise Zabini:

He’d be quite chill and sit on your bed when you tell him to wait, just watching you get ready at your vanity

He would maybe be a little bit annoying—asking you every three seconds if you were ready to go, and he would say “you literally look the same as always, what’s the point of all this”

Eventually he liked watching you more and more though, notice the difference, and carefully pay attention to everything you did

He’d learn to appreciate both your natural and “full-glam” beauty and just observe you with interest

As soon as you were done he’d immediately kiss you (ruining your lip-combo sadly) and his lips would be stained, and he’d be smiling, fascinated by your beauty

Lorenzo Berkshire:

When you tell him to wait outside, he’d respect that at first, but would grow impatient eventually

So, he goes up to you and tells you that he would like to be a part of the process

Opposite to Mattheo, he’d actually be down to you putting make-up on his face for fun (he’s fully convinced that he could pull anyone with or without makeup)

To be honest, he didn’t care much about what you put on because you looked hot in his eyes either way, but he knew the more interested he acted the more appreciative you’d be

Looking at you with puppy-eyes at all times is his specialty, and when you’re finally done he looks at you like you’re an angel fallen from heaven

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #harry potter oneshot #slytherin boys react #slytherin boys fanfiction #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x you #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x you #blaise zabini x reader #slytherin boys headcanons

[veltana]

Riding into the night - Biker!Bucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~7,8k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings/tags: AU, kind of soft!dark!Bucky, smut, fluff, past asshole partners mentioned, squirting, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spanking, spitting, edging, dirty talk, praise, degradation if you squint, breeding kink if you squint, manhandling, vaginal sex, condom, cum shot, pet names (Fairy). ✦ Summary: One of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. ✦ Note: I don't know how to play pool, just go with it! 😂 This is also posted on my AO3

Masterlist | AO3

It was Yelena's bachelorette party and after dinner and clubbing, she insisted you find a less respectable place to round out the night.

That’s how you end up in the sleazy bar at the edge of town that smells of sweat, stale beer, and badly fried food. The drinks are watered down but it doesn't tamper the mood of the party, because they have a few pool tables strewn about, and you never miss an opportunity to crush your friends with a few good games. The only problem is the group of bikers that rolled in fifteen minutes ago, filling up the rather empty bar with their loud voices.

As you're bending over the table to aim you can't shake the feeling of being watched. It throws off your concentration and you don’t hit the ball where you want, making you fail the shot. Righting yourself you sigh with irritation.

"That's not like you," Natasha points out as she gets ready for her turn. With a shrug you say, "Maybe I'd just had too much to drink." Yelena snorts, "I've seen you drunk enough to barely stand and still beat everyone." She waggles her eyebrows, "I think it's a pair of blue eyes that's distracting you."

You give her the finger, but you know exactly what she's talking about. One of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. It felt as if diving into a clear blue lake on a hot summer day with not a problem in the world for you to care about. Then you realized you were staring and quickly looked away, breaking the small hypnosis.

Despite having had the most to drink all night, Yelena's observation skills never evade her. She saw what happened and she'd be damned if she let an opportunity to taunt you go to waste.

Quickly shooting a glance at the table, you find the man with the blue eyes. Unabashedly he's staring at you from where he sits. The others around him are talking, laughing, being rowdy, but not him. He takes a drink from his beer in silence, tattooed fingers holding the bottle, and never once does his gaze waver from you. His dark hair is in a ponytail but small strands have broken free to be tucked behind his ears.

You wouldn't say you have a type, but if you did, it wouldn't be him. You like nice guys. So far not anyone you've dated has had a single tattoo. On the other hand, you don't have to date him to fuck him. And that is something you're in desperate need of.

"And now she doesn't even realize it's her turn!" Carol breaks you from your musings and you look at the pool table. Shaking out your shoulders you try to dispel the feeling of eyes boring into your neck. Surveying what you have in front of you, a plan forms in your mind.

"Oh, I know that look!" Natasha shouts unnecessarily loud. She’s had the second most to drink through the night. You and Carol on the other hand are as close to sober as it gets.

Taking a breath, you get into position. In quick succession, you hit three shots dead on and they go right where they should, but when you move to the fourth, Carol is leaning against the edge. "You're in the way," you tell her. "I know!" she smiles. "Can you move?" "No, unfortunately not."

You try to push her off but she's solid muscles. Natasha and Yelena laugh at your failed attempts. "You know I'm going to win this anyway, right?" "I don't have to make it easy for you," she points out.

There is only one other option if you want to make the shot. So you climb up, sitting down on the edge to lean awkwardly past Carol. Just as you move the cue, she taps the edge, causing it to graze the top of the ball and then slide off. "Hey!" Hopping down, you poke her with the stick. "That's cheating!" "It's not like you to miss, are you feeling okay?" she grins. "You're such a sore loser, you know that?" "I have no idea what you're talking about." "My turn!" Natasha yells and shoves you to the side.

You take a few steps back and walk into something solid. Craning your neck to look up over your shoulder you freeze. It's him. The heat from his chest warms you and you're enveloped in his smell of fuel, beer, and cologne that is in no way unpleasant. "How about I buy you a drink as compensation for losing?” his smooth voice asks. That should make you mad because technically you didn't lose, Carol sabotaged you, but it's hard to conjure those feelings when your insides feel as if they’re liquefying. Instead, you nod dumbly before turning to your friends.

"Hey, is it okay-," you start but Yelena won't let you finish. She just waves her hand in a shooing motion and the others don't acknowledge your supposed question. "I'm just going to put this back," you gesture with your cue, but another, equally tall biker comes up beside the man with the blue eyes.

His hair is shorter and blond, cute, but not as drop-dead gorgeous as the other. "I'll take it, play your last rounds," he smiles and grabs the stick, before making his way to your friends.

With a grin, the man with the blue eyes nods his head towards the bar and you follow the short distance. When both of you have taken your places on the high chairs he asks, "What do you want?" "Just a beer's fine," you shrug. He orders from the bartender and then turns to you. "I'm Bucky," he says. After introducing yourself you ask, "Is that your real name or is it your ‘biker-name’?". He chuckles and puts a strand of long hair behind his ear. "It's actually a nickname I've had since I was a kid. And Steve," he gestures to the big guy who took your pool cue earlier, "Has always called me that. My legal name is James."

"But you prefer Bucky?" He shrugs, "I don't think anyone has called me James in a long time." "It's a pretty name, but Bucky sounds cooler. Way more biker!” you smile. That makes him laugh and you find yourself beaming. There is just something about him. He looks tough on the outside but you have a feeling he's a big teddy bear on the inside, and hearing him laugh makes you giddy.

The beer gets lower in your glass as you talk. He buys you another one but is still sipping on his first. "Not a fan of beer?" you ask. "I want to be able to get home in one piece later, and getting drunk is a recipe for crashing." "Have you ever crashed?" "Multiple times, but never anything severe." "What kind of bike do you have?" "I can show you." There is a glint in his eyes that makes your gut clench most pleasantly. "I would love to!"

When you hop off the stool, you lose your balance for a second. Yelena insisted that you all wear heels but you're not used to it in any way. Luckily, Bucky is quick with his arm, putting it around your waist and pulling you into his side to steady you. "Woah there, lightweight. I didn’t know anyone could get drunk off that beer." "I'm not drunk, it's these damn shoes! lost my balance!" "I better keep my arm around you, just to be safe." His smile is warm and playful and it’s as if his touch is burning your skin through your clothes. Your heart speeds up, fingertips tingle. "Yeah, just to be safe," you answer in a low voice.

His eyelids lower, blue eyes turning stormy. Electricity crackles between you and you wonder what he tastes like. But making out in the middle of a bar feels weird so instead you say, "About the bike?" "Yeah, the bike,” he murmurs and it takes a second or two for him to start moving again.

Before you leave, you stop by the pool table where the majority of the bikers have joined the small party. Someone has taken the tiara Yelena previously wore and put it on Steve's head. Another guy is wearing her sash. She's telling them about her wife-to-be, showing them all the cute pictures she's taken of Kate. As you pass Natasha you tell her, "We're just going to look at his bike." She eyes you up and down. "If that is some biker-slang for sex, just say that instead."

Bucky howls with laughter as you punch her in the arm, telling her to fuck off. She brushes her skin. "I think there are mosquitoes in here."

Before you can give her a piece of your mind Bucky drags you outside. It’s a warm evening and you’re glad because you only have a thin blouse on. "You're not a mosquito,” he comforts. “You’re too pretty for that, more like a fairy covered in all that glitter.” Your tummy loops when he calls you pretty and you look down at yourself. At some point, Carol had produced a can of glitter spray to drench all of you in. "I think there is a joke in there about sucking, but I can't find it right now,” you tell him instead, which makes him chuckle before stopping in front of a huge black bike. It's one of those chopper-esc things, not the sporty kind, and in the light from the streets, it looks menacing. "That's a monster," you point out. "It's not that bad." "It's standing still and I'm scared of it."

Bucky moves you from his side to the front of him, making you take a few steps closer. Then he grabs your wrist and puts your hand on the handlebar. "See, it's not so scary," his voice is low, right by your ear, making you shiver. "Yeah, it is," you mumble. "Promise I won't let anything happen to you if you hop on." You look up at him over your shoulder. "You underestimate how clumsy I am. What if it tips over?" "It won't," "Just, don't kill me when it happens, okay?"

What he says next is so faint you almost don't catch it. "There are other punishments I would rather use." Somehow your brain filters that into the purely sexual category and another shiver runs through you. Yeah, Bucky seems like the person who would administer sexual punishments. That is something you've never explored before but it still sends a tingle of excitement down your stomach.

Ignoring it for the moment you swing your leg over the saddle and settle on the seat. The tank in front of you has a huge red star on it and you trace it with your fingertips. "How does that feel?" he smiles down at you. The shadows make him look as menacing as his bike but he feels a lot less scary.

"Okay, I guess," you shrug and try to reach the handlebars but your arms are too short to properly grip them. "How do you even…?" "Scoot over and I'll show you." He gestures and you slide backward before he gets on like he's never done anything else in his life, gripping the handles without a problem.

"Should I start it up?" he asks over his shoulder. You shake your head vigorously, "Absolutely not!" He gets off the bike, just to straddle it the opposite way so he's turned towards you. First, he grabs your legs and puts them over his thighs, then pulls you closer with his hands on your waist. Your breathing gets shallow being so close to him. "Then how am I supposed to take you home, Fairy?" You grab a hold of his vest to steady yourself. "You wanna take me home?" "It's all I've been thinking about since I walked through the door tonight," he confesses.

"Oh," you just answer. His hands are warm through your blouse, the blue eyes piercing despite the low light. There is no denying you want him, you do, but going off with a stranger makes you weary. "Come on Fairy, tell me you don't feel the same?" "Yeah I do, it's just that I don't know you." You brush your hands inside his vest, letting them travel over the broad expanse of his chest, feeling him through his t-shirt.

For a moment you sit quietly and touch each other. Your brain is going a million miles per hour, weighing pros and cons. Bucky doesn’t seem like a psychopath who will rape and murder you. But on the other hand, he might as well be. "Then how about this," he suggests. "I go back in there and let your friends take a pic of me, leave my address and if you don't check in by midnight they can call the police." Your mouth hangs open. "You want to fuck me that bad?"

"I don't think you understand," he seems a little frustrated and his hands harden at your waist even though his voice stays soft. Leaning down, brushing his nose against yours, he explains, "Not only are you the sexiest thing I've seen in a long while. You're gorgeous. On top of that, I've learned in the last hour, that you’re funny and sweet too. So indulge me, let me take you home and show you just how good I can make you feel."

Your mouth is dry as a desert. No one has ever spoken to you like that before. No one has in such a short time made you feel so desired. Finally, you decide to go with your gut, hoping it’s not going to turn out to be a terrible mistake. "Okay, Bucky," you nod.

With a wicked smile, he gets off the bike and walks back to the bar. You take out your phone and quickly write in the group chat, telling them your location is on and sending them a picture of his bike with the red star showing.

It takes longer for Bucky to come back than you thought it would and when he emerges, you notice his vest is gone. "What happened?" "That red-headed friend of yours gave me a stern talking to, and made me leave the vest." "Why?" "She said it seemed important to me, and you're important to her, and if I do something to hurt you she's going to do unspeakable things to the vest and my reputation."

That makes you laugh. Natasha may antagonize you on a regular basis but she's also fiercely protective.

He snatches a helmet from the bike beside and turns to you. "Ever ridden one of these before?" "Not a motorcycle! I've ridden a regular bike." He huffs at that before listing off some do's and don'ts. "But the most important thing," he finishes. "Is that you hold on to me really tight." He smirks, before putting the helmet on your head, tightening the straps. It's a little big but you don't think it will come off.

Bucky gets on and the bike roars to life. Telling you to hold on to him was unnecessary because the moment the sound and feel of the bike hits you, your arms go around his waist and grab onto his clothes. Your heart is hammering and you feel a nervous sweat run down your neck. He never puts a helmet on and before you know it you're flying down the streets.

You have no idea how much time passes or where you are in the city since you’re devoting all of your concentration to hanging onto him. Finally, he slows down and drives into a parking garage attached to a high-rise building. Cars stand in neat rows and he parks in an unoccupied space before getting off.

With shaky fingers, you try to open the clasp to the helmet but fail three times before he notices and does it for you. "That bad huh?" he asks as he hangs the helmet on the handle. "I don't think I can stand," you confess.

As you get off, Bucky holds you to his chest until the ground stabilizes around you. You take the opportunity to study him. There are crow's feet at the edge of his eyes that tell you he smiles a lot. Above the cleft in his chin is his full lips that you've been eyeing for most of the evening. They look soft and delicious.

Your hands travel up and braid behind his neck. Experimentally you pull, seeing if he'll follow, and he does. "I think a kiss would also help," you hint. "Who am I to say no," he hums in response.

As he bends down, you rise up and your lips meet halfway. At first, it's slow but you're both a bit desperate and it quickly gets heavier. Your finger loosens the hair tie and tangles in his long strands, pulling lightly, drawing a pleased sound from his throat. In response, he cups your ass and lifts you off the ground to pull you closer. A surprised moan leaves you before you wrap your legs around his waist and he starts walking. He breaks away just so he can find the button for the elevator, then he is right back to your lips.

Inside, he presses you up against the wall hard enough to get his hands free. They slide up your sides, in under your blouse, making you sigh into his mouth from contentment, fisting the hair at the nape of his neck harder, pressing him closer. Too quickly, but also not quickly enough the elevator dings with the announcement of its arrival on the floor.

Once again Bucky carries you to the door where he fumbles with the keys before getting it open, never breaking from your mouth.

You don't see much of the inside of his apartment because as soon as the door shuts you start pulling at his clothes, wanting them off, to feel his warm skin. The sheets are blue and the bed soft you notice as he places you down on it. With pants and blouse off, the next thing that goes is your bra and he stops the feverish kissing long enough to take you in.

"Fairy," his voice is grovely. "Fuck!" Is all he says before he gently cups your tits, thumbing your nipples and drawing small pleased sounds from you. The fabric of your panties is soaked and every pass over your sensitive peaks shoots another bolt of desire through you.

"Bucky! Can you… please!" you try. It's hard to form words. In an alarmingly short period, he’s got you unbelievably horny and all you can think about is that you need to be touched, to come!

Still playing with your tits he asks, "What do you need Fairy? Tell me what I can do for you." "Take the rest of your damn clothes off and eat me out, or finger me, or something! I'm dying!" "We don't want that now do we?" he smirks and bends down enough to give each of your nipples a kiss. When the last of his clothes go, you suck in a breath because he looks fucking divine. Just like his arms and fingers, his chest and abdomen are covered in tattoos but it doesn't hide the powerful muscles underneath. “You are… wow…” you tell him and swallow roughly. Before you have time to inspect every swirl of ink, he climbs onto the bed and starts up where he left off. His mouth trailing down from your sternum, over your stomach, dragging his teeth tantalizingly over your hip bones, kissing your mound before carefully ridding you of your underwear.

He spreads you with his thumbs, moaning when he sees how wet you are. "Fairy, I think your cunt likes me," he teases. You're about to grip his head and shove his mouth to where you need it, telling him to shut up and get going, but luckily he doesn’t waste any more time.

The cry of pleasure that leaves your mouth is probably heard by the neighbors. Feeling him work you over sends your head spinning and your body twitching. With his tongue and his lips, he tries different pressures and speeds just to see what makes you moan the loudest. "Fingers, Bucky! I need your fingers!" you tell him and seconds later two thick digits start pumping in and out of you, crooking every now and then to find the right spot.

It builds inside you in no time, the dual sensation making it brilliant. But what you feel as you near the edge makes you put your hands against his forehead, pushing and saying, "Wait! Bucky, stop." Hastily he pulls away, fingers leaving you, eyes wide and confused as he sits up. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"

Panting heavily, trying to get your quivering body under control, you wave your hand. "No, no, it's fine! Don't worry!" Then he dares touch you again. His hands slide up and down your inner thighs in a soothing gesture. "Tell me what's wrong. Do you want to stop?" His voice is as soft as his gaze on you.

"God no, I don't want to stop! It's just, ehm…" you feel the embarrassment in your chest, heating you from the inside in an unpleasant way. "Please tell me, Fairy. We can do whatever you want." You try to explain in as roundabout terms as possible, "Sometimes… when it's really good… I can't control what my body does." If you had been smart you would have had this conversation before getting into bed with him, but you weren’t, so now you have to face the unpleasant consequences. "Fairy, what are you saying?" Burying your face in your hands you continue, "Sometimes it's only a little and sometimes it's a lot, but I don't know beforehand so it's better to stop and let me calm down a bit."

There is a beat of silence before his command cuts through it, "Look at me." Slowly you lower your hands. "Were you about to squirt?" he asks point blank. "I hate that word,” you mutter. "Tell me, Fairy," he commands again. "Yes, I'm sorry. I can't control it, it happens!” You’ve had this conversation before, usually after it was already too late and you know how it goes. Luckily you remembered to stop. You’re not sure you would have been able to live it down if it had happened with Bucky. But he does not look happy at all, his eyes near slits, and you reach out towards him, letting your palms graze along his arms to placate him. “I've calmed down now so we can keep going if you want. It rarely happens when I have sex so we can just do that!"

"No," his cold tone answers and your stomach drops. Before you can crawl off the bed to go home he says, "Turn over, ass up, head down." "Bucky, I can just…" You aim your thumb at the door but he doesn’t acknowledge the gesture, only telling you, "Do it, Fairy."

Confused but also curious you turn over on your stomach and bring your knees in under you, doing as you’re told. His hands start making slow steady circles over your ass, caressing and squeezing. "Have you ever been spanked before?" "What?" "You heard me. Have you?" "No… not really…" "So, because you robbed me of your fountain orgasm I'm going to spank you as a punishment. And then you're going to turn over again and I'm going to make you come until you've ruined the sheets. Are we clear, Fairy?" "But, I just thought-,” you begin but he interrupts you. "Whatever someone has said to you before to make you think that you don't deserve to come as hard as you can, makes me so fucking angry. I want all of your pleasure, Fairy, and you're going to give it to me. Understand?" Once again you’re surprised by his words and you give yourself the benefit of the doubt that he knows what he’s in for. With a soft voice, you tell him, "I understand Bucky," and arch your back, showing him that you're ready. "Fucking beautiful."

The sting to your ass is more pleasure than pain. With every impact from his hand, a jolt goes to your cunt. If you were wet before, you're dripping by the time he declares you're done. Each of your ass cheeks gets a kiss before he pushes at your hip and makes you lay on your back again, the sheets cool against your heated skin. He crawls up over you, giving you a long hard kiss. "How are you feeling?" "Very horny," you confess. "Ready to come for me?" "Absolutely, Bucky!"

In no time, he’s back between your legs and starts as he did before, licking and tasting you until you're begging for his fingers. The combination of your slick and his saliva have wetness running down your ass, making a puddle below you. Since you were already so close before you made him stop, it doesn't take long for the coil to wind tight in your lower belly. It’s the same feeling as earlier and you warn him before it happens. "Bucky, I'm going to come!" For a second he lets up to tell you, "Please do, Fairy, I want every last drop."

Maybe it's because of the unplanned edging together with the spanking or it's because Bucky knows exactly what to do with his hands and mouth, or everything combined, but when you arch off the bed with a mind-boggling orgasm, the sides of your vision go hazy and your legs spasm hard. You think you hear Bucky moan but the blood is rushing in your ears.

Panting worse than before you sink into the bed, body lax with the release and you look down to see the unmistakable sign of your climax. Not only are your thighs wet, but the sheets are a shade or two darker, and Bucky is wiping his smirking face with the edge of the cover.

Biting your lip you try to not feel too much shame, but it's hard after years of being told it's disgusting. Although he said he wanted it, maybe he didn't know what he signed up for. "Sorry," you finally say. "Don't ever say that to me again after coming, Fairy. That was fucking amazing!" "Everything is wet." "Everything can be washed," he reassures you. Then he gets off the bed to rummage through a drawer, pulling out a condom. When he turns to you he says, "Now be a good little Fairy and grab your legs for me so I can fuck that sweet cunt of yours."

You watch with anticipation as he rolls the condom on before you pull your legs up, holding behind your knees. As he gets on the bed again, he takes a second to swipe his cock-head through your slick, lubing himself up, but you're impatient, whining and wiggling to get him inside.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, you'll get my cock," he’s trying to scold you but it gets lost when he can’t take his eyes away from the view of pressing inside you. The sensation being carried from your cunt throughout your body as he steadily fills you more and more makes your breathing labored and your hands clamping down on your legs harder. "God, that's a pretty fucking pussy taking all my cock," his voice is so low it travels through you like a baseline. Slowly he pulls out and presses in again, mesmerized by what he's seeing, but for you, it's just pure torture.

"Bucky, I need more!" you beg. His answer isn't to fuck you harder or faster like you want. Instead, he spits on your exposed cunt, making you gasp before he presses a thumb against your oversensitive clit. A loud moan rips from your throat and your legs shake. “You get so fucking tight when I touch your clit, feels amazing!”

He keeps the thumb still as he fucks you. Slow, deep thrusts that keep you right on the edge of coming. If he just moved his finger and sped up a little you'd be flying again. But he seems determined to drag this out, his groans and moans are telling you that he's enjoying it very much. Bucky's eyes keep shifting from your face to your chest, down to where you're connected, watching his cock spear you.

Suddenly he removes his hand, but before you can sound a word of protest he's leaned forward, using both his hands to grab the back of your neck. He bends your head down and lifts you from the bed a little until there is no mistake what he wants you to see. “Watch your pussy take all of my cock, Fairy. It belongs there. As if it was fucking made for me. Sucking me right back in every time I pull out.”

Briefly, he lets you have what you need, fucking you faster, slamming into you, making you feel him deep as you watch your body take him over and over again. You understand why he can’t stop watching. It’s filthy at the same time it turns you on more. In desperation, you reach down to touch yourself but he lets you go, making you bounce against the bed slightly before batting your hands away. Then he pulls out and you cry in protest. “No! Bucky! I wanna come! Fuck me!”

Sweat is glistening on his naked chest and his cock stands out from his body, the condom shiny with your slick, but he doesn't acknowledge your plea, only tells you. “On your stomach. Grab a pillow and put it under your hips.”

The pulse in your cunt is uncomfortable, almost unbearable, and you glare at him, having half a mind to just finish off yourself and get some god damned relief. Bucky raises an eyebrow in question as to why you're not doing as he says. With an irritated huff, you turn over, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under your hips, folding your arms and laying your head on them with a pout, clearly showing him that you're not happy.

The swat to your ass makes you yelp since it's much harder than when he spanked you earlier. It earns him a glare over your shoulder. “Don't be bratty, Fairy,” he reprimands you before his knees push your legs wider and he presses into you swiftly again. He pulls your hands out from under your head, lacing your fingers together before laying down on top of you, kissing your shoulder.

“We were having such a good time,” he says as he starts fucking you again. The new angle makes his dick press right against your g-spot, forcing a whine out of you. Even though you don’t want to give him the satisfaction you can’t help to push your ass against him. With all his weight on top of you, it's hard to move, but your body craves him. “But now you're mad at me, Fairy. What can I do to make it better?” Rutting harder he sends white-hot pleasure through you. You've never been able to come from penetration alone, but the way your body feels makes you think that this might do the trick. “I want to come!” you almost sob.

“Yeah, I know Fairy. Don't forget that I can feel every little pulse of your cunt around me.” There is no comfort to be found in his tone. “Why are you being so mean?!” you cry. That makes him laugh into your neck. “Oh little Fairy. This is not me being mean. This is me wanting to give you the pleasure of your life.” He nips at your skin. “We could have been done a long while ago. You feel so good I could come any second. But I don't want that.” His hands squeeze yours. “I want you to always remember this. No matter what happens after, it'll be seared into your memories. Every time you're with someone else you'll wish it was me fucking you.”

The little show of possession makes your heart beat double and you're about to tell him you don't want to be with anyone else ever again, but that's crazy, so instead you respond with what you hope will get you what you need. “Then fuck me like you fucking mean it because right now your performance is mediocre at its best,” trying and failing to sound unaffected. This time his laugh is tinged with something cruel and you have a second to wonder what the hell you've let loose before he raises himself, pressing your joint hands into the bed to keep his weight on, and then starting to fuck you in earnest.

A sharp cry is forced from you by the brutal thrusts. The angle is much better and your body starts burning from the inside. Screams, moans, and pleas all tumble together from your lips.

Every time you think you might be close to coming he slows down, just enough to keep you from reaching any kind of high. That makes you livid and when you curse him out, he releases your hands, instead placing them between your shoulder blades, pressing you down hard into the mattress, before starting up again.

“I wish I had a vibrator to shove between your legs. Put it on the highest setting and force you to come over and over again. You'd be begging me to stop instead, trying to run away, crying. I bet you'd look real pretty sobbing.”

Your cunt clenches hard at the mental image he's presenting. You can't decide if that would be worse than this. Your body feels like a livewire, ready to release all the pent-up pleasure that has accumulated in your body. All it needs is the right touch at the right place.

One moment you’re on your front, and in the next, he’s flipped you over on your back again. You don’t even have the presence of mind to be surprised because he’s instantly inside you, your legs over his shoulders and his hands gripping your head, kissing you fiercely. It’s teeth and tongue and lips in a jumble. With his pelvis pressing against your clit it drives you fast towards the edge. “I need to see your face when you lose it on my cock,” he rests his forehead on yours. Despite his words, he slows down when it starts to climb inside you. You groan, almost in pain, the edging is making you feel crazy. Over and over again he refuses you the release you’re so desperately after.

A little too late you realize that maybe there is something you can do, instead of begging, that will get you what you want. “I wish you could come inside me,” you whisper, looking right into his eyes, clenching around him when you speak. When he groans you know you’ve hit the spot, but you press down the grin. “You want to fill me up with your cum, Bucky?” you ask before you give him a ruthless kiss. “Yeah fuck, Fairy!” He thrusts hard in response. “Better fuck me good then, and maybe I'll come back and let you do it.”

“Oh Fairy,” he growls and moves one hand to the headboard, gripping it, the other grasping the base of your skull. “You’ll come back. I'll have you outside my door, on your knees, begging for my cock.” The pace he sets has the bed creaking disconcertingly. “Maybe I'll even let you in, crawling on all fours.”

As his voice paints the picture of your submission, the climax mounts in you. Bucking up against him, you try to get more when he’s already giving you everything. All thoughts about teasing him are forgotten with the immediate pleasure. “Don't stop-don't stop-don't stop!” You chant. “Never, Fairy. Come on my dick. Let me see you.”

Your vision goes spotty when the orgasm hits, your throat screaming his name, body convulsing in a way you’ve never experienced before. Afterward, your body goes limp, twitching with aftershocks as Bucky seeks his own release. Maybe you can't have him come inside you, but you want something more. “Come on me,” you tell him in a hoarse voice. “Fuck! What?” He’s so beautiful above you with his hair hanging down in his face, sweat making his skin shine, the clear desperation and shock on his face. “Paint me with your cum, please Bucky,” you say once again. “God dammit, Fairy! Fuck!” He sits back and rips the condom off. A few swipes are all it takes and he's shooting ropes up your stomach and chest, blue eyes wide and staring as if he can't believe it, moaning your name loudly in his deep voice. It makes you grin like the Cheshire cat, knowing you can affect him just as much as he does you.

He sags down beside you, panting heavily. You never want to move but as the sweat and cum start to cool, your heart calms down, and you start feeling something else.

“Oh, I think I…” you mumble, looking down between your legs. “When I came I…” “You squirted?” Bucky chuckles at your unwillingness to say the word. “Yeah. That usually doesn't happen with sex.” “It did. You almost pushed my dick out when you came too.” He kisses your shoulder and up your neck. You turn your head to meet him in a soft kiss. “You also called me James,” he smiles against your lips.

You stare at him in horror as your mind catches up with what he’s saying and you realize you did in fact do that. “Oh god,” You wish you could sink through the bed and continue into the earth's core. “I don't know why I did that!” He kisses you again. “Don't worry, I liked it,” he reassures you.

After some more kissing, the various bodily fluids on your skin compel you to get up and head for the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you're done you study yourself for a moment in the mirror, thinking that you’ll see something different after you've just been fucked within an inch of your sanity, but you look just the same.

When you get back to the bedroom, Bucky has stripped the bed and is in the process of putting new sheets on. After you help him, you start looking for your clothes, thinking you'll take a cab home, but Bucky stops you by pulling you into a warm embrace. “You need to text your friends. I prefer my vest and my reputation untarnished.”

With a laugh you move to find your phone and when you do you notice you have a bunch of notifications. It's well past midnight.

It seems as if he doesn't want to be far away from you because as you’re writing a reply, he comes up behind you and hugs you close. Suddenly you have a better idea and stop what you’re doing, instead, you take a picture of the two of you, aiming it to just show your bare upper shoulders and your faces. The flash goes off in the dim room and when you see the picture you giggle. What you couldn't tell in the mirror, the picture clearly shows. Two fucked out people. You send it with just a short line about being alive.

When you're done you turn in Bucky's arms. “Satisfied?” “In more ways than one,” he smiles cheekily before kissing you. After a lazy make-out session standing naked in the middle of the room, you begin to pull away. “I need to-” “Stay,” Bucky finishes for you, tightening his arms. “Stay?” “Yeah, I'll make you breakfast tomorrow and then take you home.” “You don't have to,” you tell him. “Indulge me?” “Fine,” you sigh as if it’s a great burden. “I guess I could stay, but if you don't cuddle me, I'm leaving.” He pinches your ass in reprimand, making you jump. “You have no idea what you've signed up for, Fairy.”

True to his words Bucky hardly lets you out of bed, even in the morning when you need to use the bathroom. When you come back he holds up the cover and pats the mattress. As soon as you're beside him he pulls you in closer, putting his face in the crook of your neck and mouthing at your skin. A pleasurable sigh leaves you as you snuggle in closer to his warm body. Although the both of you were naked together the night before you never had time to explore his body, so now you let your hands roam everywhere they can reach.

Bucky lets his own hands travel over your skin, but those touches don’t stay innocent long and soon his erection is pressed into your stomach. Taking pity on him you spit in your palm and grab him, making him hiss at the contact before you lazily start pumping him. When he tries to reach between your legs you push his hand away. “No, let me take care of you,” you say sternly. “Whatever you say, Fairy,” he groans and thrusts into your palm.

There is no finesse to it all, just a quick morning hand job. He comes between your bodies, dirtying the sheets. When you see his eyelids starting to close again you poke him and they fly open. “You promised me breakfast!” “You just missed it,” he winks. In response, you roll your eyes before getting up. “Men!”

Instead of pulling on your jeans and the blouse drenched in glitter from the night before you snag the t-shirt he was wearing and find your discarded panties. The t-shirt barely covers your ass but at least you're semi-dressed as you go out into the kitchen to find something to eat.

Muttering under his breath about you being a stubborn woman he follows you in sweatpants and a fresh henly. Before you can find the coffee he hauls you up and puts you on the kitchen island, boxing you in with his arms on either side, lowering himself to glare at you. “Instead of opening every cupboard in the whole damn kitchen, tell me what you want and I'll make it.” “Coffee, with milk and sugar.” “And to eat?” “What do you usually make for the women you bring home?” you tease.

That makes him rise to his full height, looking down at you, and crossing his arms. “You think I have a habit of bringing women home and fucking them like I did you last night?” “You didn't get that good by theorizing,” you point out. “There hasn't been anyone, in a long time, Fairy,” his voice is suddenly soft as he cups your cheeks. You have another teasing comment on your lips but think better of it when you see his guarded look.

Instead, you put your arms around his waist and pull him in between your legs, resting your chin against his sternum to look up at him. “Then you make me whatever you want. But I don't like fish.” With a smile, he asks, “How about scones?” “Sounds perfect.”

When you’re done with breakfast he puts you on the table, insisting that he needs dessert and showing a much gentler side than the night before as he strums your body until you tell him you can't come anymore. Then he carries you to the couch and puts on a random channel. Together you watch reruns until you slide down his body to give him some of his own medicine. No matter how much he begs, you take your sweet time tasting him and when he comes it’s with a roar of your name. After some more cuddles and a nap, you convince him that you actually need to go home.

Just as you're about to head out there is a knock on the door and Bucky opens it to find Steve outside, holding his vest. Earlier he explained that Steve lives a few apartments down the hall. “I was told to give this to you.” Bucky takes it and inspects it quickly before hanging it up. To you, it seems untarnished.

“Hope Nat didn't give you too hard a time,” you smile. Assuming they'd stayed late at the bar and when she'd seen your text she'd given it to Steve. His eyes quickly flick away and there is a blush on his cheek. “No, no, it was fine.” You narrow your eyes and study him, noticing a small red bite mark on his neck. “Oh my god!” you exclaim and start laughing. Steve blushes even more. Bucky looks confused between the two of you. “What?” In a very loud whisper, you tell him, “I think Nat is at Steve's place.” Bucky's eyes glimmer with mirth and he looks at him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Steve waves and heads back down the hall. Just as he pulls the door open you yell. “Tell her I said hi!”

Fortunately, Bucky also has a car, and as he drives you home, he keeps his hand on your thigh the entire time. Outside your apartment, he turns to you. “I want to see you again,” he says. “Okay.” You want that too. So much! “When?” “Tomorrow ideally but if that doesn't work, how about a date on Friday?” You could do tomorrow but you feel yourself already falling for him. Some distance would do you good, so you say, “Friday sounds great! Give me your phone.” You type in your number and save it under the fairy emoji before sending yourself a text. Then you save him under a motorcycle emoji.

Before you can get out he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. “Now go before I kidnap you and keep you warm in my bed all week.” “Don't tempt me with a good time,” you wink and give him one last peck before getting out. In an act of pure self-preservation, you don't look back.

After a long shower, and checking your phone a million times throughout the evening to see if he’s texted, you come to the realization that you will never make it to Friday. You: [If I told you that I’ve changed my mind and want to see you tomorrow, would that make me seem desperate?] The response is quick. Bucky: {No more than I feel right now. I’ll pick you up after work. When do you get off?} Refusing to let an opportunity like that go to waste, you reply. [Preferably quicker than last night. I’m not sure I’m a fan of edging ;)] {Fairy, don’t make me spank you again. Off of work.} [I’ve told you not to tempt me with a good time ;) I get off at four]

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #biker!bucky #biker!bucky barnes #veltana writes

[papercorgiworld]

Boyfriend material

Reader is starting the new year in search of a little fun and a boyfriend. Pansy helps here pick the right outfit and guy.

For Blaise, Theo and Mattheo this will be a two part ‘porn with plot’ thing. This is part one and holds the plot. No Enzo part two, because apparently I can only write so much smut before my brain goes brrrr. Sorry.

I added a part 2 for Enzo!

Warning: reader has a little dirty make out daydream. Slytherin dudes have some naughty thoughts as well.

I had fun writing this. I really hope you like reading it. Kisses.

“New year, new me. I’m no longer a boring girl. I’m going to find myself a nice, good looking guy and get crazy with him.” You started as you sat down next to Hermoine. She laughed in response. “You don’t need a guy to have fun or to be cool.” But before you could say anything Pansy plopped down next to you. “Yes, you do, so who’s the lucky guy?” Hermoine rolled her eyes.

You looked around the great hall and settled on a handsome sixth year. “Him.” You tilted your face his way, subtly pointing. “Ew! No! Boring!” Pansy spat. “What’s wrong with that guy?” Hermoine asked, narrowing her eyes at Pansy. “You wanna be popular, you wanna have fun, you gotta date someone on top of the food chain.” Pansy said as a matter of fact and Hermoine mocked the last words of her sentence.

You ignored the tension completely and simply asked. “Who’s on top of the food chain?” Pansy looked around to search for a good example. “Aha!” She said pleased, when she saw who just walked in and grinned at the girls next to her. “Oh no.” Hermoine sighed as she saw a particular group of Slytherins enter the great hall. You simply pursed your lips at the idea. But you brought yourself back to reality. “How’s a gray mouse like me gonna date the top of the food chain?” Pansy simply wiggled her eyebrows and Hermoine was definitely worried now.

***

The next day you made your way to sit next to Hermoine in class. With your skirt short enough to make you question its purpose and your shirt tight and revealing, you now had all the guys paying attention. “What’s this?” Hermoine questioned, obviously referring to your outfit. “This. This is my battle-outfit. I’m conquering the top of the food chain.” You replied with confidence. Hermoine scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Then why is the top of the food chain looking at you like you're their next meal.”

You quickly glanced around the classroom, getting a little nervous, you softly bit your lip. You want to defend your case to Hermoine, but accidentally drop your quill. As you reach for it, Enzo beats you to it. Handing it to you with a sweet smile, but also giving you a cheeky wink.

Theodore, who sits next to Enzo, shakes his head and huffs. “Don’t fall for it. Pansy’s clearly up to something.” Enzo smiles brightly at his friend. “Oh mate, I’ve already fallen. Badly, madly. And it’s okay, you can leave your fallen brother behind. He’s going to a better place, somewhere between her squishy thighs.” Mattheo who sits behind Theodore speaks up. “Oi, T. slap him for me, will ya?” And before Enzo even realizes what Mattheo said, Theo has already given him a light smack on the back of his head. Blaise bites his lip and comes to Enzo’s aid. “In his defense, look at those legs.” Slurring the last word and leaning closer to Mattheo, his eyes never leaving your body. Mattheo pushes his chair a little and leans back for a better view of what his friend is talking about. Mattheo is definitely seeing something he likes, his eyes scan your body. His tongue gently rolls over his lips and he swallows hard thinking about all the noises you would make if he could have his way with you. “Mister Zabini, mister Riddle, care to explain why you don’t have your books out yet.” Professor McGonnagol asks, looking down upon the boys. “Sorry professor.” Blaise immediately reaches for his book, while Mattheo only looks down at his desk like a pouty 5 year old that just got caught.

After class Theodore lets out a frustrated grown as you walk past them in the hallway. You did nothing aside from sitting there and being pretty, yet you had him fantasizing about things that made him loosen his tie halfway during class. “I should’ve skipped class. I wrote down less than when I’m not in class.” Enzo looked confused at Theo’s statement, questioning his logic. Mattheo was about to say something, but Blaise interrupted him. “That simp! Look at him.” Blaise pointed at Draco shamelessly leaning against a wall trying to casually make conversation with you as Pansy tries not to laugh at Draco’s desperation. “No backbone, those Malfoy’s.” Mattheo scoffs. “Yeaah.” Blaise affirms absentmindedly, staring at you as you smile at Draco. Such a beautiful smile, but I bet that mouth can do more than just smile. Blaise was smirking as his thoughts got less innocent with each passing second. “We should save the poor girl.” Enzo states, pulling Blaise out his trance. “Yeah.” Blaise and Enzo quickly make their way over to you. Making Pansy grin at Mattheo and Theodore. Raising her eyebrows as a way of non-verbally taunting them: are you two really gonna just stand there with your pathetic male pride. “Tell me you have smokes. I need one.” Mattheo sighs in frustration after he finally managed to pull his eyes away from you. Theo nods. “Girls and their games. They’ll be the death of me.” Theo can’t help but take one last look at you.

***

“Pans, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Hermoine’s right I’m attracting the wrong kind of guys.” Pansy eyes roll up in annoyance. That bloody Granger-girl can squeeze the fun out of everything. “You can set them straight. Believe me, if you bat your eyes they will start behaving.” You make a face disagreeing with her. “I’m looking for fun, yeah, but I’m also looking for boyfriend material, they’re not that.” Pansy huffs. “You know nothing.” You frown in confusion. “Just play my game. You’ll get what you want.” Pansy starts walking again, but then turns on her heels looking at you still confused. “You are gonna have to pick one, preferably by tonight. I would hate to see the Slytherin boy band break up, because I really don’t think they can share.” You bite your lip softly and your mind wonders.

If Pansy was really speaking the truth and you could just have your pick. Which one? Him. If he would push you against this cold hallway wall right now you would immediately spread your legs so he could lift you up. Your neck and your jaw would be peppered with his soft kisses. You would wrap your legs around him and he would buck his hips into yours. Your mouth would fall open slightly because of all the sensations building up between your legs. He would mercilessly attack your mouth and his hands would explore every inch of your body. Squeezing your butt, making you instinctively rub your core against his growing bulge. He would cup your breasts, his thumb caressing your nipple through the fabric. “Everything alright?” Luna snaps you out of your wonderful train of thoughts. You look at her sheepishly. “Yeah. I better get going. Class, and stuff.” You push your thighs together, before fully letting go of your daydream. “I have those moments too you know, when I forget about reality.” Luna comforts you as you both walk to class. “Uhu” Is all you manage to say, not really knowing what to think.

If Blaise is you’re guy: part 2

***

“Your party outfit is a shirt?” Hermoine asks, not hiding her judgment. “It’s an oversized shirt, which makes it a dress. It’s fashion, Granger, get over it.” Pansy snaps. “You’re corrupting my friend.” Hermoine hisses at Pansy. “Oh, darling. I’m not corrupting. But some guy might.” Pansy winks, Hermoine’s mouth falls open and you stand there sheepishly looking at your feet. “I’m wearing shorts under this dress. So it’s really not that bad.” You finally manage to say. “Alright, let’s party.” Pansy says and she’s the first to walk through the doors of the room of requirement.

For Mattheo: part 2

For Theodore: part 2

For Lorenzo: part 2

#theodore nott #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #theodore nott imagine #blaise zabini imagine #mattheo riddle imagine #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #papercorgiworldwritings

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 3

[prompt: fingering] male reader x kim chaewon 2.5k words

Chaewon hates that you’re actually good at this.

To be clear, there’s plenty more that Chaewon hates; it’s not exhaustive, just that bit.

She hates losing. Hates whenever anyone talks over her or doesn't give a second's worth of attention to whatever it is she's trying to say. She absolutely loathes it whenever her friends insist on complimenting her appearance when she doesn't have her clothes or makeup or hair or attitude down just yet.

But the thing she hates most? There's reason to believe it might be that her friends laugh at your jokes, or that when you roll up your sleeves and smile, they all notice things they normally wouldn't (and like it), even when Chaewon fixes them a look just this side of sour and scowly.

Realistically however, and Chaewon doesn't seem to mind admitting this part out loud - especially once you stop teasing her thighs with kisses that tickle the crease where her legs meet her hips - you really are good at going down on girls.

This, is absolute truth.

"Fuck," and "me," she breathes out, harsh little syllables coming with her fingertips knotting into your hair, right above the nape of your neck. She crashes down into the pillow behind her. Back and hips tensing - thighs all spread wide. She probably gives a bit too much, but Chaewon's the kind who gives, then turns around to take some more:

"You can-" is cut short when she gasps at the sudden, slow touch of a finger at the sensitive bundle of nerves atop her folds. There and back. "Ah - a little more, fuck, god. Again."

It's your mouth. The exact right movements - pulling and kissing, sucking gently, fluttering your tongue. Then harder and harder and harder, licking against the crease. That's what has her toes curling and feet flat to the bed. Little fistfuls of cotton sheets twisted up in her grip.

Actually, It's the flat of your tongue, soft and slick and moving on her clit in these long and languid sweeps that really makes the tears in her eyes begin to sting - like all that ache around her pussy is nothing compared to the one simmering in her stomach - like if only she could unwind around you a little bit faster and have her body turn to water and utterly ruin your sheets, she could catch her breath - and find her voice again.

You pull her puffy lips into a kiss, a devilish little suction, and her thighs press tighter and tighter together, around the sides of your head until you start to get a little dizzy. With a hand splayed open across her thigh - a tiny tickling gesture - you urge her to spread. Beg for breath.

Only to your surprise, she closes her legs completely.

"Asshole. Fuck," Chaewon sighs out.

"Did you think you'd lose me?" You kiss your way up from her hips to the flat of her stomach and grin into her skin.

"Was about to kick you," she rolls her eyes, then raises an arm and pushes her bangs off her forehead - wiping a sheen of sweat with the back of her palm. "No mouth."

"No mouth?" You cock your head, giving her an innocently questioning look.

"It's..." Chaewon is barely a hair's length away from what you expect. "Don't kiss me either. Unless you wanna make out, in which case actually, the answer's also no. I don't want to taste myself."

"Chae, you actually taste pretty good."

"Stop." Chaewon's sigh has a lilt, something obviously worried in the noise. Tucked into the shape of her half-lidded eyes. "I'm literally too turned on for this."

"So you want me to touch you."

Here’s to that what Chaewon doesn't say, "I want you to stick three of those fingers into my pussy and fill me 'til the knuckle and eat my ass while your thumb is tucked deep in my cunt. I want it to hurt, how badly I'm aching for you to fill and ruin and tear me the fuck apart."

She instead asks, "what the fuck do you think?"

"But no mouth," you repeat, slowly running your fingers down the creamy skin along her thigh, watching how she shivers when you brush a certain spot near her knee, and feeling a tightening grip on the opposite hip.

Chaewon groans a bit, lips twisting down.

"Can I perhaps, like, ask why?" you ask, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses into the flesh of her leg, down from her knee, over the curve of a thigh - but not, determinedly, into her where she's hotter and softer and practically melting, from all this pressure built up inside.

"Mind your own business," she mutters back.

You look. Chaewon's pussy is so, so pretty. Wetness gathering at the glistening, flushed hood. She's fluttering: desperate for the faintest touch. It's hard to imagine yourself doing anything other than making her writhe and gasp and wail on your mouth and lips and tongue, as your undoing - reducing her to an exhausted, sweat-drenched, wracked mess, the kind of spent that follows with long, long sighs and whispered curses under her breath.

With a fingertip ghosting touches around her cunt, Chaewon lets out an unexpectedly high-pitched whine. One that fades, bit by bit. Into an eventual murmuring - begging?

"Baby," you say, when you just can't resist. "I just want to make you-"

"I said, I wanted-I want-" and then with the pillow over her face, her groan, muffled, "look - it's fine. It's...great, even," is what you think she means by "amazing," but she continues, "you're literally the best thing I've ever felt, please. Fuck-come on. Keep touching."

You slow your hand, smoothing down the soft skin over her thighs.

And as soon as your lips cover her hole, from where she's wet and dripping and open, her hands fall to her side, pillow sliding into the corner of the sheets. "It's too good."

You're kidding. With a tip of your head, and your most self-satisfied little smirk, you ask, "too good?"

"Can you shut the fuck up, I hate you. I really fucking do," she says in what you figure was meant to be a dismissive sigh. One that's something stuck in a guttural moan and the squeak of mattress springs. "Please, you make me cum too fast otherwise."

You chuckle, trying your damnedest not to keep the mood going and actually get her to enjoy the moment - the best orgasm of her life, you want her to remember. To deserve the bragging rights.

“Odd complaint, princess.”

The stare she has fixed on you - over the space where her shirt is bunched up over the arch of her ribs - cuts right through you, if a bit hazy. And with her hands over her face, squirming her hips closer to you, she says, “don’t fucking call me princess.”

The implication is not lost on her. You let out an apologetic laugh, bringing your mouth, if briefly, closer to the peak of her hips and blowing a cold breath.

Chaewon just mutters something that sounds vaguely like, "fucking prick, just go back down."

Which is where she ends up. Or, starts. Because now she's lying back on the pillows with her hand slung across her forehead, leg up and bent and calf draped over the crook of your elbow, her eyes rolling back as you start to touch her - really, earnestly; work her up again, thumb rubbing the length of her clit. You can hear Chaewon's breath leaving her chest, in a broken pattern, until the sensations finally allow her to settle into one smooth inhale.

And then, slowly, just the length of one finger up to your first knuckle, the second - you slip inside her so, so easily. Then almost all the way. Her body tense, and her cunt, deliciously soft.

When you stroke and rub and slide your way back in, adding another digit, the noises she begins to make - your name, then god - sound raw, like a far-off cry and a drawn-out wail. There's a swishing sound whenever you get really slow and rhythmic, with the push, that turns slick-wet from the hot, milky way her insides get all sticky with her own want, before you can press more kisses into the bone of her hips and lap against the same skin - almost biting.

"Tell me if you want to stop," you whisper, the hot, humid breath of which does not fail to cause her spine to bend.

"Don't."

She's half-swearing, half-whimpering.

"Fuck you," is what follows next. As she wraps a hand in the hair around the base of your skull and pulls you close, right into her thighs and hips.

It's the small pleasures that have always gotten to you the most, the smallest, most vulnerable and unthinkingly personal acts, like, you think, when she presses the heel of her hand over her eyes and half-smiles, when the palm spreads out across the flatness of her stomach, as if, somehow, her whole self could not be any more delicate and devious at the exact same time.

And you are compelled, because of course, you are compelled: to be anything and everything Chaewon asks for in this moment, you tell her.

(Here's the embarrassing part. For her, really.)

You have your thumb tucked up along the muscle of Chaewon's thighs, opening and stroking a straight line from where your finger is still nestled all the way up the entirety of her folds, "so good and so," before circling the tensed point in a delicate, feather-touch, "tight, baby."

"Shit, oh, that's. You're." And all you do is hum, agreeing, adding another stroke and letting your lips fall into her open thigh. Your finger fucking her cunt a few times before twisting back and pulling out.

"You're making me feel so," and her whole body relaxes. Not only her voice. A shudder that breaks up her spine and spreads to her thighs, loosening. And looser and looser.

And at the exact same time she's saying: "hot."

Chaewon runs the pad of her thumb over her lip, bucking her hips into the flutter of your fingers. The soft, velvety heat of her cunt takes quickly to the slow circle-stroke, slide and curl, repeat, again. Her whine is longer, louder. More-so once her whole body tightens up once your fingers fuck into her, especially deep, in short-rhythmic staccato strokes, rubbing at her from the inside until she's shaking all over and can hardly breathe.

"Fuck, the way you're so-" Chaewon's heels digging deeper, "oh, deeper. Right there, please right there–."

This isn't even the worst of her embarrassment. When her stomach gets visibly tensed, muscles bunching and giving, and your free hand falls to rest on top of it. All this friction happening within her. Just beneath the surface of her skin and how that must be lighting every nerve along her spine and sending them all aflame, so overwhelmed and tightened, only relaxing in small increments whenever you move a bit too slow, to a bit more pressure - adding the extra touch, kissing her everywhere between her thighs, right into the dips between them. Close but not there. So frustratingly near, and she barely has the air left in her lungs to make a frustrated noise, but somehow finds the impetus to let the weight fall out of her body - let her limbs stretch open, give, release the tension.

Then all those incoherent twitching spasms: "God. Now-"

When the sudden ache inside her walls hits, it catches first in her chest, spreading out where the fist curling into the covers can't hide. "Right there, right there," she's panting, nodding her head in these tiny little shakes, rocking her hips into the movement and pushing them into your touch. And you just nod back.

Her orgasm hits her like a fucking lightning storm: blinding and thunderous, heavy. 

Chaewon simply cries out when she unravels, finally, and the sound is a little wrecked. Cursing your name, god's. 

Her hand is twisted in your hair, and she pulls, twists and wrenches, an arm tossed over her face when it feels like you're rushing, surging waves breaking all along her senses, the pads of your fingers pushing into the ridges, knuckles wrapping, knocking at her core, finger prints seared into her skin and pressing into that knot of pleasure, swollen and raw.

She just exhales into a groan and runs a palm down her face and throat, and breasts, rubbing a bit harshly at the tops of her shoulders. You raise yourself over her, until your head's just next to her collarbone, not speaking but watching how her breaths are slowing - the moment they become steadier, like a boat to shore.

You prop an arm over her, carefully, letting Chaewon twist her palm, finger the tips of yours. It's like listening to music, hearing how she laughs and swallows around this haze. Her whole body in the dreamy afterglow, writhing a little when the ache crawls back up through the space between her hips and she settles onto her side, curling up in your half-embrace.

"Oh, well. Look what you did to me, fuck," she murmurs. You can't help smiling.

"Too fast?" you ask, lowering your head, propping yourself up on a single elbow and gently placing a kiss along the top of her hair, tangling her fingers with your own.

"You're really annoying," she huffs. She tries her best not to blush, but the glow in her cheeks is quite apparent - especially once it reaches her ears. You laugh right into the top of her head, and she playful slaps a fist to your chest. "Go to bed, idiot."

"To think - you said you liked me."

"Said. Said, being the key word here."

When you roll over - slightly onto her and slip a thigh between her legs - Chaewon groans, and her hands press into your back. The touch is light. Practically nothing. Then you're grinning down at her, a sly smile playing in your eyes. "Maybe it’s my turn," she murmurs, "to make you squirm."

"No mouth?" you tease. "You might need the help sweetheart."

"Fuck that. Absolutely not." Chaewon rolls and turns until she's on top of your thighs, pinning you gently in place. She’s fixing her hair into a clumsy little ponytail, hallmark signs of impatience, that says, "if I want to suck your cock, I'll do it," she glares a little, but her smirk is turning the corner, and her whole face softens. 

"Shouldn't have laughed earlier, asshole."

(And here is the start and end of all you think you know, watching as she places a trail of kisses down your chest.)

#chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #izone smut #le sserafim chaewon smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

[mizukiko-kun]

i’m constantly disassociating myself from this shakespeare class i’m in. the student next to me keeps volunteering to read the lines and yet she has absolutely zero corresponding emotions when she does.

#imagine emilia in the final scene but speaking with a cute little princess voice and zero rage #constantly stuttering and often missing beats because zoning out too #i’m not expecting a-class acting from you girl i just wish you sounded angry when you are supposed to #i want to die i want to stop understanding english #and i’m glad hamlet isn’t taught in this course #(praying for maan tho) #(at least i have already read all the plays we’re studying beforehand and had time to be emotionally convinced) #also i’m feeling slightly guilty for hating her bc she looks like one of those tiny naive girls in anime who does virtually no wrong #(not exactly bc she looks like that and that makes me feel bad #(but whether it’s their fault is another question and that’s why i’d never outright treat her badly #but i’m willing to be a bitch tho #if only on the inside #she’s annoying #inconveniently naive people are annoying there i said it #but bc the fact that she looks like that would automatically make me look like an asshole if i ever display my dislike of her to anyone) #i’ll just bottle up all my annoyed feelings in here and one day i’ll explode and die) #i’m so done

[angelltheninth]

Spiderverse Characters Handling Horror Movies

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, horror movies, cuddles, nightmares, spidey sense, comfort

A/N: Hate most horror movies these days tbh but there's something so primal and addicting about being scared you know? Still, if I do watch horror movies I can never watch them alone.

Peter wouldn't flinch at the first few jumpscares but as the movies goes on his arm tightens its hold on your shoulders. By the end of the movie you're fully pressed to his side, his hand rubbing along your shoulder to soothe you, but it turns out that he's the one who needs to be told that he's safe. Which is kind of nice after he needs to make sure so many other people know it.

Miles likes the older horror movies more then the newer ones because he's not a huge fan of all the blood and gore. Not scared of them per se, he can watch most scenes but sometimes he will cringe really badly and turn from the screen. He'll look at you instead, give a little shy smile and plant a kiss on your lips. Which is a bit awkward with all the screaming going on in the back ground.

Gwen doesn't like horror movies at all. Horror books? Yes, she can read those but when it comes to watching them she will spend the whole movie in your lap, not screaming but she will let out a tiny yelp and then try to brush it off and act cool after it. Won't let you know how much she wants to watch anything else because she likes how protective you get with her during the movie.

Miguel will only watch them because he loves the way you curl up into him during and after the movie. He's fully honed in on your heartbeart and how it quickens and slows down when he turns your face towards his when a scary scene is happening and gives you a gentle, comforting kiss. The one thing he didn't expect was how jumpy you'd be afterwards, but also cute when you cling onto him like a koala, even in your sleep.

Hobie loves horror movies with a passion but won't force you to watch them if you don't like them. If you do that's even better because it means you can nerd about them and your favorite tropes and franchises. Horror couple costumes are of course a must on Halloween, maybe he can be the dashing hero who saves you from the killer.

Pavitr can feel his spider sense go off almost every time when he hears a little noise after watching the movie. He puts on a brave face but he will have a nightmare or two after watching a really scary movie. That being said the really old ones aren't as bad for him, in fact he finds a lot of them funny, but its the new ones with way too many scares and blood scenes that make his stomach turn.

#peter b parker x reader #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse fluff #spiderman fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanons #marvel fluff #marvel x you #peter b parker fluff #miles morales fluff #gwen stacy fluff #miguel o'hara fluff #hobie brown fluff #pavitr fluff #x reader

[mariacallous]

“Did they really decapitate babies?” my 14-year-old daughter asked me yesterday. She was pointing to a text message on her phone from a friend. “They’re saying they found Jewish babies killed, some burnt, some decapitated.” And I froze. Not because I didn’t know what to say—though in truth I didn’t know what to say—but because for a moment I forgot what century I was in. All of the assumptions I had made as a Jewish father, even one who had grown up, as I did, with the Holocaust just a few decades past, were suddenly no longer relevant. Had I adequately prepared her for the reality of Jewish death, what every shtetl child for centuries would have known intimately? Later in the day, she asked if, for safety’s sake, she should take off the necklace she loves that her grandparents had given her and that has her name written out in Hebrew script.

The attack by Hamas on Israeli civilians last Saturday broke something in me. I had always resisted victimhood. It felt abhorrent, self-pitying to me in a world that seemed far away from the Inquisition and Babi Yar—especially in the United States, where I live and where polls repeatedly tell me that Jews are more beloved than any other religious group. I wasn’t blind to anti-Semitism and the ways it had recently become deadlier, or to the existential dread that my family in Israel felt every time terrorists blew up a bus or café—it’s a story whose sorrows have punctuated my entire life. But I refused to embrace that ironically comforting mantra, “They will always want to kill us.” I hated what this tacitly expressed, that if they always want to kill us, then we owe them, the world, nothing. I deplore the occupation for both the misery it has inflicted on generations of Palestinians and the way it corrodes Israeli society; when settlers in the West Bank have been attacked, it has pained me, but I have also felt anger that they are even there. In short, I wasn’t locked into the worldview of my survivor grandparents and I felt superior for it.

But something in me did break. As I was driving on Tuesday, I heard a long interview on the BBC with Shir Golan, a 22-year-old woman who had survived the attack at the music festival where more than 250 people were killed, her voice sounding just like one of my young Israeli cousins. She described, barely able to catch her breath, how the shooting had started and how she’d begun to run. She’d found a wooded area and tried to hide. “I got really into the ground,” she said. “I put the bushes on me.” Covered with dirt and leaves, she’d waited. A group of terrorists had shown up and called for anyone hiding to come out. From her spot under the earth, she’d seen three young people, whom she called “children,” emerge. “I didn’t go out because I was scared. But there were three children next to me who got out. And then they shot them. One after one after one. And they fell down, and that I saw. I saw the children fall down. And all that I did was pray. I prayed to my god to save me.”

I pulled my car over because my own hands were shaking as I listened. She then described waiting, hidden in the dirt under bushes for hours, until she saw the terrorists begin to light the forest on fire. “I didn’t know what to do. Because if I’m staying there, I’m just burnt to death. But if I go out they are going to kill me.” She crawled over to where she saw dead bodies and lay on top of them, but the heat soon approached, so she found more bushes to hide in until she could run again. Burnt bodies were everywhere, and Shir looked for her friends but couldn’t find them, couldn’t even see the faces of those killed because they were so badly burned. “I felt like I was in hell.” She finally escaped in a car.

Her story flung me back to my grandparents’ stories. My grandmother hid in a hole for a year in the Polish countryside, also under dirt, also scared. My grandfather spent months in Majdanek, a death camp, and saw bodies pile up in exactly this way. Stories are still emerging of families burnt alive, of children forced to watch their parents killed before their eyes, of bodies desecrated. How was this taking place last Saturday?

But these stories aren’t what broke me. What did was the distance between what was happening in my head and what was happening outside of it. The people on “my side” are supposed to care about human suffering, whether it’s in the detention camps of Xinjiang or in Darfur. They are supposed to recognize the common humanity of people in need, that a child in distress is first a child in distress regardless of country or background. But I quickly saw that many of those on the left who I thought shared these values with me could see what had happened only through established categories of colonized and colonizer, evil Israeli and righteous Palestinian—templates made of concrete. The break was caused by this enormous disconnect. I was in a world of Jewish suffering that they couldn’t see because Jewish suffering simply didn’t fit anywhere for them.

The callousness was expressed in so many ways. There were those tweets that did not hide their disregard for Jewish life—“what did y’all think decolonization meant? vibes? papers? essays? Losers”—or the one that described the rampage as a “glorious thing to wake up to.” There was the statement by more than two dozen Harvard student groups asserting, in those first hours in which we saw children and women and old people massacred, that “the Israeli regime” was “entirely responsible for all unfolding violence.” And then there were the less explicit posts that nevertheless made clear through pseudo-intellectual word salads that Israel got what it deserved: “a near-century’s pulverized overtures toward ethnic realization, of groping for a medium of existential latitude—these things culminate in drastic actions in need of no apologia.” I hate to extrapolate from social media—it is a place that twists every utterance into a performance for others. But I also felt this callousness in the real world, in a Times Square celebratory protest promoted by the New York City chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America, at which one speaker talked of supporting Palestinians using “any means necessary” to retake the land “from the river to the sea,” as a number of placards declared. There were silences as well. Institutions that had rushed to condemn the murder of George Floyd or Russia for attacking Ukraine were apparently confounded. I watched my phone to see whether friends would write to find out if my family was okay—and a few did, with genuine and thoughtful concern, but many did not.

I’m still trying to understand this feeling of abandonment. Is my own naivete to blame? Did I tip too far over into the side of universalism and forget the particularistic concerns to which I should have been attuned—the precarious state of my own tribe? Even as I write this, I don���t really want to believe that that’s true. If I can fault myself clearly for something, though, it’s not recognizing that the same ideological hardening I’d seen on the right in the past few years, the blind allegiances and contorted narratives even when reality was staring people in the face, has also happened, to a greater degree than I’d imagined, on the left, among the people whom I think of as my own. They couldn’t recognize a moral abomination when it was staring them in the face. They were so set in their categories that they couldn’t make a distinction between the Palestinian people and a genocidal cult that claimed to speak in that people’s name. And they couldn’t acknowledge hundreds and hundreds of senseless deaths because the people who were killed were Israelis and therefore the enemy.

As the days go on, the horrific details of what happened—those babies—seem to be registering more fully, if not on the ideological left, then at least among sensible liberals. But somehow I can’t shake the feeling of aloneness. Does it take murdered babies for you to recognize our humanity? I find myself thinking—a thought that feels alien to my own mind but also like the truth. Perhaps this is the Jewish condition, bracketed off for many decades and finally pulling me in.

When news broke of the Kishinev pogrom in 1903 that took 49 lives (compare that with the 1,200 we now know were killed on Saturday), it caused a sensation throughout the world. “Babes were literally torn to pieces by the frenzied and bloodthirsty mob,” The New York Times reported. “The local police made no attempt to check the reign of terror. At sunset the streets were piled with corpses and wounded. Those who could make their escape fled in terror, and the city is now practically deserted of Jews.” In response to that massacre, the emigration of hundreds of thousands of Eastern European Jews to the United States began in earnest; the call of Zionism as a solution also sounded clearly and widely for the first time.

In his famous poem about the massacre, “In the City of Slaughter,” the Hebrew writer Haim Naḥman Bialik lamented, even more than the death, the sense of helplessness (“The open mouths of such wounds, that no mending / Shall ever mend, nor healing ever heal”), the men who watched in terror from their hiding places while women were raped and blood was spilled. I can’t say I know what will happen now that this helplessness has returned—if I’m honest, I also fear that Israel’s retaliation will go too far, that acting out of a place of victimhood, as right as it may feel, will cause the country to lose its mind. Innocent lives in Gaza have been and will be destroyed as a result, and competing victimhood is obviously not the way out of the conflict; it’s the reason that it is hopelessly stuck. But in this moment, before the destruction of Gaza grabs my attention and concern alongside fear for my relatives who have been called up to the army, I don’t want to forget how alone I felt as a Jew these past few days. I have a persistent, uncomfortable need now to have my people’s suffering be felt and seen. Otherwise, history is just an endless repetition. And that’s an additional tragedy that seems too much to bear.

[stvolanis]

What about rafe with a reader who talks a lot land has a bubbly personality and he’s getting annoyed cause she’s just talking on and on and he’s already in a bad mood and so her just talking he’s getting annoyed and like he makes a comment of “why don’t you stop talking and put your mouth to a better use” (sorry for how badly worded this is)

hi! I kinda imagine this as maybe bestfriend!Rafe who kinda manipulates the reader yk? Also knocking two birds w/ one stone by adding a little bit from a different request, hope you don’t mind!💞

Rafe Cameron! who loves his silly little best friend who he’s had a claim on since 6th grade :). Always so sweet to him when you guys were in school together. Giving him the answers, walking with him to all your classes, rides home after school with you on aux cause how could he ever say no to you? Not to mention the fact that he knew you harbored a little crush on him—

Rafe Cameron! Who knew you were heavily inexperienced in the sexual realm of things, which he made sure of after he beat up every guy who even thought they’d be able to breathe the same air as you. He takes great pride in being able to teach you things no one else will. Of course you’d question it, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes that make his cock pulse with confusion when you guys were in the back seat of his truck one day. “Rafey, I dunno if we should do this—feels weird.” You muttered, your hand tightly wrapped around his cock with his hand shoved down your pants. “Thought you wanted to take care of me, sweetheart? This is just what best friends are supposed to do.”

Rafe Cameron! Who’s been having an exhaustingly annoying day after another group fight between the kooks and pogues. He’s a little scratched up, moping around your house as you go on and on about why he shouldn’t have fought, what could have happened—and then suddenly trailing off to your favorite pasta shell? It was hurting his head. Too much for him to process as he rubbed his temple, watching you babble mindlessly.

Rafe Cameron! Who finally has had enough of your constant yapping. “God, baby, you ever shut the fuck up? Hm? Jus’ be fuckin’ quiet, little girl.” He hissed through clenched teeth, pinching your cheeks together harshly to cease your talking, yet the way your eyes watered and thighs clenched together didn’t go unnoticed. “Think you jus’ need somethin’ stuffed in there so you’ll shut up. That it?” He mocked. You looked up at him from your knees, confused as to what he was referring to.

Rafe Cameron! Who’s cock slapped against your waiting tongue in a taunting manner. Curved slightly, with trimmed hair at the base and heavy balls. His scent strong, consuming your mind with an aching throb between your thighs you knew only Rafe could help. “Gonna teach you how to suck dick like a pro, kay?” He urged, pushing his fat tip into your mouth, further and further till the sounds of you gagging and gasping for air around him was all he could hear, and tears running down your pretty face was all he could see. “That’s my girl. See? All you needed was some good dick to shut cha’little ass up, huh?” He cooed.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!

TAG LIST: @elvisalltheway101 @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @luxuriouslokistan-3 @foxevxid @sapriao @xiyingly @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @hockeyrat @rafeswhorejjsslut @peterpan-neverfails @sunflowerskenz @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy @hewwokitti3

#stvolanis #obx smut #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx cast #obx fic #obx #rafe obx #rafe x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #outerbanks rafe #rafe concepts #rafe cameron drabble #rafe drabble #rafe cameron blurb #rafe blurb #rafe cameron brainrot #smut #bestfriend!rafe #bsf!rafe #drabble

[moonstruckme]

hey! I really really really like your writing very much!

can you do one where the reader and spencer reid are both nerds but different kinds of nerds. so the reader's more of a literature/ language nerd and spencer's basically an expert in LITERALLY everything. so she has a major crush on him but always hesitates to make a move on him cuz she thinks that she doesn't stand a chance because she struggles with basic math and physics chemistry make her head hurt

and so when spencer asks her out she's all baffled like you don't think I'm dumb?!😭😭

Hi, thanks honey!

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s one of those rare days where you can actually afford a lunch break, and you’ve decided to take it outside with your book. Every day lately feels like it could be the last nice one you get before the cold weather comes in, and you’re enjoying the crisp breeze and warm sunshine on your face as you get settled on the bench outside the cafe where you work. 

The book you’ve been reading for the past week is good but not great, and you’re sort of pushing yourself to finish just so you can say it’s over with and tell the friend who lent it that you gave it your best. Still, you’re very nearly lost in it by the time a pair of black converse comes to a stop in front of you. 

You follow them upward. “Spencer!” you say, probably with a touch too much alacrity. Too quickly, too. You might’ve at least pretended to have to think about the name of the sweet-faced doctor looking down at you. But it’s not your fault; you’ve gotten used to calling it out from the counter when he comes here to pick up his lunch at least three days out of the week. 

“Hi,” he says, teetering on the edge of bashful. “I’m surprised to see you out here, you’re almost always working when I come by.” 

It’s embarrassingly gratifying that he knows that. You’d never hold it against him if he didn’t, but you’ve come to enjoy the little bits of conversation you grab with him when he comes by, and it’s nice to know that he’s noticed you too. 

“It’s a slow day,” you reply by way of explanation. “I figured I’d grab a break while I still could.” 

Spencer smiles like he totally gets that. You imagine he does. “Good idea. Can I sit?”

“Of course!” Again, way too eager. You’ve got to work on controlling your tone around him. You move your discarded jacket into your lap. 

“Thanks,” he says, sitting in the space you’ve made for him. His legs are so long he looks like he’s squatting on the bench, knees high enough for him to set his elbows on. Which he does, tilting his head to see you. “What’re you reading?”

“Oh, um, it’s nothing. I mean, I wouldn’t really recommend it,” you laugh. Christ, you don’t want him to know what you’re reading. Spencer probably reads astrophysics textbooks for fun. “It’s not very good.” 

Spencer puts his hand over yours, far from forceful as he tips the page toward him until he can see the cover. Your brain is short-circuiting so badly it’s a wonder you don’t drop the paperback onto the pavement. 

“I haven’t heard of it,” he says, which surprises you. Spencer seems so knowledgeable it’s difficult to believe there’s anything in existence that’s not stored somewhere in his hard drive. “Why are you reading it if you don’t think it’s good?” 

He doesn’t ask it in any unkind or judgemental way, but something inside you tenses nonetheless. You know perhaps too much about Spencer Reid. It’s not like you’d gone out of your way to figure him out, but the facts had presented themselves to you almost serendipitously and you’d put the pieces together. You know that he’s in the FBI, not only because of the laminated identifier he sometimes leaves clipped to his shirtpocket when he comes in, but also because of the coworkers that occasionally come with him. From those coworkers, you also know that he’s a doctor, and you gather that he’s generally respected and admired as well as cared for by his team. He seems a bit awkward, but sure of himself where it matters, and he goes into every interaction with a kind curiosity. Most of all, you know that Spencer is smart. Like, expert in everything smart. You’d caught a few jokes from the people he’s brought in about an eidetic memory, his multiple PhDs, and the nickname “boy genius.” No matter how shy and sweet someone is, that’s intimidating. 

And it’s unnerving to have someone with an IQ higher than you can probably fathom asking about your intellectual habits. 

“Well, the plot doesn’t actually have much movement, so it’s pretty boring,” you say hesitantly. “I guess at this point I’m mostly in it for the prose. Plus my friend recommended it, so I have to finish it to keep her happy.” 

Spencer laughs at your little joke, nodding. “Wow, the prose alone is enough to keep you going? It must be pretty fascinating.” 

You want to backpedal immediately, but settle for a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s alright. I’m kind of a nerd for that stuff. Rhetorical devices and all.”

Spencer tilts his head, something igniting in his brown eyes. Interest. “Rhetorical devices. You mean like metaphor and personification?”

You nod. “Yeah, like those, but also anadiplosis and polysyndeton and anastrophe.” Spencer’s eyebrows move slowly upward as you speak, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks despite the slight chill. “I just like that there’s things that affect the emotion—or the pacing, or whatever—of writing that we as readers pick up on almost subconsciously, but were so intentional for the writer.” 

Spencer’s nodding, eyes going somewhere just slightly distant. “Yeah, that’s a good point. I mean, I know writing is a very intentional process, but I never really think about the tiny, word-level decisions authors make to influence readers.” 

“It’s so cool,” you agree. “Like, how long do you think it takes someone to land on the exact right word for what they’re trying to convey, or to structure their sentences in a way that builds momentum over the course of a paragraph? Like, so much goes into it.” 

Spencer’s smiling at you, and you realize you’re gushing, geeky zeal bursting out of you like a soda bottle that’s been shaken and finally uncapped. “Sorry. Um, what’re you reading lately?” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says quickly, still smiling at you. “I actually just finished my last book, so I’m looking for something new. If this book has all that and isn’t up to your standards, I’d be interested to see what you really enjoy reading.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot; you hope Spencer thinks the redness is from the cool breeze. “I’d be nervous to give you a recommendation,” you admit. “Too much pressure.” 

Spencer waves you off. “I’ll read anything, don’t worry about it. Hey, have you ever been to that coffee shop on fifth? It’s in a bookstore.” 

You blink. “No, I haven’t heard of it. That sounds cool, though.” 

A bit of pink tinges Spencer’s cheeks; it’s probably from the cool breeze. “Yeah, well, you should let me take you there sometime. If you want, of course,” he adds hastily. “Don’t worry about it if not.” 

It takes you a second to realize what’s happening. And then once you do, another second to make yourself believe it. “Like, as a date?” you ask, just to be sure.

 Spencer’s smile is hopeful behind its timidity. “Yeah. Yeah, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah.” You can’t think of anything better to say, your brain filling with buzzing bees. “That sounds good. Thanks.” 

He laughs, eyebrows coming together bemusedly. “Well, don’t thank me. I should be thanking you.” 

It’s more a thanks for his taking action, you think. For making a move when you’d been too scared to, stagnant with months over your anxiety that he’d think you were too dumb or trivial to want to keep talking to you after he’d picked up his sandwich. 

“Okay, great.” He stands. “Well, I have to get back, but I’ll, uh…I’ll see you? Friday, maybe? I can come by here after your shift.” 

“You know when my shift ends?”

Now even his ears are turning red. “You…around four, right? I sometimes see you if I’m leaving work around then.” 

You smile. “Yeah, four. See you then, Dr. Reid.” 

“See you then!” he turns around, and you can see the exact moment he thinks to wonder how you know his last name. You don’t bother worrying about it.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom

[igbylicious]

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt5

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: San calls you, and Wooyoung shows off his skills at photography.

wc: 7.9k

ch. warnings: dom San, sub Wooyoung, voyeur reader, phone sex, m x m, power bottom San, anal sex, (guided) masturbation, a nude from Woosan, dirty talk, degradation (@ Wooyoung; ‘fucktoy’ is used), felching / ass eating, pet names for reader (‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, 1x ‘cumdump’ as praise), pervy vibes at the start; Woosan are unaware of the voyeurism at first but everything is consensual

also mentions of: choking, hair pulling, blow job, dumbification, spitroasting, face fucking, creampie

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

It actually takes a while for you to meet up with San and Wooyoung again. Why did nobody ever warn you as a kid that ‘schedule meetups with friends’ would be one of the most frustrating challenges you face in adulthood?

Even worse, it’s almost embarrassing how badly your neglected cooch complains about the lack of action. Your body has acclimatised to those intense orgasms real damn fast, and you’ve been so busy that there’s barely any opportunities for some proper self-care to tide you over.

You’re more than a little wired these days; so when a friend is forced to cancel plans at the last minute, it honestly comes as a relief rather than a disappointment. You indulge in the happy rush of an unexpected free evening, giving yourself a chance to relax, to fully relax — even if it will be without the assistance of two certain men. You’ll take what you can get.

You slip into the bedroom, mind set on your favourite vibrator; only to stop in your tracks when you hear a faint but unmistakable noise from the other apartment.

Huh.

Sounds like you might get a little assistance after all.

Quiet moans drift over from the other side of your shared wall, connecting to San’s own bedroom. It’s like your ears have been fine-tuned to their pleasure now, easily identifying Wooyoung’s muffled whines between San’s groans. An instant ache burns between your thighs, heat awakened by vivid memories.

You hesitate for a split-second, trained by old instincts to grab for your headphones and ignore those muted, lewd noises ��� until you remember that you don’t have to anymore. The guys made that clear enough.

(Wooyoung had been the one to bring the subject back up again, because of course he did. At first you assumed he was trying to fluster you; except that he actually looked disappointed when you admitted that no, you had never touched yourself to their overheard pleasure.

“Well, don’t deprive yourself next time, alright?” he told you with a playful wink.

“Woo, I think we’re supposed to keep it down next time,” San had pointed out, but stopped his chastising when he noticed the way you perked up at Wooyoung’s words. His smile had turned sly, “Or we won’t, I guess. Yeah, knock it out of the park, neighbour.”

Which is exactly what you plan to do now.)

You decide on manual labour, not wanting to risk San and Wooyoung hearing the buzzing from your toy. You make yourself comfortable in bed, wiggling out of your jeans and underwear as you lay back with your head against the pillow, legs propped up with ankles pressed against your ass to open yourself up. A testing graze through your folds confirms your suspicions of a growing wetness, but you still suck two fingers in your mouth for some extra help.

With your tongue curving around your fingers and saliva gathering rapidly, free hand fondling at your clothed breast, you close your eyes and focus on the intimate noises that you are privy to.

It’s mostly San that you can hear right now, if you’re not mistaken. His quiet moans mingle with hard breaths, an occasional shuddered whine. You shudder along with him, wondering what Wooyoung is doing to elicit those sounds.

It’s so easy now, to visualise how Wooyoung might be chocking on San’s cock, throat gagging around the thick girth. How his eyes tear up when his nose presses against San’s pelvis, against the light feathering of neatly maintained pubic hair. San’s muted noises would be all too understandable; you now know from first hand experience how gifted that damn mouth is.

His fingers might be tangled in Wooyoung’s hair to force him deeper, pulling at the red strands just the way Wooyoung likes. San would stare down at him with that heated intense gaze, brow knitted, his hips rocking into Wooyoung’s mouth.

Curiosity purrs inside you, wondering how close you are to the truth.

Maybe Wooyoung is sucking San off just how you pictured; but maybe San is on his knees instead, resting his arms on the bed as a pillow for his head, ass perked up in the air while Wooyoung spreads his cheeks to feast on him. Or maybe you are wrong entirely; maybe the reason you don’t hear Wooyoung anymore is because you’d misheard earlier and he isn’t even there. It could be just you and San, both taking matters into your own hands.

The endless possibilities spark your fantasies into overdrive, and you pop your glistening fingers out of your mouth with a quiet moan.

You work up another thick globule of spit to coat onto your already glossy fingertips, just to get yourself extra nice and sloppy; but some spills onto your chin, and you are forced to bite back another moan as it leaks down your jawline.

Already making a mess of yourself. You wonder what the guys would have to say about that.

Just the thought causes a sharp pulse in your abdomen. Would they tease you for how needy you are? San might suck the wet trail of saliva right off of you, leisurely tonguing at your heated skin. “Let us take care of that, baby,” Wooyoung might tell you, hands on your thighs as he keeps your legs spread and leans in close, slowly letting spit dribble down from his lips onto your aching cunt.

You can’t wait a moment longer and reach down, fingers clumsy with haste and arousal. You sigh at the contact with your sodden folds, the extra lubrication entirely unnecessary. You start off with slow swirls around your clit, building up the pressure while you continue to listen in.

San’s groans get a little louder, breathless and needy, and you bite down hard on your bottom lip to muffle a noise of your own.

Because you had weighed your options; to either shamelessly make your presence known, or stay unnoticed. You had decided on the latter, not wanting to intrude on their moment — though you can’t deny there also is a thrill to it for you.

It is almost like a little game; trying to keep silent, to not get caught. Luxuriating in every lewd noise that drifts your way, swallowing down your own.

Despite having San and Wooyoung’s consent, somehow the act of quietly listening in without their knowledge still feels a little taboo. A little perverted. You are hyperaware of the activity on the other side of the wall, while they have no awareness of you at all. And you have to be careful with the presses against your clit to keep it that way, slowly working yourself up.

There is some muted talk; so you hadn’t been mistaken earlier, Wooyoung is there. You can’t quite make out their words, but the tone hints at urgency.

They quiet down for a moment, then it is Wooyoung who gets noisier with those familiar, whiny moans. The bed creaks underneath them, growing louder and quicker, just as Wooyoung’s whines do. Now you feel a bit more confident in the truth of your fantasies; San thrusting into him with those brutal hips, fucking Wooyoung into a cockdumb daze.

Your body is ablaze, like you are in the room with them. You get lost in the images, in the memories, and start to forget yourself — forget that you are supposed to stay quiet. The heel of your hand presses against your clit as you push two fingers inside at once, but you let out a strangled whine of dissatisfaction, knowing either of their cocks would fill you up so much better.

(Fuck, had it only taken this little for them to ruin you?)

You keep up a steady pace, and use your free hand to rub at your clit for some much-needed relief. Again, it’s hard not to draw comparisons — between your fingers and Wooyoung’s mouth or his nose, it’s an easy choice which you prefer on your clit — but you do know exactly how to make yourself feel good, which patterns will lead you to that illusive edge your cunt is begging for.

Wooyoung’s whines are growing louder; he is as shameless as ever in his lack of restraint, only spurring you on to do the same. It’s like Wooyoung’s pleasure is tied to your own, pulling you along higher with his irresistible moans, evoking imagery of his mouth falling open, a thin trail of spit escaping past the corner of his lips as he claws at the bed-sheets, at San’s shoulders, at anything within reach.

You clamp around your fingers when Wooyoung’s voice breaks with a cried sob, and you break right with him. A desperate whimper falls past your lips as your hips buck up against your fingers, a sharp surge of heat searing right through you.

It is not the longest orgasm you’ve had, but it is intense; and a distinct silence greets you when you come down from your high, panting hard. The abrupt stop of noises from the other side of the wall can pretty much only mean one thing.

San and Wooyoung heard you.

Well. Fuck.

You groan when you realise that you’ve failed at your own self-imposed challenge. So much for staying unnoticed; you got caught with your hand right in the metaphorical cookie jar (the cookie jar being a metaphor for your cunt).

It’s not the end of the world, of course, since they did give you the go-ahead earlier. Still, the sudden silence causes a flash of self-consciousness, and for a split-second you worry that San and Wooyoung might have realised in this very moment that this type of voyeurism is not their thing after all.

But then there is some murmured talk, and a breathless laugh from Wooyoung eases the knot in your stomach. His laugh quickly turns into a another moan, desperate and whiny, and your tension fades completely.

You relax as the bed on the other side starts creaking again, even feeling a renewed throb of pleasure between your thighs, angling for attention. (“Greedy,” you can almost hear San’s voice purr in your ear, so pleased with your neediness. “Already that sweet cunt of yours is begging for a second round.”)

Now that they’re clued in on your presence, you expect Wooyoung and San to simply continue on. Maybe play it up a little; Wooyoung in particular seems like the type to deliberately put on a show. Maybe San will rile him up on purpose, pushing Wooyoung to the very limit for his benefit and yours.

What you do not expect, is for your phone to start buzzing.

“Fuck!” you hiss under your breath. You fling yourself upright, frantically wiping your hands on the sheets before you grab the phone from the nightstand, spitting muttered curses at the interruption. Who the fuck still calls these days? You are all ready to push it away — but you freeze at the name on display.

San.

You blink at your phone, struggling to comprehend the situation, still hearing the creaks and moans on the other side. You accept the call, and slowly lift your phone up to your ear.

“So, uh—”

But it is Wooyoung who interrupts you with a loud whimper; you hear it slightly echoed, one muffled through the wall, and one crystal clear through the phone. You shudder at the sound, thighs clenching.

“Hey Woo, having a nice night in?” you chuckle breathlessly, sitting back down on the bed. Your frustrations over getting caught are all but forgotten.

San says something in the background, and Wooyoung swallows down a moan. “H-hey. Is it okay that we’re calling? We can hang up right now, if you’d rather not.” Again, San speaks up, and something about his tone gives you the sense that he is passing instructions. Wooyoung breaths shakily, “We can pretend we didn’t hear you. Up to you. We’re — shit — we’re good either way. F-fuck, San…”

“No, it’s okay,” you hum, reaching a lazy hand back down to slide a finger through your soaked folds.

Wooyoung scoffs at something San tells him. “I was gonna ask her that anyway!” he says, huffy. “S-so, hngh, do you want to know what San is doing to me?”

“I have my suspicions,” you say with a light sigh, pressing a little firmer against your clit. Feeling a little bolder. “Is he fucking you, Wooyoung? Stuffing you full?”

“N-no. He — mmhh! — he’s in my lap. R-riding my cock. He’s— fuck, mhf—!”

That is all the information you get, the rest left up to your fantasies; Wooyoung chokes up with a strangled cry. The sound is only faintly echoed through the wall — but through the phone you can hear every tiny hitch of his breath, even the smallest whimpers transmitted directly into your ear.

But suddenly even those noises are muffled, replaced by a wet smacking noise of what you guess to be lips meeting in a feverish kiss. San groans into the phone, presumably sticking his tongue down Wooyoung’s throat in a sloppy make-out, swallowing every whine.

You breath picks up as you listen to them, the creaking of San’s bed slowing down while the wet noises of their mouths grow more frantic. Gasps and whines intermingle, including your own, and light-headedness starts to set in.

You blink out of a daze when the sounds break off and Wooyoung moans in frustration — but his voice through the phone becomes less distinct, and it is San whom you hear next.

“Hey, neighbour,” he says in a teasing, almost casual tone. His voice is strained, but shockingly composed for a man who is allegedly fucking himself on Wooyoung’s cock. “Thought you weren’t home today. Are we wearing you out already?”

The squeaky sounds from the bed continue, San’s breath growing raspier. The sound is like a distant rolling storm in your ears, and you bite back a quiet moan. “F-friend cancelled. Didn’t know you’d be home either. Sorry for interrupting.”

San lets out a husky chuckle. “Not at all,” he says, then grunts tightly. “Hmm, that’s it. Stay just like that for me, hm?”

You shallow thickly, your overactive imagination firing on all cylinders. Is San holding Wooyoung down; his phone in one hand and the other pinning Wooyoung’s wrists into the mattress? Or is he yanking at Wooyoung’s hair, forcing his head to tilt back? San might even have his hand on Wooyoung’s throat, squeezing ever so lightly. You can picture it so easily, with Wooyoung looking positively wrecked underneath San, tears streaked across his cheeks as he draws stifled breaths.

(San might be looking halfway wrecked himself, sweaty and flushed while his hips smoothly roll into Wooyoung’s lap.)

“Do you want to keep talking, or just listen?” San asks, and you need a moment to remember he’s speaking to you. You are an active participant now, no longer just an eavesdropper.

“Talk,” you admit breathlessly. San’s voice is husky from exertion, addictive to your eardrums. Earlier you had indulged in being unseen; but now you can’t bring yourself to part with him yet. “Please.”

San hums approvingly at your plea. “Did you cum yet, baby? Is that what we heard?”

“Y-yeah. Couldn’t help it, Wooyoung, he… ”

“Ahh, Wooyoungie…” San says fondly. “He never knows how to keep quiet either. Such pretty noises he makes, doesn’t he?” San’s praise draws out more of those exact pretty noises, a faint “Sannie…” floating in from the background. San gently shushes Wooyoung, and turns his attention back to you. “Want to cum again? I’ll help you out.”

The straightforward confidence of his offer already helps you along just fine, his cocky grin ghosting across your mind’s eye. “Fuck,” you sigh, fingers clenching around your phone. “Please, San.”

“Are you sitting or lying down?”

“Sat up to get my phone…”

He tsks. “That won’t do. Lay back down, phone on speaker.”

You do just so, sending a silent apology to your other neighbours. Sure, the guy living downstairs from San is always off on some business trip or another, but old Mrs. Yoon from the apartment underneath you is more of a homebody.

But she is quickly dispelled from your considerations when Wooyoung gets antsy while waiting, whining louder now that San’s focus is on you. He starts to babble in incoherent desperation, but he cries out as a resounding smack cuts him off, his whimpers slowly dying down.

“Don’t interrupt while I’m on the phone,” San tells him, coldly. “Sounds like you need a reminder. What are you, Wooyoung? Tell me now.”

Wooyoung chokes out a word that you can’t make out.

“That’s right,” San says coolly, satisfied by the quick response; but curiosity licks at your cunt with hungry urgency.

You settle down on the bed, phone by your ear as instructed. “W-what is he, San?”

San puts his own phone on speaker as well and the sound changes, picking up Wooyoung’s laboured gasps for air. “Tell her, Woo. Tell her what you are.”

“Just, nghh, just a fucktoy…”

“Exactly,” San coos, while heat flashes between your thighs at Wooyoung’s wretched voice. “And fucktoys should wait quietly for their turn. Now… baby, are you all settled for me?”

He’s talking to you again, you realise. “Y-yeah,” you moan, hands wandering down to your dripping cunt. “Help me cum, San. Please.”

“I’ll get you there, baby, don’t worry. I got you.” San had spoken coldly to Wooyoung, but now all the chill in his voice has evaporated, replaced by a silky warmth that wraps reassuringly around you. “Are you touching yourself? Tell me what you’re doing.”

“T-touching my clit…”

“Hm, good. What else?” His breathing is a little ragged, while Wooyoung’s tiny moans remain a steady constant in the periphery of your hearing. “Got your fingers inside that sweet cunt, stretching yourself out?”

You let out a soft whine, shaking your head until you remember San can’t see you. “I did earlier, but…”

“But?”

“Wasn’t enough… Wasn’t your cock…”

“Shit.” San groans hoarsely, a light shudder to his exhale. “Did I wreck you that quickly, baby? Won’t settle for anything less than my dick filling you up. Soon,” he rasps, “you’ll have me again soon. But for now, I need you to put in two fingers, alright? Don’t try for more; it will never feel as good as me burying my cock in that wet pussy like it belongs there, so don’t frustrate yourself. Just give a little extra attention to that needy clit and you’ll be just fine. You’re in good hands, promise.”

You follow orders with a hitched moan, thumb pressing down harder on the swollen nub. Already tension builds in your core, coiling tighter when the faint squeaking of San’s bed reaches your ear again, quiet enough to only be audible through the phone. Wooyoung hisses in response, struggling to stay still.

“Hear me move?” San asks, and you whine in confirmation. “Try to match me, alright?” He starts up a slow but steady pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin drifting through. “Fuck yourself on your fingers just like I’m fucking myself on this sweet little fucktoy.”

Wooyoung can’t help himself, whimpering at San’s words and growing louder with every jostle of the bed.

“I-I am, Sannie,” you whine, and somehow the slide of your fingers is more satisfying this time around, guided along by San’s own movements. You can easily picture those flexible hips swerving against Wooyoung’s lap, gradually picking up speed. “Feels, hmm, feels b-better now.”

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” San praises, grunting lowly as he moves. “Still rubbing your clit? A little harder now. Just how you like it, make yourself feel good for me.”

Your back arches with a pitchy moan, toes curling into the sheets. After a moment of searching, your fingers manage to slip into that sweet spot, sparks jolting through your nerves as you whimper shakily.

“Right there,” San groans at your sudden increase in volume. “Don’t slow down now, keep at it right there. Mmmh, I bet you’re dripping, aren’t you? You’re always so fucking wet for us, making a mess. Fuck, can you hear her, Woo? Getting herself off at just the thought of us.”

You whine, almost a little embarrassed — except that San sounds so fucking pleased about it.

“W-wanna see…” Wooyoung croaks.

“Oh, I’m sure you want a whole lot more than that,” San says with a tight chuckle. “Wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, let alone your mouth. What about you, baby?” he asks you, the smooth purr of his voice raising the hairs in your neck. “What’d you like to do if you were here, not stuck on the other side of that damn wall?”

“W-watch. Just wanna watch,” you admit, completely earnest. For all the temptations of Wooyoung eating you out until you cry, or San fucking you into a stupor, you are entirely fixated on the noises you hear right now.

It’s just too powerful, the visual of San riding Wooyoung’s dick; how Wooyoung is at San’s mercy despite being balls deep inside him. Sobbing with every forceful snap of San’s hips, driving Wooyoung closer and closer to the brink. You imagine how San’s head is thrown back, brow knitted with concentration and pleasure as sweat beads on his tanned skin, Wooyoung’s nails clawing at his waist and ass. Did he cum yet? Or is he hard and aching, denying himself until he ensures Wooyoung is utterly ruined?

Somehow you can feel San’s grin through the phone, like he knows exactly what is flashing through your mind.

“Cute,” he murmurs. “Not in a greedy mood today, hm?”

Wrong. You are greedy. Hunger gnaws at your stomach, sharp and ravenous. You’d tear down that wall with your bare hands if you could, just for a glimpse. Your cunt twitches around your fingers at the fact that they’re so closeby, yet so far out of reach.

“Hm… Wooyoung?” San asks, and there seems to be a moment of non-verbal communication going on at their end. “Alright, baby. Thought of a little something that might help you out. Would you like that?”

“H-help me out?” you say, too dazed to comprehend.

“Yeah.” The complaints of San’s bed slow down until they stop completely. “Wooyoung is a great photographer, did you know?”

The daze lifts, comprehension dawns. “…Oh.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Fuck yes.”

A rustling sound comes through the line as San hands it over to Wooyoung (or so you assume). “Shit,” Wooyoung mumbles, “that’s so fucking hot,” and after a beat you get the notification of a sent photo.

You shakily clean your fingers on the sheets as you grab for your phone — and almost drop it on your face when the file opens.

Wooyoung hadn’t exaggerated; it is fucking hot.

He has kept San’s face carefully out of frame; it cuts off at the neck, barely high enough to catch a few of his freckles — but the rest of him is on full display. San has one hand loosely wrapped around his darkened cock, balls hanging heavy underneath and a beautiful thick glob of precum leaking from the tip, captured perfectly on camera. He lifted his other hand to rest on the back of his neck, showing off his broad chest. His skin glows with the glisten of sweat, begging to be licked off his dark nipples and tensed abs.

San is leaning back slightly in a way that has to be deliberate, his muscular thighs clenched as he cants his hips forward; lifting himself up just enough to give you a clear view of Wooyoung disappearing inside his tight hole.

You can’t breathe, eyes impossibly wide as you take in every detail — and then your phone buzzes again, a second photo sent your way.

“Wha—?”

The sound you make at the picture meets somewhere in-between a moan and a giggle; Wooyoung has sent you a fucking selfie.

He is giving the camera a cheeky wink, eyes heavy-lidded and a strain pulling at his lips. His face is flushed, eyebrow piercing glinting through the bangs of his mussed up hair. It’s starting to grow out; dark roots clearly visible and the vivid red hue fading to something a little softer, not quite pink-ish but heading there. He has his head tilted to the side to showcase a prominent hickey on his neck.

“You look like you’re having a good time, Wooyoung,” you try to tease, but it comes out breathless.

Wooyoung lets out a hoarse chuckle. “Well, you saw the view that I got here, right?”

You swipe back to the first image, and inhale sharply all over again at the sight. “San wasn’t kidding, you are a great photographer,” you murmur, admiring the flattering angle at which he caught San’s body, emphasising his impressive physique and mouth-watering proportions. You suspect it’s a challenge for San to take an unflattering photo, but Wooyoung certainly did him justice.

Wooyoung seems to agree with you. “Well, the model h-helps,” he says, ending on a sudden, hitched moan. The noise of lips wetly pressing against skin wafts through the phone, slowly getting louder as Wooyoung whimpers shakily. “Ngh, San…”

San groans in response, lavishing Wooyoung with heated attention for a moment longer, every moan prickling across your skin. “Give me that,” San eventually says. “I wanna talk to her again.”

Breath catches in your throat, anticipation setting you on edge.

“Hey neighbour,” he says, lowly. “Are you still touching yourself?”

“N-no, got distracted…” you admit.

He chuckles, a raspy sound that goes straight into your ear and your cunt. “That’s okay. But you still want to cum, right?” San hums in acknowledgement at your whiny moan. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Then stop neglecting that poor clit, hm?”

You keep your eyes glued on your phone as you reach back down with one hand, sighing in relief at the contact with your slick folds.

“Let me hear those pretty moans,” San encourages, starting to move again, and you can’t even be sure if he’s talking to you or Wooyoung.

Either way, you obey him — you have no choice but to. Not when a downright pornographic soundscape flows forth from your phone; wet squelches and skin slapping against skin, San’s rough grunts and Wooyoung’s desperate keening. Within no time, you are back on the steady path to blissful release.

San swears under his breath. “C’mon. Are you gonna make me cum like the good little fucktoy you are?”

Wooyoung breathes with broken sobs, his tongue tripping over curses and wailing futilely as San rides him hard. San is unravelling himself too, panting roughly, biting back his moans. He is nearing that edge fast, and you are right with him — but neither of you are as fast as Wooyoung.

“Hm, hm, hm. Ah, S-Sannie, hmgh, f-fuck, fuck fuck, I won’t— I can’t— hnnn ah aHH—”

He cums with a pained, almost soundless cry; voice trapped in his choked-up throat. The strangled cry drives straight into your cunt, along with images of his convulsing body, trembling uncontrollably as he empties himself in San’s tight hole. It topples you right over, your own cries anything but silent. The hand holding your phone falls limply onto the bed, sparks shooting down all the way to your toes as your hips jerk into your fingers, chasing every cresting wave of pleasure.

The waves keep at you for what feels like forever, until they slowly begin to die down. You’re still gasping for air as you land softly from your high, accompanied by the sound of Wooyoung whimpering quietly, Together, you catch your breath.

“Haaa, hm, s-shit. ‘M sorry, San…” he sniffles, voice so hoarse it’s almost inaudible even over the phone.

San tuts coolly. “That’s disappointing.”

“F-fuck my mouth, I’ll make it up to you, I’ll make you cum so good, San, Sannie— let me touch— mghh—!”

A sharp slap reaches your ears. “Hands to yourself, Woo. You don’t get to touch my cock, that was the rule.”

“Then— then let me eat you out. Please, San, f-fuck…”

Wooyoung trails off into a quiet moan, just when you hear a faint squelch. San chuckles, humourless. “You like the sight of that, don’t you? Watching your own cum drip out of me. Look at that, it’s getting all over you.” Then he sighs, like he’s coming to a pained decision. “Alright, I’ll give you one last chance.”

There is a shifting sound, and Wooyoung makes a tired but excited noise that is quickly muffled.

“That’s it,” San says with a husky sigh. “Like that, yeah. Clean up your own mess, lap it all up for me. Make that mouth useful while I talk.” His voice comes closer to you again. “That sounded like a good one,” he hums, but you can hear the strained edge to him.

“It was,” you say, feeling a hazy giddiness in your post-orgasm bliss. “Sorry you didn’t get to cum yet.”

“Hmm, don’t worry about me. Wooyoung knows he has something to make up for,” San says. You can picture his grin, how his hand runs through those faded red locks as he yanks Wooyoung to exactly to where he wants, to suck every drop of seed out of his leaking hole. “Besides, you could help me out this time… if you’d like.”

It is an offer, but he puts it forth with complete confidence that he knows exactly what you’d like. And he is absolutely right.

You sigh contently, luxuriating in the soft exhaustion that is slowly dissolving your consciousness. “Yeah,” you murmur, and run a leisurely hand underneath your shirt, up to squeeze at your breast. Just a lazy touch, gently stoking the pleasure for a little longer while you keep San company. “Said I just wanted to watch you before, right? I… I changed my mind.”

San lets his moans slip more freely now, and his voice goes a little deeper at your admission. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”

You chew at your bottom lip, all your endless wants swirling around your head like spun cotton candy — until you finally settle on one to share. “Wooyoung isn’t allowed to touch your cock, but you can, right? Want you to touch yourself… and pretend it’s my mouth.”

“Fuck, baby…” You hear San spit in his hand before he wraps his fingers around his thick cock, groaning lowly.

“Want to suck you off so bad,” you say, playing up your moan just slightly as you pluck at one of your pebbled nipples. “Been on my mind for so long now. Wanna taste you…”

“W-while Wooyoung is tongue-fucking me?” San asks shakily, his steady composure breaking down. “Cleaning up his own mess so well. He doesn’t get as drunk on ass as he does on that sweet pussy of yours, but fuck… Doing such a good job, Woo…”

You can barely catch Wooyoung’s moan in response, muffled and covered by San’s sharp hiss.

“W-would like that very much, yeah,” you admit, wishing it was San’s mouth on your nipple instead of your fingers, “but…”

“‘But’?” he encourages, the word spoken tightly as though through gritted teeth.

“…I’d also like him to fuck me.”

San makes a sound that’s between a laugh and a whine. “Hm, s-so that is still on your mind, huh? Getting both of our cocks at once. Could you handle that, baby? Wooyoungie here can get pretty rough, he’d have you choking on my dick while your slick pussy gets wrecked by that pretty cock of his.” (Wooyoung lets out a garbled moan that seems to be agreement.)

You whimper at the thought. “W-wouldn’t mind that…”

“You wouldn’t?” San rasps, fresh excitement pouring into his heady aroused state. “Want me to fuck that tight throat until you gag on it, then?”

“Y-yeah… make me choke on it, San,” you say with a whine. “Cum in my mouth, wanna swallow it all down.”

“Fuck, but you really do love being a sweet cumdump for us,” he groans. “Such a good girl. Letting us fill you up from both ends, taking me down your throat while Wooyoung stuffs that pussy full.”

“Do it, do it.” You start to feel floaty again, carried away by your fantasies. “Fuck my face until I can’t breathe, I’d be so good to you, so good, swallow everything you give me I promise, give it to me. Sannie—”

San breaks.

You can’t be sure what pushed him over the edge; your babbling, Wooyoung’s tongue, or his own hand, but over the edge he is pushed, violently. He gasps and shudders, a throttled curse barely making it past his lips as he whines; a sound that could be pathetic if it wasn’t so fucking beautiful, a desperate release torn deep from his throat.

He recovers only slowly, with heavy grunts and huffs for breath. There is shifting sounds again — and you suspect San has slumped onto the bed, where you can faintly hear Wooyoung hum sweet praises at him, saying something about getting them both cleaned up. San groans in response, and there are more rustling sounds.

For a split-second you feel awkward and forgotten, unsure where you fit in next. But then Wooyoung has grabbed the phone, anchoring you back to him. “So… was that as good for you as it was for us?” he asks cheekily, and you fondly roll your eyes so hard you hope he can feel it through the phone.

“Pretty nice…” you say in a tired drawl, vaguely aware that eventually you will have to move again. Not right now, though.

Wooyoung just giggles. “Good. That was a nice surprise for us too.”

“’M glad,” you murmur. “Hey, um… those pictures,” you start, feeling a little awkward about bringing it up. “Should I delete those?”

“What?!” Wooyoung sounds outright offended at the notion. “Don’t you dare, that shot of San turned out way too good to throw out. Consider it a treat for you, that’s what hidden albums are for, right?”

Your lips curl into a light smile, touched by their trust in your discretion. “Thanks. Seriously though, it really is a great shot, you know,” you add on. “No joke, you know your angles.”

You don’t have to see Wooyoung to sense how he perks up at the praise. “You think so? I could show you some other stuff too, if you want,” he says excitedly. “I’ve been really getting into photography lately.”

“…Jung Wooyoung,” you say carefully, “are you offering to show me your nudes collection?”

He laughs, a sound you hear even through the wall. “No, no! Not all of them are like that! PG-13, these are PG-13, I swear! Still interested, or is it boring now?” he jokes, a grin in his voice.

Actually, that just makes you more curious. “No, I’m interested,” you say with a quiet laugh of your own.

“Hm… are you free tomorrow? We could grab some lunch together.”

His pro-activeness catches you off-guard, and you take a moment too long to respond.

“Hey, what’s with the hesitation? I’m a lot of fun to hang out with even with my clothes on, you know,” he huffs in faux-offence, making you giggle again.

“I don’t know, actually,” you point out. “But I suppose that just means I should give you a chance to prove it.”

“That’s the spirit! Lunch it is.”

“Without me?” San sulks tiredly, sounding like he’s on the brink of sleep.

“Aish, don’t pout, you get to see both of us plenty,” Wooyoung chides. “We’ll bring you some snacks over at work after, alright? I’ll buy you some nice gimbap or something, from that place you like.”

“Hmm alright,” San relents, mollified by the promise of food.

“So,” Wooyoung says to you. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Pick you up around one?”

“Yeah, that’s good. See you tomorrow,” you say with a small grin, already looking forward to it.

Wooyoung had spoken the truth; he is a lot of fun even with his clothes on.

He takes you to a small place about halfway between your apartment and San’s work, rustic and cosy with a lot of dark woodwork and lush greenery. The staff enthusiastically greets Wooyoung by name, and he jokes with the kind, grandmotherly waitress who sweetly scolds him for staying away too long.

Soon enough there is a small feast of platters and bowls in front of you, heavenly smells wafting up to make your mouth water. Wooyoung ushers you to dig in, pushes his favourites, and you bask in culinary heaven with the rich kimchi stew, sticky fried chicken and good companionship.

Wooyoung is both an easy talker and easy to talk to. Idle small-talk fills the space between you until the sharp edge of your hunger has been sated, and Wooyoung pulls up his phone to showcase those promised photos.

You had not been sure what to expect.

Honestly, you just didn’t know Wooyoung well enough yet to know what ‘getting into photography’ means; whether it’s something he is actually serious about, or if you’d end up scrolling through a random assortment of goofy pictures of San.

Well. There are pictures of San — but they definitely are not random, nor goofy.

Instead, Wooyoung takes you through a series of gentle candid shots. They appear to be taken on the same day, just a quiet afternoon around the apartment. Sunlight strews into the living room, casting a soft glow around San’s form as he relaxes on the couch with Byeol in his lap. Every picture is taken with obvious care to capture how the light hits San’s features just right; the slight furrow of his brow, the pronounced cheekbones, or his pursed lips as he lovingly gazes down at Byeol, sleeping in his arms.

In the next photo he stares off into the distance, quiet and contemplative. It’s not like you’ve never seen San be quiet before; how he used to be quietly shy in the hallways — or the quiet intensity in the bedroom, wrapped up in authoritative focus. This is neither of those things; this is a peaceful, intimate quiet. Brought about by simply existing in the world with ease and comfort, next to a person he feels safe with.

You look up at Wooyoung, who is smiling at the photo on display with starry adoration in his eyes. He glances back at you when he notices you looking, his eyes still gleaming. “Well? What do you think?”

“They’re good, Woo,” you say earnestly. “You really capture him well. It’s like… really intimate? I love how soft he looks.”

He giggles at the praise, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “Ah wait, hang on,” he then says. “These aren’t the ones I really wanted to show you. Making San look good is easy, right? But these…”

A faint warmth heats your skin as you remember the last time Wooyoung made San look good on camera. He swipes through some pictures, slow enough to give you a quick look, but clearly focused on getting to the ones he’s looking for.

In the meanwhile, you glimpse at the other photos; there is one where Wooyoung caught San’s surprise at having the camera pointed at him, his eyes wide — but they sink into a crescent smile in the next frame, dimples and all. A few other people pass by; a beautiful young man with statuesque features stands out in particular, a birthmark on his temple that Wooyoung has taken great effort to highlight.

Then suddenly the people are gone from the screen, and Wooyoung hands you back his phone to scroll through at your own pace.

You blink at the abrupt shift from candids to urban photography.

Wooyoung favours cool colours and clean architectural lines, that much is clear from just a glance. They’re mostly shots from buildings and streets that you could see any day, just by walking outside. The first impression of it is almost a little underwhelming — until you take a moment to really look at his photos.

That is when you notice the subtle perspective of Wooyoung, how he carefully manages to catch all these ordinary, common places strewn through the city in a way that sheds new light on them, making you look at them differently. Finding beauty in mundanity, hidden right in plain sight. You smile gently when you note an affinity for train stations and railroads, the overhead lines contrasted against cool blue skies in intricate patterns; simple functionality, turned into art through Wooyoung’s lens.

You take another quick glance at him, and ‘nervous’ is not quite the right word to describe Wooyoung, but he is definitely more subdued than before, more focused on your reaction.

The love he pours in his candid shots is obvious, but Wooyoung seems to know those are easy crowd-pleasers. He does not have the same confidence in this area of his interest. (He really should, though.)

“I know this street,” you say, tapping the edge of his phone. “But… I didn’t know it looks like this. Does that make sense? I didn’t realise it’s this lovely. It’s like… like you notice the things others overlook, just because we see them every day. I love them, Woo.”

Wooyoung bites down a smile. “Really?” he asks, like he needs an extra nudge before he can absorb your words.

“Yeah, really,” you persuade him, a smile pulling at your lips at how he lights up.

It’s interesting; Wooyoung’s photographs show you how he sees the world around him, shifting your own perspective to match his — but the images also reflect back on him, shifting your perspective yet again. Like you are peeling back layers, seeing a Wooyoung who is not just brazen and flirty, but also thoughtful and appreciative.

“You’re really cool, you know,” Wooyoung says, between mouthfuls of fried chicken and rice. “I’m glad it’s you who walked in on San and me.”

You almost choke on the stew. There is that brazen Wooyoung back again. “Aren’t you a sweet-talker!” you wheeze, hitting your chest to recover. “Coming in with the flattery after I’ve said nice things about your photos, I see how this works.”

He laughs in protest. “I’m serious, you’re fun!”

“Even with my clothes on?” you grin, unable to resist teasing him about yesterday.

“Even with your clothes on, yes,” Wooyoung says, grinning right back at you. “What about me, hm?”

“Yeah, you’re fun too I guess,” you say with a dramatic sigh, like the admission only comes begrudgingly.

“Oh, I know,” Wooyoung says, biting his lip at you.

You give him a heavy side-eye. “…And kind of insufferable.”

He laughs again, that loud cackle that twists his whole face with contagious joy, and he claps his hands together in delight. “See? That’s what I mean. We’re having fun, right?”

“Well, I’m just happy to know I’m not intruding,” you tell him. “I’d hate to be overstepping on anything.”

“Intrude? On what?” Wooyoung asks, confused for a moment before he realises what you mean. “Wait, on me and San? No way.” He shakes his head. “Listen, I told you that I used to be in an open relationship, right? But— Hey, now don’t give me that look!” he laughs, though you didn’t realise you were giving him one. “I remember what you told us, I wasn’t thinking like that! I just mean, I’m happy to keep things more closed for San, but it did open up the conversation for other options, youknow. That we don’t have to be traditional about everything. And this thing with you, whatever label we do or don’t put on it, it seems to work out for everyone, right?”

“I believe the typical phrase people use is ‘friends with benefits’,” you point out.

This time, Wooyoung is the one making a face. “No, not into that. Any friendship with me comes with benefits. There are so many more perks other than just the bedroom stuff, you know that?”

“Hm… I might need convincing,” you say, keeping your voice deliberately aloof. “How about I take you up on that offer to cook for me and San. You said you wanted to, right? That might persuade me.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but it can’t hide the obvious happy gleam. “Already abusing the privilege of my friendship, huh?”

“Oh, so now it’s not just a perk, it’s a privilege,” you tease. “That better be a damn impressive meal, Jung.”

But Wooyoung’s proof of his cooking skills will have to wait until later, and you first focus on finishing the food in front of you.

After lunch is eaten and gone, you rock-paper-scissors it out for the bill. Wooyoung takes the victory, and somehow he argues that means he has won the right to pay. And although you can’t find any indication that this restaurant usually serves food-to-go, you step out the doors with a generous serving of gimbap anyway, safely stored for travel.

Together you walk to San’s work. Wooyoung easily chats the time away, talking about the camera he’s saving up for, and thinking about what food he wants to cook, asking if you have any allergies.

Meanwhile, you look around you with a little more attention than usual. You try to see the streets like Wooyoung does, and actually find a lot of spots that you recognise from his photos. It dawns on you that he must take this route often, maybe walking San to work or dropping food off for him.

Soon you reach the taekwondo school where San teaches. It’s your first time here, but Wooyoung is greeted just as warmly as at the restaurant. He gets warned that San is in the middle of a class but that does not deter him; so you drop off the food just around the corner of a training room, where San is enthusiastically psyching up a tiny girl with even tinier pigtails to kick her target as high as she can.

You and Wooyoung can’t do much more than take a quick sneak peak at the lesson, but San catches sight of the two of you. He sends a bright smile in your direction, making a gesture of thanks when he notices the container.

Not wanting to disrupt the class, you and Wooyoung take that as your cue to give a quick wave and leave. Outside, you finally part ways for the day; him heading back to his own place, and you to yours.

But before you can get all the way back home, your phone buzzes with a notification. Wooyoung has sent you a picture.

Curious, you open the file — to find a candid of you that he must have sneakily taken during lunch. It’s a soft scene, enhanced by the rustic atmosphere of the restaurant. Your eyes shine brightly in the photo, filled with enjoyment of the tasty food; your smile is easy and sincere, relaxed in Wooyoung’s company.

You catch yourself smiling back at the photo, oddly touched to have become one of Wooyoung’s subjects. Then your phone buzzes again.

came out nice, right? isnt it good? 😇

You huff in amusement at the text, not surprised anymore at how blatantly he baits for a compliment. For all that Wooyoung loves being degraded, he sure has a hankering for that sweet, sweet praise too.

well im sure the model helped, you tease him, and chuckle fondly when he immediately replies with just a 😠 and nothing else.

#igby’s writing #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez fic #woosan x reader #san smut #san x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez #san #wooyoung #ateez scenarios #san ateez #wooyoung ateez #san imagines #wooyoung imagines

[adoregojo]

secret admirer.

hihihihihihihihi, i cannot believe i actually slept for two days in a row? wth? and also that i never did this kind of posts? im such a lazy bum mb yall, I promise I'll write a real fic soon. summary: bllk characters as your secret admirers: isagi, bachira, chigiri, reo. how they fell, what do they do, how did they confess.

isagi.y

him. just him.

you once held his shirt collar to stop him from planting flatly on the floor.

and when you walked away, you walked with his heart in your palms.

yea, just like that

but honestly, isagi himself didn't knew he was such a big sap inside

and the moment he realised you two shared a few classes was the second he almost kneeled and thanked the sky itself for this.

an absolute swoon from looking at your side profile.

he once was long gone within the abyss of daydreaming about you, he genuinely just couldn't look away.

then got called out by the teacher for being too distracted.

definitely prayed that you didn't see that.

writes your name unintentionally in his notebook.

gets so embarrassed about it later and rips the paper.

still dose it again the next day and almost ripped the whole book apart form cringing at himself.

he once was musing over you too much to the point that your name slipped out unwittingly on the dinner table.

his parents couldn't stop teasing him about it, wondering when they would see you walking down their house door.

leaves love notes in your locker almost everyday.

it's something short and simple like: "you look pretty today."

then when he goes home he'll realize how dumb that was because you literally look the prettiest everyday.

dumb, dumby.

takes time to make the first move though.

he just feels like you're way, farther away from his reach.

it's okay, he still considers himself lucky to be one of those who got admire you.

he just hoped you saw him behind all of them, even if it was a glance.

chigiri.h

omgg pretty boyyy

despite chigiri being a confident and self-reliant, the trigger words of his old injury was like a pulling a pin of a grenade to his still-raw sorrowness. something that'll always haunt him.

and what dose he dare to say when they were nothing but truthful? like a salt to his wounds, he tends to just take it and suck it up, or at least try to ignore it for his sake.

but everything flipped when you stood up for him.

from that moment on. chigiri knew that he was far a goner.

out of everyone here he's definitely the most romantic one.

reads all your favourite books and analysis it.

probably named a cat after you.

like isagi he writes love letters for you.

just a little too poetic..

it it's short then it's something like: "loving you is like breathing." or "i hope your days are filled with the same joy you give me with your existence only."

but mostly is: "my definition of love, i see the true meaning of living behind your hue of life. you shall lighten my soul with your existence alone, i was born to see you shin each day, witnessing you is a blessing from heaven itself. the day that i stop seeing you as the owner of the stars is the day my body shall vanish, yet my soul will know it way back to you. from your only and one your admirer."

what a lovesick clown.

he might be a smooth talker on the outside, but trust me the butterflies of sentimental keeps on swirling in his stomach on the sight of you.

told his mother and sister about you.

it was his biggest regrets.

because the next day his sister shouted your name in a demand for you to spend the night for the 'meeting of the future in law'.

he had to physically drag her back to the car, freaking embarrassing.

couldn't meet your eyes for a while after that.

wants to hold your hand.

like, really badly.

it's just that feeling your skin against his cold, pristine hands must've feel like the loveliest, cosiest thing.

the thoughts alone are making him go crazy.

he confessed first, just couldn't help himself.

he just hoped if you would go to the end of the world alongside with him.

bachira.m

the sunshine boy himself.

the definition of fell first AND fell harder.

it all started when the class was ordered to work as duo for a project, something he always despised.

you may say that because bachira was definitely not having the word 'smart' in his book, you'd be right actually.

but mainly since no one really wanted to group up with him.

it was embarrassing, to just sit there and wait to be picked was putting him under the lights that pointed him out as the most pitiful creature in the room.

then you pocked him on the shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to be your partner.

and when he didn't see the sarcasm reeking from you, he knew he tripped hard, and couldn't find it anywhere in his feet to back him up.

it was strange, bachira never had a company, let alone a crush.

but the signs were there, and were painfully vulnerable.

painted you in art class multiple times; you with a smile, you reading a book, you sniffing a sunflower.

maybe also you and him... holding hands or hugging...

stares at your face a way, way too long.

he tells himself it's to crave your features better and detailed.

even he doesn't believe that however.

he draws your eyes a lot.

his second favourite colour is your eyes hue.

he was never the best at writing romantic poems, and his hand writing is just........

so he insisted gets you a gift!

which is a rock.

yes you heard me, rock.

he would even paint a little face with a smile on it and leave it on your desk by the end of the day.

almost went bald from joy when you had it hanging as a small march on your bag.

and when you had a bad day, that goes unnoticed by him.

so imagine your surprise when you would find two pairs of rocks, one kissing the other who had a sad expression on it face.

that somehow that foster a blissful smile on your face. like that little action extinct any remains of the past negative you carried.

and bachira was more than happy to be the reason for your happiness.

definitely rambles about you to his mom.

and his monster.

he once ha a dream about you two smooching.

cried when he woke up because he wanted it to be real more than anything.

you two confessed first, at the same time.

and boy was he dancing on cloud nine at it.

he almost smooch you that moment and then.

reo.m

it's mister perfect everyone, cheer.

you fell first, he fell harder.

no, literally. you fell. tripped flat on the floor.

and somehow, that made the reo mikage heart move.

?????????

love at first (fall??) sight.

he definitely leaves a trail of gifts for you everywhere.

your chair, desk, locker, bag.

he switches between chocolate and flowers to letters and perfumes, necklaces, etc..

you say how he picked them?

easy, see something that reminds him of you, he buys.

and it's pretty foolish since he sees you in almost everything.

reo is convinced that you're within everything that shins beautifully.

he actually paid the teachers to let him be in the same classroom as you.

paid even more to get a seat next to you.

rip to whoever was sitting next to you.

he once heard that a guy was bothering you.

the next day the guy was the talking of school because he suddenly moved out of town due to his dad losing his job.

hm, must be karma then.

has a shrine of you.

but you didn't hear that from me.

talks about you none stop to nagi and ba-ya.

genuinely sobbed when he imagined you with someone else.

has a flight under your name.

made a makeshift doll of you so he can practice his confessions on.

had a mental breakdown of the idea of you rejecting him.

reo can the most horrible, miserable day to a human kind to live.

then he sees you smiling

BOOM

he's all happy and smiling again, also a little giddy.

you once greeted him good morning, the next day he was planing what ring would suit you the most.

had two planes to write on the sky: 'will you go out with me?' and your name next to it in a shade of a heart.

now, you definitely cannot reject that. (Please don't)

have a nice day everyone.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #isagi x reader #bachira x reader #reo x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #bachira meguru x reader #reo mikage x reader