#these posts are intended to help but i know the way i word things doesn't do it for everybody

[yandere-sins]

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days. 

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice. 

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle. 

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words. 

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all. 

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind. 

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it. 

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears. 

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it. 

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity? 

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world. 

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though. 

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" 

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason. 

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal. 

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted. 

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here. 

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy. 

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

#yandere doctor #yandere!doctor #yandere therapist #yandere!therapist #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[uncanny-tranny]

Your child self was right when they thought they deserved better. They were right when they said they weren't being treated fair. They were absolutely right in saying they are allowed to be upset or even angry.

Your child self was right. And you're still allowed to say that what happened to you was unfair - that you deserved better. You're right to be upset or even angry. Your child self was not wrong.

#trauma #recovery #mental health #encouragement #that post that said 'i don't want to heal my inner child i want to gove him a gun' was actually really helpful for my healing #like it unironically reframed the way i saw my child self #because i still framed my past as a shameful thing that i brought upon myself when i hadn't... #...nobody asks for that treatment. so i deserve to express my displeasure at having been subjected through it... #...i don't think it's helpful to shove away the 'dark' feelings because they're 'bad'... #...bad emotions aren't a thing. what is a bad thing - i think - is to deprive yourself of the space to have them or express them... #...even when you're alone and even when you can express those emotions... #...that shit isn't very conducive to healing at least from my experiences #and i've TRIED that. for years! and it's only lead to more pain to heal from #i hope this rant isn't coming across poorly i'm just passionate about talking about this #unreality tw #can't ever be too sure <3 #these posts are intended to help but i know the way i word things doesn't do it for everybody

[kettlefire]

Booo-merang Trouble DP x DC Idea

Okay but leeching off the idea that Jason gives off an ecto-signature, and I probably saw a post about this somewhere. I just for the love of me can't find it. If anyone knows it, please link it so I can credit!:

Jason isn't even on patrol, he's visiting the manor. His chilling, eating away at lunch. He doesn't come to the manor often, but he always needs a dose of his crazy family every once in a while. There's no way he'd stay away from Alred's cookies for long.

Then boom, something shatters the window behind him. On instinct, Jason moves. Taking cover and trying to get a sight of the situation. Of the perceived attack. However, before Jason could do much a heavy object rams into his chest before landing on the ground before him. It doesn't really hurt, nothing compared to his prior injuries.

A boomerang. A glowing green and silver boomerang laid on the ground before him. Jason's a million and one ways confused as he stared at the device. His hands carefully picking it up, and looking over the softly beeping device.

Jason thinks maybe it's a bomb, but something in his gut says otherwise. He can think of a million different things it could be. Maybe one of the rogues got a hold of their DNA, and it tracked them. Maybe it's going to expel a gas any moment, an attack on the Waynes rather than their vigilante personas.

Except it's none of that. The beeping stops and suddenly a robotic voice sounds from the boomerang.

"Ghost located, prepare for your end ghoul."

Jason tenses once again at the clear threat in those words. His gaze scans around the kitchen, still crouched behind the kitchen counter. Except nothing happens.

Except for a voice ringing out from the boomerang once again. This time, this time it's not a robot. It's a clear record of a young woman speaking. Her voice filled with fear, concern, and urgency.

"Okay, this should work right? You know what, that doesn't matter. No one but you should have a signature. Beside's Tucker thinks he set this up to go to you only. So Danny, you should be hearing this..."

Jason only finds himself more confused. The urgency in this girl's voice was enough to keep his nerves on edge. It sounded important, but Jason had no clue who these people are. Who these names could be refering to.

"Danny... Things here aren't doing to good. Look, I know why you left. You have every reason to. What mom and dad did... It's unforgivable and I don't expect you to come back. But, thing is..."

There's a lull in the recording. The distant sound of soft chatting. If Jason strained his ears, he could somewhat pick of the sound of another woman and man.

"Everyone thinks Phantom is dead. Which I would think is a good thing, but it's not. Danny, the GIW is on a rampage now that you aren't here. Mom and dad are on their side..."

Jason made the conclusion that the speaker was this Danny's sister. The message was intended for him, yet it somehow landed in Jason's lap.

"They have everyone locked up in the school... Radars to see if anyone has a signature, and if they do... They separate them from everyone else."

Jason's brows furrowed, finally pulling himself to a stand. He placed the boomerang on the kitchen counter. Leaning forward as he took in the words.

"We don't know what they are doing. Sam, Tucker, and Valerie... We're all hiding. We'll have the highest signatures, and... Listen Danny..."

Jason had a growing pit in his gut. He knew something wasn't right. These people were in danger. It didn't matter he didn't know about what, or who the GIW was, but these people needed help.

"... We need you. We need Phantom, baby bro. I'm sorry, I know you're still recovering. We can handle things here, but please. Please tell me you're still alive, you're in Gotham right? Tell me you're safe, and you're healing and still kicking Danny."

Jason swallowed, placing his hands flat on the kitchen counter. He needed to get this down to the cave. Have the computer tracked where it came from. But Jason couldn't move, not at the sound of pure desperation in this woman's voice.

"I just need to know you at least made it out of this nightmare. I don't care how you do it, just please let me know things are okay... They have... They have Vlad, Danny. Things are complicated, and I hate to put this on you... But Amity needs Phantom..."

The recorded suddenly broke into static, but Jason thinks he got enough of what he needed. Amity. The place these people were was called Amity. It gave him a lead, something for them to work with.

"Da... We... Help... They..."

Jason could hear the woman's voice breaking through the static. He gripped the boomerang, turning on his heels and heading towards the cave.

"Sam... Mom... Tech... I..."

Every broken word only fueled Jason's own urgency. Jason felt a strange urge, a connection. Something that told him he had to help. They needed to help. The boomerang found him, and that had to mean something.

"... I love you, Danny..."

Those four words were the clearest compared to rhe rest of it. It made Jason's heart seize, and he took a breath. He was going to help.

It didn't matter if Jason didn't know these people. If they weren't from Gotham. This was important, and something told Jason he needed to find this Danny.

Danny would be the only one that would know that to do. If Jason manages to rewind the recording, he was certain Bruce would be equally on board.

That voice, the emotions that dripped from it. It gave the sense that this wasn't just life or death. This was a world ending problem.

And Jason would be damned if he ignored it.

#danny phantom #fandom things #fandom #multi fandom blog #fanfiction #dc x dp #dp #dpxdc #dc jason todd #jason todd #red hood #batfamily #the batfamily #danny phantom batman #dc batman #batman #bruce wayne #Jason has an ecto-signature #Danny ran away to Gotham to heal from parental trauma #Team phantom are the only ones that know this #so Tucker reworked the boomerang #Jazz recorded the message #and it was meant for no one else but Danny #whoospies #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #team phantom #guys in white

[lovebugism]

Virgin!Eddie thoughts?

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | quid pro quo

summary: eddie muson is a virgin and doesn't want anyone to know (because being an adult who's never fucked anyone is a total reputation ruiner). but you, his favorite customer, are more than willing to change that. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.5k (holy shit this was supposed to be a blurb) warnings: talks of virginity and masturbation, the word "tit" too many times, a handjob (sorta?) 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for thoughts but i had way too many of them for a single post so i might turn this into a whole virgin!eddie series that will only see the light of day if you guys are into this so... no pressure &lt;3

( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

You were Eddie’s favorite customer, though that went without saying. It was something both of you were more than aware of. Albeit it, it was a little strange, since he — the supplier of your weed — was essentially paying for your high. He doesn’t mind it, though. He never did. You made it up for him in other ways; and, no, it’s not as perverted as it sounds.

It’s actually much, much weirder.

It was your fourth time meeting with him but your first time without any money to give him in exchange. You’re all pink and fidgeting and feeling like a total loser as you shift on the hard wooden bench across from him.

Your gaze is tilted away from his and down at your hands where you twist the rings on your fingers — “I was supposed to get paid last Friday, but my boss is paying me weekly now instead of every two weeks, so he completely changed my payday on me, and he swears he told me about it, but he totally didn’t— anyway, that’s beside the point. I don’t have any money to give you, or like, at all. Genuinely. I’m gonna be lucky if I get to eat anything other than top ramen for the next few days.”

“Damn,” he laughs, not in amusement at your situation but rather pitying you for it. “That sucks—”

“That sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, doesn’t it?” you keep rambling. “I’m really not. I’m just trying to be honest. I’m not, like, trying to do you over or anything. I swear. You probably don’t even care. You’re my drug dealer, not my friend, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't— I’m making a total fool out of myself, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all,” Eddie assures sincerely, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his lips. That’s all he can muster. He feels like the fool right about now because your words sting a little harder than intended. 

He always considered you a friend. Or, at least, a whole lot more than just a client. You’re the only customer he has fun with, who he can laugh with, who doesn’t just hang around long enough for him to hand you your drugs like everyone else does, who actually cares enough to make conversation with him.  

Maybe that’s why he chose to give it to you for free that day. 

Because he’s started to grow fond of you (and because he genuinely believes that you’re in a bad way and that money’s a little too tight for you right now. He knows all too well what that’s like.) 

But he asks you for a favor in return when you take the plastic baggie from him. It has him blushing with embarrassment like you’d been just minutes before. He can’t meet your gaze as he says the words, but he can feel the incredulous beam of it piercing holes into him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are willing to give me weed, for free, as long as I… help you pass your next English exam?”

You weren’t repeating it to mock him or to make him feel bad for being a third-year senior. You’re just actually shocked because you know a thing or two about the Munson’s. You know that his Uncle is working two jobs, and his nephew has resorted to drug dealing to compensate for their being strapped for cash. You also know that suppliers giving out anything for free is bad for business, so it’s essentially unheard of. 

And aside from all that, Eddie wanting to study — to want to try to be good at something rather than just winging it and hoping for the best — was almost as surprising as him wanting you to be the one to help him. You literally have Gareth, his best friend, in your English class, and he’s way better at it than you are.

You try to find what makes you somehow special but come up short.

“Is that, like, really weird?” he wonders meekly, scrunching his nose and peering at you through his lashes. His eyes are the color of chocolate syrup, you notice then. Like, exactly. And they have a sort of sheen to them beneath the sun, like he's trapped a star inside of them.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh that's as light as air. “Considering you could’ve offered literally anything else. Like, I don’t know— groping my tits or something.”

It’s what you were half-expecting. Not because you thought Eddie was that kind of guy, but because that’s how it often went down, at least in porn. A busty (broke) blonde orders a pizza, a man with an enormous dick delivers it… It’s a tale as old as time, really.

Your words make him tense for the second time in five minutes. 

He almost wants to be offended that you’d think of him that way, but his yearning far overpowers his wounded ego.

He’s got a soft heart. That offer never would’ve crossed his mind, and even if it did, he’d never be stupid enough to say it out loud. But he didn’t realize how much he liked you until right then. It wasn’t just a friend caring for another friend, but a boy with a crush on a girl eons out of his league (with boobs he would happily touch if she’d let him).

He clears his throat and irrationally prays that you aren’t a mind reader.

“I’m down if you are,” he answers with a playful lilt to his voice that makes you giggle again. He’s happy to hear it. Your laugh is like being basked in sunshine. He wants to keep it in his pocket when he gets lost in the shade. 

That’s the moment that started it all — the strange friendship that formed out of practically nothing. Who knew what being poor, free weed, an historically low GPA, and a missed opportunity for tit-groping could do to two people?

From then on, all your weed was free. As long as you broke down all the themes in Of Mice and Men for him, of course. And then, when he ultimately aced that paper, he wanted to run his D&D campaign by you — “So, you know, it isn’t totally lame when I show it to the rest of Hellfire.”

“Of course, it’s gonna be lame,” you deadpan from across the rotting bench. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

He goes red at that, a flash of pink blotched around his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glows cherry with embarrassment and smiles faintly as he looks down at his hand, fidgeting with his silver skull ring. It’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you grin to yourself without even thinking about it.

“I’m kidding, Eds—”

Eds. That was new, the boy remarks to himself. Not the nickname itself, perhaps, but the fact that you were the one calling him by it. You’re getting more comfortable with him. He likes that. It gives him a false hope; that one day he’ll be a friend to you and not just your dealer.

“—It sounds really fun actually,” you assure him with nod and a twinkling gaze that proves you sincere. “As long as you’ll smoke with me during.”

“I don’t really like to use my own product…” That was a lie. Mostly. He didn’t like to smoke his own stuff because that burned a hole into his profits. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it. It was far too tempting to have a tin full of so much weed never more than just a few inches away.

Now he’s got a pretty girl in front of him, wanting to smoke with him, wanting to spend time with him. Hell’s freezing over as they speak and that certainly calls for a celebratory smoke session.

A smirk pulls at his pink lips and he tilts his head, bringing his ear to his shoulder, as he looks at you with a glimmering umber gaze.

“But I’m willing to make an exception. Just for you.”

Eddie swears you blush at that, but he catches only the shortest glimpse of your crimson cheeks before you duck your gaze to the table. The beam on your face is only half-washed away, however, when you turn up to look at him again. You look shy, almost, as you peer at him through your lashes.

“You’ll basically have to start from scratch too, you know that, right? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” he quips.

You laugh again. It’s like the pinky-orange of a sunset. He could paint it if he had the right supplies. And a set of hands that were good for things other than rolling die and playing guitar.

It was his first time, really. In every aspect of the phrase.

It was the first time a girl’s ever offered to hang out with him and not the other way around. The first time a customer’s ever offered to share their weed with him. The first time someone’s ever wanted him to explain his favorite hobby and not care that he’s been rambling for the better part of an hour. 

He doesn’t even notice that he hasn’t shut up since he started talking, mostly because you aren’t giving him that look of annoyance people usually have when he hasn’t gotten the hint. Most couldn’t care less about goblins and villains and battles and knights and princesses — princess knights.

It’s more interesting than you ever hoped a board game could be, but less so as enchanting as the glow Eddie’s got about him as he rambles on and on about something that makes him so happy.

He’s beaming and he doesn’t even realize it. He has no idea he could light up an entire solar system with the smile on his face. You’d tell him if it didn’t feel totally inappropriate.

It takes two weeks to perfect the campaign, which isn’t at all long if you compare it to the year it took him to build it from scratch. When the Cult of Vecna (you pat yourself on the back for coming up with the name) is polished and Hellfire worthy, Eddie starts giving you weed... just because.

There’s nothing left for him to offer in exchange. And he isn’t going to turn his favorite customer down for anything.

“What? No tutoring? No D&D campaign?” you wonder with furrowed brows and a face contorted in confusion.

Eddie shrugs and swings the baggie full of greenery back and forth with the tip of his pointed finger. “Nope. I’m passing English and the campaign’s all finished — the guys love it, by the way. Thanks to you. You’ve helped me out with enough shit, so… just take it.”

“Well, now I just feel bad,” you reject with a scrunched nose, displeased at the idea of taking something and not doing anything for it in return. He can hardly afford it to begin with, much less without anything in exchange. “You're basically paying for my weed already. I can’t just take it.”

“You could,” the boy lilts with a sardonic nod. “My hand's getting a little tired here, sweetheart.”

You huff and reach across the bench for the plastic baggie. Your face is still twisted with an absentminded annoyance and your gaze still uncertain. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Cross my heart.”

“Fine.”

“Unless groping your tits is still on the table, of course,” he squints playfully over at you and then smiles softly at the recollection of the conversation from many moons ago.

It was supposed to be a joke. But you’re not laughing.

And when you nod at him, he isn’t either.

It’s got him nearly choking on air and sputtering for a response. “No, I was— I was just— It was a joke. I was just kidding.”

“I know. But, I don’t know, I’m down if you are,” you shrug. “That’s what you said before, right?”

And Eddie has no idea what to say to that. Of course, he wants to. There are a billion things he wants to do. He wants to graduate, he wants to play a show at the Madison Square Garden with Corroded Coffin, he wants to bend you over this table and fuck you silly.

He could do all those things if he were a different person, but he wasn’t. He’s just some guy who can’t pass an English class he's already taken three times, with a mediocre band that plays in front of about five drunks (if they’re lucky), who has a crush on a girl who’s offering to let him feel her up for a short-lived high. 

He repeats that last part to himself in his head a couple times. It sounds like a dream he had once. He pinches the skin of his wrist, just to make sure, and winces when it starts to hurt.

It’s real, you’re real, and that’s the scariest part. 

Because he’s never actually seen boobs that weren’t projected from a television screen through the grainy film of a VHS tape, or pictured in a crinkled magazine he stole from a gas station — let alone touched one. And the second he puts his hands on you, and you feel him shaking like a leaf and totally unsure of what to do, you’ll know that. 

That is, if he doesn’t come in his pants first.

He’s terrified that when you do realize that he’s a complete and utter, absolute and proper virgin, you’ll think he’s significantly less cool. And he can’t have that.

It’s bad for clientele. They’ll stop seeing him as the mysterious metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks but rather as some teddy bear who’s never actually been inside a woman.

He could probably handle the potential drop in income and the talks around school. Hell, he could even handle all the shit Jason Carver would spew at him if he knew. But the idea that you’ll stop wanting to hang out with him — he isn’t sure if he could take that.

He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t said a word until you’re speaking again. And even then, it’s all muffled like he’s underwater. 

“I can come over tonight, if you want.”

No, he thinks to himself. That’s far too early. I have to lose my virginity and learn everything there is to possibly know about sex first.

“I... I can’t. Hellfire,” he answers, almost slurring, still caught in a stupor.

“Tomorrow, then,” you challenge at his rejection. You cross your arms and lean over the table as you squint at him. The wind rustling through the trees carries the warmth of your floral-vanilla scent over to him, like a lullaby, or a magic spell.

As though he needed something else to make him all stupid.

Suddenly you're ten feet tall. Eddie feels like an ant. You could crush him if you wanted. You have all the power and the look you give him tells him that you know that. He fidgets on the hard wooden seat but can’t seem to break your stare. His voice is tight and a few octaves higher as he answers — “Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Great, even.”

“Cool,” you’re suddenly beaming. You stand from the bench and saunter off, tossing a look and a wave over your shoulder as you shout, “See you tomorrow, Eds!”

He has to jerk off after that one. He counts himself lucky that he made it to his van before he exploded completely.

Eddie has to become a sex god in twenty-four hours and he doesn’t know where to start. 

So, like any master procrastinator, he doesn’t. He just worries about it all night and the following day. He turns himself into a big ball of anxiety (if you touched him, he'd probably shock you) and it’s left him in the sort of worry that doesn’t let him sit still for too long.

Wayne’s sitting in his recliner, trying to eat his late lunch before he heads off to work the graveyard shift. It’s hard to enjoy his sandwich or the latest episode of Miami Vice playing on the television ahead of him when his nephew keeps bouncing in and out of the room. Making brief conversation, rearranging the knickknacks on the coffee table, coming in just to stand in place for a few minutes before leaving again to rustle in other parts of the small trailer. 

At one point, he comes in with the fucking vacuum and nudges at the man’s work boots until he kicks his feet up. Wayne’s never seen him do a chore in his life.

“What the hell has gotten into you today, boy?” the man complains through turkey, cheese, and bread.

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal.”

He’s never been normal a day in his life either.

Eddie disappears out of the room a second later with the whirring of the vacuum in tow. Wayne shakes his head to himself. “Boy’s gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles and takes another too large bite.

It’s unlike Eddie not to tell his uncle things, especially things weighing so heavy on his chest that they're starting to feel like pure steel. But his uncle doesn’t ask any questions, and Eddie’s grateful.

How the hell is he supposed to tell Wayne that a cute girl is coming over and that he’s jacked off three times at the thought of her?

Once in his bed, the first thing he did that day when he woke up from a dream about you that felt a little too real; the second in the shower when the cold water wouldn’t kill the boner he’d gotten; and the third in his bedroom, in the shirt he’d peeled off hardly ten minutes beforehand when he got into a bath. It made him feel dirty again though his skin was perfectly clean.

Wayne would think he was joking. At least with the “cute girl” part. He’d probably pat him on the back for the second one — “oh, to be young again,” he'd mumble to himself while simultaneously deciding to leave well enough alone.

Eddie’s so nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

You’ve got him practicing what to do in the mirror, trying to plan the conversation, ironing out the wrinkles of what might happen. “Hi—” he starts but then shakes his head and clears his throat. His voice is deeper as he continues, “Hey, how are you doing? Oh, that’s cool, I’m good too— shit, this is so fucking lame.”

He wonders how you’ll go about it. If you’ll offer first, or if he needs to ask. If you’ll make small talk or if you’ll just straight up take off your shirt. He’d take either, honestly.

He jerks off one more time, just for good measure, after Wayne’s left for work. He’s already tired and his dick is practically raw with how much it’s been tugged at, but he hopes it’ll stop him from getting hard the second you walk through the door. And he figures with the amount he’s come that day, he’s a whole less likely to do it in his pants when he touches you.

You knock on the door at 7 o’clock sharp, like you planned it down to the minute.

He straightens out his leather jacket when he stands abruptly from the couch. He rushes to the door and then hesitates with his hand on the rusted brass handle — because he doesn’t want to seem too eager, right? 

He leans to the side to look in the dirty glass mirror hanging by the coat rack, brushing through his curly locks in attempts to tame them. Then he shakes his head so they’re wild again.

He finds you standing on his porch in a tight-black sweater that dips down at your chest; the pendant of your necklace sparkles under the yellow nightlight perched on the outside wall. It’s paired with a white nylon skirt that stops at your thigh.

He’s only seen girls on TV in the suede boots you’re wearing — the kind that’s tight up to your ankle with a short and chunky heel. They match the color of your skirt. He wonders if they were expensive and how much you’ve worn them; they look brand new, like you’ve brought them down from the top of your closet just for him.

You’ve got a stack of thick tapes in one hand and a brown paper bag of snacks in the other.

“What… What’s all this?” he wonders, not displeased at your effort but shocked by it nonetheless.

“Thought we could have a movie night,” you shrug then slide by him and into the trailer. He shuts the door behind you and watches from afar as you set the sack down. It’s not quite flat on the bottom so it topples over and spills some of its content onto the coffee table — red hot chips and sour gummy worms.

“You mentioned that you’d never seen Fast Times a couple weeks ago, so I decided to go rent a copy at Family Video, right? And then I started talking to Robin and she started showing me all the new movies that just came in, so I got a little carried away—”

You're rambling, he notices, almost like you’re nervous.

It makes him feel slightly better, knowing this obviously wasn’t your first time hanging out with a guy (or being touched by one, if he ever got to that part), but that you were nervous nonetheless. Like you wanted this — whatever this was — to go well just as much as he did.

Eddie puts the tape into the VHS player when you’re headed back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You sit it on the table before plopping yourself in the middle of the couch — the boy across the living room has no idea you spent the two-and-a-half minutes it took to cook the snack debating on where to sit.

You feared sitting too far on one side might spook him from sitting next to you, that he’d think you didn’t want to sit next to him. So you place yourself snuggly in the middle of the decade-old sofa and hope you don’t seem too eager.

Your heart sinks to your ass when Eddie sits so far on the edge he’s practically sitting on the arm of it.

You muster a smile and try to make a joke of it. “I don’t have cooties or anything, Eds.”

“Promise?” he lilts. The way his voice shakes is purely for comedic effect. Obviously.

“Cross my heart.”

He hopes that by playing it off, you won’t notice how anxious he is about sitting next to you. But when he plants himself beside you, just close enough so that the rough fabric of his jeans scratches your knee every time he fidgets, it’s a little like sitting next to a rock. You spend the first half of the movie wondering if he’s nervous too or if he really just didn’t want to sit this close to you.

The film keeps playing and he keeps snacking — eating chips and Oreos and popcorn in a rotation before combining all three and marveling at the taste; “You’ve got to try this!” he exclaims to you with raised brows and wide eyes. He eventually forgets to be nervous.

That is, until Fast Times hits 53 minutes and 5 seconds.

The smooth bass of Moving in Stereo plays lowly in the background as Phoebe Cates rises from the pool water, clad in a small red bikini. The chlorine-laced drops of water glisten off of her tanned skin. “Hi, Brad. You know how cute I always thought you were,” you quote quietly along with her.

Your eyes are as glued to the television as Eddie’s when she starts to unlatch her top, like it’s the first time you’re seeing it too. You joked to Robin once that you couldn't wait until they made this movie in 3D.

Eddie gets hard as a rock, then. In every sense of the phrase.

“She’s hot, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers. He clears his throat when the word comes out too tight. “Totally.”

“That’s how I knew Robin was gay, you know? We watched this when I slept over at her house one time and I woke up in the middle of the night and found her playing this scene over and over again,” you confess with a laugh and hope your best friend won’t be too angry you told him this. “She was sitting, like, two inches away from the screen.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And when we made out afterward, that really sealed the deal—”

“Holy shit—” he sputters before he can stop it. “—Are you joking?”

Please, say yes before I come in my jeans, he thinks to himself.

“Why?” you challenge, shooting him an arched brow over your shoulder. “Does that change anything?”

“What? No! Of— Of course not!” It just makes you, like, ten times fucking hotter, that’s all.

“Good,” you nod and then turn back to the television. You move on quickly, and Eddie’s grateful. You keep telling the story like it’s one you tell all your friends.

“I asked her why she was watching it without me, and she said she got bored, but I already knew why she was watching it, you know? I guess I just wanted to hear her say it. So I just came out with it — ‘If you want to look at a pair of tits, I’m literally right here.’”

Eddie’s so entranced by your words it’s like you're telling him a bedtime story. He’s looking at you so intently, his gaze locked to your profile like he’s trying to commit it to memory. And when you finally turn to look at him again, he can’t seem to turn away, to even pretend like he wasn’t just hopelessly staring at you.

“So, then it became this whole thing, right? Like, I’ll show mine if you show yours. And then she got all awkward and nervous and lost in her head, kinda like you right now, and then I leaned in…” you trail off quietly, doing it in time as the words leave your mouth. So teasingly and breathtakingly slow. Eddie finds himself drifting closer to you, too, like a bayman to a siren’s call. “Just like this… And then I—”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence.

Eddie’s already kissing you before he realizes what he’s doing. Your noses knock together, the tip of his crushed against the side of yours. The sweet flavor of your strawberry chapstick evades his mouth when your lips press together.

He’s as shocked as you are.

He’s wanted to kiss many pretty girls in his life, but this was the first time he's actually ever done it.

You feel his face burn red against you when he realizes what he’s just done. He tries to pull away from you, but you keep him there with a hand on the back of his head; deepening the kiss and telling him that you want this — that you’ve always wanted this — without actually saying the words.

Refusing to separate from him, you maneuver yourself to face him more as press yourself against his side and tuck your knees beneath you. You caress the rough pad of his tongue with yours all the while, one hand balled in the shoulder of his t-shirt and the other anchoring itself to his curls.

You wait patiently for him to take action. To grip your waist. To lay you back on the couch. To climb over you and take what’s his.

He never does.

He hardly even touches you. He’s got one palm on your hip, but it’s so featherlight that it’s barely even there. His other hand is clutching the pillow on his lap with a white-knuckled grip, like he’s fighting to contain himself in some way. But you want him to let go. To lose himself with you.

The cushion had been there for most of the movie, something to keep in his absentminded hold and get crumbs all over. You wonder, now, if it’s a shield for something else.

Your lips click wetly when you part from him. A small smile forms on your mouth when you notice a string of spit threatening to connect the both of you. It breaks apart, landing cold below your mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Are you hard?”’ you wonder through bated breaths, coming right and just saying it.

Eddie’s eyes go somehow wider and his mouth falls agape. “Uh… No?”

Giggling, you ask, “Is that a question?”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the answer?” you pry.

“Honestly?” he starts with a heavy breath and heavier eyes, still trying to joke. “Whatever makes me sound super cool and mysterious and sexy.”

“I’ve always thought you were all those things,” you confess with a soft laugh, twisting a strand of his hair with the tip of your finger.

“…Really?” he can’t help but wonder. Those words are about the most shocking thing that’s happened so far this evening.

“Yeah,” you nod, then tease: “Because you've never lied to me.”

So tell me the truth, he can hear the words jumbling around in your head. So does. He swallows thickly and then admits, voice cracking halfway through his confession, “I’m so hard that it fucking hurts, sweetheart.”

You’re smiling like the Chesire Cat at that, big and sly and mischievous. You have all the power and you know it.

“Can I make you feel better?” you whisper to him, lilting like you're taunting him. You mean it, though, and he knows that because you’re already tugging at the pillow in his lap. You don’t fight to snatch it away completely. You leave just enough room to allow him to say no. But his grip on the thing relaxes and allows you to slide the cushion slowly from his crotch.

He can’t say the words because his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth and his throat is closing on him. So he just nods, peering at you with eyes hooded with ecstasy.

You go back to kissing him, then, unhurriedly this time. You allow yourself to feel all of him, to hold his face in your hands and explore all the bits of him you never got the chance to before now. You do it more so in an effort to get him to relax, to forget to be nervous, but it only half-works.

He gets more comfortable with himself with time. The hand on your waist finds a more confident purchase there and the other climbs up to your face, cradling your jaw while his ringed fingers get lost in the strands of your hair. Then he starts to kiss you back harder, more earnestly than before, like he’s trying to prove something. Trying to tell you everything like this than with words he can’t seem to say out loud.

He forgets to be nervous again when your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle — the kind with the funky edges, the kind you know goes together because there’s only two in the whole bunch like it. He stops worrying if he’s doing it right.

His breath is warm and heavy as it fans against your cupid’s bow. He’d rather take in small pieces of oxygen like this than stop kissing you now. You feel the same way as you straddle his thigh, careful not to move with too much haste that it knocks your lips apart.

Eddie’s legs part for you on instinct. When you settle more comfortably against him, he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs through the thick fabric of his jeans. He wishes he was naked right now, more so that you were, so he can feel all of you, bare against his skin.

But he takes what he can get for now. And tries not to burst completely at the thought that the only thing separating you from him was the thin layer of your cotton underwear.

It’s hard not to think about your own pleasure like this. You could so easily move your hips against his thigh, let the rugged fabric of his jeans and your panties do all the work against your clit and bring you to a swift release. You want to. You’re sure Eddie would want you to if you asked him. But it strangely seems less important now.

Because you know you’re minutes away from making Eddie come so hard his legs shake. And you always wanted to know what he looked like when he came.

Your hand worms out of his hair and down his neck. Your fingernails trail lightly over his skin, leaving visible chill bumps in their wake. Your palm falls down his chest and stomach, smooth like drops of summer rain. The print of his Def Leppard tee is rough and cracked with age. You wonder how long he’s had it, how often he’s worn it, as your hand settles again. This time on his belt.

For a split second, he’s anxious about you seeing his dick. What if you think it’s too small? He thinks to himself. What if you think it’s too ugly? But then he realizes you’re not even trying to take off his jeans. You just rest your palm over the rough material of the denim and grip him through it.

A groan crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. His head falls backward and lands against the back of the couch.

He’s bigger than you thought, and warm against the tender skin of your hand, even through his boxers and his pants. It’d be ever warmer if you were feeling the real thing, you discern, but you figure you’ll save that for another time. Because even though it’s not the real thing and there are so many layers separating your fingers from his cock, Eddie’s letting out small and breathy moans that tell you that you’re touching him just right. The more you squeeze, the louder he gets.

“Is this okay?” you whisper to him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts with a breathless laugh. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“Just wait until you come,” you giggle. It makes him moan again. His eyes fall shut because he knows he’s moments away from feeling what it’s like — not to come, obviously, but for it to be from your hand and not his. 

You massage him through his jeans, feeling him grow somehow harder with each caress of your fingers. Peering down at him, you can see his jaw clenching, the way it moves his temples, and the muscles in his neck straining as he climbs the peak of pleasure.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you're inside me,” you purr to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls shakily at your words. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. He wants so much to believe that it’s a promise, though. The idea that he could unbuckle his belt right now, free his cock from its restraints and slip your panties to the side and take you, just like this, with you on top of him and riding him for all he’s worth, that nearly does him in.

But he’s fighting to keep it at bay. To let this moment last as long as he can. Because it’s entirely likely that he’ll come and you’ll never want to do this again. It’s even more likely that he’ll wake up from this way too vivid fantasy he’s concocted in his brain. How good can dreams get until they’re nightmares again?

The hand on your hip darts to wrap around your wrist.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, gaze sober and sincere.

Eddie breathes out a tremble sigh of relief when you slow your motions against him. “I just…” he breathes heavily. And swallows. “I really don’t want to come in my jeans.”

You’re smiling again at that, pleased at how good you're making him feel. Like the pleasure is foreign to him. He can feel your grin as you lean down to kiss him. It’s a chaste peck, like you're just sprinkling yourself there so it can linger the rest of the night. 

Your kiss is far more fervent against his neck, wetter and more passionate. His skin has a faint taste of salt, like he’d been sweating. And he was, for the entire day that he anticipated your arrival, though there was never an ounce of him expecting this. You bite at the strained tendon and marvel as he shudders beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you leave your promise against his skin. “I’ll wash them for you after. Like a good little housewife—”

It was a joke and he knows it because you’re laughing at the absurdity of your words, at the reality of them. You’re probably the only person in the world giving your drug dealer a handjob for free weed and then offering to wash his damp bottoms when he comes in them — calling yourself his fucking housewife. But, for a reason he can’t explain, that’s what gets him.

Not marrying you, perhaps, but the idea that he could have this feeling forever. That you could bring him to complete and utter, blinding bliss and then take care of him while he comes back to earth. 

You give him an especially tough squeeze that sends a moan spilling roughly from his throat. His hips jerk up to their own according, his thigh jamming into your clothed pussy — he swears he hears you moan — and his toes curl in his boots.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he comes. He grasps your wrist and presses you further against him. His grip is almost too tight but you don’t mind it, not when you can feel the denim growing damp with the evidence of his orgasm.

Eddie doesn’t feel anything for a while after that. It’s just pure pleasure for several long moments. The fuzziness of his climax, your hand pressed against him, your warmth still pressed against his thigh.

But then the high fades away like a rolling summer cloud and he starts to feel the wet patch forming in his clothes. The fabric of his thin boxer starts to stick to him and he almost feels gross, like he’s a teenager again who can’t so much as look at a woman with needing to come.

But then he sees the way you look at him, grinning like a cat who got the cream — because, in some ways, you are. You look like you're proud of him. Like you’re secretly wondering how many times you can do that before it’s too much. He wants to find out too.

You plant another kiss to his lips. Just because you can.

“Take your pants off, Munson,” you mumble against his mouth, kissing him one more time for good measure before pulling away again.

“Oh— shit— wait, really?” he sputters. “I thought you were joking about— about me being… I— I don’t know if I have any condoms.”

He totally does, in an unopened box under his bed, collecting dust. 

You don’t need to know that, though.

“I meant for washing them so you can change,” you laugh at his embarrassment. The sound somehow makes him feel better even though you’re slightly making fun of him. You shrug and arch a brow at him, lilting, “But… I’m down if you are.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x reader #st oneshots <3 #published by bug

[ghostarii]

CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU ! ～ JING YUAN . ❛ i want your bliss on bliss; a little company!

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CONTENT WARNING fem!reader ❱ golf dad!jing yuan ❱ dilf!jing yuan ❱ groping ❱ praise ❱ breeding kink ❱ size kink ❱ perv!jing yuan ❱ PWP!!!!! ❱ age gap ❱ cunnilingus ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ pussy drunk!jing yuan ❱ locker room sex ❱ jy’s kinda gross ❱ coercion ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (pls stay safe) ❱ pet names (mostly pretty [girl] & little one ❱ dubious consent ❱ dirty talk ❱ not proofread in the slightest ❱ minors and dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  TIP i’ve had this idea floating around in my wee wittle brain for quite some time so here’s perv golf dilf jing yuan ! ! i didnt rlly have a plot for this nor an idea on how to execute the vibe in my mind so truly i apologize if this is not that good :’( this got way messier than intended n i took forever writing it cause i kept getting stuck. i rlly rushed this toward the end cause i rlly wanted to post it so i rlly hope u guys like it 😿 rbs n feedback is always greatly appreciated <33 (pls don’t report i worked rlly hard on this n comm guidelines r so mean)

˖ ⁺ ⫾  GB 7.2k+ words .

JING YUAN CAN’T help it. He doesn't know what drives him to do it; to stare at you until holes are burned in you or touch you carelessly or talk about you like you're a piece of meat, he can't help it. It's akin to a primal urge, or manly instinct that makes him defile you disgustingly and unapologetically—and it makes him feel like a gross teen boy whose dick grows hard at the simple mention of women, but it's something about this aura of naivety and peace that swarms you that brings this carnal desire out of him. You’re the perfect prey, helpless, unsuspecting, and trusting of the ill-intended, hungry predator. Everything makes his heart flutter and his stomach gnarl—he turns into a different man because of you.

Friendly, neighborhood, retired Army General and current Xianzhou Police Chief Jing Yuan was a mask to cover perverse, snobby, and icky pervert Jing Yuan; the one who got a kick at making you do silly tasks so he can stare up your skirt and who always told you to take a seat so he can press up on you and grope you indistinctly. He sees you and immediately a deviant fire is kindled in his chest, his cheeks heat up and his skin runs cold. It's nasty, but he can't help it.

He needs you selfishly. He can't stand to watch you talk to other men and tend to their needs—sure, it's your job to pour them lemonade and escort them to the spa and guide them around the country club for a look at all the activities, and he respects that you're a hard and diligent worker, but seeing you with other men boils his blood. It's as if the lines between reality and his fucked up fantasy world have blurred, and you belong to him, you're his woman and he stakes his claim on you like a wild animal. Jing Yuan likes how you don't question how he suddenly needs your assistance, and that it's impossible for anyone but you to do it, because it lets these other men know that you respond to him. He's never felt this way about a woman before, not even the mother of his own child, so it means you're special. You mean much deeper to him than you could ever understand and all he wants is your company and to love you down into the cage of his heart.

It's not a crime to have a crush. It's not a crime to be in love with a woman you barely know. And it's not a crime to imagine her stuffed with your kids after watching her interact with yours. A crime? No. Weird? Maybe; but Jing Yuan does it anyway.

On the occasion when he brings Yanqing to the club, he gets on his best behavior. They play friendly games of golf and lounge about in the garden area, and eat up a storm in the illustrious dining hall—normal father-and-son things. Nothing out of the ordinary, people wouldn't even know that all Jing Yuan could think about was you and how sweet your pussy must taste as he eats ice cream with his son. He stays on his best outward behavior, truly—you wouldn't have even known he was in the bathroom jerking off because something about you today set him off.

He walks into the dining hall, looking around to see you. Yanqing had run off to the pool ages ago, so Jing Yuan had some time to himself…or, rather, time for you and him. He thought about how he would take you and claim you for far too long now. He thinks about it too much, actually. And that’s insane; considering the fact that you only started working at Stargazer Navalia Country Club two months ago.

He goes to his usual spot: against the wall on the northeastern side of the hall. It's slightly tucked away, the ceiling lights on that side are dim and the roaming eyes of others are limited. It's perfect for him when he touches you and even more perfect to convince you to have a seat and chat with him. You always listen, always fall for his lonely old man act, even though you've seen him with his snob friends Luocha and Dan Feng, and he's more than well-known around the community—he’s far from lonely, but his lips utter such pitiful deception that you can't help but spare him some of your company.

Jing Yuan has been doing this for a few weeks. He’ll invite you over for a refill of the house's special lemonade, sipping the juice as soon as you finish pouring, letting his lips smack obnoxiously, his tongue running across his top lip, and muttering out an “Ahh, so sweet…”, keeping eye-contact with you. His plump, rosy lips will break into a smile at your widened eyes and flustered expression, and that's when he asks you to stay. “Wouldn’t you give me a moment of your time? C’mon…call it…customer service.”

Usually, he’ll sit across from you and ask about your day. He’ll listen to your short spiels about your coworkers or your university and even your extremely personal information about your family and friends. It's cute how you open up with abandon, and he likes how apologetic you get when you feel like you’ve spoken too much. He’ll reach across the table and tap your pouted lips, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Keep going,” and he stares at your lips as you talk his ear off. But today—today, Jing Yuan is pushing the limits.

He invited you over, and instead of you sitting across from him, he pulls the chair next to him. Your proximity is close, no closer than ever before, but close enough that you feel like he can hear your heartbeat. He drapes a buff arm around the back of your chair, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your biceps. He takes a deep breath, presumably to settle into his seat but actually to breathe you in. You smell sweet. He wonders if you taste sweet.

“How was your day?” the man starts. It's okay, it's fine, it’s just Jing Yuan—he’s fine! You nod your head, “Okay…not too eventful but um…kind of busy.” He immediately replies “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Your shift started at eleven o'clock this morning, and you clocked in slightly late earning your managers, Ms. Yukong, mouthful of scolding. “Again? This is the third time in a row…” She was a strict woman. Yukong was adamant about running an establishment—not a job. In her mind, there's a distinct difference, a fine line that separates Stargazer Navalia Country Club from other leisure resorts, and that line was drawn by poise, professionalism, and punctuation—the three Ps. You essentially lacked all of that. You’re always late, and if you’re not late, you’re just barely making it, you run around a lot and don't collect yourself. Oftentimes, you take on too much than you can handle and overwhelm yourself, making a fool of yourself before the very opinionated eyes of the patrons. And you were clumsy. The country club was your first service job and your first job ever. You wouldn't have gotten the job if your parents didn’t force independence upon you and you complained to your friend, Tingyun, about your unfair predicament, and she promised to put in a good word for you to her boss. That good word was a basket full of fabrications and exaggerations. Yukong told you that you were fortunate to be allowed to work at the club, but it was hanging in the balance if you didn’t step up your game.

Jing Yuan hadn’t expected a full rant, but he was glad that you felt like you could talk to him. He wants to hold you, tell you that Yukong is a miserable bitch and she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. You can't do any wrong—that woman wouldn’t know poise, professionalism, and punctuation if it slapped her across the face, so who was she to criticize perfection?

He gets even more upset when your chest starts to heave and you’re blinking back tears, explaining how you cried after leaving Yukong’s office and felt so useless and stupid. And you made it your mission today to do your best. No overworking, no clumsiness, and no more strikes earned. Your head was on a dart board, and Yukong was aiming at the bullseye.

You told him you just wanted to be good. To be worth something because you aren't incompetent. If only you knew how he saw you.

Tears run down your warm cheeks and your frowned lips curve into a sad smile, a laugh escaping as you pat away tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry…”

“…I should be getting back to work…” You move to get up but Jing Yuan stops you, his big hand on your thigh. This isn't new, but your eyes meet and you almost burst into tears again. Your lips frown up again and quiver and your eyes gloss over—oh, you poor thing. He squeezes your thigh as if to tell you you’re okay, but when that doesn't seem to stop the tidal wave of tears from beating at the barrier of your blinking eyelids, he pulls you in.

It's a hug. You've hugged people before. You do it all the time. Even to him—you’ve hugged Jing Yuan before, but this? This is different. He cradles the back of your head as you rest your cheek on his shoulder and he kisses your hair softly. He’s warm, like the summer heat, and your body feels like it’s on fire. His fingers stroke at your hair as if he was trying to soothe your feelings, and it works, you sniffle and softly whimper, curling your fingers against his thighs. He's taking care of you and if only you could understand what you’re doing to him. His cock is slowly growing stiffer and heat lights beneath his skin as it does yours. You feel so weak and small in his hold and God, is it doing something to him. Your breathing brushes your tits against his side and he wants to feel them pressed against his chest as he pounds into you. Your sniffles and tears that form small puddles on his shirt make him think about how you would cry from overstimulation and his big cock stretching you out.

He needs to get a grip. To stop his gross thoughts but it's no use when your entire existence is an aphrodisiac to him. It was a short hug, no longer than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. When you pull away, Jing Yuan can't look at you. He can't look at your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, clumped lashes, and pouted lips—he can’t look because he won’t be able to contain himself. You clear your throat and sit up, wiping your eyes and smudging your cheap mascara. He’s slightly upset that you’re leaving already, so before you go, he pinches the hem of your shirt, pulling you back.

“It's gonna be okay, little one. Have a good day.” He pats your head and smiles at you. You get flustered and quickly nod, running off as if to disappear.

You find it hard to have a good day when you’re wrapped up in your head, thinking about Yukong, yourself, and Mr. Jing Yuan. He was a nice man, sometimes too nice and you were unsure if that was a negative or a positive.

His touches feel like they’re burned into your skin. When you think about his tight, warm, and world-erasing hug, your skin tingles and births goosebumps to the surface. When you think about his deep, reverberating voice praising you and denying the existence of imperfection in you, you run hot. It’s a dangerous juxtaposition that left you an unfocused mess, productivity being the last thing of your concern. How bothered your body felt was in big bold letters in your brain, and it was hard to not prove Yukong’s harsh words about you right. You needed to get it together, but it was hard when Jing Yuan lingered in your mind like a deadly plague.

You catch Tingyun up during your dishes duty, scrubbing the dirtied plates, bowls, spoons, and forks and passing them to the girl to be dried. She laughs at you, shaking her head as she spins her hand around the inside of the porcelain bowl. “Can I be honest with you?” You nod at Tingyun’s question, “his intentions are less than pure. He’s nice and all but I think you should create boundaries. I don't like how every time you tell me about him he's grabbing on you and stuff…”

You have an issue with seeing the best in people. You can’t see anybody as evil—their actions don’t define their character in your mind and that's a fatal flaw. You shake your head at Tingyun’s words, smiling, “I don’t agree. He’s just…I don’t know.” you shut the water off, and set down the plate in your hand. “I think he’s just lonely—”

“—He has friends. His golfing buds…?” She points out. You sigh and shake your head. “Yeah, but they don't come to the club often.”

Tingyun rolls her eyes. “Can you be for real? What company can you provide to a man who’s nearly double your age?”

On that front, Tingyun had a point. You’re still in college, barely coasting your way through your third year and Jing Yuan is in his mid-to-late thirties, pushing forty. He was a dad and you were a student. He lived his life—he’s on his second career, and you’ve only just barely begun working your first job. You never knew what to talk to him about and you never understood what he talked about. There was a disconnect, but you felt like that didn't impede the slight friendship you had. “He just needs someone to talk to!”

“Didn't know talking included his hands on your ass but okay.” Her snide remark makes you frown. He wasn’t all that bad. Tingyun didn't get it.

Her eyes immediately meet yours and she softens. “Sorry.” You nod to her apology, cutting the tap back on and resuming your work. You didn't like to be judgemental and you wanted to give Jing Yuan the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t all that bad and you liked him—for the most part. She pats your shoulder softly. She does mean well. “Just be safe, okay?”

“You never know what’s going on in someone's head.”

It’s so hot. The weather forecast called for unbearable heat and ungodly levels of humidity. The sun was angry at the world, shining down harshly and roasting your skin. Surprisingly, the club had seen the most members today. It was filled to the brim, bustling and condensing heat at every corner that you couldn’t escape.

Your uniform was dripping in sweat and it was sticking to your skin. Your hair, pulled away from your face, felt like it was dripping onto your shoulders. You were hot. And luckily for you, Qingque had taken off from work today due to the heat, leaving her shift open. You swooped in and took the role, slipping off your uniform when the clock hit 2:30 and sliding into the lifeguard swimsuit. It was tight fitting but comfortable and paired with the visor blocking the mean sun from your face, you felt fine.

Lathering a security layer of sunscreen onto your skin, you make your way to the pool, reciting Yukong’s words in your head. You had met with her at the beginning of your shift where she told you this was your last chance. Lifeguarding wasn’t some fun easy-money task. Screwing around the way you usually do could be at the cost of someone’s life and she wouldn’t put anyone at risk. At all. So you go with your head up and a warm smile, climbing up and sitting down with a hawk eye on the pool.

The water was clear blue and rippling. Bare flesh and bright swimsuits are blurred and hazy under the surface of the water. It’s a nostalgic scene, sweet chatter and giggles from the playing children, splashing water, and pattering wet feet on the hot pavement work together to induce peace upon you. This is a scene you could get used to, especially when Jing Yuan emerges from the water.

He looks divine. His upper body is exposed, large muscles flexed as he lifts his body weight from beneath the water, resting on the edge of the pool. His water-darkened hair slumps heavily in his ponytail, flipping over as he shakes his head, ridding of the water. And the water spills down his skin deliciously, thick droplets pathing down his body. It’s a sight to behold and you can't help but stare.

Jing Yuan wonders if this is how you feel. Ogled and objectified down to the bone. Your shade-hidden eyes bore into him when they should be watching the children. But he likes it. He feels like today is going to be a good day.

He comes to the pool often, usually just watching Yanqing show him his “tricks”, but he notices the order. The lifeguards cycle every forty-five minutes. He noticed it the first time when one of them took off immediately after jumping in after a panicking Yanqing, but today it was going to come to his aid. Today was the day. He’d waited too long, thought about it too hard…Jing Yuan’s fantasy world was going to pour into reality. That in itself was a terrible horror.

He waits patiently for forty-five minutes. Splashing water with his son occasionally, stepping out of the pool for a rest, or waving at you as he floats atop the water. Forty-five minutes. Tick tock.

He stops you on your way inside. His towel was thrown over his shoulder and his wet hair slung up into his fixed ponytail. You’re so enthralled by his state that you aren't taking into consideration the lazily fabricated lie that he needed your urgent attention to. You were no dummy. Jing Yuan is an overly attractive man, but he was out of your league and the father to a boy only seven years younger than you. Your lives were incompatible and frankly, he wasn't what you were looking for. Attractive? Yes. Boyfriend material? Not so much.

Regardless, you follow him to the locker room to look for his supposed missing watch. You ask him where his locker is located and he points around the corner, “125D.” His locker is tucked off around the corner, deep in the row and far from anyone’s initial line of sight. You see his golf bag resting against the wall and Yanqing’s goggles on the bench and make your way to it, “Where did you last have the watch?”

This was way out of your jurisdiction, and, besides, he was the police chief—what the hell could you do to help him find a missing watch? Nonetheless, you listen intently as he provides the details: he took it off to go swimming, placed it on the shelf in the locker, and came back to find it missing. You nod slowly, diligently looking through the slim locker. There’s not much in it and not much space a watch could slip through, so you’re confused. It's clearly not here. “I don't think I can be much help for you, you’re better off checking with whoever was in here last.”

And then his body is close to you. Your proximity thickens with the chlorine and sandalwood scent he carries, and his broad form towers over you. Your breath hitches and your body tenses as a large hand lays against the back of your thigh, running up your bare skin until it meets the curve of your ass. He doesn't say anything. Neither do you. You feel like you’re frozen, stuck beneath him, and that only urges him further.

His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you in, resting his chin on your shoulder and breathing you in with a deep breath. You can feel his exhale on your neck and you shudder, pushing away to create distance. Jing Yuan only tightens his big grip on you, “I want you…” he murmurs, leaning into your neck. His lips ghost over your skin and you squirm, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.

You try to tell him that but it's futile. He presses his slightly chapped lips against your neck in fluttery kisses, wrapping his lips around nips of skin every now and then and leading a path to your collarbone. He steals a look at you from the side, “Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop.”

He now frames your body beneath his, pressing you against the cold lockers. You wince at the harshness of how he handles you—how his hands incessantly run up and down your body and gropes your assets and how he grinds his dick against your ass. He breathes heavily against you, grunting and growling in your ear as he edges himself closer and closer to the brink of losing control.

You try to speak up. To tell him you can't do this and that here is not the place. But you part your lips to object, only for a whimper to escape in its place. You’re shaking your head no but it opposes the sounds that leave you and the subconscious grind back of your hips. Jing Yuan uses his right hand to cup your pussy with a hardened gaze watching your reaction: your eyes widen and then squeeze shut, and you roll your lips inward, pressing them shut. He feels a slight throb when he presses his fingers against your sex, and the heat that radiates from you is all telling. “Stop fighting it…don’t deny it…you need me to take care of you.”

Kisses on your neck resume as he rubs your clothed clit, using the way your knees buckle as leverage to slightly bend your over, grinding into you rougher. “Can't you feel how hard you make me, baby? Fuck,” he whispers, his grinding now turning into desperate rutting. “Indulge me, just a little…say yes…”

You’re shaking your head no, fighting his words. You think that if you close your eyes hard enough you’ll wake up in the real world and this will have all just been in your head. The sight of the lockers in front of you dispels that thought instantly. You fight against your own body, swallowing down the sounds of pleasure that rumble in you at his touch. You promised Yukong you would do a better job. You liked working here. If she found out you had sex with a customer during work hours in the public locker room, she’d have your head on stake. But God, he knew what he was doing. It’s like Jing Yuan knows how to get into your head. All of his innuendos day in and day out, his flirtatious banter, and his wandering eyes the past few months have been test runs on you that he’s conducted for his fucked up memory log. So he could prepare for this moment. So he knew how to make you weak and make you succumb to his advances. You were a nice girl with a hard time saying no. You always indulged his requests and always did what was told to you. His constant “Say yes, baby. Say it. You know you want this,” in your ear was persuasive enough for your weak resolve. Soon enough, you’re quietly parroting his words.

“Y-yes…I…I want it,” you huff out, and he stops.

Jing Yuan lets you go—pulling off of you and spinning you around. Then, he’s swiftly pushing you against the lockers, caging you in with his big arms on either side of you. His golden eyes are richer, darkened with fantasy and lust as they bore into yours. His rosy lips curve into a sinister smirk, “Look me in my eyes and say you want me to fuck you.”

Your eyes meet, locking with each other softly. You’re telling yourself in your head that you can say no, but your mouth moves first, “I want you…to…” you grow shy at the words, and Jing Yuan smiles at you. He steps closer, grabbing your chin softly and your waist with his free hand, pulling you in. “Sweet girl…” he mumbles, brushing his lips against yours and bumping your noses.

Your kiss is sweet. It's the type of fairytale kiss, the type of wonderful kiss that whips the air out of you and has fireworks blowing in your pretty little head. Your lips mold and work together, and he takes his time getting acquainted with your mouth. He waits until you part your lips on your own to invade your mouth, and even then, he tenderly explores the cavern. He kisses you with dominance and experience. He kisses you with passion and desire. He kisses you like he’s in love with you.

You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him into you, chasing his kiss as if he was trying to leave you. It begins to heat up. Impatience grows like mold between the two of you, you begin to want and need each other more. His hand gripping your chin wraps briefly around your neck to pull you closer, and his hand around your waist moves to your ass, cupping a cheek in his palm and roughly squeezing. He sucks on your tongue, moaning deeply into your mouth. Teeth start to clash and tongues start to bump and spin, spit dribbling out of your mouths. He bites onto your bottom lip as he pulls away, and then catches the drool running down your face with his tongue, running back up on its path to your mouth. With your saliva on his tongue, he kisses you harshly one last time—a kiss that makes you lean your head against the lockers behind you, giving him access to the expanse of your neck.

He admires the hickeys he already left, kissing them tenderly before leaving a few more. His teeth drag on your neck, and he's pulling the straps of your swimsuit down your arms. It's agonizingly slow and you look away, not able to face him as he unveils your body to him.

It's like a dream. Even better than. All of his fantasies and perverted thoughts haven't done any justice to how you look—the most perfect, pretty boobs with hard nipples that are begging to be played with, the most gorgeous frame that pops even more without your clothes, your dips and curves begging to be filled by his grip, and your pretty pussy, which he takes his time getting to and unveiling. He gets on his knees, kisses your soft thighs, and slowly pulls your swimsuit down to your ankles. You try to hide, feeling vulnerable and anxious in your fully naked state but he pulls your legs apart, kissing the inside of your thigh. “You’re beautiful…”

“Prettiest thing I've ever seen…” he says, trailing up your legs. He doesn't give you time to fall into your mind. He exhales deeply, letting the air from his nose blow against your pussy. You squirm but he pulls your legs apart again, looking up at you as he places a chaste kiss on your slit.

You’re already wet, susceptible to his touch, and fragile. You slightly leak past your labia and his lips shine in your slick. Eye contact remains as he licks your arousal off his lips, swallowing your taste with a satisfied hum. “So sweet, too. Better than I ever imagined.”

Something about his admission flusters you. You knew he enjoyed your company, but you didn't know he put thought into you this way. It flatters you, to say the least, and your body responds in a very telling way: your clit throbbing and hole clenching in need.

Jing Yuan smiles at how you can't hold eye contact with him and how you look down at him with urging eyes. Your body gives him the okay your mouth fails to do, and he dives in, wedging his tongue between your folds to lick a thick stripe. You gasp loudly and slam your palm against the locker behind you, seemingly caught off guard by his action. And then he does it again. This time, making his way to your clit slowly, only to circle around the bud but not pay it any attention. And again, this time only lightly flicking your clit with his tongue and ghosting over it but ultimately focusing on collecting your sweet juices, slurping it down with an obnoxious volume.

Your position is fixed—you’re stuck. Your legs are draped over his shoulders as you basically sit on his face, and he holds you tightly by your soft thighs. Your gaze is filed unto each other, unmoving, and he watches with glee at how you react when he finally gives your clit attention. He wraps his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. You practically burst into tears. You moan out, immediately threading your fingers in his white locks. “Oh, fuck,”

He abuses your clit until your voice goes hoarse. He doesn't care that people could probably hear you. He wants them to. He wants them to hear his name flow from your mouth like syrup out of a maple tree—thick in lust and fatally sweet. Your moans sound even prettier in reality. Jing Yuan has come to the conclusion that you are one of a kind. No wild or active imagination could do you justice. He could eat you out for days—you’re just so sweet and so easy to please. Your clit getting sucked on sets you off and when he runs his thick tongue through your sloppy folds to collect your stream of arousal, you whine even louder, competing with his slurping and licking noises.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, pretty girl,” he says, pulling away from your folds. “Wanna taste all of you,” and he presses a kiss to your clit. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding rapidly, “Please! Wanna cum so bad…”

He’s determined now. Like a man starved, he practically feasts on you. His tongue is everywhere—licking and swirling from every direction and it drives you insane. You can feel the burning tension in your gut churn and to egg its release out of you, you toy with your nipples, resting your head against the lockers as ecstasy overcomes you. You whine and whimper out meek little “Yes!”’s and “Oh, God!”’s like those are the only words you know, feeling your orgasm so close that it heats your skin to the touch.

Your back arches and eyes blow wide, your body fighting against itself. You trap his head between your thighs but push his head away, damn near screaming at the top of your lungs that it's too much and you can't take it. This pushes Jing Yuan to do more, to tighten his hold on your thighs and suffocate himself in your pussy. Knock the tip of his nose against your puffy clit and probe your clenching hole with his tongue. His jaw hurts but he keeps it up well, humming and moaning endlessly to send warm vibrations through your skin. His name breaks off of your tongue so weakly and your head feels light. It's like something in you snaps, like all composure and decency melts off of you in an instant. You could care less about Yukong or anybody else for that matter. This entire room could cease to exist and it wouldn't matter because Jing Yuan has blasted you off to cloud nine. The feeling of his tongue swimming through your folds is pleasure in its purest form and it pushes you to the deep end, drowning you in overwhelming ecstasy.

The grip you have on his hair tightens and you pull the long locks as if it’d stabilize you from the wreckage your pending orgasm was bringing upon you. A silent moan falls from your lips, followed by an airy plea, “J-Jing Yuan, please..!” Your voice falters and falls into another broken moan. Your back arches yet again and your hips buck into his face, and there it is. That tight band in your stomach snaps and your orgasm wracks through you roughly. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves heavily—you feel like you can't breathe. And he doesn't let up, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit for the harshest suck of the night, humming happily as you squirm and spasm in his hold.

You come undone, dripping down his face like a rushing waterfall. He cleans you up with his tongue, continuing to help you come down from your high even as you whimper and sniffle from overstimulation. With peppery kisses, he pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips clean and rolling his eyes at your taste. “You did so good for me, baby.”

A carnal glint shines in his eye as he takes your waist in his hands, pulling you into him for a kiss. Your lips connect with fervor. He immediately establishes dominance, invading your mouth with hunger and greed. Your teeth clash and knock and your tongue is bullied by his. Your taste on his mouth is strong and it's hard to ignore it, and on him, it tastes wonderful. Your legs are jelly, useless. He holds you up with his hands but ultimately decides to press you against the lockers once again, grinding his painfully aching hard-on onto your thigh. No. This can't happen. The longer you're in the locker room with him, the more risk that's run. People are going to start leaving the club soon, and you don't know what you’d do if they caught you like this.

You try to push him away but he only presses into you more, rutting against you more desperately and aggressively. You gave him an inch, and now he's going to take a mile.

He growls against your lips before pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “Gotta have you, baby,” he starts, pulling down his swim trunks. His hard cock jumps out, leaking and hard and so thick it makes your eyes bulge out of your head. You can't do this. You open your mouth to protest but he just kisses you again, shutting you down instantly. He takes your hand in his, bringing it down to his dick, and forces you to hold his girth in your hand. He's heavy and hard. Two prominent veins bulge and throb and his angry tip spills milky beads of precum into a pool in his slit. He makes you jerk him off, groaning into your mouth deeply, “Fuck. Need you so bad, little one. Need your sweet little pussy wrapped around me, need to feel you, to fill you—oh, fuck. Let me? Give me that, please.”

He practically begs you. He ruts into your hand and speaks into your mouth like a bitch in heat—you’re finding it hard to deny him. And he keeps begging. Keeps nipping at your lips and swiping your jaw now and then with his tongue. He's desperate. And you feel like you have no choice. “…Okay.”

Jing Yuan doesn't notice the uncertainty in your tone. He nearly jumps for joy, kissing you so passionately and hooking his hands on your ass, hoisting you up into the air. You squeal and he laughs, kissing you again as he properly positions his tip at your entrance. “Been thinking about this since I first laid eyes on you,”

As he starts talking, he slowly slides you down on his length. You gasp and wince—he’s so fucking big. Your nails immediately dig into his shoulders and you try to brace yourself, but good God, it’s like he’s splitting your body into two. He slowly sinks in, kissing your cheeks and mumbling praises that don't do much to ease the burn of the stretch. You almost want to stop, but he's like a brick wall. Impossible to get through.

“You’re so tight…” He feels like he’s breaking you in. Like you’re untouched and not prepared to take him and it sets him off. Your whimpers are sweet and the way you hug him like you're scared to let go ignites that all-too-familiar carnal flame. He wants to ravage you. It takes a few moments but he finally bottoms out with a deep groan. “So tight…so wet…fuck, it's like you’re made for me.” He does an experimental thrust and his heart swells at how you moan into his ear and clench around him tighter. “Taking me so well,”

This starts a rhythm of slow thrusts, the two of your bodies getting to know each other. Jing Yuan is so big and he feels even bigger inside of you. Your cunt feels like it's being reformed in its shape, stretching around him widely to accommodate every bit of him. And your pussy around him was so worth the wait. Your gummy walls welcome him with a tight, warm hug, and you leak down his length unabashedly. The combination of your arousal and his slow thrusts get you two acquainted quickly, and he steadily starts to pick up the pace.

Jing Yuan has shortly found his rhythm. He thrusts up into you while simultaneously maneuvering your hips down and you’ve never felt anything like this before. He pounds you. Hard. Rough. And slowly gains speed. His heavy balls slap at your ass and your puffy clit kisses his pelvis and it all makes you weak. You bury your head into his neck and pull him closer to you, feeling enveloped in his strong hold. How he's easily able to hold you up and fuck you the way is he makes your stomach churn and knot. There's a rhythmic slapping that coordinates with his grunts and your cries and it's so loud and lewd, you’re sure the whole country club knows what you're doing. But it doesn't bother you. Because yet again, Jing Yuan works your body like an expert, plunging into your depths so well that you can't do anything but clench and drip around him like a broken faucet.

His hands are on your ass, squeezing and slapping your cheeks to make you squeal out, practically yelling his name for the masses. It all feels too good. He knows what he's doing—how to angle his hips and find your G-spot almost instantly and abuse it until you feel like your brain has melted into mush, how to mix the pain of his calloused hands slapping your ass sweetly with the pleasure he bestows upon you, how to sweet-talk into your ear and flatter you so well that butterflies are born in your tummy and your hole clenches even tighter around him. He's experienced. He's taking your body on a trip it's sure to never forget and never replicate, and you wish you knew how he did it, because he’s only been thrusting into you for a few minutes and you feel like you're about to explode.

He's now pounding into you more furiously, and you chalk that up to his orgasm approaching him as well. “I'm gonna cum again—!” you announce, voice low in a broken whisper. His thrusts get sloppy and he grunts to concur, “Me too—look at me,”

Your eyes meet and this might be the rawest moment you've ever had with Jing Yuan. There's nothing but passion and adoration in his golden eyes as he looks at you. And as he kisses you for the nth time this evening, it's soft. Kind. A complete one-eighty from how desperately and angrily he bullies his thick cock into your drooling cunt. “Cum with me.” It's more of a demand than a request, but you nod in understanding anyway. You want to feel him throb and empty out his balls inside you. You want to hear his voice crack and break as he moans out your praises. You want to feel him give it to you until he can't anymore.

He snaps his hips into you, hard and one at a time. He goes as deep as possible, making your eyes blow wide and spill tears. He's so deep in your stomach it's almost like he pops the bubble of your orgasm himself, and you're spilling all over him in a matter of seconds. It was unexpected and you drawl out a whiny moan, grinding your hips back onto him subconsciously. Your orgasm makes him follow suit, and soon enough, you're filled to the brim with his semen. Warm ropes mix nastily with your own release and it drips out of your hole as he continues to thrust through your orgasms.

“Oh shit…’s good, little one.” He kisses your cheek and carries you to the bench, laying you down. “One more for me, ‘kay?”

Your mind is lagging behind. You didn't even catch his statement until he was sliding into you again, pressing your hands against your stomach to feel him inside of you. “So deep…”

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” He wastes no time, not sparing a second to waste. You're still so sensitive, and so is he, and everything is so sloppy. So messy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he finds your sweet spot again, and fuck, it feels so good. “‘M not gonna last…”

Jing Yuan basically crushes you against the hard bench, closing the proximity between you two and harboring the flame between your chests. His head in the crook of your neck shakes, “Me neither. Want you to keep it all in.” His pathetic rutting elicits the wettest sounds from your pussy, and the empty locker room echoes it around with bass. He runs on and on about stuffing you full, fucking his kids into you and you don't know what at what point that started to sound good to you. Your belly rumbled in that all-too-familiar wait, your orgasm wasted no time in building.

Your eyes start to tear even harder and white blotches soon cover your whole line of sight—but not before Jing Yuan stills inside of you, dumping his second load inside of you with a guttural groan and clench of his abdomen. He rubs rough circles on your clit, murmuring about how you can do it until you clench around him, squirming beneath him as your orgasm hits you again. He doesn't pull out. He keeps you plugged up with his cock, forbidding his cum from leaving you. You didn't expect this to happen. Ever. But Jing Yuan? He always knew. It was just a matter of when.

So when your sight returns and you open your eyes to see him leaning over you, you smile happily. It was almost like you're Cinderella and he's Prince Charming, coming to rescue you from your hellish job in the most unconventional way possible. But unconventional feels good.

He won. No matter what he had to do, he won. His fantasy came to fruition and he would rather nothing else. This moment will be forever cherished, even if the distant opening of the door sounds off, and footsteps rapidly approaching bring you back to reality. He won. And nothing, or nobody, can change that. You’re all his now.

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #honkai smut #honkai star rail x you #minors & ageless blogs do not interact. #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr jing yuan #hsr x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x you #☆. on queue #jing yuan #hsr angst #hsr fanfic #jing yuan imagines

[doberbutts]

(Some other guy entirely here) I do think there's not much of a reason to be so against the terms tma/tme though, and I don't really understand why some people are? Like, in the same way we want a word to describe our experiences so do transfems, and while I do believe that all trans people are affected by transphobia and misogyny, it's obviously also true that we're affected by it differently depending on how we present, cause otherwise we'd all be satisfied with just the term transphobia (not saying anything new here so far)

So, since it just so happened that the term transmisogyny was coined to mean specifically the oppression transfems face (regardless of what anyone might feel on the matter, that is what it means in practice), what's really so wrong with having terminology to specify whether you're affected by it or not in online discussions of specifically transmisogyny? I'd think that would be relevant enough information, and you're not obligated to share it unless you want to.

I think what's really bothering a lot of people is that these terms exist for half of our community but there's no acceptable equivalent for the other half, and there's constant backlash against attempts to fill that void in the language. But that's not the fault of anyone who advocates for the use of tme/tma, or rather, they are separate issues that I don't believe should be conflated even if the proponents of tme/tma are the same people who are against specific terms for transmasc oppression.

When we do this, from the pov of trans women we are the ones rejecting their terminology and trying to silence them when they talk about their discrimination, and since we know exactly how that feels, I think we as a community should take a step back on the matter and just let it be.

Just because we feel dismissed when it comes to a similar matter doesn't mean we should dismiss in turn.

Not that anyone needs my permission or anything for this but:

I don't really have any problem with the words transmisogyny or trans-misogyny, as I think they are valuable labels to discuss a specific intersection of transphobia and misogyny.

I am not sure I necessarily have a problem with the terms TMA or TME themselves, outside of that I think it is not possible to be exempt from oppression because it will apply to you even if the label itself is wrong. This is also how hate crime and discrimination law works in this country- it is both your label and what the offender thinks of you, not just one or the other.

In other words, the guy who screamed at me about how I'm a Mexican is incorrect because I'm not Mexican, but it is still considered to be discrimination against Mexicans because it was his hatred of Mexicans that fueled the attack. It doesn't mean that actual Mexicans aren't the actual targets or this, but it does mean that it's not possible for me to be exempt from anti-Mexican sentiment. It doesn't mean that hatred of Mexicans doesn't exist, it does mean that if I want to stop getting screamed at for saying non-English words while visibly brown (I said pate, which is FRENCH and not Spanish, in reference to a can of dog food he was buying), then I need to ally myself with Mexicans and see what I can do to help decrease this hatred of Mexicans within my country.

What I do have a problem with is how these words are used and applied.

Caster Semenya is a "TME" intersex woman who was caught by transmisogynist Olympic rulings intended to hurt trans women, and to this day is still not recognized as a woman. How is this exempt from transmisogyny? She is literally being affected by transmisogyny- and interphobia, and misogynoir, and lesbophobia. And there are more examples than that, but this will already be a long enough post.

Moreover, I'm finding a lot of hypocrisy in the theory itself, labeling certain instances of oppression as things only TMA people experience and then refusing to listen when TME people say that they experience it too. I don't really care what or how people talk about their own experiences, but I do think it's a little ridiculous to be told that someone else who is not me can tell me what I experience better than I can. And then refuse to listen when I say that I have felt the hurts they're saying don't apply to me.

If TMA/TME had stayed within the limits you've set, being about descriptors of your own personal experience rather than trying to apply theory to entire demographics in a way that very little other theorycrafting does, I wouldn't have cared. Unfortunately that's not how it's being used and I don't like that.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Magic Man

Summary: Elvis breaks in a virgin. Word count: ~2,200 words of pure, unadulterated smut inspired by this post. This is purely a work of fiction, and from what I have read of how Elvis actually treated his lovers in real life, is probably a lot less tender and loving than the actual Elvis would have been. But it's make believe and fun, so enjoy it! Warnings: 20 year age gap, dubious consent at some points, full intercourse, course language. Somewhat callous treatment of Elvis' taste for younger women.

His bedroom is a gilded cage, dripping with excess and the stench of hedonism. Elvis's entourage has left them alone, finally, after weeks of teasing glances and knowing winks. Tonight, it’s just him and his prey—sweet little Molly van Patton. All night, she’s tried to resist, but his primal aura is too strong to deny. He’s charming. Dangerous. A seasoned, world-famous rock star. And she's just a 19-year-old innocent, trembling on the edge of womanhood. Just like he likes ‘em.

Their meeting felt like some sort of strange, cosmic joke. She wasn’t a fan, hadn’t even intended to go see his show. But her best friend convinced her, one thing led to another, and now here she is, somehow lying in his colossal bed like a tiny helpless creature, her presence filling him with a burning desire to crush and destroy.

Now, he traces his lips down her neck, pausing to nuzzle at the hollow of her collarbone. Sweetly at first, then more insistently as she drags long, jagged breaths. Molly can’t help but gasp under the full weight of him, her body opening up in ways she’s never experienced before. It’s heady and intoxicating and dangerous and delicious and—

Oh. Oh. 

Each touch sets off an electric current, making her arch closer. She runs her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, feeling the cool metal of his gold lion's head medallion pressed against her own breasts. But as he reaches for her waistband, she hesitates.

“Stop,” Molly trembles. Heat flushes her cheeks. "I’m not… I don’t…"

Elvis nuzzles her neck. His hand is dangerously close to unzipping her skirt. He’s in a taking mood tonight.

“Please,” she pleads. “Won’t they know what we’re doing in here?”

Elvis chuckles, a low, deep rumbling sound that vibrates through her very bones. “Baby, they don’t care. They’re probably already placing bets on how long you’ll last.”

Molly's heart plummets into her stomach. Of course they knew. All those knowing glances and hushed whispers, they’d known all along. Her face flushes and it's all she can do to grab her things and run.

But Elvis doesn't give her time to process this newfound knowledge. His insistent lips find her earlobe, nibbling it lightly as he whispers lewd suggestions she can't comprehend but her body understands. Against her better judgment, heat pools between her legs, and she bites back a moan of desire. 

"Just one more," Elvis purrs, his voice thick with want, sending shivers down Molly's spine. "One more’n I'll stop.”

But one more turns into two, and then three, and before she knows it, she’s powerless under him. She feebly attempts to push him away, but his strong arms grasp her tighter. His grip is firm but not quite enough to leave bruises. Not yet at least. But she knows it’s coming. Braces for it. His lips find her neck again.

The heat between her thighs grows unbearable, and she clenches them together, as if that could stop the freight train that is Elvis Presley. As if it could cool the fire raging through her veins. She’s never felt so alive, so free, so needed and… so scared, as she does tonight in his arms. But as he inches lower, kiss by agonizing kiss awakening something primal inside her, Molly panics.

This is really happening.

She’s about to give herself to a man she barely knows, a man nearly twenty years her senior. One who could crush her like a fly if he wanted to. Her heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline coursing as she manages to shove him off. 

“No!” she cries out, the word catching in her throat. Molly’s outburst gives Elvis pause. Hurt and confusion flash across his face as he pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“What is it?” his voice is gruff but not unkind.

Molly turns her face away, cheeks flaming. How can she tell him? That despite her adventurous friend and all the talk, she's never actually… that he would be her first. 

Elvis regards her steadily. Impossibly long black lashes curtain the genuine concern in his eyes. Molly's pulse throbs in her ears. 

"Please don't make me say it," she whispers finally. Molly squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. But a single drop escapes, trailing down her cheek. 

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "It's just… I've never…"

Understanding dawns on Elvis' face. He brushes the tear from her face with surprising tenderness. 

"Never been with a man before?" he asks gently. 

Molly shakes her head, a furious blush creeping up her neck. She expects anger, derision, rejection. For him to throw her out and call for the next girl. 

But instead, Elvis tips her chin up to look at him. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Molly's breath catches in her throat as Elvis regards her with unexpected tenderness. His hands, which moments before seemed so insistent, now caress her face and arms with featherlight touches. 

"I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elvis shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Oh darlin', that don't matter one bit to me. I want you, Molly girl. I want to make you feel real good." 

He drags his thumb over her bottom lip and Molly shivers. She knows she should leave, should find Doreen and book it out of there before she does something reckless. But the way Elvis is looking at her, like she's the only woman in the world… it makes her feel powerful. Desired. Dangerous.

She... likes it?

"Just relax and lemme take care of you," Elvis murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. With that, the last of her resolve melts. 

His hands, knowing and sure, explore her curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moans, melting into him, her body betraying her. She's scared, yes, but she's also aching for more. He senses her hesitation, easing her back even further, parting her thighs with a tenderness belied by the impressive size of his hands. His eyes are hungry, admiring the perfect, trembling creature before him. 

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, running a calloused finger along her jawline. His words were like sweet poison, both thrilling and terrifying. "Shh, baby," he coos, "I gotcha."

He kisses her, his lips firm yet gentle, as if he can taste her innocence. Her first kiss, her first everything, all with him. She was born for him.

*

His lips trail down her breasts, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Molly arches into the sensation, the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin. His hand slides down to her stomach, fingertips tracing the sensitive flesh just below her belly button. 

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks hoarsely. She shakes her head, unable to form words. "Say it, Molly girl." He presses a kiss to her hip bone, nipping lightly at it. 

"No," she gasps. "Don't stop."

He smiles against her skin. "Good girl," he purrs before lowering his mouth to where she's aching for him most.

His tongue flicks forward, teasing her entrance and Molly cries out, her fingers curling into the silk sheets. She looks down at him—somewhere down there—through one open eye.

"Is that what... are you supposed to be—"

Before she can finish her sentence, his hands grip her thighs. Fear and desire battle within her, but desire wins out as curious pecks and licks turn into long, languid strokes. Bracing himself, Elvis feasts on her, like she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. She finally opens her eyes and there he is in all his glory: lapping at her, coaxing the desire out of her body and onto his waiting tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through her. "Oh God," she whuffs out, her head thrown back in ecstasy. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice wonders what everyone else must be thinking. But then Elvis's tongue buries itself deep within again, soft and wet, and all thoughts vanish into thin air. His hands grip the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her closer to him as he laps at her vulnerable center. She's never felt anything like this before, the pleasure so unbearable it hurts. 

"That's it, baby," he growls into her glistening pussy, "ride it out."

And she does. His tongue flicks and swirls, plunging inside her, mimicking what she imagines is his impressive length. 

By now, the whole house must hear her moans, but she doesn’t care. She’s coming undone whether she wants to or not, and she’s never felt more alive.

“Oh, Elvis,” she moans, her voice high and desperate, “Oh, I—”

Molly van Patton shudders and bucks against him, her first ever orgasm coursing through her body like wildfire. He doesn't stop though, not until she's sobbing and spent, her juices coating his face. He looks up at her through hooded lids, a satisfied smirk on his full lips.

“I ain’t done with you yet.”

*

He moves up her body, his manhood hard and throbbing against her thigh. Her entrance flutters in anticipation, and Elvis smiles at the sight. He positions himself there, large and intimidating. 

“Relax, li’l girl,” he whispers in her ear. “I’ll be real gentle.” Molly looks up at him, eyes wide, pleading. 

“You sure you want this?”

She nods dutifully.

“Say it f’me, now.” 

“I want you inside me.”

That’s all he needs. Before she can take it back, he slides in an inch, and then another. He’s so big, stretching her so wide she’s certain she’ll split in half. Certain he'll pierce her and she'll never be the same again. Tears leak from her eyes, mixing with the mascara from earlier.

“Shh,” he soothes, “I got you.” His accent is thicker than usual, sweet like molasses. Slowly, bit by excruciating bit, Elvis works himself inside her tight heat. Molly bites her lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway.

At that, Elvis groans, and then he’s entering her more and more until he bottoms out. He's still for a moment, ensuring she can truly take in all of his length. “Tell me how it feels,” he grunts, as he slowly picks up speed.

“It hurts,” she pants out. But it’s a delectable sort of hurt. He’s filling her up in ways she never thought possible. Each thrust has her teeth bitting his shoulder tighter.

“I know, baby,” he coos into her ear, “but it gets better, I promise.”

And somehow, it does. The pain eases and is replaced with a delicious ache that has her hips rocking towards his.. Heat pools in her belly as he claims her with every thrust, like she was made for him and only him.

“You’re so tight,” he moans. “Made for me.”

It’s a mantra, a vow, as a he pistons in and out, breaking her in with every stroke. Her climax from before was nothing compared to this. She’s soon whimpering, clawing at his back, an evil sob stuck in her throat. 

"That's it, baby," he pants, "give it all to me."

Elvis pulls out swiftly, leaving Molly empty and aching. In one smooth motion, he flips her over onto her stomach. 

"On your knees," he commands.

Molly whimpers but obeys, presenting herself to him on all fours. Elvis groans at the sight, gripping her hips tightly. 

He enters her from behind in one powerful thrust. Molly cries out, the new angle allowing him to penetrate her even deeper. Elvis sets a ruthless pace, pounding into her relentlessly.

The sound of slapping flesh fills the air as he claims her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. He hits a spot deep inside that has Molly seeing stars. She pushes her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough.

"That's right, take it," Elvis growls. His breathing is labored in her ear, hot and ragged. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto her shoulder blades, but he doesn’t relent. “You’re taking me so good. You love it, don’t you?”

She does. Oh, God, does she ever. Fuck it. If this was wrong, she didn’t want to be right. 

He keeps pounding into her, and it's dizzying and intoxicating all at once. The room spins as she clings to the headboard for dear life, his name a curse on her lips, a talisman against the building pleasure-pain coiling in her core. His pace quickens, hot breath on her neck, and his thick chest hair tickling her back.

“El… vis…” she mewls. “Right there!”

He obliges, his expert hands massaging her swollen clit as he pounds into her from behind. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he rasps as Molly bucks against him, working the length of his cock with her slick and pushing her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough. It shocks him how quickly she took to his cock. Elvis’ fingers dig almost painfully into her hips, urging her on. “That’s right, take what you need.” 

"Elvis, I..."

The pressure builds, coiling in her belly like a spring. “That’s my girl, let it go,” he growls in her ear, and that’s all it takes.

Her body explodes into a million stars, tightening around him as she screams her release. Just like that, it hits her all at once—from heaven and hell itself, crashing over her like a tidal wave and even more powerful than the first. Colors dance behind her eyelids. 

Elvis’ nails dig into her back, and she can feel the delicious sting as they break the skin. “Unnngh,” he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ close.” The filthy words spur her on, and she clenches around him, the fluttering of her walls easing up, and suddenly she’s slowly floating back to earth and back to life and back to his gigantic bed in his gigantic mansion in Memphis, Tennessee. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.

He growls and buries himself even deeper, his thrusts erratic and desperate now. Harder and harder until he, too, splinters apart, shattering inside her like stained glass. He grunts, his release warm and sticky deep inside her.

Later, Elvis cocoons Molly in his strong arms and starts to rock her gently. As she drifts off to sleep, she knows there's no going back.

She's his now, body and soul. That’s the price she paid for giving in to her darkest desire.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis x oc #elvis fic #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #big daddy elvis

[sexyandhedonistic]

A word to some LOA blogs. You will know this is directed towards you when you read this.

The amount of times I have heard of a blog being rude and disrespectful to their followers is starting to become concerning and this is why I'm writing this currently, because it looks like a lot of you are letting your platform overinflate your egos and you do not know how to act as a result.

Not everyone needs to run a LOA blog.

I have reiterated time and time again regarding the fact that a lot of people join the community without knowing the first thing about the law of assumption which evokes confusion in so many people as a result. That is only one part of my issue with just anyone creating an account and starting to post literal gibberish (but that's a discussion for another day).

The other is the lack of basic empathy displayed by some blogs on here. I understand that the spectrum of questions in our inbox can range from very insightful epiphanies our anons have to hate to confusing questions to straight up irritating nonsensical ones, but that doesn't entitle you to be a piece of shit to your followers whether it's to their face or to your loa friend group regarding them asking you a genuine question they confided in you with.

As a blog, if you do not want to help someone, your options are the following:

Not respond.

Tell them you are unfit and redirect them elsewhere.

Running a law of assumption blog, much like indulging in any other task or hobby in which you have to help people, requires you to have three very important traits and those are:

Patience

Empathy

MORE patience

A lot of you guys are simply not built to be running a platform that is specifically intended to help people. If you're gonna be constantly belittling them, invalidating their honest questions then why are you here? There are principles of the law that we learn and talk about and you need to familiarize yourself with them before you run to point and laugh at someone who's asking for your help. You do not get to make fun of people's questions just because your understanding of the law of assumption is deeply flawed and cherry picked.

You are always welcome to be a lurker in the community and read what other blogs say, but if you have nothing to contribute except shitty responses and unwarranted mocking maybe you should reevaluate your decision to run a law of assumption blog.

To my followers, I am sorry if you've ever dealt with a rude blogger before. You do not deserve to be treated with disrespect LOA or not. This is supposed to be a community where everyone is welcome to learn about the law and discuss it accordingly. I hope you guys are able to find a blog that resonates with you and can answer your questions in a kind and digestible way, but please do not humor some of these awful people.

This is alI have to say about the matter for the time being. If you felt like I was talking about you I most likely was. Apologize to your followers for being an asshole, deactivate your blog or leave the community altogether. Any of these options work.

[hobie-enthusiast]

THINGS SO DEAR !

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— fluff, character analysis, angst if u squint, head-canons, non-traditional love languages, specifically music, typical and non-typical couple behaviour, mentions of corrupt government, use of shit once

— The most important things in Hobie Brown's life, and how he connects them to his relationship

— i recently took a sort of unannounced break to center some attention around myself and the important things in my life. it has been about two months since i wrote and published my last piece, and for that i am sorry. as much as i didn't want to take a break, i needed to prioritize my mental health and manage my stress, depression, and anxiety before i could even think of writing. life was hard. i needed to make it not hard. i never intended to leave anyone in the dark, and for that i am, again, so sorry. though my interactions and maybe even posts will be less than before, i hope you can forgive me and continue to enjoy the content i produce. thank you, and i love you :)

— music

The significance music holds to Hobie is something that he doesn't really expect people to understand. In fact, he thinks music is something a lot of people tend to under appreciate. To Hobie, music can be life changing. The mix of beautiful tunes and heartfelt lyrics can convey and provoke emotions that many people couldn't even describe. And that, to Hobie, holds a special place in his heart.

Music is a part of Hobie's everyday life. It's embedded in the way he fights. It's constantly ringing a tune in his head. Hell, even the lyrics to songs sometimes show up on the cutouts behind him. So naturally, it's important to him in his relationship. It's a love language. If words fail him, he can rely on a sweet sound from his guitar to convey his feelings to you. It's important that you know the importance of music from him, and understand why he thinks so deeply of it. Hobie loves the way a song can speak volumes, and when he writes something of his own, his fondest memories and relationships go into it. Every song about you is so deeply thought out, even if it's accompanied with a more punk-rock sound. It's the way he shows his love and adoration for you, unconventionally.

— creative outlets

Hobie believes that everyone should be able to express themselves. The ability to put one's imagination into their hobby is something Hobie values highly. For him, his outlets are advocacy and music. Hobie has a lot to say, and he wants people to hear what he has to say. Being able to put out his music for people who enjoy it is the perfect way for him to say everything he needs to where people will listen. And advocacy? He makes the important people listen.

In his relationship, he's one of the most supportive people anyone could possibly meet. He encourages you to continue pursuing your passion, supporting you every step of the way. Haven't found that passion? He'll help you find it. Hobie wants you to be able to express yourself in a way that isn't unhealthy, and a hobby is the way to go for that. Creative freedom isn't something anyone should lack, and Hobie will make sure that neither of you ever do lack it.

— advocacy

One thing Hobie will never understand is how a group of people could ever think that others different from them shouldn't deserve to live. Advocating not only for himself, but for the lost voices in society, is so incredibly important to him. It inspires the way he lives day to day, how he interacts with the world. Everyone deserves to live freely, not hated and dragged down just because of the way they look or think or love. He organizes protests, speaks out against corrupt government nature, and uses his Spider-man status to fight for what is truly right, even if it puts a target on his back.

When it comes down to his relationship, advocacy plays a big part in it. You and him work together to fight for what's right, and that means the world to him. Even if you can't do most of what he can (because he is, in fact, Spider-man), it still makes the world of a difference when you do what you can. Hobie knows that this sort of fight, this fight against a government that doesn't want him around, is one of the most difficult he will ever face. So having someone there by his side? Fighting with him? Cheering him on? Means a lot more than words can describe.

— communication

Communication is something Hobie has always sought out in his life. The idea that a relationship he worked so hard to build on could crumble from a simple misunderstanding is scary to him. He'll never let people misunderstand him. Not his messages in his music. Not his message when protesting. Not his message when crime fighting. None of it. It's what makes Hobie such an honest and open guy to his friends, family, and even the strangers he fights so often for.

Communication is the main concern Hobie has in a relationship. Like mentioned, he can't have it thrown away over something so trivial. The two of you are always open and honest with each other, even if it may come off as rude or hurtful. But that's what makes your relationship so strong and trusting. What may seem too open to others works perfectly for the two of you. And if there ever was a time where a miscommunication does happen, Hobie will always, always, be the first to set things right.

— crime fighting

From a young age, Hobie knew he couldn't rely on others to keep the city safe. It felt like no one was ever safe. Hence why he was quick to assume his Spider-man role when the opportunity came to him. It was hard at first, adjusting to constantly saving others from rotten criminals. But over time, it started becoming a piece of cake. At least until the bigger government problems presented itself. But fighting to keep the streets safe is something Hobie loves doing. It feels like he's doing his part for the people, even if that was something pushed onto him.

You, as his partner, are the one constantly pushing him to keep going and reminding him what he stands for. Said job as a city hero isn't easy, even for Hobie Brown. There was even a time when he tried to quit. Give it all up, because he was just so damn tired. But you didn't let him. It took a lot to remind Hobie that he's also doing this for himself. To remind him that he's doing so much and that you were so proud of everything he stands for. It was enough to get him back on his feet, keep him going when it comes to being the people's hero. Hobie never forgets your encouraging words, they always keep him going.

— his partner

Hobie values all the relationships he makes; platonic and romantic. He was lonely for a small time in his life, and it hurt him in ways he'll never forget. So his relationship with his partner will always be a priority. He'll never just jump into a relationship, he has to make sure this is someone he can see himself loving, committing to, forever holding close to him. But he'll never choose to love someone because of their looks, gender, sexuality, anything. The only preference he truly has is when it comes to personality and political beliefs (being an anarchist, he just can't see himself being with someone who isn't). Regardless, Hobie's partner will always have a feeling of love buzzing within them, solely because of how loving and loyal he truly is.

When it comes to you. Hobie is so incredibly in love. He takes no shit about it, and will defend you whenever he needs to. He's also somewhat over-protective, despite being very secure in the relationship. It's a comfort thing, is what he says when you ask. Hobie isn't afraid to show his love to you, though he does it more in private. He doesn't care what others think of him, but he also very much doesn't want you in such a harsh limelight (being how hated he is by the government). He only ever wants what is best for you, and will do a lot to make sure you have everything you deserve and more.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !! #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv hobie

[delaber]

The Massage (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Despite the ache in his thigh, Bucky has been avoiding the new massage therapist for quite some time now.

Note: Okay, so due to an unnecessarily hot gif (and I mean unnecessarily hot), the original post with this story was unfortunately put in tumblr jail last night. This is a repost of that story. Please help me by spreading this fic even if you've already reblogged the original. I'd appreciate it immensely ❤️

Warnings: Smut, smut, and purely smut - with a plot! Pining, teasing, edging, Bucky is highly stimulated from his massage. Slight age kink and with a fluffy ending.

Words: 6.1K

For five months, Bucky has avoided coming here like the plague. He has made up excuses, hid in his bedroom, tried ordering all sorts of remedies online, and has even resorted to massaging the aching thigh himself, but of course Sam - the rat - had eventually had enough of his moaning and complaining, and had told on Bucky first chance he got.

Bucky knows that his annoyance towards Sam is uncalled for - that his thigh has become a nuisance, a reliability that is keeping him from performing as well in the field as he used to, but even though he has long since realised that the strain in the muscle will feel a lot better after just a few rounds of professional massage, he's still been praying every night for it to go away on its own just to avoid finding himself in exactly the situation he's in now: visiting the in-house massage therapist who also happens to have his heart beating a little faster every time she smiles at him. You.

He knows there's no way out, that he eventually has to knock on the door in front of him and step inside your office, but his heart is racing like crazy in his chest and the jump from the window right next to him might not result in a particularly comfortable landing but it will definitely be more comfortable than the hell he surely will release upon himself when he feels your touch. It's a professional setting and the things he wants to do to you are fucking far from professional! He shouldn't even be having these thoughts; you're friends - colleagues even - and he's so much older than you. It's... creepy.

"It's just an hour, it's just an hour," he closes his eyes and breathes hard, hopes it's enough to calm himself down and forget about all the wonderful self-relief sessions he's had with you painted on the back of his eyelids. "- you can behave yourself for one hour..." he sighs and reluctantly releases the tense muscles of his right arm so the closed fist falls forwards and hits the door in front of him with a bang much louder than intended.

For a second, everything goes quiet.

He hopes it's because you have forgotten all about the appointment Sam fixed between you a few days prior, but then he hears shuffling on the other side of the wall, and it doesn't take long before the door with your name written on it swings open and reveals your bright smile that immediately warms up his abdomen.

"Bucky!" you exclaim happily and make room for him in the doorway, "come on in!"

"Thanks..." he mumbles more grumpily than intended and steps inside the dimly lit room that smells like flowers, warm citrus and that massage oil that has made your fingers more softer-looking than anything he's ever set his eyes on before. It's a setup for failure.

"I'm so happy you're here! I was wondering when you'd finally stop by," you chirp happily from behind him and even though he can hear the question in your voice, he's not about to answer why he hasn't sought your help sooner. "Sam tells me you pulled a muscle in your groin a couple of months back."

"Yeah," he clears his throat and avoids looking you directly in the eye, "it's no big deal, it'll heal..."

"I kinda figured you'd say something like that," you happily tilt your head to the side and search his face, "why don't you strip down to your underwear and I'll take a look at what I can do to help you."

Oh doll, you can do so much to help me! He clears his throat and bites back the unwelcome thought as he quickly pulls off his shirt and jeans.

"Okay, so tell me," you smile at him when he sits down on the massage bed and spreads his legs out to the sides so you have easier access to the affected area. "- exactly where is the pain located?"

Ready to get this whole ordeal done and over with, he quickly points to the area on his inner thigh that feels as if someone's plunging a knife deep into the tissue every time he takes a step forwards. "Right here - but it's really not a big deal. You don't have to do this."

"It's my job," you chuckle sweetly before you direct your gaze down to the area surrounding his groin.

Immediately, Bucky can feel his face grow hot as your beautiful eyes visually inspect the skin right below the hem of his boxer shorts, and he has to keep himself from instinctively closing his legs shut in silent embarrassment.

"Hmm, you do look a bit tense..." you scrunch up your nose in concentration and the warmth in his stomach deepens. You're way too cute for your own good. " - I think I'd like to start off by loosing up the muscles around your hipbone. Could you turn around and lie down on your stomach please?" you ask and look up into his eyes with a cute little gaze. He's never had you this up close before and it's definitely doing something bad to him.

"Yep," he croaks and immediately turns around so his burning face meets the hole in the mattress below him.

He can hear you squeeze out a gentle amount of massage oil from a tube next to the bed and you heat it up by rubbing it between your hands while he with closed fists and hypervigilant senses braces himself for the inevitable touch.

"Alright, Barnes. I'm gonna start touching you gently now," you say in a soft, professional tone and he cannot help but squeeze his eyes shut. "- don't worry, it'll feel good."

"Yeah," he clears his throat and desperately focuses on his jumping nerves to try and get them under control. Your words of comfort are not exactly reassuring when 'feeling good' is exactly what he's worried about...

"Here we go," you conclude in a quiet sing-song voice right before you gently put your hands on his upper thigh and start running your fingers over the tight bundle of painful muscles. It hurts at first but after just a few seconds of your fingers on his skin, he can feel the tightness slowly disappearing.

Professionally, you massage the aching tissue deeper and deeper, and Bucky feels how his jaw slowly eases up in time with the tension of his thigh. Your fingers are dancing over his lower half, squeezing the tight muscles and caressing his skin, and it doesn't take long before your warm fingers and the citrus in the air send his protective parades crumbling. Suddenly, his thigh doesn't really hurt anymore and he's so relaxed that he let's go of the tension in his shoulders too and his eyes automatically close shut without warning. A slow song is playing soothingly from somewhere in the room and while your fingers are working magic on his tissue, he feels himself disappear into it.

Your hands are slowly moving from the middle of his leg to the area right underneath the hem of his boxers, and your oily fingers suddenly slip down to his inner thigh where they warmly start kneading the skin.

You move his leg a little out to the side and briefly press in on a point near his crotch that has him soaring! Sweetheart, it feels so good, he almost groans and melts into the mattress when he suddenly feels a stray finger touch an even more sensitive area on his already burning skin. Ah fuck! He has to stop himself from whimpering as your warm palms soothe his sore muscles while the soft pad from your stray finger gently rubs and touches the sensitive spot on his gracilis muscle right where it attaches to the back of his pelvis. Shit, he feels amazing! He just wants your soft, oily hands to stay on him forever! Just wants them to rub and tug and slip further and further down between his thighs until they eventually slip inside his boxers and feel the warm, pulsing area where he really wants your touch! And if he's lucky, you might just ask him to flip around onto his back so you can climb on top of him in your cute little uniform and pull back the skin at the tip of his cock with your hands. Or your mouth. Or your glistening, tight, wet pussy. Fuck!

He hisses.

Involuntarily, and because he's so relaxed, he's accidentally managed to excite himself a little too much and now there's nothing he can do to stop it! He wants to - but oh God he can't! So when he feels the blood rush from his stomach and down to the only region he does not want it right now, he can only lie there and panic in silence.

He feels himself grow hard in time with his blurring vision and he wants to tell you to stop your motions, to let go of him and leave the room pronto, but how the hell is he supposed to do that without giving himself and his treacherous dick away? You can never know the effect you have on him! You're so sweet, and so young and innocent, and he's almost fucking forty! Fuck, he's sweating like crazy!

Blissfully unaware of the inner battle going on inside Bucky's head, you keep massaging his thigh heavenly, and even though he tries so hard to think of something else - anything else! - he can only think of the soft touch you're providing... Your hands are so warm and so oily and he's growing harder and harder by the second while your innocent fingers dance only mere inches away from his not so innocent erection.

Fuck, fuck, fuck what the fuck is he supposed to do now?

"Barnes, are you okay?" You ask him gently and slow down your movements so your hands almost come to a halt when you feel him tensing up, "- do you want me to ease up a little?"

"No, no, it's fine," he breathes and feels a fresh surge of blood streaming down to his crotch when your fingers stroke his thigh affectionately to get him to relax. As long as he stays on his front, it shouldn't be an issue. He has time to make the raging boner go away before you ask him to turn around.

"Okay, good. Let me know if you need a break," you hum and touch him gently while he thinks of baseball, of cold cups of coffee and stale crackers, of Sam's oldie slippers and the stain on the floor below him - anything to try and control the relentless erection that is pulsing and screaming and begging to be touched!

But no matter how hard he tries, his erection won't calm down. Not when you're touching him so sweetly.

"Alright Barnes," you say after a few of his panicked minutes and slowly take a step backwards. "Could you turn around for me please?"

Fuck...

He opens his eyes and fixates his gaze on the stain below him as his face heats up. "T-turn around?" he gulps and feels how his entire body suddenly seems to be impatiently pulsing along with the prominent erection.

"Yeah, I'd like to take a look at your groin now that we've loosened your muscles up a bit."

Jesus fucking Christ, he's sweating balls! How's he ever going to recover from this?

"You know what? It already feels better thanks!" he tries and hopes he sounds convincing and not too panicked.

"Yes, well you've been lying down for twenty minutes," you chuckle, "- it'll come back as soon as you start moving, trust me."

"I can always come back tomorrow if it acts up again."

"We both know you won't..."

"No, I promise. It already feels so much better!"

"Barnes, what's wrong?"

Fuck, there's truly no way out...

"Sweetheart," he clenches his eyes shut and prepares himself for your terrible reaction to what he's about to confess, "I have a bit of a - uh - a... problem..."

"A problem? What kind of problem?" you sound concerned, and if it hadn't been for the horrible situation he's in, his chest would've probably swelled with pride that you care for him.

"It's a - uhm, shit - it's a... guy's problem."

"Oh?" You become quiet for half a second and he can practically hear how the gears in your head turn until the penny suddenly drops. "Oh!" you let go of him as if you've been scorched by fire and he suddenly feels so much worse. Poor woman.

"Yep," his voice is thick and awkward, and he wishes he had jumped out the window when he still had the chance. Now he's gonna scare you away for good and it's all Sam's fault!

"Hey - hey, it's okay," you reassure him softly and put a hand down between his shoulder blades when his entire body goes rigid with shame. "Barnes, it's a perfectly normal reaction to a massage in that area! Please don't feel embarrassed about it - you're not the first client in here who's been experiencing a problem. Sometimes it just happens."

He feels a weird pang of jealousy when he thinks about how your sweet, innocent hands have made some of his male friends at the compound as raging horny as he is right now. He doesn't have the heart to tell you that it doesn't have anything to do with the massage itself and everything to do with the person who's giving it.

"Come on, just turn around for me, okay? I won't hold it against you. I know it's nothing personal."

But it is, he thinks to himself before he with a tight-lipped smile and clenched jaw turns around on the massage table. He knows you well enough to know that you won't let him go before you've looked at his thigh.

He gulps when he sees how tightly his boxers are draped over his hips and the massive erection is standing like a fucking pole vaulter in the air between you. "Jesus fuck, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," you smile professionally while looking anywhere than directly at his embarrassing vulnerability. "Maybe it's better if you sit?"

"Yeah, yeah maybe," he sighs in defeat and swings his legs over the side of the mattress as he pathetically tries to readjust himself so the erection tucked inside his grey boxers does not look as prominent as it did while lying down.

"You good?" you ask when he stops shuffling and he quickly nods in return. "Good - you wanna continue?"

Not really. "Yeah, whatever."

"Alright," you step over to him and professionally fix your gaze on his thigh, "could you spread your legs apart a little?"

"Sure," he does as he's told while clearing his throat, pretty sure that his entire face is currently a mixture between plum- and beet-coloured.

"Let me know if it's too much, okay?" you smile reassuringly and slowly reach your hands forwards.

"Mm-hmm," he clenches his jaw shut to avoid involuntary sounds when your small fingers finally touch his thigh again and you quickly resume your massage with a professional expression slapped across your face.

Carefully, you move the hem of his boxers a little upwards and squeeze out a gentle amount of massage oil into the palm of your hand before you make the mistake of looking him deep in the eye as your fingers find his skin again. The look you're sending him is giving him goosebumps and you gulp and briefly look away when he involuntarily hisses at the touch.

"Barnes, you - uh - you want a towel or something?" You ask and he can practically hear the discomfort in your voice.

More embarrassed than he's ever been, he looks down at himself and notices how the entire front of his boxers is now soaked in pre-cum. "Oh god!" He instinctively pulls his hand over to cover up the huge wet stain and feels how his ears grow impossibly warm. "Fuck, I am so, so sorry."

"It's okay," you hand him a small white towel to cover himself with.

"God, I'm so fucking embarrassed," he drops the cloth down into his groin and wishes he could disappear down into the mattress instead of facing this absolute hellish nightmare! "You must think I'm such a creep..."

"No it's alright," you smile sheepishly and start working on his thigh again, clearly feigning a professional attitude.

He sighs. He cannot believe he's doing this to you.

"Barnes don't worry, okay? I know you're a nice guy."

"Still..." he clenches his eyes shut as your small fingers find one of the sensitive spots on his inner thigh underneath the hem of his boxers and has to lock his jaw to avoid giving out a groan.

He can hear how you chuckle lightly from behind the stars that are blinking on the back of his eyelids.

"I'm glad you're amused."

"Sorry, sorry," you snigger softly, "I've just never seen you this discomposed before. I'll be quick so we can get you back to your room to take care of it," you joke to diffuse the tension.

"Yeah, thanks," he gulps and feels how yet another drop of precum leaves his leaking head when you press in on the spot again. He's so turned on he can feel his nostrils dilating, his thighs shaking, and he just wants to fucking reach inside his underwear and fuck his fist until he comes! God, this is so much worse than anything he could've ever imagined! He's going to kill Sam for this!

"Wow, you're really having a hard time," you smile a little to yourself as you steal a glance up at his pained expression.

"Give me a break, sweetheart," he groans with eyes snapped shut in embarrassment, "Your lubed-up hands are basically on my crotch and let's be honest," he gulps and slowly opens his eyes again, "- you're not exactly displeasing to look at."

Your eyes widen slightly at his confession before a proud smile tugs the corners of your mouth upwards. "What Barnes?" you chuckle proudly to yourself, "- you like the way I look?"

"Come on, don't pretend you don't notice half the guys here staring at you."

"Okay you got me there," you laugh sweetly and direct your attention back to your steady working hands, "I have noticed a few stray glances here and there - I just haven't noticed any from you, so yeah, I'm a bit surprised."

"Well, you can take this as confirmation that I like looking at you too," he awkwardly points to the throbbing erection between you. He figures it's better to discuss the elephant in the room instead of ignoring it. Maybe you can have a laugh about it later...

God, he hopes so.

"Hey, come on," you tilt your head to the side when you see his pained expression, "stop beating yourself up. It's a relaxed atmosphere in here and with the aromas and the music, I understand that some guys let go. It's completely normal."

"No, sweetheart, it's not," he sighs. "I don't know. At least not for me."

"It's not?" You chuckle while still working on his thigh.

"This has never happened before, I swear."

"So the fear of getting an accidental erection isn't the reason why you've avoided coming here?"

"No, sweetheart," he sighs and adjusts himself on the mattress, "it's not."

"So -" you bite your lower lip and fix your gaze on an undefined spot on his thigh to avoid his eye. "- if I understand you correctly; what you're basically saying is that you're hard because of, well, me?"

"Yep," he sucks in a breath of air when he feels your movements still and he braces himself for the angry rejection before he looks over at you. You're staring at him wide-eyed and doe-like with your mouth hanging a little open, not sure how to respond to his confession.

"I'm sorry," he croaks, "you must think I'm a total asshole..."

"No, no, no, not at all..."  you shake your head and clear your throat while sending him a nervous glance. "I think you're quite cute, actually..."

His mind goes completely blank. He's been called many things in his life, but never that.

"...cute?"

"Yeah," you nod quietly. "I - uhm - I guess I've been having this teensy tiny crush on you so - uhm - yeah," you smile, all flustered, "- you know."

"You have a crush on me?"

"Yeah," you scrunch up your nose and lick your lips. "I mean... look at you," you gesture to nothing in particular, and he can feel his chest go all warm with pride as you look him over.

"So you're not freaked out?"

"No, no not at all," you admit with a shake of your head. "You've been driving me up the wall for ages, you know."

"I - I have?"

"Yeah..." you nod, "I've actually been hoping you'd stop by here so I'd have an excuse to, you know, touch you," you admit and now it's your turn to look embarrassed. "It's wildly unprofessional, I know."

"No, no you're good. You're being very professional about... this," he nods while pointing to his crotch. "I swear, if I wasn't so insanely attracted to you, I wouldn't be so... bothered."

"Yeah, you do look a bit flushed," you give him a crooked smile.

"I know..."

"So..." you bite your lower lip again and move in close enough for him to hear your heartbeat, to suddenly smell that you're aroused too and it's driving him absolutely insane! "...I have a crush on you," you stroke his thigh affectionately, "- and you have a crush on me."

He nods and scoots a little closer to you, careful not to scare your hand away from its close proximity to his crotch. "What are we gonna do about that?" he pants and puts a hand to your face, stroking your cheek and hoping to dear God that you'll let him kiss you.

"I don't know," you whisper and lean in close, stopping with your lips mere inches from his and with huge doe eyes staring straight at him.

"My god," he groans and runs his thumb over your cheek again, "you are beautiful," he whispers and slowly moves his face until his lips finally come into contact with yours.

The kiss starts off slowly. Bucky is careful not to pressure you into anything and simply just concentrates on the feeling of your impossibly soft lips on top of his. It's pillowy and wet, sensual and sexy and he's strung along, never wanting to let go of you.

"Peach," he whispers when your mouth strays away from his and starts moving down his jaw and throat. "Peach, you don't have to do this. Please don't feel pressured into anything just because I'm excited okay?"

"I'm excited too," you whisper and carefully place your hand on the tight bulge at the apex of his thighs so a bolt of lightening shocks through him. "- my excitement is just not as visible as yours," you place a wet kiss on top of his jugular. "You don't have to go back to your room to take care of this, you know," you bite back a smile as you stroke over his tight balls so his Adam's apple bounces uncomfortably in his throat.

"Sweetheart," he pants, not sure if this is really happening or if the sudden rush of blood to his crotch has him imagining things.

"I can help you..." you say quietly and move your palm over him so he gives out an involuntary groan.

"Doll," he sucks in some air and stutters his hips upwards, silently begging for more.

You understand his cue, and you lean in close so you can lick the shell of his ear as your fingers find their way underneath his waistband. As soon as your oily fingers come into contact with his burning skin, he can no longer hold back the moan that's been sitting on the edge of his throat for a good half hour now and he once again stutters his hips upwards when you close your fist around him and start stroking him slowly.

"Sweetheart," he groans against your skin and you give out a noticeable shudder when his hands snake under your shirt so he can caress the soft skin of your stomach. "Oh my God!" he whines and runs his nails over your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"You like this?" you whisper and tug his earlobe between your teeth.

"Fuck yes! I've been thinking about touching you since the first time I saw you."

"Yeah?" You pant against him and reach down to cup his balls with one hand while the other continuously strokes up and down his veiny shaft. "Been thinking of me all wet and naked for you?"

"Fuck," he whimpers and finds your pebbled nipples underneath your shirt and roll them between his fingers. "Yes."

"What have you been thinking about?"

"Your mouth," he breathes and pinches your nipples between his fingertips, "your slutty little mouth. All wet and tight for me."

"My mouth?" you giggle against him and gently bite down on his earlobe so he gasps loudly, "want me to make your little fantasy come true?"

"Oh god, yes doll! Please," he whimpers and you immediately drop to the floor between his open thighs, sitting on your knees and strutting your ass as you grab him by the root, rubbing his cock over your cheek and lips as he whines above you.

"Is this what you wanted?" you send him a wide-eyed look while your pink tongue finally pushes past your plump lips and lick the underside of his almost purple head.

"Fuck! Yes, yes doll! Please suck me" He hisses and feels his toes buzz when your tongue slowly runs over the slit at the tip, "ah baby!" he groans and watches how you flatten your tongue and wetly licks him all over his leaking head. "Please put me in your mouth, please!"

"I like you begging," you pant and lick him from root to tip, ending the long lap by closing your lips fully around him.

"Oh god, oh fuck," he shoots his head backwards, never looking away from the angel between his legs. Spit and precum is running down the side of his shaft and he swears, he's never felt this amazing before. He's about to explode just looking at you!

"Mmh," you hum around him, sending beautiful vibrations through his cock and all the way down to his balls.

"Look at you," he groans sinfully and notices how you clench your thighs together when he reaches forwards and strokes your cheek, "such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Are you getting all wet as you suck my cock?"

"Mmh," you nod with a muffled confirmation as your plump lips slide from base to tip and back down again.

"Ah - shit doll," he hisses while completely giving himself into you as he grabs your chin and strokes you affectionately.

"Mmh, Bucky," you whisper his name so sweetly and move your face so you can lap at his balls.

He throws his head backwards as your tongue stroke over the tight skin while your hand pumps him slowly. "Jesus fuck sweetheart," he moans and puts a finger under your chin forcing you to look back up at him. "Get up here. Now!"

Excitedly, you give him a hard suck before your let go of him with a soft pop and obediently oblige his command by climbing up on the mattress next to him.

"Mmh, look at what you're doing to me," he chuckles and leans in close so he can finally taste your lips again. Immediately, your tongue is inside his mouth and it's so wet and so warm that he grows even harder even though he didn't think it possible.

His hand snakes under your shirt again and you give out a small whine when he pulls it over your head.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he pushes your breasts out of your bra and starts toying with your nipples. "It's crazy," he mumbles as he lies you down on the mattress and sucks your perky nipples between his lips, swirling his tongue around the bud.

Immediately, you arch your back and give out a sinful moan that reverberates through the dimly lit room and vibrates around his tighter than ever balls.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers against your skin and moves to the other nipple while his hand finds your panties underneath your white skirt. "God, you're already so wet for me," he whimpers and pushes his fingers underneath the hem of the soaked fabric so he can touch your warm skin.

"All for you," you arch your back and moan when he pushes two fingers inside of you, moving them rhythmically so they squelch and squeeze around your g-spot. You whimper and close your eyes, enjoying the sensations he's sending through your body, the tingle of warm flames that lick at the bottom of your spine.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he repeats and licks your neck, "You deserve it."

"I want you inside of me," you moan and tug at his hair, the sensation deliciously toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

"You want me to fuck you?" He whispers and drags his teeth over your collarbone while his fingers pulsate inside of you.

"Yes!" You whine and pull at his hair again as a particularly loud moan escapes you.

"Oh sweetheart," he groans when his fingers slide out of you to the tune of a disappointed little whimper falling from your open mouth. "Don't worry, I'll fill you up," he kisses your collarbone and looks down between your sweating bodies as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes himself half inside, giving himself a second to get used to the tightness that you provide. "Oh god," he whispers and pushes himself a little further inside, "fuck you're so sexy!"

"Fuck me, Bucky," you reach up and caress his chin as you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his ass and pushing him closer to you.

Suddenly, he's buried to the hilt. "Fuck me," he whispers and starts moving rhythmically to the sound of you squelching around him. "You are so fucking sexy!" He bites your nipples again, moving his hips slowly, sensually. "It's been so goddamn frustrating pretending that I'm not attracted to you when all I've been wanting to do is fuck you in every possible position around the compound."

"Yeah, think of what the others would say if they knew about this."

He gives out a whimper and can feel himself twitching inside of you at the thought before he starts rutting his hips faster, his hips snapping relentlessly into yours.

"You like that?" You smile naughtily and grab his ass, "you like that you're not supposed to fuck me?"

"Yes," he admits with a grunt and rolls his hips sensually, desperate for more friction.

"You like that I'm so young?" You clench tightly around him. "Wow, imagine what Sam would say! He would be so angry, you know that!"

"Fuck!" He gasps and falls forwards so his metal hand lands beside your head. He's close now, he can feel how every muscle of his body tenses up and he knows he just needs a few more snaps of his hips and he's coming - so he pulls out.

Panting relentlessly, he looks down at his throbbing dick, concentrating hard on not cumming all over the beautiful woman in front of him who's still whining and begging for his touch. "Not yet, not yet, not yet," he pants to himself and takes a deep breath before looking back at you. "Shit, you are so beautiful," he licks his lips and fixates his glance on your tiny fingers disappearing inside yourself.

Without thinking, he immediately falls to his knees on the floor beside the mattress and starts planting small, peppery kisses to the insides of your legs. You're soaking wet, moist all the way down your thighs, and he scratches his beard along the soft skin as he pushes your small fingers away, instead introducing his own digits and tongue to your swollen clit. "Mmh, baby," he mumbles against your wet skin and licks you all the way from hole to clit, giving the latter a hard suck that have you trembling above him.

You're tugging at his hair with one hand, pinching your nipples with the other as you arch your back and moan his name in time with the fingers he's thrusting in and out of you while lapping at your sex.

"Bucky, I'm so close," you whimper with eyes closed, your chest rising and falling in steady beats underneath your soaked nipples.

"Come for me," he whispers against your skin and ruts his hips into nothing while his fingers and tongue are working you expertly.

Your moans are rising in pitch and he can feel how you clench more and more around his fingers until it's so tight he's almost pushed out of you. "Bucky!" You half-moan,  half-scream as you fall over the edge burying your fingers in his hair and - oh God, he's cumming too!

Without even being touched, cum is shooting out of him and pattering all over the linoleum flooring below his knees while his fingers and tongue are buried inside of you, and you pull so sweetly at his hair in desperation.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He grunts and ruts his hips into thin air as he keeps cumming even after you've released your hard grip around his hair. "Oh my god," he shoots back his head and can feel a drop of sweat trickling down his temple when he finally comes down from his high again. "Oh shit, oh fuck! Sweetheart, I - I just came all over your floor."

"It's okay," you smile blissfully and remove your fingers from his scalp, "I'll clean it up before... shit, SAM!" your sit up straight, eyes wide with horror. "Shit!" you hiss again and immediately scramble to the floor, looking at your watch and collecting your clothes from all over the room. "I have Sam coming for a massage in three minutes!"

"Not the kind of massage I just had, I hope" Bucky sniggers and quickly wipes up his cum with the towel he'd used to cover his erection.

"Don't worry, those are reserved just for you," you chuckle and pull your shirt over your head.

"I sure hope so," Bucky smiles boyishly and dresses quickly, stealing several glances over at you as you fix your makeup in the mirror in the corner. "Does - does Sam get erections when he's here?" he asks. He cannot help himself, he has to know. The thought alone has his guts squeeze uncomfortably at his insides.

"Are you kidding me? Sam sees me as a little sister, he would never!"

"Yeah, true," Bucky chuckles in relief and pulls on his shoes, "...Hey, uh, I don't know about you, but I really enjoyed this."

"Me too," you turn around and smile blissfully at him, "very much."

"You wanna - you wanna do it again?"

"Yeah," you snigger and lean your hip against the table he had you naked upon no more than a couple of minutes ago, "yeah, I wanna do this again! I think maybe fixing your thigh is gonna be a long process!"

"Yeah?" He smiles broadly at the joking expression you're wearing, "Same time tomorrow then?"

"God, yes! Can't wait," you laugh and give out a happy sigh as you cutely bite your lower lip. "Now run along before Sam comes barging in!" you chuckle, "I thought you wanted to keep this secret."

"Yeah... at least for a little while," he shrugs and feels his head go dizzy when you smile broadly at him.

"See you later, Barnes."

"See you sweetheart," he chuckles and winks at you before he's out the door.

As soon as he steps into the cold hallway, he's met by a sour looking Sam who's occupying one of the chairs outside your office, his arms crossed firmly around his chest as he angrily stares at Bucky. "How long have you been here?"

"I came ten minutes early," Sam hisses through gritted teeth and Bucky can almost see the angry fumes radiating from his friend's scalp. "- what the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Bucky, you better not be doing what I think you just did in there!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Man, what the hell is the matter with you?" Sam stands up, his angry vein already popping threateningly above his temple.

"What? You're the one who said I should go see her!"

"Yeah! For a massage!"

"I did get a massage!"

"Jesus Christ, Bucky! You're old enough to be her granddad!"

Weirdly enough, it just turns him on even more.

Tagging: @natbarnes1917 @summerofsnowflakes @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @anxietyandtacos @maggiebuchanan @justsebstan @eddiestrash @crushedbyhyperbole @buckysdollforlife @getofffmydick @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @wermoewe

#bucky barnes kinktober #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky kinktober #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #needy bucky #tfatws #sebastian stan #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #winter soldier #kinktober 2022

[reginaaxxwrites]

It Took Time (Fred Weasley)

This was been in my draft for months already. I decided to finally post it. This story contains 6.2k words. Enjoy!

*****

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader (With a little bit George x Fem!Reader)

Warning: IT CONTAINS SMUT (Guys, I know this is the first time I released smut fanfiction. I just hope this one is good enough. I did not intend this story to have smut, but there you go. Enjoy your meal.)

*****

How do I start this?

I am madly in love with George Weasley. Yes, the famous George Weasley who always gets into trouble along with his brother, Fred Weasley. It was hard liking someone inside your circle of friends.

I tried not to be obvious about my feelings for him. I try to act casual because it's my way of controlling myself to burst my emotions when I'm with him. But sometimes I just can't help myself from showing him.

George would always sit beside me and talk about everything. Like his favorite spell or his memorable pranks. With every word he says, I can't help but get lost in it. I stare at him with dreamy eyes. And even if I get lost in his words, I still understand everything he said and it always piques my interest. I'll never get tired of his stories.

Unlike his brother, George seems to be more reserved. I don't know how to explain it but without Fred, he wouldn't be as chaotic as he is today. I guess they just complete each other.

"I think he fancies you," Angelina whispered beside me. I nudged her and rolled my eyes.

"I think not. Now, shut up and let me do homework." I continued to write on my parchment paper.

"Boringgg." She yawned.

I would be lying if I say I didn't think that he fancies me. I mean, it's possible. Or maybe I just like to assume things and feed my delusions. Because there are times he would flirt, but I don't know if that was intentional or if it's not.

"Damn you, Angelina." I glared at her. She looks confused as to why I cursed at her.

"I am mad. I really fancy him. And I can't do something about it." I buried myself on the table.

"Then confess to him. You'll never know until you initiate the move to tell him." She's right but what if I have been wrong all this time? That he simply just sees me as his friend.

George Weasley, why are you so hard to read?

"So... Any ideas how will you confess to him?" Angelina leaned on the table with a teasing smirk placed upon her lips.

"Shut it." I tried to ignore her but she was too clever to know it'll just keep bothering me and in the end, I would talk about it.

"Oh, I don't know, Angelina!" I slammed my quill and looked at her. I noticed that the Common Room went silent, so I looked around. They were all looking at me.

Okay, maybe I slam my quill too loud and too hard. I gave them my apology look and went on about what they were doing a while ago.

"Whoa, calm down, girl. You know I think it's unnecessary to confess--"

"But you just said a while ago?!" I am upset. Because it's been frustrating since then when I started to like him.

"I know. But listen to me. Everyone in this room knows you fancy him. Even his twin teases you about it. I'm sure George knows it too somehow. Maybe he just acts dumb because like you, he doesn't want to assume things."

"So, I should confess to him?"

"It's not like it's your obligation to do so. But if it's what you want. If it's the only way to stop you from overthinking then go. Take the risk or lose the chance, they say." Angelina smiled at me. She just knew the right thing to say.

-

I'm scared.

As the day goes by, I intend to show that I like him. But I'm not sure if he can tell. I'm not good with words. Never was. I'm starting to stutter, I can't even look at his eyes when I talk to him. I'm nervous whenever he's around.

Poor George doesn't know what I was feeling. How I was acting weird when he sits beside me during class and in the Great Hall.

If I don't tell him sooner, I'll forever look dumb in front of him.

"I can't tell him," I whispered to myself. Maybe it's because it's too soon. George and I recently got close this year because he joined me in playing exploding snaps during the first day of our sixth year. Ever since then, we just talk and talk.

"Hey, Longbottom." I knew I recognized that voice. I looked to see George making his way beside me.

"George." I greeted with a faint smile.

"I was looking for you."

"You are?" Why was he looking for me? Millions of possibilities went through my mind about why he was looking at me.

"Yes, I am. Lee was telling me about our paper and told me to get you so we could start at the Library." Oh. Of course, our research paper.

"You? When did George Weasley suddenly talk about boring stuff? What piques your interest?" I teased him and he just laughs.

Damn, his laughter. It's making my stomach churn or whatever it is.

"Well for one, Lee wanted to finish this paper so he could still be commenting in the upcoming Quidditch. Because Godric knows how bad his marks are."

"Aren't yours bad as his?" I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Rude but yes. That's one, no, two. And lastly, we know the kind of nerd you are and how you like to finish the given tasks as soon as possible. Aren't we making this easy for you, Longbottom?" He was grinning and looking at me. I swear I could feel my whole face turning into a beet red.

"Fine, Weasley." I took my stuff as he leads the way through the Library where Lee is waiting for us.

Once we entered the Library, Lee waves us over to the table where he was and books are already opened. I sat beside him while George took the seat in front of us.

"You do realize we still have a month to do this paper, right? We don't have to start right away." I told him while I bring out my notebooks and quills and ink.

"Who are you and what have you done to Y/N?" Lee acted surprised as I rolled my eyes at him.

"I mean, the sooner we finish this, the better. Don't you agree, George?" He looked at his best friend who nodded and grinned like an idiot.

"I feel like you two are messing with me." I glared at them.

"Whaaat?"

"Never," George answered.

I didn't push the subject any longer and started to skim the books Lee placed on our table. I guess, it is better to have this paper finished.

Later that night, I told Angelina how my day and her day went like we always do before going to bed.

"Have you decided?" Angelina asked while she was helping me brush my hair. We were both looking at each other in our reflection in the mirror.

"It's only a month since I started liking him. Don't you think it's too soon?" I was already playing with my necklace's pendant which was given by my mother. I did this a lot of times whenever I'm nervous.

My best friend held both of my shoulders and gave me an assuring smile.

"Then take your time. I'm sure you'll get the courage to tell him. I mean, we're Gryffindors, are we?"

"We are."

-

It was getting worst.

Exams are coming soon and I cannot focus. His image comes into my mind and I can't focus. I really need to tell him. I should, it would help me clear my thoughts. It was now or never.

I grabbed my sweater before leaving the Common Room and looked for the red-haired male almost everywhere in the castle. Then, I remembered they were supposed to be at the Courtyard today.

When I finally saw the guy I was looking for, I didn't waste any moment and grabbed his wrist. I heard some of the students whistling and teasing us, including his brother while I look for a quiet place where we can talk.

"Is something the matter, Y/N?" He looked into my eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I... I--there's something I need to tell you..." I could faint at any moment because my hands were cold and shaking.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You can do this.

"Y/N--"

"I like you. It's bad, I know. We became friends not long ago. It was getting worst and I can't just sit still and do nothing about it. You don't have to like me back. And I understand if...if you don't want to be friends with me anymore..." I could feel my cheeks getting wet from my tears.

Ha, why am I crying?

I'm frustrated and confused because, for the first time, he's the first guy who is gentle toward me. I couldn't look at him even though I want to see his reaction. I'm scared.

"I don't know what to say... It's not like every day I received confessions like this. But..." He took a step closer to me. "Could you give me time? To think about, I mean."

I didn't answer him instead, I nodded. I tried to wipe my tears but a hand stopped me and gave me a handkerchief.

"Here. Don't cry."

I went back to the Common Room and saw Angelina waiting for me. She saw how red my eyes are and quickly went over to me. She embraced me, comforting me in her arms.

"How did it go?" She asked as we enter our dorm room. We sat in my bed and she tried to fix my face.

"I do not know. He told me to give him time. But Godric knows he won't talk about that conversation again unless I initiate it."

I tried to avoid George every time we cross the hallways, Angelina would sit beside me during classes and never left my side. 

I was fixing my things when suddenly the door slammed hard. I turned to look around to see Angelina panting hard as if she had run all the way into our dorm room.

"Angelina! Are you all right? You look like you ran--"

"That's because I ran all the way in here." She took off her scarf and throw it on her bed.

"You need to talk to him." She firmly said to me. I looked away.

"Y/N, it's more painful to leave a question not answered than get rejected. I cannot stand my two best friends avoiding each other when they only got to be friends before the term started." She took my hand and helped me to stand up.

"But..."

"I don't want to get your hopes up. But I heard him and Lee talked about you. He told Lee that you had a chance but--"

"Nothing comes good after 'but'." I joked.

"I know. But he's scared, Y/N. He doesn't want to hurt you. If you talk to him now... You might help him to chase away anything that scares him from being with you. You need to take another risk."

Another risk...

"He's in the Common Room. Talk to him, Y/N. If it doesn't work out then I'm here for you. Always." She kissed my cheeks and pulled me out of the room. We took downstairs and saw the three of them.

He was laughing together with his best friends, Lee and Fred. Angelina went over to them and the two boys stood up. They both looked at me and smiled. The boys and Angelina left the room, leaving me and George.

"Y/N."

"George."

"Am I an idiot for liking you this much? Because if I am, then I must be the most idiotic of all idiots." I fake laughed but he didn't. His face showed an expression I'd never seen before. It was dark. It feels like he took my breath away.

He took steps closer to me.

"I'm sorry. I don't think I am ready to be with someone. I don't want to hurt you because you are one of the most important people in my life." I saw how he wanted to touch me or take my hand. But something was stopping him. It's like he can't take the risk of touching me like I'm fragile. He thinks that once he touches me, I'm going to break. He is scared of hurting me more.

"I'm sorry for making you wait for nothing."

"No, I get it. And I'm sorry... For avoiding you, for acting like I didn't know you, or pretending like we weren't friends at all after I did something that made you feel uncomfortable." I gave him a faint smile.

"I hope we can still be friends."

"We are friends, George. We always will be." our eyes never left looking at each other until the clock struck midnight.

"Good night, Weasley. I'll see you tomorrow." I started to walk away. I didn't bother to wait for his response.

"Good night." I heard him say before I reach the top of the stairs to look at him one last time before entering into my dorm room.

-

The rejection helped me to calm my thoughts. To stop me from assuming but the sudden actions from him never stopped. How he makes sure I don't get sweaty and hot from the sun's heat. Or when it rains he casts a spell to make an umbrella and we would share it.

I don't get him.

How can I move on when his words are contradicting his actions? Why does he keep making me a fool?

"What're you three doing?" I saw the twins and Lee brewing something in their cauldron. Potions ingredients were everywhere. If McGonagall saw this mess they would've been sent to detention straight away.

Bananas.

Newt Spleens

An orange snake.

A green leaf.

"Fred and George Weasley! You're making an aging potion! And you, Lee Jordan, tell me why am I not surprised that you're also a part of this?" I know what they're trying to do. They're going to try and trick the Goblet of Fire.

"Of course, you could tell by looking at the ingredients. Brilliant, isn't she?" Fred grinned like an idiot.

"No need to state what's always been obvious, Forge." He commented on his brother. They continued to mix the potion as if I wasn't there to scold them which I am debating on it.

"Have you decided?" Lee asked.

"What?"

"It's painful to look at you when you're trying to decide whether to tell McGonagall or you'd rather help us finish this potion." He explained.

"Actually... I'm not. Because this is stupid. Dumbledore cast a spell around the Goblet. You cannot trick the Goblet of Fire or Dumbledore." I lectured them but they just snickered.

These boys.

"No wonder Hermione worships the ground you walk, Longbottom." Fred teased me as I rolled my eyes at him.

"You three are going to regret it," I warned them but they just seem not to care.

"And thank you for the warning." The twins said in chorus.

"But"

"you know us--"

"breaking the rules." They gave me their most mischievous smiles.

I looked at Lee and he just shrugged. "What they said."

The next day, we were in the Great Hall during our free time. Hermione sat beside me, reading her book while I helped my brother with his assignment.

"You're joking," I told my brother. He looked at me, confused.

"You don't need my help in Herbology, Neville. You have high marks than I was when I'm in your year. Have confidence in yourself."

"Really?" I pinched his cheeks as I nod at his question.

Suddenly we heard laughter and looked to see the three pig brains. They went over in our direction while holding a small bottle containing the potion.

"Done it." Fred showed us the potion. I rolled my eyes at him while Hermione was trying to stop them.

"Honestly, don't even try," I whispered to her but she continued.

"It's not going to work." Hermione sang the words as the twins went closer to her. Fred looking at her, closely as well as George.

"Oh, really, Granger?" Fred smirked at her. Hermione tried to explain what I already told them last night.

And of course, they didn't listen to her and drank the potion. She looked at me, annoyed at the three boys. I mouthed her 'I told you, so.' before she went back to her book. Harry and Ron seem to be fascinated by the trick.

After they drank the potion, they stepped inside the circle and the students clapped and cheered them on.

Oh, now I'm curious what's going to happen. I watched them put their paper in the Goblet. We saw nothing happen to them so the students clapped in amazement. Of course, I believed that something is still going to happen.

And something did happen.

"Argh!" Lee, Fred, and George flew out of the circle as they aged into an old man. Peals of laughter filled the entire Great Hall. I couldn't help but also laugh. They tried to punch each other and put the blame on one another.

Later that day, Angelina and I decided to visit them in the Hospital Wing. They were finally going back to their age. Well, almost.

"I'd say a beard looks good on you, Weasley." I joked as I sat beside his bed. I touched his beard as he chuckled.

"I still look like a thirty-year-old man." He smiled.

"Better than looking like an eighty-year-old man."

"Ouch. I expect to still look handsome at that age." He placed his right arm on his left chest as if he was struck in the heart.

"Are you? I didn't take a good look. I was busy laughing earlier." I teased him and Godric, I hated when he gave me that smirk on his lips. I want to rip it.

Calm down, Y/N.

"At least tell me I made a perfect potion. Don't want to disappoint a potion master."

"You... You were never bad at potions, George Weasley." I gave him a gentle smile and he just kept quiet looking at me.

-

"I was already rejected and yet I still hope for us to happen." I buried my face in my pillow. My best friend sat beside me.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try and confess to him one more time?" I know she was teasing but damn her because she is giving me an idea to do so.

"Oh, no. I am only joking, Y/N! Don't even think about it." She said, firmly. "I swear I'm this close to swinging a bat on a bludger and then aiming it in his face."

"Please don't."

"I won't. Only because you said 'please'."

"What am I supposed to do? I expect these feelings would go away after getting rejected. Now, I'm only falling deeper." I'm starting to cry again out of frustration.

"Nothing. Just nothing." She looks at me as I sat down properly at my bed.

"You are not the problem here, Y/N. He's the one to blame. Putting you in this position where you should be moving on. Because Godric's sword, if only you know how boys from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton look at you every time you walked past them."

"What?"

"See. You don't need to set your eyes only on one boy who rejected you but proceeds to act as if he fancies you. Find other guys. Move on."

"But what if he does like me? He's just not ready like he said..."

"That's bullshit. It doesn't matter whether you're ready or not. If you like someone, you'd still pursue them, take the risk even if it's scary. Just like you did. Clearly, he's giving you mixed signals." Angelina sounded angry. She was annoyed like she wanted to punch George if she ever saw him.

"Would you get mad if I told you that I just sent him a letter? Confessing to him the second time?" I pout as she turns her face into a sour one.

"Y/N LONGBOTTOM!" She was angry. Really angry. "What exactly did you write in that letter?!"

"That I still fancy him. That if I didn't receive an owl from him later this evening, it means... All he did meant nothing to him."

"Please swear to me that this will be the last thing you will do." She just sighed.

"I promise."

"Then, are you sure you're ready for whatever response you receive from him?" Angelina looked worried for me. That's why I am lucky to have her by my side.

"Yes."

As expected from him, I didn't receive any owls from him. I slept through the night so I don't have to cry until it reaches morning.

My best friend and I went to breakfast, avoiding that one Weasley. While I was eating and chatting with Angelina, someone poked my sides. I look to see Fred, grinning as he sat beside me.

"Morning." He greeted us.

"Is there something you need, Fred?" Angelina raised an eyebrow at her friend.

"Nothing. I just wanted to eat breakfast." He shrugged his shoulders while placing a toast on his plate and into mine.

"I can get my own toast." I sounded mean but I didn't mean to.

"Looks like someone had a bad sleep."

"She did, Fred." Angelina rolled her eyes at him.

"I see... Well, let me just enjoy my breakfast, at least." Fred grinned like an idiot.

-

The twins were a bit mean when they started a bet between Harry and Cedric. Poor Harry seemed to look like he wants to drop out of the Tournament. Sadly, he can't because it's part of the rules.

And then there's Fred, who would always pester me around. He would poke my sides, even if he goddamn well knows that's my tickle spot. He would open up to me easily, telling me how he had a crush on Angelina during our 4th year. But stopped pursuing her because my best friend clearly doesn't look interested in dating him.

We became closer. We became more than acquaintances. We were close friends.

We became inseparable.

Angelina noticed it. How happy I am. I was blooming, she said. She never saw me this happy. And she was wondering why but didn't bother to have it answered because all she cares about was my happiness.

"You're an idiot, Fred." I scold him. "And stop that betting game you and your twin started. It only brings war upon Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors."

"You know, I've noticed you kept saying 'your twin'." He changed the subject. I looked away and watch the birds fly into the gloomy sky.

We are both in Black Lake to get some fresh air.

"I do not know what you mean."

"Damn, I know he rejected you. But I get it. You see, the problem with George is that he's afraid of women. He once liked Angelina but he did nothing about it." I was surprised that George liked Angelina. This is the first time I am hearing this.

"You both liked the same girl?"

"It always happens. A bit frustrating, honestly. But at times like that, I'm willing to give up the woman I like for him. We're twins but he's the younger one so..."

"You let go."

"Always. For my twin's happiness."

"What about yours?" I felt pity for him. I know I shouldn't because he wouldn't like that.

"George's happiness is my happiness." He smiled at me. But I know it was a sad one. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

"A true Gryffindor." I felt him chuckle.

"So are you."

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Oh, no.

No... I can't possibly be falling for him now. This would be an outrage. I can't.

It's only been three months ever since I stopped liking George. Three months since then I have not talked to him.

"You and Fred seemed gotten closer. Both of you suited more perfectly." Angelina, once again, I know she's joking but she isn't helping.

Does she need to know? Must she know? I don't know. She might make fun of me.

Godric, it feels like a sin to fall for Fred.

"Oh, dear... I know that look. You like Fred." She placed her hand on her lips and went beside me. "Tell me everything." She doesn't look disgusted. Instead, she looks like she's excited.

I told her everything I know and she can't remove her smile ever since I started talking.

"Godric! I knew it!" She was giggling. "So what do you intend to do?"

"Nothing. I can't let him know. He can't know. I won't confess. I won't tell him anything." I mumbled.

"Right. Let him be the one to develop his feelings for you. You don't have to do anything this time." She smiled and pulled me into a hug.

"You should never feel guilty for liking someone. I pray that this time, Fred will do exactly the opposite George did to you. You two suit together, really."

"Thank you, Angelina. For everything."

"What friends are for?"

-

Professor McGonagall announced that there will be a ball. The ball is only exclusive for the fourth year and above.

Our head of house started to prepare us for the ball. She called all Gryffindors from the fourth year and above to practice our dance steps. So we don't look stupid on the day of the event.

Ron and his friends joked about something while looking at Eloise Mignon. I felt my insides get irritated and then McGonagall called him over for a dance. Fred and George made fun of their brother as well as Harry.

"Now, boys. Find your partners." I saw my brother the first one to rise on his chair. I smiled at him and asked Hermione to dance with him. She gladly accepted my brother's offer.

The other boys finally went to our side. Fred reached my wrist and pulled me on the dance floor.

"Really? No asking but pull the woman you see first? How gentleman of you, Weasley." I joked as he laughs at my words.

"Pleasures all mine, Longbottom." He winked at me as he spun me and then dipped me down while his hand was on my waist and the other one on my hand.

I saw George looking in our direction while he was dancing with Angelina. I immediately broke our eye contact and focus on Fred.

"Smooth." I smiled. "Who do you plan to ask on the ball?" 

"Maybe Angelina? Or some girls from other houses." He answered. I got to admit that it broke my heart a little. I thought that it might occur to him that he can ask me.

"And you?" 

"No one." 

"I thought you were waiting for George to ask you." He teased but ignored it.

"Well, you thought wrong." I didn't mean to sound annoyed but I am. I don't why my mood changes suddenly. "Sorry..." 

"Hey, don't be. I heard girls tend to get stressed on upcoming occasions like this." I unbelievably looked at him. "What? I mean, has anyone asked you?"

"That's a bit rude to ask a girl." I raised my eyebrow at him.

"So, no one--"

"Fred!" I playfully hit his arm. "Of course, someone had asked me. But I turned them down."

"May I ask why?"

"I'm waiting for someone to ask me." I could feel my cheeks burn from embarrassment.

"George, then." He continued to tease me to his twin.

"Please stop." He just laughs at me and continued to dance me away.

The day of the Yule Ball came.

The person I wanted to ask me, is going with someone from Beauxbaton. While my best friend is going with George. 

"Stop fussing over your dress, Y/N." Angelina scolded me while she tries to adjust the back part of my dress.

"Must I attend?" I groaned.

"Yes! Because this might be the last time you'll experience this as a teenager. Now do me a favor and have fun." She finished fixing my dress and place an accessory on my hair.

"You look beautiful."

"I look like a clown." 

"I know you feel bitter because of him but please don't let it ruin your night. Besides going without a date has its perks." She winked at me while I got up and took my white shawl to keep me warm for the night.

"Like what?"

"You can flirt with any guy!"

"Funny. Because you know exactly enough that I can't flirt." I rolled my eyes. "So...you and George?"

"It was a last minute. He just happened to ask me in front of Lee and Fred just to prove to Ron and Harry that they can ask any girl to the dance. We're going as friends." I can't help but smile when Angelina told me what happened.

"Idiots." Both of us giggled the way out of the dorm and went downstairs. 

We saw George patiently waiting for his date, together with Lee. George's eyes were on me instead of Angelina's. I immediately looked away and pretended that didn't happen.

"You look stunning." He complimented her. I went beside Lee who smiled at me.

"Who's the lucky girl?" I asked Lee. The two started walking and we followed.

"Oh, I'm going alone." 

"Why?"

"I'm having trouble who to ask. So, I decided not to come with a date." I immediately understood what he meant.

"How about you? I heard you received a lot of requests and yet you rejected every one of them." Lee gave me his playful smirk as I rolled my eyes at him.

"Piss off, Jordan. Maybe I decided to come alone just like you did." 

"An answer that I'll never believe it's true." I slapped his arm, and we laughed it off as we reached the Great Hall.

Students are already interacting with each other. Giving compliments on how they looked good and the dress robes they were wearing. Some were already dancing while others are eating appetizers and drinking butterbeer.

While Lee keeps talking about asking the girl from Beauxbaton to dance and telling me exactly how he will approach the girl. A tall red-haired caught my gaze. Even though everyone can't tell who is who. I know and I can tell.

He looks handsome in his robes. That long hair he tried not to cut for a new look. But he looks good whether his hair is long or short. I pray not that he will not look in my way. Because I know what he'll do if he does. And I am not yet ready.

"Why don't you go and ask her already? I'm thirsty so I'll go fetch some drinks, okay?" I push my friend towards the girl. He didn't utter another word so I made my way to the tables.

I wasn't feeling to drink anything but water. After I got myself some water, I went further away from the crowd and the dance floor. I hid from my friends because I didn't want them to adjust to me. I want them to have fun without feeling obligated to make me feel better.

A famous band, Weird Sisters, started to take the floor. All of the students laugh and dance the night away. I saw two familiar Gryffindors, who also seems not to enjoy the event.

"And here I thought you went for the evening." I look up to see him lending his hand to me.

"And I thought no one will ever notice that I'm gone." 

"It's already impossible to not notice you, love." He was still waiting for me to take my hand. I was hesitating, scared even. 

"Were... Were you looking for me?" I asked.

"From the moment the ball started. But it seems you were hiding from the crowd." He answered. I took his hand and then led me to the dance floor. 

"I might start to think you fancy me." I joked. He pulled me closer, placing his hands around my waist. His face was close to mine. I could smell his cologne, his breath. I could feel him, his warmth. My heart was racing. 

"What if I am?" He answered in his low voice. His forehead rested on mine, never breaking his gaze on me.

"You're playing pranks on me." 

"Maybe I am." 

"Then stop."

"I can't." 

His eyes kept looking into mine and my lips. He was moving closer as if he was about to kiss me. Maybe he was. When the music stopped playing so did he.  

"I'm sorry." He gently pulled away from me.

"What for?"

"This." I felt sharp in my gut. "Shit. That's not what I meant."

"Clearly, it is. Good night, Fred." I turned my back on him and ran outside the Great Hall. I didn't expect him to follow me through the Courtyard.

"Y/N, please. Listen to me."

"I get it. I know you feel sorry for me. I know that the girl you asked should be the one you held earlier like that. So, why did you even bother to look for me, Fred? I am just your friend, aren't I?" My face was burning in anger but it was also cold because it was snowing. I was stupid for forgetting my coat in the Great Hall because I tried to run away from him.

"You are my friend. And you like my brother. So, you see? I'll be damned if he knew I was about to kiss you." 

"Coward."

"What?"

"George made it clear he didn't like me. But I know it's also wrong to like you after George." Tears started to fall on my cheeks. "Merlin's beard, you are his brother, his twin. What will they think of me once they know I like you when not long ago I was trying to chase your brother?"

"We can't argue again because of a girl. I like you. Hell, I dreamt about holding you close to me, kissing you. Some of it came true, it was enchanting while it lasts." He tried to laugh it off. There was pain in his voice, his eyes were longing for me.

"I think I'm in love with you. You saw and accepted me. Understood me and my messy life. You have been patient with me. But I can't be with you when I know he's starting to fall for you." 

"That's not true."

"It is. You don't have to believe in me. But you will when he tells you. I'm encouraging him to. So, please. Let all your feelings for him fall back in."

"No. You don't get to decide for me. And you don't get to set free all the things so that your brother could get it. You may care for his happiness, but I care for yours." I stomp all my way to him. It was hard to walk wearing my gown and the heavy snow on the ground.

"George had his chance with me. He took that for granted. You don't have to fix things for him. I understand you love your brother, unconditionally. Because I also have a brother that I'm willing to bet my life on. But I know he can take care of himself. He can make his own choices. I guide him but that's just it. His actions, his consequences to face." 

"Y/N..."

"You're a good brother, Fred." I smiled at him.

"She's right, Gred." Fred and I turned to see George walking toward us.

"It turns out this potion worked." He showed us an empty bottle of invisibility potion. 

"I'm sorry for making you feel like you don't deserve anything at all you have to give everything so that I could have it. You don't have to sacrifice everything." He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

George then looked at me. He removed his coat and placed it on my shoulder.

"I guess I liked you a little too late." He placed his hand on the top of my head and when closer to my ear.

"Thank you." He messed up my hair and left the two of us.

Fred took my hand as he removed his brother's blazer. We followed him when Fred threw the coat on him.

"She doesn't need it." He said and he led me somewhere more quiet. I heard George laugh as we disappear in his sight.

We entered an empty classroom. He closed the door behind him and muttered spells on it. I was starting to get nervous. 

"Fred?" 

He turned to look at me. It was like seeing a whole different version of him.

"Sorry. Are you still cold?" He went close to me and held both sides of my arms. Caressing them to make me feel warm.

"A little." My eyes found his. 

We were about to kiss and this one would be it.

His lips found mine. He was gentle but started to get rough when I kissed him back, trying to follow him as if he was leading me. He lifted my weight which I was surprised by because I have a plump body. I don't have a toned and thin body like any other girl. And yet he still managed to lift me up as he placed me on a table. His rough, huge hands roam and grabbed my thighs. A moan escaped from my mouth.

"Don't hold it back in." He whispered between our kisses.

"Someone could hear us." 

"I cast a spell, love. No one can hear you. So be loud as you can be." He bit my lip and then his kisses went down on my neck. I could feel he was trying to hold back leaving me marks.

His body rested between my thighs. I could feel him getting hard every time he pushed his body while he kissed me. He was trying so hard not to undress me so he stayed his hands on my bare thighs.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me to go on. Whatever you want. I'll do it. Tell me." He stopped kissing me. His lips were plump and had lipstick stains. My hand went over to his buttoned shirt and unbuttoned the first one.

"Do not stop." With that, his hand on my thigh went higher to grab my ass. I grabbed his wrist while my other hand tried to mess up his hair.

"God, you're breathtaking." While kissing my neck, he slowly unzipped the back of my dress. I felt the warmth of his hand on my bare back. I wasn't wearing any bra so it was easy for him to access my breasts.

He grabbed my breast while his tongue played with my nipple. I arched back in pleasure, making it easy for him to do what he was doing.

"Fred..."

"Be patient, darling." He pulled away from me and completely removed my dress, leaving me only with my undergarment. He also removed his top as I was still sitting on the table. I was awed to see him topless. Quidditch training did his body justice.

He went over to me once more to kiss me. 

"Open your legs." His voice filled with such dominance that I didn't hesitate to do what I was told. He continued to kiss me, massaging my breasts. Those kisses slowly went down my neck, chest, stomach...and down to my...

"Fred!" 

"Do you want to stop?" He asked. I was thankful for making sure I still want to continue.

"It's just..."

"What is it, love? Tell me." 

"Must you kiss me down there?" I looked away because I just asked a dumb question. I heard him chuckle and placed his hand on my chin to make me look at him.

"Do you trust me?"

I nodded at him and he smiled, kissing my forehead for assurance.

"I'm preparing you so you won't have to feel pain."

He slowly removed my undergarment and kissed my pelvis as he went down to my womanhood. As soon as I felt his lips and tongue on my folds, I arched back. The empty classroom was filled with my moans and his kisses. I was starting to feel like I'm going to explode so I grabbed his hair. He stopped.

"Not yet." He licked his lips and unbuckled his trousers. I saw how huge he was. I was starting to get scared, wondering if it'll fit inside me.

"Do you still want to continue?" He asked one more time.

"Will it hurt?" 

"Maybe. You have to tell me. May I have your permission?"

"Yes."

He slowly entered his length inside me. I winced in pain but knew Fred that was trying to be gentle as much as possible. When the whole of him was already inside me, he kissed my cheeks and tried to whisper sweet nothings. He was slowly thrusting, making sure I was feeling all nothing but pleasure before fasting his pace.

He continued to kiss me as his pace started to go fast. My moans were getting louder as well as his groans. He keeps kissing my neck and shoulders, hugging me ever so tightly. We were both close to our climax. And when he did, he pulled it out.

He kissed my forehead and went over to pick up my clothes. He helped me to clean up before we put our clothes back on.

"Can you walk?" He asked when he saw me struggling to stand straight.

"It's a little sore down there," I tell him. He looked like he was sorry for what he did. I smiled and tiptoed to kiss his cheeks.

"I'll be gentle next time. I promise." He said and then placed his coat on my shoulder. "Warm enough?" He smirked at me.

I knew it was a lie when he told me he'd be gentle. Because he never was. Can't blame a man with this amount of energy.

*****

#character x reader #fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp one shot #harry potter #gryffindor #gryffindor x gryffindor #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #george weasley #oneshot #george wealsey x reader #george weasley fanfiction #weasley twins

[rosedom]

Happy 1k!!!!! I haven’t been following your blog for a long time, but congrats!!

For the alphabet thing could you do T, U, V, and W for Baizhu? I don’t see a lot of asks for my sweet boy :(

-🍦

"you have summoned BAIZHU for the event . . ."

A/N : aaa baizhu ,, he is so terribly underrated. his release was so anticipated, then it just . . . fell off. my baby<3

✦ㅤㅤT = toys (does he own toys? does he use them? how often? on a partner or himself?)

"does he own toys?" do you know baizhu? he owns so many toys, from vibrators to dildos to a strap on he keeps especially for you to use on him; he's got a sybian, too, but that stays under his bed, kept away for the days you're with him . . . after all, a toy like that—it's difficult for his frail body to stay perched atop it without your help. the sybian is his favorite, easily, but it's a rare treat for him to indulge in. lubin' up the seat of it—from his amalgamation of lube that i know he has, ranging from the flavorless fragrance of violetgrass to the tasteful zaytun peach or sunsettia—, getting his sensitive cock settled on the jut of it and settling his cunt into the valley . . .

baizhu's the type of guy to rely solely on toys to get off, and he gets off pretty often at that. he doesn't usually use his own hands to bring himself off—it exerts far too much energy, and, besides, he tends to fall apart all shakey n' trembling before he can cum. while he may not masturbate everyday, it's plenty enough for him to be very familiar with his body, with the toys that make him feel best. (in other words, though, baizhu has definitely accidentally overstimulated himself. without you around, it's difficult for him to parse when—and how, even—to get the overwhelming stimulation for a toy off of him. he's so weak, post-orgasm, and on the days he ends up overstimulating himself more than usual—well. it's time for a jack-off break, isn't it?)

✦ㅤㅤU = unfair (how much he likes to tease)

oh my godddddd ,, he is the ultimate tease, both intentionally and not. he loves petting you in the spots that really get you goin'—from brushing his fingertips lightly across the exposed nape of your neck to your sensitive wrists, he's got you wrapped around his finger with nothing more than his look and gentle touch. he's a doctor, for chrissake: he knows where to touch you to get the most visceral reactions !

and as for unintentional, just look at his outfit. he doesn't hide the softness of his body at all; in the day-to-day, his soft stomach stays exposed, his waist bare for your hands to grab. and, with how sensitive he is, goosebumps almost always erupt across his skin when you do it; it's simply ravishing. the delicate way his hair falls, too, all graceful and braided up, is tantalizing—and baizhu doesn't even think of the things his somehow thick yet wispy bangs do to your heart (and your dick) when he brushes himself in the morning. every inch of him is perfect.

baizhu loves to tease because he loves your reactions. he may intend to tease, or he may not; but at the end of the day, he knows your reaction, and he knows when you're keyed up. maybe it's just the fact that he's so beautiful that he's so effortlessly teasing: he's not so dissimilar from a soft lamb. he's all lamb-like in the flutter of his eyelashes, in the vulnerability he gives to you so readily ૮꒰/ฅ//ฅ//꒱ა

✦ㅤㅤV = volume (how loud he is, what sounds does he make, etc.)

though he's far from silent—a pretty symphony of gasps, whimpers . . . he's not very loud. he's just naturally that way, too; he never has to push himself to be quiet in intimate scenarios, he just is. quiet, however, is not silence. he never muffles himself, even as your fingers nudge up against that lil' bump in his cunt, even as you lick across his cock. his lips will smack against nothing, the wet sound of his tongue n' spit echoing around your head with each barely-there plea. it's like his vocal chords are shredded, like this, but i wouldn't have it any other way.

✦ㅤㅤW = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

BAIZHU IS THE TEMPLATE FOR A PILLOW PRINCESS !! this man never lifts a finger when he's with a partner, with you, and it's so mmmm . . . it's partially from trust, the way he can give himself up to you entirely, but it's also another form of a tease. he lies in wait for you, all pretty eyes and submissive moans and sensitive body—it's hard not to cave into his desires. he thrives with a service top—not one he has to dominate, but one he can trust to dominate him, instead, with nothing but gentle pleasure. he thrives underneath someone else, another person to maneuver him willy-nilly. you, however, will need to assure him that you enjoy this play; let him know that his pleasure is most important, here in your bed.

really, he's just so used to being treated like glass because people think he will break; but with you, he's treated like glass because he is yours, the apple of your eye and life who you dare not to harm. baizhu deserves the absolute world—of pleasure, that is.

hhhh it's kinda unrelated but i can't stop thinking about pressing up against baizhu's back, keeping him nice n' snug on that sybian of his . . . nnnn this may become a future drabble (⁠*⁠￣⁠(⁠ｴ⁠)⁠￣⁠*⁠)

5 APR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 EVENT 】 #mmmmm i love him. i love him so terribly #alphabet #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub baizhu #baizhu smut #dom reader

[sturniolowhore]

☁️ THE PROJECT #4

summary ⎯ a biology project; that's all it is intended to be, a matter of communication amongst classmates in order to succeed yet the more time chris and aluna spend together, the harder it becomes to distinguish the line between requirement and want. they are required to work together, to spend time with one another and to exist beside one another until suddenly it doesn't feel forced. what is supposed to be simply completing a project turns into an unmistakable connection of hearts.

part 1, 2, 3, 4,

warnings ⎯ chris x fem!poc!oc, cursing, fluff, grumpy!oc and sunshine!chris, eventual smut, not proofread, mentions of anxiety, toxic homelife, mentions of selfharm, angst, hurt and comfort, etc.

A/N ⎯ another series baby! i know i said it would be one long fic but i wanted to get some writing out soon. i've written a few parts so i'll post them all rn but there's more to come eventually!!

i hope you enjoy <3

❛ ━━･❪ ִ ࣪𖤐 ❫ ･━━ ❜

"sturniolo three, you're late," mrs david looked up from her desk and chris gave her a sheepish smile as he glanced at his brothers who simply laughed at him.

"i lost track of time i'm sorry, it won't happen again," chris apologised sincerely, making his way to the back where aluna was doing some research for their project.

he sat down next to her with a soft smile, one that appeared too sympathetic for her liking but she chose not to dwell on it. she gave him the slightest smile, hoping she didn't come across as rude.

if there was one thing about aluna, it was the way she disassociated when something went wrong. she never cared to communicate with people in the first place but moments like the one from the day prior made her shut down even further. normally it would be fine given the fact that she never had anyone she was required to talk to but this time it was different. this time there was chris whom she knew could not deal with complete silence and was most definitely going to spike up a conversation of some sort with her.

"your phone case is different," he pointed out lazily and she felt herself freeze a little.

it was different. she had changed it so she wouldn't remember the interaction with her dad everytime she so much as glanced at her phone. but he noticed. he noticed something so small yet so big.

"felt like switching up," she responded, glancing back at the case to see the way it enveloped her phone.

"spontaneous," he teased and she couldn't help but laugh at his words.

chris could have sworn everything around him paused when she laughed. it sounded beautiful, so pure and innocent and as though it had been building up. he wanted to hear it more often, to see this side of her that she hid away for reasons unknown to him. he smiled at her and she looked away with flushed cheeks, embarrassed for some reason.

"don't hide away, you're allowed to laugh. especially when you're in the presence of somebody as funny as me," he beamed at her and she shook her head at his words but chris could see she was holding back a smile.

"i'm not hiding away," she rolled her eyes at him but she was trying her hardest not to smile.

there was something about being in chris' presence that was easy. existing alongside him almost felt like second nature and she wasn't used to such normality when it came to new situations. she didn't know what it was but it was in a way reassuring. it made her feel human so to speak. it made her feel human because she was starting to get the hang of the whole communication aspect. sure she wasn't anywhere close to the level she saw others at but slowly but surely she felt herself peeling back her layers. in the moment she would appreciate it but then she'd recall how nothing good lasts and the light always burnt out so why would she waste her time on something temporary? for now, she allowed herself to live in the moment.

"come on let me ask you something, what's your favourite season? actually wait let me guess," he paused for a moment and when he saw her waiting expectantly for an answer, he proceeded, "is it spring?"

"how the hell did you know that?" her eyes widened in surprise and he laughed at the expression, offering a small shrug of his shoulders.

she breathed in slowly, "can i guess yours?"

"yeah of course," he fucking beamed at her and the way she was actually placing herself in the conversation rather than allowing him to do all the talking.

"i feel like yours would be summer," she commented and he nodded his head eagerly, implying she was correct and making her smile yet again.

"why did you guess summer?" he raised his eyebrows playfully, wanting to know more.

"um you kind of just have a lot of energy and like you're very eager to talk and do things so it just made sense i guess?" she almost questioned hesitantly because she didn't want to offend him in any way.

"that was pretty accurate," he laughed softly and she felt her body physically ease at the response.

"why spring?" she couldn't help but ask, wanting to know how she was perceived.

chris paused for a brief moment; he wasn't entirely sure his reasoning would sit right with her and he didn't want to ruin the dynamic just as it started.

"i don't want you to feel like i'm reading into things too much," he told her and she looked at him curiously; now she most certainly wanted to know the reasoning for his choice.

"no go on, i wanna know," she shook her head, picking at her nails in slight anticipation.

chris stared at her hands and she sighed a little before dropping them to her sides, leaving him to grin at her before beginning to speak, "i feel like you like spring because it's in the middle like it's not too hot and it's not too cold. maybe you don't like too much of something because it can get overwhelming so you enjoy the balance."

read like a fucking book.

"i- what? how did you do that?" she questioned him, her lips parted slightly due to the shock towards the accuracy.

"i can just read people well," he brushed it off but she was still wondering how anyone could do something even remotely close to that.

following that, there was silence where they got back to work but for one of the first times, aluna didn't feel like it was an uncomfortable silence. she didn't feel as though silence was a negative aspect but more so a reflection of them getting used to each other or well, her getting used to him.

and then she did something she never would have expected in a million years, she spoke and broke the silence herself and it wasn't even about their task at hand, "what do you do for fun?"

chris looked around the room, almost as if he was expecting her to have been speaking to someone else. when he saw her eyes trained on him, he was rather surprised to say the least.

"i like going out with people or just being around people, mostly my brothers. if feels nice having company around you, you know?" he smiled at the thought.

she didn't know. in fact, company for her was unsettling and the ides of that being fun sort of alarmed her. it was strange how people worked in different ways. her idea of fun was to be alone and paint until her hands grew tired or watch stars until her eyes began to close yet here chris was, saying all he needed to have a good time was someone else.

"doesn't company ever feel like it's a lot?"

"not really, i always feel like things get too much when i'm alone," he confessed and she never really thought of it from that perspective until now.

"it must be nice, having brothers to keep you company at home," she found herself saying, ignoring the little jealousy she felt because she, of course, never had anyone by her side at home that could comfort her when things went wrong.

"it's the best, especially because matt and nick are my triplet brothers. it feels like having built in best friends. are you an only child?" he rambled lightly before addressing her in a curious tone.

she nodded her head as a means of a reply, her mind running loose with how different things may have been if she had a nick or matt in her life. she always felt alone, even in the most crowded of rooms but especially when she was home. her dad was just a reminder of what she could have had but he stripped that away from her.

he wasn't always like that but then again, things started to go wrong at a very young age. her mother died when she was only four but she was never told how, only blamed on several occasions by her father. it was always her fault and from then on, she felt like a burden in her own house. her house never felt like a home again and her dad was like a stranger who hated her for no reason.

sometimes she too blamed herself. it was stupid because she was never made aware of the matter itself. she had no idea how her mom died yet part of her soaked her dad's words in like a sponge. maybe it was her fault but she was only a child. no child should have been treated the way she was. there was never any physical abuse but as crazy as it sounded, sometimes she wished there was. physical abuse would leave bruises and scars that would someday fade but his words never vanished from her head. at night she would play them in her head over and over again until she fell asleep, only to wake up the next morning and remember she had no one there to tell her otherwise. she felt alone no matter where she was and she hated it. she hated it yet she had grown accustomed to it, to the point she knew nothing but loneliness.

"i mean at least you still have your parents," he smiled softly, of course not understanding what his words planted in her head.

"yeah," she mumbled but it wasn't true; she didn't remember a time when she felt like she had a parent never mind parents.

"do you have any pets?" another question he didn't realise would have such a strong impact on her.

she still remembered her childhood, pleading with her dad to get a pet of any sort so she at least had something but he simply turned her down. she remembered crying her eyes out in her room when she saw people walking past the window with dogs. she wanted that so badly until she didn't. now animals just served as a reminder of yet another thing she was deprived of.

"no, do you?" she replied simply, wanting to shift the focus onto him before she ended up snapping.

"a dog, his name is trevor," chris lit up when he talked about him and all aluna could do was smile, living vicariously through him.

"that's cute... um, can i see him?" she pondered nervously but chris' excitement showed her she had nothing to worry about.

he pulled his phone out from his pocket and clicked on his photos, pressing the most recent one with trevor that just so happened to have him holding the dog. aluna glanced at the picture with a smile, her eyes raking over the dog before they landed on chris. he looked so happy in the picture and it made her feel happy in a strange way. from what she could see, he was always smiling and she sort of admired him for it. it must have been nice to feel at ease with the world.

"you looking at trevor or me sanchez?" he teased and she pulled her eyes away from the screen, rolling them when she looked at chris who was grinning at her.

"are you always smiling?" she pointed out and he shrugged happily.

"you're like the sun," she voiced without meaning to and she instantly scolded herself mentally for the carelessness.

"i am? in what way?" he looked at her with interest, as though he wanted to know every last thing the comment held behind it.

and then the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, leaving aluna to breathe a quick sigh of relief and chris a little frustrated that he never found out more. she mumbled a quick goodbye and then she was gone, like she never spoke to him and asked him questions, like she never called him the sun.

he shook his head fondly and then smiled when nick and matt approached him as he packed away his stuff into his backpack.

"you're smiling like a fucking creep," nick deadpanned and chris couldn't help but laugh; he sort of was smiling like a weirdo.

"she actually spoke to me," he told them excitedly as they made their way towards the door.

"she did?" matt turned to him in disbelief and chris nodded his head enthusiastically.

"what does it mean if someone says you're like the sun?" he turned to them, avoiding matt's question somewhat without even meaning to do as such.

"she said that to you?" nick raised his eyebrows, shock apparent in his expression when chris nodded his head in approval.

"why don't you ask her?" matt teased, discretely pointing to her across the corridor, her headphones over her ears and head looking to the ground as always.

chris sighed, "i did, the bell rang and she kind of ran away."

"i'd run away from you too," nick smiled sarcastically and chris shoved his shoulder, a small laugh escaping his lips as he watched her walk away, turning the corner and leaving his sight.

❛ ━━･❪ ִ ࣪𖤐 ❫ ･━━ ❜

TAGS: @mattslolita @mattsleftnipple03 @sturniolololover @hearts4chris @sturniofilmd @luvsturns @that-general-simp

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #smut #fem oc #grumpy x sunshine #sunshine #anxitey #angst kinda #angst #comfort #hurt/comfort #sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo smut #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #fluff #strong #themes #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolowhore #series

[dipplinduo]

Just a lil' check-in regarding S&S D engagement <3

Hey! I’ve honestly been debating on making this post, and I’m hoping I can come across intentionally here:

Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten an increased amount of asks/comments/etc. that are essentially inquiring about S&S D updates in ways that seem to be more on the “demanding” side, for a lack of better words (e.g., repetitive, insistent questioning regarding updates, not-so-politely worded “requests” to either abandon certain storylines or add something into a storyline, and even expressions of dissatisfaction/disapproval for when I’m choosing to write for something other than S&S D itself).

I’ve chosen to remain disengaged from this kind of behavior since it personally has felt upsetting, discouraging, and pressuring to receive. It unfortunately doesn’t really seem to be going away, and it has been affecting my writing process. So I just wanted to make myself a little clear here:

I personally don’t appreciate and will remain disengaged from interactions I’ve characterized above. I feel that I put a lot of hard work into what I do choose to do, and I also really do enjoy writing dipplinshipping content in general. I know many people on here may be following me primarily for S&S D – and that’s fine! But please know that I’m putting an equal amount of passion and effort into the other works I’m writing, and while you don’t need to read them if you don’t want to, publishing them still means a lot to me, personally; I don’t view them as being any “less” than S&S D, even if S&S D is pretty much my magnum opus in terms of hits/engagement.

I recognize that I’m pretty playful in my interactions in general, and a lot of these interactions may be coming from a completely well-intended place. So I do have faith that many of the comments I’ve received probably wouldn’t have been said if people knew how I’ve been feeling about receiving them. I’m hoping this post can clarify things going forward and help us all have a better understanding of each other as we celebrate dipplinshipping and have fun engaging with each other. 😊

That being said, here are the types of engagements that have felt really enjoyable regarding S&S D, and personally motivate me a LOT to keep writing:

Asks/discussions about things/moments that you’ve liked, or are wondering about (I’m open to constructive criticism, too, of course)

Asks/discussions that express general excitement, theorize, or talk about/inquire about potential breadcrumbs, etc.

Fanart! God, I love your fanart!

Headcanons too – whether they’re S&S D related or not!

Reactions to chapters, or quite literally anything that sparks dialogue (these ones I do deliberately delay answering so it doesn't spoil people immediately after an update, lol, but omg I love, love, love them!)

Lastly – I will say: I am actively working on Chapter 13 right now! I know how much people are eagerly waiting for it, and I’m grateful that it’s highly anticipated. It’s my full intention to write well rather than just write for the sake of producing; I want what you read to be of quality and worth your while. I will be letting you know when it’s coming out, as I always do!  Thank you for your patience and understanding. 💕

With love,

dipplinduo

#my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran #asks

[cb97swhore]

bored

pairing ; christopher bang x afab reader

< 3

summary ; you found his porn

< 3

disclaimer : this is not an interpretation of what the chosen member (s) are like in any way, this is a work of fiction therefore it is not real. i only write for people i am comfortable with, my comfort does go out to groups that are not on my masterlist such as : ateez, monstax and others, you just need to ask if you want me to write for someone specific. if you are under 18 read at your own risk this / these piece (s) contain adult themes. such as ( alcohol, sexual activity, and just alot of sexual stuff) lowercase wording intended.

< 3

warnings ; mutual masterbation, sub reader x dom chan, mentions of other members, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), established relationship, nicknames (baby, channie, good girl), PRAISE, PRAISE, a little degrading, alot of dialogue

< 3

wc. 3

you had been sitting there for the past hour just watching chan and on your phone, waiting for him to finish up this single that him, hyunjin and minho wrote and is supposably dropping in two months.

usually on saturdays chan has atleast some of the day off but not today, after dance rehearsal had finished, he came here instead of going to eat with the boys and has been sat here recording and changing things.

you had came here to give him food because you know when he is in the studio whether that be the dance studio or the recording studio all day, he forgets to eat.

you rarely see chan recently but you do get your 'good night, baby' text between 10pm and 4 am depending if he has alot on his plate. if he ever sleeps then he usually falls asleep at the studio and if not there then he only gets to your shared apartment in early mornings and leaves way too early for you to catch him.

you did see him on the regular just on a device, he doesn't really have time to 'pop a visit' or call, he would text you every now and then but you would have to wait hours for a response, because of the tour and the new album drop you only see him on youtube videos and vlives.

that's the treasure of dating an idol.

you used the food as an excuse to see him but it was also true he does forget to eat, you can't blame him it's easy to forget when you have so much on your mind.

your phone had died a couple of minutes ago so you asked chan to go on his phone as yours charged, of course he said yes and gave it to you, you put in his password 'straykids8' and it was already open on his photos, curiousity took over you and you are now scrolling through his library of photos.

most of them selfies he never posts, you scroll through the tens of selfies smiling to yourself "you're so cute" you whisper, you click off of the main album and press on the one that says 'not so straight kids' It's an album filled with videos and photos of the boys being more than friendly with each other, you can't help but giggle and scroll for a little longer.

you come off of it to go onto a different album this one named "my love <3" the album containing photos and videos of you and Chan on dates or just doing overall wholesome things together.

you press off of the albums and scroll down a little bit, you realise he hasn't got a hidden folder, "channie?" he hums in response "wheres your hidden photos?" you ask "hidden from the guys thats where, why?" he questions you as he slightly tuns in his chair.

"can i unhide them for a bit?" you ask and you see a small smirk form on his lips " you already know whats on there but sure" you look at him confused you but dismiss his words, you go into settings and turn it on, you go back to the library and go onto the hidden folder that isn't very hidden thanks to you.

you see it's nudes, but not just anyones nudes they are yours and chans, you accidentally gasp as you see them and scoll up, videos of him fucking you."chris" you call him and he turns around in his chair to look at you, you rarely call him by his english name unless he is fucking you or he is in trouble.

you show him the phone screen, it playing a video of him fucking you from behind, "told you" he says with a smile "you have so many photos and videos of us chris" you start as you cross your legs and swipe to a different video.

"at least I can hide them" he says in defence "not very well" you tease as you see his ears flare up with a red tint, "the boys could find this" you say with a smile.

"let them, maybe they'll enjoy it as much as I do" he says with a slight smirk "enjoy them?" you question as you turn the phone back to you.

"we fuck alot" you say scrolling, "not recently though" you continue, he just hums "how do you enjoy the videos chan?" you ask even though you know "show me" you finish.

you want to control chan, make him cum just by command but then you also want him to use you like his own personal sex doll. "why should I?" he asks and you uncross your legs and stand up, pulling down your grey sweat pants, you kick them off and sit down with your legs open wide.

you're sat there in lacy black underwear and Chans shirt "fuck" he whispers under his breath and you are grateful for your confidence as you sit back and lift a leg up.

your (his) shirt uncovering every thing so he has a perfect view, chan sat there palming his shorts as his eyes trail down your body from you lips to your now wet panties.

you loved when chan touch himself, you didn't know why but it was a huge turn on, you loved it a whole lot more when you were the one touching him and making him moan your name.

"touch yourself" he demands and you listen.Your middle finger finding your clothed clit as you rub it in figures of eight, soft moans ascape you as you watch Chan push harder on his cock."chan" you moan his name in a whisper so he will look at you, him a little lost with the friction he is creating in his pants.

when he does look at you, you stop rubbing your clit and stand up hooking your fingers into your panties, you turn around and pull them down slowly, bending over as you do so, you hear him grunt and you stand up straight and kick the lace off of your body. 

you kick them into the pile of forming clothes and sit on the sofa, this time putting both of you legs up so he has a this time absolutely perfect view and so will anyone who walks in, lets just hope no one does.

chans hand is already in his pants, taking his cock out, precum covering the tip but he doesn't touch it until your fingers are on you again, spreading your folds so he can see "use you left hand" he says, and you do, you bring two fingers up to your mouth and suck them in, making them wet, you take them out and start rubbing your clit.

your right hand smearing your juices, chan rubs over the tip of his cock and the precum slides down his length, you start to tease yourself with two fingers not pushing them in until he says so, "please channie" you call out, looking at him so innocently.

"do it" is all he says as he starts jerking his cock "fuck chris" you moan as you let them go in, then back out and back in again, chan hisses in responce.

"fuck y/n" he moans as he teases the tip "curl them" another demand, you do and it feels amazing, your small digits still finding the gooy spot inside you, you throw your head back, the pleasure overwhelming, your fingers have never felt this good, on you clit and or in you.

"oh fuck" you moan, hearing the rhythmical slapping of skin pick up it's pace. "channie" his name is like heven in his ears when you moan it like that, "does it feel good baby?" he knows it does, but you would feel a lot better with him inside you.

he looks at you with remorse, "your fingers are tiny compared to mine" he says in one breath, you look up at him "imagine they y- yours" you whimper as you add a third finger and move them faster, your left hand still on your clit.

you feel a knot start to form in the bottom of your stomach as you hear chans harsh breaths "look at me" he says, you pick your head up, making eye contact with him "fuck, i wish this was your hands" he says as he glances down to his dick, you know, the one that could be pounding into you and not his fist.

you moan out as you see it, the way his big hand slides up to the tip to have his thumb press on it, just to slide down to the base.

everything about that man was perfect even his cock, the perfect length and the perfect amount of girth."or your warm cunt" you feel yourself clench around your fingers "so tight" you let out as you pull your fingers out to the tip, just to push them back in, he moans at that "and just for me" he speaks with a smile.

"just for you Channie" you manage to get out before another moan slips your lips and you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. "yeah? baby, uh fuck" he moans the last bit and it completely ruins you and the tight knot rips and you let yourself come undone onto your fingers "fuck" you moan as you climax.

you continue your motions with your fingers, riding out your high "fuck, chris" you practically yell as your juices spill onto the sofa, not the first time, Chan watching your glistening core as you take you fingers out.

"suck" is all he says and your digits are in your mouth "fuck" he moans and you can tell he is trying to prolong this as far as he can, you suck your fingers clean and take them out of your mouth.

without missing a beat he says "take your shirt off" and thats exactly what you do, your shirt laying with your sweat pants, you don't have a bra on because you find them incredibly uncomfortable, "come here" he says and as you get closer to him his left hand goes to your back, pulling you in between his thighs and his lips instantly latch onto your left nipple.

you gasp at the sudden contact as he rolls the bud between his teeth, you can still hear his hand sliding up and down his cock, you moan out as he takes your hand a wraps it around his length and you instantly start to jerk it.

your fingers wraping perfectly around it, he pulls away from your boob and peppers kisses to the other side, you feel his hot breath "fuck y/n, just like that uh" he moans then starts bitting at the skin of your right boob.

you continue your hand movements until you feel him twitch in your palm, as you get to the base you squeeze it lightly and he lets out a shaky moan."get on your knees and open your mouth" he demands as he pulls away, you take your hand away from his throbbing dick and lower yourself onto your knees, using his thighs for support.

you finally get on your knees and chans left hand cups your face, his thumb running over you lips, "look so innocent, open" you open your mouth, his thumb going in and holding it open as you stick your tongue out, waiting for his cum.

he pums his cock a few times "uh fuck" he moans loudly as white ribbons of cum land on your face and chest some of it landing on your tongue.you close your mouth, swallowing the cum, you wipe some of the cum off of your right boob.

making eye contact with him you put your fingers in your mouth, your lips closing over them and a soft moan you let leave your throat as you taste him.

"fuck y/n" he moans at the sight of you as he fuck his fist, coming down from his high.

his hand stops, he takes it off of his dick, "sit on the sofa" he breaths as he reaches for the box of tissues on his desk, you get up from your position on the floor, you legs shaky from you previous orgasm.

he stands up from his seat, his pants falling to the floor, he kicks them off and his attention is back on you, he wipes his cum off your chest and face, placing the tissue on his desk.

"now I'm going to fuck you and you're going to take it like a good girl, okay" he looks down at you and all you can say is "please, I need it" and with that "all fours" he commands and you obey.

you turn around, your knees on the sofa your hand over the back, "so fucking perfect" he says as he teases your folds with the tip "such a tease" you say to him as you push your hips back to feel him.

"tease?" he questions as he rams it in fully and you let out a loud moan at the pleasant surprise, he bottoms out "fuck, so tight" you clench around him and you both moan out.

"big" is all you could get out as he starts shallowly thrusting into you "uhu, big?" he lets out a shaky moan telling you he is enjoying himself "whats big?" he asks you, knowing the answer.

"you channie, uh" you moan as he reaches your gooy spot, he hum s at you as he quickens his pase, his pelvis slamming into your ass, the noises of skin slaping, your wet cunt and both of your moans, yours the loudest thing in the room.

"you fill me up so good" you praise him and he swears he could just cum right there, but no you have to finish first.

he leans into you as his hand finds your clit "Fuck, fuck, fuck" you scream with each thrust and each circle he presses onto the swollen bud.

you grip the back of the sofa for dear life as you feel your second orgasm coming. "fuck chr-" you get half way done moaning his name as he stuffs his fingers in your mouth, you gag on the digits as he brings you up right, your back flush with his front.

"look how fucking-good you are" he thrusts inside mid sentence "letting me use this tight hole" he clarifys and your walls clench around him as you moan around his fingers, "hugging me so fucking tight" he moans as he moves his hips harder, the tip rubbing so deliciously against your g spot, you scream out, his fingers restricting your voice and he knows to do that again.

so he does "shh baby, we don't want anyone to hear" the words make your walls contract "uh fuck, you do" he moans the first bit and slowly drags out of you, just to slam back into you.

a strained moan erupting from your throat, "fuckin slut, such a pretty hole" the name mixed with the praise was all you needed to let go you curl your toes and your hand finds placement on chans hair, gripping it tightly as you cum around him.You feel Chan dick throbbing as he bucks his hips into you helping you ride out your orgasm and your new found kink "did you just? uh fuck, y/n" he moans loudly as he feels his orgasm coming, he takes his fingers out of your mouth and away from your clit, his hand are on your waist as he fucks you hard.

"Uh fuck chris" you practically yell, the over stimulation sending you into overdrive , chan is grunting and moaning as he chases his orgasm "so wet" his voice is an octive higher  as you feel warm liquid inside you and he continues his relentless pace.

after a few more thrusts he pulls out and steps back, watching both your and his cum mix and drip down your thighs. you feel a tissue press to your thigh as he cleans you up "thank you" you say as he finishes up and you sit on the sofa.

stretching as you pick up yours (his) shirt and put it on, chan already fully dressed "that was so good" he praises as he sits next to you "i needed that so bad" he says and you understand, he is always sceptical if he is doing what ever it is doing wrong but with you he knows he does it right, cause you're always satisfied and if it was really good you kinda just pass out after you cum.

"so sleepy" you say as you lay yourself down, chan decides to lay on you, hugging you tight around your waist and flipping the two of you over so you are ontop "all fucked out baby?" he says and you let out a pleased moan cause you don't want to talk.

your legs lay on each side of him on the sofa as you hug him and start to fall asleep.

-

you don't know how long its been but you get woken up by the door opening and a voice "chan its tim-"its hyunjins voice and he stops mid sentence as he sees you "jeonjin, its y/n" he calls the youger boy and you hear foot steps and jeonjins voice "what about he- wow" he also stops himself but he has a reaction and its sounds like a good.

"your fantasys are not as good as the real thing" hyunjin says "we shouldn't be seeing this" jeonjin the respectible (kinda) one of the two says and you lift your head and look back at them hyunjin just standing there still holding the door and jeonjin standing behind him "its okay" you say.

The more 'innocent' ones eyes widen at your words "youre still pervs though" you say and put your head back on chans chest, "just shut the door I dont care if you leave or not" you feel yourself start to drift off until you hear chans voice "just keep it quite, we are trying to sleep" you smile at that and close your eyes. 

-

A.N ; this is my work, if you have seen it before thats because i have changed accounts.

please show love, like, follow and repost please and thank you

Remember, i love you all and i hope you're doing okay :)

#skz smut #skz hard thoughts #bang chan #bang chan smut #stray kids smut

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Intense Subtext in Front of Oblivious Side Characters: "I had no wife in the year six"

There's a thing, I guess it would be considered a trope, that is one of my favorite such things in any form of media but especially any sort of romance-centered story. I don't know of an existing term for this and I'm terrible at being concise so I'm not sure how I could put it briefly. Basically, it's the thing that happens when a larger interaction is happening with a group of people but there's a subtext to it that means something very different--and generally, much more meaningful--to the central characters. You could call it something like Intense Subtext in Front of Oblivious Side Characters.

I've been thinking for a while about possible parallels between BLs and Jane Austen novels and/or adaptations. This is my attempt at taking a small, specific example of a parallel I sometimes notice and talking about it. Austen's novels do a lot of this trope I mentioned. That's in part because of choices Austen made in what she wanted to write about. But it's also because of the social context of her time. There was a lot going on that people couldn't be explicit about, for a variety of reasons. I think one reason why I see similar things happening in some BLs--and maybe one reason for the appeal of certain types of BLs--is the fact that being queer in a homophobic society makes openness complicated in a way that doesn't come up as much for hetero relationships these days. Especially when we get into things like office romances, in which appearances have higher stakes. These complications around openness have a kind of similarity to the reasons Austen's characters had to play a lot of things close to the chest.

Fellow Old Fashion Cupcake fans will remember an example from that series that I think really fits here. Nozue and Togawa agree to attend a goukon, or "mixer" as it's sometimes translated--basically a group hangout intended to help men and women meet for the purpose of finding people to date. Nozue is hitting it off with a cute younger woman, which is bad enough. But then he mentions his "anti-aging" efforts, and because of the mysterious way he words it, the woman asks, "Does that mean you're in love?" which of course catches Togawa's attention even more. He's clearly affected when Nozue answers, "If I were, I wouldn't be here."

@jdramastuff did a great screenshot post of this scene if you want to see what this looked like.

After Nozue's comment, Togawa starts knocking back alcoholic drinks like it's going out of style, ensuring that Nozue will have to help him home instead of going home with the woman who's been flirting with him.

(You could argue that this isn't so much a case of subtext as it is the significance one person assigns to what another is saying. Subtext really requires some degree of communication between more than one person. But while Nozue doesn't fully grasp what's going on, I think he does understand in some ways what he's communicating. I don't want to go on too much of a tangent, so I'll just say that having just read the manga the series was based on, it strengthened my belief that while Nozue is repressed, insecure, even deluded at times, he has glimmers of awareness of his feelings for Togawa and even suspicions of Togawa's feelings for him, and on some level he knows what he's saying, though I don't think he knows in this moment how much these words will hurt Togawa.)

I have another favorite example of this, a scene from Persuasion. It's rendered really well in the 1995 adaptation of the novel with Ciaran Hinds and Amanda Root. (The whole thing is phenomenal, by the way--I think it's the best Austen adaptation ever made, personally.)

A bit of background for anyone not familiar with the story: Anne Elliott was engaged to Captain Frederick Wentworth in 1806 but was convinced by Lady Russell, her neighbor/family friend and a kind of surrogate mother to her following her mom's death, to break off the engagement. She has regretted it ever since. Wentworth was deeply hurt and angry when she broke things off, not surprisingly.

More than eight years later, Anne is visiting her sister and her sister's in-laws, the Musgroves, when Wentworth comes to the area and starts spending a lot of time at the Musgrove place (and with the Musgroves' eligible young daughters). Wentworth acknowledges Anne, but just barely, while paying enough attention to both the Musgrove girls that everyone is gossiping about which one he's going to marry. Anne's sister Mary was away at boarding school when her previous relationship with Wentworth happened, so neither Mary nor the Musgroves are aware Anne and Wentworth were involved and think they were only acquaintances.

At a dinner party, the Musgrove girls try to look up the ship that Wentworth first commanded, the Asp, in the Navy List, a book that chronicles the various ships in the British Navy, their commanders, and so forth. Wentworth tells them not to bother--"she" is not in the current version of the List because "she" no longer exists.

Louisa and Henrietta Musgrove are suitably horrified.

Admiral Croft, Wentworth's brother-in-law and superior in the Navy, remarks that Wentworth was lucky to get a command so early in his career at all, no matter how seaworthy (or un-seaworthy) the ship was.

(Remember, 1806 was the year that Anne and Wentworth became engaged and then un-engaged.)

Gut-wrenching. And nobody else sitting at that table has any idea what just happened. I love it.

I have some more thoughts about this languishing in an excessively long post in my drafts, which I'll try to get out one of these days. I know I've talked to a few people about trying to do some BL/Austen posts and had meant to tag them but the only person I remember talking with about it was @absolutebl. If you're reading this and you want a heads up next time I write about this stuff, let me know!

#austen & BL parallels #jane austen #persuasion #persuasion 1995 #wentworth x anne #old fashion cupcake #togawa x nozue #ciaran hinds #amanda root #takeda kouhei #kimura tatsunari #intense subtext in front of oblivious side characters #tropes #I need a better and shorter name for this