#'why is that so specific' no further question. thank you

[theoneandonlysemla]

Sujamma Sundas

[This week Sujamma has been brushing up on his literacy. It's hard being a humble Nix-Hound. Reading doesn't come naturally to him, but he's doing his best! This week Sujamma is hoping you will help him learn to read!

Post a favorite scene, favorite sentence, favorite dialogue, favorite anything from any fic you've written! If you haven't written any fic, feel free to share your ideas. If you don't have any, recommend a friend's fic!]

Tagged by @skyrim-forever and @dirty-bosmer! Thank you <3

Tagging: @vanilleeistee @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @elavoria @firefly-factory @hircines-hunter @illumiera @lillxart @ladytanithia @pocket-vvardvark @rakaiawriter @sheirukitriesfandom @thequeenofthewinter

Honestly, I was like "uuuuhhhh, what did I even write in my life" at first but then I remembered that one specific scene in Dealings with Daedra: Boethiah's Wrath that always makes me so happy when people reach it while reading! That's the one.

Nevri and Morotar have been on the road and poor Nevri had to fight her way through a draugr infested nordic ruin. They now have reached an inn, where they stay the night and Nevri helped herself to a bottle of wine. Let's say, the two of them had a not so pleasant conversation and Nevri left, to wash the rest of the draugr blood from her body. [I'd love to put the entire scene here, but that would be like 2,5k words, so take a snippet:]

A knock on the door startled her, interrupting her train of thoughts. She sat up in the tub, one arm covering her breasts and the other grabbing for the hilt of her sword. Her heartrate rose. She was ready to fight, in this case, completely bare. 

“Who’s there?” She uttered, feeling that she was no longer master over the movements of her tongue.

Instead of an answer, the door opened. Back through the archway she was able to see it, but the light over on the other side of the room was dim. Too dim to recognize anyone who had entered. Only a tall silhouette. Her heart skipped a beat. What did he want in here?

“What’s the matter?” She prattled, cursing the amount of wine she had drunk.

Still no word, but she heard heavy steps on the stone floor. The figure traversed the archway and light fell on his body. Nevri’s guess was right, the Altmer stood in front of the bath. The sword still in hand, she let herself sink in a little deeper, her black hair floated around her body. Automatically she crossed her legs and shifted a bit to the side, turning in the tub. Expectantly she stared at the High Elf.

“What is the matter?” She repeated her question, this time slow, to not make it too obvious that she was drunk.

He did not wear his armour anymore, only the boots were a reminder of it. He looked over her and Nevri would have liked to vanish. She did not know, how much of her naked body he was able to see, but every little part of her bare, gray skin was too much.

“As you have been gone for quite a while, I found myself in the responsibility to check on you.”

“Check on me?” She repeated. “Why would you?”

“You are the one who pays me. It would be quite inauspicious if you were to drown drunken in a tub.” He sounded reproachful.

“Canmal pays you, not me. So, you can let me drown in peace,” Nevri answered and let the blade fall out of her hand.

Coin was the only reason, he cared about her wellbeing. She knew that, but it still stung. Without giving him any further looks, she let herself sink under the water. She held her breath, eyes open. And she counted. One, two, three… Hopefully he would be gone soon. Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight… She could not hear any steps, but the water around her ears may deadened the sound. Sixty-four, Sixty- She had to resurface. With her hair sticking to her face, she emerged from the water. She rubbed it out of her face and to her surprise, Morotar still stood next to her.

“You have checked on me. I am fine. You can leave,” she nagged.

Instead of leaving he held a towel in her direction. Reluctantly she took it, giving him a confused look.

“Out,” he said in his most strict voice. “Now.”

“No?” She answered, but being very unsure of her response.

He made a big step closer to the tub, now standing directly in front of it. Looking down on her, his blue eyes fixated her. His expression was unreadable, frozen in place. Nevri pulled her legs closer to her body, clutching the towel in front of her. She felt her heartbeat fasten even more; shivers of excitement rushed through her. Her mouth was dry and to withstand the eye contact was more than exhausting. Morotar bowed forward, his head was in line with hers. She breathed in his smell and felt the warmth emanating from his body.

“If you do not leave this tub right now, I will pull you out and throw you into your bed. Without granting you to cover your bareness. And maybe, I will change my mind on the way and toss you into the little lake outside, as you are so unwilling to leave the water. You would be sober in no time.”

Nevri swallowed hard and her gaze flitted to the pile of clothes and armour pieces on the floor. No, she really did not want to leave the bathroom without her garments or her armour. She had no choice but to obey his order.

“At least turn around if you insist on staying in here,” she mumbled.

[b4kuch1n]

I actually for real feel like my phone's scanning quality has dropped monumentally while I was away on thing so that's a fun thing to figure out now. anyways

[moviestarmartini]

alta suciedad. — franco colapinto x f!reader

summary: while interviewing franco, you misunderstood what he meant with 'talented with his tongue'. lucky for you, he's more than willing to actually show you his skills.

wc: 2.9k

warnings: interviewer!reader, hispanic!reader, porn with an ounce of plot, set during media day of the austin gp, casual sex, oral sex (fem recieving), p in v, unprotected sex, pull out and pray, mean dom!franco, dumbification, degradation, a teeny amount of praise, aftercare, spanglish/sentences in spanish.

A/N: based on this request and took some inspo from this other anon, i'm literally giggling typing this in order to publish it. no specific song for today even though there's a few references even in the title. hope y'all are hungry!!

“I’m talented with my tongue.” 

You didn’t have that much experience when it came to interviewing professionally— you’d been a kid reporter at the same sport you strived to get there, and in the course of getting there, you’ve seen a thousand and one million things that impressed you. 

But this? 

Your mouth hung open, giving him a few rapid blinks while your brain processed the information. 

“You wanna see?” Franco Colapinto insisted, not reading your expression well enough, or ignoring it at the very least. 

“¿Aquí?” You blinked, unable to process the event in the main language of the paddock. You were one of the youngest reporters there, but that didn’t mean you were inexperienced. That had just completely caught you off guard. 

Franco cocked a brow before showing you and the camera how he could manipulate said organ so the sides touched and a tiny hole formed in the middle. 

Yet again he surprised you, or more you surprised yourself with how further down the gutter your mind was at. 

“Oh, good!” You snapped out of it, but he had seemingly finally connected the dots, or so the smirk in his face made it seem like it. 

“Well, thank you for having us, Franco. Good luck during the weekend.” Your  composure was back not even two seconds later, the cameraman soon signaled the transmission was off. A relieved sigh left your lips while your shoulders relaxed, giving your coworker the mic and transmitter to take to the media tent just a few steps away. 

You were just turning back to head there as well, ready to get immersed in writing a report before your name was called. Your heels turned you around by force of habit, not realizing the tone in the driver’s voice might mean trouble. 

“Yes?” You asked politely, hands clasped in front of you to avoid any chance of fidgeting. Your little crush was idiotic, or so you considered it from the day you first interviewed him. 

“¿Qué vas a hacer hoy?” He took a step closer in order to ask the question, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. 

“¿Perdón?” You realized that sounded rude, your voice repeating a better answer soon after. “Seguir trabajando, why?” A frown settled between your brows, head leaning slightly to the right. Where was this going exactly? The confusion only settled further when you noticed his eyes darting around before leaning in. 

“Si querés que de verdad te enseñe que puedo hacer con mi lengua, entra al motorhome después de las siete, te dejo la puerta de atrás abierta. Mi cuarto está a la izquierda.” And with that, he pulled away, turned around and left. 

You did the same, convinced the idea was just a figment of your imagination, the drought you’ve been suffering for more than a year to get there tricking every nerve in your brain to believe those words. It was settling into the late afternoon, and you worked at a pace Sonic would envy. His words bounced around your gray matter, and after much debating you stayed after the six pm mark, when everyone else left. You peered your head out of your station noticing how the place was almost empty. It was Thursday after all, the whole crews were not active until the following day. 

The curiosity got the best of you, and you packed your bag to head there, skittish at the sight of anyone who crossed your way— or at least the few that did. 

No one was used to walking behind the team buildings, never mind during what’s considered after hours. Your breath got stuck in your throat when you noticed the door ajar, and no one came in nor out to justify the fact. 

“Thought you wouldn’t come.” Franco’s voice snapped you out of the hesitation, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I thought I was supposed to come in by myself.” You got the bravery to counter with the way your heart sped up with adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

“You’re late.” Franco’s response was quick, witty. His tone made you raise your brow; it was… different. Commanding, you could pinpoint. 

“I shouldn’t come out and get you, vení.” Before you could even process it, he took your arm and dragged you inside, going straight down the hallway and taking a left before the door closed shut— no witnesses visible to what he had just done. 

“You can sit wherever you like.” He invited, his voice was back to its playful tone. You nodded, putting your bag down by the door and sitting on the small couch near a corner. 

“Sos muy bonita, ¿sabías?” He complimented while finishing to fix up his room, side eyeing you. 

“Why am I here? What do you want?” You asked bluntly, not accepting the compliment. 

“Look, if you wanted me to write positively about you on the piece, you already got it.” You carefully watched him take a seat next to you, and you both turned to face each other.

“Tonta también, ¿no?” It was as if you were ignoring each other’s words, and before you could get offended, his fingertips brushed your hair out of the way of your face. Any smart quip you could’ve thrown at him flew out the window, your lips parting. 

“That’s just how you looked at me earlier. When you thought I was referring to something dirty. Tontita.” He inched closer. You couldn’t help but do the same, a bit eagerly, eliciting a laugh out of his lips. 

“Do you like me?” It was his turn to be blunt. Without hesitation you nodded, squeezing your lips into a thin line after realizing that might’ve been a mistake. An embarrassing one at that. 

“No pasa nada. Vos también me gustás preciosa…” His voice trailed with his head leaning closer, lips brushing against the prickled skin of your neck. “…inteligente…” A kiss pressed to the area. “…y al parecer, puta.” 

The gasp disappeared between the blurred lines of your lips and his crashing, the term disappearing in your mind while you kissed him. Your hands gripped the material of his team shirt while his own lowered down your back, pulling you closer, almost on top of his lap. 

“¿Hacés esto mucho? Sneak into other drivers’ rooms?” He asked while leaning back down to kiss your neck with a twinge of more harshness, ragged breath leaving your lips while you shook your head ‘no’ 

“¿Sos muda? Habla.” There was that commanding tone again, his fingers delving into the skin of your thighs to squeeze what he wanted out of you. 

“No. Nunca.” You replied with a gulp, leaning your head back to recieve more kisses as a reward for your answer. 

“So I’m the lucky winner?” It sounded something between a compliment and a joke, and you decided to humor him a little with a smile. 

“One could say so.” You replied, thinking you’ve gotten the gist of it. 

“I’m surprised. With that skirt…” He shook his head after tutting, making you figure out the context of his words. You were into it enough to not get offended by the allegation, normally would have defended yourself with the fact it was terribly hot outside. You didn’t like dressing similar to the rest of the reporters in the paddock, and maybe this once it played both in your favor and against it… sort of. 

His lips captured yours again, his tongue swiping your bottom lip. You weren’t dumb— even if he liked to say so— parting your lips without complaint, feeling the way your tongues tangled together while he pushed you down until your back hit the fabric of the furniture. 

The open mouth kisses started redirecting their path down your jaw, following a trail down the length of your neck. He took the opportunity to breathe your scent. 

“Olés tan rico,” He groaned, the growing erection in his jeans pressing against your upper thigh. 

“I can already imagine how that pretty pussy tastes. Can’t wait to make you cum just using my tongue.”  The idea made you shudder, his hands raising your top to move it out of the way while he kept kissing back. You took the initiative to just pull it over your head and throw it somewhere else. 

“You’re so good, stripping for me without having to ask.” Franco cooed, his pace slowing down when his mouth reached down your belly button, making him look at him expectantly. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to just tug on your denim skirt up to completely move it out of the way without removing the piece, his knuckles brushing the spot marked with your aroused slickness, your hips involuntarily twitching to lean closer into his touch. 

“Si solo te he besado y ya estás re mojadita,” Another coo left his mouth, this one with a certain amount of jest in it. You felt deeply embarrassed in a way your face displayed it, only making his smile grow in size. 

Franco almost ripped off the underwear and chucked it somewhere in the room. No moment to adapt was left at your disposition, his tongue pressing flat against your wet core. The noise of a moan coming from you clashed with the hum of satisfaction he felt from the sheer taste of you. 

“So sweet,” Franco praised, and those were the last words to come out of his mouth before he started to back up his words from earlier. 

The whole situation felt like a dream. Not only the fact he made an advance upon noticing how far down the gutter your mind was, but the fact you even came there in the first place. Not that you regretted it, with how he flicked that sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.  

You didn’t believe his promise earlier— thinking it was just silly dirty talking— but he was proving you wrong. Your moans were the perfect evidence, fingers tangling in his curls while his left hand rose up to grope your exposed breast. 

The shuffling noise outside the room made him perk up and away from your dripping cunt, chin glistening with your wetness. He pulled his index fingers to his lips to signal you to be quiet before continuing, but his attempt fell futile. You were reaching your release quick, his magic working a little too well. There was no warning; his other hand left the grip on your thigh to cover your mouth, holding it down a bit too roughly to send a message. 

Your muffled moans and cries only set him off, teasing your entrance before licking the trail up to your clitoris, suckling on it. He fluttered his eyes open, and the sight was nothing but completely arousing. Your eyes were rolled back, column arching up while his expert affections tipped you over the edge. Your thighs simultaneously shivered and lightly squeezed his head, and it was enough for Franco to decide he was in heaven. 

Once the overwhelming sensation started to wear off, your legs relaxed, allowing him to pull away. With a clearer mind you noticed how his chin and lips glistened before removing the substance with the back of his hand, as if it was just sauce from an actual meal. 

“¿Por qué me mirás así?” Franco wondered at your blissful expression. “¿Ya te enamoraste, putita?” There was no verbal answer; he was eager to link his lips with yours again in yet another sloppy makeout session. This once, however, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh. 

Taking initiative, your hand lowered down his torso to fumble the button of his pants a little before being able to undo it. A groan followed by teeth tugging at your bottom lip was the reaction you gained from jerking him off slowly under his underwear. That gave you enough confidence to swipe your thumb across the leaking tip in order to tease him. 

The sound of a moan from him echoed inside your mouth, a hum from satisfaction leaving consequently. However, your moment of dominance soon faded with his hand slapping yours away before spreading your legs even further— to the point it pulled on the muscles of your inner thigh just a little, the burning sensation mushing with pleasure— the skirt hiking up to rest on your torso. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He leaned in to whisper, feeling him nudge your entrance in order to tease you. The sensation that followed was something similar to your brain shutting down, managing to only nod. The smell of his cologne, his body pressing down on you. 

Franco, Franco, Franco, Fran— 

“¿Qué pasa tontita? Say it.” He egged you on, threatening to push himself inside, but not making it far enough to bring you satisfaction. 

“Yes, por favor.” You begged, getting a chaste kiss for a reward followed by the intrusion spreading your warm walls. You saw the way Franco tried to keep it together, the façade crumbling under a groan. You felt too good. His mind could only pinpoint your body under his, the warmth hugging his stiff dick and electrifying every nerve of his being. 

His mind couldn’t stop chanting your name. 

“Move,” You asked nicely, though it came out in a huff. He found himself too enthralled to complain at your tone, instead complying. 

The lower tone of his moans harmonized with the high pitched of yours, the sound of skin frantically coming in contact filling up the room enough for both of you two to forget what could possibly be going on outside. At least it had been a while since you last heard people outside doing whatever. 

“Dios, que apretadita estás,” Franco groaned out loud, his lips brushing against yours. You took the leap, closing the distance between the two of you. But you couldn’t get much out of it due to your own fault, moans interrupting the session. 

“No, besáme.” You whined when he pulled away slightly, and a smirk rose at his lips before he locked them with yours, pace increasing. You struggled to engage further, the moans and groans interrupting. 

“No, besáme.” Franco replicated your plea from earlier before laughing between heavy breaths. 

You couldn’t do anything but pucker your bottom lip out, not finding the words to complain about how mean he was being. Besides, all coherent thoughts disappeared the moment you felt your second orgasm peeking from behind you at a rapid rate. Your nails dug into the uncovered skin of his forearms, just below where the team shirt started covering his biceps. 

“¿Por qué me apretás tanto?” He hissed before falling upon the realization, deciding to keep having his fun with you and slowing down. 

“Fuck— ¡¿qué te pasa?!” You groaned, feeling the release reeling down into a sensation of being completely stuck midway. 

“Dale, decime lo que quieres. De forma bonita, como vos.” He kept his thrusts slow and deep, trying to contain his own release from the pulsating walls squeezing the life out of his cock. 

“I wanna cum,” You felt the embarrassment of having to request that out loud settle in your stomach, soon washed over by the sensation the quickening of his hips gave your core. 

“Si, si. Franco, that’s it,” You cried out, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while your thighs shivered once more. 

Your cunt was so warm and tight he almost didn’t pull out. Almost. After a groan left the back of his throat, droplets of white painted your lower abdomen, thankfully not staining your skirt. 

He kept himself supported by his forearms, allowing him to lean in and kiss your forehead and cheeks. 

There wasn’t much to be said, you knew that, and so did he. Carefully, he fixed his underwear and pants before getting up, muttering something under his breath in his attempt to find the wet wipes he knew he had… somewhere in the organized clutter of his room. 

“Dejá que te limpio,” His voice was tender, the wet tissue dragging across your skin to remove the seminal liquid, before another carefully cleaned the sweat off your forehead and neck. 

You thanked him with a nod, unable to hold eye contact for long. Once you felt comfortable you sat up, fixing your clothes and hair before getting up on your legs, still a bit wobbly. You took it upon yourself to clean the damp spot on the couch where you laid, still embarrassed by the whole ordeal. 

Quickly, you slipped your underwear on, unaware of the pair of eyes following your every move with a cold calculation. 

“¿Qué vas a hacer hoy?” The question he asked to what seemed to be ages ago popped up again, making you turn, just as confused as you were earlier. 

“Dormir… cenar. Ya veremos, dijo el ciego.” At your cheeky response his laughter echoed through the room, arms folded over his torso. 

“¿Habrá un espacio para mí en esa cena o nos vemos mañana a la misma hora?” He took a step closer. Then another. And another. Until he stood in front of you, leaning down enough to whisper in your ear. 

“No importa si no me querés ver hoy en la noche todo caballeroso, mañana procura llegar a tiempo y controlar esa boquita.” Yet again, his voice electrified goosebumps all over your skin. 

What did you just get yourself into?

[metranart]

hi! it’s me

i wanted to ask you how would the jjk guys react to you getting their lips tatted on you..?(specifically gojo)

like you got them with lipstick and they kiss a paper then the tattoo artist makes it a stencil in red and you put it right under your boob..?

(don’t do this if your uncomfy with it! also take your time your probably busy)

xoxo,em! take care

Hi sweets, sorry for the long wait, I've been awfully busy but here it is, I made it specially smutty to compensate lol hope you like it :) btw... I love your requests ;)

How would the JJK guys react to you getting their lips tattooed on you 💋

Ft. Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Choso, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna.

SATORU GOJO

Five missed calls and four unseen texts. Gojo sighs, scratching the back of his neck, he hated it when you left him on read. What could you be doing that was so damn important to ignore him.

The sound he had been waiting for since the day started makes his ears ring with excitement and without wasting a second, he opens the text message with your name on it.

Gojo Satoru's eyes widen, and his black glasses slide down the bridge of his nose almost comically thanks to his jaw dropping a little, all at the sight of the picture attached to a cute and adorable message that says:

"Do you like it?"

Gojo growls under his breath, subtly pulling with a shaky finger at the collar of his shirt, suddenly it's too hot there, his cheeks turn an accusatory red and his breathing has grown labored. Even his palms are sweating, for fuck's sake! What's wrong with him?! It's just the shape of his lips on the delicious curve of your under-boob. Shit! He's about to bust a cap inside his pants.

"Satoru-" Nanami's stoic voice breaks his trance and looking around almost as if had forgotten he was in the middle of a briefing, gets up and without any further explanation than: "Emergency!" Leaves the school, leaving behind and unattended, all his duties and mental sanity.

"Did you see the message on his phone, Geto?" a puff of smoke lazily comes out of Shoko’s curious mouth and Geto shrugs. "I saw that it was from (Y/N)." The black-haired snickers and everyone let out a unison, heavy sigh.

Gojo arrives in less time than is humanly possible at your apartment and without warning, not even a ‘hey, babe’, or a: ‘I just teleported myself into your room, hope you don’t mind’. You are dragged by your tall and strong boyfriend, special grade sorcerer and stripped of your top.

"S-Satoru, baby?"

You try to figure out what has him so bristled and with the delicacy of a saint but the curiosity of a child, he yanks your bra up, your delicious breast spills from underneath and his tattooed lips greet him.

"Shit!" is the first word you hear him say and it's almost a painful pant. "Those are my lips, aren't they? This is why you asked me to kiss that paper using the lipstick-...." he sounds accusatory but also incredibly excited.

You nod and let out a sigh that you didn't know were holding. "Phew! When you didn’t answer my text, I thought you didn't like it-"

"Not like it..." he sounds almost offended, and your bra is discarded when he pushes you on your back in the bed. "Not like it?! I love it! I want to eat you whole, (Y/N), I'm only holding back because I need to ask something first."

Being pinned down by his weight and his gentle hands on either side of your jaw, Gojo steals the little space and whispers his question against your ear. "Are you still sensitive from the tattoo, or can I give you a new one with the original source?" 

He kisses your earlobe playfully, and you can’t help but giggle dumbly, as you can't help your voice from shaking with excitement. "I’m not made of sugar-"

You can't even finish the sentence when his lips begin the endless and shameless work of awakening every nerve ending in your skin, the desperation palpable in the white-haired sorcerer as every piece of clothing is torn from your body and his and discarded on the floor as impure.

Purple mockeries of your tattoo in the form of hickeys adorn every patch of your sensitive neck like a new necklace, small bites from the small curve of your shoulder to the sinful curve of your waist, nipples swollen and perked from the greedy skating of his tongue on them. Gojo is not being rough, but he is not being gentle either, he is brutal in his advance but methodical and careful that your moans do not change tone.

"I'm going to tattoo myself on you from the inside out," his warn is muffled against your breast as his mouth devours the plump peak of flesh. Paying special attention to pressing his lips against your tattoo over and over and over again, as if certifying its authenticity and quality. The silhouette was exact, the perfect shape of his greedy lips. It was an almost erotic sight for him.

"Huh?"

"Sure,” he chuckled low before keep going, “white ink specially made for you. You'll see, I’m an awesome artist," having you panting, sweating and squirming isn’t enough for him. Oh no! he needs more, Satoru Gojo claims for something more permanent than a mere tattoo. "...My tattoos last nine months inside, and eighteen years outside, they talk and call you mommy, I’m that talented, sweets" tangled between his muscular limbs, your new resting place, he does whatever the fuck he wants with you. 

You feel the massive shape of his warm cock against your thigh, he’s been pumping himself no end, not letting you touch him not letting you aid him for fear of wasting his first load, that tasty, thick load he's been preparing especially for you. The mere graze of your fingers on him will be his end, he knows it, so he won’t ask nor accept your help, even when he longs to wrap your fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut. Or better yet, wrap your perfect mouth around his cock and suck him off– NO! he now’s not the time for him to be negligent. 

Once loaded, abandons his quest for relief and rests his warm palm on your belly massaging it as if molding it to fit something of his, while the other keeps playing with your cunt, enjoying the way you suck his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. 

“I never thought someone would be able to awaken my paternal instinct-... did my clan hire you, sweets?” he scoffed, playfully. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy moans and whimpers but the way your muscles are tensing and spasming around his digits. The desperate rocking of your hips against his palm, as a firm beg for relief.

“It's just a tattoo....”

“Na ah!” His hand continues playing with your tummy, your navel, the curve of your waist almost obsessively while his tongue makes out with the curve of your neck. “This was your way of telling me that you want me forever..." long finger prod at your gummy walls, searching for that hidden blessed spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

"Let me show you how gifted I am, my sweet girl..." 

He finds it in matter of seconds, and you lose all kind of restriction and complaint and Gojo can’t help but smirk against your neck as you tighten and quiver around his digits. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his thumb pressed over your clit, flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles a deep purple hickey on the skin. Long, thick fingers guiding you through madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, oversensitive body to handle.

"Y-Yes, Satoru, shown me, fill me, mark me-… do whatever the fuck you want-"

You convulse in the spare seconds of glorious pleasure before cumming with a strangled shriek, and Gojo’s groan muffles against your skin when can finally sink in one roll of his hips, feeding you that fat cock he’s been pumping to the edge just for this exact moment, buries deep inside you, kissing your cervix in that one thrust of raw meat. With an animalistic grunt, spills his soul inside your womb, pouring every last drop of cum he's been cooking in those heavy balls until he empties himself, flooding your inside with his gifted seed. A rush of juices gushes from your trembling cunt onto your connected lower halves, and you feel and hear him pant like a dog next to your ear, as both come down from the high. 

"Am I your favorite tattoo artist or what?"

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

NANAMI KENTO

He's stoic and serious, almost unmoving in his unflappable staring as you lift your shirt so he can see your new tattoo. His silent disposition is starting to make you more than a little nervous, since you know that Nanami Kento isn't exactly a crazy animal, but rather, a calm and quiet being who hides a wild side that he only shares with those closest to him. Making you wonder if you fall into that category or not, as his silence as he inspects the tattoo of his lips under your boob is virtually killing you with anxiety.

"Those are your lips, my love." You explain again, even though you've already done it three times, and you receive the same ‘mphm’ sound he made the first three times. 

"Remember? -… remember when I ask you to kiss a paper?"

"I do."

"Well, I gave that to the tattoo artist, and he made it a stencil in red and then I ask him to put it right under my boob...?"

"I see."

Those calm eyes, analyze from every possible angle the tattoo of his lips on your skin, it had never been so difficult for you to read your boyfriend. "Do you like it, do you hate it? Tell me anything, Kento."

Silence and more close observation.

You close your eyes, squeezing your eyelids shut as you take that deep breath of air, you need so much, and you are about to demand an answer when you feel it...

Your eyelids suddenly open looking down and there you find him: Your stoic, boyfriend, the sensible and calm man who is always in control, kneeling in front of you while pressing his lips against your tattoo, the round softness of your boob loses its shape momentarily as the blond pushes his face more firmly against the plump skin. The most unexpected kiss that you have ever shared and for some reason, the most erotic, too.

"K-Ken?"

"Did it hurt?" he asks suddenly from his kneeling position and the threat of you stuttering makes you just shake your head. Nanami steals another kiss against the softness of your breast like he can’t have enough of the sensation. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

You nod, mesmerized by the sudden attention this blond showers you with, his hands caressing your bare back from top to bottom, slow and gentle with the tips of his fingers, it's delicious and it melts away the anxiety you may have been feeling, now, malleable in his hands. You let his face sink further into the curve of the tattoo of his lips and you moan his name as if you want to taste it rolling down your tongue.

"Nanami."

"... Do you still have the lipstick?"

"Huh?" That request brings you out of your reverie a little, and you look at him with some confusion, to which he smiles, that smile that makes you weak in the knees. "Y-Yes, it's in my purse."

"Lend it to me, darling."

With his palm splayed wide open he waits for you to hand over the lipstick. Digging for the cosmetic, he waits patiently until it's resting in his open hand and before you can air your doubts, he stands up, lifting you into his arms to take you with him, those muscular limbs feel like the safest place in the world and you nuzzle your nose into his neck to breathe in his scent combined with his cologne, and it’s intoxicating, so much so that you almost miss his next question.

“I’d like to suggest a few other places where my lips would look just as amazing on your body.”

“Kento!” you startle, it’s adorable to him and closing the distance, he presses his lips to yours, tasting, nibbing and licking as he carries you to his room. “You take suggestions don’t you, sweetie?” 

He chuckles at the flush growing wild on your cheeks, and you feel the softness of the mattress on your back as he sets you down with the care of a saint, before beginning to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. Your body shivers in anticipation and his lips curve up into the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen him make, his large hand reaching out one elegant finger towards you and beckoning you with it. 

You’re on your knees in front of him in seconds, his knuckles running down the length of your jaw in a silky caress that has you purring like a kitten, leaning into his touch. That smile only stretches further, as your eyes flutter shut and you feel the greedy grip on his lips, hunting for another kiss. 

Unfortunately, it ends too soon, and your mouth holds that pouty shape that demands another sweet kiss, but instead of his fleshy lips, you feel the creamy slick of lipstick painting your lips.

“Tell me, (Y/N),” Nanami is delighted with how docile you are to him as he finishes painting your lips red, and it’s the sound of his pants zipper coming down that catapults your eyes open, “what would you think of me tattooing your lips right here?”

His finger points along his defined obliques and your mouth waters, this man was sincerely praised by the gods themselves, every muscle in his abdomen defined, those deep lines going down to his crotch giving that ‘v’ shape to his torso, that sinful path of golden hair that disappears under his trousers. It's too much for you.

"I think I need to see what it looks like first and then I can give you an informed answer, Kento."

His broad chest rises and falls violently, sweat runs down his forehead and his cheeks are an explosion of color. This is your masterpiece. Nanami Kento’s fat cock fits with effort in your mouth, but you certainly do your best to get it to touch the back of your throat with every thrust, you can feel him getting close, his thighs tremble under your hands, his forearm covers his eyes, his cheeks are about to explode… he’s too close, and your tongue curling around the tip doesn’t help him resist, you suck him off for over ten minutes and you’re proud of that pleasurable ache in your jaw when he comes shamelessly hard at the back of your throat and your name rips through his esophagus as it echoes through the walls of his apartment. Eventually, his hand stops keeping your head pressed against his pelvis, and with a wet pop, his still semi-erect cock hangs in front of your face, lubed in your saliva.

“You’re right, I think it would look nice.”

You tell him, admiring the lipstick residue that adorns the shape of his cock and balls, a crimson kiss near the base, another at the shiny, cum-dripping tip, another resting on the roundness of his coarse balls, and you love the whole image. You want a fucking mural in your living room with this image.

“Hell no,” the blonde says breathlessly, barely trying to recover from your masterful blowjob, “…no needle is going to touch me down there,” he threatens playfully but serious enough, “if you like the way it looks, you’re going to have to paint it yourself every time.”

A giggle escapes your mouth, red lipstick smeared on your lips as you grin evilly at him. 

“You have yourself a deal, baby."

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CHOSO KAMO

Choso can't control where the blood goes since, he met you, his cursed technique is out of control. That damn tattoo of his lips on the curve of your under-boob is driving him crazy, he thinks of it and the blood goes down to his crotch. He thinks of you and the blood makes a tent in his pants.

It's a mess that he's had to control with shameful continuous masturbation sessions. Jerking himself off, over and over, with your name as a mantra and the image of his lips tattooed on your breast as his banner.

"Shit, just go away." 

He murmurs with a tight voice, while his fist milks his fat cock in fast and violent motions, his flesh swollen painfully for more than an hour, he doesn't want you to come home from work and find him touching himself, he doesn't want you to find out that he lost control of his cursed technique. He had to lower himself to watching porn, something he had never done before, but it was of no use. So, he put on cream and although it had relieved him on other occasions, this time wasn't working its charm. Fuck! Pleaaaase-... maybe he needs more cream to slide better? No, no matter how much cream he spreads on it never compares even a little to your tight, little pussy. 

And it is the desperation, that he is running out of time that drives him to this miserable act. He takes, that one photo he treasures so much, out of the frame and places it between his fingers, his excitement growing as he looks at it, it is working. He beats his piece of swollen flesh more eagerly, grunting and growling like a dying animal, Fuck! he's close...his eyes close in concentration and his hand increases speed and pressure as his mouth hangs open… almost there, he can feel his balls tensing and tightening, so close, just a few more pumps, a couple more strokes, a little more pressure, almost there… his guts tighten and his brain enraptures in the moment forgetting to mind his surroundings, to enjoy the divine sensation that grows and grows and grows and FUCK!-

Choso Kamo cums, hard and heavy, rope after rope of creamy cum shoots out of the head of his cock like a mockery of how blood usually does when he uses his cursed technique, the pressurized jet of creamy juice spills out and doesn't finish pouring for about a minute straight. Once his balls are an empty, trembling sack, Choso can breathe again, his sweaty and naked torso rises and falls with violence that calms down the more air he sucks, the sweat begins to dry on his skin and his cheeks feel less hot. This was what he needed, the photo helped him a lot, although he can feel how he bathed it in cum, he can fix it quickly, clean every single trail of his sin before you get home-

"C-Choso?"

His hand, which was riding out the last few strokes of pleasure on his ultra-sensitive cock freezes and his eyes snap open to find you staring at the mess he is, just what he wanted to avoid, damn it! -

"B-Baby, I-" he starts to stutter and stops abruptly when his eyes register what he did.

Your cheeks are painted a deep red but that's to be expected, what's not to be expected are the cum globes that slide down your pretty face, down your cheeks, varnishing your eyelashes and part of your eye, messing up your perfect hairdo, staining your work uniform. Choso enraptured himself so much in his own fantasy that he didn't notice when you walked through the door, or when you approached him.

Now, he has no idea how to begin to apologize, the words are stuck in his dry throat. Are you angry? Are you furious with him? Your beautiful eyes only watch him, better said, ogle him: pants pooling at his ankles, shirt bunched up to his neck, his cock limp but slowly filling with blood again between his trembling fingers, the cockhead shiny and pink and still, spewing cum to further mortify him. 

Choso is paralyzed, unable to move and his mouth barely managing to open to spit out any explanation, snaps shut again from the shame that crushes him.

But that shame turns to bewilderment when his eyes catch the subtle movement of your hand gathering a glob of his cum that slides down your cheek, with all the delicacy and grace that define you, and you play with it for a second between your fingers before opening your mouth and dipping the digits between your tongue. Choso's jaw drops to the floor and his breathing hastens again, his cursed technique going out of control once more, summoning blood to that still throbbing and extra-sensitive part.

Your pretty lips curve into a feline grin that makes him feel like your prey, and he swallows hard, clenching his fists to keep his body from shaking, when his eyes meet yours.

“Is this what you do when I go to work, sweetheart?” you ask, licking your lips to collect the cum resting there, “you jerk off while looking at my graduation picture?” a flirtatious giggle escapes you when you specify, “...same picture where your little brother is, too, how dirty.”

Choso is a bundle of nerves, blood just keeps pooling where it shouldn’t, he’s so hard and swollen that your eyes drop there almost automatically.

“I’ll take care of cleaning everything-” 

You interrupt his apology, raising a finger to get his attention so he can see you, as you lift your pencil skirt up to your thighs and slowly settle yourself comfortably on top of his lap, nestling his cock between your warm stockinged thighs. Choso shivers and carefully as if asking for permission, let his large hands slide down those wide, inviting thighs. 

“…How about you start by cleaning me up first?” Your warm hand tangles around his firm erection and he growls low, “Then you get me dirty again,” you slide those fingers up and down on his stiffness in shameless incitement and smile when notice his eyes roll back his skull, “and we repeat it all until dawn.”

“Yesyesyesyesyes, whatever my girl wants-…” the words rush from his mouth, “…just one request,” an eyebrow rises on your face, and he grins, warm and almost, shyly. “May I see the tattoo of my lips again?”

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SUGURU GETO

“Do you… Do you really like it, Suguru?” You ask, lolling your head forward and humming when his fingers slowly travel up and unclasp your bra, the last barrier you have left to cover yourself.  Every little breathy sound you make comes ragged and soiled with a mix of uncertainty and excitement.

“Way too much, baby,” his low voice carefully admits from above you.  “I don’t know why you hid it from me in the first place. Don’t—don’t do that. You don’t have to. EVER.”

Your breathing keeps picking up when he keeps trailing his hands around either side of your now naked torso, running the tips of his fingers down your ribs and slowly tracing the curve of your breast, letting the pads of his fingers memorize the shape of his tattooed lips on your skin.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” Suguru whisper, quite suddenly emboldened by his growing need. The gentle caresses pause at the very top of perked nipple, holding there for a second while he seems to think about it. “Please, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Soon his touch lifts away and he appreciates the sound your hands make, as those little limbs make haste in follow his request, the muffled shuffling of fabric being stripped of your skin somewhere close by and the soft noise it makes dropping to the floor, close to erotic to the first-grade sorcerer. And then suddenly—

“Oh, God—” you breathe, nearly melting into the seat of his school office when large, warm palms meet your skin and slowly start to ride the curve of your neck and collarbone downwards. Dammit, why does it feel so good?  Suguru Geto smirks, like the knowing devil that he is. “Do my hands feel amazing, baby? It’s just two palms, ten fingers-”

 “…. But they’re so strong and raspy and big….” Your mouth babbles unrestrainedly, “touch me more, Geto….”

One palm butterfly out across your breast and you moan, lewdly loud. “If Director Yaga hears, I’m going to be so fired, pretty.”

“S-Sorry…” 

Dipping and squeezing the soft, pillowy flesh of your boobs, Suguru Geto stares down at you, drinking every emotion and expression he can rip out of you. “Ho—fuck, like that.” Your approval is everything to him.

“I know,” Suguru murmurs, his voice ocean-deep and scraping across the shell of your eager ear when he leans closer from his privileged height to press one bended knee to the chair, right in between your thighs. He lets one hand drift down into the space he created and rub circles on the moist mound of flesh there, as his other hand comes up to cradle your chin, urging you to stretch your neck up and long for him. “You look so pretty like this— all naked and horny for me.”

“Someone might come in, lock the door…” you breathe in protest, remembering your shy nature, and he ignores you, slowly dragging his palm down your trembling slit.

“You don't get a tattoo as sensual as that, if you don't want everyone to drool after you,” he says, and you’re helpless to stop the embarrassing way your knees suddenly jerk farther apart when his hand moves to press a fat finger on your clit. “… Showing all the monkeys how sexy you are, and then showing them that you belong ONLY to me.”  

And then he squeeeezes your bundle of nerves, and your hips nearly come off the seat with it.

Nothing else exists besides your boyfriend’s pair of hands now gripping the bottom of the chair, to position your body closer to him. You hear yourself take exactly one shaky breath before his arms suddenly slithered under your knees, hauling you forward. Your lower back dips in at the angle, your pelvis now jutted out and propped up by the edge of the seat.  

Suguru Geto licks his lips as if he as if a banquet were being presented to him and the following is him lowering himself to the floor in front of you, running those deliciously strong palms up the length of your thighs. Your new position encourages you to spread your legs wider for him.

“I think my lips, tattooed here,” his long, cascading loose hair caresses the inner skin of your thighs as he leans down to the lower curve of your tummy and places a soft, warm kiss, “would look great, as well.”

“Y-You think?” 

Your quivering lips exhale at the feeling of his hot, plump lips meeting your feverish skin, and hearing the sound of his breath hitch at the visual you give him, goosebumps spread all you’re your body.  

“I know it,” He promises, opening you up wider, subtly moving himself closer into the gap and letting you cradle his torso with your knees.

“Mine to feast on, mine to pamper,” the special grade sorcerer rumbles quietly, his grip on your thighs tightening as he licks his lips, hungrier. “So, mine to… own.”

“….-Own?”

And then you’re abruptly cut off by your own gasp when a soft, dexterous tongue slowly envelopes your clit. His lips slick between your folds as his rogue tongue flicks out like hot velvet to flutter greedily over your clit, humming low in his throat as he eats you with unreserved gluttony.

“Fuck, this is heaven. This is fucking heaven,” he rumbles against your sloppy pussy, “my sweet girl laying with her legs open and letting me eat her after I’m done giving classes—….”  

“Su-Sugu… oh, fuck—” Your words are barely discernible through the pleasure, deformed by the sound of your breaths and gasps. “Do—Do you think someone can h-hear us?”

Suguru smirk is swallow by your folds and his snicker muffled by his need to keep eating you to even let you know that a six eyes user had been spying from the other side of the door since you started. 

“Noones at the school at these hours but us teachers, baby. Don’t worry your pretty head.” 

His fingers curl against your thighs, his tongue swirling gentle circles around your swollen clit as he sinks two of his thick fingers deep inside your cunt. Both of your hands thrust out without thinking and snatch at his loose raven mane, fingers burying themselves into thick waves of hair. “Oh—f-fuck—”

He makes a rough little growl into your warmth every time you tug on his hair, and you tug every time, he pulls his fingers out and then pushes them back in again, until it becomes a vicious circle where both do that steadily, over and over until you’re sweating, hips arching up and doing everything you can to entice him to hurry the fuck up.

Suguru snickers again at your impatience, instead, he’s unbelievably slow, continuing to lick his hot tongue through your folds as his eager finger fuck you, so utterly patient and steadfast, learning the right notes to drive you crazy.

“You are close, aren’t you, dove?” he flicks that wicked tongue applying more pressure to your abused clit, “something’s beginning to burn in your core, I can see the cursed energy spreading threateningly along the muscles in your pelvis.” Suguru narrated what he felt with his own cursed energy, without a doubt the out-looker seeing the same as he was, just in HD. “It rises through your abdomen like unstoppable wave, seeps down into your knees and wraps around them. Your breathing is getting shallower, the base of your lungs suddenly feels too cramped by the oncoming explosion. I know, baby, just let it happen, don’t hold back. You can squirt on my face. I’m eager for you to baptize me on your fountain of love—”  

“Stop it, Suguru… I’m-I’m not…. I will not….” 

Your resistance is nothing but amusing to him, this is your nemesis. You hate how sensitive you are, how easy your boyfriends read you and undoes you with his mere tongue, you hate that squirting jet that makes your toes curl and your eyes blank, but once it’s over, makes you very aware of the mess you made.

Suguru finally speeds up, and that rock steady display of ferocity makes you want to cry.

“—I-I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, everything inside pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving and your grip in his hair turning to iron. “—Oh, fuck, I’m g-gonna cum—I-I—”

A quiet mhmmm sound rumbles low in gentle encouragement, and then he takes a second to softly suck on your clit to push you over the edge. His fingers curl, press up hard against something absolutely fucking devastating inside you, Suguru Geto knows you so well is almost unfair, and bite your lip is all you can do to stifle a sob when your body suddenly erupts in searing burning ecstasy.

Your back arches and you cum in his mouth, wailing his name while he groans raggedly and drags you through it. It’s hot and wet, in equal parts chaos and bliss. You’re still trying to calm your breathing when a gentle softness presses against your lips, mindful of rewarding you with as much love as he can profess in one single, chaste kiss. It’s over way too soon though, and by the time you open your eyes again, you blearily blink them at him. He’s already standing, impeccable and not one strand of raven hair out of place. A swift smirk curving his lips while his stare never strays from your destroyed persona, heaving and sweating and naked in a public place. Fuck! He adores you so much.

“Are you hungry?” He eventually asks looking straight ahead instead of you, the low frequency of his natural voice not masked anymore by his arousal.

You blink up at him twice, still slouched over the seat butt-naked, trying to figure out who is he talking to, all your clothes spread around his desk and the floor when you hear some familiar voice answer from the other side of the door.

“Starving.”

CLICK HERE TO READ ALL MY JJK SMUT FANFICTION COMMISSIONS

RYOMEN SUKUNA

The euphoric sway of his hips meeting yours should be an affront to the natural order, your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, had been maintaining the same rhythm, precision and firmness in each thrust for more than forty minutes. 

You are cockdrunk, you don’t remember your own name, only his. Which comes out of your trembling lips in pieces or unfinished syllables. Your mind is a mess, a rabid mess of hormones and pleasure, but your insides are the most affected, making you endure mini-orgasm after mini-orgasm that shake your frame violently, leaving all your muscles exhausted and sweaty. Breathing ragged, face pressed against the sheets of his bed and your wrists swallowed by his large hands against the firm mattress, while he introduced you again and again to your new deity, his thick cock, which seemed just as hard and ready to continue making a mess of you. 

“…I’m sure you’ll think twice about pulling a stunt like that again now, won’t you, princess?”

Although his voice was breathless, it was still firm and solid, not like your pathetic moans.

“I…I thought you’d-…that you’d like it, Kuna-...” That sentence trailed from your half-open lips, between a sigh and a moan as he changed the angle to hit that spot of nerves inside you that made you see stars.

“I know you meant well but it was still unacceptable,” your boyfriend scolds you again, and a delicious shiver runs down your spine as his hands abandons your wrists in order to better hook on either side of your hip. The mere sensation of his thick fingers digging into your soft skin makes you cum again. "Fuck- you squeeze me so good, baby..." he praises, plunging his massive cock deeper into your quivering hole just to draw out more sensations, "-.... shit! If I cum again, are you going to keep it warm for me inside your tummy, princess?"

"Kuna, yes, always..." you moan into the sheets miserably, "don't stay mad at me, please, my love-"

"I loved the tattoo of my lips on your under-boob, don't doubt that" he affirms, firm thrusts clapping his midsection with yours, like giving his stamina a cheer. "But I HATED the fact that some guy had to do it. Don't you know any female tattoo artists, Isn't this the era of women's empowerment?"

You crawl forward and he catches you before you can shift positions. "Kuna, baby... let me ride you, so I can control the speed... I can't cum again-"

"I. Don't. care." He replies, skewering you again on his veiny, thick piece of meat that still feels like stone. "I'll put it in you as fast as I want and as long as I want until you learn your lesson-"

"Which is?"

"You, cocky little thing." He chuckles and emphasizes each word with a thrust. "Nobody. Touches. You. But. ME! Just ME."

“Mine.” Thrust, “Mine~” thrust, thrust, thrust, “MINE.” Thrustthrustthrustthrustthrustthrust—

Sukuna doesn´t hold himself back, even after he comes for the sixth time, he keeps going.

Slipping in and out of you, still rock hard, twisting you uncaringly in all kinds of positions and surfaces that his room provides, just fucking his cum inside you with every unpunished thrust.

You are tired, you are actually exhausted, you are emotional-... and you are drained.

“—I'm yours, just yours... hands off, w-world.... just y-yours~”

His hips stop, finally halting all movement when you give him what he's looking for, he just wants to hear that over and over again from your quivering lips and raspy throat, he just wants you to say it again. Maybe you should tattoo that as well.

Making you come one last glorious and almost painful time. Your naked body is left, used, sweaty and worn but warmly and safely wrapped in his arms. A huge smirk on his lips before he kisses your eyelids, so you open them again and once again you do.

"Now that we got that out of the way, let me see it again..." Sukuna asks, gently squeezing your tattooed boob inside his large palm, letting his eyes scan each patch of skin and how well he marked you with little hints of hickeys and teeth. "...I think we can play twister with every mark I left on your body," he snickers amused, "...but let's start with those lips on your breast."

“Jerk.”

He grins, satisfied. Hugging you harder to plaster your form closer to him, squeezing that sassy grin out of your pretty face.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Kiss and Make Up

Summary: You used to get along with your brother’s best friend, but at some point, it all changed. Lando’s rude comments frustrate you to no end, and your brother is fed up with your complaints. Max only sees one solution: you need to make up.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader (enemies to lovers)

WC: 5.0K

Warnings: cursing?

Masterlist

You heard the keys jiggle in the door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening, and your brother stomping through the hallway of your parental home. You finally have some time off from school after the insane amount of deadlines and exams that filled your last couple of weeks and decided to visit your family. You like studying and university, but it’s nice to come home and be taken care of instead of doing everything on your own. However, you’re still in charge of dinner tonight. You can never make it back home without being forced to make your famous lasagne at least once and tonight’s the night your family will be blessed with your famed, home-made dish. 

Max smiled when he saw you standing in the kitchen, chopping up the veggies for tonight. Although he’d never tell you directly, he had missed you. Max still lived close to your parents whereas you had moved further away for school. It made it difficult to see each other regularly, especially since Max had started Quadrant with Lando and didn’t make the effort to visit you anymore. Seeing you in person had become a rare occurrence, something that would only happen in his parents’ house.

Max put his hands on your shoulders as he leaned forward to watch what you were doing. “Hey sis, are you making lasagne?” He said with a smile.

“Hello Y/N, I’ve missed you. How are you doing? – I’m doing well, Max. Thank you for asking.” You mumbled as you continued to cut vegetables for dinner.

You couldn’t see it with your back towards your brother, but he smiled at your antics. “Hello my dear sister, I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I do wonder how you’re doing.”

You turned around and smiled when he pulled you into a hug. “It’s your own fault. You never come to visit me, but I’m doing well now that the exams are over,” you tell him with a chuckle.

Max decided to ignore your complaint, instead redirecting the conversation to what you were busying yourself with. “So, lasagne?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Max. I’m making lasagne for dinner.” 

He silently cheered at your response. A cheeky smile made its way onto his face when he asked, “Is there enough for one more?”

“Depends… Who’s it for? P?” You said, looking back over your shoulder to meet his eyes as you cut up more veggies.

“Does it matter who I invited? You won’t let anyone else eat your lasagne?” He said with a laugh, but you knew the question was serious. He knew you didn’t particularly get along with some of his friends – actually, one of his friends, Lando. To say your relationship with Lando isn’t great would be an understatement. Max didn’t know why exactly you didn’t get along, you’ve never indulged him, but the dislike is clearly noticeable and has been going on for ages. Max had tried to improve the relationship in the past, but nothing had worked, only making it worse. He doesn’t understand why Lando, specifically; you don’t seem to have any issues with his other friends. 

You looked at Max pointedly; he was asking for something he already knew. Of course, you’d let people other than P eat your lasagne. There’s only one person that you wouldn’t allow.

Max sighed at your seriousness, “Yes, I’ve invited P,” he told you.

You smiled triumphantly, “Good! I’ve missed her; more than you, actually,” you said with a snort.

Max rolled his eyes at your comment. “I should never have introduced you two. You’re suspiciously close,” he mumbled as he shook his head, leaving the kitchen.

You grinned at his comment and continued to prepare dinner. You carefully cut the veggies, made the sauce and built the lasagne before you covered it with cheese. After you finally put it in the oven, you went to your room to freshen up. Of course, you cannot cut tomatoes without getting juice on your shirt, so clean clothes are a necessity. You quickly changed your shirt, reapplied your deodorant, and fixed up your hair before you heard the door opening, footsteps and voices following soon after. You smiled as you walked down the stairs, excited to see Pietra after months. You walked into the room, ready to hug your brother’s girlfriend, only to see his boyfriend making himself comfortable on the couch.

Your smile dropped from your face in an instant, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Lando,” you said in a low voice. What on earth was he doing here? Your brother told you he’d invited his girlfriend, your friend; was she not here yet? Lando must’ve come to pick something up, right? He wouldn’t visit around this time unless he came to pick something up… Or come for dinner… Judging by how comfortable he had made himself on the couch, you doubt it’s the former.

“Y/N! How are you?” Lando said, getting up from the couch to properly greet you. You scoffed and folded your arms as he moved closer.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Nice to see you too,” Lando said with a smirk.

“I hope you’re not here for dinner,” you continue.

“I am here for dinner, actually. Max invited me.”

You shifted your eyes over to Max in anger. He’d told you P would be coming over, not Lando. The little bitch. 

“I take it P’s not coming, then?” It was evident in your voice that you were upset.

Max looked at you with apologetic eyes, like a child being scolded, as he avoided your gaze. At the lack of response, you turned your attention back to Lando.

“There isn’t enough food for all of us, and even if there was, it probably wouldn’t match your fancy diet anyway. Go buy a salad or something,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at your response. “Such hostility,” he said, his hand resting on his chest in fake hurt, and a teasing grin on his face that made you want to slap it off.

You gritted your teeth at the teasing – God, this man frustrated you to no end, and he was enjoying it, too. 

“Fuck off, Lando. You’re not welcome here,” you said before walking away.

Lando was about to follow you into the dining room, unable to resist teasing you further, but Max stopped him. “Come on, man. Don’t provoke her. She’s already annoyed, especially because I lied to her.” 

You paced the dining room in an attempt to calm yourself down while the lasagne cooked in the oven. You grabbed the plates from the cabinet and started setting the table. You'd cooled off until you realised you’d have to set a place for Lando. You frowned as you stared at the last plate. Why couldn’t Lando just leave you alone? He should know not to bother you, you’d shown him before how petty you could be when he frustrated you, so why did he have to try again and again? Should you act like the bigger person, get over yourself and set the table for Lando, or should you 'forget' about Lando and set only four places? Your parents would be upset for sure, but the urge to retaliate is so strong. You stood still for at least a minute as you weighed your options. 

A smile crept its way on your face when you spotted the kids’ table in the corner of the dining room. Usually, it’s only used for big family events, when your much younger cousins would come to visit. They don’t properly fit at the adult table and have their own tiny table in the corner of the room. A normal-sized human wouldn’t properly fit on one of the seats, but then again, Lando’s short, right? Besides, if he acts like a child, then he can sit at the children’s table. You grab the children’s cutlery and plate from the cabinet and set a special place for Lando. You can barely keep your laughter back at the thought of Lando sitting at the small table in a chair that’s way too tiny for him.

When you heard the timer beep, you tried to neutralise your expression. You placed the lasagne on the kitchen table before calling your family (and Lando) for dinner. Your parents were, unsurprisingly, the first to join you at the table. The boys, naturally, were still finishing up the game they started before dinner was finished. Your parents were already seated and provided with drinks before the boys came walking in. Although your parents hadn’t noticed the table in the corner or the missing chair, your brother noticed straight away.

He looked at you disappointedly as he said, “Y/N, did you seriously not set a place for Lando?”

“No, I did. It’s right over there,” you said, pointing to the kids’ table.

The boys looked in the direction you were pointing, and Max started laughing immediately. Meanwhile, Lando was shocked at how blunt you were being. So far, every retaliation you’d ever taken wasn’t that obvious. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and disappointment as he stared at the table – did you really dislike him that much?

“Where’s the other chair?” Max asked, still chuckling as he stood at the empty spot by the table.

You didn’t look up when you responded, “I don’t know,” shrugging your shoulders as you casually continued to divide the lasagne.

Lando sighed as he tried the chair, his knees pointing out above the table. Max only laughed louder at the image, and your dad couldn’t resist chuckling either while Lando pouted.

“I can’t eat like this.” 

“Then don’t. I told you you’re not welcome.” 

“Y/N!” Your mum scolded you before turning to Lando. “You’re always welcome here, darling. Ignore her,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where did you put the chair?” She questioned you.

You sighed, “They’re just in the pantry,” you admitted.

Your mum stood up and grabbed the chair for Lando who was still sitting in the tiny seat, while Max took pictures to post on his story, laughing. Lando smiled thankfully when she came back with the chair and grabbed a normal plate to serve him a generous portion of your homemade lasagne.

You couldn’t help but glare at Lando when he took his first bite. He was undeserving of the food which you had put so much effort and love into. You couldn’t even enjoy your own portion with the boy sitting across from you, although it tasted great. But Lando couldn't enjoy it either with the glares you kept sending him. Your resentment made him uncomfortable, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d be afraid that you’d poisoned his dinner. That was not your style though; he knew exactly how you liked to take your revenge. After all, he had experienced your wrath many times, and he had to admit you were very creative in creating your retaliations. He could never be entirely sure, or prove that you were the cause, but everything about the weird situations he’d been in the past years screamed your name.

There was one time that he’d gotten tens of phone calls every day for a week about a missing key. Even now, he occasionally gets calls about a key that was found. It seems quite innocent, but Lando’s phone was blowing up the entire week at the most inconvenient times: while he was in important meetings, when he was spending time with friends, even when he was streaming. Another time, Lando’s Netflix was completely messed up. All the recommendations on his home screen were for kids’ TV and romcoms. This, too, seems innocent enough, but after he had watched Netflix together with Daniel Ricciardo, and his homepage was filled with Cocomelon, The Kissing Booth, Riverdale and other films and series of the same genre, he had to hear about it for years to come. Some other time, Lando’s clothes mysteriously fell apart after only a few hours of wearing them after he’d stayed the night at Max's place at the same time as you. He didn't know how, but he was sure you had something to do with that too.

Although your reactions were very petty and often childish, Lando did admire your perseverance, resourcefulness and creativity. If he wasn’t always the victim of your crimes, he would have loved them, and perhaps even encouraged them, because, let’s be honest, it’s impressive if you can make someone’s clothes fall apart when you’re not even near them.

Lando didn’t really understand why he was always your victim, though. When you were younger, you’d gotten along fine, but as you’d gotten older you’d become meaner to him. He didn't know where things went wrong, and whether it was his fault or you just decided you were done with him. You used to tease each other, yes, but that was always mutual and lighthearted. Neither of you minded the comments that were made because you both knew it was all in good fun. At some point, you just started doing things like these, and Lando still doesn't know what initiated it.

You know exactly when it started, though. Everything was fine until Max and Lando hit puberty. Suddenly, they were ‘too cool’ to hang out with you, and you were excluded from all of their activities. The teasing didn’t really feel like teasing anymore, but rather mean comments that hurt you. Lando never caught onto your change in perception; he thought you still saw it as teasing. But the comments became more rude over time, and it felt like the boys who were your friends once, were now making fun of you.

Like when you were invited to apply for Honours College at your university. You were extremely proud that your grades in your regular courses were good enough to be admitted, and that you’d been invited to apply. But Lando just called you a nerd and laughed before continuing to talk about his own achievements, as if what you’d done was nothing important or impressive.

It wouldn’t have mattered much if it were any other friend of your brother, but Lando was important. You’d known him for about ten years, and he was basically a part of your family. What didn’t help either was that you had developed a small crush on him over the years. By the time he turned twenty, he’d gone through a glow-up. He finally learned how to deal with his curly hair and his face had matured to that of a handsome man. You were attracted to him, but his ugly personality distracted from his looks – most of the time.

Nevertheless, you wanted to impress Lando; to make him like you so he would stop with the off-handed comments. Though you weren’t necessarily good at sports or karting like he was, you excelled academically. You thought by showing your intelligence, you could gain his respect. Unknowingly, it made Lando feel dumb. He’d never even finished secondary school, and you were taking on extra classes in university without any troubles. He reacted differently than he would have liked to, but he thought you’d understand it was a joke.

Another time, you organised a last-minute surprise party for your brother. You had made sure there were decorations, music, food, and most importantly, drinks. You were happy with what you had managed to do in the time available, but your mood significantly worsened when Lando jokingly said you could have put in a little more effort. He was smiling when he said it, but it felt like he was making fun of you; of the amount of effort you had put in to make sure everything was organised as perfectly as possible. Despite his intention to tease, it didn't feel that way to you.

The comment that you believe triggered your best revenge was on Pietra’s birthday. She celebrated her birthday at Max’s apartment, and of course, you’d come to visit and celebrate with her. A few months before her birthday she’d shown you a top she really liked when she was online shopping, but the colour wasn’t right. So, for her birthday, you decided to crochet the top in her favourite colour. It was a bold choice because you didn’t have much experience crocheting, nevertheless, you tried. If she didn’t like it, you would just buy it from the store after all, or get her something else. You thought it looked pretty good, especially for your first try. Regardless, there were some mistakes and uneven shapes.

Pietra was completely surprised and elated with the present, especially when you told her you made it yourself. She knew how much time and effort it probably cost you to make it, but Lando didn't consider that when he commented on the piece.

“You made it yourself? Maybe you should practice a little more, huh?” He said, laughing, before handing it back to P.

You felt the smile drop from your face at the hurtful remark, but Lando was oblivious to the fact he hurt your feelings. Max turned to Lando in shock, while Pietra assured you that she loved the top, and couldn’t wait to wear it. You plastered a smile on your face, but it was obvious (to anyone but Lando) that it was fake. That night, after drinking your feelings away, you tore the seams in Lando’s clothes. Not every single one, but enough so it would fall apart after too much exertion; the punishment should fit the crime.

The anticipatory pleasure at the thought of Lando’s clothes tearing at an inconvenient moment was enough to satisfy you. When you heard about what happened a few days later from Max, you could barely keep your laugh back.

More recently, you had gone clubbing with your brother and his friends. It was an unusual event because your brother didn’t want to see you flirting or dancing with random boys in the club, but this time it was different. He knew you’d been stressed from school, and he’d rather you let loose when he’s there than when he’s not there to keep an eye on you. 

You were dancing with your brother and his friends when a cute boy came up to you, asking if he could buy you a drink. You said yes, of course. You would never refuse a free drink, especially in good, handsome, company, and you wanted to get over your small crush on Lando. You don’t know why or how, but he always seemed ten times hotter in a club, and you needed to get away from him. The longer you stayed near him, the more his pretty face and well-dressed body seemed to distract you from his unattractive personality, and that couldn’t happen. 

You followed the man to the bar and ordered a drink as he flirted with you. His attention was completely focused on you, but you kept getting distracted by the feeling of eyes on your back. It wasn’t until you were dancing in the middle of the large crowd that the feeling faded. You felt free without the supervision of your brother, and without Lando to distract you.

The man pulled your back closer to him, and you let him. You swayed from side to side with your arms in the air while he kissed his way down your neck. It didn’t feel right, but that didn’t matter; it was good enough. You liked the feeling of his lips on your neck and felt yourself get lost in the moment until suddenly there was a tug on your arm.

Your eyes opened in shock as you felt yourself get pulled away. The man you were dancing with didn’t seem to mind much and moved on with another girl standing nearby as you stared at Lando confused and disoriented.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked him as you struggled to pull your arm from his firm grip.

“I’m taking you back to the group, you need to be more careful,” he explained.

You scoffed, “What? I was perfectly safe! Let me go!”

“Were you? He seemed untrustworthy,” Lando continued as he pulled you through the club.

“I was just having fun! God, you’re so annoying!” You say with a huff before walking back to your brother.

Lando watched you as you walked away. He didn't want you to dance with that man, or any man for that matter, even though he would never admit it. However, you had misunderstood his intentions. To you it seemed like he was interrupting your fun, cockblocking if you will, and it frustrated you to no end. 

For days to come, you complained to your brother about what happened, insisting that it was none of Lando’s business and he should’ve left you alone. However, your brother grew tired of your complaints really quickly and couldn’t deal with your issues anymore. Your ongoing dispute with Lando had dragged on for too long and it needed to be resolved, soon, before he went insane. During your next fight, Max would force the two of you to repair your relationship, whether you wanted to or not, because he simply couldn’t take it any longer.

It didn’t take long until your next fight. You were looking at pictures of Lando and Max on Instagram from when they went golfing a few days back when you spotted something. In one of the pictures, Lando was taking a photo with a camera, a camera which he had seemingly ‘borrowed’ from you without your knowledge. 

The second you saw him enter your parents’ house, you targeted him.

“You stole my camera?”

“Hello to you, too, Y/N,” he responded with a grin.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where is it, Lando,” you continued, stepping closer to him.

“I gave it to Max. He was supposed to give it back. He hasn’t yet?” 

“No, he hasn’t. And you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.”

Your gaze shifted to Max, who walked in behind Lando.

“Where is it, Max?” 

“In my room somewhere, I think.”

“Can you go grab it? Please?”

The words you said were much kinder than the way you said them. Max sighed before walking up the stairs to his room, you and Lando in tow. He looked around the room, getting on his knees to look under the bed.

“You put my camera under your bed?” You asked angrily.

“I’m not sure if I did, that’s why I’m looking, Y/N.”

Max thought this was the absolute worst. He had gotten himself pulled into one of your arguments again, and now he was being yelled at by you when it wasn’t his fault to begin with. He sighed before getting up. 

“I’ll just go grab my phone for the flashlight,” he said before leaving the room.

You merely nodded in response as you continued to look around the room in search of your camera when you heard the door close, the lock falling in place.

“Max? Did you just lock the door?”

Lando lifted his head from his place on the floor, where he was looking under the dresser, at your insinuation. He quickly changed his position to sit up, staring at the door with you.

“Yes, I did. The two of you need to make up. I won’t let you out until you get along. I can’t handle the two of you fighting anymore. It’s really fucking annoying,” he said through the door.

You looked at Lando in shock, to find him already staring back at you.

“Max, you can’t do this! What the fuck is wrong with you! Let us out!” You yelled as you knocked on the door.

When he didn’t react, you hit the door again, “Max!”

You looked at Lando at the lack of response, “Do something!” You said, but he merely looked at you.

“What am I supposed to do? Knocking the door won’t help. I actually think it might be a good idea for us to talk everything out.”

You looked at Lando in shock. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged while he stared at you, and you shook your head in response.

“I’m not doing this,” you said, pacing around the room while Lando followed you with his eyes as he sat on your brother’s bed, an amused smile on his face.

“I’m leaving,” you said, opening the window.

“What are you doing?” Lando asks, quickly getting up from the bed.

“I’m leaving,” you repeated, sitting on the window sill, throwing one leg outside.

“What have I done to you to make you this angry? I can’t believe you’d rather fall out of a window than talk to me,” Lando frowned.

You let out a choked laugh, mouth open in shock. “Are you serious? You don’t know what you’ve done?” You said as you sat on the window sill, one leg outside the window, the other still on the floor.

“Yes. Please tell me, because I’ve obviously missed a lot if you’re willing to climb out of a window. By the way, stop climbing out of the window!” Lando said, all but running to prevent you from dangling your other leg out of the window too. It was already halfway there, leaving you in a very uncomfortable position when Lando grabbed your leg.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, Y/N!” 

“No, I’m not,” you grunted out as you tried to kick him away. You leaned away from him, losing your grip on the windowsill at the exertion. Lando could barely catch you before you fell out of the window. 

“Fuck, Y/N! I told you to get away from the window!” He yelled as he pulled you away from it and back into the room before quickly closing the window. He stood in front of it as if he was trying to block your way from the window, trying to block your escape.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t be such a baby, I’m fine.” 

“Only because I was holding your leg.”

“If you weren’t holding my leg I wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.” You stepped closer to him, huffing in defiance. 

Lando sighed, but he didn’t respond. He kept silent while he stared at you, challenging you as you crept closer without breaking eye contact. The tension in the room was palpable, and it only increased the longer you stared at each other. Your breath was shallow from the adrenaline of your near-fall, and your glare was met with a look of annoyance. Lando’s hands hung limply by his sides, the complete opposite of a mere moment ago when he grabbed you with such urgency.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Lando's voice was low, strained with frustration.

"Me?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You're the one who's always so demeaning, so... so infuriating!"

"Infuriating?" Lando repeated, scoffing. "Coming from the girl who sabotages my Netflix and sets up kiddie tables for me?"

"You deserved it," you retorted, folding your arms and looking down. "You always mock me and belittle everything I do, every achievement, every effort… Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Lando’s confidence faltered at your confession. His eyes softened, and he took a small step closer, stroking your arm softly. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I thought... I thought we were just joking around, teasing. I didn't realise-"

"Didn't realise what?" you interrupted, eyes brimming with tears. "That your words actually affect me? That I care what you think?"

Lando's hand reached out, tentatively brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost adoring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know."

You closed your eyes, breathing out through your nose as you let the apology sink in. When you opened them again, the regret you saw in his eyes made you believe him. But it was the love and adoration in his gaze that convinced you.

"Lando..." you began, but your voice caught in your throat.

Before you could finish, Lando closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was longing. Slowly, almost apprehensively, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in an uncertain kiss.

Your initial surprise was quickly replaced by the warmth spreading through your body. Almost automatically, your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The kiss deepened, filled with your pent-up frustration and unspoken feelings. Your hands slid up Lando's neck and you ran your hands through his hair, pulling on it softly. The sensation of Lando's hands on your body, and his lips against yours felt right, making everything else fade away.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Lando’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. You could see the uncertainty in his gaze, and you were certain your eyes showed the same.

“What… what just happened?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was now slightly tousled from your fingers. “I don’t know. But it felt… right.”

You swallowed, trying to make sense of all of the emotions running wild inside you. “We can’t just pretend this didn’t happen, Lando.”

“I don’t want to,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. 

You laughed softly at the situation, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder. Lando wrapped his arms around you straight away. 

“This is not what I expected to happen,” you whispered.

Lando chuckled softly. “Me neither, but it’s not so bad, is it?” 

You snuggled into his neck, sighing contently once you were comfortable. No, it wasn't bad at all.

[star-girl-05]

Follow Me

Rick Sanchez x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

Morty was the first to notice, followed by Summer who then told everyone else. After she told everyone, the next dinner they all subtly stared at Rick and you. Of course Rick notices all their looks but decides to ignore it, not in the mood to deal with whatever is bothering them this week. 

He continues to eat his meal, wiping his mouth against the back of his hand when he’s finished. He pushes his dish forward, grabbing your hand. Not even bothering to look to see if you're finished. Just leading you away from the table and towards the garage, and you just follow him dropping your fork. 

They watch the two of you walk away, Summer only speaks up when she hears the click of the garage door shut. “What the actual fuck was that?” She looked around the table looking for an answer. 

“He does it all the time” Morty says “Everytime he leaves a room he grabs their hand.”  

That piqued both Summer and Beth's curiosity. Jerry of course was in his own little bubble. “When did he start doing that?” Beth questions, she tries to think back to see if she could remember but nothing specific comes to mind. 

“I don’t know, I just noticed it a few weeks ago” Morty responds.  “When I brought it up he pretended to not know what I was talking about.” 

Summer chuckles, “I think Grandpa Rick has a crush” she teases not once looking up from her phone. 

Just then you walk back into the dinning room, “Sorry left my phone” you pick up the device going to walk back. “Oh Beth, dinner was lovely thanks again” 

Beth gives you a sweet smile, “No problem” before you turn away Beth asks the question that’s on her mind. “Hey Y/n what's with Dad dragging you out of the room?” Summer and Morty are both surprised at their mothers bluntness. 

“Oh, I’m not really sure either, he just started doing it I don’t mind though” Beth says nothing but ‘Oh’. You give her a small nod heading back to the garage. She doubts she’ll get an answer from her Dad so that answer will have to suffice. 

~THE GARAGE~

“What took you so long?” Rick doesn’t look up at you tinkering with the little gizmo in his hand. 

“Beth was wondering why you dragged me out of rooms” Rick just muttered a small ‘okay’ but now that Beth mentioned it you wanted an answer. “So why do you always drag me?” He sets down the item he’s working on turning towards you. 

“I need someone to hand me my screwdriver” you can’t help but be a little disappointed in his answer. He ignores your pouty face instead vaguely pointing across the room. You sigh moving to where he pointed to grab the requested screwdriver. “and I like you being close to me” he says under his breath as you sort through the drawer. 

“What did you say?” you question a screwdriver in hand. 

He clears his throat “Make sure its a flat head”, you chuckle under your breath, you knew he liked you. “Why are you smiling like that?” he asks when you hand him the screwdriver. 

“No reason”

“Sure” he grumbles but doesn’t question you further, opting to go back to tinkering with his little square. While you just watch grabbing a tool for him every once in a while.

[rosepuding]

Packing | Sawamura Daichi

TW: Suggestive, Volleyball Idiots

WC: 1k

"Daiiiiiiiiichi," a voice calls to the captain from the other side of the club room. Tanaka had a magazine propped up in his lap and let out another groan upon reading the article yet again. "If I got an article like this I'd get so many girls," He continues in a whining tone.

"If you're so upset about it stop reading," Daichi strips the sweaty shirt off of his toned chest before throwing it into Tanaka's face. Daichi snags the magazine and skims the article.

Another groan emits from Tanaka's lips as he peels off Daichi's sticky shirt from his face. "You already have a girlfriend so you don't understand my woes."

A corner of Daichi's mouth tugs upwards. How could it not? It had barely been a month since you two started dating, yet he was certain of one thing, he was madly in love with you. Not only that, but he no longer had to deal with the so called 'woes' that Tanaka has to deal with.

Daichi feels a finger poke his cheek lightly. "Look! He's blushing," Suga coos. Daichi rolls his eyes and shoves his hand away.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am-"

"That is not the issue at hand!" Tanaka bursts in between the two, wanting all the the attention to fall back to him. "This is unfair! He has an entire article about him. Think about all the chicks he's getting! And you just know he's packing too."

A few hums of agreement sound around the club room while Daichi's eyebrows knit together. "He's what?"

"Packing," Tanaka says again, slower this time. Daichi only tilts his head, showing his confusion further. "You know," Tanaka gestures to the lower half of Daichi.

"No, I don't," He sighs and grabs another shirt from his bag, throwing it over his head. "I don't understand your strange second-year terminology."

"C'mon Daichi, even I know what that means," Asahi peeps up.

"Then what does it mean?"

"Lets just say-" Noya starts, "-we all think you're packing too."

The room erupts into laughter while Daichi looks between everyone in confusion. "Maybe we should ask {l/n}?" Suga snickers and slings his bag over his shoulder.

"I think I saw her outside waiting for Daichi on my way in."

Suga and Daichi exchange glances, just before Suga bursts out the door, the rest of Karasuno shortly in tow with catcalls and hollars.

"{l/n}!" Suga calls while racing down the steps towards you.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you wonder how the team functions off of seemingly a singular brain cell. The rest of the boys gather around you, with your boyfriend nowhere in sight.

"We have a question," Noya starts.

You sighs. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Ever since you got together with their captain, occurrences, where they would ask you questions about your relationship or about Daichi in general, were normal. You weren't sure if it was because of their strange obsession with each other or the nearly cult-like dynamic the team held.

"What is it?"

The second years and Sugawara giggle between themselves, "{Y/N}, is Daichi packing?"

Your jaw pops open at his question. The audacity of these boys to ask you about something so vulgar. You take a quick moment to say thank you to any higher being who brought you to Daichi instead of these imbeciles.

Daichi comes up beside you and slings an arm around your waist to pull you into his side. You throw a mildly annoyed look at his team, before meeting the eyes of your handsome man. "Hi baby," you send him a cheeky smile.

Daichi glances between you and the team, specifically their looks of mischievous anticipation. "Did they ask you about the packing thing?" That his team them over the edge, as each of them, save for Tsukishima who did not find any humor in all of this.

"Why're they asking me?"

"I'm not sure, I don't even know what it means."

Of course he doesn't. "Why are you asking me?" You turn to the team.

"Well, we all think Daichi's packing, we thought you may be the only one to know."

You scoff. The lack of boundaries these boys had was unbelievable. Seriously, Daichi had only introduced you to them last week. However, a smirk curves onto your lips. "I'm not sure actually," You cock your head to the side, "I suppose though, for the sake of scientific research, we should go on and find out."

You grab the sleeve of Daichi's jacket and practically drag him away from his team, leaving all of them gob smacked behind you, save for Suga, who continued to cat call you until you were out of earshot.

"What was that all about?"

You don't answer, but instead, continue to walk towards your house which thankfully, was only a short ways away from the school.

Daichi and you finally reach your door where you open it and beckon him inside. Closing it, Daichi turns to you, "Is someone going to tell me what packing means?"

You had lost a bit of your confidence now it was just the two of you in your home. Alone. "Can't you just google it or something?"

"I could-" He grabs your hand and twirls you around, making you place your hands onto his chest for stability, "-but that's not nearly as fun." He peers down at you with the same dark brown eyes that make you swoon every time you look into them. He leans down and captures your lips in his for a quick kiss, he tastes like rosemary and comfort. "Plus, this is making you sassy, but flustered, and you're cute when you're flustered."

You bury your face into his toned chest and emit a groan as he wraps his free hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Fine," You say after a few moments."Packing means you have a huge dick," You say very quickly before breaking away from him and running through your house squealing.

Daichi throws his head back with laugher while racing after you until he grabs your waist and pulls you against his chest, his cheek against yours with an adoring smile on his face.

"You're too cute {y/n}," He says while pressing kisses from your cheek down to your collarbone.

"Daichi," You whine and shove his head away.

"I am you know," He murmurs against your neck.

"You're what?"

"I think you already know."

[yzashaven]

𝐁𝐄𝐓 !

꒰ 𝐟𝐞���𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ꒱ billionaire!scaramouche x reader

꒰ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ꒱ nsfw content. reader gambling in a casino. rough sex. creampie. squirting. literally not proofread at all </3

꒰ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ꒱ betting dollars upon dollars with a billionaire. surely a good idea! ...right?

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄— i'm gonna need you all to forgive me for being away for a whole month and coming back with a half-assed fic </3 it's been really tiring but i'm doing okay! (for now)... i really do hope that you all enjoy this even though my writing is honestly a bit rusty now that i haven't written a single sentence in the month's long "break" i took. i love you all, thank you so so much for 1.5k !! 🤍 + thoughts on this new layout? :3

he was just another run-of-the-mill billionaire hanging out at casinos, local and private, for the ordinary people and the rich. you just so happen to be a regular at a specific casino and bar called the 'devil's temptation'. you spend a few hours of your day there every week or so, taking home stacks of your winnings home each time you go.

you were quite well known by the other regulars as a money magnet of sorts due to your high win rate whichever game you play, especially poker. your night was going on normally as per usual, well, until a man approached you.

"care for a game or two, pretty lady?"

☆★

"royal flush." yet another easy win on your part. you smiled at the man softly as you layed down your hand. he simply chuckles and looks at you lustfully, "huh, well played, indeed. though, why don't you say we make a... different type of bet this time?" he's being quite vague, you raise an eyebrow at him, "do you mind elaborating?"

a smirk from him as a reply, "accompany me to my mansion for the night, then you'll see." hesitant yet curious, you agreed. but how in hell would you have thought the said bet would end up with you getting fucked by the man named scaramouche?

★☆

"fuck...!" a loud whimper rips through your throat at the way he thrusted in and out of your sensitive cunt, you tried your hardest not to cum. after all, that was your deal, if he came first, he'd give up over a million dollars to you in the form of a cheque. but if you were to cum first, you'd be his, body, heart, and soul.

your upper body had already surrendered to him as your face was buried in a pillow, your torso flat on the fine silk sheets of his bed. your elbows failed in keeping you held up as he fucked you relentlessly—hard, deep, and fast.

"c'me on, don't you wanna cum around my cock, baby?" he insists and brings his hand over to grope at one of your breasts, squeezing at its' softness and using his fingers to tease your nipples. you nod, to answer his question. but of course you didn't, you wanted to win the bet. who would refuse a large amount of money?

...but maybe you'll have another chance at such an offer.

your body couldn't take any more. you bit the soft pillow in front of you to muffle out the lewd moan you mewled out as your body shivered intensely at the euphoric feeling that hit you hard like a truck.

a dark chuckle from behind, "guess you're mine now, yeah?" he whispers before pulling out all the way, only to slam back inside to earn yet another symphony of moans straight from your drooling lips. his own mouth latches onto your neck to kiss, lick, and even bite at the flesh, leaving marks all over from the area of your neck to your shoulder.

his hand trails further down to pinch at your clit, causing you to scream out his name in extreme ecstasy, squirting as you completely dampen the sheets—all the while he began to shoot ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of your pussy, reaching your womb.

not even a minute to calm down from your highs, he was already repositioning the two of you. firm grips from his hands laying you on your back and manhandling you right where he wanted you to be. a delicious mating press. it didn't take long for him to slide back into your warmth.

[metanarrates]

Hello. Sorry if this a stupid question u can ignore if u want.

How can someone get better at media analysis? Besides obviously reading a lot.

Im asking this bc im in a point where im aware of my own lack of tools to analyze stories, but i don't know where to get them or how to get better in general. How did you learn to analyze media? There's any specific book, essay, author, etc that you recommend? Somewhere to start?

I'm asking you because you are genuinely the person who has the best takes on this site. Thank you for you work!

it sounds like a cop-out answer but it's always felt like a skill I acquired mostly thru reading a ton, and by paying a lot of attention in high school literature classes. because of that I can't promise that I'm necessarily equipped to be a good teacher or that i know good resources. HOWEVER! let me run some potential advice to you based on the shit i get a lot of mileage out of

first off, a lot of literary analysis is about pattern recognition! not just pattern recognition in-text, but out-of-text as well. how does this work relate to its genre? real-world history? does it have parallels between real-life situations? that kind of thing.

which is a big concept to just describe off the bat, so let me break it down further!

in literature, there is the concept of something called literary devices - they are some of the basic building blocks in how a story is delivered mechanically and via subtext. have you ever heard of a motif? that is a literary device. it's a pattern established in the text in order to further the storytelling! and here is a list of a ton of common literary devices - I'd recommend reading the article. it breaks down a lot of commonly used ones in prose and poetry and explains their usage.

personally, I don't find all the literary devices I've learned about in school to be the most useful to my analytical hobbies online. motifs, themes, and metaphors are useful and dissecting them can bring a lot to the table, but a lot of other devices are mostly like fun bonus trivia for me to notice when reading. however, memorizing those terms and trying to notice them in the things you read does have a distinct benefit - it encourages you to start noticing patterns, and to start thinking of the mechanical way a story is built. sure, thinking about how the prose is constructed might not help you understand the story much more, but it does make you start thinking about how things like prose contribute to the greater feeling of a piece, or how the formatting of a piece contributes to its overall narrative. you'll start developing this habit of picking out little things about a text, which is useful.

other forms of in-text pattern recognition can be about things like characterization! how does a character react to a certain situation? is it consistent with how they usually behave? what might that tell you about how they think? do they have tells that show when they're not being trustworthy? does their viewpoint always match what is happening on screen? what ideas do they have about how the world works? how are they influenced by other people in their lives? by social contexts that might exist? by situations that have affected them? (on that note, how do situations affect other situations?)

another one is just straight-up noticing themes in a work. is there a certain idea that keeps getting brought up? what is the work trying to say about that idea? if it's being brought up often, it's probably worth paying attention to!

that goes for any pattern, actually. if you notice something, it's worth thinking about why it might be there. try considering things like potential subtext, or what a technique might be trying to convey to a reader. even if you can't explain why every element of a text is there, you'll often gain something by trying to think about why something exists in a story.

^ sometimes the answer to that question is not always "because it's intentional" or even "because it was a good choice for the storytelling." authors frequently make choices that suck shit (I am a known complainer about choices that suck shit.) that's also worth thinking about. english classes won't encourage this line of thinking, because they're trying to get you to approach texts with intentional thought instead of writing them off. I appreciate that goal, genuinely, but I do think it hampers people's enthusiasm for analysis if they're not also being encouraged to analyze why they think something doesn't work well in a story. sometimes something sucks and it makes new students mad if they're not allowed to talk about it sucking! I'll get into that later - knowing how and why something doesn't work is also a valuable skill. being an informed and analytical hater will get you far in life.

so that's in-work literary analysis. id also recommend annotating your pages/pdfs or keeping a notebook if you want to close-read a work. keeping track of your thoughts while reading even if they're not "clever" or whatever encourages you to pay attention to a text and to draw patterns. it's very useful!

now, for out-of-work literary analysis! it's worth synthesizing something within its context. what social settings did this work come from? was it commenting on something in real life? is it responding to some aspects of history or current events? how does it relate to its genre? does it deviate from genre trends, commentate on them, or overall conform to its genre? where did the literary techniques it's using come from - does it have any big stylistic influences? is it referencing any other texts?

and if you don't know the answer to a bunch of these questions and want to know, RESEARCH IS YOUR FRIEND! look up historical events and social movements if you're reading a work from a place or time you're not familiar with. if you don't know much about a genre, look into what are considered common genre elements! see if you can find anyone talking about artistic movements, or read the texts that a work might be referencing! all of these things will give you a far more holistic view of a work.

as for your own personal reaction to & understanding of a work... so I've given the advice before that it's good to think about your own personal reactions to a story, and what you enjoy or dislike about it. while this is true that a lot of this is a baseline jumping-off point on how I personally conduct analysis, it's incomplete advice. you should not just be thinking about what you enjoy or dislike - you should also be thinking about why it works or doesn't work for you. if you've gotten a better grasp on story mechanics by practicing the types of pattern recognition i recognized above, you can start digging into how those storytelling techniques have affected you. did you enjoy this part of a story? what made it work well? what techniques built tension, or delivered well on conflict? what about if you thought it sucked? what aspects of storytelling might have failed?

sometimes the answer to this is highly subjective and personal. I'm slightly romance-averse because I am aromantic, so a lot of romance plots will simply bore me or actively annoy me. I try not to let that personal taste factor too much into serious critiques, though of course I will talk about why I find something boring and lament it wasn't done better lol. we're only human. just be aware of those personal taste quirks and factor them into analysis because it will help you be a bit more objective lol

but if it's not fully influenced by personal taste, you should get in the habit of building little theses about why a story affected you in a certain way. for example, "I felt bored and tired at this point in a plot, which may be due to poor pacing & handling of conflict." or "I felt excited at this point in the plot, because established tensions continued to get more complex and captured my interest." or "I liked this plot point because it iterated on an established theme in a way that brought interesting angles to how the story handled the theme." again, it's just a good way to think about how and why storytelling functions.

uh let's see what else. analysis is a collaborative activity! you can learn a lot from seeing how other people analyze! if you enjoy something a lot, try looking into scholarly articles on it, or youtube videos, or essays online! develop opinions also about how THOSE articles and essays etc conduct analysis, and why you might think those analyses are correct or incorrect! sometimes analyses suck shit and developing a counterargument will help you think harder about the topic in question! think about audience reactions and how those are created by the text! talk to friends! send asks to meta blogs you really like maybe sometimes

find angles of analysis that interest and excite you! if you're interested in feminist lenses on a work, or racial lenses, or philosophical lenses, look into how people conduct those sort of analyses on other works. (eg. search feminist analysis of hamlet, or something similar so you can learn how that style of analysis generally functions) and then try applying those lenses to the story you're looking at. a lot of analysts have a toolkit of lenses they tend to cycle through when approaching a new text - it might not be a bad idea to acquire a few favored lenses of your own.

also, most of my advice is literary advice, since you can broadly apply many skills you learn in literary analysis to any other form of storytelling, but if you're looking at another medium, like a game or cartoon, maybe look up some stuff about things like ludonarrative storytelling or visual storytelling! familiarizing yourself with the specific techniques common to a certain medium will only help you get better at understanding what you're seeing.

above all else, approach everything with intellectual curiosity and sincerity. even if you're sincerely curious about why something sucks, letting yourself gain information and potentially learning something new or being humbled in the process will help you grow. it's okay to not have all the answers, or to just be flat-out wrong sometimes. continuing to practice is a valuable intellectual pursuit even if it can mean feeling a tad stupid sometimes. don't be scared to ask questions. get comfortable sometimes with the fact that the answer you'll arrive at after a lot of thought and effort will be "I don't fully know." sometimes you don't know and that can be valuable in its own right!

thank you for the ask, and I hope you find this helpful!

[midnight-in-town]

Classical language and paranormal powers : Anya Forger and Arnold Crowley

Crack theory that I haven't seen anywhere, but I can't get it out of my head since ch95, so here goes.

We've had enough clues across the story so far to understand that there is a link between Anya's past and telepathic powers and her mastering classical language (which is not spoken anymore nowadays, according to Twilight), which recently earned her a stella :

While the nature of the link is still unclear, I can't help but question if Sensei hid other clues about this topic.

More specifically, Anya scored second, a big victory for her, but we eventually even met the kid who scored slightly better than she did in ch 95:

Moreover, he seemed particularly interested in Anya and wanted to meet her, before the dance party gave him the chance to.

Of course, it can be purely mundane kid behavior or just a comical way to annoy Damian, but still, I couldn't help but notice that mainly he, like Anya, has weirdly shaped pointed hair.

Might I even add, he has 3 horns/antennas, while Anya only has 2 (is it why he scored better ?). That's one similarity to two kids scoring well in classical language. Could be coincidental, I hear you.

Even more recently though, Anya and Yor encountered Melinda at a festival, when trying to get a fortune telling for Anya. Melinda shyly explained to Yor that it's a hobby of hers and that she believes in destiny and paranormal activities & powers, like telepathy :

However, Melinda is not super confident in her reading abilities, which is why she's not charging any money for it. But did you notice the name of another fortune teller who seems very accurate and popular, in ch107 ?

That's right : Magical * Crowley

Of course, at this point we don't know at all whether or not Arnold from ch95 is related to this fortune teller. However, I kinda doubt Sensei would mistakenly give the same name to the weird boy who beat Anya in classical language and to a popular fortune teller, when someone like Melinda, of all people, hardcores believes paranormal forces and powers are real.

Melinda who, by the way, is extremely scared of her husband who may have undergone surgery to get telepathic powers at some point.

Last but not least, we also know that fortune telling is likely to be a real thing in this universe, meaning Magical * Crowley's could have actual powers, considering Anya's family already owns a dog, Bond, who can see the future.

TL;DR Arnold Crowley from ch95 may be a kid with a strange power, like Anya is.

What this has to do with them being good at classical language, which is not used anymore nowadays, I don't know**, but I'd bet a few pennies it's going to be plot relevant.

**EDIT : To specify on what I currently imagine, since Anya's powers disappear during the new moon, maybe her powers depend on some kind of emitting/transmitting wavelengths (received by her hair horns/antennas), that could be coded with classical language (since it's not spoken anymore) ? It is a spy manga after all. x)

And if I were Endo-sensei, I'd take it a step further and reveal that she was actually hearing/reading all along people's thoughts in classical language, because that's how her powers were coded. She just doesn't realize it, because she's 4 years old, which is why most of her mistakes during classical language tests were spelling ones.

We shall see later. :) Thanks for reading and happy new year 2025 !

[ramblingoak]

To Tease a Cardinal

Cardinal Copia x f!reader

This was a direct result from art done by @ghuleh-recs here, @writingjourney here and @blacktie-whitenoise here. The expressions they gave Copia just made me think of how upset and wound up he'd be if you teased him while he was gone on tour. Thank you for the writing fuel guys!

Warnings: biting, hair pulling, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, a little spanking, copia is kinda mean but also kinda sweet, nsfw 18+ only mdni, 3k words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet for your Italian guides!)

You had maybe gone a little too far.

“Is this what you wanted, demonietta?”  He punctuated his question with a particularly vicious thrust and you bit down on the pillow to keep from wailing.  You heard him clicking his tongue right before he gripped a handful of your hair to pull your head up.  “Ah ah, I want to hear you.  I want everyone to hear you.”

“Cardinal, I’m sorry–ah!”

There was no way the entire wing didn’t hear your scream right then.  The bed banging against the wall could maybe have been explained away as something else but the desperate sounds now spilling from your mouth?  It was clear what you and Cardinal Copia were up to.  He released his grip on your hair but instead of letting you drop back down his arm wrapped around your middle so he could pull you against his chest.

“Sorry for what?  For distracting your Cardinal?  For teasing him day after day for weeks?”  He growled the last word out before lowering his face to your neck.  Your mouth fell open as he began to attack the sensitive skin there, nipping and biting at it.  Leaving marks that would not be fading anytime soon.  “Tell me how sorry you are.”

“I’m s-sorry for teasing you.”  He bit down roughly and you jerked in his grip, trying desperately to get away.  “Copia!  Please…” 

“No, no demonietta.  Right now I am Cardinal.”  Your breath caught in your throat when he adjusted his grip on you, a gloved hand now sliding down your front until he could rub across your clit roughly.  “Now, why are you sorry?  Be specific.”

“I-I’m sorry I sent you those pictures.”

Copia hummed into your ear, his fingers not slowing down at all.  You couldn’t help but start to move your hips but a nip at your earlobe had you stopping.  It was practically impossible to be still with his cock hot and throbbing inside of you and now the warm leather rubbing you just right.  

“Ah sì, those pictures.  The ones of you naked and wet in my bed.”  He moved his hand away from your clit, sliding further down through your wet flesh to where you were stretched tight around him.  “The ones where your fingers were buried deep inside of you.  Are those the ones you are sorry for?”

“Y-yes, Cardinal.”

“Did it feel good to fuck yourself on them while you were alone in my bed?”  You nodded, your sweaty cheek rubbing against his.  “Tell me.”

“It did!  It felt good.”

“Not as good as my cock though, eh demonietta?”  

“No, never.”

“Of course not.  Nothing will ever be as good as my cock, will it?”  You shook your head frantically, your mouth falling open when he pressed against the edge of your stretched opening.  When a finger threatened to push in alongside his cock you dropped a hand onto his, whimpering and pulling at it.  “What’s wrong, ragazza?”

“Too much!  It’s too much, Cardinal I can’t.”  

“I think you can and I think you will.”  To your relief he pulled his fingers away, moving them back to your clit to rub your wetness over it.  “But you still have much to apologize for before I reward you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”  He whispered a few encouraging words in your ear, biting your earlobe when he was done to spur you into answering.  “I’m sorry I called you while you were performing.”

“But they were more than just phone calls, weren’t they?  Hmm?”  

Your head was spinning, the feel of his hot length inside of you and his fingers rubbing your clit just right was making it impossible to think.  All you could focus on was him and how he was making you feel.  How he always made you feel.  Copia said something, his voice dark and commanding, but you couldn’t focus on his words.  Your orgasm was fast approaching and you so desperately needed to come, you just needed a little bit more.

With a snarl Copia removed his fingers from your swollen clit and let go of the hold he had around your waist.  Without him holding you up your shuddering body fell forward, his cock pulling out of you roughly when you hit the bed.  You cried out at the loss, letting a sob out when your cunt spasmed around nothing.  His hands grabbed at your shoulders to roughly turn you on your back and when you saw how twisted in anger his handsome face was you began to cry even more.

“C-Cardinal, please!  Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”  

Through your tears you saw him grin, a cruel smile that had you squeezing your eyes shut so you didn’t see it.  Satanas, what you would do to take all of it back.  How different would your reunion have been?  Would you be getting sweet smiles and sweet touches instead of what you were getting now?  You heard fabric rustle and then felt his mouth on your belly, his tongue dipping into your belly button before he kissed his way to your breasts.

“Why do you cry, demonietta?  Shouldn’t you be happy you’re getting what you wanted?  That you’re getting fucked by your Cardinal in his bed?”  All you could do was nod, still unable to look at his handsome face.  His mustache tickled the sensitive skin of your breasts while he kissed them.  When you felt his teeth close around a nipple your eyes finally snapped to his and you were surprised to see a teasing look on his face briefly before he pulled off of it.  “Well?”  

“I-I’m scared.”

“Impaurito?  Of me?”  

You opened your mouth to answer him but his lips were back on your nipple, suckling at it and teasing it lightly with his tongue.  Instead of the ‘Yes, I’m scared of you’ that you were going to say you let out a low moan.  A sound full of so much yearning and desire it was embarrassing.  Tentatively you moved your hands to his head, your shaking fingers slipping into his hair.  The gray strands mixing in with the brown shone in the light of the lamps and like always you felt the urge to kiss every single one of them.

“I missed you, Cardinal.  My Cardinal.”  He grunted around your breast but didn’t stop giving it attention.  As he continued to worship your flesh you felt gloved fingers move down your belly towards your still aching clit.  You shimmied under him, your body begging for him to touch you there again.  With a trembling voice you continued, practically babbling as you spoke again.  “All I could think about was you, all I wanted was you.”

“And did you think I didn’t?”  He had pulled off your nipple with a pop, his lips swollen and shining with saliva.  The black paint on his top lip now smeared onto your skin.  You tried to answer but he had finally started rubbing your clit again, warm leather easily sliding over your wet nub.  “Did you think I wouldn’t rather be here with you?  Fucking you and filling you over and over?”

“I-I oh yes, yes!”  

He chuckled, dropping a nip on the inside of your breast before trailing kisses down towards where his fingers were.  You kept one hand in his hair, lightly gripping it while you gripped his sheets with the other.  By the time his hot breath brushed across your clit you were panting and shaking with anticipation.

“Did you think I wasn’t missing how you tasted on my tongue?”  His fingers were gone then but his mouth immediately replaced them.  Copia stroked across your nub with his tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure on each stroke.  He groaned as your taste spread over his tongue, the fingers that had been rubbing you now drifting down to circle your still aching entrance.  You began to squirm more, your legs trembling and kicking against the bed.  “Stay still, demonietta.  Can you do that?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”  

He went back to sucking your clit but his eyes were looking up at you, the contact intense and searching.  You couldn’t look away, enraptured by how his eyes rolled back as he continued to taste you.  When two of his fingers easily slid inside your opening your own did the same, your head tilting back and your body arching up to meet both his mouth and fingers.  You were waiting for him to stop and reprimand you but instead he laughed, the sound vibrating against your cunt.

“I suppose I should take it as a compliment, eh?”  He started fucking you harder with his fingers, adding a third to spread you open wider.  “That I make you lose control.  Is that what it is?  Do I make you forget yourself?”

“Always, my Cardinal.”  You managed to look down, nearly crying when you saw the fond look on his face.  His eyes fluttered while you scratched at his scalp, slowly moving your hand so you could cup his cheek.  “I’m sorry about the voicemails.”

He let out a bark of laughter you couldn’t help but echo although it turned into a moan when the fingers inside of you curled to rub along your walls.  

“I listened to those every night, demonietta.”  He pulled your clit into his mouth, sucking hard before letting go.  “Every night while I fucked my hand.  Imagining it was your wet, needy cunt.”

“C-Copia…”

You winced when you used his name but he didn’t seem to have heard you, so focused on pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Listening to your pretty voice moan my name, my title, over and over.  È stato delizioso.”

“Copia!”  You tried to grab his hair again but he shook your hand off, abruptly raising onto his knees and pulling his fingers out.  “No!  No, no please don’t, I nee-”

“Quiet.”  His voice held that sharp, angry tone from earlier and you bit your lip to stop your begging.  As you watched him with pleading eyes he lifted his hand to his mouth and began to suck your juices off of his gloves, the lewd sounds of it filling the air around you.  Your legs moved on their own, spreading wider to try and entice him.  His nostrils flared briefly before he pulled his fingers from his mouth and lowered them to grip your thighs.  “What do you need?”       

“You.  It’s always you, I need you so much.”

“Do you want me to fuck you now, demonietta?  Do you want my cock inside of your cunt?”  He moved closer as he spoke, one hand moving from your leg to grip his cock.  When the tip touched your entrance you cried out, your desire for him to be inside you making you feel crazy.  The both of you let out desperate groans as he slowly pushed in.  His thick cock felt perfect, stretching you still despite the work his fingers had done.  Copia dropped his head, mumbled to himself in Italian as he pressed all the way inside.  “Perfetto, sei perfetto.”

As he began to fuck you harder neither one of you was able to speak.  Needy and loud moans echoed around you, his sometimes louder than yours.  The both of you were desperate, your fingers gripping and digging into each other's flesh.  You’d wear the bruises proudly just like you would the bite marks that were stinging as sweat ran across them.  

You felt like crying when your peak began to rush towards you.  Too soon, too soon, but it wasn’t surprising.  Weeks of teasing him meant teasing yourself.  And the second he had arrived back at the ministry he had dragged you to his quarters to teach you a lesson.  A lesson that you seemed to have gone on for hours now.  You honestly had no idea what time it was.  All you could focus on was Copia and how much you had missed him. 

And how good it felt to have him inside of you. 

“Are you close, demonietta?”  

You managed only a nod, your teeth buried in your bottom lip to try to stifle your cries.  Copia pulled one of your legs up and pressed down on your thigh, spreading it wide so you opened up to him more.  It let him change the angle of his thrusting and when his cock hit you even deeper you wailed, a piercing cry that had him laughing.  

His thrusts were quickly becoming more frantic, a wild grunt leaving him at each thrust.  Sweat and paint was dripping off his face and into your chest, painting you just like his cum would soon paint your insides.  You scrabbled at the sheets when he brought a thumb down to your abused clit, roughly rubbing it but providing the final piece you needed for you to climax. 

“Copia!” 

You screamed his name like a prayer, over and over as your orgasm rushed through you.  In return he said yours, his chest heaving as he panted through his own release.  His hips were grinded against yours as his cock kicked and pulsed inside of you, filling you like he had promised.  Finally with one last grunt he collapsed on top of you, quickly turning onto his back and taking you with him so you were cradled against his side.  

Your hand settled over his tattoo, at first so you could feel his heart settle beneath your palm.  But as he relaxed and his breathing slowed you found yourself tracing the lines of the numbers with your fingers.  His skin was warm and moist with sweat, his chest hair damp and plastered to his skin.  You couldn’t help but turn your head to kiss his skin, enjoying the tastes of his sweat on your lips.  When your lips found his nipple it hardened quickly under your touch and you grinned against it. 

“You are insatiable, what am I to do with you, hmm?”  You turned your head to smile up at him, trying to look innocent but his devilish grin was hard not to copy.  Copia looked a mess, his hair sticking all over and his paint mostly gone but he still was as handsome as ever.  “Was I too rough with you?”

You shyly shook your head, hiding your smile now against his chest.  He had been rough, his frustration over what you had done controlling his passions, but it was what you had expected.  What you had secretly hoped for upon your reunion with him.  You had wanted him to feel as out of control with love and lust as you did with him gone.  You wanted him to be desperate for you, like you were the only thing he needed in this world.  

“You were perfect, my love.”  

He hummed, his chest vibrating under your ear slightly with the sound.  You began to tease your fingers down his chest, running them through his hair.  His stomach jumped when you traced around his belly button but he stayed quiet.  It wasn’t until your hand wrapped around his soft cock that he spoke.

“What did I say?  Insatiable.”  He was still wet, his release mixing with yours along his shaft.  As you began to stroke him, your touch light and teasing, he began to harden once more.  Slowly of course, because even his intense lust had to contend with his age.  It made no difference to you, you were patient.  After all, working him up was something you had become very, very good at.  You couldn’t help but laugh at that thought, laughing even when a hand gripped your hair to tilt your head up towards his own.  “Is something funny, demonietta?”

There was an edge of hurt in his eyes so you shushed him, kissing your way back up his chest until you could reach his lips.  You continued to tease his cock while you kissed him, enjoying the feel of it pulsing in your hand.  The thought of having him inside you again made your sore cunt ache and you flung a leg across him so you could grind against his thick thigh.  While growling low in his throat he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your mouth before yanking your head away.  He stayed silent, his mismatched eyes searching for an answer to his question.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Cardinal.”  

His tight grip on your hair lessened enough so you could reach his mouth again.  You kissed him once, twice and a third time, your smile growing after each one.  He didn’t let you give him a fourth kiss, instead you found yourself once more on your back, breathless and staring up at him.

“Tell me.”  When you stayed quiet he lowered a knee between your legs, pressing it hard against your core.  You mewled and began to squirm against it, desperate for friction but he placed a hand on your stomach and held you still.  “Demonietta, you will tell me why you were laughing.”

“Or what, my Cardinal?  Will you punish me some more?”

Copia smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of mirth and love.  He removed his hand from your stomach, pushing it up your chest slowly.  You whined when he avoided your breasts and gasped when he let it rest on your neck very briefly before gripping your chin so you couldn’t look away.

“Tell me.”  

“I was just thinking, my lovely Cardinal, that it was a good thing I never sent you any of the videos I made.”

The look on his face had you laughing again and you continued to laugh when he pulled away and roughly turned you onto your hands and knees.  You even laughed when he swatted your ass, enjoying the sting far more than you should have.  It wasn’t until he had entered you again, stretching and claiming you once more that your laughter turned into moans.  Those turned into a yelp when he gripped your hair, turning your face roughly so he could glare down at you.

“Later.  You will show me those later, sì?” 

“Even better, my love.”  He was pounding into you roughly, one hand remaining in your hair while the other was squeezing the mark he had left on your ass.  You grinned up at him before continuing, your answer making him collapse against your back, trying and failing to stifle his laughter into your skin,  “I’ll demonstrate.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[mywitchyblog]

Trauma and Reality Shifting: Neurobiological Boundaries and the Prevention of Cross-Reality Psychological Impact

Imagine having the ability to consciously shift your existence from your everyday life to an alternate reality, experiencing different scenarios and outcomes. This phenomenon, known as reality shifting, has garnered significant attention, particularly within online communities. As individuals explore the depths of shifting, a compelling question arises: Can trauma experienced in a Desired Reality (DR) follow you back to your Current Reality (CR)? Understanding the interplay between trauma and reality shifting is crucial for both mental health and the integrity of shifting practices.

Reality shifting refers to the deliberate transition of one's consciousness from their Current Reality (CR) to a Desired Reality (DR), where different experiences and circumstances unfold. Trauma, in this context, is defined as a profound neurobiological response to distressing or life-altering events, such as abuse, accidents, or natural disasters. Trauma induces significant changes in the brain and body, affecting neural circuits, hormonal balances, and overall physiological functioning. The convergence of these two concepts—reality shifting and trauma—raises important questions about the nature of psychological resilience and the boundaries between different states of existence.

The significance of exploring whether trauma can traverse realities lies in its implications for personal well-being and the ethical considerations of shifting practices. As reality shifting becomes more popular, particularly among young individuals seeking escape or personal growth, understanding the potential psychological impacts is essential. This inquiry not only addresses fears and misconceptions surrounding shifting but also empowers individuals to engage in these practices safely, ensuring that their mental health remains uncompromised across different dimensions.

This essay is structured into two main parts. Part I: "Trauma Explained – What It Is and How It Affects the Brain," which includes two subparts: "Defining Trauma" and "The Physical Impact of Trauma on the Brain." These sections lay the groundwork for understanding trauma as a tangible, physical process. Part II: "Trauma and Reality Shifting – Exploring the Boundaries," comprises two subparts: "Why DR Trauma Doesn’t Cross the 'Reality Boundary'" and "DR Memories as Context-Specific and Emotionally Detached." This section examines the relationship between trauma and reality shifting, addressing whether trauma can transcend different realities.

By dissecting the relationship between trauma and reality shifting, this essay aims to provide a comprehensive understanding of how individuals can navigate multiple realities without compromising their mental health, ultimately affirming that trauma remains tethered to its original reality.

Disclaimers (Please Read):

This essay comprises approximately 7,000 words and is likely the most extensive paper I have written on the subject of reality shifting. If you identify any information that is incorrect or outdated, please inform me so I can make the necessary revisions.

I encourage thoughtful debates and discussions. If you disagree with any points, kindly explain why, as I am eager to engage in further dialogue. However, please be aware of my boundaries: disrespectful insults and logical fallacies such as ad hominem attacks, straw man arguments, and hasty generalizations will not be tolerated. Such behavior will result in immediate removal from the discussion. As in imma block your ass.

As i know my word and opinion is in no way shape or form law or absolute truth. This is simply my perspective on the matter based on research, logical observations and personal experiences.

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

P.S : This shit took me weeks to write i hope the message came across well if not do not hesitate to ask me questions i shall answer them asap

Taglist of the people i think would be interested by the essay or that i want their opinion/commentary/feedback on it :

@sunnirayss Because i really appreciate your content and your knowledge and i saw we were mutuals and as you have said in your boundaries : "Feel free to ask me for advice or my perspectives on things. As long as you're respectful and clear with your question, I'll probably answer it."

@carlyshifts111 Because i saw your video where you if i am not mistaken (please confirm it to me thank you) you see to disgaree with the statement "i scripted that i cant bring back trauma". A statement in which through the essay i respecfully disagree.

@shiftinghoesblog Bestie your are like my shifting sis so def tagging u in everything lol.

@lizzy4president We seem to get along quite well in the sense that we share the same takes/opinions about shifting.

Part I: Trauma Explained – What It Is and How It Affects the Brain

Subpart 1: Defining Trauma

1.1 : What is trauma?

Trauma transcends the simplistic notion of personal weakness or mere inability to manage stress. It represents a deeply ingrained neurobiological and psychological response to events that fundamentally destabilize an individual's sense of safety, agency, or normalcy. These responses are not voluntary but arise from external circumstances, such as interpersonal violence, life-threatening accidents, or large-scale disasters. Far from being confined to subjective emotional disturbances, trauma triggers quantifiable changes within neural circuits, hormonal systems, and the broader autonomic nervous system. These alterations propel the body into a sustained state of hypervigilance and defensive readiness, often with lasting repercussions.

Trauma is not monolithic; its manifestations vary widely depending on context and exposure.

Acute trauma typically results from a single, overwhelming incident, such as a violent assault or a natural catastrophe.

Chronic trauma, on the other hand, emerges from enduring exposure to harmful or abusive conditions over time, such as repeated domestic violence or systemic oppression.

Complex trauma constitutes an intricate constellation of psychological wounds arising from prolonged and compounded exposure to severe adversity, often rooted in early developmental periods. Such trauma intertwines with personal history and environmental factors, creating unique and often profound impacts on individuals.

Critically, these forms of trauma are not reflections of personal fragility but are biologically embedded responses to extreme stressors that overwhelm existing coping mechanisms.

The physiological adaptations initiated by trauma include a spectrum of survival-oriented behaviors and states. These are often categorized under the "fight, flight, freeze, or fawn" responses. Each of these reflects a distinct strategy for managing perceived threats. For example:

the fight response manifests as aggression or confrontational behavior.

the flight response entails avoidance or physical withdrawal from danger.

The freeze response is characterized by immobilization and dissociation, a state in which individuals may feel emotionally numb or disconnected from their environment.

The fawn response, though less commonly discussed, involves appeasement and compliance as strategies to defuse perceived threats.

While these responses serve adaptive purposes during traumatic events, their persistence in the absence of actual danger often leads to maladaptive patterns, such as hypervigilance, intrusive memories, and disrupted emotional regulation.

The biological underpinnings of trauma are well-documented and highlight its tangible effects on brain architecture. :

The amygdala, a critical node in the brain’s fear-processing network, becomes hyperactive following trauma, resulting in heightened threat detection and exaggerated emotional responses.

Simultaneously, the hippocampus, responsible for contextualizing and integrating memories, often exhibits volume reduction, impairing the individual’s ability to distinguish between past traumatic events and present safety.

The prefrontal cortex—central to executive functions such as decision-making and emotion regulation—experiences functional suppression, further compounding difficulties in managing stress and regulating behavior.

These interconnected neural disruptions illustrate the profound ways in which trauma is encoded within the brain, far beyond the realm of conscious awareness.

Recognizing trauma as a biologically driven process demands a shift from stigmatized interpretations to a nuanced understanding of its pervasive impacts. Trauma reshapes an individual’s cognitive, emotional, and relational frameworks, influencing their interactions with the world and their perception of safety. By addressing the physical and psychological realities of trauma, scholars and practitioners can develop more precise and effective interventions, facilitating recovery and resilience.

Trauma, therefore, is not an ephemeral or subjective condition but a profound reconfiguration of the body’s and brain’s adaptive systems in response to extraordinary stress.

1.2 : Types of trauma responses

Trauma engages the body’s most primal survival mechanisms, activating automatic responses that bypass conscious thought. These responses—fight, flight, freeze, and fawn—arise from the nervous system’s attempts to protect the individual in the face of perceived danger. Understanding these patterns highlights the physiological and behavioral imprint trauma leaves long after the initiating event has ended.

The fight response manifests as heightened aggression and a readiness to confront the threat directly. Individuals may respond with anger, physical outbursts, or confrontational behavior, reflecting the body’s preparation to eliminate the perceived danger. This reaction, while adaptive in threatening situations, often persists as disproportionate irritability or hostility in non-threatening environments.

The flight response propels the individual to escape perceived danger. This can take the form of physical avoidance—such as steering clear of certain locations or social settings—or adopting behaviors that provide a sense of safety, like constant vigilance or seeking isolation. While the instinct to flee ensures survival in acute situations, its chronic activation can lead to avoidance behaviors that disrupt daily functioning.

The freeze response immobilizes the individual, akin to the well-known "deer in headlights" phenomenon. This reaction stems from the body’s attempt to evade detection by remaining still, often accompanied by feelings of numbness or dissociation. Those experiencing the freeze response may struggle to react to their surroundings or articulate their needs, creating barriers to effective communication and problem-solving.

The fawn response involves prioritizing the needs of others to de-escalate perceived threats. Individuals may engage in appeasing behaviors, suppressing their own desires or boundaries to maintain a sense of safety. While adaptive in abusive or manipulative environments, the fawn response can lead to an erosion of self-identity and a pattern of unhealthy relationships.

These survival responses, while beneficial in the context of immediate danger, frequently extend their influence into daily life, resulting in a range of secondary effects.

For instance, hypervigilance—a hallmark of trauma—leaves individuals perpetually on edge, misinterpreting benign stimuli as potential threats. This heightened state of awareness often triggers flashbacks, wherein sensory fragments of traumatic memories intrude upon the present.

Flashbacks are vivid and fragmented, involving intense visual, auditory, or emotional recollections that bypass conscious control. Similarly, dissociation—a state of detachment from one’s surroundings or self—serves as a psychological escape, yet may disrupt the individual’s ability to engage meaningfully with reality.

These trauma responses, deeply rooted in neurobiology, underscore the enduring impact of trauma on both behavior and cognition. Recognizing them as automatic, physiological processes rather than conscious choices provides a framework for addressing their effects in therapeutic contexts. By situating these responses within the context of survival, it becomes possible to approach trauma recovery with greater empathy and scientific understanding.

1.3 : Why Trauma is Often Misunderstood

Trauma remains one of the most misunderstood phenomena in mental health, primarily due to pervasive societal stigma and the oversimplification of its nature. A significant portion of the public reduces trauma to an emotional weakness or an exaggerated reaction, perpetuating harmful stereotypes. This oversimplification not only undermines the legitimacy of trauma but also marginalizes those who experience it, leaving them to contend with the dual burden of their condition and societal judgment.

The societal stigma surrounding mental health often equates trauma with personal failure or fragility, fostering an environment where individuals feel compelled to suppress their experiences. Trauma is frequently perceived as a purely emotional reaction—an individual failing rather than a neurobiological condition. This perspective ignores the tangible physiological effects of trauma, such as structural brain changes and hormonal dysregulation. Consequently, trauma survivors are often dismissed as overreacting or dramatizing their symptoms, a misconception that overlooks the profound and measurable impact trauma has on neural pathways, stress response systems, and overall functioning.

Another critical misunderstanding stems from the tendency to view trauma as an exclusively mental or psychological phenomenon. While trauma indeed affects emotional regulation and cognition, its origins are deeply rooted in the physical processes of the brain and body.

Neuroimaging studies have consistently shown that trauma induces heightened activity in the amygdala, impairs the hippocampus’s ability to process and store memories, and suppresses the prefrontal cortex’s capacity for rational thought and emotional regulation.

These biological disruptions challenge the oversimplified notion that trauma survivors can merely "move on" through willpower or emotional resilience alone.

Furthermore, the limited public discourse on trauma has reinforced reductive stereotypes. Media portrayals often depict trauma survivors as permanently damaged or excessively fragile, feeding into a culture that glorifies stoicism while pathologizing vulnerability. Educational systems and workplaces rarely prioritize comprehensive mental health literacy, allowing misconceptions about trauma to persist unchallenged. This lack of understanding perpetuates the stigmatization of trauma survivors and deters meaningful conversations about its complex nature.

Compounding this issue is the narrow definition of trauma that many hold. The general population often associates trauma exclusively with catastrophic events, such as war, natural disasters, or severe accidents. While such events can indeed cause trauma, this perspective ignores the equally profound impact of chronic stressors like emotional neglect, prolonged abuse, or systemic discrimination.

Research shows that these subtler forms of trauma can result in neurobiological changes indistinguishable from those caused by acute trauma. However, survivors of these experiences often face invalidation due to the societal expectation that trauma must be linked to a dramatic, singular event.

In conclusion, trauma is frequently misunderstood because it is perceived as an emotional failing rather than a physical condition rooted in neurobiology.

This misunderstanding is perpetuated by stigma, lack of education, and a narrow, event-centric view of trauma. Recognizing trauma as a biological response to stress, rather than a character defect, is essential for dismantling harmful stereotypes and fostering a more informed and empathetic approach to mental health.

Subpart 2: The Physical Impact of Trauma on the Brain

2.1 : Neurobiological Changes Caused by Trauma

Trauma doesn’t linger in an abstract psychological space; it rewires the brain at a structural and functional level. Among the most notable changes, trauma disrupts the amygdala, hippocampus, and prefrontal cortex, creating a cascade of dysfunctions that alter perception, memory, and behavior.

The amygdala, the brain’s alarm system, becomes hyperactive in response to trauma. This small, almond-shaped cluster of neurons flags threats—real or perceived—at hyperspeed. Under normal conditions, the amygdala activates appropriately to warn of danger. Post-trauma, however, it’s perpetually on high alert, interpreting harmless stimuli as potential threats. This hypervigilance results in exaggerated fear responses, persistent anxiety, and difficulty distinguishing between safe and unsafe situations. Such overactivation not only exhausts mental and emotional resources but also intensifies the stress cycle, trapping individuals in a state of relentless fight-or-flight reactivity.

The hippocampus, essential for memory formation and contextual processing, also bears the brunt of trauma. Research shows that trauma reduces the hippocampus’s volume, impairing its ability to differentiate past events from present experiences. Memories associated with trauma often resurface as fragmented, sensory-laden flashbacks devoid of temporal context. These fragments, unanchored to a timeline, can feel as immediate as the original event. This dysfunction contributes to a loop where individuals relive their trauma without the cognitive tools to process or resolve it.

Simultaneously, the prefrontal cortex—responsible for executive functions such as rational decision-making, emotional regulation, and impulse control—experiences diminished activity. Trauma suppresses this region, undermining its ability to override emotional reactions triggered by the amygdala. As a result, individuals may struggle with planning, managing stress, and interpreting events with clarity. The prefrontal cortex’s reduced functionality leaves emotional responses unchecked, leading to impulsivity, difficulty concentrating, and heightened vulnerability to stressors.

These neural disruptions do not operate in isolation; they occur within a dysregulated stress-response system. Trauma triggers chronic overproduction of cortisol, the body’s primary stress hormone. This hormonal imbalance exacerbates the neural damage, contributing to systemic issues such as poor sleep, mood instability, and weakened immune function. Over time, the cumulative effects of heightened cortisol levels and neural restructuring manifest in both mental health disorders, such as PTSD, and physical ailments, including cardiovascular disease.

Brain imaging studies corroborate these findings, providing visual evidence of trauma-induced changes. Functional MRI (fMRI) and PET scans consistently reveal heightened amygdala activity, reduced hippocampal volume, and diminished prefrontal cortex engagement in individuals with trauma histories. These alterations underscore the tangible, physical nature of trauma, dismantling misconceptions that trauma is “just emotional” or a matter of willpower.

In essence, trauma is a physiological phenomenon. Its effects penetrate the brain’s core systems, warping its architecture and leaving long-lasting marks on cognition, emotion, and behavior. Trauma is not an abstract adversary; it is a biological force that demands recognition and intervention.

2.2 : The Physical Impact of Trauma on the Brain

Trauma fundamentally alters the brain’s architecture, creating maladaptive neural pathways that prioritize fear and hypervigilance. This process reconfigures the brain's responses to prioritize survival, often at the expense of flexibility and emotional regulation. Neural circuits become wired to perceive everyday stimuli as potential threats, leading to persistent states of anxiety and avoidance.

Trauma memories are typically stored as fragmented sensory imprints—disconnected sights, sounds, or physical sensations—rather than coherent narratives. These fragmented memories are easily triggered, leading to flashbacks or distressing physiological reactions that are difficult to contextualize. This disorganization results from trauma’s disruption of the hippocampus, the brain region responsible for integrating sensory information into structured memories. Consequently, trauma survivors often struggle to differentiate past experiences from present reality, perpetuating cycles of fear and distress.

Maladaptive neural pathways formed during traumatic experiences reinforce survival-oriented behaviors, such as avoidance. Avoidance becomes a coping mechanism, convincing the individual that evasion equates to safety. Over time, this pattern solidifies, limiting behavioral responses and emotional resilience. The brain defaults to fear-based reactions, reducing the capacity to engage with new challenges or relationships meaningfully.

Trauma also impacts the brain’s reward systems, diminishing the capacity for pleasure or relaxation. Hyperactivation of the amygdala the brain's fear center keeps the individual in a constant state of alertness, while reduced activity in the prefrontal cortex impairs rational decision-making and emotional regulation. Chronic stress leads to an overproduction of cortisol, the primary stress hormone, further entrenching trauma-induced neural patterns. This biochemical cascade perpetuates hypervigilance and emotional exhaustion, leaving the individual trapped in a survival state.

Social functioning is similarly affected by trauma-induced changes in neural wiring. Trust and emotional connection often become compromised as the brain perceives interpersonal closeness as a risk. Survivors may experience emotional numbness, detachment, or difficulty interpreting social cues, which can lead to isolation and strained relationships. This relational disconnect exacerbates the individual’s sense of vulnerability and reinforces the trauma-driven neural patterns.

The cumulative effect of these changes underscores the enduring nature of trauma's impact on the brain. Without targeted intervention, the maladaptive wiring established during trauma persists, dictating future responses and limiting psychological growth. The brain becomes trapped in outdated survival scripts, unable to fully engage with the present or adapt to new circumstances. This reprogramming reflects not a failure of character but the brain’s natural biological response to extraordinary stress.

Trauma’s reprogramming reshapes the individual’s mental and emotional landscape, narrowing their perspective and constraining their ability to navigate life effectively. Understanding this process highlights the importance of addressing trauma at the neurological level to restore balance and adaptability in the brain’s functioning.

2.3 : The Physical Impact of Trauma on the Brain

Empirical evidence strongly supports the argument that trauma induces measurable physiological changes within the brain and body. Advances in neuroimaging technologies, hormonal studies, and biochemical analyses illustrate that trauma is not merely an emotional or psychological phenomenon—it is a tangible alteration of biological systems.

Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) and Positron Emission Tomography (PET) scans consistently reveal structural and functional changes in the brains of individuals exposed to trauma. For instance, the amygdala, the brain's primary center for fear and threat detection, shows heightened activity in trauma survivors, reflecting a state of persistent hypervigilance.

Simultaneously, the hippocampus, responsible for memory processing and contextualizing experiences, often exhibits significant shrinkage in volume. Studies suggest this reduction compromises the ability to regulate emotional responses and distinguish between past and present threats.

Furthermore, the prefrontal cortex—the region critical for executive function and emotion regulation—shows diminished activity, impairing the brain’s capacity to modulate fear responses. These observable changes underscore the biological footprint trauma leaves on neural architecture.

Trauma also disrupts endocrine function, particularly involving cortisol, a stress hormone central to the body’s fight-or-flight response. In trauma survivors, cortisol levels frequently deviate from normal patterns, manifesting as chronic hypersecretion or suppression. Elevated cortisol levels contribute to disrupted circadian rhythms, mood instability, and heightened anxiety. Prolonged exposure to abnormal cortisol levels exacerbates the brain’s structural vulnerabilities, particularly in the hippocampus, further embedding trauma’s physiological impact. This dysregulation extends beyond the brain, affecting metabolic and immune systems, illustrating the systemic nature of trauma’s influence.

Trauma’s effects extend into cellular and molecular domains, where chronic stress triggers an inflammatory cascade. Inflammation disrupts neural connectivity, impairing cognitive function and emotional regulation. At the cellular level, oxidative stress emerges as a response to trauma-induced biochemical imbalance. This process involves the accumulation of reactive oxygen species (ROS), which damage cells and tissues, including neurons. These disruptions highlight trauma’s ability to undermine homeostatic mechanisms, perpetuating long-term physiological dysfunction.

Decades of research corroborate trauma’s biological reality. Neuroimaging studies confirm trauma-related structural changes, while hormonal assays and biochemical analyses provide additional layers of evidence. These findings dismantle misconceptions that trauma is solely a psychological phenomenon or a subjective exaggeration. Instead, they reinforce the understanding that trauma imprints itself onto the body and brain in ways that are both observable and quantifiable.

Trauma’s effects do not dissipate when the distressing event ends. Neural pathways shaped by trauma continue to trigger maladaptive responses long after immediate threats subside. Hormonal imbalances persist, maintaining a state of heightened alertness that no longer aligns with current circumstances. The inflammatory processes and oxidative damage initiated by trauma further entrench these physiological patterns, creating a lasting legacy of altered functioning.

In conclusion, trauma manifests as a multifaceted physiological event, supported by robust scientific evidence. Imaging technologies, hormonal data, and biochemical markers provide incontrovertible proof of trauma’s biological foundation. These findings affirm that trauma is not an abstract emotional state but a profound disruption of the brain and body’s structure and function. Trauma, therefore, must be understood as a condition that bridges psychological and physiological domains, demanding acknowledgment of its tangible reality.

Part II: Trauma Stays Where It Belongs – Why DR Trauma Doesn’t Follow You to the CR

Subpart 1: Shifting Creates a Clean Slate Between Realities

1.1 : The separation of DR and CR experiences

The delineation between Desired Reality (DR) and Current Reality (CR) serves as a foundational concept in understanding the dynamics of reality shifting, particularly concerning the transference of trauma. Contrary to popular misconceptions, trauma experienced within a DR does not permeate into the CR. This separation is rooted in the fundamental differences in neural engagement and physiological responses between the two states of existence.

Primarily, trauma remains confined to the DR because the individual's Ordinary Reality (OR) brain does not physically experience the traumatic events occurring within the DR. During the process of shifting, the consciousness transitions, but the OR brain remains inactive and unexposed to the distressing stimuli present in the DR. As a result, the neurobiological impact of trauma—such as neural rewiring or hormonal imbalances—is localized exclusively within the DR. Upon returning to the CR, the OR brain has not undergone any alterations; it retains its pre-shifted state, free from the stress-induced changes that characterize trauma.

The notion that trauma could transcend the boundaries between realities misconstrues the biological underpinnings of traumatic experiences. Trauma is intrinsically linked to the physical state of the brain and body that directly experiences the distressing event. In the context of reality shifting, since the DR persona endures the trauma, the OR self remains unaffected. The lack of neural activation and hormonal response in the CR brain ensures that traumatic experiences do not carry over. Consequently, the OR neurons do not develop new fear-based circuits, and there is no elevation in cortisol levels, which are typically associated with stress responses.

Moreover, the concept of a "reality boundary" further solidifies the separation between DR and CR experiences. This boundary acts as a psychological and physiological barrier that prevents the transfer of trauma. When an individual shifts back to the CR, their emotional and physical baselines are automatically reset. This reset mechanism ensures that any emotional disturbances or physiological stress responses encountered in the DR do not persist in the CR. Essentially, the CR functions under its own biological rules, independent of the experiences that transpired in the DR.

Additionally, memories of events in the DR may persist; however, these recollections are context-specific and emotionally detached from the traumatic experiences. Similar to how one might remember a vivid dream without experiencing lingering emotional distress, DR memories do not evoke the same biochemical responses in the CR. The OR nervous system does not encode DR events as real threats, thus preventing the manifestation of trauma symptoms such as anxiety or hypervigilance in the CR. This detachment underscores the resilience of the CR self, which remains insulated from the psychological ramifications of DR experiences.

The separation is further emphasized by the absence of biochemical signatures that typically accompany trauma. In the CR, the heart rate remains stable, and the nervous system does not register DR experiences as immediate threats. The hippocampus, responsible for memory formation and stress regulation, remains unaffected by DR-induced stressors. Consequently, the CR self continues its existence without the burden of trauma that is confined to the DR.

In summary, the separation of DR and CR experiences is maintained through distinct neural and physiological processes that prevent the transference of trauma. The OR brain's inactivity during DR experiences ensures that trauma does not impact the CR, preserving the individual's mental and physical well-being upon their return. This clear boundary affirms that trauma remains tethered to its original reality, allowing individuals to navigate multiple realities without compromising their mental health.

1.2 : Why DR Trauma Doesn’t Cross the “Reality Boundary”

Trauma, as a profound neurobiological response to distressing or life-altering events, is inherently tied to the physical brain that experiences it. Within the framework of reality shifting, where an individual transitions from their Current Reality (CR) to a Desired Reality (DR), the concept of trauma traversing the “reality boundary” warrants rigorous examination. The premise that trauma from a DR could impact the CR is fundamentally flawed due to the distinct physiological and neurological separations between these realities.

Firstly, trauma is a condition that necessitates the direct involvement of the brain’s physical structures. When an individual experiences trauma in a DR, the neurobiological alterations—such as changes in neural circuits, hormonal imbalances, and activation of the amygdala and hippocampus—are confined to the DR’s physiological substrate. The CR brain, which remains uninvolved during the shifting process, does not undergo these changes. For instance, if an individual encounters severe stressors like torture or betrayal in a DR, the CR brain does not process these events, resulting in no corresponding activation of stress-related neural pathways or hormonal responses in the CR.

The “reality boundary” operates as an impermeable firewall that prevents the transfer of trauma from the DR to the CR. This boundary ensures that the emotional and physical baselines of the CR are maintained independently of experiences in the DR. Upon returning to the CR, the individual’s emotional and physiological states revert to their pre-shift conditions. This automatic reset is possible because the CR brain and body were never subjected to the traumatic events occurring in the DR. Consequently, the neurobiological foundations required for trauma—such as altered dopamine receptors or disrupted cortisol systems—remain unaltered in the CR.

Moreover, memories of traumatic events in the DR do not carry the same emotional or physiological weight in the CR. These memories are context-specific and lack the neurobiological engagement that is essential for trauma formation. Drawing a parallel, recalling a vivid dream does not induce the same emotional or physical reactions as experiencing the events in reality. Similarly, DR memories exist as mere recollections without the accompanying biochemical changes that underpin traumatic responses. This detachment further reinforces the impermeability of the reality boundary, as the CR brain does not associate these memories with actual neurobiological stressors.

The separation between DR and CR is also maintained through the concept of homeostasis in the CR body. Homeostasis refers to the body’s ability to maintain stable internal conditions despite external changes. When an individual shifts back to the CR, their body’s homeostatic mechanisms ensure that any temporary emotional fluctuations experienced in the DR do not disrupt their overall physiological equilibrium. This reset mechanism is crucial in preventing any lasting impact of DR experiences on the CR’s mental and physical health.

Furthermore, the absence of physical signs of trauma upon returning to the CR underscores the non-transferability of DR-induced trauma. Physical manifestations of trauma, such as changes in heart rate, cortisol levels, and neural activity, are absent in the CR because these physiological responses were never triggered in the first place. The CR body remains unaffected by the DR’s traumatic events, maintaining its original state of equilibrium.

In conclusion, the delineation between DR and CR ensures that trauma remains confined within its originating reality. The neurobiological prerequisites for trauma—direct brain involvement and physiological changes—are not met in the CR during shifts to the DR. The reality boundary effectively isolates traumatic experiences, preserving the mental and physical integrity of the CR. This separation is essential for maintaining psychological resilience and safeguarding the individual’s well-being across different states of existence. As such, trauma experienced in a DR does not traverse the reality boundary to impact the CR, affirming the distinct and independent nature of each reality within the context of reality shifting.

1.3 : DR Memories as Context-Specific and Emotionally Detached

Memories originating from a Desired Reality (DR) may persist within an individual’s consciousness; however, they inherently lack the emotional and physical weight that accompanies such recollections in the Current Reality (CR). This phenomenon can be analogized to the experience of recalling a dream—vivid in detail yet detached from the sensory and emotional intensity of the original event. Trauma, by its very nature, necessitates a comprehensive context that includes biochemical processes and physical states, elements that DR memories do not possess when recalled within the CR framework.

In the CR, individuals may vividly remember events from the DR, such as traumatic experiences, yet these memories do not engender the same profound emotional responses. This dissociation occurs because the DR’s neurobiological context, which facilitates the emotional depth of trauma, remains confined to the DR itself. Consequently, when these memories are accessed in the CR, they are experienced without the accompanying neurobiological changes that are essential for trauma to take root. The absence of factors such as altered neural circuits, hormonal imbalances, and physiological responses renders these memories inert in terms of their potential to induce trauma.

Trauma in the CR results in tangible and lasting effects that permeate an individual’s entire being, influencing neural pathways, hormonal balances, and overall physiological functioning. In contrast, DR memories function as mental snapshots devoid of the original biological context. The assumption that recollection equates to the retention of trauma fails to account for the necessity of an active neurobiological framework. Trauma requires the engagement of the nervous system, including the release of stress hormones and the activation of fear circuits, processes that are not triggered when DR memories are recalled in the CR. Without these biological responses, the memories remain harmless and do not contribute to lasting psychological distress.

The processing of dreams provides a pertinent parallel. Individuals often recall intense dream scenarios, such as falling or experiencing loss, yet these do not result in enduring trauma upon waking. Similarly, DR memories emerge in the CR as vivid yet emotionally detached recollections. Statements reflecting on DR experiences, such as “That was intense,” indicate a superficial engagement devoid of the physiological reactions necessary for trauma. The CR maintains physiological stability—heart rate remains steady, motor functions are controlled, and cortisol levels do not spike—thereby preventing the establishment of trauma.

Misconceptions frequently arise regarding the impact of intense DR events, with some individuals erroneously believing that such experiences can inflict lasting trauma in the CR. However, genuine trauma requires the persistent activation of altered neural circuits, a process absent in the CR brain when recalling DR events. DR memories resemble narratives one might encounter in literature or interactive media; they are engaging and contextually significant within the DR but do not alter the individual’s psychological state in the CR. Without the requisite biological involvement, these memories lack the capacity to trigger authentic trauma responses, functioning instead as mere informational data.

Furthermore, DR memories retain context-specific details, including sequences of events, sensory information, and narrative structures, yet they do not carry the biochemical signatures essential for trauma. Significant events within the DR, such as the death of a friend or a natural disaster, are remembered without evoking the same emotional and physiological responses as real-life traumatic experiences. The CR nervous system interprets these memories as informational rather than as sources of trauma, allowing individuals to retain memories without enduring the associated psychological scars.

In conclusion, DR memories are intrinsically context-specific and emotionally detached, encompassing detailed narratives devoid of the underlying neurobiological mechanisms required for trauma. Individuals can engage with and reflect upon their DR experiences without the risk of enduring trauma, as these memories do not activate the necessary physiological responses. This distinction underscores the importance of understanding the boundaries between different states of existence, ensuring that the exploration of alternate realities does not compromise mental health in the CR.

Subpart 2: Scripting and Personal Control Over Trauma

2.1 : Shifting Grants Individuals Control Over Transference of Experiences

The practice of reality shifting empowers individuals to regulate the nature of experiences they retain upon returning to their Current Reality (CR). Central to this control is the technique of explicit scripting, which ensures that only desired outcomes and positive insights are carried back from the Desired Reality (DR), thereby preventing any adverse emotional or physical effects from influencing the CR. For instance, an individual may affirm, “I will return with only positive lessons, leaving all emotional and physical effects behind,” thereby establishing a clear boundary between the two realities.

Traumatic experiences within the CR typically arise from uncontrollable external events, leading to involuntary neurobiological responses. In contrast, reality shifting offers a mechanism for individuals to define the parameters of their DR experiences proactively. By scripting the conditions of their shifts, individuals can ensure that negative experiences remain confined to the DR, thereby safeguarding their mental and emotional well-being in the CR. This deliberate structuring of experiences allows for the exclusion of traumatic elements, as the individual asserts control over what is permitted to affect their CR consciousness.

Scripting serves as a practical tool for maintaining the integrity of the CR by delineating the scope of what is transferred from the DR. For example, an individual might declare, “I return to the CR calm, stable, and free from emotional harm,” thereby reinforcing the separation between realities. This assertion is effective because the cognitive frameworks established during shifting operations under the individual's predefined rules.

Consequently, the DR functions as a self-contained environment (as in they exitst separatly from this reality) where experiences, including those that might be distressing, do not impose lasting effects on the CR. This approach mirrors the psychological detachment one experiences when recalling dreams—memories remain, but the emotional intensity dissipates upon awakening.

Moreover, scripting enables individuals to curate their personal narratives across realities. In the DR, one might encounter chaotic or high-stakes scenarios, such as battling adversaries or facing personal loss. However, upon returning to the CR, the individual consciously chooses to discard the emotional weight associated with these events. This selective retention of experiences ensures that only beneficial insights and strengths are integrated into the CR consciousness. For instance, an affirmation such as, “After returning, I feel only a sense of accomplishment and gain confidence, not trauma,” establishes a definitive psychological boundary that prevents traumatic residues from permeating the CR.

The efficacy of scripting lies in its ability to function as a mental filter, permitting the transfer of only those experiences that align with the individual's desired outcomes. Unlike trauma in the CR, which necessitates an involuntary engagement of the nervous system, trauma within the DR remains isolated due to the absence of direct neurobiological impact on the CR brain. By reinforcing the separation through explicit scripting, individuals ensure that their CR remains unaffected by the potentially destabilizing experiences encountered in the DR. This methodical approach to reality shifting underscores the importance of personal agency in maintaining mental health across different states of existence.

In summary, the practice of scripting within reality shifting provides individuals with a structured means to control the transference of experiences between realities. By establishing clear boundaries and intentional affirmations, individuals can ensure that only positive and empowering insights are carried back to the CR, thereby preventing the encroachment of trauma and maintaining psychological resilience. This deliberate separation not only preserves the integrity of the CR but also enhances the overall safety and efficacy of reality shifting practices.

2.2 : High-stakes DRs as cathartic but non-damaging experiences

Experiencing trauma within a Desired Reality (DR), such as battling zombies or losing allies, can be likened to emotional role-play—intense and immersive in the moment (as you are living through them when in your CR) but ultimately non-permanent. This analogy serves to elucidate the nature of trauma within the context of reality shifting, where the experiences in the DR areauthentically felt by the individual.

The premise of reality shifting posits that process of shifting is mental and not physical therefore you cannot bring physical things across realities. However, upon returning to the Current Reality (CR), the metaphors of role-playing and narrative experiences become pertinent in understanding why trauma does not transfer between realities.

Trauma is fundamentally a biological response to genuine threats that impact the nervous system, resulting in lasting neurobiological changes. In contrast, DR scenarios, despite their apparent intensity—such as engaging in life-threatening missions or enduring emotional losses—are meticulously structured within a controlled environment (as in they are scripted either in our out as per the shifters will). These experiences function similarly to engaging with a high-stakes video game or an emotionally charged narrative, where the shifter undergoes significant emotional engagement without enduring real physiological harm in the CR. The separation between DR and CR ensures that the neurobiological imprints of trauma remain confined to the DR, as the shifter's brain in the CR does not physically experience these events.

The concept of a "reality boundary" further reinforces why trauma does not traverse between realities. Trauma is intrinsically linked to the specific neural and hormonal changes within the brain that experiences the distressing event. Since the shifter's CR brain does not partake in the DR experiences, the trauma-induced alterations remain localized to the DR. Upon returning to the CR, the individual's emotional and physiological baselines are automatically reset, preventing any residual trauma from affecting their current state. This reset mechanism underscores the impermeability of the reality boundary, ensuring that the CR remains unaffected by the DR's traumatic events.

Moreover, memories of DR events may persist upon returning to the CR, but these memories are context-specific and lack the accompanying emotional or physical weight typically associated with genuine trauma. This detachment can be compared to recalling a vivid dream—while the experiences are remembered, the emotional intensity and sensory details do not impose lasting psychological effects. In the same vein, DR memories are retained as narrative elements without the neurobiological context necessary to sustain trauma. The emotional responses experienced in the DR, such as fear or sadness, are transient and do not result in long-term psychological consequences within the CR.

This delineation between DR and CR experiences provides significant reassurance for individuals engaging in reality shifting. By recognizing DR trauma as temporary and confined within a controlled narrative framework, shifters can partake in intense emotional experiences without the fear of lasting psychological harm. This understanding promotes the safe practice of reality shifting, allowing individuals to explore and engage with challenging scenarios for personal growth and emotional release without compromising their mental health. The analogy to role-playing and immersive storytelling serves to highlight the protective mechanisms inherent in the reality shifting process, ensuring that trauma remains tethered to its original reality and does not permeate the individual's current existence. This does not mean that we invalited the authenticity of the practise or that we proclaim that it is not real .

In summary, the controlled nature of DR experiences and the existence of a reality boundary effectively prevent trauma from crossing into the CR. The metaphor of emotional role-play aptly captures the essence of DR trauma, emphasizing its temporary and non-permanent nature. This framework not only demystifies the process of reality shifting but also affirms that individuals can navigate multiple realities without enduring lasting psychological damage. By maintaining the integrity of the reality boundary and understanding the contextual detachment of DR memories, shifters can engage in high-stakes DRs confidently, knowing that their CR remains unaffected by the emotional and physical challenges encountered in alternate realities.

2.3: Healing and Empowerment Through Desired Reality (DR) Scripting

Trauma inflicts profound and enduring scars when actual events compromise an individual's sense of safety, perpetuating cycles of fear and psychological distress. However, Desired Realities (DRs) present a unique opportunity to reconstruct personal narratives within a controlled environment, thereby mitigating the transference of trauma to the Current Reality (CR). By exercising authority over these experiences, individuals can ensure that trauma remains confined to the DR, facilitating the processing and release of past wounds without their adverse effects persisting in the CR. Through deliberate scripting of scenarios where one overcomes adversity, confronts fears, and emerges resilient, individuals can prevent trauma from impacting their Original Reality (OR) self.

Central to this process is the assertion, “I return better, not broken,” which serves as an affirmation that recalibrates one's approach to shifting. In this framework, the DR functions as a psychological workshop, allowing individuals to symbolically engage with and conquer challenges without sustaining real damage. By orchestrating events that foster resilience, individuals can cultivate growth and empowerment within the DR, ensuring that only positive insights and experiences are carried back to the CR. This method transforms the DR into a space for emotional training, analogous to how athletes train their muscles in a safe environment. In the DR, individuals simulate threats, assert their strength, and demonstrate their capacity to overcome obstacles. Upon returning to the CR, they retain a sense of accomplishment devoid of trauma, as the DR scenarios do not imprint fear into their OR neurons. The deliberate control over these scenarios guarantees that trauma does not biologically affect the individual.

This approach redefines the traditional trauma narrative by distinguishing between involuntary trauma in the OR and consensual, controlled trauma within the DR. In the OR, trauma can occur without an individual's consent, leading to lasting psychological harm. In contrast, the DR allows for the intentional experience of trauma-like events under the individual's terms, preventing such trauma from impacting the OR self. For those seeking to heal from past OR traumas, the DR serves as a stage to symbolically confront and overcome fears, facilitating a return to the CR with enhanced clarity and emotional stability. Affirmations such as, “In my DR, I face my old demons and leave them defeated. I return to the CR with strength and peace,” empower individuals to actively manage their internal narratives.

Moreover, this methodology enables the reshaping of internal experiences, rendering trauma less insurmountable by addressing and overcoming challenges within the DR. Witnessing oneself prevail in the DR not only demonstrates personal strength but also provides emotional tools that enhance well-being in the CR. The OR system recognizes that no actual trauma has occurred, as the engagement within the DR functions as a form of immersive therapy. Consequently, individuals return to the CR uplifted rather than harmed, utilizing the DR as a space for growth and healing.

Critics who fear the transference of trauma from the DR to the CR overlook the empowering potential inherent in DR scripting. They may perceive trauma as an inevitable consequence of intense experiences, failing to recognize that within the DR, individuals retain complete control. Since trauma necessitates a physical substrate—which the DR does not provide to the CR—thoughtful scripting ensures that trauma remains isolated within the DR. Instead of bearing scars, individuals retain only the lessons and strengths derived from overcoming challenges in a safe and controlled environment. This strategic approach to scripting facilitates healing and empowerment, maintaining the integrity of the CR by ensuring that trauma remains firmly anchored within the DR.

In conclusion, DR scripting offers a sophisticated mechanism for individuals to engage with and overcome trauma in a manner that preserves their mental health in the CR. By leveraging the controlled environment of the DR to rewrite traumatic narratives, individuals can achieve personal growth and resilience without the detrimental effects of trauma permeating their everyday reality. This paradigm not only enhances the safety and efficacy of reality shifting practices but also underscores the critical interplay between psychological resilience and the boundaries of alternate states of existence.

Conclusion :

In the discourse surrounding trauma and shifting realities, it's crucial to acknowledge trauma as a profound physical phenomenon that rewires the brain and body under stress. When trauma occurs, it triggers significant changes in neural circuits and hormonal responses, but these alterations remain confined to the specific reality where the trauma happens.

Shifting between the Current Reality (CR) and Desired Reality (DR) is a genuine process that maintains the integrity of each reality by ensuring no physical overlap. Trauma experienced in the DR does not affect the CR, as the nervous system in the CR remains unaffected by events in the DR. This biological separation means that trauma cannot traverse between realities.

Empowerment through control in shifting allows individuals to script their experiences in the DR, confining any negative elements to that reality and preserving the stability of the CR. By managing the narrative within the DR, individuals prevent trauma from impacting their CR, maintaining peace and well-being.

Ultimately, recognizing the distinct and non-overlapping nature of CR and DR ensures that trauma remains confined to its originating reality. Through intentional scripting and clear boundaries, individuals can use shifting as a tool for personal growth and healing while safeguarding their current reality from unintended emotional or physical repercussions.

IF YOU ARE LIKE TL:DR (TOO LONG DIDNT READ) HERE IS A VERY WATERED DOWN VERSION OF EVERYTHING I SAID :

Since it is impossible to bring physical stuff across realties and that trauma is something physical, therefore no, you cannot bring trauma to your CR.

[matryosika]

Never Have I Ever

Pairing — Chan, Changbin x fem!reader Wordcount — 8,913 words Genre — 18+ Includes — Mentions of body insecurities and past romantic relationships. Struggles with sex and sexuality. Consumption of alcohol (but no sex under the influence). Explicit sexual content, smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — It's been a while since I've post something this lengthy... I have to be honest, I started writing this last year (July 2022) but I felt so unsatisfied with it that I never got to post it. I made some corrections, added some more details and now I'm ready to share it with you! Hope you like it. Please remember to leave a comment, reblog or ask if you liked this. And! This is the yearly reminder that I own a ko-fi. If you wish to support my work further, you can leave me a tip there! The link is on my pinned post. Thank you for reading me.

Smut warnings — Use of pet names (baby and princess). Dirty talk, threesome activities, mutual masturbation, oral sex (m. receiving), double penetration, first time anal, description of pain and crying during sex. Multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, pulling out and facial.

"Never have I ever..." Chan hummed, his right hand swirling the green bottle he had been drinking from for the past minutes, "had sex in a public place".

He looked at you and then at Changbin, his curious gaze wondering how he missed an opportunity to make either of you drink from your alcoholic beverage.

"I haven't had sex in a public place," Changbin mumbled, "but I have done other things".

"You have to drink either way," Chan insisted.

"You said sex," the black-haired complained, "next time try to be more specific".

You sat there in silence with a look of amusement as you witnessed the silly discussion your two best friends were holding.

"There will not be a next time," Chan sighed, leaving his bottle on top of the small coffee table next the shared couch, "at this rate, we are going to be wasted and she will remain sober".

You smiled with victory imprinted on your face, imitating Chan's action and leaving your beverage on top of the table, "we should've betted money on who was the most innocent one among the three of us, I could've ended the night with more bucks than the ones I have on my wallet".

"I can't believe you dated that asshole for 3 years and yet you didn't do anything with him," Changbin murmured with disbelief.

"Do you think I am lying?" You questioned him, tilting your head slightly backwards and resting it on the wall behind.

"I know for a fact you are not," Changbin replied, "that's why I’m impressed".

"Well," you took the bowl of chips that was placed between you and Chan, "sex isn't everything in a relationship."

"You say so because you haven't fucked," Chan scoffed, his characteristic dimples showing as soon as the sound of his laughter escaped his lips.

"We did fuck though".

"You say so because you haven't fucked properly," Changbin corrected his best friend's statement, the choice of words making your skin burn in embarrassment.

"Just because I am not into the kinky stuff you guys like doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the sex with him," you whined, throwing a cushion at Changbin, "plus, why are we making my sexual life a topic of conversation? that's something private".

"It's just amusing," Chan mumbled, taking a sip from the bottle, "you didn't drink from your soju the whole time".

"You guys asked such odd questions," you admitted, "threesomes, sex in public places... how was I supposed to drink when I have no interest in those sorts of things?"

"Alright, alright," Changbin interrupted, both of his arms doing signals for you and chan to be quiet, "we will start small".

You looked at Changbin and then at Chan, unsure of what the twisted game your dark-haired friend was thinking about. Nonetheless, your hand reached out for the bottle of soju and you returned back to your previous position, back against the wall and head tilted slightly backwards.

"Never have I ever given my partner oral sex," Changbin mumbled, both pairs of dark eyes fixed on you as they waited for your final answer.

Placing the tip of the bottle in between your lips, you made sure to drink just a small sip from it. Not being too fond of the taste of alcohol nor the feeling of being drunk, you tried your best to limit your consumption during the evening. Of course, playing this kind of game was rather easy for someone as inexperienced as you were.

"Never have I ever received oral sex," Chan continued the attack, expecting you to hold the bottle again and drink from it.

But, after a few seconds of awkward looks and odd grimaces, he understood that you were not going to take another sip of alcohol.

"Never have I ever tried anal sex," Changbin queried and, again, no response from you. "Well, that one was a bit obvious".

You darted him a killer gaze and he scoffed, looking absolutely unimpressed by your sexual inexperience.

"Never have I ever tried more than 2 different sexual positions with my partner," Chan questioned with a teasing smirk and, for the first time that night, you felt a bit shy at your lack of experience.

It was true that your sexual life wasn't the best, not even with your ex-boyfriend of 3 years, but you wouldn't dare to admit it out loud. For some reason, the thought of having to talk about how much he sucked at those things embarrassed you and, knowing your best friends, they wouldn't be able to forget such a confession.

"No wonder why you broke up with him," Changbin whispered, diverting your attention from Chan's image all the way to his. "Let me guess, missionary and doggy?"

You were not the type to get your cheeks blushed but still, the skin on your face was burning in shame.

"Never have I ever faked an orgasm with my partner," Chan added, capturing your whole attention once again.

You knew Chan and, if you were to take a wild guess, you would say that his countenance changed from amusement to concern. In his face, you could catch a glimpse of almost the same reaction he had when you told him all about your break up and how your boyfriend cheated on you several times before you found out. 

Even though his reaction was rather odd to you, you still took a sip of your bottle, "shit".

"This is way worse than I thought," Changbin sighed, stretching his body and placing both of his hands behind his neck.

"Just one more question and I will let this go," Chan hummed, trying to satisfy his curiosity without making you uncomfortable, "alright?"

You nodded with resignation, "shoot".

"Never have I ever had an orgasm with a partner," and, as soon as you heard those words, you couldn't help but fix your gaze at your shoelaces that were a hundred times more interesting than whatever was going on inside the tiny living room of your apartment.

"Damn," Changbin's harsh voice interrupted, breaking the awkward silence that was starting to fall down upon the three of you, "are you serious?"

"Why would I lie to you about these things?" you asked with a high-pitched voice, your mind bringing back the memories of the few times you got to spend with your ex.

To be completely honest with yourself, you couldn't deny how hideous the sex with him was. It was rushed, fast, boring. He was focused on his pleasure rather than yours, lasting for not more than 5 minutes and calling it a day. "I'm exhausted", "I came so hard", "I'm so sleepy" were just a few of the things he used to mumble right after overcoming his high and, as much as you loved him at the time, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed after each session. He made you feel like an object who was only meant to give him pleasure without receiving any and, for the longest time, you thought it was completely normal.

"You never talked to him about these things?" Changbin questioned you, making your heart sink at the realization that he was just as worried as Chan was about the whole situation.

"It is not a big deal guys," you tried to convince them, even when you knew that it was, in fact, a big deal, "luckily we are not together anymore so I can leave those boring experiences in the past".

"Still," Chan's words felt like he was scolding you, "you went down on him several times and he couldn't even do that for you".

"Yeah, well-" you sighed, standing up from your seat and stretching your whole body, "I will make sure to get a better and trustworthy fuck buddy next time, I have learned my lesson".

Chan and Changbin remained silent as you started to pick up the mess from the living room, gathering the empty bottles of soju and the wrappings of the snacks you had been eating that night.

"Why don't you help me clean up?" you queried, looking down on them while they spared complicit glances at each other, "the living room is a mess and I don't have plans on doing chores tomorrow morning".

"Hey," Changbin hummed, still sitting on the floor with both of his palms against the rug, "we uh-"

The way your dark-haired roommate stumbled upon his words made you curious about what he was going to say next.

"We would like to help you out with your other issue," Chan spitted, bluntly. Still sitting on the couch with his legs spread, he lifted up his gaze to meet yours.

"What other-" you started the sentence with a smile on your face but, as soon as you realized what they meant, the smile and fondness was transformed into nervousness and curiosity, "oh".

"Oh," Changbin repeated almost with the same intonation you did.

"Listen, you don't have to agree to this," Chan rushed to say, standing up from the couch almost as the same time his friend did from the floor, "me and Changbin, we have discussed this for a while now but we just- we never knew how to approach you about it".

You looked at the two men standing in front of you, suddenly feeling your knees and legs ten times weaker than before. For a while, how long is a while?

"When you say a while, what do you mean?" you asked him, slowly placing the empty bottles on top of the table again.

"We both thought you were attractive the first time you moved in with us," Changbin explained, clearing up his throat as he watched you take a seat on the couch again, now they were the ones looking down on you. "Of course, at the time you had a boyfriend and everything, it was never really a plan, just a thought".

"A thought?"

Changbin looked at Chan and then diverted his gaze to something else, trying hard to avoid giving more information than he needed to.

"One night we were just talking about how much we both liked you," Chan spoke slowly, trying to find just the right words to portray their twisted and perverted fantasies with you, "how much we wanted to be with you, like that"..

"And you have decided to tell me that right now because…"

"We just saw an opportunity to bring the topic and we took it," Changbin continued without even daring to make eye-contact with you, "we don't really lose anything by asking".

"A threesome, then?" you queried with your pair of eyes fixed on them. It was new how nervous they looked right then and there in front of you, clenching their jaws and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

Both of them nodded.

"I... will think about it," you concluded shyly, expecting them to say something else rather than nodding and continuing on picking up the trash that you had placed on top of the table after hearing such revelation.

Other than agreeing and whispering a series of "okay, yeah's", your roommates didn't say anything else. The tension in the environment changed but, at the same time, it didn't feel awkward or overwhelming. If you had to describe it, you would dare to say it was almost pensive.

"You have work tomorrow?" Chan asked, interrupting the silence that was quick to build up after your last words.

"No, I am taking this weekend off," you replied, carrying the green bottles all the way to your kitchen counter.

"I'll get those," Changbin mumbled, picking up the bottles that you had left behind because you could only carry that much.

You didn't want to give them the wrong impression, one where you felt awkwardly uncomfortable at their proposal to the point of not wanting to interact with them in any way, but it was almost impossible to talk when your mind was filled with thoughts.

"Everything alright?" Changbin queried, closing the trash bag and leaving it on the floor right next to the trash can.

"Yeah I just- I'm feeling very tired," you replied, blinking several times before fixing your gaze on him, "it has been a while since I drank".

Liar.

You drank less than half a bottle of soju and all three people in that room knew that. 

"You should go to sleep, " the black-haired murmured, not daring to look at you. "We will clean the rest of the living room and continue on working for a bit before going to bed, it's still early".

You unlocked your phone, without having any notion of time, and realized that he was right. You thought it was already midnight but the clock was barely at 10 p.m.

"Thanks," you politely replied, brushing your hands against your denim jeans and standing there for a while before excusing yourself, "goodnight".

As you walked from the kitchen and back to the living room, Changbin's gaze burned on your skin like a fresh cut. He wasn't nervous or uncomfortable, no. He was probably regretful, thinking that the two of them had screwed up an adorable friendship with their best friend just for the sake of wanting to get their dicks wet.

"Goodnight Chan," you mumbled while walking across the living room, Chan's eyes lifting up to meet yours without hesitation.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat and turning his whole body around to face you, "me and Changbin, we wouldn't want things to get awkward".

"Me neither," you faintly smiled, trying to give him the reassurance he needed in order to understand that you weren't uncomfortable nor scared after their proposal. "I'm alright, don't worry too much about it".

And after he offered you a smile back, you closed your bedroom door right behind you.

Saying you were alright was a lie, especially when your whole body stopped being numb and regained its consciousness. The wetness between your thighs betrayed you once again, just like every other time you were around those two.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes and swallowing hard.

Only then, you started to mentally curse yourself. You knew how bad you wanted them, how many nights you spent touching yourself wishing it was one of them making you feel good. You, who even while being in a committed relationship, spent hours and hours daydreaming about any of them bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you until you couldn't do anything but take them completely.

I will think about it.

There was absolutely nothing to think about and you knew it. What was stopping you then? Trying to act all collected and insightful when, in reality, there was not a single day where you could go without pleasuring yourself to the thought of them.

What is stopping me?

You stood there in silence for a few more minutes until you heard their room's door closing, rushing to grab a towel and a pair of clean clothes before running into the shared bathroom of the apartment. It was safe to say that it had been a long day.

Letting the hot water run and taking every single article of clothing before stepping right into the shower, you asked the same question one more time: what is stopping me?

And, as your eyes found your reflection in the foggy mirror, you understood the answer.

You could dream about them as much as you would like, but the nervousness of being not one but with two new partners scared you to death. 

They proposed to you. 

The idea was appealing, but the anguish that it represented was too strong to be fought in such a small period of time. You trusted them with your life, you really did, but you also knew them more than anyone else in the whole world. You knew what kind of girls they dated and what kind of things they did. You were nowhere near those qualifications and the fact that they even brought that idea was as flattering as it was confusing. 

Either way, the mere thought of knowing they desired you like that made you wonder what kind of perverted ideas they thought about whenever they saw you around. What did they see in you that you failed to appreciate?

*

Standing in front of their bedroom's door, you breathed three times before finding the courage to knock on it. The clock would strike 12 a.m. and you knew for sure they were still awake. That excited you as much as it scared you.

The door opened before you could knock again, unsure if they had heard the first pair of faint knocks. Just as you had predicted, both of them were still working on some of their projects.

"Everything alright, princess?" Changbin queried, his dark eyes scanning your figure with discretion. 

Princess. Changbin called you like that sometimes for as long as you could remember and it never failed to have the desired effect on you.

Wearing a black oversized shirt with nothing underneath but a pair of pink panties, it struck you only then that maybe you had executed your idea wrong. In your mind, you completely missed the part of the small chat before telling them your verdict about the proposal.

"Can I come in?" you asked, his body walking just a few steps back as he opened the door for you.

Chan turned around on his chair, welcoming himself with the sight of your body.

"I thought about it," you murmured shyly, sitting on the edge of Chan's bed before daring to look at the hungry gazes of your best friends, "and I want it".

"Hey," Chan rushed to call out your name, his parted lips inhaling more air than usual, "don't feel pressured to do it, if you decide not to I promise things are still going to be the same".

"I mean it," you assured him, "I just- I have a condition".

The three of you looked at each other for a couple of seconds in silence.

"Go on," Chan spoke, his whole body leaning forward.

“You said you often thought about me in that way".

"We do, yeah," one of them voiced but the two of them nodded, eager to hear the rest of your demand.

"I-" for a short moment, your breath got caught up in your throat and you wondered if the sudden courage and bravery were sponsored by the cheap alcohol or your undeniable arousal, "I want to know what you think about me".

Changbin looked at Chan and then at you, his body language changing drastically from relaxed to tense in a matter of seconds.

"Is that what you really want?" He queried. His voice was as seductive as it was intimidating, his question seeming more like a warning than an invitation. 

You simply nodded.

"I know nothing about this," you murmured, the warmth on your skin spreading throughout your body as Chan's and Changbin's gaze fixed on your eyes, "and you two are the most trustworthy men I know".

"So you want us to teach you?" Chan asked with a soft scoff, the lowness of his voice taking you by surprise.

"I just want to understand what is so appealing about sex to other people," you admitted, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head, "I just want to know how much I have missed".

Chan couldn't help but smile with fondness at your words, the warmth in his chest mixing up with the warmth between his legs. It wasn't just the fact that you trusted them enough to give your body to the two of them —it was the knowledge that, now that you had accepted their plea, they had the opportunity to make you feel like no one before.

Changbin walked up to your figure, the mattress slightly sinking as he took a seat right next to you. Whether it was out of nervousness or pure excitement, you couldn't help but shudder once the fabric of his black shorts brushed against the naked skin of your thighs.

"Don't be afraid," he cooed, his right hand moving upwards to find the left side of your face and turning it towards him, "you trust us, right?”

Your eyes met the curvature of his lips and, while his face approached you softly, you melted into his hands. The way his breath was stupidly close to be felt and his hand burned deliciously against your skin had you letting out a soft sigh before making the desired contact with him.

And it felt just like you had imagined it. Even better, you would dare to say.

Alcohol, a pinch of cherries and faint cigarette smoke were how you would describe his taste. He was gentle, maybe more gentle than you had expected him to be. His tongue dragged across your lips without going any further, teasing you and almost making you beg for more. He wasn't running out of breath but you were, letting out small whines while you tugged at the neck of his black t-shirt.

Only then, he interrupted the kiss by sinking his teeth on your lower lip and softly pulling at them, earning a sweet hiss from you.

"Should I go next?" Chan softly joked as he stood up from his seat, walking towards the available space of bed right next to you and sliding his hand up your naked thigh. Your parted lips found him immediately, but he remained in his position without going in for a kiss. "But first, you have to promise us something."

"Anything," you whispered out of breath, both men smiling proudly at how eager you were to have your way with them. 

"If you don't feel comfortable with something, you have to tell us," Chan warned, his eyes glued to the way your lips were inviting him to devour them.

Easy task. You nodded almost automatically, knowing that the odds of wanting them to stop were minimum to zero.

"Contrary to that, if there's something that you want, you will have to beg for it", he cooed, a faint smirk appearing on the corner of his lips as he saw the nervousness in your face, "promise?"

You let out a jittery laugh, feeling your accelerated heartbeats in the deepest parts of your throat, "it's embarrassing".

"It is not," Changbin intervened, his breath caressing the crook of your neck and making your eyes close for a quick second, "we will do anything you ask us to”.

"What do you get from it?" you questioned softly, your mind dizzy from both confusion and arousal.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" Chan asked, tilting his head and brushing your lips with his, completely ignoring your question. 

"Yes," you whispered, your heartbeats going at a mile per hour. Chan smiled against your lips without going any further, trying to give you the clue that you were not following one of his rules, "please Chan, kiss me".

Only then you felt his hand wrapping around your wrist, guiding it towards his lap. He soon placed it on top of his hardened bulge without a warning, his hips moving ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. "Do you see what you can cause if you beg nicely for us?" his hoarse voice inquired and you nodded almost automatically, both of your eyes probably opened like plates at his grittiness, “good”. 

He then gave you what you were wishing for so long, his plump lips moving against yours at a much slower pace than you had expected from him. It was almost as if he wanted to taste every inch of your lips that were mixed with your own taste and Changbin's. 

Unexpectedly, Changbin's hand caressed the skin on your thighs making you tremble against their bodies, Chan's lips drowning one of many pathetic whines that were urging to leave your mouth. Changbin dragged his touch further, lifting the fabric of your oversized t-shirt and finding the pleasant surprise of your pink, laced panties.

"You wore this for us?" he asked against your ear, the sound of his voice and breathing sending shivers down your spine, "you should've thought about it twice because i'm going to rip it off of you”. 

Another chill traveled throughout your body and your skin got covered in goosebumps, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the black-haired one. "You get turned on by words easily," he hummed, nibbling at the skin of your neck, "I'll remember that".

Chan broke the kiss to grasp for some air, the eyes that once looked at you with fondness were now completely clouded by nothing but lust. 

Changbin continued on kissing and biting your neck, that only contributed to the wet patch between your legs becoming way noticeable as Chan's fingertips threatened to make contact with your underwear, the fear of being exposed making you dwell in embarrassment.

"Now, tell us," Chan requested while his fingers reached for the skin of your inner thighs, "why did you change your mind?"

"I-" you tried to give an answer but Changbin's lips attached to your neck and Chan's touch lingering in between your legs were making the simple task feel ten times harder, "I was curious".

"That’s it?" Changbin asked, dragging his tongue along your skin and making you squirm under him, "I know there's something you are not telling us, princess".

And he was right. 

But how were you supposed to tell them that, even long before knowing that they were sexually attracted to you, you fantasized about them every single night?

Even when you were in a relationship.

"I like you two too," you mumbled in between sighs, fearing that Chan's playful smirk meant that he knew exactly what was going on in your perverted mind, "I thought about you as well".

"And what is it that you thought?" Chan questioned, his digits making the desired contact against your clothed core making you part your legs ever so slightly for them, "you can tell us, we know how to keep secrets". Even though the sentence was rather sweet, the hidden meaning behind it increased the tension on your lower abdomen, "after all, we are your best friends, right?".

"I thought about how good you two could make me feel," you whispered, Changbin's figure withdrawing from your neck and fixing your gaze on the masterpieces he had created on it, your skin now decorated with red bruises along it, "I thought about your fingers, often".

Changbin let out a soft laugh, the tip of his digits dragging along your t-shirt and clothed breasts only to end up brushing his thumb against your mouth, "show me how much you have thought about them, then".

With a curious look, you wrapped your lips around his digits without breaking eye contact. You sucked on them slowly, unsure if that was the action he was expecting from you. But, when he let out a soft groan, you understood that you were on the right path.

"Is this what you dreamt about, princess?" he questioned, pushing his fingers deep inside you as you nodded eagerly.

While you were too focused on Changbin's task, you didn't notice how Chan was lifting up your t-shirt to expose more of your thighs and underwear, the wet patch now becoming completely visible for him. He gently caressed your lower abdomen and made its way to your clothed slit, dragging one finger in circular motions and earning a sudden sigh out of you that was repressed by Changbin's digits.

"What was that, baby?" Chan scoffed, impressed by how sensitive you were.

Changbin took his fingers out of your mouth as Chan slid your panties to the side, licking his lips at the sight of how wet you were.

For a moment, you felt shy. Exposed. 

You wanted to close your legs and tell them that you didn't think the whole thing through but Chan's voice was what took you out of those intrusive thoughts.

"You are beautiful," he hummed, his heavy breathing ringing into your ears, "so fucking pretty".

You swallowed hard at his compliments, the skin on your whole body heating up in shyness as you got used to your best friends praising you in that way. 

Changbin's digits turned your chin to face him, placing his index and middle fingers in front of your lips as a mischievous smile appeared on his face.

"Tell Chan how bad you need him to touch you," he ordered, his eyes fixed on the way your lips parted almost instinctively as he brushed them against your lips.

"Chan-" you tried to speak, but your breath got caught up in your throat too soon, "please-".

"Tell him exactly what you want," the dark-haired spoke again. 

Your gaze turned to Chan who was sitting on the opposite side as Changbin, his fingers swirling around the skin of your thighs without actually making contact where you needed him the most.

"Will you touch me, Chan?" you queried, the way your eyes looked at him sending a pinch of electricity to his already hardened erection, "please".

He smiled at your words and, almost immediately, followed your request. Your whole body trembled against them due to the unfamiliar feeling of having someone else other than you touching you like that.

"What else does our princess need?" Changbin cooed, forcing you to face him once again.

"Your fingers," you sighed, trying hard to maintain eye contact as Chan rubbed your clit painfully slowly, "can I please suck on them?".

It was the way you politely asked and not really begged that had them over the edge. It sounded filthier, more humiliating, they would say.

Changbin pushed both of his fingers inside your mouth and, as he pounded them deeper, a loud moan from you that was caught around his digits sent waves of pleasure throughout the whole body.

"Suck them properly," he commanded, admiring how your head acquired a pace of its own as you gag on them, "I’m fucking your pretty pussy with them".

Chan's digits kept on teasing your clit, your hips instinctively moving against them while you tried to intensify the feeling.

"Right there, princess," he cooed, smiling at how your body was more than ready to be fucked, "you are behaving so well".

Changbin's fingers went in deeper, making you gag and drool all over them. Judged by the way he was watching you, you would dare to say that he loved it. He loved how messy you looked, with your innocent gaze fixed on him and your chin completely covered with your own saliva.

"Baby," Chan hummed, leaving kisses on your shoulders and clavicles while he made your way to your ear, "do you think you are ready to take our fingers?"

Pulling away from Changbin's digits you nodded eagerly, the sinful scene of your teary eyes and drooling mouth was enough for the both of them to cum right then and there, completely in love by the ruined image of their beautiful best friend.

"I need them inside me," you whispered, "please fuck them inside me".

Changbin lost no time into guiding his hand all over your wet cunt, the digits that were previously fucking your mouth now grazing against your hole and threatening to force themselves into it.

"Are you always this wet when you think of us?" Chan queried, looking at how his bedsheets were now stained with your own juices.

"I am," you admitted, placing your head on his chest while he held you tight against him, "I am always so wet".

Changbin pushed both of his fingers inside you knowing that, with how wet you were and how good you had lubricated his fingers, the feeling was going to be everything but painful.

"Fuck-" you hissed, moving your hips unexpectedly and feeling that foreign tension on your lower back, "God-".

"Do you want to know a secret?" Chan asked, admiring your face of pure bliss as Changbin's fingers fucked your cunt and his palm rubbed against your swollen clit. You weakly nodded. "We often talked about you, me and him," he sighed, "we wondered how many times you had been walking around the apartment with your underwear drenched or how many times you had touched yourself in your room while we were sleeping".

"She is dripping wet," Changbin hummed, his lips approaching one of your ears, "I bet it would be so easy to just bend her over any surface of the apartment and put our cocks inside her pretty pussy, don't you think so?"

"Fuck yes," you whined, your vision getting clouded with each of Changbin's movements, “it would be so easy for you two to have me whenever you please".

"Only for us?" Chan scoffed, your words having the desired effect on him as his bulge grew harder and harder, "you are adorable".

Both of your hands traveled to their laps, your right one on Changbin's and your left one on Chan's. Shyly, you started palming them through their clothes, earning a faint laugh from Changbin who was still working on your cunt.

"Tell us what you want, princess," he cooed, "we might give you permission if you use your words." 

As soon as you were about to speak, Chan's digits replaced Changbin's palm and continued on rubbing your clit while the dark-haired fucked you at a rougher pace, the soft moans becoming louder and louder as the seconds passed by.

"Please, let me touch you," you whined, moving frantically against their hands, "I want to touch you too".

"Go on," he allowed, his voice becoming lower as your timid hands palmed him through the thin fabric of his shorts.

And without losing any more time, you snuck your hands under their clothes, being welcomed by the warmth of their skins as your hands wrapped around their lengths.

However, you were rather impressed by what you found underneath those clothes.

"Don't be scared," Chan murmured as he noticed your countenance, "we will make them fit”. 

You cursed again at his words, the tension on your lower back increasing as well as the frantic movements of your hands around them.

They couldn't help themselves but let out small grunts and sighs as you jerked them off, pulling down their clothes to give you even more access to their cocks.

Moving your hands up and down, the movements soon started to become sloppier and messier, your eyes started to roll to the back of your head and incoherent words and mumbles were escaping your lips as an unfamiliar feeling took control over you.

"You are clenching so fucking hard around me," Changbin groaned, increasing the pace of his digits, "does that feel good, princess?"

"Fuck yes," you sighed, the overwhelming feeling causing tears to prick into the corner of your eyes, "don't stop, don't stop, don't stop".

"You look so pretty like this," Chan praised, his hot breath tickling against your cheek, "all desperate and needy".

"Faster," you cried, moving your hips in circular motions against them, "please touch me faster".

And as good, compassionate best friends they were, the two of them followed your pleas. You knew that it wasn't going to take you long to reach your climax and, with all honesty, you could say that this was something you had never experienced before.

Maybe because of it you looked too desperate and eager in front of them, moving your hips frantically and trembling between their bodies as you reached your high.

The sight was something they would never forget, feeling the way your hand squeezed their cocks with roughnes as you cried and rode your orgasm. 

"Aren't you such a dirty princess?" Changbin groaned, still fucking you at the same pace just when you were reaching the highest point of your climax and forcing both of your legs open, "coming for the first time in no other than your best friend's bed".

"Oh, God," you cried, biting your lower lip while your body was still shaking.

"Don't close them just yet, baby" Chan mumbled, his digits collecting all of your juices while he held you in place, "don't you want to taste yourself?"

You whined at the faint overstimulation from Chan's digits dragging along your slit, getting completely coated by your arousal. They made their way to your lips and you were quick to clean them up completely, bopping your head and drooling all over them.

Soon, the weight on the bed from your right side shifted as Changbin's figure stood up from his seat. Lowering his shorts and underwear completely, his cock was now at full disposal to you.

And God, was he big.

"Come here," he demanded, signaling for you to kneel right in front of him, "show me what you've thought about me”. 

You had given blowjobs before, countless times, but your ex boyfriend was nowhere near to what you had in front of you. Your mind drifted away as it thought about his thick girth filling you up, making you cry both in pain and pleasure but, soon, those trails of thoughts were interrupted when Chan's figure came into the picture.

"We will be gentle," Chan hissed, placing his hand on the back of your head and guiding you all the way to his hardened length, 

Starting off with kitty licks, you dragged your tongue along the tip of Chan's cock. He let out a soft moan that only encouraged you to explore further, taking the head inside of your warm mouth as your hand reached out for Changbin's length.

"Jerk him off while I fuck your mouth, do you think you can do that?" you nodded against his cock, "if I get too rough, squeeze my thigh and I will stop".

You nodded once again, feeling how his hands pushed you deeper into his length. You were not really trained to take him, but you were determined to prove to them that you deserved to be fucked.

"All the way in," he hissed, hearing how you struggled to prevent yourself from gagging, "don't hold back, baby, let me hear you choking on my cock".

Relaxing your throat for a bit, you were able to take more of him. Squeezing Changbin's cock everytime Chan's length reached a deeper spot inside your mouth, he couldn't stop himself from letting out grunts and groans each time.

"My turn," Changbin hissed, one of his hands gripping your hair in a ponytail and guiding your face towards his length. With drool all over your chin, and letting out small coughs, you took Changbin's cock inside as if you were an expert on it. Now, your opposite hand reached out for Chan's length as you stroked himself with your own saliva.

"You are doing a great job," Changbin praised, closing his eyes and slamming his hips slowly against your mouth, "taking two cocks at the same time".

From then on, you started acquiring a pace of your own while sucking them off. Having one of their cocks inside of your mouth while stroking the other one, you spent all the time you were able to before your knees started to hurt and bruise due to the material of the rug.

And even then, you didn't want to stop.

The sound of their groans and moans were turning you on more than you would've thought, your available hand always rubbing against your clit as much as you could, driving you to the edge and tightening the now familiar knot on your lower abdomen.

"You have no idea how many times we fantasized about having you like this," Chan groaned, caressing your hair as he slammed his cock inside your mouth, "kneeling down in front of us with your mouth drooling and wanting to take our cocks completely". 

"She is so pretty," Changbin praised, biting his lower lip as he witnessed the scene of your teary eyes and ruined face alternating between his cock and Chan's, "I wonder how much prettier she will look with all of her holes filled".

A sudden moan escaped your lips as you heard those words. Of course you knew that having sex with more than one partner was a whole different world than what you were used to, but you never got to think about the implications of it.

"Is that what you want?" Chan questioned, his eyes fixed on the way Changbin's cock disappeared in your mouth, "do you want me to fuck your pussy while he fucks your ass?"

You would be lying if you said that the idea of doing so didn't turn you on.

"It is too soon to try anal," Changbin grunted, letting out a desperate sigh as soon as you withdrew from him to take Chan's cock, "she is not ready for it".

"You think so?" the brown-haired queried, burying himself inside your warm mouth, "I am sure she can take it".

Changbin gave him a worried look, but he wasn't going to deny the fact that he was dying to fuck you from behind. He knew how tight your cunt was from earlier, when he was fucking his fingers inside of you, and he could only imagine how much tighter your ass was.

Luckily for the both of you, he always kept a bottle of lube around for those kinds of rendezvous. 

Walking towards the small nightstand right next to his bed, he took out a black, small bottle that caught your whole attention as you awaited on your knees for him.

"I am going to ask you this once," he softly mumbled, caressing your hair and putting a strand of it behind your ear. "Do you really want to try this?"

You knew it was going to be painful but knowing it was them who were causing you pain only turned you even more.

"If you decide that you suddenly don't want it anymore, we will stop," Chan warned.

You stood up from the floor and walked towards the bed, removing your black t-shirt that was now ruined with drool, tears and even precum.

Chan laid down on his own bed with his hardened length inviting you to straddle over him, softly guiding your movements on the bed as he held your hand. You sat down on his lap and allowed him to continue with the task, one of his hands reaching down for the base of his cock to align it with your entrance.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked you with his jaw clenched, dragging the tip of his cock along your slit and earning a few sighs from the both of you. You simply nodded. "It's going to hurt, but I know you can take him".

You stared at Chan for what it felt like hours, and only regained consciousness of the place and position you were in once you felt the weight of the bed shifting as Changbin positioned himself right behind you, resting one of his hands on your hip while the other one held the bottle of lube.

"I think she is ready," Changbin announced and Chan lost no time in entering you, lifting his hips ever so slightly while burying the tip of his cock inside your tight cunt.

"Oh, Go-d," you breathed, leaning down on his figure while you placed both of your arms on each side of his head.

"Take me all the way in," Chan mumbled, pressing your figure down so that his cock could reach the deepest spots in you.

And even though you weren't a virgin, you had never felt such an overwhelming sentiment like this. He was bigger than what you were used to and he tried to do it delicately but awfully failed as he surrendered to his instincts, pounding himself inside you rather harshly for a beginner but just as pleasant. 

They both gave you a few minutes to get used to Chan's girth, squeezing it and clenching around it every time Changbin caressed your back and neck in an attempt to soothe you before the pain.

"She is so fucking tight around me," Chan hissed with gritted teeth, completely losing his mind over how wet and warm your pussy felt around him.

Just like he imagined it.

"How does it feel to have Chan stretching you open?" Changbin asks softly, placing a couple of wet pecks on your shoulders and neck while he lazily stroked himself with a fair amount of lube.

"It feels good," you admitted with shortness of breath, feeling dizzy on top of Chan. "I've never felt something like this before".

There was something so filthy about hearing you speak in such a manner that Changbin couldn't resist you anymore. You soon felt the palm of his hand on your lower back, pushing your body, forcing it to lean over Chan's and —once he caught the signal— wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly in place.

"Take a deep breath for me," Changbin ordered, getting even harder at the cold sensation of the lube as he poured more on him and your tightest hole. "We are going to count to three, yeah?"

Changbin always appeared to be someone tough but, it was at times like these, where you truly could appreciate such a soft side from him.

"One," he breathed and you felt Chan's arms tightening around you, his face buried on your neck and chest while he felt your body shuddering on top of his.

"Two," Changbin continued and your back unconsciously arched a bit more for him. "And three".

After the last number, you felt a numbing sensation throughout your body. Your toes curled up in pain and you tried hard to muffle the pathetic cries and whimpers but failed almost immediately.

"It hurts so much," you cried and Chan started to caress your back, feeling his heart pounding at a thousand miles per hour as he witnessed your vulnerable body on top of his.

"We know you can take us," Changbin hissed, softly pushing himself even deeper inside you. "All you have to do is get used to our cocks".

You whined and Chan hugged you even tighter, allowing you to cry over him as Changbin stretched your ass carefully. There was something so twisted about feeling your painful tears landing on his neck and chest that, for an unknown reason, riled him up even more.

"Don't move," Changbin ordered and you did as you were told, your hands gripping the bed sheets harshly while you tried your best to overcome the painful –but pleasant– feeling of having them both inside you. "I want to feel you".

Chan's hands traveled from your waist to your back, caressing it while trying to soothe the pain. You spent a good minute or two with your eyes closed, the only audible thing in the room were your cries and their heavy breathing.

"You think you are ready?" Chan asks you softly, leaving soft kisses on your breasts while still having his arms wrapped around your body.

"I think I am," you finally whispered after a few silent seconds, feeling your arms trembling in fear while still being able to hold your whole weight on top of Chan.

Changbin was the first one to move, slowly withdrawing himself from you only to thrust his cock again, making you cry in pain.

"You are doing such a good job," Chan praised, one of his hands reaching out to try the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. "It's just a little bit of pain, I am sure you can take it".

Changbin continued training you, softly pushing his cock inside you while trying to get you used to his girth. The pain never really went away, but the sudden sentiment of pleasure was quick to appear in the equation and, with that, it was ten times more bearable.

"Go on," Changbin hissed, trying his best to control himself. "She can take you now".

Chan lifted his hips slightly and almost came when he saw your grimaces of pleasure and pain, his cock throbbing at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes getting completely lost.

"Am I hurting you?" Chan asked you and you weakly shook your head, unable to focus on him —or anything, for that matter— because of the overwhelming sensations.

And as soon as they were sure you were alright, they started to acquire a pace of their own. They were going slow, much more slower than they would prefer, but it was still pleasant nonetheless.

Chan's lips captured your hardened nipples and, if anything, that single action made everything way more enjoyable. The cries and whines were soon replaced with moans and whimpers, and the gentle movements lost their softness once they both felt you were ready for a bit more.

"I don't think I am going to last long," Chan admitted between sighs, feeling his cock throbbing inside you.

Changbin was on the same page, but they both wanted to give you one more orgasm before their own. One of his hands traveled to your swollen clit and, while they both fucked your holes, he tried to mantain a steady pace while rubbing it.

"Oh my f- God," you moaned, both of your eyes opening like plates once you felt your body jolting at Changbin's touch. "It feels-".

You couldn't describe it, but they both knew what you meant by the way your holes clenched around them.

"You are dripping wet," Changbin whispered, coating his digits with your fluids while trying his best to get you to the promising orgasm. "You think you can come one more time for us?"

You didn't have time to reply when your eyes were already rolling at the back of your head and your arms started to tremble, threatening to lose any strength that was still left in them.

"God," you whispered again, parting your lips and looking like a complete mess for the both of them. "There, right there-".

Changbin increased his pace and it was only a matter of seconds before Chan started to feel your walls tightening around him almost aggressively. He closed his eyes and groaned under his breath, trying his best not to come just yet.

He wasn't wearing a condom and coming inside was definitely not an option —but God, how he wished it was.

"Just like that," Changbin praised while admiring your body shaking instinctively, his hips slamming against yours softly while you were still trying to overcome your high.

"You are making me lose my mind," Chan whispered as he saw your face, feeling completely vulnerable at the sight of your glossy eyes and parted lips. "It isn't fair to have you around and not be able to do this as much as I want".

Your arms lost all their strength and you inevitably fell on top of Chan's body, crying as you felt the overstimulation washing up on you.

"I'm not going to last long either," Changbin hissed and, with a swift movement, pulled out of you. You whined at the sentiment of emptiness, but it was also a relief.

Chan lifted your hips too and followed his best friend's actions, leaving you completely empty and a sobbing mess.

"Where do you want us?" Chan asked, caressing your cheek and pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"Wherever you both want to," you replied with shortness of breath and feeling a bit dizzy.

Of course they both wanted to finish inside you, but it was definitely not a good idea.

At least not tonight.

So Chan looked at Changbin and he did the same, almost as if they didn't need words to communicate with each other.

"Get on your knees," Changbin ordered and Chan smiled, recalling one of those times where they talked about how pretty you were and how much each fantasized about coming on your face.

She would look even prettier, Chan had said.

You followed their instructions and kneeled in front of Chan's bed, patiently waiting for them to approach your figure.

They both stood in front of you, stroking their cocks with their gazes fixed on your face. Changbin's hand even gripped your hair a bit harshly, setting you closer to them and in place so they could finish on your face.

"Stick your tongue out, baby," Chan panted, increasing the movement of his wrist on his cock.

You soon felt his arousal landing on your cheek, tongue and chin while a series of curses and groans left his lips. Changbin, once he saw the filthy image of you covered in his friend's semen, came next. With him, it was way more messier: tongue, chin, lips, cheek and forehead.

You swallowed their cum proudly, feeling as if it was some sort of reward for being able to take all the things they had chosen to give you that night. And they both admired the scene in awe, feeling their softening cocks twitching at the sight.

"You both taste good," you murmured, still kneeling in front of them. "I never thought I would like it".

Chan caressed your hair softly while Changbin's digits lifted your chin just so they could both catch a better glimpse of your face covered in cum —one of their biggest fantasies.

"Perhaps we should play the game again," Changbin mumbled, collecting some of their semen with his thumb only to push it inside your parted lips. "And see if your bottle of soju is still full after we are done". 

[watermelonlovershigh]

i went through your masterlist and i saw you wrote about the reader being insecure about having an outie (literally thank you for even writing about it !! i’ve never seen anyone write about that insecurity before) and i was wondering if you could write about the reader not letting harry go down on her bc she’s insecure about her outtie and harry doesn’t know about her insecurity until he questions why he can’t eat her out and he’s all loving to her afterwards ☺️

"Can I taste you?" /SMUT/

AN: i loved this ask as soon as i seen it because a perfect scenario of how i wanted this to go came to me. and thank you. outies are the most common for women to have. but all vaginas are beautiful. i hope you enjoy and remember to send your feedback to let me know how i've done. thanks for reading. xoxo ps. i debated on posting this today or not after the events that happened two days ago, but i hope by posting this it can distract some of your minds from the devastation of recent tragedies.

This story contains: mentions of a verbally abusive ex, body insecurities, comfort, smut (female receiving oral sex), fluff

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - au!harry - dating for three months }

word count- 2,512

You have major insecurities about how your body looks due to an ex boyfriend, so when your current boyfriend Harry asks if he can taste you for the first time, your reaction forces him to give you comforting words to easy your worries.

Over the course of three months, you and Harry have been dating and it's been an incredible experience. Normally, you spend your time at each other's homes, watching films or playing board games. But recently, Harry has been putting more effort into making your time together special. Therefore, when Friday comes, he wanted to take you out for a pleasant dinner instead of remaining indoors throughout the evening.

It's worthy to note that your relationship was initiated by mutual friends. Tina, a friend from your college years, and Carter, who works with Harry, were neighbors growing up. Upon discovering they both had a single friend from their separate lives, they took the initiative to set the two of you up. Although you felt quite anxious about the blind date, you now have no regrets, as it's introduced you to the wonderful person that Harry was.

Another important detail regarding your relationship is that the most intimate you've gotten is making out. You informed Harry on your first date that you wanted to take things slow, and he's respected that boundary. Your first kiss was shared approximately five dates in, and you didn't engage in making out until the sixth date. Although you very much desire going further with your sexy boyfriend, your fear of intimacy is getting in the way, which stems from some very hurtful things your verbally abusive ex once said to you. It's brought your confidence way down and the idea of having sex ever again terrifies you.

Your dinner date was delightful. Harry brought you to an Italian restaurant situated in downtown London, where you had great conversations and delicious pasta. After your meal, Harry invited you back to his place, and you found it hard to say no. You appreciated the warmth and coziness of his charming house. Unlike the standard apartment or house of many millennial guys, Harry's home had the inviting essence of a grandparent's house, specifically the ones that were smoke-free.

As you arrived back to his house, both of you made your way to his couch, where the atmosphere began to shift drastically. During the car journey, it was clear that Harry was restless, his hand lingering on your thigh as he navigated the road. Yet, this version of Harry is unlike any you've previously seen. He kisses you with an intensity that's almost primal, and you find yourself responding eagerly. His large hands gently holds your jaw as your mouths align, and your tongues dance together.

With a brief pause from your lips, Harry begins trailing kisses down your jaw until he reaches your neck. Although he hadn't ventured this far before, the pleasure was so intense that you don't think to stop him. However, your response to his soft inquiry against your warm skin—"Can I taste you? Hhm? I really wanna taste you."—caused your entire body to freeze. This reaction leads Harry to withdraw his lips, concerned that he was progressing too quickly for your comfort tonight.

"Shit, m'sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Forget I said anythin'. Can just keep kissin' if you'd like. Or not. We can cuddle if you're more comfortable with that. Whatever you want." Nervous Harry tends to ramble a lot, you've come to learn.

The sight of Harry's distress concerning your potential rejection of his suggestion evokes a feeling of sadness within you. You want Harry to, have a taste, as he puts it. You're certain of his talents in that department. Yet, the notion of him seeing you entirely fills you with anxiety. "Um, no, it's not that I don't want you to. It's just um... well..."

"What is it, Y/n? You can tell me. I'd never judge you?" Harry speaks softly, wanting you to know he'd never judge you for your reasoning, nor would he push you to do anything you didn't want to do. It was a mere suggestion on his part from being in the heat of the moment.

With a deep breath, you decide to share, "Um, my ex, the one I've mentioned before...... Well, anytime we'd get intimate, having sex or other things, he would constantly criticize my body. He would highlight specific areas that he found unappealing, often saying how I didn't look like his past partners. He even suggested that I get surgery to resemble the women he viewed in porn." It's now apparent that his addiction to pornography significantly influenced his views, causing him to adopt an unrealistic standard of beauty for women to have.

Shocked, Harry exclaims with anger bubbling in his chest, "I can't believe he would say such things to you. M'sorry. I want you to know that I would never think or express those words to you. Every body is uniquely different, and that's what makes us who we are. When you're ready for us to be fully intimate with one another, please remember that your appearance will never concern me."

His warm words have a profound effect on your heart. Although the remarks from your ex continue to echo in your thoughts, the notion of Harry eating you out becomes increasingly enticing. Dismissing your anxieties, you respond with certainty, "We can... I mean, you can if that's what you want to do. I trust you, Harry. It’s not that I was ever against the idea of you eating me out or us eventually having sex. Just um, my ex's criticisms left me feeling insecure about how you would view my body. But after sharing what I did, I feel better about it and trust you enough to go there with you."

Harry looks directly in your eyes before confirming, "You sure? I don't have to if you think it's too much tonight. We can always wait until you feel more comfortable."

"I'm sure, Harry." If he keeps stalling and looking for your reassurance, it may lead to you overthinking the situation and reconsider your permission. The quicker he begins, the better. Harry leans in to place a final kiss on your lips before he slowly kneels down in front of you. With a measured pace, he starts kissing up your jean covered legs, moving from your knees to your upper thighs. When you felt his fingers exploring your empty belt loops, you gave a nod, giving him the go-ahead to slide the fabric down.

After your jeans have been entirely taken off and carelessly thrown onto the living room floor for later attention, Harry looks down and notices a wet patch on the front of your underwear. A smile forms on his face, pleased to see that you've become so aroused just from kissing. He wonders how you've manage to stay so composed during your past make out sessions when things didn't progress further like they are tonight. He's knows for himself personally, he often had to sneak away to the bathroom to relieve himself after your dates when lengthy kissing sessions were involved.

In a display of bravery, instead of waiting for Harry to ask if he could pull down your panties, you raise your hips from the couch and start removing them yourself. You consciously avoid looking down, fearful of his reaction, and keep your eyes fixated on the ceiling. When Harry catches sight of the lower half of your exposed body, he appears bewildered, unable to identify any imperfections that your previous partner could have mentioned. You look completely normal in his eyes.

In the past, Harry has slept with several women and with each one, has appreciated their bodies as they were. To him, as a grown ass man, pussy is pussy, regardless if the women was clean shaven or rocking a bush. Whether her lower lips were petite or more pronounced, he found all variations to be perfectly normal and enjoyable. (As long as they were clean, hygiene wise, of course.) Just like he's aware no two dicks look the same either.

"Y/n, look at me."

You cast a hesitant glance downward, where you notice a gentle smile on Harry's face, making his dimples pop out more prominently. He extends his hands to grasp yours, which are resting at your sides, and speaks in a soothing tone, "Do you know what I see, Y/n? Hm? I see a perfectly normal vagina. It appears entirely typical. In my past experiences with various women, I can honestly say that many of them resembled yours. I believe what yours looks like is quite common, at least based on what I've seen in person. What is often seen in porn is largely artificial. Many of those women undergo surgeries to achieve those Barbie lookin' genitals. So do not allow anyone to convince you that this *gestures towards your pussy with his hands* is anythin' but natural, normal."

His sincere compliments nearly bring you to the brink of tears. Where has Harry been all your life? He's always so kind and nurturing. His personality is completely different from any man you have ever dated or had a fling with. He seems to be the epitome of perfection, and you're starting to think that you might be in love with him, even after just three months of dating.

Just before he starts, Harry asks a final question. "One last question before I begin. Did your ex at least manage to make you come when he ate you out?" He's eager to know this information to ensure that he can provide an exceptional performance, aiming for you to come hard from just his tongue alone.

Shaking your head, you respond embarrassedly, "No, um, he typically only spent a few minutes down there, and it was never long enough for me to reach an orgasm." It perplexed him how any man, apart from a gay man of course, could limit themselves to just a few minutes of giving oral pleasure to a female, when he personally could easily immerse himself in a woman's pussy for an eternity. Engaging in such acts may very well be his greatest passion.

"We'll have to change that, won't we." Harry speaks seductively right over your damp pussy, his hot breath bringing chills up your spine, and moving one of his hands out of your grasp to rest on your pubic bone. Maintaining eye contact, you observe as Harry leans in and traces a broad line from the hole in which your dripping from, up to your clitoris. He then proceeds to circle his tongue languidly around your clit while his thumb holds back the hood for more exposure, prompting you to arch your body against the couch in pleasure. The sensation his tongue is giving you is far more pleasurable than any experience you had with your previous partner(s).

With one hand still intertwined with yours, which remains at your side, Harry stays persistent in licking, sucking, and almost devouring your entire pussy as if he hasn't eaten all day. He eats you like a starved man. Eventually, he lets go of your other hand and splays it out on your bare thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs wider for him. You find it increasingly difficult to keep your legs from closing as he concentrates on your throbbing clit.

Harry realizes now that your hands are no longer in his, they seem to be longing for something to hold again. Momentarily withdrawing from your slick cunt, he instructs, "Put your hands in my hair. I don't mind. Pull and tug as you please; it won't hurt me, promise." With a hint of hesitation, you comply. You lace your fingers through his brown curls and as soon as his mouth returns to your clit, you can't help but tug on his hair, drawing him impossibly closer to your core.

He carries on for another three minutes, making your sensitivity levels escalate and your body grow warmer. With one final, firm tug on his hair, you cry out, "Oh my God! Mhm, fuck! I'm gonna come, Har......Harryy!" At that moment, an overwhelming sensation washes over you. As Harry continues to flick his tongue over your pulsating clit, you hold his head tightly against you, not caring whether he can breath or not in the moment. As the intense orgasm envelopes you, your mind becomes completely empty of any worries or thoughts.

Slowly, the intensity of your high starts to subside, leaving you breathless on Harry's couch as he gradually removes his mouth from your sensitive pussy. While your eyes focus their gaze on the ceiling, you felt the soft caresses of Harry's thumbs tracing circles on your bare thighs, which finally compels you to look down. The first thing you notice is his face covered in a glossy substance from having been nestled between your legs, and then a smile that was unmistakably joyful.

You're completely lost for words. That may have been a stronger orgasm then you've ever given yourself. "So...." Harry begins nervously, "how was that?"

"Um.... wow, that was.....just wow."

Harry finds amusement in how he's rendered you at a loss of words. "Made you speechless, have I?" he teased. You nod in agreement, prompting him to continue. "See, I promised you there was nothin' to fear. Your pussy is as beautiful as it is tasty. You should never feel self-conscious with me; I'd never pass judgment on you for somethin' out of your control." His honesty touches your heart. He consistently proves himself to be a true gentleman, elevating your standards for men to a very high level. You really hope this relationship lasts, because you believe it'll be difficult to find someone as perfect as Harry ever again.

-------------------------------

Harry assisted you in cleaning up and asked if you'd like to stay the night. You had spent nights together in the past, alternating between each other's homes, but those times generally involved sharing a bed without cuddling, as Harry was uncertain about your comfort with such closeness. However tonight, after he'd seen you half naked with his face between your legs, your comfort level had clearly advanced beyond what it had been previously.

After both of you got into bed, you remained on your individual sides until you felt bold enough to initiate cuddling with your boyfriend. You realized that Harry was being cautious still, so you decided to move closer, laying your head on his chest and draping your left arm over his waist. "Is this alright?" you quietly asked in the dark room.

Harry quickly loosed his stiff body up and wrapped his arms around you, so he could hold you close. Whispering back, Harry replied, "Definitely alright. I love cuddles." Now that you know Harry loved cuddles, you'll have to give him cuddles more often.

Soon sleep found you both and the house became quiet. The only sounds that could be heard was your soft breathing and the rustling of trees outside. After tonight, you feel way more confident to go further with Harry. Matter of fact, you hope you can go further with him really soon. Just the thought of that brings excitement to you, and certain parts of your body.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722

My Masterlist Masterpost

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Girlie pop, to say im obsessed with ur LADS self aware mc au would be AN UNDERSTATEMENT!!! There's so many things that could happen in this universe with our oblivious non mc mc. Like imagine them trying to ask out like one of their "sidekicks" on a date and the LAD boys are like "no". And MC being a lobe interest to?!??! My bi little heart is melting. I love it so much!!!! I hope you will continue this serious (that's if u want to that is) keep up the good work honey ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[Aw! Thank You! Here's a little something for your kind words]

-

{ERroR} - Side Story Featuring: MC, (Y/N) and Xavier and Rafayel

Rushing into the quaint little flower shop, you inhale a deep breath. Twirling around through the shop as if it was a dance club, eagerly taking in the sights of different flowers left and right. Including the soft fragrances gracing your senses!

"U-Um... May I help you?" A small voice pipes up by the register.

Turning your gaze to the red-head, a sharp grin breaks out on your face.

-

After chatting it up while snooping and buy a few things, you walk to the checkout counter.

"...So that's a dozen and.... Half of the stock..." He gapes at the giant bundle of flowers in your arms, a few wayward blossoms on your scalp as you gleefully hand him the amount to pay.

"You seem to really like flowers?" He puts away the cash in the register and heads to the entrance door. Opening it for you as shrug, walking carefully to the exit. "It's a gift, there's this guy... He's so..."

"So your buying him flowers?" "Kinda? There's also this one guy that lives by place, oh! And this girl that stops by my work! You might know her!"

"I... Doubt that."

You wink, grabbing a random flower from your strange bouquet, placing it on his curly locks.

"Hmm- Well, ya' never know!"

Waving you out, he watches you giggle, strutting out of Philo eagerly. The young man sighs, locking up shop once your figure went further.

-

After stuffing Rafayel's mailbox full of flowers, you head on your merry way. A few still stuck on your clothes and strewn about petals lingering in your hair.

"Hi Xavier,~!" You say cheerily, seeing his body in the distant. Going further, you block out the alarm from the city as people fled the opposite direction. The blonde didn't seem to hear you though, so you marched onwards.

Blinking at a Wander stuck in your path, you frown, eyeing it blankly as it seemed frightened by you. It sounds of fear becoming louder as you walk closer, alerting it's brethren. Yet none seemed to help their comrade, focused on their own battles.

"!esimORP I ,yako-o-o-o S'Ti"

You spoke in kind as it shuffles back, sighing. You walk through the mass, ignoring the sounds it made. The small Protocore drops into you palms. Stuffing into your shirt, you keep pace.

-

"Miss Bodyguard!" Rafayel whined with a huff, toying with the one of the flowers you had left the other day. The female in question rolls her eyes at the painter, begrudgingly giving her attention to him.

"Yes-"

"Where is that cafe?! Please!" He begged, his cheeks a light red at having to beg at this point. Putting his pride aside, eyes hugs the few flowers that weren't placed into vases or folded into books. Maybe he could use them for his next piece...

"No, not telling." MC crossed her arms, not wanting him to intrude on HER go-to pick-me up spot.

"Why not?" He groaned, flopping beside the female hunter as she stood up from the spot. Watching her gaze fondly at a specific flower, tracing over the green petals.

"I'm sure my admirer would love to have their cute gesture returned in ten-fold..." He states proudly. His eyes re-reading over the note that came with, silly and sappy to his delight. Holding up the card to the light, grinning at the faint print of your fingertips.

MC stiffens as he continues his daydream, "they'll happily jump into my arms at such a present."

"Not if I get them something nicer." She teases bluntly, seeing his haughty smirk drop in a matter of seconds. The two smile at one another, the challenging looks shared did not go unnoticed by his manager.

-

Ugly sobs leave you, hugging the blonde to your body tightly. He shivers at the buzzing his gave at the contact. Letting his head rest to the crook of your neck. Gaze sharp at those who wished to witness the action. "Xavier! You're okay!"

"I... Yes."

He tries to ignore the thoughts of you, wishing he could focus on this moment. Though the trail of Protocore's behind you...

-

[Another side story! Who knew? Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it! Thought's if I should include the event stories? Maybe?? I wanted to expand a little on Non-MC for this AU snippet. Just a little- I wanted add MORE detail. But ya'll will figure it out anyway! Thanks for reading!]

[alnair-jpg]

Olympics AU Info dump!

First, I am blown away by how much love the series is getting, thank you all so much! I do really enjoy all the comments and reactions in the tags. Know that they all delight me and the only reason I don’t reply to everything is because there are so many! But I read them all 💕

General questions:

Can you draw the designs or concepts? Write fanfic in this AU?

Yes of course! I’d love for you to tag me if you post them so I can see

Do they all know each other?

At first, I would say no- with the exception of Nico and Will (they’re developing a whole backstory in my head that I cannot and will not stop.). But they all meet in the Olympic Village after the opening ceremonies and quickly become friends. They all try their best to attend each other’s events. (Someone please tell me how Percabeth becomes a thing. Please. 🙏 )

Why didn’t Percy win gold?

Percy was an Olympic medalist in swimming before moving to diving. After competing in several swimming events and feeling like they were all just small variations of the same thing, he wanted more of a challenge. He chose diving to stay rooted in to the water, but to add a new dimension to his bodily awareness and control.

What’s Annabeth and Luke’s rivalry?

They most definitely trained together, and it was Luke’s skill that motivated Annabeth to aim for the Olympics. But, she wanted to compete for her home country, Greece, which Luke thought was just a shortcut since there was a clearer path to an Olympic team in a smaller country. Annabeth is constantly trying to prove to him that she would have made it to the top of the sport either way.

Also, apologies to the IRL fencers out there for the inconsistency. I know fencing is a gendered sport, and Annabeth’s gear/style are inconsistent, please forgive the oversight ☺️🫶

Volleyball?

The whole Hunters of Artemis are a volleyball team (that apparently has no country 😅). Thalia ends up the captain. When Reyna moves on from tennis they welcome her with open arms.

Rejected sports

Will as a runner. Canonically, he’s super fast, but just having him as a sprinter didn’t fit with his personality.

Will as a pole vaulter. Specifically the guy that lost because he was ‘blessed a little too much’ and knocked down the bar. I will not explain further.

Will as a gymnast. He was this || close to being a gymnast essentially modeled after Steven Nedoroscik, I had the sketch and everything. (I shared it here!) But when an anyonomous ask clued me into the sick medical team uniforms it all fell into place from there. (Thank you no-longer-anon @helyeahmangocheese !)

Percy in anything equestrian related. I see him not having the patience for all the formality of it all, but he definitely crashes Hazel’s shows and chats up all the competition (the horses.)

Annabeth on a sailing team. Also, related to that, Reyna on a sailing team. It was a fun idea, especially for Reyna and her history with pirates but ultimately it was really hard to capture in a few illustrations.

Nico in several winter sports. For consistency mostly. He could fit for a lot of winter sports - ice skating and snowboarding are my personal favorites.

Leo as a shooter. He would most definitely build his own gear and make tweaks to his weapon. Which would get him immediately disqualified.

Jason in discus. Jason as a basketball player. Golf is just… fitting. 😂

Other Characters I’ve been thinking about

(that may have art in the works… and may not actually be athletes!)

Clarisse

Meg

Grover

Rachel

Lester / Apollo

Mr. D

Chiron