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strawwiibernyy · 23 days ago

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Enhypen stealing your first kiss

warnings! suggestive, inexperienced!reader x experienced!enhypen

╰┈➤ You love them, and a hug isn't enough anymore. However, you are embarrassed about your inexperience. How Enhypen members will handle your first kiss? ♪ Kiss Plan by M!lk ♪

__________________

LEE HEESEUNG:

You weren't even together when you shared your first kiss. Heeseung was your best friend.

Every day, while hanging out at your house, he would describe heated nights with various girls. It made you curious. The feeling of kissing another person you love. You wanted to experience that feeling too. And now.

"H-heeseung, can you teach me how to kiss?" You suddenly spoke, hiding yourself behind your long front hair. Heeseung, who was playing video games on your bed, turned to look at you.

The sound of his game indicating his loss was the only one that could be heard. The awkward silence that had fallen made you blush even more. Heeseung's eyes were wide open and he left his phone aside.

"You never kissed anyone?" He asked, receiving a small nod from you. "Alright then, come closer." It was very embarrassing, but you obeyed. He placed you in front of him on the bed and wrapped his hands around your waist.

"Relax, don't be so stiff." His left hand held your waist while his right went to brush softly your cheek. You melted into his touch, and Heeseung smirked at your reaction.

And then, you finally felt his lips on yours. It was so gentle, filled with love and passion. Even though you and Heeseung were only best friends. It lasted more than you thought it would, and you felt Heeseung taking away your breath.

"Wait a moment." You pulled out, trying to catch your breath. Heeseung looked you up and down before licking his lips.

"Don't tell me you want to continue being best friends after that?"

PARK JAY:

It happened on the third date. The famous Park Jay had asked you out and of course you accepted it. You weren't yet his official girlfriend, just getting to know each other.

"Do you want to grab a quick dinner or are you tired?" He said after the movie you guys were watching ended. The cinema filled with people again as they exited the room.

All around there were couples kissing and hugging. It made you curious how Jay's lips felt. That feeling pushed you to go up to him. You stood on your tiptoes, bringing your face impossibly close to his.

Jay didn't hesitate at all at your bold move and pushed his lips on yours. But before he did, you stopped him with your finger. "I-I don't know how to do this." Jay opened his eyes, looking deep into yours.

"Then let me guide you." Those were his last words before kissing you. Both of his hands were on your waist, gripping it gently. His soft lips made your legs weak as you tried to mimic the motion of his mouth.

Jay was the one to stop the kiss, afraid to make you uncomfortable. He is always such a gentleman. That's what he love about him. Silence fell for a little before Jay broke it.

"Are you sure this was your first kiss?"

SIM JAKE:

The moment you two began labelling yourselves as a couple, he made a move on you. On one of your dates before, you had actually confessed your inexperience. So Jake made sure to prepare properly.

Your first kiss with Jake was very special. After a date at an expensive restaurant, he drove you home. Late at night, with the wind hitting your faces and dancing with your red dress. His body brought warmth to yours.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, making your eyes get big in surprise. You both stood outside of his car. Just before you were about to go into your home, he blurted out the words. To be honest, you wanted to kiss him too. But you were scared.

"I don't know how to do this. I am afraid I will mess up."

"Don't worry, it's very easy. Just trust me." His hand cupped your cheek, bringing you closer to him. He couldn't erase the teethy smile on his lips, excited to feel you a little closer. "Close your eyes."

You couldn't see anything, only feel. Jake's fingers brushed a bit on your cheek before his lips locked with yours. They were plump and soft, exactly how you imagined them.

Your worries were long gone now. The only thing your brain could concentrate was on Jake's lips.

After a while, you pulled away. Your saliva glittered on your boyfriend's lips, making you suddenly shy. Jake smirked, stepping closer to you.

"I will make sure you practice a lot so you won't feel insecure about it."

PARK SUNGHOON:

Same with Jay, Sunghoon is a gentleman. He knew you were inexperienced, so he never mentioned the physical matter. No matter how much he wanted to kiss you.

You were the first one to bring it up into your relationship. Sunghoon had come over to your house for a movie, which he let you pick. Not wasting any time, you picked a romantic one.

The movie was coming to an end, and the couple finally kissed. A huge smile occupied your lips, while Sunghoon gave you side glances. He wanted this, but he was afraid that he might scare you.

So you took the lead. "Sunghoon, my friends think that is weird that we haven't kissed yet." You said once the movie finished. Sunghoon swallowed down hard, scratching the back of his head.

"Really?"

"Yes." You replied, and Sunghoon's mouth shut. He didn't know what to reply to that. Shall he tell you what he thinks or don't say anything instead? And while Sunghoon was deep in thoughts, he suddenly felt your lips on his.

His eyes popped open, seeing an extraordinary sight. You, in front of him with eyes tightly closed and your lips barely touching his. You were trying so hard; it made Sunghoon's will to kiss you even more.

"Wait." He said, and you pulled away. "This is the right way." His lips found again yours, pulling you into a deep kiss. It made you dizzy. Sunghoon's hands and mouth made you dizzy.

"Now you can tell your friends that we have kissed."

KIM SUNOO:

It was an accident. An accident that led to more.

You and Sunoo were in the same friend group. You talked from time to time as friends, but you had never been left alone. Even if you weren't close to each other, you admitted the young man was very attractive. Fox like eyes and soft features. He was a true beauty.

Today, your friends had invited you to a concert. You weren't very keen on the idea at first, but after you learnt Sunoo would be joining, you decided to go. That's how you found yourself surrounded by thousands of people.

Inside the crowd, you couldn't find your friends. Until you spotted a certain someone. "Sunoo!" You shouted, making the boy turn around. He was alone too, so he rushed towards you.

"Where are the others?" He said, yet with the loud music covered his voice.

"What? I didn't hear you!"

"I said, where are the others?!"

"Eh?!"

"Uh, forget it." He rolled his eyes, titling his head to the side. You got sad that you made him irritated. Walking closer to him, you got on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

What you didn't expect was for him to turn his head at the exact moment you were ready to speak. His lips found yours, making your cheeks change a thousand shades of red. In seconds, the boy pulled away, making you miss his lips already.

"Sunoo, I am so sorry!" You tried to apologize, watching the boy touching his lips. However, Sunoo didn't want your apology. He wanted your lips on his again, and properly this time.

"We will talk about this after the concert."

YANG JUNGWON:

This man may seem innocent, but oh well. The day you became his girlfriend was the same day he kissed you.

He had prepared everything. Brushed his teeth, ate a mint gum, put on some lip balm. "So, are we a couple now?" You asked between awkward giggles after you both had confessed to each other.

"I guess." Jungwon replied, scratching the back of his head. Some seconds of silence followed before Jungwon began lowering his head towards yours.

His closed eyes, his head coming closer to yours, his pouting lips. All those signs indicated one thing. He wanted to kiss you! You wanted to stop him, but you weren't quick enough.

Before you knew it, his soft lips were on you. They moved slowly against yours, while you were completely frozen. Jungwon pulled away, looking at you with a frown.

"Um, you don't like it?"

"No! No, it's not that! I j-just don't know how." Jungwon smirked at you, and leaned in again. This time, you put effort in too. You tried your best to follow his movements, tasting his strawberry lip balm.

The long kiss you shared with Jungwon left you gasping for air. How was he so good at this?

"Y/N, can we do that again?"

NISHIMURA RIKI:

With Riki, it happened out of nowhere. In your surprise, he made a move in the first week of your relationship, but you didn't decline him.

You were hanging out at his house, talking about various of things. You talked to him about college; he talked to you about dancing. While you talked, you noticed his attention drifting away from you.

"Riki, are you listening?" His eyes from your lips went back to your eyes. A shade of red overtook your cheeks, but you shook it off and continued to talk. However, Riki's eyes fell back to its previous place.

This time, you didn't dare to say anything. Staring so intensenly at your lips made you shatter. Riki's patience was running out, so he cut you off.

"Wanna kiss?"

"Yes." That's pretty much how it went. Riki went towards you, grabbing your waist. Your hands went to his chest, trying to keep up with him. Getting caught up in the tension, you forgot to warn him about your inexperience. Seconds in and you pulled yourself away.

"What happened?" Riki asked, licking his lips. You lowered your head, looking at your lap. This was too embarrassing for you.

"T-that was my first kiss."

"Yes, I kinda figured it out." His honest response took you out. You kissed so badly that he realized it just by a peck? Riki noticed your sad expression, making him sad too.

Without any warning, he kissed you again. This time it was a more passionate one, holding the back of your head with his hand. He pulled away, leaving you breathless with wide eyes.

"That doesn't mean I didn't like it tho."

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A/N: I almost lost the document, but luckily I had saved it. Anyway, stan m!lk for a better life 😘.

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edge-oftheworld · 4 months ago

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okay, I definitely don't know exactly what I'm thinking but I'm going to try. I guess it comes down to the fact that luke is constantly (still, after 13 years) being objectified in like, a we-own-you kind of way. Not deliberately for everyone involved in even mildly perpetuating it, but it is to 5sos culture the way that rape culture is to society in general: it's persistent, it sneaks in in what we consider to be societal or fandom norms. It shapes our opinions and our worldviews and it's like how you can't ask a fish how the water is: the water just is, the fish doesn't know anything else. It's not anyone's fault per se but god we have to do better.

and the thing about 'babygirl' specifically is that, you know who else gets treated this way by society as a whole? 1) young people, and 2) women, girls, anyone in the broad category that is seen as opposite to 'men'. opposite to the people who do the owning and the objectifying and it's a patriarchal problem with its tendrils reaching worldwide. these are the two groups of people that if you are in, you don't have any power. so on the surface it looks harmless, cute even, to call a grown man babygirl. internet terminology is weird; people just say things that aren't quite words and they catch on when you understand the sentiment behind them. we call heaps of men babygirl. sometimes i see people call ashton babygirl. it's one of the things that seems innocent and quirky, at least to start with.

but it's only innocent when you're punching upwards, taking the people who have all the power and levelling the playing field, so to speak. but the thing is, it's not quite so simple as 'oh look a rich white privileged man' when said white man was a child star (and at this point, hopefully we know how people treat child stars consistently, we've seen it play out again and again in different ways, from the carter family to britney to everyone caught up in the 1d/5sos wave to whoever the teen stars are today, and I don't need to explain it) who grew up in the bush, brought up to be kind and hardworking and go the extra mile for people because no parent in rural nsw actually expects their kid to have to navigate asserting themselves in the music industry before turning 18. I'm not saying it was all awful or his parents didn't do a great job. but I am saying that being a white man doesn't exclude luke from living a recipe for exploitation for being pretty and cute and young and talented, so many adjectives we often associate with girls. a marketable stereotype designed to be fuckable and agreeable and never get angry. babygirl.

I could go into some theories I have as to why: but the same thing in a weird genderbent way often seems to apply to luke. people want to own him because he's all of those things; they don't, sometimes the bitterness about that turns into some culturally normalised trend of coming up with an imaginary version of him. but it's more than that, more than being the heartthrob frontman of the band, and comes down to chance as well. he happens to be the youngest of the band; the others are extremely protective of him (and for good reason, i'm also certain the feeling is mutual just not expressed completely the same, but people see what fits the categories in their heads), and he does challenge the gender binary as part of his self-expression (which is a neutral thing, it should always be a neutral thing, there should never be a shift in power between what's deemed masculine and feminine, but there is and this is a prime example of the impacts gender inequality has). we've seen him going from wishing he could express himself in a more gnc way to actually doing it. people caught on early. and of course, most fans mean well but there's always a vulnerability to laying down the masculine for something more feminine even partially. it's baked into the same culture that came up with terms like 'babygirl'.

he also gives off this vibe, probably a youngest child thing too, or having seen him in the public eye from such a young age, looking uncomfortable a good portion of the time, that kind of elicits a we-want-to-care-for-and-protect-you response. and I think what's dangerous about that is that you don't ever think that caring about someone could be at all related to taking their power away. but it can be, especially if you're unable to express that protectiveness in the form of actual conversation (which for a fandom this size, is impossible) and so it kind of sits there unexpressed, without any of us ever hearing in a personal conversation exactly how luke thinks and having the chance to negotiate, what is a better way to treat you? do you feel like we're treating you as a child even though you're 28 and married and a self-made millionaire and an expert at towing the line of vulnerable enough to be so much more human and relatable than most people on this planet while valuing privacy and personal goals and also more than capable of having children of your own too?

all this combined, you have the ingredients for this babygirl fansona (is that a word?) constructed without the guidance of the very man we are perceiving through this lens--even when you can interact with people in person it's very hard to actually change their perception of you. we get crumbs, like the fact that he likes to feel pretty to help with his confidence on stage, like bits of how he's grappled with growing up in the public eye and the ways in which being far ahead of your age in some ways always results in feeling behind in others. these then just feed into 'how babygirl of him' because we don't see the other bits, the ugly bits everyone has that no one has any obligation to share with the world. we hear him talking about mental health but we don't get to witness every minute of his life that led to the things he's talked about, it's very uwu-ified, it's easy for people to take things at face value and the fact that he's someone who tries so hard not to ever abuse positions of power he's in, and then strip his masculinity that still exists even if he's not always masculine, because we still associate masculinity with abuses of power, and then put him in a pretty box that was conceptually given to us for young women, but luke, the most (and therefore some sort of token pretty boy) out of all the band members, is close enough.

finally I want to touch on another trend that could be an essay on its own (it won't be an essay of its own with luke as an example though, out of respect I don't want to dive in too deeply, though I don't think I can respectfully not mention it either). people have a tendency to infantilise neurodivergent people, or anyone who seems vaguely neurodivergent, which is something that people do subconsciously pick up (hence why it's so important to have a name for it if that's you, because people will supplement it with descriptors that are often derogatory, babygirl might not quite be in that category but it still implies a loss of power as I've talked about). People also have a tendency to feminise neurodivergent boys and men in an outright derogatory way: anyone who doesn't like rough sport or who wears makeup or dares to have any kind of feelings. which includes neurotypicals, of course, but when you're neurodivergent it's often a step further; given; unescapable. and this is why I think that something most people think is innocent can become a cherry on top of a stack of other seemingly unrelated things, why it fills me with rage too. every time over the last 13 years luke has done something like get distracted or lose something or be a little bit socially awkward he gets infantilised. every time he gets scared it's 'poor babygirl' or something to that effect. once is cute. after a few hundred times it only erodes his ability to self-actualise and take control of his own narrative, his own gender expression and everything he shares, in a patriarchal, neuronormative world.

and so if you've read this far, I don't want to say you're bad if you've ever referred to luke as babygirl. you're not. but hopefully you've gotten to have a think and start to question, what does this term I use in pop culture actually mean? could it be insulting someone? is it affecting how I view someone and do I need to listen to them a little bit more open-mindedly?

also, hopefully it's okay to say this since luke has started talking about it a little but as myself, someone with adhd, i do also ask that you go and listen to more neurodivergent folk and figure out how to treat us with actual respect. please listen to people all across the gender spectrums too about their experiences with masculinity and femininity and the kinds of experiences that they've specifically gotten when they haven't fit nicely into a binary, however they end up identifying in the end (and as for luke, please don't assume anything about him in that vein. ever. there is one person who gets to decide that and it is luke) and what kind of things they might find offensive and why. this isn't you-have-to-know-everything-at-once but rather a call of, hey, there's a lot of diversity out there and the more diverse experiences you learn to empathise with, the more understanding you're gonna be as a person.

i have so so so many thoughts and feelings about the way this fandom constantly refers to luke as babygirl without taking one single second to think about why maybe it's a problematic thing to do to luke specifically but i lack the ability to organize those thoughts and feelings into anything coherent and concise. can someone else please read my mind and do it for me.

#gosh this is so extremely long i am sorry #but also not #didn't realise how much i had to say #luke hemmings #babygirl #5sos #5 seconds of summer #gender #patriarchy #<-i just learned how to spell that word #neurodivergent liberation #celebrities are people #and please please take better care of child stars too #anyway molly idk if this is anything like what you were thinking but these are my thoughts so (pls lmk)#also people in the fandom reading this; I know many of you will relate to certain points too and it's for our sake as well we talk abt this #rather than just letting internet trends roll through without ever thinking if they're harmful #and also!! wanted to add i liked the tags someone else added about how his gender expression makes people uncomfortable #wanting him to 'pick a side' or any of the other awful things they say to anyone who doesn't support the gender binary #but instead does completely their own thing. but i'm not gonna discuss luke's gender identity more than what he gives us #which isn't much and people so badly need to be okay with that. okay with him exactly as he is. whatever labels he does/doesn't use #also fyi the neurodivergence stuff he's talked about having ADD (inattentive adhd) in recent interviews; only touched on it but #the point still remains though if you're neurodivergent you get infantilised (this also needs to stop)#this is not concise at all but i had a lot of ground to cover. if anyone can think of a way to summarise this i'm kissing you on the lips #(as long as you're at least over 18 that is)#cw transphobia #unfortunately you don't even have to be trans to experience it

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prael · 3 months ago

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Touch

Kinktember Day 9: Spa

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 7,422 Kinktember Masterlist

"My client, did you see her come in?" you ask.

"No, why? Is she famous or something?"

"Well, that would explain the secrecy, and it would also explain a woman barely twenty having cash to burn at a place like this," you whisper to the colleague who is far too jealous of how you just got requested by name because that usually means big tips for a good service.

"Did you get her name?"

"Supposed to be a secret." Your answer dissatisfies her, and she throws you a side-eye. "Okay. Okay. Danielle something... Marsh?"

"Shut up!" She hits you on the shoulder. "No fucking way. Let me take this one and you can have my next ten VIP bookings."

"Sorry, but she asked for me by name," you tell her. She mutters an obscenity under her breath. "Want to tell me what I'm getting into here?"

And then the girl spews out a jumble of ramblings about K-pop this and K-pop that—the kind of reaction that only the truly obsessed can have. Millions of views on this, charting on that, really fucking popular is the gist of it. So basically the whole planet Earth knows who this Danielle is. Well, shit. No pressure or anything. "Get in there already, do your best work and maybe get me an autograph."

A few forceful pushes out of the staff room and you find Danielle where you left her, her cleansing mask still on her face, sitting in that long white robe. You step barefoot over the soft wood, heat rising from underneath it.

As you draw near, you ask, "Miss Marsh, are we ready to begin?"

"Dani, please," her voice says from beneath the mask. It's hard not to be intimated after being hit with the fact that the woman before you is world-renowned. Though from here, she looks like any other delicate young woman. Her feet are small. Bare, tiny and arched, they hang just a few inches from the floor, and they are as perfectly still as the rest of her. "No need to be formal, I'm here to relax."

"Then let me start by offering you a drink." The bottle pops as you twist it. The label is adorned in cursive. "Bottled at source, premium mineral water." Your arm raises the bottle so she can see the brand clearly.

"Is it magical water?" There is a playful lilt in her voice, "Maybe it has some healing powers?"

"Guaranteed to nourish the soul and unclog those emotional pores," you deadpan.

The facemask stretches with Dani's wide smile, and she lightly chuckles. "That's good, laughter is good for the soul."

"Right." You pour from a height and a theatrical stream flows. When the flute is halfway, you stop the flow and pass it to her hands, which take it gently.

"What? You don't even hold the glass for me? Put it to my lips and tilt?" It's another tease, the joke stretching on her grin, but now it is her hands holding the flute, her fingers long and smooth around the stem.

"I serve, not control."

"Those don't have to always be exclusive." She laughs, and the sound makes you feel something. "But I appreciate the intention. I hear you're the best in the business."

"I'll let you be the judge, Miss Marsh. Now, allow me to remove that mask. I have raised the temperature in here to help open the pores, and I would like to begin with a facial."

"I do love a facial." Danielle smiles to herself. "And again, please, just Dani is fine."

You step over behind her, where her head tilts back against the chair, her long hair cascading below, shimmering in the moist air. Lightly, you place the tips of your fingers along her jawline, finding the edge of the mask and gently lifting it upwards. She doesn't flinch at all, and you watch the wet mask give way to her face. Even upside down, Danielle is indeed beautiful.

With her sun-kissed hair, radiant skin, and effortless, elegant beauty. She is, in summation of all her parts: perfect. The image the word calls up has always been fuzzy around the edges, an abstract idea more than a specific concrete thing, because real people aren't like this. That's what you believed until you laid eyes on her.

"You take good care of your skin, Miss—Sorry—Dani."

"Thank you," she says simply, no joke this time. Your fingers ghost over her chin and then trace to her cheekbones, moving lightly to test her texture, all so smooth.

"First, I shall cleanse away any impurities," you say and lean down to examine her face. Even when you are so close, there is nothing for your scrutiny—no visible crevice, no blemishes, despite there being not a trace of make-up. It's all-natural.

There's a light whisper on her lips, one that you barely make out, "Good luck with that."

You tilt your head as you reach over for a fresh sponge, run it under hot water until it is filled, squeeze out the excess, and slowly drag a path of heat across her forehead. As your other hand holds the sheet over her neck to catch stray water, your first-hand works in large strokes from above, rinsing her skin with each successive pass.

As you focus, she leans back into the chair, and a soft hum escapes her lips. "Feels nice already," she murmurs.

You say nothing, working her in silence. Her eyelids are closed, her lips slightly parted, and she remains so still that, if not for the sound of her breaths, she could be easily mistaken as unconscious. This silence has a tranquillity and familiarity to it, one that feels like home, and without thinking, you are smiling.

She stays just the same as you begin to exfoliate her, brushing across her face in ever-widening circles. It's with such tenderness that her cheeks take a pink tint as she grows hotter and she smiles as you rub in gentle swirls, one spot, then the next.

Time passes in silence as you finish the exfoliation and apply all manner of natural, topical lotions, toners, and peels to Dani. When her skin is primed, you press your fingers against her skin and, starting at her forehead, you massage her face to a rhythm of long, soothing strokes. You enjoy touching her, you admit, which isn't exactly right for a professional, but since you have no outward reaction from her, you assume it isn't the end of the world.

Throughout it all, she keeps her eyes shut. Over time you move around her face, applying more pressure in some spots than others. She shifts and sighs, soft exhalations of her warm breath tickling your arm, yet otherwise doesn't move an inch. Her shoulders relax against the leather of the seat. "You really know what you're doing," she says, with a smirk. You pull her skin with your fingertips, moving them in large circles as it comes to an end. Finally, you tap your fingers gently over her skin to soothe.

"Now, your body, Dani."

Her eyes crack open, but slowly. "Are we moving?"

"I'll wash your skin over there, but the massage will be in the next room. Now, I'll need you to—"

Dani doesn't let you finish your sentence before she rocks forward in her seat and pushes herself to a stand. She's facing away from you and puts her hands in front of her, then she throws the robe back off her shoulders and lets it slide off her arms to the floor in one quick motion.

"Good," she says. "I was for too hot in that thing anyway."

Of course, as a professional, you would never gasp in surprise, yet, at the sight of her ass, the muscles tight, small, and round, the curves of her waist so thin, hair over her shoulders threatening to hide her slender back and those long slim legs, you manage to just barely gulp.

Too hot, she certainly is, you want to tell her and not just in the sense that perspiration coats her skin. Tiny beads of sweat that, as your eyes crawl over her, are in the process of running downwards. This glistening on her flesh is hypnotic. The curve of her ass, the slight tilt of her hips forward, the way the base of her spine leads downward, right down to a crack between her—

Focus. You remind yourself you have a job to do.

"In the far corner. The stone pool. Please, stand by the edge." It takes a second before Dani's head bobs, and then she slinks forward, slow and catlike. Her stride, and every motion of her muscles beneath her flesh that accompanies it, are mesmerising. And with every sway of her hips, you love her tight body more.

She pauses, a foot by the edge, and looks down into the water. Steam rises and envelops her form in a pale white that hugs her curves.

"Please, step in," you say as you walk over to her side and take her hand. Now, you catch a glimpse of her profile, and her chest, small, round and perky, and as you avert your eyes to guide her down the step, you tell her, "Watch your step now, go from stone to stone until you stand in the middle just there."

"Got it," Dani says. She steps with confidence and the hot water reaches quickly above her ankles and then halfway up her calves. With each careful move down the next step she gasps, soft and light. The water splashes with her movement and then swallows her up to the upper thigh.

"Please, take a seat there, on the wide stone." You reach to help steady her as she sinks down, her knees bending as she perches down so the water is at her hips as she sits.

"I just sit?"

"Yes, Dani, and I will bathe you." You step into the pool until the hot flowing water covers your knees, and then you stand behind her. You reach for a sponge, submerge it, and watch it fill, then draw it out and over her lower back and drag a large circle across her soft skin. "How's the water? Feel okay?"

"Great. Wow." She goes quiet as you work up and down her back, long, relaxing, soothing strokes until all the tension has left her shoulders. "That's wonderful," she says.

You clean her shoulders and then down her arms, the sponge dipping under the surface, and caressing her in a movement that feels like worship. With a slow rhythm, you run the sponge over her shoulders and around her neck, and finally, reaching over her, down to her chest. She shifts back as you do, resting herself against your legs. You run it over her chest a few times before coming up again to her shoulders.

"So soft..." her voice says, almost a breathy moan, and you catch a hint of it. Maybe she realises how it sounds because she soon goes quiet. Next, you work downwards, to her tight, toned stomach. Slowly you make sure you cleanse every part of her body. All while her back rests on you and her breathing is warm and pleasant.

"Miss, I mean Dani, can you stand now? We need to get you clean." You prompt, a hand on her shoulder.

"Sure." Dani snaps out of it. She stretches and cracks her neck before rising, leaning forward for a moment. When she rises, ripples run out in all directions and your eyes drift over her ass. It looks plump, perky, perfect. Then you sponge it, giving purpose to your stare. You push it down, over her cheeks and Dani shivers.

You repeat your slow, languid movements. Wipe away any trace of imperfection from her hips and thighs and then when you make her slowly step out of the pool, you work down her bit by bit. Finally, she stands on the edge of the pool, looking down at you, towering over you in her naked glory. She presents to you her foot and you hold her ankle to steady it and clean each digit, scrubbing between the toes.

"You can take the towel, on the peg, Dani."

"You do it." Dani doesn't move at all, keeping her eyes on you, staring into your eyes and through you.

You cautiously nod and then climb from the pool. You keep eye contact and wrap the towel around her small, wet frame. In your arms, she feels so fragile. You rub her down, first her legs. Long strokes, left and right. Each, in turn, both legs. Then you bring the towel up. When you wrap it over her hip and move upwards along her torso, Dani presses herself to you.

"You really know how to put someone at ease," she mutters.

You nod silently in return, and finish drying her shoulders, down her arms, back up, and down her back. You remain stoic as the heat between you builds, and she turns around without prompting. You wrap her again and bring the towel all the way down. Then over her rear. Soft, short circular motions with your palm.

"The table in the next room, Dani. Start by lying on your front, you can use the towel on the table to cover yourself. Once I see you settled in, I'll join you."

She laughs quietly and starts her slow walk to the door. You take your own towel, drying your legs, the water has soaked into the front of your shorts from where she leant against you.

She's on the bed. The towel, provided for her decency, is in a pile on the floor.

"Dani, the towel..."

"I'm fine, I want it off. I want everything off. Is that a problem for you?" There's this undeniably confident quality to her like the universe just has to be as it is because she likes it that way.

"Not a problem," you tell her. "It does tend to get in the way."

You're close to the bed now, looking down at her, still so perfectly nude. So vulnerable and relaxed, and not a drop of shame in her eyes. She gives you a look that says she's in charge, and that she's been waiting for this, and now it's finally going to happen. And that smile is impossible to refuse. "You could join me if it helps. Make it feel more like an equal partnership."

"Miss— I—"

"I'm joking," she winks. Danielle bunches her hair by her head and turns her head to the side as she rests.

The first of your oils, imported, rich and infused, drip with a consistency thick as honey over her. You watch it roll from the top of her back and run down her spine. Its warmth makes her twitch gently.

Slowly you reach out, press your hands into her skin and drag them from top to bottom, following the oil, making sure you cover her.

She hums in delight.

With great care, you begin your work. Fingers sink in, and your thumbs feel her muscles. Stroking and rubbing, from the top of her back, your fingers coax and prod at the flesh beneath. Pressing it back and forth, at times as gentle as a summer breeze and then as hard as a hammer.

There are knots in her back, beneath the tender surface. You find them easily and work at them to relax, coax them into submission, untying the muscles until they go soft. She gasps at your touch as you release them. Her body responds to you in the sweetest ways. With the smallest of whispers, the little fluttering breaths, and with her skin taking on a pink glow.

When the last knot goes soft, she writhes in response, and a content, relaxed murmur comes out of her.

"Oh god, that's it, don't stop," she says, the first words to come from her for a while.

"You were very tight." You reach across, add a small amount of more oil and start working back upwards. One stroke at a time. Up her neck. Over her shoulders. She trembles when you go deep into her flesh and reaches out to grasp at something, anything, and finds the edge of the table, holding herself steady. Her arms now, you lift them one by one, prying them from her grip and then holding and rubbing and pulling to coax the stiffness out.

Oil over her legs, next. Slowly you run your hands over the outside and inside and rub them into her skin, kneading it into her. Danielle keeps her mouth firmly shut the whole time. No jokes. Nothing funny. You lean down to her, focusing on her thigh that refuses to let go. Bending down, you push into her. As you feel her tension drain, you are rewarded with another quiet hiss.

You place the oil upon her feet and work it into her soles with a finger, an instant trigger, she cackles as her foot recoils at your touch. "Sorry, that's a bit ticklish," she tells you, apologetically.

Her feet go still and she inhales deeply as you set back to your task, much to the quiet amusement of Danielle. It's the slowest you have ever worked on a client, with long, dragging strokes to make sure she really enjoys it. Each is careful, so careful, to pull and tease. "Keep working it all the way up, all the way up my legs," she orders, quietly. "Nice and slow. Can you do that?"

You agree.

You hear Danielle sigh as you move your hands slowly up her calf. So soft and firm at the same time as she breathes so gently. A trace of laughter, an easy smile. You work her in the same manner, up her thigh, as slow and relaxing as before, massaging deep and heavy. Danielle begins to roll her hips as you grip the flesh at the top of her thighs and dig in.

"Higher, please, just for me." Danielle makes a little hum to accompany the instruction. You obey, knowing where this is leading. You take the oil, and let it pour lightly onto the peak of her cheek, it threatens to roll away so you capture it in your palm, a firm squeeze of her rear, a spread of oily warmth. She shivers and pushes up her hips in silent encouragement.

Your hands trail along, smooth and oily, each touch brings more shivers. Her legs part slightly, a slow squirm of her hips. Your fingers glide on her tight, round cheeks; running across, back and forth as she breathes deep. You press deeper with each sweep and listen as her gasps become a little louder, and her body moves a little more. She bends her arm, reaching back, as you watch it shake. Her nails claw onto the side of the bed.

The more you tease her with your touch, the harder she grips and the more she parts her legs. You've known the perfection of her body, just by seeing it, but this feeling confirms it.

Your hand wanders with long, oily strokes as you glide up her back, tracing the curves of her slim back up, all the way to her neck. There, you hold her as you lean in. "You can turn over now. Let's work out your front," you say, and Dani nods in agreement.

She smiles, though she remains silent, slowly, with such care, turning onto her side, then twisting to face you, her face flush, eyes drowsy, her mouth agape. She rests upon her back, arms by her sides, legs flat against the bed, open, as you gaze into her eyes.

You apply the oil with long slow strokes down her stomach, feeling her as she flinches, watching the dimples at her waist appear then vanish with her body's twists, with every flexing of her muscles. When you trace up, her flat, beautiful chest, and slowly slide a finger beneath her small pert breast, Dani takes a deep, quick, raspy breath, then says, "They didn't lie when the reviews said you have the best hands in the world."

Your oil-covered thumbs graze upon her nipple, soft at first, gentle in pressure, but this becomes firmer, building and rising, faster. Round and round it swirls, and this delight sends Danielle's breath to hitches and sharp, shallow pants. As she squirms in delight, her legs twist, rubbing and clenching. Her teeth bite down on her lips. The flesh of her body glistens.

One hand reaches, down a thigh then back up, across her stomach and down the other. Repeated in pattern as the other thumb never ceases on her pert nipple. Dani's eyes go blank as your touch continues, circling, teasing, stroking and grabbing. Her body responds and you are delighted to witness every tremor and gasp as it arches. And finally, for the first time, a full-blooded moan rings free.

Your hand goes lower. Deeper into the pit of her thigh as she spreads her legs wide. You seek out the inevitable and when you reach her crotch, you watch her tense up. And when the touch slides between her pussy's folds, and against her clit, there's an immediate reaction, her body jumping as you make the slightest flick of motion with your middle finger. You lift and let a trail of oil roll down her slit and back down to her rear.

"I wasn't really joking before," she gasps. "You should be naked. It would make this whole experience better." Dani tilts her head, fixes her drowsy gaze onto you, and holds the stare for what feels like a hundred heartbeats. "Don't you think that's fair? The way things are going?"

You hold the eye contact and consider this, a sudden lump in your throat making any immediate reply a struggle. Her eyes don't move from yours. Even her chest barely heaves with her short, fast panting.

"Go on, I want you naked. I'm going to feel so, so empty otherwise..."

That's all it takes.

How could you deny her?

Your hands, still covered in the hot oil, reach for the buttons at your collar. You slip them in order from the top and release one after another. Danielle's lips twitch, and her teeth rake them to a shine. Your clothing drops to the floor. Bared. It feels so wrong, and unprofessional, yet Dani looks on and gapes with a hungry, dark delight.

"Nervous now?" Her eyebrow twitches up.

"Never," you bluff.

Danielle's mouth stays open wide, and her breaths get caught and flicker as your touch returns to the same spot as before. Gentle, light touches flutter with your fingertips, drawing the tips of your fingers back and forth, back and forth, over her clit. You watch as her eyes widen, how her legs straighten out and she starts to kick her feet with the faintest hint of frustration as you tease.

"I paid for a deep massage." She emphasises the adjective, dragging the syllable out like a whine. "This teasing is bad for my heart," she whispers.

Her arm rises, then reaches for your chest and trails its way downward. The pressure of her finger, nails lightly scratching at your skin, trailing down to the waistline and then she wraps her slender fingers around you. It's hard. Incredibly so.

"And I'll show you how generous I can be with a tip."

She licks her lips slowly and sensually as her eyes meet yours with a mischievous gleam.

You grunt, pressing down with your fingertip, and then without a second thought, push it inside of her. Danielle throws her head back in silent bliss.

"Holy shit," she mumbles in a muffled, muted moan. "Don't hold back." You circle inside her slowly with one finger, letting the oil's moisture guide you. Then, adding a second digit, you delve back into her, pushing in deep and making sure she can feel it all the way inside as the palm of your hand pushes against her crotch.

Dani rolls her head to one side as you work, staring you right in the eyes and biting down on her lip as she throbs and you press down inside of her, moving in all sorts of subtle directions that are impossible for her to guess. With that, she moans again and there's a little grunt from deep within her. Her fist twists around you and she gets bolder with her touch.

You build it into some sort of rhythm and she moves, each time, reacting so well with your own thrusts. When she's relaxed enough for it, you introduce another finger.

"I— You can— Go a little bit faster," she pleas. Stretched wider, Dani starts to grow even more restless. This time, instead of small, languid strokes, your whole hand works, fingers rubbing and swirling, thumb finding her clit to massage it with purpose, building, always building, until she is shuddering under you, every single time, tensing and twitching with every change in direction.

"Come on—more," she pleads, bucking up against your hand, so slick with arousal.

She's barely jerking your cock, not even intentionally, just the jolts through her body causing the occasional twist of her grip or slide of her palm. You let it just rest in the loose curl of her grip and focus on doing what she commands, twisting your hand, gripping and stroking, tugging in circles and holding inside. The quivering gets worse and worse. And her breath grows heavier.

You keep working her relentlessly, as she squeals a drawn-out curse. Dani nearly loses control. She grips you hard, tightens her fist around you in spasm, a pained wince on her face, as she curls her toes so hard.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." It's the only thing she says, no jokes, no banter, as her eyes roll back, mouth agape as if the wind's been knocked from her, and a final, body-length spasm overtakes her. Her whole body. Back arched off the table, eyes pinched shut. It lasts for the longest time, almost impossible to sustain, you watch with an odd mix of terror and wonder. Her hair is a mess. Her naked, stretched-out limbs, glisten in the warm light.

It takes her a good half minute to fall back down, her lungs now sucking in the air as if there were none at all. One leg quivers. Her breaths slow, her eyes open again and you're holding her stare, her cheeks a faint scarlet, strands of hair plastered across her forehead.

More oil. More rubbing. From tension to relaxation again. Slowly she softens and you turn her whole body limp beneath your hands. All while you barely manage to hold yourself back from ravishing her. She keeps her eyes fixed upon you, so you force a smile, ignoring the ache clenched in her fist. You could kiss those lips, right now. Taste them. How soft and smooth would she feel pressed against you? What noises would come out of her?

You'd be forgiven for letting your imagination run wild with desire, but not forgiven for taking this service in any direction that Danielle didn't command.

She watches your thoughts as they float by, and seems to be considering the same. Then she smirks, and just with a look, reassures you that it's going to happen, and it's going to happen just exactly the way she wants it.

You're working your slick hands over her midriff, and have been for a minute or two, waiting for instruction. You work slightly up her body, perilously close to taking some initiative, but then she speaks, "That was... unexpected."

"Was it? Seemed to be your plan all along."

"Planned to tease. Planned to be touched. But did not expect it to be that good." She shakes her head softly, her cheek touching her shoulder as she stares with a fuzzy, dreamy look that is impossible to decipher. She has a cute, beautiful way of pouting her lips that's fascinating, you're struck still, hypnotised by the sight and the motion. "A few more would be perfect."

"You have me booked for another hour, and the client gets what the client wants."

Dani laughs. A light, melodious chime. "I know what I want," she tells you, gently rocking her palm over your cock. "I'm incredibly hard to fully satisfy, you better get to work."

Dani releases you from her grasp, and turns back over to her front, stretching out once more and looking back at you over her shoulder, holding a stare as she parts her legs. This stare could kill a man if his heart were too weak, and though your heartbeat quickens, your mind focuses on your purpose.

Your hands glide over her oil-coated thighs, wet and glistening. Dani rests her head back down and you are unable to stop your gaze from wandering along her spine, the gentle dimple above her ass, the two tight round cheeks below and the line bisecting between them. Up over her ass, you caress, then you slip and stroke in the valley, this, she clearly enjoys, judging from how her butt rises to greet your touch, her hips rolling once more.

Lower now. Lower and lower, until once again, your finger meets her lower lips and she hisses an inwards breath and tenses. Her body is so reactive to every touch. It makes this so easy, so rewarding, so deeply arousing. You are confident you can build her up, high, and crash her down in waves, for hours, until the sun breaks.

Two fingers again, to begin, that same twist and swirl to coax her towards delirium. Her quiet huffs and suppressed moans fill the air. With a heavy push, you dive in deeper, to watch as her whole body, muscle by muscle, starts to become lost in the sensation. And when you curl your fingers down and grind the heel of your hand over her clit, Dani absolutely loses it. She bites the sheets, body tight, hands trying to grab the far edge of the bed to give something to hold onto.

Her feet kick uselessly and a series of incomprehensible phrases fill her breath and break apart on the way out of her. Though you don't quite understand them, you grasp the meaning. This is what she wants you to do right now, to see how high you can bring her.

Her whole body starts trembling again. Tingling, quivering, shivering. It's one constant shake and her moans are louder, and longer. She struggles to breathe out a scream. Sweat begins to mix in the oil, and she lets out another unintelligible mess of words as you pull away. Dani collapses back into a quivering heap, gasping for air and stretching her hands out as if reaching out to the void, reaching out, grasping for something in the dark.

She lies there, spent, breathing deep. Her entire body is hot and burning as her muscles relax. Each breath is a moan, and her thighs clamp tightly together as if the feeling of nothing after being so worked up is torturous to endure.

Your fingers are soaked in her creamy fluids, it drips down onto the bed below. Yet somehow, this isn't over. No. There's a single goal, right in the back of your mind, that's never stopped clawing. If only you could taste her. Sink your face between her firm ass cheeks and tease her with your tongue and suck and devour her, the entirety of her.

Maybe you could ask. Or maybe you could just start kissing her lower back, your nose rubbing against her tailbone, working to the left, towards her hip and tease, trailing your lips ever lower to a spot just over the peak of her butt, until she wants your tongue to dive right in.

The thought is interrupted by her blessing, "Again. Another. However you want," her words stumble upon each other, a raspy, spent quality to her. "Whatever you want."

You kneel at the very end of the bed, lean over and take her hips and you lift them up with an abrupt strength that earns her immediate interest, judging by her sudden gasp. You put her on her knees, ass in the air. Beneath it, her lips shine and spread. You're going to drown in her. You lean over, planting kisses along her body until they land right where your fingers had been, right along her soaked pussy.

The taste is so sweet. Dani whimpers as her body twitches. Your lips part her, and your tongue stretches and laps her up with an unshakeable excitement. Dani tastes amazing, like every inch of her, hot and rich and so unbelievably delicate. She is desire—concentrated and distilled into the female form. Your mouth descends, kissing every tiny spot you can reach, your lips closing, sucking the sticky warmth into your mouth. You might spend the rest of eternity here, savouring her juices.

Each rough lick gives Dani a small burst of pleasure. This is perhaps not the most elegant approach, but you wouldn't dream of stopping and so you continue, over and over, eager to return Dani to her previous, tranced bliss. So wet and sweet and smooth as velvet, your tongue flattens over her clit.

Dani cums twice like this. Ass in the air, your face in her cunt, two more delicious releases and you lap up both. They come accompanied by Dani's musical screams and moans and swearing and mumbles and complete incoherence. Every part of her body tenses. Every movement becomes forced, with less control, until every part of her, quivering and shaking, is taken by a rapture. Her throat chokes off her moans and breathy whimpers, and then she becomes lost for a time, struggling to remember to breathe, caught up in the overwhelming, and unstoppable waves.

"Enough, enough," Dani chokes out, and so you stand back, watching as she twists back into a flat position on her back again, her hips shaking with the effort. She trembles for a while longer before lying perfectly still on the table. As you gaze at her, she still appears ethereal, unattainable. She gazes up at you with lidded eyes and the drowsy content smile that rests upon her lips—she is a goddess. Even after all those body-racking orgasms, she settles into that same elegant grace that makes you question what makes her mortal.

Dani raises a hand and curls a beckoning finger, "Come here."

And you come to her, to her smile that draws you in, a moth to a flame and the moth will burn, not the flame, it will never tire, it will consume anything. She takes you in her hand, hard and throbbing under her delicate touch, and yet so helpless against it. With a pull, Dani draws you in—to consume.

She parts those pretty, pink, curled lips and then looks up into your eyes and sighs as her warm breath runs across your length. Danielle curls her tongue to the underside of your head and engulfs it. She doesn't raise her head from where it rests, instead making you clamber up to her, so you put a knee on the wooden frame and a hand next to her shoulder. The heat grows, and Dani is swirling her tongue over your tip, making you twitch and throb in her grasp, a slave to her touch.

You're pushing forward, leaning over her, as her mouth opens wide and lets you in, then, all at once, tightens. Her tongue and lips stretch around your thickness and then enclose you, sealing tight. She makes a point of looking you in the eye, holding your stare, a curl at the corner of her mouth that only further sets a tremble to your loins. She pulls, slow, agonising and without hurry, her mouth holds tight and sucks back.

You pull out of her, an inch, and she stays clamped tight and as she draws away, she uses the time to slowly slide her tongue along and around your crown and against the sensitive underside. Once Danielle has pulled right off with a wet smack, the warmth of her breath covers your cock once more. She flicks her tongue against your tip, first as a long, sweeping, lingering brush, then a rapid flick that teases.

"Dani, fuck," you groan.

"That's the idea," she whispers, right against you, her warm, panting breath driving you crazy, her own burning desire barely contained. "Get down there and do me. Right now."

Then, in one fluid movement, her hands find her legs. She grips behind her knees and pulls her thighs up and back. She spreads her legs wide, with her feet in the air.

"Fuck me. I mean it," she states firmly, fixing you with that stern gaze. Her words send a flaming arrow directly to light the most basic of your instincts.

She has presented everything to you and wants to give even more. You can think of nothing else but ploughing her into the table until your vision fades to white. It takes only seconds and you find yourself over her, between those slim legs. You put a hand on each thigh and spread her.

Cock bearing down on her leaking cunt, you lower your body until she has all of your weight on top of her. Her hips squirm under your pressure, and she drags your arm tighter around herself until she finds exactly what she's been looking for. A rub between her folds as your length slips against her, up and down.

"Mmm, yes," she giggles, "put it in, all of it."

In an almost unconscious action, you place the head of your cock against her opening. Her wetness provides no friction, and Dani uses her nails to scratch your back impatiently. Slowly you flex forward. Every inch. So warm, so fucking hot. Tighter than anything.

"Oh, yes," is all Dani has to say as her breath cuts short. You feel the intense squeeze, you have no doubt this is a step beyond the pleasure your fingers gave her, and her entire body tightens, and she pulls you in, deep and full. Her eyes grow wide and her fingers dig into you as you draw back and drive in once more.

Another moan, her pitch gets deeper, this one drawn out from her very core. You hear it right in her chest, from the depth of her lungs, before it squeals free, right into your ear. "Worth every penny." Her words are thick and drawled, hard to make out, she can't seem to decide whether she wants to open her mouth or close it and keep it shut.

She wraps her arms tight around your neck and pulls you in deeper, you push her legs higher, folding her body up and it only makes things tighter, a thrill she clearly relishes.

You roll forward, holding her close to you, giving you a better purchase with her feet held up so high. Dani groans as you bite and suck at the soft skin along her neck. Your thrusts are still slow, so damnably slow. You push, and fill, and wait. Over and over, it's a cruel torment to both of you.

"Ah, come on. Give it to me, hard," Dani says, raking nails on your neck. She turns her head. Finds your mouth. Seals her lips against yours. Teeth nibble and then her tongue penetrates your mouth. Her hips start to rise and drop. Her sex grabs at you, pleading to pound her.

So you let go of your iron self-restraint and fuck her. Fuck her good.

Your tempo grows more powerful. Her walls squeeze and pull and writhe with a desperate need. It's tight, so, so tight, the way she envelops you, the slick warmth around you. Each stroke sends a shudder through her. Another ripple follows and with it, her high, pitchy wails. Dani's never been so loud, so demanding that her pleasure be delivered.

Number five is close, you can feel her body going rigid, the quivering, twitching, curling of her toes, the growing tension, you go faster, a force building within, trying to rush her to the inevitable. Dani screams, moaning incoherently, her eyes screw tight as you throw yourself into her with such ferocity, like an animal, with no regard for pace, or rhythm. Pure, unrelenting pleasure.

She grips so hard on your shoulder, and then her other hand goes back, over her head, gripping the edge of the table in white-knuckled desperation. "I'm... cumming," Dani spits through a clenched jaw, unable to even form her tongue around the word.

Her orgasm feels more powerful this time, so much more; it flows through her and you can't help but stare. Watching the way the pink blossom blooms on her face and how the rest of her pales. One orgasm into another, you think, it's difficult to discern. You're in no rush. No race. Instead, you delight in the absolute loss of control you see in Danielle's face and you feed off it.

Her mouth forms a soundless scream and she reaches up and sinks her nails into your chest and drags them across, not breaking the skin, but hard enough to leave marks. It feels amazing. All the more so watching Danielle break herself, willingly.

"Holy shit..." Danielle pants then sucks air into her empty lungs.

Her little, flexible body, pinned beneath yours, seems incapable of even the tiniest motion, save the trembles.

Through gritted teeth, she says, "I want— I want a facial. My face. Cum."

This is the single sexiest thing she could have possibly said at that moment. For all the time you've spent watching that pretty doll-like face contort in a hundred different ways, you want nothing more than to see it coated with your lust. To paint every last bit of that sweetness on her lips, on her cheeks—everywhere. To witness that brief moment, after climax where she is confused and awash with bliss and trying to remember how to breathe, and it's interrupted by a load of your cum. You want it.

You round the table, standing over her head, lowering down and watching her eyes spark with anticipation. Danielle knows how bad you want it, how close it is, and you watch, enraptured by the way she tilts her head up and licks her lips. Her little, eager tongue.

Dani wraps her fingers around you and strokes and pumps fast, pulling, urging you to completion, teasing you to spill over her, onto those pretty, dainty features. Your skin feels alive, like static and pinpricks and pure lightning, like your nerves have come to the surface. Pent-up energy coils low, threatening to snap. You cannot resist her anymore.

It all unfurls in a glorious, explosive instant. Blinding. A shiver climbs up your spine, spreading to every limb in one long spasm. A long, raw growl in your throat as you shoot thick and hard, some on her face, and some overshooting onto her chest. Dani gasps a cute little "Oh" and then starts to giggle as the second rope lands right over her perfect little features. And then another, this time across the bridge of her nose and her cheek and down her lips. Her tongue collects whatever it can.

Dani's small hand keeps a hard grip and keeps coaxing, even as you feel like you have nothing to give, with it all painting her face, still, she jerks up and down, until you are empty, trembling and drained. Still, she goes, forcing you through painful shivers, laughing the whole time until the pain becomes too much, and your hands take hers and pull.

You prop yourself against the table, looking down at the mess you made. Dani's happily laughing to herself, licking up what she can. "You'll need to clean me again now, won't you? Sponge away all your dirty filth," she giggles.

Her giggle is intoxicating. Loving. It warms you right through. You wish you could bottle up her laughter.

"Need a minute," you grunt, and there's so much pride on her cum-strewn face.

"Aw, need time for recovery?" Dani quips. "I'll just lay here, all messy and defiled. Waiting to be tended to. Enjoy the sight of me, of your filthy cum all over my sweet, innocent face, until you get the strength to lift me. Really, don't rush, I love this feeling."

#kinktember #kpop smut #Danielle smut #newjeans smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #Danielle x reader #spa #danielle marsh

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yourlocalbreadenthusiast · 18 days ago

Text

Kindly take a break from scrolling to read this, it's important.

Take your time to grieve and come to terms with the election results, but once you've done that, it's time to get to work. We have two months. And a lot to do in that time. We have to prepare, to be ready.

Be careful about what you post or say online. Anything potentially incriminating should be avoided. Threatening language, even if clearly a joke, can be used against you.

Know someone who's trans? Someone who's had an abortion? Someone who's LGBTQIA+? Someone who's an immigrant? Someone who attends protests? Someone who's disabled? Someone who might in any way be at risk due to laws being put into place? No you don't.

Move away from social media platforms and browsers that require you to use your real identity or input a large amount of personal information. Now's a good time to find alternate means of communicating online. Tails, Element, Tor, Mastodon, Firefox, and Lemmy are all decent options.

Find a community. Someone you can talk to, either online or in real life, that you'll have reliable contact with. We need to try and create a network, but one that's as anonymous as possible.

Start scrubbing your trail as much as possible. Get rid of old accounts that can still be traced to you but are no longer used, delete personal data off the internet. There are websites out there that will freely remove your data from the internet, but be careful about which one you use, make sure it's safe and legitimate first.

Change any usernames that you can that contain any personal information. Names, birthdays, anything.

Plan B has a four year shelf life. Stock up, but don't take more than you you'll need. We don't want a COVID repeat where everyone buys an excessive amount of things and leaves none for everybody else.

There are doctors that will sterilize you, if that's the way you want to go.

Stop using online period trackers right now. Delete all data from it if possible first, then delete the app itself. If you must, write it down, but in a subtle manner and on something you keep at home. Don't label it, just put the dates. If you're really worried, discard older records and only keep the most recent few, and label the dates as other random events, like "go to mall" or "chicken salad for dinner this night"

Get your vaccines now.

Save money.

Archive. We have to start collecting records, media, data, books, and articles now. On racism, on fascism, on homophobia, on gender, on self-reliance, on survival, on safe travels routes, on equality, on justice, on anything that may be useful and/or censored soon. We can't let them erase it.

Collect those online resources. Bookmark them, copy files into your storage, Screenshot pages. Create a decentralized library where everyone is working to be part of a whole, storing what they can individually and sharing it between one another. Again, be careful about doing this.

Second-hand bookstores are your best friend. Books are usually very cheap in them, and they often have a decent stock. See what you can find.

When buying ANYTHING I have mentioned above, or anything else that maybe put you in danger, try to use cash to reduce your spending trail.

Check your car information online, many newer models can be remotely tracked.

Turn your phone completely off if you may be at risk due to your location and current activities. Turning off your GPS also helps.

Take note of where you are. Who are your friends? Who's a safe person? Where can you go besides your own home that you know you'll be safe? Establish these connections now.

Who around you is not safe? Who and where do you need to avoid? Do you need to move? If you cannot afford moving but need to, there are fundraisers that can help you. If even that is not an option, at least try to make sure your home is secure. Have someone who can help you. Have a fallback safe place.

And finally, I want anyone with resources to put them in the replies. Flood it with useful links, information, tips, anything. We're in this together. Do not panic. Organize.

EDIT: Please be civil in the replies.

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uranometrias · 6 months ago

Text

nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

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sadnymi · 8 months ago

Text

「 ✦ Euphoria. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle x Inexperienced!reader]

Request: can you perhaps do an inexperienced reader x mattheo with like thigh riding and dry humping .

Words: 2.400

Warning: thighs riding, dry humping, f(orgasm), fluff ,smut .

Sat alone at the top of the Astronomy Tower, hidden away from prying eyes, consumed by the weight of my emotions. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably, my sobs echoing off the stone walls as I struggled to contain the storm raging within me.

Suddenly, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, I looked up to see Mattheo, his concerned eyes searching mine. He pushed the strands of hair away from my face, brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

"What's wrong, my love?" he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "Why are you crying like this Y/N?"

I hiccupped through my tears, unable to form words as the pain threatened to overwhelm me. But Mattheo pulled me into his arms, holding me close as he whispered sweet words of comfort and reassurance.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my wounded soul. "You can tell me anything, darling. I promise I'll fix it for you. I hate to see tears in those beautiful eyes."

His words melted away the walls around my heart, and I buried my face in his chest, letting myself be enveloped by his love and warmth. In that moment, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as I had Mattheo by my side, everything would be okay.

“He called me a prude," I choked out, my voice trembling with emotion. "He said I ruined our date because I wouldn't let him touch me. He said so many hurtful things...".

Mattheo's expression softened with understanding as he listened attentively, his arms wrapped protectively around me. "I'm so sorry, my love," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"You did nothing wrong. You have every right to set boundaries and expect respect and he’s going to pay for each tear that falls from your eyes."

His words washed over me like a soothing balm, calming the storm of doubts and insecurities raging within me. "I just wanted to feel wanted," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "To go on a date like the other girls..."

"You are wanted, more than you could ever know," he insisted, his gaze burning with intensity. "Not by just anyone, but by someone who sees your worth, your beauty, your intelligence, and your kindness. Someone who loves you for exactly who you are."

His words struck a chord deep within me, touching a part of my soul that I had thought long buried beneath layers of self-doubt. "But I'm a prude," I protested weakly, the label still echoing in my mind.

Mattheo's expression softened, his eyes filled with an emotion that sent a shiver down my spine. "You're not,"

"Baby, it's not like that," he reassured me, his voice gentle but firm. "You're not a prude. Those boys don't even deserve one tear from those beautiful eyes."

I gazed at him, my heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief at his heartfelt words. His unwavering belief in me, his unwavering love, it was overwhelming. And as I looked into his eyes, filled with an intensity that took my breath away.

"But I'm inexperienced," I admitted quietly, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

His response was immediate, his tone filled with unwavering confidence. "You're just waiting for the right person," he assured me, his gaze steady.

I met his eyes, searching for the courage to express the feelings that swirled within me. I longed to tell him in that moment that he was the only boy who mattered to me, that my heart beat for him alone. But the fear of rejection held me back. He was Mattheo, and I was just me. How could I dare to dream of being more than his best friend?

"But what if the right person never sees me? What if they never develop feelings for me?" I questioned, my voice betraying my uncertainty.

His response was gentle yet firm, his touch tender as he held my face in his hands. "Then you need to look more closely," he replied, his eyes flickering briefly to my lips before meeting mine once more.

As his breath caressed my face, his proximity sending a wave of anticipation coursing through me, I closed my eyes, unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing us together. I felt the gentle brush of his finger against my lower lip, a tender gesture that sent a shiver of excitement down my spine.

"Why are you wasting your time with those stupid boys, baby?" his voice was a soft murmur, laden with sincerity and affection. I dared to open my eyes, finding myself lost in the intensity of his gaze. He was so close, his presence enveloping me in warmth and reassurance.

And then, without hesitation, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that stole my breath away. His lips were soft, so achingly soft against mine, yet the kiss held a passion and longing that left me utterly breathless.

In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time. His lips moved against mine with a gentle urgency, as if he was pouring all his unspoken feelings into the kiss. It was my first kiss, but it felt like so much more – it felt like the culmination of every unspoken desire and every hidden longing we had ever shared.

I melted into his embrace, my hands finding their way to his shoulders as I surrendered myself completely to the intoxicating sweetness of his kiss. The world around us ceased to exist as we lost ourselves in each other, our hearts beating as one in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

And as our lips finally parted, leaving us both breathless and flushed with desire

" you kissed me," I whispered, my voice barely a breath as I searched his eyes for answers.

He smiled, a softness in his gaze that made my heart flutter. "It took me so long to, but I did," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and longing.

"Why did you kiss me?" I couldn't help but ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Because I felt like I would have died if I didn't," he confessed, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through me.

I looked at him, my heart pounding in my chest as I dared to ask the question that had been lingering on my mind. "Do you... do you like me too?"

His response was immediate, his voice filled with a raw intensity that took my breath away. "Fuck, baby," he moaned, his words a desperate plea. "I'm in love with you. So deeply in love with you."

As he kissed me again, I melted into him, lost in the sensation of his lips against mine. But then I felt something beneath me, and I pulled back, concern etching my features.

"See, that's what you do to me," he murmured, his voice strained with desire.

I gasped, realizing the effect I was having on him. "It feels good," I admitted, my cheeks flushing with heat.

He smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "What feels good, baby?" he teased, his hands roaming over my body.

"this... Mattheo, oh i this so good I want more ," I confessed, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through me.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his grip tightening on my thighs as I moved against him again.

But then, I felt a pang of worry. "I'm so sorry, Mattheo. Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," I babbled, my nerves getting the best of me.

He hushed me gently, his touch soothing my frayed nerves. "Shhh, my sweet girl, you did nothing wrong. It's just... if you continue to do that, it might....." he trailed off, his words leaving me hanging in suspense.

I swallowed hard, feeling a rush of embarrassment wash over me. "Did you ever experience the feeling of orgasm before? I mean, with yourself," he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding.

I shook my head, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "No," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

But instead of judgment, I found only warmth and reassurance in his gaze. He smiled gently and kissed me again, his lips tender against mine.

"So that makes you feel good?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. As I nodded, he continued, "I'm going to give you more, but let's take it step by step, okay?"

I nodded eagerly, desperate for more of the pleasure he could offer. And as he trailed kisses along my neck, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine, I knew that I was in good hands.

As his hands trailed up my thighs, pushing my dress higher until my wet panties were exposed, I felt a surge of anticipation coursing through me. His touch was electric, igniting a fire deep within me that I couldn't extinguish.

With a gentle yet firm hand, he guided me to straddle his thigh, positioning me so that I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against me. I gasped at the sensation, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.

"You're so fucking sexy," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "I love seeing you like this, all wet and ready for me."

I moaned in response, the sensation of his thigh against my throbbing core driving me wild with need. And as he began to move me against him, guiding my hips with his hands, I felt a wave of pleasure building deep within me.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with approval. "That's it, ride my thigh just like that."

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he continued to move me against him. With each thrust of my hips, I felt the tension building, the pleasure mounting with every stroke.

His lips found mine in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as he urged me to let go of my inhibitions. "Don't be afraid, baby," he murmured against my lips. "Just feel it."

But with each movement, I could feel my pussy throbbing against his hard thigh, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. And then, as if by instinct, I shifted my hips, seeking more contact, more friction.

Mattheo groaned in response, his grip tightening on my hips as I ground against him with reckless abandon. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good against me."

And then, as the pleasure reached its peak, I felt something new, something I had never experienced before. It was a tightness in my stomach, a fluttering sensation that seemed to radiate throughout my entire body.

"What... what is this feeling?" I gasped, my voice filled with uncertainty as I struggled to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through me.

He kissed and sucked my neck gently, his lips sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. "Don't be afraid, my sweet girl," he whispered. "That's pleasure, and you deserve every bit of it."

I moaned in response, the sensation of his lips against my skin driving me wild with desire. With every movement, I felt myself drawing closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

I moved my hips against his thigh, craving more of the friction that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. His grip tightened on my hips, his touch electric as he guided me in my movements.

I felt a new hunger stirring deep within me. I wanted more, I needed more, and I knew that he was the only one who could give it to me.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely a whisper. "I want more."

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with lust as he moved me against him, his own arousal pressing against me now. "You want more, baby?" he growled, his hands gripping my hips possessively. "Then let me give it to you."

With a wicked grin, he shifted me slightly, guiding me so that I could feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against my soaked panties. As he moved me against him, the friction sent bolts of pleasure shooting through me, and I couldn't help but moan in response.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Feel how hard you make me. Feel what you do to me."

I whimpered as he continued to move me against him, the pleasure mounting with every stroke. His lips found mine in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing with mine as he urged me on.

"Ride me, baby," he growled, his voice filled with hunger. "Show me how much you want it."

With a desperate cry, I began to move against him, my hips rocking back and forth as I sought out the delicious friction he offered. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over me, building with every stroke until I was teetering on the edge of ecstasy once more.

He watched me with hungry eyes, his hands gripping my hips as he guided me in my movements. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "You're doing so well."

Encouraged by his praise, I moved faster, my body craving more of the pleasure he was giving me. With each thrust, I felt myself drawing closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

And then, with a cry of pure ecstasy, I felt it happen. My body convulsed with uncontrollable spasms as waves of pleasure crashed over me, and I screamed his name as I tumbled over the edge into oblivion.

He held me close as I trembled with the force of my release, his arms wrapped around me protectively. And as I lay there, spent and sated in his arms, I knew that I had never experienced anything like this before.

He kissed my forehead softly, his lips tender against my skin as he whispered, "You're amazing, baby. Absolutely amazing."

I looked up at him, my body still tingling from the incredible pleasure he had just given me. "Matt, can you make me feel that feeling again? Can you teach me more " I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

His eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at me, his fingers trailing lightly along my neck. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice husky with need. "The things I want to do to you, the things I'm gonna do to you...".

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle smut #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #fluff imagines #inexperienced #inexperiencedreader

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17020 · 18 days ago

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gn reader, reader is older than 18, younger than aizawa. suggestive.

having shota aizawa as your situationship (?) when you're coworkers is... weird. at first, at least. he feels weird not because you're a tad younger, but because he finds himself doing irrational things for you every day.

because why on god's beautiful earth is he sneaking around the teacher dorms just to get to your room in the wee hours of the night? the upturned corners of his lips have him pondering too—why he has the tiniest smile on his face whenever your surname pops up on his notifications, the world does not know.

your coworkers notice the change in behavior, yet nobody says anything directly to your face. probably because aizawa's almost never touches anyone yet his body is found gravitating towards yours, his fingers grazing yours when he and you exchange papers to grade, or his leg tangling itself with yours during teacher conferences.

but when there's no one else around? he can feel himself loosen up a bit, his hand cradling your jaw and caressing it oh-so softly with the excuse of there being a strand of hair in the way. or when he asks you, his teaching assistant, to dinner—to discuss the upcoming training for class 1-a, of course. or when he knows you've had a hard day and he's suddenly pushing your head into his chest, grumbling about how you need to let it all out in order to focus on other things later on. when the two of you are alone, he sighs whenever you address him, only two words daring to escape his lips.

"it's shota."

and sure, he pushes his feelings aside at first. because it's not rational to have feelings for his coworker. his conventionally young, hot and very smart coworker. the coworker who looks out for him more than any of his other coworkers do, the one who his class has basically accepted as their confidant, tutor, and loving parent.

aizawa feels ridiculous whenever you pop in his mind. because deep down he knows he's throwing all logic away whenever he's with you. the rule to never date a coworker goes in one ear and out the other when the war settles in. it's now or never, right? what if he doesn't get to live another day, what if you don't?

perhaps it's the fact that it's his birthday that has him overthinking. that must be it.

the thought to put a label on what you have never crosses his mind. it's his old man brain kicking in. he doesn't see a rush to label anything. he's yours, and you're his. what's the problem? does the whole world need to know your business?

unfortunately, they do. because his attraction for you goes unnoticed by the ones who aren't on inside his bubble. including ms. joke, who has your eye twitching from jealousy as her mouth seems to move in slow motion as she asks for his hand in marriage for what seems like the fifth time today.

and your mind runs. it goes on and on, you start feeling dizzy. it's not until later in the night when the homemade birthday cupcake with the candle is long forgotten in his nighstand, his hands desperately gripping your thighs as your hips roll against his. you sigh as your swollen lips part from his, gaze fixated on his lap as you try to avoid his eyes.

when he asks what's wrong, you simply shrug. "i know it's not my business since we're not exclusive, but what's the deal with you and joke?" aizawa can tell there's inconformity in your voice as his eyebrows furrow.

"we're not?"

shota aizawa is an idiot. an old, stupid idiot. is this the generational gap at work? you looked at him bewildered, "well, you never said anything about it, so i figured..."

his grip on you tightens. "who else are you seeing, y/n?"

you giggle as you shake your head. "no one else, you big goof. just you." it's during this moment when he feels like he can breathe again. he recomposes himself before replying, "joke likes to run her mouth. doesn't mean i'll concede her every word."

you smile before pressing a quick, sweet kiss to his lips. "do you want to be exclusive, shota? or perhaps are you building your own avengers roster?"

"see, when you put it like that..."

you gasp, playfully slapping his arm. his low, borderline sexy chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he raises his hand to cradle your jaw. "kidding. don't tire your pretty brain for things like that. tell you what, i don't pay any mind to joke—or anyone—because they're not you."

your whole body heats up from his statement. you stare at him in awe as he continues, "you're making me live a life i never lived in my youth."

smiling, you feel your eyes flutter close as your head unconsciously leans towards his chest. he's quick to get you off his lap and tuck you into his bed with him. how in the hell can you get sleepy in the middle of a—

"shota, i can still go on" you whine, a yawn betraying your plea. he shakes his head as his hands fiddle with the rubber band on his hair to let it loose. after switching off the lamp on his nightstand, he turns to you. "i'm a grown man, y/n. your needs come first, and you need sleep."

you smile at him as he lays down at your side, pulling the blanket to cover you both, leaving only your heads to be seen. "happy birthday, shota" you whisper, to which he smiles.

"i l... appreciate you, y/n. very much."

he's not revealing he's utterly lovesick. not anytime soon.

taglist (open): @stunies @hayatoseyepatch @okkotsushi @maruflix @nyxypoo

i'll add a banner later on maybe i'm too lazy. happy early birthday to aizawa sorry if he's ooc. first bnha work in like 4 years. not proofread i'm gonna hit the hay like aizawa and y/n.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x you #aizawa shota x reader

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bea-does-stuff · 5 months ago

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𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐱 𝐘𝐍)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 696

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘿𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩𝙮, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙮𝙣'𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩 ^^

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

Arguments with him are nothing less than common, with his genius complex and snappy attitude, you both end up initiating an argument about something neither of you truly care for, and of course, you're the one who usually ends up apologising, even when he was in the wrong

This being said, one time, there was one time, he went too far

“God! I truly wonder how you manage to exist and function with that sad excuse of a brain!” veritas snapped, you were use to him saying stuff like that, and you knew he never truly meant them, but it was getting so repetitive you had enough

You didn't even bother responding, you simply slammed the door and headed outside for a break, and as for veritas, he probably cooled himself off with a relaxing bath

It was only when he was done destressing, when he realised the horrible way he spoke to his dearest partner

Upon your arrival, he initially tried to give you space, he stayed in his library reading, as you did your own thing, but the guilt stabbing through his chest slowly became too intense for him, and he quickly rushed to where you were

“Dearest,” he mumbled, you didn't give him an answer, he didn't deserve it

He huffed at your comment and left house, which left you stunned initially, until he returning home with a bag full of your favourite foods, as well as flowers and a plush of your favourite animal

It was so clique, but he didn't know much about this topic, he was always superior, he never had a need to apologise to others, but he wanted to apologise to you, out of respect for you

You sighed and nodded “its fine, veritas” he looked away, scoffing as his cheeks bloomed a faded pink

“Good. that is good.” he whispered, you had to know dr ratio pretty well to sense the relief in his tone

“I must say, this is a very thoughtful way of apologising, 5 points” you teased, he rolled his eyes, fighting back the small smile crawling up his face

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

He is prideful, very prideful, and when he has an opinion, he leaves no room for others input or objectively wrong opinions, which makes it almost impossible for him to apologise

Arguments with him feel like speaking to a wall, on very rare occasions will he say anything, almost making it seem like this situation was…meaningless to him, like your feelings were meaningless to him

This one day made you snap, and you actually began to sob quietly while you were arguing

This made him glance back at you, a look of surprise and…dread on his face

“My angel…” he mumbled, but you rushed out before he could say another word, leaving him alone with his racing thoughts

Despite being a cold, rational and controlling serafin, he is a very paranoid individual, and his mind began to flood with possibilities of you leaving him behind to find someone better, or thoughts of you growing to hate him and seeing him as the control freak others label him as.

Because of this, he let you have your space, and spent an hour or two asking his dear sister robin for advice, she was a lot more well versed in tending to people's feelings and apologising for making someone hurt

Once robin was done lecturing his brother, sunday returned to the house, finding you buried under a layer of cushions and blankets

“Angel…i…” he took a deep breath and looked at you with those…piercing yellow eyes

“The way…that i disregarded your feelings…it..it was unacceptable and cruel” you slightly lifted the blanket on your face, staring at him, still slightly upset

“I…deeply apologise, you don't deserve such cruelty from a man who dares call himself your lover”

You sighed, a sad yet relieved smile on your face “you apologising is a strange occurrence, so i know you mean it”

He brought you to his arms, his wings fluffing up due to how happy he was to have finally worked up the courage to apologize and make you smile

Robin would indeed be proud

#fluff #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #dr ratio hsr #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #sunday #sunday hsr #sunday fluff #sunday x reader #hsr angst #angst #angst to fluff #comfort #hsr comfort #gn reader

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fishnapple · 1 month ago

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Message from the Universe to you

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

LAPIS LAZULI

Fortune comes and goes, fickle like the wind. But it sure favours the bold. Whatever predicament you're in right now, it will come to pass. But also take notes, whatever blessing or good luck you think you're having, there will come a day it will also pass. It's the art of going with the flow of life, never expecting anything to bend to your will or to last forever. Such is life's ephemeral beauty. You lose some and then you win some.

There's a knot inside your mind, tying everything closely together. In fact, too close, to the point of rigidity and confinement. The fear of not living up to some lofty standards you have heaped upon yourself is excruciating, it cripples your ability to look forward and to step out of the shadow. You feel like you have to perform, to meet a certain criteria, to please, who do you seek to please? Is it yourself, is it a distant ghost of the past, or is it the nagging of the future? What will happen when there is displeasure? Will you be punished, or will you be free? You see yourself through the eyes of other people, yet forget the very eyes that are yours. You wear the clothes that people compliment on but forget the naked body inside feeling those clothes. If you untie the knot inside, take off the clothes (armour) and look at the mirror, see if there are tears reflecting back at you, or are they smiles? Whatever they are, they are real, they are you.

When you're free, you will realise how much you can do yet how little you have to do anything. The unexpected might happen, but you are not afraid of it, you let it wash over you, or maybe push you a little. Then you will find yourself stronger, brighter. And along the way, you will find companions, whose perception of you won't be the target of your worries, you just feel confident in knowing that you view the world with similar eyes.

JADE

So many things to do, so little time, so little energy. Your energy is so straightforward and blazing that sometimes it can be cutting or becomes a burden for you. Like carrying a lightning rod. But this energy is being stored in such a small room, it's frustrated and wants to break out. Do you find yourself lying awake, sleepless, mind buzzing with constant noise? Or do you find your stomach and your chest heating up, like a fire burning inside? A simple word or a simple shake of the head is enough to push this fire back inside, under lock and key. You could feel like bursting out at the smallest remark, taking everyone aback , yet you would show the most placid expression when someone is being emotionally open to you. This energy bursts out when you don't want it to, it stays silent when you struggle to call for it. Your energy, your enthusiasm needs grounding, it needs to be directed with a clear purpose. Only so can it become productive.

Remove superfluous things, thoughts, and objects. Don't burden yourself anymore than you already are doing. Don't take on so many projects, interests, and even people. Your inner load is already heavy as it is, don't pile more on it. Sometimes, things needn't be heavy and serious, they can be fun and lighthearted. Some connections shouldn't be labelled with heavy implications or expectations, yet. Some worth pursuing, but with a gentle reach. Keep the jest of life, you're not meant to keep yourself in the dark, you're meant to shine brightly and radiate warmth like the Sun.

MOONSTONE

I think you need a vacation, take time to pamper yourself, take time to unwind, and release all the negativity bottling up inside you. Take your life to the centre stage, don't be distracted by the so-called responsibilities and work. How can you work if you're in shambles. The body temple of yours needs lots of care and maintenance. It won't stay the same years in and out, time will chip away its vigor, a heart in pain will lose its lustre. This group is all about taking care of your physical body and the reality around you.

Take time to be alone with yourself, maybe this is a foreign feeling, you're so used to the presence of others, their noise, their energy, that you find it hollow when you're alone. It's like you're the last one to leave the room, and suddenly you find yourself in such a huge space, all alone. What will you do in that situation? Hurriedly get out of the room to catch up with people, fearing an invisible shadow will materialise itself if you stay in the room long enough? Or do you stay, take a look around the room, notice the small details that you've never noticed, play some music, and sway back and forth to the melody of it? What action is more sensible, what is more fun, you decide.

I see a waterfall, a downpour, I see you just sit there, inside the house, looking out, or holding an umbrella, being still at try to catch a look at each rain drop, let time slow down for you, work diligently at staying still and relaxing, you will find how hard they are. Make them your habits. In the stillness of the body, you find movements in your mind, amidst the rain, you hear the thunder in your heart, ideas strike like lightning and you would be wise to catch them.

MORGANITE

You have been working so hard, putting all in to get the work done, please be proud of yourself, pat yourself on the back, no one deserves it better than you do. Now it's time to reap the reward, things will fall into places, more opportunities will come. But to save your energy for those opportunities, you should take a rest first. Don't fret, don't worry, you won't miss a thing if you stop and rest a little, in fact, you will even go further into your path than you realise. Isn't it amazing how you can stay still and yet are advancing at the same time?

It's time to learn more about yourself, get to know yourself, your most earnest wishes, your brightest light, your biggest gifts, but of course, your biggest fears also. There are so many things to learn, you will never get enough of yourself. The image you hold of yourself is fuzzy and ever changing, ever elusive, always out of reach. You might feel lost when you're alone, but you also feel lonely when you're with other people. But that's just the effect of a fog draping over your eyes.

By seeing yourself better, you will also get better at seeing people. Exchanges with others will have deeper meaning for you. The words you say, the words you hear, they can contain love and affection, use them wisely, listen to them closely. From others do we find our love echoes back at us. You will see love in the most mundane thing, find it in the most unexpected manner. Then let it fuel your wishes.

AGATE

You feel like you can do it all, at the same time, you don't feel like you're doing enough. Ideas and plans swirling in your head, burning to be put into reality. One could say you're a manifestor, or more correctly, a manufacturer, in the purest sense, of ideas, inspirations, and projects. Though some of them could be better if finished before a new one starts. Be selective in what you're investing in, your energy, your time, your effort, your attention. Don't mass produce things, make bespoke things, things tailored only to a selected few. Or else you will find yourself overburdened by the stress of unproductivity and the guilt of not finishing or not starting enough projects.

The reason behind such an intense drive for productivity, besides your inherent creative power, is an emotional baggage lies deep inside you, you think it's sleeping, but it's not. It will wait and find the most opportune moment to spring out or seep out, into every social interaction of yours. Encouragement from the crowd fuels your confidence, but it also has the potential to wreck havoc on your psyche, if absent. Why do you feel you need to do so much? For whom? For what cause?

When your affection is turned inward, it has an effect of shooting and cracking the dome of the cell holding your emotional baggage. Whether it will fly out to be free or stay inside, is dependent upon how brave you think you can be. This will literally give you a makeover, a change of identity. Remember your manufacturing power. Don't wait for the orders to come in to start the lines, prepare them beforehand, and your biggest customer, you, will be satisfied.

OBSIDIAN

A short and sweet message: leave your fears at home and going enjoy life. There is something you're fighting, with or for, it seems to be both. A hollow feeling, a sense of nostalgia for bygone good things, a deep seated fear of past wounds resurfacing, making you relive the memories all over again. But with practice, you can leave those behind.

I see an arrow. There are two choices for you. One is aiming forward and let go, another is fighting back everything you encounter.

Relationships in general might be a source of headache/heartache for you. You feel everything so deeply, every interaction feels like a part of you is at stake. Your conviction can be so unmoving that every interaction feels like a battle. That you need to prove something, to protect something, to challenge something. It also makes you suspicious of people's intentions, what do their words mean? Is there a hidden meaning behind them? Are they sneering at me? You past colours your future, connections are felt through the lens of past experiences, you've become a veteran, in the war against the invasion of your inner world.

What propels you to take a step away from this habit is probably the realisation that you don't have to define yourself by your past nor your future. Let bygones be bygones, let the hereafter be uncertain. Pour yourself into the sea of shared hearts. Let yourself feel suffocated by the dense air of a crowd, your heart beating loudly while standing in front of a crowd, the agonising fear of judgement. All of these, while you feel like running away, are also those times when you're actually connected the most with life.

#pick a card #tarotblr #pick a pile #tarot #tarot community #crystal reading #tarot reading #lithomancy #astrology #astro #astro community #astroblr #divination #pick a stone #crystal #witch community #witchblr #tarot witch #occult

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months ago

Text

we share that really

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt ‘band politics’

rated t | 905 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, reunion tour, future fic, steddie dads, everyone has a family and is happy

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Their label said it was too soon to do a reunion tour. They were only in their early 40s and had only been officially “broken up” for ten years.

But they were all in the right place: married, children who were old enough to come on tour but still young enough to be excited about it, and writing music that meant more to them than anything they’d done before.

Rumors had swirled for years after they announced their break up. None of them saw it as a breakup, more an early retirement that let them focus on building their lives. Fans and media alike hadn’t stopped coming up with other reasons for it: Gareth had been in love with Eddie for years and finally said something which caused friction, Jeff’s wife had threatened to divorce him if he didn’t take time off, Frankie had a drinking problem that was spreading like a viral disease.

None of it was even close to true.

The one and only reason for all of them was that they wanted to focus on their families for a while.

They stayed in touch, almost more than when they were on tour together. Jeff and Gareth lived in the same neighborhood, and Frankie bought an RV so he could come visit as often as he wanted. Eddie had traveled for a very extended honeymoon with Steve for nearly a year before finally settling an hour away, halfway between his favorite people and Steve’s favorite person.

They still played together at least once a month, a full set and any new stuff someone brought with them.

So when they all agreed it was time to come back and record a new album and do a tour, it wasn’t really a reunion so much as an excuse to be even closer for a while.

The label was thrilled, willing to give everyone their own tour bus so their families could come with them for the US part of the tour.

One thing none of them were prepared for was the media following the announcement.

“Is it true that you only just reconciled after years of legal battles about rights to songs?” A journalist from Rolling Stone asked.

Gareth snorted. “Not even a little, dude. We’ve been best friends this entire time.”

“So there was never any issue with Eddie being the most famous?”

Everyone looked over at Eddie, who was making faces at his youngest daughter at the side of the stage. Jeff leaned into his mic and gestured over to him.

“None of us have ever had a problem with him being the face of the band. We’re here to make music and perform, not fight over who gets to be in the center of pictures,” he said. “Plus, none of us would wanna deal with what he deals with on a daily basis. He’s not that interesting, I promise.”

Everyone laughed as Eddie turned back to the crowd with a smile. “I’m super boring. Just ask my kids.”

"So you don't mind that he gets creative control?" Another reporter asked.

They all shared looks with each other before Eddie leaned forward into his microphone to answer.

"I don't have creative control. We all share it. We all share everything. That's the point of a band like ours. Sometimes I know what sounds best for a guitar solo, sometimes Jeff does. Sometimes Gareth writes a chorus that people will sing along to, sometimes Frankie does. We've never had any of that lead person bullshit no matter what the media wants to show," Eddie drummed once on the table. "Are there any questions about the upcoming album and tour or is everyone here gonna keep asking about shit that isn't true?"

"Language!" Steve yelled from the side of the room.

Everyone laughed and Eddie waved him off.

They got more questions about the album and the tour and it finally seemed like everyone was done asking about band politics until the very end.

"So will Eddie still be the lead guy for the reunion?" Someone from the back asked.

Eddie banged his head against the table.

"Alright, thanks everyone! We'll see you on tour!" Gareth yelled as he pulled Eddie's arm so they could all exit the stage.

"They want us to hate each other so bad," Frankie shook his head.

"Look at this face," Gareth said as he grabbed Eddie's jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pouted out. "Who could hate this face?"

"Shit!" A small voice exclaimed from behind them.

Eddie turned to see his youngest daughter smiling up at him and Steve standing next to her with his hands on his hips.

"You're right, sweetie. Daddy's in deep shit," Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "And he is so sorry for breaking the no bad words rule today. He really is."

"Our fearless leader appears to be absolutely fucked," Jeff said as he started to walk towards his wife and kids.

Gareth trailed behind him in search of his own family.

Frankie punched Eddie's shoulder. "Good luck, big guy."

"Everyone hates me, call the media and tell them they were right," Eddie pouts.

Steve rolls his eyes and picks up their daughter, walking away.

Eddie turns to his twins. "Well, you guys don't care if I say shit."

"You said worse while getting ready this morning."

"And I'll say worse again! Let's get out of here."

#corroded coffin #corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #Frankie #steddie #steve harrington

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murdrdocs · 1 year ago

Note

just read all your imagines and they are so good!! just on here to req anything hobie brown related cos god that man is so fine. maybe like a one-shot where they are fwb cos hobie doest do labels but gets jealous and then asks reader to be his gf and then shows her off to everyone. just like really anything u want to write tbh ✨✨

end of line | h. brown

description. being friends with benefits with your best friend, hobie brown, is fun and all, but you start to realize that maybe firm labels suit you better than whatever this is

includes. slight smut SUGGESTIVE 16+, fem!reader referred to as “girl”, fluff, sweet!hobie, pav gwen and miles mention, rockstar!hobie

a/n: i have no words this was supposed to be uploaded like a week ago but then i went to disney so ... sorry yall. also not edited well bc ... disney. edit: title from the song by daft punk bc tron <3

word count: 1.7k+

things are still in your bedroom. they always are right before he arrives.

you're not a psychic, nor do you have a "spider-sense" (which, with the creepy-sixth sense way hobie described it, you don't want one either), but you like to think that you can tell when he'll come by.

nights when you haven't heard much from him, but the sirens seemed to never stop outside, were usually when your window would creek as it slid up.

you listen out for the sound now as you finish painting your last nail. you'd used the quick dry polish tonight, in hopes that you wouldn't have a repeat of last time, when your fingernails weren't dried but hobie was incredibly impatient and when you were done, you'd realized that your right ring and pinkie fingers were smudged.

the bottle's closed, you'd blown on your nail to ensure it dried, and that's when your window slides open.

there's no point in looking back at him when he tumbles into the room. he starts mumbling complaints as soon as the window's closed, the sound of his shoes unlacing padding his words, something about some common thief who hobie was going to let go but then he went and messed with the lady on the street and her cat.

you'd lost the tail end of his words whenever he started walking closer to you. you sat up straighter, pushed everything out of the way, and waited for him to turn your chair around.

which, when he did, you looked up at him, small smile on your lips as you stared into his deep brown eyes.

"how's your night, hm?" he asked, a courtesy before getting to the real action.

you shrugged, pretending to think. "nothing. just a lot of this."

"no smashing societal standards? picking off misogynists one by one?"

a small laugh in the form of a snort from you. "nah. figured i'd take a day off, you know?" the sarcasm dripping from your words. that's not who you were. you wish you could've been like that, could've been like hobie. but there's one spider-person for a reason.

"oh, yeah, uh-huh..." and hobie trailed off as he leaned in, pointer finger hooking under your chin to pull your lips to his.

it always felt good to kiss hobie.

you'd fantasized about it for weeks before it actually happened. he's your closest friend at the moment, and he occupied the title before this arrangement even existed. and of course you had the worry about ruining your beautiful friendship if you became more, fear that you wouldn't be able to go back and you would subsequently lose probably the best friend you've ever had.

but that was no need to worry. because while you could let hobie pull you up and lead you to your bed, sitting back and pulling you into his lap while he kissed you with a tenderness you know so well, you could also just be friends with him, sitting side by side on the couch and having a movie marathon of horrible biopics without thinking about jumping each other's bones.

there's a balance here that you could only hope would've existed.

and it's never thrown off. not even when he pulls your shirt over your head and his full lips find your nipples and the slightly-faded marks he'd left a few days ago. not even when he switches your position, laying you back and kissing down your torso until he can bury his head between your legs. not even when you whine and cry just a bit, slightly begging for him to pull his suit off so he can fuck into you in a way that only he can.

you try not to think about the equilibrium of your relationship with hobie when your legs hook around his waist and the heels of your feet dig into your lower back. you try to solely focus on the way his cock fills you up perfectly, mostly long with the right amount of girth for your walls, tip reaching deep within you in an almost mind bending way.

but you can't help but think about the way hobie doesn't do labels when he helps you to your bathroom, where he lets the shower heat up while you sit in a shirt he left behind a few days ago when he'd shown up as just hobie brown and not spiderman. you can't help but think about being hobie's girlfriend when his big, veiny hands run along your skin after the shower, smothering you in shea butter as you struggle to hold your eyes open. and you don't bother attempting to fight off the lasting thought of being hobie's while he hums an unknown song to himself with your head on his chest, the deep sound of his voice and the vibration of his chest lulling you to sleep.

you need to be someone's.

the friends with benefits scenario was fun, it worked, it was glorious, but you don't think it's for you. and labels aren't for hobie.

so, you look elsewhere.

you're at hobie's show, standing in the back of the pub with a drink you weren't interested in, with some guy you really weren't all that interested in, either. but he smelled nice, and he seemed nice, and you were just looking to broaden your horizons just a bit.

you and hobie weren't exclusive, but maybe it's a little wrong to flirt with someone else at his show. but you were slightly upset, and craving attention, so it didn't matter.

not until hobie got off stage.

it took a while for him to roam over to you, but even then you were still entertaining the other guy. giggling, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes, your hip popped out and a manicure, that was still fresh, blinging as your hand rested on the bone.

he greets you with a term of endearment that he uses often, but it feels different in this circumstance. you tell yourself that it feels different because you want it to feel different.

"oi, babe! who's this bloke?"

his arm slings over your shoulder and you tense under it. your hands folding over your chest, your smile tightening a little.

“uh this is steven.” your hand reaches out to point to the man, a tight lipped smile spreading onto his lips.

“steven …” hobie repeats the name slowly, and without looking at him you can tell that he’s eyeing the guy up and down.

the air is stiff, the three of you are silent, and unfortunately, steven takes the hint to dismiss himself, and you instantly turn to hobie, a scowl on your face.

“what the fuck, hobes?” you’re pissed, but the nickname still slips off easily.

hobie shrugs and reaches into his back pocket, a cigarette appearing and he sticks it between his lips. instantly, your fingers pluck it out from his mouth, instead putting it in your own back pocket.

instead of looking upset, hobie looks amused. his hands reach out to grab your waist, and you want to give in, but you try to push his hands away instead.

hobie lets you, and you don’t know if your happy or upset with that.

“what’d you mean?”

you stare at him, deadpan, then gesture to where steven had walked away towards.

“you just cockblocked me!”

a cocky grin, almost a little condescending. “i didn’t ‘cockblock’ you, babes. you weren’t trying to get with that guy.” your eyebrow lifts and you can see realization come onto hobie’s face. “oh … you were?”

“yes! of course i was!”

“but why? you are i are together.”

“sure, hobes, but we’re not ‘together’.”

“yes we are.”

“no, we aren’t.”

“why do you think that?”

you suddenly feel a little insecure, eyes scanning the thinning crowd, ears noticing the way the volume in the pub is lowered. “because you’ve never put a label on it, bee.”

another layer of realization. hobie’s hands coming to your waist again, but this time you let him pull you in.

“i didn’t know we needed a label. but you’re my girl. and i’m your guy.”

your body heats up and you bite down onto your lower lip giddily, peeking up at hobie through your lashes.

"thought you didn't like relationships?"

"labels. i don't like labels."

there's a disruption in the atmosphere. goosebumps raise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck sticks up, and even if you weren't aware internally, the way the magazine you were previously reading floats above the table would've tipped you off.

the portal opens shortly after, but you knew it was coming. it took hobie a while to tell you that he was spiderman, longer to convince you that he was spiderman, and a while longer to convince you of the existence society, and even though you know, you still get a little shocked whenever a portal opens.

he comes through first, thud of his heavy boots against the floor of his flat. the spoon in your mouth clings against the side of the bowl, your free hand reaches out to the tv remote to pause the episode as you look over at hobie.

"oi, didn't know you were still here." is all he says before he's walking over, pulling his mask off on the way, and leaning down. your head tilts up instantly to meet his lips in a kiss, your body warming with the way his hand pushes into the back of the couch, slender but muscular form caging you in.

you expect him to sit beside you and force you to give a recap of the episode, but he stands back, and then three other people come through the portal.

"oh ... are we expecting guests?" surprise sits in your words, the tone amplified when hobie takes your bowl of cereal out of your hands to finish it off himself.

"right," he speaks through mouthfuls, saying your name as an introduction to the other three. "this is pav, miles, and gwendy. spider people." you nod, waving at each.

"this here, is my girlfriend." three sets of spider-eyes widen with the admission and you can already sense what's coming.

"wow, you're pretty. 's nice to meet you."

"i knew it! i could sense the tension as soon as we got here."

"you have a girlfriend? wait. i thought you didn't like labels."

a small smile on your face as you tuck your hands in the pocket of hobie’s sweatshirt that you wear.

in coordination learned from how close you two are, you speak at the same time.

"he doesn't like consistency."

"don't like consistency, mate."

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown smut #hobie brown fluff #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk #celeste writs mcu #hobiesworld!#hobie brown #spider man across the spider verse

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