#but anyway he has evolved but he is not perfect
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advestager · 1 year ago
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I feel like saying Josuke doesn't have any daddy issues whatsoever isn't entirely fair (I've seen some fic and comics go further into how he and his mom might have been treated due to the circumstances of his birth that were pretty compelling) but people who act like he grew up without any father figure are definitely off base imo. Every single adaptation and extra material have always had a focus on his close relationship with his grandpa for a reason!
see, that's precisely the thing. it is literally impossible to be a grown up human without having internalised some sort of illogical Feeling about oneself or the world – but fandom as a whole tends to just assign arbitrary ones to characters based on stereotypes rather than what they actually are like.
i do think josuke feels some sort of way about his lack of a father growing up, but that's as inevitable as joseph himself (or giorno, or jolyne, or even jonathan) having feelings about his own dad, and yet somehow jorge's absence does not get brought up despite joseph and josuke's fairly similar upbringings. the fact is that most of western fandom tends to view the JJBA characters through a (white, usa-centric) lens that simply does not lend itself to a fair or accurate reading when most of the cast is either POC or from an entirely different cultural background. that's why i'm so resistant to label josuke as having 'daddy issues'; the term means something entirely different to me than it seems to do to most of the fandom, based on all the fic, comics, and discussions i've seen (and had) about the topic. it's not exactly like the organised crime aspect of VA, but it fills me with a similar kind of frustration. i don't think one needs a degree in cultural studies or history or whatnot to enjoy a silly series about people punching each other with slutty soul-ghosts, but it's exhausting to see the same thoughtless, very specifically westernised takes being regurgitated over and over as Absolute Truth until the characters are so flanderised they seem nothing as much as a caricature of their original versions. i love transformative works as much as any other fan creator, but i also happen to like the source material. it is infinitely more interesting to me to think about what kind of relationship josuke might have to his heritage as a mixed-race person, or his identity as the son of a single mother or the obviously cherished and spoilt child of a family such as his own (especially in a place and period like canon's late-90s/early 00's japan), than to hear yet another iteration of 'haha, josuke has daddy issues' where the person saying it has no intention of analysing that premise beyond the puddle-depth obvious.
at barely sixteen years old, even as interested in high-end fashion (and as very much part of a working class family who could definitely use the nest egg) as he is, josuke's immediate reaction to being told his missing father is incredibly rich and wants to take care of him is to say that it's not necessary, and he's fine as he is. sixteen. i worked as a teacher with kids as young as a year old and people as old as mid-seventies; that kind of ease of mind is one-in-a-million and not something you'll find on someone who fits fandom's definition of 'daddy issues'. he's not angry at joseph, he's not grasping for money, he hardly even wants to find out more about the missing part of his origins. his only thought is to wish he wouldn't be the reason other people were hurt, and to protect his mother once there is a risk she might find out and be distressed about it. his entire morality system is (from what i remember of canon) mostly based around the question What Would Grandpa Do?, with some leeway allowed for the temper he clearly got from tomoko and for the fact that he is, again, a big and slightly spoilt sixteen year old.
so yeah. it might not sound fair to say he doesn't have daddy issues, but i don't think the terms fandom's operating under are fair to start with, so i'd rather recuse myself (and my interpretation of the character) from it all til we're playing the same game. the sandbox's wide and wild, and the block and mute buttons are there for a reason, so i'll just stay in my corner writing about higashikatas wielding their feelings like sledgehammers til my mum says it's time to go home.
#tl;dr: everyone's absolutely entitled to their opinion! i just happen to find the most common one the equivalent of soap-flavoured cilantro#i definitely agree with the part about his rship with his grandfather! it's a whole thing in my own writing for them#it's just 'daddy issues' has become shorthand for a combination of takes i quite dislike the past few years#so yeah. i'll just... Not. if y'all don't mind#(i do think Other characters have daddy issues in the traditional sense. and even in the popular modern sense. but not josuke particularly)#anyway i hope this doesn't read as confrontational as i fear it sounds bc that was. so not my intention orz#ty for the ask!!!! i really love discussing character analysis i'm just rly tired rn so i probably sound super Debate Team Mode haha#ps ryohei was 100000% josuke's favourite person in the world growing up and he's still tomoko's special baby gremlin at age 50 pass it on#josuke higashikata#jojo#the funny thing abt my fic is i'm really at ease abt posting my shippy stuff bc it's just like. treating myself to sth nice#and then sharing with everyone as a bonus#but the stuff where i actually talk abt familial and platonic rships for my faves lives in eternal development hell bc i just LOVE it#and never feel like it's perfect enough to share. it's never complete because it's always evolving#which is why i once wrote a novel allegedly about detectives in love but in reality about 100kish of family/friendship character analysis#meaning there was no way this ask could've ever been answered succinctly lol#ask tag#joji.txt#joosk#anonymous
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koushirouizumi · 1 year ago
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[This is being posted for {+Lost media} archival purposes only. I do not own DigiAdvs.]
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kakusu-shipping · 10 months ago
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Sketches I mostly did to get the Vibe right before I really worked to make a real reference but I ended up really liking them more than the real reference so fkdgjkfdg
What if I was an Inkling mad doctor who 1. Created the King Salmonids and 2. Ate other Inklings would that be fucked up or what
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konigsblog · 6 months ago
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Chubby!König who falls head over heels for Baker!Reader. 🍰
You bake the tastiest pastries in town, by far the best treats that König has ever tried. He visits your bakery every single day to order from you, and also to admire your beauty. He can't stop thinking about you; those plush and soft hips, how beautiful you'd look all spread out on his bed and served to him, looking over your shoulder in doggy style for some reassurance before he pushes deep into your soft, dripping folds.
You have to snap him back to reality as he zones out, fantasising about having you on all fours or on your knees for him. König gains some extra pounds after a couple months of appreciating your sugary cakes and pies. His once toned and muscular abdomen becomes soft with new fat and flesh covering his muscles. His retirement didn't help with keeping up with his physique either, and König finds himself hiding his body beneath baggy, loose sweaters.
Although, your small conversations quickly evolve and become more personal. Sometimes, it feels as if König is taking you out on a date when he sits down with you after hours for a coffee with his newest obsession. He has to hold himself back from touching you all over or becoming too perverted. You're just the perfect little thing – you make such perfect, deletable, and delicious sweet treats for König to devour.
Once you've become close friends, König will begin to act more creepy and let go of his anxieties. He'll begin to get drunk with you and lick the strawberry sauce running down your chin, gazing deep into your half-lidded eyes. It's not as if you'll remember anyways. He'll spurt thick and milky ropes of his semen into the icing he's created while cooking a dessert for you. König just wants to make it up to you, for all the delicious treats you've offered him, sometimes for free.
He adores the reaction, how surprised you are at the special and unique choices of flavour. König gets off knowing you've swallowed his load. Fuck, maybe in the future he'll be able to bury his release inside of your holes instead...
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medichamcham · 8 months ago
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Think about working a physically demanding job in an unstable environment where a chemical reaction created within the Earth could kill you and/or your coworker(s) in an instant, or the way an entire mine could fall apart and crush you solely due to safety negligence. And you'll just be a statistic in a mine disaster report. You'd have to take that risk every day you work, right? Not to mention the contribution to global warming from burning fossil fuels.
On top of that, one of your parents died in one of those mines, and now you might die the exact same way, or perhaps a colleague who you consider a friend and wouldn't want them to work this type of job for their own sake and health.
Now, I couldn't say whether these circumstances would do near irreversible damage to one's sanity if left untreated. But I wouldn't blame them if it did, especially if the subject is a young adult who might already have been vulnerable before this.
Honestly? If people understood just how much of a harrowing job underground coal mining is and the high mortality rate that comes with it due to accidents/explosions/illnesses, I think they would better understand why Rose is Like That to a slight degree.
But also, it'd be a lot better if we got that sort of insight through a type of unmissable clue you find in Galar's environment, implying the dangers imposed on a miner from either the mine itself or human error, allowing you to have some concrete insight of Rose as a character himself, rather than a random piece of throwaway dialogue made by Oleana way past the main story.
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inkykeiji · 1 year ago
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characters: haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, consensual somnophilia, rough sex, implied poly relationship, minimal prep, lots of cum words: 1.4k
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the haitani brothers have fallen into a bit of a habit as of late. a nasty habit, a naughty habit, and, to them, a natural habit. 
or so they’ve told you. 
it’s become a part of their morning and nightly routines, the perfect way to start and end their days—by fucking you awake, and fucking you to sleep. 
they’ve got a sort of system going now, working in perfect sync just like they always do, falling into step with one another efficiently, effortlessly. 
as to be expected. 
despite his aversion to waking up, ran has taken the morning shift. he’s careful with it, cautious with it, rousing you slow and soft and sweet as he sinks his cock into you, breathing out an airy little sigh against the nape of your neck as he watches your cunt stretch and strain around his girth, as he finally bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix and hips pressed flush to your ass, balls nudging you gently. 
his favourite part will always be the way your face scrunches oh-so-cutely, features warped in pain—brow crinkled and nose crumpled—the moment he grinds himself into the sensitive mound of tissue, lazy and languid yet somehow still powerful and purposeful. his hips move in precise little gyrations, rubbing quick circles into your cervix until those stringy whines are oozing from your lips and soaking into your pillow, cheek still half-buried in the flesh.
those precious little sounds evolve into pitchy mewls and high moans, stammered by each hitch of your breath with each rub of his cock, climbing in volume and frequency as a dense pressure collects in the pit of your stomach, steadily pulling you further and further into consciousness.
ran presses his forehead to the crown of your head, rests it there and lets his eyes slip shut as he works into you, works to wake you up, gradual and gentle with shallow little thrusts, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging and rolling over that swollen spot buried deep within you—that spot he knows so well, that spot he relentlessly abuses with each and every sunrise, that spot that has you trembling and clenching and crying out his name as your cunt gushes slick all over him—so much, too much, and god, baby, you always make such a mess—sticky and slippery as it streams down his shaft and coats his thighs. 
and it’s only after this, after he’s sure your orgasm has smashed through your unconsciousness and left you wide awake with pleasant mush for brains, that he will really fuck you just the way he likes to; swift, smooth strokes of his cock as his hips jackhammer that sometimes have you convulsing on him for a second time as he spills himself into you, a gasp of your name beautiful and breathless on his tongue.
it’s rare that ran will actually get up with you, usually falling back asleep a mere moment or two after he’s filled you with his cum, but him being awake was never the goal. as long as it has you rolling out of bed on wobbly legs and with dollops of ivory rolling down your inner thighs, he has succeeded.  
resultantly, rindou has taken the night shift, though he doesn’t always come directly to bed even after he’s got your cream slathered all over his cock and your cunt stuffed full of his cum.  
rindou isn’t really sure why his brother bothers with dressing you in such pretty little silk slips and lacy babydolls every evening, especially when he knows rindou’s just going to ruin them, stain them with cum or tear through them with overeager, too-strong fingers, but he lets ran have his fun with you anyway, waiting patiently as ran plays dolly. 
but once you’re finally ready, teeth brushed and face washed and body outfitted in the cutest nightie money can buy (sans panties, of course), ran hands you off to his baby brother, often paired with an insouciant remark about being a little gentler this time—advice rindou never heeds, advice rindou accepts with equal apathy. 
because as much as ran spews out those nonchalant reprimands and requests, they both love seeing you covered in rindou—all four of his fingers and his thumb, collaring your neck or cuffing your wrist or painted across your ass; all thirty-two of his teeth, engraved into your inner thighs or stamped right over your heart, deep and dark and congealed with blood. 
besides, rindou argues, he has to be rough with you, has to fuck you hard and fast and so fucking ruthless—how else is he supposed to tire you out and get you to sleep? 
he has to give you an orgasm so absolutely earth shattering that you need to pass out, to slip into full unconsciousness, to piece your world back together. he has to fuck you until your muscles are heavy and your bones have liquified under the immense pleasure, body turned to pliable putty so he can twist and curl and knot you into whatever position he pleases. 
he has to fuck you until your words are nothing more that spit-soaked whines smeared across the sheets, until your lids are weighted with exhaustion and your lashes are bloated with tears, unable to stay open as your irises roll and reveal white, until your fingers go slack, cotton no longer tangled around your knuckles, grip loose and weak.  
and then he has to fuck you some more, just for good measure, of course, sculpted muscles in his thighs flexing beneath smooth skin as his hips pound and plunge with such force the entire bedframe shudders, jostling your whole body up the mattress, your arms shaking as they try to keep you steady and still while pushing back against his snapping thrusts, his abs rippling with each thrust, his chest swelling with ragged breaths and hoarse groans.
it’s when your tongue is sloppy and your words are messy and melty and mangled together in a single matted stream that rindou knows you’re close—to cumming and to passing out—brain gone so adorably stupid with lust, only capable of stitching together a weeped out patchwork of rin-rin-rin; yes-yes-yes. 
the head of his cock is assaulting that spot in perfect rhythm with your cute little chants, that spot that feels so good, rin, s’good, that spot he and his brother continually stain their names into in ivory and cream. 
you’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when your orgasm hits with all the intensity of a freight train, sending you tumbling over that cliff with a cracked gasp of his name, body gone rigid for a moment as pleasure seizes your form, little sparks of electricity zipping through your veins, blood left bubbling in their wake.
then you’re mollifying, sinking into the bed as his desire melts you to nothing, malleable in his palms as he molds you into whatever he needs.
a calm, deep slumber has already enveloped you by the time his cock is pulsing, pumping you full of thick cum—so much cum, too much cum, always, seeping out from around his shaft to roll down your ass and his thighs in fat beads of pearl, streaking your skin with shimmering streams of translucence. 
it’s so pretty, he’s breathing as he watches it with voracious pupils outlined in a thin ring of violet. you’re so pretty when you’re coated in him; his seed, his tongue, his touch, his teeth, stained across the canvas of your body.  
and even though he knows you won’t remember it by the time the sun is rising and his brother is fucking his cock into you, rindou takes his time to clean you up—to wash your skin and smooth down your pretty nightgown and swathe you in fluffy comforters, petting sweaty hair back from your forehead and temples, sealing his actions with chaste kisses. 
they’re not much, but he hopes they make up for some of the pain and soreness he’s stained into your body tonight—a soft, tender, silent thank you.  
he isn’t as good at it all as ran is, isn’t as thorough and meticulous and careful, but he does it nonetheless, because he enjoys it, because you deserve it, because he likes to take a moment or two just to admire you, on his own, alone, in the dead of the night. 
an angel. his angel. their angel. pretty and precious and perfect in every way.
they couldn’t ask for anything better. 
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gnome-adjacent-vagabond · 4 months ago
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Psst hey *pulls you closer* Canon middle-aged queer relationships and multiple canon queer/queer-coded characters. *lets you go* Go watch Venture Bros.
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There are WAY more than these but I can't put em all up here because queer coding is up to interpretation. I say that everyone in Venture Bros is queer until proven straight but that's just me.
I wrote a whole-ass essay and then accidentally deleted it so the wording on this will probably be off, but it feels important so I'm gonna try be succinct.
Minor spoilers ahead! Skip paragraph three if you don't want those, then resume on paragraph four.
Full disclosure, this is a show that started in the early 2000s and has a LOT of issues in the first few seasons as well as a couple in the later seasons. There are transphobic and homophobic jokes, ableism, racism, and sexism. Sergeant Hatred is a walking trigger warning for about three seasons straight. It goes without saying but I'll say it anyway: DON'T watch this show if you have multiple triggers or are easily offended.
Having said that, these writers realized the problems with what they were writing and have worked to remedy those issues through commentary, retconning, and public acknowledgement of the early seasons' failings. Their opinions evolve and so does the show.
Shore Leave is a flamboyantly gay man who was initially intended to be a one-off joke about the G.I. Joe series and the Village People. Instead he has morphed into a three-dimensional character who presents comfortably as both masculine and feminine. He's in a loving relationship with another gay man, Al, who is flamboyant but tends to be a little less flashy. Steve Summers and Sasquatch have been a happy couple for years now--and all because the epitome of toxic masculinity, Brock Samson, helps them find a quiet cabin away from the government hunting them. Brock's mentor, Hunter Gathers, is a canonically detransitioned trans woman who struggles with her identity throughout the show (I'm still waiting for her to retransition despite the show's cancellation). Hank is perfectly at ease in a hyperfeminine strength suit, and Dean also goes through identity struggles that are never played for laughs and are heavily if not explicitly queer-coded. Vendata's queerness is understated and exists simply as a fact rather than being joked about. Sky Pilot is similar, though slightly more in Shore Leave's camp in terms of presentation. Sheila and the Monarch are self-proclaimed swingers and could be read to be in a poly relationship with Gary, their henchman. Debbie St. Simone has a rather homoerotic obsession with Sheila and is almost definitely bisexual.
The Venture Bros universe is full of queer rep, and the creators of the show write it in with intention. Doc Hammer and Jackson Publick talk about wanting it to be treated as fact rather than completely defining each of their characters--they talk about how few women are in the show and why (Johnny Quest and G.I. Joe, the inspirations for Venture Bros, are heavily malecentric and there's constant homoeroticism in them for that reason). They acknowledge the flaws and work to improve themselves and their writing. This has culminated in a surprisingly moving series about love, death, grief, trauma, and change that radiates queer subtext from any angle--especially Dean's journey.
Try the show at least up to season 4. The first three seasons are on Netflix and the rest are on Adult Swim. If you still don't like it, that's fine. Thank you for trying! Just know that it's out there and that it's an example of how human beings can change and become better people. Doc Hammer and Jackson Publick aren't perfect and neither is the Venture Bros, but for what it is it's a damn fun (shockingly so) show.
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youwerethedefeated · 3 months ago
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I honestly don't get it when people say Hinata has to "beg" for tosses from Kageyama - as if he's constantly being denied when that happens, what, twice in the whole series?
Like, the first time doesn't even count because they don't know each other. It's literally the very first arc of the story and it gets solved in a couple episodes. The one other time Kageyama ever refuses to toss to Hinata is when they're both working individually to improve their quick, and it's less of a "You don't deserve my toss" and more of a "I'm still perfecting it so just wait"
(And even before that, right when they get into their big fight, Kageyama still spends a long time tossing to Hinata even though it's obviously not working. He said "I won't toss to someone I know will miss" at the training camp, but as soon as they're back in Karasuno he gives Hinata a chance anyway.)
Kageyama may put up a tough front - "I'll toss to you if your bumps are good enough " - but he doesn't actually deprive Hinata of tosses. In fact, we see them training together constantly, even outside of club hours. I don't get how anyone thinks he'd ever deny Hinata, the one person who matches his hunger for volleyball, when he used to spend so much time training on his own.
To be fully honest, I don't think he can deny Hinata anything - multiple times Kageyama sends him the ball without meaning to. Even when he knows the timing isn't right. Even when Hinata is not there.
He tosses to Hinata at the most critical moment of every game, like the final point of both matches against Seijoh: even though they failed the first time, kageyama still puts the ball up for Hinata again, in the exact same conditions, trusting that they've both evolved enough to be able to overcome that triple block this time.
And then again during the Dumpster Battle, when Nekoma has Hinata completely shut down, Kageyama also feels caged in. Still, he doesn't stop tossing to Hinata like Kenma predicts, which would be the most logical thing to do. Instead he finds a way to let Hinata fly higher, to break out of the cage. In a match with no rematch, at the national stage, Kageyama insists on trying something completely new, something they'd never trained before, an incredibly risky move, just because he's not willing to give up on Hinata. And he puts the ball up again and again even though Hinata hits it clumsily the first time, until it works.
Tldr; he may put up a tough front, but Kageyama still gives Hinata all the tosses he could possibly want, and just the way he wants them.
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elfarons · 2 months ago
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You're My Religion
cw: nsfw mentions but nothing explicit, religious themes, power dynamic, (tell me if i missed any O_O)
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priest!Ren who has devoted his entire life to the town's temple since birth, committed to preaching the holy gospel
he noticed how his faith started wavering, jaded after being in this lifestyle for so long, missing something...
passion.
when was the last time they felt strongly about.. anything?
this will surely past, he tells himself as he pushes through, seeing the churchgoers smile after their prayers make them feel closer to heaven, but he's never felt farther.
ren prepares for what could potentially be his last sermon, telling everyone to bow their heads in silent prayer.
he will determine whether or not he'll give up this lifestyle after this last day-
when you walk in for the first time.
as soon as you see each other, it feels like time stopped. it feels like heaven's gates opening, it feels like their heart beats for the first time in years.
it was like you were the only two people on earth as you held each others gaze.
he couldn't believe god had sent down an angel.
you smiled and broke the stare, sitting down a couple rows behind the next person.
the priest of the town's church, who is used to having eyes on him, feels hyperaware of your stare. after he finished preaching, ren beelines straight towards you, introducing themself and inviting you to one-on-one appointments to acquaint yourself with the religion.
you came to the first meeting. then the next, and the next, eventually becoming a near daily routine. after a couple weeks, the appointments started to feel more like hanging out with a best friend, conversations evolving from church topics to the more personal details.
your life recently fell apart out of nowhere. you lost your job, you're backed up on bills, then your friends have all left you. he would never leave you. every time, ren would reassure you this is a test of faith and comfort you with warm hugs that smelled of clean linen and myrrh.
his hugs always made your heartbeat faster. you hoped he never noticed.
he proposed you move into the church as a temporary solution. of course, you accepted. what choice did u have?
although he insisted it was fine, you wanted to pay him back somehow, so you started helping out around the temple.
ren was absolutely ecstatic. everyday you would see each other, if only for just a quick smile from across the room. you'd have to leave soon after, but ren would pinch his wrist and hold his pendant, cursing himself for wanting you so bad.
you were eager to help out everyday. the holy water was running out? you would assist ren in making holy water. the garden looked a little too sad? you'd tend to the plants, maybe surprise ren with a lotus from a nearby pond. the living quarters needed cleaning? ren told you to clean his room last because the others must be tired and he'd stay up late anyways.
you noticed ren had little to no decorations around his room. that's odd, considering he's lived here basically his entire life, but you didn't push the matter.
as the holidays neared the church was busy with preparations, with ren being the busiest. god he missed you. the way you'd always smile at him, show genuine interest in what he had to say, look longingly at his lips...
after entering his room, he laid down, exhausted. his bedsheets smelled so nicely of you. how did they smell of you so perfectly? whatever he's not complaining. mind wandering, he barely registered his hand trailing down into his pants, thinking about their perfect angel.
he could almost imagine that you stayed behind and you were the one touching him. or maybe he would tell you to sit back and let him worship you instead, letting his lips and hands perform a prayer so full of devotion even god would be jealous.
in the following days, they couldn't even bother to feel ashamed, even when it looked like the statues on the walls stared into his soul. their only regret was that they couldn't work up the courage to confess everything they felt to you... until tonight.
when you both finally had a chance to talk it felt like home again. you both talked well into the night about anything and everything. from how you wanted to restore the garden, to how stressed ren was about all this pressure on him and how he just needed someone, anyone.
he's done so much for you, you can practically feel your heart shatter when tears start streaming down his cheeks. he doesn't deserve this.
he shakes when you hug him, not just because he's genuinely about to break down in his angel's arms, but he's also so terribly happy.
he's got you now.
...
...
but you were never completely innocent were you?
you knew what you were doing the first day you walked in. the rumors said the priest was good-looking, so naturally you styled yourself to perfection.
the rumors weren't even close because holy shit. tall stature, flawless pale skin, broad shoulders, dark hair in a loose, low ponytail resting on their shoulder.
angels are real, and one is looking right at you.
the meetings excited you as much as they did him, feeling a guilty pleasure at how he would sometimes ignore his duties to stay with you a little longer. but eventually you would always leave for your job, hoping he'd miss you like you missed him.
you let them into your life. you knew that fire at your job was to get you laid off and spend more time with them. you knew your friends left you because you saw a figure in all black leave threatening notes on their doorsteps. you knew all the small things you purposefully forgot went somewhere for his own safekeeping.
and every time, you ran back into his arms. but what about everything he's done? why is the man who ruined your life the one you run to for comfort? aren't you scared?
ren was your guardian angel! they had always said your friends and job were toxic anyways and they'd end up hurting you in the long run, but rest assured ren would never hurt you.
after moving into the temple, you saw him everyday and it made you want him even more. even while being worked to the bone, the fleeting glances you shared across the room was enough for you to stop and collect yourself in a hidden corner, holding your heart in fear it might jump out.
eventually, small smiles across the room didn't cut it. when you headed up to ren's room to do nightly cleaning, you noticed the room just smelled so much of them. you missed ren deeply.
well... something small would be fine as long as you didn't get caught right? you laid on their bed and smelled the sheets. it was almost as if he was here, enveloping you in arms, whispering those sweet, reassuring words in your ear...
what started as innocently imagining him holding you ended with swearing to never tell him how just being in his bed had brought you to euphoric bliss.
~ ~ ~
after the festivites. you were sitting with him on that same bed, letting him cry into your shoulder. you rubbed their back up and down, soothing them until their sobs died down and they fell asleep in your arms, exhausted.
when you gently laid them down on their back, they tightly held onto you, afraid to lose you even in his sleep. as much as you wanted to stay in their arms, you didn't want to be presumptuous, so you very softly untangled yourself from their hold.
brushing a strand of hair away from their face. you fondly cupped their face and looked at ren's face while they slept. so peaceful and free from worry. but seeing them so peaceful was just what made you snap.
you wanted to keep them safe, but you had to know more. you want to see his baby pictures, you want to find his middle school diary, you want to know everything about him.
determined, you searched through everything around the room until the bookshelf was left. it consisted of mainly books relating to his studies throughout the years, but there was one book that captured your eye. Angels and their offerings.
there was a click! as you grabbed it and you whipped to ren. still asleep facing you. you felt something was loose, but the book wouldn't come out any more..?
oh. oh. a secret door. you should have guessed as much. being perfect to the public just meant being more careful with secrets.
opening the shelf-door revealed a staircase that led down to a hidden area with light emanating somewhere to the side. you tiptoed down the stairs, silently cursing and tensing whenever a step creaked. finally, you made it down and peeked around the corner to find a door with light dancing under the gap, like it's reaching out. you took its hand and opened the door.
ren has consumed your being. he's your everything.
clearly you were his too.
floors and walls covered with pictures of you, both drawn and photographed. the drawn ones depicted you in a variety of poses and situations. one was you kissing ren while sitting on his lap, another was you, as an angel, holding him while he bled out, presumably bringing him to heaven. the photographs were of your daily life doing chores and talking to the other members, but everyone else's face was crossed out to only leave you in.
starting to get flushed, you examine the back wall that displays a shrine dedicated to you. three tiers of all the belongings he's taken from you, adorned with candles.
the bottom tier was your trash, like the paper you doodled on earlier, a fork that you used at lunch last week, or your empty shampoo bottle from 3 months ago. the middle tier was stuff you purposefully left out for him, like your underwear, your necklace, or the pen you chewed on during bible study. the highest tier seemed to hold his favorites, like the, now dead lotus, the holy water jars he made with you, the sheets that smelled exactly like you.
hanging in the center was a framed photo of the day you moved in, just you and ren smiling at the camera. hearts drawn on the glass in front of your face.
before you know it, you feel two hands on your shoulders quickly spinning you around to look right into powdery blue eyes. you freeze, caught like a deer in headlights, anticipating the worst.
instead, you gasp when ren gets down on one knee, then both, kissing your hand and looking up at you like you've given him all the answers. to them, you truly looked like the most benevolent god.
ren didn't have to say anything for you to get the message.
you were who he will devote the rest of his life to, who he will make offerings for, who they will preach the gospel for.
kneeling down with him, you bestowed him the blessing of a kiss, then let him prove his faith by taking care of you in all the ways you wanted from ren. all the ways you needed from ren. their sinful fantasy of being able to worship you with hands and lips no longer a fantasy.
he will live and die for you. you will live and die for him.
you were his religion. he was yours.
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author's note: MIC DROP, HAPPY HALLOWEEENNNNNN MUAHAHA !!! i decided to get a lil smutty in there because i watched secretary and i was like wait,, angel and priest ren with that yearning... a little insecure because i felt like i wrote too much while literally trying to do no dialogue orz i hope you still enjoyed tho!!
literally posting this while getting ready to go out :3 i hope you all stay safe if you celebrate or just have a good day!
ren is from @14dayswithyou , dividers by @/enchanthings !!
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waddei · 2 months ago
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I would love to hear your thoughts on C!Tommy characterization! Like how do you depict him or aspects you like as I like hearing thoughts on him, along with how his trauma and experience ended up with mellowing a boy who enjoy being brash, loud and childish only to be tormented because of these traits, go to war because of his attachments and ended up in codependency and desperate to not let such attachment fade.
this is a bit of a loaded ask so bear with me for a minute.
i disagree with the bit that implies ctommy mellowed out particularly, but till address it below.
i believe ctommys core traits to be his rebelliousness, his need for guidance, a desire to be understood and his longing for happiness above all.
1) his rebelliousness Is to me the most apparent trait of his. the main one that sticks out. his "annoying at first" motto to me stems from his rebelliousness.
a sorta "get used to me cus Im not changing" attitude.
and of course his role during most of lmanburgs history (aka s1-2) is that of the rebel. either against dream (fighting for independence), jschaltt (fighting to take back lmanburg) or dream again (on exile, where he was sent for 'breaking the rules'.
2)ctommy as a follower/ needing guidance.
during the lmanburg independence war it's clear that Tommy's closely following Wilbur, that's not really debatable.
but this aspect of his character to me gets more interesting as his relationship with Wilbur evolves. a specific showcase of this that always gets me Is during one of the final crimeboys streams where cWill pretends to burn the discs to "free tommy from dream" he does this with good intentions, but tommy feels like his trust has been betrayed nonetheless. still he follows Wilbur through the nether even while complaining, and right after implying he wants him out of his sight and Wilbur wanders off he asks "where did you go" immediately and follows Wilbur anyways.
(see this post by Alex bugflies00)
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however this isn't limited to his relationship with Wilbur. personally I believe this extends to dream on the exile arc to some extent.
tommy was practically isolated, with the only person he could rely on being dream. he convinced himself that somehow if he did what dream told him to everything would eventually be fine, because dream was his friend. of course he gets rid of this thoughts on the tower ("he wasnt my friend, he was only here to watch me") as his view of dream reverts back to "oppressive authority to fight".
3) ctommys desire to be understood to me is presented the best with his relationship with both Technoblade and quackity, both standing on opposite ends of the spectrum.
ctommy fought about ideals with Technoblade on and off during the entire bedrock bros arc. though he mostly let it go each time (afraid to piss off the guy that was actively protecting him) he still never stopped trying to make techno understand his position regarding lmanburg, the discs, and tubbo. this conflict was never resolved. on ctechnos final letter he wishes that tommy "finds what he's looking for" letting us know that even after everything that happened he never fully understood his ideals.
on the contrary quackity Is someone who can very easily switch to Tommy's wavelength. ctommy trusts him to understand him too, shown specially on the stream where tommy (using an invis pos and wearing only pants) introduced himself as trousers and opened up to quackity on the pretense of being "friends with a guy who has this issues and seeking advice". and quackity gives it to him! he never questions trousers because he understands that this is how tommy feels more comfortable talking about himself, and that's ultimately what matters to him.
4) his longing for happiness or the past
I believe the disc war is by design the perfect representation of this trait.
to quote myself on this [
the disc war remained relevant throughout the entire plot of the dsmp because the discs themselves served to represent both Tommy's relationship with tubbo and an idealized past he wished he could go back to. it was the catalyst for the initial conflict between tommy and dream that escalated as time went on and it effectively stablished the emotional core of the story from s1 to the disc finale being clingy duo (fight me on this one) with dream as the main antagonist.
]
the discs, ctommys main attachment, where ultimately not that materially important. however they where the physical presentation for both his relationship with tubbo and the past. two things that bring him happiness and that he wishes he could turn back time on.
to address what I pointed out now. I do not believe ctommy mellowed out. he matured, and his outlook on things changed, but he said it himself in the crimeboys finale with the "I didn't use to be this angry" quote. ctommy didn't mellow out, he got angrier, more prone to lash out, more paranoid.
his codependency as well was not something he "ended up with" its a trait of his that he carried since the very beginning, though you could argue it started to go wrong for him towards the end.
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marypaol · 3 months ago
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3rd Of December
Percy Jackson x fem!reader (AU)
Summary: She remembers the 3rd December, but she wishes more than anything that she was Annabeth.
Warnings: Self hated, angst angst angst, crying, insecurities, self doubt, negative mindset, etc all that good stuff.
Note: This is inspired by the wonderful song “Heather” by Conan Gray so listen while reading if desired! Also, there isn’t going to be a part two, it’s just a little story to get going again because I took such a long break from writing I need to get back into it!! :) (Also my only Percy story, sorry!)
Also thanks so much to my followers for their great patience!
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If I recall, I still remember. Of course I would. It was the night my butterflies came flying back, the night where I was wrapped in a sweater flooded with his scent, the night of the third of December.
The night my heart sang and blossomed into what would later turn into deadly rose thorns, poking at my heart until it ripped into shreds.
I desperately wished I could go back- go back to the night where my heart was fine, where it was beating without a problem as I stared into those sea green eyes that I was practically drowning myself in (no pun intended) since I was staring at them for so long. Mind as well do so, I would rather be dead at sea then experience what my chest was feeling right now.
But I’m stuck in the present. Stuck in this pain of having to watch them two, her wearing his sweater now.
Being stuck here doesn’t stop me from going back mentally, for when I close my eyes at night my mind goes back to that night, for it has once again done it tonight as I feel my sheets beneath me.
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My third of December went as this:
“You cold?” I heard him say. I looked over from where I was shivering. We laid on a slide at a playground outside of town, the starry sky watching over us. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I looked into his eyes and couldn’t bring myself to lie to him.
“A little.” I finally responded. I soon regretted my action of speaking truth once he sat up, his hands fiddling with his sweater before pulling it over his black hair and setting it in my arms. “Here.” He said with a small smile.
“But you’ll be cold, Perce.” I protested softly, sitting up slightly and I could feel my hair sticking to the slide due to static.
Percy gently fixed it, making my cheeks flush but thank the gods he can’t see it due to the dark.
He smiled at me assuringly. “I’ll be fine. Trust me I was kinda warm anyway.”
Despite the fact I was still hesitant, I still wanted to be indulged in his scent, I wanted the sea and salt to be something that surrounded me for the rest of the night. So I pulled the polyester clothing over my head, and, as predicted, the pure smell of Percy Jackson evolved me within seconds. I almost wanted to pull it to my nose, to not only have a piece of him on me but in me, close within my chest.
“It looks better on you than me.” He mutters. I turn to him, a shy blush covering my cheeks so I hide it with the collar, taking more of his scent without him knowing.
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‘Only if he knew’ I thought, back to the present time and staring at my ceiling with glossy eyes. ‘How much I adore him.’
But he’d never know. Oh gods no. I couldn’t bear to tell him how much I look forward to seeing his smile and how his eyes twinkle when he talks about something that I interests him. He was pure perfection in my eyes and my heart practically beats for him, but I doubt he felt the same way as I. How could he love someone like me when there are so many other perfect girls waiting for his arms?
Little did he know how much I hold onto that moment, how much I replay it in my head. It replays over, and over, and over, and over again.
How many times am I going to replay the memory just to make myself feel less lonely?
But once again before I go to sleep I thought back to it, back to his curved lips that I desperately wanted to kiss, back to his sea green eyes I wanted to get caught looking into, back to his messed up hair I wanted to place my hands in.
Back to when it felt like he was mine.
But I watch him as she walks by. Her prefect figure that I so wished I had. I would transform myself for him. Anything he wanted me to be I would, but I know deep down I would always want to show my true self to him.
I watch him today, at lunch, his green eyes walking her walk by. Her appearance, as always, is perfect. Brighter than a blue sky, Percy’s mesmerized by her, Annabeth, also known as Wise Girl.
All while I die.
‘She’s so much prettier than I am.’ I think, my eyes drifting over her. ‘I wish I looked like her.’ My eyes drift back to Perce, his sparkling eyes still on her.
‘Damn it, Percy.’ I think, my eyes digging so far into the side of his head I hoped he felt it. ‘Just please look at me for once.’
But why would he? I’m not pretty, and I’m not smart like she is. I’m not even half as pretty so why would be ever look at me, let alone kiss me?
It wasn’t until I saw them two at the playground hang out that I lost it. My chest burned as I say the polyester material around her figure, her hair touching the fabric as she walked around, a wide smile on her flawless lips. And as my blurry eyes looked down, I saw her smooth hand held in Percy’s. The same playground he gave me his sweater. The same slide I laid on as I got lost in his eyes.
My Percy.
‘He’s not yours.’ A voice inside my head told me, reminded me, but my heart still hurt all the same, and the events of the hang out seemed very unappealing now.
With wobbly legs and blurry eyes, I sped walked to my apartment door, my hands shaking with the knob before slamming it.
The tears came full force, my nose tingling and eyes burning as waterfalls fell down my cheeks. I crawled into my bed after putting on a sweatshirt, wishing it was his, using the sleeves to hopelessly wipe the tears.
The blankets swallowed me as the tears soaked my face. The sobs were muffled my the sleeves, my heart cracking when I couldn’t help but think of his smile.
I wish I were Annabeth.
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*Bonus* (Percy’s POV)
“Do you think it’s working? Does she look jealous?” I ask the girl beside me, my hand feeling poisonous in hers. I so wanted to rip my hand from her grip, and she did so as soon as my love was out of sight, walking into her apartment quickly, the one across from the playground the friend group hung out at this evening.
“I think,” Annabeth started, leaning forward a little after wiping my touch off her hands with her shorts. Her voice got softer than before, and my heart stumbled from the next words. “That you’re breaking her.”
-I hope you liked it! By the way, there isn’t going to be a part two, it’s just one part until further notice. :)
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choccy-milky · 9 months ago
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bruh i need to vent about a rude comment i got on my recent chap and also about clora, cuz its something thats been on my mind for a while now. it has spoilers to my most recent chap tho so im putting it below
so in my most recent chap clora gets hit by the killing curse but thanks to seb sacrificing himself for her, it doesn’t work/she survives. and I got a rly rude comment about how that’s super cringe and that clora is a "shoe horning of every possible manifestation of Mary-Sueism I have ever seen." theyre dropping my fic after almost 500k words bc apparently THAT’S where they draw the line and that "just somehow pulling it out the bag and surviving a killing curse from the power of love. In simpler terms, it’s absolutely cringe worthy" and "forgive me if I rolled an eye at the yet again invincible nature of Clora Clemons-the-one-eighth-Veela-extraordinaire"
BUT LIKE LMAO TELL ME U DIDN’T READ/WATCH HARRY POTTER WITHOUT TELLING ME. that’s literally what happens to harry??but its only cringe when it happens to our "mary-sue" clora? like yeah sure love magic might be a bit cringe but IM LITERALLY JUST PULLING FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL. of all the things to take issue with in my fic and interpretations, theyre taking issue with something that’s canon BAHAHA.
and since im on the topic of clora being mary sue can I just say I hate the misogyny/internalized misogyny that i've seen some people (NOT A LOT, THANKFULLY) treat her with. like i get it, im not pale and blonde and as conventionally pretty as clora is, but even if I was, is that a reason to hate me?? and does being beautiful and well-liked = mary sue? bc as far as I know, mary sue is a chara who is just naturally amazing at everything and doesnt need to try hard and theyre just inexplicably great for no reason (like mc in the base game BAHHAA) if anything the mary sue in MY fic is seb LMAO (but hes a boy so its ok). like clora has worked hard and studied magic all her life due to being a squib and wanting to make up for not being able to DO it. she isnt good at flying, seb is still better at her than duelling, shes really short sighted when it comes to doing/thinking whats best for others and can be a huge idiot.... and like. the only guys that have even shown interest in clora on a real scale have been seb and leander (and then lawley for blackmail purposes, and also bc he hates seb) so its not like literally everyone is falling over themselves for her?? like her interactions with the main cast of boys (ominis, garreth, amit) theyre all indifferent to her LMAO but still, the fact that shes pretty and guys here and there might look at her and go o shes cute! doesnt make her a mary sue SORRy thats just called being attractive idk its just annoying that ppl automatically see a nice kind beautiful female character without any VISIBLE flaws and go SHES TOO PERFECT!! MARY SUE!! WAH IM JEALOUS! and like I get it bc when I was younger I probs would have been annoyed by clora as well due to my own insecurities and internalized misogyny but hey, how about u just realize that’s ur own problem and your own jealousy, and not a real one HAHAH anyway ive since evolved bc I used to be a ‘not like other girls’ type girl back in highschool. trying to be super tomboy-y bc I thought being feminine was cringe and too basic but now ive embraced it and love girly things and dresses and charas like clora who are still strong and showcase their strengths and weaknesses in subtler ways, and I want to smooch her and make out with her. get behind me clora ill protect you🤺🤺🤺
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feralferretxp · 3 months ago
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I've been meaning to introduce one of my Storybots ocs that I've had for a while but here we go. Let me introduce you to...
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Melissa Malware
She's a totally normal storybot who is definitely not a shapeshifting virus who has alterative motives for taking over the computer world! :D
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Melissa is inspired by the Melissa and I LOVE YOU computer viruses, influencing both her name and theme of spreading love worldwide. In an alternate universe called the LoveBug AU, she launches a campaign called "Project I LOVE YOU", encouraging StoryBots to express love in various forms, aiming to boost mental well-being and promote world peace. She also advocates for self-care, which leads people to work less and less, eventually creating a job crisis in the computer world.
However, Melissa's true intent is to infect others, causing them to slack off from work, which in turn slows down real-world computers, much like a virus. As her followers idolize her, they unknowingly spread her influence, infecting others with the same behavior.
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Melissa's origins lie in a more abstract form sent into the internet by her creator. Her mission was to oversee a planted computer worm and ensure its success without interference, remaining in the shadows. However, her plan was unexpectedly derailed when a young Bang, wandering in the internet department while accompanying his father, mistook the worm for a colorful gummy and ate it.
Enraged and shocked, Melissa's task was ruined, forcing her to shift focus and watch over Bang as he grew up, tracking the effects of the worm on him. Over the years, she observed his growing forgetfulness and other changes (I'll make a future post about this and my theory in more detail) as she remained in the shadows. During this time, Melissa herself evolved. Watching storybots and their society, she became curious about life beyond her virus role. She gradually changed her appearance to resemble a storybot and secretly longed for a life where she wasn’t bound to a pre-programmed destructive endgame.
As she grew fond of the attention and adoration from those who saw her as one of them rather than a virus, Melissa tried to prolong her influence and delay her inevitable mission of ruining the computer world, torn between fulfilling her creator’s purpose and finding belonging among storybot society.
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When Bang becomes an adult and the computer worm fully integrates with his programming, Melissa is devastated to discover that the worm is now inseparable from Bang, and removing it would kill it. This ruins her original plan, forcing her to adapt. Instead of separating the worm, she decides to use Bang to spread the infection.
Melissa presents herself as a sweet, humble activist and invites Bang to join her "Project I LOVE YOU," using his recognizable and beloved status in the community to help promote her cause. Behind her friendly demeanor, however, Melissa despises Bang, seeing him as a foolish and undeserving figure who, for some reason, is adored by everyone. Despite her loathing, she plays the role of a supportive ally, manipulating him into unknowingly aiding her true goal, while he remains completely oblivious to her hatred and intentions.
So in a nutshell, Bang has no enemies... except for one which is Melissa because she hates his guts LMAO. But yeah that's the LoveBug AU basically. There's more to it but that's for another time.
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One important thing about Melissa is that her and Milo (@supgoddo's oc) are in true real love and are perfect for each other YIPPIEE GRRR I LOVE THEM SM
Anyways that's it for now for Melissa! Just wanted to introduce her character and stuff. Live laugh love Melissa <3
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agaypanic · 11 months ago
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Okay listen a fix based on this tik tok
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8fK6cmv/
It was made like last year and I still have it stuck in my head. Love your work btw🫶
If You Really Love Her (Bernard the Elf X Human!Reader)
Masterlist
Request Something!
Summary: Your friendship with Bernard has turned into silent infatuation, unknowingly from both sides. Jack Frost, loving to cause trouble, talks Bernard out of giving you a gift when he realizes that the elf has fallen in love with you. After all, how could an elf ever be with a human?
A/N: the fact that this fic is written from a request about a tiktok where the plot is based on a scene in shrek 2 is insane lmao changed the snow globe from the tiktok to a locket btw. also i left it on a bit of a cliffhanger so if yall want a part 2 lmk
***
Bernard was known to become very high-strung during Christmas. How could he not? Being in charge of hundreds of elves and a workshop and having to help make sure one of the biggest holidays of the year was a worldwide success was sure to take its toll on a guy. But for a few years, Bernard’s saving grace in the intensity of Christmas has become you.
You were quick to become friends, despite his somewhat grumpy disposition. You didn’t mind that he was a thousand-and-some-year-old workaholic, and he didn’t mind that you were a peppy human. 
After a while, he wasn’t exactly sure when the turning point was; Bernard’s platonic feelings for you had evolved. At first, he thought that it was just because he didn’t see you much, so he basked in all the moments you had together. But then he started wanting even more time with you, doing things that friends didn’t usually do.
After a few years of being silent about his growing feelings, Bernard felt the need to do something about it. He was getting sick of pretending that he was content with friendship. He decided the perfect opportunity to tell you was when you came to the North Pole with Santa and Charlie after the Christmas Eve rounds.
Which, if Santa was on schedule, was in a few hours. The whole night, nerves and anxiety-riddled Bernard, more than usual anyway. He paced around his office, your Christmas present jingling in his pocket.
Eventually, he decided to get some fresh air. Being cooped up in the small room and constantly overthinking couldn’t be good for him. Besides, he didn’t want to be a nervous wreck when you came.
Walking out of the workshop, Bernard took a deep breath, watching a cloud leave his mouth as he exhaled from how cold it was. Surprisingly, it was colder than usual.
“Hey, Bernie.” It immediately became less surprising when Bernard heard that annoying voice.
“Jack.” The elf greeted shortly, not bothering to turn around to look at the insufferable being. It was bad enough that he was overthinking his confession and your possible reactions. But now Bernard also had to deal with this winter spirit who seemed to have a knack for tricks. “Don’t you have another volcano to go freeze over?”
“Oh, Bernie, Bernie, Bernie.” Jack ignored the elf correcting him on his name and placed a chilly hand on his shoulder, making him jolt. “Why so blue? It’s Christmas!”
“I’m aware.”
“Whatcha got jingling in your pocket, bud?” Before Bernard could answer or tell Jack to mind his business, Jack stuck his hand into Bernard’s pocket and pulled out a silver heart-shaped locket. “Ooh, who’s this for?”
“None of your business, Frost!” Bernard tried swiping the necklace back, but Jack raised it out of reach.
“I think I’ll take a little look if you don’t mind.” The man said, knowing that Bernard minded extremely. He read the small inscription on the heart. “‘I’m just a call away.’ Aw, how cute, Bernie. Didn’t know you were such a romantic. Now, what’s inside, I wonder. Let’s see… oh my god.” Bernard cringed at the reaction, watching Jack’s mouth gape wide open as he opened the locket and saw the picture that was inside. The winter spirit laughed, tilting his head towards the elf. “A human? Really, Bernie, I’m surprised at you.”
“Give it back.” Bernard hissed but was ignored.
“I’ve seen this girl before!” Jack realized. “She’s Santa’s kid’s little friend! What, were you gonna give this to her when she came to the North Pole? I bet you were.” Jack shut the locket, reading the inscription once more. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love with this girl.”
Bernard didn’t answer. He hadn’t really thought about that before. Yes, he knew that his feelings for you were no longer platonic. He liked you very much. But love?
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
“Good thing I know better.” Jack tossed the locket back to Bernard, who barely caught it, having been too wrapped up in his thoughts. But Bernard also caught Jack’s tone, like he knew something that Bernard didn’t.
“So what if I do, Frost? It’s none of your business either way.” Bernard quickly pocketed the necklace so Jack wouldn’t take it again. 
Jack raised an icy eyebrow, leaning forward to become face-to-face with Bernard.
“So what if you do?” Jack mocked, soon laughing. “She’s a human, short stuff. And you are an elf. No amount of magic could ever fix that.” Jack straightened up, taking pride in the way Bernard’s expression fell. “Unless, of course, you retire, which we both know would never happen. And she could never stay here; she has a life to live in the real world.”
“But I love her…” Bernard said it half as a realization and half as a counter to Jack’s argument. He gripped the heart-shaped locket tightly as if it could shut Jack Frost’s mouth for good.
“If you really loved her, Bernie, you’d let her go.” Jack grinned at Bernard’s gloominess. But the elf didn’t see that, because he kept his head down and eyes locked on his shoes. “It’s only fair, really. She’d eventually become miserable, being stuck at the North Pole with you. Growing older and older while you don’t age a day. Wondering what kind of life she could’ve had.”
Bernard took in Jack’s words, each one making him panic more and more. Jack Frost was right, as much as he hated to admit it. You would be miserable here. And he didn’t want to leave, at least not now. But time was on his side and not yours.
“But hey! What do I know?” Jack slapped Bernard on the shoulder and skipped off, probably reveling in the fact that he had caused such trouble and was now wandering off to see if he could cause some more.
But Bernard felt frozen to the front steps of the workshop. He couldn’t face you, not right now, not when he was like this. 
Realizing your arrival time was in just a few short hours, Bernard raced inside and to the lodging area of the workshop. He skidded to a stop in front of your room. You had become such a regular guest during the holidays that Bernard had taken it upon himself to put your name on the bedroom door.
He walked in, seeing that the room was exactly as you had last left it. He took the locket from his pocket and gently placed it on one of your pillows. Bernard was about to leave it at that, but he quickly decided it wasn’t enough. You deserved more than a little trinket left on your bed.
Bernard decided to write a little note for you to accompany the locket, using the stationary on the desk that sat in the corner of the room. But the little note became a long note, containing confessions and anxious thoughts and apologies. 
Bernard placed the note on the pillow with the necklace when it was finally finished. He stared at it for a few seconds before rearranging the two objects differently, hating the sight more and more. In a moment of frustration, Bernard shoved the locket and the note underneath the pillow, not wanting to see it anymore. Then he stormed out before he could freak out any further. 
It was better this way, Bernard tried to convince himself. If you found his gift and read the note, you understand. If you didn’t, he supposed that would just be less heartbreak for the both of you. In the end, you’d be happy. Even if he was miserable, Bernard just wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.
Because, after all, how could an elf ever be with a human?
***
Bernard the Elf Taglist: @katerinaval
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goldsbitch · 11 months ago
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I could tell them where you were that night
part 3 to I gave so many signs
summary: They shouldn't. They really shouldn't...But they did.
warning: present + flashbacks, mature content, cheating, self pleasure, alcohol and smoking, typos
song fic (disclaimer: rights belong to the respectable owners)
The Alibi - Dylan delicate - Taylor Swift
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But if there was a crime If there was a body, if there was a knife If you told a real good, real bad lie I'd be standing by your side
Both of them knew this was not going to end well. This screamed "bad idea" on all levels. He should have just turned and run back home. She should have gone straight back to the bar as soon as she saw his unmistakable figure. There was no one to diffuse the tension, all of her friends were back upstairs ordering another drink. Nobody to play pretend to.
"So you're a smoker now," Charles said with a hint of disgust. She'd cursed herself for ever picking up the habit. He had never made her nervous back in the day, maybe she was cashing it in all now retroactively. Stood there like a lamb waiting for someone else to decide her destiny. Totally at his mercy and he had no idea. "Yeah, for a moment I was. Now just these," she pointed to the latest trendy vape in her hand, which Charles mistook for a cigarette. "Ah. Cool." "Not really," she said and inhaled extra large dose of fruity smoke just to breathe it in his face. The regular rules of proximity didn't seem to apply to to them. If he had been standing closer to her, he'd have to be touching her. "So, you're a runner now?" she took the opportunity she looked him up and down, trying not to let her imagination run too wild. "Always was." "No, you were not," she laughed genuinely. "What are you trying to play at here?" She was right. Charles picked up running with his first real girlfriend. "And what a bizarre thing anyway - to go for a run after a night out," she pointed out and he smirked, as both of them knew she got him with that. "I should not be seen with you for long. Doubt that you'd pass as a fan." It felt like an invitation from him, but she was well aware that he was not inviting her to his home. There was a strange spark in his face, as if he dared her to ask him to come over. Like a shameless devil testing her self control. "I'll take a cab and you can run over to my place. Let's see who'll get there first," she dared him back.
If there was a way That someone at the scene had saw your face I could tell 'em where you were that night You were standing by my side
"You should have told me that you parents were home!" he whispered angrily, as they snuck in like they used to back in the day. Funny how it worked like magic and Charles felt as if he just turned nineteen, terrified of running into Y/N's angry mom. "What? It's not like your place is empty, correct?" she shot arrows at him without waiting for an answer. Shot of guilt went thought Charles and he decided chased that by lying to himself, thinking that this was just a casual catch up with an old friend.
We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink
Charles waited on the balcony adjacent to her old high school bedroom, that remained untouched for years, serving as a perfect door for nostalgia, while she made their favorite Moscow mule. He had tasted many of those since they last saw each other. None of those tasted so intoxicating like this one.
"So, big racer boy. Always wondered. Which out of the cities you go to is the most fun?" "Define fun. I'm sure your taste has evolved over the years." Yes, it had. No longer was she blind towards the god like man sitting across from her. "Ok, where did you fuck the most girls?" "Monaco," he smirked at her. He realized he enjoyed teasing her. No longer was he the shy love stuck puppy dancing as she demanded. "You became quite forward, huh? I remember you avoiding these subjects," he followed up, testing the waters. She gave him a long look, before letting a loud sigh out: "Charlie, it's been years. People change. Mature. Gain experience..." "And then come back to where they started, huh?"
Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate
He leaned a little too close for an old time friend. Slowly, he touched her hand and waited for her to stop him. When she didn't, he tangled his fingers with hers. No longer were they soft baby hands, but adult fingers with tender touch. "I missed you," he said quietly. Old habit kicked in and she avoided his eye contact. But this time, he put his hand on her cheek and turned her face towards him, so that she couldn't just dismiss it, like she had so many times back then. "I missed you too." There was an urgency and a vulnerability that he had never heard from her before. It was addicting and intoxicating. He carefully closed the gap between them and their lips brushed so lightly that one could still pass it as friendly touch, if they really really wanted to. But with every second they kept their lips like that, the gap of morally safe evening kept closing inevitably. They stayed like that for just a few seconds, both of them waiting to see if the other one pulls away. Until finally, her lips moved slightly and then there really was no way back. Charles forgot that there ever was anyone else in his life and kissed her slowly. She took his bottom lip in and let her tongue lick it, breaking the soft kiss with urgency only years of daydreaming can bring.
Do the girls back home touch you like I do? Long night with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share
This was bad. Ugly, disrespectful and not something a friend would do. Charles was locked in room again having the luxury to spend few weeks in a sunny Monte Carlo. But sunny days at home also meant that he and Y/N were spending a lot of time together. Charles knew he was head-over-heels for this girl, but kept himself at bay. But these thoughts he was having were a little too much. Inappropriate. Made him feel dirty and shameful. He was just a teenage boy and he just came back from a beach day with his crush. It was impossible to focus on anything, he was suppose be studying for his exam, exploring race strategies, anything! He could have been a good son and helped his mom out. But no, instead he was pacing around his room, desperately trying to block all the images that got burned to his memory under that day's bright sunlight. Why did he even suggest a beach day - and why would she ever agree to that. Stupid idea. Charles was mad at himself for being so stereotypically teenage. For a split second, he stopped with the self-shame and allowed himself to recall this afternoon. Perfect Monaco sunlight hitting Y/N lightly tanned skin, her hair falling out of her messy bun, just begging for him to tuck it behind her ear. This was all still pretty innocent. But then there were the shoulders. The collarbone leading way towards her boobs, covered by a piece of bathing suite fabric, that pushed her cleavage up just a little bit, but it felt like a weapon designer specifically to destroy him. He had to stop himself from looking. When that proved impossible, he opted for looking only when he had his sunglasses on. If only he could take his hand and lightly brush over her nipples, which he couldn't forget about since the Moscow mule night. And then if only he could squeeze her boobs while tracing the line of her waste and over to her ass, also barely covered by a bathing suite. If only he was brave enough to do so, to make his wildest dreams come true and to confess his feelings. To have her come over to his place, look him suggestively in the eye, lick her lips and take him in her pretty little mouth. It didn't matter that she was slightly younger, in his fantasy she was the more experienced one, the one to guide him, instruct him and tell him what she likes. And once he learned, he would make her moan like nobody before, because he would adapt himself to any style she'd want. The visuals of a daydream extension of their today's hang out crept in, and there she was, taking her bra off and inviting him to join her in the water. Free, happy and heavenly hot. By some miracle he managed to avoid having a boner in her company. What he didn't manage was to stop stroking himself while drowning in the thoughts about her and her body, no matter how shameful it was for him. The best orgasm of his life yet had his hands covered with his cum and his head with clouded with growing, never-stoping need for a touch from his crush.
It was a different man kissing Y/N than the boy who had imagined it more times that he would ever admit. Yet still, he was getting to live out his ultimate fantasy, one that he almost forgot he had, until all the desire rushed back in and screamed so loudly he couldn't hear anything else. And the best thing? The best thing was that she was responding enthusiastically, felt as if she was hungry for something only he could have. He was a different man now, experienced, understood the spectrums of what touch could offer. The confidence radiated from him and it was Y/N who was now who danced way over the line of self control. It was her, who drank so much cheap wine in the form of men bad at sex, that she could finally appreciate the Montrachet Chardonnay she overlooked the first time around.
"We should get inside, mon cheri," he whispered into her lips. She understood why and did not want to hear him say it. Because in his silence, she could insert any thought and that was probably better than the hard truth - they were too exposed on her balcony. She nodded and slowly opened her eyes. Even with the dim lights she saw the tender spark in the most captivating shade of blue the world can offer.
Oh damn, never seen that color blue Just think of the fun things we could do
He pressed her to the door frame while devouring her lips. Lines have been crossed and the room was filled with unresolved sexual tension. Charles wanted her - naked and moaning in pleasure. She pulled his hair while they made out and each pull was like gasoline to the fire of his desire. He traced her side with his cheeky finger and then slipped his hand under her t-shirt only to trace the line of her bra and then swiftly cupping her breast. "So you're wearing bras now," he let slip out of his mouth, already fucking her in his thoughts. His comment sparked a distant memory of an evening long gone by now. She was shivering his touch and wanted more and more. "Yeah...but now you're not gonna have to touch yourself alone or secretely," she said, hoping he actually had done that in the past, trying to tease him once more, while grabbing the hem of his belt and pulling him even closer. It worked. He was hard as a rock. He pressed his cock against her and started kissing her neck. She wondered if he understood the cocktail of pleasure and arousal he was preparing for her and felt even a bit shameful to crumble so easily. He felt her cave into his embrace as soon as he touched her neck and made a mental note, so come back to this spot once he was inside her. He thought about her devilish finger making her way to his cock slowly, just painfully slowly. She was teasing him and while he was loving that, he couldn't wait a second longer. He grabbed her hand pushed right onto his erection, which cause her letting out a surprised gasp. "I'm gonna fuck you, Y/N. Say yes if you want me to," he whispered into her neck. Not much second guessing went into her reply. "Yes," she moaned out, causing shivers on his neck. "Really?" he said, unhooking her bra. She smiled. This was no shy unsure Charlie. This was a confident man with intension to make her feel good. "Yes..." With that, he pulled away to help her get her t-shirt off and get rid of the cursed bra. Finally, he could stare as much as he wanted to.
He fucked her like there was no tomorrow. For them there really wasn't a tomorrow, because technically, there wasn't suppose to be a tonight. It was to stay as a blank page, moans written in an invisible ink, for no one but them to read. Morning would bring trouble, reason would wake up and start ordering around. As long as the sun wasn't watching, they were safe, hidden in each other and wrapped by desire.
Sometimes when I look into your eyes I pretend you're mine all the damn time
part 4
--------------------------------------------------------- @linnmee @itsjustkhaos @rhythmstars @blueflorals
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freshl6ve · 4 months ago
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𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒.𝐒 | 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇
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NSFW!! | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑─𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊
₊⊹⁀➴ : At a buzzing LA party, Chris Sturniolo, Y/N, Nick and Matt, are in high spirits. The dance floor becomes packed, and Chris and Y/N, who have always been close friends, end up pressed together by the crowd. While their closeness has always been natural, the situation now feels different. As they dance, the space between them feels charged with a new intensity, making them question whether their easy friendship might be evolving into something deeper.
` 🪄˒ ⟡ ﹒𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒!! ⊹ ࿔ ۫ ۪ 
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𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐋𝟔𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋
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˚⊱🦌⊰˚ : 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭’𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫, Chris' hand is there to help me out. His touch is gentle yet firm, making it clear that he hasn't forgotten about my clumsy tendencies. The evening air is warm and the thumping music from the party can be heard even from the sidewalk outside.
Chris glances at me, a flicker of worry in his eyes. “You okay?” he asks gently.
I nod, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, I'm good. Just trying not to trip over my own feet, as per usual.” I try to brush off my clumsiness with humor.
Chris chuckles, his hand still resting lightly on my arm. “One of these days, I'm going to get you a pair of shoes with built-in training wheels.”
“Oh, please. Then I’d never have an excuse to cling to you for support.” I tease back, feeling my cheeks flush. Matt and Nick, who are waiting for us, exchange amused glances.
“Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we?” Chris replies with a smirk.
Matt, ever the instigator, chimes in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yeah, you two are practically attached at the hip anyway.”
“Oh, shut up,” I retort, rolling my eyes jokingly at Matt's comment.
But my denial falls flat when Chris chimes in with a grin. “He’s not wrong.” He slings his arm around my shoulders, pulling me a little closer to him than necessary.
The four of us head towards the entrance of the party, the pulsating music growing louder with every step. The doors swing open, revealing a glitzy LA party in full swing. Guests are gathered in clusters, chatting and laughter filling the air.
Chris keeps his arm around me as we weave through the crowd. I can feel the heat radiating from his body; the intimacy of his proximity both comforting and slightly nerve-racking.
We are immediately intercepted by several acquaintances who wave at us, eager to chat and catch up. Nick and Matt break off momentarily to exchange hellos, leaving Chris and me standing alone in a small pocket of space.
Chris turns to me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Looks like we've been abandoned.”
I chuckle, feeling a flutter in my stomach that definitely isn’t entirely due to the party atmosphere. “Seems like it. But I have a feeling we'll survive without them for a bit.”
We make our way towards the bar, the crowd pressing in around us. Chris keeps one hand on my back, guiding me through the crush of bodies. Once we reach the bar, he orders two non-alcoholic beverages from the bartender, remembering my preference for avoiding alcohol.
“Here you go,” Chris says, handing me a drink as I settle onto a bar stool. His hand brushes against mine as he does so, sending a small shiver up my arm. I try to ignore it, focusing on the cool glass in my hand.
The party continues around us, the sound of laughter and music creating a constant backdrop. It's oddly intimate, sitting at the bar with Chris amidst the chaos.
As I take a sip of my drink, I perk up as a familiar set of beats and vocals fill the room. The opening notes of Latch by Disclosure start floating through the air.
My eyes widen in surprise. “I love this song,” I exclaim, turning to Chris.
I set my drink down with a smile, the surprise quickly replaced by excitement.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing Chris' wrist and pulling him onto the dance floor. The song is infectious, the perfect mix of soulful vocals and upbeat tempo that instantly gets me moving.
Chris follows along, a little reluctantly at first, but soon he's matching my steps, a smile spreading across his face. Despite the crowd around us, it's as though we're the only two on the dance floor.
The lyrics of the song swirl around us, encapsulating the moment. I find myself enjoying the closeness of our bodies as we move to the beat, feeling the heat from his skin through his shirt.
The dance floor is packed, and the close quarters cause our bodies to continuously brush against each other. I'm hyper aware of every place where we touch – his palm on my back, my hand on his shoulder, our legs occasionally tangling together. It's both electrifying and slightly nerve-racking, this heightened level of physical contact with Chris.
For Chris and me, this level of proximity was not out of the ordinary. We've always been physically affectionate, often sitting close together on couches during movie nights or casually touching each other's arms during conversations.
Yet, tonight, the intimacy feels different. Maybe it's the energy of the party, or the effect of the song, or simply the culmination of unacknowledged feelings. Either way, every point of contact between us feels magnified, the usual familiarity now tinged with something more.
The song continues, the lyrics somehow echoing the chaos of emotions I'm experiencing. Chris and I continue to dance, our bodies moving in sync as the upbeat tempo encourages us to get closer. We're practically pressed against each other now, the space between us virtually nonexistent.
As the song builds towards the beat drop, I look up and find Chris already looking at me. His gaze is intense, his eyes holding a look I can't quite place. We're so close that our noses are almost touching, and in that moment, it feels like the rest of the world dissolves away.
We maintain eye contact, the sound of the song seemingly fading into the background as we regard each other in a mix of admiration and something more.
The song continues, the lyrics somehow echoing the chaos of emotions I'm experiencing. Chris and I continue to dance, our bodies moving in sync as the upbeat tempo encourages us to get closer. We're practically pressed against each other now, the space between us virtually nonexistent.
As the song builds towards the beat drop, I look up and find Chris already looking at me. His gaze is intense, his eyes holding a look I can't quite place. We're so close that our noses are almost touching, and in that moment, it feels like the rest of the world dissolves away.
We maintain eye contact, the sound of the song seemingly fading into the background as we regard each other in a mix of admiration and something more.
The pull between us is magnetic, the intense eye contact making it hard to look away. Our faces draw closer together, our movements subconsciously mirroring each other.
I can feel the heat of his breath on my skin, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. There's a tension in the air, a silent understanding passing between us, though neither of us has acknowledged it yet.
♪ ...Now I know what I have found... ♪
The beat drops, the pulsating music and flashing lights enveloping us in an atmosphere of frenzy and excitement. But in this moment, it's just the two of us.
Our lips meet in a slow, tentative kiss. It's a moment that seems to freeze time, the colors from the lights playing across our faces as we explore this new level of intimacy. His lips are soft and sure against mine, the kiss both familiar and new at the same time.
The kiss deepens, our bodies molding against each other in a mix of desire and something more. I'm aware of every detail - the way his hand slides into my hair, the feel of his breath as he murmurs my name against my lips, the way his body feels pressed fully against mine.
The world around us continues to dance, the lights and music merging into a blur as we get lost in each other.
We pull apart for a moment, both of us a little breathless. His eyes find mine again, searching my face as if for confirmation. Whatever he sees there seems to encourage him, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
Without a word, he pulls me back in, his arms wrapping around me tightly as we continue to kiss, the sounds of the party falling away.
The rest of the world fades away as we lose ourselves in the kiss. Our bodies are intertwined, the heat from his skin seeping into mine. His hand is tangled in my hair, holding me close as our lips move together in a rhythm that's growing more confident by the second.
This moment feels stolen, a secret only shared between us in the middle of a crowded party. It's electric, a realization dawning on me - this kiss isn’t just a dance-floor fueled impulse, it's something real, something potent.
Chris breaks the kiss, his eyes still a bit hazy with desire, before he says softly, “C’mon.”
He intertwines his fingers with mine, tugging me gently off the dance floor. We weave our way through the throngs of people, my heart beating wildly in my chest. He leads me into a dimly lit hallway, pulling me towards a empty room.
Chris closes the door behind us, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet room. We're enveloped in shadows, the only light filtering in from underneath the door and light peaking through the curtains.
Then, without warning, he cups my face in his hands, pulling me into another kiss. This one is different from the last, more urgent, as he backs me up against the wall. His body presses against mine, creating a heat that's both electric and overwhelming.
His hands slide into my hair, angling my head to gain better access. His tongue swipes at my bottom lip, requesting entry which I give willingly. Our kiss deepens, the room filled with our soft sighs and the sounds of our lips meeting.
The weight of him against me is both comforting and intoxicating, his body pinning me against the wall as if he never wants to let go. My hands find purchase on his shoulders, pulling him even closer.
Time seems to lose all meaning as we lose ourselves in each other. His hands trace down my sides, coming to rest on my hips, pulling my body flush against his.
His lips leave mine, trailing kisses across my jawline and down my neck. I shiver, my hands clenching at his shirt as the sensations overwhelm me.
As his kisses continue down my neck, igniting a trail of fire along my skin, I find myself struggling with conflicting thoughts.
This is wrong, I think to myself. Chris is my best friend. We shouldn't be doing this. But at the same time, it feels so right, so good. My body responds to his touch, arching into him, a voice inside me whispering that this is where I belong, here, with him.
His lips find the sensitive spot at the base of my neck, and I can't help the soft moan that escapes me. The war in my mind continues, each caress and kiss tipping the scales more towards giving in to this unexpected but undeniable attraction.
The voice in my head becomes louder, drowning out my reservations. All I know in this moment is him, the feel of his body against mine, the way his touch ignites sparks deep within me.
“Chris,” I manage to gasp out, his name the only coherent word I can utter. I should stop this, should step away and regain my bearings. But when he pulls back to look at me, his eyes dark and intense, the words “we can't” die on my lips.
Instead, we're both frozen for a heartbeat, the weight of the moment and the silent desire hanging between us. Then, almost in unison, we're leaning into each other again, our mouths crashing together hungrily.
The kiss deepens, becoming more desperate. His hands are everywhere, roaming my body as if he can't get enough of me. My body responds in kind, my fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, trying to pull him closer still.
We cling to each other, the need for oxygen secondary to the need for each other. In this moment, we're not just friends, we're two people driven together by a mutual desire that's too powerful to resist.
With a swift move, Chris lifts me off the ground, wrapping my legs around his waist as he walks us towards the bed on the other side of the room. Our lips never break contact, our kisses heated and intense.
He lowers me down onto the bed with a softness that contrasts with the ferocity of his kiss. I'm beneath him now, looking up at him in a mixture of desire and awe.
His body covers mine, the weight of him a welcome and intoxicating sensation. He kisses down my neck, his hands finding the edge of my dress, fingers trailing along the bare skin of my thighs. I shiver, arching into his touch, the need for him growing almost unbearable.
Chris pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged as he looks down at me. “Can I take this off?” he asks, his voice hoarse and filled with want.
I meet his gaze, my own breathing labored, before I nod, granting him the permission he seeks.
His hands move over the fabric, gently pulling at the straps of my dress. The material slides down, revealing more and more skin until it lies discarded beside us on the floor.
He looks at me now, his eyes roaming over my body, taking in every curve and contour. His touch is light, gentle, as he traces patterns over my stomach, my collarbone, seemingly trying to commit every inch of me to memory.
Every touch from Chris is filled with tenderness and passion. He caresses me with such care, as if I am a precious object that he never wants to let go of. His kisses are slow and deep, his tongue exploring my mouth with an intensity that matches the feeling blossoming between us. His hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake, igniting every nerve in my body.
Chris’s lips move down my neck, over my collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses down the center of my chest. His hands trail after his mouth, fingers dancing over my skin, igniting sparks with every touch.
When he reaches the valley between my breasts, he pauses, his breath warm against my skin. I shiver, my hands clenching at his hair.
Between kisses, Chris pauses, lifting his head to look me in the eye. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his voice gruff. There’s a hint of hesitance in his gaze, a small fragment of worry that maybe I don’t want this as much as he does.
Chris pulls back, sitting on the edge of the bed. I take a moment to look at him, appreciating the sight of him in all his disheveled glory. His hair is messy, his shirt clinging to his skin, his pants unbuttoned at the top.
Inside me, everything roars with desire. I’m desperate for his touch, for the feel of his skin against mine. He’s become a necessity, something I ache for so deeply it’s almost painful.
I move to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, my body now pressed flush against his back. My chin comes to rest on his shoulder as I whisper into his ear, “I want this.”
My hands move, tracing down his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath my fingertips. He responds to my touch, leaning back against me, his weight solid and reassuring.
My hands find the edge of his shirt, tugging at it lightly. He gets the message, lifting his arms to let me pull it off.
The skin of his bare back beckons me, a canvas begging to be explored. My hands roam over his shoulders and down his spine, relishing the feel of his skin under my touch.
I pepper kisses along the side of his neck, then down to his shoulders, finally moving to the expanse of his back. My lips trail over every inch of skin, leaving a path of heat and affection.
He moans softly under my touch, his head tilting back as if in surrender. The sound of his pleasure is like music to me, a symphony that I want to keep repeating.
I return to his neck, my lips finding a sensitive spot that makes him shiver. I linger there, my tongue darting out to taste his skin.
His breathing is ragged, a soft gasp escaping him each time my mouth meets his flesh. His hands grip the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white with the effort to keep control.
I pull back, my lips moving to his ear. “I need you,” I breathe out, the words more a plea than a statement.
His body tautens, a shudder running through him at the sound of my voice, at the admission that I need him just as much as he needs me. He turns his head, his eyes meeting mine, darkened with desire.
I lean in closer, my mouth scant inches from his. Our breaths mingle, the space between us almost palpable with tension and need.
His eyes are fixed on my lips, his body taut with restraint. I can feel the energy crackling around us, the pull of attraction so strong it's almost unbearable.
Chris’s lips find my own in a soft, tender kiss. It’s different from the frantic, heated kisses we’ve shared earlier. This is slower, more gentle, but no less intense.
His hands come up to cradle my face as he deepens the kiss, his touch gentle but possessive. I melt into him, my body boneless and pliant under his touch.
Chris gently pushes me down onto the bed, his body following mine. He hovers over me, one arm braced on the bed next to my head.
He looks down at me, his eyes dark and full of emotion. His other hand trails up my side, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Chris sits back, his hands moving to the fastening of his pants. My breath catches as he peels the fabric down, revealing more and more of his bare skin.
Once the pants are discarded, he pauses, his eyes roaming over my body again. His gaze is scorching, making me shiver under his intense stare.
Chris leans in, his lips capturing mine in a searing kiss as he hovers over me. His hands grip my waist, pulling me closer as our tongues dance together. I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into the kiss as he presses his hardness against my core.
His hands slide down to my thighs, lifting them around his waist. With a slow thrust, he enters me, his hips rocking against mine in a steady rhythm. Our kisses grow deeper, more passionate, as our bodies move in sync. His hands roam over my curves, touching, squeezing, driving me wild.
As Chris's hips rock against mine, I whine into the kiss, overwhelmed by his size. He's too big, stretching me in ways I've never been stretched before. The pressure is intense, making my eyes water as I struggle to accommodate him.
Chris breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down to my neck. He presses soft, open-mouthed kisses to my throat, his hands gripping my hips to keep me in place. “Relax for me, baby,” he murmurs against my skin. “Breathe and relax. You can take me.”
I whine, my body still adjusting to his size. “I can't,” I pant, my fingers clutching at the sheets beneath me. Chris nips at my earlobe, his breath warm against my skin. “Yes, you can,”
I whine and moan, my body trembling as Chris's size stretches me to the limit. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but he's still kissing my neck, still murmuring soothing words. “Shh, baby, just relax... You're doing so good... Just a little more...”
Chris's movements become a little faster, gentler. He's being so careful, so patient, even as his own breathing grows heavier. He pauses to wipe away the tears at the corners of my eyes, his touch tender. “You feel so good,” he groans, burying his face in my neck.
Chris's pace picks up slightly, but he never loses his gentleness. I can feel every inch of him, filling me completely, the sensation overwhelming in the best possible way. My whimpers and moans become louder, my body beginning to tremble as I approach my peak.
As Chris's movements become more insistent, I cling to him, my mind racing. I can't believe we're doing this... With every thrust, he's not just satisfying my physical need for him, but also the emotional yearning I've hidden for so long. I needed him... I needed this...
I'm latched onto him, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, my legs locked around his waist. I can't get close enough, can't feel enough of him. I'm afraid he'll disappear if I let go. He's the only thing that makes sense in this moment, the only thing that can satisfy the desperate ache inside me.
“Chris,” I gasp, my voice barely a whisper. “Chris, please...”
As Chris's movements quicken, I bury my face in his shoulder, my voice muffled as I moan. “Yes, like that... Just like that... Oh god, Chris, it's so good...”
I cling to him as he thrusts inside me, our bodies moving together in a frantic dance. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. “Oh god, I'm so close...”
I dig my fingernails into his back, holding on for dear life as he pounds into me. He groans loudly, his voice hoarse, and I can feel his arms tighten around me, his fingers digging into my hips. The room spins, and stars dance before my eyes. “Chris...”
The sound of our bodies slapping together fills the room, drowning out the muffled music playing in the background. The rhythmic sound, coupled with Chris's heavy breathing and my own desperate whimpers, pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
Chris's breath is hot against my ear as he whispers urgently, “Cum with me, baby” His words send me over the edge, and I scream, my vision blurring as my entire world narrows down to the feeling of him inside me.
We both reach our climax, our bodies shuddering and writhing together. Chris lets out a brutal moan as he pulses inside me, his grip on me tightening for a moment before he collapses on top of me, his breathing heavy.
For a long moment, neither of us speak, our bodies entwined and slick with sweat. Chris's face is buried in my neck, his breath hot against my skin. Finally, he lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine with a look of wonder. “That was... intense.”
I nod wordlessly, still trying to catch my breath. Chris carefully disentangles himself from me, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his hand. “Are you alright?” he asks softly, his eyes searching mine. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”
I shake my head, my eyes locked onto his. “No, you didn't hurt me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. I reach for his face, my fingers trailing over his sharp jaw before pulling him closer for a gentle kiss. “I'm so latched onto you,”
Chris's heart swells at my words, his feelings for me mirroring my own. He captures my lips in a tender kiss, his arms wrapping around me in a protective embrace. “I'm latched onto you too,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“So fucking latched onto you.”
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