#fred tan

[ladamarossa]

厲鬼纏身 - Split of the Spirit (1987)

[beyond-hypothermia]

Split of the spirit - Fred Tan

[dare-g]

Split of the Spirit (1987)

[intotheroaringverse]

SUGAR RUSH RIDE PRESENTS: FREDERICK "FRED" TAN

"Claro, Sr. Liang, estaremos aqui no horário do almoço, pontualmente. O senhor gostaria que eu trouxesse Denise no meu carro ou no seu? Qual o senhor acha mais seguro?"

Esperava que fosse no dele, onde ele costuma levantar a saia da herdeira Liang e se certificar que não existe calcinha nenhuma cobrindo a buceta dela, tão molhada e claramente implorando para ser dedada por ele furiosamente ainda no estacionamento do autódromo. Frederick gosta dos vidros escuros justamente porque só ele pode vê-la abrindo as pernas e se derretendo quando ele brinca com o clitóris dela até ela se comprimir e derreter na sua mão como uma coisinha de nada.

"Não, não, imagina. Nenhum toque indevido vai ser feito em público. Entendo a sua preocupação, principalmente com os rumores ruins que começam na internet, e eu jamais iria colocá-la em uma situação difícil."

Ele sorri admirado assistindo-a tremer, tentando controlar os espasmos do corpo, mesmo que seja uma causa perdida. A parte vibratória do brinquedo é esfregada por ele no clitóris, enquanto move a mão para continuar a foder a buceta dela com a parte fálica. Ela é perfeita nessa pose, deitada na cama dele com as pernas abertas e mantidas assim por uma de suas mãos, pairando sobre o corpo de Denise enquanto a olha nos olhos com toda a possessividade, perguntando se a putinha dele vai gozar para aquele brinquedo ou por ele, a vibração aumentando cada vez mais, a torturando. Quando ela engole em seco e diz preferir o pau dele, Fred se sente muito, muito bem.

"Ah. Eu entendo. E sei que sente uma grande preocupação porque temos uma diferença de idade grande, mas prometo ao senhor que não farei nada que seja maduro demais para que a Srta. Liang não se sentir exposta precocemente."

— Fala pra mim: de quem é essa buceta? FALA, PUTA! EU QUERO OUVIR!

O tapa forte que ele acerta na bunda dela ecoa pelo quarto de hotel. Tan assiste Denise choramingar e dizer que é dele, que é tudo dele, para ele foder do jeito que ele quiser, da forma que ele quiser e quando quiser. Isso o deixa ainda mais duro, se é que isso é possível, e então ele puxa o quadril dela para si, a perfurando, socando o pau tão fundo e tão forte dentro dela que ele tem certeza que está tocando o útero da garota aquela altura, mas ele não consegue se importar ou pedir desculpas. Sua mente se torna nublada pelo desejo e pela vontade de deixar aquela buceta no formato de sua rola e completamente arruinada para sequer cogitar ser fodida por outro.

"Claro que compreendo a sua intenção em proteger seu nome e legado, além de suas convicções. Não pretendo deixar nada ameaçar tais critérios."

O quadril dele bate com tanta força contra o corpo dela enquanto ele a perfura com o cacete que ele empurra o corpo de Denise para a frente a cada estocada e ela só não voa para fora da cama porque ele a mantém presa de quatro em frente a ele segurando por seus cabelos, os dedos enrolados nos fios com possessividade. Ela choraminga e vaza no pau dele, escorrendo pelas pernas e pela cama, implorando para ele gozar dentro dela. Fred acerta um tapa forte na bunda da garota, antes de segurar o quadril dela com ambas as mãos.

— Vou enfiar tão fundo nessa buceta que você nunca mais vai esquecer. — Outro tapa, o som arrastado vindo de sua garganta explodindo em tesão enquanto ele soca o pau nela até de fato a preencher com sua porra. — Gostosa. A minha garota, com a buceta mais gostosa.

"A tratarei como a trato em sua frente, Sr. Liang. Tenha certeza disso."

E todas essas palavras são ditas como se ele não tivesse acabado de comer a buceta dela no banheiro, a mão tampando a boca de Denise, a outra mantendo as pernas abertas enquanto afundava o rosto para sugar cada gota que ela pudesse dar a ele. O olhar de Fred e de sua namorada se cruzam na sala e sorriem de modo inocente e até mesmo confidente, passando toda a imagem de pureza que eles sustentam com maestria agora que dominam aquele jogo.

— Agora, se o senhor permitir, eu gostaria de levar sua filha para jantar hoje à noite — a frase é direcionada ao patriarca, conforme o script, mesmo os dedos dele se entrelaçando nos dela. Apenas após a benção do homem, eles se retiram, o sorrisinho de Fred presente no próprio rosto. Uma vitória. — Tenha uma boa noite, senhor.

Eles passam juntos por todo o caminho até o carro dele em silêncio, até baterem as portas escuras e ficarem alguns segundos em silêncio dentro do automóvel. A mão de Fred agarra a coxa de Denise enquanto ele se inclina sobre ela e a beija com ferocidade.

— Ainda sem calcinha? — pergunta a ela, acariciando o rosto feminino. Assim que ela confirma com um aceno, ele a beija de novo. — Minha boa garota, sempre obediente.

Enquanto o carro arrancava dali, mil planos imundos eram ditados por ele como opções para o pós jantar deles dois. Se não tivesse ninguém vendo, não ia ter problema algum e ele sabia.

[scopophilic1997]

scopOphilic_micromessaging_1035 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally.

[maripapercat]

So, I really like this

I need to know more examples of this dynamic

[10hourshift]

Freddy and Fred: the sillies of all time

(and a pain in the ass to make something for them)

Weird story ahead, kind of

First things first, Fred is a Zoroak, he especially is a Zoroak who wanted to be human and had been learning how to "human", like learning to talk correctly, to read, and other stuff. He uses his illusions to "blend in" and, technically him and his pokemon are Freddy's.

Freddy is kind of an accomplice to Fred, but kind of in the way that he somehow got himself in that situation. Even though he was on board with helping Fred at the beginning, the amount of trouble that he goes through to help him has made him a bit paranoid and overprotective of Fred.

Outside of that, Freddy was already a weird guy from the beginning. Having the ability to talk to and perfectly understand pokemon. He always felt a stronger connection to them than other humans (he even at some point had wished to become a pokemon). He helped Fred because his dreams were similar to his, though now admits that they may be a bigger issue than expected.

Finally pokemon meanings:

Freddy:

Tediursa: cute bear, I grabbed it's colors to make Freddy's color scheme.

Clefable: matches with Gengar

Zoroak: Fred

Grandbull: kinda matches with Zoroak. Also, this pkmn is really timid despite it's scary looks, I think it fits Freddy's personality contrast to Fred's (also a strange way for me to decide Freddy is trans ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

Fred: (he only gets two bc he's a pkmn himself)

Gengar: match with Clefairy, and the fit of his sneaky personality

Pancham: match with tediursa, also to make clear the contrast in personality.

[loopscereal]

ayuda

[gummi-stims]

👱‍♂️🪤💙🧡Freddie🧡💙🪤👱‍♂️

From tubuslimes' Scooby Doo collection!

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

RISE 'N SHINE BABES. IT'S FRED DURST FRIDAY!

[ladamarossa]

厲鬼纏身 - Split of the Spirit (1987)

[malkaviian]

me voy a tirar de un cuarto piso

[doom-dreaming]

It's tough having a concept in your head instead of a plot. What do you do with it besides rotate it in your mind and go increasingly insane.

[batunatu]

FAZBEARRRR, MI ESPÍRITU ANIMAL

UN NIÑO BIEN PENDEJO

[monzamash]

★ bargain bin; —send me a driver + prompt/dialogue starter and i'll write a tiny musing for you

loosen up charles leclerc x you —18+ (sex, mature themes, coarse language) —requested by @tlhd7 (absolute gem) and lovely anon 💖

you knew you were done the second you saw ferrari’s usgp liverly on instagram. the little slither of black peeking out of the collar of charles’ suit already conjuring up wild, wild thoughts. none of them holy. charles looked good in black, that was a well known fact — whether he was wearing a tuxedo or even lounging around in a simple black shirt he looked hot. and although he exuded sunshine energy most of the time, there was a darkness that you enjoyed about him. vexed and flustered charles turned you on.

once you had confirmation from your boyfriend that they were indeed wearing black fireproofs this weekend, the decision was final. you were flying out to texas because nothing was going to stop you from indulging in your greatest fantasy — jet lag who? and nobody was going to stop you from slinking into charles’ drivers room while he prepped for practice. absolutely nobody.

“knock knock…” you playfully greeted, causing charles to glance over from where he was perched on his physio bed. 

“well hello, mon ange… who let you in?” he teased back with a smirk and placed his phone on the table beside him.

“andrea did because i’m actually here to do your warm up massage… fred thought it was really important to get a professional in to make you feel good.” 

charles' soft smile dropped into a devilish smirk, eyes narrowing with desire as soon as his mind registered what you were saying. he liked to roleplay a little, especially on the road when everything felt so serious and tiresome — he loved a sprinkle of spiciness added to the mix and who better to bring it than the woman of his dreams.

“oh well don’t let me stop you, ma’am,” he rushed before laying back down on his front, smiling from ear to ear and giggling into the face hole.

“thank you, sir — i’ll get started on your back first… making sure all those hard knots are worked out before your race,” you stated, brushing your hands down the expanse of his clothed back. the black mesh felt smooth against your palms as you moved them up and down in long strokes, "how's that pressure?”

“incredible but you can be harder if you like,” charles mumbled, his eyes closed while he enjoyed the feeling of your touch. 

“oh, it’s gonna be hard, mr. leclerc — please be patient.” 

you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh into your shoulder — every time you played a character, you struggled to keep it together but eventually the insecurity of it all slowly dissipated as you focused back in. 

you thumbed the hem of his fireproof top and dragged it gently up his back, exposing the tanned skin that beautifully complimented the black fabric, all taut and soft and sprinkled with freckles. each muscle danced under your fingertips as you carefully traced the marks you’d left the night before — the remnants of your reunion making every nerve in your body tingle from the memory. the frenzied fingernail tracks were red, but fading and you could tell charles liked the feeling of your cool palms grazing them by the soft, nearly inaudible moan that slipped from his pursed lips.

“feel good?” you asked, smirking to yourself.

“amazing.” he practically groaned in response. 

“i’ll get you to turn over now so we can shift focus to your front.”

it didn't take long for charles to scurry up and flip over onto his back. he looked like a kid entering a candy store, all wired and wide eyed from what was on offer, and the promise of a sweet treat at the end. you rubbed your hands together and pushed his shirt up a little further before working your hands across his tight abdomen and over his chest, spending a little extra time on the perked nipples that always got his engine revving. to balance out the moans of pleasure, you ghosted your fingertips down his ribs, causing a high pitched giggle to erupt from the man below, immediately cutting the tension bubbling up.

“very ticklish there, ma’am — go lower please…” 

“oh, do you feel tight down here?” you asked innocently while unzipping his suit a little further down his hips.

“very tight - bit lower than that… lower… lower,” charles’ voice grew quieter the closer you got to where he ached until your hand gently grasped his hard cock, “ah, yes - right there,” he sighed. 

you stroked him through the black fireproof trousers, the fabric bunching as your hand worked him over, “ah, i see… very stiff in this area — try to relax for me, charles.” 

the sound of his name falling sultrily from your mouth as you worked him in your hand had him moaning into his arm that had instinctively come up to cover his mouth. the walls of his drivers room were thin, so thin that you’d been told more than once to keep it down. it never stopped you — in fact, maybe it even encouraged the exhibitionist streak you two had. 

through the soft moans, charles eventually grasped consciousness and came up for air - he loved watching you get him off, almost as much as he enjoyed returning the favour. everything about you set him alight — your eyes, your voice and the way you studied every little twitch on his face while you made him feel good.

slowing slightly, you pensively looked down at your hand and tutted, “i think i may need to use some kind of lubrication to really get these stiff knots out…” 

charles eagerly nodded, “do whatever you need to do.”

“as long as you’re sure…” you stated cautiously, peeling down his fireproofs and underwear in one foul swoop, “is it okay if i use my mouth? i think it could really help.” 

a gutteral moan vibrated in charles’ throat as his head lulled back in disbelief, “fuck… i mean, yes- yes, yes, yes, yes.” 

it never took long to have him exactly where you wanted him — you always started with a tiny kitten lick to his tip, your tongue would travel down to the base and back up before taking him fully in your warm mouth. before too long, he was sitting upright and pulsating down the back of your throat with his fingers loosely grasping the back of your head for dear life, needing something, anything to hold onto while you had him seeing stars. his other hand was pressed so hard to his mouth that when you stood up and wiped your lips, you could see a red hand print left in its wake. 

“are you feeling looser now, mr. leclerc?” you teased and massaged his shoulders once more with a smirk lining your swollen lips. 

“oh my god stop or you’ll make me hard again,” charles groaned and pulled you into a passionate kiss, “you will be the death of me eventually, sweet girl.”

a/n— please don't ask me to define "tiny" because this is over 1k words lol i got carried away because i haven't written for charles in a loooong time and these two requests were way too good not to combine! i have no chill. shop the sale event here !!

[hanasnx]

“ BUT I’M TOO TIRED TO GO TO SLEEP TONIGHT ” — fred weasley.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ smoking: cigs ノ romance.

FRED WEASLEY wakes you up real late, you barely see him in the dull light. he’s all bundled up, whispering, “get your coat, c’mon.” groggily, you follow him to some hall you don’t recognize, yawning through your question as to your destination. he grabs your hand, and you sober up a bit. “just trust me.” he tells you. and you do. he takes a shortcut behind a statue, and the cold reaches you before you exit the mouth of the cave and up a ladder. and when you emerge, snow falls into your lashes, and you can see your breath. he pulls you up and out by your arm. “amazing, isn’t it?” he asks, husky from the thinner air.

it’s dark, and the snow crunches under your boots as he takes you to stand aside a little shack. “george was knocked out cold, couldn’t drag him here if i wanted to.” he muses, and a weak scoff emits from your throat, mirroring him as he leans his back against the wood. the ginger ends of his hair lick out from the beanie he wears.

“what are we here to do, exactly?” you question tentatively, wary he’ll chastise you for not trusting him. he glances at you, and you feel small under his gaze. he breaks the trance to rifle around in his pockets.

“ah.” he exclaims as he retrieves it. a little beaten gray box. your brows furrow as your arms wrap around yourself for warmth, shivering in the wind. “here we are.” he flashes the front of it to you, and you tilt your head for a better look. you don’t get it until he opens it up and knocks a familiar stick from it. a white paper tube with a tanned end. he offers it to you, and you swallow, hesitantly reaching to pinch it between your brittle fingers. he takes one himself after you. “had an urge, needed some company. hope you don’t mind.”

you inspect the cigarette, rolling it between the pads of your fingers. his lighter sparks to life, and with the help of his cupping hand it’s able to light the end of his cig. “i didn’t know you smoked. where’d you even get this?” you inquire with a crease of disbelief in your brow.

“dad’s been trying to kick the habit, hides ‘em all around the house.” the crackle of burning paper makes you pivot your head to watch him, his cheeks hollowing as he takes a drag and blows it out in a steady stream of smoke. “his work with muggles took him a little too far into their more dangerous inventions, easy to get wrapped up in it, i suppose.” he speaks from experience, you can hear it in his voice. your questioning gaze alerts him, meeting your eyes to come to his own defense. “i don’t do it all the time. c’mere.”

so as to not seem inexperienced, you recall what he did before with his cigarette, and mimic it in your own actions. you lean in to his cupped hand while his thumb swipes at the lighter, sparks spray in front of your nose a couple times before it enflames. you don’t breathe in, and the light goes out.

“here.” he instructs gently, “cup your hand- like this.” you do as he says, raising your palm to curl as his does, protecting the flame, and brushing your hands together. you nearly jump out of your skin, but he follows your jerk, keeping your hands next to each other while he flicks the zippo. as soon as the fire flickers to life, he adds, “breathe in.” you inhale deeply, sucking in, and it’s hot against the back of your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as you retreat. a feather of smoke spills from the end, but you can’t focus on anything else other than the pain in your lungs, fit to burst. you yank the cig from your mouth, and cough out the smoke, couldn’t hold it in even if you wanted to, but you try to stifle yourself to avoid this humiliating feeling. the back of your hand covers your mouth, and you feel an arm snake around you. “oh, right. s’your first time. forgot that happens.” he draws you into his side, letting you cough it out while he strokes on your back. he reaches around and plucks the cigarette from your grip to get it out of your way, and your hands fly to cup your neck, tears stinging your eyes.

after you calm, you realize where exactly you are right now. and your body temperature rises despite the environment. the paper pinched between his knuckles is offered back to you, bobs in view to signal you to take it. you clear your burning throat, and a shaking hand retrieves it. it frees up his hand so he can pull his own from his mouth to blow out the smoke. suddenly the smell is making you feel a little queasy.

his palm on your upper arm jostles you gently, “you alright there, birdie?” that embarrassment comes back, blooming heat onto your cheeks, fighting the cold. you’re sure your nose is frozen by now.

you nod. “mm-hmm.” he nods back, looking out onto the snow.

“we’ll head back soon.” but you’re not in too much of a rush, instead you give it another go after a few seconds. you take a much smaller sip, and he keeps his arm around you. it’s quiet, and you start shaking for a different reason. it’s rare you’re ever alone with fred, and you always make a fool of yourself when you are. warily, your peer over to the side, following the sight with your pivoting head, and you squeak at the feeling of lips against yours. a warm face pressed against your cold one, confusing you with differing temperatures that your brain can’t separate.

you’re too stunned, too frigid. an inflexible mouth receives a confession of desire. the cigarette drops from your brittle fingers.

on the way back it’s quiet then too, but the cigarette has since calmed your nerves, an artificial kind of serene, following him back like a ghost. you eye his hanging hand, and you gain the courage to lace your fingers with his—he’d just kissed you after all.