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slytherinslut0 · 22 days ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 17th. tom riddle — overstim, cockwarming.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: cockwarming as a punishment? clit stim cockwarming as a punishment? tom would think so.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, cockwarming, ft. tom’s mythical clit magic that i force into almost everyone of my fics for him, overstimulation, begging, sharp tongue banter, slight praise, tom is an infuriating bastard like always, dom!tom, slight part 2 from this.

also, thank you to my beautiful @cotttagecorewhore for the idea 🤍

He's a master of multitasking, you've learned in the passing months. Multitasking and complete self-possession, something you can see as he writes, without a break—as you sit perched in his lap, thighs on either side of his.

He's not writing anything of any particular importance—some letter, an order, some instruction for something. All of it is of little consequence to you, so you focus on the act of it instead—the way he holds the quill, the way it moves across the page in neat, angular script. He does it like it's something that requires no effort, not even a moment of thought, and you wonder if writing to him is as easy as breathing.

It's so easy to love you, you think, until your brain goes back to focusing on the feeling of him. His scent. His breath. His length buried inside you. His free hand not letting you move.

Him.

"That's a filthy habit," he murmurs, and you realize you've been biting your lip, watching his hand work across the page. "You’re breaking the skin."

"Can't help it," you grumble, and to make a point, you start biting your lip again. "I chew my lip when I'm impatient. I'm impatient right now."

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a huff and a sigh at that—and you can feel his attention shift from the page to look up at you for a moment—

"Patience, you've never had. Your only flaw, I'd say." He says, languidly taking in the sight of you before shifting his eyes back to his work. “That, and the penchant for damaging your skin."

You roll your eyes. You know he sees it.

"I didn't realize you were an expert in dermatology.”

You can feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs—a low breathless chuckle, and you can't stop yourself from shuddering.

"It's more because I don't want to taste blood when I kiss you."

When I kiss you.

You’ll never tire of words like that, and it’s the simplicity in which he says them that makes half your brain immediately short circuit.

Because it’s moments like this—and there are many of them—where you have to remind yourself to breathe, and it's almost embarrassing how easily he has that effect on you, how he can still make you dizzy from a single offhanded comment.

"I don't recall you complaining before."

You're trying very hard to make your voice sound nonchalant now, and you think you're doing a fairly good job of it, but you can feel the way your hips try to wiggle against him involuntarily, the way your hands tighten on his shoulders, digging your nails into his sweater.

He can feel it, he can definitely feel it.

"I'm not complaining now," he says, the smirk still in his voice. "Just stating my preference."

"I have a preference for you not writing right now," you toss back, and you sound whinier than you intended. "You're torturing me."

"Torture implies you're not enjoying it at all," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the page. "And I can feel how much you're enjoying it."

You can't stop yourself from shuddering again, as if half of your nerve endings are suddenly connected to him, and you bury your face in his neck.

"You're insufferable," you murmur, feeling the soft wool of his sweater against your face. "Can you feel how much I'm wishing to hex you, too?"

"I can," he replies, before his hips cant up a fraction—just the tiniest shift—pressing his throbbing dick up a little deeper into you, making you bite your lip again, and you're almost certain he's done it just so you'll react. "I far prefer the former, however."

You make an indignant sound at that, but it comes out all breathless and a little high-pitched—and it’s then that you decide to give up your attempts at sounding dignified.

"You and your fucking preferences." You hiss, half muffled against his shoulder.

"I'm nothing if not consistent," he says, and you think he actually sounds more distracted now, as if he's more focused on the wiggling of your hips against him then he is his writing. And then— "if you want something, you know you could just ask for it."

You lift your head from his shoulder at that, just so he can see the glare you're giving him now.

"I won't beg for you." You retort, and you realize halfway through that it's not quite as biting as you intended—it's hard to be biting when you can't seem to stop shuddering—when you feel so fucking full of him. "Not after this."

"I didn't say you had to beg," he whispers, and you realize his quill has stopped moving on the page. "I said you had to ask."

It takes every ounce of willpower you have to keep from rocking your hips against him again—you're not sure how much of this you're willing to take.

"And you'd actually indulge me?" You cock a suspicious eyebrow. "If I just, asked for it?"

Now his eyes have left the page completely—quill dropping from his hand as he brings it to your chin, gripping it gently, tilting your head up so he can look you in the face now. You know you're flushed—you can feel the heat crawling over your skin, your neck, probably to your ears, too.

"When have I ever denied you?" He wets his lips as he says it. "As long as you ask nicely."

"I always ask nicely," you mutter, but the effect is lost somewhat when, in your attempt to regain a semblance of control, his hips shift and his dick twitches inside you again. "Jesus—Tom, just fuck me. I can't—"

There's an instant when you think the corners of his eyes crinkle in satisfaction when you say that, and he knows just how undone you feel because he's the one who's gotten you there, and that's why he likes to take his time, because it gets you like this—

"That wasn't nicely," he tuts, tilting your head up a little further. "That was greedy. Selfish."

And there's a hitch in your breath when he says it, because as much as it rankles you to be called that, you know he's right—

"Please," you whine, slick walls clenching tight around him—craving the friction. "Please please please..."

You hoped you’d catch a hitch in his breath at that, something that shows you’re getting somewhere—but he just smiles—and it's a slow, almost cruel smile as his hand slips down to your throat, thumb running over the skin of your neck.

"Much better," he coos, and god it's so condescending you’re back to mentally hexing him. "For your efforts."

And the second he says that—you feel his magic swirling and massaging over your clit.

"Oh god," you manage, half a gasp and half a moan, your eyes squeezed shut. "Oh my god—"

It feels both instantaneous and instant—the wave of pleasure that washes through you at the exact time that the hand around your throat tightens. Another gasp gets stuck in your throat and you want to rock against him but he's holding you in place, and you have to settle for clinging on to his shoulders, clawing at him—

"Eyes open," he rasps, and you do, with an effort, the look on his face almost sinful when you manage to open them—his eyes darkened, watching you intently. "Just like that. Good. No moving."

That simple word—good—does way more to you then it has any right to, and you watch his face as the realization of how much you liked it shows there too.

"Don't be cruel," you whine again, your nails still biting into his shoulders because it's all you have, the only way to anchor yourself. "Tom—fuck—please—"

You see the way a muscle in his jaw clenches for a second—just a second—as if he's biting back a reaction.

"Relax," his hand slips to the back of your head, pulling you to rest your face against his shoulder as he goes back to writing. "I'm almost done here."

You want to make some biting comeback but you can't even think, let alone speak—the pleasure is already at a fever pitch that's almost too much, to the point where you feel like you're trembling, your muscles taut, your thighs clenching, your nails raking desperately up the wool of his sweater.

"Almost?" You manage between gasps as the sensation heightens and you can practically feel your climax prowling near. "You—you said you'd—give me what I want if I asked—"

"You're right," he's hardly focused, as if he can't be bothered in the slightest by your frantic state on his lap. "But I didn't say I'd give it to you now, did I?"

"You bastard," you gasp, your head lolling against the crook of his neck. "You're a fucking—mmffff—god—"

"Poor thing," he responds, all faux-pity as he runs a hand through your hair. "So helpless she's calling me a god."

You roll your eyes with a groan, while he just keeps writing—you can feel yourself trying to rock against him again as the pleasure is building and building and you can't find a balance—

"Tom," you gasp out, but you're not even sure what you're asking for, all you know is that it's him—it’s him and him and him. "Tom—I'm going to—you're going to make me—"

A shudder goes through him at that, barely perceptible, the smallest jerk that you're not sure anyone else would notice but you're so aware of his body and his responses that you'd never miss it—

"Go on." He urges, quietly. "I won't stop you."

You think it's probably the tone in which he says it—half pitying, half condescending—that does you in, and all you can do is bite down on his shoulder, hard, and then you're cumming, almost violently—as if something inside you snaps all at once and you're shaking with it, clawing at him, gasping for air, trying in vain not to make a sound because his dorm is not warded off yet and you're certain the rest of the school would hear if you screamed—

"Mfffff—"

You're clenching, walls fluttering around him as he lets you bite down on his shoulder as hard as you want—the shudder that goes through him at the feeling of your teeth on his skin doesn't go unnoticed, and you wonder if he likes it, if he wants you to mark him just as bad as you want to leave your claim.

"Alright," he purrs when you go limp against him, half slumped over his lap. "Alright. Relax. Good."

You feel utterly boneless and breathless against him, like you've been completely drained out of everything, still shaking a little—he's done this to you in a matter of a few minutes and you feel humiliated by the ease in which he manages it, the control—

"I hate you," you murmur breathlessly, wincing as you feel him—huge and solid, buried inside you—twitch. "Fuck, I hate you."

There’s a low, breathless hum that those words pull from him—and you feel him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, before his hand goes back to your throat, tilting your head back up.

"Don't lie," he murmurs, mouthing at your jaw. "You don't."

You're half tempted to argue otherwise, or give him some sort of biting response—but at the feeling of his mouth against your neck, you feel a fresh burst of heat flare up again and you can't seem to fight it—

"No," you breathe out, and you sound almost delirious with it now, too far gone to pretend you have any semblance of control. "I d-don't."

"That's what I thought," he hums, you can feel that smirk on your skin and you hate it and you love it simultaneously, and you wonder how it's possible to feel this many things at once. "You've always been a terrible liar."

Your lips part in response to that, but before you can get words out, he's shifting to resume his writing, and the magic on your clit starts back up again—

"Fuck! Y-you can't be serious," you manage through a mewl, because you're sure you don't have anything left to give—there's no way you can feel it again, much less so soon. "You can't just—"

"I'm not done yet," he replies, simply. "That means you aren't either."

It's almost infuriating, how simple he makes it sound, as if you don't have any say in it, as if he's going to just pull another orgasm out of you the way you'd pull a tissue out of a box—and you want to hate him for it, only you're already going back to being desperate, all your nerve endings on fire again, your fingers clenching uselessly against the dark wool—

"Tommmm" you whine, clenching around him as he twitches inside you, as the stimulation on your clit grows stronger—making your hips jerk, making you lift yourself about an inch up his shaft—just enough to make him groan—

"Fuck."

His fingers immediately fist in your hair, jerking your head back—and you love it, yet hate it, making you hate that you love it—and he makes a low, guttural sound against your neck, almost a growl.

"If you keep that up," you think it might actually be a threat now, because it’s snarled through barred teeth. "I will never finish this."

"That's—that's sort of the point," you gasp out. "I don't care if you don't finish it—I fucking need you—now—"

He makes that guttural sound against your neck again, almost as if he's biting it back—as if he needs the restraint to resist just throwing you onto the desk and having you there—

"Patience," he growls, but you can hear how breathless he is too, now, how affected he is—and that thought makes you feel insane all over again. "You think you deserve to be fucked after what you did? Hm? Slipping me that potion—tying me up—"

"Yes—yes I do—" you don't care that the sound that comes out of your mouth is most definitely a moan, that it's completely pitiful how desperate you are now—you want him, and nothing else matters. "It was just a little potion, it didn't even last that long, you were just mad I made you—"

He shakes his head, telling you without words to shut up.

"Careful," his hand slips from your hair to cover your mouth. "Don't want you to go talking yourself into trouble," his hand tightens a fraction when you try to bite at. "You might end up getting what you don't want."

He shifts under you, making you gasp against his palm, your nails biting into his shoulder as the magic on your clit twirls and swirls with just a little more intensity, enough for you to undeniably feel it—and Tom jerks his hips up into you, just enough for you to feel that, too—

You shake, forcing the words from under his palm. "Tom, please—"

It's not a whine, now—it's a keening, an almost broken sort of plea—but it's as if he doesn't hear it, or maybe he just doesn’t care, because he's continuing to speak in that low, growly rumble against your neck that's just as torturous as everything else.

"You're going to be quiet. You're going to take it," he asserts, and your eyes nearly roll back at the sheer heat of it. "Until I believe you’re deserving of more."

You have no idea if you're nodding or trying to protest, you don't even know which one you want to do because both options sound impossible to you—and you're almost hyperventilating now, the intensity almost too much and not enough all at once—you're desperate, you're aching, you're needy, and then you're falling over the edge—second orgasm shredding through you like lightening—

Oh—fucking hell—

It wrings itself out of you, violent and all consuming, but you can't make a sound—can't do anything except bite down on Tom's hand and clench your eyes shut as you fall apart—your thighs shaking, every muscle taut, your nails clawing desperately at his shoulder.

And he's murmuring things against your neck that you can't make out, holding you against him through it, making you take it in the most exquisite kind of torture—and god, you're certain he must be smiling, you're certain he loves having you like this, a broken mess on his lap, unable to speak, only whimper as he pulls his hand away with a "good girl", and urges your head to rest against his shoulder again as he resumes writing.

For the next solid minute, you still can't speak, just gasp for breath—clinging to him helplessly in the aftershock of it.

"That was two," he says, his hand trailing lazily up and down your spine. "You're in for a long night."

You want to whimper at that, because you're not sure if you can take anything more—

"How many," you manage to breathe out, your voice rasping. "How many more."

"As many as you can take," his voice is so matter-of-fact you know the bastard is smirking. "And possibly a few more after that.”

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m00nz-writes · 2 years ago

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i may or may not be working on something entirely new alongside BA... and it may or may not be putting my two favorite media with dragons in them together... and it may or may not be because i am clinically insane...

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nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

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andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list.

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying.

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist.

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him.

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up.

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now.

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you.

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone.

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself.

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much.

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy.

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine.

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol.

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is.

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her.

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall.

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance.

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that.

But god, does he think about you like that.

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee.

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand.

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought.

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?”

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her.

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse.

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom.

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again.

But.

That’s all contingent.

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same.

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies.

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him.

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him.

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back.

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out.

Not again.

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can.

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is.

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too.

He sends you a text—the third message in a row.

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years.

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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taurasiluvr · 7 months ago

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how you can help palestine

★ req. "(paige x reader) you should play around with protective/ possessive/ jealous reader bc it’s always paige (not specifying ur fics, just in general) being protective/ possessive/ jealous and I need a switch uppp 😝 other than that I have no plot ideas but u always come through with ur fics 🎀🎀"

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. mean!paige, not too rough though, semi-public sex (in a private bathroom), fingering, teasing, praise.

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 2.6k

you sat at the bar, your lips curved into a frown as you sipped on your fruity drink. paige had brought you to the bar to watch a game and had been paying no attention to you whatsoever. you'd left her side an hour ago and you hadn't heard from her since ─ she was probably chatting with a group of friends by the pool tables, completely absorbed in the game and the lively conversation.

you sighed, feeling a mixture of annoyance and loneliness. the bar was buzzing with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, but it all felt hollow without her attention.

you glanced back to try and find where your girlfriend was, only to find her talking to unfamiliar girl. your eyebrows twisted as you sipped on the drink, trying to figure who paige was talking to. the girl was leaning in close, laughing at something paige had said. a pang of jealousy hit you, and you couldn't help but wonder if paige even realized how much she was ignoring you.

you tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered like a stubborn cloud. the bar's lively atmosphere seemed to mock your mood. uou watched as paige and the girl continued their animated conversation, their smiles and laughter only intensifying your frustration.

you sighed. fuck it, you thought to yourself. deciding you just couldn't sit there any longer, you finished your drink and stood up, making your way toward them. as you approached, paige didn't even notice you.

you laced an arm around hers, giving the girl a condensing smile. "who's this, baby?"

paige finally turned to you, an awkward smile on her lips. "hey," she said, clearly caught off guard. "this is liz, an old friend from high school. liz, this is my girlfriend."

liz smiled politely, though you could sense a bit of tension. "nice to meet you," she said, extending a hand.

you shook her hand, your grip a bit firmer than necessary. "nice to meet you too," you replied, trying to keep your tone light but unable to fully mask your irritation.

paige cleared her throat, sensing the awkwardness. "we were just catching up, watching the game."

"fun, aren't you the little multitasker, paige." you finally met paige's eyes, and they lacked their usual softness her gaze carried. oh, she was pissed ─ but so were you.

"yeah," she let out as she continued to glare at you. you could practically read her thoughts; "stop being so damn bratty."

but you couldn't help it.

"well, it's good to know you're having such a great time," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"y/n,"

"i'm gonna go to the bathroom, so..." you shrugged before meeting liz's eyes. "it was really nice meeting you but i guess i'll catch up with you later, paige."

you knew you were being a bitch but you couldn't help it ─ was it so bad to want your girlfriend's undivided attention? sure, it was probably the alcohol making you more dramatic than usual, but the feelings were real. you turned on your heel and headed towards the bathroom, not waiting for paige's response. as you walked away, you could feel her glare on your back.

in the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to cool down and collect your thoughts. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, taking deep breaths. maybe you were overreacting, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being sidelined.

you heard a knock on the door, feeling your frustration peak. "taken!"

"it's me, open the door." paige's voice was muffled but you could recognize it. you rolled your eyes, opening the door to meet your tall girlfriend's eyes, which were filled with annoyance.

"the fuck was that?" she mumbled as she pushed herself into the small bathroom. "i don't appreciate your attitude when we're just trying to have fun,"

you scoffed as you crossed your arms, leaning against the sink. "you didn't have to come, you could've just stayed with liz and had fun."

"you're making this really fucking hard, and you know how much i hate bratty attitudes." paige's voice came out low as she stepped closer, her presence filling the small space. you could feel the heat radiating off her as she towered over you, her frustration palpable.

"i don't like feeling ignored," you shot back, not backing down despite the intensity of the situation. "it's like i don't even exist when you're with her."

"jesus, since when are you so needy? is it the alcohol?" paige's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing.

"you are such an asshole! i'm not being needy." you huffed, turning your back to paige.

"seems like it, baby. can't handle me talking to other women, is that right?" paige's hand found your hips as she pressed herself against your back.

you met her eyes through the reflection of the mirror, the bathroom suddenly feeling even smaller. the tension between you crackled like electricity. paige's grip on your hips was firm, her presence overwhelming.

you squared your shoulders, meeting her gaze in the mirror with defiance. "maybe i just expect my girlfriend to care more about me than some random girl," you shot back, your voice laced with venom.

paige's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening. "really pushing it, y/n."

"maybe you deserve it," you retorted, refusing to back down. "you're acting like I don't even matter."

paige's jaw clenched, and in an instant, her patience snapped. "cut the fucking attitude, seriously. or do i need to fuck it outta you?"

you scoffed, feeling your face flush as she spoke. she pressed herself against you, her breath warm against your ear as your stomach twisted in need. the room seemed to shrink even more as the tension between you intensified.

"you think you can just say whatever you want and get away with it?" she whispered, her voice low and dangerous.

your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of anger, desire, and frustration swirling inside you. "maybe if you paid more attention to me, i wouldn't have to," you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly.

paige's grip on your hips tightened, pulling you even closer. "you want my attention?" she growled softly, her lips brushing against your ear. "fine. you've got it."

paige's hands slid up your sides, fingers digging into your flesh just enough to send a shiver down your spine. you met her gaze in the mirror, your breath hitching as her lips brushed against your ear.

"you don't get to act out and then demand my attention," she murmured, her voice a low, dangerous whisper. "you needa learn how to behave, baby."

her hands roamed over your body, teasing and taunting as she spoke. your anger and frustration began to melt into a different kind of heat, one that spread through your veins and pooled low in your belly.

"paige..." you whispered, your voice betraying the conflict within you. you wanted her attention, but not like this, not in a way that made you feel even smaller.

"shh," she commanded softly, her fingers finding the hem of your shirt and slipping beneath it. "you wanted my attention. now, you have it."

her hands were everywhere, overwhelming your senses as she pressed her body against yours. your breath came in ragged gasps, and you felt a surge of need that matched the anger you had felt moments before. paige's grip tightened, her hands moving with a roughness that bordered on punishing.

"you think you can just throw a tantrum and get what you want?" she growled, her lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "gonna learn tonight that it doesn't work like that."

her words sent a thrill of fear and excitement through you, the line between pleasure and pain blurring in the intensity of the moment. you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan as paige's hands worked their way over your body, every touch a reminder of her dominance.

"want me to pay attention to you?" she asked, her voice a harsh whisper. "you're going to have to earn it."

her words were a challenge, one that you knew you couldn't back down from. you met her gaze in the mirror, your eyes filled with defiance and desire. "fine," you breathed, your voice trembling.

"fix your face, first of all." paige spoke, her voice mixed with annoyance and desire. "gonna fuck all that attitude outta ya, huh?"

she suddenly squeezed your hip, causing an unexpected moan to fall out of your mouth. paige's grip on your hip was firm, her fingers digging into your flesh as she leaned in closer.

her breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "that's better," she murmured, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "let's get rid of that attitude."

her hands moved with purpose, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other traced a teasing path down your stomach. you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape, but it was futile. paige knew exactly how to play your body, how to elicit the responses she wanted.

"i'm all yours, baby," she growled softly, her lips brushing against your neck. "and you're gonna remember that tonight."

you could feel the heat radiating from her body, the intensity of her presence overwhelming your senses. every touch, every whisper was a reminder of her dominance, and you couldn't help but surrender to it. paige's hand slid lower, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans. you gasped, your body arching into her touch as she found your most sensitive spot.

"oh, paige," you moaned, your voice a mix of frustration and longing.

she chuckled softly, her breath warm against your ear. "that's right, baby. say my name."

paige rubbed your clothed pussy, watching your every move through the mirror. she caged you in with her arms on either side of you, her eyes dark with intent. the small bathroom felt even more confining as she leaned in closer, her presence dominating every inch of space.

"look at you," she murmured, her fingers working skillfully through the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "so desperate for me, is this what you've wanted all night?"

you whimpered, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as you tried to steady yourself. paige's eyes never left yours in the mirror, her gaze holding you captive. the intensity of her touch, the way she controlled every movement, left you breathless and wanting more.

"paige, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "can't take it."

a slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. "you can take it," she whispered, her fingers pressing harder against you. "you will take it. my princess needs to learn patience, been too nice to you, huh?"

her words sent a shiver down your spine, the commanding tone only heightening your arousal. paige's other hand slipped under your shirt, her fingers brushing against your bare skin, teasing you further. the contrast between her rough and gentle touches was intoxicating, driving you to the brink.

"please," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "paige, need more."

her smile widened, a hint of sadistic pleasure in her eyes. "i know you do, baby," she murmured, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "but you're going to have to earn it."

she suddenly pulled her hand away, and you let out a frustrated whine, your body aching for her touch. paige's hands found your hips, and she spun you around to face her. her eyes were dark and dilated with desire as she pushed you back against the sink, trapping you with her body.

"you want more?" she asked, her voice a low growl. "show me how badly you need it."

her hands moved to your jeans, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping them before sliding them down your legs. the cool air against your heated skin sent a shiver through you, and you gasped as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down as well.

"look at you, so wet" she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. "so ready for me."

paige's hands were everywhere, touching and teasing as she pressed her body against yours. her lips found your neck, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin as her fingers trailed up your inner thigh, finally finding their way to your core.

you cried out as she touched you, your body arching into her hand. "paige, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "can't take it, i need you."

"good girl," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. "now, keep begging."

her fingers slipped into your soaking pussy, they began stroking you with a slow, torturous rhythm that left you gasping for breath. you clung to her, your nails digging into her shoulders as you tried to steady yourself.

"oh fuck, please," you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. "need you, need you to make me come. please."

"that's it," she purred, her fingers increasing their pace. "keep begging, baby, wanna hear how much you want it."

"want it so much," you cried, your body trembling with need. "need you, paige. please, please make me cum."

"apologize, baby. i didn't get to enjoy the game cause of you," paige mumbled against your lips as you whimpered.

"i'm so sorry, please," you cried out as your pussy tightened around her fingers. "pleasepleaseplease, wanna cum so bad," you rambled.

her eyes flashed with satisfaction, and she leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. her tongue danced with yours, the kiss deepening as her fingers worked you with relentless precision. the intensity of her touch, combined with the passion of her kiss, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

"cum for me," she commanded, her voice a low growl against your lips.

with a final cry, you obeyed, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you. paige held you steady, her touch guiding you through the waves of sensation until you were left breathless and spent.

she gripped your face with her other hand before shoving the wet fingers into your lips, humming as you tasted herself on them. "fuck, that's right, baby girl."

paige smirked as she slipped her fingers out of your mouth, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "did so well," she murmured. "now, let's clean you up."

she helped you straighten your clothes, her touch surprisingly gentle after the intense encounter. you could still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm coursing through your body, your legs trembling slightly as you adjusted your jeans.

paige's fingers lingered on your skin, tracing soft patterns as she made sure you were put back together. she looked at you with a mix of pride and affection, her dominant demeanor softening as she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"you okay?" she asked, her voice low and soothing.

you nodded, still catching your breath. "yeah, 'm okay," you whispered, your voice a bit shaky but filled with gratitude.

"good," she replied, her smile genuine. "let's get back out there and enjoy the rest of the night, the girls are probably where we're at."

she took your hand, leading you out of the bathroom and back into the lively atmosphere of the bar. the noise and energy of the crowd felt like a stark contrast to the intense intimacy you had just shared, but with paige by your side, you felt a sense of contentment.

as you made your way back to your spot, paige glanced at you with a playful glint in her eye. "you gonna behave now?" she teased, her tone light but carrying a hint of the dominance that had just left you breathless.

you smirked, feeling a surge of affection for her. "oh yeah, paige," you replied, squeezing her hand. "i'll behave."

"good," she said, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple. "cause the night is still young, and i'm not done with you yet."

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

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faggotboulevard · 3 months ago

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drabble about fucking logan (wolverine) because @embry-garrick implanted it into my brain

synopsis: holy shit u have a big dick n logan is having a field day

cw: riding, size kink, pain kink, reader has a huge dick, anal sex, no prep by choice, unsubstantial lube by choice, unprotected sex by choice, subtop logan dombot reader, established relationship, first time (in the relationship), 2nd person

dni minors, fems/mlm fetishizers, etc

You knew you were massive, that's why way back in high school you were pressured to join sports. You had admirers from both sexes and people would jump at the opportunity to date you in hope that you were as big down there as you were, body wise.

You were, and unfortunately scared off many potential fuck buddies with your size. You vividly remember an ex walking out mid make-out session when they saw your dick, and the situation you were in now was strikingly similar.

That train of thought was bouncing through your head like a pinball machine as you multitasked getting hot and heavy with Logan on the foot of his bed.

"You're distracted. Come on, focus, it's like kissing a brick wall," Logan complained gruffly, hands tangled in your hair as he bit playfully at your jawline to snap you out of whatever thoughts you were in.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. Maybe we're going a little fast?" you suggested, meeting his lips again as you attempted to focus on him.

"You're fuckin' kidding me. No, we've been dating for months, I'm ready," Logan disagreed. "You got something you're worried about?"

"No," you muttered, shaking your head to get the thoughts out. You steeled yourself to focus and gripped Logan's waist to pick him up and move him into your lap. He eagerly ground down onto your quickly hardening cock, groaning into your mouth as he felt the pants you were in tighten.

Logan quickly took off his own shirt and hurried to remove yours. Once the clothing was gone, he abandoned kissing your lips to kiss your neck and moved down your collar. He sighed and his eyes fluttered closed as he felt both of your hands snake in two different directions; one down to squeeze his ass and the other up to grip his hair.

"Need you. Been waiting long enough, want you in me. Wanna ride you," he whispered into your ear.

"Logan, I'm big," you warned warily, earning a confused pause.

"Big? Damn right you are. What's your point?" he grumbled, trying to get back to imminently fucking.

"My dick is big. I've had people up and leave because of it, so—"

"Well aren't you self-assured? Babe, let me judge if I want to get fucked or not," Logan answered playfully as he pressed tender kisses over your jawline to make up for the bites. "C'mon. You think I'm shy of a big dick?"

As you tugged off his pants, he undid your button to reciprocate and froze as he stared at your half-hard cock straining the fabric of your boxers.

"What's that, six inches? I mean, I can take it," he huffed, his face a mask of bravado. He pulled your pants all the way off and swallowed. "Okay... little more than six inches..."

Logan stroked you to hardness, muttering out quiet curses and "come on, come on... fuck," as he was eager to feel you. You were completely hard in just a few strokes, but his rough hand and the lack of any lubricant made you shy from the touch.

"Logan? Lube?" You reminded, to which he growled.

"Don't need it, bub."

"Yes you do! At the very least, I need it!" You protested.

"Relax," he rolled his eyes and attempted to take you in his mouth, but instead just let some spit dribble down since he'd ravish you with his mouth later. "Happy?"

"Let me prep you."

"Hell no."

Logan pushed your shoulders to the bed and hovered over you, to which you fished in your pants for a condom. "No condom, Lo,"

"Good."

"Go get one."

"Hell no," he repeated.

"You're gonna tear yourself," you said, sitting up.

"I can take it. I can take you. Just lay down," Logan demanded, to which you scoffed.

"Fine. It's not my bed that's getting blood all over, anyways."

Logan perched over you and lined your dick up, hissing as the wet head grazed his hole. "You're gonna be the end of me..."

"Fuck... fuck! Slower!" You demanded, worrying for Logan's poor body despite the fact that he healed instantaneously.

Among the shrill gasps and low groans, Logan uttered out a gravelly, "Please, just let me have this. You're splitting me in half, fuck, [Y/n], you're gonna make me cum like a virgin."

You grabbed Logan's hips and forced him to slow down, he was barely even a third of the way down and already tears were collecting in his eyes. "Easy, Logan," you said, but he suddenly grabbed your wrists and forced himself down to the base of your cock, a punched-out moan escaping his throat followed by a series of whimpers and gasps as he caught his breath. A hot stream of cum spurted from his unattended cock and onto your chest.

"Logan? You're bleeding. And you came..."

"I don't care. Fuck me like a man," Logan rasped out as he steeled himself to begin moving his hips.

#wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x male reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x male reader #x reader #x male reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #sub logan howlett #sub wolverine #dom reader #dom male reader #sub character

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vanessagillings · 9 months ago

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I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic. Some people who know me in real life still don’t. And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM. I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe? I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag. Even so, how could autism describe me? I was a good student. I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class. I can make eye contact…if I must. And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right? Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it. I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them: sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak. It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once.

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance. It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day. But it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities.

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person. This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs. No two people on the spectrum present in the same way. And that’s a good thing! No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic. I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway. I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day. More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing. My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

#autism acceptance day #actually autistic

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random-potat · 5 months ago

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˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ heads up

pairings: ni-ki x reader ft. danielle of new jeans and mentions of jake

synopsis: sometimes getting hit on the head by a baseball can be something to bond over.

word count: 1063

warnings: mild swearing, poor attempts at humour

a/n: as somebody who has always been hit in the face by a sports ball growing up, hopefully this is a meet cute that can actually happen to me but thats probably still unrealistic lol. anyways here's a short little ni-ki oneshot!! i still dont know how i feel about it but its good enough ε-(ｰдｰ) will most likely be posting my jongseob smau soon so that will be my main focus :)) so oneshots may not be posted as often cause this writer cannot multitask :p

Sitting in class, you continuously check your phone, counting down the time until class ends.

You feel a nudge on your shoulder, waking you up from your daze. Turning to the person beside you, Danielle whispers to you. “Mr. Hong may be smart and nice, but why does his voice have to be so gentle?” She puts her head down on the desk. "Like, it makes me sooo sleepy.”

"Agreed,” you say as you check your phone again for what seems like the 127th time.

“Why do you keep checking your phone? You got a hot date?” Dani teases.

You roll your eyes and respond, “I wish. More like a date to the dentist. Have to leave as soon as class ends, or else I'll have to wait thirty minutes for the next train.”

"Well, that sucks," Dani sighs. "Honestly, knowing you, you may not be able to make it considering how slow you run.”

You slapped her arm. “Hey! So not true. I’m just preserving energy.”

“Mmhm. Sure.”

Five minutes before class ends, you start to pack your things, getting ready to dash outside the classroom.

As the bell rings, you quickly run down the stairs, saying a quick goodbye to Dani as well as Mr. Hong. You couldn’t really care as people gave you odd looks for rushing towards the train station; some people may have thought that you just really needed to take a shit.

On the way to the train station, you have to pass by the sports field. Being completely unaware of your surroundings, you fail to hear someone shout toward you.

“Hey! Heads up!”

All of a sudden, a hard object hits you square on the side of your head, making you lose balance and fall to the ground.

Aware of your position on the ground, a wave of embarrassment took over. You lay there for a bit, not wanting to make eye contact with the people around you. “Not gonna lie, you would think somebody would come and ask me if I’m alright,” you thought.

As you start to get up from the ground, the sound of footsteps can be heard running towards you.

"Hey, are you okay?” A tired yet deep and husky voice says

You look up from your position, seeing a boy around your age with a baseball mitt around his hand. “Why is this man so freaking tall?”

You watch as he mouths words, but no actual sound is coming out of those plumped, nevertheless sort of chapped lips.

He shakes your shoulder lightly. “Excuse me, are you okay?”

You shake your head, getting out of your daze, although that may have been a mistake, seeing that it made you more dizzy.

The boy reaches his hand out, and you grab them as he hoists you back up.

“I’m so sorry, that was quite a hit; it must’ve hurt,” he starts. “Normally Jake has better aim, and when he doesn't, I can normally catch it,” he says as he scratches the nape of his neck.

“It’s completely fine; it totally doesn’t hurt at all.” You respond nonchalantly.

“Do you want some ice? I can get someone to get you some," he says as he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the practice field. “Here, just come sit on the bench and I’ll grab you some ice,” he says as he ushers a team member to get some ice.

“No, no, it's okay. I'm good. Kind of running late for something anyway, plus it really doesn't hurt.” You attempt to stand up.

The boy gently pushes you back on the bench. "Look, I'm sure whatever you have to do can wait, cause even if you say it doesn't hurt, the side of your head is definitely saying something else.”

You reach up to where the ball hit you, feeling a swollen bump starting to form. “Fine, you can give me ice, but after that, I'll be on my way to the station.”

He gives you a stern look. “Um, no, we still have to go with the standard precautions. You could have a concussion right now.”

"Look, I'm sure if I had one, I would know.”

“No, you're staying here. Practice ends in fifteen minutes anyway. So stay put.” He hands you a plastic bag of ice that his teammate got.

Being left with no choice, you watch as he runs to the center of the field. Watching as he throws and catches the ball around.

Not really knowing anything about baseball, you plug your earbuds in and slowly close your eyes to rest. “I'm already late at this point; I might as well rest.”

Little did you know, resting your eyes caused a little misunderstanding with the boy that had helped you. As he practiced, he took small glances at you every now and then. Seeing your eyes start to close caused him to immediately think you were about to faint.

Worried that you just became unconscious, the boy was unaware of the baseball that was being thrown towards him.

With history repeating itself, the boy fell face flat to the ground, a swollen bump starting to form on his head.

Waking up from your quick nap, you look beside you to see the same boy holding an ice pack on his head, similar to you.

“What the hell just happened?” You questioned.

“You know it turns out Jake over there really does have bad aim,” he jokes. “Or maybe I was just a teensy bit worried about you.”

“Worried about what?”

He explains, "Well, you closed your eyes; I thought you had fainted.”

"Well, I didn't.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I can see that now.”

The two of you guys sat there with an awkward silence surrounding you. Feeling a bit better, you decide to grab your things, turning toward the boy beside you.

“You know, I never got your name. It would be nice to know who my hero is.”

“I'm Nishimura Riki, but people just call me Ni-ki. You?”

“I'm YN. Nice to meet you, Ni-ki, and thanks for helping me.”

He smiles, “Anytime.”

As you begin to turn away, a faraway voice can be heard.

“Hey! Heads up!”

You turn around and see Ni-ki in front of you with a baseball in his hand.

He screams towards his teammate, “You know Jake, you really do have shit aim!”

my masterlists

likes and reblogs are appreciated ⋆˙⟡♡

perm taglist; open 📌: @yoizhrs @sunoostripletriple (send an ask or comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊)

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 5 months ago

Note

Wow I need to hear more of your thoughts and 69 with Xavier 😭 the image of him drooling from the feeling of his cock being swallowed and sucked so good is so...so... 😫 He may be pussy drunk but jokes on him I'm cock drunk too LMAO

HAJDKSJDHS PLEASE my unfiltered thoughts of xavier are so so many and they're locked in a safe because truly the filth that man makes me think surprises me sometimes too

but let's be so real, he totally would be pussy drunk, and the brainrot is insane with this one actually so you get a whole post 🫶🫶

but he just? feels like the type to be eating you out whenever he can? because it just feels so nice? he just likes staying between your legs? there's comfort in being there, having your legs wrapped around him, rubbing circles into your skin, holding you close like that... it probably doesn't even start out as anything remotely sexual. maybe you're watching a movie, or just cuddling—he's there nuzzling your thighs and maybe poking his nose against your clit every now and then... but the bottomline is that he just likes it there. he could fall asleep like that.

... but he also knows you like it.

so eventually he's going to start actually using his mouth on you, and he'd be very pleasure-focused, absolutely all for you, until you're tugging on his hair and grinding up against his face, just the way that he wants you to be.

but st the same time, he'd be so lost in making you feel good that i'll bet he barely even notices you move around, maybe try and take his cock out? until you do?

and then he just. absolutely loses it.

he'd already be sensitive and leaking, because eating you out just does that to him!! that's how much he likes it!!!

but you lick him, even if just once.... and then it absolutely snaps him awake.

zero control left.

just starts rutting into you just like that, and maybe you don't even have a say anymore—he's just fucking himself on your face and sloppily drinking you up at the same time, moaning into you somewhat helplessly. and the drool? it's dribbling down his chin, a mix of both your arousal and his own saliva, and he's trying his best to multitask and give you pleasure while focusing on the pleasure you give him, but it just completely fucks him over. eyes glazed over, possibly closed, eyebrows all knit together because everything just feels so good...

because he found something else he's addicted to now, too <33 it just so happens he's experiencing both at the same time <3

"mmph... mmf—'ngel—nmmph— s-s-sho good—"

#yeah i um hm. no excuses for this one #but thank you ill think about this all day now 😭😭#ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #*ੈ♡. rose jar #❀˖°. roxiecanon #love and deepspace smut #xavier smut #xavier x reader #divider by cafekitsune

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hiitsm · 8 months ago

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Transient Connection: A Meeting of Worlds

You meet a beautiful woman at your workplace, who isn't a professional actress like you.

Fluff

Note: I'm not very well-versed in the acting world, so it's not described in great detail.

Request here

You just stepped out of the small makeup trailer, ready to shoot a brief scene. However, you didn't know who you would be acting with. You were aware that a character would be making a cameo, but no one had informed you which character or which actor or actress would be playing the role. This lack of information left you feeling annoyed, as you needed to know for your preparations.

You practically sprint to your manager’s trailer and burst inside. "Valentina, I love you, but please tell me how I’m supposed to prepare without knowing some important key information," you say, your voice a bit raised, though unintentionally.

You’re just a little nervous. This is your first big movie, your first major role, and hopefully, your first big breakthrough. While you’re not entirely unknown as an actress, having played roles in small series, you've never been the lead. This is different, and you want everything to be perfect.

"It wasn’t finalized until just a little while ago. She almost got cold feet and didn’t want to do it anymore," your manager Valentina says, her attention focused on her managerial tasks. Valentina is more like a best friend to you, and her multitasking nature is something you've grown accustomed to.

"That's just great," you say, rolling your eyes sarcastically. The last thing you want is to play this role with an unprofessional actress who would rather not be there. You believe that someone who is fully committed deserves the role. But maybe that's just your selfishness talking.

"I think she’s a professional football player. Everyone on this set loves her, really," Valentina says, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You walk over and playfully smack her arm. "Why would they hire a professional football player? Doesn’t she just want to play football?" you sigh heavily, worried. The last thing you want is for this to go badly because they chose a football player instead of an actual actress.

"Just have some faith in the writers and everyone else who thought this was a good idea. And be nice and kind, just like your mother taught you," Valentina says, pointing at you accusingly.

"I’m always nice and kind. And since when do you talk about my mother? You don’t like her," you retort, taking a bite of your banana to fill your stomach before heading on set for a few hours.

"We both don’t like your mother," Valentina adds, raising her eyebrows. "But she did teach you manners, so use them." With that, Valentina hops out of the van, and you follow right behind her.

"We will first have a reading with her and her manager, getting to meet them now," Valentina tells you, almost running, which is unusual for her. You think maybe the two of you will be late, because Valentina never runs.

"I did hear that she’s very pretty," Valentina turns her head towards you, waggling her eyebrows even more.

"Of course she is, Val. She's a professional football player," you reply, shrugging your shoulders a little. "Maybe she has a nice manager," you tease, and before you can add anything else, Valentina shoves you while you're running, almost causing you to trip.

"Ah, there are the two of you. We were already wondering where you were," you hear a man's voice say.

You find yourself staring into a pair of beautifully greenish eyes.

That's not a man, you think.

Momentarily lost in their captivating gaze.

Where did the man's voice go?

Her eyes are stunning, and you can't seem to look away. Lost in your thoughts and dreams, you only snap back to reality when the man's voice returns.

"Hello, my name is Joseph, and this is Alexia," he says, indicating the woman with the enchanting eyes.

Ah, there's the man. Her manager.

Valentine nudges you slightly, bringing you out of your trance. You extend your hand for Alexia to shake, then Joseph's. "Hi, my name is y/n," you say a little sheepishly, feeling completely out of character. But as soon as you notice, you push the feeling aside, eager to make a good impression.

Valentine talks all three of your heads off, explaining a little bit to each of you as you walk to get the reading done. Alexia is walking beside you, and when you glance down at her hands, you notice they shake a little. You assume it's from nerves, and an urge to help her feel more at ease washes over you.

"Have you ever done something like this before?" you ask her softly. She blushes a little, quickly becoming shy. "No, this is all new for me," she says, with a hint of irritation.

You realize she probably doesn't want to be here, she just wants to play football. "You want to be back on the football field again soon?" you inquire quietly, careful not to overstep.

"Si, but we're in America right now, and my favorite football field is in Barcelona," she replies, her confidence growing at the mention of Barcelona.

"I love Barcelona. When I'm off, I love to go there," you share with a smile, watching as her eyes light up. You decide quickly that you want to see her eyes like that more often.

"Barcelona is great. I'm glad you like it already," she responds, wearing a huge smile, visibly more at ease.

"We both flew in only a few hours ago, so we are both a little bit jet-lagged. We have a strict schedule, in four hours, we need to get on the plane again because she has an important match in two days," Joseph tells Valentine.

You almost feel sad hearing this. You only have a few hours with her. But you can't dwell on it, right? You're a professional actress playing a scene with a professional football player who is now dabbling in acting. It's only professional to play the scene and part ways again after.

"The two of you can prepare for you seen there" Valentine's points to the secluded beach. It was be a beach scene anyway. Just a small talk scene. But you still notice that Alexia is appearing very anxious so you will still try and do you best to ease her nerves.

"The two of you can prepare for your scene over there," Valentine says, pointing to the secluded beach. It was going to be a beach scene anyway, just a small talk scene. However, you still notice that Alexia appears very anxious, so you resolve to do your best to ease her nerves.

The two of you walk over to the beach and start a small conversation. "So, if you're a professional footballer, what brings you to acting today?" you ask, hoping your tone sounds as kind as you intend.

"Just for the brand," she replies curtly, but you sense there's more she wants to say, though the words don't come out.

"That's nice," you respond, unsure of what else to add.

"I just want to play football, but this is part of it too," she says, her gaze shifting to the waves crashing onto the shore.

"I understand that a little bit. I love to act, but I don't love the interviews and all the promotion stuff that comes with it," you admit a bit shyly. This woman makes you feel shy, which is unusual for you.

"Yeah, I feel the same," she says, finally meeting your eyes again and giving you a big smile.

As you arrive at the beach, you initially wanted to offer her some acting tips, but you realize she's doing really well. The only issue is that she's a bit shy and awkward. However, with the preparation time you have, you know it's going to be okay.

The two of you were feeling at ease in each other's company, chatting about everything and nothing, and laughing a lot. She made you feel special, a different kind of special. After a while, Alexia received a phone call. You could only see a lion emoji as the caller ID, no name.

"Lo siento, that's my best friend," she said as she picked up the FaceTime call.

"Hola Ale, have you made a move on her yet?" you heard through the phone, and Alexia's cheeks turned bright red. "I mean, you love that show and you always tell me how good she looks," her best friend added, unaware that you were sitting right beside her.

"No, sí, no, ella está sentada a mi lado, idiota," she responded, switching to Spanish in her embarrassment.

"Well, just to let you know, she just picked up all her stuff from your apartment. I just wanted to tell you. Have fun!" And with that, the phone call ended abruptly.

There was a moment of silence between you two—comfortable for you, but maybe not for Alexia. You tried to break the silence without crossing any boundaries. "So, who picked up stuff from your apartment?" you asked quietly, hoping not to be too direct.

"My ex-girlfriend," she replied softly, and you noticed she wasn't ready to discuss it further. The silence settled in again. After a little while, you saw a tear streaming down the right side of her face. "Is this okay?" you asked, moving your finger toward her cheek to wipe it away.

"Sí," she said, looking out toward the shore. "Lo siento, she just hurt me a lot," she whispered, barely audible.

"It's okay to let yourself feel your feelings," you said gently.

"But I don't want to feel so sad anymore," she whispered again.

"You know what usually helps me feel a bit better?" you asked, and she shook her head softly. "Dancing on the beach. Come on."

You put a random song on your phone and started to dance. Alexia looked up at you with wide eyes, then a bright smile spread across her face as she watched you dancing so silly, so freely, so uncaring of what anyone might think.

"Come on," you encouraged, holding out your hand for her to grab. She finally took it, and both of you ignored the tingling sensation that passed between you. But you both felt it.

You didn't let go of her hand, and the two of you danced freely to the music. You were laughing and smiling, feeling an unburdened joy. It was wonderful to see her eyes light up and her smile brighten the world around you. Hearing her laugh was like music itself, a melody of pure happiness. Watching her, so beautiful and full of life, you felt an incredible connection growing between you.

"Are you guys done?" you hear behind you. It's Valentina, and you give her an annoyed look. She smirks at you, clearly aware that you've caught feelings for the blonde professional footballer rather quickly.

"Just a second, we'll be right there," you say, gently pushing her away from the beach.

"Hurry up!" she playfully screams back at you. You roll your eyes, but when you turn around again, you're greeted by a breathtaking sunset you hadn't noticed before due to your dancing.

Alexia stands there, bathed in the warm glow, looking stunning. You wish you could do something, wish you had the courage to ask her to spend more time together. But you also know she's heartbroken, so you decide to give her the space she probably needs.

"The sunset looks beautiful," she tells you.

"Yes, it does. Do you want a picture?" you ask, and she nods excitedly.

It's a beautiful moment, and you secretly hope she'll share it on social media so you can see it again, maybe a thousand times more.

"Gracias," she says, grateful for the offer.

"Now, we should go shoot our scene." She grabs your arm and pulls you with her, and you follow, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Maybe a part 2 in the works if y'all want to?

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot

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chanlix-honey · 12 days ago

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Run It Again (Bang Chan)

Warning: Smut (+18), pet names, daddy kink, fingering, fear of thunder, and a panic attack occurrence. Please let me know if I missed anything! Minors, please do not interact.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Thank you all for your patience! Without further ado, here's my first Bang Chan x Fem Reader fic. I'm thinking of making this a series, but I have too many ideas and not enough time to write. Let me know if you would like me to continue this, and make it a series with all the boys!

It’s Friday night, and you’ve just come home from a long day of doing voiceovers. With your throat a little sore, you decide to boil some water for a honey tea and change out of your work clothes. Once you’ve changed into your sleepwear, your phone rings. Your manager, Delilah, is calling you.

“Hey Y/N, are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh, no I don’t think so. Why, what’s up, Delilah?” You ask. You hear her sneeze, sounding distant from her phone.

“-choo! I’m so sorry for calling so last minute, but the animation team just told me they finished the final scenes for the show,” she starts.

“Ah, ok.” Your kettle clicks off, signaling that your water is boiled. You return to the kitchen, grabbing a cup, spoon, and a honey jar.

You shoulder your phone to multitask the call and your tea. “And you know what else is great? Cough cough—The director called just before I called you to say that the voices need to be done by Sunday morning so the team can review it.”

You stop your movements, putting down the honey.

“What?”

“Yeah…I know.”

You both sigh on the call together. Delilah clears her throat.

“Could you come in tomorrow morning so we can make any necessary edits before the review?” Her coughs crunch on the other end of the line.

“Definitely, I’ll be there in the morning.”

“Great! I’ll email you the script now so you can take a look at your lines beforehand. I’m so sorry for all of this, I’m—cough—sure this is inconvenient for you.”

“It’s okay, really! Like I said, I have no plans for tomorrow.” You reassure her.

“Ok, thank you...I’ll see you tomorrow! I’ll send the script now. Good night, y/n!”

“Got it. Good night Delilah.” You both hang up.

You stir the honey and hot water in thought.

As much as you love voice acting, sometimes the job can be stressful. You’re grateful that this job lets you express yourself through characters and it pays your bills. And to be working with the company of your dreams—Stray Kids—is unreal. You remember watching Skzoo as a kid and the joy it brought you. And yet, you can’t help but think that there seems to be some lack of communication (and time management?) within some departments. Hyunjin–head of animation–often loses his head if Felix isn’t around to check in with him.

Finishing your tea, you put the cup in the sink. You head to the fridge to grab some leftovers and put them in the microwave to heat up. Once the food starts rotating, you hear your phone ding. Checking the notification, you read the email. It’s the script for tomorrow’s session.

The TV plays in the background, but you don’t really pay any mind to it until this moment. “Be sure to bring an umbrella if you’re planning to go out tomorrow, as there is a high chance of rain tomorrow…”

You skim through your lines until the microwave beeps. You take out your food and begin to read through the script carefully.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

—

You arrive in front of the production building.

Dark clouds billow the skies, and the sound of thunder floods your ears. You scamper into the building quickly, umbrella in hand. When you enter the building the rain begins to pelt down on the ground. You jump, as lightning strikes outside. For a moment, you stop and breathe deep and shaky breaths. Once you’ve calmed down, you take the stairs to the second floor. All the recording booths are at this level, making it helpful for your trembling knees.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t last all day,” you mutter to yourself.

You’ve always hated storms. They’ve terrified you ever since you were a kid. The strong winds always made you paranoid, thinking of the worst situations. When thunder breached your ears, you would always hide under a blanket to muffle the noise. Your parents used to let you hide in their closet to calm down, usually with a stuffed animal or blanket in hand.

Even today, they stress you out. As if coming to work in the morning for a last-minute session wasn’t stressful enough.

Entering the recording room, you put your stuff down on the couch with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness for sound-proof rooms. Comfortable with the atmosphere, you head into the booth. You take some headphones sitting on a small table in the booth and put them on. Waiting for Delilah and the others to come in, you open your phone to review the script some more. After a few minutes, you get a text from her.

Hey Y/N, just wanted to let you know I can’t make it to the studio today. I woke up with a terrible cold. One of the other guys will come in to watch over your session.

Ah, ok. Thanks for letting me know! I’ll stop by to bring you some soup. Take it easy in the meantime!

One of the other guys? Who could it—

“—Y/N? Can you hear me?” A male voice takes you out of your thoughts. You widen your eyes as you’re familiar with that voice. Looking up, you see him.

“Oh good, you can. I’ll be filling in for Delilah, so just do your lines as if I wasn’t here.” He smiles.

The director is here? Why him, out of everyone? Your hands begin to clam up.

Changbin or Han is usually here to fill in if something happens.

“Ahm, I got them working on other projects this morning, so their schedules are full.”

“Oh, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

He nods, sheepishly. An embarrassing moment of silence passes and his voice fills my ears.

“Right, go ahead and start from line 5, I’ll play the scene just two lines before yours, so be ready.” You nod in agreement.

The scene plays and you’re cued in to say your line. “Hello! I’m Joy, the host of this series, where the boys bake…”

You breeze through your lines and before you know it, you’re nearly done with this session.

Until, this line.

This is great! Mmm, this pastry is so good, mmm…

You tense up, forgetting that line felt a little lewd for your liking. You thought about it while reading through the script the first time. Realizing that Delilah would be there to listen in, the anxious thought went away quickly.

But Delilah isn’t here. Chan is. The director of this whole project is here watching you voice your lines.

No way. No way I’m doing this line in front of the director. It feels weird…wrong even. I can’t do this!

You’ve never really interacted with a guy in that way before. There is zero experience in that field. You never even touched porn or smut books to find out. You run away when guys flirt with you. The idea of interacting with someone to that extent terrifies you. Doing anything that even remotely puts yourself in a situation that could lead to uhm…doing more…sets you off. You’re worried you would mess up. Especially since you wouldn’t know what to do. You find that trying to function becomes quickly more difficult.

You curse to yourself at the cold that took over Delilah.

The count-in starts, quickly realizing you're up. And the line is next. “This is g-great! Sorry, I stuttered.” He pauses the recording to talk to you.

“No worries, we can always cut it. Just try it again. I’ll give you the last line to prepare yourself.” He instructs, hearing the count-in tick in your ears.

“This is great! M–coughs” he pauses it again. “Is everything okay Y/N?”

“coughs, clearing throat y-eah, yeah. Sorry, I just had something caught in my throat *coughs* I-I’m fine.” You move away from the microphone to clear your throat some more. After a moment, you stretch and take deep breaths to calm down.

“I’m alright now, I can do it this time!”

“Ok, let’s take it back to the last line.” You nod and hear the count-in once more.

The line plays and you’re ready. “This is grea-AH!” You jump back from the microphone and take your headphones off. Chan bursts into the booth concerned.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“A spider..” you pant. “I saw a spider on the mic…” He looks around the mic and the ground to find it.

“Spider? I don’t see it anywhere.” He keeps looking around but to no avail. You could’ve sworn you saw it! Didn’t you? Or maybe was it just your hair in your face?

He sighs and rubs his eyes.

“I know we’re almost done, but let’s take a break. It’s still early, and we’re both clearly tired. We’ve been going at this for a few hours already.” His head tilts towards the door leading back to the recording space. You follow him begrudgingly.

He must be so annoyed with me. Maybe he’ll fire me for this… You think to yourself.

Once exiting the booth, you see him back in the chair staring ahead, lost in thought.

After a few moments, he speaks again.

“I’ve noticed you’re having trouble finishing the line.” He looks at you. Chan gets up from the chair and saunters over to you.

“I-I just got it yesterday...I’m just flubbing over this one.” You reassure, avoiding eye contact. Keeping a distance, you walk backward as he continues coming towards you.

“Honest. You just said yourself, it’s early. W-we’re tired. I-I’m tired.” You stammer. Unable to walk any further, your back presses against the wall. Chan places his hand on the wall, near your face, and leans in closer and closer, just until there’s a few inches of space between your noses.

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re nervous.” he sneers, picking up on your nerves.

“Is it…because of me?” He questions.

“That’s..I–” he gently grabs your chin and tilts it up, bringing your vision back to him.

“Delilah tells me you’re great at what you do. Am I wrong?” You feel your face getting hot.

“N-no, you’re not..” you mutter.

You hear your heartbeat travel from your chest to your ears. Blood continues to rush to your face. You start to feel your pussy thrum at the situation.

“Hm. Thought so.” The hand on your chin travels to your lips. His thumb brushes his thumb over your bottom lip.

So soft…I could kiss her right now. He thinks.

“Have you…have you been with someone before?” He looks down at your lips, licking his. Your eyes widen at the question.

“I-!” You close your mouth, trying to collect your thoughts. He looks back up to you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t think that question has anything to do with my work—”

“—Oh but it does. Have you ever felt a man’s touch before, Y/n?” Your brain short circuits. You struggle to find words.

“Have they…” his hand slinks down to your hip, his other hand still perched on the wall.

“Taken care of your needs?”

“Uh…” you begin to feel a wetness growing in your panties.

“Maybe…pleasured you before?” His hand shifts some more, resting on your thigh. His thumb rubs towards your inner thigh, fingers reaching close to your womanhood. You feel yourself vibrate under his touch.

“I…” his hand stops moving on your thigh, waiting for your response.

“N-no..” you whisper. “You’re the first.” He hums in response, as his eyes darken.

“Then can I–no. May I, take care of you?”

All the lights were cut off, and all the electronics whirring in the room were powered down. Chan looked around in the dark room, realizing what had just happened.

“Eep!” You quickly grab onto Chan’s shirt and hide in his chest.

“The storm must have knocked out the electricity. It’s alr–”

“–Please.” His attention is brought back to you.

“Please, uhm…” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, combing your fingers into his hair. He smiles.

“At your service.” He leans in to kiss you, closing the gap.

For the first time in your life, you feel so...aware of your body. Blood pumps to your fingers. Goosebumps lay atop your skin. You feel your hair standing up. You feel the fuzz on your soft sweater. The chill rushing up your back. The throbbing in your jeans. The warmth of his touch. His hands ride up under your sweater, just enough where he can feel the skin above your jeans.

The smell of Chan’s cologne wraps around you, and it's so rich. It’s a light vanilla smell with a bite of cedar and a dash of cinnamon–it’s all you want to smell. And his hair is so plush. It’s like feeling a pillow. You want him, and yet you can’t do anything. You don’t know how.

Your lips move with tenacity, with caution. Anxiety prisons your well-being and you freeze, unsure of what to do next. Chan notices this and pulls back. He rubs his thumbs on your hips to help you calm down.

“Is this ok? Do you want to stop?” He asks.

“I-No. I’m sorry, this is ok…I just don’t know what to do.” Your mind is going a million miles per hour. You struggle to grasp where your head is. All the possibilities of what-ifs, hows, and should-I thoughts whir into the blender that is your mind. You’re slipping into the rabbit hole. A dark pit of void that is filled with racing thoughts. The void strangles you, seeping into your lungs. They continue to fill, ready to burst–

“—Y/N?” A pin drops. You hear your name breathe past his lips.

“Hey. Hey, it’s alright. We can stop if you’re not feeling ok.”

“No, sorry I–I just need a second.” You shakily sigh. “Can I–is it ok if I hug you? Sorry, I–”

He pulls you into his chest, and a small poomf sound is heard, as he wraps his arms around you. Your body vibrates for a moment. Your anxiousness has nowhere to go, so it encapsulates your body. You take deep breaths to really try and calm down. Chan rubs the small of your back–ever so softly–you hum in response.

“Don’t apologize to me ever again. And you don’t have to ask if you need something from me. Just tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Sor–I’ll-I’ll try.” You sink further into his chest as you feel your heart beating to a normal level. Your shoulders slump and you wrap your arms around him.

You start to hear his heart beating in his chest. It’s nearly all you can hear.

After a few minutes, you let go of him and he gently pulls away.

“How are you feeling?” He whispers.

“Better.” You sigh in contentment.

“..And about…?” He leads. You feel your face get hot again.

“Oh! Uh, y-es. I’m still–yes.” You nod. “Tell me at any point if you want to stop, ok?”

“Alright,” you respond. He leans down to your ear and whispers.

“Good girl. Listen to your body and let it talk for you. I’ll do the rest.” He brings his hands to your hips once more. He tilts down, his face breathing down your neck. Softly, he presses his lips to it.

Again.

He keeps at this to trail down your neck and a bit past your collarbone. He stops just above your sweater, where it lays.

“I’m going to take this off of you, ok? Raise your arms for me, baby girl.” You do just as you’re told, and he pulls your sweater off of you, revealing your chest and baby pink bra. You’re itching to hide your chest as a habit but you’re more curious to see what else he does next. So you tame the itch.

“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” Chan takes you into his arms and kisses in between your breasts. He sucks and licks all around your exposed flesh, leaving marks. In the midst of this, he slips one of his hands onto your bra’s clasp and undoes the latch. Coming up to your shoulders, he slides the bands of your bra off them.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” You look away, blushing some more. You feel your lower region pulse. A soaking feeling sits in your panties once more and you moan quietly. Though not quiet enough.

“Fuck baby girl,” Bangchan grabs your thighs and lifts you. “Daddy wants to hear that again.” You wrap your legs around his hips. Chan kisses you again, his tongue threatening to take dominance. He licks your bottom lips for entrance and you comply, letting him explore your tongue.

He leans you on the wall to take a hand to one of your breasts. With his right hand free, he teases your nipples, pinching and pulling at his own discretion. You moan and whimper in his mouth and Chan can’t help but praise you. He pulls away from the intense kiss while continuing to play with your breasts.

“That’s it pretty girl, you’re so good for me.” Chan nuzzles himself into the other side of your neck, leaving kisses all over it.

“Everyone should know you’re mine,” he growls. He sucks and bites your neck, intentionally bruising it.

“O-oh Chan…” you whimper. Still on his hips, you feel his stiffness. You need more of him, this isn’t enough.

“Mmh..” you grind on him once and your pussy twitches. Both of you are still clothed. There’s so many layers between you two. But you can’t help it. You want him. You need him.

Before you realize, you hear Chan groaning in your ear.

You grind on him again. And again. And again.

“Fuck baby, you’re so eager. You want my dick, huh? You want daddy’s dick in you, princess?” He growls.

You stop for a moment, feeling your body flutter in response to Bangchan calling himself “Daddy”. Rolling off his tongue so pleasantly, so confidently. You plead to yourself mentally, wishing he would say it again. You whine, melting into his body.

“Yes! P-please. I n-need it..daddy.” He coos.

“Aw, you're so cute. You like it when I call myself daddy, don't you princess?” Your face feels hot.

“Y-yes..I really like it..” you mutter, hiding your face in his neck.

“Such a sweet girl. I can’t deny you begging so nicely for me. Daddy will give you what you want…but first, I’m going to take your pants off ok?” He speaks softly.

“Ok.” You nod.

He puts you down to unzip your pants. Pulling them down enough to see your matching pink panties. Your damp spot is revealed and he hums at the sight.

“My, my, baby girl. All soaked, just for me.” He gets down on his knees.

Chan kisses your pussy between the panties and pulls them down, along with your pants. You step out of them, now completely naked. He looks up to you.

“Let me hear you more princess, ok?” Chan plants his face into your region and you squeal in surprise. It’s a new feeling. An odd feeling. A good feeling. Really good. He licks your clit slowly and you whine.

“Ah..d-daddy. That feels good,” you sigh. Chan licks a long stripe, close to your cunt. You feel the pit of your belly sink. At the same time, it feels like something’s unraveling, like a blooming flower. One by one petals peel away from its center. Your cunt pulsates, aching for more.

Chan speeds up, his tongue flattening and stretching between your folds. He alternates his pace, all in attempts to rile you up. This works, as you feel..something grow.

This bubbling feeling…feels like it’s going to burst…

“I’m–I’m–”

Before you can form your sentence, your body shakes, erupting a wave of shock and pleasure throughout your body. He stops his actions to give you a moment.

“Good girl, let it all out for Daddy,” He brings a hand to your head, petting your hair gently.

Once your body relaxes, you feel something warm and wet come out of you.

“Ah, you’re so pretty when you cum babygirl.” He kisses your temples gingerly.

You could barely feel his kisses as your body felt like it was floating. You feel hazy, but good. All you’re thinking about is Chan and you feel butterflies in your belly. Your thoughts move slowly. Drifting around like clouds. Eventually, come back to yourself.

“Doing ok cutie?” He asks.

All you could muster up to say was “Mhm”. You smile up at him, laying a hand on his cheek.

“We didn’t get to, um–” He interrupts.

“It’s ok, I came when you did. We can work up to it next time.” He grabs the hand on his cheek and kisses it.

“N-Next time?!” You blush.

“Of course…and we have some things to talk about before we get there. Would you like to get lunch together?”

Thunder dispels the sweet moment you both shared. “Can we order in?”

“Of course. We’re gonna be stuck inside for a bit.” He giggles.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah?”

#stray kids #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #bang chan #au! bangchan #au! stray kids #bangchan x reader #stray kids bangchan #lee felix #hyunjin #chanlix-honey posts #chanlix-honey bangchan posts

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linnienin · 2 years ago

Text

⁓⁕🍷 🌸 V e n u s ⁕ a n d ⁕ h o w ⁕ y o u ⁕ c h i l l 🌸 🍷⁕⁓

Disclaimer: Take what resonates. I'm not a professional astrologer, i just am an avid researcher and i use my personal experience when writing my posts (Also, pls, don't copy my work, i spend lot of time on it, thanks)

Ahhh Venus, the planet of love. We use it to talk about our relationships and misadventures in our love life. But it also is the planet of feminine energy, enjoyment, relaxation and indulgence. How do you chill using your Venusian energy? Let's find out looking at your Venus's sign and degree

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⁕ Aries / 1-13-25 degrees : *aggresively flying on the couch* play TV, *loud setting on*, watch the tv for 1 minute, gets bored, *roll off the couch*, goes to the kitchen, sees people, start a little chase (Jason Momoa meme entered the caption) 👀👐. After annoying people for a bit, do a little workout, tries to lift a 700 kg cause they *confident*, fail, they still confident, opt for the 0.5 kg, now they happy 😊💪. Dance lover. Enjoy drinking energy drinks. Not really a sipp-er, more of a chugg-er lmao. Carbs are their heaven, they cannot have enough (cause they move a lot, they need the energyy). When laying on the sofa need to put their head on someone else's shoulder or legs or head to feel safe and receive the physical contact they really crave. Enjoy taking short cold showers. Like playing chess (they're good at strategizing and know when to attack and they're bold about it). Cut their hair as a relaxing activity (until they have no hair left to cut lol), likes dyeing them too, preferabily with bolder colours.

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⁕ Taurus / 2-14-26 degrees: The yawn-er. They're MASTER at chilling. They chill doing everything, i'm not kidding, are they at home, are they at work? They be chilling allll the time. Lovers of the sofa, bed, and others soft big surfaces. Chill by taking their time doing everything, they be starting cooking at 9 a.m. to serve a meal at 1 p.m. ✨Sloth with grace✨. Quality over quantity. Enjoy passing time doing nothing...literally. They be like fixating on a thing and looking at it for an hour straight. Mad control of their focus. Meditating without realizing It. Probably sip chamomile. They like to think time doesn't exist, they got all the time in the world (until they wake up one day, look into the mirror and realize they forgot to shave their mustache for all this time). Hella romantic, enjoy picking up flowers, endless walks in nature, veery slowly, they be stopping every 2x3 to admire a little bug passing by.

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⁕ Gemini / 3-15-27 degrees: Tea time with their personalities. Lmao, no but they literally chill by checking in with their thoughts and their ideas. Loves listening to podcasts and documentaries. Multitasking hobbies. Yup, i have no clue how they even relax by doing 1738283 things at a time but it's a way to shut down their thoughts for a while. Yeah, i know, i just told you they chill by thinking too, but sometimes it becomes too much and they have to switch the brain off. Relax by painting their nails. Get experimental with makeup. Write fanfics but leave them unfinished 👀. Admire their pretty handwriting. Enjoy reading and talking about gossip a looot, too much hehe. Like to play games that require a broad knowledge on everything (ex Trivia). Thinking about doing stuff but actually not doing it lmfao, they just love to think about soo many ideas, that is a way to relax, but then they don't even write them down and poof, they're gone and they can't remember them and they get mad about it :(

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⁕ Cancer / 4-16-28 degrees : Cuddling with their pillow 24/7 (cause deep down they feel alone... 🥺). Play animal crossing. Imagine their future family, even tho they're actually stuck in the past lol. Most likely to binge watch series for a whole day and get emotional about it because they get too attached to the characters. If they could they'd never leave the house...ever lmao, total homebodies. Relaxing by spending time alone or with very closed ones, friends/family. Probably likes to collect plushies, funko pops, or mini cute figures of their favourite fictional characters ✨. Cooking and baking can be a relaxing activity to them, especially if they do it for their family or their guests. Have 'grandma's hobbies'... knitting/crocheting for example lol. Enjoy so much making photo albums, and even more looking at them from time to time. Love going to the sea, early mornings walking barefoot on the sand and admiring the immense ocean and the sun rising, they're fans of little details and very romantic/sweet scenarios. They enjoy being helpful to others, so they'll probably ask people if they can do something for them (especially if they see people struggling doing something, they'll gladly volounteer to offer their help).

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Leo / 5-17-29 degrees: Stars wannabe. Intensely crying in front of the mirror portraying a desperate girl that has been cheated on, then recompose themselves and admire how good they just were pffft. Put on glasses even at home to feel extra, hit the door while walking cause they can't see a thing, get on the floor purposely, decides to play the blind character, gets up, * sudden dramatic enhancement of the other senses*. Dancing with the starssss. No seriosuly, they should apply, but as the professional dancer cause they so good! (and well they're not stars.... yet 👀). Like the other 2 fire venuses they enjoy moving their body so workouts are very appreciated, but leos especially loove hiit workouts, go build that cooore. Lovers of loong passionate and romantic dramas, they wanna feel all the emotions and they stay loyal to a specific series so they wish it could go on forevahh (hello..."Beautiful" lmao). ✨ Randomly transform their home in a runway show. Start walking like a model to feel themselves ✨ List all the things they can do and skills they acquired to feel good about themselves, then they list all the things they wanna work towards to use that self esteem boost to enhance their motivation and work towards their future goals.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Virgo / 6-18 degrees : Killing the chilling. No seriosuly, these people seem like they can't 100% chill properly, and some of them may take 'something' to feel completely detached and lost from reality for a bit... 👀 They chill by making plans. Always trying to find things to do and learn to always get better. Working on themselves is their favourite project. Scanning the room in bed instead of chilling, seeing if there's something they need to adjust or clean. Overthinking the heck out of their lives...wait weren't you supposed to chill? Nevermind 🙈. Roasting others...in their minds hehe, they won't let others see how much they enjoy analizing their mistakes. 'Lemme give you advice on this thing' , others: uhm... ok but chilllll. And you ask Virgo venuses whyy they continue to give advices even when people don't listen to them. Well... saying 'I told you' is more satifying than hearing 'i don't care' 😘 (underlying validation issues). Well...i mean, they could chill while crafting, i give you this, it's probably the only time where they get near the definition of chilling...but hey hold on, cause soon enough they gonna find out details about how they're not perfect at what they do so kill the chill again and let the procrastination beginnn (wait... is procrastination's Virgo's way of chilling?)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Libra / 7-19 degrees: They wanna experience the finest things in life. They go to that fancy restaurant, get that fancy dress, buy those fancy flowers... they wanna feel cuddled by life and specifically... lifestyle. They need to feel they value by surroundings themselves with valuable things. That's why they chill by going shopping or talking to new people, because where they see value in, they get value from. It's all about feeling good about themselves. Have a sweet tooth (but enjoy eating overall, it's like they enjoy the experience of taste, they're not really picky ultimately). Can splurge on personal care, lots of tools for facials or expensive skincare (cause after eating sugar they need to mantain the perfect skin lol). They work a lot on the mantainance of the self. That's why they have a good eye for fashion and aesthetics, because they have been researching and analizing everything that's out there to understand what's better for them, but they still haven't found out their true style due to their indecisive nature 😂. Plus let's admit it, they like to change often and renew themselves to maintain that 'interesting persona' 👀

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⁕ Scorpio / 8-20 degrees : Drowning their nose in personality tests. Seriously, when these people wanna chill, all they got on their mind is how to understand that mind even more. They're detectives of their own psyche. Lovers of shadow work. Let all those intense questions unfold! Obsessive researchers. They find a topic they like, they delve deep into it until they've found enough to feel satisfied and jump on another theme to obsess themselves over. Probably watching a lot of documentaries on criminals and unresolved cases trying to find the final answer themselves. Masters at playing Cluedo. Read everybodies's minds in every single setting, it makes them relaxed by feeling in control of the room's energies, and yeah... even during lunch between family members lmao. Need plenty of alone time. They're secretly training to become wizards/witches 👀. Probably like to sip pomegranate juice or any other juicy and thick flavoured drink. Sometimes they forget to even eat because of how invested theyre in their researches lol. I know you're already attractive as hell, but y'all take care of your bodyyy

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⁕ Sagittarius / 9-21 degrees : The boy/girl scout. Those people HAVE to move, they can't stay still or they'll start to stress out. They love a good trip somewhere new, visiting places abroad, taking that bus/train and not knowing where it'll take them (they get lost easily lmfao but they don't mind it, it's part of the thrilling experience). Documentaries lovers: can't go out? Let them wander with their minds. Like to change activities often as they get bored quickly. Enjoy trying to eat different types of food from different cultures. They like to go shopping a lot, to have little souvenirs of all the places they've been to (can tend to overspend depending on other placements in the chart). The one who find excitement in daring to do what everyone else don't want to do. Can love to pertake in volounteering activities, especially if they require them to sail to another country, they enjoy being helpful to other people in need (if underdeveloped can have hero complex). Probably enjoy playing on the Wii in competitive games, they're always up for a competition, even for the slightest thing, like "who can finish up this bottle of water first?? Ready? Start!" (they can announce little challenges like this veeery randomly and everyone will follow their lead, it's crazy haha)

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⁕ Capricorn / 10-22 degrees : Counting their money. Sorting their bills. Sooo relaxing right, especially when the money in your bank account keep groowingg 👀 (they probably watch cash envelope stuffing videos + budgeting on YT). Relax by doing the same routine every day, they can do it without even thinking, and that to them is relieving. They enjoy the adulting process, so actually...going to work can feel like chilling to them lol, they like to feel a sense of responsibility, it makes them feel motivated to always grow, and having a sense of order and stability, that's what makes them feel relaxed and safe. Constantly reading self-help books. Probably sipping their wine while chilling or an expensive drink or a concentrated drink (blueberry juice peraphs). They like high quality items, so they usually shop designer clothes/accessories, they love those labels lol. They love the sofa, don't ask me why lol, most people love the bed, capricorn venuses love the sofa, periodt (can it be because the space is restricted and Cap being ruled by Saturn, planet of restrictions... well, could be).

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⁕ Aquarius / 11-23 degrees : The videogamer. Have way too many hobbies that have nothing in common. Wanna splurge on those headphones too? You already have the bunny ears ones, the cat ears ones, the led ones, guyzzz you have a whole collection of them lmao. Are probably into reading about the unknown mysteries of the universe. Conspiracy theories lovers (they just love when they can confuse others people's minds with all their absurdities). The ones who find excitement in daring to do what everyone else don't want to do. Collectors of technology stuff, yup, they still have the gameboyy 🥺. Unpredictable af but they enjoy being this way so people can always question them and think of them as interesting. Introverted people that need to recharge by being alone. Probably Webtoons and manga lovers. Enjoy pertaking in protest marches, feeling part of the crowd (sense of belonging) and feeling they can contribute to a greater cause. They feel the need to do something crazy once in a while, so if you see them bunjee jumping randomly, or trying others 'dangerous' activities don't be surprised (pls, be careful, and don't try anything illegal....understood?👀...pfft, i already know you're gonna roll your eyes, and think, here we go, another sheep that is trying to tell me what to do lol)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Pisces / 12-24 degrees : Do you think thinking about "what ifs" is relaxing?? Y'allll pleaseee, i know the feeling is good when you imagine your perfect reality...but...you literally take it as a hobby and do it way too much...to your own detriment 😭. They looove watching romance movies and dramas, it's their bread and butter (to give food to those daydreams right?🙃). Play music ALL day and get lost in their world, and then suddenly it's time to go to bed and they realize they lost another day to daydreaming, now they got to the nightdreaming phase of the day lol 😂😭. Loves taking baths, the contact with water feels truly healing to them, they could stay in the water 24/7. Can be extremely good at painting or drawing, or singing (and other artistic activities too), and relax by doing these activities. Just asking, but are y'all ok with the low blood pressure?😢(also curious, do you tend to have low blood pressure?). Can relax but lose themselves watching the phone,especially social medias. Until they realize they're literally watching and living an illusion, they think they live by watching everyone else's lives and connect with them through the screen, but they're not living their own life by going out there, and experiencing the world as main characters, not just extras of their own lives.

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Congrats! You've reached the end! ✨

Hope you enjoyed this post, always rememer that we are not just one placement, so if you didn't resonate, that's ok, i'd love to know your feedback in both cases (if you did or did not resonate), it is always very appreciated 🥰

Wish you a wonderful day! 🍷 Yours, Linnie 🌸

#astro notes #venus in the signs #astro observations #venus notes #astrology observations #planet venus #astro community

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