#this is actually the only other request i have gotten thus far so as a reminder: they are open! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grimm-writings · 6 months ago

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Hey! Can I request a falin x reader where reader is a lone researcher in the dungeon and stumbles into chimera falin and the two fall in love?

Maybe Like a 5 times the reader has met chimera falin and 1 time the two get to meet after she’s turned back type story?

beauty/beast

…ft! falin x gn! reader

…tags! 5+1 format, reader is like slightly unhinged, fluff with moments of angst, slight suggestiveness

…wc! 2789

…notes! grimm tries not to come off as a monsterkisser for nearly 2.7k words, the fic,,,, hope you enjoy!!!! i love chimera falin so bad…

One

You can’t say you didn’t ask for this.

It’s a death sentence to traverse into a dungeon on your own, especially with your lack of combat skills. If you were sane, you’d have hired a bodyguard to help take down monsters you couldn’t handle. Fortunately, you are not, and decided instead you could very well handle monsters in a pacifistic way.

Any companion you told this to chose to stare at you like you admitted to dark magic.

So, you’ll simply prove the nay-sayers wrong! After all, how hard can it be to tame some monsters?

Very hard, actually. Like… incredibly.

You had to pride yourself in how you managed to sweet-talk some petty thieves for advice on monsters in the floor you’re currently on, even how to avoid orcs! At least that much is out of the way.

As for fighting, well, sometimes a very sharp slap to the head with a book, or even the sharp tip of a pen can subdue anyone, if just to give you enough time to run.

Besides, blood makes for some extra ink if you just happened to come by a dead body!

Going purely on efficiency alone, you’re doing tremendous work! When it comes to your study? Not so much.

The purpose of coming all the way down here is that you have a very specific urge. That being, to tame a beast. Some researchers gained the will to try and do the same to elemental spirits, why not other monsters?

One of the most common rebuttals you receive is that monsters are animals, they can’t be tamed at all, and you shouldn’t even try lest you want your head bitten off. Considering thus far you only got bitten by a walking mushroom, you think you’re doing rather well! (You did take an hour to contemplate to yourself how a walking mushroom seemingly has teeth, though.)

That brings you now later to the fourth floor, trying to shield your notes from the water as you lament losing more ink. Sure, you might write a little bit more than should be necessary, but you surely can’t be out already!

So, delight fills you as you peer past a doorway to see the top half of a woman face down on the floor. Haha, you can likely drain her pretty easily for some ink! Looks fresh enough, and some patches of her are already damp with red!

You skip over, humming as you do so, when all at once the woman jerks and looks up at you. Her golden eyes pierce your own, making you freeze in place. You wonder if something had gotten mixed up and a succubus ended up making its way to an upper floor, when the walls of the small tower the woman is inhabiting collapses.

A chimera screeches at you, as if telling you to leave it alone. If you weren’t so awestruck, you would have tried to shush it, lure it towards you and petted its oddly human head. Alas, you let the chicken-legged thing go, finding a safe haven for itself.

Day 1: I have found a beast in its purest form. I must pursue it. I must tame it.

Two

‘Obsession’ would be putting your experience lightly.

You had never wanted to gaze upon a monster as much as you wished to see the chimera again. Unique is its proportions, the lower body of a dragon and the torso and head of an adult tallwoman.

To anyone else, its face must be more of a lure. With the prettiest face and… great assets to boot, like a fish drawn to an angler fish's light, a blindsided adventurer comes near.

You had tried to navigate where the beast has gone, observing the damages of certain areas to lead you closer to it.

Thoughts course through your mind like speckles of a daydream as you walk and walk and walk, trying to sneak past other enemies and adventurers as you do so. What would its feathers feel like? Is it different from the mop of blonde hair on its head? You didn’t get the chance to observe its eyes – are they human or monster? What of its body heat? What is its diet?

Ah. Diet.

Your own body stops walking in realisation. By all means, comparing their mouth to the rest of their body, it’s ultimately impossible for the chimera to have a stable diet in this dungeon, correct?

Perhaps… you need to make a lure of your own.

Even after days of navigating the dungeon, you still have plenty of rations from the surface remaining in your bag. Hopefully the chimera likes the most noble meal one can fit inside a lunchbox — meats and pasta with the richest sauce. One could say your taste in meals is unique, eliciting a morbid curiosity. If the beast is more in tune with its human side, it will react the same.

You don’t know what tempted you to arrange a table with two chairs on either side. It’s not like the chimera could fit, but it was only suitable for your first formal meeting with it! Oh, how you can’t wait to observe it eating, and so close…!

If you’re lucky, it may even attempt to taste you.

You promptly shake off the thought.

What you focus on now is to draw the chimera near. It seems to favour secluded areas, but has been seemingly chased around. Aw, is it scared of humans? That’s just adorable! Or, maybe, it’s resting before setting off on a search… Now that’d be some juicy stuff! Who’s the chimera’s prey? Another monster, or humans?

Oh, of course you’ll use yourself as bait. You’re not a coward!

You know basic enough spells that you won’t be entirely drained of mana upon use, lighting up a route to catch the chimera’s attention upon spotting it. Down you lead it, making yourself look as bright and delectable as possible, before sitting in your seat, your meal readily prepared for the chimera.

You smile up at her as she pokes at the food you prepared, and she begins to eat.

Day 3: The beast was very hungry upon encounter. Even when she finished the meal, she insisted on having something more. I complied, and soon I had emptied my entire share of rations. The chimera eats food made for humans easily. This elicits curiosity – it might be proof enough that the chimera’s existence in this dungeon is unnatural. Even now, it looks too… human. I feel uncomfortable now referring to the beast as such – an ‘it’. Thus, I will refer to the chimera as ‘she’ from here on. It suits her. She truly is magnificent. All signs point to her being an attempt at creating a ‘beast-kin’, but instead of using the soul of a monster and body of a human, it’s as if it’s a mesh of both. A disgustingly beautiful transformation. To compare, it is not dissimilar to the breeding of a pug. Deliberately done to appease someone, something. A selfish birth. Someone must be wanting to do the same as I to the chimera – tame her to their whims. …I’ll have to look further into this.

Three

You feel less in control of your studies these days.

The more you hang around the dungeon, scavenging for food and following your muse, the more insane you feel. But, for the sake of research, you power through.

The chimera, she has been opening herself up to you. When she gets anxious, her feathers ruffle, and you shush her with pets. She calms down occasionally. Once, you had encountered her, blood on her body and under her fingernails. You cleaned her using the mana-infused water. She had never looked so calm.

She doesn’t feel like a monster you have tamed, but a friend.

This scares you.

Sure, there’s the possibility that the chimera is an unnatural phenomenon, and isn’t even a monster.

But that also means you’re losing your resolve.

The chimera sits with you, as you scrub her red-scaled talons free of dirt and blood. Her upper body leans on you, resting. You can even hear little chirps slipping from her lips.

She’s so cute.

Even as her golden eyes soften, the small slits in them dilating to exhibit relaxation, she smiles at you. You don’t flinch when her hands take your face to look at you. She’s a bird after all – she might be trying to memorise you, how you look, so she knows not to hurt you in the future.

You were nearly about to reminisce on your further embarrassment when the chimera speaks.

Four words. She spoke four words in the common language, leaving you staring at her. You’re speechless. She must know that she’s caught you off guard as she slowly tucks your hair behind your ear and moves away.

The moment is quickly ruined. ��Dragon!” A boyish voice calls. “There you are. You’ve been leaving my side so frequently. There’s no time to–”

An elf in a cloak freezes upon noticing you. His heavy eye bags rival your own as he glares down at your sitting position.

You don’t do anything, merely looking up at your friend in confusion. She is back to being silent again, reaching her arms out to the elf, as if about to pick him up. He swats at her, before pointing at you.

“Kill them,” he demands her.

She hesitates. You also find yourself unable to move. So the chimera is under someone’s control after all. This elf, forcing you apart from your friend.

You hardly process your friend lifting you off the floor, her fingers closing in around your throat. Tighter and tighter. Your eyes can barely make out her empty expression as she squeezes the life out of your lungs.

Snap.

You fall onto the floor, and the mad mage leaves with his dragon in tow.

Day ??: “My name is Falin.” The chimera told me this last time we encountered one another. She has a name. A beautiful name that belongs just to her. Falin. …I would say ‘my Falin’, but she is not. She is under the control of that elf. I wouldn’t want her to be my Falin anyway. She shouldn’t belong to anyone. I was revived by a kindly Eastern woman, who is accompanying a group of retainers following their lord. They are joined by another party, also recently revived. Apparently, in my revival, I had uttered her name, “Falin,” and captured the attention of the malnourished lord. He is looking for her. …I was informed she is his love. Pushing personal feelings aside, I asked to come along. I neglected to mention Falin’s current state. I couldn’t do that to him right now. Maybe once he sleeps, or eats… but not now. Falin, I wish to save you. That is my goal now. You are not a monster to be tamed.

Four

Today, you met Laios Touden.

He is Falin’s older brother, you learn.

You met a lot of people, actually. You met Falin’s party, an elf who Falin went to school with, as well as Laios Touden.

“You’ve seen Falin?” He asks you, brow creased. He had leaned forward in interest. Lord Toshiro, Kabru, and Asebi were also listening to you with intrigue.

You nod. “Yes, but I fear the situation might be a little more than you have bargained for,” you vaguely inform.

Your words would be interrupted by Laios’ request to talk privately with Toshiro, to which you comply. You do already have a feeling of what's being said, something Kabru seems to pick up on as he glances over at you.

“Falin… isn’t faring well, is she?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” you reply. Kabru grimaces, clearly not appreciating your rather… erratic way of conversing. You add before he could talk back, “she’ll come back for me.”

Kabru furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”

His question remains unanswered until you are swept up in a heated battle. Looks of horror cross everyone’s faces at the bloody acts committed by the chimera.

You merely smile.

“Hello beauty,” you whisper when she turns to you. Falin steps forward, cornering you. You welcome her with open arms – and the world becomes dark again.

Day ??: Scorned though I may be by Lord Toshiro, I know myself not to be mad, but in love. Yes, I am in love. I know this now for certain. I know that he, too, is in love. I do not see his wishes badly. In fact, from a sane man’s mouth, it is perfectly understandable. Dark magic is dangerous. As is love. He’s risking his own reputation for it, even if others don’t appear to see things the way he does. But when push comes to shove, I am not that sane man. I am joining Laios Touden’s party in the retrieval of Falin. The aftermath of the battle consisted of a hearty meal. Who knew monsters could taste so nice? Keep this in mind for the next adventure. I had figured this all came from the result of black magic. Marcille Donato is a much more interesting woman than I thought. I’m sure I could learn a lot from her. Hence, we march forward. I know you aren’t in your right mind, Falin, but trust that I am. I will risk it all for you, beauty.

Five

The ice is cold underneath your fingertips. The woman encased inside is relaxed, as if she’s merely asleep. To see her completely separated from the lower half of the chimera body was something uncanny to you, so used to seeing her towering over you, able to squash you like a bug.

You turn to Marcille as she approaches. “You had the right mind, keeping her fresh like this. Deep down, you really did want to follow through with the plan!”

The blonde elf is sheepish. “I did end up causing a right mess in the end. It… It was selfish of me.”

“It was love,” you reply.

“Not the love Falin needs, though,” she finishes.

You both stare up at her in silence. If you were delusional enough, you could swear you could see Falin breathing.

“I love her,” you admit, quieter than you have ever been. “Is that alright with you?”

Marcille turns to you, her eyes wide. For such a gossip, she really hasn’t picked up on it?

“I…” She hesitates. Her hands reach her trousers, and she scrunches up the fabric in her hands. “It’s not my choice what – or who – Falin chooses. I don’t think I have the right to decide anything for her.”

You nod, graciously taking Marcille’s word to heart.

You feel you’ve also changed throughout your journey. Volatile as you may be, you appreciate Falin as she is. An untamed beauty. Not for anyone to claim or put their ideals onto.

She’s simply Falin.

“Come on,” Marcille takes your hand. She has the kind of look on her face where you know she accepts you readily. “Let’s go eat, okay? For Falin.”

You smile back. “For Falin.”

I don’t care about the day anymore. Falin is being revived today. Soon, I’ll have a chance to meet the real her. The beauty behind the beast. Ha. I haven’t called her that for a while. Maybe I’ll follow Toshiro’s way and propose immediately too? No, Marcille may accept me, but that might result in another need for revival. I can’t wait to get to know you.

the first time

Falin opens the door with a dazed expression, not expecting the crowd waiting around the door. Of course, this resulted in quite the hoo-ha. People running around, celebrating the successful revival of Falin Touden. You wait patiently for you to be welcomed once more.

The woman is sitting calmly at her bed. Some of her features are still feathered, but you’ve always liked how they felt underneath your fingertips.

She glances up at you, examining your form.

You’re taller than she thought.

“Hi,” you say, handing over a random blade of grass you picked.

Falin takes it. Her fingers brush against your own. She starts twirling the natural green between her fingers. She smiles warmly. “Hello,” her soft, tired voice returns. It’s so sweet that you might melt. “My name is Falin. It’s nice to meet you.”

You know from the way she glances up at you that she already remembers you quite well.

Feeling the happiest you’ve ever been, you fall into Falin, pulling her into the tightest of hugs.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you too, beauty.”

Today, she asked me if she could belong to me. I said yes, but only if she belonged to herself first. She accepted.

#✮ grimm's fics!#FALLS OVER #this is my longest fic so far i think wow #as falin deserves #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #falin #falin touden #falin x reader #falin imagines #falin touden x reader #falin touden imagines

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heliads · 1 year ago

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Can I pretty please request Carlos Sainz x reader where she’s rly shy and gets worried that maybe he wants someone more outgoing but he tells her he loves her any way she is? Your writing is amazing 🫶🏻

anon i love you wholeheartedly please let me speak on carlos

masterlist

You are not who you are supposed to be. There are qualifications for being the girlfriend of a Formula One driver, you’re sure of it, probably even a style guide somewhere if you only bothered to look it up. Perfect hair. Clean makeup. Pretty, but doesn’t try too hard. Willing to give up their whole life to follow one man on mad jaunts across the planet. Wherever your guidebook is, though, you must have lost it long ago, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and worst of all, it’s starting to show.

You never should have gotten into this position in the first place. That isn’t to say that you hate it, far from it; dating Carlos Sainz is the best thing that ever happened to you, making you the happiest wrong person at the right time to ever exist. In every other universe, he’s probably seeing models or actresses, but here, he has you, and you’re willing to fight off every multiversal version of you just to keep everything as it is right now.

Your butterfly effect was quite stunning, actually. You ended up getting tickets to a Grand Prix through last minute cancellations. They were great, came with paddock passes and all that, and while you were lingering through Ferrari hospitality, Carlos happened to drop by to visit a friend and he noticed you while you were in line to get some water. He’s got the confidence of, well, a world class athlete, an adrenaline junkie, a professional race car driver, and so he introduced himself.

Sometimes, it’s just as easy as that. A father’s cousin’s roommate buys two tickets to a Grand Prix, then a stranger’s roommate’s brother gets sick, and suddenly you’re touching down off a plane overseas and walking through the door of paddock hospitality. You wear red, and you are seen. Just like that.

It took one more weekend before either of you knew that you wanted what you had to last for good. He texted you, followed you on Instagram and blew his cover of seeming cool by accidentally liking a post of yours from six years ago. And, when he saw you again, he knew that he wanted the spark between you to be something more, something like a bonfire.

Coincidence may have supported you thus far, but you don’t trust it not to abandon you. At the end of the day, you are you, you are Y/N L/N, and you are so far removed from Carlos’ world that it stuns you to think that you were even in his orbit so long as to meet him. If there are powers that be somewhere in the universe, they’re either playing a cruel joke or messing around to give you a helping hand.

Hopefully, it’ll be the latter, but truly who knows at this point. As if it wasn’t surreal enough to introduce Carlos to your friends and family as Carlos Sainz, Formula One driver. As if it doesn’t blow your minds that people have started making Instagram accounts just dedicated to posting photos of you and your boyfriend whenever you’re seen out together.

The problem lies in the insanity of it all. You are not from this sort of life, you weren’t born into a silver spoon dynasty and you barely know how to interact with any of them now. You get along with the other WAGs as best you can; Heidi’s lovely, sure, and you were friendly with Charlotte until she disappeared, but sometimes it feels like it’s just you and your boyfriend against the world. Of any ally to pick, Carlos would be your top choice each and every time, but still. The fact remains that he will go out and race and leave you to your own devices, and you lack the extroverted impulses to social climb with everyone else.

This, then, is the main concern. You can pick out whatever designer clothes you want, goodness knows Carlos has offered to buy you anything already, and you can get your nails and hair done before each and every race, but that doesn’t change the fact that you, at your core, are never going to enjoy the paparazzi circus whenever you have to brave it.

It’s just not your scene, that’s all. You’re on the quieter side, happy to spend time with a few key friends but increasingly nervous in large crowds. Formula One is all large crowds, as you’ve discovered; thousands of fans, hundreds of engineers and team members, plus drivers and girlfriends and best friends. So many eyes, all on you. So many voices all shouting over each other.

You love Carlos, though, and you love him wholeheartedly, so you gather up your courage and go to race weekends when you can. Every time Carlos sees you in the crowd, he smiles so widely his friends tease him for weeks, and he runs to you first after every podium and strong finish. You want to be there for your boyfriend, truly you do, you just wonder if all of this should come easier to you than it does.

Also, you wonder if Carlos wishes the same thing. He has been nothing but perfect to you, so the spirals of guilt currently tangling their way through your insides are purely of your own creation, but what if he truly does think like that? Carlos must see the other WAGs, how they shine and sparkle with attention instead of feeling the urge to run. Wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t he get frustrated that you can’t be like the rest?

Thousands of girls in the world, and he picks you. You don’t know if it’s sweet or genuinely frightening. He wanted you out of everyone, yes, but he could replace you in a snap, swapping you out like some useless part on his car. There is nothing about you that cannot be replicated in any other girl. Even Charles did it, in a way, got himself a new girlfriend that’s a dead ringer for Charlotte. Carlos has no reason to keep you except for something he knows and you don’t.

The guessing will drive you mad, maybe, but you’ll lose your sanity long before that just trying to keep up with everything in his fast-paced life. You’ve been to prior F1 races, obviously, it’s how you met Carlos in the first place and it’s also how you kept him, but this upcoming weekend is different, this is Barcelona. Carlos is the center of attention at his home race, and every step he takes, a new storm of people is flooding in to ask him for autographs, selfies, anything to remind them that he’s real and right before their eyes.

Carlos doesn’t ask for a whole lot, and he certainly didn’t force you to come to this race, but you saw the hope in his dark eyes when he brought it up oh-so-casually at a dinner last week. You had assured him that you would go there to cheer him on along with the rest of his home crowd, and Carlos had been delighted for the rest of the evening.

You are happy to go, truly, but it’s taking everything in you to keep your smile up in front of the reporters and crowds and fans, and it’s just the first day. All you’re handling right now is qualifying, not even the actual race. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that it’s only going to get worse from here on out, but when Carlos looks back at you as you wind through the paddock, you just smile and tell him you’re glad to be there with him. You’re here for him, after all, and Carlos is busy enough with race stuff that he won’t want to hear your complaints.

That’s what you keep repeating to yourself throughout the entirety of that day. Carlos qualifies well and is properly pleased about it, as he should be. The possibility of a podium or perhaps even a win for his home race has been one of his top goals for the season, and he’s as close as he can get to it right now. He earnestly talks about it the whole drive back to your hotel, but once you’re back in the safety and peace of the room, the conversation abruptly switches back to you.

Carlos sheds his jacket at the door, watches you flop down onto the bed with a smile on his face, then asks you pointedly, “And how are you doing, amor?”

You smile back at him, the expression trained to perfection after being tested so many times today. “Great! Glad that everything’s going so well for you. I’ll be cheering for P1 tomorrow.”

In truth, you’re tired more than anything. People kept coming up to you all day, assuming that taking a selfie with Carlos’ girlfriend was at least half as good as getting to see him. They gave you all manner of gifts and things to give to him, extracting promises that you’d tell him dozens of different people wished him well. You knew you’d get a lot more attention when you started dating Carlos, but the lack of personal space and privacy at the races is truly unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Carlos has been dating you long enough to pick up on this, apparently, because he furrows his brow and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow, but do you want to tell me what is really on your mind? Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know you, no?”

You sigh, covering your face with one of your arms. Carlos deflects from this attempt to hide by gently pulling your arm away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make up for it. “Talk to me, cariño.”

You look sorrowfully at him, but when it becomes clear that Carlos won’t let you go until you confess, you give in. “It’s just a lot, I guess. The people and the cameras and everything.”

Carlos frowns. “I can get them to go away, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to hear it. All of the other girlfriends have no problem with it, just me. I thought you’d want me to be more outgoing, so I tried, I really did, it’s just hard for me, I don’t know why.”

When you dare to risk a glance up at Carlos, you’re surprised to notice that he looks genuinely hurt. “Sweetheart, you didn’t think that I would actually be unhappy about that? I just want you to be happy. Don’t think about me.”

You let out a low breath. “I know, it’s just– I want to be like the rest, really. I don’t want this to be a reason–”

You cut yourself off, distracted by Carlos’ hands still wrapped around yours. Carlos picks up on the obviously dropped subject, though, and looks at you with fresh concern. “You don’t want it to be a reason for what?”

“That you would break up with me,” you whisper.

That’s it, then. That’s the truth. If you can’t live with Carlos’ lifestyle, why wouldn’t he leave you for someone who could? It makes perfect sense to you, but judging by Carlos’ expression, that logic couldn’t be further from his mind.

“No, Y/N,” he says, “That’s not right at all. I don’t want to break up with you, like, ever. Not because of this. I don’t want someone else, I want you. I love you, querida. I love the girl who showed up out of nowhere and made me forget about every other woman in the world. I love the girl who shows up to my home race even though it stresses her out because she wants to be there for me. I love you, Y/N. No one else. Just you.”

And, well, in the face of such passionate declarations, who could stand firm in their own self-pity? Certainly not you. You smile and let him kiss you again and again until you can’t see straight, and after that it is better, it is all better. Hearing it straight from Carlos is better than trying to guess at it. It lets your worries finally sink off into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just what he wants. Just what you want.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot #f1 carlos #f1 carlos imagines #f1 carlos x reader #f1 carlos oneshot

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cottonlemonade · 5 months ago

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can i have a menu a with a soda and dorayaki and sit next to oikawa!!!

Keeping Your Enemy Close

word count: 1460 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: rival!Oikawa x chubby!Reader (feat. Seijoh 4)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: fluffy, school festival with rival Oikawa

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Never, actually.”

Oikawa pouted, “Iwa-chan.” and then looked to Makki and Mattsun who immediately developed an immense interest in their shoes and surroundings. The four third years were busy leaning against a rickety folding table underneath a banner advertising the volleyball club, but even though many girls came over to check it out, boys seemed to make a wide swerve around them. They had only gotten three possible new applicants thus far.

“What do you think, Oikawa-san?”

The boys groaned when, with a wide smile and a flourish, Oikawa turned to yet another girl who had asked. She was nervously kneading her hands and blushing furiously. They knew her as a new addition to his fanclub, but to be honest they started to blend together for the other three. All gorgeous and leggy, she was definitely the captain’s usual type. Oikawa leaned in to whisper something in her ear they luckily couldn’t hear, then the girl gasped quietly and nodded before linking her arm with her friend and wandering off, throwing longing gazes over her shoulder at the setter, who waved after her.

“I think I’ll give it another week and then I’ll ask her out.”, he said, half to himself, half to his friends who quite frankly, couldn’t care less.

But a loud scoff came from their left and the boys turned to see their chubby class president with folded arms next to a stall handing out flyers.

“Something the matter, y/n-chan?”, Oikawa asked sweetly.

“Don’t call me that.”, you said automatically but the boy only grinned and regarded you with his signature teasing gaze.

“But you seem to like it, hm? Y/n-chan~ Now, what’s wrong?”

You clutched the flyers in your hands tighter in an attempt to control your breathing. “I just pity her, that’s all.”, you said after calming your heart a bit.

“Hm? Is that so? Are you sure it’s not because you want to go out with me?”

You knew you would get in trouble if someone reported you smacking him over the head with the flyers - again. So you resorted to glaring menacingly.

Because you didn’t have an answer.

Because you wanted nothing more, actually, than to have Oikawa Tooru notice you like that and ask you out.

But you would never tell him.

Instead you changed the subject and focused on the only thing that grounded your sanity.

“Tuck in your shirt before I write you up.”

Oikawa sighed and did as he was told, making very sure to slightly lift the shirt first to give you a glimpse of his toned stomach. He smirked when your lips parted slightly at the sight.

“So how about it, y/n-chan?”, he asked while carefully straightening out his uniform, “Should I take you out for a date? We could go to a park, maybe hold hands if you're nice to me and if you’re really nice to me I might even consider giving you a kiss or two.” He winked. He enjoyed this game way too much.

Iwaizumi, Mattsun and Makki had stepped aside, getting out of the way of your wrath.

“I would never.”, you held tighter onto the flyers for support, hoping your voice wouldn’t fail you as you went on, “I would never go out with someone as vain and arrogant and immature as you. You’re nothing but a volleyball obsessed gymnasium-dweller who happened to have slightly above average looks.”

Oikawa took that personally. He only stared wide eyed as you stomped away.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he turned to Mattsun as he shrugged, ”Well at least she thinks you’re handsome.”

Iwaizumi frowned, “That’s what you got from that?”

Oikawa knew you didn’t mean it. At this point, he could tell the difference between someone genuinely despising his guts and someone who was only trying to hide their true feelings. To be honest, you weren’t on his mind outside of school and even then he mostly drifted off while you made announcements in front of the class. To him you were just there, clearly in denial about your crush on him because of course he felt your eyes on him when you thought he wasn’t looking. Maybe he would go out with you, he thought. If only to prove a point. He wanted you to be putty in his hands and confess that you were into him, just so he could go a day without getting written up for things like untucking his shirt or kissing behind the gym.

He watched you weave your way through the masses of students and parents, all happily chattering and checking out the different offers from the stands at the school festival. And making up his mind, he went after you.

He found you in an empty classroom, carefully putting some kind of announcement on the blackboard, your hand steady, writing neat and precise.

“Can I talk to you for a moment, y/n-chan?”

He heard you sigh before turning to him.

“What is it?”

He stepped in, closing the door behind him to mute the distant voices of students hurrying through the corridors.

Leaning against the only exit, arms crossed in front of his chest, he said, “I wasn’t kidding, you know. About taking you on a date.”

You made some kind of sound that was probably supposed to be a scathing one but instead came out as a squeaky sort of cough. Pushing off the door he swaggered over to you until he was standing right behind you. You hadn’t looked at him yet.

“Hm? Y/n? What do you say? Wanna go on a date with me?”

His voice was low and sweet - he knew this particular tone usually made his girlfriends melt and he was glad to see that it worked on you as well. He extended a hand to half trap you between him and the blackboard for good measure. Goosebumps formed on your neck and when you finally turned around to him, there was a very distinct blush dusting your cheeks in stark contrast to your sour expression, the desperate attempt of returning his sweetness with disgust.

“Stop it, Oikawa-san.”

“Or what?” He leaned down to meet your eyes, leaving only two or three handwidths between your face and his. He could smell your shampoo. It was a pleasant scent, eucalyptus maybe.

When you didn’t say anything but the pink on your cheeks turned a deeper shade he leaned in further. He felt your shaky shallow breath on his skin.

When he didn’t budge, you closed your eyes and… seemed to wait.

Oikawa couldn’t help it and chuckled. Your eyes shot open and you watched as he lowered his head before throwing it back in full on laughter.

“I knew it! I knew it, y/n-chan.”, he sing-songed, not moving away, “Next time you write me up just-“

He was cut off but your lips on his. It was nothing more than a quick peck but it definitely shut him up.

You must have worn some kind of lip gloss or chapstick - the kiss left a faintly fruity taste behind.

He blinked. What was that?

And you were about to duck away when his free hand held you by your waist and he leaned in for a second kiss, catching you by surprise this time. It was again a sweet, innocent kind of kiss, only gently touching the other’s lips. When he moved away he searched your eyes for a moment and you held your breath when he went for a third. Closing his eyes, he really let himself get a feel and sense for you. The hand previously laid against the blackboard now cupped your cheek to draw you closer. He swiped his tongue against your lower lips and gently pushed into your mouth. He tasted the tangerine ramune that stood next to your notes on the teacher’s desk. This didn’t make any sense. It was not the tangerine that made him dizzy. You were… addictive. How?

Propelled by some unknown bravery your hands ran through his hair, drawing an involuntary hum from deep in his throat. His large hand on your waist squeezed and he moved in closer, needing to feel more. But before he could conduct further studies you pushed him away, panting slightly - your lips reddened and hair a little disheveled. He was too stunned to stop you when you weaseled out of his arms and ran out the door.

“Oikawa-san?”, he heard a familiar voice call from the corridor, “Oh, Oikawa-san, there you are. Do you want to come have some lunch with me?”

It was the girl from earlier. “Coming.”, he said quietly, absentmindedly and followed her, still tasting tangerines.

a/n: thank you so so much for your request! This one got so away from me. I hope you enjoyed it tho 🌟

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be-my-ally · 2 years ago

Text

Let Yourself Go

Overstimulated Reader! Request.

my darling, what a dream request - thank you anon! for both your very kind words + excellent request!!! this has consumed my brain for the past week; I originally intended it to be short like 2.5-3k, and then it turned into 4k and then I realised that in all of those words elvis had only been treated once so it turned into 6k. so this is 6.7k of pure, absolute, filthy smut just for you that i really hope lives up your expectations!

summary: slightly innocent!reader is convinced girls can't really orgasm - elvis sets out to teach her how wrong she is.

pairing: afab!reader/elvis (big daddy e)

warnings: 18+, 18+, 18+, tiny bit of daddy kink, implied age difference, oral (p+v receiving), p in v sex, fingering, mirror sex, overstimulation, very brief spanking. I think that's it? Reader does attempt to stop the proceedings a couple of times and elvis doesn't stop but it is all consensual.

wc: 6.7k

suggested listening: the end of such a night + of course, let yourself go.

You’ve not been together very long and you were still learning about each other in many ways. It confused you a little that he, who you knew had girls throwing themselves at him, would take the time to bother to get to know you better. He’d picked you out of the crowd and put you on his lap in his dressing room before he’d even learnt your name. When you’d told him, earnestly, that you didn’t expect to be married or anything but you were a good girl, who wouldn’t sleep around, you’d expected him to tell you that he wasn’t going to see you again. But no, he’d put in the effort and here you were, a few weeks later, at Graceland of all places. You’d been brought back with him after his engagement at the International ended for this year, allowing him a short break before he resumed touring.

He’d taken you out on his bike earlier, showing you the sights of Memphis and you’d loved the rush, so unlike anything you’d experienced before. Despite the fact that you dreaded the call from your parents at the photos that would inevitably be published of the two of you - you hadn’t really been dressed to go out (the outing unexpected), nor had you been able to help snuggling into his back, your hand resting on his solid thigh at the lights. When you’d gotten back to the estate you’d expected a party - a celebration of his homecoming, and you’d been bracing to have to deal with losing him for the evening, but you’d been pleasantly shocked when he’d kicked everyone out after dinner, announcing that he wanted a night just the two of you.

You wanted to tell him that his expectations were a bit forward, to not get his hopes and that you still weren’t sure you were quite ready to have actual sex with him but in all honesty, you were ready and only your (perhaps misguided) morals had prevented you thus far. You had been slightly surprised at how unbothered he had seemed at the concept of sex - he’d laughed you off when you’d told him you didn’t want to sleep with him on the first night; telling you that was all very well but would you sleep with him because he couldn’t “bear the long nights all on my lonesome”. He hadn’t pressured you at all, less than your last boyfriend for sure, and seemed to genuinely enjoy your makeout sessions as much as you do. To tell the truth, you weren’t really sure why anyone was that bothered by sex - it felt fine sure, but it didn’t blow your world apart, was mostly very awkward, and you couldn’t understand what the fuss was in general.

You’d followed him into the bedroom, into his room, and while part of you wanted to inspect every little detail of this hidden, protected space, the other part of you could feel his impatience from the bed and when he smiles at you - all cheeks and teeth, asking;

“Wanna have some fun tonight darlin’? Cleared the place out for ya, didn’t want you to go all shy on me…some girls get nervy at the number of people in the place. Get real quiet and the like, even though I tell ‘em I got the sound locked down.” You forget any desire to rifle through his drawers and instead stare at him, slightly confused - just hoping he’s not going to be disappointed;

“Uh, oh, well, I can’t say I’m that loud anyways, always, I always thought that was just a thing girls, uh, exaggerated?” You look down, embarrassed that you may be having to burst his bubble - you don’t want to be the first to tell him that from what you know there’s nothing to be shouting about. But he doesn’t react in the way you expect - blinking at you from under his glasses and patting the bed next to him.

“C’mere doll, tell daddy what you mean.” You sit where he tells you to, tiny shorts hiking even further, and you curl your legs up underneath yourself.

“I don’t, sorry, I don’t understand what you’re asking? I’m just, just, saying that I never understood what those girls on the … on the … the stuff you like to watch, what they’re shouting about is all. Never seemed like anything worth carrying on like that is all.” He’s a little shocked but not altogether surprised - you’re young and a little sheltered, perhaps more than he thought at your reluctance to even said the word ‘pornography’ and he knows your only other relationships have been serious with boys from home, less about fun and more about futures, and he knows that they don’t always put the effort in they should. Still, he needs clarification - his eyes burning with curiosity;

“You mean you ain’t ever .. got your rocks off? Never creamed those lil’ shorts of yours?” His thick hand finds its way onto your thigh and he flicks the hem of your shorts, practically between your legs. You giggle, pushing his hand off.

“Elvis. Don’t be silly, unless you’ve been with some funny sorta people - girls can’t do that! That’s… I might not know much but I do know that.” He looks back at you, utterly stunned, before smiling like all his Christmases have come at once, a full cheshire cat grin.

“You - you ain’t never?” He’s shocked, but desperate to know your answer, taking his glasses off, leaning closer and waiting with practically bated breath in excitement, clenching his hands on his thighs.

“I just told you E, that’s not something girls can actually do. Don’t you think I’d know! If you’re just gonna tease me I swear I’m gonna walk right out of here!” He laughs again at your indignation, shaking his head,

“Naw little one, don’t do that, don’t do that - I just uh, I think I might be able to teach you a few things tonight is all. Just, ah, need to re-evaluate some things’all.” He frowns, “You know the other day, baby, when I stroked your little pussy and you pushed me off - told me you were all done?”

You remember the incident he was talking about, He’d had his fingers up you, rubbing you exactly how you needed and you’d crunched with an involuntary shudder, couldn’t quite catch your breath properly and had told him to stop. You’d pushed him away in a panic that you didn’t know what was coming, but that that was certainly enough. He’d been a little worried then, worried that he’d pushed you into something you hadn’t wanted to do. But, he’d relaxed when you’d relaxed on the bed - he wasn’t happy with leaving you like that, on the edge, but he’d figured you were just shy, nervous that his entourage was a mere wall away. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him that you genuinely believed that was you finished.

“Yeah, but what about it? We were done - I was done, it was starting to make me feel weird. I actually think we went too far.” He lets out a pure incredulous laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh baby, baby. I’m gonna, I’ll teach you baby, it’ll be ok.” You nod, but you’re honestly a bit confused about what he’s even planning on teaching you, but you don’t want to tell him he’s wrong again. You suppose he does have quite the reputation, so maybe he does have some things to show you, you doubt it somewhat but keep that to yourself.

“Right, yittle, need these all off of ya,” He tugs at your shirt, starting to unbutton it. “and these, these slutty little shorts need to come off, lemme see what I’m working with.” He’s practically crooning at you, slipping your shirt off gently, divesting you off your shorts - undressing you as if you were a babe. He strips you of your bra, leaving you in little white panties, before pushing you back onto the bed to lie flat. He doesn’t give you time to worry about your nudity, cupping your cheek with one thick hand, leaning over you to kiss you.

His tongue slips in, it’s like he’s mapping your mouth and you don’t bother to fight for dominance, letting him in, submissively brushing your tongue against his. He pulls away slightly, grabbing a breath and you can’t help it, his pouty perfect lips too tempting, you surge forward to softly suck on his bottom lip, nibbling gently. He responds in kind, pulling your head back, baring your neck - he tugs your lip between his teeth pulling as he pulls away. You moan at the little sting, and he presses a soothing peck against it. Before trailing down and pressing little open-mouthed kisses at your cheek, mouthing at your neck - tiny little suctioning touches until his hand, which he’s not resting on, is trailing further down. His fingers spread across a breast, fingertips playing with your nipple. You can feel the heat coiling in your tummy - your throbbing heartbeat between your legs. He’s pressing little kisses down your soft stomach, and he grunts as he repositions himself - up on his knees slightly. It worries you briefly, he’s been using a cane as more than just an accessory more frequently lately - his youthful actions having been hard on his knees and legs, before your mind is wiped by his actions again.

His hand trails lower, even as he continues to press soft kisses on your stomach, and he swipes down in a languid stroke over your panties, feeling your pooling wetness through the forming damp spot. He pushes it into you, rubbing you over them - the fabric catching slightly, along with your breath. He moves his head back up, sucking you by your collarbone and on your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise. The noises coming out of your mouth are unlike how you’ve ever heard yourself before, and as he hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling them down and off - the dampness making them pretty much see through - you would normally cringe in embarrassment but as you watch him lift them to his mouth and suck on them you can’t do anything but stare in an absolute state of shock and arousal. He’s still fully dressed although his shirt is so lowly unbuttoned, his chest with its covering of hair, god even his nipples practically out, that it barely counts. You can feel his own arousal growing against your side, still confined in his tight, slightly flared, trousers the heat of it, and can’t help but wiggle against him. He folds your panties, scrunching them up, before shifting to push them into his trouser pocket. You gape at him,

“Good lord, you can’t - they’re so dirty Elvis - you can’t keep them. They need to be washed!” He smirks at you, smirk turning to a grin as he leans over you to whisper in your ear, moving his hand away from you as he does.

“Baby, when they taste that good, I’ll do what I damn well like.” He licks your cheek, and it's something that you would have found disgusting from anyone else, but somehow him doing it makes your heartbeat pulse in your core. He lets his hand come back down, lightly slapping against your pussy, you jolt forward, mouth falling open, and eyes rolling slightly at the sudden intense pleasure from it. He chuckles into your ear, tickling your neck, “Oh - you like that mama? Like that baby?” He does it again, and you’re horrified at the wet slapping noise - but also at the sudden surge of wetness, you can feel.

“Oh god, Elvis, you gotta - gotta do that again. Please.” He obliges, patting you once, twice, three times before letting his hand fly slightly harder, you can feel your heat rising - and you shiver slightly. You’ve reached the peak of where you’d been before. Your heartbeat fast, and a constant thrumming at your centre. He laughs, teasing you in a low tone,

“God, who’d have thought you’d be such a dirty fucking girl, letting me - begging me to spank that yittle cunt of yours.” He puts an inflection onto yittle, as if even when talking about your ‘cunt’ he’s unable to stop his penchant for baby talk.

He uses his fingers to spread you apart, middle finger sliding in your slick. The metal of his ring is cold against your burning skin, sending goosebumps down your flesh. You think he can’t make you feel any better when he slips two of his fingers inside you. His huge square ring catching on your entrance for a moment and you buck your hips as he slides it in. He pumps them, in and out, as you squirm on the bed. Your eyes fall closed for a moment and he whispers to you,

“You like that little? My fingers in you? Gonna show you how girls do it, teach ya how it goes.” You respond with a whine - his words causing a blush to travel from your chest. You’re simultaneously embarrassed at needing to be taught something about your own adult self and aggressively turned on by his narration.

You’re breathless and while he’s looking at you with a soft smile on his face - pure concentration in his burning eyes, you can’t help but wonder what he’s getting from all of this attention on you. But to be the centre of his focus, him looking at you like you’re the whole world - the only thing in the world, is another level of high. Behind him you can yourself reflected in the mirror above - you look fucking debauched, unlike yourself and seeing him from above, in all his iconic glory, reminding you this is Elvis fixated on you brings you even closer to the cliff edge.

He pushes into you, unnecessarily - his fingers were long enough he could reach with his thumb without having to strain at all - to reach your hooded clit. He finds it expertly, rubbing it just so. You shudder, and he keeps going just as he was, but kisses down your neck to your nipple again, swirling it in his mouth, pulling it with his teeth slightly and you can feel yourself about to fall. You panic at the unexpected and unknown feeling and try to throw him off,

“Elvis! Elvis stop - stop I can’t - I can’t do it, it’s too much - you gotta, you gotta st-“ You’re thrashing about the place, arms flailing as you try to push him away, but his fingers don’t stop and he hushes you as he’s suddenly stroking this little spot inside of you. You can feel it’s different but can’t quite tell how until he crooks his fingers and presses. You shudder, your mouth falling open, although you’re still far quieter than he’d like - he makes a mental note that his aim tonight is to make you scream. And then you’re shaking, convulsing on his hand - stomach and core muscles clenching of their own accord. He rubs and strokes you through it. Your mind is blank and all you can feel is your thighs shaking - your head rolling from side to side. He keeps going and you keep going for him, clutching the covers in tight fists, mouth open in a silent scream as one of your legs randomly seems to jump about. He can tell you’re at the end of what you can do for him at the moment. He softlypulls his fingers out, trying to bring you down gently. His fingers leaving feather-light touches across your mound and thighs.

“That good, baby?” He pats his sticky, wet hand on your tummy and you can’t speak, taking heaving breaths.

“W-was,” You’re slurring as you come back to, your ears ringing, “Is that, what I’ve been missing? Is that meant to happen?” He laughs at you, finger drawing little shapes on your stomach,

“Yeah, when you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing.” He puffs his chest out a little, clearly proud of himself, “A real man.” You laugh, and he kisses you again and again until your lips are swollen and bitten raw and you’re gasping for air. You lay back for a few more moments, looking up at him leaning over you. He moves his arm, and you’re not quite sure what comes over you, but the movement had spread his shirt even more and it’s not something you’d ever considered doing ever before, but he did do it to you earlier so you gain the courage to ask;

“El- can I, can I…please can I taste you?” He raises a brow at your polite request, but is not going to turn down such an offer,

“Sure baby, lemme get lil’ Elvie out now - “ You frown, interrupting him.

“No, no… can I just… like you did earlier?” He looks slightly confused, his brow furrowed, but he agrees nonchalantly - clearly used to letting whoever do whatever they like with his body.

“Sure - “ He starts to say something else, but you’re too distracted by the permission, rushing forward to kiss his chest, moving down to capture his nipple. He jerks,

“Christ - Oh lord,” You’re practically suckling him, one hand threading through his chest hair, feeling his stomach, the hard line where he’s definitely still muscular somewhere underneath but is soft and cushy above, grasping at his pillowy sides. His hips are bucking, circling with the effort not to throw you off accidentally, “Oh gods, baby, christ little one, lord, oh lord.” He’s unable to be silent, constantly babbling a stream of curses and praise. You pull off, and suddenly, you’re mortified.

“Oh my goodness, Oh, Elvis, I - uh, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” You’re shocked at yourself but he’s panting, and you can feel him straining against his pants.

“Oh darlin’, lord, darlin’ it’sss ok, it’s so good, so good baby. Love your lil’ mouth on me.” You smile a little bashfully as he pats at you as if praising a dog. “Think now little Elvis would too baby, get him out - show him how much you ‘preciate him too?” You pant back at him nodding your agreement. He’s resting further up on the bed than he was before, you’d both travelled around the last few minutes and he sits to take his shirt fully off, before unbuttoning his trousers finally and wriggling out of them. He shuffles further back and you get yourself situated between his legs, bracketed by his thick thighs on either side of you, their covering of downy hair tickling your sides. You lean down, gently stroking his hardening cock - but then pause,

“Elvis, I ain’t ever - you gotta tell me how to do it.” He groans, his head falling back,

“Goddamn, like you were made for me, fucking made for me honey,” he peers down at you, over the slight swell of his stomach, tucking his chin in - one of his meaty fingers stroked the side of your face before gently grasping your head, lowering it to his cock. “You gotta, gotta say hello little one, give ‘im a little hello kiss now - “ You do as he says, brushing your lips against the very tip. You’d seen it briefly before, so although not this close, and you had given him a … helping hand over the past few weeks so you’re not surprised to see he’s uncut nor at the size of him - generous in length and girth, but it’s still fascinating to you up close. You can't help but study it briefly - assessing how his foreskin is starting to retract back slightly and you absentmindedly reach for it, gently rolling it forward and back a little bit, unsure how far it should go. His hips jerk,

“Christ, baby, you gotta warn a man first.” You smile, meeting his blazing blue eyes and amused expression.

“Sorry - I thought me being here was warning enough.” He laughs and pats your cheek.

“Right little one, back to work. Kiss down little Elvis, let him know how much you wanted to see him - ‘ You obey his orders, pressing little kisses all the way down his shaft. “Ok, now doll you're gonna take him in that hot little mouth of yours - gonna be re-eal careful of your sharp little teeth, got it?” You obediently bob up and down in a nod, making sure not to scrape him.

Instinct seems to kick in and you take a moment to suck down on him, flattening your tongue against his underside. His other hand finds its way into your hair accompanying the one still resting on your cheek and neck, hand spanning across the distance. His hip jerks forward and it causes his dick to knock further back than you were expecting and you pull back with a little cough.

“S’ok baby, sorry, felt so good, couldn't help myself, not gonna make you take all of him tonight, you can use your hand go on, show the rest of him how much you love him.” He pats you again and it’s enough encouragement for you to go back down on him. You do as he suggested, stroking and pulling him with your hand where your mouth can't comfortably reach, growing bold enough to reach down and delicately hold and stroke his balls. His hands are insistent on your head, not forcing you but certainly moving you exactly how he wants you. You can taste the thin salty trickle of precum starting to dribble out of him.

“That’s it, baby, I was already so close, just from touchin’ ya honey, just gotta suck me just like that, that’s it like a damn popsicle.” His hands grow a little rougher, tugging on your hair slightly, as his hips circle and his thighs clench around you. “Gonna, you gonna stroke me now, yittle, you just gonna stroke me, I’ll let you have a taste, give you a treat but that’s enough for now - ’s about you tonight, about you honey.” He's babbling now, and you're not paying much attention to his words coming out of his mouth except when his request filters through to your brain, and you pull off with a little wet pop, stroking him to completion. He squirts over your hand - ribbons of white hitting you on the chin and chest, moaning as he does and his eyes falling closed.

He leans back, breathing heavily as his cock finishes jumping about, slowly softening before your eyes and you glance around, before grabbing his discarded shirt to wipe your hand on. Before you can raise it to your chin to wipe it off of there he sits up and moves his hand from your face to swipe a finger through it. “C’mon baby, gonna have you swallow it next time,” You're uncertain about this, but don’t bother to say anything right now as he rubs his fingers on your lips, “Go on, open up honey, have a taste for me. Lick it clean.” You do as he commands, tasting the salty tang of a man’s cum for the first time. It's not wholly unpleasant, although you're not sure about the texture, but you can’t say you'd be jumping for joy at the prospect of swallowing his full load. He watches as you suck his fingers, licking them completely clean looking up at him under your lashes as you do.

He leans forward to kiss you but then suddenly grimaces, frowning. Twisting slightly in an attempt to relieve some of the tension from his hips and back.

“I’m sorry, honey, but I gotta- I gotta lie down again.” You frown, worried.

“Of course! don’t - you’re meant to be relaxing!” He’s proven himself to you - taught you that there was something on the other side of the cliff edge and it was good. But you weren’t worried - didn’t see any reason to continue, you’d both been taken care of and you were now perfectly happy to be tucked up in bed for the night.

“Oh no, I don’t mean I’m done. Get over here, little girl…” He manhandles you, ringed fingers digging into your thighs as he arranges you over the top of him. He then lies down, sliding between your legs, before huffing a tiny bit as he heaves you up from his chest and down onto him. “That’s it, mama, right over my face. Lemme get to that poor little kitty of yours.” You’re confused as to what he’s going to be able to achieve from this angle - he can’t possibly just want such a closer look, can he? But then, without warning, he pushes his head up licking down your labia before pulling you off balance to literally sit on his face.

“Woah - Oh, Elvis I’m gonna hurt you like this, I can’t just - I’m too heavy!” You try to move away but you can’t escape from his tight grip.

“Ain’t gonna hurt a fly baby - lemme just.” And he pushes his tongue into you, spearing into your hole. You’re sopping wet already, his fingers having seen to that, and the noises are obscene - the wet smacking and sucking.

“Elv-oh my god, Elvis you can’t-“ You try to get off but his hands don’t let you move at all - pinning you onto him. But as you struggle your thighs touch and you can feel the wetness and the stickiness that’s spread throughout - tangling your curls, sticking your thighs. “It’s- it’s - it’s dirty, you can’t, you shouldn’t - that shouldn’t, you’re not meant to do that.” You can feel him chuckle, the vibration making you gasp, but he doesn’t even respond, simply holds you down and goes harder.

You’re supporting most of your weight on your own legs but every time you clench or move you can feel his fingers digging tighter in - sure you’ll have bruises where his rings and fingertips have been. You can’t help but move, grinding onto his mouth. It’s outrageous and you can’t believe this is something people do, but now it’s happening you wonder how you’ve lived this long without it, without knowing how this feels. His tongue is flicking between lapping at your hole and your inner folds. Your hips circle and one of his hands comes around your thigh - curling around to join his mouth. He moves his mouth up to suck on your clit, and the warm wet pressure, the suction, the everything - it’s too much. You’re losing control again, fighting the panic for a second time that evening - but this time, the pressure is growing even stronger and though you recognise the feeling now it feels different.

“Oh my god, Elvis, god, Elvis, Elvis please, please, you gotta stop! I’m gonna-” You grind your hips again, but he must be able to hear the sudden change in your tone - the sudden, very real, panic. And despite his instinct telling him not to he worries it’ll make you lose your relaxed state and he pulls away, kissing your inner thigh,

“Relax baby, dontcha worry, oh my poor baby’s little neglected pussy - you’ve got no idea, just been waiting for a real man, for daddy, to show you what you’ve been missin’ all this time.” He croons into you, hands stroking your thighs, soothing you into compliance. As soon as you relax into his hold again he surges forward once more. Your folds are swollen and slick, feeling like they’re burning, you feel so hot. And your entire focus is on your cunt and Elvis. Unable to even think about your thigh cramping or your foot falling asleep. He kisses up you, capturing your little puffy clit in his lips again and sucks hard. You think you might be about to pass out - it feels so overwhelming, but suddenly the pressure changes - and as he slips a finger back inside you it starts to feel a little too similar to something else.

Your panicked noises come back out, and you once again are begging Elvis to stop warning him; “I think I’m gonna pee, Elvis, seriously! I can’t - I can’t hold it! Elvis - daddy, fuck, I can’t, I seriously think I’m gonna - gonna pee.” But he doesn’t stop this time, not even to reassure you, just continuing his steady ministrations, speeding up, and the pressure is steadily mounting again, reaching the peak. Your orgasm rips through you and you have to throw your hands out to support yourself on the headboard to simply stay upright but you’re barely able to think about it, moving on instinct alone. You’re shuddering and he’s continuing, won’t leave you be. And then, the pressure seems to burst - slowly yet somehow quicker than anything you’re ever felt. It’s like your vagina is simultaneously your whole body and also entirely separate from your body as it clenches before you’re gushing, liquid shooting out of you. It drenches his face, it’s in his hair, in his sideburns, and he sits up, as you fall off of him to one side, and he’s glistening.

You’re in a daze but a little embarrassed, both at him covered in your juices and that he was right and you were wrong about your abilities. But his reaction makes you second guess your immediate response - he’s grinning, licking his goddamn lips like he’s just eaten the best-tasting dessert of his life. He uses one of your discarded shirts to wipe his face off, smiling at the damp patches it causes.

“There we are baby, Daddy got’cha there, got you to that special place - that’s what it’s meant to be like darling. Told you didn’t I, told you, you just gotta listen to me, let yourself go.”

You lay back panting - you’re a little sore and a lot tired and you’re sure you’re done. You can feel his cock hardening against you again in a gentle coaxing sort of way, and you reach over a hand. You can do this, but you’ve just not got the energy for anything else - and your pussy is still pulsing, soft and swollen and puffy. He bats your hand away though,

“Right, mama, gonna show you how it’s really done, you’re gonna reach your little o on my cock, and you’re gonna know that’s how it should be every time.” He kneels up on the bed, pulling you up onto your knees too, and he’s putting you exactly where he wants you. You want to refuse, but he’s so convincing, and you are a little curious at how he might be able to make even this so spectacular for you, an act that you’d been ambivalent about, mostly put up with; knowing it was something women just did to keep their partners happy. He manhandles you into the perfect position for him, your back slightly arched, hands clutching the top of the headboard and he brushes your sweaty hair off of your neck, kissing where it lay before.

You stay where he puts you, slightly shell-shocked at your easy compliance, and at what he’s suggesting. You glance up from under your lashes and notice the huge mirror above the bed - you’d seen the one above yourself in the bed but not the glass above the headboard - and can see how you look. You watch your face contort slightly as he presses a few of his fingers into you again, testing if you’re ready. But you’re loose, in a novel sort of way - so aroused that it’s easy in a way it’s never been before. You’re studying your fucked out face, shocked at how wide your pupils are, the redness of your lips and cheeks, before you turn your attention to Elvis watching his rosy reflection - his hair sticking down, body and chest shimmering with sweat, clinging to his chest hair, his plush lips bitten red and his face still with a hint of damp, blue eyes sparkling. You’re about to utter something completely embarrassing like, “Oh my god, you’re so pretty,” or “I love you.” But you’re (somewhat thankfully) distracted by him rubbing himself on you a couple of times before fucking into you. You jolt forward, mouth falling open as he simply pushes his whole length in, immediately pulling back out to shutter his hips forward again - gripping your waist and pulling you back onto him too. You’re shouting, finally, garbled noises and moans as he gives you no time to adjust and instead slams you back and forth to him, his balls slapping against your wet skin.

He spanks your ass and you shudder, the tinge of pain mixed with the pleasure of him hitting that spot in you, getting in so deep you feel like he’s in your soul and not just your body. You can feel yourself starting to go again, starting to ride the crest of that wave when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again and you can barely breathe, noises catching in your throat at the sight.

“That’s it sweet, that’s it sugar, look at yourself,” He wraps an arm over your chest and grips your chin, pointing it straight at the mirror, “Look at us honey.” You can see him behind you, behind your flushed body - himself pink and damp with sweat from the exertion, its practically dripping down his forehead and onto his chest - he lets go of your chin and moves one hand to fondle your breasts, pinching your nipples, the other to slip between your legs. You jerk when he strokes where the two of you are joined. It’s filthy. You’ve never been this visible like this before, having very much been under the covers with previous lovers, and your knowledge of positions was limited to on your back, on your front and your side. Very much lying down. The image of his cock sliding into your folds, the pink fuzzy base barely visible through your own fuzz and his hand splayed over your stomach as if supporting where he sits internally is filthy in the best possible way.

You feel utterly surrounded by him, you can’t think of anything but how he feels, how he looks, you can’t sense anything else. You can’t see anything but him, it’s all him as you look around - the mirrors on the back wall and above you reflect back the image of the two of you, but your eyes skip over yourself only seeing him. His thick form. He’s muscular in a solid way, an accidental way, and the layer of softness that covers all of him, but especially over his tummy, only makes him more attractive to you, more real. When you close your eyes the vision of him is imprinted on your eyelids, and all you can smell is him. He’s got a slight sweaty musk to him from the exertion and activity, but under it you can still smell the hint of his cologne. His sheets smell aggressively like him, like the Vegas him and the home him - he must use the same products (or his laundry service must) wherever he is. The room too - there’s his unique blend of homely smells but also the heavy scent of the blend of his favourite specific brands of cigarettes and cigars. The smoke, despite him claiming he only smoked very irregularly, clings to his thick curtains and the drapes that surround the room. The room which screams, as much as the rest of his house does, of him - of solely him, of his outrageous, outlandish, tacky, wonderful, style.

You aren’t able to have any of these thoughts though, as his fingers stroke himself before once again finding your clit. He captures it between his fingers, rolling it, before brushing his finger over it and before you know it you’re quivering - shaking as your orgasm overcomes you again. It’s too much, your body has barely had a chance to recover and while you’re not passed out you’re also not…all there. Your body slack as Elvis holds you up, just a rag doll for him to take what he needs for his own orgasm - chasing his completion. He does, barely a few strokes later, a litany of praises spilling out of his mouth, pulling out as quickly as he could, seemingly caught a little by surprise. And you can feel the last few sprays from him as he splatters over your already sticky and trembling body. You slump down without him holding you up by the waist and hips, and he catches you - laying you out on the bed. He lays next to you, panting, chest heaving for a few moments before propping himself up on an elbow next to you.

You’re sore, internally and externally and worse - sticky, but he doesn’t let you sleep yet, running his cum-covered fingers through your soft pubic hair, before tracing shapes on your lower tummy, gently brushing lower and lower until his fingers are stroking through your sticky soft folds. You squirm, sleepy, and he hushes you,

“C’mon baby doll, give me one more, gotta make up for lost time darling. Give em all to you tonight. One more baby, c’mon do it for daddy, give daddy one more.” He’s speaking lowly, so as not to disturb your sleepy state, but what he’s asking you to do is bringing you back to awareness. He’s barely touching you, nudging your little stretched hole with his wet fingers, barely pressing the outer rim before delicately stroking your sore, puffy, clitoris again. You feel your legs shaking, seemingly of their own accord, and can’t focus on anything he says, resorting to begging over top of his continued whispers;

“I can’t, I can’t, Elvis please, daddy, please, it’s too much, I can’t,” but you’re already so close to the edge that you gasp, mouth open, as he inserts his fingers again, and it only takes him crooking them just so for you to shudder and scream. It’s borderline painful, and your legs are shaking, “Lord, daddy! Oh my god, Elvis, daddy, oh my lord. Oh - “ and as he continues to stroke that little place inside of you, as you ride the waves that wash over you, your words trail off to just noises. You're practically yowling as you slump over, still shuddering and stomach still convulsing when he slows his ministrations and pulls his fingers away. Your vision is white and black and you can't focus on anything he's saying through your ringing ears although you're aware he's talking. It takes a few minutes for your body to calm down, Elvis’ large hands gently rubbing you down like a horse after a race, and it's not until your heart rate slows again that you’re able to open your eyes and try to focus on what he's saying.

“Told you didn’t I, you gonna learn to believe your daddy now? Believe what he tells you?” He’s unbelievably smug and you can hear it in his voice, and in the way his eyes crinkle looking down at you.

“Course, Daddy,” You blush, “Elvis. Of course, I just - I just didn’t know! I didn’t know what that was…inside me.” He laughs,

“Well, not everyone can find it doll, it keeps itself real hidden like, less you’re just the right fit.” He squeezes your cheek as he says it before he pats you again and heaves himself up into standing. “Right honey, gonna have to get you all cleaned up - you’ll be drippin’ all night else.” You wince as he wipes at you with a little towel, even his expensive cotton too much abrasion on your still throbbing centre. You roll into the bed, far too exhausted to even stand up, and your eyes are closing as he comes back over with a glass of water, he makes you drink half and you do so, sleepily, while he maintains his grip on the glass. “We’ll have to shower in the morning honey, think you’re fixin’ for a snooze now.” He pulls the top comforter off, throwing it on the floor, and you can just see through your hazy tired gaze that there’s a large wet spot on it. “Least we ain’t gotta change the bed.” He mumbles as he climbs into it. You squirm as he pulls you close against your chest and his hands find their customary positions - one just a little too close to between your thighs but he pets and shushes you, humming a tiny lullaby that makes you fall deep asleep almost immediately.

#elvis smut #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #fic request!!#be-my-ally #big daddy elvis

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thought--bubble · 9 months ago

Text

Subtraction

Michael Gavey X (Preacher's Daughter Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,886

Banners by @arcielee

Michael Gavey Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Warnings:: Corruption Kink, Oral sex (M receiving), Fingering, dubcon, coercion, religious guilt

A/N: This was really fun to write because I'm a math gal myself 🤣

Based on THIS request.

Michael is walking on clouds today. As far as he is concerned, today is a great fucking day.

He has been working as a tutor all semester trying to plump up his resume so he can go for that TA position he knows is going to open up next autumn.

Thus far, every student he has worked with is an airhead. The worst was Farleigh, who didn't actually want to learn anything and would just wait until Michael spoon fed him the answers and take off as soon as the assignment was finished.

But today, today Michael was told he was going to tutor you. The cutest little thing he has ever laid eyes on. With your mid-thigh length plaid skirts, high socks, and little cardigans, it was like you walked out straight out of his dreams and into Oxford.

You were a pastors daughter. Prim and proper, always walking around with that little silver cross hanging from your neck. Michael had spotted you as soon as school had started, and it only took about a month before the dreaded Felix Catton had set his sights on you. As if it wasn't bad enough that Michael's only friend Oliver had already been wrapped up in Felix's little web now, Michael had to watch that web get spun around you.

Which is why it came as such a big surprise when you turned him down. Felix had been trying for weeks to hook up with you. Following you around like a puppy, it made Michael sick. Couldn't Felix see how special you are? How could he treat you as just another name in his little black book?

Michael's vindication came in the form of a very public rejection where you called out Felix for "only wanting one thing" in the courtyard for multiple students and staff to see.

The public embarrassment this afforded Felix only made Michael more enamored with you. He found himself constantly daydreaming of you. He imagined you sitting on his lap as he kissed you. Your pure innocent lips on his never having been soiled by another man's touch. He imagines pushing up that little plaid skirt and sinking his fingers deep into that cunt, sweet. Innocent, and just for him.

Michael was feeling a bit nervous as he sat and waited for you in the library. He knew his personality left a lot to be desired. If there was anyone in this wretched place, he didn't want to scare off with his brashness it was you.

"Just be normal. Just be normal, " he whispers to himself as he continues to wait, fingers tapping on the thick wooden table.

"She was supposed to be here by now," he wonders aloud. She didn't show up because it's me probably. She's heard all the horror stories of me being annoying or weird. I've already ruined it before I had a chance to meet her. Well, if she's going to be like that, then I wouldn't want her anyway. She's just like all these other posh Neanderthals. Judging someone before they've even properly gotten to know them.

Michael's brain continues to rattle off thought after thought bouncing between sadness, rejection, and anger, as he glares toward the entry to the library picking at the table with his fingernail.

Then you walk in, books clung tightly to your chest, a pink and gray pleated skirt, white knee high socks and those cute black shoes with the straps, a pink cardigan and shining in the light the dainty silver cross you're never seen without.

He sits up straighter, clearing his throat, as he subtly shifts his books, notebooks, and pens on the table.

"Michael?" Your voice sounds so sweet to Michael that he has to force himself not to salivate.

"Yes. That's me, I take it you're my new pupil?" Keep calm, Gavey. Don't act like a creep. He repeats these two rules to himself while sporting a look of indifference on his face.

You reach your hand out to him and tell him your name. He takes your hand and shakes it. So small, soft, and delicate. Perfect hands. Just the right size to be engulfed by Michael's rather sizable hands, he thinks to himself.

"Hello?" You look at him questioningly as he stares at you while absent-mindedly continuing to shake your hand for far longer than was necessary.

What you didn't know was in Michael's head he was all over you, he had you bent over this wooden table, skirt pushed up to reveal your rounded bum, him sliding himself in and out of your body while you begged him for more.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts, and his cheeks burn crimson when he realizes he is still shaking your hand. "Right.. umm" he shifts uncomfortably in his seat and pulls on the collar of his shirt. The heat on his face has traveled to his chest.

As you sit, he can't help but watch you. You're so gentle from the way you sit to the way you place your books on the table.

"So what specifically are you struggling with?" He already knows she is failing the class in its entirety, but he can't seem to find another way to initiate conversation.

You whimper, and Michael just about dies

"Everything. Every single thing." You put your hands over your face clearly stressed.

"Oh. Well, we will start from the beginning then." Michael starts with what he thinks will be the easiest, basic statistics.

Even with this, you struggle greatly, the hours spent in the library do prove beneficial but only slightly and the novelty of being with you has started to wear off for Michael due to the sheer shock of how bad you are at this.

Michael rubs his temples, his head just barely hovering over the wood of the library table. "Did they not touch on any of this in secondary school?"

"They did, I wasn't any good there either, but I was able to make it up in other ways"

Michael lifts his head and looks at you quizzically. "Other ways?"

"Extra credit, community service, church duty." You explained this as if it was perfectly normal to pass maths because you picked up an extra shift helping at the church.

Michael blinks as he blankly stares back at you. "Right.......of course...... obviously......"

He looks around the library and sees it's mostly cleared out. "Well they'll be kicking us out of here any minute now" He sighs as he closes the books on the table packing up to leave, relieved that this elongated torture session has come to a close.

You stand up nervously. "No!" You didn't mean to shriek, but you did, voice reverberating around the nearly empty library.

"The quiz is in two days! I..... I can't fail! My father! He will....... oh no, please! Keep going. I'll do anything!"

Michael immediately stops moving and fights the small smirk, clawing its way across his features. Anything. I'll do anything. The words float through his mind like a beautiful song he has been waiting to hear.

Anything.

"Well, you could come back to my dorm, and we could continue......." He starts as he looks around sheepishly.

"Yes! Oh my goodness, yes! Thank you, Michael!" You excitedly collect the rest of your things from the table.

"But," Michael interjects. "We will have to....... make the process more interesting because i was nearly falling asleep a moment ago"

"Sure! whatever you suggest." You beam a smile at him, and he smirks. Oh, he has a suggestion that will keep both of them awake.

Michael opens the door to his dorm, holding his arm out and gesturing for you to go first.

You enter the room and look around. It's extremely neat. No personal effects save for a photo of Michael and his parents.

Michael walks in behind you, closing the door and setting his books down on the small table in the corner.

"Sit." He motions toward the chair across from him.

You place your books down on the table and slowly lower yourself into the chair.

" So I have an idea...... that might give you the proper.... motivation" his eyes travel up and down your form, and he slightly bites on his bottom lip before he continues. "I'm going to show you an example problem. Then I'm going to give you the same type of problem to solve. If you get it right, i remove an article of clothing. If you get it wrong, you do"

"Oh! umm Michael.... I'm not sure. " You nervously wring your hands in your lap. You are terrible at maths you would surely end up naked in no time.

"You said anything, and this will keep me awake. We could always just call it for the night......" He trails off looking to the side.

"Wait! no! ok"

Michael smirks. "Ok, then let's get started.

As expected, you get most answers wrong first, taking off your shoes, socks, and earrings. When you finally get one right, Michael chuckles and takes off his belt.

"Good, good. See? What did I tell you? proper motivation." He scoots his chair forward, a bit closing the space between you.

A few more problems later you are sitting there in nothing but a bra and panties Michael in his shirt and boxers.

As you try to focus on the current problem, you can't help but be distracted by the rather sizable bulge in his boxers.

"T-there," your voice faulters as you slide the paper back towards Michael for his review. He looks it over quickly.

"Sorry darling, that's not quite it." He leans forward, explaining where you went wrong with the formula.

"Oh." You feel the heat pool in your cheeks as you unlatch your bra. Trying to cover your breasts as you remove it.

Michael's eyes light up as he takes in your almost nude form. The bulge in his boxers becomes even more apparent as he races to write you up a new problem.

"What happens when I run out of clothes?" You know, at this point, it is an inevitability that you will end up completely nude, but you are learning and starting to get problems correct. If you can learn just enough to pass the quiz, you could possibly save your grade in this class.

"We will figure something out between the two of us, I'm sure." He brings his hand down to your knee, gently rubbing circles there with his thumb.

You focus completely on the next math problem, trying desperately to hold off the inevitable removal of your panties.

"Bravo!" Michael cheers as you slide a math problem done correctly over to him. "Guess you survive this round" He stands up from the chair and pulls his boxers off, exposing his fully erect cock.

You mean to look away. You should look away, right? That would be the polite thing to do but you can't. He is long and girthy and painfully hard.

He gently rubs at himself, watching you watch him. "Hmmm, next problem," he slides the paper over to you.

"Right, of course." You take the paper and try to focus on the problem as your eyes consistently slide back towards him as he strokes himself slowly.

"I don't mind if you look" He rubs his thumb over the slit and the tip of his cock spreading the precum around the head.

Your entire face flushes with heat. "I wasn't, ummm." You look back at the problem trying to work it out. You feel like you are writing hieroglyphics, as if you have never seen these symbols before.

"Well, that's incorrect, sorry." Michael grins happily as he waits for you to remove your final article of clothing.

"I can't. I can't expose that. " You nervously rub your palms against your thighs.

"How about we just do this?" Michael leans forward and slides your panties to the side.

Your eyes go wide, and you make a loud gulping sound.

"That's not so bad, is it?" Michael runs a finger up your slit feeling the obvious wetness there. "From what I gather, you seem to be enjoying this"

He collects some of your slick and brings it up to your pearl, drawing slow circles around the nerve.

"Oh!" You instantly close your eyes. You have touched yourself before. Something you would always pray for forgiveness for right after, but this felt different. Micheal's large finger and course fingertip make the sensation more intense, and your body instantly reacts, wanting more.

"Ahh." You breathe out as Michael applies more pressure to your bud, increasing the speed at which he applies that pressure.

Michael leans forward, completely kissing up the side of your neck. "It's ok. I won't tell anyone."

"I .... I have to remain chaste. " You moan as he slides a finger into you while holding the pressure down on your bud.

"There are things we can do without....... breaking the seal..... just relax, " He whispers into your ear as he continues sliding his finger against your walls.

You feel the pleasure building up in your lower stomach and instinctually spread your legs wider.

"That's it, good girl, I'm going to make you feel really good, ok?"

Your head rolls back as the pressure continues to build, the guilt in your mind losing to the pleasure coursing through your nerves.

Micheal moves his thumb quickly against your clit and pushes against the spongey spot inside your walls and sends you into a tailspin.

"Oh, Michael! Michael!" You gasp as the pressure in your stomach pulls taught, threatening to snap at any moment.

"I got you, let go for me, beautiful." As he whispers these words into your ear, the band snaps.

"Ahhhh, Mich-" You can't get the words out as your jaw goes slack and your entire body vibrates.

Michael continues his movements while you ride out your high, only pulling his hand away once you whimper at the overstimulation.

Michael takes your juices and rubs them on his cock as he slowly strokes himself. "That was glorious, you look so pretty when you cum"

You watch him touch himself with curiosity. "I can teach you more than maths." he says suddenly as he increases the pace of his movements.

"Come here." He motions you toward him, and like a puppet on a string, you go to him. You have already gone this far. What is stopping you now?

"Get on your knees." You quickly comply, dropping to your knees before him.

"Good, think you are going to learn this much quicker" He brings the weeping head of his cock to your lips.

You flick your tongue out and lick the tip you had heard of oral sex before. Kind of had a decent idea of what it entailed.

Michael groans. "Open up and flip your lips over your teeth."

You follow his instructions and he slides his cock into your mouth pushing past your lips. "Good, good, breath through your nose."

He grips the hair at the top of your head slowly dragging you forward pushing more of his cock into your mouth.

"Use your tongue beautiful" He sighs with pleasure as you slide your tongue along the underside of his cock.

"So fucking good." The grip on your hair tightens as he pushes further hitting the back of your throat, earning him a gag.

"What a pretty sound," He coos as he starts to move his hips while holding your head in place.

"Just like that." His breathing gets heavier as his speed increases. "Fuck, yes. Look at me" He grunts as he starts to batter the back of your throat with his cockhead.

You look up at him with tears streaking down your face and drool slipping from your chin.

"Almost there." He wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "So pretty when you cry"

Michael grips your hair tight, pushing himself fast and hard into your throat.

"You're gonna swallow what I give you" You do your best to attempt to nod while he fucks your face, pushing himself as far as he will go, the hairs at his base coming in contact with your nose and chin.

"That's it right there...... FUCK!" Michael spurts directly into your throat. You hardly have to swallow at all.

He pulls himself out of your mouth and smiles down at you, wiping the drool off of your chin.

"Think we can call it a night, yeah?" He pulls his boxers up and collapses back in the chair a look of lazy satisfaction on his face.

"Yeah, that might be best." You wipe the tears from your face and gather your clothes.

"There are still two more days before the quiz. Come back tomorrow, and we can continue." Michael gets out of the chair and wraps his arms around you from behind, gently kissing your neck.

"I love teaching you. Tell me you'll come back tomorrow."

You blush at his words, "Yes, I'll be back tomorrow"

Micheal sees you out and watches as you walk down the hallway and disappear out of sight before going back into his room and flopping onto his bed with a contented sigh before he chuckles to himself.

"I got what Felix couldn't"

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#ewan mitchell verse #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x reader #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn movie #jess fics #my smarty pants bf

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years ago

Text

Crawling Back to You (Part 2) - Cassian x Reader Smut.

Part One

Hello, hello! A few people requested a part 2, so here ya go! November is clearly shaping up to be a smutty month for me thus far 😏🌶️

Warnings: Just SMUT. Just pure smutty smut. 🌶️ enjoy, ya filthy animals!

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Such a delicious, dangerous game you were playing.

It wasn’t that you were trying to bait Cassian, but—

Actually, yes, that was exactly what you were doing.

You’d had two days to ruminate on the feeling of his head between your thighs. Sobering up hadn’t brought with it any embarrassment or regret — just frustration. Longing. A mix of wanting to tackle Cassian to the ground…and either slap his face or ride it — again.

“Be on time for training on Monday, or you’ll have to show me how you apologise”. That was what he’d said to you…and maybe you were a glutton for punishment, but…knowing how much turning up late again would bait him, you’d gone one step further.

You hadn’t turned up at all.

You’d merely gotten up and gone about your day like Cassian and that damn training ring didn’t exist. You decided you would have a day of lounging in your underwear and pretending that Cassian had no effect on you whatsoever. Even if that was total bullshit.

You cooked, and read, and relaxed, listening to the clock ticking by and feeling more and more triumphant by the second, imagining what Cassian’s face probably looked like. How he may have reacted.

It served him right for being a total prick to you. One orgasm wasn’t going to make up for that.

It was a matter of minutes after the training session would have come to a close that three pounding knocks rattled your front door. You looked up from your book casually, not making any move to answer.

So he knocked — no, thumped — again.

After the sixth bang, you shucked on a light robe over your underwear-clad body and breezed to the door in no real hurry. You barely had it open an inch before a booted foot was shoved through the gap, and the door flung open, almost hitting you.

Cassian stood, huffing heavy breaths like he’d flown over here in one fell swoop. His hair was windswept, his tan cheeks flushed — and his eyes wild, alit with ire.

Those very eyes flicked over you. Over your flimsy robe that barely covered you, and the dark lace of your undergarments poking out from beneath. His eyes roved down, slowly down, and back up again. Met yours.

“Oh, you’re in trouble.” He growled.

And then he was surging forward to kiss you, one of his huge, muscled arms sweeping you up by the waist so your feet left the ground.

His lips slid over yours so hard, so bruising, that for a second, you forgot to breathe. His other hand gripped the back of your neck, and he walked the two of you further into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him with his heavy boot.

You thought he might take you over to the sofa, but he instead flipped you around — so quick it caught you off guard — and boxed you in against the wall. Only then did he rip his mouth from yours, and he lay both his palms against the wall, either side of your head.

“It wouldn’t be so easy to surprise you,” he growled, “if you actually bothered to show up for training and learn things.”

You pushed against his chest, hissing when he did budge an inch. “A simple hello would have sufficed, General. Where are your manners?”

“My manners are reserved for people who don’t piss me off.”

You glared up at him, a delicious lick of warmth spreading through you. This — this was good. You and him volleying back and forth. A mutual temper for one another that danced just along the lines of attraction. Of lust.

A smirk played on your lips that Cassian’s eyes immediately dipped down to. “I really get under your skin, don’t I?”

His gaze flitted back to yours, his jaw flexing. “Under it. On it.” He grasped the back of your neck again. “I want you all over it.”

You had no time to retort before he was kissing you again. You could have kicked yourself for gasping — but Cassian chuckled deeply and took his opportunity, sliding his tongue into your mouth. The feel of him…the taste of him…you wanted to be worshipped by it all. Wanted every inch of you touched and teased by it until you were quaking.

“You,” He huffed a breath against your lips, “owe me an apology. You naughty, naughty girl.”

Right. Because that was what the outcome was always to be — to your decision to very blatantly, very notably, skip training. Or you’ll have to show me how you apologise.

You’d wanted him to come looking for that apology.

And now, here he was.

And if he was looking to be caught off guard, to be surprised…well—

He was distracted enough by kissing you hard, fast, that he wasn’t prepared for you slipping your hand into his breeches and wrapping it around his rock-solid length.

He jerked, hissing between his teeth as his hips naturally rutted forward. You smirked triumphantly.

And swallowed. Cassian was…big. Bigger than any other male you’d ever been with — and you’d grown up around Illyrian males. Lost your virginity to one. You thought they’d been big.

Their cocks weren’t even slightly comparable to the one you now gripped in your hand.

You tried to ease your thudding heart as you began to pump him with slow, languid strokes that were bound to infuriate him while he was so riled up, so desperate for release.

Cas bit down on his lip and lowered his heated gaze onto yours. “I,” He gritted his teeth as you pumped a tad faster, “am going to fuck you.”

There was no chance — no chance to decide your next move before he was gripping your wrist in his hand and yanking it from his breeches, away from his cock. He flipped you around with ease, so that your front was pressed against the wall, the surface cold against your cheek. You almost yelped as the hem of your silk robe was yanked up.

And then Cassian’s warm, callused fingers were dancing along the waistband of your dark, lacy underwear. The touch was gentle for the briefest of moments. And then fabric ripped.

You gasped, the unforgiving brutality of it only adding to your arousal. You bit your lip on a moan as Cassian slid his hand between your legs. Cupped you right over your now bare, dripping centre.

“So fucking wet.” He growled, his breath fanning your neck. “Does it turn you on? Misbehaving? Pissing me off?”

You breathed a dark laugh. “More than you will ever know—oh gods.”

You moaned as with barely a flick through your folds, he slid a finger into you — just like he had the other night. But this was better, realer, not marred by the fog of alcohol. Like everything you were, had ever been, centred in on that one finger that was now pumping into you.

Your fingernails dug against the wall, looking for any sort of purchase as you rose on the tips of your toes, your head falling back. How was he able to elicit such sensations, such reactions through your body, with just a single finger? You had no idea — but you never wanted him to stop. You wanted him to add another, another, to pump you until you were soaking his hand and trembling against the wall and barely able to keep yourself upright—

But he slid that one finger out of you. Chuckled so deeply you felt it reverberate through your back. The whine that broke through your lips didn’t sound like you at all.

“Problem, sweetheart?” He leaned down behind you, his teeth grazing your neck. “You didn’t think I would stand here and give you what you want when you’re supposed to be apologising to me, did you?”

Gods, you were going to fucking kill him. You whirled on the spot, pretending that your legs weren’t trembling as you faced him once more, your eyes drinking in his glazed ones, his swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

And he watched you just as hard. Studied you. Something darker flickered in the hazel of his eyes as you reached forward and undid the buttons that fastened his breeches.

And then sank to your knees, pulling them down with you.

His cock sprang free, large and proud and standing to attention. Flicking your eyes up to meet his, you tilted your head. And simply blew a breath against his rigid length.

Cassian hissed between his teeth at the sensation, and you smirked. Slowly — so slowly, it must have been torture — you poked out a pink, glistening tongue and allowed it to make contact with the head. Just enough to mop up the bead of moisture that had welled there.

“I wonder,” you hummed, teasing the pad of a finger along the pulsing vein, “if you would rather I start at the head and work my way down…or start at the base and work my way up.”

Cassian gritted his teeth. “So long as your mouth ends up around my cock, I don’t care.”

“Patience, General. You Illyrian males and your cocks — all sense goes out the window. I once had a lover—”

A warm, firm hand gripped your chin — hard enough that it teetered on the edge of pain. Cassian yanked your face up to look at him.

“Let me make one thing very clear to you.” His hazel eyes flared. “Anyone else that’s been between those thighs of yours? I don’t want to hear about them. I don’t want to know about them, to think about them. And if I ever come across them in the flesh?” His smirk was totally male, brutally rugged. “Then may the Mother help them.”

The possessiveness…it did something to you. Incurred such a strong, violent reaction inside you, that the tether connected to your patience, your control, snapped.

“You’ll just have to make me forget about them, then.” You said.

And leaned forward to take him into your mouth.

With the first inch that pushed between your lips, Cassian swore and braced a hand against the wall. You hummed a soft laugh around him and slid your mouth onto him further. Further.

“Gods.” He gasped, his other hand coming to rest on the back of your head. “Shit, Y/N.”

“Hmm?” Your mouth was so full around him, your jaw aching in the most delicious way. You worked your tongue around him, swirling it around the head, learning which ridges and indentations were most sensitive, which ones had his hips jerking and lips cursing.

His hand fisted in your hair as you ran that tongue down the ridge of him. Over the vein. He shuddered on a breath. “That mouth knows how to do more than just sound off, it seems.”

You showed him precisely what that mouth could do. Taking him in as far as you possibly could, bobbing your head and worshipping every bump and velvety-smooth bit of skin with your tongue.

“Gods—” Cassian grunted again, his hand tightening around your hair as you rolled your tongue around the head of his cock and wrapped your hand around the length. “Gods—no—carry on like that and I’ll cum.”

He was gasping, panting…growing so, so near. And yes, you wanted him inside you, thrusting into you, but you also wanted to feel him spilling into your mouth, spurting over your tongue. Wanted to swallow every last drop of him.

He had other plans, though.

He gripped your face again, pulling his cock from your mouth, and he dragged you up from your knees. His eyes were lethal as they met yours. But the way he took your hand into his was…gentle. Soft, despite the roughness of his palm.

That was — until he spun you around so fast, you almost lost your footing. He held your arm in a vice-like grip behind your back. Marched you over to the back of the sofa, his boots thudding against the wooden floor.

You were bent at the waist, your front pressed over the back of the sofa. Cassian placed both your hands atop of it, his body angling over yours.

“I’d brace yourself, if I were you.” He murmured into your ear. Brushed a kiss just below it.

That was all the warning you got before he slammed into you.

It was both pain and pleasure that rippled through you at once. Pain at being stretched and filled, the length and thickness of him too much, too full, that it burned—

But burned so, so good, that the moan that tumbled from your throat was entirely uncontrollable. Your lips fell open as he seated himself inside you to the hilt, and you didn’t think you’d ever felt so incredibly full.

His hands were a bruising grip on your waist as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust to the size of him. He took that moment to untie your robe, and you were vaguely aware of him ripping it from your body and sending it flying across the room.

You didn’t care.

“Fuck—Cassian—move.” You gasped, arching your hips towards him.

He laughed darkly. “So impatient.”

But move, he did. He slowly pulled out, hissing with every inch that slid from your wetness, until just the head of him poked at your entrance. And then he slammed in again.

“Shit.” Your head fell back, your teeth gritting as he began to thrust. “Gods.”

“The Gods have nothing to do with this.” Cassian growled, yanking you upright, against him. “It’s all me.”

And it was. It was all, entirely him as he began to fuck you like the world was ending around you. As one hand slipped into your bra and palmed at your breast, the calluses scraping your nipple. As he squeezed, using the purchase to thrust harder, deeper, to slam into you so thoroughly that the sounds of skin slapping skin echoed around the room.

As he reached down with another hand and pressed against that sweet spot at the apex of your thighs.

“Fuck,” You jerked, the curse tumbling from your lips. Cassian’s dark, breathless laugh snaked over your skin in answer.

This — him fucking you like this…the times you’d imagined this scenario did the real thing absolutely no justice. You’d brought yourself to release so many times, imagining what it might be like to feel his hands on you, his cock inside you, to hear the filthiest words breathed into your ear—

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” Cassian grunted, as if he’d read your thoughts. His hips picked up their pace, his fingers rubbing ruthlessly against your clit as he breathed, “So many times. So many fucking times I’ve cum all over my hand thinking about you. Imagining you. What you feel like around me.”

You moaned, reaching back to clasp the back of his neck. “And the real thing?”

“Beyond expectation.” An answering moan — a whimper almost. “I feel like a fucking god right now, inside you.”

His hand squeezed your breast again, and you knew — just from the way his thrusts were picking up, and yet growing sloppy, the way his breaths kept hitching in his throat — he was close.

“How am I supposed to last,” He ground out, the words slurring into each other, “with you clenching around me? Fuck, I want you to cum.”

He pressed a finger down — right onto the most sensitive, delicious part of your clit. The part that made your body jerk in reaction, made both hot and cold skitter over your skin.

Made you throw your head back and shout his name as released barrelled through you.

Through your orgasm, his thrusting was relentless. You were too sensitive, writhing against him, and yet you couldn’t get enough of him stroking you, fucking you. You wanted more, more—

“Oh, shit,” Cassian groaned—

It was all the warning you got as he slammed into you once, twice — and stilled, his entire body racking and trembling as he roared and came inside you. Spilled every last drop into you. His front was shuddering against your back.

It seemed like an eternity that passed of neither of you being able to speak — to so much as murmur a vague noise. Your heaving breaths filled the room as the pleasure subsided and gave way to a weakness that left you unsteady on your feet. You leant forward, gripping the back of the sofa as you bowed over and tried to catch your breaths.

Even after he’d spilled everything he had inside of you, Cassian gave a few last, languid rolls of his hips, moaning softly beneath his breath, before he slowly pulled out of you. He seemed just as spent as you were, just as unable to speak—

You swallowed. Braced yourself against the sofa as you eased round to face him. Your hooded eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other.

“…fuck.” He eventually breathed, his eyes shuttering. There was a vulnerability to his expression that hadn’t been there earlier. “That was—I’ve never…”

“No.” You swallowed again. Hard. “Me neither.”

Because somehow, you knew exactly what he was trying to say without him actually saying it. That you’d never had sex that seemed to rock you to your very existence, that seemed to push you off the edge of the world and send you freefalling into a blissful beyond.

It seemed to…to change something. To mould this tension between the two of you into something else. An understanding, maybe.

And whatever it was…you wanted his company. Wanted him to stay.

You cleared your throat. Felt awkward as you said, “…you don’t have to imagine anymore…what it’s like. I’m here — yours. If you want.”

You’d never felt so…bare. So vulnerable. You twisted your hands together as you studied his reaction.

Cassian stared back at you, drinking you in. Swallowing your words. His brow seemed to furrow for a moment—

And then he seemed to…to snap straight out of whatever tender moment the two of you had just shared. He smirked his signature Cassian smirk, all male and roguish and irresistible. Tucked himself back into his breeches and fastened the buttons.

“Your apology will suffice.” He said cockily — like you hadn’t just spoken the words you had. “But if you want to actually learn anything, you should show up to training.”

And just like that, he straightened the rest of his clothes out. Stalked to the door. He barely even glanced back as he threw a lazy wave over his shoulder.

“See you around.” He called. And left.

It hurt more this time, somehow — watching him walk away.

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heesdreamer · 2 years ago

Note

omg can u do a story thats like summer fling comes to ur school and interrupts what u had going on with ur current situationship something like that i saw a smau like this and a long fic with ur writing will really just be *chefs kiss*

GIVE UP ON ME

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

SUMMARY ➩ you’re moved back to your hometown and finally moving on from your toxic 4 year long relationship with your highschool sweetheart heeseung when you get the email that the 5 year reunion is approaching

WC ➩ 8k

WARNINGS ➩ mentions of sex and death, extremely toxic relationship between yn and hee, not cheating but sorta shady, just a ton of angst

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ written at 5 am not proofread yadada same stuff as always! slightly strayed from what the request suggest but i like it so hope you do too

It wasn’t like you had necessarily planned to stay in your hometown post your eventual graduation.

In fact, like almost everybody else your age that you’d spoken to about it, you couldn’t wait to be old enough to get out of where you’d grown up. To leave behind the familiar neighborhoods and the memories wrapped around every tree and building, you’d be in a new place as a new adult who could conquer the world.

You did eventually leave, following the crowd of students a few states over to the nearest large city and it wasn’t that you particularly didn’t like it, it wasn’t all too bad.

But it only took two years of constant bustling city life, your office job that stretched you past your limit and didn’t pay you nearly enough, and the overly expensive fees and bills for your apartment that was basically a walk in closest, before you were calling it quits and moving back to what was familiar.

Your parents had been delighted that you’d returned, living with them for about a year before you turned 24 and your ego couldn’t handle it. You longed for that feeling of freedom and maturity you’d found by having your own apartment and soon enough you were finding a place not too far from where you’d grown up.

As it turns out, you weren’t the only person who had either stayed or moved back home either. Knowing at least two dozen friends or classmates who were now adults and working throughout your city.

This comforted you for a number of reasons. It was nice to see their faces and have people you were familiar with but you also couldn’t help feeling disappointed in your self when you made the decision to come home, slightly embarrassed you couldn’t handle the demanding life of the big city like you’d wanted to. So seeing others in a similar boat helped you understand you weren’t apart of the minority here.

Currently you were sat with one of these old classmates inside a half flower shop half cafe, watching him race around as he tried to fulfill online orders.

“Technology is going to be the downfall of small business.” Sunghoon was complaining for about the sixth time since you’d gotten there, shaking his head and groaning when his long blond hair fell in his face again.

“Soon you’re going to need a hairnet if you keep that up.” You were commenting from your table, back leaned against the wall as you played with your empty coffee cup.

Sunghoon and you hadn’t been friends in high school, almost the opposite actually. You frequently had relationship drama with one of his best friends and he was a jock on the football team who was far too concerned with girls he could actually hook up with to ever acknowledge you as a human being.

It was a pleasant, although confusing, surprise when you’d stumbled upon a new adorable little shop while going to the grocery store and walked in to see Park Sunghoon himself, in a little pink apron and he greeted customers enthusiastically.

His face had dropped when he’d saw you, faltering slightly like he was embarrassed before you smiled and casually asked him what the best drink on the menu is.

Thus a friendship finally bloomed between the two of you and you spent almost every break sat in this exact place, even coming on your off days to help him maintain orders and the plants as he started to gain more and more traction.

“I could get a haircut if Jay could make some time for me.” He was scoffing and shaking his long hair again.

Almost on cue, the bell above the door was ringing and you glanced over to see Park Jay entering casually, looking over towards Sunghoon with a raised eyebrow when he just barely caught a whisper of the end of his sentence.

“Are you complaining about me being busy again?” Jay was sighing and approaching the counter after giving you a small wave in greeting. He didn’t need to tell Sunghoon his order, just passing him his card with the knowledge that he already knew.

Jay was here almost as frequently as you, maybe more so considering his salon was only two doors down in the small strip mall. He was also somebody you had known from high school although you didn’t really remember him much, your school being overly large and populated.

Sunghoon had told you once, the first day Jay had walked in at the same time as you and you commented on his familiarity, that they had run in the same circle back in school but Jay was absent from their parties or football activities a lot more often, hence why you most likely couldn’t exactly place his face to anything specific.

“Does he know me then?” You had asked him, muttering a small thanks when he passed you your ice coffee.

“Do you mean does he know that you used to hook up with our team captain after every practice?” Sunghoon was raising an eyebrow and taking the empty seat across from you. “Yeah Y/N, he knows.”

Sunghoon was referring to the exact reason you and him hadn’t been friends in high school.

Lee Heeseung was somebody you’d spent many years trying to rid yourself of, both thought wise and the terrible reputation you’d been given just by being seen in his vicinity more than a dozen times.

Heeseung had been the captain of the football team which, in true cliche high school form, had meant he basically ran the school in terms of power and popularity. He wasn’t exactly the worst person to have this position considering his personality, he was nice to almost everybody and hilarious without meaning to be, but he was still Lee Heeseung.

You’d known of him before anything ever happened between the two of you of course, growing up together considering neither one of you ever switched districts or moved to one of the rival schools.

Still you weren’t necessarily falling high on the popularity scale, sticking to your group of friends and never bothering to join any extracurriculars that took up your precious after school time.

So it was particularly confusing that he had noticed you, and noticed was a small word for it.

Your friends had forced you along to the first game of the season despite your complaints, not caring for sports especially ones that required you to sit in a cold metal bench while freezing your ass off. Still, you subjected to their pleads and demands and found yourself begrudgingly entering the football fields gated concession area.

Almost immediately you’d been stopped by a boy, taking a second of scanning him to realize who it was underneath all that gear and face paint. Lee Heeseung was removing his helmet and shaking his messy hair to give it back some volume, offering you a toothy smile as you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Cheerleader section is over there.” Had been the first words out of his mouth and judging by the gleam in his big eyes, he had figured that to be a pretty good pick up line.

He has faltered slightly in his confidence however when you glanced down at your sweatpants and large sweater, looking back to meet his eyes with an unimpressed stare as you leaned back slightly.

“Do I look like I’m here to cheerlead?” You mumbled, although you’d realized he was trying to sweet talk you, you still didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an awkward laugh or you thanking him.

Your friends had come back from getting their hot dogs and drinks then, not realizing who exactly you were speaking to before they were grabbing your arms and excitedly making their way over to pick a good seat in the bleachers, leaving you to spare Heeseung a look over your shoulder and shrug when you saw him standing dumbfounded.

You hadn’t thought much about it while waiting for the game to officially start, knowing it was probably a one off encounter. Heeseung had a known habit of flirting with everything and anyone that moved, all genders included, and you didn’t think it was something you needed to care about for more than 20 minutes.

He was quickly proving you wrong however once the starting whistle was ringing out and he was immediately finding you in the stands. Every time he made a successful pass or scoring a touchdown, he was looking towards you in the crowd and shooting you a smile or a thumbs up.

It took about an hour for your friends to realize who he was looking at and you spent the rest of the game listening to their squeaks of excitement as they shook your shoulders, paired with the glared of jealously others were giving you once they also caught on to who it was that had caught their football captains attention.

Despite your best attempts to keep rejecting him, Heeseung’s efforts to woo you got more and more intense and eventually you were playing into them in return.

This lead you into four years of near disaster, entering a rocky relationship, if you could ever call it that, that was mainly you breaking up every few days followed by makeup sex that you never told anybody about. It wasn’t necessarily a secret considering everybody knew about your situationship but neither one of you would ever confirm it, brushing off questions or assumptions.

You never dated officially but everybody knew you were together, although this never stopped girls and guys from trying to get with Heeseung. As far as you knew he never took the bait, remaining faithful to you and your arrangement although he had no reason to ever honor this silent code of monogamy.

You imagine the football team had gotten the most inside scoop out of the rest of the school, often seeing you and Heeseung arguing in the parking lot after practice or you walking away with tear filled eyes just to return a few days later kissing him and glued to his side with a bright smile.

Things were messy but you were happy to be around him during the good times, both of you at fault when things got rocky. He didn’t treat you bad necessarily, you just weren’t good for each other but too obsessed to ever let go or move on. That didn’t mean there wasn’t times where you’d sit in bed and wish it was over, hovering over the send button on the break up message you’d formulated just to delete it for the 100th time.

Then Heeseung was offered a sports scholarship to a university in America and things were over just like that.

It was a bit more complicated considering the nights you spent crying together, curled up on his twin mattress or the arguments you had that left him storming out and slamming doors. But regardless, it was the official end to your four years of trying to make it work.

“What are you thinking about so intensely?” Jay’s smooth voice was breaking you from your trip down memory lane as he took the seat next to you, watching you with a concerned frown. “Is it the reunion?”

“Am I the only one who thinks a five year reunion is a little bit overkill? Half of us are still the exact same.” Sunghoon was adding on from behind the counter and you sighed.

They were referring to the fact that earlier this week, school president Yang Jungwon had sent a mass email to all ex students announcing he was throwing a five year reunion party at your old school, right here in your hometown.

“Yeah Hoon, like anyone would’ve guessed you’d become Mr. Flower Boy.” Jay was shaking his head and turning back to look at you with that same expression. “I really doubt he’s going to be there. He’s a super busy guy these days.”

“Why would she care if he’s going or not?” Sunghoon was chiming in again before you could and you sighed in irritation.

“She can speak you know.” You gave him a warning glance and he mimicked zipping up his lips, smiling when you laughed at the way he threw away the key after. “But I don’t care, he’s right. It’s been five years since I’ve seen him and plus I’ve moved on now.”

“So it’s safe to say you’ll be taking your loser as your plus one? Sorry Jay.” Sunghoon was kissing his teeth as he finished the last part and you rolled your eyes.

He liked to tease Jay about having a secret crush on you all these years although the other boy strictly denied it every time it was brought up, getting the same nasty scowl on his face that he had right now.

“Jiung isn’t a loser.” You attempted to defend your coworker who you had been going on casual dates with for a few months now but your voice was weak and you winced slightly. “At least he’s nice.”

“You might as well call him a loser. No guy likes to be called nice.” Sunghoon remarked.

He was joining you at the third seat of the table then and you sighed softly knowing he was right, guilt rising up in your chest considering you were having second thoughts about taking him as your date to the reunion. You glanced at Jay who was already watching you with a soft expression.

“Well I think nice is good.”

——

It was only about two weeks later that the reunion was approaching and you felt sick to your stomach as you sat in your car, your schools logo shining a bright light into the dark parking lot and causing you to groan as you rested your forehead against your steering wheel.

Your phone was lighting up with a text message, letting you know that Sunghoon and Jay were waiting for you near the entrance so you could walk in together.

You took a deep breath before giving yourself a small pep talk, finally getting out of the car and adjusting your dress before meeting them underneath the archway. It was strange to see them in such a familiar place but looking so different and meaning a lot more to you now. They seemed to be feeling the same thing as they watched you with nostalgic looks.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N L/N.” Sunghoon was chiming and meeting you half way, throwing an arm over your shoulders and leading you towards the entrance doors. Jay followed quietly behind, watching the two of you with a half smile. “So whats your first period?”

“Wrestling if you don’t take your arm off me.” You groaned and pushed him away from you, not needing rumors to start before you’d even entered the building. Jiung would be arriving after his shift ended and you didn’t need to be seen with multiple men by your old judge classmates.

As much as you didn’t want to attend you couldn’t deny how beautiful the gym looked. Jungwon had done an amazing job of decorating it and making the space feel less like early PE and more like a grand ball, an upgraded version of the homecomings he had thrown back then.

You made a mental note to find him and compliment his interior design skills before following your friends over to the drinks and snacks.

Your skin was still buzzing with anxiety at the thought of seeing people you once knew, one in particular, but you reminded yourself he most likely wouldn’t come. If he did it would be okay regardless, you’d moved on and it had been almost half a decade since you’d seen his handsome face.

Which is why it was almost too intense of a shock wave that hit you when you spun around with your drink in hand and were immediately face to face with the same boy you’d been praying you didn’t run into tonight.

Heeseung was already watching you from a few feet away, having recognized the back of your head despite being confused considering the two boys you were hanging out with, his old friends who he never once thought you’d encountered. But when you turned to the side to laugh at something Sunghoon said as he poured your drink, he was certain it was you and his feet instinctively started to move in your direction.

You were both frozen as you looked at each other with wide eyes, not saying anything as you took in the others appearance and presence.

Heeseung looked the same but different somehow. His eyes were the first thing you noticed, still overwhelmingly round and beautiful but calmer now. He was lacking his boyish spark that always made him seem like he was one burst of energy from absolutely exploding.

Physically he was larger although he’d always carried lean muscle from playing multiple sports. While then he had relied on speed and being agile, now he seemed stronger and more sturdy judging by the way his button up stretched slightly over his chest. You felt uncomfortable as he looked at you, knowing he was probably making similar judgements about you and you nudged Sunghoon with your elbow to get his attention.

“Whats wrong sweet?” He was spinning around to address you kindly but faltering when he followed your frozen gaze and saw his old friend standing a few feet away. “Oh dude, what’s up Heeseung?”

Sunghoon’s voice was excited as he addressed him but you watched the way the older boys jaw clenched at the use of the nickname towards you, shifting on his feet and not even sparing his high school friend a glance as he gave you a knowing look. You recognized the signs of jealously and annoyance on his face and you sighed softly as you realized he hadn’t changed as much as you thought.

He finally turned to address Sunghoon as they exchanged bro like high-fives and a side hug before he was leaning back again to glance between the two of you.

“So you two…?” He trailed off but you knew what he was implying as he pointed a finger back and fourth a few times.

You tried not to think about how different his voice sounded or the way his half smirk he was offering the two of you didn’t match his gentle face, heart in your throat as the previous image of him youd held so dearly the last five years disappeared and molded into this new version of him in front of you.

“Oh no man, no way.” Sunghoon was laughing once he realized, not catching onto the fact the other boy was clearly irritated and you were growing more uncomfortable by the second. He glanced over at you and your other friend beside you and you immediately knew what he was going to say judging by the mischievous look in his eye. “She’s with Jay.”

All three of you froze in shock, although you had expected him to say it it still didn’t make the impact any less heavy. It fell completely silent as you waited for Sunghoon to break the joke and laugh, tell Heeseung he was only kidding so you could finally say your goodbyes and leave the awkward situation behind. He didn’t however, watching you to wait and see what you would say.

“What a surprise.” Heeseung’s cold voice was filtering in instead and you felt Jay stiffen from beside you. “So you finally grew a pair? Only took you a decade I guess.”

Now Sunghoon was freezing alongside the rest of you and his mouth parted softly, despite being the one who constantly teased your friend and brought it up, even he was thrown off by how mean the comment Heeseung had made was.

You felt sick to your stomach once you processed what he was saying, implying both that Sunghoon hadn’t been joking when he talked about the other boys crush on you and also the fact he had seemingly known about it since before you even got together freshman year. You were turning your head slightly to glance at Jay to see him still completely stiff, his face ghost white with bright red cheeks from his embarrassment.

“Jay?” You whispered and the sound of your voice seemed to break him from his trance, shooting you a panicked look before he was awkwardly placing his drink back down on the table and clumsily excusing himself.

He was gone before you could object and Sunghoon sighed before following him, patting you on the back and glaring at Heeseung as he went.

This left you alone with the boy and although he still looked as irritated as he did a few minutes ago, now there was confusion masking his features as well. You glared at him but didn’t say anything, just shaking your head before turning to try and follow your friends out of the auditorium.

However a hand on your arm was stopping you and you whipped around back towards the boy, yanking your arm away from him and trying to ignore the fact your skin lit up with a fire the second he had touched you. A flash of hurt passed by his face before it was hardening again and you scoffed.

“Don’t leave yet.” He was rushing out and for a second he sounded like he had last time you’d seen him, a hint of desperation in his voice. “We haven’t even talked.”

“Why would we need to talk?” You practically hissed at him although you weren’t sure why. His comment had been mean but he didn’t know any better, obviously not realizing the stupid joke and just retorting in the way a childish ex boyfriend would.

Heeseung faltered at your tone and he finally let some expression show, a confused and hesitant look on his face as he glanced down to your feet and then back up to hold your glare. He shrugged and took a step away from you, letting you know you were able to go and follow the other boys.

You sighed at his reaction and made no move to leave, watching him for a second and trying to think about a way to handle this that would create the least amount of drama.

“Come with me to find Jay and then we can go somewhere and talk.” You were eventually saying and he was thinking for a moment before nodding and following you out of the gym.

The two of you walked in silence down the hallways and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him every few seconds, your mind having a hard time understanding the visual of adult Heeseung walking down the same floors he had last time you’d seen him. You figured he was doing something similar judging by the way you kept awkwardly meeting each others eyes and hurriedly looking away.

“How’d that happen anyways?” He was asking you once you pushed through the doors back outside and you looked at him in confusion. “You and those guys being friends.”

You smiled at the mention of them and shrugged softly, pulling your jacket up on your shoulders tighter once the cold night air nipped at your skin. “I imagine we could’ve been friends in high school too if I wasn’t so busy.”

He was laughing softly and turning to walk sideways so he could look at you more clearly, your heart picking up in speed when you looked at him to see that familiar smirk and cocky glint in his eyes that arrived at the mention of your activities in high school.

“Remind me what it was that had you so occupied back then.” He was asking but he already knew, just wanting to hear you say it and see your reaction.

You considered humoring him for half a second before deciding against it, rolling your eyes and looking away from his intense stare before you did something stupid.

He was taking a step closer to you then and you stopped walking, watching with saddened eyes as he took a few more, his hand coming up to hold your arm again although a lot more gentle this time around. Your stomach turned at the feeling of him touching you and you could’ve cried if you thought about it for too long.

“I missed you.” He was whispering suddenly and you hated that you could hear the sincerity in his voice, breaking around his words slightly as he softly squeezed your arm. “I really fucking missed you.”

You were turning your head downwards softly to try to stop yourself from tearing up and being an embarrassing ex, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of something you could say to him that wouldn’t hurt either of your feelings.

You were swiftly interrupted by the sound of a car door closing a few parking spaces down and you took a step away from the boy just in case, his hand falling off your arm and dangling in mid air for a few seconds before he removed it. You glanced behind you towards the sound and your sick feeling got worse when you realized who it was that was approaching you.

“Y/N.” Jiung waved at you with a big smile and you tried to offer back a small one, wincing when he approached and wrapped an arm around your side. He was turning towards the other boy in greeting. “This must be one of your classmates.”

Heeseung had lost the gentle expression on his face again, eyes hard as they shot down to the hand sitting on your waist. He was looking back up at you with a raised eyebrow and you sighed softly when you noticed his jaw clenching again. Still he surprised you when he stuck a hand out towards your date, gripping the others firmly in a handshake before giving him a forced smile.

“Heeseung.” He offered his name and Jiung froze beside you.

“Oh…. this is Heeseung.” He glanced down at you and you bit the inside of your cheek awkwardly, nodding slowly as he pieced together who it was that was standing in front of him, finally putting a face to the name.

Heeseung on the other hand seemed pleased at the realization that you had talked about him, especially to this guy that was slowly loosening his hold around your body the longer he glared at him intensely. You felt a surge of annoyance that the boy still held a childish amount of possessiveness and jealously over you despite the fact you hadn’t had contact with him in years.

“This is Jiung my… friend.” You eventually introduced him, trying to lessen the awkward tension that was building to a suffocating amount.

Jiung faltered at the title you gave him but you weren’t lying necessarily, you’d been going on dates every since he asked you out at a company dinner but you hadn’t talked about it in detail or really moved towards anything serious.

This seemed to calm Heeseung down for a second before he was glancing at you, trying to decide what you considered a friend. He recalled you introducing him as that back in the day and he most definitely didn’t have you in a friendly way most of the time. You shot him a warning glare and he lost his intimidating expression immediately as he listened to you.

You ushered Jiung inside after that, telling Heeseung to go find Jay and apologize and ignoring him when he groaned and tried to follow on your heels like a lost puppy.

“What was that?” Jiung was whispering once you got inside and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, not liking the harsh tone he suddenly had with you. “I’m your friend now?”

You stared at him in disbelief knowing he only cared because the person you had said it to. You’d called him your friend for months and vice versa but clearly his ego was wounded at the fact you’d said it to Heeseung. You were a bit sick of the amount of male ego floating around tonight and you were about ready to leave at this point.

“When have you ever been otherwise.” You spat back at him and he scoffed, uncharacteristically angry. He normally was quiet and pretty shy hence why Sunghoon had taken to calling him a loser, never to his face of course.

You figured the night wouldn’t be much fun but you didn’t expect to be sat at one of the tables in awkward silence with your coworker, your friends no where to be seen still. Your arms were crossed and you weren’t bothering to mask the annoyed look on your face as Jiung the as in a similar position, still throwing a hissy fit over the title you’d given him.

Jungwon had stopped by your table at one point, greeting you warmly despite being slightly awkward considering your date had completely ignored his arrival. You paid him no mind and enthusiastically told your old president what a good job he had done, citing that everybody seemed to be having a good time.

He smiled and thanked you despite clearly being able to tell you weren’t necessarily apart of that, noticing you sitting with a frown on your face earlier.

The rest of the night carried on like that and then it was finally ending, masses of feet finding their way outside the school again. You walked past the groups of people saying goodbye to each other, not bothering to join in on the charade considering you weren’t in the best mood and definitely at risk of being accidentally rude to an old peer.

Jiung was following you silently and when you reached his car and stared at him he took a moment before speaking.

“I’m sorry if I ruined the night.” He was stating and you gave him a tired glance. “I don’t know why I acted like that… just seeing him and knowing how much he meant to you…”

“Well he doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.” You were cutting him off before he could finish, shaking your head and contemplating giving him a hug goodbye before deciding against it, offering a small wave instead as you turned to go and find where you had parked.

You took your time as you walked to the other side of the parking lot, watching Jiung’s car as it pulled off and feeling strangely sick again with overwhelming nostalgia.

It was that same feeling you had when you first moved back home and arrived in the local airport, the disappointing ride back home as it stormed like the sky could feel how saddened you felt. It didn’t go away for weeks, that heavy hole in your heart, especially as you adjusted to the places you would frequent with Heeseung, having to get used to not seeing him around every corner.

“So I don’t mean anything then?” His voice now was a stark reminder of that as he rounded his way through the cars closest to yours, clearly having listened in on your conversation a few minutes prior.

“Do you always spy on your old classmates conversations?” You were sighing and putting your keys back into your pocket, leaning against your car as you watched him.

He joined you, scanning your new vehicle first for a second before he was leaning onto it beside you and touching your shoulder to his. The car was slightly wet from the earlier drizzle but he didn’t complain as it sunk through his long sleeve shirt, sending him a cold chill that you could feel on your arm that was pressed against him.

“Is that what we are? Old classmates?” He was asking with a small laugh but it lacked any humor, his voice sounding slightly wounded like it had earlier.

“Let’s not do this.” You shook your head softly, the longing and desperation on his face making your heart beat almost painfully in your throat. “Please Heeseung.”

Lee Heeseung had always felt like a drug to you and he knew this more than anybody considering he felt the same way.

You remembered after you and him had first started to fool around with each other, you hadn’t thought too deeply about it. He was a known player and although he’d been around your life since you were young that didn’t make you exempt from his flirting and advances apparently like you had figured. He’d never paid you any attention before but you weren’t going to get your heartbroken by him.

Still, he was cute and you liked the way he smiled so naturally you didn’t decline once he continued to show interest in you. That’s all it was at first however, quick hookups in his car before practice or once or twice you went to his house on a free weekend to see him.

You never acknowledged each other in public, especially not at school, and you rarely talked outside of having sex and saying meaningless words. This was okay with you and you never expected anything else, almost preferring how easy and simple the arrangement was as of now.

Then one day after lunch, one of Heeseung’s more publicly known hookups was pouring her drink over your head. She’d barely gotten a few words out before she was being dragged away by teachers but you vaguely heard her screaming something about you being a slut as she cried and kicked. When you asked him about it the next weekend while getting dressed in his room, he casually told you he had broken stuff off with her because of you.

You’d stopped midway from putting your bra back on to look at him in bewilderment, him casually avoiding your glance despite the fact he was anxiously fidgeting with his fingers.

“Why the hell would you do that Hee?” You remember hissing at him and he raised his thin shoulders in a careless shrug.

“Maybe you’re just my favorite.” He was retorting with a small smirk, dodging out of the way when you chucked your shirt in his direction.

He had said it like it was a joke but that didn’t stop you from paying extra attention to his behavior from there on out. Heeseung was clearly obsessed with you and you would’ve been annoyed by his antics if you weren’t in the same boat, almost feeling sick every time you went more than a week without being able to see him.

You spent almost all of your free time together, even on the days where you had been “broken up”.

Your friends had been excited for you at first, being not only noticed by the most popular guy at school but also being the first girl he seemed to actually care about. Their excitement turned to worry the longer your toxic relationship went on and the more weekends you spent crying in bed after another nasty argument.

It was always stupid things you’d argue about, childish assumptions and major jealously issues on both sides. Heeseung didn’t like the way boys are parties looked at you and you hate the girls on the cheerleading team who called his name louder than they did the rest of the boys.

So you’d scream and you’d fight and you’d slam doors so hard the wood would crack but then less than a week later you’d be underneath him again, murmuring about how you can’t live without each other and you’d never love somebody as much as you loved him.

“What are we doing?” He was speaking again now regarding your warning for him to stop speaking the way he was. “We are just talking, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You know it’s never just talking with us.” You laughed a dry laugh and looked down at your feet, sadness ripping through you again at the reminder you weren’t stupid kids anymore.

You were older now and more mature, supposedly moved on, yet your heart still raced every time he smiled and your entire arm was on fire just from the feeling of his sleeve against your jacket. The pit in your stomach full of longing was screaming out at you to lean into him, to scratch that itch that never left and always begged you to pick up the phone and call him.

“I knew I missed you, I mean I think about you every day but….” He trailed off for a second and you looked over towards him, watching the side of his face as he took a deep breath. “I feel like this is the first time I’ve been able to breathe in 5 years.”

“We were terrible together.” You whispered back to him, trying to keep your sad tone lighthearted so he understood you were mostly joking.

You didn’t like that when he looked at you, you felt 18 again. His eyes were teary and you wanted to reach up and hold his cheek, wipe your thumb gently under his eye and whisper nice things to him until it cleared away.

You remembered the first time you’d ever seen Heeseung cry and you felt like your world had collapsed. He always was so strong and optimistic, calm in bad situations and cracking jokes when you were so frustrated you couldn’t find it in yourself to even laugh at him despite appreciating his ability to always make light of a situation.

So when he had shown up on your doorstep your junior year soaking wet from the rain and sobbing so hard he was leaning against your door for support, you felt like you had quite literally died.

You’d pulled him inside quickly and he wrapped you in a bone cracking hug, completely soaking your clothes although you didn’t mind or object in any way.

You hadn’t seen him for a few days considering you’d fought the previous weekend after a boy at a party had snaked his hand around your waist and squeezed slyly before Heeseung was ripping him off of you and nearly pummeling him into the ground, only stopping his attack when a few of his friends heard the yells and gasps and helped you pull him away from the boy.

After storming out of the party you scolded him for being so careless, only one year from graduation with a near perfect record that would help with scholarships.

“You think I give a fuck about any of that?” He had sneered at you under the streetlight and you remembered the way his voice echoed throughout the quiet street, his cheek red and swollen from the other guy getting a few good hits in.

“You should.” You had yelled back, hands coming up in confusion.

“All that matters to me is this.” He was approaching you swiftly but you didn’t flinch back, not even with the aggressiveness from earlier still floating through his eyes, knowing he’d never hurt you. “You are what matters to me, this is all I have.”

You’d told him he was crazy for saying things like that and tried to remind him how important football was and how he needed to get this scholarship, he needed these opportunities and you weren’t going to let him throw them away for you. This upset him and he’d called you a ride home before disappearing somewhere, now returning on your doorstep like a stray dog.

“What’s wrong?” You were gasping into his wet hair, a cold chill running through you considering just how soaked he was.

You shuffled the two of you over to the door so could close it, taking a peak outside briefly to see his car wasn’t in your driveway. He had either gotten a ride and stood outside for a while or he’d walked the two hours from his own house.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Tell me what happened?” You tried to pull back from the hug to look at his face but he was squeezing you tighter, a panicked cry slipping through his lips at the feeling of you even attempting to pull away from him.

You didn’t try again and you didn’t talk either, both of you sinking to the floor as he cried and shook in your arms. You were petting his hair softly and ignoring the small puddle that was building up around you on your floor.

Eventually once he calmed down he was able to tell you what happened. Heeseung’s grandma, who he lived with full time and was raised by, had passed away a day or two prior and he’d only gotten the news once he finally came home and found her gone.

It’d been a long time since that night now but as you looked at him now it’s all you could think about. You think, in a way, that’s when you fully realized how much you truly loved him. This wasn’t a high school fling or you both being unhealthy obsessed with each other to the point you thought you were in love, it was serious for you and the thought made your stomach hurt.

Not because you had any doubt he loved you too, that was never a concern of yours. Quite the opposite considering he was a lot more open in his care for you than you were towards him, instinctively keeping him at an arms length distance sometimes.

It made you feel so terrible because you knew how it would end before it even did, you knew he would do great like he always did and he’d be given opportunities that didn’t have room for you in them. He would get too busy or too full of himself and you’d be left on the back burner, then he’d move on and forget all about you.

Hearing him now express how terribly he’d missed you, equating it to years worth of suffocation, made your stomach turn for other reasons.

“We weren’t terrible we were just kids.” He was retorting and you watched him as he shifted closer to you against the car. He’d always been taller than you but he seemed especially large now, his face and voice more mature.

“I saw the way you looked at Jiung and Jay earlier.” You reminded him and shook your head in denial. “It’s the same, you would’ve beat him bloody if you could have.”

“Moment of weakness. I’m not like that anymore.” He was quick to reply, almost like he knew you were going to bring it up. You glanced at him again and he was already watching you curiously. “But I’d do it if I had to yeah, I’d do anything for you.”

You were pulling off the car so you could fully face him, standing in front of him and looking at him with an incredulous expression. He was directly going against his first statement that he had changed for the better and you felt frustrated that he wasn’t understanding your point of view.

“How can you say that to me?” You whispered to him and he winced at the pain in your tone, reaching a hand out to hold your arm softly and feeling relieved when you didn’t immediately swat him away. “It’s been a long time Heeseung, you’re just confused because you’re back here.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He was shaking his head and scoffing, playing with your jacket sleeve and pinching it softly between his reddening fingers. “It hasn’t been a long time to me, I’m still here every day in my head. Every morning I’m still waking up beside you even when you’re not there.”

You knew it was probably stupid to lean forward towards him, everything in you telling you you’d regret it but you couldn’t help it as you listened to him talk.

You didn’t kiss him or anything, just simply leaned your body forward against his on the car so he could wrap his arms around your lower back and hold you tighter than he’d been holding your sleeve, but it was enough for him to know you were listening and attempting to hear him out.

He sucked in a breath now that you were pushed against him and for a second you thought he’d start to tear up again, a similar overwhelming feeling of relief and comfort washing through you at just the small act of being close to him again.

“So you miss me too?” He was whispering now that you were closer, looking down at you. You were close enough that if he leaned down your noses would touch but he didn’t, just watching you as you peered up at him.

“Of course I miss you.” You finally surrendered and told him part of the truth, not liking the way his eyes immediately lit up in happiness and the way it made your cheeks flush with warmth. “I miss you so bad it hurts sometimes.”

“Then come with me.” He was practically pleading and you felt his big hands squeezing against your back, pulling you against him tighter as he watched you with big earnest eyes. “Come with me and…. And I-I’ll do better, we can start over.”

You were crying now as he spoke so desperately and he immediately stopped talking once he realized, pulling you in fully for a hug and letting you cry into his chest like you had done for him all those years ago. You let your hands come up to rest flat on his back, feeling the way he took shuddering breaths and the fast beating of his heart.

There was no possible way you could give Heeseung what he wanted, you couldn’t leave with him and you knew there was no place for your love in the universe as much as you wished it was different.

You thought back to the last time you’d had a similar conversation to this, when you found out he’d been offered the scholarship of his dreams all the way in America.

“You can come with obviously, they’re giving me my own little dorm and everything.” He’d been so excited as he rambled and packed up his desk, not noticing the way you were silent and emotionless just behind him on his unmade bed.

When he had finally turned to look at you and see why you weren’t giving him any reactions, his face dropped seeing your teary eyes as you softly shook your head. You were still in your pajamas from the night before when everything was perfect and just the two of you laying in bed together watching Toy Story, now your heart felt like it was being ripped from your chest.

“Angel what’s wrong?” He was rushing back over to the bed and climbing on it, stopping right in front of you and holding your face gently as you started to cry. “No no no, don’t cry my sweet girl. What happened, tell me what happened?”

You didn’t need to voice the fact that you wouldn’t be going with him, giving him a heavy glance that only took him a few seconds to understand. There wasn’t much of a conversation after that despite his deep desire to beg you to change your mind, to reconsider. Heeseung wasn’t going to make you do something you didn’t want, even though getting on the plane without you changed him forever.

You were pulling back from the hug gently so he didn’t think you were mad at him, looking up at him and holding his face softly as you tried to think of what to say or do.

“I’ll show you.” He whispered before you could, nodding his head softly as his voice cracked from his own sob. He was biting his lip softly to stop from crying too hard and you stopped thinking he looked so different, only able to see the boy you knew before as you looked at him now. “Give me time and I’ll show you, I promise. Don’t give up on me.”

You were taking a deep breath as you watched him speak, slowly making up your mind and just simply wrestling with the knowledge that what you were about to say would change things for you drastically, change them for a long time to come.

“I could never give up on you.”

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung #heeseung drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #sunghoon enhypen #jay enhypen #sunghoon fluff #jay fluff #enhypen au #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #jiung x reader

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qqueenofhades · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request a further rant on Alice Albinia's The Britannias please?

Anonymous asked: 'Further rant available upon request' here is my official request.

Aha. You are both prompt and accommodating. And it is my lunch break, so let's do this!

For context, this is the book in question:

This book was recently published, comes highly reviewed and (as I said) has apparently already been longlisted for some prestigious nonfiction writing/women's prizes. I got it from the library the other day and started reading it; I'm about 150 pages in. It has given me an increasing Itch to the point where lo, yes, here I am on Tumblr about to compose a Statement. This may be because of what the book blurb states upfront as its focus and goals:

Trespassing into the past to understand the present, The Britannias uncovers an enduring and subversive mythology of islands ruled by women. Albinia finds female independence woven through Roman colonial reports and Welsh medieval poetry, Restoration utopias and island folk songs. These neglected epics offer fierce feminist countercurrents to mainstream narratives of British identity and shed new light on women's status in the body politic today.

Okay... well. Basically, she wants to write a history of Britain as focused on its islands, which in itself is a perfectly valid thing to do. As she states in the introduction, focusing on the history of a place through its physically and geographically marginalized locations, its relation to the "mainland," the constructions of power and identity, how one resists and influences the other, is all a very interesting thing to do. It's just how she does it that gives me a twitch. Her clearly stated goal is to find a "hidden women's history" wherein these "fierce feminist countercurrents" are allowed to inform and eventually subvert a totally androcentric and oblivious mainstream British history that has apparently prevailed largely unchallenged ever since antiquity, and where the Male Process of History deliberately destroyed and excluded all female contributions. She is somehow, apparently, the first one to notice this and/or put it together.

Now I'll be honest, the Secret Magical Women trope also gives me a twitch wherever it appears, whether in saccharinely self-important historical or fantasy-historical fiction or in this case, attempted historical nonfiction. Albinia's thesis also seems, essentially, directly lifted from Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon fantasy series in the 1980s: the pagan Celtic/British tribes were egalitarian, proto-democratic, female-led and/or female-centric, and the conquering Romans/Christians/Saxons were all virulently misogynist, masculine, authoritarian, and determined to stamp out this wherever it appeared. I have only gotten up to about the year 1000 (it goes chronologically), so I can't speak to what rationales Albinia comes up with for the later centuries, but let me just say: Hmm. It says a lot about the overall style of this book that I read the first 10 pages and then immediately picked up my phone to check Wikipedia and see if she was a TERF. As far as I can tell, fortunately, she isn't, but it does give me the same binary gender-essentialist vibe (men are from Mars, women are from Venus), and yikes. Basically, there are a lot of things going on here, and all of them are Not Good when it comes to the actual practice and investigation of premodern women's history:

First, while Albinia cites a few research articles (via endnotes) and translations of primary sources (thus far, mostly Roman and early medieval) we know nothing about her qualifications for using these sources, how she is comparing and analyzing them, whether they should in fact be taken at face value, whether anyone else has written on these topics (spoiler alert: yes), or why we are supposed to buy her narrative of this Hidden Female History of Britain. For example: she includes several passages from Roman writers discussing (reported) actions or (reported) mythologies of British women or British female-associated places. These are presented as uncritical and general fact, or something which we should apparently assume was really happening as described, even when she (occasionally, and shallowly) points to the issue of using exterior and non-contemporary male writers from far away. Her analysis also does not touch at all on the potential metatextual or political impulses these Roman male writers might have for presenting a freshly conquered imperial territory as corruptly or unacceptably feminine, and whether this correlated at all to an overall real-world practice or belief. Yes, as far as we can tell, the ancient Celts were in some ways more "feminist" than the Romans, in that Roman public culture was deliberately and exclusively masculine and patriarchal and any civic participation by women in other societies would thus appear as more than usual. But that is a whole can of worms for many reasons, none of which are highlighted or dealt with here. (Like... are we even going to talk about how the "Roman standard" for society was itself re-created by the Renaissance and how that shapes Western historical views, or...?)

As I said above, the book completely brushes aside any of the previous existing scholarship on these topics (done, you know, by actual historians) and presents it as Albinia discovering these issues or formulating these arguments for the first time. She does mention a few other people whose work she relies on or who are informing her hypothesis, but several times thus far, this is from the 1920s or some other clearly outdated argument. Nobody in the field is still treating arguments made in the 1920s as au courant, and while I can't say for certain, it reads as her being more able to access older or public-domain work (since more up-to-date publications require institutional access or paying for copies) and doing the equivalent of the people on Wikipedia who cite the 1911 Catholic Encyclopedia for everything: they can get that text for free, so that's what they refer to. Now obviously, we all support uncovering feminist strands of history, doing feminist history, challenging heteronormative or patriarchal narratives, etc. But also, we support doing it well and making some reference to the complexity of it!!!!

Likewise, Albinia is a white British woman whose previous books are based on her time living and traveling in India and Pakistan (both of which are, uh, previously British colonies). I have not read them, so I can't speak to how she treats it, but there's certainly an element of exoticizing them here, and while she does make passing reference to the British Empire's effect on those places, she does a sort of weird inverse here. She obviously knows about the basic facts of empire and colonization, but there's a notable amount of time dedicated to portraying ancient/Celtic Britain as the helpless victim of constantly brutal Roman colonization (she makes a few very brief and offhand references to cultural miscegenation and how this process unfolded in ways apart from violence, but they are clearly secondary to her main thesis of this as a masculine rape analogy). She is very clear about mourning for this "sacred divine [female] Britain" which was then destroyed by the unrelentingly violent and misogynist forces of Roman (cultural/military) and Christian (religious) colonization, and as I said, that is straight up Marion Zimmer Bradley. I haven't gotten past said first 150 pages, but I'm not terribly confident that her historical analysis improves much in the centuries to follow.

The book does have some bright spots: it's well written, it's engaging, she includes some colorful and interesting sociological vignettes about life on the margins of modern Britain, and there are certainly some things she's mentioned that I would like to look into in more depth. But yet again, this is being presented as an Authoritative or Revelatory History deserving of recognition and prizes, when there are real historians who have done so much of this work and in so much better ways. There is very little nuance to her thesis, no context or analysis or critique provided for her sources (yet again: why are we supposed to take Roman men as an authority on British women and why is she presenting them as obvious empirical fact while critiquing all other elements of their system/society?) and some squicky assumptions around gender and empire that really would need to be drawn out and examined in more detail. The Secret Magical [Pagan] Women Erased In History By Brutal Men gimmick is one that got a lot of traction with Philippa Gregory (sidenote: bookstore websites really need to stop recommending me Philippa Gregory for Women's History Month before I do crimes), and has been exasperatingly hard to eradicate ever since. Just to name one, we need to talk a lot more about the gender politics of medieval Christianity, any of the work done on this topic already, or anything else that would complicate her argument beyond the simplistic black-and-white state in which it currently exists. There are plenty of historians who would like to do that! Why don't you give some of THEM a call?!?!

Anyway. There is probably more I could say (and might), but I will leave it here for now. Thank you for the indulgence, etc.

#silver-dream89 #anonymous #ask #history #women in history #ancient history #medieval history #british history

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ianr36 · 1 month ago

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I will miss all of you but I think I’ve come to the conclusion that most here are bots. I really don’t get it! lol I will be deleting this app, and going old school face to face.

I’ve been nailed with requests for money looking over the fact that I’m looking for something real.

I feel sorry for all the fat short hairy guys with the little dicks that fall for this shit. You are the ones that are crying about being scammed so get to know them a bit -& ask some basic questions.

Also think with your head not your D. Not your ego. Be comfortable in your own skin. Have some discernment. The first question should be if most people in middle school have cell phones. Why do you not?

Q-Why don’t you have a mobile?

A-it broke, got stolen and the best one is it doesn’t matter. Lmfao!

(My kids have had one since 8?)

-I love you!

(Oh really? Even though we’ve never spoke)

-I’m not like the other girls.

(Yet you use the same script?) Holy wow!

Damn I imagine there are multiple call centers and as a business man I can respect that but as a human I cannot. So I cannot participate in this $hit! This is slavery and I can’t do it!

Both sides are being fed lies (bot, hooker or John) and it’s a shame that a platform that has the possibility to facilitate real change to occur, is being bulldozed by losers that don’t care about human lives.

Before you reply- please look at my previous posts regarding this and at a minimum let’s have some adult discourse

If you’ve gotten thus far, then you realize that I love humans I don’t care what gender you are. I fought for you in war multiple times.

You can say whatever you want whenever you want and I will always fight for that right for everyone.

Just don’t lie and try to play people that you don’t know- that this is a charade. it’s so easily identifiable.

Furthermore, why would you not want somebody to care for you? That’s intelligent enough to identify it if you were actually real? That’s a reasonable question right?

Let’s hear it? I want to think that a lot of you want true love, just cause I’ve been hurt before doesn’t mean I will be hurt again. That’s like someone trying to say that I tried to go in a business once and it didn’t work so I just gave up and went to slutting myself out.

If you just wanna slut yourself out there and treat yourself as a used tire-to each their own I’m all about that! Do what you do! I’m not a KIA.

But if you think for a moment that a guy who signed up to die for his country & opens doors for people and loves everyone no matter what can turn off the desire for wanting to spoil a special human, then please readiness that. Ffor anyone that is real on here and realizes that I am an open book and we could probably learn a lot from one another and grow together. I’m game for that conversation.. I feel so bad, but maybe I’m the one who needs to read more books! I’m game to talk for the next 24 hrs before I delete this app

But I have to be very upfront that I only like feminine women and that doesn’t matter what gender you were assigned to when you were born I don’t care bc I’ve dated models that are boring and numb and some girls that are amazing but I’m not desperate and I know my girl is out there.

(Sorry a lot of this was voice to text so if you have questions ask)

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adelphenium · 6 months ago

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ok i don’t AT ALL want this to be aggressive or pressury, but genuinely curious what percent of reqs you do/how you decide if you want to do one? i love everything you do and have submitted 3-4 reqs and you haven’t bitten on any of them which is totally your prerogative and again i love and appreciate all of your art and the fact that you share it with us, but i had a moment of being like, are my asks going through or are my asks just not what you’re vibing? ok i think you’re great goodbye for now! 💕

helloo and thank you for the ask!!

i have to say, i don't have much of a coherent process when it comes to answering requests -- sometimes i'll get an ask with my favourite teams/players that i'll feel inspired to do right away, and sometimes i'll leave them and save 'em up for later! other times i'll want to try out different teams or get to reqs that are more time-specific (e.g. trades, injuries) but then i'll forget about them and miss my chance 😭😭 while i do have players + scenarios i'm not comfortable with drawing, that actually hasn't been much of an issue thus far.

i currently have in my inbox, let's see...

uh. erm. 87.... and i also have some more started up in my drafts.........

i'm sorry to hear that i haven't gotten to any of your reqs; it's likely just me going through my asks randomly rather than being any systematic sort of issue !!

as much as i'd love to get to all of my reqs, realistically, i don't expect that i'll be able to complete them all...... i only have so much time for my hobbies as i'm also in school and working :")

if you'd really really like a certain piece, you can also consider commissioning me, though i understand that's not always feasible for everyone -- hopefully i'll be able to get to at least one of your reqs some time soon! tysm for asking + take care lovely anon!

#ask!

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yandere-fics · 1 year ago

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Very spooky request. Witch reader with the whole kingdom cast after her.

The Kingdom wants them due to their skill. At least that's what they say to the other court nobles. Totally not because they're such a nice charming bby that always is so kind to them. Theanna totally didn't fall in love with them when she was still seeking ways to take the throne. Their smile and laugh a stark contrast to the whining and complaining of her courtiers. And Abigail and Ainsly totally didn't get enamored when they showed their skills and abilities defeating raging beasts and protecting some children who ran just a bit too far into the forest when playing. Elisha is also adamant that she only goes to the witch for their help in healing her wounds. Totally not because when she looks into their eyes she sees the finest jewels she's ever seen. That evil dragon is the only one that seeks out the witch. The court says it's to hinder the kingdom's prosperity, but in actuality it's because whenever Veronia and reader run into each other they give her some bangin biscuits and pastries. Also she sometimes stays the night and cuddles with Veronia :3c.

(Okay I love how this sort of feels like reader literally only really likes Veronia. Had to change it a bit with Theanna since she already had a mage. She recruited Ainsley at the age of 12 cause she was girlbossing. I was a bit goofier with this request, it was a bit less dark than other things. Ainsley is excluded because if everyone else were pining for her darling like this, they'd be dead, she has no loyalty even though she's in Theanna's squad.)

♡ Them With A Sweet Witch Darling ♡

♡ Theanna always feared those with magic when she was younger, before she knew better. At the time of your meeting there was always the fear that should she come into contact with someone who had magic, they'd be able to see the copious amounts of spells that she had on her, and possibly dispel them, though that way highly unlikely as Ainsley always reassured her. Thus upon your first meeting she was hesitant to get close to you, despite you being known as extremely friendly and loveable to all the villagers. ♡

♡ When she first approached you it was with ulterior motives, having the witch who was beloved by her citizens on her side would only be one more reason for her to be made successor. She liked you enough but that was the extent of it. She really didn't think much more about your interactions until she really took the throne and realized she would need a wife. A kind wife, and she realized you'd been the only one to truly be kind to her before she became heir to the throne. ♡

♡ That totally was all there was to it. She needed a wife and you were perfect for the role. Yeah, she's kind of stupid and doesn't realize if that's all there was to it then she wouldn't have forced you to move your house to the capital and she wouldn't have assigned her best knight to watch over you secretly(R.I.P. to Abigail, she'll never get a break) ♡

♡ She was kind of upset when you became common knowledge to the people. You had been the first person she had truly gotten close to when she arrived in the world, seeing as you always treated all of her wounds. She liked having you be her safe haven in the forest so hearing you had moved to the capital was extremely frustrating because now you would be treating other people's wounds. ♡

♡ She had tried her best for years to convince you to join her on her travels as a healer, totally only as a healer, and yet you had chosen to move to the capital just because the crown princess asked you to? Needless to say the adventurer is now on bad terms with the rest of the kingdom. ♡

♡ At a certain point they have to weigh their options, they can either have the lovable witch, or the dragon slayer. They chose you, lol. Elisha really needs to hatch a plan to take you to another kingdom but with your rizz, they'd probably also try to take you. You'll never be Elisha's secret again. ♡

♡ Abigail is fine with being your knight, honestly she would have tried to guard you when you moved to the capital anyways. She knew being a witch would make adjusting to capital life difficult and you were almost a minor celebrity so you needed security. That's all there was to it. ♡

♡ She's oblivious to how she feels, simply believing her feelings towards you are just wanting to protect the future queen, one of the most skilled warriors she's ever met and she would never ever take the queen away from her closest friend, right? ♡

♡ Be still heart, she can't allow herself to love, she'll have to settle for being your admirer and guard. Maybe, hopefully Theanna dies before you so in your later years as a widow, you can move into her estate and she can have you close to you. ♡

♡ The kingdom has committed an act of war by having you move to the capital. She can't have her mate be so far away. It was bad enough when you lived in the forest and had people visit you at random. She was allowing that to happen though because you always returned to her at the end of the day. You were happy to see her right? So why then did you move to the capital?! ♡

♡ It's alright cause you still visit her with your cookies every week, and she knows that the people keeping you in the capital will be oulived by you so you will one day return to the forest with her and she'll hold you there forever. ♡

♡ All she must do is have patience. ♡

#yandere oc #yandere lesbian #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere asks #yandere scenarios #my oc theanna #my oc elisha #my oc abigail #my oc veronia

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jaimebluesq · 1 year ago

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hiiiii. remember that post we discussed where jin guangyao mistakenly gets the idea nie huaisang is the same kind of libertine as his father and is trying so hard not to let his feelings about it show that he just keeps stressing himself out more? and then it turns out the brothel workers aren't sex partners, they're novel/art collaborators?

(i swear im not asking for a full fic. one little scene is *plenty*.)

Yes! I'm more than happy to oblige :D I hope you enjoy this, and happy birthday!

~ ~ ~

Meng Yao was seriously questioning all of his life choices.

It has seemed a good idea to come to Qinghe Nie after his efforts to join Lanling Jin had been thwarted. At first it had seemed the Nie were just as bad as every other cultivator, judging him for his mother’s profession, until Nie Mingjue had proven to be above such things. Meng Yao had happily taken advantage of the new opportunity presented to him to try and make himself invaluable to his sect leader, hoping that under Nie Mingjue, his hard work would speak for itself. And his life had been going well! Even when he’d been assigned to occasionally wrangle his sect leader’s little brother, what had first seemed to be a punishment became a boon because he soon discovered that very few people were trusted enough to allow close to the Nie brothers. Nie Huaisang had almost immediately adopted Meng Yao as another older brother, despite them being quite similar in age, and Meng Yao came to realize he actually enjoyed doting on him in return.

There had only been one problem: the sweet boy he’d taken a shining to was a Jin Guangshan in the making. At first it had been subtle, him noticing Nie Huaisang’s occasional lustful and lascivious glance toward women and men alike, though his looks were always well-disguised so as not to clue in the object of his affections. Then there had been the spring books – so many spring books – that always seemed to be open to the most lewd images whenever Meng Yao visited his young master’s bedroom. Finally, it had been the brothel visits. That had been the last straw for Meng Yao, the moment he’d truly begun shaking his head at his charge’s future and wondering what he had gotten himself into coming to Qinghe Nie. Had he adopted a ‘didi’ only to watch him become his father? One time, Nie Mingjue had asked him to accompany Nie Huaisang on one of his visits to the Scarlet Veil, but Meng Yao had found an excuse to remain in the Unclean Realm. After Meng Yao had refused two more such requests, Nie Mingjue had stopped asking, which suited him just fine.

Until today. Technically, his sect leader had not asked him to accompany Nie Huaisang to the brothel – because Nie Huaisang was already there, and was late coming home. The disciple that had left with him had returned an hour ago, drunk and reeking of alcohol with no memory of having been accompanied by anyone, let alone his young master. And thus Nie Mingjue had come to Meng Yao and asked him to retrieve his brother because there were few others he trusted to do so while keeping his brother’s reputation intact.

How could Meng Yao refuse?

And now he stood before the brothel’s doors, dreading what he would find when he entered.

He hadn’t been to a brothel since he had left Yunping. They reminded him far too much of his childhood, walking down corridors to hear moans of pleasure and the occasional scream of pain when a client abused the courtesan who had taken them to bed, worrying every day that his mother would meet such a client and she would be taken from him. Fear that he would be forced into the same line of work despite his mother’s efforts to keep him from it. He respected the courtesans who worked such places – their clients were the ones who deserved his derision.

And unfortunately, sweet little Nie Huaisang was one such client.

He took a steeling breath before entering the Scarlet Veil and speaking to one of the ladies, introducing himself as a representative of Nie Mingjue and asking to speak with Nie Huaisang. He expected to be told to wait while they retrieved him – instead, the woman gave him a knowing smirk and waved for him to follow her down the corridor. He kept the disgust from his face as he imagined the worst, of walking in on Nie Huaisang in bed with a courtesan – this was a side of his young charge he did not want to see in person, but if it was what he needed to do to retrieve him, then he would suffer through it.

They approached a door at the end of the corridor and the woman told him that Nie Huaisang was inside, then she turned and left. She didn’t even have the courtesy to stand by as moral support as he entered whatever den of depravity lie beyond this door. He sighed and knocked to advertise his presence.

After several moments, the door was slid open just enough for a head to peek through. “Yes?” the woman asked, looking Meng Yao from head to toe. She was still fully dressed in silky green robes, her hair coiffed to perfection and her makeup immaculate.

“I’m here to retrieve Nie-gongzi,” he said with a smile to mask his displeasure.

“And you would be?”

“This one is Meng Yao.”

“Just a moment.” The door was slid shut and he could hear voices murmuring on the other side, but soon enough it was slid open all the way and the woman gave him a small bow. “Please come in. Nie-gongzi is just on the other side of the screen.”

The door was shut behind him as he moved into the room. The screen was rosewood with paper panels, each painted to portray an erotic act between two or more participants. He closed his eyes a moment as if that could prevent him from seeing whatever was in the room beyond the screen, but he had to open them eventually. He sighed and walked around it-

He froze.

“I know I’m late,” Nie Huaisang called out from a low table on the floor. “But I’m so close to being finished, I didn’t think Da-ge would mind too much.”

Nie Huaisang was kneeling and holding a paint brush, fully dressed in the same clothing he’d worn upon leaving the Unclean Realm. There was a courtesan seated to his left wearing black robes with lavender piping, and she held in her hand an ink stick which she ground in a bowl to produce a silky dark grey ink. Before them stood another courtesan, bare save for a diaphanous sash that was strategically placed to cover certain parts of her body, and she held still as if she had been a dancer caught mid-movement.

This... wasn’t what he’d expected.

He approached Nie Huaisang’s table and looked down to find several pieces of paper, all of which had been painted to show the three courtesans present in various poses and states of undress. The detail was exquisite – he had appreciated Nie Huaisang’s artistic talents before, but nothing Meng Yao had seen compared to what he was currently working on.

“I found the story!” The courtesan who had admitted Meng Yao approached with a sheaf of papers in her hand. “We wrote this one a month ago, and I think it will work perfectly with this set of paintings.”

Nie Huaisang excitedly took the papers from her hand and looked them over, then grinned. “You’re right, this one’s perfect! Do you think we’ll be able to get it finished in time?”

The courtesan nodded and sat to his right. “We promised the publisher a new book before the season was out, and this should satisfy him until we finish some of our more intricate pieces.”

Publisher? Story? Meng Yao’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“Ah, where are my manners,” Nie Huaisang muttered, then looked up to Meng Yao. “A-Yao, these are Lady Zhou, Lady Yang, and Lady Wong. Ladies, this is Meng Yao – I’ve mentioned him before.”

The woman who had been grinding ink – Lady Yang – placed the ink stick onto the grinding bowl and wiped off her hands, then she stood up and bowed to him. “It is an honour, Meng Yao. Would you like to sit? We have some tea, if you like.”

Nie Huaisang tsked. “What did I tell you about there being no bows in this room.” He smiled at her affectionately and she giggled, then turned to fetch the tea.

Meng Yao slowly lowered himself to the table opposite Nie Huaisang. “May I ask, Nie-gongzi... what exactly is going on here?”

“What do you mean?” Nie Huaisang asked, pursing his lips as he lifted his brush to make another stroke upon his paper. “You’ve seen my spring books.”

“I’ve seen spring books in your room, yes...”

“Honestly, the first few I acquired were so badly drawn. Limbs out of proportion, bodies in unnatural positions... you would think the artist had never seen a naked woman before.”

“Neither had you, at the time,” Lazy Zhou teased with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, but at least I had the sense to see one before putting ink to paper to draw one.”

“So...” Meng Yao paused, feeling as if he needed to reevaluate his entire worldview. “You’ve been coming to the brothel to paint.”

Nie Huaisang nodded.

“He’s being modest,” Lady Wong said from above – she shifted from where she’d been standing and stretched out her limbs. “He paints and writes most of the stories-”

“The three of you help!” Nie Huaisang protested.

“-and it was his idea to publish our own spring books,” Lady Wong finished.

“Now who’s being modest?” Nie Huaisang returned. “We all know the three of you are the sexual experts here – none of the sex scenes would be remotely legible if it weren’t for your experience.”

Lady Yang returned with the tea set and distributed cups, then patted Nie Huaisang’s head. “We keep telling you we’re more than happy to help you get some experience as well.”

Nie Huaisang’s face turned bright red. He picked up a cup and drank to avoid replying.

“He’s a romantic,” Lady Zhou said in an aside to Meng Yao. “Says he’s waiting for that special someone.”

Meng Yao blinked and looked to his charge. He had greatly misjudged him, and he swallowed down a small ball of guilt in the back of his throat. “And do the profits get back to the Unclean Realm?”

“Only a little,” Nie Huaisang replied, looking thankful for the change in subject. “Some of it pays for my visits here – sadly a courtesan’s time isn’t free, even if there’s no ‘business’ involved. And the rest they split among themselves.”

“Another year,” Lady Wong said with a hopeful smile, “and we might be able to buy our way out of here. We’re saving up, and... I can embroider, Lady Zhou paints fans, and Lady Yang has met a young man that wishes to marry her, but he’s poor and cannot buy out her contract.”

“She won’t let me do it either,” Nie Huaisang pouted and looked to Lady Yang. “But you can’t stop me from buying the fabric for your wedding robes when the time comes.”

Meng Yao looked from one person to another, then settled on Nie Huaisang. “You do know what people think you do here.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, a rare serious look upon his face. “Honestly, I prefer it that way. You know how people look down on me for my painting and for liking poetry and hating training my saber... I can just imagine what they’d think if they knew I’ve been coming here all this time and was still a virgin.”

The three courtesans looked at Meng Yao, and he realized they were protective of Nie Huaisang. They were waiting to see how he would react, to see if he would look down on him for his interests and what he did here, and perhaps for helping them.

Meng Yao took in a deep breath and reached out to take Nie Huaisang’s hand in his, and he could feel the corners of his eyes beginning to grow wet. “I knew your brother was more open-minded than most of his station, and I’m sorry for doubting you were as well. I wish there had been someone like you in Yunping, to help my mother when she needed it most.”

Nie Huaisang’s hand squeezed his back. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I know you’ve never judged me for my interests, but... I guess I’m just used to keeping it to myself. It’s nice to have secrets, sometimes.”

They shared a look, and all was well.

“So,” Meng Yao said, releasing Nie Huaisang’s hand and picking up the ink stick to take over grinding the ink, “what can I do to help?”

(The End!)

#meng yao #nie huaisang #birthday gift

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fluentmoviequoter · 10 months ago

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Hello again my dear💕

I just saw that you posted two more stories of Deacon! I have to say i am really impressed. But what i wanted to ask you, do you have a favourite episode of Swat?

Sooo now to my new idea... i just thought about a Deacon x Reader 5+1. Like 5 times somebody norices Deacon is in love with reader and the last time he realizes himself. Everytime can be a different situation and the persons you can decide yourself.

But i would like it if you would take Annie as one of the 5. Like most of the time i prefer she didn't exist 😅 but well... not this time. So they are divorced and don't have children together. But she wants to go back to him, because for her the divorce was a mistake. So she shows up at work (Reader is Deacons Coworker) and accidently saw a moment between them and realizes that Deacon's belonged to someone else.

Can't wait for your next work!

Have a wonderfull day! ♥️

Hello again! (I love seeing your name in my inbox, your ideas are always the best!)

Posted! They See Deacon Loves You (5+1)!! I'll admit the title isn't great lol.

Thank you so so much for reading the fics and for the kinds words!🤍

So, I only started watching SWAT recently and have only gotten to mid-season 3. Thus far, my favorite episode is "Source" which is season 1 episode 19! I actually decided to use one of the characters from that ep, Irina Zemanova, as one of the five characters so I hope that is okay! I also really like "Immunity" (3x4) because it's all about Deacon. Do you have a favorite episode? I'd love to hear it if you do!!

This is an amazing idea!! Like you, I prefer ignoring Annie but I really love how you decided to incorporate her and I hope I did it how you wanted! Choosing five characters and creating five different situations was fun for me and I enjoyed the process a lot! The characters I chose were Hondo, Irina Zemanova, Commander Hicks, and Luca (in addition to Annie)! I also drew a little inspiration from "Seizure" (1x10) which was originally an Annie story line but I changed it to reader.

Thank you so much for this request; I've had a rough week and researching and creating characters and situations kept my mind off things and made my afternoon so much better! Your ideas are always amazing, and I hope you enjoy and feel free to send me any other ideas you have! I hope you have a wonderful week!🤍

#ask #requests #deacon kay

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bills-bible-basics · 15 days ago

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Is the Truth Social Network a Dud? #Christian #BibleStudy #Jesus Visit https://www.billkochman.com/Graphics-Library/ to see more. https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/is-the-truth-social-network-a-dud/ IS THE "TRUTH SOCIAL" NETWORK A DUD? -- My Firsthand Experience With the Truth Social Network As I have mentioned before, it took almost two weeks for me to get into the "Truth Social" social network once I had registered with them on my iPhone during the first week of March of 2022. If I recall correctly, my wait list number was 1,090,253, or something close to that. I don't remember the exact number now. I made a Facebook timeline post regarding my initial experience with Truth Social around the middle of March. Oddly enough, I can no longer find that particular post on my Facebook timeline. Or maybe it isn't so odd, considering how Facebook chooses to operate. Many of you reading this commentary will already understand what I mean by this. Then, after my Truth Social account request had finally been approved during the second week of March -- it does require a lot of patience -- and I had gotten into their social platform, when they announced that they were going to begin verifying accounts so that users could have a red check mark displayed next to their name, I submitted a verification request for my account. Well, after a few days, I received an email from Truth Social in which they outlined the criteria which they use to determine whether or not to verify a person's account. Before proceeding, let me point out that joining Truth Social, and being a verified user, are two separate things. In other words, anyone can make an account request, be accepted into their social network, and make posts and interact with other users, without ever being verified. Being verified is an additional optional step which confirms that a person is who they say they are. As occurs on some other social networks, its purpose is to engender trust in that particular user so that other users will interact with them, and have confidence that the posts -- or truths -- which are being made are true, and are actually being posted by that person or entity. But here's the thing. What I have discovered thus far in my almost one month with Truth Social, is that insofar as verified accounts are concerned, the people behind Truth Social are really only interested in verifying high profile conservative influencers, such as Sean Hannity, Dan Bongino, Kevin McCarthy, Dan Scavino, Maria Bartiromo, Breitbart News and the like. Two of Trump's sons -- Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump -- also have verified accounts, as does Melania Trump. Even The Babylon Bee -- which a lot of people often quote, as if what the Bee says is true, when it is really all satire -- has a verified account there. Country music star Travis Tritt also has a verified Truth Social account. A few high profile personalities for whom I expected to find verified accounts when I just conducted my Truth Social search, but for whom I did NOT find verified accounts, include Ivanka Trump, Steve Bannon, Rudy Giuliani, Glenn Beck, Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, Kayleigh McEnany and Kellyanne Conway. Conway does have a Truth Social account, but it is not a verified account. From reading certain news reports from recent months, what I also discovered is that prior to its official launch to the general public, the Truth Social team sent out special invitations to many high profile VIPs, encouraging them to join Truth Social. This endeavor even included sending out invitations to some of former president Donald Trump's most vocal critics. Oddly enough, even though Truth Social was specifically set up by and for former U.S. president, Donald Trump, so that he could have a free hand to express his views without any kind of censorship, to date, Trump himself has only made one post there. Weird. He -- and his views -- is supposed to be the main attraction and the magnet which draws millions of other conservatives to Truth Social; and yet the man hasn't even posted anything yet. I am not sure what to make of that. In contrast to the aforementioned VIPs, sad to say, my initial impression after one month's usage of the Truth Social network is that all the rest of us are viewed as small potatoes, and are basically ignored; meaning that we don't get much exposure -- if any at all -- on Truth Social. We most certainly will never be considered for a verified account. This became clear to me when I read the email which was sent to me by the Truth Social staff, which just so happens to have "@vip.truthsocial.com" in the email address. In my view, this email basically says to me "You are not important enough." Following are the full contents of the email. Decide for yourself if I am wrong: ----- Begin Quote ----- A red check on TRUTH Social lets users know that an account of public interest is genuine and not an imposter, impersonation, or parody. In order to receive a red check your account must be authentic, active on TRUTH Social, and noteworthy. We will consider noteworthy people and organizations in the following categories: * Government * Brands, companies, and nonprofits * Journalists and news organizations * Sports (including esports) * Entertainment * Activists, influencers, and organizers For an account to be verified, you must be an active user of TRUTH Social. TRUTH Social users will be considered active users upon completion of the following steps: * Your account must have a complete profile name with a profile image. * Your phone number and email address must be confirmed. * Your account must be actively posting content. To be verified on TRUTH Social, you will be asked to provide the following information to confirm your identity: * An official website that confirms you or your organization’s identity. * A valid official government issued identification document, like a passport or driver’s license. * An official email (i.e., a branded email address that matches your official website). Or * Announce on your verified Twitter or Instagram account where users can find you on TRUTH Social. The announcement must not be removed for six months. ----- End Quote ----- To prove my point, consider the fact that even though I have been a member of Truth Social for about a month now; and even though I have made over sixty posts thus far, many of which are my politically-oriented poetry, some of which even support Donald Trump; and even though I have openly declared that I am a Christian in my user profile; to date, I have only acquired four followers. That's right, folks; only four people in a month's time. I don't know any of them on a personal level. For all I know, some of them may not even be real people. They could be bots. Furthermore, even though I have advertised my Truth Social account on Facebook multiple times, none of my 5,000 Facebook friends have joined me on Truth Social. As if the previous points aren't already enough to discourage my ongoing participation on the Truth Social platform, consider the fact that no one has liked, commented on, or shared -- what Truth Social calls "retruth" -- any of my posts. It is as if no one is even seeing them, just as now occurs on Facebook. After all, it seems to me that if other Truth Social users were actually seeing my posts, surely I would have received at least a few likes and comments by now. Yet I have yet to receive a single one. Why do I believe this? Because as I mentioned earlier, I have specifically shared poetry -- as well as some graphics, videos and commentaries -- which are clearly conservative and/or Christian in nature. Unless I am wrong, conservatism is supposed to be a strong attractor on Truth Social. So why aren't the fish biting? The discouraging truth of the matter is that the ONLY interaction I have seen, is when I have commented on OTHER users' posts, and those other users happen to be big name accounts such as Sean Hannity, NASA, Cute Animals Doing Stuff, Science Videos, etc. In case you have missed one of my main points, it is this: It should not matter if a person is a VIP, high profile politician, popular social influencer, well-known celebrity or not. If any individual is willing to provide whatever proof the Truth Social network requires in order to verify that they are who they say they are, then Truth Social should be willing to verify their account. By failing to do so, and by only verifying VIP accounts, they are in fact already practicing discrimination, and dividing their users into different classes on their network. They are creating an elite class, and a peon class, and they are no better than any other social network which does the same thing. This ought not to be, in my opinion. So the aforementioned has been my personal experience on the Truth Social social network thus far. Unless the situation changes soon, I honestly cannot justify spending a lot of time on their platform. As bad as Facebook has become for those of us who embrace Conservative and Christian values, it still gives me more exposure -- as little as it may be -- than Truth Social, and that is not saying a lot for Facebook either. https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/is-the-truth-social-network-a-dud/?feed_id=227166&Is%20the%20Truth%20Social%20Network%20a%20Dud%3F

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