#this is my taste in men while my taste in women are the complete opposite lol
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feel the rush.
tom holland x male reader.
đđđđđđđ. rushing a fraternity is highly-competitive, and all-so overwhelming. if it was up to you, you wouldn't have participated in the first place. fortunately, tom was here to provide you all of the shortcuts in receiving a bid to the greek life, as long as you did a bang-up job.
đđđđ. one-shot [ 5.5k ].
đđđđđđđđ. male reader ăł college!au ăł frat!tom ăłbrief alcoholic drinking ăł closeted!reader ăł reader is kinda religious coded ăł sexual content: top!tom, bottom!reader, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), humiliation, dirty talk, muscle worship, scent!kink.
âYou know youâre not exactly dressed for the occasion, right?â
The door closed behind Tom, sectioning you off from the party. The atmosphere of the event was tangible regardless. Strong beats throttled from wall to wall, tremors from a familiar song tickling your feet. Chants, albeit muffled, were resonant as you could only presume that someone executed a keg stand for the nth time of the night.
Chug, chug, chug, chug, and the crowd roared as if downing a keg of beer prevented Earth from being infiltrated by extraterrestrials. Granted, that was within the best scenario, in which alcohol and everything loud and deafening like university students wanting to fit in were highly toxic to those devious space invaders.
âWhatâhow do you mean? Rushing is pretty formal, isnât it? Thatâs what my mom tells me, anyway.â
You felt small from Tomâs comment, taking a peek at yourself in his mirror and shamefully finding nothing out of the ordinary with your white dress shirt, polka-dotted tie, and khaki pants. Though, you had to be honest. It wasnât a fair assessment, considering you were judging under the purple hue of his dim lights. The compact size of his room certainly didnât help either.
âYes and no. Obviously, you donât want to look like a slob. But you also donât want to stand out too much. Youâre not going to be a Greek if you wear Ralph Lauren from head to toeâthatâs obnoxious. It looks like your mum dressed you for the Lordâs Supper or someoneâs granddad, which is frankly the worst offender: donât look like a square.â
âThese are all I haveâduly notedâso, itâs okay to dress⌠like you then? Wonât I blend in with everyone else?â
Tom wore a snapback, a blue polo, and white cargo shortsâwhich was brazen of him considering the amount of drinking and bile you had seen before the party had even began. It was simple to replicate. If it was your motherâs judgement, she would have all the men and women cover up their legs and arms, while embarrassingly leaving you as the prime example of what a gentleman should dress like.
But your mother wasnât here, was she? Which meant, you could enjoy the holy sight of Tomâs biceps threatening to burst his shirt at the sleeve, his bulky chest at the placketâall for a little while longer before your intuition stepped in at the call of your mother, and forced those thoughts to scurry off.
That was ungentlemanly.
âThatâs the point. You blend in, which means you put in the extra effort to get you noticed by the brothersâby us. Outfit aside, I reckon youâre off to a mighty start. Could be a pledge if you keep this up. Iâm certainly noticing you,â Tom muttered after taking a sip of his beer, backing you with small, but imposing steps, until your ankles knocked against the footer of his bed, making you fall back. âHere, loosen up.â
He handed you his beer can.
âI donâtââ
âJust a sip to get in the mood. Not asking you to get blackout drunk here, Christ.â
âSorry, mama.â You tipped the can into your mouth and instantly, the first taste of lager made you grimace, your face and body shriveling up like the bitter bubbles in the back of your throat. âThatâs not⌠pleasant.â
âYou get used to it.â
You were an easy target, werenât you?
All you had to do was lurk around the party like a lost puppy, head and shoulders down as if the entire objecting of rushing was the complete opposite of being noticeable, and then Tom came around to your aid. He flashed that confident, gorgeous smile of his, immediately knowing youâd do anything to receive a bid from anyone at Alpha Kappa Psi, to be a pledge, without ever doing the hard-work of politely boasting about yourself to complete strangers.
Using your body was easier.
âYouâve done this before?â Tom took the can out of your hand and set it on his desk. He joined you at the foot of the bed after, his thigh touching yours. Then his hand on your knee, rubbing to simultaneously appease those nervous twiddling fingers of yours, and to warm you up.
âYesâbut donât tell my mom, all right? She doesnât know that IâmâJust⌠a couple of hook-ups back at home. Nothing much.â You nervously laughed to fill the silence, watching Tomâs hand warm your knee in gentle strokes that seem to ascend closer to your thigh with every cycle.
He stopped at your inner thigh. âI donât plan on it unless you do a bad job. And/or your ass somehow rips my dick off and I need someone to take accountability for your actions.â
Your body straightened when Tom began kneading at your tender skin. âNot funny, I mean it.â
âRelax, Iâm not telling your mom. Itâll be funâŚâ With one smooth motion, Tom turned his snapback around, the visor facing the back, and his mouth lowered to the shell of your ear. âAnd if I can be honestâŚ? It turns me on knowing youâre hiding such a dirty secret from your poor mother.â
There was a shuffling, and then a firm grip on your nape that made your breath hitch. Before your instincts to pull away could react, Tom drew you in for a pressing kiss.
You breathed in, sucking the taste of liquor into your lungs, and trailed after the sweep of his lips. His nose smashed against yours, you could practically hear him inhaling you, and you barely got a sound out before your lips were pushed apart with Tomâs wet tongue. He tasted of familiar lager, yet certainly much more appetizing than drinking from the source itself as you pressed closer to him, welcoming him into your mouth with messy licks to the slithering muscle.
âMmâŚâ
Electricity shot up your spine when his tongue began properly mingling with yours. Sparks ricocheted off your cranium, then back down to your toes, where they flexed and brought the rest of your legs onto Tomâs bed. Heat flushed through your veins, the kiss all-consuming like Tom had needed your moans to survive. He drew you in closer, holding you close, exploring your mouth with his. You let out small whimpers and pressed into him, drowning yourself in his groans as your hand experimented with desperate tugs and kneads to his growing erection. He licked and nipped at your lips in revenge, countering your touch with a much more brazen hand down your khakis and briefs, toying with your bare chub in his palm.
âHad my eyes on you since you walked through that door,â Tomâs breath spilled over your neck, kissing at the stretch of skin in between the seconds of stripping your clothes off and his after. âYou stuck out like a sore thumb. Have no idea why you thought you even had a chance, but then I thought about it for longer, watching you stick to the walls, observing everyone, drinking our punch. I knew you werenât as innocent as you looked.â
You were lost in this sanity. Your lips were swollen and nearly numb from use, but it wasnât a bad feeling. They tingled in all the right ways, sending signals to your exposed cock, throbbing out in the open air after many clumsy movements of shimmying yourself out of your pants and briefs.
You helped Tom with his clothes, fingers swiping across his muscular back when you pulled off his polo, palms brushing over his toned thighs when it came to undoing his shorts. Surprisingly, no briefs to remove after, which made you even harder, even when you were nearly assaulted in the face with the spring of his erection.
All of Tom was impressive, especially his hard, thick cock.
âMom told me to make some friendsââ
When Tom returned his grasp onto your nape and pushed your head toward his groin, you lost all semblance of self-control. He held you close enough to smell his cock, but far enough to deprive you the pleasure of having him in your mouth. He smelled salty, something of sweat that made your nostrils flare for more, so you pushed your head. You sniffed, lowering yourself until your nose was buried into his heavy balls, and inhaled your curiosities.
The aroma of Tomâs musk was familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. It was intoxicating. The scent was strong and pure when you pressed in. It was here, a pungent assault to your nose when you took another indulgent breath of his sweaty balls, and your senses went haywire when Tomâs fingers dug into your nape, scraping sweet lines of fire across the nape of your neck, and pulled you over his leaking cock.
Your inability to control yourself was as much of an arousal for Tom, judging by how his cock was twitching with every breath you took to fight off the urge in gulping him down.
âWow, you really are a mommaâs boy, arenât you? Bet you have her constantly in your mind, telling you whatâs right from wrong, donât you? Tell me, whatâs she saying while youâre sucking me off?â
âI donât know whatâmmf!â
Just like that, your mouth was full of Tomâs smell, full of him, god. Your eyes snapped shut and you choked down a moan as you took his thick cock into your mouth at the help of Tomâs bruising grip. One hand braced on his toned and flexed thigh while the other was wrapped around his shaft, holding him steady in your mouth. Your lips wrapped snug around him, hallowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue over veinsâmultiple veins that were the source of his pre-cum leaking into your mouth like a broken faucet.
Salt spread on your tongue, wakening every taste bud to an early bloom as you squeezed and stroked him at the base, forcing out more drips of pre-cum onto your tongue.
âFuck, your mouthâs so warmâŚâ His eyes widened at the warm and wet embrace of your tongue slobbering over his cock, groaning at the obscene sounds of your saliva spit-shining his shaft as he was leaning on his elbows. âGod, look at you.â
âIâm doing okayâŚ?â You gasped after pulling his cock out of your mouth, spitting out the thick, droopy web of saliva that connected your lips to Tomâs shaft back over the plump, swollen glans. You looked up at him for approval, wide-eyed and dazed, recovering from the stretch Tom had provided your mouth seconds prior.
When you needed a breather, you licked at the underside of his cock, tending to the inches you couldnât possibly fit inside of your mouth with multiple tantalizing strokes of your hand. You spread your spit thick over his hard flesh, massaging every spit bubble until his cock and balls were moisturized with the slick of your mouth.
âBetter than I could imagine, honestlyâŚâ Tom marveled with a chuckle, exhaling slow and deep from his gut to seemingly keep himself from spilling too early from your unrelenting strokes. His toes wiggled in his socks, a tic you found yourself simpering about because it was rather the opposite of Tomâs imposing demeanor.
He pressed two fingers against his own tongue, slicking it up with spit, before shoving them into your mouth to get a second opinion on your cock-sucking skills. Tom hummed, his hand removed from your nape to hold your chin up while he watched you take his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight, sucking lips.
He seemed pleased.
Somehow, it was more intimate sucking his fingers off. Tom was staring. He had always been, which made you nervous since he introduced himself to you. But he was staring, as if he could control your every move with a simple look, as if he was capable of communicating with you without uttering a word. His lips parted, his brow raised, and you quickly caught on to reflect upon his wishes, diligently opening your lips to welcome a third slicked up finger into your mouth.
Right then and there, you figured Tom had taken your brain cells hostage and forged them to work in his favor. Whatever he wanted, you were absolutely pleased to do without a single complaint peeping from your end.
He pulled out embarrassing sounds that wouldâve gotten you stoned if your mother ever heard them from your room. His other hand worked on your leaking cock, massaging your testicles and palming the plump tip, because he canâbecause you let him.
You were Tomâs puppet, and your body was at his disposal.
âSee? This is fun, right?â
He slid his fingers out of your mouth ever so-slowly, the dim light catching onto the trail of spit that bridged his fingers and your tongue with a magical glint. They eventually lost their sparkle when Tom was quick to bring his hand to your ass and wet your exposed rim with a finger, circling the flesh at an excruciatingly slow pace.
âM-mmâŚâ
It was pathetic how deprived of touch you were.
Something as simple as a tease made you writhe on all fours. All it took was a lazy stroke of his finger for you to arch your back and draw your ass out. You couldnât manage more than a moan as Tom guided you flat on your stomach and himself behind you, continuing his taunts after freshly lubing his fingers and throbbing cock.
Upon the next turn, Tom had the generosity of delivering you of a fill that had been making your cock leak into his sheets, that had been making you rock your hips like you were an animal in heat.
After pushing your legs apart, Tom slowly slid one finger inside of you, his mouth opening in rapport, but also in wonder, as your tight hole welcomed his thick digit in with such warmth, your body locking up as pleasure entered your body.
âC-ChristâŚâ you hissed, thighs clenching and ass squeezing around the foreign intrusion. Something like panic, mixed with agonizing, desperate need, froze you in your place, yet you could feel your body melt, beads of sweat forming over the slope of your tense shoulders and back muscles. Every contact point of your body meeting his, from his firm hand kneading your plump ass, to the tender push and pull of his finger, scorched.
âI donât know, (M/N)⌠I donât know if you can take my cock. My finger can barely move. Might have to call it a nightâŚâ
The thudding of your heart muffled your ears as Tom pressed in another finger after slowly working you open. Upon instinct, you closed your legs, only for Tom to spread them back apart before your sweaty thighs could meet, keeping yourself exposed and bare under his direction.
You chewed on a whimper, your face pressing into a pillow in your arms while Tomâs two fingers curled and pumped deep inside of you. You felt yourself pulsate around him, the tight ring of muscle unrelenting in its grip around his fingers, but Tom was determined to break you, another digit joining the pair of fingers, demeaning the tightness of your hole with an obnoxious whistle while pushing into your resistance. âDamn, look at that hole⌠barely fitting in three fingers.â
âN-no, I can take it. PleaseâŚâ you gasped on an onslaught of curls, fast and repetitive until you were stretched enough for Tom to yank his fingers completely out of you and quickly feel withdrawal symptoms of his fill. Your thighs shook, your ass pushed out for more, your hole twitched in rapportâyou murmured a whine that you needed Tom to hear, but was too self-conscious to let it be known, so you settled biting into his pillow to resist your throat from spilling.
âSuch a shame. I thought you made the perfect fit for A.K.P., too.â
His touch was soft and exploring, smearing the sweat on your back over the expanse of your ass and covering it in a humiliating sheen that youâd reckon Tom was stroking himself to upon picking up on the lewd, slick sounds of lube sliding over something thick behind you.
âS-stop, stop, please. I-Iâve taken it before, justâgive me a chance, yeah? Please? Hear meâfeel me out?â
âYouâre that desperate, huh? Donât know if you need the pledge more, or my cockâŚâ
âYour cock⌠Tom, pleaseââ
âSo, you wouldnât mind if you received nothing in return, as long as my cock was inside of you? Fucking you? Breeding you?â
âNo, I justââ
No, no, no. I donât want you to stop. Please donât stop. Your ass communicated those pleas in desperate wiggles. A strong smack to your ass cheeks meant to halt you in place, but it only made your hips more fervent as you graciously backed into the thick of Tomâs cock, reaching back and giving him a needy pump or two, then slid him against your crack.
A needy moan escaped when you felt the weight of his cock sandwiched between your cheeks.
âSo, you donât want my cock? Iâm confused on what exactly youâre telling me. Hurry, before I lose my patience.â
You felt a stickiness to your rim. Peeking over your shoulder, you took a glimpse of Tom presumably tracing your hole with his cock and spreading his pre-cum thick over the smooth flesh. The small space grew humid with the tension between your body and his, heavy breaths adding onto the heavy air as Tom rocked into you, holding you by the waist, gliding his cock through the wetness of your lubed ass cheeks. His shaft rubbed over your hole, and your cock throbbed and leaked in between your legs at the chance that anytime nowâTom could breach you open, and fill you wondrously. Your hole clenched at the thought, aided by Tomâs hands pressing your cheeks tighter around his cock as it slid over you.
If only you could command your asshole to open, because you wouldâve taken him in by now.
âI want you inside of me, Tom. F-forget the pledge, I justâI need something, someone inside of me. Please, justâChrist, fuck me. Fuck me with your thick cock. Fuck your cum into me. Fuck my ass until Iâm nothing but a gaping hole dripping with your seed. Donât even care if we never see each other again, please, Tomââ
Your eagerness took Tom by surprise, making him chuckle and slap his cock over your blinking hole before resuming on sliding his shaft against your crack, hopefully for one last turn. âWho knew you had such a potty mouth?â
You donât know what drew you back to looking at Tom again. Maybe it was the hard, brawn structure of his body, cut straight from a sculpture of the most heroic Greek warrior. The firm lines of his abdominal muscles, or the way his snapback was adjusted backwards, emphasizing his soft, yet handsome looks. All in all, you didnât mean what you said.
You would absolutely care if you never saw him again.
He was too good.
His rough hands over your ass, smacking them whenever you would try to angle your hips in a way to fit him in, were too good. His delicate kisses on your neck, back, and shoulders, quelling the tremble of your limbs, were too good. His soft lips, when you and him met halfway until your mouths were exchanging breaths, making the effort of holding yourself still against him excruciating, were too good.
Tomâs lips ghosted over yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You groaned as he supported your core with a strong hand, opening your mouth to take more. Every part of you, even the moisture in your body, wanted to touch him. You were sweating, drooling into his mouth, leaking into Tomâs palm when he wandered down to stroke your cock; all strong indicators that you were losing control, if you hadnât already.
His voice, as he murmured something about your body in your ear while he was gathering you against him, was too good. His breath forced itself between your lips, breathing out a supply of oxygen into your mouth, into your lungs, to prepare you for the inevitable, and you had never felt so fragile beforeâespecially so, when you found yourself quickly using up Tomâs oxygen when he pushed his cock into you without hesitation, without warning, your body hammered by a thousand needles in the process.
âT-Tom!â you hissed in a breath, but it only made the grip on your hips more strident when his thrust made you collapse back onto all fours. It wouldnât be surprising if your skin was blemished with bruises the very next day with the way his fingers dug into your flesh.
Tom was generous enough to let you adjust to his size, indulging in the warmth and tightness of your entrance with only the tip of his plump cock despite feeling like he had toppled your backside with all of his body weight. Even then, those minuscule ruts were enough to make you whimper out of agony.
âSo fucking tightâŚâ
Tom pulled himself out and spread your ass cheeks apart, marveling and silently wondering to himself how he was going to puzzle himself inside of you. Some spit would surely help. He licked his fingers, then pressed it over your swollen hole, smoothing the skin before pushing the tip back in, having only a tenuous grasp on his self-control.
After the burning mellowed with the help of multiple deep exhales and kisses from Tom, you felt yourself finally unravel the moment he moved his hips. Your fingers raked against his abs as you reached back to pace his hips, palm on his pelvis to keep from completely ruining you. A shiver ran down the length of your spine as Tom smoothed a hand over your back, then kept it at the lower half, pushing deeper into you while he held you still. You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, pleasured yet disoriented by the ample stretch Tom was providing you with. It gutted the fog of arousal, you could feel your hole instinctively pushing his cock out with overwhelmed pulses, but Tom was persistent, driving into you deeperâ harderâthe moment your body tried to resist him.
âDonât mind it hard, right?â Tom asked against your ear, gruff in between his slow, yet deep strokes.
âPlease,â you whimpered, barely getting the word out before Tomâs hand found its way to your mouth, covering it and holding your head back at the millisecond your answer registered in his brain, giving him the green light to pummel you relentlessly.
Your eyes popped open when Tom soared, bucking his hips wildly into you. Cries of pleasure, your whimpers and moans of being hammered with such overwhelming desire for your body, were muffled into the palm of Tomâs hand. He squeezed your cheeks, loud groans leaving your throat, and your torso arched into the mattress.
The brutal stretch was what youâd been needing. All this pent up sex drive that you had been harboring for so long came exploding out of you like molten lava, scorching your torso and all in effect. Your body was on fire, coupling with Tomâs as sweat dripped from his forehead, and somewhere onto your backside. Your mind emptied out while you hovered in the space between deprived arousal and complete ecstasy, only perfected by Tomâs cockhead screwing into your tight, clamping hole.
âOpen,â Tom demanded with a huff, and you did as you were told at the prodding of his fingers. You welcomed him in with the parting of your lips, luring each digit with the curl of your wet tongue. âYou like that? You like taking my hard cock like this? Fucking you open until youâre nothing but a hole? God, look at you droolingâŚâ
As Tom pumped inside of you at a steady pace, angling his hips so he stretched you wider, you suckled on his fingers as they remained hooked over your mouthâyou were starting to guess that he loved having them sucked, or at least, liked playing with the idea of having himself inside of you in more ways than one.
It was a messy affair. Pools of saliva leaked from either corners of your mouth. The smell of sex was thickening in between the heavy pants that you and Tom would collectively exile. It wouldnât be long until your body was drenched in sweat, and youâd come to realize that you wouldnât be alone in that department. Tom had his sweaty arm around your throat, pushing all of his body weight onto you and gutting you open with the deep hammering of his thrusts. His chest rumbled with wild growls as he pounded into you from behind, burying your hole to the root of his shaft, fucking you with the salacious sound of his heavy and musky sack slapping against your sweat-stained taint. You whimpered when his cockhead brushed past that sweet spot of yours, an unfamiliar feeling that you had no doubts in wanting to befriend.
âO-oh, thatâs s-so g-goodââ You bit into his forearms, the thick vein pulsing through looking appetizing, and you were glad you did it becauseâit was like an âonâ switch for Tom.
âTaking my cock so wellâyour mom would be disgusted, wouldnât she? Knowing her baby boy is taking a manâs cock. Want you to remember this. I donât care how many cocks you had before me. I want you to remember what my cock feels like, digging deep inside of you. And when Iâm done with you, I donât want you coming home, crying to mommyâbecause Iâll never be done with you. Once you get your bid, youâre fucking mine.â
This was it.
This was Tom at his peak performance.
And your body was at his mercy.
He pulled out, flipped you over, then hooked your legs over his shoulders before resuming in his relentless rapture.
You stroked yourself to the image before you, a tight fist around your aching cock, squeezing from base to tip, spreading your pre-cum down your already sticky length, while your other hand toyed with your nipples, playing with the perky nubs.
Tomâs muscular body dripped in sweat. His teeth gritted as he struggled to control his volume. Glimpses of the base of his cock would appear when he would pull out, only to be hidden by the trimmed hairs of his pubic hair when he would shove himself back in, veins of his large cock throbbing and basking in your warmth. Hard and strong kisses layered your ankles while Tomâs pecs jiggled with every thrust he made. Even if you werenât being fucked right now, you could get off to this. You could come right now, to the absolute bliss on Tomâs face as he buried himself deep inside of you, impaling you with his cock, moulding your hole to the shape of his shaft.
It enthralled you knowing how much pleasure your body gave Tom.
The squeaking of the bed roped everything together, gathering all sorts of noisesâlewd sounds of sex and delirious desireâlike a beautiful symphony. Your moans against his were the choir when Tom came down to kiss you hard on the mouth, sloppy and wet as he explored you open both ways. His tongue curious into your mouth and his thick cock rearranging your guts.
Your hands freely roamed over the expanse of his broad back, clutching and scratching at his back muscles when he curled his hips in a way that made you arch your body off the bed and knocked the breath out of you. God, he was so strong. So buff. You could feel his back muscles move in sync with his hips, flexing and flaring as he sank his cock deep into you. Your body stuttered, your eyes shut tight, tears nearly welling from the utter pleasure, shriveling as Tom would batter your prostate with better precision every time his hips came down on you. You couldn't be bothered to find the proper words to tell Tom how good he was making you feel, so you settled for a mixture of gasps, whimpers, and a daring scratch over the length of his spine.
That was telling enough, right?
Tom growled at the sting overloading his senses when you made your marks, grazing his teeth and lips over the palm of your hand when he reached back to take and hold the culprit of the forming welts before him. You and him shared a gaze, a kiss when he lowered himself and briefly settled on imposing you with strong, but slow and deep thrusts. To catch his breath. To catch yours. You both exchanged breaths, swapped saliva, explored each other's mouths, held each other hands, and the intimacy of it all made it all the more tranquilizing for you.
âGonna breed that ass of yours. Fuck, itâs perfect for me. Youâd like that, wouldnât you? Have your hole dripping, gaping, and raw? Maybe Iâll get the bros to look at the mess you made. Maybe theyâll want in on it and have a turn at your body, too. It could be your initiation, hm? Could skip the entire process, and be a Greek, as long as you let all of us breed you. How does that sound?â
âHoly, s-shitââ
You pumped your cock, a familiar feeling quickly bubbling to a high from the pit of your stomach, all the way to your swollen nipples, and you knew what awaited you as that sensation wouldnât falter. Your heart beat ran faster than the effort of caffeine. Even though it was muffled, the rhythmic beats downstairs were still resonant, and you were absolutely outpacing its tempo. The heat of Tomâs hands returned on your body. He caressed and rubbed your hips, thighs, chest, balls, and ass, all while he urged you to come.
âThere we go. Good boy. Keep fucking that fist. Yeah, fuckââ
His palms smoothed over your skin, up the sides of your body, thumbs pressing into either sides of your hips, then maneuvered you with his strength to meet him half-way into his strong thrusts. His biceps flexed, thick veins demonstrating his rush of adrenaline and sheer strength as he brought you down onto his cock with thundering claps, sweaty skin contacting sweaty skin, constantly assaulting your prostate with his swollen cockhead.
It both frightened and thrilled you, your eyes blown, and you felt yourself quickly spill, thick and heavy over your stomach, knowing you were at Tomâs disposal. You shuddered, watching the thick ropes of cum fly high before splattering and soon pooling at the plane of your body.
âIâm closeââ
âCome inside of me, pleaseââ
You were panting as your cock finished spilling itself all over your stomach and chest, as Tomâs big cock pounded in and out of you with such ease now, the weight of his hips coming down on you making you continuously bounce on the mattress.
âFuck.â
His breathing was even heavier than yours, laced with grunts as he used your ass like a toy, pulling hard and pushing you as he pleased, breaching you with the thick of his cock. His thrusts become wilder, sweat dampening his snapback as Tom mustered up the rest of his strength and energy to completely overpower you. His swollen cock dug deep, you could feel every veins about to burst. With a choke of your name, he delivered one more grandiose rut against your ass, the impact of his hips biting sharp into the back of your thighs, and filled you with his cum, burying you to the root.
âHoly shitâŚâ
âO-oh, godââ
Warmth spread thick inside of you, and you writhed and groaned as your hole swallowed another fat fill. Tomâs body goes slack, crashing into your arms immediately, and he moaned on each slow thrust, creaming you from the inside and out. You strained toward him in desperation, wrapping your legs around his hips to lock him in place, and reaching over to his ass to push him deeper, to urge him to keep breeding you as your hole held Tomâs sensitive cock with gratitude, taking his thick seed without hesitation, until his cock veins stopped pulsating.
As promised, Tom kept you impaled, rocking his hips and kissing you once more, soft and passionate, something of him owing you one laced in the way he smooched your lips and refused to let you reciprocateâbecause Tom never came like that before. His hand was tender on your cheek, stroking the dried stain of drool that was left abandoned when he pulled away to look at you, properly this time. You sighed, brushing the snapback off his head to let his scalp breathe, and pulled him in at the introduction of a sudden draft, your legs still anchored by his hips.
You lay intertwined, sharing deep kisses in between moments of recovery, where the post-nut clarity rendered you and Tom into fit of collective shy laughter, incredulous to the affair both of you had just engaged in.
âSo, you live on campus?â
âOhâyeah. East side, near TuringâŚâ
âFigured youâd be a science guy. Anyways, Iâll pick you up tomorrow morning. Give me your phone.â
âPick me up? For what?â
âChrist. Did I fuck the memory out of you or something? Bid dayâs tomorrow. It gets hectic, so I think itâll be better if you stick with me.â
âWonât that⌠be suspicious?â
âNah. Plus, I figured weâd get an early start on your initiationâŚâ
âYou meanââ
âFuck, yeah.â
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
#tom holland x reader#tom holland x male reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x m!reader#tom holland smut#male reader#x male reader#male reader insert#x reader#tom holland imagine#nou.fics
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Worship
A/N: This season has made me simp for both Akaza and Douma, so here's a smutty headcanon thing.
Akaza and Douma cannot stand each other. Theyâre complete opposites in almost every way, especially when it comes to their treatment of women. Akaza believes them to be untouchable, while Douma thinks that the most delectable flesh comes from beautiful young women.
However, they do have a single thing in common. Both men are huge fans of worshipping their partnerâs body, in their own unique ways.
You see, both demonâs ideology steams from their adoration for women. Douma, being an egotistic hedonist, indulges his love for them by devouring their bodies, in my ways than one.
He enjoys making his partner feels good, as it's another way for his ego to be fed. Not only does he like their reactions, but he loves the taste of pussy. Yours in particular. He's a munch, your honor.
Getting a taste of your slick is a daily requirement, and when he's particularly desperate, he'll fall to his knees and pleasure you where you stand.
Given his sadistic streak, he adores blending pain and pleasure together. Heâll tie you up to make sure you canât run from him, and when heâs feeling particularly cruel, he may blindfold you, so you wonât be able to guess his next move. The one thing heâll never do, though, is gag you. He adores hearing your noises too much for that. He likes seeing you be pathetic, so heâs a huge fan of edging. Heâll play with you until youâre on the brink of orgasm, then stop his motions until youâre begging for him to let you cum. And once he does, he switches from edging to overstimulation. Heâs a demon with stamina a human can only dream of, and heâll keep going until youâre sobbing for him to stop. Often, you two are at it until the sun is peaking over the horizon.
And if you make him upset, he has an array of paddles and whips to spank you with.
On the flip side, Akaza despises the idea of inflicting pain onto women, making them completely off-limits when it comes to killing. When it comes to sex, heâll treat you like the most precious thing in the world and draw orgasm after orgasm from you. He has a hard time expressing his emotions, so sex is his way of showing his love for you.
The only way heâll taste a woman is when he goes down on her, and like any good munch, heâll be licking and sucking for a while. His favorite way to eat you is when youâre resting on your forearms, ass propped in the air, and pussy on display. It gives him a great view of your glistening folds and throbbing clit, and when your pussy starts to get too sensitive from coming too many times, heâll allow his tongue to venture to your ass. As taboo as it is, it makes you feel good, which is all he cares about. He doesnât look like Sukuna for nothing.
Only when youâre well-prepared will he fuck you. Heâs inhumanly large, and if you arenât well-stretched and very lubricated, you have no hope of taking him. Heâll refuse to fuck you if your pussy isnât dripping with your juices because God forbid that he hurts you. Â Thereâs a reason those pants are baggy. Â
Not only is his dick inhumane in size, but in appearance, too. His shaft has bulging veins and ridges that offer you some delicious stimulation. Instead of doming off, his cockhead is more of a pointed tip, providing you with an interesting sensation as he pounds into you. His unique additions make him even harder to take. But though the stretch may be a little painful, once youâre adjusted, heâll have you drooling and cock drunk in no time âĽď¸
A/N: I might write a proper threesome with them because I'm down BAD đŠ
Update: A year later, and I finally wrote a Douma/Reader/Akaza piece đ¤
#headcanon#headcanons#demon slayer#akaza smut#demon slayer akaza#akaza x y/n#akaza x reader#upper moons#doma#douma#douma x reader#douma headcanons#kny douma#akaza headcanons#kny akaza#douma smut#demon slayer smut#kny smut#munches#smut#smutty headcanons
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chokehold
listen, I've had this idea in my wips for a while (since the begnining of the year actually) and the fat reader worms have been wiggling in third gear with all the awesome stuff early ( @391780 ) has been putting out lately. So have 6.4k words of Soap being an absolute pussy eating freak but you know you love him
(also on ao3 if you prefer the formatting there, or if you want to drop a kudo)
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The second the doors swing back closed behind you, you start feeling the scratchy feeling of doubt at the back of your throat.
It was predictable, really.
A small gym in a small town, heads turn when the hinges creak, not because theyâre staring at you specifically, but because itâs a reflex.
Or at least, thatâs what you tell yourself to keep the scratchy feeling from turning sour in your mouth. Or make you throw up from embarrassment.
Perhaps your New Yearâs resolution shouldâve been to start on a home gym type of situation. Buy yourself some girly weights, a mat, and some sort of stepping device, and do those easy exercises every slim, pretty, high-ponytailed YouTube instructor seemed to preconize people out of shape do. Like a hamster on a wheel inside their cage. A rat chasing its own tail, maybe.
No, you promised yourself no more fake promises. Perhaps the money spent on the gym membership (stupid fucking New Yearâs promotion) would motivate you to use it, lest itâs just money down the drain.Â
You wore the stretchiest, thickest pair of black leggings you owned, hoping no one would see the terrible shape of your underwear through it. On the opposite spectrum of things, you knew the largest hoodie you owned would smother you and make you boil with sweat, so you chose the next best thing: the widest black t-shirt you owned. It was definitely not black enough, the dye faded into a dark gray from use over the years, but it was the only thing that camouflaged your body enough from the othersâ sight. God forbid they imagine what your body actually looks like underneath.
The heads pretty quickly turned back around as you started walking towards the empty treadmills. It couldnât have been more than a second, but the combined weight of at least a dozen pairs of scrutinizing eyes wouldâve been enough to make you turn on your heels and back to your car, fuck the membership price.
At the very least, you could convince yourself that walking in place (no better than a hamster on its wheel but oh well) would be enough to get you started. Baby steps, and all.
It doesnât take long for you to realize the treadmill fucking sucks. Why would anyone suggest looking at a parking lot while suffering instead of the pretty scenery of a park or forest (while also suffering, but still).
The timer youâd set for the warm-up (ten minutes, just like the pretty blonde coach suggested!) crawls by way too slowly for your taste. Youâd be all but whooping with joy when it beeps if you werenât so out of breath and conscious of a gaze on you.
Youâd seen him as soon as you walked in.
Between figures of balding men trying to get rid of their beer gut with abs, two thin women whispering to themselves in a corner while trying to look inconspicuous, and a few other, completely average-looking men and women, there he stands, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he deadlifts an impressive amount of black plates.
He immediately looks straight ahead, correcting his stance, as if there were anything to be corrected, in your unathletic opinion. The muscles in his arms bulge even through the thin, grey hoodie, and the ones in his legs coil tight as the weight is lifted off the ground in a slow, controlled motion. Not even a grunt escapes his lips, at least no one you could hear from where you stood, completely mesmerized.
There was always something almost unappealing about overly muscled men. Their wifeâs not feedinâ âem enough, your granny would grumble when passing by the rows of magazines at the checkout of the supermarket.Â
Yet this man.
Yeah, he was muscled. But in a way, he looked⌠almost normal. Like he was built for strength, not necessarily vanity. Each bend of his legs, each twist of his armsâŚ
Youâd swoon if you hadnât lowered your standards so low heâd trip on them. Accepted it a long time ago. Fats belong with fats, thins with thins, and if thereâs a thin with a fat, either oneâs getting fattened up, or the otherâs getting dumped. Itâs a self-fulfilling prophecy, and one youâd rather not be a part of.
You walk with shaky legs to the water dispenser, then get ready to grab the second to lightest weights to try some bicep curls.
You try to remember the positioning from the videos. Rotate in⌠or out? Should the wrists be like this? You go through ten repetitions on each side, before you think that you shouldâve gone for the abs straight away. God knows thereâs fat to burn there, and that the flab under your arms can wait.
You turn back from the rack and walk straight into a wall.
No, a chest.
Fuck.
âSorry there, miss,â says a deep voice. You detect some sort of accent, unable to quite place it right away.
Your eyes run up, instinctively stopping for a second at chest level (holy heavens thatâs a Chest with a capital C if youâve ever seen one) before finally meeting that same pair of eyes you met a few minutes ago, through the mirror.
Double fuck.
âS-sorry, itâs me, wasnât watching,â you stammer out, gesturing to the weights in a panicked way. âJust, yâknow, switching exercises,â you sputter with a nervous laugh, like it was a completely normal thing to switch exercises after one rep.
He chuckles, and you really need to start planning your escape, because holy shit the way his pectorals rise and fall as his chest puffs up is getting a bit too much for your poor little humiliated self to handle, but he doesnât let you as he speaks in a soft tone.
âIâm getting arms arenât really your thing, eh?â he asks, not unkindly. Gosh, did it have to be a Scottish accent?
You canât meet his eyes, theyâre too blue, too piercing for your liking. âTo be fair I donât know whatâs my thing yet, Iâm just starting out, yâknow?â you shift your weight on your legs, conscious of the size difference, and not in the way you wanted to be. Your neck is very warm all of a sudden.
He laughs again, like itâs the funniest thing in the world, and you almost want the floor to open up and swallow you whole, but the words that come out of his mouth are completely unexpected.
âFigured! A girl with thighs like yours, Iâm sure you can deadlift more than me with just a lilâ training. Iâm Johnny, by the way,â he adds in passing, as if offering his name is the least of his concerns. âYou ever got someone to train you?â
Youâre entirely unsure if youâre dreaming or not. Did this Scottish hunk of muscle really just offer to be your personal trainer?
âNever - uh⌠lifted anything, I guess. Just when moving, my couch and bed and all, but I had a friend help me.â You definitely feel like youâre oversharing and youâre struggling to ignore the weight of the gaze of the two thin women, burning through you as they whisper among themselves, when you realize you hadn't answered the second part. âOh and, uhâ no. Iâve never⌠trained. Been trained. Itâs my first time in a gym since- a while. I donât want to bother you.â
You finally look up at him, and youâre unable to read his expression. Thereâs a sort of curiosity, a fascination, that blends fast into a wide-eyed joy thatâs so open, so sincere that it makes your head spin as he gently but firmly grabs your wrist and pulls you where his bar stands on the thick mat, ignoring your sputtering protests. âNot a bother at all, lass!â He lets go of you as he bends down and effortlessly racks the barbell, starting to remove plates as he continues. âWe can start by measuring your max lift, then the one where you can easily do three reps, then weâll hike it up till failure, so I can calculate your starting training weight!â he rambles on excitedly. You nervously shift on your feet, conscious of more curious gazes on you, but then heâs back in your bubble, pulling your attention towards him like a magnet.
His smile is like a blazing sun, and you donât have the heart to tell him to prepare for disappointment.
Heâs infinitely patient as he shows you how to place your feet, and the angle of your hips (oh, how you feel your knee weaken at the feel of his light tough through the leggings, nothing short of electrifying, despite being perfectly friendly), the hold on the bar. Itâs all a blur till you find yourself bent over in front of him, looking in the mirror at your position and trying not to feel conscious of the way heâs placed behind you. Or let your mind wander in inappropriate places.
âWhenever yer ready, hen.â
You brace yourself, close your eyes for a brief second, wondering how the hell youâd landed on this planet, then breathe in, open your eyes-
The weight is in your hands. Not on the floor. Youâre holding it.
You almost drop it when he cheers behind you, warm palms rubbing down from your shoulders to your elbows and back up. âEasy! I told you youâd be a natural! âS all in the legs and youâve got awesome legs, bonnie! Letâs add twenty more.â
Itâs a blur of racking and de-racking and lifting once and setting back, and redoing it again and again. Youâre out of breath, sweating like a sinner in church, but youâre smiling along with him, finding yourself giving him double high fives, and doing small, excited jumps.
âNext oneâs exactly my weight, if yâcan lift that, Iâll be losing my bloody mind! Dâyou realize how well yer doinâ for a first-timer?â He says as he bends next to you, adjusting the bar for the next set of weights. With a wipe of his forearm over his forehead, he crouches slightly down, placing his head right above your shoulder and looking your reflection in the mirror straight in the eyes with a conspiratory grin. âSwear to God, if ye can lift it off the ground, Iâm buying you the most expensive drink at the bar next door!â he says, grin blending into a blinding smile, too genuine for your own good.
Heâs just friendly, just friendly, just friendly, you say to yourself like a mantra as you position yourself. He stands again to his full height behind you, hands ready under the bar, a safenet.
Deep breath inâ hold itâŚ
Slowly but surely, you lift the weight off the floor, your ears ringing from the effort. You see his lips move as he cheers you on, but the blood pumping in your eardrums makes it impossible to hear him. Suddenly, the weight is back on the ground and your feet are off the floor as youâre lifted in a tight embrace and spun around like you weigh nothing.
You yelp and flail but heâs holding you tight, face pressed smack-dab in the middle of your chest, between your tits, rumbling praises about your prowess while youâre trying to figure out whether this can be something that your brain is capable of summoning as a dream.
âPut me down, Johnny, oh my God, put me down!â
He thankfully complies but not before squeezing your ass tighter, and suddenly nothing feels real anymore.
âJesus, I knew ye were perfect,â he says, pulling back reluctantly to rerack the bar and put back the weights. âI cannot wait to properly start training yeâ tomorrow, but for now, I have a promise taâ keep, and, uh, letâs just say I wouldnât mind using those strong thighs as earmuffs with this freezinâ weather. On the way back from the bar, what dâya say?â he adds, wiggling his eyebrows with a crooked smile that lets you know heâs joking around. (Is he?)
You laugh with him and for a second, you forget what you were here for.
+++
The way to the bar is short. It was just a block away (Good for business, he jokes), but the conversation with Johnny made time really fly by.Â
He seems genuinely glad when you tell him youâd decided to head to the gym not just as a New Yearâs resolution, but trying to simply become a better you. Thereâs no condescendence, no talking down, no (God forbid) pity, just an overall nice interaction the whole time. He tells you about being on leave as a soldier (Medical leave, he specifies, a fucked up knee can work in a gym, but itâs a different story out in the field), you tell him about your studies and how that led into a âbig girlâ job that left you no time for yourself.
âBut Iâve always been a big girl,â you feel the need to justify. âJust⌠gotten bigger as I stopped finding time to move. The desk and the laptop are pretty stationary,â you joke, still trying to make sense of why a man like him (broad, and tall, and strong, and⌠gosh, just perfect-looking) would even deign to accept being seen with you.
(Itâs not a date, you dumbass)
âI happen to like big girls,â is what you donât expect him to say.
Wait, what?
His blue eyes glue you to your seat, and you respond dumbly. âWhat?â
âI mean, why do you think Iâd offer to train you?â he continues, placing his hand, big and warm over your thigh. Itâs squished as you sit, wide and flattened in your seat, yet his hand covers a good amount, almost covering the whole width.
Your brain is short-circuiting but you have to answer something.
âOut ofâ uh⌠out of niceness?â you stammer out, feeling your insecurities climb back out of the hole theyâd been sleeping in all this time, making you shrink even more, trying to cover yourself as if he didnât see right through you with that piercing gaze. âTo feel good seeing you be the reason I lose weight?â
He chuckles, squeezing your thigh as his head hangs down, almost as if to hide the smile that spreads on his lips.
âStrength training doesnât work like that, bonnie.â He looks back up, and his eyes are blue, and wide, and so pretty, that you canât find anything to argue back. âYeâ think building glutes underneath that fat arse does anything but make it bigger?â He shifts, inching closer as he licks his lips and drops his voice lower. âYeâ think growing your quads will make this,â he gives an even firmer squeeze, wiggling the fat back and forth, and you tense under his grip, but heâs got you pinned down, âany less wide and soft?â
He presses closer, and the booth has no escape room, youâre practically squeezed into the corner as he pushes his body against yours, bending to whisper lowly in the crook of your neck.
âI did not joke when I said I want yer pretty thighs wrapped tight around my head.â
You canât be blamed when you donât remember how you ended up in the back of a cab, Johnny barely taking the time to bark an address to the poor driver and throw fifty quid on the front seat before kissing you absolutely senseless, shamelessly groping your tits with a hand and wrapping the other around your thigh, squeezing you close.
You should probably think more about going home with basically a stranger, no matter how hot, but when he presses his entire palm against your cunt, cupping it over the quickly dampening pair of leggings that didnât seem so thick anymore, you canât think at all. He swallows your quiet moans, and hums contently against your lips, taking each gasp for air as an invitation to slither his tongue into your mouth. God, youâd forgotten what a good makeout session was like, and you canât even find it in you to be embarrassed when you see the cabbieâs eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly looking away when you see him staring.Â
Johnny doesnât seem to mind either, and when he notices you looking in the front again and again, he crowds you against the door behind the driver with a huff, half-climbing over you until his knee is pressed against your core, and the only thing in your field of vision is him.
âJohnny,â you try to say, but itâs getting hard to think, with the way youâre being squeezed in a corner, this hunk of a man of pure muscle pressing against you like a weighted blanket, kissing you like you were a drop of water in the desert and he was a parched man drinking you for his salvation. You feel his excitement pressed against your thigh, and it gives you enough lucidity to try again. âJohnny,â you gasp out again, âarenât we going a little fast?â
He laughs instead, choosing to focus on the side of your mouth, pressing fervent little kisses down your neck before starting to suckle the delicate skin over where your clavicle is. âI can go as slow as youâd like, bun.â He takes the spot an inch next to the previous one into his mouth and sucks again, this time more forcefully, marking you, and oh God youâre going to have to conceal it before work tomorrow, unless you can find a turtleneck to wearâ
The cab driver clears his throat, and you notice that the car is stopped in front of a small apartment complex. Johnny says a cordial thanks as he pulls you out of the car and throws another twenty on the backseat, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and taking all of the thinking out of the equation as he walks you to the entry.
His flat is pretty well furnished, all things considered, but he doesnât give you enough time to observe the deco as he presses you against the door and slides his hand under your leggings.
âGot me starinâ at that ass the second you walked in, best fuckinâ thing Iâve seen in months, dâye realize that, bonnie?â he breathes out against your ear as his entire palm cups your sex, and you can only whine as you press your forehead into the crook of his neck. âAnd by how wet this pussy is, I think you liked starinâ at me, too.â
âYou areââ you say, but he curls his middle finger in, spreading your lips and spreading the wetness to your clit, making you choke on your words, â-very nice to stare at.â
âYeah?â you hear the grin in his voice.
âMmhm,â you nod, as he keeps the back and forth of his finger, never dipping in too far, just keeping you hungry for more.
âThen howâd ye like to stare down at me as I taste this wet cunt of yours?â he purrs in your ear as he stops moving completely, letting the words process.
Brain.exe has stopped functioning.Â
Had you ever had a boyfriend willing to speak filth like that to you when you were down to do the deed, maybe you wouldâve gotten enough practice to know what to answer something sensible and intelligible to that, but as it stands, all you can muster is a very dumb-sounding âHuh?â as you stare back at him.
And that, apparently, is the funniest thing in the world to him, because he dips his head down and laughs, almost like a boyish giggle. Not only does that not stop him from kneeling in front of you, but it also somehow gives him more confidence to keep talking like that.
âHow about you look down into my eyes as I eat out your pretty little pussy and make you come around my tongue, howâs that sound?â His baby blues bear no trace of maliciousness, no trace of a joke, as his fingers hook around the waistband and trace it around your stomach. You have to make a very conscious effort not to suck it in immediately in preparation for the letdown, but he doesnât pull them down yet, only moving his hand alongside the edge. Your silence as you try to process what is happening only seems to spur him on instead. âIn fact, how about you close your eyes, I close mine, and you hold my head close as I devour you, would you let me do that, pretty girl?â
âIâm not-â you canât think of any way to properly let him down, not when he looks up with such pleading eyes, so the words stumble out gracelessly. âIâm sweaty, you donât wannaââ
But he interrupts as he pulls your leg closer by gripping your thigh and squishing it against his cheek âBut I do.â He inhales deeply, and your own breath shakes at the sight of how blissed out he already looks. âGod, I want it. Let me have this.â
A voice somewhere inside yells at you that this has to be some sort of weird fetish, and that he most certainly wonât be having the same aura of desperation around him tomorrow, when post-coital rationale shows up and he sees your body past the veil of lust, but for now, you think that getting some with Johnny cannot be that bad compared to any one of your past encounters. Might as well enjoy it when you still can.
You wrap your hand around the one he still has around your waistband, and see his face positively light up as you softly caress his cheek.
In the end, youâre the one that pleads.
âJohnny, please.â
Your pants are off you and your leg is over his shoulder before you realize what is happening.
The feel of his warm tongue against your slit makes any thought, any doubt, any fear positively vanish, and the content sigh that he lets out as he licks at you is the same sigh as finally removing a bra at the end of a long day, itâs the sigh of laying down carelessly onto a soft bed after standing up for hours, itâs the sigh of the first bite of the best meal a man has after starving for weeks.
It should be awkward the way his arm wraps around your thigh and sinks into the softness of your stomach, using it to pin you up as he uses his other hand to spread you out enough for him to work his jaw the same way he did when he was making out with you in the car⌠Yet itâs not. Itâs natural, the way his hand squeezes you as he licks, and sucks, and kisses around your pussy, unhurried yet passionate, languidly but firmly, pressing his tongue in, licking around your lips, and maddeningly avoiding the place you wanted him to touch most.
âJohnny,â you moan as he grazes his teeth around your sensitive nub in response. You almost buck out of his hold, but heâs firmly keeping you in place. âPlease, donât tease.â
He hums in response and dives back in, eyes fluttering closed as he ignores your whines. Every time his tongue or lips graze your clit, he works his mouth the opposite way, holding your thigh harder and pressing his palm up as he counters your hip movements with a clever swipe of the tongue. Itâs absolutely maddening. âJohnny, please!â
He chuckles as he pulls back, an obscene string of spit lengthening as he pulls back, only breaking when he runs his tongue against his reddened, swollen lips. âThought yeâ wanted me taâ go slow, bun.â His eyes sparkle with challenge, but you can also discern a veil of unhidden desperation, of waiting for you to give the go-ahead for him to let loose.
âIâm fine with fasterââ you start, but the words dissolve into a barely restrained moan as he hikes your leg up more, getting you closer to him, and immediately singling onto your neglected clit.
His forehead rests onto your belly now, and if you had more than two functioning neurons youâd wonder how he is that heâs breathing, but his hums and moans let you know that heâs perfectly content burrowing his nose in your pussy, nudging at your clit with the tip of it as he licks you with all the dedication youâve never been shown from a man of his caliber.
He builds it up, and soothes it down, knowing exactly when to put more pressure, or when to teasingly swirl his tongue around your entrance, or to lave broad strokes of his tongue, so much so that the knee thatâs not hooked over his shoulder almost gives out on a particularly forceful suck of your clit.
âEasy there,â he groans almost petulantly, as if youâre interrupting him. âCanât have you fallinâ over when Iâm not done witâ ye.â
âMy legs are gonna give out,â you say honestly, trying to catch your breath and avoid having the perfect man at your feet steal it again. âYouâre a bit too good at this.â He grins up at you, âAm I?â and you want to give you a playful swat, but instead decide on carding your fingers through his now disheveled mohawk. âGuess the mess on my face speaks for itself⌠Shall we take this to the bedroom?â
You throw a glance around the apartment, assessing your options. âCouch is closer.â His smile is blinding. âI like how yeâ think.â
Itâs now the second time he surprises you by scooping your legs from under you and picking you up like he couldnât wait any longer and that carrying you bridal-style was the only way he could think of moving you. You yelp out a protest but he swallows it with another hungry kiss, shamelessly smearing your own wetness over your cheek as he walks you both to the couch.
You sink into the cushions where he places you gently without so much as a grunt of effort, and oh God, there they are, the standards are rising.
You reach over to pull him closer as he straightens up, but he only gives you a peck on the lips in return, like he hadnât been kissing you sloppily the entire time.
âCome back,â you whine, hoping you can get it done before he comes back to his senses, like they all do, but he just smiles and kneels between your feet, hands pressing your thighs apart. The squelch of your lips parting should be embarrassing were he not looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen, eyes full of adoration, like a child staring up at the full moon on full display on a clear nightâs skies. Maybe you are his moon, his goddess, judging by the lust-clouded look directed at you.
âI did say I was gonna make you come on my face,â he says lowly, the gravel in his voice making you squirm as he places a trail of kisses up your thigh. âAnd I intend to keep that promise.â
With that, he dives in again, using his forearms to pin your legs open on the couch and his fingers to tease around where his tongue canât reach. You mewl when you feel his tongue at your entrance, circling it around it briefly before delving in as deep as he could, his right hand stroking your clit rhythmically. The fact that heâs so good at somehow playing all your buttons like a maestro directing an orchestra has you thinking that he must be some sort of womanizer, some freak who does this kind of thing every night, but then his lips wrap around your nub and he gives a firm, long suck, and any restriction that you couldâve conjured up simply vanishes. Your thighs want to close around his head, but you canât move under the iron grip he has on you.
You fist his hair more forcefully than necessary, and he looks up, wet eyelashes framing his beautiful eyes as he hums in response.
âPlease,â you moan, and he hums affirmatively again, closing his eyes to focus on licking and suckling harder. He heard you, he simply doesnât seem to care. âJohnny.â
âWhat,â he asks, voice muffled and why is this so hot?Â
âI need⌠I need,â you whine, unable to string the words together, and desperately trying to buck your hips under him, for lack of strength to actually close your thighs how you want to.
That seems to get his attention, and he chuckles, before pulling back with a gentle kiss on your mound. âGuess youâll have to keep tryinâ, pet,â he sussurs, a condescending pat on your thighs before he dives in slower than before.
Oh, the absolute asshole. Now he wants you to work for it?
You think that doing the opposite, relaxing your thighs open and letting him go to town however he wanted would help, but he seems hell-bent on riling you up every once in a while, getting you closer and closer with each lave of his tongue over your poor, overstimulated clit, but never enough to actually push you over the edge.
After what seems like an eternity, and almost, almost starting to think that this was a mistake, halfway ready to let him do this thing before your hip starts to cramp up, you feel a finger nudge at your entrance.
âFucking finallyââ you start, ready to curse him out, but heâs faster than you can think in your blissed-out state, and he slides a second finger alongside the first one, immediately zeroing in on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed and buck under his hold.
âThassitâ there you go, pretty girl,â he murmurs against your clit, and oh, okay, maybe you were closer than you thought, because the rhythmic curl of his fingers doesnât need to last long before youâre off like an arrow, back arching and thighs squeezing, coming harder than you ever thought was possible. If he were any less skilled at making you completely lose the ability to think, youâd maybe notice that youâd managed to close your thighs almost completely around his head, but he wasnât, so you donât, twitching helplessly in the aftershocks of the most wonderful orgasm a man had ever given you.
Limbs that somehow still belong to your body hang uselessly off the side of the couch, and you struggle to catch your breath. You blink lazily, noticing him smugly wipe his face with the back of his hand, his half lidded eyes not any less blissed-out than yours.Â
You didnât believe a man like this ever existed, until now. It aches that this might not be something that would last, so you make grabby hands at him, unable to find the will to speak just yet.Â
He laughs softly and gently grabs your arms, kissing from your knuckles slowly up your arm, to the crook of your neck. The patience he has is almost inhuman, as he takes the time to let you regather your senses, matching the marks he made earlier on the other side of your neck. You cup your hand around his head in response, and he smiles at you.
âYeâ with me, bun?â
âMmhm.â
âThat slow enough ferâ yeâ?â He holds himself up, an inch fron your face, and you reach up to kiss him.
âIâm gonna kill you dead,â you mutter against his lips, and he chuckles.
âLet me at least fuck you properly, first,â he whispers, and you notice that heâs long since unbuttoned his pants. You barely get a view of the massive size of him over your belly as he holds himself in his hand, large palm not enough to cover the whole length of him as he strokes himself, angled in such way that his tip rubs against your clit on each downstroke. The word âPlease,â is not even halfway out of your mouth when he sinks into you in one swift motion, the rest dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan.
âFuck-â he grunts, âso tight, cannot believe it.â
He guides one of your legs to wrap around him, keeping it flush against his body with his elbow as his palm grips your ass tightly, the other holding him against the backrest, forearm near your head as he pulls you closer for a sloppy kiss as he starts rolling his hips. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them greedily, leveraging each trust of his hips with a pull with his hand, helping you move in tandem with him, readjusting when your thigh threatens to slip out of his hold. The slaps of his pelvis to yours should sound obscene, his hard muscles hitting against your soft, jiggly skin, but his groans into your mouth are like music to your ears, the fact that heâs vocal about it has you almost reaching your peak again in no time, but he seems to sense it, and slows down immediately.
You try to kiss him harder, but he makes a small noise of protest, muttering something that sounds vaguely like âno, let me, let me justââ and you want to ask what he wants to do, to help him, but he instead reaches down both hands to grab your hips and pull you off the backrest. You yelp as your ass suddenly hangs in the air, his cock speared inside you the only secure point as he pulls you halfway off the couch, but he directs you firmly, âHere, around me,â helping you wrap your legs tightly as he starts thrusting again, harder than before.
âOh, God, oh God,â you flail around, but each thrust in pushes your back into the cushions, and he reaches behind his back to hold your feet in his hand as he presses his palm near your head for support, spewing more filth as he does.
âThatâs it, hold me tight, squeeze my cock like yeâ almost squeezed mah heid off earlier, huh, bonnie? Show me what those thighs can do, fuck-â
Your whole body is jiggling with each thrust, and you donât have it in you to even feel self-conscious with the way each time he fills you, the tip of his cock nudges against the spongey spot inside, making you mewl in tempo with his relentless rhythm.
âJohnny, Johnny,â you moan, and he bends over to kiss you again, swallowing his name like communion while you chant it like a prayer.
âDonât give up now, bonnie, keep squeezinâ, fuck, I can feel yeâ, yer so close.â
You try to get some leverage with your upper body, trying to push yourself up the cushions, but his cock suddenly slips out of you as your thighs almost give out, and an apology is already halfway out your mouth when he kneels back down and burrows between your legs, tongue first with a rushed âNeed taâ taste us, fuck, both of us, together-â
One hand wraps around your hip and over your pelvis, reaching up to knead desperately at your stomach, to pull you closer or push you away, you canât tell, the other pulling your lips apart to settle his entire lower face against your pussy firmlyâ before letting go as he starts humming.
Your thighs are free to squeeze around his ears, and he nods encouragingly as he keeps licking, and then you hear it: the sounds of wet stroking. You donât see him fisting his cock, but you hear it, fast and desperate. As your hand tangles in his hair to pull him closer, and another humâ no, another moan vibrates through your core, itâs the last thing you hear before youâre absolutely gone, gasping out a curse as you tense up in his hold, trembling as you come.
Itâs even more intense than the first one, and as you buck out of his hold, he stands up shakily, his hand moving faster and faster around his cock, the angry red of his tip at the same level as your face. You gesture for him to sit down, trying to signal to him that you want to reciprocate despite the post-orgasmic haze and exhaustion, but he shakes his head, and, seconds later, you feel warm wetness land on your belly and slowly trickle down as he moans your name when he comes.
You feel like you still have to give something back, and, when he slumps down next to you with a content sigh, you climb over to place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock, letting out a huff of laughter when it twitches under your touch.
âYeâ absolute menace,â he whispers fondly as he pulls you up and tips his body to the side to lie down, using his legs to push you up halfway over him, trapping you between his body and the cushions, yet protectively shielding you from falling over. You place another kiss on his stomach, and you see his abs tense under your touch as your warm breath moves his hairs as you hover for a second, before deciding to shift up and use his pectorals as a cushion. He hums softly as his arm wraps around under yours, reaching to pull the plaid off the back of the couch and settle it around you both. Ticklish, eh? Thatâs a piece of information best stored for later.
Youâre still breathless, absolutely done for. God, best decision of your life, going to the gym. âNow what?â you canât help but ask. Itâs the same fear that always creeps up, the fear that he got to try out a fantasy, and now that he was done with it, he had no need to want to continue anything possibly serious. Not that eating a girl out on a first date, if you could even call it a date, was a sign of a one-night stand, you canât help but feel awkward and insecure now that itâs all done, despite the comforting cuddle.
He chuckles in response, that same chuckle from earlier in the day, a What a silly question chuckle. Like heâd read into your thoughts and insecurities and found them absolutely laughable.
âSame time at the gym, tomorrow? I want you to squeeze my head off next time.â
âNext time, huh?â
He pulls your leg over his pelvis, trapping his still half-mast cock between his belly and the crook of your knee, hand firmly wrapped to shift you up, almost completely on top of him. When both of you are comfortable and you start feeling the tendrils of sleep pull you deeper, he gives a last, playful squeeze to your ass.
âNext time.â
#cc writes#soap#soap x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#fat reader#chubby reader#john soap mactavish x fat reader#pwp#call of duty#fanfiction#call of duty fanfiction#cod fanfic#cod#plus size reader#john soap mactavish#my man knows how to eat pussy and he ENJOYS it#ignore my attempt at writing his scottish accent i tried okay?
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i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine
rating: teen
pairing: frankie morales x f!reader
word count:Â 5K
summary:Â watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.
tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy
a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!
one day iâm gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day.Â
đ¤Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist
Frankie Morales has a problem.
Given the life expectancy in his line of work â all things considered â it really wasnât that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesnât have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, thereâs not much else he can ask for. Heâs far better off than some of the men and women at Willâs talks, or in Santiagoâs field teams.Â
So â really, truly, seriously â all things considered . . . he canât classify this as a bad problem.
In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if itâs a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.
And right now, itâs wearing a dress.
Uh, well, youâre wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden.Â
Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.
He calls it â you â a problem, when in fact, itâs the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until itâs somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his â
He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. Itâs when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head â like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him canât find him. Heâs thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.
There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey â you had such a fantastic taste in â
Wait.Â
Thatâs not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass.Â
Thatâs â
âWhite wine?â Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. âIf thatâs Moscato, Iâm calling the cops because youâve been replaced by an equally hot body double.â
You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankieâs eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh.Â
âItâs not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,â you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. âItâs Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought Iâd give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.â
He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle.Â
âWell, excuse the fuck outta me.â
âThe fuck outta you is excused.â
You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over â with what looks to be a wine glass of his own.Â
Okay, in hindsight, youâre not the problem.Â
His real fucking problem is Nick.Â
Your boyfriend.Â
Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesnât have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santiâs empty chair.Â
âHappy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.â Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. âBut I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. Iâve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.â
He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is.Â
But Benny doesnât look down, doesnât approve the boots, or Nickâs attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.
âYour first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.âÂ
Nick grins, because he doesnât know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know heâs ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankieâs chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why heâs giving Nick such a hard time.
See, the problem isnât you, or even your boyfriend â not really.Â
Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, youâll say something, or tell a story and itâs obvious Nick doesnât really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.
So the problem isnât that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that heâs your boyfriend.
The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.
And heâs your friend.
Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuckâs sake, heâs killed people â asking you out canât be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys youâre into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and thatâs something he definitely canât give you.
Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And thatâs two things more he canât offer: stability and health-care.Â
So, maybe, maybe his problem isnât with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. Itâs that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .
And you deserve the world.
You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.
Thatâs his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.
Will couldnât get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner â according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldnât be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line.Â
Never a good idea with Benny Miller.Â
I donât know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santiâs teamâs ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.
âThe son of a bitch can dance, Iâll give him that. â Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road.Â
âOh, shit, I could never do that.â Nick shakes his head. âNot even after a hundred classes.â
âAh, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,â Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankieâs eyes and winks.Â
You are not amused. You glare at him over Nickâs shoulder for the second time tonight.Â
âItâs really not that hard,â you smile tightly and squeeze Nickâs shoulder. âI can teach you.âÂ
âOh, yeah, donât you know your girl here?â Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nickâs chair by the ball of his foot. âShe used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isnât that right, Frankie?â
Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie.Â
Donât, man, just donât.Â
Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out.Â
Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers.Â
âIâm gonna go get Boot Scootinâ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.â Benny stands and fixes his hat. âYou guys want anything?â
Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. Youâve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction.Â
As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know â he introduced it to you.Â
âThis one is the best! A classic!â You grab Nickâs forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back.Â
âAh, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! Iâll embarrass you and me. Why donât you ask Frankie?â
Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier.Â
Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but heâd fucking set fire to the sky for Benny â he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like heâs got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet.Â
Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.
âNah, man, you got this. Your girlâs a great teacher.â By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.
Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.
âMy feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isnât really my song.â
Over his shoulder, you find Frankieâs eyes. He knows that look on you â he knows everything about you â and youâre trying to hide how hurt you are.
Heâs on his feet before he knows what heâs doing.
You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet.Â
The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.
âAlright, princesa, Iâll fill out your dance card.â
He doesnât care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest.Â
âThanks, Frankie. Letâs boogie.âÂ
That was a mistake.
This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didnât have to be here, right now.Â
Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, itâs leaking. Itâs busted holes and now heâs drenched with it â with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,
âCâmon, Frankie, youâre a better dancer than this.â
But in his defense, he couldnât feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile â that fucking smile â brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world.Â
Câmon, Frankie, youâre a better dancer than this
Câmon, Frankie, youâre better than this.
Câmon, Frankie, tell me you love me.
Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.
His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you â he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. Itâs so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesnât drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all.Â
When Nick finally calls it a night because heâs already got a blister from the new boots, you donât put up much of a fight. Youâve danced with Benny, youâve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.
Frankie only ever asked for one.Â
He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and heâs going over it with caulk to make sure you canât touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart.Â
The instant you walk out of the bar, Nickâs arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar.Â
âSix tequila shots, please.â
You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. Youâd rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.
Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night.Â
The sooner, the better, you mother fucker.Â
You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that itâs most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. Thereâs a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system.Â
The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what heâd been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you?Â
And the things he implied about Frankie â how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it â ridiculous.
You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch.Â
22%
Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nickâs calls.
But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankieâs.
He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning.Â
One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you uÂ
You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need â and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.
Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail.Â
Like youâre about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play.Â
First, thereâs noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because youâd pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.
But then comes Santi. Over the years, youâd picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami.Â
But whatever Santi is saying, youâre not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language.Â
âComotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mĂĄstiempo. EstarĂasmĂĄsfeliz y ellaestarĂamĂĄsfeliz. NomemiresasĂ, sabesqueloĂşnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas â ÂĄEstĂşpido! ÂżLa llamaste?â
Thereâs a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.
âDĂŠjame en paz, dude.â Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. âIâm gonna â Iâm gonna say â voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrĂĄ. Sheâll get it. I knowâ,â
âThen say something now because youâre leaving a voicemail!â
âAh, mierda â um, baby?â
In two words and two filler words, Frankieâs whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall.Â
âBaby, listen â fuck, sorry, Iâm starting all wrong. I shouldnât even call you that â I shouldnât call you âbabyâ because youâre not mine. Youâre not my baby or anyone elseâs because youâre so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.â
You donât even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. Youâve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if itâs been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding.Â
Thereâs silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but itâs dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.
âYou looked so fuckinâ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldnât take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesnât tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you â tell you all the time â he didnât say it once. Not once and thatâs a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it â I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because youâre all I fucking think about. Youâre in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut â and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .â
His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion.Â
âIf you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and Iâm gonna but . . . when that fuckinâ moron forgets how good he has it, Iâm gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because â,â
And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankieâs phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:
âIF HE AINâT HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AINâT TREATINâ YOU RIGHT, IâMA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLINâ HIM CRAAAZYâ,â
âBenny, fuck off!â
And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.
Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?
The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy.Â
Youâre stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on.Â
This was a mistake, it had to be. He didnât mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who youâve all but outright begged to take an interest in you â said it with your eyes hundreds of times â Frankie couldnât actually have feelings for you.
Not like you had for him. Not like the ones youâve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart.Â
Fuck. Fuck!
You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything â he couldnât possibly have meant you â when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.
The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankieâs had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.
âPlease, open the door! We gotta talk â thereâs something â thereâs something on your phone you shouldnât hear â please, baby, open up â,â
You stare at the phone on your floor.Â
Donât they always say you canât tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after theyâre gone?
Not this time.
You open the door and either way, everything changes.Â
âCâmon, please, let me explain.â His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. âJust five minutes and Iâm gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing â,â
You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isnât even on all the way, and heâs the most beautiful thing youâve ever seen.
âWhat if I donât want to forget it, Frankie?â
You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.
âSo you listened to it already?â
âYeah, I did.â He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. âBut did you hear what I said?â
He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. âWhat?â
âWhen I opened the door, did you hear what I said?â
âYou said â,â that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on.Â
You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.
âWe need to talk.âÂ
He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and youâre launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year oldâs slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.
His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off.Â
Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you canât think of anything to say.
Do you want coffee?
Do you want some cereal?Â
Do you want toâÂ
âTell me what happened last night.â You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, thereâs something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankieâs here, heâs here, and he said he wants you â
He called you baby.
You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that youâd chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags.Â
âI donât understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.âÂ
With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. Itâs only then that you realize Bennyâs cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that heâd left you that voicemail?Â
âIâm gonna get my ass kicked,â he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. âMaybe thatâs exactly what I deserve.â
âHeâs not here.â This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time.Â
âWhat do you mean? Where is he?â
âWe broke up.â
âWhen? Why?â
âLast night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesnât like the way . . .â
Frankie â physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally â overwhelms you. Heâs across the room in an instant, closer than you think heâs ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time youâve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees.Â
âHe doesnât like the way what?â His voice luxuriates in his throat â warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.
âHe didnât like the way I looked at you.â Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. âThe way I always look at you, Frankie.â
His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another.Â
You feel him swallow even though heâs a foot away from you.
âWhy â,â he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, âwhy do you look at me . . . when you have him?â
âOh, Frankie.â His grip on your waist tightens as if youâre about to disappear forever. âI took him because I canât have you.âÂ
You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle.Â
Grateful.
Heâs looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude.Â
âHeâs the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system â I did â I promise. I canât lose our friendship, Frankie, but itâs killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, Iâll always chooseâ,â
This is the right time, he supposes.Â
Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he canât find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of Iâm finally getting to do this and youâre not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more â you need more â and Frankie pulls back.
Not only because heâs slightly dizzy but because he a) wonât fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover.Â
âBreakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?â He canât quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.
You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you donât think heâs even realizing what heâs doing.
âYes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.â
He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. âSorry, I mean â,â
âI know what you mean, baby.â You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you canât care. âIâd love breakfast.â
Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold.Â
âHow do you feel about conchas?âÂ
Translations:
Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho mĂĄs tiempo. EstarĂas mĂĄs feliz y ella estarĂa mĂĄs feliz. No me mires asĂ, sabes que lo Ăşnico que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.
ÂĄEstĂşpido! ÂżLa llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?
DĂŠjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrĂĄ. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.
#SpaceSistersSecretValentine#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#triple frontier#frankie morales x you#francisco catfish morales#triple frontier fanfiction#francisco morales#pedro pascal characters
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NSFW Alphabet-Feitan Portor
I never write headcanons really, but this is a great way to me to workshop information for my Janitor AI characters as well. Enjoy! Trigger Warnings: It's Feitan, is his own trigger warning. Mentions of blood, torture, etc...
A = Aftercare
At first, when Feitan just pays for sex, he doesn't bother with aftercare. In his mind, that's already been taken care of by the transaction. But when he meets you and realizes you have more needs than just physical, he begins to pay attention to your well-being. He starts by checking your body for any injuries or cuts and making sure they are taken care of. If necessary, he will bandage them up. Afterwards, he'll carry you to the bath and make sure all traces of blood and fluids are washed away. For less intense encounters without any kink involved, it takes a while but he eventually learns to enjoy having his arm around you and nuzzling into the back of your neck. He's not one for talking much, but this is his way of showing that he's there for you if you need anything.
B = Body Part
Feitan doesn't spend much time admiring his own appearance, so it's hard to say if he has a favorite body part. But on you, he loves your legs. From your thighs to your calves to the curve of your ass, he will mark every inch of them with his teeth or knife. Most likely both... definitely both.
C = Cum
Feitan may have a fit body, but that doesn't necessarily mean he eats great. Don't expect the taste to be great. It's quite watery, but there will definitely be a decent amount. He enjoys cumming inside you, but has no desire for baby-making, so his go-to options are either finishing on your face or your backside. It's clear this man has a thing for marking his territory.
D = Dirty Secret
I donât think he has any secrets per se (well, maybe thatâs not entirely accurate; he definitely HAS secrets), but scandalous secrets? Heâd be transparent if you asked him about his history, and heâs probably been with both men and women. Maybe once or twice, Feitan and Phinks have tag-teamed someone â that's just the type of friends they are.
E = Experience
People tend to assume that Feitan is inexperienced or a virgin, but I believe the opposite is true. However, he has never been in a traditional relationship. In my opinion, both him and Phinks prefer to seek paid companionship when they feel the need, for their own personal reasons. It's simpler and faster, without having to deal with emotions. Feitan has specific "preference" and it's easiest for him to pay someone who is willing to indulge in his frustrations and kinks.
F = Favorite Position
It's hard to say what he wants more. On one hand, he loves seeing your face during sex â the way your expression changes when you climax or when he brings out his blade. But above all else, he just wants to make sure you're okay. He reads your body language and facial expressions, especially if you've taken on an intense scene. He has a safe word, of course, but he'll also stop if he senses that you're not using it properly.
On the other hand, sometimes he just wants to bend you over any available surface and fuck you until both of you are exhausted. These quickies usually happen when he's feeling particularly worked up or just needs a release. He'll grab your hair, push your face into whatever is nearby, and pull down your pants as he takes you from behind.
G = Goofy
Contrary to popular belief, Feitan is not as serious as he appears. While he may have a stoic demeanor, it does not mean he lacks a sense of humor. In the bedroom, his behavior can vary. When he takes on the role of Dom, he is completely focused and aware to avoid unleashing too much of his torture skills on you. However, during more casual moments like a quick morning romp, he may crack a smile and playfully nip at your skin in an attempt to make you laugh.
H = Hair
Feitan isn't a very hairy person, with smooth skin all over his body. He has a slight trail of hair that leads down to a small patch of black hair. While it may not be perfectly groomed, it doesn't bother him much. When it comes to his partner, the amount or style of hair they have is of no concern to Feitan; he enjoys them regardless.
I = Intimacy
If Feitan is transitioning from paying for sex to pursuing a relationship with you, congratulations - you have reached an intimate level. For him, this is already a huge step, so if there is anything specific you want, you may need to communicate it clearly. As his feelings for you deepen over time, he may start to appreciate the softer moments between you, even though he might never say so out loud.
J = Jack Off
I don't think he masturbates frequently. It's not because he lacks interest, but rather because he is very self-aware and in control of his body. However, if you were to ask him to do it or even let you do it for him while he lays back on the bed and watches, he would absolutely be up for it.
K = Kink
It goes without saying, we all know he's a dominant, but not in the conventional sense. He craves control and isn't afraid to use restraints. But for Feitan, it's about more than just physical pleasure. He wants to leave his mark on you, carve his symbol into your skin, use ropes that bite into your flesh. The feeling of your blood on his skin is intoxicating to him, and he would savor the opportunity to cut you open and bathe in it. It would be even more thrilling if you possessed a Nen ability with enhanced healing capabilities. He enjoys blood but is not interested in any other bodily fluids. His marking kink would involve carving his name or number onto your skin; in my imagination, you have a "2" engraved somewhere on you.
L = Location
Feitan is not one to hold back; when he wants you, he takes you. However, his preference would be in a bed or a special room akin to the one he uses for his victims, where he can unleash without worry of making a mess.
M = Motivation
Before you came into his life, he would only get in the mood after a demanding job or if it had been a while since his last encounter. But with you around, even simple activities like washing dishes or reading a book can make Feitan ready to go. Just one look from you and he's all fired up.
N = No
I don't believe he has any interest in anything involving feces or urine; it's just not his type of kink. It's not that he finds it disgusting, it's just not something he enjoys. But with almost anything else, even things he initially may not like, I feel like if you persist enough, he'll eventually give in and try it.
O = Oral
He's a giver, through and through. He will bury his face between your thighs, losing himself in the moment until he's dizzy and gasping for breath. Even then, he won't pull away. He'll lick, suck, and maybe even bite if he feels like it. By the time he's finished, every inch of his face will be slick, and his eyes will be wild and primal as he looks at you. And if you try to tell him to stop, it will only fuel his fire. Keep that in mind before you ask him to ease up.
P = Pace
It's always a 50/50 gamble with him. I wouldn't say it's sensual, but he definitely likes to take his time. If you agree to a rougher scene, where he can let loose and show off all his skills, be prepared to be tied up and at his mercy for hours. He may even leave you there, tied up and sweating, before coming back to start the whole thing over again.
But all of this is just the warm-up before he even enters you. When he's finally ready for the final round, he will take you hard. The bed will shake on its rails and the headboard will slam against the walls. And it's absolutely incredible.
Q = Quickie
Feitan doesn't mind a quickie, especially when you're in the middle of a mission and there isn't enough time for a longer session. He has impressive self-control, so if you're not feeling up for it, he's okay with that. However, he also knows that you can't resist him when he asks.
R = Risk
Risk? Feitan doesn't even comprehend the concept, especially when it comes to sex. So what if the other Troupe members might overhear or walk in? Who cares if they fuck during a job and the target might catch them in the act? Feitan would simply eliminate any witnesses and continue as he pleases.
S = Stamina
Oh dear, your body is in for a rough time. When Feitan gets riled up, you'll be in for an extended bout of physical activity. Thanks to his rigorous Nen training and natural stamina, he doesn't tire easily. You'll probably lose consciousness long before he's finished, but even then, he'll likely continue on without missing a beat.
T = Toy
If by toys you're referring to the collection of knives, ropes, and gags he uses for his regular torturing sessions, then yes, those are his "toys." However, I have a feeling that once you explore his kinky side with him, he would have a separate set of these items just for personal use. Some people headcanon that he's dirty or gross, but in reality, he's canonically a germaphobe. He wouldn't want any blood or fluids from his victims to touch you. In fact, I bet he would even invest in a high-quality vibrator for other types of "torture."
U = Unfair
This is Feitan's domain. He takes pleasure in teasing you in every possible manner. He considers himself a master of all forms of torture and you are his favorite subject for experimentation. You better not cum without his permission, or there will be consequences. I can't help but wonder if there's a hint of masochism in him, deliberately prolonging his own orgasm until it becomes unbearable.
V = Volume
Feitan's voice is naturally soft, so he doesn't make much noise during sex. But that doesn't mean he's silent; his words are like whispers in your ear, filled with degrading comments and descriptions of what he plans to do next. He watches closely for your reactions to his words, using them to gauge your pleasure.
W = Wild Card
Feitan may not even realize it, but heâs a tsundere with yandere tendencies. He is fixated on you and will go to great lengths to gather information about you. He sees it as a way to bond with you. Your past and relationships with others hold little importance to him unless he can use them to manipulate you. He pays close attention to every detail about you for his own gratification. While this can lead to unexpected surprises, there is a fine line between showing affection and being overly possessive.
X = X-Ray
Let me begin by saying that size isn't always the most important thing. However, that doesn't mean Feitan is lacking in that department. He may not impress when flaccid with a modest 2 inches, but he definitely makes up for it with a solid 5 inches when fully aroused. "Size not matter in fight⌠or in bed."
Y = Yearning
Feitan has an above average drive and libido, but an even higher level of self-control. He can easily suppress any desires he may have, but when the opportunity arises, be prepared for him to let loose. After finishing a job, it's best to take a few days off because you won't be able to walk afterwards.
Z = ZZZ
I can hardly imagine him getting any sleep at all. I'm sure he does, but as a long time Spider, he has likely trained his body to function on minimal rest. Those rare moments after sex, when everything is calm and still, may be the only times where he truly lets himself relax, though. Even then, it's probably only momentary.
#feitan portor#feitan smut#feitan x reader#hunter x hunter#feitan#phantom troupe#hunter x 2011#hxh#feitan headcanons
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Hello! I was wondering what you make of Seward's phrase "is it possible that love is all subjective or all objective?" I've seen people allude to different meanings on the phrase but I can't quite figure out what it means
I wanted to wait until after 11 October to answer this ask, just so I didn't have to spoiler for the context of my reply. Which is that... my instinct is to oppose Jonathan and Seward's loves for this one. Specifically, in their reactions to the women they love becoming vampires. (I'm choosing Jack specifically to talk about because we get in his head more than we do for the other suitors, though by actions one could argue they fall more on the same side as he does.)
Firstly, let's take a brief moment to talk about the specific words used. Subjective generally means dictated by personal taste, and objective would be based on fact or truth. So, a love that is all one or the other could be very different depending on what the person you love is like. For example, an objective love would appreciate someone's virtues, while a subjective one might find things to love even in their flaws. Or on a larger scale, and much more relevant to how the phrase is used in the book... what would happen when the person you love is becoming a vampire, a creature that is factually and objectively evil and wrong? How would you react, how would you feel?
It depends on your type of love.
Jonathan's love is all subjective. Even though he absolutely hates and despises vampires, once he knows Mina is at risk of becoming one he resolves to join her if need be. He sees her rejected by God when the communion wafer burns her forehead, and he says 'actually no, I think the holiest kind of love is the one that would lead me to join her in her unholy state'. Even when Mina outright appeals to him to kill her if she is too far gone - an appeal to his objective understanding, for him to express his love in a way that confronts the truth of what she would become - Jonathan remains silent and in doing so refuses to make that promise. It's implied that he would be willing to fight the other men in order to protect her, even though they are his allies and friends. His beliefs warp around the shape of his love. He will destroy himself and others for the sake of his love, even if he knows through painful experience how objectively evil vampires are.
Jack's love meanwhile is all objective. Even though he didn't fully understand what a vampire was, he began to lose his love for Lucy as soon as he saw her acting in that way. In fact every time she was acting out of character to be more vampiric before her death, he seemed to notice and be a little put off by it, even though he didn't really seem to realize so much at the time. He outright says this quote when he is watching vampire!Lucy and realizing that he doesn't feel as horrible about mutilating the body of the woman he loved as he would have expected. When he learns Lucy has become a monster, he begins to feel repulsed by her - a process completed when he sees her up close and outright says his love for her is gone: "At that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be killed, I could have done it with savage delight." His determination to destroy the Thing she now is completely separates her in his mind from her living self. His love gives way to the objective facts. He will help to kill her, and gladly, because what she has become disgusts him... because what she has become is objectively evil.
Obviously, their experiences are different, and perhaps it's not quite such a true binary. Mina's gradual transformation, combined with Jonathan's pre-existing knowledge, is quite different from Jack's abrupt introduction to Lucy's vastly changed self and to the idea of the supernatural at all. But for the purposes of examining this quote, I think it works quite well to set them up at opposite ends of that scale.
.
It's also kind of curious because it calls back to another great line of Seward's: "(Mem., under what circumstances would I not avoid the pit of hell?)" The context of that line is Seward struggling to resist his dark impulses with regards to his treatment of Renfield. And he says this after having noticed himself actively doing something he says he'd normally avoid like the pit of hell, so that means he was approaching it until he caught himself. This is a struggle he repeatedly faces with Renfield, finding himself longing for a cause that he would consider it worthwhile abandoning his morals for, so that he could just give in to these urges.
But while Jack Seward is the person most drawn to the darkness, as we get introduced to the vampires are representatives of the ultimate darkness he backs firmly away. It's only in isolation that he feels so attracted to amoral experimentation; when together with his friends he pulls himself back to be more firmly opposed. His treatment of Renfield is a mess the entire time, don't get me wrong. He never really does right by him. But he doesn't seem to feel that same urge to push him in such a cruel way merely for his own interest/satisfaction. It becomes in the service of a greater goal, the objectively good idea of fighting Dracula. (Again, not saying his methods are good, but his motivation shifts.) He's always been conscious of an idea of what is right to do and he actively tries to follow that, with much greater success when not left to his own devices.
Meanwhile Jonathan has never felt such an intense draw to the darkness. He survived months alone surrounded by evil influences, and it only increased his determination to remain himself/human. He hates the vampires and he feels no true allure to the idea of being like them (outside the allure everyone feels when being hypnotized by them, etc.). He wanted nothing more than a normal happy life, he never longed for a cause that would be worth throwing his morals away. And yet, when Mina begins to turn we see Jonathan decide that this is the circumstance under which he will not avoid the pit of hell. This is the cause he can dedicate himself to as fully as any madman. Jonathan never felt the need to philosophize about trying to avoid such things before he was exposed to them by others, because he has no inherent urge to seek them out. But he also lacks that restrictive hold when a reason does come along.
(To visualize: if there's a pit, then Jack is the person who keeps wandering closer, desperately wanting to lean over the edge and see what's inside. Knowing this about himself, he's tied a rope around his waist to ensure he doesn't slip too far. Jonathan never even went near until he abruptly decides to sprint up and swan-dive straight into it when he thinks Mina's fallen in.)
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I feel like an open book today no I donât identify as one so Iâll say it nonchalantly. NSFW
Why are there so many men who expect vulvas to either smell like nothing or like flowers or something like that? Why are there so many men who find womenâs natural odors, both down there and in general, "disgusting"? Why are there so many men who prefer to imagine women as accessories rather than functioning human beings? Why are there so many men who think vulvas are ugly or need to be modified? Why are there so many men who complain about how vulvas smell and taste while simultaneously expecting women to embrace their penises as if theyâre a grand prize?
Of course, the answers to this are obvious: They donât see us as humans, they see us as sex objects and servants and accessories. They donât actually like women, they like subservient pornified images and fanatasies which coddle their egos. They think theyâre perfect the way they are and inherently desirable (hence their hygiene is practically non-existent unlike womenâs) and only want to live their power fantasies in real life.
But at the same time, I just donât ⌠get it from a more basic point of view. Iâll never understand straight male sexuality anyways, as it seems, but isnât the natural state of a woman, and hence the natural state of her female body parts, whatâs arousing? Do they actually want to convince me that a lavender scent sexually arouses instead of a womanâs natural smell? Do they actually want to convince me that they "like" women sexually whilst finding our natural bodies ugly and gross?
I really donât understand it. When a gay man isnât into womenâs bodies, thatâs understandable (though misogynistic comments are still off limits), but straight men who think and act like that are truly disturbed individuals. Theyâll make gross jokes and demand women to suck their cheesy dicks and claim to be a "womenâs man" whilst not even being able to see us as human, or to see how blessed they are to be with one (none of them deserve it honestly).
The way I experience attraction towards women is completely different than what these men experience. I see women as human beings with thoughts and feelings, I dedicate my time and energy to them, and I love their naturalness. They donât. And yet women like me are seen as perverts, fetishists and genital obsessed?!
Not seeing women as human and treating them like shit sexually is normal whilst seeing women as human and finding them sexually arousing in their natural state is gross? Seeing women as mere sex objects is fine but loving their genitalia & sex characteristics is not? Seeing women as your servants, modified dolls and jerk off material whilst exclaiming how unattractive & gross they are is compatible with love but the opposite is not?
Fuck that. Let women be sexual. And let women be natural. Let women be.
#women deserve better#radfem#radblr#Iâll probably regret writing this in the morning#but every day I see a man or a handmaiden propagate this shit#I just needed to vent#sorry not sorry#as a man itâs fine to say how pussy is gross and everything#but itâs not acceptable for women to talk about how gorgeous it actually is?#either men fetishize you#or they call you a man-hater or transphobe for it#female sexuality isnât like male sexuality#female sexuality shouldnât be seen in relation to male sexuality#female sexuality is beautiful and unique on its own
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I'm not into pathetic meow meows im--
He'll absolutely disagree about being pathetic but all the actions mentioned in the result are actions he actually committed in game akdjakrjsk đđ
Took this quiz:
âŚ.
And my answer wasâŚ.
WJAKDOKDJEDJ
I MEAN?!?
-stares at Lilia, Knight of Dawn, Malleus, Zhongli, etc-
Itâs not wrongâŚ
I was not expecting to be hit with this answer, I literally paused and then laughed omg
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the thing that drives me a little bit crazy is that we know about jjong's tastes because he was always very obvious with it, but that can't be said about Taemin. He doesn't flirt, doesn't talk about men or women like that, most of his songs and concepts that are sexual in nature tend to be in a self-centered way (likely because his fanbase doesn't react well to him with women, so he does it with himself), but even so it's hard to gauge solely by his work output because we can't know for sure how much input he himself has over it â as much as everyone loves guilty, I'm pretty sure in his first interviews about the, then upcoming, comeback he said he didn't participate in the preparation for it.
The one thing we have... is internet war? and only the first two performances, because in one of them you can kind of see he got hard, even if it's not 100% certainty, the fact that apart from that first weekend, he always made sure to keep his hip very far away from jjong's is telling in that sense. Jongtae lives in my brain partially because we simply don't know if taem was attracted to jjong, while the opposite is very, very easily observed. I'm inclined to believe that, if he is into men at all, he would be attracted to him, because who wouldn't, but I know that's not how it works.
Yet, just there isn't enough stuff about him liking men (or women for that matter). If I recall correctly most of the presumption that he's gay comes just from his gender expression and having done wgm. Compare that to jaejoong or jjong, the little thots that they were, constantly flirting with men (or straight up kissing some, in both cases), the lack of Taemin's sexuality (in the broader sense of interest in sex) stuff apart from his idol work is almost frustrating. How this guy talks about Batailleâs Erotism while managing to avoid imputing his own sexuality in his work so completely is crazy.
Anyway, long winded way to say Taem is a mystery to me.
#for the sake of accuracy there's is that one juliette era video where a girl hugs him but he was a baby then#long ass rant about the sexuality of a person i do not know#i think taemin falls in the pits of sexuality as a theme in kpop but not as a lived thing for the people involved? sexuality devoid of sex#might be also why hes fun to write while his idol persona is very public his inner workings are kind of a mystery#these tags are getting rantier but one more thing#taemin post-enlistment is a different thing with a more glaring separation of his person and the idol#but i can't pinpoint how exactly and i think its the whole point
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The Heroines
Author: Laura Shepperson
First published: 2023
Rating: â
ââââ
Somebody else said this felt more like a fanfiction rather than a serious literary retelling and I have to agree, while I also add this particular fanfiction was super sub-par and messy. There is a plethora of characters who all sound exactly the same. ALL the men are awful. ALL the women are abused EVERY night by ALL these men. And ALL the characters are absolutely unbelievable within the context of the myth. These are yet again, 20th-century people. Furthermore, I was bothered by the usage of expressions like "madam", "land ahoy" and "ex-husband" in what is supposed to be an ancient Greek myth. And the Viking culture, from one of the minor characters, is supposed to come..... did not exist at the same time as the Ancient Athens. So bad.
The Pearl: A True Tale of Forbidden Love in Catherine the Great's Russia
Author: Douglas Smith
First published: 2008
Rating: â
â
â
â
â
There are very few books in English that focus on Russian nobility (while there are plenty on the tsars). Douglas Smith wrote Former People: The Final Days of the Russian Aristocracy in which he showed how that nobility was systematically wiped out after 1917, however in The Pearl he plunges right into what was probably the most spectacular time for that same privileged class. The unusual story of a nobleman and a serf getting married serves the narrative as a sort of Ariadne´s yarn, as the book provides quite a detailed and fascinating description of the phenomenon that was the serf-theater. The author does not paint the affair as a romantic fairytale, acknowledging facts like Praskovia being figuratively her lover´s property, the age difference (which, back then, was not really seen as an issue), and the power dynamics. I found the subject very interesting and the writing clear and infused with enough poetry of language not to be dry and academic.
Matilda
Author: Mary Shelley
First published: 1959
Rating: â
â
â
â
â
In spite of the lack of action and being very, very wordy indeed, this book held me completely captive thanks to the beautiful language and especially the psychological depth. This ladies and gentlemen, would be a stunning candidate for a re-telling in a proper novel form.
The Fair Botanists
Author: Sara Sheridan
First published: 2021
Rating: â
â
â
ââ
The greatest enjoyment I had from this book was walking the Edinburgh streets in my mind because I had visited the city last year and fell in love with it. However, even though the writing is very good, the storyline failed to capture my attention and seemed, indeed, rather boring.
The Tres Riches Heures of Jean, Duke of Berry
Author: Jean Longnon, Raymond Cazelles
First published: 1440
Rating: â
â
â
â
â
Stunning presentation of a remarkable book. Besides beautifully drawn biblical stories some of the plates show life in medieval times, almost like a time capsule.
House of the Spirits
Author: Isabel Allende
First published: 1982
Rating: â
â
â
â
â
If I should compare this book to something, it would be to a lovechild of Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman and books by Vaddey Rattner (though the pain in the latter´s books is inflicted by the exact opposite side than the one in this). While Isabel Allende´s style is not exactly to my taste, the family saga she wove in this book is fantastic from beginning to end, with its weird, unique, and, yes, even downright awful people. However, the sexual musings of the men were uncomfortable and unnecessary.
The Agency for Scandal
Author: Laura Wood
First published: 2023
Rating: â
â
â
ââ
This is a great book when you just want something sweet and to relax. Full of tropes (including there was only one bed), and a little basic when it comes to the plot (the idea of a Victorian secret society of undercover lady agents made me want much more than what was delivered), but charming in the way it is uncomplicated.
Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar
Author: Simon Sebag Montefiore
First published: 2003
Rating: â
â
â
â
â
Very impressive biography of a terrible person. I have not read much on Stalin (though I have researched the lives of ordinary people of Russia under his regime) so I have little to compare this to in terms of accuracy. However, the author, as always, never fails to present everything as the golden truth - including the mental aerobics of maniacs. Perhaps some skepticism and doubt would suit his over-confident narrative.
A Gathering of Shadows
Author: V.E. Schwab
First published: 2016
Rating: â
â
âââ
This felt as long as a 30-year war. The first 300 pages are a painfully slow set-up, that is actually so elaborate (and full of passages that just did not need to exist, because they were extremely repetitive) that when something actually does happen near the very end, there is no surprise or twist at all. I mightily disliked most of the main characters (Lila is insufferable) and the villains had the actual best motivation out of everybody. Also, I felt that considering that the whole book kept talking about the Elemental Games, the games themselves had very little to do with the actual plot and left no impact whatsoever. I need to think on whether I even want to read the third book - but knowing myself I probably will, because I am a completionist.
Divine Rivals
Author: Rebecca Ross
First published: 2023
Rating: â
â
â
â
â
If you loved Lovely War, you will love this one. The romance is impossibly sweet and well-paced, and by the end of the book, you feel that the happiness or tragedy of your two protagonists is really your personal business. I loved the medium of letters and found the atmosphere of war slowly but surely marching on to you believable and realistic. I really, really liked this - and was bummed out to realize this is not a stand-alone! I want the second book now, please!
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Sex is like dancing : to do it well it requires rhythm, practice, developing skill, trusting your partner, cultivating your tastes and eventually becoming completely one in both pleasure and emotion with your partnerâŚ
While I do think pornâs unrealistic expectations of womenâs bodies do a play a part in the mass impotency of men, itâs not the main factor.
They spend all their time jacking off instead of developing the skill of sex, which makes them terrible at giving and receiving pleasure, as well as erodes their empathy and understanding of women, so they are even too repulsive to get a women in their bed anyway. They are like the complete opposite of Casanova himself⌠they donât understand our personalities, our trends, our culture, have no interest in even trying, and are stingy and bumbling sexual partners to boot.
I could snap my fingers like a genie and make all women look like blow up pornified sex dolls and still men would have no skill to be successful in intercourse with them⌠itâs truly all their fault, which makes their ironic, almost biblical, punishment of erectile disfunction darkly hilarious
I think some men don't wanna admit the fact that they have been so brainwashed and brainrotted by porn that they cannot find natural women attractive anymore. They sit and wank off to hentai and porn all day, when they get bored, first thing when they wake up. Some of them even do it secretly before sex. Some literally prefer their hand, a tissue box, and literal PHOTOS and VIDEOS over a REAL CONNECTION.
They wank off to girls that have huge fake tits, big fake lips, heavy ass makeup, small waisted, huge ass, petite, perfect faces and bodies, no flaws, etc.
It's embedded deep into their subconscious from rotting their brains away for years. They want constant novelty and cannot even stay loyal.
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Hey Emo Boy!
â Song suggestion: Emo Boy, Ayesha Erotica â
Summary:
He worked at the Spencerâs store in the mallâ you worked at the Claireâs store right in front. What can you say? Match made in heaven.Â
bassist!Beomgyu x fem! reader
Genre: opposites attract trope, friends to lovers, fluff, smut
Word count: 9.4K
Warnings: mc dresses like a BIMBO and we love it! mc gets stereotyped a bit, lots of piercings, needles, (bg gets pierced lol) mc has a smiley and nipple piercings, bg has snake bites and a tongue piercing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, cursing, Chaeryeong is a real one
Smut warnings: dom!bg, sub!mc, slight possessiveness, teasing, making out, thigh riding, dirty talk, dumbification, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nipple play, bg loves mcâs boobs, oral, (f receiving) fingering, hair pulling, bulge kink, scratching, unprotected sex, breeding kink(?), creampie (lemme know if I should add anything!)
Notes: im sorry, but Beomgyuâs long hair era has me in such a chokehold that I think I passed out and wrote this. Iâd like to think that in the concert their opener was âDestroyaâ by mcr (assuming that its their song in this universe) And why yes, I do have a list of other songs they would perform, you can totally go ask me this on my blog!Â
Your friends always said you had an obscure taste in menâ you always laughed in their face in response.Â
But as you stand behind the Claireâs register, ready to clock back onto a never-ending ten-hour shift of piercing little girlâs ears unprofessionally, you canât help but be reminded of the thought.Â
There he is again, your brain tells you, an involuntary reaction as you pause your actions to glance out into the empty mall; just in time to watch the cute boy with snake bite piercings that works at the store across from you rush inside.Â
Honestly, whose idea was it to put a Spencerâs in front of a Claireâs store? It was a mistake waiting to happenâ but you indulged in it nonetheless, the convenient placement allowing you to catch a glimpse of one of the workers that captivated you. Youâre not sure of his name, and youâre not sure you can bring yourself to talk to himâ youâve never gone into a Spencer's, and plan to keep it that way. Honestly, his whole style couldnât be more opposite than yours, but there was something about him that made you curious, eager for more.Â
âAre you staring at that emo boy again?â You jump at the sound of your coworkers voice, startled to find her standing behind you, a knowing look on her face as she shakes her head. âGirl, just go fuck him already.âÂ
âShut up!â You balk, glancing around the store in a panic to see if there were any customers aroundâ it was empty, considering it was a Thursday evening, âand no, I wasnât.âÂ
âDonât lie to me,â Chaeryeong says, checking her acrylics absentmindedly, leaning against the counter with a sigh, âyouâve been staring at him all week. You should totally go talk to him.âÂ
âYou think? I donât know if heâd be into someone like me though,â you look down at your outfit, the complete opposite of what the man in the store across from you sportedâ while his outfit consisted of dark, edgy outfits, yours were nothing but feminine and cute.Â
âWhy not? Youâre hot,â Chaeryeongâs words bring an uncontrollable swell of confidence to you, and you allow yourself to bask in the compliments that she continues to goad onto you.
âHeâs lucky you tone down your fits to suit this place, cause if you didnât,â she whistles, exaggerating her reaction as you slap her shoulder jokingly, âman, weâd be swamped with customers.âÂ
âYou really think I should try to talk to him?â You ask, biting your lip nervously at the thought; what if he was an asshole? What if he thought you were some superficial bimbo? Was he one of those creeps that thought they were better than women? What if he was gay?
âStop overthinking things, I can see the questions from here,â Chaeryeong bats at the air mockingly, laughing at the petulant look you give her. Her teasing is interrupted by the motion sensor bell going off, and the two of you are quick to put on your customer-service personas as you turn to face the new customers with a happy smile.Â
âNext chance you get, go up and talk to him. Donât overthink and itâll go great, I promise,â Chaeryeong whispers to you, leaving you on your own as the mother calls her over to ask a question about the piercings.Â
Glancing back at the Spencerâs across from you, you canât help but let out a sigh of desperationâ you really hope sheâs right.Â
⤏⤏⤏
You decide to make your move on a Friday night.Â
It was one of your few days off, and according to Chaeryeong, the cute boy was working tonight.Â
You had been quick to throw together a cute outfit as you made your way to the mallâ to pay a visit to your friend and your crush.Â
The store was just as you had expectedâ low lights, fandom merch, and a fuck ton of adult products. You were caught off guard by the sight of it all, the stark contrast of the store and your outfit leaving you to stick out uncomfortablyâ not that anyone seemed to care, thankfully. You were quick to find yourself browsing through the jewelry, uninterested in everything else as you found a couple of cute earrings and necklaces to buy.Â
To your disappointment, you had yet to see the cute boy that you had been crushing on; your heart shattered at the thought of you missing your opportunity to talk to him. Yet, just as you were being checked out by another worker, your luck seemed to turn around.Â
âHey, you doing anything tomorrow night?â Your head snapped up in the middle of you taking out your card, surprised to find the cashier asking you this question so suddenly. Behind him, you can see the cute emo boy emerge from the employee room.Â
âUhm, why do you ask?â You try to prolong the conversation as you watch the cute boy make his way up to the counter, your heart beating faster at the thought of you finally getting to talk to him.Â
âThereâs this band playing at a nearby venue,â the cashier, Yeonjun, his name tag reads, hands you a flyer, your eyes scanning the words as you take in the information printed onto it, âyou should definitely go. Iâm in it, actually.â
âYeonjun, you shouldnât be promoting that while working.â The new voice has you looking up from your flyer quicker than you can processâ and to your delight, the cute emo boy stands behind your cashier with a frown on his face.Â
Yeonjun narrows his eyes, turning around to look at his coworker. Shaking his head, he clasps the boy on the shoulder as he shakes him around, the boy unfazed as he allows him to do so.Â
âShut up, I think sheâd love to go,â sending you a smile, he winks, and you can only manage to smile shakily in return, âheâs a part of it too; the bassist.â
You hope your sudden interest isnât obvious, but you canât help the way you perk up at Yeonjunâs words, staring back down at the flyer in your hands with a newfound eagernessâ hey, if the music was bad, the worst that could happen is you getting the ick and moving on.Â
âIâll try my best to go,â you say, trying to play it cool as you smile at them; you briefly glance at the cute boyâs name tagâ Beomgyu, it readsâ and stuff the flyer in your purse, enjoying the way they (mostly Yeonjunâ okay, only Yeonjun) seem to beam at your words.Â
âCool, weâll try to spot you in the crowd,â Yeonjun jokes, handing you your bag filled with jewelry as he not-so-subtly scans your outfit, âfrom the looks of it, it wonât be too hard.â
Man, was it just you or was it hot in this store? You donât think you could handle all this attention at once, the sight of Beomgyu giving you a once over making you weak in the knees as you feebly thanked them, promptly scurrying out of the store as you tried to ignore the way you didnât talk to himâ baby steps, you reassure yourself.Â
Youâre practically stumbling into Claireâs as if it were a safe space; and if Chaeryeong was there, then it was. You briefly scan the store before you spot her red hair, running up to her excitedly as you shove the crumpled banner in her face.Â
âSeriously?â Is all she can muster to say, staring at the flyer blankly before she looks back at you, quirking a brow as if to challenge your decisions, âI told you to go fuck him, not support his fleeting dreams.âÂ
âI knowâŚâ you pout, deflating at her disapproving look, âbut I donât think it would be that easy! He seems like a cold guy, like you have to get to know him before he lowers his guardâŚâÂ
âAre you listening to yourself?â She says, checking herself in the mirror as she begins to restock the phone cases, âI worry about you sometimes.âÂ
âCome on, hear me out!â You whine, ignoring the dirty looks the moms in the store give you, clearly displeased with your revealing outfit, (cons to living in such a conservative town, you suppose) âyou canât deny that heâs cute.âÂ
âYeah, but the most Iâd do is hookup like, once,â she says, glancing around the store to make sure no customers were around to hear her, âyouâre trying to play the long game.âÂ
âAm not!â You say, ignoring the way your body flushes hotly at the accusationâ okay, youâre pretty down bad for him; so what?
âBut uhm, ChaeâŚâ you donât bother to finish your sentence, trailing off softly as you find yourself too nervous to ask. But with one glance back at you, she knows exactly what youâre trying to sayâ she sighs.Â
âYou want me to go with you, don't you?âÂ
Sending her your most convincing smile, you bat your lashes in hopes to convince her, clinging onto her as you let out a small âpleeeease?â She pauses, narrowing her eyes at your behavior before she scoffs, finally giving in as she goes back to restocking items.Â
âYouâre insufferable.âÂ
⤏⤏⤏
To say that youâre surprised by the attendance would be an understatement.Â
The place is packedâ it was hard enough to get tickets to the venue, and your efforts to buy tickets early were not in vain, despite Chaeryeong's teasing. Youâre pulling her along eagerly, fingers laced tightly with hers as you squeeze your way towards the front of the stage; youâre able to sneak through a good amount of people, but arenât able to get that close to the stage, to your disappointment. Thereâs no place to sit, much to Chaeryeongâs annoyance, but youâd like to blame her onslaught of complaints on the heels that she chose to wear instead.
âWhat kind of band even are they,â Chaeryeong mutters, scanning the crowd as she takes in the way the two of you accidentally stand outâ the mass of black clashing with your sparkling outfits, âdid you even listen to their music beforehand?âÂ
âTo like, one song, yeah,â you say, unashamed as you ignore the look a person casts at you, clearly listening in to your conversations, âI dunno, I think theyâre just a rock band. I think youâll like them.â
âProbably not, this isnât really my taste,â she says, throwing a dirty look to the person that pushes roughly past her to try to get closer to the stage, âyouâre just lucky I love you.âÂ
But before you can ridicule Chaeryeong for her statement, you finally see the lights dimming down, left in the dark as the announcer finally calls the band onto the stageâ Tomorrow by Together.Â
The crowd goes wild by the announcement, jumping excitedly and jostling you and your friend around as they all try to record the members and get a good angle. You had no idea they were this popularâ hell, if you were them, youâd quit everything to pursue music by now. The crowd is chanting their names eagerly, and youâre left in awe as they all take their positions behind each instrument.Â
There are two guitaristsâ youâre able to recognize Yeonjun as one of them. You looked up the rest of the members on your way here, and by process of elimination, the other man who was currently picking up his guitar would be Hueningkai.Â
The cute guy with dimples sends a heart to the crowd before going to where his keyboard is placed; thatâs Soobin, if you remember right. Leaving you with Taehyun, who doesnât bother to wave to the crowd as he picks up his drumsticks eagerly, shifting comfortably on the seat as he waits patiently for the show to start.Â
And lastly, Beomgyu enters the stage and beelines to the bassâ youâre surprised to find that heâs dyed his hair, the highlights getting hit by the stage lights brilliantly as he adjusts his earpiece, waiting patiently for the leaderâ Soobin, you think it isâ to start the performance.Â
You can barely hear what theyâre saying over the excited cheers around you, and you can feel Chaeryeong gripping onto your arm in fear that youâll be lost in the crowd. Glancing behind her, you send her an excited smile, unable to contain your laugh as you take in her nervous expression.Â
âYouâre insane!âÂ
âWhat?â You yell back, leaning in as the crowd begins to cheer louderâ probably in response to something they said. You glance back at the stage in curiosity, but turn back to check on your friend as she leans back into your ear, repeating the words as she rolls her eyes at your amused reaction.Â
âDo you want to leave then?âÂ
âAnd leave you here alone? No wayâ!â Her words are cut off by the clicks of drumsticks, and the crowd is quick to push each other around as the music begins to fill the venue, successfully taking your attention off your friend as your head snaps back to the stage.Â
You can still feel the grip of Chaeryeongâs acrylics as you keep your fingers laced tightly with hers, but you quickly find yourself moving with the crowd as you watch the five on stage performâ and to your surprise, you find yourself enjoying the music a lot more than you anticipated.Â
Itâs just as you expectedâ rock, emo, or punk-rock if you remember right. But you canât take your eyes off the way they all seem to be so immersed in the music, moving around just as much as the crowd before them. Youâre surprised to find that each one of the members has a mic, and as you watch Beomgyu, you find yourself eager to hear his voice.Â
Heâs mesmerizing, a thin sheen of sweat coating him as his bangs stick to his forehead, a hand coming up to quickly adjust his earpiece before heâs back on the bass, fingers moving so swiftly you think you might just be hypnotized. You can feel your heart beating faster as you watch him step closer to his mic, eyes scanning the crowd absentmindedly as he waits for his part; they stop for a moment, and you swear that he spots you in the crowd.Â
His brows furrow as he begins to sing, and you swear that you might just feel weak in the knees. His voice is deep and raspy as he sings his part, and you can see Chaeryeong laughing at your reaction in the corner of your eyeâ man, this venue suddenly seemed a lot more stuffy than it was three seconds ago.Â
And despite Chaeryeongâs conditions that you wouldnât stay for the whole show, you do just thatâ your feet ache, and your makeup has been sweated off, but you donât regret a single thing as you stumble out of the venue, your hearing muffled and your throat sore from cheering.Â
âThat wasnât so bad,â you smile, glancing at your friend as you take in her distraught stateâ her hair was frizzy, and her makeup was also sweated off, but unlike you, she didnât seem too pleased about it.
âFor you maybe,â she grumbles, clutching onto you as she grumbles about how sore her feet are under her breath, âAt least you had your eye candy to look at.âÂ
âYeah, well thanks for coming with me Chae,â you say, hugging her tightly despite her protests, âIâll get that girl from Auntie Anne's number for you as repayment.â
âNo, let me do that myself,â she says, pushing herself off you as she tries to hide her fond smile, âbut what I really want right now is a drink. And to rest.âÂ
âBack to my place?â You say, already knowing her answer as you finally find your car, flopping on the seats with rough sighs as you finally allow your feet to rest.Â
âYes please.âÂ
Chaeryeong allows you to ramble about your thoughts on the band all the way home.Â
⤏⤏⤏
The next time you see Beomgyu is on your break.Â
Itâs a Tuesday afternoon and the mall is practically emptyâ considering that school has already started and all the kids are locked up in school. Youâre sitting at the corner table of Auntie Anneâs, chewing mindlessly on your pretzel nuggets as you text Chaeryeong and tease her for chickening out on talking to her crushâ in the end, she was no better than you. She isnât working today, which is probably why time is passing so slowlyâ even your break seems to stretch by slowly.Â
It isnât until you hear the sound of a chair scraping along the tiles that you look up from your phone.Â
Oh god, youâre already getting nervousâ because Beomgyuâs a table away from you, staring down at his phone as well with his headphones on. Youâre trying hard not to stare, so you resort to panicking and text Chaeryeong about your situation, to which she can only threaten you to talk to him.
Chae <3
Swear to god if you donât talk to him ill do it for u
And it wont be prettyÂ
What if he doesnât wanna talk? You text her, anxiously biting at your lip as you watch the message bubble up, her typing as slow as ever as you glance back up at Beomgyu, then back at the clock, calculating just how long you have before you need to leave.
Chae <3
Talk to him about his band duh
Everyone loves talking about themselves
Now shoo
You brightened up at thatâ of course! Who wouldnât want to hear about themselves? And with this conversation started, you picked up your cup of pretzels, taking a deep breath before you found the courage to walk up to him.Â
âDo you mind if I sit here?â You mentally facepalm at how stupid you sound, but youâll let it slide as Beomgyu looks up at you, taking a second to pause his music before he gives you a blank look, eyebrows raising slightly as he finally seems tor recognizes you.
âSure, I guess,â is all he says, and you canât help but feel embarrassed at his response; or rather, his lack of interest. He gives you a curious look, and you know that heâs waiting for you to explain why the hell you decided to interrupt him during his breakâ youâre nervous, fidgeting in your seat as you smile sweetly at him. (God, he was intimidating up close.)
âI went to your uh, concert last weekend,â you hold back a smile as you watch the way he perks up at that, a lot more interested in what you have to say as he leans forward.
âReally? Didnât think youâd be into that type of stuff,â he says, scanning your outfit teasingly, looking at your hot pink hello kitty zip up, to the cute jeans that had hearts on the back pockets; but mostly, your face said it allâ that you werenât one to listen to that kind of music at all.Â
âWell youâd be surprised,â you say, pouting slightly at his words. Youâre fidgeting with your necklace, and you pretend to remain oblivious to the way Beomgyu watches your every movement, eyes stuck to the way the cute pendant falls perfectly on your chest when you let it go, âyou shouldnât judge a book by its cover, or whatever they say.âÂ
Beomgyu lets out a laugh at that, and you canât hide the way that it catches you off guard. It seems genuine, and his eyes are crinkling cutely as he smiles, shaking his head in amusement at your words. Itâs almost contagious, and you canât help the way you crack a small smile as well.Â
âYou got me there,â he says, glancing back at the clock, prompting you to do so as wellâ you shudder, seeing that you have five minutes left. âWell whatâd you think?âÂ
Narrowing your eyes, you take a second before you respond; you can tell heâs waiting for you to gush over him.Â
âIt was okay, I guess,â you say, shrugging your shoulders as you pop one of your pretzels in your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick away the sugar left on your lips, and your stomach swirls in excitement as Beomgyu follows your movements, âYeonjunâs voice was really nice.â Â
âReally?â Beomgyu taunts you, a knowing smirk growing on his face as he realizes what youâre doing.Â
âAnything else?â
âHmmm⌠oh! The other guitarist was super cute,â you shamelessly say, popping another pretzel in your mouth as you hum in appreciation of its taste, âcome to think of it, so was the drummerâ oh, so was the guy on the keys.âÂ
âInteresting,â He says mockingly, leaning in as he tilts his head questioningly, tongue prodding at his lip rings as he asks, âwhatâd you think of the bassist?âÂ
âHmm? The bassist?â You question, huffing in disappointment as you realized youâve finished all your pretzels. Rubbing your fingertips to rid the sugary dust, you canât help yourself as you pop a finger into your mouth, licking off the residue as you finally stand, surprised to find that you need to clock back on. Beomgyu watches you, unable to take his eyes off the way your tongue swirls across your thumb, your necklace hanging teasingly as you reach to zip your jacket back up. Eyes snapping back to yours, you send him a small smile, expression earnest as you say,Â
âOh, I wouldn't knowâ Iâm not into that type of stuff.âÂ
⤏⤏⤏
Youâre eager to tell Chaeryeong about your interaction the first chance you get.Â
âOuuu youâre such a tease! Youâve definitely got him interested now,â she squeals, taking your hands in hers as she jumps in excitement. Youâre about to go on your break, heart beating with excitement at the thought of getting to see Beomgyu againâ your shifts are usually aligned, so whoâs to say your breaks couldnât be as well?
âYou think I might see him today?â You voice your thoughts out loud, glancing back at the Spencerâs across from youâ itâs dim, and you can barely make out anything in there, but you swore you saw the familiar head of long shaggy hair pass by the entrance.
âYou just might,â your friend says, grinning at you as she encourages you to take your breakâ you linger at the entrance in hopes that you might spot Beomgyu taking his break as well. Making your way back to Auntie Anneâs (it was the only place where you could get your food quick enough) you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to look like a lost puppy patiently waiting for its owner.Â
By the time you had ten minutes left to your break, you had lost hope, your eyes glued to your phone and music blasting in your ears as you texted your friends. Laughing at one of their responses to your crush, you rolled your eyes, reaching to grab another pretzel nuggetâ only to grab at the air stupidly.Â
You frown as you look up from your phone, only to be met with the sight of Beomgyu sitting comfortably across from you, your cup of pretzels in his handsâ how long had he been sitting there?
âHow long have you been there?â Youâre quick to echo your own mind, reaching out to take back your pretzels from the boy. He shrugs, glancing at the clock, only to leave you without a proper answer.Â
âNot that long,â is all he gives you, enjoying the way you genuinely want to know. Youâre silent, and you watch as he becomes slightly nervous, eyes avoiding yours as he reaches for his pocketâ he wants to tell you something.Â
âI actually wanted to uhmâ give you these,â slowly, he slides something across the table, and it takes you a second to realize what it is, âTheyâre tickets to our next show. You really seemed to enjoy the other one, so I wanted to invite you to this oneâ with better seats, too.â
Your mouth is hanging at the two VIP tickets, unable to say anything before his words click in your mind.Â
âWaitâ you saw me? At the last show?â You watch as he flushes at your words, but honestly, youâre the one that should be embarrassedâ you were kinda hoping he hadnât noticed your excited self back at his concert.Â
âWell, it was hard to not notice you,â his excuse is pointless as he looks back up at you, at the cute flustered expression you sportâit somehow manages to bring about a small wave of confidence as he adds, âit was cute to see you enjoy yourself.âÂ
âOh,â you know you sound lame, but you canât help itâ not with the way his narrowed eyes stare teasingly at you, head cocked to the side as he waits for you to say somethingâ but you donât, staring down at your pretzels shyly as you listen to him chuckle; oh, where did your confidence from last time go?
âWait, I have to ask,â you say, the question you thought of a few days ago popping back into your mind, âhow come you work here if your band is so popular? You seem to be doing well.â
âAh, that,â Beomgyu seems to become shy at your question, rubbing at his nape nervously as his eyes flit down onto the table, âwell, we arenât signed under a label yet⌠so itâs not really a stable income; this job is more of a side hustle just in case.âÂ
âAh, I see,â you say, wondering just how much he makes from playing in venuesâ considering that he has to be working here, (which you arenât complaining about, honestly) it must not be enough.Â
âWell, I canât wait for this next show,â you beam at him, taking the two tickets as you glance at the time, sad to see that your thirty minutes are up. âCome pay me a visit sometime, I work right across from you, you know.âÂ
Youâre sure itâs unlikely, but as you walk back to your workplace, the stand of cute Squishmallows greeting you as you go to clock back in, youâre unable to contain your bright grin of excitement as you flash Chaeryeong the two VIP tickets. (much to her dismay.)
⤏⤏⤏
Beomgyu is making his way to your store.Â
âThe emo boy is coming over,â Chaeryeong tells you, not giving you much of a warning before she dips to the backâ to give you a moment, she tells you shamelesslyâ leaving you alone and vulnerable to the sight of the cute boy appearing out of nowhere.Â
It had been almost a week since you had asked him to visit youâ ever since then, the two of you would try to time your breaks together, spending the time talking about music and growing closer; you even got to exchange numbers.Â
But you hadnât been expecting him to take your last comment seriously, especially not before the day you would be seeing him perform. But here he is, walking up to your store with other shopping bags in his hands, dressed in his usual dark attire. His eyes met yours, and you swore you saw a small amused twitch in his lips.Â
âDidnât think youâd actually step a foot in here,â you say, holding back a smile at the way he clashes against the cute storeâ is this what you looked like in his environment? The thought was enough to give away your amusement, despite the cold front you tried to display.
âNever judge a book by its cover,â he says, echoing your words as he watches you grin shamelessly, his eyes latching onto a piece of jewelry that caught his eye. âNice smiley, did you get it done here?â
Scoffing, you canât stop the laugh that escapes at his ridiculous words.Â
âAs if, I wouldnât trust this place to do a regular ear-piercing,â you say, looking back at your piercing station in dismay.Â
Beomgyu says nothing, even when you throw him a questioned look.Â
âHow much for the piercings?âÂ
âWhatâ You canât be serious,â you say, gawking at him in disbelief as you look at his ears, âyou have multiple piercings! You should know better than to get it done here!âÂ
Beomgyu shrugs, looking at himself in the mirror as he looks at the said piercingsâ brushing his hair back, he reaches up to rub at the only empty spot on his lobes.
âYeah, but I donât have my upper lobes done yet.âÂ
âBeomgyu,â you whine, unaware of the way his name rolls off your tongue so nicely. He shivers, eyes darkening as he looks back up at you, much more determined to do it now that youâre acting like this. âI donât want your ears to get fucked up on my behalfâyour fans would hate meâŚâÂ
âWell, the customer is always right,â he grins, knowing just how much the two of you hated that phrase, âand the customer wants this pretty worker to do his upper lobesâ with these hello kitty earrings as well.âÂ
Oh, heâs good, you hate how easily youâre going to give in to him; you donât think you can put up much of a fight anymore, at least not with the way heâs looking at you and complimenting you.Â
âGo sit in the chair,â you sigh, seemingly defeated as you follow him to the piercing station. In the corner of your eye, you watch Chaeryeong slowly peek through the door, only to see the scene before her and quickly hide back inside.Â
âJust know that Iâm not the one that usually does piercings,â you add, snickering at the way Beomgyu frowns at your confession. âYeah, I tried to warn you, but you didnât listen to me.â
âItâs okay, Iâll be happy to give you more experience,â he says, and youâre thankful that youâre able to hide behind him because holy fuck, youâre probably a mess right now. Hesitantly, you reach out to his hairâ itâs in the way, you think to yourself, unsure if heâll be bothered if you touch it.
âYou can move my hair if you need to,â he says, as though he were able to read your every thought. You jump at his sudden comment, clearing your throat as you nod, before realizing that youâre standing behind him, and that he probably canât see you right now. So you simply mutter an âokayâ, hoping that he canât see how shaky your hands are as you reach out to move his hair.Â
Softly, you reach out to his shoulder, brushing back his hair as you inspect his pierced earsâ you ignore the way your fingertips accidentally brush against his skin, and you especially try to ignore the way he shudders at your actions. You take your time to mark where youâll put each piercing, and after double-checking with Beomgyu, you finally get ready to pierce his ears.Â
Reluctantly, you put on gloves, slowly going through all the sanitation steps as you walk Beomgyu through it and tell him how to care for his piercingâ youâre sure he doesnât need to hear this, honestlyâ yet itâs still your job to say it.
âTake a deep breath in,â itâs accidental, but youâre using your customer service on him, and youâre sure he notices; that is, if the small quirk of his lips is any giveaway. Slowly, you adjust the piercing gun, taking a deep breath in yourself in hopes that you wonât fuck up; itâs irrational, but you canât help but be afraid. But you pull through, and as your fingers squeeze together, you watch the needle go through his ear.Â
âThereâs one,â you say reassuringly, pulling away to check your work. All he manages is a small wince, which is a nice contrast to the usual wailing and annoyed moms that you get on the daily. Turning to the other side, you find yourself no longer nervous, pulling back his hair without a second thought as you start sanitizing the new side as well. You barely hesitate before youâre passing the needle through his ear, smiling at the way he only flinches at the feeling.Â
âGood job!â You say automatically, unable to stop yourself as the customer service mode had taken over you completely. But it doesnât seem to phase Beomgyu, because he doesnât comment on it even as you take him to the register to pay.
âI look pretty, donât I?â He asks, tilting his head in the mirror to look at his new hello kitty piercings. Itâs a stark difference to the rest of his jewelry, but you canât help but agree wholeheartedly with him.
âTheyâre super cute, Iâm kinda jealous,â you say, much to Beomgyuâs surprise.Â
âWell, maybe your friend could pierce them,â he says, glancing behind you, and at the employee area, âif she finally decides to come out.â
Beomgyu is very annoyingâ itâs a realization that dawns on you as he sports a smug look, clearly pleased with the way he manages to fluster you with just a few words. But even as he bids you goodbye, reminding you to come to his show tomorrow, you canât deny the way your heart saddens to watch him go so soon.Â
Oh, youâre down bad.Â
⤏⤏⤏
The new venue is much nicer than the last oneâ it catches you off guard by how nice it is. (It really makes you wonder how much money they each contribute to afford such places)
Chaeryeong is trailing behind you reluctantly, her cute heels from last time swapped out for much more comfortable sneakers. Though she complained to you about going to such a rough event again, you could tell that she was much more pleased when the sight of assigned seats greeted herâ not that it wasnât stated on the ticket, you had muttered to her sarcastically.
You could tell that you were getting strange looks from othersâ after all, you decided not to conform to their style. It wasnât really you, so why do it? So instead of trying something new, you decided to stick to your cute pink outfits, dressed in a denim skirt that honestly, wasnât covering much, the same hello kitty jacket you wore when you first talked to Beomgyu being sported once more as you layer it over a thin tank top, your cute Demonia camel-311âs adding an extra bit of height as you make it all the way down to the VIP sectionâ front and center.Â
Youâre practically buzzing in your seat from excitement as you wait for the concert to begin, eagerly chatting with Chaeryeong who could only do so much to calm you down. After what seems like an eternity of waiting, the audience lights finally dim, and youâre left in anticipation for the band to come out.Â
It still feels like youâre listening to them for the first time again as you watch them perform, your new closeness to the stage allowing them all to spot you easilyâ they all end up sending Beomgyu knowing looks at some point, unbeknownst to you.Â
And as you finally make eye contact with Beomgyu, you grin at him excitedly, waving at him as he nods in recognition, a smile breaking across his face as he sees you. And though you finally look away from him, much more distracted by Soobin as he begins to sing, he canât help but watch you, mesmerized as you seem to be enjoying yourself wholly. (Though he couldnât say the same for your friend, who mostly seemed to be there for emotional support as she helped steady you.)Â
You just seemed so happy. And it made Beomgyuâs heart jump excitedly at the thought of it being because of his band. You were even singing along, and Beomgyu couldnât help but watch you fondly, shamelessly staring at you even when it was his turn to sing and your gaze turned back to him. He met your eyes eagerly, and you almost felt as though the rest of the crowd disappeared as he sang, raspy voice soothing to your ears as you tried to push away the incessant fluttering of your heart.Â
You stared at him even when it was no longer his part, watching in awe as he played the bass like it was second nature. Meeting his eyes once more, you couldnât help the way your eyes flit to his ears, the flash of the jewelry bringing your attention to the cute hello kitty studs he wore; you pointed at your ears eagerly, and he seems to realize what youâre referring to as he sweeps his hair back, allowing you to take in the piercings properly; theyâre healing surprisingly well.
The concert seems to pass by much quicker than youâd likeâ and youâre left with nothing but the muffled feeling in your ears and the dwindling adrenaline as you reluctantly make your way back to the entrance. You almost make it out, but youâre stopped last minute as a security guard approaches the two of you, asking you for to confirm your identities to him.Â
âBeomgyu would like to see you,â he says, pointing at you as he reads your ID. Youâre surprised, blinking owlishly as you take in his words, unsure if heâs messing with you as you say,Â
â⌠Me?â
âYes, if you could please follow me,â the security guard waits for you to come after him, but he seems to notice the way you hesitate and turn back to your friend with uncertainty. âShe can wait in the VIP lobby if sheâd like, but I was told to bring you specifically backstage.âÂ
It seems like something clicks for Chaeryeong as she lets out a small âahhh,â in understanding, pushing you towards the security guard as you turn to her with wide eyes, surprised at her actions.Â
âGo ahead! The VIP lounge has drinks,â she encourages you, rolling her eyes with every protest and âare you sure?â that leaves your mouth. âYes Iâm sure! Now go!âÂ
Reluctantly, you leave your friend behind in the VIP lounge, watching her get comfortable at the bar as she asks the bartender for a drink. The backstage area is a lot quieter than youâd thought it would beâ itâs practically silent the moment you enter the area, the boys all probably tired and ready to go home after such a performance. But youâre in awe nonetheless, looking from door to door as the security guard finally guides you to the last oneâ Beomgyuâs dressing room, it seems.Â
Knocking on it tentatively, you anxiously wait for Beomgyu to open up as the guard stands behind you; you really hope he wasn't messing with you.
âHmm? Who is it?â You can hear the grogginess in Beomgyuâs voice as the door barely opens, his head slowly peeking out before it's met with the sight of your sheepish smile.Â
âAh, you can come in,â he gestures to you, suddenly much more awake as he glances back to the security guard, âyouâre good to go, thank you.â
Youâre restless as the door is shut behind him, and youâre left alone in the small dressing room as you patiently wait for Beomgyu to tell you why he brought you here.Â
â___,â you look at him, surprised to find your name slipping from his lips so easily. Heâs smiling, suddenly much more energized as he tells you, âwe just signed with a record label. Weâre set.â
Youâre elated, his joy contagious as you take a second to process his wordsâ he laughs, and you canât help but share his laugh as you run to him, enveloping him into a tight hug that he gladly accepts, the smoky scent of his cologne lingering despite his change of clothes. You donât know how long you stay like this, but it just feels right as you mutter a âcongratulationsâ into the fabric of his shirt, nuzzling into his neck with a smile stuck on your face.
Pulling away from him, youâre reluctant to leave this small space that the two of you created; you can tell he feels the same, hands lingering at your forearms as he keeps you close, eyes fond as he watches the way your eyes sparkle under the lights of the room.Â
âDoes this mean youâre quitting your job at the mall?â You joke, cracking a smile that Beomgyu sees pastâ you donât think youâre ready to watch him leave just yet.Â
âYes,â he says, honest words leaving him as he tugs you in closer, unable to look away from your glossy lips as he finds himself leaning in closer, his voice much quieter as he says, âbut Iâll still visit now and then.âÂ
Itâs not the perfectly romantic and corny line you were expecting, but itâs enough to prompt you to crash your lips with his, the weeks of tension and feelings that had built up between the two of you finally crashing down as you allow yourself to indulge in the feeling of him. Heâs quick to kiss you back, the feeling rough and new as his snake bite piercings press against your flesh, a small sigh escaping you as you feel him nip at your lips.Â
His arms have encased your waist and pulled you in tight, your body pressed flush against his and your hands splayed across his chest as he practically forces you to lean against him, his fingertips itching to explore your body further.
âFuck, I couldnât stand seeing you out there in your cute little skirt,â he groans, slotting a thigh between yours as he runs his fingers along the hem of your skirt, âmade me scared someone else would try to make a move on you.â
âNo, wore this just for you,��� you confess, breathless and whiny as you grind on his thigh, the thin fabric of your panties doing nothing to hide just how aroused you were. He laughs at that, the sound airy and mocking as he guides your hips on his thigh, pushing you down on it more as he takes in the sounds that tumble messily from your lips.Â
Placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you yelp at the way he angles your hips, clenching his thigh and bouncing it under you as your sensitive clit rubs and bumps against him messily. Youâre practically delirious as you reach a hand down to move your panties aside, the stimulation not enough for you as you finally allow your bare cunt to come in contact with him.
âI canât believe this,â he groans, watching the way a wet spot slowly begins to form over the place you continue to grind against, âmy stupid girl, all fucked up over my thigh? Poor baby wonât be able to take my cock, then.âÂ
âNo, I can take it,â you protest, your mind reeling from the pleasure that Beomgyu gives youâ you can feel your stomach tightening with every clench of his thigh, the muscle pressing against you nicely, âPlease, I can take it, pleaseâŚâÂ
âYou really think you can?â He asks, leaning to trail kisses down the column of your neck, âwhy donât you come on my thigh, then weâll see if you really can.âÂ
Youâre nodding desperately for his approval, shirt clenched tightly in your fists as you work yourself up to your high, the feeling of his muscles pressing against you bringing you closer much quicker. With a particularly harsh bounce of his thigh, your mouth falls open, Beomgyuâs grip on your hips ruthless as he forces you down on him, guiding you through it as slowly come down from the blissful feeling.Â
âGood girl, following my orders like that,â he mumbles, enjoying the way your shaking hands grip onto him helplessly. Gently, he guides you to the couch, allowing you to fall on it as he slowly begins to undress you, your grabby hands pulling at his shirt until heâs throwing it over his head.Â
âOh godâ" he holds back a groan as he takes off your bra, suddenly finding it much harder to contain himself at the cute sight, his hands immediately finding their place on your breasts as he gulps.Â
âBaby, I had no idea you pierced these,â he says, pretty fingers playing with the piercings on your nipples as you whine at the stimulation. âYouâre just full of surprises, arenât you? Theyâre so prettyâŚâÂ
Beomgyu is mesmerized as you lay before him, a needy and panting mess as you let him play with your tits crudely, allowing him to pinch and roll the pierced nipples until theyâre hardened. Slowly, he leans down to wrap his mouth around one of them, tongue darting out to lick at them as you gasp, back arching as you realizeâ
âFuck, is your tongue pierced?â You gasp, watching the way Beomgyu sits up with a mischievous grin on his face.Â
âLooks like weâre all full of surprises here,â he says, trailing kisses down your body before he finally stops at your navel, glancing back up as he says, âIâve always heard it feels better when you get eaten out by someone with a piercingâ wanna test it out?â
Youâre ready to say every curse word in existence as Beomgyu dives down without a second thought, warm mouth wrapping around you and the feeling of his tongueâ paired by his piercingâ sends you into an overstimulated mess, still having yet to recover as you thread your hands into his hair, weakly attempting to pull him away from you before heâs pinning your hips down, his tongue insistent as he flicks it across your clit ruthlessly.Â
âBeomgyuâŚâ you whine out, body too sensitive to stay still, yet still begging for more as you thread your fingers tighter into his scalp, tugging harshlyâ the sting brings out a crude groan from him.
Slowly, you feel his fingers prodding at your entrance, an airy chuckle leaving him as he takes in the way youâre dripping wet for him. Pulling away, he watches as two of his fingers slide in easily, opening up inside you as he slowly begins to stretch them out inside you, biting at his lip at the way you clench around him.Â
Leaning back down, he lays his tongue flat on your clit, enjoying the way you shake under him as he sets a brutally slow pace for you.Â
âEnjoying yourself?â He taunts, unable to stop himself as his free hand reaches up to play with your nipples, still amazed at the cute piercings that had been hiding from him all along. Youâre nodding along, though heâs not entirely sure you processed what he just asked from the way youâre so lost in the pleasureâ which Beomgyu is more than happy to deliver more of. His tongue flicking across your clit paired with the quickened pace of his fingers is what sets you off, the stimulation too much for you the moment Beomgyu begins to tug at your nipple piercings teasingly.Â
âBeomgyu please,â you plead, using your fingers that were threaded in his hair to pull him up, your lips briefly meeting his as you take in the taste of yourselfâ his tongue darts into your mouth as you allow him to coat your tongue with your own release, the teasing bites that he leaves you with as he pulls away making you whine stupidly.Â
âSo fucking pretty,â he mutters under his breath, staring down at your fucked out form as he finally releases himself from his restraints, his cock painfully hard and leaking as he kneels over you, âWanna make you all mine. Keep you to myself.â
His words are an alluring promise as he slowly pushes into you, leaving kisses and bites all along your collarbones as you do the same to him. You sigh as he bottoms out, hips meeting yours as he takes your hand to place it on your abdomen.
âDo you feel that?â He asks, pressing his hand on top of yours as he slowly pulls out, a broken moan leaving you as you realize that fuck, you can. With every slow thrust you can feel every vein, his hand that remains on top of yours adding onto the pleasure as you feel him through your stomach as well.
âGod, you make it so hard for me to hold myself back,â he groans, closing his eyes as you clench tightly around him, the warm feeling of your walls wrapping around him pushes him to his limits, the sounds that leave your lips only adding on to the mess.
âDonât,â you breathe out, eyes dazed as they meet Beomgyuâs, âDonât hold backâ please.â
With one final look in your eyes, Beomgyu shakes his head, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips before heâs taking your leg, bringing it up to press against your chest as it allows him to fuck you in a deeper angle. His pace is ruthless as he gives in to your request, the combination of his length and the stretch of his cock leaving your mind empty in a matter of seconds.Â
âFuck, be quiet baby,â he grits out, slapping a hand over your mouth in panic as you let out a particularly loud moan, the reminder of his other bandmates being nearby bringing about a rush of adrenalineâ he didnât want anyone else to hear the sounds you made.Â
Your muffled whimpers and whines still managed to leak through Beomgyuâs hand, your body getting pressed down into the couch with the force that Beomgyu fucks you with. Your hands scrambled to find someplace to steady yourself on, quickly finding purchase on Beomgyuâs shoulders, your nails raking down his back accidentally as his cock pressed against a sensitive spotâ you were only egged on by the surprised moan he let out by that.Â
âGod, you feel soâŚâ he hisses as your nails dig into his skin, the stinging feeling making him pry your hands away from him as he pins them down, your fingers lacing with his immediately as he uses this to fuck into you harder. His lips crash against yours the moment you begin to get too loud again, and you accept the distraction gratefully as you relish in the feeling of his piercings against your skin.Â
This new angle allowed for his hips to crash against your clit, the rough hits making you closer to your end as you clenched tightly around him, the feeling enough of a warning for Beomgyu as he continued to fuck you ruthlessly. Your nails dig into his hands as he begins to hit your sensitive spot repeatedly, your high crashing down on you unexpectedly as you clamp down on Beomgyuâs cock.Â
He helps you ride through it, slowing his pace into nothing but a grind as he presses his hips against yours, placing relentless kisses on your lips as soft praise leaves him, the words not quite reaching you as you come down from your high.Â
âGyu,â you whimper, and Beomgyu thinks he might just come then and there, âkeep going.âÂ
âMore?â He asks, incredulous at your request, âfuck, you still want more?â
Nodding, you squeeze his hands as you innocently say, âwant you to finish inside me.âÂ
God, you have no idea what you do to him. Your words hit him like a freight train as he feels his cock twitch inside you, shaking his head in disbelief at your requestâ how could you say something like that so sweetly? Itâs like you were doing it on purpose.Â
âFuck, Iâm gonna fill you up until you can only think of me,â he says, his words drawing out a whimper from you as he begins to move once more, no longer hesitant as he watches the way your face contorts from the pleasure and over stimulation. Your words are all he can think of as he watches you try your best to be quiet, biting at your lips and failing as he presses his cock deep inside you, every drag and thrust he delivers making your eyes roll back in bliss.Â
You might even be drooling at this pointâ but you donât really care, at least not with the way Beomgyu is fucking you so nicely. You can feel his pace stutter as he lets out soft moans, hands untangling from yours as he sits up, placing his hands on your hips and angling them up as he uses you to his liking, the new angle making you slap your hands over your mouthâ youâre sure something humiliating would have left your mouth if you hadnât done so.Â
His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips as his brows furrow, concentrated on chasing pleasure as his eyes flit back to youâ to your watery eyes, your hands clasped over your mouth panic despite the sounds that leak through, and your breasts that bounce back and forth with each thrust.Â
He can tell that a new orgasm is beginning to build in you, and heâs determined to make the coil snap as he reaches a hand down to rub at your clit, leaning over to whisper nothing but the filthiest things imaginable, a grin overtaking his face as he feels the way youâre quick to catch up to him, your trembling figure telling him all he needs to know.
âCome on darling, donât you want me to fill you up? Youâd look so pretty with my cum dripping between your thighs, Iâll make sure everyone will know youâre mine. Go ahead, come on my cock.â Heâs rambling at this point, but itâs enough to set you off as you cum on him once more, the pathetic whine of his name enough to set him off as he follows close behind you, his thrusts sloppy and rough before he stills, filling you to the brim as your hands find themselves running down his back once more, the sting of pain mixing into his pleasure as his head drops onto your neck, the heavy feeling of his breaths against your neck the only thing that grounds you from your high.Â
Heâs careful as he maneuvers the two of you to lay down, having yet to pull out of you as the slow trickle of his cum escaping from you makes you shiver. Wrapping his arms tightly around you, he pulls you in for another slow kiss, unable to stop the smile that spreads across his lips, the two of you turning into a giddy mess in each otherâs arms.
âI was waiting for the day I could kiss you like this,â he mumbles against your lips, the confession making you push against his chest in embarrassment, allowing him to pull you back in with a laugh. The two of you stay like that for a moment longer, and you actually think you could fall asleep like thisâ
âOh my god, Chaeryeong!â
At the call of your friendâs name, Beomgyu groans, throwing an arm over his eyes as he asks, âsheâs still here?â
âYes!â You can tell that Beomgyu doesnât understand why youâre panicking, but you feel absolutely terrible that you made her wait outside in the lobby while youâ youâŚ
âGyu, I gotta go,â you whine, trying to pry yourself from his grip as you look around his dressing room, spotting a rag and a spray bottle filled with water that you could use to clean yourself up. âI have the day off tomorrow, just come over then.âÂ
âCan I? You promise?â Is all he says, unable to let you go as you try to rush to clean up. Turning back to him, you adjust your shirt, laughing at the way he seems to be eager for your response.Â
âPromise,â you say, leaning down to give him a final goodbye kiss; itâs enticing when he tries to lure you in with more, but you know better as you collect your things, bidding him a final goodbye as you exit his room, allowing yourself to be escorted by security guards as you do the walk of shame. (Shame was actually not enough to describe what you feltâ what you felt was much deeper, the realization that everyone probably heard you leaving you unable to look up from the floor.)
Yet even as youâre reuniting with Chaeryeong with a sheepish smile, you canât help but feel the way your heart flutters at the feeling of your phone being flooded with messages.
Gyu:
Send me ur address pls
Would it be weird if I just come over rn
Say no so I can come over
You shook your head as you read through the messages, not noticing the way Chaeryeong peeked over teasingly.
âSee, I told youâ you were playing the long game.â
Yet this time, you couldnât really deny herâ because maybe you really were all along. Â
⤏⤏⤏
#txt fanfic#txt fanfiction#txt imagines#txt oneshots#txt ff#txt x reader#txt x y/n#txt x you#txt reader#fanfic#fanfiction#reader insert#txt au#beomgyu fanfic#beomgyu ff#beomgyu imagines#beomgyu oneshot#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x you#beomgyu x y/n#beomgyu fluff#beomgyu smut#kpop imagines#kpop x reader#kpop fanfic#kpop oneshots#txt smut#kpop smut#txt fluff#fic: hey emo boy!
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05 - j.wooyoung + lingerie (18+)
Âť j.wooyoung x gn!reader Âť 18+ dni if minor, nsfw/pwp Âť language, feminization, lap dancing, strip tease, bratty wooyoung, manual stimulation, grinding, cum eating, dirty talk, finger sucking Âť wc 3.3k Âť link to masterlist
youâve almost come to the conclusion that tonight was a complete and utter waste of time when your eyes pause in their subtle search across the room. itâs fast, and you almost miss him because of how quickly youâre surveying the club, but you have to backtrack at the sight of the pink head of hair. itâs not too out of the ordinary â not for a club like this one at least, and frankly, the face connected to the stark hair entrances you more than the hair does. the friend at your side seems to notice where your gaze keeps lingering, elbow careening into your ribs seconds later.
âlike what you see over there?â she giggles, most likely amused by how you jolt and startle with the contact.
âheâs pretty,â you mutter back as you strain your neck a little to catch sight of the rest of him. heâs not up on a stage with the other dancers, not wrapped around a pole or anything like that, so you canât get a full and clear view of what heâs wearing.
âhe doesnât perform with the others, i hear. solo performer, and only does private shows.â
sure, thereâs a stack of money set aside for this particular reason, but that doesnât mean youâre going to cave and spend it all on this one man.
you arenât.
itâs not going to stop you from getting up and going over there to get a better look at him.
âiâll be back,â you mutter, picking up your wallet and drink with the same hand. youâre hoping it wonât look obvious to your friend, but the laugh that follows your movements is telling enough.
âhave fun!â
you step through the crowd of couches that are mostly full of older men and women, apologizing each time you cross in front of them and accidentally block their view of the dancers. your target hasnât moved, still lingering near the bar with a drink set in front of him as he also indulges in the sight of the dancers on stage. youâre almost fooled into believing that heâs simply a client here and not actually a worker, but thereâs a certain sway to his hips and head against the music thumping through the club that says otherwise. he moves his body too well even with subtle and small movements. elbows propped up on the bar counter behind him, a lollipop dangling from his fingertips and periodically going up to catch on his tongue, and that pretty pink hair bouncing with each movement he makes. youâre enticed in an instant.
the obscenity of his outfit doesnât help one bit either. and perhaps obscenity is a bit too strong a word to describe it, but your brain goes to static and white noise the more you see of him, and itâs easy to see why that is. a sheer lavender crop top that does nothing to hide the lace bralette underneath, along with a pretty plaid skirt that tapers his waist almost too well, belts and buckles hanging from both sides and jingling when he sways his hips in time with the music. the further down your eyes go, the more overwhelmed you get because heâs got fishnets (of course) that lead to chunky black combat boots. he looks simultaneously quite out of place here while also seeming like thereâs no other logical place for him to be. your steps towards him falter a little; itâs no wonder that he doesnât have anyone at his side right now. heâd outshine them without even trying, and the air around him feels a bit untouchable as well like heâs too good for anyoneâs presence except his own and the bartender behind him. the thought to turn around and return to your friend like a dog with its tail between its legs crosses your mind. thatâs all it does though because as you shift to act on that thought, sharp eyes snap over to meet yours across the bar counter.
opposite ends of the spectrum, separated by at least ten barstools if not more, plenty of other people in front of him to look at, yet the dancer cranes his head in your direction and makes eye contact.Â
your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, an act more out of nerves than meant to be seductive in the slightest.Â
thereâs no direct invitation to go further towards him. really all he does is incline his head slightly, and you take it as a cue to step around the barstools and walk over to where heâs tapping his chunky boot against the floor.
âhi.â
you startle upon hearing his clear tone, although you arenât wholly sure why thatâs the case.Â
âhello,â you greet in return. you keep your glass caught firmly between your fingers as you sit in the barstool beside him. he looks even prettier in this light â with blinking up at him from where you sit and the neon lights cascading over his face and hair. thereâs a stunning beauty mark under his eye, and another on his lower lip under the sheen of pink lip gloss. something sparkles under his eyes and in the inner corners, what you can only assume to be eyeshadow and glitter.Â
âi caught your eye, huh?â
thereâs a twinge of embarrassment that shoots through your body, and you duck your chin to your chest, clearing your throat as quietly as you can like itâll dispel the nerves accompanied by the feeling.Â
âcute,â the man continues. his sweet tone is almost like honey, or some syrup that tastes like it could be too much after a certain point. âwanna buy my time then?â
the offer comes so quickly that youâre a bit shocked. all these people in the club and yet not one has approached him? or accepted his offer? it seems far too unbelievable.
âyouâre not gonna ask me anything first? my name, my age, anything like that?â
he laughs for the first time tonight, and you think youâll grow to love that sound by the end of it. the lollipop pushes back between his lips only for him to make a show of how he swirls his tongue around the ball of candy. when he pulls it back out, it springs free with a lewd pop in its wake.
âyouâre the first one tonight whoâs stopped me to ask that. most just jump straight to it. iâm wooyoung. and you?â
ây/n.â
âhmm, itâll sound prettier coming from my lips later.â
your brain buffers and hits a wall. you lose whatever thought was lingering in your mind, and wooyoung has the audacity to flash a grin and send a wink your way.
âyouâre in luck tonight, y/n. i only start taking clients at ten oâclock, and itâs two minutes past ten right now.â a strobe of neon red flashes over his face, illuminating his eyes in a way that makes your heart jump in your chest. âassuming you want me, that is,â he adds through a stretched grin, and you wouldnât dream of denying him the pleasure of hearing your affirmation.
âyes, iâd like that quite a bit.â
wooyoung leads you off to the side of the club, where the hallway of private rooms begins, and he wastes no time in bringing you into the nearest unlocked one. youâve got your wallet still clasped between nervous hands, but your drink was long forgotten on the bar counter you found wooyoung at. itâs fairly standard for this type of room, nothing to gawk at or make note of aside from the metal pole that stretches up to the ceiling. youâre certain your attention will be firmly planted on wooyoung throughout the entirety of your stay here, so you arenât worried much about making yourself at home.
the dancer seems keen on the same as well, or at least heâs excited to get started. knowing how much money youâve got in your wallet, you canât blame him for the excitement. he turns to face you after shutting and locking the door, skirt billowing around his thighs a little. you think you see a flash of lace underneath, tucked under the fishnets, but that could very well be merely a wistful thought and nothing else.Â
âlay down,â he demands, motioning to the short round table right in front of the couches.
âumâŚâ you blink from the white surface to wooyoungâs serious expression.Â
âwhat? never had a lap dance before?â he quirks a brow and flashes another dastardly grin, and you hate the way your stomach flips over at the sight of it.
ânot one where iâve had to lay down, no.âÂ
wooyoung huffs out a laugh and pops his lollipop back into his mouth. he steps around your awkward, still form to put one of his feet up on the pristine white surface. the boot releases a hollow noise when it hits the table.
âoh, youâll love it, i promise. now come on, on your back, legs relaxed. iâll make it worth your while. and your money too, we hope.âÂ
wooyoungâs little tilt to his chin and the soft bats of his lashes are what convince you to do as told. you slip your shoes off next to the couch and tuck your wallet away in one of them lest wooyoung has the bright idea to make off with all your belongings. then you scramble over the slick surface to lay flat atop it, eyeing wooyoung as he hums and steps up fully on the table over you. his feet straddle your body, right in the gap between your hands and hips, and he pushes that stupid lollipop back between his lips.
âhere are my rules, y/n. no touching, no kissing on the lips, no marking, and no demands. youâre here for a show, so iâll give you one. and maybe iâll use you to get off a little too? what do you say?â
you suck your lower lip between your teeth, contemplating his words and rolling them over in your mind a bit.
âand if i say no?â
âthen iâll give you a simple lap dance, and thatâll be that. and donât worry. if i cum⌠iâll clean up after myself. you donât have to do any work really, if you donât want to.â
âif i donât want to?â you echo your question.
âhow do you feel about sucking my fingers?â
your dumb and stuttered blinking are answer enough for him, and wooyoung leans over to the couch, balancing on one foot as he stretches to reach for something on the cushions. the position give you a far too direct view straight up his skirt. you get confirmation that you did indeed spot lace â a matching set with his pink bralette it seems on top of that.
the music that begins to thump through the speaks is foreign to you, not a song youâve ever heard before, but the beat is sultry enough for you to understand why wooyoung would play this.
and truly, when he starts to move above you, you fully understand the appeal of this angle. getting to watch the way his skirt sways and teases whatâs underneath as his cropped top flutters with his winding movements â itâs a heady feeling being under him and seeing this unfold over you.
wooyoung does his job, and he does it well in only a few swaying moves that promise more to come. if you had to make a comparison, youâd say itâs like watching art in motion, an exhibit where the artist shows you each stroke and twist of his brush. thatâs wooyoung now, with the showcase of how he stretches his arms to the ceiling and brings them down the front of his body. the dim lighting in the room does nothing to make the mood less than what it is â pure seduction at its finest, and wooyoung is quickly bringing you down that pit of lust with him. you only know thatâs where heâs headed as well because of how his skirt begins to tent a little as time goes on, evidence to how turned on he is by merely dancing to the music. he hasnât gotten down far enough to even have physical contact with you, but with the way heâs moving now, you arenât sure heâll even get that far either.
he does go lower as the song shifts, beat still unfamiliar against your ears, but youâre barely hearing the music beyond how the bass thumps through your veins. as his knees settle on either side of you, close to your waist now and closing in just enough to squeeze you with a hair of pressure, his hands move up under the fabric of his top. they press higher and higher, catching on the hem and tugging as he reaches his neck. your eyes burn like you havenât blinked in ages, and to be frank, you most likely havenât because the grip wooyoung has on your focus currently occupies every fiber of your being.
wooyoung works the shirt off, tossing the sheer material over to the side. the look of his tanned skin with blush pink lace overtop clinging to him like a vice under the low lights: itâs sin in its purest form. and that sin only amplifies as he draws his hands down to the waistband of his skirt. he teases and pulls at the material, still lost somewhere between his mind and the music. one of his hands works back up his chest and throat, and when he reaches his mouth, he pulls the lollipop stick out to reveal a now empty stick that is also promptly tossed in the same direction his shirt went.Â
âarenât i pretty, y/n?â he asks all of a sudden. heâs not looking at you, not with the way his eyelids are barely shut, but it captures all your attention nonetheless. âpretty and feminine, hm? some people think i donât dance as well as the girls out on the stages. but iâm just as pretty as them, arenât i?â
âmore,â you exhale without thinking.
âmore,â he echoes back to you with an airy giggle to accompany it. his hands go to the side of his skirt, grabbing onto something on the left, and two seconds later heâs pulling away the entire strip of fabric in one swift movement. you inhale so sharply it stings your nostrils and aches in your chest, and wooyoung takes that as the opportune moment to roll his hips down against your abdomen. itâs not meant for your please, not in the slightest, but you still feel the coil of arousal in your gut snap and pull at itself as he repeats the motion and rubs his barely concealed erection against your stomach. âiâm always prettier than them, y/n.â
wooyoungâs eyes snap open at last, and he drops his skirt to the side before sitting up on his knees over you. the position is nothing if not lewd with how close to your face he is like this. you donât have much time to think about it because heâs tugging the band of his fishnets down as well, shoes still caught on his feet so thereâs no way theyâll go all the way off, but that doesnât seem to be his intention anyway.
no, wooyoung just tugs them low enough to go under his knees, then heâs back to sitting on his heels and splaying his thighs to the side. the whole thing is a show: each piece of clothing, each drag of his hands, and every word from his lips.Â
it continues with him pressing his hand against your chin, then teasing your lower lip with his middle and pointer fingers.
âyou know⌠people always call me a brat. a bratty little bitch, to be specific. they arenât wrong, of course. but they mean it as an insult whereas i take it as a compliment.â you suck wooyoungâs fingers between your lips and let him explore your mouth with the pads of them. he makes a show of stretching the insides of your cheeks, stabbing against them and watching your skin bulge under the pressure, then heâs pinching your tongue and scraping his nails over the top of it. it tickles in a pleasurable way, the kind that makes your stomach knot up and tense with lust. âi think iâm prettiest when i cum though. and thatâs not something i let a lot of people see. they always get handsy even after i tell them not to. think that because iâm all subby and docile, they can break my rules.â
you watch in something of a daze as wooyoung reaches his other hand down to the lace lingerie clinging to his cock. he grips hard enough for you to see the harsh outline of his member, strained and stretching the fabric like itâs about to break. his slow rolls and sways of his hips continue even as he fucks into the palm of his own hand. you donât think you could move or touch him even if you wanted to right now. each limb feels like it weighs ten tons.
âcall me pretty again, y/n. a pretty little brat, yeah?âÂ
you canât very well do that with his hand halfway down your throat like it is now, but it doesnât stop you from trying. all that comes out are muffled moans caught on wooyoungâs fingers. he laughs, throwing his head back as the sound permeates the air, and you were right. you love the sound even more now when heâs a bit breathless and hoarse from arousal, hips canting against your abdomen still as he pushes himself closer to the edge.
âgonna cum, y/n, and make a pretty mess of myself. pay good attention to me please. i want you to see every second of it.â his eyes blaze with unbridled desire as he rubs over his panties a few more times. teeth sink into his lower lip, his nose scrunches up, eyes fighting to stay open and stay on yours without blinking. then he hits his high. itâs beautiful the way he falls apart over you, how his hips stutter and give a few jerky thrusts until his whole body goes still on top of yours. you think you have to agree with him too; this is the prettiest heâs looked all night in your eyes.Â
it lasts either ten seconds or ten minutes â you have no concept of time right now, too enamored with the man above you and every movement he makes.
when he does come down, there are stars in his eyes and a sheen on his brow that trickles down the side of his face to his chin. he pulls his hand out of your mouth, but you canât even bring yourself to close it as you watch him tuck the same hand into his underwear and scoop the stain of translucent white cum out.Â
âtaste for me?â
you manage a shaky nod, letting wooyoung return his hand to your lips, and when he cups your mouth gently, you poke your tongue out to lap the cum off his palm.Â
âhm, now wasnât that good? better than promised, in fact?â
ây-yeah,â you exhale, finally finding your voice after god knows how long of shocked and aroused silence. wooyoung grins. he leans over you, all but bare chest pressing to your clothed one, and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin with ease. his face hovers over yours. you can see his eyes clearer than ever.
âhow about we go again then?â
#kwritersworldnet#kdiarynet#wooyoung smut#wooyoung x reader#ateez smut#ateez x reader#ateez imagine#ateez imagines#ateez drabble#ateez drabbles#wooyoung drabble#wooyoung drabbles#wooyoung imagine#wooyoung imagines#kinktober2021
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YOO, i saw one punch man x reader and i immediately got my ass here, I've been looking for a opm matchup since ages.
Romantic matchup for OPM (obv)
I don't have a preference, but both is fine if possible. He/they
What i want out of a relationship:
is well something simple. A nice relationship, one where i can spoil my partner a lot, since i genuinely love doing that. I like giving headpats so yeah I'm just an overly affectionate person in a relationship, i will respect their boundaries if they do not like pda, i would mostly like one where my partner is like me in someway, as in like same type of personality or the polar opposite either way I'll still give them affection! However if they something like "don't" and actually mean "do it" I'll be in a lost cause so i end up just... Not giving affection. I'm quite oblivious and dumb as it is.
Personality:
I am very crabby, moody and hotheaded. I spend a lot of my time insulting and ranting about shit i find hilarious or interesting, often times rambling or complaining. I'm extremely short-tempered and will become enraged with anything although sometimes i can be comical and childish at random times.
I am one foul mouthed motherfucker, i have a habit of cursing, either regular swear words or the most absurd sounding swear words come out of my mouth. (E.G. : âyou blithering feculent shitholeâ âprimitive fuckjamâ âputrid shitsmoking cretinsâ âyou dickreeking undulating fuckassâ âfucksquatting pain in the waste chuteâ âheinous ravaging trash" âreprehensible sanctimonious jitterfuckery.â) I am completely incapable of uttering a single word without fucking cursing.
I also tend to be very loud, i have a hard time being aware of my volume and adjusting it. I also go on heavy romcom binges, my favorite one to binge is 50 First Dates.
I am often screaming, pounding my fists against inanimate objects out of sheer fucking anger, or generally raging when talking to anyone. I'm not particularly patient when explaining myself, most of my advices seem to be just a massive wave of random insults along with sarcasm and heavy emphasis on it.
Despite my nubby asshat demeanor, i care deeply for my friends' well being, i will genuinely cry if something happened to them. I do litsen to their problems and comfort them in my own way and attempt to keep everyone safe. And despite my rash behavior, i do have a sense of morality and will occasionally do the right thing any normal person would do.
I also have a knightly persona despite my constant use of profanity, any chance i get to act like a knight I'll take it. In a relationship i would literally just obey my partners orders like an actual knight to his queen/king. I would also kiss their knuckles while kneeling down, i study arachnology and carcinology.
I'm also a huge fan of Shakespeare, I'll occasionally use it in a comical sense or when acting as a knight.
Myself fashion-wise: straight up metalhead fashion, i dress intimidatingly and also to add the fact that I'm tall (like 6'5) except i have no makeup or piercings, and instead wear glasses. I for my look i keep my hair messy or well try to, since my hair is curly and already looks about as messy as a fucking bird nest built by a living tumor.
My type: i don't know yet, all i can tell you right now is that i like men and women.
MUSIC TASTE: It honestly varies. Mostly deathcore or black metal, or just sad break up songs. Then there's songs in my native language. Angsty songs about inferiority complex, corny romantic songs and UHM... CupcakKe, Sabrina Claudio and Ginuwine... đđ i am on the ace/asexual spectrum but i just find their music interesting, Pony and All into You slaps tbh i litsen to them at like any time of the day, my playlist varies from angry metal to sad to angst to brazilian music to straight up horny music. It's basically a mess.
Love language: all the motherfucking affection, cuddling (I'm the little spoon btw) words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service and affectionate teasing; with this i basically talk to my partner like how cat owners talk to their cats in that exact same baby voice saying the stupidest but yet endearing bullshit. Basically complimenting with teasing.
- god this is probably so long, and i apologize for that. - đĄď¸ anon
I HAVE THE PERFECT PERSON FOR YOU! i read through this- oh also, real fast welcome to the party đĄď¸ anon! it's super nice to meet you! :) ANYWAY BACK TO BUSINESS! I read through this and one person popped in my mind, who I adore and I hope you adore as well!
the person I chose for you is...
KING!
like in my head, y'all would literally be PERFECT together
you both have this metal head vibe, but softies deep down and AHH IM OBSESSED
he is big enough to hold you while cuddling and he would literally bury his face in the crook of your neck and it is so cute
he gets all flustered when you spoil him lol
he is just as affectionate as you, so yall are again, literally perfect
he definitely has the same music taste, like i just see it
Y'ALL LOOK SO INTIMIDATING OUT IN PUBLIC LMAOOO
like even if he is hugging onto your arm and giving you a ton of love, you guys will walk into a building and no one I MEAN NO ONE will mess with you
and seriously, you guys have so much in common
if you hear that something happened to him and it breaks your heart you will listen and cry, and he will do the exact same for you
LIKE THIS IS SO PERFECT! (look at me go lol)
he loves you to death and get's flustered when you show that love back because he's a cutie
also, if you're down, he'll play video games with you for hours and if not, you'll listen to music while he's just playin in the background
"I love you so much, King." You squished both of King's bright red cheeks and talked to him in a baby voice.
"N-No I'm not!" He got all flustered and tried to pull away from you, but immediately melted to your touch as you moved your fingers to his head, massaging his scalp.
"Yes you are." You smiled and pulled him close, pressed a kiss onto his lips. "I love you."
He opened one of his eyes and giggled. "I love you too." He pulled you into his giant arms and slammed the two of you on the couch. It quickly became a game of who could cuddle who, but eventually he won, making the two of you fall asleep softly, you pressed against his big chest and one of his large hands on your back.
#matchup#matchups#anon#đĄď¸ anon#sword anon#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#my writing#<3#opm#opm x reader#one punch man#one punch man x reader#king#king x reader#king one punch man#king one punch man x reader#one punch man headcanons#hope you enjoy!!#literally perfect omg
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This is exactly what I was saying earlier !
Trans activists love to argue that radical feminism is based on bio essentialism. Either they do not know what bio essentialism means and simply use this term because they have seen other trans activists using it, which creates a huge circle of misinformation - it would not be the first time, or they do know the definition, and purposefully spread lies - it would not be the first time either.
Because radical feminism is the total opposite of bio essentialism, while gender ideology completely fits the definition.
Bio essentialism means that you believe being a man and a woman naturally holds more than just physical, biological realities.
< a way of thinking according to which any entity is characterized by a set of essential attributes necessary for its identity and function [...] similarly, bio essentialism designates female and male natures that are inherently different.>
It is widely used by conservatives, for example. Some examples are "women are motherly, sweet and kind", "men are naturally violent", "men are naturally better at maths", and other things like that. It is the logic between the famous "Men are from maths, women are from venus".
And the fact that trans activists don't see why their ideology is bio essentialism blows my mind.
If you say that being born female or male isnât enough to be a woman or a man, you are saying that biology isnât enough, which implies that being a woman or a man holds more qualities and criterias than just biological realities. You are saying that being a woman or a man is naturally more than biology. It is bio essentialism.
If you say that some qualities, feelings, tastes, mental health situations, emotions, clothes, habits, personality traits, can make you a man, a woman or something else when your body doesn't say so, it is bio essentialism. And yes, this includes gender dysphoria.
Because if you say that hating being a woman, feeling extremely bad because of it, desperately wanting to be a man, feeling like you are trapped in the wrong body, can make a woman a man, you imply that none of these things are compatible with being a woman, and since these things aren't biological facts, it is bio essentialism. You also imply that being a woman naturally comes with loving being a woman, feeling good with it, never wanting to be a man, etc... which means that you think being a woman holds more qualities than just physical realities. It is bio essentialism.
Being a woman or a man is just a question of biological and physical realities. If you disagree with that fact, it is bio essentialism.
The accusation of bioessentialism towards radfems is obviously bizarre and it is projection. In order to identify as a woman despite not being one, you have to associate characteristics with being a woman other than having a female body. So either they're saying that women are born a certain way and they are the same despite their male bodies (aka woman brain); or they're saying women are made a certain way by society, and despite having had a fundamentally different socialization they somehow turned out the same and that doesn't make them gnc men but women (this is very illogical, and it is thinly veiled bioessentialism, and also extremely disrespectful).
#bio essentialism#bioessentialism#transgender#non binary#genderqueer#trans#gender#gender ideology#gender critical
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School AU
As a celebration, I've tried to write an AU (yes, yes, I do not know how to, but I've TRIED)
This is the (not re-read, rough draft, complete rambling) first chapter. What do you think? Should I go and get myself buried alive?
The second chapter would be from Bilbo's POV. He shares the spotlight with the OC.
Please, be kind and remember, I'm an RPF longfic purple prose writer, I have never tried anything of the kind before...
Here's to new adventures đť
School AU
Rating: Gen
Characters: everyone, but ages are all scrambled
Warnings: I don't know what I'm doing...
Oh, it could have been worse, much worse, she told herself when she walked up the narrow steps leading to the main entrance where the headmaster was already waiting for her.
âMiss Kira. Welcome, welcome.â He greeted her with a thin-lipped smile while his long, white hair was blowing elegantly in the wind. There was something she didnât quite like about the way he eyed her as if he was gauging how strong she was.
âHereâs the teachersâ lounge, Iâll leave you to the headteacher.â He said after leading her down a series of hallways and corridors past closed doors and dirty windows.
She straightened her back and rolled her shoulders; she could do this.
âGandalf? Hereâs the new teacher.â The headmaster called into the room without ever stepping foot over the threshold and, before she could protest, he had billowed away like a sheet in the wind. Great! Just wonderful.
A doter walked towards her now, his eyes just as apprehensive as the headmasterâs had been.
âMiss Kira, right? Well, youâre right on time to meet your class.â He spoke with a voice that sought to be mellow and calming but had the exact opposite effect on her.
âYou get the DD?â Another man stepped up to her, the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life, if she was honest. His piercing eyes reminded her of the glaciers of the Far North she had visited with her parents and his pale skin whispered of cherry blossoms and milk.
âThe what?â She asked, more breathless than she would have liked to be.
âDonât listen to Thranduil.â Gandalf muttered, shoving the other man rather harshly aside.
âTheyâre either dumb or difficultâŚor both.â Thranduil laughed, but his voice was devoid of real malice. âTheyâre good lads.â Gandalf contradicted, a quivering doubt in the pitch of his voice.
Kira braced herself; she had arrived in this forgotten, sleepy town only a week ago and since then, she had seen a good many men with long hair and stout, roundish women standing around and gossiping in the street.
A girl had to eat though and hence, she had offered her services as a teacher to the local high school, where she had been welcomed with a bit too much eagerness for her taste.
âTheir previous teacher, Smaug, has up and left. Someone dented his beautiful sportscar. Weâre all pretty certain it was one of the Durinâs clan.â Thranduil went on, walking alongside her down the corridor despite Gandalfâs efforts to shoo him away like a troublesome bird.
âThey haveâŚwhat? Who?â Kira was at a loss for words. Would she have to deal with juvenile delinquents?
âTHEY ARE GOOD LADS!â Gandalf repeated, his voice booming as if he wanted to convince himself more than her.
Another thing Kira had discovered was that, seemingly, nobody went by their family name here and thatâs how she was to be addressed as âMiss Kiraâ by everyone. It was fine by her, but it made her feel like a pre-school teacher.
Gripping her literature book a little tighter, she hastened after the two tall men who, obviously, knew exactly where they were headed while she was struggling to memorise the twists and turns that would take her back to safety should her class turn out to be a bunch of axe murderers.
âSoâŚdo you teach them?â She asked Mister Thranduil who cocked one eyebrow.
âOh no, my son is in that classâŚMy sonâŚwell, youâll see.â
If anybody was trying to set her mind at rest, they were miserably failing, Kira thought.
âAh, here we are. Hereâs your classroom andâŚhereâs your roster.â Gandalf handed her a crumpled sheet and nodded towards a door.
In the doorway, a boy much too old for the grade he was supposed to be in stood leaning against the open door with the grimmest face Kira had ever seen. Leaning against him, a beautiful young girl stood, whispering into his ear.
âThis is your new teacher.â Gandalf announced and jerked his chin towards the classroom, which made him look like a chicken and did absolutely nothing to dislodge the sturdy fellow from his vantage point.
âThey are very good lads!â Gandalf promised her.
âDĂs, class is about to start. Off with you.â Thranduil shooed the girl away and she moved away with a graceful spin and a broad smile. âGood luck, Miss Kira, Iâm just down the hall. If you need anything, scream!â He said to Kira, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, but she couldnât shake the feeling that he was not entirely joking.
Kira edged around the youth, still planted like a tree in the doorway and moved towards the scratched and battered desk without looking up.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her eyes and beheld utter chaos.
âHello class, I am Miss Kira.â She almost whispered, cleared her throat and repeated her words a little louder.
âHello Miss Kira.â A redhead replied readily, nudging the boy next to her who repeated her words in a soft voice. From what that delightful man had said, Kira surmised that this one had to be his. He seemed tall and lanky, with hair so light it looked positively luminous and an insecure gleam in his blue eyes.
The sturdy doorboy had found his seat as well by now and was sitting, the wrong way around, next to a similarly grumpy boy who looked too old to be here as well.
âFlirting with my sister, yeah?â The second boy growled, his eyes gleaming like a blade.
âHuh?â Doorboy moved like a boulder, Kira thought, slow and heavy. She sincerely hoped his mind was more agile than his weighty gestures suggested.
OkayâŚKira was taking a quick stock of that infamous class: there was the blonde boy and his neighbour, the polite redhead, a boy with braces and a haircut that looked like his mother had put a cooking pot on his head and cut around, the two huge, grumpy teens and a few others. All of them boys and none of them interested in their new teacher.
âHey, are you eating back there?â She called out to a kid as rotund as she had ever seen, who seemed to be stuffing cakes into his mouth.
âHmmmpf? No.â He mumbled in a spray of crumbs.
Jesus Christ, what had she gotten herself into?
âSo, I am your new teacher and I thought weâd start with medieval literature. Fairies to be exact.â She declared, writing, quite stupidly in hindsight, âfairiesâ onto the much used and criminally scratched blackboard.
A general moan of disinterest and rebellion resounded behind her. She had not known that her class would be made up by boys, otherwise she would have chosen a less girly theme for her first class, but it couldnât be helped now, could it?
âSoâŚwhat do you know about fairies?â She asked into the round, praying that at least one of them was willing to work, even though her chances were abysmally slim.
âThey must look something like that one over there.â The grumpy boy next to doorboy snarled and pointed at Mister Thranduilâs son. Oh lovely, they had rivalries and feuds.
Of course, what else was to be expected of teenage boys cooped up in a loserâs class?
âWhat is your name?â Kira asked him, trying to sound as severe as she could, seeing how she was shorter than him and probably a good deal lighter as well if his arms in the tight black shirt were any indication.
âThorin.â â âYeah, funny, what is your actual name?â She asked, but then she remembered that all of the other people she had met this far had been introduced by similarly ludicrous names. What had happened to the Johns and Peters of the world?
âThorin.â He repeated in a disinterested, slightly haughty voice and Kira had to step onto her own foot not to make a face at him.
âYou look rather like a fairy.â The boy with the braces and the bad haircut piped up.
Kira was short, this much was true, but she did not want to be equated to a tiny woman with wings; now, she was reticent to show them the picture slides she had prepared.
Aaaaaagh, 10 minutes in and she had already lost all semblance of authority, she thought, exasperated, when the others sniggered and laughed.
âIâm Tauriel, this slowpoke is Legolas. The asshole is actually named Thorin, the idiot next to him is Dwalin, teacherâs pet is Ori and the fatass is Bombur. Nori skipped class. Sometimes, we get two of the younger ones as wellâŚâ The redhead filled her in, and Kira tried to discreetly smoothen out the paper she had been given.
It was a handwritten list of the names she had just heard, no birthdates, no family names, nothing.
She was given a class nobody else wanted, Kira realised in a flash and sympathy bled into her annoyance; they were young, and it was unfair to them to be shoved aside and stamped as useless before they had even gotten out of school.
âSo, no, I am not a fairy and no, they donât look like your classmate.â She returned to her teaching, telling them funny and mischievous stories about the mayhem fairies caused in some of the old tales.
When a discreet knock resounded, she was surprised that the first half hour had passed rather quickly all of a sudden and that the class seemed interested enough.
âSorry Kira, Iâve forgottenâŚWe have a new student today.â Gandalf poked in his head and gave everyone a punitive stare. Apparently, he knew that they deserved it without even having to ask Kira how they had behaved this far.
He shoved a boy into the room and chirped: âThis is Bilbo. Bye, see you after class.â
And just like the headmaster, he just vanished along the corridor.
âTheyâre all new students to me.â Kira grumbled and waved the new kid into the room.
âHello Mistress Kira.â The boy bowed his head politely and gave her a warm smile. âDid I miss much?â
âIâll fill you in.â Kira and the boy, Bilbo, jumped in unison when his grumpiness spoke.
âOh, okay.â Bilbo muttered, a flush rushing into his pale cheeks. Pulling on one of the slightly long honey-blonde curls, he made his way towards Thorinâs bench from which the door-stopping monster of an adolescent was banished without much ado.
Bilbo looked much more like the kind of student she had expected, getting his overgrown feet tangled in the straps of his rucksack as he scooted in next to the intimidating stranger who had called out to him. The blush was still there, but it didnât prevent a sweet smile blossoming on his kind face which, in turn, seemed to take his imperious highness of Frown-Ville quite aback, as demonstrated by the deepening of the frown and the twitching of his brows.
Kira had not had the impression that Thorin had been listening to her, so she was much surprised to see him shove over a page with scratchy writing.
Not only had he been paying attention, but he had taken notes and as far as she could make out from his whispered words to the new boy, his account of what had been talked about this far was succinct and intelligent.
âHeâs one of the difficult ones.â She thought, for he was certainly not dumb.
âWell, why donât you choose another mythological or fantastical creature from the syllabus and do a small presentation for next time?â She proposed when she realised that she would not get back their attention; too big was the interest in the new kid now.
âSure, Mistress.â Ori was quick to assent and already, he was checking what books the local library would have to offer on the subject. He definitely was the teacherâs pet, so what was he doing here?
She would have to ask Gandalf how this class had come to be; the kids seemed very different and for most of them, she saw no reason to be in a special class.
While they settled on subjects, Kira observed the new boy. As soon as he had entered, Thorinâs demeanour had changed completely; he was now listening to Bilbo explain his idea with an expression that she recognised as insecurity much more than open rejection.
Bilbo himself seemed to be a friendly enough fellow, unlike her, he didnât seem particularly intimidated by the black shirt or the perpetual scowl on the other boyâs face.
âIt was not us, by the way.â Legolas murmured right beside Kira, and she flinched; the interest she had taken in this class was unseemly, but she felt sorry for them.
âWhat, dear?â She asked gently, looking down on a beautiful drawing of a wood sprite he had made as an illustration for their prospected presentation.
âMister Smaugâs car. It wasnât us. Nobody liked him, truly, but he hated us most. Father was livid.â Legolas scrunched up his face; he was evidently not sure why he had told her that.
Had she looked that afeared by a group of youngsters?
âNobody likes us anyway, doesnât matter.â Dwalin commented from the solitary bench he was sitting at with a shrug that seemed too careless to be entirely honest.
Thorinâs eyes snapped up and then to the boy sitting next to him. Fear darkened his eyes, a fear Kira knew only too well; he had let his guard drop with that new student and now, he was afraid that this would be ripped away from him.
âMiss Kira has not shouted yet. Not even when you laughed.â Ori nodded slowly at her.
âWhy would I shout at you?â Kira was appalled at that suggestion of behaviour.
âMister Smaug always shouted at us.â The boy replied miserably, his lower lip wedged between his teeth to hide his dismay.
âYou have given me no reason to shout.â Kira replied softly. That was of course not true, but she was not in the habit of screaming at her pupils for it had no effect on them.
Bilbo stared up at her with soft eyes and a little smile, he was her ally in this situation; they had both joined this heap of misfits only today and it seemed like they were their chance at redemption.
âThorin and I will do a presentation about dwarves.â He declared much to the slack-jawed surprise of the taller boy. He was a pretty kid, Kira thought, when a shy smile stretched his angular features into something that at least remotely reminded her of the face of a child.
Like many of the men in town, his hair was longer than she was used to seeing, cascading in dark ringlets down his back and swinging back and forth whenever he moved.
She was pretty sure that young Bilbo had noticed that as well, if his awestruck face was anything to go by. Short and soft, Bilbo lookedâŚwarm; from the lush green of his sweatshirt to the welcoming twinkle of his eyes, everything about him looked jovial and convivial.
âMister Smaug hated usâŚâ Ori repeated slowly.
âThat Smaug-creature is gone.â Kira hissed, harsher than she had meant to be.
âBecause he hated us.â Legolas offered.
âFor whatever reason. Heâs goneâŚâ She replied, softer now, bending over the drawing and whispering that it was marvellous which made the boy blush with pleasure.
A knock resounded and Kira hastened to open the door, but before she even reached it, Thranduil stepped in, his face forbidding and cold.
âIt was so quiet, I thought they might have murdered you.â He spoke and settled a hand on her upper arm protectively.
âWhat? Murdered me? A group of teenage boys?â Kira was aghast. âOne never knows with those.â Thranduil waved a careless hand in Thorinâs direction. âFather!â Legolas interjected, but the withering look his father gave him made him relapse into embarrassed and chastised silence immediately.
âI am perfectly fine; they have behaved admirably.â Kira stepped between the colleague and her class, feeling fiercely protective of those kids who had used the word âhateâ when talking about the attitude of a person who had been bound to protect and instruct them.
âI doubt that. Iâve come to say that their next teacher isâŚindisposed.â
âWell, then they can leave earlier, canât they?â Kira asked; that was how things had been handled in her previous school. âNo. Can you spare the time to supervise them?â
She did not ask why they were not allowed to just leave school grounds, suspecting that this was a conversation for another time, far away from the class itself.
She nodded slowly. âGood. Iâll see you tomorrow then.â He gave her a sharp smile and the class a cold stare before turning on his heels and rushing out.
âAnother one who hates us.â Tauriel murmured under her breath, and as much as Kira wanted to protest, she had not had the feeling that her colleague liked her class very much either.
âPlease, do not destroy the classroom OR murder me.â She instructed the students when her officially allotted timeslot was over. âFor the next hour, I am just here to supervise a group of people who, in my opinion, can very well supervise themselves.â She declared and, under the pretence of reading a book, she observed them.
Ori spent his hour browsing the internet and making neat notes into a little booklet, whereas Bombur was apparently still eating. Probably, he would forget his books more than once if his whole bag was full of snacksâŚpriorities. Kira chuckled to herself.
What she would have given to see into these youngsterâs minds, especially that mysterious gang leader Thorin and the ingĂŠnue who had just danced into their midst.
She could smell the trouble, an aroma of pheromones, healthy sweat and sweet cakes, and automatically, she squared her shoulders.
âI do not hate you.â She whispered in a quiet voice; she did not loathe them, actually, she started to like them rather well.
@mandolinearts @lordoftherazzles so there it is...my celebratory attempt at an AU
#fanfiction#school AU#thorin oakenshield#bilbo baggins#ori#legolas#tauriel#bagginshield#oc#bombur#thranduil#saruman#gandalf#short#attempt#experiment#i'm an idiot#this is embarrassing
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