#you want to draw one of them in a dress? men can and do wear dresses

[jackiesunshines]

IN ANOTHER LIFE, MY DEAR | I.ENGEN²³

summary: you read over the collection of letters your ingrid has sent you over the year of your love. her words make your grief calmer.

contains: retelling of romeo and juilette in gay, letter form, juilet.ᐟingrid x romeo.ᐟreader, mentions of homophobia & death/suicide, set in an unspecified time in norway, ingrid is the only daughter of wealthy family while reader is apart of a poorer family of farmers, this is wlw!!, implied masc.ᐟreader, inaccuracies of the romeo & juilet story i'm adapting the story to fit what i want this to be, ingrid and reader are around eighteen to twenty years old, unhappy ending.

author notes: i just had the idea for this and was like might as well write it. hopefully you guys enjoy 💞

from lady ingrid of the engen family,

i saw you the other night at lady frida's gathering. you were wearing such a stuffy dress and i could tell by your expression that you hated every second of it, but oh you looked stunning. in your usual garments that i see you in, you look always look so handsome. is that weird to say of a woman? i hope not because the word suits you. i think stunning suits you as well. maybe one day we can try on dresses together? only if i can see the cute pout you had last night.

━ june 2nd

from lady ingrid of the engen family,

do you know i am sending my letters in secret? relying on the bribing of the men who work on my family's estate grounds? every time you write back, my heart feels warm. my parents don't believe in being close to ones "below us," whatever that means. i don't see you as below me. not at all. i made my riding teacher take me all the way past your family's farm, so i could see you. it was late in the afternoon, and i was worried that you would be resting inside, but no, you were out working like one of the men. if someone saw you and your brothers, they wouldn't be able to tell you apart, but i can. your brothers aren't as beautiful as you, no offense to their looks. you're like a rose amongst a bunch of flower less stems. you didn't see me, but i saw you. those few minutes felt like getting a taste of heaven. please write back sooner than last time.

━ june 14th

from your friend ingrid of the engen family,

are we close enough that i can call you my friend? is it strange that i complimented you various times but only now asking for your hand in friendship? i loved seeing you today, down by the river with your dog. if only my brother didn't take me away, i would have talked to you longer. i pray he didn't tell my parents about what happened, but they keep things from me, so what do i know? do your parents do the same? i doubt they do with the way they allow you to work on the farm. however if they do then they would be hypocrites. i ate a very sweet strawberry cake today as a treat and it reminded me of you. when the taste fleeted me, it reminds me of you the most.

━ june 23rd

from your friend ingrid,

how did you find a way to send me a gift? you are so clever. it just draws me to you more. i'm wearing the dress you sent right now. it's so soft but not as soft as your skin. that night, i snuck out and came to see you for those few minutes, i can't get it out of my head. please, may we do it again sometime soon? you said in your last letter that i hugged like someone yearning for something. it is true. i yearn for you.

━ july 1st

from your dove, ingrid,

no one has ever compared me to an animal before. especially not a bird, but when i came to your family's farm with my father, i heard you whisper to your friend who was there at the time that i was as angelic as a dove. thank you. i would compare you to an adorable animal as well, but that would be underselling your beauty. so for now and hopefully forever, you are my angel.

━ july 9th

from your dove, ingrid,

sorry for not writing back in ages. i'm having troubles here at home. my parents want me to get married. can you believe them? they say it would be worthwhile to get married now when my beauty isn't fading, but you always told me that my beauty would never fade. who shall i believe? am i only worthy if i am gorgeous? please help me answer this question of mine. you seem to be in a better state than me when it comes to marriage. your parents don't seem to care about your romantic life, but mines are stuck in the restricted standards of our class. i don't want to marry anyone who isn't you. is that too big of a confession?

━ october 24th

from your dove, ingrid,

we kissed last night. i can't believe it. forget any marriage to some man who can't even have half of the strength and smarts that you do and none of the beauty. i love you

━ november 1st

from ingrid,

my parents called me into their room and sat me down and told me that i would be getting married by the summer of next year. somehow, some way, they have found out about our letters. those disloyal men of my family's estate must have ratted me out. we are too close for my family's comfort. women shouldn't write like this to one another. my mother told me i should put my serenading skills to use for a man as that is the way of nature. if that is the way of nature, then why does it feel so unnatural? i'll find a way to write to, my love. hopefully, this is not my last.

━ december 2nd

from ingrid

happy new year, my angel. they can take me away from our hometown, but they can never take me away from you.

━ january 1st

from your dove,

putting my name on these feels risky now. i don't know how long the couple i pay for will continue doing this for me. i don't know the next time my family will try to tear me away from you. i have not met my husband yet, we will meet on our wedding day, but i promise you that day will not be a happy one. let's plan something together. take care, my angel.

━ february 16th

your dove,

i will send the couple with the amount of money we need and the documents i have forged. you are so handsome that i hope that when this plan happens, people will take one look at you and just believe you are a man. hopefully, they don't look closer because then they will see that your beauty is something a man can never achieve. i had to put a compliment into here, i would say sorry, but i know you love it. i love you, take care.

━ april 4th

your dove,

can't wait to be with you, my angel. see you in a month.

━ april 18th

your dove,

my family and his family have decided to get us married earlier than planned. i think my parents are worried that i am still thinking of you, and of course, they are right, but that doesn't mean it makes me any less angry. i will never be wed to him, i swear on my life. i love you, and we will be together, whether in this life or in death. if i can not run away, then i promise i will never let him take me away from you.

━ may 22nd

to my angel,

is it true? there are rumors that you have died of an illness, i don't believe that for one second. my wedding night is tomorrow, and my family is feeding me lies. i kept telling myself that, but then they showed me a letter from your father that stated your death right there in ink. i don't know what to believe, but i do know i do not want to be wed to this man. not for one night or for the rest of my life. i told you i would love you forever, and that is true. we promised to be together, but i never thought it would end up being in death rather than in life. i am only writing this in hopes that my family will find this and see that they have driven us to madness. i'll shall see you in heaven, my angel. i will ignore the sharp pain of the dagger by thinking of the sweetness of your kiss. i love you.

━ june 1st

author notes: this might suck? idkkkk 🙂‍↕️

[vintage-bentley]

Before you draw or write Aziraphale and Crowley as a straight couple, ask yourself this: why can’t they be a gay couple? What does them being straight bring to the scene that them being gay can’t? Why do you feel that erasing a gay couple improves this scene? Do you, on some level, feel that there is something superior about straight couples? If not, why are you even considering changing a gay couple into a straight couple in the first place?

[hencheri]

— young lust

▸ 18+ mdni.

You want Mark so badly, but he thinks you’re too young for him. With a little more convincing though, he eventually gives you what you want— in a less than gentle way.

| pairing. rapper!mark x fem!reader

| warnings. mean mean mean mark!!, legal age gap, noncon/dubcon, degradation, reader is mean to mark as well oops, unprotected sex, choking.

| a.n.: this is just self-serving atp. hope it serves y'all too <3

Mark thinks he’s never been eye-fucked this hard before. He’s flattered, of course, but something’s off. 

You’re hot and very tempting, too, there’s no need in denying that. The little dress you’re wearing clings to your ass and he honestly can’t stop looking at it, especially with your back turned to him, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to meet Mark’s eyes. 

Your gaze is so obviously flirtatious, you don’t even try to be subtle. The finger stuck between your teeth and the look you send him tell Mark everything he needs to know; you want him as much as he wants you. 

He imagines your smaller body pressed against the bathroom wall, his hips clashing against your ass roughly, listening to your moans muffled by the loud music playing throughout the club. He sees it, that slutty mouth chanting his name like a prayer as he gropes your breasts with his palms through your dress. 

Mark looks at you before taking a sip from his alcoholic drink, then shifts his gaze back to Jisung standing in front of him.

“You know each other?” 

He’s taken off guard by the question, taking a second to respond. 

“Uh, no,” he thinks about what to say, but he really doesn’t have a clue on how to explain this… exchange. “We… we don’t.” 

Jisung sports a perplexed yet amused expression on his face. “So where is all that tension coming from?”

Mark raises a brow, eyeing you one last time, but you’re not looking at him anymore. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits, a faint smirk drawing on his lips. “Do you know her?” Mark asks in return, a little curious. 

He won’t lie that he likes the mystery of all this, not knowing who you are adds to the desire, to the inexplicable lust that draws him to you. He wants to mess around, do what he wishes just because he can. And that includes you. He wants to do you so bad. 

“Yeah, of course, we’re in the same company,” Jisung tells him, “she’s in this new girl group, you know. Up in the charts, just right under you,” his friend grins, looking at Mark to see his reaction.

He’s surprised for a second, uttering a “really?” and Jisung nods his head as a yes. 

Mark never pays attention to the charts, even though he gets reminded of them practically everyday. He’s aware of his success—way too aware of it—but he’s not the artist obsessed with numbers. He knows he makes good music and it’s all that matters to him. 

“I don’t know how you still haven’t heard of them already,” Jisung continues, “of her, especially.” He tilts his head in your direction, now both men’s attention on you. “Everyone’s fond of her.”

“Are you?” Mark wonders, narrowing his eyes at his friend. 

“Sure,” Jisung agrees, “she’s a sweetheart. Seems down to earth, for the few times we’ve talked.” 

This intrigues Mark. Does a sweetheart usually act so slutty with strangers? Perhaps he’s not a stranger to you, you very probably know him—everybody does—but he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a girl this bold with him. And surely not someone who’s proclaimed to be a sweetheart, in this industry where anything opposite to pureness is unacceptable. 

He can feel your gaze on him now and he doesn’t hesitate to lock eyes with you once again. You laugh at whatever the person you’re talking to said, almost having Mark envious for not being the one making you laugh right now. 

You’re good at this, he thinks. Really good. Staring straight into his eyes, making him feel like he’s the centre of your attention when in reality you’re talking with someone else. If he could, he would take you with him, bring you to his car and fuck you directly onto his shiny leather seats, door wide open. He knows you’d love it. 

“Is she your age?” he says, taking a sip of his drink, eyes still on you until he hears Jisung’s answer.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” his friend responds, “younger, in fact.” 

He immediately breaks eye-contact with you, looking back at Jisung. Mark feels his heart starting to beat a little faster, suddenly anxious. Or is it embarrassment? Concern? Whatever it is, the desire he once felt, has now shifted. 

“What? How old?”

“Well, I’m not sure, Mark. 21, maybe?” Jisung frowns, trying to recall what you’d told him, but it wasn't information he really registered back then. 

Mark gulps down. He knew something was off, why didn’t he listen to his intuition?

He’s 25 and you’re 4 years younger than him. You’re barely an adult. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now,” Jisung chuckles, noticing the deflated expression on his face. 

“Barely.” 

He empties his glass, settling it down on the counter near him after. He tells Jisung he’ll come back in 5, heading for the bathrooms. 

—-

Mark washes his hands in the sink, drying them off with a towel. He looks at himself in the mirror, leaning over the counter. The music is loud, making the ground vibrate under his feet, making it almost impossible for him to think. Maybe it’s a good thing, he can’t overthink, then. 

“You’ve abandoned me,” he hears a voice saying, lifting up his head just in time to see you entering the bathrooms. “I was wondering where you’ve been gone…” 

Your voice is as sultry as your eyes, as sensual as your body in this ridiculously tight dress. He can’t help but wander his eyes over your figure, looking at what now feels so immoral. If it wasn’t for that—morality—he wouldn’t stop himself from taking you right here and there, but something has to stop him. 

If nothing ever does, god knows all the things he would’ve done since now. 

You approach Mark with slow steps, a teasing smile on your lips, a very precise idea in mind. He wants to back away, leave, forget about everything, but he doesn’t. He’s curious, tempted. 

“Or maybe that’s where you wanted me to be?” you grin, putting your hand around his bicep, the other leaning on top of the counter. 

He stares back at you, unconvinced. “I was about to leave,” he explains, and he sees the glint in your eyes changing. You don’t like rejection. 

“Really?” you utter, the tone of your voice a pitch higher— sounding somewhat bitter. “I swore there was something between us… With the way you were looking at me,” you say, your hand lingering on his arm before removing it. “Do you often look at women like you want to fuck them and then leave them, Mark?”

This confirms that you know him. For some reason, he feels uneasy about the fact that he knows nothing about you but you know all about him. 

You get even closer, only a few centimetres before your body touches him. 

Truthfully, you were the only ever girl he was about to do this to. It didn’t feel like a big deal when he thought about it, but now that he’s been caught, he feels a little guilty. 

“I didn’t take you for a coward,” you whisper.

Mark arches his brow at that, wondering how in the hell did he get in such a situation. Getting called a coward by a brat? By a spoiled little girl who didn’t have to lift a finger for success to find her? 

“You should go back to your friends,” he carefully advises. 

But you find it funny, laughing softly. “So you are a coward, Mark Lee,” you mockingly say, tone condescending, tongue pressing behind your bottom teeth as his name leaves your mouth. “Are you afraid of something? Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you’re into it?”

He keeps his hands away from you, as if the mere feeling of your skin under his fingertips would break down his barriers. He turns his head to the side, away from yours, as you roughly pull on his belt, your chest finally pressed down against his. 

“I know you want me,” you whine, “to touch me… Fuck me.” 

If he could only fall into temptation… Maybe it’d be easier to just follow his desires. Well, in the meantime it would be, but after? What if he regrets it? What if you regret it? He can’t sleep with every girl he sees. 

He never goes for anyone that is younger than him. Not that much, at least. What kind of man would he be? 

But goddamn, why are you so insistent? Why are you making it so difficult for him?

“You’re too young, okay?” 

You take a step back, letting go of him. Your eyebrows are frowned and you look at Mark like he’s the biggest idiot on earth. 

You scoff. “So that’s what you’re afraid of? My age?” 

You cross your arms over your chest, Mark turning his head toward you now that you’ve put some distance between you. 

“What did Jisung tell you?”

“That you’re 21,” he answers, wondering what you’re going to tell him. After all, what Jisung said could have been bullshit. He hopes, for a moment, that it was. 

Your lips quirk up, a chuckle leaving you. You look to the side then back to Mark. “I’m 20.”

His eyebrows knit together, annoyed that you find this funny again. What else can he expect from a 20 year old anyway? That you take this seriously? 

“You find this funny? Do you realize how much older I am?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, “and that’s why it’s funny. You’re scared of what? A five year difference?”

You step forward again, but Mark backs away this time, hitting the counter behind him. 

“You’re a fucking puss,” you insult him, full of arrogance. 

But something you didn’t expect happens; Mark knocks his body into yours, making you stumble back as he follows you until your back is flushed against the bathroom stall. His hand goes fast to your neck, squeezing. 

He leans in, the expression on his face furious. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore.

“You act like a spoiled little bitch and you wonder why I don’t want you?” For the first time tonight, you’re speechless. His nose brushes over your temple, so close you feel his breath fanning across your face. “Fucking learn how to accept when people tell you no. Learn to shut your mouth from time to time because they won’t like your ass in this industry if you keep this entitled attitude up.”

You’re looking down as Mark’s eyes bore into your skull, blood creeping up to your cheeks. You gulp, not having a word to say in return. You’d rather not talk back.

He eventually lets go of you, turning around and walking out, leaving you alone and… turned on. 

—-

“Hi, Markie.”

The last person he expected to see when entering his studio is certainly you. The only person supposed to be here is Jisung, and yet, here you are, smiling, eyes glinting teasingly. 

He looks at you, then at Jisung, sitting in front of his computer. He turns around on the rolling chair, totally unfazed by the fact that he brought a stranger into Mark’s studio. 

“What is this?” 

“This?” you question, but he ignores you, walking straight to his friend.

“Uh, well, you’ve already met I believe, no?” Jisung asks, slightly confused. He says your name and it’s all it takes to irritate Mark. “She wanted to come see us work, learn a thing or two. I thought it was a great idea.”

Jisung’s innocence is a good thing sometimes, really. It’s refreshing, quite funny, too, but right now, Mark wishes he wasn’t so credulous all the damn time. 

“It didn’t come to you to, maybe, ask for my permission?” he whispers, leaning in so you don’t properly hear him. 

Jisung’s brows raise up, simply shrugging. “Not really,” he admits, “I thought it wouldn’t bother you. I told you, she’s a sweetheart, and she promised to not interrupt too much. Right?” Jisung turns to you and your smile gets bigger, bobbing your head. 

“Absolutely.”

Mark looks hard at you, not believing this one second. Has god sent you on this earth to test him? 

You stare back at him sweetly, and he swears, if it wasn’t for Jisung’s presence, Mark would have made you regret it. Bitterly. 

Surprisingly, you did keep your promise. You didn’t disturb them once, even pretending to care about what they were working on. You seemed close to Jisung, actually being kind to him, the total opposite of how you were behaving the other night. You’re good at playing pretend, Mark realizes. 

Your eyes were on him the entire time, though. You had the same look as he recalled, eye-fucking him right here in his studio. He was pissed off, to say the least, but he didn’t make a comment. That would’ve been weird to say anything in front of Jisung and the last thing he wants is him thinking there’s something happening between you two— because there’s nothing.

He just hoped the end of the day would come rapidly, and it did, to Mark’s relief. 

With Jisung and you gone, he can finally work peacefully, nobody undressing him with their eyes. 

That is until he comes back into his studio.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” 

He’s lost all of his patience to be respectful to you now. He really doesn’t give a shit. How can someone be so stubborn?

“Told Ji’ I was going to call a taxi,” you explain, getting up from the sofa you’ve been sitting on. “I lied,” you smirk. 

Mark blinks at you, too shocked to say anything. You use the opportunity to get closer, bringing him to you, and then pushing him onto the sofa behind him. 

“Call me ‘too young’ all you want, I recognize a pervert when I see one.”

You don’t think twice before straddling his lap, sitting down on his thighs. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and even though Mark sends you the most murderous glare in the world, he does nothing to push you away. 

Curiosity, temptation. 

“If you didn’t know my age, you would have fucked me right against the bathroom stall if I had asked you to,” you affirm confidently, and there’s truth behind your words. Of course there is, Mark knows what he thought of you at first— what position he imagined you in, the sounds you’d make.

“Get off of me,” Mark barks back, his frowned eyebrows giving him this angry look that you like so much. 

You roll your eyes, sighing. “Here I thought I was the whiny little one, but you’re whinier than I am, Markie.”

“I’m not fucking whining, I’m giving you an order.”

“Get me off then,” you propose, grabbing both of his wrists and putting his hands on your hips. “Go on, do it. Or are you too scared to touch me?” You provoke him further, knowing you’ll eventually make him break down, sooner or later. 

“You don’t want me to, believe me.”

His threat has you shivering… and excited. 

“Why’s that?” you wonder, subtly moving your hips over his lap. “You’re sure you’re not the little bitch, hm, Markie?”

You should have expected him to snap sooner, because the moment you say this, he pins you down on the couch, you underneath him. His hold on your wrists is nothing gentle and you can’t even move them. If before you felt like the master of your own game, well now you’ve lost all sense of power, being Mark’s puppet and not the opposite. 

You’re shocked. Scared.

His hand closes immediately around your face, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “Be disrespectful to me once again and I’ll break your fucking jaw,” he spits at you. “Has anybody ever told you to respect your elders, huh? I bet fucking not,” he snorts, “I’ll teach you some manners myself.”

You don’t understand until he reaches under your skirt, pulling down on your panties. Your eyes widen, letting out whines of protest.

“Stop, stop!” you stress out, trying to grab Mark’s hands now that yours are free. 

But he merely laughs, probably the first time you’ve ever heard him. “Ah, now you want me to stop? After all the begging you did so I’d fuck you.”

Mark doesn’t stop, working on his belt, undoing his pants. 

Your heart accelerates, and despite the worried look on your face, your eyes starting to water, the turn of events please you all too much. 

You briefly fight with him, pushing on his chest like a little girl, whimpering pathetically. Mark stays unfazed, easily taking both of your wrists in one hand and pinning it down above your head. He grunts as he pushes his hard cock into you, a gasp escaping your lips as you feel your walls expanding. 

You blink multiple times, taking a deep breath, and the tears roll down the side of your face, disappearing into your hair. It burns, but you’re so wet. 

You ask yourself if Mark knows you’re faking it, but with how delighted he seems to be forcing himself on you, you doubt that he does. Whatever pleases him. 

“It hurts!” You cry out, wiggling your legs, attempting to close them—to no avail—while he pushes himself all the way inside of your pussy. 

Mark snickers. He couldn’t care less.

“Oh, it hurts?” You nod, gulping down. “Tell me why it hurts.”

He doesn’t wait to move his hips back and forth, using you for his own sick pleasure right away without any second thought. You wanted this. You asked for this. Why should he be careful of you now? You shouldn’t have been so eager. Shouldn’t have acted like such a slut. 

“It-” you begin, but a moan of pain cuts you off, Mark’s hips slapping violently against yours; it has your body moving up, your head hitting the armrest of the couch. “You’re- You’re too…”

“Am I going too rough on your virgin little cunt? Poor girl,” he coos, almost laughing in your face. “Too bad I don’t give a shit, huh?”

You sob out when he keeps on with the assault of his hips, his cock defiling your pussy like you’ve never imagined before. Mark knocks the air out of your lungs, panting heavily above you, his already short nails digging into the fat of your thigh. 

You squirm around, pulling on your wrists, none of your attempts are successful— not like you want them to be anyway, but giving Mark a little of a fight is more fun. 

“Please, Mark, I’m sorry,” you beg, lips trembling. 

His eyes, filled with lust and hate at the same time, lay on you. 

“You should’ve thought about it before pushing me over the edge, if it’s pity you wanted.”

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Treatment Plan

Last night was supposed to be harmless New Year’s Eve fun, partying with friends, dancing with strangers, and maybe finding someone to ring in the new year with. I remember dancing and taking shots with a really hot guy at some club where we'd shared a new year kiss. There's nothing else in my memory and I don’t remember when I passed out but I wake up alone in a medical examination room, naked, gagged, and strapped down to a bed with my arms above my head and legs spread wide.

The door opens and four men walk in. The first one I recognize is the hot guy I'd made out with. Except now, he has the look of a doctor, dressed in a white coat, wearing a stethoscope and holding a clipboard. The other three men are wearing nurses scrubs and not a single one acknowledges me as they step into the room and close the door behind them.

The doctor glances down at his clipboard and looks at me, smirking slightly. “It says here you’ve been admitted due to your issues with obedience and self-control. I promise we deliver the best results here, so you, darling, will be in tip-top shape in no time,” his voice is tinged with mockery and I try to shake my head and explain that this is all a mistake, that I have no idea what is going on, and I’m not supposed to be here.

“Day one of this treatment regimen helps us establish a baseline of what we’re working with and involves some sensory deprivation just to enhance the effectiveness but I promise, you’ll enjoy it,” he purrs, coming to stand next to my head before sliding a piece of fabric over my eyes. I struggle uselessly against the bindings, trying to dislodge the blindfold but it’s too secure to move. I feel hands hold my head in place before someone else slides headphones over my ears and suddenly, I’m blind and deaf to the world.

There is nothing to prepare me for what comes next, and no way that I can have any ability to sense what they plan to do to me. I can feel tears pricking at my eyes, absorbing into the blindfold when suddenly, I feel fingers trail along my ribs.

I let out a muted whimper, my body instinctively lurching in response. The feeling is so overwhelming and I’m absolutely senseless and helpless. The fingers linger around my hips and dig in gently, making me jerk uselessly in my bindings. It’s almost too much for my body to handle, the unknown touches, the horrible anticipation and suspense of not knowing anything at all.

Without warning, the fingers dig harder into my ribs, tickling me harshly and mercilessly. I wail behind the gag and thrash desperately, begging for it to stop to no avail. The fingers don’t let up and my entire world has narrowed to the unbearable sensations those fingers are drawing out of my bound body. There’s nothing I can do except endure it.

My wails have died down to little mindless whimpers as the tickling continues to ravage my ribs and hips when I feel the fingers pull away finally. I gasp for air, hoping that this torture is finally going to be over. Suddenly, I feel fingers brush against my underarms and I scream so hard my throat feels raw. I’m yanking and pulling at the straps holding me down but I’m bound too tightly. Tears are flowing freely into the blindfold as my body jerks. The fingers dig devastatingly into my underarms and I’m inconsolable. The tickling feels like electricity going straight into my nerves and it makes my mind hazy.

There’s no mercy and no stopping. The fingers find every vulnerable spot on my body and there’s nothing to stop the wretched tickling that’s making me want to curl into myself and disappear. There’s no acclimation to the feeling or becoming desensitized to it all. Every single movement feels like my body is dancing on a live wire and I have no choice but to experience every devastating feeling.

Another set of fingers finds their way to my hard nipples and I can barely draw in enough air to scream as the stimulation adds to the overwhelming feelings crashing through my body. Flicks against my nipples make me squirm and moan.

Then, my world lights up behind my blindfold when I feel fingers on my clit.

The combination of tickling at every sensitive spot on my body and the focus on my clit shatters me. Every single nerve is pulled open and vulnerable to unforgiving, relentless stimulation and I know I’m dripping wet onto the bed under me. It’s all too much for my brain to process. Every force on my body pushes me closer and closer to an orgasm and it’s unbearable.

A sudden flash of pain hits my clit as someone’s fingers sharply pinch my throbbing button and I wail as my orgasm barrels through my body. None of the stimulation lets up and the fingers on my clit continue to force waves of pleasure through my body while fingers everywhere else drive my orgasm even higher. I’m delirious and barely coherent between all of the different assaults of stimulation that wrack my body.

I feel the fingers on my clit pull away and I’m gasping and shaking. The tickling at my ribs and underarms doesn’t relent and I can barely catch my breath enough to sustain my sobs. Fingers brush against my inner thighs and I can’t help but whine, hearing only my wild heartbeat thudding in my ears.

Suddenly, there’s a vibrator slammed against my clit and my mind breaks. There are too many things going on but my whole being is driven to focus on the horrible vibrator pillaging my clit with no mercy. My next orgasm shoots through me with no warning, no build up, no gentle waves of pleasure. Just pure ecstasy shooting deep through my body, so hard that I can feel it in my bones and it renders me completely broken.

I have no concept of time or place as the torture continues. My body moves on its own accord as it struggles and trembles, futilely trying to avoid every touch. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours when everything finally fades away and all of the hands touching me are gone. I lie there, limp, unmoving, unthinking, barely conscious. It takes me an immeasurable amount of time to catch my breath, my body still feeling phantom aftershocks of pleasure and torment. I vaguely register the feeling of someone pulling the headphones off of my head and I’m able to hear again.

“Oh darling,” his voice is the first thing I recognize, “I suppose I forgot to mention, this treatment regimen has ten levels. And we can’t move on from level one until you learn to control your body and keep still during your treatments. Clearly we’re not going to get there today, but perhaps you’ll do better tomorrow. Otherwise, you’re in for a very long stay here…”

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello!

I wanted to ask a question, if that's okay. So, I'm genderfluid afab and feel like a man sometimes (probably more often than I allow myself to realise). I don't have access to a Binder or anything of that sort (transphobic parents).

Is there any way for me to look/be more masculine? I'm a bit scared of goggling because I don't want to accidentally take advice from Tate people or the like.

(PS. I really like your Siegfried Farnon cosplay!)

Heya!

This is a tough one to answer. Because "masculine" means different things to different people. And "passing", as well.

Like. When I wear my fleece jacket and baseball cap, I'm deliberately passing as a certain type of man. But I felt more masculine the other day wearing an ascot.

So, I think we need to break down this question:

1) If you're looking to pass, there are going to be trans masc guides out there that will direct you to a very particular gender presentation. They tend to assume you are white and skinny. They present themselves as a list of Dos and Do-Nots, and at the end of the day, do more harm than good, imo. Because passing guides are almost always about hiding parts of yourself physically, often to the expense of hiding parts of your psyche.

Seek them out if you must, but when it comes to passing for safety, all I can suggest is ambiguous layers, a hat, keeping your head down and your mouth shut. The best way to pass is to not draw attention to yourself, alas.

2) If you're looking to dress more masculine to alleviate gender dysphoria, then you need to drill down to what makes you dysphoric and start there. My smaller feet is one area of contention for me, so I look for semi-dressy shoes that look long and elegant (like Taft boots). Since you can't get a binder, consider layers, if your chest bothers you.

3) If you're looking to dress more masculine to seek gender euphoria, then figure out your aesthetic masculine ideal. Make a pinboard of Looks you enjoy and see if there are trends. Some folks are drawn to athletic wear. Work wear. Perhaps a vintage aesthetic -- Rockabilly. 90s grunge. 1940s British country vet (meeeee, lol).

Ask yourself: What are the hallmarks of this style? Are there casual and formal versions? How does it change seasonally? How much of it is clothing and how much of it is the body (haircut, being muscular, etc)? And above all - what is this style trying to communicate to others?

Once done, see what sort of fashion tips are out there for your style. Who are the fashion experts and how much do you care about their advice? (Menswear guy has great tips about how a modern suit "should" fit, but a lot of his advice is also personal preference with a big dollop of classism.)

Pay close attention to how men wear their clothes -- where they sit on the body, how they style the outfit. Compare how a man is styled in your preferred look to how a woman is styled and see what that sparks in you. How much of it is the clothing or body? How much is posture? You might discern some visual shorthand you can harness to be read as more masculine. You might also come up with ways to have plausible deniability around your parents by being able to pivot a masculine look to be more feminine, when needed.

After all this research, get yourself to a thrift shop or other second hand option and start experimenting. Buying actual men's clothing is probably going to be your best bet, but depending on your Look Book, that may not always be the case.

No one can tell you how to feel more masculine -- that really needs to come from within. Once you figure that out, then it's a matter of reconciling your ideal look with the peculiarities of your body. (And all men have their own challenges wrt the fit of clothes.)

Afford yourself as much grace as possible when it comes to your body. And again, remember that feeling more masculine and passing more masculine may not always overlap and could even be at odds. And only you can determine if and when that is a problem.

[holylulusworld]

A perfect gentleman

Summary: Your trip to Great Britain changed your life forever.

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Warning: bitchy friends, mentions of anxiety, meet cute, sex with a stranger, smut, protected sex, unprotected sex, public sex, shower sex

You bobbed your head to the song blaring from the loudspeakers. It was the only thing you could do. That, and watching the others dance with men they just met. Grinding into them – their intentions clear.

Maybe you are not the most social person, but being in a place with so many people spiked your anxiety.

You shuddered and ripped your gaze from your friends to order another drink. Something light. You never were much into alcohol.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself,” a man plopped down next to you and dipped his head. “How can I help you relax?” He purred and moved his hand to your thigh.

“You could start by stopping to touch her,” another man suddenly stood behind your back. He pushed the other guy off you and glared at the stranger touching you. “Is that the way to welcome tourists now?”

“Man, she looked lonely,” the man grunted but made space for the second guy. “Didn’t know you called dips on her already, Raymond.”

“Get lost,” Raymond snapped at the man. You flinched and tried to make yourself as small as possible while the men fought. “We don’t harass ladies at my favorite place.”

“Alright, alright,” the man huffed. “She’s not worth the effort. You can have her.”

“Hey, are you okay,” Raymond softly asked. He must’ve been from around, because of his sexy accent. You always had a thing for men with an accent. “I hope he didn’t hurt you. Some guys shouldn’t drink too much.”

“Uh-thank you,” you murmured and finally looked at the man. Raymond looked like you imagine a British gentleman, but with a dash of roughness and something hidden behind his neat appearance. 

He was wearing a navy-blue corduroy waistcoat, a slim tie with the same color, and a light blue and white striped button-down over dark wash slim-fit stretch jeans. His hair was neatly gelled back, and his beard was long but well-trimmed. Orange-rimmed clear lens glasses framed his handsome face.

“That was very nice of you.”

“A gentleman must protect a lady in need,” he grinned and sat next to you. “Let me buy you a drink for the inconvenience, and for not stepping in sooner.”

“You came the moment the man put his hand on my thigh,” you shyly glanced at Raymond. He offered his name to you and held out his hand. You placed your hand in his, feeling another shudder run through your body. This man was unlike any guy you ever met.

He screamed danger but acted like a gentleman. You could smell weed on his clothes when he leaned closer to ask you for your name. 

“Y/N,” you replied and allowed him to hold your hand for a little longer than needed. He ran his thumb over your skin, causing a tiny whimper to escape your lips. “Thank you again.”

“What brings you here, love?” Raymond leaned impossibly closer, letting you feel his warmth. “I assume you are a tourist.”

You chuckled. “What gave me away?” 

“Your accent, and I know every pretty girl in town.”He laid it on thick when he purred your name and told you that you look beautiful in your dress. He already had you when he saved you from the grabby guy, but you wanted to bask in his compliments for a little longer.

“Every single one,” you chuckled. “You’re a very busy man in that case.” 

He adjusted his glasses and smirked. “I don’t know every woman like that.” Raymond gave you a wink. “But I’d like to get to know you better.”

“My friends are still somewhere at this place,” you leaned closer to drink his appearance and scent in. You were enchanted by this man. “Probably rubbing themselves against the guys they just met.”

His eyes sparkled at your words. You were about to do the same with him. Why – you had no clue. He was handsome and charming. But there was something else drawing you in like the moth to the flame.

“Do you want to leave this place?” A question was not in his words when he got up, still holding your hand. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t make it far. Before you knew it, you left the bar with Raymond. You ended up pressed into the wall in the dark alley behind the bar. 

He was all over you, lips devouring your mouth the moment you were out of sight. His hand slipped between your thighs, finding your panties soaked. He teased you for your floral cotton panties, moving the fabric aside to shove a finger inside your soaked cunt.

Raymond lifted you off of your feet, and you ended up in his arms, your pussy stuffed to the brim with his thick cock. 

“Fuck, this is a tight little cunt,” he puffed into your neck. Hot breath fanning over your skin. “You’ve been a good girl, huh? How many guys did you fuck behind a bar so far?”

“No one,” you held tight onto Raymond as he slowly rocked into you. “Only you.”

“You’re so good for me, love,” he whispered in your ear as he mercilessly battered your cunt. He was not a gentle lover any longer. Raymond fucked up into you, all the while holding your body safe in his arms. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

“Aw, baby love,” he crashed his lips onto yours to silence your moans. “You met the right man to ruin you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and started to move your hips.

“Ruin me. Do it. I’m done being the good girl.”

“Why did you leave without us?” One of your friends asked. Janice walked inside your shared hotel room, smirking as you were reading another book. “Y/N we are on vacation. Stop reading and go out there. There is a whole new world to explore.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’ll get some dick too if you stop hiding,” your other friend snapped at you. She didn’t get lucky last night and tried to let her anger out on you. Chanel always gets lucky. Just not last night.

“Oh, I think you will have enough fun for all of us,” you hid that you were the one getting a perfect dick last night. Well, they wouldn’t have believed you. You never take a risk. This includes fucking a stranger behind a bar. “Don’t forget to wrap it before you let any dick get near you.”

 “It’s their job,” Janice huffed. “I only need my lipstick and nothing else.”

You bit your tongue. Last night you were the one making sure that you didn’t take a bigger risk. Raymond was all too eager to fill you, but you insisted on protection. Even though you were a horny mess wanting nothing more than to feel him bare inside of you.

“Have fun reading,” Janice snapped at you. “We are going to meet up with some girls we met last night and tonight, we’re going back to the bar. Tonight, I’ll get lucky and fuck a British guy!”

“Don’t wait for us to come back today. You’re no fun to be around since you and Ransom broke up,” Chanel added. A low blow to your fragile heart.

With your friends gone, you had the time to enjoy the city. You explored the usual spots tourists would seek out and ended up in a nice little café to have a break.

It was close to your hotel, and you could enjoy the sun as long as you wanted to. 

At least no one tried to hit on you here or called you boring for enjoying your tea and biscuits.

“This must be fate,” a familiar voice said. Raymond stopped short in his tracks when he recognized you. “What brings you here?”

“I was—” You licked your lips at the sight of Raymond. Today he was wearing a soft camel tan shawl cardigan and a skinny burgundy tie over his dark wash jeans. He looked as perfect as ever when he claimed the empty chair on your table, “having a break from exploring town.”

“Sightseeing,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I see.” Raymond eyed you up and down in your simple shirt, cardigan, and a pair of worn-out jeans. “I could give you the Smith tour to show you all the secret spots no tourist ever saw.”

“Smith tour?” You wrinkled your forehead.

“That’s my surname, sweetness,” he smirked and nodded at the waitress to order tea and biscuits himself. “Do you want to go on that tour with me?”

“Sure,” you said a little too fast. He was still a stranger, but you let him fuck you twice last night. What else could he want? You were sure he wouldn’t hurt you and having the chance to fuck him again had you already dripping. “I’d love to see more than the usual spots.”

You didn’t see much of town. All Raymond showed you was his large, luxurious estate where he lives by himself. And you didn’t see much of it either. 

Raymond had you pinned to his mattress; his cock buried balls deep inside of your dripping cunt moments after he guided you inside his home. 

“Shit, look at you,” he purred before he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. “I could get used to having you like this. Underneath me, filled with my cock.” He kissed you again, softer this time. “Bare.”

He rocked his hips at a slow pace, dragging his thick cock along your walls. Raymond smirked as you dug your fingertips into his back.

“Raymond,” you whimpered his name. “Please.”

“Fuck, say my name again,” he buried his face in your neck to nip at your soft spot. “Now,” Raymond growled your name and gave you a particularly hard thrust. “Sweetness.”

“Raymond.”

“Again,” he snapped his hips into yours. “NOW!”

“RAYMOND!” You screamed his name on the top of your lungs. “RAYMOND!” You chanted it like a prayer. “Please.”

“Fucking take it,” Raymond whispered in your ear. “You’re meant to lie underneath me, my cock in your sweet pussy.” He slowly fucked into you, taking his time to enjoy having you again. “All I was thinking about was your cunt. I could smell you on me all day.”

Your arousal coated his cock with every thrust. It soaked the sheets underneath you, ruining the fine fabric you admired before you ended up on his bed. 

“You’re mine now,” he threatened, his voice a deep growl as he kept on fucking you into the mattress. “Say it.”

He stopped moving and stared at you underneath him. “Say it!”

“’m yours, Ray…”

He kissed you again, sweet but dirty. His tongue delved into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you ate earlier.

“Yes. Fuck.” You started to clench around him and tremble underneath Raymond. “Please.”

“Ohhh…fuck,” he thrusted into you, ignoring that you cried out his name. Raymond simply fucked you through your high, rhythm never faltering as you threw your head left and right. It sounded cliché, or like bad porn. But right at that moment it was all you could do because he just felt too good inside of your body. “That’s it.”

“Come inside of me, please,” you pleaded. “NOW!”

Fuck…He thought and exploded inside of your quivering cunt. Raymond didn’t stop. He trusted in and out of you, making an even bigger mess of his sheets. 

“That was,” you sighed when he slipped out of you to lie next to you. Raymond panted, and you patted his chest when he gasped for air.

“I know, sweetness.”

“Thank you for making my vacation much more interesting,” you laughed as he crawled back on top of you to kiss you softly and gently. 

“Thank you for making my shitty week better.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Smith.”

His shower was amazing. Just like the rest of his home. It was huge, and the rain showerhead was something else.

Not that you got the chance to enjoy it much. The warm water barely had the time to run down your body before Raymond was all over you again.

He stood behind you to nip at your earlobe with his teeth. His skilled hands cupped your tits, and you fell back against his chest.

“Still not enough?” He chuckled at your words. “You're insatiable.

“You’re just too cute to ignore.” He watched you turn around to cup his face to kiss him. “What are you up to, sweetness?”

“I’d love to fuck you again,” you purred his name and ran your hands over his chest. “What are you up to?”

Raymond smirked, and you knew you were in for a rougher treatment. He twirled you around, barking orders at you. “Hands against the wall.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re playing with fire,” he was on you again, to manipulate your body. He gripped your hip with one hand and guided his weeping cock into your dripping pussy. “But I’ll not stop you from being a perfect little cockslut for me.”

You hissed but welcomed his length like an old friend. “You feel too good inside of me, is all.”

“Yeah,” he kissed your neck. “How good? Good enough to spend the rest of your vacation with me.”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation. To hell with your friends, sightseeing, and biscuits. All you wanted to do is spend time impaled on Raymond’s cock.

“I knew it,” he breathed into your neck. “You’re perfect.”

Raymond nipped at your neck while slinging his arms around your waist.

“My little lost tourist.” He slowly but steadily pumped into you. “Lucky me getting inside this sweet body.”

“Oh, yes,” The warm water gently rained down on you and Raymond, and your wet bodies slid easily against one another. “Fuck, please.”

“Same, sweetness,” he growled as you started to push back onto his length. Raymond was close to losing all control. He pressed you against the wall, pumping into you with all the strength he had left in him. 

You slammed the palms of your hand against the shower wall feeling your high ripple through your body. You were panting heavily, and your knees buckled when he emptied himself inside of you. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Raymond grunted into the phone. He watched you turn around in your sleep to snuggle into his pillow. “I want you to tell me where to pick her things up. Y/N wants to spend the rest of her vacation with me, not you.”

He groaned as your friends bombarded him with questions. His patience was wearing thin, and he was close to sending one of his problem solvers to get your belongings.

“Listen, all you need to know is that she’s safe with me. No…I won’t send you a picture of her.” Cursing loudly, he looked at you.

“Give me the phone,” you yawned, and rubbed your tired eyes. “They won’t believe you, Ray.”

“Fine,” he handed you your phone, waiting for you to confirm that he’s not some psycho kidnapper holding you hostage. Even though, his cock twitched when he imagined keeping you at his home forever.

“Janice, relax,” you tried to calm your friend. “I met Raymond two days ago at the bar. Yeah, where you left me all alone. We met again at a café, and I spent the last two days with him at his home. I texted and called you, but you didn’t answer so, I believed you don’t give a shit about me and if I’m still alive.”

Janice muttered into the phone, but you didn’t care. You told her to pack your things and hand them to whoever Raymond will send to them.

One week later you sat on his couch, snuggled into one of the blankets he offered to you. “You’ve got a nice home,” you said and smiled. It pained you that in not a week you had to leave this wonderful place and the man owning it. “Maybe I can come back here one day.”

“Or,” he sat down next to you and placed his hand on your thigh, “I just keep you here forever.” Raymond nuzzled his face in your neck. “I heard you quit your job, left your boyfriend, and are looking for adventure.”

“What? I-“ you spluttered. “How did you find out?”

“Your friends are rather talkative,” he shrugged and moved his hand between your legs. “I got a big home, and a good job waiting for you. I know this is sudden, but I’d love to keep you around. What do you say?”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[callmeagardengnome]

✗ blood in the clouds ✗ | DELETED SCENES | original fic

HOUR 5.5 OF 7 - YOUTUBE VLOGGING

your fingers crumpled the edges of the ‘script’ that hongjoong gave you, the gun ahead of you acting as an unwelcome reminder that you could die at any moment.

you squinted at the paper, your voice cracking slightly as you read aloud. 

“‘dad, you are to provide the $150 million you owe to K.H.J., through your next meeting with mr kim. refusal means that your daughter will be cut up and scattered across the s-’”

your eyes widened. “are you serious?” 

 he lowered the camera he had been aiming at you. “..you want to find out, pretty?”

HOUR 15 OF 7 - DRESS TO IMPRESS

“are you always this picky?” wooyoung sneered as he leaned against the wall. 

you glared at him. “yes.”

the room you were brought to was slightly cleaner and brighter than what you’ve seen so far. on the bed, there were dresses stacked on top of each other, some ridiculous and some stunning. 

“why do you even have these dresses?” you asked as you held one up. 

“we don’t,” wooyoung rolled his eyes. “boss made me steal them for you.”

you dropped the dress and shot him a look. “are you serious?”

“why would we have these lying around?” he scoffed. 

you sighed, picking up a dress. something that was simple and elegant. “i’ll wear this one.”

when you realised that wooyoung ignored you, you spoke up again. “get out.”

he rolled his eyes and left the room with a dramatic huff. once he left, you put the dress on. it wasn’t the most flattering dress you’ve worn, but at least it wasn’t that horrid uniform you’ve been wearing. 

when you were done, you opened the door to see wooyoung waiting - holding a bag of what looked like makeup supplies. you sat on the bed as he loomed through them, picking out something. 

“what the hell is this?” he muttered as he held what looked like a pencil. 

you blinked. “…it’s eyeliner.”

“shit,” he grumbled as his hand wobbled and drew a squiggly line across your cheek. 

you flinched. “what the hell are you doing? i can do it myself-“

“-i’ve done this before!” wooyoung argued as he continued to draw crooked lines near your eyes. 

“is she done yet?” a new voice cut in. you turned to see a man at the doorway. “why is she not ready?”

“seonghwa, take over,” wooyoung snapped as he shoved the pencil into seonghwa’s hands. “i’m getting pissed off.”

seonghwa sighed and stepped forward to where you were sitting. his movements were calm and precise as he wiped off the makeup and reapplied it. 

once he was done, he stepped back with a nod. “you look good.”

you blinked, unsure of whether to thank him. “uh- do you guys have mirrors here?”

both men exchanged a glance before seonghwa shrugged. “no, but just take our word for it.”

before anyone else could say anything, the door swung open. 

it was hongjoong. 

his eyes swept over you slowly and his lips curled into a smirk that made your stomach twist. “let’s go pig hunting.”

HOUR 16 OF 7 - FAST AND FURIOUS

the car swerved violently, tires screeching as hongjoong gripped the steering wheel. the tunnel around you was noisy with gunshots and bullets bouncing off the walls. 

you were in the passenger seat, wearing a black dress as you held the car door for dear life. 

“i thought we were going to an event!” you yelled over the gunshots as the car jerked to the side. 

“i thought so too,” hongjoong sighed as he tilted the rearview mirror. 

before you could say anything, he reached into his blazer and pulled out a sleek black pistol.

“what are you doing?” your jaw dropped. 

he rolled his eyes. “don’t act surprised.” 

“what is wrong with you?!” you spat out, watching him check the bullets. “i’m not letting you kill anyone-“

“god- you’re such a brat,” he clicked his tongue, cocking the gun. “take the wheel.”

you’re eyes widened. “what?!”

“take. the. wheel,” he ordered, already unbuckling his seatbelt. 

hongjoong rolled down the window, letting go of the steering wheel entirely and ramming the gas pedal as he stood up. panicked, you lunged for the wheel, struggling to grip it as the car swerved dangerously to the side. “are you crazy?!”

“drive!” he yelled, raising the gun and firing several shots at the black SUV trailing close behind. 

“shit,” he muttered, ducking back inside to reload his gun. he leaned back out again. “turn right-”

you quickly listened to him as he aimed carefully, firing several more rounds. a loud bang echoed as the SUV’s tires blew out, the vehicle swerving violently before crashing into the tunnel’s wall. 

hongjoong slid back into the seat, taking the steering wheel from you as he rolled up the window. “you’re welcome.”

MONTH 3 - LET’S GO GAMBLING! (initial draft)

“get ready!” san yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.

weapons were drawn and the room erupted into chaos.

you rushed forward, gripping the knife wooyoung lent you earlier. your pulse pounded in your ears as you scanned the room, overwhelmed.

“stay back, brat. you’re not ready.”

hongjoong’s voice was sharp, his hand grabbing your arm as he pushed you to the side. his eyes bore into yours, leaving no room for argument.

you hesitated. the rest of the group either fought piglets near slot machines, roulette tables or bars, their moves deadly.

you tried to follow hongjoong’s order, really. but when you saw one of the piglets break away from the main fight and headed for yeosang, who was hiding under a pool table, you couldn’t resist.

your grip on the knife tightened as you ran forward.

the piglet turned to you, snarling. “you think you can take me, girl?”

without thinking, you lunged.

the clash of steel pierced your ears as your knives collided. you were definitely not a good fighter - your strikes were clumsy and your footing was off, but you were high on adrenaline.

his blows were relentless, forcing you to backpedal. his knife caught yours at an odd angle, causing the blade to deform.

panic surged through you as he moved to strike again, but before he could reach you-

-the piglet dropped to the ground.

you looked behind to see hongjoong standing not too far away, his pistol still aimed at where the piglet was.

his eyes inspected you, narrowing as he assessed your state. blood dripped from a small gash on your lip, and your sleeves were torn - revealing small cuts on your arms.

he sighed. “go hide with yeosang,” he ordered before quickly turning to rejoin the fight.

you staggered toward the pool tables, slumping next to yeosang.

“you’re not fighting?” you panted, wiping your lip.

he shook his head. “too tired.”

you nodded, leaning back against the table’s leg as you impatiently waited for the fight to end, which didn’t take too long.

the gunfire finally ceased, the room falling quiet.

one by one, the group gathered in the corner, collapsing onto the floor in a circle as you and yeosang joined them. bottles of water were passed around as everyone caught their breaths.

for a while, no one spoke, the only sounds being an occasional groan.

“hey,” wooyoung hiccuped, breaking the silence as he turned to you. “give me my knife back.”

you looked at him awkwardly before handing him his completely deformed blade.

“what the hell!” he exclaimed. “that was one of my favourites!”

you shrugged. “you shouldn’t have given it to me then.”

“how was i supposed to know you’d get into an actual fight?” wooyoung complained. “now i don’t feel bad for your busted lip anymore.”

“you’re such a dick,” you rolled your eyes.

wooyoung grinned, leaning closer - his voice mocking sweet. “aw, don’t be mad, sweetheart. i’ll get you a better knife- one that won’t break in your delicate fucking hands.”

“ohmygod- shut up,” you groaned, shoving him lightly as the others chuckled.

hongjoong leaned against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest. his eyes shifted from wooyoung to you. 

he told himself it was relief - that he was glad you were bonding with the crew, that you were starting to feel like one of them. that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? to see you mesh with his team, to become a member?

but why did his stomach twist every time one of them smiled at you?

he didn’t realise how hard his fingers were digging into his arms until his knuckles turned sore and white.

“enough,” hongjoong cut through the conversation.

the laughter died down instantly as everyone turned to him.

“we don’t have time for this,” he continued, standing up. “grab any cash you find and meet by the van. now.”

the group complained but obeyed, sluggishly rising to their feet.

you went to pick up a discarded water bottle, hongjoong’s eyes lingering a fraction too long on the bloodied edge of your sleeve and the small cut on your lip.

he should be angry at you for disobeying him, for throwing yourself into danger when you weren’t ready. but all he could feel was the sickening churn of jealousy at how easily you laughed with the others.

as you passed by him on your way out, he caught your wrist briefly.

“next time, stay where i tell you,” he said. “now you’re hurt.”

you nodded, hesitating before you spoke, your voice soft. “...i’m sorry.”

hongjoong blinked, taken aback.

“i-” your brows furrowed. “i didn’t mean to get hurt. i just wanted to help..”

fuck- why, no- how were you so genuine?

he expected you to talk back or shrug him off, not this - sincerity shining in your eyes. now, he just looked like a shithead, guilt clawing at his chest.

hongjoong exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “whatever- it wasn’t your fault-”

you tilted your head, confused. “but you-”

“just find the cash we need,” he cut you off, walking away.

hongjoong felt his stomach twist once more. he told himself it was just concern or worry. but deep down, he knew it was something more complicated.

and he hated it.

other fics | masterlist

[charlie-ver]

Hey, you, the trans man reading this - I love you. I know there's posts like this, but I got down a bad rabbit hole last night and I think there's not enough nice posts towards trans men (:

I don't care if you've finished you transition, on won't be ever able to reach the changes you would like. I don't care if you've been on T for years, or just started, or won't be for some years, or can't or don't want to be. I do not care how you dress. I don't care if you want to be pregnant and have children one day. I don't care if you want hysterectomy and don't even want to freeze your eggs (Hell knows I am not freezing anything). I do not care if you want bottom surgery or if you love what you were born with. Because it doesn't matter and doesn't take away from your identity.

Gay trans men? You aren't just confused straight girls. You are valid in your gender AND sexuality. Straight trans men? You aren't a betrayal the moment you are no longer misgendered. You're still welcome in lgbtqia+ spaces. Because you're a part of our community. One does not lose their place the moment they are perceived and cis or cishet.

Cis men have heard it before, but they won't admit it. All this "if you like x you must be a girl" really just feels like repackaged "if you like x you must be gay". Wanna hear a secret?

HOBBIES, JOBS AND FAVORITE THINGS DO NOT HAVE GENDER.

I like botanical gardens. I love plants. I like looking at clothing, room decor, fabric stores sometimes catch my eye. Because I am am artist, and I take inspiration from these and many more things. Plant care and gardening is not a "red flag" for a trans man in my humble and trans opinion, but it's a sign that you have love to give. And that's beautiful. Just like liking these things does not indicate that a man is gay, it does not mean that your internal identity is any different.

Do not let the world put rails on your patch to your own masculinity. And if you have to hide, that's okay. If you can only be yourself online, that's okay. Trans people will always be here. Trans men will always be here. The best thing you can do is to live as safely as you can. I know this can come off as condescending from a European who has nothing to fear personally, except violence for one month in the year, because my way of being trans isn't "obvious", but I try to take it that my safety means I can try to reassure the rest of you, while you can just focus on your own misery and don't have to be strong for anyone but yourself.

If you need a safe place to went, come to my asks. If you don't want me to post them and just read them, that's ok. You can be angry, you can vent, you can cry, do whatever you need, but, obviously, no transphobia or anything (: Special love goes out to trans men who are of the aroace spectrum, because honestly, the aroace discourse never seems to die, it's just dismissed. Reminds me of something. Hm (: I wonder.

Anyhow. Come to me to cry, for a virtual hug, for a distraction, if you'd like. Feel free to ask for art. Want me to draw your trans characters with flags? I can do that, for free, for you. Ask or dm is enough (: Art and listening is the best I can do, but I'll do my best to do it well.

I love you. You deserve to live, you deserve to be happy, and you also are wholly entitled to cry, to complain, to be sad, angry, loud, afraid. You are a human being with emotions, you deserve to feel them. Nobody can tell you what your internal identity, what your gender is. Because nobody else can know that. Only you can.

So let me repeat: It does not matter how you dress, whether you are on T, whether you want surgeries or love your body as is, whether you are skinny, fat, or muscular, what accessories and clothes you wear, how your voice sounds, how you act, how you carry yourself and what you like. The only thing that matters is how you feel. And while we're at it, yes, you may change your mind, but it still doesn't invalidate your identity in the moment. There was a time where I thought I was biromantic, but I dropped that because I wasn't, and nobody gave me shit for it. Because nobody should. Whatever you feel right now? Valid. Do you identify at a trans man but don't use he/him? Valid. Do you identify with more genders? Are you maybe a man only sometimes? Or are you more at the same time? All of that is valid, if you feel like a man in some aspect or on some part, you are one, if that's a label you want. If your gender makes more sense as a man, then yeah, you are one. Nothing else but how you feel matters.

I love you, and again, I'm here for you if you need that. I can only listen and draw a little something for you, but maybe that's enough for some. If it can help a bit, I can do it for you.

Anyone derailing this post will be blocked. I have no patience for derailers.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 6 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, third date!, reader goes to the gym, fluff, sexual innuendo

❥ A/N: I'll be going back to work this week so the parts may slow down a bit, just a heads up!

You wake up around nine thirty on Saturday morning, but you scroll on your phone in bed until ten. You get up, start your coffee as you get dressed. You pull out a three-piece workout outfit you bought online a couple months ago but have only worn a couple of times. It's in your favorite color, leggings and a sports bra with a cropped jacket, all the same pattern. You put it on, admiring your form in the mirror. You rearrange your breasts in the mirror so that they're pushed together more, and you zip up the jacket to under your chest, giving a perfect view of your cleavage.

You briefly wonder why you're doing this, but you know why.

You have a small coffee as you wait, scrolling through your phone until there's a knock at your door.

"Just a sec!" you yell, filling your coffee cup with water and leaving it in the sink. You grab your water bottle, slipping on your gym shoes before opening the door. "Hi!"

"Hey." He's wearing sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. His eyes glance up and down your form. "You look nice."

"You like it?" you ask, looking down at your outfit before giving a pose. He smiles softly.

"Yeah. It looks good on you." He reaches out but pauses, drawing his hand back. "Can... may I make a small adjustment?"

"Oh? To my outfit?" He nods. "Uh... sure."

He grunts, reaching forward and grabbing the zipper on your jacket, pulling it up until it reaches your collarbones. He pulls away, nodding.

"Better. You ready?"

You glance down at your now covered chest, then back at him.

"Uh, sure. I'm ready." He hums, then glances down at your feet.

"Your shoes are untied." You look down at them with him.

"Yeah, I know. I'll tie them when I get to the gym."

"Let me."

"I—"

He's already down on one knee, fiddling with your shoe laces. He ties them for you, not too tight, just snug enough that it's comfortable. He moves on to the other shoe and does the same. When he's done, he pulls back, admiring his work. He nods and stands, when you jab a finger into his chest.

"Stop doing whatever you want to me without asking."

"What?"

"You keep doing stuff without asking me how I would feel. Picking me up, tying my shoes. I get that you want to be a gentleman, but you need to ask me if I'm okay with you doing these things before you do them, okay? We still don't know each other that well yet, so you can't be doing whatever you want to me, got it?"

He slumps a bit, but nods.

"Okay. I'm sorry for doing those things without your permission."

"I forgive you. Just ask me next time, okay?" He nods again.

"Okay."

You tug at your jacket, closing your apartment door behind you.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

The gym he goes to is clearly more advanced than your gym. Your gym is full of casual exercisers, people who don't make the gym their life. Here, the gym seems to be the only thing that matters in these peoples' lives. The men are so muscular here, and the few women that there are have sculpted bodies. You imagine them all to be gym influencers on social media.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, hands in his hoodie pocket.

"Oh, um..." You glance around the gym, thinking. "Well, I like to do cardio before I lift weights, so I guess I'll go on the treadmill for a bit before using the machines."

"I'll join you," he offers, already guiding you to the treadmills.

"Oh! You don't have to! You can go do your own workout if you want."

"I invited you to the gym so I could work out with you, not alone." He steps up on a treadmill, holding out his hand for you. You take it, his hand keeping you steady as you get up on the treadmill next to his. "There's no point in coming here together if we don't work out together."

"Alright, alright. If you really want to work out together, we can." His hand is still holding yours. His thumb runs along the back of your hand for a moment, but before you can ask him what's wrong, he pulls his hand away, turning the treadmill on.

You prep yourself with some light stretches before you turn the machine on as well. You start slow, letting your heart rate build up before you get into a fast walk. You glance at Guy, who is walking at a faster speed. You chalk it up to him having longer legs and a longer stride than you, so you don't fret about it.

It's not until he starts running beside you that you become competitive. He bumps up the speed on the treadmill and falls into a jog. His speed is fast, but he makes it look so easy, like this is just a warm up for him. You huff, increasing the speed on your treadmill to match his, just to show him that he's not the only one who can do that.

It doesn't work out well. You sprint for twenty to thirty seconds before you're decreasing the speed again, huffing and puffing. You slow down to a walk again, catching your breath, and this asshole is still running without panting at all. It was slowly pissing you off, but you reminded yourself that your levels of fitness were different and that you shouldn't feel bad about the level you were at. You were still strong and healthy, and that's all that should matter.

Twenty minutes pass when you turn off the machine. He turns his off soon after, slowing to a jog and then a walk before stopping altogether. You make eye contact as you sip some water.

"What would you like to do next?" You hum.

"Weightlifting, but I'm not familiar with your gym." He points off into the distance.

"There's some Smith machines over by the free weights. We could do that if you want." You shrug.

"Sure, sounds good."

He leads you over to the machines he suggested, a bit more pep in his step. Maybe running gave him some more energy.

He goes to an end machine, next to the free weight benches, before turning to you.

"We could alternate between the two," he points to the free weights and the Smith machine. "You could be on one and I could be on another. Or I could spot you, if you'd like."

"Oh, I don't need a spotter," you wave him off. "I'm not gonna do anything crazy, but thank you for offering." He nods, waiting. You glance at the equipment before stepping towards the Smith machine. "I guess I'll start here."

"Alright. I'll pull a bench closer so we can work out next to each other."

"Okay," you reply, putting your water bottle down on the floor so you could set up. You raised the bar until it was shoulder height, moving to one side and adding some weight before adding that same amount of weight to the other side. You move back to the center of the bar, glancing over to see Guy place two large weights on a bench right beside your machine. You briefly wonder how much they weigh before you position yourself for squats.

You don't push yourself too hard. You do what you're used to, four sets of ten reps, increasing the weight by five or ten pounds once or twice to challenge yourself. You can feel eyes staring at you, but every time you glance over at Guy, he's looking away. You feel like you're going crazy as you reset the bar and take off the weights.

You opt for hip thrusts next, grabbing a foam bar to put over the metal bar you're using. You rearrange a nearby bench to sit in front of the bar, getting down on the ground after adding weights to the machine. You do some hip thrusts, four sets of ten again, only getting up once to add ten pounds to the bar. You can feel the strain in your ass when you're done, panting slightly after your last set. When you're finished, Guy shows up at your side.

"Can we trade for a bit?" he asks. You nod.

"Sure," you say, just a little bit breathless. You get up and move out of the way, letting him change the weights on the machine. You go to the bench he was using, taking your water bottle with you. You glance at the size of the weights he was using.

"One hundred pounds?!" you whisper in disbelief, glancing back at him. He's still adding weights to the bar. You swallow hard, humbly grabbing the five pound weights before returning to the bench.

You do some basic arm exercises: bicep curls, tricep extensions, just a couple you can think of. All the while, Guy has been doing hip thrusts and glancing at you every minute or so. You try to ignore him, to focus on your own workout, but his stare is so intense sometimes that you can't focus. He eventually finishes, getting up and stretching a bit. He walks towards you, leaning down.

"I'm going to run to the restroom really quick. You can have the machine back, if you want."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." He nods, walking away. You return your five pound weights and look at the weights he put on the Smith machine. You add up the weights together, slowly realizing that he was working out with more weight than you held on your entire body. You marvel at the idea of him being so strong before slowly removing each of the weights, putting them back in their proper place.

You decide to do dead lifts, adding weight to the bar before positioning yourself in front of it. You start your dead lifts, watching yourself in the wall-length mirror. You notice Guy show up when you're halfway through your routine, slowly approaching you. He's watching you, staring at you, more specifically at your lower half as you bend over. You finish your set, processing that he'd been staring at your ass the last couple of minutes of your workout. You reset the bar, turning around to face him, hands on your hips.

"You good?" you ask, a bit of sass in your tone. His eyes widen and dart away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just, um, going to see what else you wanted to do." You shrug.

"I'm pretty much done. You can keep going and I can just watch, if you want." He clears his throat.

"I just wanted to do one last exercise on the Smith before we go."

"Okay." You step out of the way, holding out your hands and presenting the machine to him. He smiles, moving to change the weights on the machine. You stand to the side with your water bottle, watching him add weights, adding them up in your head. He's added your body weight to the machine plus thirty more pounds. He moves the bench, laying down on it before grabbing the bar, preparing to do a bench press. You watch in amazement and almost horror as he bench presses your weight and then some on the Smith machine. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him moving up and down smoothly, barely straining under the weight. You glanced around to see other people in the gym staring at him, especially the women. A couple giggle and whisper to each other as they look at him, probably talking about how hot he is or something like that. You feel a tad bit embarrassed. What were you doing with a man like this? He was so much more competent in the gym than you were; it was a wonder that he wanted to work out with you at all. Maybe he regretted it, you wondered as he finished his last set, resetting the bar and sitting up. You glance at him in the mirror, and he's staring at you intensely, eyes dark.

"I'm... gonna go fill up my water bottle real quick," you say, turning on your heel and walking to the water fountains.

You unzip your jacket, feeling hot as you fill up your water bottle. You pondered your relationship with Guy, if it would last, if it was even worth it as your water bottle filled up.

"Hey," you hear beside you and you stop filling your water bottle, glancing at the man that had approached you. He was tall, not as tall as Guy, but he still towered over you. He wasn't as buff as Guy either, but he still looked very strong. "I like your outfit."

You glanced down at yourself before giving him a smile.

"Oh, thank you! I got it online."

"It suits you well." He leans against the wall, smirking at you. "I've never seen you around here before; are you new?"

"Oh, yeah, kind of. I've never been here before."

"Well, welcome." He holds out his hand. "I'm Josh." You hesitantly take his hand and shake it.

"I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He pulls his hand away but still lingers. "You know, if we come to the gym at the same time, I could be your workout buddy. I could spot you and help you train."

"Oh! No, that's not necessary. I don't need a spotter."

"You don't? That sucks. I'd love to help you workout sometime."

You're about to ask him why when a large arm impedes on the space between you and this stranger, palm hitting the wall and making Josh jolt. You look up to see Guy, who is glaring daggers at the man you just met.

"Oh! Hey dude, I didn't know you were here today. You just get here, or...?"

"No," he grumbles, turning to you. He whispers a 'sorry' before zipping your jacket up again, covering your cleavage. He grabs your hand, turning to glare again at Josh. "We were leaving."

"Oh," he says, glancing between the two of you before raising his eyebrows. "Oooh. Got it, my bad dude, I didn't know she was off limits." He takes a step back but waves at you. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. Have a good day."

"What was that about?" you ask as Josh jogs off.

"Just an asshole that has no business talking to you." He looks back at you, his expression softening. "Would you like to get lunch now?"

You blink, giving a small shrug.

"Sure, we can."

"Are you mad at me?" Guy asks as you sit down with your food. You furrow your brow, taking a sip of your drink.

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Well, ever since we finished at the gym, you've been quiet. Was it because I zipped up your jacket again without asking you? Because I—"

"Guy." He stops, closing his mouth. "I'm not mad at you. I just... was thinking."

"About what?" he asks, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. You stare at your food, pouting before looking up at him.

"Don't scold me," you mumble. He shakes his head and you sigh. "I saw you lifting those weights earlier and I just felt so inadequate. I mean, there's plenty of other women more fit than I am, beautiful women with great personalities and perfect boobs and I just—"

"Stop." He puts his sandwich down, chewing the last bite before swallowing. "I don't want a woman like that. I want you. That's why I'm courting you; that's why I asked you to be my girlfriend. I want you, Y/N, nobody else. I want you because of who you are now, not who you could be. Okay?"

You curl into yourself, feeling your cheeks burn.

"Okay." You squirm a little. "I'm sorry for needing so much reassurance. You'll probably get annoyed with me, huh?"

"I can't promise that I'll never get annoyed with you, because anything is possible, but I promise I will never leave you or dislike you even if I'm annoyed." You swallow.

"Are you annoyed now?"

"No." He grabs his sandwich again, bringing it to his lips. "I honestly can't imagine ever being annoyed with you, but I suppose anything can happen."

"What would make you annoyed with me?" He shrugs after taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Maybe if you started dieting to lose weight, or if you broke up with me just because you thought I deserved someone different. Those things would bother me quite a bit."

You nod in understanding, sipping your drink again.

"What could I do that annoys you?" he asks. You hum.

"Well, if you try to control me, or tell me what to do when I didn't ask for your input. If you made mean comments about me or my body. If you did stuff like that, I would break up with you." He nods.

"I wasn't planning on doing any of that, but I'll keep that in mind." His shoe taps yours. "Don't let your sandwich get cold."

"I won't," you huff, sticking your tongue out. He chuckles as you grab your sandwich and take a bite, moaning happily. "Oh my god, it's so good."

"It is, isn't it? I love this place."

"How did you find it?"

"I was just looking for somewhere to eat for lunch one day and stumbled upon it. Now I come here pretty regularly."

"I can see why. This is delicious!"

He smiles, taking another bite. The both of you eat in silence for a little while.

"So," you begin, putting down your half-eaten sandwich and wiping your hands on a napkin, "what was the deal with that Josh guy? Do you hate him or something?"

He groans, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not fond of him. He's a huge flirt with all the women at the gym, and he ghosts them after he fucks them."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Because he brags about it to all the guys who will listen. He brags about sleeping with women at the gym and then never texting them back. He's an asshole." He takes another bite of his sandwich, huffing. "I don't want you exposed to a guy like that." You hum.

"And why did you zip up my jacket all day?"

He pauses as he goes in for another bite, glancing up at you. He closes his mouth, swallowing hard, glancing down at your chest before looking back in your eyes.

"I didn't want people to look at you." You raise your eyebrow.

"You mean my chest?" He hesitates but nods. You nod slowly. "I see. So you didn't want people looking at my titties?" He scoffs, coughing for a moment, covering his mouth.

"I guess, if you wanna say it like that." You smile, humming. You twist your mouth, reach for your zipper and slowly pull it down, exposing your cleavage. His eyes widen, flicking down to your chest and back to your face. He glances around the restaurant and you giggle.

"Nobody is looking but you, dingus. Nobody else cares."

"That's what you think. I've seen the way people look at you."

"Oh, really?" You take another bite of your sandwich as he nods. "And how do they look at me?"

"Like they wanna fuck you." You shake your head as he takes his last bite, picking up stray ingredients on his plate and eating them.

"You're crazy. Nobody wants to fuck me but you."

"If you can't see it, then you're blind." You scoff.

"Rude. The only person people were looking at today was you when you lifted all those weights." He scrunched up his face, shaking his head.

"Nobody was looking at me."

"Yes, they were. There were a couple of guys and girls looking at you. Bet the girls were thinking about asking for your number."

"Well, I wasn't paying attention to them, so they don't matter. All I was thinking about was you." You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Is that why you were lifting weights heavier than me?" you asked.

"Ah. So you did notice."

"Yeah, I did. What was that all about?" He wipes his mouth with a napkin, sighing deep.

"I wanted to impress you." You nod slowly, swallowing your food.

"Well, I was thoroughly impressed. And horrified. I thought the weights were gonna crush you."

"I wouldn't let that happen. I'm too strong."

"Yeah, no shit. I've seen that several times."

"Well..." He scratches at a spot on the table, not looking at you. "I wanted you to see it again."

You sigh, glancing at your sandwich.

"I was very impressed," you continue. "But I already knew you were strong when you picked me up at our last date."

"I know. But that was only temporary because you didn't like it. I wanted to show you that I could hold your weight for longer."

You hum, taking another bite.

"Then why did you use my weight for the hip thrusts?" you ask, glancing at him. You see him squirm in his seat, scratching at his jawline, avoiding eye contact. You squint at him, thinking, before your eyes widen and your mouth falls open.

"Oh my god. Oh my god!" You gasp, covering your mouth to hide your shocked smile. "Guy, you—oh my god, are you kidding me?!"

"I wanted to impress you," he whispered harshly, still not looking at you. You reach across the table and playfully slap his bicep.

"You bad boy!" you tease, shaking your head. "I can't believe you. Doing hip thrusts to impress me? Oh, you're naughty."

"Don't tease me," he grumbles, pressing his forehead against the table and sighing loudly. "I feel stupid."

"You're not stupid. Don't say that."

"I'm embarrassed."

"You're cute." He turns his head to look up at you with puppy-dog eyes.

"You think I'm cute?"

"Yes. I've told you this before, you silly goose." You finish your sandwich as he sits up straight, taking a deep breath.

"Y/N."

"Yeah?"

"When I take you home, can I kiss you?" You choke on your last bite, covering your mouth with your hand and coughing. He reaches across the table for you, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

"You—hack—you want to kiss me?!" He nods, eyes locked on you. You shake your head and laugh lightly. "Well, at least you asked instead of just doing it.

He pulls up in front of your apartment, opening the door for you to get out. He walks you up the stairs.

"I really enjoyed today," he tells you sincerely. You smile at him.

"I really liked today, too. Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course." He stops when he reaches the door with you. "I'd love to do this again sometime, if you'd like."

"I'd like that." He returns your smile, staring at you. You lean on one foot, tilting your head. "So, I guess you want that kiss now, huh?"

"If that's okay."

You giggle, pulling on his hoodie, coaxing him to go down one step so that his face is closer to yours. You cup his cheeks with both hands, smiling sweetly at him.

"You ready, handsome?" He swallows, licking his lips.

"Yeah."

You sigh, leaning in and puckering your lips before pressing them gently against his. His mouth is receptive to yours, letting you mold against him and kiss him sweetly. Your lips push and pull for a moment, his large hands coming to rest on your wrists, holding your hands against him. You give him one last kiss before pulling away, smiling at him. His eyes slowly open, hazier than before.

"Thank you," he whispers, drunk off of your lips. You rest your forehead against his, staring into his eyes.

"Next time we'll use tongue," you whisper back. He chuckles, turning his head to kiss your palm.

"I don't know if I can handle that yet."

"We don't need to rush," you reassure him. "I like the pace we've been going at. I appreciate you letting me take the lead on most things."

"You're welcome."

You pull away, patting your hand against his chest.

"Can I call you tonight?" he asks.

"Of course." He smiles wide.

"Cool." He clears his throat, stepping down. He gives a small wave, which you return. "Bye."

"Bye, Guy."

He takes the steps two at a time, jumping down the last three and landing on the concrete. You giggle as he practically skips to his car, giving you one last wave before he gets in, driving off.

You enter your apartment, doing a little dance as you make your way to the bathroom for a shower.

[honey-tongued-devil]

↠The last drop tour

| Part 1 | | Part 2 | | Part 3 |

Alright, alright, I know I’ve already shown you the Last Drop, so here we’re looking at the one from the alternate timeline, as seen in Episode 7. The elements and layout don’t change too much, but there are variations, and since my story is set in this universe, I imagine this version is the most helpful for anyone wanting to explore the universe I write about. The link to the story is HERE, but I hope this can also be useful for anyone writing or reading their own work.

Here we are once again! This tour might be a bit challenging, but don’t worry—your guide has got you covered! This time, we need to start outside.

I know we all recognize the exterior of the bar, which hasn’t changed, but I ask you to take a closer look at the streets. They’re clean and bathed in sunlight. (The Last Drop is in the Entresol, the middle level of Zaun’s three depth levels.) While it may seem almost normal or expected, the smog that used to accumulate made it impossible for light to filter through the thick air, even during the day. As a result, the underground city never got to see this much light. This is the first time.

In Heimerdinger’s sequence where he’s seen playing "Spin the Wheel," we can catch glimpses of glass greenhouses protecting plants, and people in wheelchairs, hinting that the city is now more accessible.

This is the third post where I’ve mentioned this damn ceiling, so I went back just to show it to you, because it was necessary at this point. Let’s start with the fact that the Last Drop has been renovated. The fact that Ekko is wearing a gold earring and is so well-dressed suggests that their profits have increased, and the first thing they did was fix up the place. But enough talk—let’s get to the proof. Now that natural light reaches Zaun, the LED lights on the ceiling aren’t needed anymore. What is needed? Glass, to let the light in.

And so, we move on to another small but significant difference. Scattered throughout the Last Drop, but especially at the bar counter, there are terrariums with plants. Claggor and Mylo are even working on plants capable of converting the dense air of the Sump into clean oxygen. But why do plants have such prominence here? In Season 1, we’re shown that in Zaun, only one place had plants: the Chembarons' meeting room. It was so high up and so clean, thanks to the ventilation on the ceiling, that plants were a privilege of the oligarchy, not something for everyone. But here, even ordinary people in Zaun have plants around, and they thrive.

The bar counter remains the same, the barrels behind Vander are still protected by the same glass partitions as always. The difference now is that everything is adorned with what used to be a symbol of luxury.

Did you recognize these booths? Now, instead of the Chembarons' photos, there are sheets with dart game scores written on them—both for the kids and the three older men. To be honest, the one I’m showing you in the photo from Zaun’s original timeline is actually the first booth on the left from the entrance. Meanwhile, the one shown where the kids are sitting is the second booth, a bit closer to both the bar counter and the narrow hallway that leads to the arcade area and the pool table.

Which ones? These. Actually... this photo was taken in front of the first booth, and we can see Powder's drawings hanging there. Basically, we understand that they’re portraits of all of them together, happy. Maybe some are solo portraits, but they’re definitely very different from how things are now. (the comparison)

I imagine that the basement where Vander and his children used to live is now the place where they store alcohol and reserve drinks, or maybe it has become a boiler room. We don’t have photos of the lower area (which, I remind you, can be accessed by taking the door to the right of the bar counter and going down a long staircase) nor of the upper area, which is reached by climbing the stairs to the left. So, I can’t show you more parts of our beloved bar, but I can tell you that according to what we’re told in episode 7, they now offer both live music and events. So, the Last Drop has continued both Vander’s family-oriented, rustic management and Silco’s vision of a nightlife hub and heart of the city.

As for the rest—how we got to this point, what brought the change, how Silco's eye healed, how they managed to reach such an economic development to renovate the bar in that way—I can only speculate. But, I won’t do that here.

The theme of the universe’s development from episode 7, starting with Vi’s death, is what I talk about in my fanfiction. So, I’ll take a moment to advertise myself during this tour and let you know that if, in addition to the objective facts, you'd like to hear my opinion, I address it HERE (Everytime it rains).

From these three tours, I think you've gathered that I’m someone who pays a lot of attention to details, which is why a superficial analysis of the differences wasn't enough for me. I needed a bigger space to narrate (and analyze) the politics and the domino effect of events. So, I don't know, I hope to see you again at the bar.

Sincerely, your guide, provided by...

-Kiramman's chronocare

[illubean]

Nerd!Gojo x Goth!Reader

Characters: Satoru Gojo Type: College!AU, Oneshot, Gn!Reader

part of a mini series of oneshots :3 lmk if you want a p2

Warnings: none? reader wears makeup/dresses but is still gn

For someone with the hobbies and interests of the likes of Satoru Gojo, he was pretty popular around campus. Men and women alike often talked about his looks, or the fact his family owned a large corporation, but what they didn't care to talk about was that Satoru Gojo was a complete loser.

Despite how popular or known he is, he only has about four friends and is the captain of the varsity E sports team for crying out loud. Not only that, but he was a computer science major..

Let's just say they're not really...known for good things.

Despite how nerdy and awkward he is, he still managed to draw attention to himself, whereas you preferred to separate from the masses. There was no doubt your dark, elaborate outfits and heavy makeup turned some heads while you roamed the corridors and quads, but other than that you've kept a relatively low profile. Though most people never really paid much mind to you aside from an initial glance, you managed to catch the eye of the aforementioned varsity E sports player.

He thought you were stunning.

From your flowing black dress and large boots to your eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch, the white haired boy was completely and utterly enamored with you. And when a dopey smile forms on Gojo's face and his head gets all spacey, that's when Geto and Shoko realize he's spotted you somewhere across the field. Despite almost everyone preferring the weekend, Gojo's favourite days were Mondays and Wednesdays.

The days you sat in front of him in creative writing.

He spent most of the class periods staring at the back of your head, leaning against his palm with hearts in his eyes as he fantasized about what it would be like to be yours. He would watch as you scribbled away in your notebook, perfecting your story for next week, which he always looked foreword to reading during critique. Gojo has never once had the courage to approach you directly, though. Your ethereal beauty scared him; there was no way someone as perfect as you would even spare him a passing glance.

So, his friends got to listen to him sigh and daydream about you with no end.

"Did you see their outfit today? That lacey corset compliments them so well. And that dark lipstick. I wonder if it's flavored-"

"Holy shit can you shut up? We get it, you like the goth kid," Shoko complained, taking a drag from her cigarette.

Geto chuckled at her annoyance before making a remark of his own.

"Instead of spending all this time wondering, why don't you actually go talk to them."

'You know I can't do that! They're just...they're just so cool," Gojo whined, shrinking into himself and resting his head against the table they were sat at.

"Tough luck then," Shoko said, putting her cigarette out before gathering her belongings and standing from her spot.

"I have to get to my bio lab."

"I should head off too. I have civics in 10 minutes. See ya, Satoru."

And with that, Gojo was left alone having already finished the last of his classes for the day.

Damn it. What do I do now?

Gojo pouted while he continued to sulk for a moment, pondering what he could do with the rest of his day. After a while of sifting through his options, the snowy haired male picked up his bag and made his way to the library.

Maybe I can check out the new VR center.

Gojo's mind began to wander as he thought about all the things he could try on VR. He was lost in thought, feet taking him down the halls of the library before stumbling into someone, the sound of books thudding against the floor snapping him from his thoughts.

"Oh, sorry about that," a soft voice spoke.

Upon raising his head, his eyes came in contact with a pair of (color) ones, his cheeks heating up slightly upon realizing who he just bumped into.

After a beat of silence, his eyes widened as he scrambled to help pick up all of the books you dropped, noticing one in particular that he recognized.

“...'Mythology of Ancient Civilizations’?” Gojo asked before realizing how silly he must have sounded.

You raised an eyebrow. “You familiar?”

Gojo nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’ve read it like… five times. I mean, the whole concept of storytelling through myths is incredible. The gods and monsters… They’re like the first fantasy novels, you know?”

Your mouth twitched into a small smile, intrigued at his words.

“Huh. I didn’t take you for someone who’d read stuff like this.”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t look it,” Gojo chuckled, scratching the back of his head nervously. “I’m usually more into… y’know, video games and stuff.”

“I could tell,” You comment, motioning towards his street fighter T-shirt. He looked down towards what he was wearing before his face flushed with embarrassment, sinking into himself as you chuckled at him.

"Gojo, right? You're in my creative writing class. I assume you like story telling, huh?"

The male's face lit up at this, before going on a tirade about the topic.

"I love story telling! I'm a computer science major and I'm trying to be a game dev which is why I'm taking creative writing. My favorite types of games are RPGs, like the LOZ franchise or Final Fantasy. They're not just about shooting stuff or solving puzzles, but they're interactive worlds that should matter just as much as books or movies! I'm actually working on a game right now about-" he cut himself off, seeing you now had a sly smirk stretched across your face.

Feeling shy once again, he cast his gaze down before saying "Sorry. I kind of went on a rant there..."

You let out a small, melodic laugh at this.

"It's okay, you're passionate about something. I think that's cute."

His heart fluttered at your words while his blue eyes wandered everywhere but to meet yours. He realized he was still holding on to your books, and he rushed to hold them out to you.

"Uh- sorry again. Here."

You gently took the books from him, fingers slightly brushing past his, setting off the butterflies in his stomach.

Their skin is so soft...

"Well, I'd love to hear about your game sometime, but I gotta get going. You free friday?"

Gojo couldn't believe his ears. You were asking him to hang out!?

"Um- yeah! I have practice from 1-3 though..."

"And by practice, you mean playing League of Legends for 2 hours?" you teased.

He nodded, slightly embarrassed by this.

"Meet me at 4 then. See ya!"

You sauntered past him, waving as you made your way towards the exit.

No way.

I have a date!

[rubyboobidoo]

not tryna make you jealous, but it looks so good on you | sofia gigante x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW, dom sofia (obvi), hair pulling, degradation+praise, spanking, thigh riding, just absolute FILTH 18+

A/N: this took me too long smh but i think it was worth it

it can’t be easy, running an entire empire that is. you know sofia appreciates you being her doting and understanding girlfriend, always by her side, always good for her. but lately, it’s been too much. all the late nights and days spent without so much as a kiss from her leave you worried and ever so desperate. it’s not like you’re asking for much, just a little bit of attention.

when you first noticed the revealing dress sofia had gifted you at the back of your closet, you knew exactly what to do. the plan was simple — wear it around the falcone residence until she finally noticed her mistake. you were confident it would get the reaction you wanted. until she saw you, her face twisted into a furious scowl. before you could react, she grabbed your arm and marched you straight into the nearest bedroom, the tension in the air palpable.

sofia struts to where you stand in the room, the haunting click of her heals on the floor following her. she circles around you, her hands skimming over the silk dress. it's funny how such a garment can cause such a fuss. "now, let's get one thing straight" she stops, hands lingering at your hips "all this" she purrs as her eyes scan your figure "is mine. understood?"

you decide to push her further, "i don't follow. all i'm doing is showing off what you bought me, baby." you sway, drawing attention to the fabric - or lack there of - on your body.

sofia's eyes narrow, her grip tightening on your hips as she yanks you close. "you think you’re being clever, hmm?" she hisses, her breath hot against your neck “playing games in front of my men?"

with one hand on your hip she raises the other to your head, grabbing a fist full of hair.

she watches with satisfaction as your eyes well with tears from the shock. "this dress, this body, this pretty little mouth of yours... all mine to do with as i please.”

one hand slides up your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest just below your collarbone. "this dress... should be a reminder of who you belong to." her other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat.

her grip in your hair tightens, just shy of painful. "over my lap. now." sofia releases you abruptly, stepping back to sit at the edge of her bed. "don't keep me waiting, sweetheart. i'm not a patient woman.” she taps her fingers impatiently against her thigh, staring through you as she restlessly awaits your response.

your chest tightens with fear of what she'll do next, but you don't move. instead, you stay still, pushing her further.

“god, must i do everything myself?" she snaps, rising from the bed. in one swift motion, she grabs your arm, yanking you toward her. you gasp falling into her lap forcing air out of your lungs and causing your dress to ride up.

the cool air leaves goosebumps over your thighs and sofia leaves little time for you to collect yourself before binging her hand down against your rear.

"count them out." she demands coldly. her hand comes down again as you wrangle a muffled 'one' from the back of your throat.

sofia continues her assault, filling the room with the echoed sound of skin on skin. you stop fighting the tears several slaps ago, letting them flow freely down your face as your flesh becomes increasingly red.

satisfied with her work, sofia pauses, her hand resting on your lower back. "good girl," she murmurs, her tone almost affectionate. you allow yourself to bask in the praise before uttering a small "thank you."

sofia shuffles back towards the headboard of the bed, smirking as she signals you to move with her. she watches in satisfaction as you crawl towards her, tapping her thigh with her slender finger as if to say “take a seat”.

you can feel her taking in the sight of you - the heat of her gaze on your skin. moving to straddle her leg, you realise how embarrassingly wet you had become.

sofia's lips curl into a hungry grin as she watches you crawl toward her. eyes raking over your figure, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, damp from tears.

“you wanted my attention and now you have it, princess.” she growls, her voice low and dangerous.

you know what she wants you to do - make a mess, give her a show. but your mind was too fuzzy and you just couldn’t seem to make your hips move. instead, you lean in for a kiss.

sofia allows it, letting your lips clashing against each other as you whine into the kiss.

you a pitiful whine as she breaks the kiss, your breath coming in harsh pants. she bring her gaze down to where your heat meets her tight-clad thigh. “need a hand?” she teased, cocking her head.

she watches you eagerly nod and with that, she takes ahold of your hips, digging her nails into your flesh through the thin silk.

there’s something so jarring about being so bare before your fully clothed girlfriend but it’s all worth it for the friction that sends sparks of pleasure up your spine.

at a steady pace she guides your hips up and down her thigh. her feeling is torturous, delicious but leaving so much more to be desired.

you bite your lip to stifle a moan, your embarrassment palpable. she loves you like this - eager, desperate for more.

she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers “poor baby,” her voice laced with sarcasm “so desperate for my attention yet too shy to make all those pretty little noises.”

"sofia," you moan, arching further into her thigh.

"ah ah," sofia tuts, slowing her movement completely. "i didn't say you could move, did i?"

she hooks a finger under the strap of your dress, tugging it down to expose more of your skin. "i love seeing you like this," she breathes, her lips trailing down your neck. "squirming and whimpering, all for me."

“only you.” you breathe, maybe if you appease her she’ll give you what you so desperately need.

“please, baby” you beg, hips bucking up in the desperate search for more traction “i need it.”

"since you asked so nicely," she growls pulling her lips from your skin.

sofia returns her hands to your hips, grinding you against her thigh with expert precision. the friction is incredible, building the tension coiling in your core.

she grips your hips tighter, her nails digging into your flesh as she grinds you harder against her thigh. sofia relishes the debauched sight of you - chest heaving from sporadic breaths, shaking legs tensing around her thigh, hazy eyes brimmed with tears of pleasure.

she quickens her pace as she notices you coming further undone. you can feel it building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter “come on, baby,” sofia urges, her voice low and encouraging. “let go, princess. give me what i want.”

her words in your ear are enough to send you tumbling over the edge. a wave of pleasure crashes over you as sofia draws out every last shudder and gasp.

she pulls back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “what an awful girlfriend i am, hmm?” she tenderly brushes a stray her from your forehead “letting my girl get all needy.”

you pout and joking nod in agreement “the worst.” you chuckle. with the little strength you have left, you shift your weight from her thigh.

“i don’t remember saying i was done with you, sweetheart.” sofia threatens. rather than protest, you steadily lower yourself between her legs, looking up at her through eager eyes.

“who said i was going anywhere?”

[candycandy00]

Bad Boy - A Togame Jo x Reader Fanfic

Your town is controlled by two gangs: Shishitoren and Bofurin. With a taste for danger, you love to sneak over to the Shishitoren side, where you spot a handsome dark haired stranger rumored to be a violent and dangerous gang member. But he doesn’t seem so bad to you. 

Smut. 18+. Gang AU. Busty Fem Reader. Togame is in his mid 20’s. Bondage. Oral. Rough sex. Reader is sexually aggressive and a tease. Divider by @benkeibear.

You first met Togame at the festival being held on the temple grounds. You’d come from the other end of town to hang out with your friend, and you were carrying a frozen treat in a cup made of paper. You bumped into someone tall, and your frozen treat smashed into his chest. You apologized, he gave you a curt nod, and that was it. 

You turned and looked back at him as he walked over to a food stall to talk to the person running it. From the way he was dressed, you would assume that he worked at the temple. He had dark hair worn longer than most other men his age (early twenties if you were guessing) and striking green eyes. 

He was entirely your type.

“Don’t even think about it,” your friend said when she noticed you staring. 

You didn’t pry your eyes away even as you answered, “Why not?”

“His name’s Togame. He’s with the Shishitoren gang. Pretty high up in the ranks too. He’s well known for being violent, even with other members of the gang. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”

You were still watching him as he left the stall and walked further away. “A bad boy, huh?”

Your friend grabbed your wrist to get your attention. “Hey, listen to me! You better stay away from him! They say he shows no mercy to his own guys. What do you think he would do to you if he knew you have ties to the Bofurin?”

You gave her a grin. “No idea, but you’ve got me curious now.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re gonna end up dead one of these days. You take a huge risk every time you come to this side of town.”

Her voice kept going, but you were not really listening. She might think this Togame guy is a big scary gang member, but she didn’t see what you saw. She didn’t see his face flush pink when your body brushed against his. Something tells you he’d be very fun to play with. 

************************

When Togame found a couple of his guys cornering a college girl in an alley, he stopped to see what was going on. 

One of them turns to him. “She’s from the other side. Her cousin is in Bofurin!”

Togame wonders what could possess her to reveal such information, but the cat’s out of the bag now. She’s an intruder on their territory, and they can’t just let her go. 

“I’ll handle it,” he says, and the other two back away, revealing the hottest girl he’s ever seen. Everything from her shape to her hair to her eyes, to the way she stands there like a tasty lamb among wolves, draws his eye. Her skirt is way too short and her shirt, with tiny straps to hold it up, is way too tight. To his embarrassment, it’s very clear that she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Come with me,” he tells her, keeping his voice smooth and controlled. He’s silently praying she doesn’t resist. If he has to manhandle her, he’s going to end up humiliating himself by popping a boner. 

She looks up at him innocently. “Oh no, are you taking me captive?” 

Something about her voice makes him think she’s definitely not innocent. “I’ll take you back to our base. Then we can decide what to do with a Bofurin interloper.”

She purses her glossy lips in obviously fake concern. “I hope you’ll be gentle with me!”

He tries to ignore the way her huge tits strain against her shirt, the way her hard nipples protrude as one thin strap falls off her shoulder. 

“We’ll see,” he says, turning his back to her and walking toward the Ori, counting on her to follow. She clearly has some plan in mind, so he might as well see where this goes. 

No one else is there at this hour, but he still takes her into one of the small side rooms. It was probably a break room for employees at some point. There are a few small chairs and one table that looks like it could break at any moment. 

Just to be safe, he sits her in a chair and uses a discarded cord to tie her hands behind her. Whatever her game is, she’s definitely trouble, and he doesn’t need her slipping away to cause problems. 

She squirms a bit in the chair. “Did you bring me to this abandoned building so you could have your way with me?”

He blinks. “Uh, no?”

She’s actually pouting! She wiggles a bit, pretending to pull at the cord. “But I’m all tied up and so helpless! You could do anything you want to me and I couldn’t stop you.”

He sighs, already getting a headache. This has to be some kind of trap or trick. “Right now, all I want to do is talk,” he tells her. “Why did you come to this side of town? If your cousin is in Bofurin, you must know you’re in enemy territory.”

She smiles at him. “I’ve heard you’re really important over here,” she says, completely avoiding the question. “Apparently you’re a bad guy. Violent. Scary.”

He can’t really deny it. Those words could definitely describe him at times, when he has to step up and take care of unpleasant business. He doesn’t enjoy it, and would much rather live a peaceful life. But he has a talent for inflicting violence on others, and he’s had to put that talent to use many times while weeding out traitors to the gang or fighting their enemies. He’s well aware of the reputation he’s fostered in town, which is why most women avoid him. 

“And what if I am?” he asks the woman in front of him. 

Her eyes seem to light up with excitement, but she feigns fear again. “Then it looks like I’m in the lion’s den. Will you eat me alive?”

His eyes rove up and down her body, and he has to literally will himself not to blush. She’s certainly tantalizing. 

As she squirms around in the chair, her skirt slides up her thighs. She gasps in mock surprise. “Oh no, my skirt’s riding up! With my hands tied I can’t even pull it back down! This is so embarrassing, especially since I’ve misplaced my panties. If it rides up any more, you’ll see everything!”

If he’d been drinking anything, he would have comically spit it out. Instead, his eyes go wide and he swiftly turns his back to her before she can see how red his face is. 

He’s never even thought about tearing a woman’s clothes off and fucking her raw until she’s a crying mess before, but this woman is going to turn him into a beast. He has to get it together! 

Togame takes a moment to compose himself, to construct a calm and collected persona and keep it on. If there’s one thing he’s good at besides beating the shit out of people, it’s pretending to be something he’s not. 

He turns back around, and she’s looking at him with hungry eyes. Her legs are spread slightly apart, the fabric of her skirt just barely covering her. If it slides up even one more inch, he’ll get an eyeful. 

“Wow, I just noticed how tall you are,” she says. “With me being in this little chair, my face is at just the right height, huh?”

Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t had a whole lot of experience with women (and what little he had was back in high school), but he doesn’t realize what she means. “The right height for what?”

She giggles, probably amused by his naivety, and says, “For shoving your cock in my mouth.”

Ah, fuck, now that she’s said it, he can’t help picturing her plump, shiny lips stretched around the base of his cock as she chokes on it. He tries to clear his mind, to ignore all the lewd thoughts invading his brain, but they just keep marching in. And of course, he’s rapidly growing hard. His loose pants should keep it from being obvious though. He hopes. 

He decides to try a different tactic. Maybe she won’t be so coy if he intimidates her a little. 

Stepping right up to her, he looms over her bound form. Someone so much smaller than him should definitely be afraid. Especially someone aware of his reputation. He slams one hand down on the back of the chair, right beside her shoulder, and says in his most threatening tone, “Why did you come here? What game are you playing?”

She looks up at him, her skin flushed, her lips parted. Holy shit, she looks horny! Does she get off on danger or what? 

“Do you want me to be honest?” she asks, and for the first time her voice doesn’t have that phony damsel in distress tone. 

“Just tell me,” he says, still leaning over her. 

She hesitates, then takes a breath. “You probably don’t remember, but I bumped into you at the festival a few days ago. I got my ice cream all over you.”

He does remember, but he’d been so flustered by the feel of soft tits brushing against him that he hadn’t looked at the woman’s face. “That was you?”

She nods. “My friend told me about you, how you’re in Shishitoren and you’re so dangerous. I watched you for a little while and thought you were hot. So I started hanging around over here in the hopes that I could meet you.”

He feels himself getting red again, but he doesn’t turn around this time. “So you’ve met me. What do you want from me?”

She opens her legs a little more in the chair, her skirt edging up. Fuck, he really is going to see everything. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asks with a cat like grin. “I want you to wreck me.”

That’s it. He can’t take anymore. If she really wants him that badly, then he’ll fuck that smug grin right off her pretty face. 

Even if he’s blushing like a schoolboy while he does it. 

**************************

You know exactly what you’re doing. You had this all planned out after all. You want Togame, and you intend to have him. But even with that in mind, you’re still surprised when he suddenly pulls out a massive cock, already hard and leaking, and does exactly what you suggested earlier: shoves it into your hot wet mouth. 

He groans as he pushes it all the way in, gripping your hair for leverage, burying your nose in his soft, curly black pubic hair. Oh god, he’s so big, and so forceful, you’re already drenched. 

He’s halfway down your throat, making you gag and sputter around his cock, holding your head in place so you can’t pull back. Ahh, this is why you love bad guys. Tease them enough and they’ll fucking ruin you.  

But you’ve seen enough to realize Togame is not all that he seems. The way he reddens and gets flustered is just so cute! So when you look up at him, tears stinging your eyes, he quickly pulls back enough to let you breathe. There’s an unspoken apology on his face, but once you begin licking his shaft like a popsicle, all hesitation disappears from his expression. 

He fucks your mouth, not quite as roughly as you expected given his supposed violent tendencies, but hard enough to make you moan around his cock as you continue to make an absolute mess in the chair. 

The sound of him breathing hard turns you on even more, and you wish one of your hands was free so you could shove it under your skirt. 

You constrict your throat around him, loving the way it makes him grunt and pump in harder. And after several minutes of absolutely railing your mouth, you feel his cock twitch and slide out. He barely makes it past your lips before his cum shoots out in thick ropes across your face, plenty of it splattering your lips and sliding onto your tongue. 

He’s panting above you, looking a little embarrassed. Was he trying to pull out in time to avoid filling your mouth? How sweet. You’re starting to think he’s not such a bad boy after all. 

You lick your lips clean as he stares at you, catching his breath. “Sorry,” he mutters, moving to go behind you, probably to untie your hands so you can clean your face. 

“Don’t untie me yet,” you tell him.

He pauses and looks at you questioningly. 

You tilt your head, causing more of his cum to drip to the corner of your mouth so you can reach it with your tongue. Then, as he watches intently with a pink flush to his face, you open your legs widely. Your skirt bunches at your waist, and your dripping pussy is on full display. 

“Are you really going to leave me like this?”

You hear his breath hitch, and just like magic, his cock is getting hard again. He looks you in the eyes, as if wanting to be sure. In response, you slide your hips forward, through your own juices, spreading your thighs even wider. 

That did the trick. Suddenly he’s jerking you up from the chair, your hands still tied behind you, and shoving you face down on the rickety table, effectively bending you over. His knees prod your legs apart, and before you can react at all, he buries the entirety of his cock in your pussy, making you gasp. 

Holy fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, and you can’t help but whimper as your bound hands grasp at air. 

You feel him lean over you from behind, and then his smooth voice in your ear, “This is what you wanted, right?”

His thrusts are so rough, the table is nearly scooting across the floor. You’re going to be sore for days after this. But god it feels good! “Yes!” you cry, clenching around him. “Break me!”

One of his hands reaches around and slides under your shirt, squeezing your breast hard before pinching your nipple. You hiss from the sting of it, getting more and more worked up. He’s hitting you so deep, right in the spot that makes your toes curl. 

“Ahhh… f-fuck, you’re so big,” you breathe out, feeling like he might literally split you in two. 

“You’re just… too tight…!” he mutters back, not slowing his thrusts at all. 

Maybe you teased him a little too much, because it feels like he’s made it his personal mission to fuck you absolutely stupid. 

And you love every second of it. 

He hits a particularly deep and sensitive spot, over and over, and suddenly you’re cumming, screaming out his name and squirting all over the table. He fucks you through it, both his hands now gripping your waist so hard, you know the imprints of his fingers will be there for a long time. 

When you feel him twitch again inside you, you quickly say, “Don’t pull out! I’m on birth control!”

“Oh fuck,” he says, sounding almost intoxicated as he plunges in as deeply as he can and releases his seed. You savor the feel of it churning inside you, filling you up completely. 

When he finally pulls out, he stands there behind you for a moment, probably watching his cum drip out of you. Then he reaches down and unties your wrists.

You stand up, rubbing the raw, red circles on your skin where the cord was. You like how they look. 

He’s fixing his pants and looking a little awkward as you pull your skirt back down. “Is there a bathroom in here?” you ask casually. 

“Down the hall on the left. It’s not the cleanest one though,” he says. 

“That’s fine. But you guys should probably clean it up if you’re gonna bring girls here.”

He gives you an uneasy smile. “I doubt that’s going to happen often.”

You blink at him. “Really? So I’m not invited to come back?”

His eyes widen. “Oh… uh, if you want to…” he says, his hand ruffling the back of his hair. “You’re welcome anytime.”

You grin. “Does the rest of your gang know what a sweetheart you are?”

He blushes again, but is obviously trying to look stern. “You better keep quiet about that!”

You blow him a kiss before you leave. “Your secret’s safe with me!”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hello, I wanted to ask you for a smut of Ethan Landry, that the reader discovers that he is a ghostface when they are about to fuck but she does not care and they do it anyway.

I have not posted for Scream in a while, my apologies

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Tara called you about the attack at the bodega, you felt a thrill of excitement.

You had seen pictures of past Ghostfaces online and some of them made you want to welcome them with open legs. Sam’s father was a total hottie when he committed the first murders in 1996. There was something about a man with a knife that made your panties dampen.

‘’Are you and Sam okay?’’

‘’Yeah. It was…brutal. And terrifying,’’ Tara said on the other side of the line, her voice still shaky. ‘’I’ve just gotten a normal life back, I don’t want to go through this again. And Sam—’’

A knock on your door stirred you from your phone call. ‘’Sorry, Tara. Eh, there’s someone at the door.’’ You glanced at the door and felt your heart race in your chest. ‘’I’m not expecting anyone though…’’

Tara’s breathing changed, getting traumatic flashes of her first attack. ‘’Don’t open! That’s how I was attacked last year.’’

The chances that she was right were slim, but not impossible. Since you were close friends with Tara, it made you part of the friend group…therefore a possible target. Ghostface could very well be standing on the other side.

You bit your tongue and held back from asking ‘who’s there?’, knowing it was a free ticket to your death. Instead, you check through the peep-hole.

‘’It’s Ethan,’’ you reassured Tara, seeing a curly haired awkward boy instead of the classic halloween mask. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow before class, okay?’’

You hung up and unlocked your door, letting Ethan in.

‘’What are you doing here? I thought you had a late class tonight,’’ you said, drawing your eyebrows together. ‘’And why are you dressed like you’re going to a funeral?’’ You nodded your head at his unusual all black outfit.

‘’It finished twenty minutes ago.’’ Ethan slung off his backpack and put it down on the floor. It looked very full, how many books did he carry in there? ‘’My class. Not the funeral,’’ he felt the need to precise.

You chuckled, the soft sound echoing in the small apartment.

‘’I can’t stay long, I have an early class in the morning.’’

‘’Are we still having lunch together?’’

Ethan hummed and a rosy blush covered his cheeks as his eyes fell on your nightgown. He had spent the night over a few times, but very little clothes had been worn to bed. This satin number? He had never seen it before. Your breasts were free underneath and falling perfectly and your nipples were slightly poking through the thin fabric. It made his cock instantly swell.

‘’You sleep in that?’’ he asked, pointing at your nightgown.

‘’Yes, I sleep in that.’’

‘’Isn’t it a little dressed up for sleeping?’’

You rolled your eyes at his ��men’ comment. ‘’Wearing nice pajamas is part of self-care.’’

‘’You wear that every night?’’ You nodded and Ethan fought a whine, jealously beaming at your bed attire. ‘’And the only pictures you send me are your face?’’

‘’If you want ‘goodnight’ nudes, you’re gonna have to earn them,’’ you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking an eyebrow. ‘’What’s your deal, Landry? I’m listening.’’

After a few propositions, you decided that getting railed into your mattress was a good enough deal...for one picture. Ethan’s dick was good, but you weren’t a fool. If he wants more nudes, he’ll have to offer more.

You tilted your head to the side as he kissed and nipped at your neck. No matter how many times you’ve been naked with him, it still shocked you how desperate Ethan was for you and your body. His hands slid up the backs of your thighs, right below the hem of your nightgown. A part of him wanted to tear it off your body, but the other wanted to fuck you with it on. 

You left him to his dilemma and reached for the back of his shirt, trying to yank it off, but Ethan hissed in pain when he lifted his shoulder. He tried to cover it with a cough, but you had already seen the bruise the size of a grapefruit on your boyfriend’s side.

Sitting up and pausing your activities, you looked at him in concern. ‘’How did that happen?’’ You ghosted your finger over the purple-y red skin. 

Did he get into a fight? Did he get jumped after a late class? Campus is not safe at night, which is why you always carry something to defend yourself. But Ethan's not small or weak, the muscles underneath his polos can fight back.

‘’I…’’ Ethan drew his eyebrows, trying to come up with an explanation. ‘’It's nothing. I got hurt doing something stupid at the gym with Chad.’’

Last week? His explanation not making sense. The timeline didn’t add up. 

‘’You didn't have it three days ago when we rudely got interrupted in your dorm.’’

‘’I did,’’ he insisted. ‘’You…you must not have noticed it.’’ 

‘’But it’s so dark. It looks recent.’’ 

Ethan moved so the bruise was out of your sight, then sighed. ‘’Can we go back to kissing? I don't want to talk about this.’’ 

Instead of calming your worries, his words flared them up. ‘’Did someone do this to you? Oh my god, did he attack you too?’’

 ‘’No. It's not Ghostface. I wasn't at the bodega.’’ He took your hands in his to reassure you, but there was a flaw in his statement. 

‘’What do you know about the bodega?’’ you asked cautiously, remembering Mindy's words to be cautious about the love interest. 

His backpack was in the living room. If you went and checked its content, would you find a black robe and a mask, or just books?

‘’Sam and Tara got attacked tonight after leaving the police office, right? You told me while I was in class.’’

You shook your head, slipping your hand from his. You never mentioned the bodega to Ethan.

‘’I did not. I was on the phone with Tara when you arrived here. She was telling me what happened.’’

Ethan's heart raced, realizing he had spoken too much. Panic surged through his veins, urging him to flee, to hide, to deny any involvement, but he knew deep down that it was futile. You knew. 

‘’Was...was it you at the bodega? Did you attack Sam and Tara?’’ 

Your questions were simple, but terrifying from Ethan's shoes. He had been caught, unmasked. There was no escaping the haunting truth. His world would never be the same again. You would never see him the same.

He grabbed his shirt, about to leave, but you pulled him back by his belt and looked up at him with pleading eyes. ‘’Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889

[literatureloverx]

Please could you do headcanons or mini scenarios for first date with chuuya, dazai and fyodor?

Also please could I have an anon emoji...except I don't know which emoji because I'm indecisive.

Hello, my dear! Of course you can. How about 🍄-anon?♥️

I wrote scenarios. I hope it’s okay!♥️

BSD MEN x the first date

BSD MEN x ideal type fem!reader darlings.

Characters: Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor Dostoevsky had always been meticulous in his plans, and tonight was no exception. Every detail of your first date had been carefully orchestrated to unfold exactly as he envisioned.

He had lured you into a seemingly casual meeting of “intellectuals” in a secluded, elegant setting, a lavish estate that echoed the grandeur of the past.

The soft light cast by ornate chandeliers flickered against the walls adorned with grand paintings, creating a dreamlike atmosphere.

You had asked him beforehand what to wear, and his answer had been simple yet deliberate: a white, elegant dress.

As you stepped into the opulent space, you felt a wave of acceptance wash over you; everyone else was dressed in white, their attire a silent agreement that you belonged in this curated circle.

Fyodor’s puppets, each a pawn in his grand design, mingled and chatted, their laughter echoing like distant music, adding to the atmosphere of sophistication.

But as the evening progressed, one by one, his so-called friends vanished, slipping away into the vast halls, leaving you increasingly alone with him. The soft strains of Tchaikovsky filled the air, and you could almost feel the notes dancing around you, wrapping you in an embrace as intimate as the one Fyodor offered.

He positioned himself beside you, his gaze piercing yet inviting, ensuring you felt safe and secure in his grasp. Fyodor was a man who possessed an unusual liking for you, a sentiment that surprised even him.

He watched you subtly, dissecting your thoughts and reconstructing them to his will while appearing to engage you in intimate conversation. Each word he spoke felt like a thread woven into the fabric of your connection, drawing you closer to him.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was reading your mind, an idea that thrilled you and made you blush.

Your heart raced as you responded to his questions, and every so often, he would lean in just a little closer, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. This only deepened his fascination with you. It was the beginning of a push and pull that would last forever, a delicate balance between desire and control.

As you sipped wine together, the rich flavor blossoming on your palate, you found yourself drawn into discussions that felt as if they were crafted by him.

The way he spoke, weaving complex ideas with effortless elegance, made you feel as if you were engaging in a private dance, a conversation that held the weight of something profoundly intimate. He ensured you were served exquisite meals, each dish a work of art, the presentation as much a part of the experience as the taste.

But the flicker of curiosity crossed your mind as you finally noticed his friends disappearing into thin air, leaving the two of you in a secluded corner of the hall.

The vastness of the space seemed to close in around you, amplifying the intensity of your interaction. You turned to him, the question hovering on the tip of your tongue, but before you could voice it, he leaned in closer, his voice low and reassuring.

“No need to worry about them, darling,” he said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “They’re simply adept at recognizing the signs.”

Yet, the way he looked at you held a different message, one that was unmistakably clear: They know I wanted you all to myself.

The tension in the air shifted, a palpable electricity between you as he continued to draw you in, his presence overwhelming yet intoxicating.

In that moment, surrounded by the fading echoes of laughter and the beautiful strains of classical music, you realized that you were no longer a mere guest in his carefully constructed world; you were the centerpiece of it.

And as Fyodor continued to engage you, the boundaries of your reality blurred, enveloping you in a night filled with possibilities and whispered promises that felt both exhilarating and dangerously thrilling.

Dazai Osamu

Dazai had always possessed a certain charm that could lure people into his world with little more than a smile. But today, as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, the stakes felt different.

He had watched you for months, a sweet girl with your head in the clouds, and he realized you had become a central figure in his world. He wanted to love you, to spend time with you, and to create a perfect first date—something memorable and just for you. He arranged a light-hearted escape to the beach, masking the weight of his intentions beneath a carefree façade.

As you arrived, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the water. The air was thick with the scent of salt and freedom, creating an atmosphere of tranquil beauty.

Dazai had spread out a checkered blanket on the sand, artfully arranged with an array of delectable treats—fresh fruit, pastries, and a bottle of sparkling juice. It looked inviting and perfect, just like the romance he knew you craved.

“Welcome to our little paradise, Bella~” he said, gesturing with an exaggerated flourish.

His smile was bright, yet he felt a genuine pressure to make this evening special for you. He wanted to impress you, to make you happy—more than anything, he wanted this to be good. Perfect, even, just the way you deserved.

As you settled onto the blanket, Dazai could see the way your eyes sparkled with delight. You looked enchanted, as though you were stepping into one of your daydreams.

A warmth blossomed within him, but it was accompanied by a tinge of fear—the fear of not living up to your expectations and the fear of losing you. He couldn’t quite understand why the thought of losing you felt like a weight pressing on his chest, yet he acknowledged it nonetheless. This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him; he had experienced the pain of losing someone he cherished before.

However, you were different from his beloved friend. You were unlike Odasaku. You were addictive to him, and he wanted to make this connection official.

Dazai sat beside you, the blanket soft beneath you, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind. He began teasing you mercilessly, weaving absurd stories from his life that he concocted on the spot, knowing the real ones might scare you. These dangerous escapades left you laughing, yet beneath it all, he felt as if he were peeling back the layers of both of you.

The more he revealed, the more he exposed his own vulnerabilities. Each laugh and shared glance deepened the connection between you, weaving an invisible thread that pulled him closer.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I almost got kicked out of a café for reading too loudly?” he began, eyes glimmering with mischief.

He spun a wild tale filled with embellishments, his laughter contagious. You joined in, your giggles ringing like a melody against the backdrop of the waves crashing against the shore.

As the sun continued its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Dazai’s expression shifted. The playful façade faded, revealing the deeper truth lurking beneath.

He felt almost naked, utterly vulnerable under your gaze, acutely aware that you truly saw him. He knew that you loved him. The little spark he was about to showcase would blossom into a deep relationship, and he was ready to overcome his fear.

He turned to you, his gaze drifting toward the ocean, as if searching for something just out of reach.

“You know,” he mused, his voice soft, “there’s a certain beauty in transience. We grasp at moments, knowing they’re destined to fade.”

You felt a chill at his words, a hint of the sadness that lingered behind his signature smile. It hung between you like a threadbare veil, a reminder of the battles he fought internally. Dazai leaned in closer, the corners of his mouth curving, yet the light in his eyes seemed dimmed by unspoken truths.

In that moment, you sensed the depth of his feelings. You reached for his hand, fingers brushing lightly against his. “But isn’t that what makes those moments worth savoring? The fact that they won’t last forever?”

He turned to you, something vulnerable shining in his gaze. He swallowed hard, fighting against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“I may not know if I’ve found my reason to live, but there’s certainly someone who makes it worth trying.”

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the water, you felt the weight of his confession settle between you, anchoring the moment in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

You smiled softly, leaning closer, the warm colors of sunset wrapping around you. In that moment, everything felt possible—each fleeting second with him was something to cherish, something beautiful and fleeting, just like the sunset itself.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya had spared no detail tonight. The restaurant, renowned for its exclusivity, was reserved entirely for the two of you. Its luxurious décor, all deep mahogany and velvet, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, felt intimate, almost too perfect for a first date. You’d heard of this place, its name whispered with reverence, but you hadn’t expected him to pull such strings.

Chuuya stood beside you, dressed sharply in a fitted black suit, his hat set aside on the chair next to him. His cobalt eyes, typically sharp and commanding, held something softer tonight as they settled on you.

Still, there was an edge beneath it— confidence. He leaned in, closer than necessary, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk when he saw the way your breath hitched at his proximity.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice smooth but laced with that familiar confidence. Also low, teasing, but there was a firmness in the way he held himself, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

You swallowed, gathering your composure, and nodded. “It’s beautiful, Chuuya. You didn’t have to go this far.”

He pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before taking his own seat across from you.

“It’s incredible,” you said, still in awe of the setting. The candlelight flickered between you, giving his already striking features a softer, more intimate look. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smiled, almost as if relieved by your response.

“Only the best for our first date,” he said, leaning back slightly, fingers toying with the stem of his wine glass. “Wanted to make sure it was memorable.”

The evening began with a flow of the finest dishes, each one more exquisite than the last. Chuuya, known for his impeccable taste, made sure everything was perfect. You both talked—about anything and everything.

The usual rough edges Chuuya carried with him seemed to smooth out as the conversation deepened, the two of you slipping into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural.

At one point, you caught the way he looked at you—his usual sharpness softened by something deeper. His hand reached across the table, brushing against yours lightly before settling atop it. His touch was warm, contrasting with the cool elegance of the restaurant around you.

“You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you said, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “It’s almost… too perfect.”

Chuuya’s lips quirked into a grin, but there was something sincere in his eyes. ��You deserve perfect,” he replied, voice low, leaning in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence. “I don’t do anything halfway; you should know that by now.”

The night continued to unfold, filled with laughter and quiet moments exchanged between the two of you. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on your dreams, your fears, and everything in between. By the time dessert arrived—an intricate display of chocolate and gold leaf—you found yourself more captivated by him than you had ever anticipated.

As the evening began to wind down, Chuuya leaned back in his chair, studying you with an intensity that made your heart race. “So, what do you think of the Port Mafia’s culinary choices?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I never thought I’d be dining at a mafia-recommended restaurant. I’m impressed, really.”

Chuuya chuckled, a genuine sound that warmed you from within. “Maybe it’s time to show you more of what my world has to offer,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “But only the best parts, I promise.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the connection between you deepening in the cozy atmosphere. As you finished your dessert, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary. The evening felt like a carefully orchestrated performance, one where both of you were the stars.

With the candles flickering softly around you, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable chemistry that had sparked between you.

[morganas-pendragons]

My Word (Of The Lady of Eregion) | Celebrimbor

Post episode 5. Celebrimbor is beginning to come apart at the seams, and you are not having it.

tag: @thesolarangel @erebusbabylon @sailon-ishmael @ladyoflindon @pentaghasm @thatlittlered

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I’m hoping to write some more tomorrow!

***

You know something is wrong when Celebrimbor comes into the chamber you’ve taken rest in, expression contorted by fear and hands trembling uncontrollably at his sides.

“Celebrimbor?” Your voice draws him out of his panic, but you cannot help exiting the bed to settle by his side and cradle his hands in your own, pressing your lips to his knuckles. “What has happened?”

He has been swathed in darkness since the arrival. The Harbinger never ceases. It torments him, He torments him, in every moment.

Celebrimbor can only find safety with you. With you, it is quiet.

With you, there is no torment.

He is so tempted not to tell you. To spare you a glimpse into his fracturing mind, to simply indulge his selfish desires of hiding from the responsibility that Annatar has placed upon him.

Part of you wanted this, remember?

“Celebrimbor,” You repeat. He takes that moment to properly look at you: You are wearing a shift that is nearly sheer and sits nicely on your shoulders, hair loose around your face and far too much skin for him to ache to touch. Celebrimbor dares not to allow his thoughts to wander. He may be selfish, but what just happened in the forge must not be swept under the rug. “You did not make me your Lady unofficially without giving thought to the depths of the trust between yourself and I. Do not keep from me. What is wrong?”

It has been a long time since he has felt that helpless.

“Annatar wishes to make more rings.” Celebrimbor’s breathing gradually slows as he watches you separate each of his fingers, pressing a kiss to his fingertips while never daring to tear your eyes from his. You have been utilizing touch for quite some time now, but it has a completely different hold on Celebrimbor now. It is grounding. It clears the haze that has taken hold over his mind. “I refused.”

“I am failing to understand what has warranted such a reaction then.”

“He is to make them anyway. Rings for Men, as they were most susceptible to Morgoth’s influence.”

Your fingers absently trail across his jawline, eyes softening as Celebrimbor leans into the warmth of your palm. “That is absurd,” You snap sharply, not at him, but at the situation and the gall Annatar has to even attempt such a thing. “He cannot perform such an act without you. You are the Ringmaker.”

“Even the Ringmaker does not have the final say when the Valar are involved.” He says. Celebrimbor sighs and pulls you closer to him, practically pressed against every edge and crevice of his body so you cannot be pried away, so you are in every part of him.

You are tempted to continue to argue, to convince him of the truth that seems so clear to you but so muddled to the others who have been brought under Annatar’s influence.

“Come, my love.” You say softly. You try to hide the concern in your voice as you smooth your hands over his shoulders. “Let us be rid of these.”

Celebrimbor dipped his head and lifted his arms to allow you to remove his apron and robes. Once he was dressed in his night attire, he lifted his head high enough to find your face inches away from his own, bright eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the bedroom as they shift down to his lips.

He crosses the distance first. Kissing you is like breathing the air that his lungs have been so deprived of, inhaling that sweet, comforting feeling of safety and love that dwells within the very heart of you.

“My dear, you bring me such peace.” Celebrimbor says softly. You open your mouth to reply and find yourself distracted by the rustle of footsteps outside the door. Light, barely perceptible, but undoubtedly belonging to one of the remaining smiths returning to the forge. “I believe it is time for me to retire. Will you join me?”

Something heavy settles in your stomach as your eyes shift back to the hallway. “I must take care of something first,” You murmur softly. “Settle into the bed. I will join you once the hour of the Wolf has fallen.”

“Wait,” His fingers wrap around your wrist as you grasp your robes in the other hand. “Do you remember the promise I made to you?”

“That you would always remain. Never to leave, never to be taken away. That I would be taken care of.”

Celebrimbor’s eyes gleam in the moonlight as he nods. Something settles between the two of you, like a weight that threatens to widen the gap that has been created by Annatar’s arrival. It scares you. You should be coming together, not further apart.

“I will do everything in my power to keep it,” Celebrimbor says. “Hurry back. I will be waiting.”

You are out the door before he can say anything else. You cannot bear to look at him again, not with the unease settling into your stomach as you soundlessly head down the hall toward its source.

***

After calming Celebrimbor within your chambers, you stride out the main door toward the forge where you know Annatar to be. The Lord of Gifts is in conversation with Mirdania. Your dearest friend, clever as she is, is also incredibly impressionable. You refuse to let her be influenced by the likes of the snake who dwells within the nest.

“Mirdania.”

Mirdania is also one of the few elves who is aware that Celebrimbor intends to propose to you, to officially give you the title of Lady of Eregion. Celebrimbor has bestowed this title upon you himself, but the marriage between you and the Greatest of the Elven Smiths would solidify this arrangement.

“My Lady!” She exclaims. The younger elleth jumps away from Annatar as if he has burned her, cheeks tinging pink as she crosses the forge to meet you. “My apologies. I did not notice the hour.”

Your eyes slowly shift behind her to Annatar. ��You are free to return to your home for the evening, dear friend. Be at peace.” Mirdania bows lowly in reply and scurries out of the forge, leaving you alone with Annatar. Despite the heat that radiates from the fires within, you cannot help but feel the bone-deep chill that resides within. “For the time you require of him before and after the hour of the Wolf, Lord Celebrimbor will be otherwise indisposed.”

“And why is it you delivering this information?”

“As is the role that was bestowed on me, I deliver Lord Celebrimbor’s correspondence and see to matters of the city,” You reply. You still will not grant him the satisfaction of being under his spell, of meeting his eyes and granting him basic respect. “Which is what you are.”

If anything, Annatar is quite impressed at how you seem to exude a confidence and defiance against all he has done to warp the reality around him. To turn Celebrimbor and the elves against one another. To make them distrust their Lord.

You are the only one not affected.

“And under the authority of whom do you speak?”

Cold, unyielding grey eyes meet his as you turn around to acknowledge him. “By the word of The Lady of Eregion, my Lord,” You say sharply. “My word holds as much claim as his does. And as that is so, may I also dismiss you for the eve, as the hour is late and the rings are of no importance as of right now. Goodnight.”

Your robes sweep against the floor as you turn to depart and return to where you left Celebrimbor. Your heart lays fast asleep in a bed that is not his own, breathing deep and dreams peaceful as you climb in behind him and press your face into his hair.

Celebrimbor has never broken a promise to you since you arrived in Eregion.

You do not believe he will start now.