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#but if he NOTICES & ACKNOWLEDGES THE PATTERN
writingoddess1125 · 20 hours
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Pebbling
Buggy x GN Reader
Fluff Headcanon + Small Story
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Pebbling (Def) -  collecting and sharing little things with someone you are interested in so that you can build a bond.
Masterlist <<
Kofi<<
• You’ve been a part of Buggy’s crew for a while now, and while life on the ship is always chaotic, there’s a certain rhythm to the madness.
• Buggy’s loud and eccentric as ever, constantly yelling at his crew, plotting his next big scheme, or performing one of his exaggerated, over-the-top shows.
•He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be subtle—or thoughtful, really—but that’s exactly what makes the little surprises so confusing at first.
• It started out small of course-
• The first time it happens, you find a small trinket tucked away in your cabin—a shiny coin, weathered with age but clearly valuable.
• You’re puzzled, wondering where it came from. No one in Buggy’s crew seems like the type to leave anything behind unless it’s by accident, but you chalk it up to just that: an accident.
• Then another object appears some time later—this time a small, brightly colored feather.
• It’s wedged into the folds of your coat, a splash of color so out of place that you can’t help but notice it. Again, you can’t figure out where it came from, but it’s oddly nice. It makes you smile for some reason.
• Then it happens again. And again. Small things—items that seem random at first—start showing up in your space.
• A polished stone, very pretty shell, even some candy from your village of birth you thought you'd never see again!
• Each one placed somewhere you’re bound to find it: in your coat pocket, on your bunk, even tucked away in your boots once.
• At first, you think it’s just coincidence, or maybe the crew playing some kind of prank.
• But the things you find are too specific, too you.
• They’re not the usual junk that gets tossed around on the ship. These are things that hold a certain charm, things you genuinely like.
• Slowly, a pattern starts to form, though you can’t quite pin down who’s behind it.
• That was till one gift made you figure out who it was- A well loved red beanie, It would be perfect for the upcoming sailing adventure since it was oddly cold.
• Looking into the hat you see it- A long strand of blue hair that seemed to have been perfectly left behind in the fold.
• Blue Hair-
• As you began to piece together this was from Buggy you couldn't help but smile to yourself as you held the hat close.
• He would never acknowledge anything of course- You assumed his ego being too grand to do so. However your heart fluttered at the idea your Captain was going out of his way to leave these for you.
• You decide to watch how he interacts after this, just to confirm your hypothesis.
• Wearing the beanie you sit on the desk were Buggy is screaming at the crew and stomping his foot angrily at something random.
• Pulling some of the candy he left you from your coat pocket you began to eat it while chatting one of your peers, perfectly angled for the Cap to see you.
• Just to catch Buggy glancing at you and seemingly smirking to himself- His mood 'Magically' Improving at a drop of a dime.
• Bingo!
- Later that evening after dinner, You'd snuck into the Captain's Quarters looking around a bit nervously as you looked for a good spot to set the item you'd made for him, It had been a small hotdog statue that you'd made yourself with some clay- Easy to put on a desk or keep in a pocket since Buggy seemed a bit fidgety.
"Now where to put it-"
You grumble as you frantically looked around for a good spot for the gift, not wanting it to get lost in the chaos that was his quarters. He made it seem so easy to be able to hide these things in places he knew you'd find them- But this was hard!
His desk was a fucking mess! Clothes on the floor and it was impossible to know were he actually looked.
Shit, Shit, Shit!
Right as you think you found a good spot on top of some makeup tins the door to his office slams open- Were the Devil himself steps in looking just as surprised as you felt.
Deer In Headlights-
You two stare at each other for what felt like forever as he looks ready to question you for being in his personal space but your frazzled mind seemed to beat him.
"I MADE YOU A HOT DOG!" You should holding the hot dog in the palm of your hand and wanting the ground to swallow you whole-
...
A wide smile slowly started to stretch across Buggy's face as he closed in the space between the two of you and greedily took the hot dog trinket from your hands. His eyes seemed to sparkle.
"You Made This?" You nod hesitantly, a bit frazzled still before shyly smiling.
"I um, noticed all the stuff too. From You" It was now your turn to catch him off guard, He started to blush as you get flushed as well.
"Ive liked all of them" You say softly, watching a nervous smile grace his lips.
"Do- You wanna drink on desk? So I can ask how you made this?" Buggy asked, coughing a bit to himself to clearly ease his nerves and make himself seem cooler. You giggle at this and nod.
"Id like that a lot"
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raayllum · 3 days
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Faith and Relationships in TDP
Relationships in TDP—familial, platonic, romantic, etc.—place a lot of emphasis on belief. Do you believe me? Do you believe in me? Is the way you see me the way I see myself, good or bad? This has always been an undertone of course, but some Rayla-Aaravos parallels and Viren with Kpp'Ar made it ping in my head, so I thought it was time to talk about.
Relationships that will be examined roughly in order:
Harrow + Sarai / Harrow + Viren
Viren and Kpp'Ar
Claudia and Soren
Terry and Claudia
Aaravos and Claudia
Rayla and Callum
Janai and Amaya
Ezran with his council and Zym
Janai and her people
I'm sure there'll be others (Ellis is going to make an appearance at one point, Runaan and Rayla, and possibly Karim / Miyana as a contrast) but this is what came to mind most notably. I'm also going to do my best to stay out of the weeds with TDP talking about how characters view things (or their perspectives of each other / actions magic etc.) as beliefs as otherwise we'd be here quite literally all day, but there will inevitably be some of that. But without further ado let's look into it:
Living Up to How People Think of You: Does Being Believed In Make You Better?
Time and time again we see TDP frame faith (and trust though that could be a separate meta on its own, but we'll touch on it a bit here), specifically someone having faith in you, as something that can make you better. If you have faith in someone, you trust and believe in them to behave a certain way—in ways that likely align with why you love them or believe in them—and so long as those patterns are maintained, the love and faith and trust remains. The belief holds and continues to be a steady foundation.
This is something I noticed being particularly prevalent in S1, specifically between how Viren talks about his dynamic with Harrow, and how it mirrors how Viren talks about Harrow's relationship with Sarai.
Now this comparison is actually one of the reasons Viren/Harrow always felt a bit fruity to me ever since S1 aired, since as Viren explains:
He asked me to stand next to him for the portrait because he knew I would stand by him through anything. I have to stand by him through this too. [...] It means there's one more thing I can do to convince him. (1x02)
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Your sister made him better. Harrow told me he was never as strong or brave
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but he tried every day to be stronger and braver so he could live up to what she saw in him. (1x05)
For Viren and for Harrow, this "I want to live up to how you see me" was ultimately a good thing. In Harrow's relationship, he did his best to live up to how Sarai saw him, and that meant being a loving compassionate father, and trying to be a champion of "strength and justice". She reminded him of his best principles and understood them, and it's clear that her words got through to him in his final days with his rejection of dark magic and urging their sons to break the cycle. For Viren, Harrow's words likewise got through to him, with Viren becoming a better father for the first time since Soren and Claudia's early childhood and in what he sacrificed to save Katolis: his own refusal of dark magic, and acknowledging that like Harrow, he should've been a not just a king, but "a servant".
But in classic TDP fashion, someone believing that you can be better, or believing that someone makes you better, is not always a good thing:
Aaravos believed in humans when all the other elves and dragons thought we were worthless, stupid, dirty animals.
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So he gave us magic.
Aaravos' 'belief' in humanity, and in Claudia by extension ("But no matter: your daughter is far more powerful"), is the foundation of her loyalty to him. Claudia is extremely receptive to how other people view her, which is why she's coarse about judgement and tries to maintain a positive internalized viewpoint ("But I'm not evil. It's me. You know me") of her own self and actions, even while routinely acknowledging that she's doing increasingly "vile, dangerous" things. Likewise, her belief in Aaravos begins with faith that he can save her father, evolves into gratitude for what he's given humanity (because until S6, dark magic is always routinely a positive net force to her), and is bolstered by her own feedback loop with a Viren who's trying his best. His assertion that "you do anything for your child never the other way around" while trying to spare her helps her justify Aaravos' actions, since he's acting on behalf of Leola, and therefore whatever he does is "necessary. Like my dad."
Conversely for elf-human relations, we have Callum and Rayla. Callum is also a burgeoning mage, and Rayla is also important to his magical journey, providing a listening ear and occasionally some sound advice. The S2 novelization goes so far as to say that Rayla is the first person to tell Callum
 “I believe in you.” Callum blushed. No one had ever said those words to him before, or at least not that he remembered.
And we see her routinely express faith in her friends, particularly Callum and Ezran, even when the odds are stacked against them, other people disagree (Runaan, Lujanne, Sol Regem), or they don't have faith in themselves:
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She has faith that Katolis and her boys won't be like the Silvergrove when she returns (and they aren't). She does her best to believe in Ezran in 1x09, or at least not be a jerk even if she can't totally take him at his word due to her own skepticism. She's another elf who also believes that humans are capable and strong, and sometimes even more so than elves:
The human kicked dirt at her, and Rayla scraped at her eyes, angry—infuriated, even. Humans were frustrating. Humans were clever. Humans could do anything, they could be anything, they could take their own fates and change them—
Which is, of course, the opposite thread of belief that Aaravos actually holds, which is that his pawns will always make his parts and that Callum playing into his hands and being nothing more than a pawn is inevitable. Callum also returns this in 5x01, citing "If she didn't tell me, she had a good reason," and that knowledge/belief is all that needs to not only set Rayla free, but reassert that she doesn't owe him an explanation until she wants to give one free of obligation and guilt — as she eventually does, changing her fate bit by bit at a time.
So does being believed in make you better? Overall TDP says that it can if you let it and work consistently towards it, but it does depend on what the belief is. We'll also loop back around this idea when we talk more about TDP's thread of having faith another section from now, but moving forwards to:
Belief as a Continuing Thread
The distinction between "this person believing in me" as an act of betterment versus "belief as a continuing thread," is, in my head, a difference of actively working towards living up to person's belief in you versus that belief forming a continual relationship foundation of stability and stagnation rather than change. In other words, belief as a continuing thread probably bleeds in the most into worldviews—I am a good person because I do Y, I stand by your side because of X, and as long as those beliefs built on actions aren't disrupted, they are maintained.
We see this perhaps encapsulated most in Terry and Claudia's relationship. Terry's belief in Claudia isn't about any sense of making her better ("Look at her sleeping, she's just perfect"—4x04) or guiding her down a specific path ("I can't [tell you what to do]"—6x04). He's not trying to change her, but instead, it's the foundation of his support for her. His belief in Claudia is built into their dynamic and why he is so loyal to her, as he explains in 4x09:
I've seen you do a lot of awful things, dark magic things. But I always believed in you because you had a reason.
As touched on here in a meta more about Terry overall, this is also why he doesn't like Aaravos in S6, because Aaravos' reasoning isn't love but revenge, and that's Terry's internal tipping point, even if Claudia can't recognize the distinction yet.
Of course, we can also see these continuing bonds of belief be severed. Unlike how Viren was trying to live up to what Harrow thought of him, or Harrow with Sarai, Viren and Kpp'Ar's relationship was a much more outright, direct mentor-mentee dynamic, Viren even following in Kpp'Ar's footsteps to become high mage:
I turned on him. My mentor, my... my teacher. A man who believed in me when... when I was nothing, and spent years of his life invested years of his life helping me become... what I became.
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It's worth noting, I think, therefore, that while Viren does have clear regret over coining Kpp'Ar, he does still describe the act as necessary to Lissa in the past and in recounting the event in the letter. It is only after he takes Lissa's tears by force that we see him directly agree with her assessment of him being a monster. We also see Viren's continuing search for importance ("When I was nothing" / "I thought you were going to be something special, something important!" / "You're a nobody" to Kpp'Ar) parallel Claudia's views on dark magic as well ("We weren't born with magic, we were born with nothing" / "Humans had nothing").
This continuing thread of belief is also what allows Rayla to bring people back from being 'monsters' in a way with Esmeray and Runaan later on in the season through her faith that she can get through to them and help them, and that they're capable of receiving help.
In a similar vein of disillusionment of Viren and Kpp'Ar, though, we also see Soren come to this realization (and then back again, in some ways, in S6) with Viren:
I've known Viren longer than anyone here. I mean, because he's my dad, but it took me a long time to understand who my dad really is. And it was hard to see, because I really... I really looked up to him. He's smart, and the way he talks, you really believe that he's a good person, that everything he does is to protect his family, his home, or all of humanity. He makes you think that as long as you do what he says, you must be doing the right thing. Even when he asks you to do something bad. Something evil. So the truth is, someone who wants you to do horrible things and convinces you that they're good, that's a villain. My dad is a villain. And he's only gonna get more powerful, and the more powerful he gets, the more people will listen to him, and believe him, and follow him.
We see the continuing thread of Soren not trying to change Viren or Viren trying to change for him (in arc 1), but of Soren understandably believing in his father and Viren's judgement precisely because of things Soren perceives as lacking in himself ("I know I'm not the smartest / Dad is so smart, so I figured there must be a good reason") and because as a child / young adult, you're inclined to believe whatever your parent tells you at more or less face value. That said, Soren does talk specifically about how belief in others can intersect with belief in leadership, which is interesting in its own way. So let's move onto:
Belief as Faith / Having Faith In Our Leaders
Having faith in our leaders is something we've touched on already, albeit indirectly. Sarai believed in Harrow to be "a champion of love and justice"; Soren and Claudia believed at different intervals that their father would be a good leader. We see this reflected in Janai and Amaya's relationship predominantly in season 6:
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Do you think I can lead my people after everything that's happened, all the mistakes I've made?
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We see this similar theme in how Opeli and Corvus interact with Ezran in S3, where they support him as a monarch, specifically, as well as a person:
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Ezran and Janai are also characters who tend to have a lot of faith in others, as well, which is part of their leadership. Janai has "patience and faith" that they can rebuild, that the architect can make her amends, etc. Ezran routinely has steadfast faith in his loved ones and their ability likewise to be better (not executing Viren, setting Soren and Claudia free, "She'll know what to do" / "she's alive, and wherever she is, she loves you too" about Rayla, "I think he would want you to, if you wanted to" about Callum and Harrow, etc). Even with Zym in season two:
But we'll get it, no matter how impossible it seems. We believe in ourselves, and we're not giving up, are we?
which is also a sentiment Janai extends to her people:
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So we can have faith in others, in ourselves ("I will learn magic. It's who I am"), in our leaders, some prejudiced worldviews ("No, humans are liars" / "Are they really your friends, or are they just taking advantage of you?") and have all those things intermingle. We've talked briefly about disillusionment in threads of continued belief, and failing to live up to the beliefs / views of how others see us, or when belief breaks. I want to close this out by talking about Runaan and Rayla, briefly, namely:
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This fits in this section (in my head) precisely because Runaan is Rayla's leader as well as her father, which is a unique dynamic that only Viren-Soren&Claudia get close to replicating, of being believed in by someone who also very explicitly tells you what to do (hi Claudia with Aaravos). Runaan lived in one reality (Rayla can be an assassin) and then immediately went to the other (she never will be) with no in between.
Meanwhile, we have characters like Ellis and Callum, who are able to acknowledge other people's realities even if they can't (for a variety of reasons) fully commit to them and sit somewhere more in the middle, which I think is interesting, particularly when it likewise comes to changing plans or acknowledging other realms/perspectives of reality.
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And if I go any further into those weeds I'll start talking about TDP's whole emphasis on trust that is twice as long as this meta already is, I'm sure, so with that I'll wrap things up (sort of).
Conclusion, Kind Of
This doesn't have a real conclusion because this is so sprawling with like, a hopefully but not necessarily coherent common thread, but basically:
When you act in alignment with how others see you, this can help you live up to your 'full potential' — good or bad. And if it's bad, that might be a time to break their continued thread of faith in you, or you towards them, in order to be something truly better and new. All relationships, positive or negative, depend on faith/belief because they depend on reliability and expectation, and when those things are broken, this can either transform a relationship for the better or demolish it completely.
Are you having fun? Was this fun?
Anyway can't wait for S7 to ruin my life with Terry-Claudia, Callum-Ezran, and Callum-Rayla's threads of belief in particular.
—Dragons out
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Visiting Hours Are Over
Kim doesn’t want visitors. 
His brothers come to see him, of course, and his father; he doesn’t get a choice with them. But he refuses to see anyone else. Not that there is anyone else, really.
Regardless, Kim is tired. He wants to be left alone to lick his wounds in peace. Is that too much to ask for? 
Of course it is. There’s no other explanation for the door to his room being opened, admitting not one of the many nurses, but the last person on Earth Kim wants to see right now. 
Kim doesn’t acknowledge him. He thinks maybe, if he ignores the problem, it will go away. That’s never worked before, but Kim doesn’t have any other options here, trapped in the hospital bed as he is. He isn’t strong enough to face Porchay either way. 
“Kim.” 
He doesn’t respond. He won’t.  Instead, he lies there with his eyes closed, trying to feign some sense of peace; enough to convince the other boy he’s asleep. 
Porchay, of course, isn’t fooled; just like Kim knew when Chay was feigning sleep, that time on the couch, Chay sees right through him, now. 
“P’Kim, come on.” 
“What do you want.” His voice comes out a tired rasp. He can’t find the energy to make it a question.
“I wanted to check on you. See how you’re doing.” 
That is almost laughable. Chay could have looked him up if that’s all he wanted; news of Kim’s “accident” is all over the internet. He couldn’t avoid it even if he wanted to. 
Maybe that’s why he’s here. 
“Satisfied?” Kim bitterly asks, finally turning towards Chay. Let him see the violent hues of his skin, stained in all shades from near-black to sallow green. The mottled pattern continues down his neck, his exposed collarbones, and beneath his clothes. Hell, the bruising is the least of the damage he’s incurred. It’s also the most he’s willing to reveal. 
Chay doesn’t do anything dramatic like gasp or clutch his heart; Kim has come to learn that after the life he’s had, it takes more than a beating to upset Chay. He didn’t even have to witness this one. 
Kim finds himself searching for a reaction anyway. Even now, starving for some sign that Chay still cares about him, even if Chay no longer wants him, even when Kim was the one to put that cold look in his eyes. He wants to ask why Chay is really here. If he noticed when Kim went missing—no one else did—or if he missed him.
Kim does none of these things, and the corners of Chay’s mouth turn down as if he knows the questions Kim isn’t asking. Or maybe Kim is reading too much into things, as usual, and Chay just doesn’t like what he sees. 
“No,” is all Chay replies. Then he turns to leave, and Kim—damn it all—finds himself calling out. 
“That’s it?” 
Chay pauses with his hand on the door.
“What else is there?” 
Kim doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know what else he wants there to be, but not this; he doesn’t want them to be strangers, two people that happen to share the same house and nothing else. Not when it used to be more. 
“I don’t want to see you hurt.” Chay looks over his shoulder to softly add, “Get better soon, P’Kim.” 
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oxfordsxbrogues · 5 months
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“Wait no not like that.”
OR: Results? To MY own self-sabotage? More likely than you’d think!
OR: I don’t CARE that the prophecy was self-fulfilling, I’m still angry about it! 😤
OR: Blitzø sweetie pie please go to therapy I know this great lady with a hotel where you do trust falls and talk about your feelings she’s like a block away from your office just pop in for thirty seconds please I’m begging you 🥺
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torgawl · 10 months
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these chapter 89 and 90 coloured pages came to haunt me today
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things to point out:
- gojo: the covered eye + the infinity halo (obviously referencing his technique and positioned sideways on his head over the exposed eye)
- kenjaku/geto: the halo within an halo (like kenjaku within geto) + kenjaku's stitches looking like they're being shot from his/geto's hand as if they were made of blood (the angle almost makes it seem like he's pointing at gojo when the pictures are positioned together)
- the opposite colour palettes (black and white with the pop of blue for his eyes and white/yellow-ish halo vs colourful palette with great focus on red, green and blue)
a curiosity about halos in jjk is that they're not used - apart from hana - in the traditional sense associated with the idea of heaven or angels. they are usually stylistic and are linked with the characters and the motifs in their stories. the only two other characters i'm aware of having been drawn with a halo over their heads in the volumes' illustrations have been rika and toji - rika's like a floral crown (possibly tying with yuuta and their promise to marry each other) and toji's a simple halo (probably symbolising his lack of cursed energy).
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they're, coincidentally (or not!!!!), all characters that have been considered dead at this point in time. additionally, all of them have managed to live on beyond death somehow. well, except gojo. unless you count his enlightenment and figurative death during hidden inventory as his first but he didn't really die. he did, however, lose his life in the fight against sukuna (or so we think). is this is a hint that he will come back? not sure. but it's a curious detail nonetheless
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ditzybat · 12 days
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Everything is the same AU except - Tim is a ‘psychic’, but in actuality he’s just been amazing at picking up patterns from a young age, it was a useful tool for the few times his parents brought him to their archeology digs and one of the few things Jack and Janet acknowledged and praised him for. Imagine Tim realizing that Jason isn’t actually dead - how you may ask? He visits his grave just to talk sometimes and notices disturbances in the soil and takes initiative to dig up Jason’s grave - he runs to Bruce who thinks Tim is a little unnerved stalker freak for digging up his sons grave… but, Tim claims to be psychic to get out of seeming like a creep desecrating a dead child’s grave for no reason. And in the midst of Bruce’s grief the man never fact checks Tim on this lie, so everything happens the same as in canon except Tim has to bullshit his way through investigations and major life events.
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slytherinslut0 · 10 months
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Theodore Nott. | be my first.
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PAIRING: Theodore Nott x Reader
PROMPT: “PLEASE please do a Theodore nott x fem!reader virgin!!”
WORD COUNT: 5.5k.
TAGS: 18+, Mentions of Slight Violence, Depictions of Blood, SMUT, Fingering, Bestfriends to Lovers Trope (my personal fav), Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Slow Sex, Soft!Theo, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk.
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"I don't know, Pans, wouldn't that be weird?"
Pansy's laughter echoed in a melodious giggle, the rhythm of her steps creating a soft shuffle across the expanse of your shared dorm. With effortless grace, she descended onto your bed, settling in with a languid poise. Laying on her side, her head found a comfortable perch on her bent arm.
"Why would it be weird?" Her grin, radiant and infectious, painted a mischievous allure across her features. "He's your lifelong best friend. I'm pretty sure he's in love with you-"
"Absolutely not," you interjected, employing a dramatic flourish with your hands for emphasis. "He is not."
Pansy cast a sidelong glance your way. "He so is."
"He's not!" Your grin persisted as you fired back, "if he was, he wouldn't be regaling me with tales of the girls he's shagging every bloody weekend."
Pansy, after a moment of silent contemplation, arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps he's just doing that to make you jealous. Ever think of that?"
You released a sigh, your body surrendering to the bed's embrace as you slumped backwards. The gentle thud of your head meeting the pillows echoed the weight of your contemplations, and memories from the past few weeks intruded your mind--acknowledging the nuanced shifts in Theodore's behaviour, particularly since that one unforgettable common room party.
As the realization took root, you abruptly sat up, the intensity of the revelation reflected in your eyes as they locked onto Pansy's gaze. "Pans...he's been acting distinctly different lately."
Pansy blinked, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "You're just noticing?"
"No, I mean," your thoughts scattered like confetti, your heart pulsating with the weight of the revelation. You realized you hadn't told her. "Ever since that party, the one last Friday in the common room...where we, um...we kissed."
Pansy's eyes widened in sheer disbelief, her jaw dropping in a dramatic display of shock. With a swift, purposeful motion, she sat up, aligning her gaze with yours, the unfiltered surprise etched vividly across her face.
"What the hell!" Her exclamation rang with feigned outrage. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"
Your expression contorted into a frown as you extended a gentle hand, resting it on Pansy's shoulder. "I'm sorry...we both agreed it was a stupid mistake, and we promised not to tell anyone. We knew you guys would relentlessly hound us about it...I just...I just couldn't risk it..."
Pansy took a measured moment to process your words, her eyes narrowing slightly. She ran a hand through her raven-black hair, the gears turning behind her eyes, thoughts churning with an amused yet contemplative air as she processed your confession.
With an entertained huff, she locked eyes with you. "I can't believe that little weasel kept his mouth shut for all that time. Guess he really can keep a secret."
An assertive snort escaped you, relief from her reaction igniting your features. "Probably just doesn't want me to hate him, considering we're bound to cross paths at every family gathering. Our families are so tightly knit..."
Pansy reclined with a subtle smirk gracing her lips, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. Her fingers traced an intricate, invisible pattern on your emerald green bedspread, their movements betraying a simmering excitement.
Meeting your gaze with unwavering confidence, she responded, "yet another advantage for you, and another compelling reason to go for it."
You shifted, your posture a nuanced blend of contemplation and uncertainty. Your fingers delicately toyed with the hem of your shirt, a nervous energy manifesting in the subtle dance of fabric against your skin.
In the pregnant pause that followed, you countered, "I just...I just can't envision a scenario where asking my best friend to take my virginity works out in my favour."
"I can't see a world where it doesn't," Pansy replied with a softness that hinted at the weight of her conviction. Sitting up again, she met your eyeline, the motion accompanied by a deliberate brush of loose strands of hair behind her ear.
Her gaze held a depth of understanding as she continued, "You guys clearly love each other, given you've known each other forever. He's always Mr. Funny Guy with you, perpetually super flirty and protective...I genuinely believe he'd be happy to oblige."
Absorbing Pansy's counsel with a thoughtful nod, you murmured a grateful, "I'll think about it."
Rising in unison, the two of you traversed to your respective wardrobes, swapping the gravity of the previous discourse for the ease of more casual attire. Satisfied with your choices, you exited the dorm, descending toward the common room. The soft glow of dimmed sconces on stone walls cast an intimate ambiance, while a low hum of hushed conversations and sporadic laughter created a comforting background symphony.
As you stepped into the common room, an immediate sense of unease gripped you. Your attention honed in on the far corner, where a palpable commotion unfolded. Brows furrowing with concern, your gaze fixated on a group of clustered bodies--Mattheo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott all converged around someone.
Instinctively, you made your way over, Pansy following closely behind. As you approached the charged scene, you reached out, placing a steadying hand on Mattheo's arm in an attempt to capture his attention. The air buzzed with tension as you sought to understand the cause of the brewing conflict.
"Matt, what's happening?" you inquired, peering past him to catch sight of a bloodied Malfoy standing at the center of the circle. "Did you do this?"
"No, it was Nott," he retorted, his dark eyes meeting yours as he ran a hand through his dishelved curly hair. "They had a little disagreement--nothing too crazy."
Your gaze swept around the circle, capturing the aftermath of the disagreement. Malfoy wiped the blood from his chin on the back of his hand, keeping his gaze glued to the floor. Meeting everyone's eyes, your search finally settled on Theo, his nose bleeding and a minor cut marring his chin.
A heavy sigh escaped you, the weariness evident in your tone. "Do your petty disagreements always have to escalate into a damn bloodbath?"
Mattheo nonchalantly shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "When they involve Nott...pretty much, yeah."
With an exasperated scoff, you distanced yourself from him, striding purposefully toward Theo. The cerulean depth of his eyes locked onto yours as you approached, a battered hand running through his tousled hair as he shook his head in a frustrated scowl.
"What happened?" you inquired, genuine concern lacing your voice. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Theo's jaw clenched, his stormy gaze shifting from your face to fixate on something over your shoulder. "Sorry prat had it coming."
His eyes locked onto Draco, who was now being tended to by Pansy, the lingering fury evident in the tight set of his jaw and the fire in his gaze. Theo was not merely angry; he was simmering with a profound frustration that permeated the air around him. Sensing his reluctance to share details, you delicately grasped his arm, lowering your voice into a soothing whisper.
"Come on, Theo," you murmured, your tone gentle and calming. "Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"
With a reluctant nod, he cast one last glance over your shoulder before allowing you to guide him out of the common room and back down the dormitory hall. Upon reaching his dorm, he unlocked the door with a brief motion, and you stepped in first.
Navigating the familiar space, you headed straight to his bathroom, grabbing a wet cloth and some ointment. As he took a seat on his bed, the routine unfolded seamlessly--a ritual born out of many similar occasions. Cleaning up your best friend was a well-practiced chore, a testament to his quick temper and penchant for confrontation. It was second nature to you, an unspoken agreement that you'd always be there for him in these moments.
Emerging from the bathroom, you noticed Theo had already cast a silencing and muffling spell over the room. A waft of smoke hung in the air as he lit up a cigarette, his darkened gaze keenly tracking your every movement as you approached.
You came to a halt in front of him, and he widened his stance, creating a space for you to nestle between his legs. Seated on his bed while you stood, the two of you aligned perfectly at eye level. A surge pulsed through you as you observed his plush lips sealing around the cigarette, his long fingers delicately holding it to his mouth. After a quick ashing on his nightstand, he granted you the space to tend to him.
Raising the cloth to his chin, you softly dabbed over the cut, your gaze fixed on the subtle flutter of his long lashes--like delicate wings of a butterfly. A scowl etched his features, and your hands trembled inexplicably, watching his brows furrow, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip. His own hands rested on his knees on either side of your hips, fingers twitching from the sting of your movements.
In a bid to alleviate some of his discomfort, your voice echoed as a delicate murmur. "Do you remember the first time I did this?"
"How could I forget?" He met your gaze, his stormy eyes flickering as his lips teased a subtle smirk. "My personal saviour, always cleaning up my messes."
Pleased with the condition of the cut, you glided the cloth along the sharp ridge of his jawline, meticulous in collecting every trace of dried blood. Progressing to his nose, you repeated the careful process--his eyes remained fixed on your face, observing each subtle movement as you concentrated on restoring his appearance, gently swiping over his lips last.
Grinning at his words, you locked eyes with him. "You're right...I've been quite the skilled nurse, haven't I?"
He chuckled, a deep sound resonating through his chest, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half-smile. "The best damn nurse I've ever had."
You laughed, a warmth dancing across your skin as you pulled the cloth from his face.
"Now that's a compliment, considering you've been in the hospital wing a lot of damn times," you quipped, playfully raising an eyebrow. "I should be getting compensation for my efforts."
"Compensation?" He grinned, the playful glint in his blue eyes unmistakable. "How about I owe you a pack of cigarettes and a promise to keep the brawls to a minimum?"
Smirking, you couldn't hide the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Please, you and I both know your promises mean very little, Nott." As you stepped back, you added, "but I'll take the cigarettes."
Before you could get very far, Theo's large hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, halting your movements as well as the breath in your lungs. Your gaze riveted to the hand, the touch sending a shiver through your skin, before slowly moving back up to meet Theo's eyes. Within their depths churned something profound, a silent intensity that stopped your heart in your chest.
"You want to know why I fought him?" he said, his voice so deep it was almost imperceptible. "Malfoy."
Your brows furrowed in confusion as you waited for him to elaborate. "Sure."
Theo's grip tightened on your wrist, his jaw tensing as his eyes drilled into yours. "He said that if he wasn't with Pansy, he'd have gotten with you a long time ago," he confessed, the words carrying a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "He claimed your hard-to-get facade is all an act...that you're really a little slut..."
Your eyes widened at Theo's revelation, a mixture of surprise and disbelief sweeping across your features. Your pulse quickened, feeling the intensity of his gaze and the gravity of the situation.
"He said that?" you muttered, the weight of Malfoy's words sinking in. Theo's grip on your wrist loosened, and a subtle vulnerability flickered in his eyes as his hand slid lower, fingers finding yours.
"I don't care what he thinks, but hearing him talk about you like that...I couldn't let it slide," he admitted, his voice softer now, revealing the protective undertone that fueled his actions. "He doesn't know..."
"...that I'm a virgin," you said, finishing his sentence with a hushed admission.
Theo's expression softened as he nodded, and his thumb gently traced circles on the back of your hand.
"I don't want anyone disrespecting you like that, especially not him," he said, a mixture of concern and sincerity in his gaze. "You're a fucking angel, he doesn't deserve to even think about you."
Your heart pounded in your chest, warmth spreading through you at his words. Your gaze locked in with his, his eyes momentarily dropping to your lips, yours doing the same. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken emotions as Theo’s declaration lingered. His protective stance and words resonated deeply, and you couldn’t help but feel the gravity of his sentiments.
Silent acknowledgment settled within you, a quiet admission that the dynamics between you and Theo had shifted. The boy who had once been your childhood best friend was now a source of desire and an unexpected depth of affection. Over the years, his presence had woven into the fabric of your heart, evolving into a sentiment that transcended mere friendship.
"Thank you, Theo..." you murmured, involuntarily leaning closer. "Thank you for-"
Before you could finish the sentence, Theo's hands shifted with intent, cradling the sides of your face as he drew your lips to his. The hunger in his mouth was palpable, a dance of devotion and purpose, his tongue delving past your teeth without a moment's hesitation.
Your lids fluttered shut, your brain caught off guard, taking a seemingly eternal five seconds to gather itself from the molten state it found itself in, the realization dawning that you weren't merely passively enjoying this kiss--you were actively engaging, meeting his fervour with equal intensity.
Your hands instinctively sought his messy hazelnut strands, fingers threading through them as you pressed against him, the world beyond the kiss momentarily forgotten in the heated exchange. As the kiss progressed, your mind struggled to fathom the reality of locking lips with your best friend--a completely sober, unrestrained exchange with no intentions of stopping.
And then, before you could process it, large hands enveloped your lower thighs, drawing you closer as Theo reclined onto his plush green duvet, the soft fabric embracing his back with a gentle touch. Your hands landed involuntarily with a deliberate force on his chest, seeking stability as you shifted to straddle his waist.
The kiss intensified, one of his hands securing the back of your head, while the other boldly explored the curve of your hip, his pelvis pressing against yours, his erection evident even between your layers of clothing.
A low, involuntary moan escaped your lips as his undeniable hardness pressed against you, a sensation that sent shivers down your spine. It kindled a fervent desire within you, a flame only he could stoke. Your hands transitioned from his chest and back into the tousled richness of his hair, fingers entwining in the silky strands. Breaking the kiss momentarily, you caught your breath, panting softly as you gazed down at him through eyes clouded with lust.
Theo's lips curled into a knowing smirk, evident satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he surveyed the effect he had on you. His hands traversed the landscape of your back, drawing you back down to him. Your bodies melded together, the heat rising between you palpable. You instinctively moved your hips against his crotch, craving more of the intoxicating friction that left your senses spinning, and a low groan escaped him, his hands guiding your hips back and forth.
"What are we doing..." Theo whispered, his voice a breathy murmur, his head falling back, and his eyes squeezing shut in a moment of quiet contemplation. "I told myself I wouldn't do this with you again."
Your heart hammered in your throat, your fingers trembling as his hands grazed the curve of your ass. In a mere pant, you breathed, "do what?"
His fingers traced a slow path to the back of your head, gently guiding your lips back to his.
The heat between you intensified as he whispered, "this," against your mouth, his soft breath sparking heat in your veins.
A low, desperate sound escaped your throat, a mixture of a mewl and a moan, as the fire in your core reached an almost unbearable intensity. Theo groaned in response, his grip on your hips tightening, and with a swift motion, he flipped the two of you around, placing you on your back beneath him. His hips pressed into yours with a force that felt like an attempt to fuse you with his mattress, his hands finding purchase on either side of your head, trapping you beneath him.
"Theo," you murmured against his lips, your hands tugging on his hair in a desperate attempt to part his mouth from yours, yearning for a breath of air. "Theo...”
Refusing to break the kiss, Theo groaned into your mouth, his hand cradling the side of your head, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a feather-light touch. He rocked his hips against you, both teetering on the brink of losing yourselves entirely. The restrained passion and tension accumulated from years of friendship were on the verge of breaking free.
Finally, in a gasp of air, Theo pulled back, both of your chests heaving, your lungs reaching for oxygen in desperation. His blue eyes dipped over your face, lingering for a moment before trailing lower. With a regretful realization, he shifted back onto his knees, putting a disappointing amount of space between your bodies, as if just coming to terms with the consequences of his actions.
"Fuck," he murmured, running an unsteady hand through his hair. "I...I'm sorry-"
"Theo...I want you," you cut him off, the desperation evident in your voice as you expressed your desire for him. "Please..."
Theo's eyes flickered, and he blinked, momentarily taken aback. "You..."
"Yes," you whispered, a subtle flush colouring your cheeks as you pushed aside any embarrassment. "I want you to be my first, Theo."
Theo leaned back down, his hand gently cupping your chin as he directed your eyes to meet his intense gaze, his fingers digging into your skin only slightly.
"Are you fucking serious?" he questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Don't play with me, principessa..."
"Why on earth would I joke about something like that?" you replied, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "Of course, I'm serious."
Theo's countenance softened with a tender gaze as he scrutinized your face, searching for any traces of hesitation or uncertainty. Discovering none, he leaned in, planting a delicate kiss against your lips. His hand gracefully transitioned from your chin, weaving into your hair with a gentle, reassuring touch.
"You don't know how fucking long I've wanted you," he whispered against your mouth, his eyes reflecting the intensity of his desire. "But I don't want to fucking hurt you...I don't know if I'll be able to control myself..."
Your fingers gently traced the contours of his face as you held his gaze. "Theo, we've known each other for so long, there's no one I trust more than you...I know you'll be gentle with me..."
Theo's gaze softened further at your words, and he leaned in for another kiss. His hand embarked on a slow journey from the strands of your hair, delicately tracing the curves of your body until it found the waistband of your sweats, teasingly playing with it.
"Gonna' need to ease you into it, principessa," he whispered against your lips, his warm breath mingling with yours. "Let me know if it's too much, alright?"
As you nodded, your hands migrated from his shoulders to entwine in his hair. His hand daringly slipped beneath the cotton fabric, and a gasp involuntarily escaped your lips as he skillfully explored the warmth between your thighs with his fingers. Simultaneously, his lips traced a tantalizing path down past your jawline, each touch sending shivers down your spine.
"Mm, you're already so fucking wet for me..." he nipped your neck and you squealed, fingers gripping fistfuls of his hair. "Gonna' fill you up so good...stretch you out just for me..."
Pleasure rippled through your thighs, your heartbeat thumping in your core. "Theo..."
"Mhmm," he breathed as he trailed lower, mouth grazing over your collarbone, long fingers teasing over your clit, coating himself in your slick. "Fuck, I've wanted to hear you moan my name like that for years...you've completely fucking tortured me, bella..."
You gasped as he teased your clit again, fervent fingers digging into his scalp. "You-you never made a move-"
Theo groaned against your skin, his free hand sliding up to pull your shirt along your stomach, and then skillfully tugging on your bra, exposing your bare chest to his hungry gaze. His lips parted, and a deep lust filled his eyes as he immediately cupped one breast in his palm, skillfully flicking a stiffening nipple between his fingers.
"Fuck me,"  he muttered before pulling one of your nipples into his mouth, skillfully twirling his tongue around the bud. "I didn't want to complicate our friendship, bella mia...I didn't want to risk losing you..."
Theo's mouth moved to your other nipple, and he deftly took it between his lips, suckling on it before tracing circles around it with his tongue. You moaned, feeling your body respond to his touch, your hips jerking involuntarily as he pushed a finger inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. His thumb resumed its motions on your clit, coaxing sounds of desire from deep within you.
Heat scorched your blood. "F-fuck, Theo..."
"Is this okay?" he muttered, pulling back slightly to examine your face. "You're so fucking tight."
You nodded, incapable of forming a coherent thought as your body's reaction was immediate, every fiber of your being inundated by intense, mind-numbing pleasure. Theo groaned as he brought his lips back to your nipple, skillfully pulling it into his mouth. Your entire body quivered beneath him, unable to comprehend how rapidly your impending orgasm was overwhelming you.
"Oh, Gods, Theo..." you gasped, your fingers tightening their hold in his hair like you were trying to pry it from his scalp. "Oh, fuck-"
Theo heightened his rhythm, skillfully adding another finger inside you as he fervently zeroed in on your sensitive nub with vigorous strokes. Your vocabulary dissolved into a symphony of flailing wails and moans, your eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy as he sensually flicked his tongue over one nipple before seamlessly transitioning to the other.
"That's right, darling..." he cooed against your chest, his voice torn and barely restrained, a low rasp that sent a thrill up your spine. "Let go for me...I've got you..."
His words alone ignited a blaze of warmth across your skin, and as much as you desired to resist, to not succumb so swiftly, it was inevitable and overwhelming, your orgasm slamming into you like a powerful shot to the gut.
"Shit-Theo!" Your jaw fell slack, eyes rolling back. "I'm-i'm-"
Your vision whitened as you broke, every nerve in your body pulsating with ecstasy. It was a wave crashing over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake. Theo's movements never faltered, his touch relentless, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from your shuddering form.
"That's it--fuck--so perfect..." he breathed, rubbing you through the remnants of your aftershocks. "Such a good fucking girl...did that feel good?"
You nodded, still gasping for breath as you tried to compose yourself. "Yes," you said, feeling a flush of embarrassment on your cheeks. "It felt amazing."
"Yeah?" Theo whispered, his hand withdrawing as he shifted to press his lips softly against yours. "You like cumming for your best friend, huh? Enjoy making a mess all over my fingers?"
You released a throaty groan against his demanding mouth as his skilled hands effortlessly peeled down your sweatpants and panties, revealing the goosebumped flush of your skin. His shirt swiftly joined the discarded clothes, exposing the sculpted lines of his torso. Unrelenting, his eyes remained fixed on yours as he leaned back to undo his belt with a controlled urgency.
Once successful, he leaned back over you and a large hand cupped your jaw, his voice a low, commanding murmur.
"I didn't hear an answer," he stated, the timbre of his words sending shivers down your spine. "Perhaps I need to make you cum again?"
You huffed, a subtle squirm beneath him accentuating the anticipation, his free hand teasing the tender skin of your inner thigh. "Theodore..."
"Would you like that?" he muttered, his lips drawing nearer, the grip on your jaw tightening. "You want me to make you cum all over my bedsheets again, hm?"
His fingers caressed over your heat, teasing your folds, and you arched against his touch, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. You could sense he was attempting to buy himself time, to talk himself down from his excitement. His restraint hung by a thread, self-control wavered under the sight of you withering beneath him.
Swallowing hard, your throat felt drier than the desert as you met his gaze with pleading eyes. "Please, Theo," you whimpered, "stop teasing."
"Fuck--so eager for me, yeah?" he purred, releasing your jaw to slide his boxers down his thighs, pulling free his thick, long cock. "Let's see if we can sate this pretty little pussy."
Your breath fled from your lungs, your jaw practically dropping to the floor. He was massive, even in his own big hand, even as he pumped himself, sliding his fist back and forth over his length as his eyes burned wounds into the flesh of your tits. You whined, your core clenching and screaming with need, drool threatening to pour down the sides of your lips as your desperate eyes shifted between his eyes and his dick.
"Fucking hell, Theo..." your brain struggled to form coherent thoughts, and those words were the only ones that managed to slip past your lips. "You never mentioned...so massive..."
He huffed, and you knew he was watching you--his irises igniting in flames, a tiny smirk teasing his lips as you watched him stroke himself faster, harder.
"I didn't want to intimidate you before you got to experience how good it can be," he murmured, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. "Besides, I'm well aware of your disdain for men with oversized egos."
Your breath caught in your throat as your brain struggled to process the revelation. Losing your virginity to your lifelong best friend, who knew you better than you knew yourself, and who had purposely kept the extent of his endowment a secret, fearing it might scare you off. The boundary between reality and dream blurred, leaving you in a surreal haze of disbelief.
"Just shut up and show me," you finally managed to whisper, your desire overcoming any reservations. "Show me how good it can be."
"Easy, principessa, don't get greedy now," he murmured, his hands firmly grasping your thighs to pull you closer. "You're not ready for everything I have to offer just yet."
Theo leaned back over you, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck and over your collarbone--forearm framing your face, other hand gripping his cock, angling the glistening tip toward your throbbing entrance, teasing you briefly with a few false thrusts, slicking his length in your wetness.
"Are you ready?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "To feel me inside of you, filling you up?"
Your voice barely more than a breath, you nodded in response, averting your gaze to the ceiling. "Please."
Theo huffed, pulling his face from your neck, long fingers directing your gaze to meet his eyes.
"Look at me, bella..." he looped an arm under your neck, long fingers holding you in place. "I want you to look into my eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."
Your lips parted in awe, speechless and utterly intoxicated. Doing as he said, you held his gaze, feeling yourself slowly getting lost in the ocean waves of his eyes. Theo groaned, his own breath shallow as he pressed the head of his dick into you, pushing you apart, and you whimpered, clenching before he even entered you. You were quaking--and he hissed through his teeth before he'd fully sank into you, letting loose a low, deep groan as your wet cunt swallowed his cock.
"Shh," he purred, glimpsing your lips. "Just a little bit more..."
Pleasure and pain erupted through your bloodstream as he stretched you wide, a sharp cry leaving your throat as he pushed deeper and deeper, stroking into your heat with the pace of a snail, inch by agonizing inch--pausing once he'd sunk in to the base. You could feel his cock pulsing inside of you, and you were breathless, unable to fathom how big he was, how full he made you feel.
"Fucking hell, are you okay?" he muttered almost under his breath, his voice cracking with concern as he looked into your eyes, his blue gaze searching for any sign of distress. When you merely nodded, the desperation in his expressions intensified. "Please, talk to me...keep me grounded..."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath. "And what do you mean, 'keep you grounded'?"
Theo sighed heavily, emitting a low groan, his breath catching in his lungs as he withdrew slightly before smoothly gliding back into you. You whimpered, still holding his gaze, lips parted in unbelievable bliss. His hand cradled your head, staring at you with gleaming eyes as he found his rhythm, keeping every stroke deep and careful and full.
"I-I, fuck," he grunted through gritted teeth as he stared down at you. "You're so tight, so fucking wet...I can barely control myself..."
He lowered himself, ensnaring your lips in a profound, fervent kiss while maintaining a deliberate pace within you. Each rhythmic thrust unleashed renewed waves of ecstasy, prompting unrestrained moans from your chest and sending you writhing beneath him.
"You feel so good," he whispered as one of his hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch as he slowly began to increase the tempo of his thrusts. "I can't believe how fucking tight you are. You're going to make me cum so fucking hard, my pretty little virgin."
Your nails clawed at his back, your walls squeezing his thick length with every thrust. "Theo-harder, please..."
"Yeah? You want more, pretty girl?" he whispered, warm breath enveloping your ear. "Such a needy little pussy..."
You gasped, nodding as his lips attacked your neck. "Please, please-"
"Anything for you," he responded, his voice torn, each syllable saturated with longing. "Filthy little--fuck,"
He surged into heightened motion, the force of his hips colliding with yours intensifying upon your command. A sharp cry escaped you when he skillfully found that responsive spot within you, immediately unleashing a cascade of pleasure that surged through your body like electric currents. The intensity reached a near-overwhelming point, a delicate dance between ecstasy and a hint of exquisite pain, causing unbridled moans to spill from your lips uncontrollably.
"Mm," he grunted, a near growl in your ear. "Pretty pussy taking me so well,"
His paced increased again, slamming into your cervix with every thrust. His fingers resumed their work on your clit, yanking you toward your climax, your body being whiplashed with pleasure. You bit down on his shoulder, desperate to muffle your screams as your pussy squeezed him harder, yanked to the edge by the stretch of his cock slamming into you, his fingers battering your nub.
"Theo--w-wait," your words stumbled amidst waves of pleasure, your body convulsing beneath his unyielding onslaught. "Theo, please-I can't, I-it's too much...”
"Come on baby, I know you're close," his voice, raspy and unbridled, revealed the shattering of his self-control. He relentlessly pounded into you, beads of sweat adhering his hair to a glistening forehead.  "I felt you squeezing me--fuck--you can take it..."
You gasped for breath, a desperate symphony echoing your lungs' protest as your teeth found refuge in his skin. Fingers, possessed by an almost primal force, clawed into his back, leaving an indelible mark. Theo's movements, unyielding and masterful, propelled you inexorably towards the precipice of climax, each sensation more vivid than the last.
"Theo-" you practically screamed, your body buzzing in anticipation. "I'm gonna' cum, Theo-fuck-"
"Let me hear you," he said, voice shredded raw. "I want to hear you scream for me...I want to hear you moaning my name as this tight little cunt breaks for me..."
"Oh, fuck.." you moaned, eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck, Theo...oh Gods, fuck..."
You shattered, euphoria tearing through you as your walls pulsed and milked his cock. Your eyes rolled back, vision going blank as squeals and screeches left your lips in nothing more than mumbling nonsense.
Theo groaned, bliss numbing your skin, limbs shaking and trembling as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, gripping you tighter until he too exploded, breath sputtering as he poured himself into you, hips bucking until the only sensation left was sweaty, heaving, post-orgasmic rapture.
In the aftermath, an extended silence enveloped the room--long after the cadence of your breaths normalized, long after the faculties of your minds fully reassembled. Theo finally stirred, rolling off you to settle on the mattress, where he promptly drew you into the sanctuary of his embrace.
"Can we acknowledge our feelings already?" Theo teased, fingers delicately brushing loose strands of hair behind your ear. “You know I’ll fight you if we go back to just being friends after all of that.”
You huffed, on the precipice of unrestrained laughter. "Only if you go first."
As you shifted to lock eyes with him, a smirk adorned his face, that mischievous grin unfurling across his impeccably plush lips. "Fine…I'm fucking in love with you."
Your own smirk surfaced, a surge of warmth coursing through you as you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. "I'm in love with you too, you dork."
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highvern · 6 months
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Freak Like Me
Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x fem!reader
Genre: smut (18+)
warnings: daddy kink (sigh), dom/brat tamer cheol, brat reader, heavy degradation (from both), dirty talk, spitting, choking, spanking, manhandling, ass play, minor breeding kink, name calling
Length: ~4k
Note: he haunts me day and night, when will i know peace from this man. thank you @wongyuuu and @onlyhuis for beta-ing! also pls dont request any daddy kink fics! this was a one off and i dont see myself writing more
Summary: You’re always happy to indulge in your boyfriend’s fantasies. That doesn’t mean he won’t have to work for it though. And that's just the way Seungcheol likes it.
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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked
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Six years of dating means most nights in bed are spent watching movies on the too large flatscreen your boyfriend insisted on buying until you fall asleep. Not that the appeal of having Seungcheol anyway you wanted wore away but the passion of your earlier days burned into content to spend evenings curled in each others’ arms after a day of exhaustion. 
You’re already greasy from lotion, the worn shirt speckled with holes sticking to your skin still warm from a blister shower. Snuggled between fresh sheets with a candle burning on the side table and a good book, you’re the pinnacle of content.
Seungcheol is visible just over the edge of the page, lent against the doorframe. Sometimes he’s like this; watching you like he can’t believe he managed to get you to say yes to the first date, let alone everything else that’s come after.  You meet his gaze with an arched brow.
He’s quieter than usual when he flops over your body to snuggle into the curve of your shoulder. Marking the page, you toss aside your book in favor of squeezing him into a hug.
“Everything okay?” You ask.
A fleet of kisses across the stretched neckline of your shirt is Seungcheol’s only response.
You indulge when he finds your mouth. Lips parted around one of his, the soft point of a tongue sneaking between your teeth. 
He crawls over you easily enough, one thigh resting between the dip of yours as he hums. “Can we try something?”
Nipples hard from some light petting, you kiss along Seungcheol’s jaw with a faint nod to acknowledge his request. 
“Could you–”
“I’m not letting you put your dick in my ass. I have too much shit to do tomorrow to be limping around.”
Seungcheol leans back to pin you with round eyes round and pouty lips. “I thought you liked it?”
“Yeah, I do.” You sigh, circling your arms around his shoulders. “When I have a few days' notice.”
“That wasn’t what I was asking anyway but good to know.”
“Okay, so what do you want then, your majesty?”
Dropping back into the safety of your throat, your boyfriend mumbles something intelligible.
“Come again?” You snicker from the vibrations. “Sorry, I don’t speak pout.”
“Call me daddy.”
Oh.
It’s not an unexpected request. You’ve dated for six years, you know your boyfriend like the back of your hand. He likes the thrill of telling you what to do, watching you get off on it too. But sometimes it feels like he’s holding back. As if there’s another level he hasn’t fully allowed himself to explore yet. The proof rests in the months-long push and pull at the beginning of your relationship where you all but humped his leg and he still would keep his hands more or less PG-13. The secret to getting Seungcheol to admit his deep dark secrets is to convince him they get you hot too.
“Hmmmm.” You pretend to think, already sold on the idea the second he opened his mouth. But you can’t let him know you’re that whipped despite the fact Seungcheol knows too well how easy you are for him. “What’s in it for me?”
Seungcheol pins you under his mouth, tracing promises across your lips, teeth, and tongue until everything goes fuzzy at the edges. 
He drops to your jaw, tracing the same pattern across your pulse until you melt. “God, you’re hot.”
Seungcheol talks a big game but a few complements, tinted with candor from the promise of pleasure, makes him blush like he hasn’t fucked you every way imaginable. 
“Don’t make it too easy for me,” he goads into your stomach, dipping beneath his shirt to nip across your hips. 
“Then get up here, I’ve got shit to talk.”
The heat of his lap greets your ass first, next is the rough palms of his hands slipping under your shorts and finding you went to bed without panties. Again.
“You’ll kill me,” Seungcheol grunts into your mouth with a drive off his hips. 
Hot and hard, you settle your weight back into his cock teasingly. “Death by pussy? Sexy.”
A hand circles your jaw, holding you in place while he takes what he wants. Every gasp and sigh, nipping across your lower lip until you melt into his chest and pull off his shirt. 
Your nails rake down his front, red lines raising to claim him. Memories of college, when you’d bite your mark into his neck for the sole purpose of parading around parties, broadcasting who he belonged to without shame, flare across your brain. But now you’re older and a hickey the size of a golf ball would look less than professional in front of his clients. The idea still gets you hot enough to try for one on your boyfriend’s stomach, right where the vein that leads straight to his dick.
Seungcheol lets you melt down his front. Bracketed between thick thighs, you might as well be queen of the world as you tongue across the waistband of his pants; the bulge of his arousal digging across your breasts.
A hand on his cock loosens his resolve. You might just get away with not playing the mind games he wants tonight but your curiosity is piqued enough to remind him. 
“Daddy,” you gasp in mock surprise. “You’re so hard for me.”
You barely manage to lap at the head through his pajamas before Seungcheol is putting his muscles you use and crowding you on to your back.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” Your lover grunts, ripping your shorts out of the way before diving into his favorite meal. “Say it again.”
“If I do?”
He sucks your clit the same way he kisses; slow and lazy until you’ve got the itch in your gut only quelled by his touch. Seungcheol can do it for hours and he has. Sucking until your eyes water and you practically float to the ceiling. 
The sounds of his mouth tickle your ears. Wet and nasty until he groans into your cunt like he’s never tasted anything better. A stray hand makes for the nest of dark hair still damp from his shower only to be pinned on your gut with enough force you’re tempted to fight to break free.
“Just take it right now,” Seungcheol mumbles around his own tongue. “Be good for me.”
“Fuck, Cheol. Fuck, just like that.” You sob, already breaking cover under the hands of your lover.
First warning comes across your clit with a nip of teeth. “Not my name.”
Your incentive to listen, two thick fingers that know exactly where to play, drive home his request. But if your boyfriend wants what he asked for, then the best way to get him to fully indulge isn’t listening to him. It’s goading him until he makes sure you taste nothing but his cock for the next week. 
Like always, you can’t help a smart comment from bubbling past your lips. “Make. Me.”
Seungcheol doesn’t miss a beat. A single brutal rush of his fingers sends you to the stars. Tongue flat across your sensitive bud, he sucks his cheeks hollow until you whine. There isn’t the usual care he takes even when you’ve been bad with the sole purpose of pushing him to his wits end with hot looks and borderline obscene touches. Seungcheol is wringing you dry with his own sadism. 
The next quip dies on your lips when he curls his tongue inside you between his spread fingers, leaving you feeling dirty in the best way. Watching him eat pussy is like watching an artist but when you go to peek he’s already watching you.
“Beg for it.” Chin and cheeks soaked, even his nose shines in the low light of the lap, Seungcheol fucks you with slow fingers through his next demand. “Beg for it and I’ll let you come like this.”
“Or you can just make me cum?” Your voice gains an octave under the curl of his fingers. Usually he’s eager to give whatever you ask for but not tonight.
“Or you can do what I tell you, ” he sucks into your clit.
Choking on your pout, you trace your foot up his back. “Where’s the fun in that?”
The fun is in your boyfriend, sweet Seungcheol who treats you like a princess without a want left in the world, folding you in half on his cock until you’re crying. He knows it, you know it, and the real foreplay is baiting him into doing it.
“Do you want to cum or not?” He snatches your ankle off his shoulder, pushing until your knee is by your armpit in an impressive show of flexibility. 
“Oh, please daddy make me cum!” You wail sarcastically. It echoes the porn you’ve watched with him in mind and doesn’t taste as bad on your tongue as you thought.
It’s the last straw for now because Seungcheol does the one thing to make you behave. He pulls away.
“Wait, no.” You scramble. Soft touches and softer eyes while you beg. “Baby, please. Please, don’t stop.”
“Come here.”
Planting back in his lap, you rain placating apologetic kisses across his face while your hand plays with his cock. Or you would if Seungcheol didn’t twist your arm and pin it at your spine. 
“Are you ready to be good?”
You hum a yes. Exaggerating for remorse, you nose into the soft spot below his ear you know Seungcheol goes soft for. 
“Then show me.”
This time when you move to take his cock in your mouth, Seungcheol only holds you back to press down his pants. Hard and sticky at the tip. You lick your lips, waiting for permission before cleaning up the mess he’s made for you. You’ll be good until he’s too far gone to stop next time you mouth off.
The taste is one you're accustomed to, coating your tongue as you swallow him down until you nose the coarse hair dusting his base. One hand weighs on the back of your head, stroking gently while you do the dirty work with your tongue.
“Good girl,” he sighs as you mouth around the head with an obscene amount of spit. It drips where your hand squeezes. “Like this, don’t you?”
“Love it.” You mumble around your tongue. “Love your cock.”
Seungcheol’s eyes roam your body like he owns it. The pink of your tongue flush against the maroon cockhead, the curve of your ass in the air for a good show. All his for the taking when he wants. But the air in his lungs is too even. Seungcheol is too in control to let go and you won’t stop until he unravels. 
A hard lick where he leaks is enough to get the game back in motion. 
“Shit. Get up here.”
Cock aching against the soft of his stomach, hair a mess, and flushed from across every visible trace of skin, your boyfriend is a wet dream come to life.
“Hi,” he smiles into your mouth, painfully sweet.
You can’t hide your matching one. “Hi.”
“I love you.” 
Shirt lost over your head, he cups your aching breasts as his thumbs drag across their peaks. 
“I love you too.” You sigh.
“Are you into it or should we stop?”
Meeting in a kiss, you ask, “Into what?”
“You’re really gonna make me say it?”
“I’m a firm believer if a man wants to be called daddy he should be able to say it with his chest.”
“But do you want to call me that?”
“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn't do it.” You snort. “When have you ever been able to get me to agree to something I don’t want to do?”
The answer is never. Your relationship is forever tainted by matching stubborn streaks. If either of you falls to the other it’s because you wanted to all along but needed to be wooed first.
Seungcheol puffs an amused breath into your neck at the shared thought. 
“Am I being too bratty? Is that why you think I don’t like it?” 
“No, I—,” he pauses to gather his thoughts. “I think it—Makes me want to punish you.”
“Really? You fake a gasp, indulging in the lap of his tongue over your jugular. “Tell me more.”
“You’re bad.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You deny with your chin in the air but your hips swivel across his cock to prove his point.
He gets inside you with easy manipulation, ass flat to his thighs so the only place to go is up into his mouth. Seungcheol grunts under the first rock of your hips. “Someone needs to put you in your place.”
“Oh?” Less of a reaction to his words and more to the way he grips the meat of your ass like he owns it. “Sure you’re up for the challenge?”
The hot sheets Seungcheol previously occupied greet your back as he drives back in with his weight center behind his hips. And then he waits.
“Cheol,” you huff.
Another nudge between the thighs accompanied with the sting of his teeth across your nipple. 
“Please?”
Thighs hooked over his own, Seungcheol spreads you out until you’re spread flat and helpless. Your hands got next, tangled in the fabric of the pillow cases above your heads under one palm. 
He gives it all to you. Hot into your core until he tickles the back of your throat but it's not satisfying the itch. He isn’t fucking you, he’s fucking with you. Giving just enough you’ll need more. 
Ankles locking around his spine, you throw your weight into the next desperate plea. “Fuck me, daddy.”
You feel the smirk across his mouth when he kisses you; blistering and wanting, with too much tongue but he gives you the first real cant of his hips and you can’t complain.
Every curl inside leaves you heaving. But there’s no air, just your boyfriend with something to prove and the stubbornness to give it to you.
“Take it just like that.” He grunts, breath lost to the way you curl around him. “Say it again.”
“Oh, yes daddy,” you moan with your head back.
“Look at you. Need it so bad, don’t you?”
The spark of defiance burns into a flame. You're not down deep enough to behave just yet. Seungcheol wants you to be bad, so you’ll be the worst.
“You’re a freak.” And to add insult to injury, you spit in his face.
Seungcheol freezes. Gazes burning, you both wait for him to catch up and match your move. 
Maybe you’ve gone too far. Goading him is one thing, but spitting in faces is his territory. One you’ve never broached on but the tint of red looks good cover in your saliva. Almost like when he eats you out until you cry and black out. 
Your thoughts don’t dwell on how good your man looks covered in you when he sneers.
“I’m a freak?” He scoffs, rising to one arm to leer over you. “Who’s the bitch getting wet from being treated like a slut?”
God. You think. Even after years he can leave you tongue tied. But now that you’ve started whatever this is, you hope Seungcheol will finish it. 
“Hmmm I don’t know,” you sing. You take the opportunity to paint him with more traces of your nails, smooth skin rippling red and pink. He shudders predictably but manages to wrangle you back into place. “Big talk coming from the man who got off on making her cum when his friends were in the same room.”
“Yeah? And who wanted my friends to watch her blow me?”
You open your mouth to talk back but choke on a thumb. He nearly tickles your throat with it, caving your chest with struggle until you can control your breathing.
“Aww, you look so pretty like this.” Seungcheol pats your cheek until you're warm with embarrassment. 
He isn’t as nice when you bite down.
Thumb digging into your tongue until you choke again, the cut of his teeth against your earlobe makes you quake with want as he growls, “You’re done talking.”
If the digit in your mouth wasn’t enough to reduce you to a puddle, his cock is. Fast and brutal, Seungcheol gives it to you the way he knows best. Your end crests faster than you’re prepared for.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry messily. 
Seungcheol’s eyes burn with excitement but he doesn’t stop; he pries your mouth open and spits flat on your tongue.
“Cum for me.” He groans into your cheek. “Let me see my pretty little slut cum.”
Everything aches from the force behind such a command but your body delivers. Tight, tight, tight until the cord snaps and you’re seizing. Your boyfriend controls your thrashing like its easy work, weighed down with his hips and chest and thighs while you wail.
Nerves scorched, you feel him cooing sweet affirmations in your ear but the words fall deaf. Your jaw is wet from his thumb’s gentle stroking, and his stomach is flat to your own; only moving between breaths.
“Good girl, did so good for me. Always do.”
You groan somewhere deep in your throat. “God, that was hot.”
“Yeah?”
Nodding an affirmative, you push him away. Seungcheol goes easily enough. Clearly he’s still not fully in the space he needs to take advantage of his kinks; of your new found, shared fantasy.
Stealing his pillow, you fold it under your hips for the stability the muscles of your legs fail to provide. Ass high in the air, you ground into the sheets.
“More?” he asks. He’s eager, hands pulling at your cheeks, spreading them to get a look at the mess he’s made of your cunt. 
“Wanna see you cum.” Looking over your shoulder with doe eyes and a pout, you sell his fantasy. “Please, daddy.”
Seungcheol guides himself through your damp folds, collecting your arousal with each swipe; nudging against your sensitive clit and chuckling at your responsive shudders until he catches on your entrance. He dares to dip in just barely an inch before pulling back; repeating the dance over and over, sinking deeper with each repetition until the flat of his pelvis is flushed with your skin. 
The stretch is enough to drive you mad, full to the brim and squeezing around the intrusion promising nothing but satisfaction again. Seungcheol doesn’t wait for confirmation. Simply rocking into you with firm pressure as he’s drowned in the scorching clamp of your pussy.
Forcing a hand between your front and the bed to play with your clit, you pant into the pillow as everything multiplies.
“Who does this pussy belong to?”
The fabric below you is ruined with your spit. Fresh sheets put to good use. Cocking over your shoulder you find Seungcheol with his mouth tight and eyes glued where he stretches you. “You wouldn’t know him.” 
Your laughter tastes like acid, high on reward the sick answer will grant you. Immediately, your ass stings with his hand print. Again and again until it aches like a sunburn.
There’s no other choice but to take it. With his other hand between your shoulder blades, Seungcheol fucks you hard enough your teeth chatter.
“Shit! That's what gets you wet?” You hear the sound of his spit against your ass, already soaked that it won’t make a difference but gets you hot anyway. “Pretending anyone else could fuck you like I do?”
A blast of excitement floods your veins. The thrill he’s letting go bit by bit, stringing himself out the way he always manages to get you. “Then fuck this pussy like it belongs to you.”
Collapsing across your back, Seungcheol collars you with one hand to pull you from the shelter of the pillows before spitting, “Spread it for me.”
He fucks you raw and aching. Hard enough you crumble under his hips, hands pinned between his body and your ass. Even through the pillows the clap of skin on skin is deafening. One of his hands takes up the rough circles on your clit. The glide from arousal makes your blood thick.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you wail. “Just like that, fuck!”
“Close?”
Nodding through the tears in your eyes, you let it rush on you. The old neighbors next door will complain tomorrow but you can’t control the lewd whines your boyfriend rips out of you as you cum on his cock. It burns worse than the first time, verging on blacking out your vision but you love it. Like a rubber band, you stretch your ends until it all snaps back, chest curled into the sheets. The cotton roughs your sore nipples but it makes you tighter on his cock.
“Cum inside me! Need it. Please Cheol, please daddy.” 
Seungcheol swells inside you, two earth shaking thrust, and then a moan leaves you filled the way you crave. 
“Jesus Christ,” you pant. Vision blurred, you only vaguely register your boyfriend’s hand stroking along your side while you come down. “I think you got me pregnant. Fuck.” 
Seungcheol’s lips flit across your shoulder, slowly bringing himself back too. “Wouldn’t be mad about that.”
“I know you wouldn’t. Now clean me up.” You demand with your nose in the air. “Next time you should call me daddy.”
“Next time I’ll use those cuffs Jeonghan gave me for Christmas.”
“Damn, you really are a freak.”
Happily, he drags you into the stall for the second shower of the night. Frigid streams sting on your skin but the bastard pouts his way into keeping you in his arms; shivering but full of sleepy smiles under his lips.
“You’re so mean to me!” You shriek, back arching away from the miserable cold tile he corners you into. It’s nice where your ass still stings but everything else blooms in gooseflesh. “This is no way to treat your wife!”
“We aren’t married, yet,” he hums. The edge of disappointment isn’t lost on you.
“And if you don’t want that ring to go to waste you’ll move over.”
Seungcheol sputters, “How’d you find it?”
“Baby,” you coo, cupping his face between wet hands. “You’re the least subtle man I know.” 
“It’s not even in the house!”
“Your life will be so much better when you start believing I know everything.” Booping him on the nose, you smirk with glee. “And remember Mingyu gossips like an old lady.”
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Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
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heartsforhavik · 7 months
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will you write more parts for the yandere!fan fic? 🫣
stalker! yandere boy x gn! popstar reader (part 2)
what if you had two different yanderes pining for you?
✰ warnings: stalking, mentions of murder, regular yandere tendencies, gender neutral reader
✰ a/n: damn that first part did a lot better than i thought it would, thank you guys! so how about i bring in a second yandere… i’m naming this yandere victor, and the yandere in the first part is bayani. (btw the art below is by RIP2_)
part one (with bayani) right here! a third part is coming soon, featuring both bayani and victor when they realize they both are pining for you...
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stalker! yandere boy that puts in more effort than superfan! yandere boy to catch your attention. bayani could never love you. he can barely even handle you looking at him, what makes you think he’s the right one for you? he’s just a lowly coward. victor is the one for you. he loves you so much. more than bayani.
stalker! yandere boy that doesn't care about your music. not one bit. because he loves you for you! who cares what your music sounds like? he doesn't care what genre it is, or if you even have a good voice or not. he'd be the best boyfriend for you because he treats you like an actual human, not just some singing machine. besides, he personally prefers metal. maybe he can listen to it with you when you get together! it sounds like a delightful date.
stalker! yandere boy that follows you around wherever you go. he tracks your travelling patterns, and visits whatever places you visit at the exact same time. whether you fly private, commercial, or even use a train or car. doesn't matter. he will follow you. where you go, he goes.
stalker! yandere boy that would go as far as to disguise himself as someone else in order to interact with you and gain your attention. you go eat at a restaurant? victor would kill a random waiter, steal their uniform, and take their place. you stay at a hotel? he's posing as room service and will steal your clothes and belongings tidy up your room! he'll even use the key to your room to walk in and watch you sleep at night. you just look so enchanting in your sleep, how can he resist? it's not wrong, he's just keeping you safe. he is the only one that can make sure you are happy and healthy. in victor's eyes, even the strongest bodyguard cannot keep you safe. you don't need anyone else. just him.
stalker! yandere boy that tries to catch your attention anytime he can. he needs you to notice him. he needs you to say something to him, talk to him, touch him, know him, acknowledge his existence. victor needs you to validate his existence in order to continue living. without you, what would he do? he cannot handle being away from you. he cannot handle being alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. he needs you.
stalker! yandere boy that gets jealous easily. you collab with another artist or you're seen holding hands with someone in public? he's spreading a fake rumor about whoever it is and ruining their life. you shouldn't be so stupid. why associate with someone else when you have him? why ditch him for someone else? he's right there. he can be better than them. who cares what they look or sound like? victor's so much better. he can show you how much better he is, if you give him a chance.
stalker! yandere boy that is so desperate for any kind of attention from you. it doesn't matter if it's positive or negative attention. he always plays it cool and acts all smug and calm when you notice him, but on the inside he is resisting the urge to grab you and run away from the world. all he wants is to have a peaceful, isolated life with you. away from the disgusting people in the world. you and victor can be happy together.
stalker! yandere boy that is incredibly clingy. you know you need him, right? he must be near you at all times. his presence keeps you alive and happy. you keep HIM happy. he needs you. you both need each other. if he can't see or feel your presence, he will go insane. that is why he travels anywhere you go. that is why he must go to each and every one of your concerts and meet-and-greets. you assumed he was just a big fan to be at every single event, but you just can't see that he loves you much more than just some fan.
stalker! yandere boy that just wants to be with you! let him be around you. let him completely obsess over you, touch you, love you, do whatever he wants to you. he won't hurt you! he just wants a little bit of freedom to say and do whatever he wants to you once you are together, so he can make sure you don't leave him. he will make you feel so good, so loved, so appreciated. nobody will ever love you more than he does.
but there may be someone that rivals his affections. a lowly, masochistic, scrawny pest that thinks he loves you more. victor will have to do something about it before your little superfan finally decides to man up and make a move on you.
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la7ma-mafrooma · 9 months
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I wanted to share something personal because I don't think a lot of you understand the influence of the West and its atrocities on an Arab child's upbringing. English is not my first language; I learnt it initially due to my interest in the language and Western cultures. However, seeing the true face of the West motivated me to continue learning the language to dismantle the false image of Arabs and Muslims which was portrayed by the West. I also talk about how this impacted my standing with the Palestinian cause. Bear with me as this post is long and a little messy, but I need to try and give everyone a clear and full image as much as I can.
I grew up consuming Western media due to my fascination with the English language. However I noticed the lack of Muslim and Arab representation.
When I started seeing representation later on, it was mostly Arabs and Muslims being depicted as 'terrorists' and 'barbarics'.
When a Muslim woman is depicted, she is depicted as 'oppressed' and in need of 'saving'.
I was on social media starting from a very young age. Seeing people online describe my people as 'terrorists' was not only scary, but also confusing. Why am I as an Arab Muslim child -who's living a normal childhood as everyone else- being labelled as a 'terrorist' by the West? Why are people claiming all Arab and Muslim children are trained to use guns by ISIS or/and Hamas? I remember asking my parents as a kid "Is this a real gun with the police officer?" Because I only saw weapons in movies.
I asked questions such as "Why do they think Arabs = Muslims?" The lack of acknowledgment of Christian and Jewish Arabs and non-Arab Muslims confused me.
Why were Muslim women always 'oppressed' in these movies and TV shows I saw? This is not as common as they make it seem. Why are they using the struggle of some Muslim women to demonize an entire religion? Why are they pretending to be saviours when they're actually contributing to further oppression of Muslim women? Why are they weaponizing the awful struggle of some Muslim women against the vast majority of Muslim women? (White feminism is not saving us. It's actually a form of oppression of Muslim women)
Misrepresentation bothered me and made me angry and disappointed. I couldn't finish watching a movie or an episode of a TV show if I saw any mentions of Muslims or/and Arabs, because I knew what would happen next.
When it comes to the Palestinian cause, every Arab grew up watching endless footage of Palestinians being brutally murdered LIVE. Everything and all the footage all of you are surprised to see during this genocide, were a part of our upbringing.
When I was a kid I stumbled upon a newspaper in the house with a headline about a Palestinian father who returned to his house and found all his children shot. And I remember the image very well. The father was holding a prayer mat with people holding him as he broke down on his knees. His dead children were on the floor next to each other. Seeing this image of children my age murdered by the Israeli occupation shocked me. I remember my parents having to hide the newspaper from me because of the impact this image had on me.
I had to start reading into politics at a young age, and I realized that everything that Western media was trying to portray about the West being 'civilized' was a lie. How can you be civilized if you're a murderer or/and contribute to the murder of the innocent?
When I learnt about the history of imperialism, colonialism, slavery,...etc. growing up, I recognized the pattern that colonialists use and I saw that the colonizers of yesterday, are the same as today, except Western media is doing a great job covering for them nowadays, and a lot of people only started noticing that recently.
The West seemed fascinating to me as a child, but after seeing the horrendous false images that're being portrayed of my people in the West, all of my fascination turned into anger and motivation to fight against it.
The real terrorists in the world are not the brown and bearded men, veiled women, or the innocent children. The real terrorists are the ones who set the stage for the murder of innocent people, the exploitation of their resources, using propaganda and painting an image of the innocent that cannot be more false and racist, and the fascists that put on a 'civilized' mask.
I will forever stand with my Palestinian brothers and sisters. I will forever defend my Arab and Muslim brothers and sisters, and I won't give room to any misrepresentation. Enough is enough.
Edit: I wanted to add that growing up, I was scared of telling people about where I'm from, my religion, and what language I speak due to the microaggression and discrimination I was subjected to. Not to mention the amount of times I saw on the news Arabs or/and Muslims getting killed in Western countries (aka hate crimes).
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fastandcarlos · 2 months
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Bracelet Making : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc
summary: to prepare for the concert you're busy making friendship bracelets to swap, only for charles to suddenly decide he wants to join you too
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Your eyes widened in confusion as the puzzled expression on Charles’ face shocked you. The endless number of beads that you had was more than he could have ever imagined, unable to take it all in. There were so many different colours, designs and letters, you had plenty in front of you to keep you both entertained for hours. 
“What do you think?” You chuckled as you picked up the elastic, taking some scissors and cutting two lengths of it before tapping the space beside you on the living room floor, inviting Charles to take a seat down beside you. 
He did as you asked, his eyes still wide. “How many bracelets do people actually take to these concerts? We’re going to be here all night making bracelets for tomorrow love,” he commented. 
“But it means we can swap them with other people there.”
Charles took the elastic from you, stretching it a couple of times. He followed your lead as he watched you tie one end so that the beads couldn’t fall off when you beaded them together, getting himself into a little bit of a tangle. 
“What’s the point of making these bracelets if we’re just going to give them to other people?” Charles pondered, running his fingers through some of the beads to get a good look at them. 
When Charles told you that he had managed to get tickets to Taylor Swift you were beyond excited, and as the big fan that you were, you wanted to make the most of the experience. Charles thought you were joking when you suggested making bracelets, but now he found himself with no way back. 
“Where do I even start?” Charles questioned as he picked up one red bead and threaded it through the elastic, watching it hit the bottom where he had tied up his knot. 
“Just make it look nice, trust your instincts,” you tried your best to tell him, “It’s fun being able to swap because loads of other fans will have made bracelets too, it’s a thing to swap them to show friendships amongst all of the fans.” 
Charles nodded as he listened intently to you, “that’s quite a sweet reason. I’ve seen a couple of fans doing this at the paddocks before but I never realised that was the meaning behind it,” he then added. 
The room fell silent as Charles looked through a few of your beads and placed them onto the elastic. His eyes looked closely at what he had done, tipping some of the beads off and rearranging the pattern again so that he was happy with what he saw. 
“You seem to be taking this quite seriously,” you laughed, nudging Charles’ side. His head nodded as he picked up another bead to make sure that his pattern was still followed. 
Once it was on, his eyes turned to look at you. “If I’m giving them to other people then I’ve got to make sure that they look nice, I can’t be given people a lazy bracelet that doesn’t look nice.” 
Charles had watched you for the past couple of days as you began to make bracelets for the concerts, dismissing it pretty quickly.
However, as he saw how focused you were whilst doing it, he began to pay a bit more attention, finding himself interested. When you offered the chance for him to do it with you, he soon said no, but it didn’t take long for you to twist his arm. 
“Do I have to give all the bracelets away or do I get to keep some of them for myself?” 
“You can do whatever you want Charles.” 
Charles hummed in acknowledgement as he reached out for another few beads, threading them on with ease. “I think the first bracelet that I make I want to keep for myself, well, I think I want for the bracelet to be yours rather than anyone else’s.” 
Your eyes flickered to what Charles was doing, noticing that he’d picked up a couple of your letter beads. “What are you writing on that bracelet?” You quizzed, putting your own down for a second to concentrate on him. 
“It’s for me and you,” he proudly smiled, twirling it around so that you could get a better look. “So that anyone who looks our way tomorrow knows that you’re mine.” 
Although Charles had managed to get you into the VIP section of the stadium, he still had concerns. He’d seen the way some fans had treated you at races before, and didn’t want for the same to happen at the concert, especially when you were there to enjoy yourself too. 
He’d seen how you played with some of your bracelets before when you got nervous and knew you’d love to do the same with a bracelet that you knew was made by Charles too. 
The silence that stayed between you both had Charles worrying, concerned that he’d done the wrong thing. “If you don’t like it, I can make it to give to a fan instead, I’m sure you’ll end up with hundreds of bracelets tomorrow night anyway love.” 
Your head immediately shook as Charles spoke. “No. I’d love to wear it. I just didn’t think I’d be the first person that you’d think about when making a bracelet.” 
“You’re always the one occupying my mind,” Charles mused. 
Your eyes rolled as Charles’ attention turned back to his bracelet, determined to make it perfect for you to wear, and hopefully want to show off too. 
It was fascinating for you as you watched the concentration on Charles’ face, a look that you had only ever seen before when he was behind the wheel and fighting for that P1 position. 
After a few minutes, and a bit of a mess from Charles as he tried to tie his bracelet together, he was done. He proudly called your name, stretching the bracelet so that you could slide your hand into it, letting it sit perfectly around your wrist. 
Your smile was wide as you turned your wrist to admire what Charles had made. “This is beautiful Charles; I don’t think I’m going to need any more bracelets for tomorrow now.” 
“Don’t be silly,” he laughed, relieved to see how impressed you were by what Charles had made. “I bet there’s some awesome bracelets that you’ll be given tomorrow, I barely know what I’m doing with all of this.” 
“But none of them are made by you,” you reminded him. 
Charles leant across and pressed a kiss to your cheek, only for your head to come down and rest on his shoulder, forgetting about what you were doing for a few moments. 
“You should make some more of these, I bet they’ll be a few of your fans there tomorrow who would love to have a bracelet from the hottest F1 driver in the world,” you teased. 
Charles’ eyes widened again as you spoke, poking against your cheek. “Maybe one day when I retire I can just go into the bracelet making industry, set up a stall at the entrance to the paddock or something.” 
A chuckle came from you as you listened to Charles’ suggestion, “you’d make a fortune, I bet. I’d say that the bracelet that I’m wearing right now is probably worth a million pounds.” 
Charles’ smile turned up as he watched you fidget with the bracelet that you wore, exactly like how he expected you to. “Come on, we’ve got more bracelets to make, I want to exchange as many of these as possible tomorrow to make some people smile.” 
“How are you somehow more enthusiastic about bracelet making them I am?” 
Charles shrugged, “I’ve got the bug now, I get why you enjoy it so much.” 
“By the way, Taylor would be proud of you making all of these.” 
“I bet she doesn’t even know who I am,” Charles protested. 
“Everyone knows your handsome face, trust me.” 
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
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princessbrunette · 4 months
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deer!reader who prunes in the bath for hours everytime she’s upset. this time it was jj’s fault, and he’d admit it. he was meant to pick her up from work and take her out to eat — but he got caught up in pogue stuff and forgot.
he lets himself into her home knowing her family were away. usually when he did so, her skittish footsteps would come sliding along the hallway, barrelling into him quietly rambling about how she can recognise the pattern of his footsteps which is how she knew it was him — but now the house was too quiet. he could hear the pipes churning however, and distantly if he listened close enough — the dripping of the taps upstairs.
she stares ahead when he enters, still wearing a face full of makeup from her day as she reclines in the bath tub. if she were in a different mood, she’d comment on how very sofia coppola the whole thing was— but she was sad, and feeling neglected, so instead she huffs subtly out her nose, not wanting to acknowledge the blonde.
“okay so… i messed up.” he begins carefully as he creeps into the room. “y’know i was actually like, super looking forward to seeing you i just… i lost track of the time. you know how bat shit crazy john b has been lately over this whole treasure thing.” he exasperates, dragging his feet over to the side of the bath. out the corner of your eye, you can see him rubbing at his chest nervously. it almost made you feel guilty.
you say nothing. as much as you wanted to do the mature thing and communicate how it made you feel, how all of it had been making you feel lately — you feel to indulge the pettier side to you instead. perhaps if you acted uncharacteristically and gave him the silent treatment, he’d see you meant business. he presses his lips together, nodding and yanks his hat off, dropping it by his feet.
“nothing? okay uh… i deserve that.” he ticks his head, staring at you in thought for a moment before lowering himself to his knees besides the tub. the water sways as you shuffle slightly, the dripping sound the only noise present in the room for a second. “how can i make it up to you? i’m here now so, let me.” his gaze is serious, brows raised at your side profile.
you don’t offer him a response, not directly anyway. you simply cast your eyes down with a sad sigh. maybank bites his lip in thought before standing on his knees, moving as close as he could. stroking your cheek with his thumb, he stared wistfully. the thumb travels to tuck itself beneath your bottom lip, and you try not to preen into his touch. noticing your resistance, he thinks for a moment longer before pushing his sleeve up, sinking his arm into the warm water.
“i don’t like it when you’re sad, bamb. makes me all sad. think i got a few ideas on how to apologise though.” he speaks quietly, in that lower tone that only you get to hear. he smiles when his hand touches your thigh and you bashfully spread them beneath the water without any convincing. “that’a girl.” he hums.
fingers trailing up your thigh toward your centre, he continues to stare at you, eyes occasionally jumping to his hand. your breath hitches and you try to hold your resistance and be strong, but you missed his touch and it’s hard. without having to tell him that he nods. “i know.” he drawls, the southern twang comforting you. “messed up real bad, huh?”
you nod, and he takes the slight communication as a win, knowing he’s buttering you up. the water splashes lightly when he reaches your cunt, gently massaging your clit beneath the water. a shaky breath leaves you and his teeth find his bottom lip again, concentrated. “i’on even deserve t’touch you but… s’the least i can do. gotta give the princess her princess treatment n’stuff.” he comments, and you relax further into the tub, a quiet whimper leaving you as your legs spread wider. “mmhm.” he responds.
this continues for a little while longer before you can’t take it and you speak.
“you need to make time for me.” you whisper and he nods, eyes wide and almost innocent.
“i gotta make way more time for you. gonna clear my whole schedule bae.” he sounds desperate, and you’re glad he’s understanding. your brows furrow, panting, feeling too hot in the water now.
“jj.” you enquire and his eyes don’t leave you, nodding again.
“yes— yeah?”
“take me out the bath. wan’you to fuck me on the bed.” you mewl quietly, ashamed at how fast you broke.
“yes ma’am.” he wastes no time, hand leaving you to yank the plug from the bath, tripping over and falling onto his knees when he attempts to get up and run to grab you a towel.
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messylustt · 1 year
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pervy ethan smut pleaseeeee
this slowly started to become longer than i planned. i couldn't stop writing
floral panties — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : you leave a trap for your pantie stealing fellow student
contents : perv ethan, pantie stealing, use of conditioner as lube, subby ethan, ethan's obsessed, use of 'dirty boy' as like a pet name ig, overstimulation, no actual p in v. wc 2.4k
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Ethan didn’t know when it started but he found himself stealing your clothes. More specifically your panties.
You lived in the same dorm building, so every time you left your clothes by the communal washing machines, ethan couldn’t help but pocket some of your different coloured panties. He now had some lacy, some normal, and some with cute patterns.
It was shameful but Ethan grew addicted to wrapping them around his cock as he jerked himself off, muttering your name under his breath. He couldn’t jerk off normally anymore, he always had to have something of yours touching him.
Then one night, when you left the laundry, ethan spotted a left behind conditioner bottle, the one that made your hair smell like cherries. Without thinking he grabbed it, walked to his dorm, locked the door to his room, and began to use your conditioner as lube.
He stroked himself, the cherry scent making his eyes roll. He could imagine you on your knees in front of him. The cherry coming from your hair as you languidly stroked his cock. He orgasmed embarrassingly quickly at the new found fantasy.
Every time he saw you in the hallways of Blackmore, or in the dorm building, your cherry scent made his cheeks pinken.
The surprising thing was that you’d never actually met. You’d briefly acknowledged each other as a passing person, but no long conversations or a blooming friendship.
Ethan just always watched from afar, growing hotter when he’d catch your skirt hiking up in your seat. He remembers a pathetic moment when you had unintentionally been distracting him all class, and for some relief he palmed himself under the table.
You had reduced him to a horny teenager wanting to bust a nut the moment he sees you show a sliver of skin.
What Ethan didn’t realise was that you had noticed your gradually missing panties, and that one bottle of conditioner. You had always felt someones eyes on you whenever you would bend down to retrieve a pen you dropped.
You soon quickly linked up the eyes and stolen items to Ethan Landry. The boy who lived in your dorm building and took random classes with you. At first glance you’d say he appeared shy, at second you’d think he was kinda cute, and at third you’d finally notice the lust swirling in his eyes.
One night, when you were walking towards a washing machine, prepared with a basket, you heard distant steps far but close. You paused, quickly realising that it would be the brown haired boy.
You decided to leave a trap, just to see if he really was the one who brazenly stole your items. You placed your basket full of a mix of shirts, pants, skirts, and panties. You made sure to leave a pair at the top as you pretended to walk to the other exit of the room.
You hide behind a washing machine, watching as Ethan walked in. He didn’t have a basket full of clothes, so there was no need for him to be there, unless he liked to steal.
Ethan spots the new pair of lacy black panties on your pile of clothes. He edges closer, sparing a fleeting glance around before he grabs them, breathing heavy.
He goes to pocket them when he hears your melodious voice. Whipping his head up, his eyes widen as he watches you walk out from your hiding spot a raise to your brows.
“What are you going to do with those?” You ask, as you step closer.
Ethan is frozen, gulping down his want to hide. You’d caught him. He hadn’t thought this far. He’d thought he could get away with it. “Uh.” He stupidly splutters, not knowing what he can say. It was pretty obvious what he was going to do with them.
You edge closer as Ethan watches your every move. He notices the low cut singlet your wearing, and your sweatpants that hang low on your hips. A huge chunk of your stomach is on full display and Ethan’s eyes begin to feel heavy. Through his distracted state he hadn’t realised that you’d moved much closer.
You're inches from his face. He sucks in a breath when he caught your gaze. “Can I have them back?” You quietly ask. Ethan processes your words for a moment then realises that your talking about your panties. His fist had clenched around them. “Ethan?”
He chokes on air at the fact that you knew his name. You grab his wrist, taking the panties out, and throwing them into your basket. Ethan expected your expression to be mad, but he's confused and slightly intruiged at the fact that your just staring at him, your own intruige displayed across your features.
You were still extremely close and Ethan's mind quickly became a haze, becuase your hair smelt extra strong today. "I'm sorry." He manages to mutter out. He quickly looks away, embarassment filling him to the brim. But then you grab his chin, pulling his head back to face you.
He gulps. Feeling your fingers touching his face has added a new level of need that's making his stomach tighten. He can't look away from you, especially as a little smile forms on your lips. "Do you like me or something?" You ask, tilting your head in inspection of him.
"Uh..."
"You can be honest." Your voice is sickly sweet. It makes Ethan subconsiously step closer to you. Your chests are almost touching. Ethan licks his lips before answering in a small voice. "Yes. Yeah— I...do."
Your smile begins to widen. "Why didn't you talk to me?" Your tone is still soft and light, making a strain form in Ethan's pants.
Ethan refrains from grabbing you, lust weighing him heavy. "I don't know."
You leaned closer to whisper. "Because if you asked me out I probably would have said yes."
Ethan's eyes widen as you lean back. "You would?"
"I would have." You corrected. "But since your the thief, I don't know if I'd want to anymore." You were teasing him, because you quickly grew to like the desperate look he's displaying.
Ethan swiftly steps closer, your chests finally touching. Ethan shakes his head. "I'll give them all back. I won't steal again. I promise. I won't—" Ethan is rambling, as his chest heaves. God, he didn't want his one mistake in not having you to be his dirty actions and fantasies.
You chuckle at his almost pleading tone. You place your hand on his chest. "Stealing my panties?" You pretend to look annoyed. "That's extremely dirty."
Ethan is cursing himself for every time he used your panties to jerk off. "I didn't—“ Ethan is breathing hard. "I didn't mean to."
"Yes you did." You say, keeping him at a slight distance, with your hand on his chest. Even your small touches is making his cock throb.
"It was wrong, I just..."
"Just what?" A small smirk had edged your lips.
Ethan stares at your lips, wishing he could taste them. "I just wanted to feel some part of you." His tone his heavy and breathless.
"And you thought my panties would be the closest you could get?" You guess. "What about the conditioner?"
Ethan gulps. "I like how your hair smells." He whispers shamefully.
"My hair?" You begin to "absentmindedly" drag your finger along his chest. Ethan nearly shudders against your touch. It was only over the shirt, he shouldn't be freaking out so much. You began to egde closer, your breath hitting his face.
Ethan is biting his lip, stopping himself from just grabbing some part of you.
You drag your hand down his stomach until you stopped just above his bulge. "You're extremely dirty." You whispered. And Ethan's mouth had begun to open in a pant.
"Look at you. Turned on by...what?" You ask, running your finger down his thigh. "The smell of my hair?" Your nails sent a shiver down his spine. "Or was it the thrill of stealing another pair of my panties?"
You then lightly ghost the tip of your finger over his hard on. Tantilizingly light. Ethan's hips pathetically jolt, wishing you would touch him. Wishing he could touch you. "Is that what's got you hard?"
You meet his gaze. Ethan is breathing heavy, as a small snarl had egded his lips. He was beyond desperate, teased almost to the limit.
You then suddenly step back, making Ethan quickly whip his head to your leaving form. "Nice to properally meet you, Ethan."
He reached his limit. Ethan didn't have control over his body, as he grabbed you, yanking you back to him. Even though you were expecting this you still gasped at how swift the motion was.
Ethan grabbed your jaw, his breath hitting your lips. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He groaned as his cock pressed against your body. He turned you, so that your hips hit against a low washing machine. And he's smashing his lips against yours. He can't help but begin to grind into you as he laps at your tongue, whining into your mouth. "Holy fuck." He whimpers, finally tasting you.
Your mouth is opening, your own arousel, making your press your thighs together.
"No, no." Ethan hisses, grabbing one of your thighs as he sharply pulls them apart. He pressed his bulge against your pussy, making you gasp a moan. His mouth hangs open. "Oh, fuck—"
Ethan kisses you, hard. You were addicting. Not one of his fantasies could prepare him for this—for you. "Ethan—" You choke out as he continues to grind.
"You can't just tease me like that, and think you can leave." Ethan says, darting his tongue out to lick your jaw. "No..." Ethan breaths over your lips, his eyes hooded with lust. "I've wanted to touch you for so long." He moans.
You had begun to grind your own hips into him, the situation feeling extremely erotic. But you wanted some of that control back. You lead your hand down to pants, unbuttoning him and pulling his throbbing cock out. Ethan's hips stutter, his head hitting your shoulder.
You brought his head away, so that he can see you, as you spit straight onto his cock. Ethan jolts, his mouth opening in a whine at the action and visual.
You begin to stroke him, pulling your hand up and down appropriately. Ethan thrusted into your hand, whimpering into your neck. His tongue had darted out to lick your skin as he would occasionally bite when a shock of pleasure would shoot through him. "Oh, fuck— oh, god, y/n—" He whimpers and moans as he soon draws near.
"Such a dirty boy." You whisper into his ear. His hips shudder as he orgasms, his body jutting into you. The pleasure wrecks him, but as it ebbs away you don't slow your strokes.
Y-y/n." Ethan stutters, gripping the washing machine behind you. "I-it hurts, please."
"But Ethan..." you began as he whined, your strokes languidly going up and down. "You stole from me. Multiple times. I can't just reward you for that."
Ethan's mouth has opened against your skin as his fingers dig into the washing machine. "P-please. Oh, god, please—"
"You really want me to stop?" You ask. He just whimpers in response. "Aright." You bring your hand away, and Ethan is quick to grab your wrist.
"No, no, please don't stop. I'll do anything. Just please don't." Ethan begs as he brings your hand back to his cock. His hips jolt when you wrap your palm around him, and begin to stroke him again.
"Anything?" You tease.
"F-fuck— anything. Anything you want." Ethan hovers over your lips, as he draws close to his second orgasm. He kisses you, eating at your tongue and lips as his hips shudder in pleasure, his release spilling. "Shit." He moans in your mouth.
You slowly bring your hand away as you peck his cheek. He's flushed, hands still caging you in. You felt a rush whenever you would tease him, loving his desperate pleas.
"You said you'd do anything." You say. Ethan nods, meeting your gaze. A small smile had edged his lips. You looked so pretty this close.
"Then can you step away?"
Ethan's brows furrow. "Why?"
"You said anything."
Ethan grinds his teeth, but slowly steps back. You straighten your singlet, as you take a breath. You met Ethan's awaiting gaze. He seemed suspicious, beacuse you'd denied him before—trying to go. He didn't want you to, not now. "Don't you dare try and leave." Ethan says.
"Alright, then you can go." You say, licking your bottom lip.
Ethan begins to step closer. You place your hand out as you step away from the washing machine. "I said to step back." You try to sound firm but your tone is heavy with lust.
Ethan tilts his head as he nears you. You continue to back up, wanting to keep the control. But Ethan wasn't letting you get away when he hadn't even touched you yet.
He corners you into the wall making you curse. Ethan held eye contact, as his hand dragged to your thigh, he pulled you apart as his finger began to rub you through your sweatpants. You gulp, grabbing one of his shoulders. "You don't really deserve to touch me. Not after you—"
"After I used your panties to jerk off?" Ethan asked, quickening his pace. "After I used your cherry conditioner as lube?" He dipped his hand into your pants, bypassing your panties to get to your soaking pussy. You slightly shudder as he began to swirl his fingers around. "After I had to palm myself in class because you looked so pretty with your red lipstick and short skirt?"
A moan escaed you at the mix of his words and the work of his fingers. "Huh?" Ethan asks, kissing you slowly.
He pushes two fingers in straight away, making your mouth fall open. "I don't deserve to touch you. But that certainly doesn't I mean I won't." He begans to thrust in and out of you, hitting your g-spot, once he got a good angle.
You manage to grab his hair, making him look at your face. "You're still a perv." You say breathlessly.
Ethan nods, a grin forming. "I know."
Your head hits back as pleasure wracks your body. Ethan groans at the visual, his hands never wanting to leave you. He pulls your head back as he speaks to the skin of your cheek. "Now instead of your panties I can use this to jerk off to." He thrusts higher into you.
You moan, breathing turning erratic. "Oh, fuck." He kisses you hard, before whispering to your lips, grinning. "You smell lovely."
Then he pushes his head into the crook of your neck by your ear, smelling the lovely cherry.
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© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.
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st4rymoon · 3 months
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can you please do a smut where steven finds out the reader has a hand kink and it leads them to being intimate and he holds her neck while they were fuckin and he teases her when eyes roll or her moans getting louder because of his hands
if not ignore 😞❗️
LOVE THIS OMG… I was giggling and biting my nails as I wrote this 😝 I had to add a little Jake at the end I’m sorry </3
𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐲 ₊˚⊹♡
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𝘗𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘴 - @moonyflesh
𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘋𝘰𝘮 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵: Steven notices your interest in his hands so he tries to play it cool and work you up but fails :(
𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Unprotected sex, lots of teasing, Steven being a tease but he doesn’t last very long :(, reader has a hand kink, p in v, language, dry humping!, creampie!, bruising, choking, Steven underestimates his strength and feels guilty about how rough he was being but you love it <333, Ft. small appearance from Jake
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Steven wasn’t oblivious to the reactions you gave. It became a pattern he noticed whenever he cracked his knuckles or ran a hand down your legs, bare or not.
At first he believed he was over exaggerating things when you went silent everytime he patted your thigh. He’d watch your body tense and eyes quickly drift over his hands. He worried he was making you uncomfortable with his touch but soon came to notice you reacted just the same whenever he’d stretch or fix his long sleeves.
He put his theories to test with his sudden love of watches, folded shirt cuffs, and gold rings. And boy did he get a reaction.
The first instance he wore a black watch and a dark gray button up, you were practically pawing at him for attention. He had you in his lap within seconds, grinding you onto his lap with his hands roaming your soft skin “what’s got you so vocal love? So loud and we’re both fully clothed” he teased as he nibbled up your jaw.
He instinctively moved his hand up to your throat, rewarding him with a blissful moan from your pretty lips. Steven watched hypnotized as your eyes rolled back, your throat vibrating against his palm while your hips dragged onto his. He cockily smiled as he buried himself into the crook of your neck now discovering your dirty little secret.
“I gotta wake up early tomorrow love, we’ll continue this later” he strained, it took all his might to not give in when he saw your eyes go watery. “What?” you sadly replied “We’ll continue this later” he nodded as he lifted you off his lap and left you on the couch. You sat there dumbfounded and left with your panties a complete mess.
Steven felt guilty as you sat there with a pout on your lips but didn’t give into your pleads. But just as when Steven felt like he had the upper hand, it crumbled right in front of him.
He’d just got out of the shower to see you in nothing but a baggy tee, the angle of your leg hiked up exposing your pretty cunt.
He inhaled sharply as you squirmed in bed, your legs softly glowing as he studied your figure. “How convenient huh?” he chuckled as he plotted beside you. “Goodnight steven” you mumbled with a smile on your face, hidden from steven as you pressed your face into the pillow. His eyes roamed your body, hand instinctively running down your ass and giving it a nice smack.
You giggled as he teasingly lifted your tee up, exposing your naked lower half “I thought you said you were tired” you teased “I was but not anymore” steven groaned as he climbed between your legs and made himself comfortable. “You know exactly how to get what you want don't you darling?” he smiled before shifting himself up and pressing a soft kiss onto your lips.
You hummed in acknowledgement as he began to rock his clothed bulge softly into you, the once strong and composed Steven now wrapped around your finger. His hands ran up your tummy while he peppered kisses down your neck, quiet praises escaping his lips.
He chuckled at your pleads and shaky moans begging for him to just fuck you already, how was steven supposed to say no to his pretty girl?
“You sure are bloody needy when I leave you hot and bothered” Steven cooed as he felt your hands wrap around his wrist. He followed your eyes as they stopped at your upper tummy, right where his hands were tightly squeezing. You weren’t aware of his eyes when you lost yourself in your thoughts.
His big veiny hands flexed and mouth watering had you instantly squirming under him. Steven played into your newly discovered obsession and began to rub small circles onto your skin with his thumb “it seems like you find something interesting” he cooed, your eyes moving to his as he smiled down at you.
You shook your head, ignoring his response and pulling him in for a kiss. Both of you moaning as your hand ran down his abdomen and dragged his boxer down his thighs “Don’t tease anymore, please?” you sighed as he wrapped your legs around his hips.
“Promise” he pouted in a mocking tone, his tip rubbing between your folds and coating him in your pearly slick. A depraved moan leaves both of you as he thrusted into your warm cunt as he rapidly increases his thrust.
The sound of skin slapping and moans filled the room as his hands snaked up your body, sensually tracing every inch and curve as he fucked into you with all his pent up frustration and need.
“What’s it about my hands that has you so dumb love? You like imagining them around your neck?” he cooed. Your eyes widened at his words, your cunt pulsing around him as he wrapped a hand around your throat.
The moan that slipped past your lips was pornographic, down right sinful as you processed his heavy hand wrapped around your throat. Steven let out a filthy moan as he felt your throat flexing under his palm, your moans vibrating on his hand while your eyes rolled back in bliss.
“That’s what you needed, didn't you love? Yeahhh look at you darling” He condescendingly purred. Your shirt was rolled up right above your chest, just enough for Steven to watch the way your tits bounced with every heavy thrust.
He truly didn’t know where to look, he wished he could focus on all of you at once. You were clawing at his biceps as he had one hand spreading your leg apart and the other pinning you down by your neck.
All you could do was dumbly stare up at him and take everything he was given you. It was so overwhelming having steven stuffed inside your cunt, hips rolling against your clit, and his heavy hand squeezing at your throat. An obscene moan spilling from your lips as he pulled his hips back just to pound into you again. You went slack under him as you came with a blissful moan of Steven's name spilling past your lips.
Steven let out a perverted moan as he came inside your messy cunt. His eyes watching your pretty face stained in tears as he took in the sight of your fucked out complextion and hand around your throat.
“A- oh m- bloody hell” he gasped as both of you came down from your highs.
A guilty feeling filled steven as he pulled his hand away from your neck, noticing the slight imprint of his hand and the prominent crescent shaped indents of his nails on your throat “I- I’m so sorry honey oh m- bullocks” steven gasped as he pulled out gently and fixed you up to get a better look. His hands gently holding your jaw up as his eyes filled with concern.
Shame coursed through him as the realization of how rough he was hit him. Your hands wrapped around his wrist “steven it’s ok don’t worry” you softly spoke. “OK? How is it ok I shoul-'' you stopped his concerned ramblings with a soft kiss on his lips “I don’t mind it Steven, I really don’t. I loved it and you know if I didn’t I would’ve said the code word” you reassured.
“But we don’t have to do the whole choking thing if you don’t want to steven” you nodded as you noticed the worry in his eyes “It isn’t that I didn’t like it, hell I loved it, but I- I should’ve realized how hard I was gripping” You listened as steven went on about his concerns.
You listened and realized you truly loved him. It was cute how concerned he was for your well being. Steven managed to calm his nerves as you reassured him you were ok, a smile forming on his lips as you called it his “marking of territory”
He scoffed as he got up to get you some water and noticed Jake’s reflection coming into view from the mirror on his wall “I guess she doesn't have to hide those handprints on her ass anymore” Jake sighed with his arms crossed.
“WHAT?”
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biceratops7 · 1 year
Text
I’m gonna SCREAM-
We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.
First off, this moment?
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Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.
This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.
So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?
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Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)
But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.
Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…
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Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.
He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.
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Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.
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rottiens · 3 months
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⊹ ˚. BAROU SHOEI ┊ tags. . 18+, professional player barou, established relationship, afab reader, pussy inspection, oral sex (f! receiving), praising. divider creds: cafekitsune.
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You are comfortable. Barou's bed has always felt that way to you. Your back rests on the soft mattress, your body sinks just a little into the blue sheets with white triangular patterns. The room smells clean as always and of the lavender spray in which Barou bathes every space in the room after he comes out of showering after a long match.
The ceiling fan makes a barely audible noise which you catch, recognizing for the first time about three weeks ago after years of spending time in his room. The window is open too, helping to keep you from breaking a sweat.
You have a pillow under your head, one on your lower back and, you're comfortable… You might even fall asleep, if of course, you weren't so excited to pay attention to him.
You crane your neck to get a better look at him and see exactly what he's doing, what he's looking for.
"Shoei…"
"Hold still," he growls, grabbing a restless foot that moves over the width of his shoulder.
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere—," you tell him, even though you know he's not paying attention to you, not to what you have to say at least.
Your stomach raises your hands with a deep inhale.
"What are you doing?" you want to stir beneath him again, acutely aware of what he's doing, or rather what he's not doing.
Every now and then you feel his fingers sinking the cotton of your panties between the folds of your pussy, other times his breath leads in hot swirls to your slit and, you know at this point your panties are soaked, dripping through them, making the material see-through.
"I'm watching." Barou replies, obvious. One thumb at a time strokes your clit in circles, the feel of the fabric kissing your sensitive area and you gasp slowly. "I can tell you like it when I do it."
"That's not—"
"Don't lie to me," he accuses you with a smile you can't see. You settle your posture again to watch, the air billowing over your heads brushes the sweat from your forehead and tousles Barou's dark strands in soft spirals. Across your 'M' shaped legs and the valley of your stomach, he gazes at you with narrowed eyes and a hunter's gaze. "You're so wet," he acknowledges, breaking the connection between his eyes to look at your pussy now.
He tosses the edge of your panties aside, the smell of sex and sweat wafts to your nose barely noticeable amidst the overpowering scent of lavender. Your breath hitches and your face feels even hotter. You know that it being summer only makes your heat that much worse.
With your pussy now naked under his nose, Barou can take a much better look at the mess he's created. His thumb helps him spread the folds apart, going up and down on the soft sensitive flesh of your inner labia.
"Hold your thighs for a moment," he commands, his voice husky.
You do so, grab the flesh just below your thighs and expand them further for him, with your feet now not on his shoulders but in the air you feel much more unsteady, weaker.
You are trembling as he squeezes your clit between index and middle fingers, as he slides a digit up your slit and your hole twitches at the sudden touch. Barou can sense your desire, noting how eager you are by the flushed hue that has taken over your pussy. Borou squeezes it, pinches it, uncovers it as if he is touching it for the first time, like a scientist experimenting. You are trembling, now harder, you call his name and regret it almost immediately.
Barou looks at you as if he hasn't touched you for days. His mouth is open, his lips wet with, perhaps sweat, his own saliva. His hair is black as if someone has tousled it with their fingers and his crimson eyes have turned dark.
"What, baby?" he asks as if he doesn't know what you want. "What is it?" he speaks after leaving a kiss on your thigh.
Your throat turns scratchy as soon as he lowers his head without losing eye contact, his tongue just a pinkish flash that you lose sight of after it sinks into you. A flat tongue lick that makes a mess of your juices, he tastes you, devours you. He takes your nectar on his tongue and swirls it around your clit, sucking and licking, increasing his stroke with each new taste.
Barou grabs your ass and pulls you further into his mouth. He raises his eyes and looks at you with your pussy in his mouth, shaking his head from side to side as he sucks on your clit.
You're not going to see him for days after today because of his practices and the big game he has at the end of the month. You know he has to concentrate, that he's not going to be distracted by seeing you in person because he can't think of anything but you when you're around, always full of devotion to you, so maybe this is his way of making you remember him, that you'll be thinking about him all those weeks until you see him again.
Barou sucks once more on your clit, your fingers loosen to grab his hair and yet he whimpers like a wounded animal. He pulls away with pursed lips from the sweet fruit he is devouring to bark— "Keep them open for me."
You do as he asks, and Barou alternates between fucking you with his thick tongue and licking your clit. Between the heat rising like an invisible fog that overwhelms you and his punishing tongue leaving you no room to escape, you have no choice but to cum in his mouth, arching your back and falling further into the trap that was him.
"Give it all to me," Barou rolls the words on his tongue, full of possession, full of egotism, proud to know that there is no one in the world who can taste you the way he does.
And this is all he will think about in the match. Every goal he scores, he'll get him closer to being with you and going home. Every game he wins, he knows it will be an orgasm he's going to give you.
"That's my girl. Drink water, you're going to give me another one."
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