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importantpuppystarfish · 3 months ago

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Sibling desire by Wonyoung

Male reader x Wonyoung

Warnings: Incest, totally blood related siblings, pissing (if u dont like the fantasy, simply dont read)

As I walk into my room, I see my sister Wonyoung lying on my bed. Her hair tied up and her smooth legs dangle playfully off the edge of the mattress. She looks over at me with a smile and pats the open space next to her. "Come here, I've got something to show you." She purrs. I feel my heart rate pick up as I make my way over to her. What could she possibly want to show me?

Wonyoung swipes through some images. My eyes go wide seeing the series of provocative pics she took - closeups of her lips, chest, the curve of her hip. She watches me closely.

"Do you like them?" She asks with a flirty wink. My mouth goes dry as my eyes drink in the sight of my gorgeous older sister posed so temptingly. I manage a weak nod in response as she never showed me like this.

"Mmm I took them just for you." She confesses, leaning in close and wrapping an arm around me. My heart pounds in my chest. This can't be real…but it's happening!

"I bet you've got quite the reaction going on under there huh?" She teases, reaching down and giving me an affectionate squeeze.

Wonyoung and I no longer have the chance to spend as much time together as we used to, especially since she’s been so busy with her career in IVE. She’s changed a lot over time, and it’s clear she’s grown taller and become even healthier. She’s no longer the same Wonyoung I once knew as her brother.

Swallowing hard, I gather some courage and lean in closer to her, whispering "You look…so beautiful sister…" My fingers trace lightly over her exposed leg.

Wonyoung giggles. "You're so cute when you blush like that." She bites her lip, her eyes searching mine. "You know…you're grown pretty handsome yourself." She lifts her chin, inviting my gaze to drop lower to her lips.

"Say something…say I'm hot." She whispers breathily.

Even though I know I'm not the most attractive guy, Wonyoung's words send a flutter through my chest. I can see the genuine affection in her eyes as she looks at me. She really does think I'm…cute…

She shifts, moving closer until our noses almost touch. "Come on, say it…say your big sister is hot!." Her voice is soft but commanding. I nod mutely, my throat dry. "Y-you're hot, sister…" I croak out.

Wonyoung leans back and asks "Hey, btw this question got me wondering…" She says slowly, her voice low. "What do you think a typical brother and sister relationship should be like?"

She watches me carefully, head tilted expectantly, waiting to hear my opinion on something much more profound than normal sibling dynamics. Her eyes are curious yet almost flirty.

I nod dumbly, not knowing what else to say. "Loving and…trusting," I murmur, feeling like those words don't quite capture the complexity of sibling bonds.

But Wonyoung takes my response and runs with it. She slides closer, her hip brushing against mine. "Mmmm loving and trusting…"

"Maybe…more than just loving?" "A brother and sister who really…connect."

"What do u mean?" I asked.. Wonyoung swallows hard before explaining. "What I mean is…in the most ideal, close-knit family, the brother owns the sister completely. And the sister owns the brother just the same."

She reaches out and strokes my cheek gently. "No limits, no holding back" Her words make me blink in surprise, where did she develop this kind of mindset from throughout these years?

"I should be your first.. No outside partners allowed." She declares firmly.

Wonyoung gazes at me hopeful yet serious, clearly laid out her vision for us.

Wonyoung puts her hand upon my shoulder trying to hug and then kiss me. I held back as I say "Sister what are u doing!!!?".. Wonyoung pouts when I protest, but keeps holding me tighter. "Shhh…" she whispers against my lips before planting a soft kiss there. "Didn't u say our bond should be of loving and trusting?."

She pulls back just enough to speak again, her breath hot on my face. "You're my brother…and I'm your sister. Isn't this loving between us?" She tries coaxing, hand trailing down my chest.

Wonyoung seeks to reassure as she leans in again, more insistently this time. I can feel her want, yet the wrongness of it all makes me hesitant.

Before I can react, Wonyoung crashes her lips onto mine in a deep, demanding kiss. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she takes control. The kiss is aggressive, all tongue and teeth. Unable to deny her any longer, I give in completely in the kiss. My lips part eagerly beneath hers, savoring the intoxicating sweetness of her kiss. One hand rises to grip her waist tightly as the other tangles in her hair, pulling her closer.

She tastes like everything I've ever craved without knowing it. I surrender completely, losing myself in the dangerous allure of this twisted intimacy between us.

"Huh? U liked it right…" Wonyoung says.

Wonyoung smiles victoriously against my mouth, pleased she's gotten me to respond. "Mmm…good boy…" she whispers, running her fingers through my body. Her hands begin working at my shirt buttons, trying to remove it impatiently.

"You're already mine aren't you brother?" Her voice is low and sultry, her eyes shining with delight at having me under her spell.

She tugs at my shirt again insistently, waiting for me to obey…

She pushes my shirt open, exposing my chest.

"Shhh…" she hushes me again, biting her lip as she palms me through thin fabric. "Do you like that sis…is making you feel good?"

She shrugs off her shirt first, tossing it aside carelessly as she unhooks her bra next. It falls away, releasing her flawless form completely to me. She shakes her hair out, gazing down at me expectantly.

Her tits were perfectly proportioned, small medium sized yet supple. Her bosom is a delicate handful, delicate pink nipples starts to make my mouth watery & hungry.

"Well?" she asks coyly, fingers releasing me just long enough to begin shrugging out of her pants next. "Are you going to watch your sister strip?" Her voice drops another octave, daring me.

My eyes widen slightly when she fully reveals herself to me. I never dreamed this scene totally in my lifetime.

"Do you like it, brother?" She breathes, hands coming to rest on her hips. She pushes slightly against me, seeking contact. "Tell me…" she asks demandingly.

"Come now, get on your knees." Wonyoung orders. She wants me low before she grants me any further privileges.

She takes her own swaying breast in hand and guides it towards my mouth.

"Suck" she commands, voice rough yet compelling. I part my lips obediently and she presses forward, my tongue meeting the stiff peak. She gasps at the contact.

"Yes that's it…" she praises, running fingers through my hair again as I begin to suckle eagerly. Her sweet nectar coats my tongue, sweaty flavors making me thirsty for more. I lose myself in the sensation - it smells and tastes so good. Her skin, the weight of her supple figure in my mouth.

"Mmm yes, keep going, make them feel good…" Wonyoung crooks a leg behind me, pulling me closer until I'm fully engaged between her thighs. Releasing her tits from my mouth, I glance up at Wonyoung with a silent question. She nods eagerly in response.

"Taste me brother…" she purrs, guiding me lower.

I settle between her thighs, inhaling her heady aroma before diving in. I take and deep breathe and start licking her clit. She cries out, hands gripping the sheets as I lose myself in bringing her pleasure.

My senses are overwhelmed, the salty-sweet musk of her, the velvety give of her pussy lips against my tongue, the rhythmic pulsing against my tasting buds as I relentlessly stoke that bundle of nerves. Wonyoung gets so wet and squirts over my mouth as she moans.

"Yes…just like that!" sister gasps out, bucking against my mouth as I drive her wild. Wonyoung grabs my head and pushes me more deep inside her.

Wonyoung squirts more inside my mouth as I swallow it all. My jaw aches from her insistently grinding on my tongue but I don't care - I want to obey, to make her cry out louder.

"Don't stop! Make me come on your tongue!" she cries.

Now the most extreme part, without warning, I feel a hot stream splash across my face and into my mouth. Wonyoung releases a surprised laugh as I'm suddenly showered in my own sibling's piss warmth.

"Well well, did you like your sibling's taste?" she asks teasingly, still catching her breath. I genuinely replied her I loved it because why not? It tasted so delicious yet taboo. She reaches down and wipes out the dampness from my face by licking me with her tongue.

"There now, all cleaned up." She grins.

`😁' continues

Wonyoung sinks gracefully to her knees before me, running her palms up my thighs as she looks up with a coy smile. "My turn to return the favor…" Blowjob time!!~ Now as she takes me in fully in one smooth motion. I bite back a groan at the sudden enveloping warmth.

Her tongue swirls expertly around my length as she begins to move, focused solely on me now. I tangle my hands in her dark locks, overwhelmed by the sight and feel of her so intimately connected to me.

As Wonyoung gives me a head, her eyes never leave mine, locking me in place with that defiant gaze even as her mouth brings me such wonderful pleasure. She takes me deeper.

She uses one hand to stroke what she can't fit, twisting lightly near the tip. Her lips pursue a rhythm - up, over, down again.

She grazes her teeth along my shaft on the way back up, a wicked glint in her eyes. The sensation sends shivers through me.

"You taste good brother…" she purrs before diving back down again.

Me taking advantage of my sister's submissive position, I grab a fistful of her hair and guide her back down roughly. "Open up sister." She lets out a small, surprised sound but parts her lips obediently. I push deeper than before, hitting the back of her throat over and over. Her fingers dig into my legs as she takes everything I give. "Such a good sister…" I murmur approvingly.

I deepthroats her deeply, she is taking all of me down her throat. Wonyoung chokes and gags as I use her mouth without mercy. Tears prick her eyes but she forces herself to relax and accept my aggressive advances. She looks up at me defiantly between gasps for air.

"Mph! Mmmph!" she whimpers in protest yet doesn't fight back. Her hands move to try and stroke my leg reassuringly as I claim her throat so roughly. She knows she deserves this punishment for pushing me so far already.

I lose control suddenly, releasing my dirty yellow urine unexpectedly inside her mouth. A small gasp escapes her as she gulps down every last drop. She swallows quickly when warm liquid hits her tongue. Surprised look crosses her face. She pulls back a little, eyes wide. Accidentally swallow¿…

She pulls back, lips sealed as she looks up at me disapprovingly. "Oh my, did you just piss on ur dear sister's mouth?" Her voice drips with fake scolding. She opens mouth to show me completely coated on her tongue.

"You made quite the mess brother…"

She closes mouth and swallows once more before speaking again. "But I suppose I should expect such accidents from you." A hand comes to rest lightly on my thigh in mock reprimand.

(Wonyoung takes control now)

She stands abruptly, causing me to stumble back a step. With hands on her hips, she looks down at me with newfound confidence.

"Enough of me being sweet elder sister." Her tone is firm yet playful. "Time for me to ride you hard lil brother!"

She pushes me down face first onto the bed sheets. The boldness of her switch to dominance sends a thrill through me.

I lay in the bed fully and Wonyoung starts to climb on top and me.

As Wonyoung is straddling over me now, she guides me between her legs. My tip probes her slick folds before she sinks down, gasping as I stretch her for the first time.

"Yes, that's it…" she purrs, working to seat herself fully upon me. Her hands grip my shoulders as she grinds down hard, enveloping every inch.

"You're mine now…" she declares with a wicked grin.

(Now that she has me inside, Wonyoung starts to jump and ride my dick!)

Bouncing up and down, she sets a rhythm, riding me deeper with each roll of her hips. Her tits bounce as she picks up speed, face flushed with pleasure.

Wonyoung rides me fast. She leans back, hands braced on my thighs, exposing her bouncing tits very properly now. Her cries get louder, the room filled with the sound of flesh slapping together. She must have done this before…

She chuckles darkly as she sees my pain since shes jumping over me so rough. Her pace suddenly becomes relentless, pounding down hard again and again. She grips my hands and pins them down, refusing to let me escape the incredible sensation building inside.

"Does my little brother like when big sis rides him rough?" she taunts, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're so sensitive…you're going to…"

She bites her lip, grinning wickedly. Her slick heat grips me tighter, claiming every inch.

Wonyoung leans forward to me to have a french kiss. Our mouths meet in a deep, passionate kiss as our bodies move as one. Her tongue slides against mine, mingling flavors on my taste buds. She pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips…

"Mmm yes, keep up brother…"

She begins to grind harder, waves of pleasure radiating outward. The scent of her mouth is wonderful. I can feel my own release rapidly approaching despite the initial discomfort. Wonyoung seems determined to push me over the edge…

"You're close aren't you?" she purrs, her fingers digging into my chest as she bounces faster.

Our lips lock once more as I spill everything deep inside her hot depths. As I can't really say anything due to kissing with her, I show a signal I'm about to CUM! She feels it too, muscles clenching around me as she smiles triumphantly.

"That's it brother…let it all go," Wonyoung murmurs against my ear before sitting up again. She looks thoroughly pleased with herself for me bringing such a sweet release.

Wonyoung grinds down harder, relishing the feeling of my seed coating her walls. "Mmm yes, u filled up my insides bro…" she pants out.

She moves more slowly now but the sensation is still intense as she uses me to satisfy herself. I watch in amazement as she rests through the pleasure besides me.

My sister's glistening, saturated folds continue to cling to me even after spilling everything. Her delicate petals swollen and stretched completely full of my thick seed. She must look utterly claimed by me…

I take a peek down below to see the mess I've done on my sister's pussy. She catches me staring down below and winks playfully. "Like what you see?" she whispers, a hand coming down to scoop up some of my spilled cum glistening on her fingers. Bringing them to her mouth, she licks them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Damn ur such a naughty sister. May I ask when did u get so horny like this?" I ask. Wonyoung replies as "well well, my bsf Yujin had sex with her father. So she suggested me why not i have with my brother too? After that I'll tease our dad and I'll make him fuck me too"…

I tilt my head curiously at her response. "Yujin and her dad too?" My eyebrows rise in surprise. "So this was her idea?"

Wonyoung nods, tracing idle patterns on my chest with her fingertip. "Mhm. She said it felt amazing having such a close forbidden connection with her dad." Her eyes glint mischievously. "Now I want our Dad to give me that too…"

Despite feeling slightly jealous at the thought of my dad being with my sister next, a dark part of me stirs with intrigue. Seeing my usually sweet, innocent sister like this makes me feel things I shouldn't…

"Sister!…" I start hesitantly. "Are you really going to sleep with Dad too?"

She nods again, her face lighting up delightedly. "Mmmhmm! He's next on my list." Her fingers wrap around my arm possessively. "Just you wait…"

She grins wickedly, already planning out her tactics to seduce him. "Dad won't stand a chance against my charm." She giggles. "Once he's mine, we can share stories and jokes about how we've each…taken care of one another." She bites her lip, clearly excited about her dastardly scheme.

Wonyoung pauses thoughtfully then adds, "Oh by the way…" "Leeseo is your age right?"

I nod in response and she smiles excitedly.

"She's so cute! I bet you'd like sleep with her too huh?" She winks at me. "Why don't I bring her over one day? She's still an untouched virgin but we've had a little fun together like lesbo stuff."

My eyes go wide hearing this news about what my sister and her friend (Leeseo) did. But Wonyoubg just giggles, running her fingers through my body.

"Maybe the three of us can play next time. I'm sure Leeseo would love to join." She grins deviously, clearly imagining all the ways she could involve others in her growing web of sinful encounters.

I agree & nod to everything what she says. Now as I announce I need to use the bathroom for my stress relieve, Wonyoung grins wickedly. "You don't need that room sweetie. What are you gonna do in there? Pee?" She asks teasingly.

At my confirmation that yes, I just need to relieve myself, she laughs. "Why waste ur good fluid going down the drain when you have me?"

My brow furrows in confusion but before I can respond she's kneeling before me, eyes alight as if eager for this bizarre request. She looks up expectantly.

"Go on now…let it all out for your sister" she purrs. As I piss, she drinks it directly from where it produces like a dog. My sister Wonyoung, with who I had a typical sibling relationship with, has unfortunately turned into my human toilet and sex partner.

#girl group smut #female idol smut #kpop gg smut #Wonyoung smut #izone smut #wonyoung smut #IVE smut #wonyoungsmut #twice smut #Kpop girl smut

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kookie-krumbss · 29 days ago

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motion granted 01 : after (billable) hours

pairing : closer jungkook x corporate lawyer reader /// hard exterior jungkook x reader who brings jungkook out of his shell

genre : fluff & smut

synopsis : you began to develop a friendship with the snarky closer in the corner office. he holds the title of being 'arrogant', 'self-absorbed', and being 'too smart for his own good', but the more you hang out with him; the mroe you began to think those titles are half-wrong.

taglist status : open

01 : after (billable) hours | 02 : good faith negotiation | 03 : disorderly conduct | 04 : mutual agreement

song reccomendation : just a little bit by ENHYPEN

He’s in his glass house again, severely outnumbered by contracts and financial statements. With one hand he rubs his temples, a sign that he hasn’t left the office since midnight, whilst the other stays stuck on the calculator, inputting numbers at lightning speed. You stand outside his door, carrying a bag of snacks from the convenience store. It was your ritual on late nights - you would go buy banana milk and some chips then share it together in his office as the sound of jazz blues permeated the room. You wouldn’t exchange words often, rather just appreciate each other’s company and the scats of Ray Charles from his vintage vinyl.

You discintly remember on one occasion when he complained about Lays being too salty, making a mental note you bought Ruffles tonight. Hoping it would meet his ideal ‘salt to chip ratio’. Guess he's too precise even when it comes to his eating habits. He glances up, abruptly halting your train of thoughts. A small smile forms on his lips which begins to grow wider as he notices the bag in your hands through the glass barrier between your bodies. You open the door, walking in to the jazz blues already playing in the background.

“Still doing the financials? Thought you were a machine” you tease, handing him the banana milk. “I am a machine, and for the record ..these are next week’s cases” he states. ‘Cocky bastard’ you think as you roll your eyes at him. He really is a machine.

“You can go home, you know.... it’s getting late. Go see your family” you tell him, trying to make eye contact. But the only thing he’s got his eyes set on is the merger contract. “They live in Chicago” he replies quickly in a monotonous baritone. “Not even a girlfriend…or boyfriend…” you state, trying to lighten his somber mood. His eyes finally lift up from the text and they pierce like daggers through your soul.

“Boyfriend? Really. What exactly about my outfit screams gay?” he questions sipping his banana milk and waiting for your assessment. You stare down at him. His ripped body clad in a 3,000 dollar suit, his wrist iced out in diamonds and a Rolex (which probably costs more than your car) minus the crusty friendship bracelet which looked like a 7 year old made it. Despite your ogling eyes, you still decide to continue with your tease “I don't know if you know, but pink is very popular with the gays” you say pointing at his tie. “Well if gay means happy, then I’m happy wearing pink. Brings out the natural flush in my cheeks” he says opening the pack of chips. You want to reply back, but your mouth seems to be sewed shut with invisible string.

“Ruffles?”, he raises his eyebrows, popping a chip in his mouth. “Heard it has the best chip to salt ratio” you state as if you spent months researching about this isse. Jungkook seems to diasgree with your internal voice. “I get why people say you're the best researcher in the firm, because holy shit they’re definitely right” . Your heart flutters and stomach twists at the compliment. You need to take a breath or even a seat to relieve yourself.

“What about you, “No boyfriend… or girlfriend?"

“Funny, and no. You would know that lawyers don’t have any personal lives, I spent more of my day in my office than my room. Sometimes I’m so tired that I don’t even make it to my room, I just end up sleeping on the living room couch” you state looking down at your case with a highlighter in your hand.

He seems to agree but doesn’t say anything, not for a while at least.

At the drop of hat he finally speaks up - “Well it's only 1 AM, Let's get out of here. We'll get some proper food and I’ll drop you home.” he says, grabbing his jacket. And within seconds, you're on your feet being led to the elevator.

This man has a fucking trance on you.

Author Notes :

Alright, I'm a bit too obsessed with 'suits' and its showing.

series masterlist | next

#bts jungkook #bts #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #slow burn

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borathae · 7 months ago

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↳ Index [Day 14 - Role Playing]

Pairing: Good Boy!JK + Mommy Dom!Reader

Genre: married life!AU, for the sake of the role play: forbidden love!AU, CEO!Reader, prostitute!Jungkook

Kinks: the trope of subby boy totally enthralled by his Domme, sex worker role play, sugar Mommy roleplay, he calls her both Mistress & Mommy, exhibitionism, handjob & blowjob in the car to the hotel room, he is so whiney and subby and pretty as she does it, orgasm control, cock rings, bondage gear which is also used later on, handjob in the hotel room, temperature play with ice cubes, slight food play, masochist!Jungkook, praise, nipple play, mirror sex, subby boy tears, suit kink (she wears the suit), creampie, passionate sex in Amazon Position with his hands tied to his legs, possessive talk, he is THE subby boy, loving & giggly aftercare, they're so in loVE!!!!

Wordcount: 7.4k

a/n: this is based on these two asks 💛 i love him so much holy fuck the drink feeding part ruined me KFADKSF actually everything about this ruined me, you have no idea. he is quite frankly, my ideal subby boy and i might need to leave this earth to go touch some alien grass or smth

Jungkook was told to wait at the usual spot. He arrived earlier tonight, so he has been pacing, asking himself whether or not you would come. You never stood him up before, but there is a first for everything.

A few people pass him, paying him no mind. They would look at him weird if they knew what he was wearing under his oversized clothes. It was a dark gray matching set of baggy pants and a baggy t-shirt, hiding bondage gear under it. The harness was black in colour and made of the finest leather. It doesn’t hurt nor pinch, but Jungkook definitely feels it when he moves.

He checks the time again. You should be here any second now. He feels a little breathless at the aspect. He can’t wait to see you. He knows that someone in his position has no right to feel this way, but he can’t help himself. You always treat him right, making sure that he leaves each session lightheaded. Sometimes Jungkook wonders if he should even feel this way as someone who gets paid to have sex with you, but he does. That’s what he is. Someone whose job is sex. He gets a call or a text telling him to wait here and there with the aspect of having to perform sexual activities for the person contacting him. There are a few he doesn’t answer anymore when they contact him and there are such he wishes they would contact him each night. Quite frankly, you are the only one he has such wishes for. It was purely professional at first, but then your gentle nature and immense sexual talent made him develop feelings for you. When he got the text tonight, Jungkook almost screamed in happiness.

His excitement grows at the view of your sports car rolling up to him. He tries not, but still ends up bouncing on his tiptoes as he waves at you with a big grin. He can’t help himself. He is so, so excited.

The car you are driving is black and imported from Europe. It stops in front of him and the passenger window rolls down.

“Hi, how are you?” he greets you cheerfully.

“Good. Get in”, you order, leaning over to unlock the passenger door.

Jungkook gets inside, holding his breath as you reach over his body to get the seatbelt. He squeezes his thighs together, gazing at your face. Your arm brushes against his chest, making his skin feel charged. Your scent so close is making his racing heart flutter.

The seatbelt clicks in place, you fumble with it a little to check its tightness. Once you are happy with it, you place your hand on his thigh, connecting your lips with the side of his neck in a long, sensual kiss. Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes and parting his lips. His fingers instinctively grasp your hand, his hips roll up against nothing.

You end the kiss by sucking a slight mark on his skin, purring happily.

“I missed your scent this week”, you rasp, inhaling him greedily.

Jungkook moans, fucking the air again. He already feels lightheaded and it has only been seconds with you.

“Fuck, that’s what I needed”, you purr and sit up. You abandon his thigh for the sake of grasping his chin gently, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “You look pretty tonight.”

“Thank, thank you” he barely gets out in a croaky whisper, feeling starstruck.

You give him a faint smile and slip your hand away, gripping the gear stick instead to shift it into the right position. The car drives off smoothly. You keep both hands on the steering wheel until you successfully merged back into traffic, then slip your right onto Jungkook’s thigh.

He inhales sharply, squirming on the seat.

“How was your week?” you ask him, rubbing mindless circles into his skin. Jungkook dedicates one more part of his soul to you with each circle.

“Good.”

“Yeah? Had lots of work?”

“I tried not to book too many.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because I knew you would call. I wanted to save myself.”

You scoff in surprise, “hah.” You tongue your cheek and glance at him briefly. “Tch”, the chuckle starts as a scoff. You turn on the radio and touch his thigh again. “You should be careful with the words you’re saying.”

The music you are playing is laced with the taste of sex. You definitely chose it on purpose.

Jungkook shifts needily, finding it difficult to breathe normally. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m not the one who’ll end up crying tonight.”

Jungkook touches your hand. It was so needy in nature, drawing a knowing smirk onto your painted lips.

You are wearing a suit and tie like always when you pick him up. The suit is grey tonight and you matched a white button up and a dark grey tie with it. The waistcoat is made of the same material as the suit, hugging your curves. You wear your hair in a professional manner and put makeup on. Jungkook is very attracted to you when you look like this. The amount of power and influence you exude makes him want to kiss every footstep you leave.

You slip your hand to his thigh again. You are currently standing at a red light. There are cars all around you, painting your faces is a mixture of red and white lights. Jungkook spots the sparkles of diamond earrings in the light.

“Are you wearing the harness I told you to wear?” you ask him, rubbing his thigh back and forth. Jungkook tingles each time your hand brushes over his inner thigh.

“Yes, I am.”

“Show me.”

Jungkook glances around himself. You, who feels his hesitation, look at him.

“Go on. What are you waiting for?” you stress him.

With a fluctuating pulse, Jungkook lifts the shirt over his torso, aware of the cars around you.

“Mhm, how pretty”, you say dryly. “Good. Hide it again. We don’t want others to see what I pay for.”

Jungkook makes sure that the shirt is tugged down neatly. His eyes meet yours. You are expecting something from him.

“Well go ahead, will you?”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry”, he stammers and lifts his hips to pull down his pants, exposing the fact that he is wearing no briefs. His slightly hardened cock carries a cockring on its base. Glimpses of more gear going down his legs can be seen.

“There we go. It wasn’t that hard. Get dressed.”

He obeys quickly, sitting back down with a way heavier cock than before. You are already fucking him without having to do anything. Jungkook is so deeply under your spell.

The traffic continues. You drive off, switching lanes after a while. It will take you around ten minutes to get to the hotel.

You bury your hand in his pants and take a hold of his cock.

“A-ah”, Jungkook lets out in honest surprise, gripping the edge of the seat as his entire butt lifts off the seat in a needy thrust.

“You know the rules”, you tell him and then no more words leave your lips.

The only noises are the city around you. Other cars, your own car, the music on the radio. They fill the silence you create. Jungkook helps as well; in breathy gasps and shy whimpers he fills the car together with the slick sound of your hand jerking him off.

Your eyes are glued to the traffic, you tap your unoccupied hand on the steering wheel to the music. It is as if you were completely unaffected by the situation and you definitely want to give off this vibe.

Jungkook can’t mirror your state. He is done for. Your hand knows his cock so well, touching him exactly where it feels the best. He goes from soft to rapidly hard from only a few strokes, meeting your touch in needy thrusts.

Truly the contrast is way too delicious. You, completely stoic and calm as you steer through traffic and Jungkook, utterly ruined and panting with shaky legs as he completely forgets that traffic might actually see him.

You stop at a red light again. Only two more to go before the hotel. You look at him.

His head is thrown back, his mouth agape and his eyes closed. What a beautifully arousing sight to see.

You tug his cock out of his pants and use the moment of wait to steal a taste. You sink him in completely, purring around him.

Jungkook moans. There is no way in hell he would have stayed quiet. Not when you bury him in your tight throat and send vibrations through him with your voice.

Two more purrs then you slip off, sucking on him hungrily the entire time.

Blop.

You slipped off, licking your lips as you straighten back up. Jungkook whimpers, chasing you with a sloppy cock and throbbing balls. He is leaking so much precum, base stretching out the rubber cockring.

The red light switches. You drive off, playing with his precum by rubbing his cockhead with your thumb. Jungkook is almost louder than the music at this point, head now resting on the spot between the seat and the window and back arched.

You don’t acknowledge him, steering your car with one hand. You have to switch lanes one more time and then you are already where you need to be. You do so calmly and safely all while your hand closes around his tip again to jerk it. Quickly, as if you were vibrating around him. Jungkook’s legs begin shaking, he drags out his moans, squeezing his eyes shut to the point they crinkle.

The car rolls to stop again. The red light, the last one before you take the driveway to the hotel. You lean over and sink him back into your mouth, slurping deliciously as you move your tongue as best as possible.

“Mistress!” Jungkook wails, reaching up to twist the seatbelt. His other hand grips the head rest, dimpling it deeply. He is mewling so much, throbbing in your mouth constantly while you messy him with sloppy oral.

You moan and purr deeply, enjoying every second of his cock, every fucking inch. You swallow him to the base, crying no tears nor feeling the need to gag because you stopped having such reactions years ago because in reality, your lives were flipped once.

This right here, tonight, is nothing but pretend between a loving married couple. Jungkook has never been a sexworker before nor was he ever paid to have sex with someone. You have no interest in being a CEO nor for you to pay him for sex. In reality, you were once the one he paid after a long day of being CEO until you fell in love and started a life together. One thing however will always be true. Your roles of power. Jungkook will always be your sub while you will always be his Domme. Even in this roleplay tonight. You are both so into it that it feels real. Right now Jungkook is the prostitute who should be used to blowjobs but who is currently losing his control while you are the hungry CEO needy for the taste of her favourite prostitute. You can’t get enough of him, but alas the traffic continues.

You slip off messily, letting your strings of saliva slap down his cock. You pick them up with your hand, using their slick to jerk off his cock. Jungkook barely wants to stay in his seat, pressing himself into the door wall.

“Mo-ommy ple-please”, he sobs, scrunching his face. He lets out the most devastating noises afterwards, twisting the seatbelt.

You ignore him, ogling the hotel in the near distance. You are so turned on. It’s difficult to drive at this point because of it. Jungkook turns you on so much. His noises are like ecstasy to you.

“Pl-uh-ease”, he wails and fucks your fist, moaning sweetly as his body shakes against his will. He does it repeatedly, having found the magic spot.

Your pussy is literally throbbing. If you weren’t so good at pretending that this left you cold, you would already be panting like a dog.

You roll into the parking garage of the hotel, searching for a parking space while beside you, Jungkook is coming closer and closer to an orgasm. He is squeaking so perfectly, fucking your fist like the neediest bunny ever.

You find a parking spot, driving into it backwards and with one hand. The motor turns off with a low purr. Jungkook hasn’t noticed that you came to a stop, arching his back from your touch.

One you retreat now that you are standing.

“No” Jungkook hits his head against the window and writhes, “I was so close, no please.”

“We’re here. Get it together.”

Jungkook barely peels his eyes open, looking at you all sniffly and pouty.

You, now gripping the steering wheel with both hands, cock your brow at him.

“What?”

“I, I was close.”

“And?”

He whimpers weakly, “it hurts.”

“How terrible. Don’t worry, we’ve got time. Tell me a little about your day.”

“What?” he breathes.

“Your cock. It’s way too hard. We’ll stay here till it’s soft again.”

Jungkook mewls, squirming his hips.

“Your day. Tell me about it.”

“I, I thought of you all day.”

“You did?”

“And all the days before that too. I missed you.”

You haven’t been home for five days for the authenticity of the roleplay. You stayed in this hotel, giving him no calls nor texts. You can’t deny that it didn’t make you want him in more ways than one as well.

“You missed me?”

“So much. Oh god so much”, he pulls a face of desperation, rolling his hips up, “I’m so hard, oh god.”

“I can see that. Are you not gonna ask me how my day was?”

“I’m sorry, oh god, oh. Did, did you have a good day?”

“Yes it was good. I had way too many meetings, but I kept getting distracted.”

“Why?”

“I thought of you in all of them although I shouldn’t have.”

“You did?”

“Mhm, I did.”

You unbuckle the belt and get on your knees, using your new position to lean over him with one hand on the window. It fogs up from your body heat. He gulps, feeling fragile and weak in your presence.

“Why is that, mhm?” You ask him, studying his flushed face. “I’m merely paying you. It should mean nothing to me and yet...” You trail off, studying his glossy lips. You speak no more thoughts, tracing his lips with your messied thumb.

Jungkook licks it instinctively, moaning in submission as his big, brown eyes gaze up at you. Every other night, you would be kissing him right now. But not tonight. You sit back and glance at his cock. It has softened a little. Barely, but you are feeling impatient.

“Perfect. You’re good. Get dressed”, you say and leave the car, rounding it in confident steps.

Jungkook tries to sit up straight, stuffing his cock into his pants. It is very difficult to do because he is still very hard.

You open the door for him and offer him the hand which, moments ago, was around his cock.

Jungkook gulps, accepting it so you can help him get out of the car. You are wearing dress shoes because driving in heels would be reckless. Jungkook sees no difference, worshiping you with his big eyes.

You close the door and lock the car, letting the keys slip into the inner pocket of your suit jacket.

You take his hand.

“Follow me.”

He obeys, following you like a good little puppy even if walking with a semi is very difficult.

Your hotel room is on the twentieth floor. You don’t talk in the elevator, having your back turned to him as you stand right in front of him. Your pinkie fingers are hooked however, letting Jungkook float on cloud nine. He missed you so much this week, despite not being allowed to, and it feels so good to know that you missed him too. That you craved to be close to him as well. Fuck, the lines between professional and unprofessional are so fucking blurry between you and him.

You step closer to him each time other people enter the elevator, making sure that he is covered from their eyes. He may be walking around with a hard-on but this is still your hard-on to look at. No one else is allowed a glance at it. Not even on accident.

By the time you reach the twentieth floor, Jungkook is leaking into his pants. You take such good care of him. Your overprotective and almost possessive nature makes him want to become your personal little plaything. Seriously, tonight he would be happy living a life in a cage if that is what you think is best for him. You wouldn’t even have to pay him for it. Being close to you, being yours, would already be payment enough for him.

Like always, you booked the biggest suit. Only the best for your favourite prostitute. That’s what you told him when you first led him to your room. Jungkook gazed at it with sparkling eyes back then, not believing his luck. He wasn’t used to such riches and luxury because his other customers take him to motels or fuck him in their cars. You are different. Of course you are.

“Welcome back, am I right?” you lead him inside with your hand on his lower back.

Jungkook thanks you with a bow of his head, which makes you roll your eyes at him fondly. He is too polite for his own good.

You were lonely before you met Jungkook. Life as a CEO is busy and hectic and leaves little room for personal relationships. You had influence, you had power and you had money but no one to share it with. No one to spend it on. So you looked for it on dating apps first, but never found what you were looking for. Then one night you stumbled upon the website he was on. It was a website where people could offer their bodies sexually for payment. Back then, you booked him solely from his description.

Lean, fit male sub with good stamina and expertise. Heterosexual but very open. Dark hair, brown eyes, five inches hard and can keep it up for long. Not opposed to anal. Kinky. Keeps it professional. Payment in cash only.

Maybe you could spend your money on him, you thought back then. You may not find love, but at least your needs will be met.

If only you knew that he would be waiting for you. He with his pretty face and his prettiest eyes, with his cute moans and perfect body, who always has something adorable to tell you and who is so, so polite. He made the loneliness go away and you wanted to spend your every fucking penny on him.

Like always, you lead him to the bed by his hand and sit him down on the foot end of it. Jungkook glances at the ceiling briefly, gulping heavily at the sight of the big ceiling mirror. The indications of what it means makes him shift needily.

“Sit properly.”

Jungkook straightens his back and presents his hands palms up on his thighs, “sorry.”

“Mhm.” You give him a little smile. “Now that the real fun is going to start, let’s hear our safety rules.”

“The handjob wasn’t part of it yet?”

“Obviously not. Just wanted to examine my product a little.”

Jungkook moans, back slacking in defeat.

“Sit up.”

He shoots up instantly, blinking his eyes shyly.

“Good. Tell me the rules.”

“Green, yellow and red. Snap my fingers three times or hum Happy Birthday. Yes, I want this. Please Mistress, please I really want this.”

“Good. You’re being so obedient tonight. I like this”, you praise and turn your back to him to disappear in the room next door.

Jungkook waits patiently even if he is a mess. His pants are sticking to his cock. He wants to be with you so much that it hurts not to be.

You reappear with two flutes of sparkling water.

“Are you thirsty?”

“A little.”

You hand him one flute, keeping the second.

“Thank-” he gets stopped in his endeavour of drinking with two fingers grasping his chin.

“Eyes on me.”

He obeys, struggling with it when seconds later you place the rim of your flute against his lips. You tilt his head back for him, tilting the glass with it.

“Drink.”

Jungkook obeys, closing his eyes sensually as you feed him the sparkling water. It tingles on his tongue, wetting his dry throat. He gulps and swallows hungrily, moaning softly.

You feel so parched, watching him drink from your hands with your lips parted.

“That’s it. Drink”, you rasp, gulping with him. The last few drops roll down his chin messily. The glass is empty. You pull it away and wipe the water from his chin.

Jungkook flutters his eyes open, keeping them half-lidded as he gazes up at you droopily. His lips are parted, he is breathing heavily.

“How was that?” you ask him with your voice raspy in arousal.

“Good”, he croaks.

“Sorry that I got you a little messy”, you apologise, rubbing his chin.

“I didn’t mind”, he whispers, gazing at your lips. He wants to kiss you. He hangs on your every word. You fed him water, but in reality, you fed on his soul instead. With each gulp, each cold drop which ran down his throat because of you, he gave you parts of his soul. What a cold, addicting deal you sealed with this act.

“That’s good. Your face is so pretty, it would be a shame if I messied it even more”, you say and straighten up, leaving him to crave something he knows he can’t have. Your sweetened kiss.

You take the flute from his hand and drink from it as you walk to the table to set his empty glass aside. You finished half of it when you return to him, swirling it in your hand casually. You put ice cubes in your water, they clink against the glass as you inspect him.

“Undress.”

Jungkook obeys quickly, sitting down on the bed afterwards. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable being naked in front of you. On the contrary. Being so exposed while you are still in your expensive suit turns him on.

“Shit, you’re so fucking handsome”, you murmur under your breath, licking the rim of the glass mindlessly.

Jungkook gulps, wishing that he could switch places with the glass.

“What do you think of the weather lately? It’s been too hot, hasn’t it?”

Jungkook is a little confused about your sudden need to talk about the weather, but he still nods his head obediently, “yeah, really hot.”

“Mhm, I agree”, you murmur mindlessly and poke your fingers into your flute of water to fish for an ice cube. You keep it between three fingers and connect it with his neck.

Jungkook gasps, shivering. His skin is covered in goosebumps instantly, his breath quickens.

“I’ll cool you off a little, yeah?”

He keens a soft “mh-hm”, nodding his head. It is difficult to keep his eyes open when you make him feel so good. His skin is very sensitive to temperature and you know that. The ice cubes are like cold electricity to him, charging him with so much pleasure that he already wants to cry. He cries easily when he is with you because you always make him feel so good that it’s a little overwhelming.

You guide the ice cube along his collarbones to the other side of his pretty neck. Jungkook follows the touch with shivers running down his back. The ice is actively melting as it touches his skin, leaving behind dripping trails of water. You let them sit on his skin, enjoying the sight of them glistening in the lights. You switch hands because it got too cold for you, using your cooled fingers to grip his chin and tilt his head up.

Jungkook sighs audibly, parting his lips. The ice cube traces the shape of them. He dares not to stick his tongue out, regretting it blissfully when you stuff the small ice cube into his mouth without warning. He mewls and gurgles, curling his tongue to keep the ice inside.

His little struggle makes you chuckle and wipe the water from his lips. He gulps the melted water down, mewling just for you.

“You’re so adorable”, you say and push at his chest.

He falls back, gasping at the impact. His eyes lock with his own reflection instantly, flustering him. He looks to the side.

“Keep your eyes on yourself.”

He obeys even when it flusters him to look at himself like this. Not in a bad way, but in a very arousing way. His hair is messy, his lips so pink from the ice. His neck and collarbones match in colour. Jungkook feels himself reach up instinctively, looking at himself oh so submissively. Look at him. He is such a good sub. Oh god, this is such a turn on.

He is so preoccupied with looking at himself that he doesn’t even notice you crawling on his lap until he feels your weight on him. He tenses up, eyes flitting to you.

You are still dressed, but took off your suit jacket and rolled up your sleeves. The view steals his sanity. You sit right under his cock, making him crave you more than air.

“You’re being such a good boy for me”, you praise him and lift a new ice cube into his vision. “Look at yourself, okay?”

He nods his head, obeying instantly. You connect the cold ice with his neck first, guiding it down to his chest this time around. Each second makes him feel breathless. Watching it pleasure him makes it even harder to bear. It feels so good, reaching its peak when you circle his nipple with it.

“Ah”, Jungkook moans loudly, arching his back into your touch as his fingers grip the sheets and twist.

“Eyes on yourself.”

He obeys, trembling under you.

“Gosh, look at you. Are you already crying?”

“Feels so intense”, he whimpers, barely able to look into his eyes, “Please can I close my eyes? It’s too intense.”

“Of course it is”, you state matter-of-factly and circle his other nipple with it. “You can’t close your eyes.”

“Pleaseeee.”

Jungkook mewls through gritted teeth, arching his back again and twisting the sheets. His cock throbs, leaking on his tummy. His neck is tensed. He is so fucking pretty like this.

“You’re such a pretty man”, you purr, giving his overstimulated nipples a quick break by guiding the almost melted ice cube through his abs. The goosebumps on his skin refuse to leave, the skin around his dark nipples is pink and tender. “So fucking pretty, it’s insane.”

Jungkook closes his eyes. He can’t do it anymore. The praise is too much.

“Hey”, you warn, tugging on his cock once.

Jungkook instantly fucks into your fist, making the neediest noises. The pleasure is so warm and good for two seconds and then burning cold pierces his cockhead as you press the ice cube against it, letting it melt there. In his panic, he opens his eyes, looking at you pleadingly. His noises let you know that this right now hurts in a good way.

“Eyes open. I thought my instructions were easy to follow.”

Jungkook pants and whimpers, writhing under you.

“I know it hurts, but I need you to learn that disobeying me will end in punishments.”

“Please”, he sobs.

“No. No begging. Why did you do it mhm?”

“It, it felt too good. Almost close, I mean, almost ca- cum. Oh god please”, he writhes, throwing his head to the side, “it hurts so much.”

“Well, are you sorry?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry!”

“And are you gonna keep your eyes open?”

“Yes! I’m sorry, I will!”

“Good boy”, you praise, releasing him of his torture by finally opening your fist around his cock. You slip the tiny ice cube between your lips, letting it melt there with a delicious hum. “Mhm, tastes like you.”

Jungkook glances at his cock. The spot where the ice cube was pressed into it is purple from the cold. Of course you spot it as well, rubbing your thumb into it and sending such pleasure through his body that Jungkook almost throws you off from how aggressively his thrusts his hips.

You can handle him, taming his shaky thighs with little struggle until they are pinned under you again. You close the rest of your fingers around his cock to continue where you left off in the car.

Jungkook yelps up in ecstasy, throwing his head back as far as the mattress allows him to. Eye contact with himself is so difficult, but you told him to obey. He can’t disappoint you again. What if you tell him to never come back? What if you stop calling him? He can’t risk any more slip-ups, not when his entire existence is at stake.

Your hand is quick and skilled around his shackled length, forcing his legs to shake under your weight. It feels so good and Jungkook cries as he looks at himself. Not only has it been too long since he last felt your touch and this makes him cry, it is also to view of him which brings tears to his eyes. He is yours right now. Your pretty sub spread out on the sheets while you have your fun with him. He is so happy to be yours. Even if it is only for a few hours.

“I’m yours”, he croaks, feeling your hand falter around his cock.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m yours”, he is looking at himself as he speaks, “I’m yours. I’m only yours.”

“My little star… I’m paying you to be here. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No”, he cries tears, “no, I’m yours. Please, I’m yours.”

“No, Jungkook”, you choke out, dropping his cock for the sake of taking his face between your hands. Your face replaces his view, sending tears of worship down his face. He loves you so much and you have no idea that he does. Your eyes are foggy, your pupils dilated. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I do. I’m yours, please Mistress.”

For just a second, your eyes mirrored the deep feelings Jungkook experiences when he is with you. For just a second he had the reassurance that his words are reciprocated. And then you break away from him, leaving his lap.

Jungkook feels too defeated to sit up. He lies in the sheets, crying little tears in the aching realisation that he is nothing but your product right now. You said it yourself. You are paying for him like you would pay for more milk in the store. The view of him would have probably hurt him irreparably when he didn’t suddenly feel your fingers twist the straps on his legs. He lifts his head, meeting your hungry stare.

“Legs up.”

He obeys, bending his knees and resting them on each side of his torso.

“Arms down.”

He obeys, presenting them to you as you clearly want to make use of the bondage gear. You open the clasps on his calve belts, hooking it in the ring on his wrist ties. Like this, Jungkook is forced to stay in the folded, open position. He feels so exposed and vulnerable like this, wishing for whatever you wanted to do to him.

“Comfortable? Do you like this?” you make sure.

“Yes, so much.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been hard with the cockring on?” you ask him.

“I, I don’t know”, he stutters, barely able to bring his voice over breathy gasps.

“I think it’s time we take it off, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t answer you, but it is okay for you.

“Promise me to be a good boy and hold back, okay?”

He nods his head vigorously, throbbing in your hand.

“That’s what I’m paying you for. Such obedience”, you praise and unbuckle the leather strap around his cock.

You can literally feel his cock throb in relief and how it grows so much harder in your hand. Pearly drops of pleasure leak from him. They are dangerously close to being white. The noises Jungkook makes and the utter bliss on his face lets you know that you aren’t that far off with your assumptions.

“Look at you. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mhhmhm”, he mewls, nodding his head vigorously.

“Good”, you say and drop his cock, denying him of heaven.

Jungkook keens, writhing as best as his constricted position allows him to.

“Please, oh god please”, he begs, but to no avail.

You step back, falling back into your stern role. You begin undressing. Jungkook tries to watch you as best as the position allows him.

Your vest falls to the ground, your tie is opened, your shirt is unbuttoned and tugged out of your opened slacks within seconds. You pull said slacks down soon after, abandoning them on the floor alongside your panties. You keep the shirt on, climbing onto bed with the tie between your fingers.

“Eyes on yourself.”

Jungkook obeys, barely catching his breath. He wiggles his hands, coming to the blissed realisation that he can’t move them very much.

“You think you know what you’re talking about?” you say to him and bend over him to guide the tie behind his neck.

Jungkook gulps, gazing up at you with a dizzy head. With skilled fingers, you knot the tie and wrap the excess fabric around your hand two times so it sits snug in your tight fist. A makeshift leash to keep him close.

“You think you want to be owned by me? What do you even know about me? I pay for your company, do you truly think you would want to be with me willingly?”

“Yes”, Jungkook breathes, tilting his head closer in devotion.

You tug, helping him with the movement with the tie around his neck. Your eyes are burning in a dark fire. If you could, you would probably devour him with just a look.

“Don’t say promises you can’t keep.”

“Please, I could serve you so well.”

“No you couldn’t. I’m fucking twisted.”

“I’m flexible.”

An honest laugh rips through you. A glimpse of his love shines through the pretend persona you are performing tonight. Jungkook giggles, scrunching his nose.

“Fuck, you stupid noodle you”, you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

Jungkook’s heart flutters unbearably. He loves you so much.

You clear your throat and shake your shoulders to get back into character.

“Don’t think that I agree with you just because you made me laugh. I’m an asshole. I earn too much money and decide to spend it on obedient boys like you.”

“I don’t care. Please.”

You grind your teeth and darken your eyes. You know that you can’t change his mind. At least not with words. You straighten up and reach between your bodies to take his cock between your fingers. Jungkook’s breath speeds up.

“Eyes on yourself.”

He obeys.

“That’s it. Watch how your face changes when I sink it in”, you order him, slipping down on his cock. You are on your knees as if you were fucking his ass, but instead you are milking his cock in your tight cunt. The movement is the same, forcing Jungkook’s toes to curl in ecstasy.

His eyes go out of focus but stay locked with his own reflection. Your name slips from his lips, carrying proof of how good it feels for him.

“That’s it. Keep looking at yourself. Watch how you look when I fuck you”, you growl, twisting the tie around his neck as you rail him senseless. The position feels incredibly stimulating to you. His cock naturally grinds against your clit and rubs against your g-spot. The power you have in this position and the view of his big body folded into such a tiny shaking mess does the rest. “Watch how it would look to be owned by me. Is that what you want?”

“Yes”, he moans, “yes, yes, yes, yes please, yes.”

“No you don’t. You don’t want to be mine. You don’t want this”, you growl, fucking him harder to the point the bed shakes.

Jungkook rips his mouth open, rolling his ankles and tugging at his restraints. His lids are so heavy that he barley sees out of them. His face is flushed and his nipples erect. The back of your head is in his view as well, just as the shirt punching up on your lower back is. As is the grey tie twisted in your fist and the marks it leaves on his neck. He doesn’t get it. How could he not want to be yours when he has never looked better before? So destroyed, so marked and ruined. So fucked.

Jungkook arches his back as best as possible, getting pinned down instantly with a strong hand on his hip. He throbs inside you, leaking way too much pleasure on your velvety walls. The strength on your grip makes your shirt stick to your muscles visibly. Jungkook goes insane at the view, finding it difficult to look at the mirror. He wants to roll his eyes back and go brain dead. Please.

“I would break you. I would fucking use you up until there is nothing left of you. Don’t you get it? I’m greedy. In every aspect of life. You think being kind made me CEO? No, I take what I want and ruin it in the process.”

Whatever you are saying is only making Jungkook want to be yours more and more. He shows you his devotion with high-pitched moans and tears spilled only for you.

You tug at the tie harshly, forcing his head to lift. Your breath brushes against his lips. Jungkook closes his eyes, chasing your kiss.

“You would hate him in the end”, you whisper.

“So why are you fucking me raw?” he croaks out.

“Fuck”, your hips stutter before picking up a punishing speed, making it difficult for both of you not to orgasm, “we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Please”, he squeaks, “kiss me.”

“We shouldn’t be…”

“Kiss me.”

“We shouldn’t …”

“Kiss me, please.”

“We…”

Your lips finally touch. You each moan into the other’s mouth instantly, breaking apart together. You drop the tie so you could cradle his face while Jungkook shakes his restraints and fills you with gushes of sticky cum. Your throbbing, tight pussy milks even more out of him, sending him to another planet because there is nothing better to him than sharing a high with you.

Once you come down together, your lower faces are messy from the sloppy tongue kissing you did and your heads are both pounding. The lipstick you once neatly wore is smeared all over your faces.

“Holy fuck”, you croak, dropping your sweaty forehead against his equally as sweaty forehead. You are panting for air, Jungkook is too.

Your pussy keeps his cock warm for now, but it will only be a matter of moments that it slips out on its own.

“Holy fuck, Kookie”, you breathe.

Jungkook whimpers, spilling happy tears with closed eyes and his body floating on the warm afterglow. You never called him like this before. It was filled with so much love. You feel the same for him. Jungkook cries in realisation.

“Why me? I pay you to get fucked by me. It’s nothing but money. How could you possibly love me?”

“Because you’re everything I ever wanted.”

“Fuck”, you twist his hair gently, pressing your forehead closer until your noses are squished slightly, “don’t say that, I might never let you go again.”

“Good. Don’t let me go.”

You chuckle softly, finding enough strength in your ruined body to tilt your head so you could kiss his forehead.

“How about I’ll take you to Hawaii first? All expenses paid.”

“You would do that with me?”

“Of course, my baby star candy.”

Jungkook peels his eyes open, looking up at you.

“Yes, please take me far away from here.”

You give him a smile, Jungkook retorts it.

“End scene”, you say, face morphing into your real expressions.

Jungkook breaks into giggles instantly, squirming under you happily.

“Wow mommy, you made us a-actually be together in the end. I’m so happy, this was so romantic”, he says, spilling tears.

“You’re such a cutie, gosh”, you wipe his tears. “Did you like it? I know you love happy endings.”

“I loved it so much. Oh my god, I’m so happy. This was so much better than I could have ever imagined it to be.”

“Hm”, you chuckle, pecking his lips, “you’re such a cutie, I’m gonna eat you. I would say that this roleplay was a total success. I felt so immersed in the scene with you.”

“Me too. I actually forgot that it was just play. You were so good in your role.”

“What should I say? You were the best.”

“All I did was whine and cry.”

“Exactly, you were the best.”

He giggles shyly, wiggling his arms. You snicker, wiping the messy hair from his face. Your eyes are spilling over in adoration for him.

“Mommy, can I be untied? I really want to hug you.”

“Of course, Bunny baby.” You say, slipping off of him. You and he are talking as you free him of his gear. “I’m leaking everywhere.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I came a lot. I didn’t touch myself this week, just like you told me to.”

“I knew that you wouldn’t, you’re my good Bunny after all. I really fucking missed you this week. I gotta be honest, the handjob in the car was not part of my initial plan.”

“It was so hot, oh my god. I had to work so hard not cum.”

“I could tell, you cutie.” You rub the tender skin where the leather belts lied. “Are you okay? Your skin is a little red where the straps were.”

“I’m okay. I’m not hurting anywhere. Oh my god Mommy, when you put the ice cube on my dick, I actually cried. That hurt so much.”

“Did you like it?”

“So, so much.” He shivers in memory. “I’m shivering just thinking about it.”

You smile, getting off bed to get something to wipe you and him down. He lets you work while he lies in the sheets totally chatty and happy. You listen to him with a content smile on your lips. He always gets chatty after you fucked him right.

“And when you fed me the water, I felt drunk. Please do that again one day, it was such a turn on. The mirror on the ceiling is so hot. Oh god, I can’t believe you picked this room and, and made me look at myself all the time. It was so difficult because it was so hot. Wow, thank you so much for everything.” He sighs, smiling goofily. “I love you so much, Mommy.”

“I love you too, Bunny”, you say and lie down on your side next to him, rubbing his tummy.

He rolls his head to you, grins and flips to his side so he could bury you under him in a strong bear hug. He makes the cutest sound effects, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You laugh loudly, hugging him back as best as possible.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You’re such a polite cutie, my Bunny.”

“I’m so happy.”

“I’m happy too.”

“Mhmm”, he kisses your neck and inhales deeply until he can’t anymore. Afterwards he exhales against you, tickling you with it. He lifts his head, giving view to his pretty, glowing face. “Should we get room service and watch a movie?”

“I would love that. Also, this hotel offers a really cool couples spa treatment.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I read about it and knew I had to tell you once you’re with me again.”

“We have this room till tomorrow right?”

“Yup. Wanna book the treatment?”

“Yes please”, he says and squeaks as he hugs you tighter in another surge of love. “I love staycations with you so much, Mommy love.”

“I love them too, Bunny love.”

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httpswritings · 11 months ago

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if you were my little girl: the series

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

A Barcelona Hope Blooms

Alexia never felt the desire to have kids.

She enjoyed being around them, but maternity wasn't for her.

You, however, were a whirlwind of seven years old, a hurricane of energy fueled by football. Barcelona Femení's rise, intertwined with the Spanish National Team's success, had ignited a passion that burned brighter than any birthday candle. And at the heart of this inferno stood Alexia Putellas, your idol.

Her laser focus on the pitch, the way she orchestrated every move with an almost telepathic precision, it all mesmerized you. You saw in her an ideal – relentless pursuit of excellence, unwavering dedication to the beautiful game.

The Eye of Barça: A Scout's Discovery in Barcelona

The rhythmic thud of the worn-out ball against your worn-out trainers was the soundtrack of your afternoons. Barcelona's bustling streets were your training ground, the chipped brick wall your loyal opponent. You weren't just playing keepy-uppy - you were weaving magic, dribbling past imaginary defenders, scoring wonder goals against a rusty shopping cart guarding a den of discarded tires. You were a queen on this dusty pitch, ruling with every flick of your foot.

Suddenly, a sharp tug sent you stumbling. You whirled around to see your mom, her face etched with worry as she glared at the man in the crisp suit towering over you.

“Who is this?“ she demanded, her voice a tight knot of concern.

The man smiled reassuringly, flashing a badge that glinted in the afternoon sun. “Don't worry,“ he said in smooth Spanish, “my name is Mikel, and I'm a scout for FC Barcelona.” He gestured toward you. “I couldn't help but notice your impressive skills.“

Your stomach lurched. Was he serious? Could this be real? Your mom's frown deepened, a million questions swirling in her eyes. Mikel sensed her apprehension and continued, “We have a fantastic girls' academy at La Masia, where young talents like your daughter can learn and grow. We'd love for her to try out.“

Barcelona's prestigious academy, La Masia, was a name whispered with reverence. It was a factory that churned out legendary players, a dream factory for any aspiring footballer. Your heart hammered in your chest, a frantic drumbeat against your ribs.

Your mom, however, looked unconvinced. “But she's just a kid,“ she protested, her voice softening. “Isn't she a bit young?“

Mikel chuckled, a warm sound that calmed her ruffled feathers. “We start training young, señora," he explained. "But don't worry, we have a great program for girls her age. It's a chance to see if she truly has the passion and develop her talent.“

You looked from your mom, her gaze filled with a mixture of fear and hope, to Mikel, his smile radiating both professionalism and genuine enthusiasm. This wasn't just a game anymore. This was a potential turning point, a fork in the dusty road that stretched before you.

Taking a deep breath, you met your mom's gaze, a silent plea unspoken but clear. A flicker of understanding passed between you, a silent pact forged in the gritty heart of Barcelona. With a hesitant nod, your mom turned to Mikel.

“Alright.”

Facing Alexia

The day of the camp arrived, a nervous flutter in your stomach battling with pure excitement. Stepping onto the field, you scanned the faces, searching for the one that graced your bedroom walls. And then, there she was, Alexia Putellas, no longer a poster image but a living, breathing embodiment of your footballing dreams.

The drills began, each touch, each pass judged by the watchful gaze of your hero. You focused on the ball, desperately trying to block out the pressure, the weight of Alexia's scrutiny. Yet, every now and then, you'd steal a glance.

A whistle blew, stopping the drill. Alexia walked towards you, her expression still unreadable. You braced yourself for criticism, for disappointment. Instead, she stopped in front of you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“I'm amazed,“ she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “You have some raw talent there.“

You stared at her, speechless, the weight of her words settling on you. It wasn't praise from just any player – it was from Alexia Putellas. A wave of pride washed over you, a feeling far more intoxicating than any goal you'd ever scored. This wasn't just about drills or impressing coaches. This was about proving yourself, about earning a nod of approval from your hero.

Bruised Bloom

At La Masia, you thrived. Here, amidst your teammates, you weren't just a kid caught in a crossfire. You were a footballer, a budding talent with a future that stretched beyond the grimy walls of your apartment.

Training was your sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos that permeated your home life. The hushed whispers, the acrid smells, the constant tension – it all dissolved the moment you stepped onto the field. Here, the only pressure was the weight of the ball on your foot, the thrill of the game.

Back home, your world was a minefield. Your mother, despite the worried facade she put on at the park when Mikel first scouted you, was a ghost, lost in a world of her own until she felt it was time to punish you. Your father, a storm that brewed unpredictably, filled the silence with violence and toxic fumes.

The thought of returning after practice sent a knot of dread twisting in your gut. Yet, you faced it every day, a warrior donning a hopeful smile like armor. You knew you couldn't speak, couldn't reveal the truth behind your closed-door reality. So, you played, harder than anyone else, pouring every ounce of your hurt, your anger, your fear, into your game, hoping time would pass fast and you would reach adulthood and the possibility of escaping home.

The Girl Who Played with Ghosts

Days morphed into weeks, and the vibrant memory of Alexia's praise began to fade, replaced by a dull ache of missing her. It wasn't just the validation of your skills; it was the warmth in her eyes, a flicker of something that mirrored your own yearning for connection.

You were a child overflowing with love, a dam overflowing with affection that had nowhere to spill. Your home life offered no solace, your parents existing in their own desolate realities. So, you latched onto any adult who offered a sliver of kindness, a fleeting pat on the head, or a word of encouragement.

Alexia, with her quiet intensity and unexpected gentleness, had become a beacon in your world.

You would often daydream about her being your big sister, your mother, anything that made you feel secure. You craved her approval, not just for your football, but for your very existence. The thought of her watching you play again, that focused gaze that made you both nervous and exhilarated, filled you with a strange longing.

Alexia's Eye

One afternoon, during a particularly grueling training session, your heart sank as you saw Alexia emerge from the building. Your body ached, your muscles screaming in protest, but a surge of energy coursed through you nonetheless. Every drill, every tackle, became a silent plea, a desperate attempt to catch her eye, to earn another nod of approval, another fleeting moment of connection in this vast, intimidating world.

As practice ended, your teammates dispersed, their chatter fading into the Barcelona dusk. You lingered, hoping, praying Alexia wouldn't vanish like smoke. And then, as you were about to turn away, defeated, you saw her. She stood by the entrance, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she watched you catch your breath.

“I was supposed to watch you training but my day got a little derailed. Still, I hear whispers of a wonder-kid on the pitch today. Any truth to that rumor?"

Your heart soared. It wasn't the words themselves, but the way she said them, the unspoken recognition that ignited a spark of warmth within you. You weren't just another trainee anymore. You were someone she saw, someone with potential, someone who, maybe, just maybe, deserved a little bit of her time, a little bit of her attention.

"I... I just try my best," you stammered, suddenly self-conscious under her gaze.

"Well, that best seems pretty good," she countered, her smile widening. "Mind if I see a sample?"

Bittersweet Symphony

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Alexia, wanting to see you play?

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders, a newfound determination coursing through you. "I'd be honored," you declared, voice surprisingly steady.

As you ran through drills, fueled by a mix of excitement and nervousness, you felt a different kind of pressure. No longer was it just about proving yourself; it was about capturing that spark, that flicker of something special, in Alexia's eyes. You weren't just playing football anymore. You were playing for recognition, for connection, for a chance to forge a bond with the woman who had become your hero.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the La Masia training grounds in a warm glow. Alexia watched you with a smile, a hint of amusement and something deeper, a flicker of recognition, in her eyes.

"You're good, kid," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Reminds me of myself at your age. Full of fire."

Your chest puffed out with pride. Alexia Putellas, your idol, was complimenting you! A warmth bloomed in your stomach, a feeling so foreign and comforting it made your eyes sting. It was like a hug, a feeling of love and acceptance you didn't think you'd ever experience.

Lost in this bubble of newfound joy, you didn't notice the other players filtering out, their chatter fading into the twilight. You were completely focused on Alexia, hanging on to every word, every encouraging nod.

Finally, a hand rested on your shoulder. You looked up, expecting Alexia's brilliant gaze, but instead, saw the concerned face of a coach. "It's getting late, kiddo," he said kindly. "Where are your parents? Are you leaving with them?"

You blinked, the realization hitting you like a cold wave. Your parents. You hadn't thought about them all afternoon, consumed by the warmth of Alexia's approval. Now, a knot formed in your gut. If they were late, that meant... you knew. The picture wasn't pretty, the familiar scene of their slumped figures reeking of alcohol playing in your mind.

Suddenly, the thought of a chaotic homecoming was a thousand times less appealing than the gentle reprimand of a coach and the lingering hope of Alexia's smile. You mumbled, "They'll... I guess they'll be here soon."

Alexia, who had been watching the exchange, now looked closely at you. The amusement in her eyes was replaced with a spark of concern, a question unspoken. You knew you couldn't stay here forever, but the thought of facing your reality was terrifying.

Behind The Charade

Then, there they were, your parents, their faces flushed, their laughter grating against the now-silent training grounds.

Your coach, Jordi, observed them from afar.

He knew something was off, but couldn't figure out what.

Jordi, your coach, watched them approach, a knot tightening in his stomach. Something was off, a forced joviality that didn't reach their eyes. They were experts at this charade, fooling people into believing their dysfunctional family was a picture of normalcy.

You, however, knew their routine all too well. A quick excuse, a feigned apology, and then the inevitable escape. You squeezed your eyes shut, a silent plea escaping your lips. When you opened them again, a desperate hope filled them.

"Alexia," you blurted, your voice barely audible, "would you… would you come watch me train next week?"

Alexia, who'd been observing the exchange with a growing sense of unease, met your hopeful gaze. Your fear, barely veiled, tugged at her heartstrings.

"Of course," she replied, her voice surprisingly firm. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Your parents seemed oblivious, their attention focused on their next conquest, whatever that might be. You knew the drive home would be a terrifying journey, a cacophony of drunken arguments and reckless driving.

Eyes Shut, Hopes Open

As your father lurched the car forward, you squeezed your eyes shut, a single image flashing before them.

The image of Alexia in your imagination, her strong hand clasped in yours, a silent promise of protection in a world that seemed far from safe.

The roar of the engine filled the car, but it was Alexia's voice, a whisper in your mind, that brought a sliver of solace: "We'll get through this, together." The destination might be uncertain, but for the first time, you weren't alone.

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 10 months ago

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Hi there,

I love your writings! I never sent an ask before, and I'm sure you have plenty of requests, but your works are incredible, so anything you choose to write about is bound to be amazing!

I was wondering if you would consider doing more 18+ headcannons for the ROTTMNT Boys, like you did for Leo? The idea that they all fall for the reader for different reasons sounds intriguing 🤤

Random Headcanons About Donatello (18+)

Rise!Donatello x reader

A/N: I decided to write one for Donnie, because other than this, I have nothing one Rise Donnie😭 Hope you’ll like this, and will satisfy some of you Donnie people out there💜

Warnings: Talk of masturbation, a little bit of intimate instints.

Donnie was never been much of a big flirt, nor had he ever had much interest in anything romantic. To him, it felt like a waste of time. Those kinds of feelings never came easy to him, so it was kind of hard for him to fit it into his life.

But of course Donnie felt bodily needs. He was a living being after all. But he had never tied it to any emotions of love or attraction. No, to him it had always been a natural thing he needed to get done. Something his body needed, a part of his nature. Science and biology in its natural habitat. So when he felt the need, he would hide himself away in his room, and make quick work with his hands on himself, until he didn’t feel the growing neediness in his member anymore.

He never bothered to spend much time thinking about these things. He never bothered spending time thinking about what he was into, when it came to a partner. Because why would he do that? He wasn’t looking for a partner, so why would he try to figure out what his ideal partner would be like? Sounded like a stupid thing to do in his opinion.

These things didn’t change straight away when you entered Donnie’s life. Donnie did not feel any different when he and his brothers started to hang out with you. You were a nice friend and Donnie did enjoy spending time with you. But that was just that. You were just a friend, and Donnie didn’t want it to be any other way. No more. No less.

But slowly but surely, things between the two of you would change.

As time went on, you and Donnie would get closer, slowly becoming best friends. That meant you and the purple genius would often spend time alone together, getting to know each other on a deeper level. You just understood Donnie, and you never struggled or clashed with his way of being, like his brothers would from time to time. However, there would be small things that you did, that slowly would make Donnie’s heart flutter. It was how you seemed to understand his sometimes non-verbal communication, how you easily learned his way of organizing, and his other small quirks.

The realization that Donnie had developed feelings for you, hit him like a wall of bricks. It happened one late night, as Donnie sat in his lab, hunched over his work, his thoughts running as he worked. His thoughts floated towards you and your beautiful smile… Hmm, odd… But you did have a beautiful smile. Anyway, back to work… You also did have a very nice voice… Donnie really liked your voice. It made him happy to hear it whenever you were around… Snap out of it Donnie! You’re working!... When did Donnie last see you anyway? A few days ago, when you and him had decided to watch that movie together. And you were wearing those jeans that really fitted your butt and thighs so well. So well that Donnie for a short moment, wished he could just reach out to touch them. That was the moment Donnie dropped what he had in his hand, his eyes wide when he realized what was going on.

Donnie, much to his own surprise, now found himself spending much time dreaming and wondering about love. He thought of you, what it would be like to be with you, both emotionally and physically. He wondered what you liked, and if you would ever look at him in the same way. And for the first time, Donnie found himself touching himself, not just because of his needs, but because of what your beautiful being did to him.

And for the first time Donnie found himself interested in romance, and it wouldn’t take long before he slowly put in the work, in order to win you and your love over.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader smut #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donnie x reader smut #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donatello x reader smut #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader smut #rottmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt donatello x reader smut

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whathorselegs · 6 months ago

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Headcanon that Kunikida started his ideal partner list in college because he actually develops crushes on people really easily and always falls for them hard.

He never acted on these crushes because he was too shy and clueless when it came to romantic feelings. So it usually led to his heart getting broken when his oblivious crushes eventually started dating someone else.

Originally, it was never intended to be a checklist of qualities his ideal partner was supposed to have. It wasn't even about an ideal partner. It was about understanding his feelings and trying to control them too.

He started making notes about what he was attracted to, stuff like dimples, shiny hair and soft hands. Qualities like being kind hearted, just and understanding. Whenever he noticed his heart fluttering Kunikida made a note of it and starred qualities that he noticed he would fall for often.

It became a way of shielding himself from his own feelings. At first in a mostly healthy way, he was able to reason whether he actually liked someone for who they were or whether they just had one of those smiles that fried his brain.

But the more he added, the more it changed from a list to understand himself, to a list of things a person must be. Because for all he understood his attractions better, he couldn't stop them forming and he was still terrible at ever acting on them. If a person only had three or four of the qualities on his list then he'd try to talk himself out of the crush. Convincing himself that his feelings weren't valid and he needed to get over them.

So now, Kunikida has a list of ideals for his partner, one he is as strict about fulfilling as he is with all his other ideals. One that deep down he knows is ridiculous and has gotten out of hand. Yet, it is a defence mechanism he is not able to cope without.

Besides, it's done him some good. It was through this list that he realised that gender plays almost no part in whether he's attracted to a person or not.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd kunikida #bsd headcanons #rambling #Kunikida and his unhealthy coping mechanisms my beloved

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candypot · 5 months ago

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Illumi Zoldcky - Situationship Headcanons

autor notes: uh…I wanted to write something cute, but I couldn’t picture Illumi out of his narcissistic and sociopath tendencies

• Sometimes he’s totally aversive about contact, which surely leads him to ghost you or treat you with indifference.

• He wasn’t trying to play mind games with you when he simply disappeared last month, he just grew tired of all the closeness stuff! Come on, from time to time he needs to focus solely on what matters the most, which is his family future. You need to be cooperative and understand you’re not that relevant.

• On the opposite hand, there were times when he felt the urge to touch you and be with you almost all the time. It was almost a maniac episode, the unsettling urge to have you wrapped around him was more than he could handle, so you better be prepared to get phone calls and text messages requesting your location 24/7. Make sure to be always available or at least try to give good excuses if you don’t want him coming over without any warnings. As a person who always had his puppets available, the least Illumi could do is inquisitively request you to be where he wants, when he wants.

• Sometimes he feels the urge to fuck you raw, secretly fantasying how it’ll would be if you were good enough to bear his child. The thought of seeing it leak out of you made his heart flutter, his prudence and ego slowly fading as the ideas of having you as the mother of his children start to entertain his lonely and twisted mind.

• if he ever got weak on his prejudiced values and end up breeding you like he always wished to, he would make sure to push you into birth control indigently. After all, having a child with someone as weak and irrelevant as you wasn’t the ideal, even less a possibility.

• Still, if the situationship lasts too long, his small play of husband wife would get a bit more intense and, of course, he wouldn’t admit it. He wasn’t obsessive, he was just giving you a bit more of attention than you deserved and you should be grateful for that. How could you mistake his interest on your safety with stalking and harassment? He was just trying to protect you! Show some gratitude!

• The probability of him truly developing feelings for you is very low (and even if he develops it he mustn’t recognize it). I mean, it’s a bit obvious how pitiful you were compared to him, specially considering how poor and defenseless you were.

• if he got in a serious relationship with you it would probably be because of acidental pregnancy, in this case he was probably feeling too compassionate to not oblige you to get rid of the baby or maybe he felt inspired enough by his father’s crazy love for his mother… or maybe he just wanted to fill that horrible void, that way at least one thing would be constant in his life, even if it was his useless wife and weak baby

• But the good new is that despise all those crazy stuff, you can rest assured because not even a fly is coming near you. What is his, it’s his, even if it’s a small toy. End of story. You can live in peace in your meaningless little world. It’s not like you would be useful even if he tried to train you so it would be better to just protect your peace, maybe that way you could keep him company in your free time and find as much pleasure in his presence as he finds on yours.

#illumi zoldyck #hxh illumi #illumi x reader #hxh headcanons #illumi x oc #hxh

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aventurineswife · 25 days ago

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❤ The Language of Flowers | 013

❤ | Your options shall be: Sunday, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Veritas Ratio, Boothill, Jing Yuan, Blade, Phaimon, Mydei or Moze. Whoever you think suits this prompt.

❤ | Flower & it's definition: Burdock | symbolize clarity, courage, protection, and purification.

❤ | Bonus Folklore: Friends threw the burrs of burdock on to the backs of unsuspecting friends – if they stuck you had a sweetheart; if they fell off after a short while their affection would not be reciprocated.

The Language of Flowers

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Mydei x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Gentle Conversations, Character Development, Quiet Moments, Emotional Growth, Vulnerability, Playful Moments, Protective Themes

Warnings: Light references to internal struggles and vulnerability.

The soft light of the evening caught the soft feathers of Sunday’s wings as he stood by the window, gazing out at the celestial landscape that the Astral Express journeyed through. You could tell his thoughts were far away, perhaps lost in memories or philosophical musings, but the delicate presence of the burdock flower in your hands gave you the courage to approach him.

You had recently learned about the symbolism of the burdock flower: clarity, courage, protection, and purification. And despite Sunday’s stoic demeanor, you wanted to give him a reminder of these things—qualities that, in his quiet way, he embodied so well. With a soft smile, you approached, the flower’s burrs still fresh in your hand.

“Sunday,” you said gently, catching his attention. “This is for you.”

His eyes flicked to the flower, a slight raise of his brow marking his curiosity. He extended a hand, taking the flower with delicate grace. The instant his fingers brushed against yours, there was a subtle warmth, a flicker of connection. You weren’t sure if he noticed it as much as you did, but you could feel it—a shared understanding.

“Burdock,” he mused, his tone contemplative. “A symbol of protection and clarity... How fitting.” His gaze shifted to the intricate shape of the flower, as if it held answers to his quiet turmoil. “Do you find clarity in it?”

You nodded, sitting beside him, the soft hum of the express filling the silence. The two of you sat in a comfortable quiet, his wings fluttering gently as his thoughts seemed to drift back to his earlier introspections. But you noticed his grip tighten around the burdock, as if drawing strength from its presence.

“Burdock,” he continued, his voice softening. “A reminder that even in uncertainty, there is the possibility of protection. Perhaps... it’s a reminder I need.” He glanced at you, a soft vulnerability in his gaze that you’d rarely seen. “Thank you. I... don’t often feel the need to protect myself. But with you, I feel... I feel a sense of trust, of clarity.”

And there, in the quiet of the stars and the weight of the moment, you realized the connection you shared with him wasn’t just about ideals or philosophies—it was something more grounding, something real.

“Will the burrs stick?” you asked playfully, thinking of the old folklore you’d read. “It’s said that if they stick, there’s affection returned.”

A rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes flicking to your face with an unreadable expression. “Perhaps, for once, it’s a risk worth taking.”

The night sky over Amphoreus was heavy with stars, and the air was thick with the scent of impending conflict. Mydei stood on the edge of the camp, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the darkness of the battlefield loomed. He’d been quiet, more so than usual, and you could feel the weight of the burden he carried.

You had been watching him for a while now, wondering what thoughts plagued his mind. You had something in your hand, a gift that had been weighing on you since you first learned of its meaning—the burdock. It symbolized courage, protection, and purification, all things that Mydei undoubtedly needed on his journey. You decided that now, more than ever, he could use its strength.

“Your Highness,” you called gently, walking up behind him. His shoulders tensed slightly as he turned, his piercing eyes softening when he saw you.

“Mydei,” you continued, holding out the flower to him, “this is for you.”

His gaze flickered to the burdock flower, then back to you. The tension in his posture shifted, his arms uncrossing as he took the flower from you. There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t awkward—it felt natural, like the two of you had always shared these quiet moments in the midst of chaos.

“The burdock,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotional storm you could sense under his calm exterior. “It stands for clarity and courage.” His lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Two things I find difficult to grasp these days.”

You stepped closer, your gaze unwavering. “I think you’ve always had both, Mydei. Sometimes, they just need to be reminded, like a flower needing sunlight.”

His smile grew a fraction, almost imperceptible but there. His eyes softened as he looked at the burdock flower in his hand, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something—vulnerability, maybe, or hope—beneath his usual fierce exterior.

"You truly believe that?” he asked, his voice quiet but sincere. There was a pause before he continued. “If the burrs of this flower stick... would that mean you feel the same?” His eyes twinkled with something that could only be described as playful, a sharp contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your heart warming at the rare softness in his words. “Perhaps it’s a sign,” you replied with a grin. “But maybe it’s not about whether the burrs stick or fall—it’s about knowing that you’ve already had someone standing beside you.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, a silent agreement passing between the two of you. He tucked the burdock into his armor, close to his heart, as a reminder of the strength and courage you both shared in the face of what was to come.

The campfire crackled softly, casting gentle light on the faces of those gathered around it. Phainon sat beside you, his expression thoughtful as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair. The rest of the Chrysos Heirs had turned in for the night, but Phainon remained, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

You had been wanting to share something with him, something that had been on your mind since you’d come across the burdock flower earlier in the day. It symbolized protection, courage, and purification, and knowing Phainon’s constant drive to protect others, you felt it was the right gift.

You slid closer to him, the flower carefully in your hands. “Phainon,” you said softly, catching his attention. He turned toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with his usual warmth.

“Ah,” he said with a small smile, his gaze softening when he saw the flower. “What’s this?” He took the burdock from your hands, turning it over in his fingers with curiosity. “I’m not familiar with this one.”

“It’s called burdock,” you explained, “and it represents courage and protection—qualities I think you embody more than anyone.”

Phainon’s eyes flickered with something akin to surprise, and his smile deepened as he looked back at the flower. “Courage, you say?” He chuckled softly. “I don’t always feel that courageous, especially when the stakes are high.”

“You’re more courageous than you know,” you replied with quiet conviction. “It’s not just in the battles you fight—it’s in the way you stand by those you care about, even when it costs you.”

Phainon’s expression softened at your words, a touch of vulnerability flashing across his face before he masked it with his usual cheerful demeanor. “Well, if you say so. Then, I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You grinned at his lightheartedness. Then, remembering the old folklore you’d read, you teased, “And according to some, if the burrs stick to you, it means the feelings are returned.”

Phainon’s laughter filled the air, rich and genuine, and he leaned closer to you. “I suppose I’ll have to wait and see, won’t I?” he said with a playful glint in his eye, his voice light but with an undertone of sincerity.

As you both sat in the quiet of the night, the burdock flower nestled safely in his hands, it felt as though you had shared more than just a conversation. It was a quiet promise, a connection forged in the unspoken words between you.

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worldsetfree · 2 months ago

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Aizen Sōsuke in Love headcanons

I'm so happy that Kubo is so careful with my sexy evil king (god?). He seems to value a lot of the things that I value as a writer/consumer. I really feel his love for this character!

Here are a few thoughts of my own on this beautifully complex man, in the context of romance, because I'm powerless against tall, dark, and handsome. Y'all know me.

Feedback and discussion welcome.

Some spice below. I'm slowly building up confidence...

Contrary to the belief of some, I don't think Aizen's an emotionally vacant sociopath. He's just deeply, obsessively measured in all things, including his own image. We often gain insight into his feelings through Gin, in fact!

I think he's secretly deeply emotional, honestly. INTJ, but the T is not as dominant as people think. People don't develop Aizen's level of conviction and dedication without passionate hearts.

And I would expect the wisest of men to not discard their emotions. It's better to know thyself, after all. Aizen strikes me as the type who values internal harmony.

Plus, he's too good at controlling others to be emotionally out-of-tune. He gets people.

To fall in love...

The first question one must ask: "Is Aizen Sōsuke capable of falling in love?" To me, the answer is yes, but like all things, Aizen has carefully crafted designs and constraints for such a scenario.

Despite his apparent patience, people as ambitious as Aizen are prone to feeling urgency. In the ruthless pursuit of his goals, I would not be surprised if he felt he had to deny himself companionship (especially given his implied struggle to connect).

But Sōsuke, you don't have to have your foot on the gas at every step of your journey!

He can take time to find peace in good company in his time as a Captain, or after he gains immortality. Times when he's been forced to slow down and wait for his plans to unfold.

Honestly, he's probably craving some TLC at this point. Isolation in Muken's a horrible thing, even if he enjoys the silence.

You must have done something to spark his interest and make him see you as something more than a peon. Subverted his expectations, or did something foolishly courageous, perhaps.

Either way, he's going to pay close attention to you going forward.

Intellectual jousting jumps out as a good opportunity to catch his attention! Look how he speaks during Fake Kurakura Town, for example. He's got ideals and philosophy bursting at the seams. He wants people to understand him! Get in there!!

In turn, Aizen seeks to understand all things around him, yourself included. Interest blooms into fascination and captivation, and in time, he admits that you've become a problem.

He is not confused by this feeling, but he doesn't really want to fall in love. Imagine opening himself up to something like that... With an insect like you? Preposterous.

Are you truly an insect, though? Or something he's been craving in a deeply repressed part of his soul?

After some deep contemplation, he'll decide to examine this feeling blooming in his chest further.

But if he has to be open and vulnerable to have you, he's going to make damned sure he still has the upper hand.

To be with him...

Loving this man is not for the faint of heart. Aizen Sōsuke is faceted like a jewel, and in being his, you will see all the colour and reflections he projects.

He's a wild, tempestuous sea, and all but the most worthy will drown in him if not careful.

Expect him to test you and experiment in all manner of ways. Some of these tests will be at the expense of your safety and sanity, unfortunately. But were you ever really in any danger...?

He's the type to play with the heart- roll it around in his teeth, and squeeze.

He's testing himself just as much as he's testing you. Feeling out what makes the knots twist up inside him and what makes his heart flutter.

That's not to say that will only toy with you, though. No, if he's chosen to be with you, he's going to love you. He never does things in half measures. This will become especially prevalent as time goes on.

You'll experience beautiful stillness and tenderness- quiet moments locked away from time and responsibility that he dares not share with anybody else. Think of summer rain, tea leaves, and the way his scent clings to his haori.

This peace inspires reflection, but confiding in you is very difficult for him. I think some part of him would fear the rejection. But he's developed a hypothesis, weighed the risks, and chosen to open up to you. You should be honoured.

Don't betray his decision to share. Be genuine and gentle, and you'll be rewarded with another piece of his ever-elusive heart.

On the flip side, you'll also end up lost in currents that threaten to rip you apart.

Aizen's quite mercurial, and part of being in love means seeing a bit of the mess below the surface (at least, what he allows you to see).

Making you swoon is simple for him, and he'll thoroughly enjoy leaving you breathless. He's going to work you up meticulously with perfect touches and addicting lips, and then leave you craving more.

He's masterful in all things he attempts, and he will prove that acts of hedonism are no exception. Should he deign to indulge in intimacy, he will be your undoing.

Sex is not a successful endeavour for Sōsuke unless you're rendered unable to think. He's going to delight in leaving you ruined in his bed, legs and lungs and consciousness having utterly failed you.

He'll cherish every sound and sight he steals from you. Allow himself to dwell on the taste of your skin, the warmth of your insides wrapped around him, and the feeling your thighs in his hands. You're heavenly to him. A work of art.

To some extent, it will dismantle him, too. He finds succor in the space between your breaths, and strangely welcome surrender in release.

If you catch him in the right headspace, he'll stay with you in his afterglow and succumb to gentle affection. His arms will pull you in and hold you like he wishes you'd meld into him.

But these moments are rare. He's so very busy and ever-focused on the next objective. But you don't mind, right...?

Overall...

Expect Aizen to be a committed partner that lifts you up and sweeps you off your feet in his own wicked ways.

He's going to challenge you, push and pull you, and enjoy the web you will weave together. You will be his prized possession and confidant. In return, he'll be your everything.

He will also be your tutor, your cultivator. Much like himself, he holds you to the highest standards, and he's not afraid to mould you into (what he considers) the greatest version of yourself.

You will be consort to a god some day, after all. He's going to refine you into something capable of standing at the top with him.

Just don't disappoint him, or you'll find yourself discarded when you least expect it.

Wow, I wrote too much for this. Can't help it. He's got me in his hypnosis. How shameful. 😅

Thanks for reading! Writing these out helps give me a backbone for future works.

#bleach #aizen sosuke x reader #tybw got me down bad #ngl he's been my secret shame for years #so handsome #so evil #kubo makes such beautiful people #ramblingsfromzawarudo

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tellyouily · 3 months ago

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again, i'm fallin' headfirst

dnf - pure fluff - 2.3k words

read on ao3

George thinks a lot about how love is a chemical in his brain.

More than anything, he thinks it’s kind of cool: here is this big feeling; this warm, fluttering truth that lives inside him and seems so impossible to describe – that, really, is no more than a mix of the right chemicals being released at the right time.

It’s cool. It’s knowledge that makes it a little less overwhelming to be right in the middle of it.

George thinks, or rather, he has come to realise, that he is one of those people who feels things very strongly.

He remembers every sad movie he has ever watched, unable to forget them, and really good days have him wishing they will never end. He feels fully at home in Florida, at the same time as he sometimes misses London more than he will ever say out loud.

He’s not just in love with Dream – he’s so in love with him that he sometimes thinks it’ll seep into his lungs and make him choke.

Figuratively speaking, that is.

What he means is that he gets in his own way sometimes. In Dream’s way, too, really. Probably.

For George, loving Dream means wanting to shield him from all the bad stuff. Even the unpreventable bad stuff, which is an impossible task. He is practically bound to worry about Dream, which in return, is bound to make Dream worry about him back.

It’s less than ideal, to say the least.

But maybe it’s also just how loving someone works – caring so much that it hurts a little. George thinks so, anyway. It’s a part of the pact.

Ten a.m. finds him half-sitting up, half-lying down in Dream’s bed; wearing Dream’s clothes, scrolling through Reddit on Dream’s laptop.

The trip to Argentina had the unexpected effect of fixing his sleep schedule completely, a development which he has somehow managed to maintain in the last few days since he got home. In an unprecedented move, he fell asleep at a Normal time last night and woke up less than an hour ago, after a full, uninterrupted eight hours.

Dream, still fast asleep next to him, must be well into his tenth by now.

He’s lying on his stomach with one arm thrown across George’s waist under the covers. Somehow he is breathing just fine even though he has his face pressed into the bunched up sheets by George’s hip.

George knows it probably isn’t great to sleep much more than nine hours a night, but he is not about to wake Dream up. Sleep is kind of holy for them, it always has been.

Plus, there is a calmness to this particular morning, to them lying here together like this, that George doesn’t want to disturb. He’d like to stay here forever, actually.

Dream does wake up eventually, though, all on his own.

George is in the middle of reading a random post when Dream’s arm tightens around his middle, bringing him out of his focus. George turns and looks at him.

“Hey,” he says quietly, reaching out and running his fingers through Dream’s hair.

Dream shuffles closer, closing space between them that George didn't even realize was there.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

Twisting one of Dream’s curls around his finger, George feels it was over him – that love he has for Dream – with a distinct warmth. He wishes there was a way to whisk Dream away to somewhere safe while simultaneously staying right here.

He supposes he just wishes right here was safer, its treatment of Dream more gentle.

Sleep is the medicine, though. And for Dream, distraction works well, too.

It was years ago that George first pledged to be there for Dream no matter what; to distract him from the bad stuff. To give him problems he can solve – something he can actually do something about.

Like George’s allergies, for example.

Although they have proven to be pretty unfixable, he has Dream to thank for the improvement since he first moved to Florida. As opposed to those initial few months, George is now no longer suffering in the mere presence of grass, or of Patches. Or of any of the million other things he is apparently allergic to.

Dream’s air purifier, the one that was bought specifically for George’s benefit and is currently humming softly from its place on top of the dresser making it so George can actually breathe, is proof of Dream’s efforts.

Along with every other purifier and humidifier placed strategically around the house.

George loves how much Dream cares. He loves that he is reminded of it every time he takes a nice, deep, uncongested breath.

Dream opens his eyes, pushing himself up enough to get a view of the laptop balanced on George’s stomach. Instinctively, George quickly closes the Reddit tab before Dream has settled down.

It’s dumb anyway, he doesn’t think he has seen a single good take all morning.

“Is that my laptop?” Dream asks, his morning voice zapping right down George’s spine.

“Yeah,” George hums. “Been reading all your secret emails.”

Dream huffs, probably too tired to laugh for real. It makes George smile, anyway. He settles his hand on the curve of Dream’s nape.

“From all your lovers,” he says.

Dream’s smile peeks out from the sheets.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

George sniffles, sinking deeper into the pillow behind him.

In an instant, Dream’s eyes are on him, something like concern written in them. George smiles at him, sniffling again.

“Allergies,” he says.

Then, before Dream can ask if the air purifier has stopped working, like George knows he’s about to do, he adds: “I think it’s from the trip. It left some residue in my system or something.”

His best guess is that dust from the flight home, or from the stuffy airport, is still clinging to his nose. Or wherever it is that dust gets stuck. Either that, or it’s not allergies at all, but a cold that’s making him sniffle. He has been feeling a little warm lately…

“ Residue ,” Dream parrots him, mirroring his smile as well. Then, reading George’s mind, he says, “I hope you’re not getting sick or anything.”

George runs his fingers through the hair curling at the back of Dream’s neck.

He doesn’t say what he’s really thinking, which is that a solution to the problem is for Dream to breathe into his mouth 24 hours a day. That way no allergens can enter George’s system at all. A one hundred percent reduction of residue.

Upon closer inspection, though, it’s a pretty terrible idea. They’d be sharing the air, yes, but that means one of them would probably die from carbon dioxide poisoning at some point.

George doesn’t need Dream to tell him that.

“I’m not getting sick,” he says instead. “But guess what.”

He raises his eyebrows down at Dream, whose expression softens into one of openness. Like he just wants to hear George talk, regardless of what he has to say.

It’s a common Dream-expression – George tries not to let it get to his head.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” George says, pressing his lips together proudly.

He’s been waiting for the right moment to say it, and for once, he got to it before Dream. Not that it’s a competition.

Dream is clearly surprised.

“Yeah, happy Valentine’s day,” he says, sounding bewildered.

George smiles. “I won.”

“Yeah,” Dream laughs. “I’m actually impressed.”

“Thanks.”

Come to think of it, it kind of is a competition.

Dream is always first with these kinds of things – birthdays and Christmas Days and anniversaries – so George can’t help but feel a little smug. He won .

Dream lays his arm across George’s middle and leaning his head in his hand. “I have something for you,” he says.

He effectively blocks George’s view of the snoozing laptop screen by moving, but really, George would consider this an upgrade. He brings his hands to Dream’s stubble, cupping his cheeks.

“You have something?”

Dream nods. “A gift. For Valentine’s day.”

George pauses, raising his eyebrows. “You didn’t get me a gift.”

“I did,” Dream says, looking pleased with himself.

“You’re gonna kiss me or something and say that’s the gift.”

“I’m not!” Dream laughs. “I mean, I can do that too, if you want, but that’s not actually it”

Chances of him joking are high, George knows this. He narrows his eyes, trying to pierce through the innocent, honest look on Dream’s face to see if he’s just being an idiot.

It gets him nowhere, though. Dream doesn’t falter even a little bit under his gaze – his grin just gets bigger.

“I’m not lying, I promise,” he says. “Look, I’ll go get it right now. Stay here.”

“Wh–”

But before George can argue, Dream is out of bed, pulling a hoodie over his head on his way out of the room.

George stays, like he’s been told to do, his heart thumping in his chest for reasons he can’t quite place.

For one, he had no idea they were doing gifts this year. He doesn’t have anything for Dream, unless the stupid trinkets he bought for him in Argentina count. He’s pretty sure they don’t. He also has no idea what to expect from this so-called gift to be. Part of him still thinks Dream is making this all up, that there’s no gift – except for maybe that kiss they were talking about.

Surely Dream didn’t actually get him anything; between them, they are probably among the two people in the world who care the least about Valentine’s day. So surely not.

…unless he did.

Oh god , Dream totally does have a gift for him. An actual one. The realization has George sinking further into the pillows. He is determined to not be one of those idiots who smiles to themselves at the thought of their partner, but it’s taking some effort right now.

He can’t be seen like that. Especially not on Valentine’s day – that’s like a double offence.

Just then, Dream comes back through the door.

He still has that pleased look on his face, except now there is something in his hand, too. Something small and – George squints – white?

Dream crawls back into bed.

“I hid it in Patches’ room upstairs so you wouldn’t find it,” he says, a little out of breath.

George laughs. “Did you sprint there or something?”

Dream settles back into the same position as before, drawing a small ‘oof’ from George.

“Yeah,” Dream answers, smiling. “Here.”

He hands George what turns out to be a white jewelry box, sending George’s heart racing all over again.

“Oh no,” George says, staring down at it.

“Open it,” Dream counters, leaning his head in his hand again; watching him.

The box is light, the velvety paper smooth in his hands. George can feel Dream’s expectant gaze on him. He flickers his eyes up to meet it.

Dream’s expression is one of unabashed fondness. He laughs softly at whatever he sees in George’s face.

“Why’re you nervous?” He asks.

“I’m not nervous,” George lies.

“Well, good. You shouldn’t be.” Then, a moment later: “It’s not a ring, I promise.”

It makes George laugh, succeeding in dissolving some of his nerves. Emphasis on some .

“Okay,” he says, but the traces of hesitancy in his voice gives him away.

Under the covers, Dream’s hand slips under George’s (Dream’s) hoodie and settles warmly on the curve of George’s ribs.

“Open it,” Dream says again, more gently this time.

So finally, George does.

He grabs the lid and pries it open carefully – it’s one of those that comes off all the way – letting it slide down the sheets between them.

He expects a chain of some kind, but peering inside…

George almost doesn’t know what it is at first. He gives Dream a confused look and takes out the gold charm, small enough to hold between his thumb and pointer finger, and then–

Recognition dawns on him all at once.

He smiles. “No way.”

It’s gold instead of yellow, but the shape is unmistakable. It even has navy blue detail on its overalls and a mix of black and silver for its glasses. Or goggles – whatever they are. It’s perfect.

George looks up at Dream. “Where did you even find this?”

Dream laughs, shrugging. “At the jewelry place. It was like the first thing I saw when I came in, and I immediately thought of you.”

He went to the jewelry store . George raises his eyebrows. “So what, you went in there just to get me something for today?”

“I would never,” is Dream’s reply, paired with a smile that tells George all he needs to know.

That yes , he did go there just for this. Because of course he did.

“Thank you,” George says, putting the charm back in its box and letting his hands gravitate back to Dream’s face. Dream’s face with his idiot little smile.

“You’re very welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

He sort of sinks into George’s palms, making him look even more like an idiot. George barely resists the urge to lean in and kiss him.

He places his thumbs on the corners of Dream’s lips, instead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything,” he says.

“That’s okay. I would’ve bought it for you anyway, Valentine’s day or not.”

“Still.”

George does mean it. Had he known they were doing gifts he would have put the effort in. He would have gotten Dream those shoes he was talking about.

“I don’t want your money, though,” Dream says, smiling.

George huffs, pressing his thumbs into Dream’s lips. “Yeah, you have enough, already.”

“Exactly.”

George isn’t entirely convinced, but he knows Dream is being honest. Dream has never been one for gifts, only for giving them. He’d probably just end up feeling bad if George got him anything expensive. Even those shoes.

“I know what you can give me though,” Dream says.

George has some idea of what he’s getting at.

He leans in and presses a single kiss to Dream’s mouth, which is soft and warm; smooth from his vanilla chapstick.

“This?” George asks.

Dream smiles, chasing his lips. He nods, “This.”

#dnf fanfic #dnf fic #tellyouily fics #dnfies

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god-has-entered-my-body · 1 year ago

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How can I refuse? - Matty Healy

A/N: am still not ready to let MPIND Matty go so have this xx (edit: this is non-canon, so it doesnt have anything to do with the plot of MPIND or its sequel, Before you go)

wc: 5k

content warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), marking, lipstick kink?, lingerie, begging, praise, teasing, general possessiveness, matty wears a skirt x

Most people live off of food, water, and oxygen. You know, the actual building blocks of life. When it came to Matty, it was all about your eyes, specifically, where they looked. It always had to be with him. Matty. Only him, no one else.

He might tease and poke fun, but it was his weakness. Seeing you reach for your camera even your most intimate moments made his insides twist up and his stomach flutter with butterflies. Posing and contorting to your will, he did his absolute best to look amazing for you, to look how you wanted him to look. He relished in the small gasps you’d let out when the picture developed, his skin glowing under the flash, a thin layer of sweat sticking to it.

Which is why, when you had left the house to go pick up something you’d left at Ross and Hann’s flat, he saw an opportunity. The door slammed shut with an echo through the foyer, signifying you had departed. This was one of the rare times you hadn’t taken your bag with you, leaving it hanging on a chair in the kitchen, completely out in the open.

Matty’s eyes flickered over to it from the sofa, waiting a few moments to see if you’d come back for it. The house stayed silent, the only sound coming from the sofa creaking as he got up, tentatively walking over into the kitchen. Your bag was already zipped open, the contents of it clearly visible. One specific item stood out to him, glimmering under the light. Your precious camera.

The purple plastic was smooth in his hands, his fingers gliding over the surface. Matty could feel his heart begin to race at the thought of what this very lense had seen. His bare skin, your hands on him, nails raking over his chest, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Memories flashed through his head as he mindlessly walked into your now shared bedroom.

The once warm white fairy lights had been swapped out for pink ones instead, a new addition to your shared space that you were yet to discover. Your bed was unmade, sheets scattering across the mattress in a messy fashion, everything covered in an obscene amount of pillows.

This had been on Matty’s mind quite a while now, though he never had the opportunity to act on it. That is, until now. It was perfect, with you gone out for god knows how long, he had the ideal set up for a bit of “mischief” as he himself put it.

He groans as the warmth of the bed enveloped him, welcoming him home. Pink light poured over the sheets, painting them in a warm hue. Perfect.

Mattys began setting up.

Femininity wasn’t unknown to him. He owned multiple skirts and dresses, makeup products, even hair pins and clips he’d managed to nick from you when you weren't looking. You knew about all of this, seeing him every day, it would be pretty hard to miss it. Though, there was one thing he hadn't told you about yet. His affinity for womens clothes wasn't just limited to the odd skirt or sheer top, but also included undergarments.

Neatly folded in a drawer underneath piles of socks and shirts, was a small collection of womens lingerie. Panties and garters in various colorways, ranging from cotton to silk or even the odd piece of lace. It wasn't like he’d been hiding it from you, you just never asked. Feeling slightly giddy, he grabbed a pair of black lace panties from the pile, slipping them on underneath his basic grey joggers. Showtime.

Matty had decided to forgo a shirt for this specific photoshoot, knowing you'd much prefer him without one. The camera was heavy in his hand, weighing it down slightly as he lifted it slightly above his line of sight. Offering a sly grin to the lense, he pressed down onto the shutter, the flash almost blinding him. The picture looked innocent enough, the only remotely suggestive thing was his lack of top.

Ruffling his hair with his fingers, he tugged down his joggers slightly, letting them hang low on his hips as he snapped the second picture, this time, from below. His hip tattoo was the most visible, standing out against his pale skin like a sore thumb. That still did nothing to distract from the obvious bit of lace peeking out from the band of his pants. The thought of you seeing him like this drove him insane, but he quickly regained his composure before getting in place for the third photo.

Matty had managed to pull off his pants with only one hand, the other inspecting the fresh polaroid that the camera had just spit out. Now completely naked, apart from a skimpy pair of panties, it was time to get a bit more creative.

Setting the camera on the desk adjacent to the bed, he set a timer. Hearing it tick down, Matty found a good position and stayed. Flash. The sudden light was something he could never get used to, his eyes always slightly scrunched up in the pictures.

The camera was placed further away, but not too far, capturing the entirety of Mattys body. He was perched on the bed, on his knees with his legs spread, chest pushed out dramatically.The underwear he had on was now fully visible, the thin material barely concealing anything. His hand covered his growing erection, the thought of your reaction to the pictures once he was done was enough to give him a semi. The flash didn't bother him too much, throwing his head back just in time for the shutter to go off.

Leaving the picture on the bed next to him to develop, he grabbed the camera off the desk, setting it aside. His hand trailed down his chest, ghosting over his nipple piercing. Giving it a tug, just as you would if you were here, he let out a wanton whimper, letting go. The other hand was already palming himself through his panties, getting him fully hard.

The sensation of the lace rubbing up against his cock was almost too much, precum oozing out of the tip, painting the front of the panties with a wet patch. Working himself up, his hand reached for the camera, turning it around to face the lense to himself. Forcing his eyes open, parting his lips, he groaned desperately, clicking the shutter as he did.

The picture didnt show anything below the top of his chest, but fuck, it didnt need to. The expression on his face was one of pure want, lust, desire. Taking deep breaths to pull himself together, Matty moved on to his fifth and final position.

On his stomach, he propped a pillow underneath his elbows, giving him something to lean on. His curls fell over his face messily, covering most of his left eye. Knowing you, you'd probably make some offhanded comment about how he looked “terribly emo” like that, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. That wasn't important right now.

Angling the camera just right, his finger came up to meet his lips, pushing through them and into his wet mouth. Sucking on them slightly, he lets them hang out lazily, coating his lips and chin in spit. The flash reflected brilliantly off of his fingers, making the whole picture appear even lewder than it already was.

Quite happy with his work, he sets all five polaroids onto the bed in front of him, admiring himself. Painfully hard underneath his panties, he knew you would be coming home soon, and quickly scrambled up to put on some clothes. Grinning as he walked over to the wardrobe, he knew exactly what he was going to wear for you.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of the keys hitting the counter echoes through the house. Eyes darting across the room, you see no sign of Matty anywhere. Brushing it off, you shrug your jacket onto the sofa, sitting down on top of it, hand itching for a cigarette. You look around for a stray pack Matty had left somewhere.

That's when you see it.

The posh glass table had almost hidden the items that were placed upon it. You immediately recognised them as what they were: Polaroids. Heart racing a thousand miles an hour, you pick up the first one.

It was of a shirtless Matty grinning up from below, and you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Another picture, this time from below, also shirtless, with pants hung low on his waist. Your breath hitches at the sight of his underwear peeking out from the waistband, holding the polaroid to your face to get a closer look. Lace. You moan audibly at the sight, blushing slightly at your reaction.

Hands shaking from excitement, you take the third picture, and you swear, your heart stops. Matty looks like a work of art, legs spread onto your shared bed like a true pornstar, head thrown back in an attempt to show off his long, slender neck. The bulge in his panties was badly hidden by his hand, leaving barely anything to the imagination.

The fourth is your favorite, always partial to Matty’s beautiful face. His open mouth and hooded eyes made your head spin, feeling lightheaded at the sight. The thought of him like this underneath you made your thigh clench, soaking your underwear.

The final picture is probably the filthiest. Fingers in his mouth, spit covering most of the bottom part of his face. So distracted by it all, you almost manage to oversee the bright pink post-it note stuck to the center of the table.

“upstairs x” was scrawled onto the paper, Matty’s handwriting immediately recognisable. It hits you at once. Matty was upstairs, waiting for you. He was waiting for you and you knew he was ready. Scrambling to get up the stairs, you stub your toe against the bannister, cursing out loud.

Before you can open the door, you're greeted by another note. This time, there was heart scribbled onto a green post-it, messily encasing both of your initials. An arrow ran through it, and you got the message immediately.

The door seemed awfully heavy as you pushed against it, pink light flooding your senses. Matty.

Matty was laying on the bed, legs stretched out on top of unorganized pillows and sheets. A green skirt covered his lower body, the satin shimmering in the light, almost blinding. The mesh top he had paired with it showed his piercing perfectly, the sight going straight to your core.

Before you can react, or even properly take him in, a flash actually blinds you. Matty has your camera. You rub your eyes to get rid of the burning sensation, before turning your head back to meet his eyes. A grin makes its way onto his face, the purple object clutched in his hands as the polaroid comes off of the top. Waving it through the air as it develops, you give him a look, holding up the pictures he had left you.

“You like em?” he asks, eyes darting over your body. You knew you looked desperate, hands slightly shaking and pupils completely blown out in lust. Nodding your head, you take a step towards the foot of the bed just as he gets up. Patting the space next to him, he looks at you expectantly, setting the photo and camera aside.

Getting a closer look at him, you realize he’s wearing makeup. This isn't unusual for Matty, but what was unusual was the bright red shade of lipstick lining his mouth. The sight made you smile, seeing as the product had smudged ever so slightly down his face.

The moment you settle in next to him, he flings his body on top of yours, straddling your waist. No genre of porn could top the sight in front of you right now, not even close. His curls stuck to the top of his forehead, and you could see his raging hard on through the thin material of his skirt.

“Why don't you get this off for me, yeah?” you tug at the seam of it, and Matty nods frantically, pulling it up and over his head before discarding it in a random corner. If heaven was a place on earth, it would be right in this room, with Matty, half naked and hard.

As seen in the picture he had so kindly gifted you, the lace panties truly didn't do anything to conceal him. The mesh top (yours of course) ended right above his hip bone, showing the perfect amount of skin. His eyes looked dazed as he leaned down to kiss you, lips smashing against yours.

The kiss is slow at first, with Matty deepening it the moment you kiss him back. Tongue and teeth and spit and his soft moans as you licked into his mouth filled your senses, your mind thrown into a lustful haze, the only cure being Matty finally fucking doing something.

Your hands thread into his hair, tugging in that way you knew he liked as his lips trailed down your jaw and onto your neck, sucking deep purple hickeys into your skin. A rough hand pushes your shirt up over your head, meeting the same fate as his skirt, forgotten in a corner. You silently thanked god today was a no bra day as your nipples hardened against the cool air.

You feel his hips grind down onto your thigh, soft whimpers leaving his lips as he continues his assault on your neck and chest. Nibbling at your collarbones, you see him reach under the pillow for something.

Red flashes across your vision, before settling right in front of you. Lipstick. Uncapping the top, you watch as Matty refreshes his lips, dabbing the product on softly, just as you had shown him months before. His eyes never left yours, a certain air of cockiness surrounding him.

Before you could react, Matty’s hand pushes you further into the bed, your head sinking into the pillows. The lipstick is slightly warm against your chest, and your breath hitches as you realize what he's doing. Matty is writing on your body, and you know exactly what.

His name.

Ever the territorial type, he had a knack for carving his initials into things. Whether it be the chair in your old room he used to have monopoly over, or random benches he sat on often. Bus stops, furniture, even walls had either his first name or initials carved into it. You were no different.

The red of the lipstick is bright against your skin, and Matty knew it would stain, which was exactly why he chose it. Small gasps leave your mouth as he palms your tits, leaning back to admire his artwork.

Kisses litter your ribcage, and you feel him lick a hot stripe across your underboob. Never breaking eye contact, he tugs at the waistband of your jeans, silently asking permission.

“Yeah, go ahead baby.” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He smiles back at you, moving further down your body. Tugging your pants off of you, he snaps the waistband of your panties against your skin, making you yelp in surprise. A light giggle escapes him as he rids you of your underwear, now face to face with your glistening core.

The room felt unnaturally hot, and with Matty looking up at you from between your legs with that look in his eye that screamed “I'm going to devour you”, it seemed like even the slightest touch could have you coming in seconds.

His hand reaches around your thighs, making you scoot up slightly before diving into your folds, lapping at your clit with dizzying accuracy. It was so much all at once after endless teasing, and you were unable to control any other bit of your body. His strong hands gripped your skin, digging into it with such force that the spot started to go numb.

Writhing underneath him, his tongue licks circles around your clit, up, down and side to side, never letting you get used to something for too long. One of his hands leaves your thigh, instead, joining alongside his mouth between them.

Matty had big hands, the type basketball players and athletes usually had. His finger pushing into you felt like two of yours, and you immediately clenched around him, borderline pornographic moans spilling from your lips. Pumping in and out of you, that paired with the stimulation of his tongue had your head spinning and the world around you blurring as he added another digit, curling both upwards.

“Good?” you could smack him right now.

Smirking as he hits your g-spot, you squirm under his touch, trying to warn him of your approaching orgasm.

“F-fuck Matty, so good, you’re so good- Ohh god fuck.” your eyes screw shut, and you can feel the elastic in your core tightening as he speeds up, thrusting his fingers in and out of you at an animalistic pace.

He sucks your clit between his lips, and that's what throws you over the edge. You come, hard, probably harder than you have in your entire life, shaking and twitching as he tries to prolong your orgasm up until you start to move away from him.

His hand finds your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingertips as your eyes shut, basking in the afterglow of a mind blowing orgasm. You're at peace, completely oblivious as Matty shuffles around for a second, and you hear a shutter.

It happens so quickly, the photo was already in his hand developing when you finally open your eyes. Matty’s eyes stare back down at you, piercing your soul. In one hand, the camera, and in the other, he holds a fresh polaroid. One of you.

A blush spreads onto your face when you realize what he had done, covering your cheeks with your hand. Matty breaks eye contact to glance at the picture in his hand, his eyes widening at the sight.

It was all you, for the first time since you had pulled out that godforsaken camera. Hair strewn over the plush pillows, eyes screwed shut, and Matty’s hand groping your chest as he snapped the picture. You looked fucked out, like the personification of sex itself.

“Fuckk- you’re so pretty.” The first word sounds like a moan coming from his mouth, but he tries to hide it with the rest of his sentence. The red lipstick across your chest really did it for him, his cock twitching in his panties as he stared at the shiny polaroid. You start to get impatient.

“Why’re you looking at those when you have the real thing right in front of you?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow. You can hear the cogs turning in Matty’s brain as he lowers it from in front of his face.

Your hands travel up to grope your own tits, slightly smearing the imprint of his name. Letting out an obscene moan, you feel his own hands caress your face, pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

“Can I?” The question is small. Even in the heat of the moment, Matty always stopped and asked, gently stroking your hair and looking for any and all signs of hesitation. You decide to be mean, putting on a faux confused expression.

“Can you what?” your voice drips like honey, covering him from head to toe. Feeling him buck against your thigh, you shoot him a look, expecting an answer.

“Can I fuck you?” he whines, arms holding himself up right next to either sides of your head. “Please.” he adds, his eyes full of want and desperation. You pretend to think about it, averting your eyes and looking at the lamp on the ceiling for a moment while sucking in a deep breath.

The only thing that can be heard is Matty’s heaving breathing as he continues to buck into your thigh, although involuntarily. He tries to control himself, counting in 7’s and thinking of anything else but the person in front of him. Finally, you open your mouth to speak.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Matthew.”

The speed at which he took off the thin lace panties confining him could be recorded as a world record. Basically ripping them off, he throws them onto the steadily growing pile of clothing in the corner. Gasping for air, his eyes roll to the back of his head when your hand meets his throat, pressing against each side.

You hum, and Matty snaps back into reality, and you feel his hard cock leaking against your thigh. You wonder how long he had been sitting there, on the bed, waiting for your return. Did he touch himself? Has he cum already today? Or was he good and waited for you to give him what he really wanted.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” you ask, right before he was about to push into you. The question takes him aback, and he nods his head.

“Only a bit, to get myself hard for you.” his voice shakes in anticipation as you process his answer.

“You didnt cum?” Matty shakes his head, curls moving with him.

“No I didn't, I promise. I waited for you. Only want you.” he mumbles into your hair, breathing in the scent of your conditioner.

You finally nod, hands pressing against his back, giving him the official go-ahead.

The moment the tip of his cock brushed against your entrance, his voice cracked. Loud moans spilled out of his mouth and directly into your ears as he pushed himself all the way inside of you, making you whimper at the stretch.

You both lay like that for a moment, before you finally tap him, telling him to move. When he finally does, he thrusts himself all the way back into you, making you cry out, nails digging into his back.

The animalistic nature of his thrusts makes you feel lightheaded, gripping onto Matty for dear life. He murmurs incoherent cries of pleasure into your hair, his hands moving down to grip your hips, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“So gorgeous, no one can compare. Feel so fucking good too, oh my go-” you clench around him, effectively cutting him off. The feel of his hands digging into your skin is painful, mixing in with the pleasure blooming between your thighs perfectly.

He doesn't let up, keeping a steady rhythm as his moans become more high pitched, signaling to you (and probably the whole neighborhood) that he was rapidly approaching the edge.

“Please let me cum, you feel so good- oh my god. You’re so wet- and warm fuckk- a-ah.” His words feed your ego, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in incredibly deeper.

Sweat beads on your forehead, and you see him pull away from the crook of your neck to stare at his name scrawled across your chest. The lipstick had started to properly smear, red running down your skin, painting it.

“C’mon, come f’me, such a good boy, go on, I know you can do it-” a guttural moan falls from Matty’s lips, his thrusts getting sloppier, cock slamming into that sweet spot inside of you over and over and over.

You come for the second time that night, your vision whites out as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Stars dance behind closed eyelids and he slowed down slightly, giving you time to catch your breath.

“You like it when I call you a good boy? You're being so good- fuck filling me up-” This was all about Matty now, and you were determined to give him the most mind blowing orgasm of his life.

His dick twitches inside of you as you tell him to keep going, to use you to get off. Eyes widening in shock at your statement, his face quickly morphed into undeniable pleasure as his cock dragged along your plush walls, the friction sending him into what seemed like an alternate dimension.

“I look pretty, don't i? Look at your name on my chest.” you breath, your hands cupping your chest, gesturing to the bold red of his name. Matty.

“You're mine, no one else’s” his possessive side finally truly comes out to play, words spilling out from his lips before he could even properly think about them.

“I’m yours, only yours, my perfect boy, fuckk” you egg him on, your hands moving to his back, digging your nails into the muscle. You dig deep enough to draw a bit of blood, and Matty groans, raspy and desperate to fucking come.

“You’re perfect, fuckin’ made for me.” He right there, and you know it,

“Matty, you’re so good to me, so pretty- all for me, isn’t it?” you voice drips with lust, determined to make him finally fall over the edge.

“Oh god- fuck- A-ahh.” His voice is high, higher than yours even. He spills into you, his come filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, pulling him in for a messy kiss, your teeth clashing together.

Matty flops on top of you, your chests pressed together as you continue your post-fuck makeout session. You can feel his come leaking out of you, pressing your thighs together to keep it off the bed.

“Why’re you so tense? I just gave you the best orgasm of your life, thank you.” of course Matty would say something like that, cocky and egotistical as ever. Your roll your eyes, debating on telling him or not.

“You just came inside of me, it's not like it just disappears.” his eyes widen in realization, and you laugh sheepishly, your face growing red. A grin spreads onto his face, and his head suddenly disappears from view.

“Let me just-” you feel his tongue in between your thighs once again, lapping up the remnants of his own orgasm. You shudder at the feeling, the overstimulation being almost too much.

He crawls back up to kiss you again. It's chaste, innocent almost, barely even a peck.

You can feel him shuffling around again, reaching to the side to grab something. The picture. He holds it up so you can both see it.

“Can I at least wank to this one? Since you have all those others of mine you constantly get off to.” he tries to sound indifferent, but deep down, you know he’s begging for your approval.

“How do you know I get off to them?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at him. Matty just laughs in your face, not realizing you were serious. How did he know?

“You're not slick, the walls are thin.” he gives you a wink, and you blush a deep shade of red, rolling your eyes at him. He sees right through your act, but chooses to leave you be.

Night had already fallen, and both of you were too exhausted to even move from your spot. Matty had switched with you, laying your head onto his chest, letting you use it as a makeshift pillow. It wasn't even 20 minutes before his soft snores filled the room, gracing your ears.

You smile to yourself, feeling his hand still in your hand from where he was stroking it. One though was clear in your mind, and you speak softly.

"I love you so much, I'm never letting you go."

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x you #matty the 1975

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sigmasoyboy · 8 months ago

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[On the exploration of homo-sapiens' obsession with vaginal intercourse.]

A short drabble I wrote about Coeus' disappointing first time (bad enough not to try again for almost 20 years lol). It finishes a bit abruptly but I do like most of it enough to share.

cw: body dysmorphia, overly medical language, explicit description of bad sex, kinda cringe superiority complex

He squeezed his nearly non-existent breasts, nascent mounds looking almost out of place on a body stripped of every last gram of baby fat; sharp bones jutting from taut looking-skin as if it was simply pulled over the frame of his skeleton. No hips, no ass, only the ever so slight amount of fatty tissue under his navel could hint at the sex he was thrusted into; nature trying her best to shield what society deemed to be the fair gender’s most valuable asset. She had yet to lose against him then, his distaste for everything brought by a simple assessment at birth over some parts failling to migrate or develops not yet linked to his biology; the discomfort with having his pitiful chest fondled like this simply chalked up to a shame he didn’t really feel about their size. Surely, the gesture would feel less silly, less thoughtlessly pornographic had they been bigger, even though he had never wished so before despite being likened to an ironing board a few time as an attempt to rouse something -humor, or perhaps inferiority- out of the cold, flippant teenager who had joined the university. No worries, surely they’d come in, had they say as if to wash themselves of any eventual hurt they might have caused with this teasing remarks, as if it wasn’t the reason they were cast in the first place. To humble him, shoot this bratty little girl down a peg.

He hoped they didn’t. He had started bleeding long ago, though infrequently: surely his body would not go through a sudden spurt and finally give him the womanly figure expected of his chromosomes.

If it was going to, it hadn’t decided to kick in as he dipped his toes into his twenties, finding them no different from his adolescence save from a newfound curiosity that arose with older colleagues talking amongst them, looking almost startled when remembering his presence in the lab. Apologetic. Embarrassed. As if, despite his now long gangly limbs, he remained a teenage girl, not to be spoilt by crude topics; enough for a few to reject him, perhaps finding in the age difference a good excuse to avoid fucking the ugly chick. He was no stranger to the idea that he was far from the feminine ideal of beauty, with the beak-like nose standing in the middle of his gaunt face, framed by a wild, unbrushed mess of hair that had been seldom cut in his life. His older sister made sure he knew, admitting defeat early as he was, in her own words, a lost case. He had no hint of elegance, no wish to please and appease those around him and not even much interest in personal hygiene.

It’s also possible that his propositioning was at fault for the awkward refusals. Even the one who was attempting, still, to find something to grab on his chest, had shuddered at his request; not one of arousal, but more a full body cringe at the blunt, cold wording. In spite of the subject, there was nothing exciting in the language he had used, his nonchalance tasting more of ennui than of a casual, no fuss attitude towards sex: his virginity held no sex-appeal offered this way, not even with the burden of silly feelings that some men seemed so afraid might bloom behind his ribcage rendered null by the clear scientific curiosity itching to be relieved.

Perhaps men, even men of science, were more romantic than they thought. It seemed so in the way his partner for this experiment insisted kissing would help get in the mood, cheesily knitting his fingers in his before he inserted himself into him. Did his heart flutter when he reflexively squeezed his hand as his entire body fought the intrusion, hissing through teeth as he tried to do as he was told and relax in a shaky breath, assured that it would start feeling good soon in between whispers of how tight he was ? Oh he could feel it, painfully so, a startled sob managing to crawl it’s way out of his thinly pressed lips, his breath stolen by the pain tearing him in half. It was no lie that this had nothing to do with the scant fingers that had explored his insides before, finding a little discomfort at first too but easing in the strange if unfulfilling sensation, tentatively curling digits brushing a sensitive spot; the one he thought would bring him over the edge if only he didn’t have to split his focus on both his hands and the coiling feeling pooling into his guts. But it seemed like the appendage was ramming into him in all the wrong places, hitting the back of his cervix without ever grazing that spot. The more it went on, the more his mind tried wandering away from the pounding pain and the growing irritation of his tender flesh, sharpening his focus on every other detail. The squelching sound, the labored off-puttingly warm breath above him, the mingling of perspiration, uncomfortably wet skin on skin contact, the long strands of hair clinging everywhere trapped between his back and the rapidly moistening bedsheets, pulled ever so irritatingly with each thrust, that fucking hand still kneading the surplus of fatty tissue surrounding useless mammary glands and the rapidly cooling path of the tears that had spilled over, tickling his tragus, a mess of fluids and grunts and too many thoughts. He could not fathom that this was it, the thing that made society go round under all the pretense of virtue: even the pain had become a boring thud in the back on his mind, barely registered if not for the soreness of his clenched jaw.

He was spared putting an end to the experiment, something he had yet to ever do, the data put above all else, even suffering, even boredom, even disappointment. His volunteer stopped suddenly, quivery, a strange pitiful whine escaping him as his fingers dug into the pale skin of his breast, riding the very last wave of what must have been the famed big orgasm he was still waiting for; one that surely had to surpass any shaky climax he could ever bring himself to justify the rave around coitus. He was as relieved as he was confused to feel the offending member slip out of himself, condom ever so slightly stained pink quickly removed, tied and discarded into a tissue: that guy had always been a bit of a clean freak, even outside of the lab. He couldn’t understand how he justified the mess of bodily fluids integral to the act to his near germophobic obsession with cleanliness, so much so that when he laid back next to him, he couldn’t help his perplexity. “That’s it ?” was the offending statement, one that made the older man huff and lose his words for a minute, having not even regained his breath yet, before claiming that this was as good as it got, annoyance clearly souring his afterglow.

Despite this affirmation, the wound in his ego was deep enough for him to request a transfer almost as quickly as it took for the slightly bruised crescents to fade from his chest.

Proper scientific method would require more data before forming a conclusion, but he wasn’t keen on putting himself through this waste of time again; his leading hypothesis was that perhaps his higher intellect yet again barred him from finding enjoyment in something his lesser peers were infatuated with, his brain needing more stimulation than the average person and thus being better suited for quick relief to quench his needs when they arised. Perhaps his body was ill-shaped to accomodate for a phallus, a little mistake in his biological engineering, yet another natural rejection of his sex, born not to be penetrated or bear children but to pursue matters of the mind. Call it pelvic floor dysfunction or something else, he found no will to remedy his failing as a woman; if anything he leaned into it, getting rid of the puny, pointless breasts only a couple of year later, not regretting one second that they had been fondled by someone else only once, bar his surgeon’s much less displeasing palpation during his first appointment. The smooth expanse of his chest interrupted only by the still sore scar running across felt much less out of place, devoid of any superficial details. One step removed from the other mammals he failed to understand.

#; writing #c: Coeus

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weemssapphic · 2 years ago

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hii :) how are you? I hope well <3 I love the way you write so much :)

so, I had this idea in mind for a while, reader is a teacher and she and Larissa have been flirting for months, like there were times when they both wanted to confess their feelings but for fear of the other's rejection no one has ever taken the first move.

the Rave'n arrives and at a certain point the song "i wanna ruin our friendship" starts and reader and Larissa stare at each other from afar

larissa runs away to her office trying to figure out what to do and when she decides to go confess her feelings to reader, she opens the door and reader is standing in front of her

after that you can add whatever you want, possibly smut and fluff

thank you if you will write my request <3

Hello! thank you so much for your request, I truly adored writing it and thought it was an amazing idea - excellent song choice hehe <3 I hope you enjoy it!

Ruin Our Friendship

Larissa Weems x f!reader

words: ~4.4k | ao3 link in title

content/warnings: pining, flirting, fluff, nsfw (smut) - marking, cunnilingus (reader giving)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A crisp fall breeze blew your hair off your shoulders as you walked up to the doors of the Weathervane during your lunch break, excited to treat yourself to a coffee before the afternoon staff meeting.

As you entered the little café, you spied Larissa standing in line waiting to place her order. Your heart fluttered at the sight of her - you’d had a crush on your boss since starting at Nevermore the previous year (you couldn’t fathom how anyone couldn’t have a crush on the statuesque blonde), and you’d even managed to form a friendship with her, bonding over your shared love of music, old films and literary classics. As of late, though, you felt the lines of your friendship blurring more and more as the two of you had developed a teasing, flirty undertone to your conversations.

That fact thrilled you - flirting with Larissa was fun, exhilarating - as much as it terrified you. You were almost certain it was nothing more than a passing game for her; after all, she seemed to have a rather flirtatious nature in general. To you, though, it was much more. With doubts about her intentions at the back of your mind, you were hesitant to share your feelings with the blonde - surely being rejected by your boss wouldn't exactly be an ideal move for your career (or for your heart, for that matter).

You began to cross the café and make your way to the line to order, intent on engaging in conversation with Larissa, when a man who seemed to have similar intentions tapped Larissa on the shoulder.

Not recognizing him, you slowed your gait, curiosity getting the better of you. When the man placed his hand on Larissa’s arm, she pulled away instantly, looking visibly uncomfortable.

“Hey, baby, haven’t seen you around these parts.” His voice was so sleazy and, as his gaze traveled Larissa’s body, it lingered far too long on her long legs, then on her breasts, which he was almost face to face with at his height.

Without thinking, you sidled up to the taller woman and wrapped an arm possessively around her waist, ignoring the small squeak she let out and gazing up at her with the most lovey-dovey eyes you could muster (as if that were even hard).

“Hi, baby,” you purred, smiling coyly up at her. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

You rose up on your toes a bit so you could reach her cheek, pressing your lips gently to her cheekbone, then turning your head away from the man’s view and whispering in her ear, “Follow my lead.”

You glanced over at the man who was watching you, his face slowly turning scarlet.

“And who might this be? Have we met before?” You offered him a sickly-sweet smile, waiting for a reply as his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“Uh, sorry,” a voice interrupted timidly from behind the counter, and you turned to see Tyler’s eyes darting between the three of you. “Did you want to order something?”

With a final look of disdain towards the stranger, you turned your attention fully to Tyler, unaware of how your hand was gently stroking across the fabric of Larissa’s dress in a soothing pattern, even more unaware of how Larissa was desperately trying (and failing) to ignore the way this made heat pool in her core.

“Could I please get a latte to go? Honey, what would you like?” Larissa looked down at you with wide eyes, still processing her current situation. After what felt like an eternity she replied, “I’ll have the same,” her eyes still trained on you.

You briefly let go of Larissa in order to search your bag for your credit card to pay, then took her hand in your own and all but pulled her to the other end of the long counter to wait for your drinks. Her hand was warm and soft and your skin tingled where it met hers.

“Y/N?” Larissa whispered when you didn’t let go of her hand.

“He’s still watching,” you whispered back, all too aware of the man’s eyes boring a hole in the back of your skull.

And maybe you weren’t ready to let go, not yet - not now, when you knew how it felt to hold her hand.

~~~

The staff meeting that afternoon was, admittedly, a bit boring. But boring was just what Larissa needed to ground herself after your little stunt at the Weathervane had left her dazed and, if she was honest with herself, extremely aroused.

She found herself unable to focus on Coach Vlad’s proposal for a higher fencing budget and, instead, found her eyes drifting over to you. With each glance at you the heat in her core spread further, until it felt as though her entire body was ablaze. Her cheek still tingled from where you’d kissed her, her waist felt like you’d branded it with your hand.

You’d only been doing her a favor, she reminded herself. It didn’t mean anything - it was simply girl code. No one had ever done something like that for her, and she supposed she should be grateful - after all, you had saved her from having to have one of the worst possible conversations of her life.

When the meeting was over and the staff stood and began shuffling out, Larissa called your name and asked you to stay behind. She would simply thank you, that’s all.

“Yes, Larissa?” You smiled brightly at her and she felt her cheeks warm under your gaze as she struggled to find the right words.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “For what you did for me at the Weathervane - you saved me from an absolute headache of a conversation.” She paused. “And thank you for the coffee, I can pay you back,” she added, reaching for her purse.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted. “You don’t have to pay me back, it’s just a coffee. And of course, what are friends for? I couldn’t just stand there and watch that slimy man throw himself at you.”

Friends. The word made Larissa’s stomach churn uncomfortably. If that’s all you saw her as…

“Yes, well, I appreciate it, nonetheless.” Larissa forced a smile to her lips.

A charged silence filled the air, both of you still thinking about the kiss you’d pressed to Larissa’s cheek, both of you too nervous to address it.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask - will you be at the Rave’N?” Larissa asked, as nonchalantly as possible, subconsciously fidgeting with the sleeve of her blazer.

“Are you asking me as a girlfriend?” You giggled as you said it - Larissa could feel it was a joke but her entire body tensed up anyway.

“I-I was just finishing up the chaperone list, actually,” she stuttered out, not quite able to fully meet your gaze as she unconsciously straightened her posture.

“It was just a joke,” you said softly, offering the blonde a warm smile which she hesitantly returned. “In that case though, yeah, sign me up.”

Larissa nodded numbly.

“I should go though, my class is starting soon and I would hate for my boss to find out I was late.” You tossed Larissa a wink and left her in the staff room.

Larissa stood rooted to the spot, stunned and even more confused than before.

~~~

Stationing yourself on the end of the dance floor farthest from Larissa was for the best, really. At least that’s what you told yourself. From all the way across the room, you wouldn’t be tempted to shower her with compliments. You wouldn’t be tempted to wrap your arms around her waist. You wouldn’t be tempted to drag her onto the dance floor, or pull her close, or rise onto your toes to press your lips to hers. You wouldn’t be tempted to do something you’d surely regret, something that would ruin the beautiful friendship you’d developed over the past months.

The song changed and you tried to focus on the music to distract your wandering thoughts.

Jenny, darling, you're my best friend But there's a few things that you don't know of Why I borrow your lipstick so often I'm using your shirt as a pillow case

You recognized the song immediately. It always reminded you of a certain blonde principal who had caught your eye, though you would certainly never admit it. You took a sip of your Yeti-tini and allowed your eyes to wander the room, taking in the dancing students. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, even Wednesday Addams, and it made you smile into your drink.

Your gaze wandered further until you locked eyes with the one person you’d been mercilessly avoiding since your arrival. Larissa’s shining sapphires bore into your own, her expression wistful - God she looked so beautiful. Elegant, poised - the picture of grace. Then a blush colored her cheeks, embarrassment making itself known on her face as the two of you simultaneously registered the lyrics thumping out of the speaker.

I wanna ruin our friendship We should be lovers instead I don't know how to say this 'Cause you're really my dearest friend

It was as if everything around you was slowing down. You barely registered the thumping of the bass, the bodies of students swirling around you as you stood rooted to the spot, dumbstruck. The only thing you could focus on was the way Larissa’s eyes widened, the way her lips parted, the feeling of your own body coming to life as a buzzing spread throughout your limbs.

You took a step forward, your concentration momentarily broken when a student bumped into you, and you looked down to apologize profusely. When you looked up again, Larissa was gone.

~~~

It was only after she’d shut herself in her office that Larissa finally felt like she could breathe again. She leaned with her back against the door, tipping her head backwards and shutting her eyes, taking a moment to breathe deeply and to get her racing pulse under control.

Larissa was normally an expert at keeping her desires under wraps. She was nothing if not in control - when it came to everything except for you, apparently. You looked so enticing tonight, Larissa had noticed it the second you’d walked in. She hadn’t allowed her eyes to roam over your figure until you’d turned away, of course, but the second you had she’d traced your curves, the way your suit clung to your body and emphasized your figure in a way that left her mouth dry.

She’d wanted nothing more in that moment than to steal you away, to leave lingering kisses all over your body until you were whimpering with anticipation, until you were begging her to take you - and then she would. She would push you up against a wall and mark you hers, make you scream her name until the whole school could hear who you belonged to.

Did you feel the same way? she wondered, her heart racing as she considered your encounters over the past months. The sexual charge in the air when you were around was undeniable. Could you feel it, too? You’d seemed open to her advances, to her flirting, but she’d been too afraid to make a move - the last thing she’d wanted was to come on too strong if her feelings were not reciprocated.

The heavy throb between her legs was becoming too much to bear, and Larissa decided she needed to try. She would hate herself if she didn’t. With a steadying breath, she turned and opened the door - in an instant, she felt the air leave her lungs, frozen at the sight of you standing there, eyes wide.

~~~

It took you a few seconds to register that Larissa had left. You stood at the center of the dance floor, clutching your empty cup to your chest. Should you go after her? Would she want that? There had to have been a reason she’d left during that song, after seeing you. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence. Surely you weren’t delusional.

You didn’t realize you’d set into motion until you were halfway to Larissa’s office. You slowed as the door came into sight, a door that you’d knocked on and entered through a hundred times before but that suddenly seemed imposing - a door that taunted you.

Would Larissa even be in her office? What if she’d left because you’d made her uncomfortable, and she simply wanted to get away from you? What if-

Your ruminating was cut short by a loud creak as the very door you were staring at opened, revealing a shocked Larissa.

“Larissa,” you breathed out, suddenly feeling your heartbeat in your throat.

The blonde was seemingly frozen as she stared at you, mouth agape, until finally she croaked out, “I was just coming to find you.”

“Oh,” was all you could say in response.

“Would you like to come in?” She sounded almost timid, and that filled you with hope. You nodded and she stepped aside, allowing you to enter her office before shutting the door behind you.

The two of you stood in her office, a tense silence blanketing the room. There had to be a reason she was coming to find you, didn’t there? Your mind raced as you tried to come up with something, anything to say to stave off the awkwardness that surrounded you both.

“Larissa-”

“Y/N-”

You both spoke at the same time, and Larissa chuckled nervously while you felt a heat rise in your cheeks.

“Please,” she said, gesturing for you to speak.

“Larissa, I…” You searched her eyes, those icy blue irises that you would happily drown in. They stared back at you with an intensity that set you ablaze - you were suddenly warm, everything was warm as a heat radiated from your core. “Oh, for fucks sake.” You surged forward, bringing a hand to the back of Larissa’s head to pull her towards you as you captured her lips with your own.

You half expected the kiss to be hesitant, for Larissa to push you away - what you didn’t expect was the ferocity with which Larissa kissed you back. Her hands gripped at your waist, pulling you closer until you were flush against her as her tongue swiped at the seam of your lips.

Larissa licked into your mouth, letting out a soft whimper as your tongue slid against hers. Her lips felt heavenly against your own, warm and pillow-soft - eager. You slid one hand into her updo, tugging at the silky strands while your other hand cupped her cheek.

“Darling,” she whispered, pulling back ever so slightly. Her gaze lingered for a moment on your lips before flicking up to meet your eyes. “Why did you come to my office?”

There was uncertainty in her tone, but also hope, and your breath stuttered in your chest.

“I-” you struggled to get the words - any words - out. “I’m nervous,” you whispered hoarsely, searching Larissa’s face.

Her previously intense gaze softened slightly and she smiled timidly. “So am I,” she whispered back, her grip tightening imperceptibly on your waist.

“I kissed you on the cheek at the Weathervane.” You were still whispering, almost afraid to say the words out loud. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that.”

“Neither could I.” Larissa’s voice was low and breathy.

“I’m very attracted to you.” God, was that an understatement.

“I’m very attracted to you, too.” You could feel Larissa’s hot breath on your face as she spoke - it sent a shiver down your spine.

You leaned in slightly, your lips brushing faintly against hers - a question. Larissa responded by closing the remainder of the gap, pressing her lips firmly to yours.

“I would very much like to show you how beautiful you are,” you murmured between kisses.

“Far be it from me to stop you.” You could feel Larissa’s smirk against your lips and you dropped your hands to her hips, fisting at the fabric of her dress.

Larissa’s lips barely left your own as she guided you to her adjacent quarters, maneuvering around the small apartment until you reached the bedroom, the backs of your knees bumping into the edge of the bed.

The taller woman gently pushed your shoulders, causing you to fall back onto the bed. She stared hungrily down at you for a moment, cheeks flushed, pupils blown.

“Are you sure about this?” She sounded breathless.

You nodded fervently, earning you a raised eyebrow. “Words, darling,” Larissa all but pleaded.

“Yes, I’m sure.” That you were, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

A smile graced Larissa’s features, which quickly turned into a smirk as she towered over you. She set her hands on the bed, on either side of your hips, hovering over you. When she leaned in, you thought she might kiss you again, but she bypassed your lips and went straight for your throat, finding your pulse point within seconds and beginning to nibble and suck at the sensitive flesh.

“Larissa,” you moaned, heat pooling between your legs as you felt her warm, wet tongue soothe over the side of your neck, over the marks that would surely turn purple come morning.

You reached around her back, finding the zipper of her dress. “May I?”

Larissa hummed her consent and you dragged the zipper down as far as it would go, then helped Larissa push the sleeves of the dress down her arms. She stood again, a vision before you - her skin was milky white and dotted in tiny, pale freckles, breasts cupped by lacy white fabric, her dress pooling at her hips, the slight swell of her lower belly on display. You could feel your mouth go dry.

“You’re staring.” Larissa’s breathy voice forced your gaze upwards - her cheeks were pink, her eyes half-lidded as she looked down at you.

“You’re gorgeous.” You couldn’t help the emotional sincerity that laced your tone, and Larissa’s face flushed further.

You placed your hands on Larissa’s hips, holding her gaze as you leaned in slowly. You pressed your lips to her belly, the skin soft and warm against your mouth. A plethora of kisses was littered across the expanse of her stomach as you used your hands to push the dress over her hips and allow it to pool at her feet.

Then your hands came to the waistband of her panties, pulling them down slightly, revealing her mound, covered in a patch of neatly trimmed blonde curls. You allowed the panties to drop the rest of the way down Larissa’s legs as you focused your attention between her thighs, pressing a kiss to her mound then looking up in question.

“Would it be alright if I taste you?” you whispered, watching a visible shiver travel up Larissa’s spine.

“Yes,” came her soft reply.

You took her hands in your own, guiding her onto the bed. She leaned back against the pillows and spread her legs, watching you with parted lips as you shrugged off your suit jacket and slowly unbuttoned your shirt, tossing the clothes into a heap at the foot of the bed. Your pants came next, until you were left in only your bra and panties.

Settling between her legs, you began to cover every inch of her inner thighs with soft, barely there kisses, until Larissa’s hips were bucking towards your mouth.

The scent of her arousal hung heavy in the air already, her cunt glistening enticingly. The moment your tongue made contact with her slit, a loud moan tore from Larissa’s throat, the sound so erotic that you were certain your own panties were now drenched.

You dragged your tongue slowly through Larissa’s folds, letting out a moan of your own at the heavenly taste. Your tongue reached her swollen bundle of nerves and her hips twitched beneath you. Circling the sensitive bud with your tongue, you wrapped your arms around Larissa’s creamy thighs to steady yourself.

There was a flurry of movement and you looked up through your lashes, groaning as you saw that Larissa had removed her bra and was palming her breasts, rolling her own pert, pink nipples into hard peaks. Your groan seemed to send a shockwave of pleasure through the blonde as she let out a whimper and bucked her hips upwards.

Larissa rolled her hips against your face, finding a steady pace to match the ministrations of your tongue as you alternated between laving her folds and sucking her clit.

“You’re doing so well for me,” you murmured between licks, eyes trained on Larissa as she writhed against the sheets. She looked down at you, her gaze meeting yours, and a knot began to form in your belly. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, her chest flushed and heaving, her cheeks pink, her hair spilling out of its updo in messy waves.

Her lips parted and she looked like she was about to say something, but then you latched onto her clit and her head fell back onto the bed as she let out a guttural moan.

“Please, can you- inside,” Larissa panted, and you quickly obliged, pushing a finger into her dripping hole.

“So beautiful,” you said, breathless and in awe, before returning your mouth to her clit as you began to pump your finger in and out of her in a steady rhythm. Larissa matched the thrusts of your fingers, and as she seemed to get more comfortable, you pushed in a second finger. She groaned as her walls clenched slightly at the intrusion.

“Does this feel good?” You curled your fingers inside of her, finding her sweet spot, and Larissa let out a breathy, “Yes, God, yes.”

A few more thrusts of your fingers had Larissa arching her back off the mattress, her bucking hips struggling to keep your steady rhythm as you began to pump your fingers even faster.

You could feel her thighs begin to close around your head, trembling slightly, and you blindly reached out a hand, feeling the mattress next to her for her own hand. She grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with a firm grip while her other hand came to rest in your hair, gently but firmly tugging you closer.

“Good girl,” you said tenderly and Larissa whimpered, squeezing the life out of your hand as she teetered over the edge. You caught the arousal leaking from her core with your tongue, lapping happily away at her essence and allowing her to ride out her high on your fingers.

Once her breathing had slowed and her thighs had loosened their grip on your head, you pulled out of her and crawled up to hover over her, holding out your wet fingers for her to taste herself. Larissa’s eyes fluttered shut and she sucked the digits into her mouth, rosy cheeks hollowing out, moaning as she swirled her tongue around them.

She released your fingers with a pop, opening her eyes to meet your own. Her gaze was all-consuming - hunger and desire were reflected clearly in inky black pupils, but there was something else there, too, something that had your heart doing somersaults within your ribcage.

“Larissa?” you said softly, your voice cracking on the last syllable.

Larissa looked up at you, eyes wide and expectant.

“At the risk of-” your breath caught in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper. “At the risk of ruining everything-”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you searched Larissa’s face for any hint of emotion, but she had schooled her face into an impassive mask.

“I don’t just want this to be about sex…”

There was no going back now.

“I- I really like you, Larissa.”

You swallowed hard against the lump forming in your throat as Larissa’s eyes flicked between your own, the seconds ticking by.

“I really like you, too, Y/N,” she whispered finally, cupping your cheek with one hand as the other found the nape of your neck, pulling you slowly towards her until your lips met. The kiss was soft and emotional - it left you breathless.

“Larissa?”

“Yes?”

“Would you… would you like to go on a date with me?”

A soft smile broke out across Larissa’s face, her cheeks dusted pink. “I would love to, darling.”

Your stomach filled with warmth as you leaned in to press a bruising kiss to Larissa’s lips, which she quickly deepened with a soft moan. You could scarcely have imagined, even just last week, that your flirtations with the woman beneath you could lead to anything. Finally feeling her strong arms encircle your waist, feeling her tongue against yours, hearing confirmation that your feelings were returned, was more than you could have ever wished for.

~~~

Larissa stood in front of your fellow teachers at the staff meeting the following Thursday. Her gaze flicked over to you and you nodded encouragingly. She cleared her throat.

“Before we end the meeting, I have something I’d like to speak on. It appears a rumor has begun to spread around Nevermore that Ms. Y/L/N and I are dating. I wanted to address this rumor before it gets out of hand.” Larissa paused, taking a glance at you to ground herself.

“We have, in fact, begun seeing each other this past week. I want to make it perfectly clear, however, that this will not affect our professional relationship, nor will it affect my relationship with any member of our staff. I will not favor Ms. Y/L/N, and I would like to continue to foster an open, honest environment among our staff. If anyone has any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to come to me.”

Marilyn cleared her throat and raised her hand from the table to draw attention to herself. “I have a question.”

“Yes, Ms. Thornhill?” Larissa said with a hesitant smile.

“Were you guys seeing each other before the Rave’N, too?”

Larissa’s gaze flicked over to you, brow furrowing slightly. You shrugged and nodded your head once, gesturing for Larissa to answer the question how she saw fit.

“No, Ms. Thornhill. We began seeing each other after the Rave’N.”

A deafening silence filled the room. And then-

“Alright, pay up,” Marilyn said triumphantly, her lips forming into a smirk as she held her hand out on the table and wiggled her fingers. Several other teachers grumbled and dug around in their bags and pockets, tossing folded up bills in Marilyn’s direction - most notably Coach Vlad, who handed her a crumpled hundred-dollar bill with a huff and muttered “you sure you’re not a psychic, normie?”

Larissa looked at you with wide eyes, but from your puzzled expression, you seemed to be just as in the dark as she was.

“Ms. Thornhill, what is the meaning of this?”

“We made a bet on whether or not you two were already together. My colleagues seemed to think you’ve been together for quite some time now and have chosen to hide it from the rest of us.” Marilyn stated matter-of-factly.

“And you?”

Marilyn’s smirk grew. “I knew you didn’t have the guts to ask each other out.”

tags: @oceansblooming @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @larissaoftarthweems let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future work or removed from the taglist <3

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #principal weems x reader #larissa weems smut

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joys-of-everyday · 2 years ago

Text

SJ and the Pitfalls of Toxic Masculinity

Liking women wasn’t shameful in the least, but treating a woman as your savior, shrinking into her embrace in search of self-confidence—Shen Qingqiu needed no one to tell him how incredibly shameful that was. So he would rather die than tell anyone, particularly not Yue Qingyuan.

- Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu Extra

Hot take: og!SQQ had toxic ideas about masculinity, and it ruined him.

SVSSS is all about the ✨Toxic Masculinity✨ but this seems to be more associated with SY than SJ??? So yeah, lets talk about SJ (my poor meow meow).

There’s actually some subtlety here, because talking about SJ and masculinity naturally involves an interplay between historical and modern views on masculinity in China, which is something that has developed over time and has influences from other cultures (e.g. the west and our views on masculinity). (Interesting thing if you haven't already come across it) I am… not qualified to read the subtleties here.

To note, SJ is coded as masculine… sort of. He’s the head of the scholarly peak, a master of the Four Arts, which is one facet of ideal masculinity in traditional Chinese values. (Fluttering a fan around was very gentleman-like. Although also, expressing your emotions through poetry and copious amounts of tears was very masculine back in the day. 'Traditional masculinity' has and always will be an elusive ideal.) But I get the feeling nowadays ‘scholarly’ has more feminine connotations than ‘martial’, albeit a slightly weaker one than in the west. Also, on the topic of toxic masculinity, certain groups of people Who Shall Not Be Named would like you to believe that Real Chinese Men are stoic warriors and ‘gayness is a western thing’ (my rage is unreal but we will not talk about that).

Anyway, broad strokes, broad strokes.

Arrogance and Insecurity

A big part of toxic masculinity is a need for social recognition, to be the ‘alpha male’ (not an ABO pun and on a side note I literally cannot take anyone talking about alpha males seriously now, for many reasons, but this is the funniest).

SJ is obsessed with his cultivation, but more pertinently, he is obsessed with his reputation. He demonstrates this in a few ways. Firstly, he works his ass off, which is not bad in itself, but he does this to the extent it is detrimental to his health (that grindset lol). Secondly, he projects a certain image with his actions and mannerisms: reading in order to seem intelligent, looking down at people to seem superior etc. Thirdly, he responds to any perceived slights of his ability with violence. (Fighting with LQG is an example, but also drawing a sword on SQH when he pointed out that he was reading an upside-down book.)

Now interestingly, the unanimous vibe that Cang Qiong seem to get from SQQ is that he is ‘arrogant’. When in truth, all of this is compensating for his insecurity.

Shen Qingqiu was overly suspicious, always feeling as if everyone was talking behind his back about how he was still incapable of forming a core, didn’t accept his position, wanted to sabotage him in secret, and so on and so forth.

- Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu Extra

Sadly, SJ is justified in being afraid of other people’s opinion. His comfort and security rely entirely on his status, which in turn rely on other people’s opinion of his competence. Of course he wants to get to the top – he’s been under other people’s power before, and suffered terribly as a result. Why should he not desperately defend what he has worked so hard for? Yet ultimately it works against him, because when he’s in serious trouble, he hasn’t been able to build the human connections he needs to get help.

The problem is with the system. The idea that having strength allows you to do whatever you want hurts not only the people regarded as inferior, but also creates a collective sense of anxiety for those who find themselves ‘at the top’. Anyone can be kicked down and treated like scum. Everyone is afraid.

Dominance and Bullying

The phrase ‘toxic masculinity is fragile’ quite often, but to elaborate, these kinds of rigid ideas of masculinity are by nature constantly under threat. Because any crack in the perfect shell is regarded as failure, it requires constant, aggressive maintenance, which takes the form of bullying the weak in order to elevate oneself.

SJ’s treatment of LBH is complicated, but here I want to draw attention to a different character – Ming Fan.

SQQ (SY) would have you know that MF is not a bad kid, other than the fact he’s a huge bully to LBH. And in part that comes from jealousy of NYY’s crush on him, but what allows it to happen is the way SJ runs the peak. It's interesting to note that so much of SJ's bullying of LBH happens through MF, whether it be giving him the faulty cultivation manual, giving him chores or physically assaulting him. In doing this, SJ creates a system that firmly establishes himself at the top, likely in order to give himself some semblance of security.

But ironically, this is the very system that SJ has suffered under his entire life, recreated to it's extreme on the peak that he controls. When he was completely under the power of others (QJL, LBH) he suffered. When other people were under his power, he inflicted suffering. He encouraged other people to do the same. Again, the whole thing is a scam! He is putting all of his energy into things that aren't helping him, things that ultimately bring him down.

Real Men Don’t Cry – the Dangers of Emotional Repression

SJ has many, very justifiable reasons in life to be upset and angry. The things he went through are both terrible and extremely unfair. Being angry at everything is not a healthy outlet for these feelings, but he hasn’t exactly been taught an alternative either. On the streets, tears would have gotten him absolutely nothing. Anger at least gave him energy to fight back.

And this destroys him. He is angry at the fact he had no one in his life who loved him, his talents were wasted because of QJL/WYZ, nobody takes his abilities seriously… and with no healthy way of expressing this, he goes onto bully LBH. LBH then returns to destroy him, literally. More subtly, he is unable to express his fear and anxiety in healthy ways, so acts standoff-ish and aggressive to his those around him. As his relationship with them deteriorates, his fear and anxiety increases. Feedback loops.

SJ puts on a mask of anger and stoicism to the point that everyone around him (including himself) is convinced that he is unrepentant and evil. Suppresses and suppresses until it breaks him, until he has nothing – not his comfort, nor status, nor the one that he truly cared for:

He had single-handedly facilitated Luo Binghe’s today, and now who had single-handedly created this outcome for him? Yue Qingyuan was never supposed to have an end like this. In order to come to a decades-late appointment, to fulfill a completely useless promise. A broken sword and a dead man. It shouldn’t be like this.

A Note on Ambivalent Sexism

It’s funny because I think there’s a fandom vibe that SJ was the secret feminist of SVSSS. Don’t get me wrong, I love this in fanfics. Badass feminist SJ all the way. But my honest opinion is that I don’t think that was the case.

More explicitly, I don’t think SJ took women seriously. NYY, for example. Certainly, SJ valued NYY. But the expression of this care involved doting on her, hiding his treatment of LBH from her, and not particularly pushing her to grow. And PIDW!NYY wasn’t implied to be the most mature of the lot. Okay, while we don’t know a lot about PIDW!NYY (narrator unreliable), it’s probably safe to say some distance from SJ helped her a lot.

Another point – the Qiu massacre. SJ killed the men, but not the women. And while this says more about his distaste for men, it also indicates (possibly - I will float this idea but I won't die on this hill) that he straight up doesn’t see any woman as an enemy, or capable of being a threat. Which is possibly a natural conclusion he’s drawn from his experiences (QHT was not very perceptive, or very threatening) but also inaccurate as a worldview.

And his attitude towards the women he sees as saviours? Has the same vibe as ‘it’s so embarrassing to be protected by a girl’.

Okay, so being doted on and not being killed are positives compared to being abused or murdered, but this kind of attitude is the opposite side of the same coin to ‘women are incompetent and inferior’. And when it comes to raising kids, not allowing them to grow can be extremely harmful as well. See e.g. Ambivalent sexism.

Although I do want to mention that I do not think SJ was like… actively misogynistic. I think he genuinely liked women more than men. The point is you can be sexist without realising it.

Conclusions

To conclude, SJ had ideas of success and self-worth associated with toxic masculinity which were instrumental in his downfall.

Masculinity doesn’t have to be toxic. While the Cang Qiong family aren’t exactly the healthiest bunch, YQY’s calm and patient leadership, LQG’s steadfast loyalty, LBH’s ability to cry like a maiden and still be the strongest… these are all traditionally masculine traits that can be very positive. These are also people who can have feminine traits and explore their gender identity without being prissy or weak.

It's the great tragedy of SJ that he had many positive characteristics. He was talented, intelligent, articulate, perceptive, loyal, and caring… under the right circumstances, he could have grown into a great person.

And maybe he still had that chance, right until the end.

#svsss #shen jiu #original shen qingqiu #svsss meta #having said i would disappear i have things to dislodge from my drafts

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