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#anyways i asked to switch to the evening shift so at least if this is the type of thing we do here i'll be awake to deal with it jfjvjbjbbn

cosmic-waves7 · 10 months

Note

could u write karma with a s/o that doesn’t get into trouble? Kinda like an opposite like they’re still outgoing but the type to never skip and only wanting straight A’s and are kinda sensitive in contrast to him? (🫶🫶ur writing is so cute idk if you still write for karmaa aaa!!😭)

Note: I will NEVER stop writing for karma 😤😤😤

Honestly?

He doesn't even really notice you at first.

Another student in class-E, just like any other.

Obviously that is until you managed to score higher than him in maths during exam season.

It started off as a miniature rivalry, very one-sided might I add.

He'd come to you smirking by the end of the next exam with a mark higher than yours only to be surprised when you smile widley and congratulate him.

Every. Single. Time.

Huh?

You're not supposed to do that, your eyes are supposed to burn with determination and annoyance. You're supposed to snatch that paper from his hands and wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

Clearly not.

Its not even a fake smile, there isn't even a hint of malice in your eyes.

It's almost as if you're happy for him.

You don't even know him, not properly at least.

This really changes perspectives for the assassin so now he's shifted into doing everything in his power for your recognition.

Which doesn't seem to be very hard to gain as he notices that you're a bit popular in class.

Not entirely popular, but if students come up to you they'll only get a sweet greeting every time as if they're a long-time friend of yours.

You're basically Koro-sensei's golden child. Wide sparkling eyes every time you put your hand up in class to you answer his questions, he could weep at how adorable you are.

Everyone comes up to you for anything really.

Help with homework, a quick check in, or just to talk. You're always so easy to talk to, so gentle all the time.

Even Itona will quietly chat with you in a corner.

You're just so...approachable.

In Karma's eyes that's unfair. He needs to catch your attention and now.

Maybe to prove something to himself or just boredom, he doesn't need a reason.

So now he's the one asking for homework help. He can answer the questions in his sleep, you know it too.

He's still gonna play dumb, tap you on the shoulder and muster up his best clueless look.

Even in class, Karma has "coincidentally" managed to switch seats to be your desk partner.

You didn't hear it from me but maybe an octopus-like teacher has something to do with that.

Anyway.

Now that you're basically knee to knee with him in class, this allows karma to charm his way into your every day life.

Constantly stealing away your time with anything he can possibly think of.

He'll do this thing where he just wraps his arms around your shoulders and sultry whine into your ear.

"_____, help me please?"

He'll even throw in a pout.

Nagisa has to pry him off of you.

You don't even ask why he's suddenly around you nearly 24/7, you're just glad to be of help really and though you think he's a bit strange he's quite sweet.

A well known charismatic (possible) sadist, but sweet.

Class trip? He's sitting next to you on the bus.

Getting ice-cream? He already knows your favourite flavour.

Study session? You'll need to work together, being the two top students in class it would only be sensible to partner up for academics. This lead to him coming over a lot and vice versa, need to keep those grades up you know.

Spending the weekend at home? Don't be silly, you're flying to the country of your choice on a whim with a certain red-haired 'friend' of yours.

Having rich absent parents really does come in handy sometimes.

But this whole game is tiring him out.

You've gotten close, yes. He's flustered you plenty, yes. But you haven't confessed to him at all!

It's infuriating.

He wants you to like him at least, because he's teetering on the edge of obsession for you.

Because 'friends' don't hold hands all the time, they don't hug longingly or stay up late thinking of the other.

It'll all click in to place when he just goes red in the face, kisses your cheek once and just spews his feeling out like a flood.

"I like you."

"...Oh."

(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ )

Coughing, he'll look away and pretend like nothing happened while trying desperately to renew his previous charm.

Just say you like him back, he's already maxed out on embarrassment.

#headcannons #anime #fiction #fluff #assclass x reader #assassination classroom x reader #assassination classroom #karma assassination classroom #karma x reader #karma akabane x reader #hes so babygirl #thank u for ur ask!#this was sitting in my drafts for so long im so sorry 😭

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camilaxmartin · 6 months

Note

hello good!!Could you do something about Vanessa x reader.the reader where the reader is a security guard and has a relationship with vanessa.One day while walking home, a group of drunks harass the reader and Vanny's personality comes to light?

unwanted touch

hi dear, sorry for the wait!! i need to get back to my writing habits skshdk anyway, i love the idea of vanny coming to light when ‘we’ are in danger and doing stuff vanessa wouldn’t normally do but oh my- she wants to. also, the whole way of switching personalities was inspired by @foxcantswim fics about vanessa/vanny:)

navigation // information // masterlist

summary: (request)

warnings: old gross men, harassment, unwanted touch, a bit of gore, pet names (one use of ‘bunny’)

notes: i actually loved writing this one and i’m so happy with how it turned out:) let me know what you think!!

requests: open!!

i looked at the cameras checking every room for the last time on this shift. everything was perfectly still, there wasn’t any mess anywhere, all the machines were turned off and the animatronics stood right where they needed to. perfect. i looked at the time showing 5:58 am and i comfortably sat in my chair turning off all the cameras and throwing my head slightly back letting out a deep sigh. night shifts were a pain in the ass but at least i could even in the slightest help vanessa with paying the rent. oh, and my parents finally stopped thinking of me as a failure, even though they haven’t really said it straight to my face. i took a deep breathe and blinked a few times trying my best to at least stay awake until i get home. i looked at the time again, seeing 6:00 am finally came along. i smiled to myself and got up from my seat, grabbing my bag and my phone. i closed the doors to ‘my’ office and waved to the animatronics while walking past them to the main entrance. i locked the door and tried opening it, to see if anyone will be able to break in. when the doors didn’t even move, i smiled to myself once more and began walking home, daydreaming of finally laying in my bed and going to sleep.

i walked the small sidewalk lighted up by high beams, even though it was already 6:00 am the sun was not yet awake so it was still pretty dark. i watched as the lights make circles on the ground and smiled at the sight just admiring the way it looked. i felt my phone buzzing in my pocket so i immediately took it out and checked the message i apparently got.

vanessa<3:

are you coming home already? or should i pick you up?

i smiled seeing the message and quickly sent a reply, that i’m already walking home. not waiting for another text from my girlfriend i slipped my phone into my pocket once again and continued on walking by the sidewalk hopping over the broken tiles, not even paying special attention on doing so. when i jumped over the last cracked one i realised that the lights end here and i have to walk through a total darkness for a while. i rolled my eyes not liking this idea in the slightest but not having any other option. i started walking the dark path trying not to think about all the horrible things that could happen and just simply focusing on my surroundings in case something actually happens. i slowly walked past an abandoned church and scrunched my nose at the sight of it. i turned my head around and noticed some other strangely looking building not being able to define what was it purpose before becoming abandoned. i shook my head slightly and looked down at the ground trying to just get over this dark path as quickly as i could. after many of my steps i’ve noticed a light in the distance and immediately smiled knowing i won’t be so scared in just a few more steps. focusing only on the light i haven’t noticed some people started to slowly walk behind me. i took a notice of their presence when they started talking to me.

“what a pretty lady like you does alone in the streets at night?” one of them asked, from his voice i could easily tell that he was drunk. i rolled my eyes and tried to ignore him, quickening my steps.

“there’s no need for rush” another man spoke up and i felt my heartbeat rising. maybe i should’ve asked vanesssa to pick me up.

“so? where are you going?” the first of them asked again. i tried to walk straight in my direction but knew they wouldn’t leave me alone if i just ignored them.

“i’m going back from work” i said not looking back at them but feeling their presence there still. and their smell.

“at this hour? it can be dangerous, let us help you out” the first one spoke up again, i could feel the smirk in his voice. i had to physically hold myself not to roll my eyes again. i tried ignoring them once more.

“yeah, we can definitely help you” the other one chuckled and i felt goosebumps cover my body in disgust.

“thank you a lot, but i can manage” i said and started walking even faster, feeling that they also picked up their pace. shit.

“oh, don’t be like that” the first one spoke up again. “we just want to help you, nothing more” he chuckled knowing exactly what he really meant by those words. i smiled sarcastically not even being sure if they can see my full face.

“thanks, again but i can take care of myself” i said seeing the light move closer and closer as i went into its direction. i felt my phone buzz again and i prayed it was another of vanessa’s messages. i moved my hand into my pocket trying to get it out but then they spoke up again.

“hey hey-“ one of them started and grabbed my hand that tried to take out my phone. i felt my heartbeat rise up again as i was completely terrified. “tell your boyfriend he can wait while we show you how real men act” he said and laughed the other ones along with him. there were at least four of them so it was obvious i didn’t stand a chance against them. i tried to wiggle my hand out but it did nothing as he hold me in place not even letting me walk.

“i don’t have a boyfriend” i said my brain going completely numb in that situation. the one holding my hand laughed again gripping my wrist a bit tighter, i groaned at the touch.

“then it’s even easier” he chuckled and tried to pull me closer to them but then i remembered one thing vanessa has taught me recently. i should always pull my hand in the direction of somebody’s thumb. i quickly looked at his hand around my wrist, the darkness not helping in the slightest and noticed that his thumb was pointing to the right. i immediately moved my arm right snatching out of his grab as my eyes widened not believing it actually worked. all of them looked at me in shock and my brain started to work again as i began running towards the light at the end of this dark alley.

i didn’t turn my head until i reached the light and noticed a lot of homes and buildings around me. i started to breathe deeply and finally turn around not noticing anyone behind me or even further in the dark. i shook my head at the whole situation and continued walking home, doing it quicker that usual. i took out my phone finally and looked at the notification, noticing it was actually a message from vanessa.

vanessa<3:

it’s taking you a while, are you okay? are you sure you don’t need me to pick you up?

i smiled at the message and sent her a quick one back saying that i’ll be home in less than five. i shoved my phone back into my pocket again, trying to focus on anything else rather than that situation.

when i opened the doors to our shared apartment my eyes have met with the blonde’s ones and i immediately smiled at that. i closed the door and locked it behind me throwing the keys on the kitchen counter.

“finally you’re back” she said coming up to me and locking me into a hug. “i was starting to worry”

i chuckled and hugged her back, hugging her even tighter than usually. “nothing to worry about” i said and laughed a bit too fake for her not to notice.

vanessa leaned away and raised one of her eyebrows at me, looking adorably considering that she was still in her pyjama. “what’s with the fake laugh? did something happen to you?” she asked visibly concerned, worry spread out on her face.

“no no!” i said throwing my hands around “just a bunch of guys wanted to probably rape me, but nothing happened” i said visibly exaggerating the situation but vanessa didn’t laugh. oh boy.

“did they touch you?” she asked her voice stern. i swallowed the saliva i had in my mouth wondering how to get out of this conversation.

“nothing happened, i’m okay, that’s what matters” i said while shaking my head and walking away to put my bag on the ground.

vanessa walked behind me almost immediately and grabbed my chin with one of her hands making me look at her. “did. they. touch. you?” she asked putting a more annoyed tone on every of the words. i let out a deep sigh.

“yes.” i said and looked down at her lips not wanting to keep the eye-contact with her. “one of them grabbed my wrist but, thanks to your practice, i got away” i explained and looked up into her eyes again, seeing a somehow crazy look slowly entering them. oh no.

“where was it?” she asked her gaze still on my eyes. “tell me” she said trying to sound more softly but making it come out as even more annoyed.

“in the dark path i had to walk from my work.” i said not knowing how to fully explain it. “close to the abandoned church if you know what i’m talking about” i added and she simply nodded her head letting go of my face.

“from this day on i’ll always drive you off the work” she said and walked to the kitchen making herself a cup of coffee to start the day. i bit the inside of my cheek not knowing what to respond still not being sure if i’m talking to vanessa or maybe vanny just now.

“i’m going to sleep” i said and yawned. vanessa looked at me with a smile on her lips while sipping her coffee.

“sleep tight, i’ll be back before you go to work today” she said starting to get ready for her day shift. i just nodded my head with a smile.

i went to our bedroom, laying down on the bed not even caring about taking off my clothes. just as i was about to fall asleep i heard the doors creak and slowly opened one of my eyes. i saw vanessa quickly walking over to me and giving my forehead a kiss. i smiled sleepily and immediately fell asleep.

i groaned looking at the time sitting in my chair. five minutes left till the end of my shift. i grabbed my phone looking for messages from vanessa to see if she was still coming to pick me up but nothing came. i burrowed my eyebrows not understanding why she hasn’t wrote anything yet. i rolled my eyes shoving the phone into my pocket and taking a last look at the cameras. everything was pretty still so i turned them off, gathering my things to finally leave this place. i threw the bag over my shoulder and took out headphones from it preparing myself for the walk home again. i checked the phone for the last time - nothing. i sighed and closed the door to my office, saying my goodbyes to the animatronics as i was leaving. i locked the mane entrance and began walking home still hoping somewhere deep, vanessa would come pick me up. i played one of my playlists trying to make this walk at least a bit more enjoyable.

i was walking the path with high beams and smiled again at the sight of circles appearing on the ground. as usual, i started jumping over the cracked tiles trying my best not to step over a broken one. after many steps i’ve noticed that the dark part of my walk was approaching and i immediately felt goosebumps covering my skin. i rolled my eyes forgetting about jumping over the tiles and tried my best not to freak out at the thought alone of meeting those guys from yesterday.

i passed the last light and my dark path started. i kept my eyes at the ground not even looking around at the church or that old building, concentrating only on the task of getting out of this dark alley. a slow song suddenly started playing in my headphones making me more aware of my surroundings than i wanted. great. i still tired to just focus on my steps not caring about anything else, but of course it couldn’t go that smoothly.

“long time no see huh?” a man said suddenly appearing behind my back. from his voice i concluded it was the same one from yesterday. i tried ignoring him at my best.

“you probably couldn’t wait to see us again right?” another one of them spoke up and my heartbeat rose up again. i glanced at them seeing there were five man behind me. i was horrified.

“let us show you how real men treat women” different one of them laughed and immediately grabbed my wrist, this time holding with both of his hand so i couldn’t shove out. i felt tears coming to my eyes.

“take off those headphones” one of them said and with my free hand i did as he told me not wanting to be in even more trouble than i already was. they pulled me with them to an even darker corner of the alley, probably behind that church. my brain went numb again i literally didn’t know what to do.

the one holding me shoved me into the wall still holding my wrist waiting for the others to start their actions. i closed my eyes not wanting to see anything and just hoping for the end to come.

one of them grabbed my neck and squeezed it so harshly i thought they wanted to just kill me at the spot. another one started to unbutton my pants and the tears from my eyes started to run down my cheeks. when he finally stopped unzipping my pants i heard a noise at the end of the alley from where they previously took me. i gently opened my eyes and saw a pair of red ones in the distance. oh god.

when that man wanted to pull my pants down another one of them started screaming in pain and my eyes immediately opened wide. i saw vanny’s costume slit his throat with one swift motion of her hand. i looked in disbelief at this situation thanking in my soul for her rescue.

vanny didn’t stop there, when the rest of them looked at her terrified i almost saw her smile widen even more but maybe it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. she shoved the lifeless body of that man into the wall running up to the next one and pushing her knife into his stomach, the man yelled in pain and fear, while his shirt started to become red from his blood. vanny twisted her knife repeatedly in his body trying to make it as painful for him as it was humanly possible. when that man stopped yelling from all the tiredness she took her knife out and shoved him into the ground with one kick, letting him bleed out. she looked back at the three that were still left. one of them started screaming and running away vanny only following him with her glowing eyes, definitely letting him get away… at least for now. she then moved her red glowing eyes to the two standing the closest to me. if that was what she did for the ones who didn’t even touch me, i definitely wouldn’t want to be in the skin of those two.

she tilted her head while looking at them and waved her knife from side to side, obviously debating on what to do about them. i felt that one of them took their hands off of my wrist while the other let go of my neck. i smiled to her not being sure if she saw my face. one of the men suddenly started to run towards her which was the stupidest decision he has ever made in his life. vanny swiftly grabbed his neck, just like he did to me a moment ago, and shoved him into the wall keeping him there and looking straight into his eyes. then, she moved her knife to his face and harshly pushed it into one of his eyes. he started to scream but then she pushed the knife even deeper not liking that he was making a noise, or wanting him to make even more of them. she hardly pulled the knife out along with his eye and dropped the knife to the ground. with her free hand, she pushed two fingers inside the hole in his head and tried to crush his bones. he screamed unbelievably louder and she definitely had enough of it cause then she pulled her fingers out and shoved her whole hand so deep into his throat i didn’t even know it was possible. she somehow managed to grab his vocal cords and rip them out making him bleed also from his mouth. she let go of him and let him slide down the wall not even being able to scream anymore.

the next thing she did was quickly run up to the man who was previously holding my wrist and just shove him to the ground sitting down on his hips keeping him there. he started screaming so she slapped him on the face with her fluffy paw. she then looked back to where her knife was laying and quickly turned around to him. knowing she wanted to use her knife again i walked over to it and picked it up moving to give it to her. but when i came over, she was already playing with not one, but both of his eyeballs using them like rubber balls. i looked at that situation a bit horrified by it all but also feeling a strange satisfaction that they got what they deserved. she then turned her head around and noticed me holding her knife. she shoved it out of my hand and started slowly cutting his face. the knife went in like into a cake and again i swore her smile widened. when his whole face was cut up and i was pretty sure he already passed away she stood up and shoved her knife right into his manhood. the man screamed for the last time and then life left his body for good. vanny dropped the knife and laughed out loud, looking around and seeing everything she did.

i looked at her still a bit terrified by all of this but a small smile creeped up to my face at the thought that she did all this for me. she finally moved her head to look at me and walked over to me staring my face down with titled head. then she moved closer and connected my nose with her fluffy big one. i chuckled slightly as my hands gently stroked her mask. vanny then moved her hands and took of the mask showing me her beautiful face, with messed up hair and a maniac look in her eyes. i tried to keep my calm but my pulse sped up uncontrollably. she laughed still looking at my face and threw her mask on the ground grabbing my waist with her one blooded paw while the other she put on my cheek gently stroking it.

“you’re mine” she said, her voice sounding maniacally, i still wonder how she manages do to that.

“only yours” i whispered and smiled to her trying my best not to be scared. she laughed feeling my heartbeat rise and rolled her eyes.

she moved her head closer to me and connected our lips in a passionate kiss, showing me how deeply she cares and that she would literally do anything to keep me safe. i smiled into the kiss and wrapped my hands around her hair, keeping her in place for as long as she lets me. vanny sighed into the kiss and slowly leaned away still gripping my waist. she opened her eyes and the maniac look was still present. i smiled to her taking my hands out of her hair.

“i would do anything for you. we would” she said and laughed again this time it sounded more like a chuckle.

“i know” i said and smiled to her. “and i really appreciate it” i added and gave her lips a quick peck.

vanny smiled at me and let go of my waist as well as my cheek to grab my hand while her other one picked up her mask. she led me out of that dark corner as i looked back at all the bodies and then turned to her not knowing if it’s safe to just leave them like that. she laughed seeing my sight and gently shook her head putting the mask back on.

“don’t worry about it, bunny” she said and pulled me closer to her once again now standing almost in the light of the street lights. “vanessa will take care of it, i discussed it with her earlier” she said and my eyes went wild at the mention of vanessa realising she knew exactly what vanny did. i smiled to her and uncontrollably giggled at everything that happened. vanny laughed with me as well and pulled me in for the tightest hug i’ve ever received from her.

#vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa afton x reader #fnaf vanessa x reader #vanny x reader #fnaf vanny #vanessa shelly #fnaf vanessa #vanessa afton #fnaf movie #fnaf

504 notes · View notes

luvyeni · 1 year

Note

i recently found your blog & love your works. could i request a changbin x reader, where reader is oblivious to someone flirting with her & binnie gets jealous.

LOCK YOU UP; SEO CHANGBIN

pairings. boyfriend!changbin x fem!reader

wc. 578

warnings. unprotected sex, breeding kink, doggystyle

authors note. you didn't specify if you wanted smut , so i just assumed.

i hope you like it !

changbin sometimes wishes he could just lock you up in the house to avoid situations like this.

—

changbin couldn't be mad at you , you truly were a treasure ... but lord , you couldn't read the signs for the life of you.

the guy was clearly trying to flirt with you , offering to buy you a drink , changbin could see it in his eyes , the way he looked at you , changbin wanted to clear this entire club out and teach this man some manners.

"can i buy you another drink ?"

changbin had enough, walking up behind you. you turned around , with that cute smile , completely unaware that changbin was about to punch the dude in front of you both.

" baby , no more drinks , you know you can't handle too much alcohol." he took the drink out of the guys hand , drinking it , his face shifting into disgust.

"baby you don't need to drink this type of alcohol anyway , it's cheep. if you try to impress someone at least buy them a good glass of alcohol." he glared at the guy , only to switch to a deceitful smile when you turned to him.

"i..it was nice to meet you." you boy got the hint very quickly, scurrying off. "why'd he leave so soon? he said he was was for someone?" he scoffed.

"what?"

"he was talking about you , he was waiting for you to give him your number , baby he was flirting with you." your mouth hung open.

"oh , i didn't even know." he rolled his eyes. "you never do , baby that's the point , you never notice when they flirt with you. " he pouted.

"binnie don't be jealous , i didn't know, besides he wasn't that cute , and i have you." you stood up , kissing his pouted lips.

"i just wished sometimes i could lock you in the house so we can avoid situations like this." he dipped down , kissing your shoulder blade , smirking when you let out a little gasp.

—

"oh fuck! binnie , please." that's how you ended up ass , face smushed against the pillows as your boyfriend plowed his hard cock into you.

"look at you princess , so cute like this , all braindead , nothing left in that head of yours." his hips snapped against yours.

"such a pretty girl , it makes binnie mad when other guys flirt with you." he got closer to your ear. "i..im sorry , i.. i didn't know- fuck!" he gave you one thrust that made you scream in pleasure. "i didn't know i swear !"

"i know baby , my cute dumb baby , it's okay , i believe you." his soft tone did not match the way he fucked into your messy cunt for the third time that night.

"i'm gonna make sure everyone knows you're mine , fucking make you take my loads in your pretty pussy." his lewd words and tone had you clenched around him hard.

"oh fuck! — baby you're clenching down hard on me , do you like that? want me to breed you , treat you like my personal cumdump."

you were a mess , only able to babble a mixture of please's and his name. "baby i asked you a question." he grabbed your face. "y...yes."

he pulled out , smirking when you whined at the loss of feeling full. "if i'm gonna fuck you full of my cum , baby im gonna do it the right way." he flipped you onto your back, his hard cock pressed against your puffy cunt. "take my cock." he slid back into you , you sighed , feeling full again.

"that's it , take my cum like a good girl."

©️LUVYENI

1K notes · View notes

worldsover · 11 months

Text

Hourglass ft. Saerom

length ✦ 15.6k

genres ✧ anal; fwb!Saerom

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth, lips parched. Though you asked Saerom for water, you didn’t need to be directed. You remember the important things. Cups in the third cabinet from the right. The water pitcher in the fridge. Everything else about her home is slightly off in your memory. An experimental flick of a switch, so she has yet to replace the lights in the range hood, and now they blink instead of being merely dim. Turn that back off. A different blender, no doubt more robust for all the shakes she makes. New polaroid photos of Saerom and her members on the fridge. Even pictures with Gyuri, but nothing recent as nine as you expected. So that’s what one year looks like.

"Are you gonna hang out in my kitchen all night?" Saerom asks as she walks in, arms crossed and smirking. For all that's changed in Saerom's home, how little has changed with the woman herself? The blunt bangs are new and of course, you’ve never seen this outfit, the flattering blue tube top and denim skirt, but you expected as much with all the clothes she went through. Beneath it all, though, was the same supermodel-esque Saerom. Emphasis on beneath. Beneath, what you were most intimately familiar with. Beneath, what you’re imagining at this very moment.

"Wasn’t planning on it. just taking in how long it’s been," you say. "I like the new painting in your living room, the one with the flowers."

"Thanks. I made it, actually. Little hobby I picked up in our… downtime. But yes. You're right. It has been long." Her words are sharp. The next one is sharper: "Bedroom."

Saerom’s eyes fill in the rest of the directive. Now. We’re going to fuck. Stop wasting time. Dumbass. You didn’t realize how many words could fit in a gaze. Or some of those meanings are conveyed through her narrowed eyelids. You weren’t fluent in the language of the unspoken, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

In the time it takes to decrypt the whole one-word message (she’ll at least let you grab that drink, right?), you realize you’re gazing back.

Saerom shakes her head and laughs to herself. "It’s like you’re doing this on purpose."

She walks away, but this lingering look of yours is deliberate. Saerom knows it as she looks back and now her smile is much naughtier. She might not know that you’re first staring at her bare shoulders. You want to touch them, massage them, lick them, kiss them, everything.

Water wouldn’t help your thirst anyway, so you follow Saerom to the bedroom. The familiar last room of the hallway, on the left, its location is seared in your brain. You’d know it sober but horny, and drunk but hornier, so you path in the same footsteps you always did. You only lag behind Saerom for self-evident reasons, your eyes on the target of desire, her pert rear. This time, with the close fit of her skirt, you can make out the shape of your favorite shape to make out with. Her cozy, pillowy thighs look perfect as ever to rest your head upon as well.

The mere act of walking into the room stirs heat in your core. You can’t help but associate this room with the carnal. The only lights in the room are the moonlight filtering through the window and the warm lamp in the corner, and the dimness reminds you of your many restless nights.

Saerom sits on her bed, those thighs settling down and squishing in just the right way. Heat turns to pressure, in turn, turns into a cock imprint on your pants.

"I still don’t like how you just stand there," she says.

Her words make you shift weight from one foot to the other. You should sit, approach, anything, but no, you continue to stand. "You leave me speechless sometimes. I can’t help but watch."

"That’s sweet." Saerom gets up and walks up to you until there’s barely any space between you and her. "But I need you to do more than watch. Especially since you’ve taken this long to see me again."

"You changed your number," you say. But you already knew this was a flimsy excuse.

"And you could’ve DM’ed me. Texted any of the other members." Saerom scoffs. "You could’ve tried. Anything. Apparently it took us literally bumping in the mall to meet again."

A centimeter from making out, minutes away from sex, this wasn’t the time or place to bring it up. However, you had to bring it up at some point. When you hold her hand, Saerom freezes, caught off guard.

"I’m sorry," you say. "You know me, how I overthink things. It’s not like we were dating or anything. just, you know, friends that did a bit more than friend things."

"In that case… " The vexing half-smile, half-frown on Saerom confirms your self-awareness—at least you know that you’re overanalyzing the shape of her lips. "You could’ve been a better friend."

Why do you talk at all? What a mistake speech can be. As you look down, away from Saerom’s eyes, your grip on her hand loosens. Despite being in this beautiful and blatantly horny woman’s bedroom, you think about walking away in shame—

But her fingers clasp.

"Not this time."

Words into actions, Saerom grabs your shirt with the free hand and pushes you toward the wall. No, there is no escape, when you look down into the intoxicating image of her cleavage, when her breasts press up against you. Your cock hardens in your pants and pushes up against her waist, turning the rest of you into a melting painting (in which you’ve become modern art and don’t care to debate your artistic merits). All the worries disappear in a heartbeat as you recall this exhilaration. At one point, this was an addiction for the two of you: you were both in the middle of promotions and found time to fuck every day for a week straight. You learned her body inside and out.

Time to relearn.

It’s 9:03, the clock above her bed.

You gently place your hand on the back of her head, the other hand between her tube top and skirt, feeling the warmth of her back.

You lean in.

The lesson starts with the taste of her lips. It might be sweeter than usual, or it could be time twisting the taste, though either way, the flavor honeys you in deeper. The focus of your touch is split between melting into her mouth and gripping, relearning, the various parts of her perfect body. What was a gentle hold becomes a clingier clasp of her hair, and she does the same to you. Another pull, Saerom grips the neck of your shirt, clamoring for you to somehow get closer (space between the two of you is at a premium). Your hand on her back follows the groove of her spine—no, make a detour to get a feel of the muscles in her lean back, lats, and all that. You end up under her top where you tempt to pull it off, but no, not yet, you’re getting a feel of things, reacquainting yourself. Warm skin becomes warmer, becomes the canvas for subtle beads of sweat. Get used to that too, because you’re guaranteed a full-body workout tonight.

Warmth spreads to her breath, or at least you gain a keener awareness of its heat on your lips, its subtle nostalgic taste. Awareness becomes a small thorn: you and Saerom need to breathe, so you draw back.

9:07, but it feels like 9:03 and thirty seconds give or take leaning on the side of give. When you look into her eyes instead of the clock, it’s not a matter of seconds or minutes—months that have passed you are coming back in these familiarly firing nerves, where spikes of bliss rewind you to the visceral parts of your memories.

With how Saerom’s hands are latching onto your clothes, under your clothes, she might as well rip them off now. While your lips return to hers, your hands are taking a more subtle approach, your fingers drawing and memorizing the lines and curves of her body. Starting at her forearm, you track her muscles, from her svelte but sturdy biceps to her firm delicious shoulders, the sum of her efforts working out. You remember her habits as a welcome contagion that’s spread to you, the stretches she’d do after an intense session of fucking, the ungodly huge jug of water she’d gulp down—simple things in your daily life that you took for granted. Then, her eager tongue slides into your mouth and you’re back in the moment, your digits moving toward the crook of her neck. She always had a particular sensitivity here, a simple press of your fingertip into her skin earning a surprisingly loud moan, though it might also be your tongue pushing back into her mouth.

You want to pretend that you can keep up this momentum of appreciating the small details, want to remind Saerom of your dexterity; however, your hands find themselves on her tits, over her tube top. Your squeezing and groping are only recompenses for Saerom’s mounting lack of restraint. She’s rubbing her crotch against your erection—does she want to make you unload in your pants? Because she could, easily—she has one leg hooked around you, and she’s making your massaging of her breasts seem tame in comparison to the nails starting to dig into your back.

Saerom and you have never kissed like this. Never kissed like you were trying to escalate from a little scrap to an all-out battle royal. It’s not tongues sliding, but tongues dancing, not hands feeling, hands taking and sinking and grabbing as if you might lose yourselves another year—why bother with what was lost, but instead, the things you will lose. The time, your mind, all control. Don’t try. Let go.

You’re only kissing, so why is there so much saliva? Each escape for air is made a mess by more and more thin bridging strands of spit between your lips, and more is exchanged when your mouths converge again. And you only take breaks for Saerom’s jaw or her cheek or her nose, giving each sculpted feature the kisses they deserve, and Saerom only takes breaks with her thumb on your lip—she sticks out her tongue, showing off the bubbly spit she’s pooled in her mouth, and you’re happy to receive before these breaks have to take a break: you need to kiss her again/she needs to kiss you again.

You’re only kissing, so why is there so much noise? A deep guttural noise nearing growls from out of your mouth meets the unexpectedly cute high-pitched moans out of Saerom at the lips’ points of contact, maybe amplified by the meeting of tongues or the lewd exchange of spit. But the erotic makes way for the romantic, and the two of you resonate in a shared low hum as you slow your pace, control your breathing, trade smiles and giggles and longing looks, no need to rush.

But then, there’s no need to rush, and you’re only kissing, so why is your heart racing out of orbit? And this isn’t close to the first time you’ve kissed, so why can you feel Saerom’s heart beating the same hurried way? The answer is obvious in hindsight. The past is an eternity and the present is infinitesimally small, contained to a single point; that is, your hearts are making up for the lost time.

(Only kissing, yet pulses inside you already threaten to end it here, how embarrassing. (But then on second thought, absolutely nothing to be ashamed of with Saerom's unfair allure.))

All this in a kiss, in a pair of lips upon another. Two selves are reduced to two bodies, flesh and all. Look at Saerom when you pull away, and you’re back to two selves, mind and all. Swipe away the long hair that’s fallen on her face, and help fix her thick bangs. She smiles at you.

Glance at the clock again, and it’s 9:18, closer to 9:04 in your mind. You might have discovered time travel.

She pulls you off the wall—you didn’t notice that you were sagging against it, that you’ve lowered yourself nearly face to face with Saerom—and then she brings you toward her bed. A light push knocks you off balance, though you land on her mattress.

"Smooth," you say, and Saerom giggles.

You reposition so that you’re sitting on the edge of her bed. Soft, springy, doesn’t make too much noise even when two people are testing the limits of its suspension—you remember all that well. The sheets always dried surprisingly quickly if you hung them outside overnight. Plus, it’s the exact height for you to place your feet on the ground, and for Saerom’s head to lean against your thigh. There, kneeling, as if home inside her home, she watches your cock twitch under your pants when she paws at it experimentally.

"And you’re frustrated when I watch," you say.

"Hey, you can’t say I’m just watching." Saerom rubs you up and down over your pants and your jaw clenches. "But you’re right."

When Saerom gets a hold of your shirt, you raise your arms.

"You’re still in good shape," she says, smiling proudly.

"Thank you. I definitely don’t miss the diets, but I’m happy they got me in the habit of working out. Plus, you gave me plenty of motivation."

"Mhm." She traces your abs. They aren't washboard muscular (read, photoshopped) since you’re not lifting your shirt for audiences anymore, but they are decently taut, hinting at a six-pack. As you said, you were over the sort of daily sweet potato diet to keep that up. But for this reaction, Saerom's half-lidded eyes gazing at your midriff, you’ll gladly keep up your other routines.

Saerom then tugs your waistband, taking both your pants and boxers an inch down, then another, teasing you with the incremental progress. You can only sit still and keep your hands on the mattress’ edge. When your cockhead pokes out, she smiles, then forgoes any inhibition, stripping you straight down to your ankles. Your shaft springs free, and it nearly hits her face, but Saerom instinctually dodges it. Saerom ducks under your dick, centering it over her face, and she lets out a long exhale. Warm air flows around your length, though the jolts racing up your body are cold.

"I miss this cock. None of my toys compare." With a light frown, Saerom rests her head on your thigh again. She lightly and playfully traces your shaft with one finger.

"You really know how to boost an ego—ahh." Your jaw is wide, breaths ragged when her fingertip circles around your frenulum, the spot sensitive to her agonizingly light touch.

"Oh. Is that precum? Already?" Saerom’s narrowed eyes change focus from the slight pulses of your cock to your transfixed gaze, and that alone earns another white drop. Her finger traces up, and now she’s drawing circles at the top of your cockhead, smearing stickiness around.

"God, Saerom. You’re so fucking hot." Her touch pulls the truth out of you. It didn’t need to be spoken, but by her smile, it’s always worth stating the obvious.

She licks her lips, cleaning a bit of drool. Breathily, Saerom says, "Fuck. Should I just make you cum like this? With my fingers? It’s only fair. It’s only been me and my fingers all this time."

As much as you want to fuck her every hole open, you can’t deny that the prospect of being brought to the brim with her deft touch alone is tempting. "I said I’m sorry."

"Maybe if you say sorry enough, we can fuck." Saerom puts one hand around your cock and she’s barely doing anything, a lazy twist here, a half tug there.

"Sorry," you say, your upper teeth latching on to your lower lip. "Seriously. I miss you. I should’ve at least tried a little harder."

"Oh, we’re getting sappy now?" Saerom adds another hand—one isn’t enough to wrap fully her fingers around you—though it’s still awfully insignificant motions, sending erratic sparks throughout your body.

You shiver, hiss, and tense up. "Sorry. Please."

"Fffuck, I like the sound of that. the way your voice catches in your throat." She reaches down for your balls, jumpy at the faint graze of a nail. "What if I just milk out everything? I know how much you can cum. That would be so hot. When was the last time you came? Were you thinking about me?"

A week ago, and yes. Of course. You don’t want to admit those, and neither will you admit that a whine is coming out of you, yet even if you were silent, your hips are bucking on their own as you fuck yourself into Saerom’s hand.

Saerom says, "Oooh, are you—"

"I can’t take it anymore." You pull her up then push her back down onto the mattress, then you’re on top of her. You support yourself above Saerom with one arm and look at her carefully. Her face is a masterpiece, her body the work of a master craftsman. At your obvious overflowing lust, she looks to the side, bringing her wrist up to her mouth in a gesture of embarrassment you’ve never seen from Saerom.

Saerom’s reactions renew your confidence as if time never happened, so doubt’s seed could not have grown how it did, and you carry a sure smirk inspired by the cockiness once found on stage. You’re reminded that despite your indecision everywhere else—why the two of you never progressed past mere acquaintances—you were a man of action in the bedroom. That’s what Saerom wanted out of you. Saerom being shy might be an act, might be sincere, but it works either way. With this new upper hand, you grab Saerom’s wrist to unblock her face, too pretty to be shy about.

"We’ve done this plenty of times," you say, pinning Saerom’s arm to the bed.

She turns her head toward you but she can’t make eye contact. "It’s been a while."

"You're right. It has been long." You go in for a kiss, and she closes her eyes; however, you dodge her face.

"Fuck you." Saerom hits your chest and pouting. Then, her lips transform to a different contortion when you go straight for the neck. "Hnn, not too much. Remember last time you left hickeys on me? My makeup artist wouldn’t stop teasing me about it."

"Maybe I should mark you enough that makeup won’t be enough," you say, and her eyes go wide. "I’m kidding. Just a little payback for teasing me with your hands."

So instead, you aspire to leave your small marks on the other parts of the body. Where no one else but you will see. First, a softer kiss on the end of her collarbone right under her neck. With the floral notes of her shampoo mixed with the fainter sweetness of her body wash on her soft skin, your nose is tempted as you kiss along the rest of her collarbone up to her shoulder; from there, you’re led down to her armpit.

"Your body is perfect, Saerom."

She’s already ticklish from the playful kisses of her armpit and her ribs, but something about that crook under her arm compels you to lick—it’s the scent of her body wash once again, as well as a hint of vanilla, possibly from deodorant. Saerom is also starting to sweat, lending a barely noticeable musk and salty taste, and that only fuels your tongue further.

"Stooop, nh, nuh, no, why do you keep licking there? It’s dirty," Saerom says, squirming and laughing. This high-pitched tone is unfamiliar, easier to imagine coming from one of the maknaes such as Jiheon or Nagyung instead.

"It’s not." You’ve slathered her armpit in saliva by now. "Kisses aren’t enough. Every part of you deserves to be worshiped. What if I worshiped your whole body with my tongue? Gave you a tongue bath?"

Saerom can’t look at you anymore, yet she can’t stop smiling. "Wh-whatever you say."

You soon leave her armpit to fulfill your promise. You’re leaving a light trail of saliva down her arm, you suck each of her fingers, the knuckles, the interdigital folds, leaving no stone unturned. Returning up to Saerom's shoulder, you realize your folly of asymmetry, having only licked and kissed the right side of her upper body. You swipe your tongue across her neck.

"I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop thinking about your neck or your shoulder or your collarbones. Should I take my cock out right now and jerk off onto them?"

She bites her lips, and her thighs rub together.

"Just imagine your neck and shoulders all drenched with cum. Dripping down to your tits. I swear I could leave a whole river of thick white semen down your cleavage, make a mess of your tits just as collateral damage," you say as you finish your job of licking up Saerom’s left arm, shoulder, armpit.

With your rising initiative, Saerom’s hands can’t lie inactive by her sides. She first adds to the rubbing of her thighs with her hands—not enough—reaches between her legs—not enough. You know this, have seen this, enough to understand she’ll be on a tortuous brim for as long as you’re not inside her. And so be it, her decision to make, because you’re happy to let her dance on that dizzying outskirt as you pull her top down to her midriff and kiss and lick her breasts. Going in a circle around each one, you find yourself lingering much longer here, again covering her skin with saliva as you sense every goosebump with your tongue. Here, on her sizable tits, you’ll leave the marks that she’ll think about when she’s on stage. Under whatever stage outfit she’s wearing will lay your claim, your worship, and no one else will know but you and Saerom. Sweet secrets, another unspoken language.

The noises that come out of Saerom when you suck on her nipples aren’t speech but they’re too loud to count as unspoken. Your tongue, lips, teeth, and every part of your mouth partake in playing with the nubs as they harden but before long, you pull the top back up. You’re carefully slow because you want to see her breasts squish against the deep neckline of the clothing before it’s hidden.

Slow breaths and raised brow, Saerom glances at you with your sudden intermission.

You tell her frankly, "It’s a cute top, and I want to watch how your tits jiggle when you ride me."

Her quiet, acknowledging "mm" becomes a longer hum when you move downward. You take time leaving a kiss on each rib before worshiping her perfect abs with your tongue. Though you can feel Saerom writhing under you, you’ve been too focused on your task, so you look up to see her reaction. However, as you tongue at her belly button, she doesn’t look down at you in return; instead, Saerom is arching back and looking straight up at the ceiling. Her hands flatten on the bed, right by her head, elbows up. Every muscle is stretching, tensed.

"I didn’t think you’d like this as much as you do."

At your words, Saerom finally looks at you, her eyes unfocused, and she only nods, lips tight.

When you’re done with the upper half of her body, you decide to multitask. If she could form words, she’d be begging for you to move up instead of down from her thighs, but you’re also removing her skirt while you move down to her feet. After you unbutton and throw the skirt off to the side, you give her toes the same treatment as her hands. A thorough tongue washes each ridge, each sole, until her body is tongue-bathed top to bottom as promised.

All except for one part. Looking at the dark spot on her blue panties, it’s safe to say your mouth has plenty of cleaning left. You don’t mind doubling back with your trail of kisses up her leg, especially since it earns more cute strained noises from Saerom’s lips, and then it’s a third and final path down her legs.

"Saerom, watch."

She mouths "fuck" as you bite the waistband of her panties and gingerly pull.

From her waist to her knees, the panty-pulling with your teeth was careful and teasing. You want to say you kept your eye contact the whole way through like a suave playboy, but a glint in the corner of your vision steals your attention. Saerom is immersed in the whole range of light’s temperature, the cool ambiance of the moon, the dim yellow of her small lamp, yet it seems all of light has collected onto her dewy slit. The thought of tasting her nectar hurries you. You stop using your teeth, your now feral hands damn near tearing them off from her ankles.

"Woah, careful with—"

Then Saerom’s mouth seals when you seal your mouth around Saerom’s pussy without hesitation. This feels right, home, the past in the present, between Saerom’s thighs with your face right at her crotch. You don’t feel a drop of shame because there’s too much dripping already. Two dark pink wavy folds—you set your thumb on one, index finger on the other to hold them in place. The destination of your voyage of kisses and licks, you give plenty of passes of your tongue to the swelling nub of her clit, passes of your lips to her lips. Are you drooling? Or is that Saerom’s boundless juices? Either way, they mix in your mouth, the salty flavors, the addicting musk, and the slightest metallic tinge.

"Fuck, that’s delicious," you say while you gauge her response. You didn’t notice until now that Saerom has two hands in your hair, or that she’s pulling and pushing you to return to your station. You delay a moment to tell her: "Am I remembering wrong? I’ve never seen you this wet."

Saerom first works through her ragged breaths before she can talk. "Yeah, agh, I haven’t cum in a couple of months. You’d be surprised. How busy I’ve been. And, I guess, I was hoping, this exact thing would happen."

"You know you could’ve called too, right? DM’ed me, whatever." You’re surprised you had the wherewithal to bring it up while Saerom’s slick is on your chin and lips.

Saerom whispers, "I’m sorry." Then she closes her mouth. Her grip on your hair loosens.

Of course, it’s too late for regrets and apologies now. You revisit your favorite place to taste in the world—fuck a restaurant, fuck a bar, everything you need to taste and drink is right here. And quickly, there’s no way Saerom can keep her mouth closed or her hands off your hair with all the oral pleasure you give.

"So, so good, good, ahh, fuck." Saerom’s tongue can’t stay in her mouth, dangling casually as her jaw opens wider in bliss.

As your right hand spreads her folds again, your lips suction and your tongue laps at the top of her cunt, servicing her clit, as well as below, digging deeper at the source of all the wetness. You lick exhaustively, collect every drop you can—you can't. Too much leaking fluid to avoid making a mess of her sheets.

"Fuck, fuck, goddammit, fuck."

Though your free left hand is mindlessly on your cock, stroking, there’s no actual need to touch yourself. You could be as hard as steel as long as you’re eating Saerom out. You heighten Saerom's stimulation, sinking your fingers into her thighs, kneading and massaging—earn a few giggle-infused moans—then you move to where your face is being turned into a canvas, a girl-cum rag. There, you add a finger, then two into her slit. Now your mouth and digits are working in tandem, pumping in and out, exploring her pussy, relearning, to turn Saerom’s brain into mush.

You could’ve been doing this for two minutes or two days, fuck the clock, fuck worrying about time and its immaterial decay on the world. It’s only when you hear Saerom’s profanities die down that you slow down too.

She works up the ability to talk again: "S-stop. I love how you eat me, but I need to ride you. Now."

One last kiss on her pussy lips. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

In honesty, you were also thinking about how your jaw is tired or how your neck is strained, but those would’ve been fine sacrifices to make for Saerom. If you needed to stay there an hour to make her cum three times, you would’ve done it—maybe that would’ve made up for a lost week? So just over two straight days to make up for a whole year? No matter.

Saerom nudges at your shoulder and gestures for you to get up. It takes a while for you to reorient yourself—right, she’s just lying in her bed as if it were any other night, except you’re in between her legs. She sits up and scooches over so that you can replace her reclined position. Listening to Saerom recollect her breathing and watching her stare at your erection pointed straight at the ceiling, you realize she’s also reorienting herself. Don’t give her time: you grab Saerom’s hand and she falls right on top of you, hands at your sides. A mirror of your stances moments ago. She’s surprised at first, her mouth in a circle, and then her smile grows. This smile deserves awards, and more light, if only you had a floodlight on your face. All you get in this room is a dim ambiance, but you’ll take every photon you can get.

Traveling in time, you think about when you and Saerom fucked the first time. Five years ago, you were both rookie idols without the luxury of a bed. Far bolder back then, Saerom was riding your cock in the dark corner of an empty sound stage, and your hands and back were meeting the cold hard floor, the two of you risking your careers for a spontaneous fuck.

Now the two of you are in different places in your life, yet you end up in the same place regardless.

Guess it’s 9:34:40—you can’t actually look at the clock above and behind your head as you lay in bed, and Saerom’s hair is in your face.

A breath, and then you’re overwhelmed by Saerom, her tongue in your mouth, her hand on your cock. You’re happy to lose control at this moment. For the rushing thrill of the idea of this beautiful idol fucking you, or for the physical manifestation of this desire, her pussy embracing your cockhead in the first penetration and the weight of her body and her kiss all crashing into your heart, you gladly sacrifice this exact minute for the compressed eternity to compress further, too much to contain, and it uncollapses—what was a single point containing all the beauty and warmth in your head becomes a cascading chasm, a pointillistic cloud, each little dot a snapshot of all the sensations. Beyond thrust for thrust, your thoughts flash ripple by ripple.

Saerom’s cunt slowly slides down as she pushes against the girth of your cock. Your hands are trying to compete for tightness of grip on her asscheeks, but they’ll never compare to the closeness with which her labia grasps around your cock. The tangy taste of her juices lingers on your tongue, mixes with her mouth's taste when you kiss—mostly the saltiness of saliva at this point, though you’ll drink up every last drop. You smell sweat and the trace of sex against the sweet scents of her skin and her hair. Listen to the slow squelch of her soaked hole because for once you’re both silenced by this kiss, deeper than before; open your eyes, watch Saerom’s need in action, and take in that every stimulated sense is but a small part of the single motion of Saerom lowering her ass into your crotch.

It was never that deep was it? It was just sex, just a basic carnal act. There was longing, there was the low light of the room, there was a closeness you forgot, and none of it mattered. For all this thinking, there is no real thought or purpose. There’s nothing so profound about it except for how much happens all at once, and in that inundation of self, the simple profane is newly profound. Balls slap against her ass. It is that deep.

Guess it’s 9:34:45, and it doesn’t matter what the time really is for the rhetoric either. The seconds have been stretched like Saerom’s pussy around your dick. The dots have danced.

She takes in the feeling of your length all the way inside of her, her eyes wide when she looks at you as you stop making out. You have to resist the urge to spank her ass, to start pounding up, upside-down jackhammer, so your hands slide up to her waist holding her.

Saerom feels her midriff, and you notice the slightest bulge of your cock against the slimness; she rubs it. "Fuck. I miss this. I miss you."

Somehow you find it in yourself to snark: "We’re getting sappy now? While I’m this deep in you?"

She growls quietly and holds your jaw. "Shut up." And if her words weren’t enough, she’s back at it with her tongue finding residence in your mouth.

Saerom then pulls away from Earth’s gravity, lifting her ass. It isn't nearly as slow as the insertion, but it's just as serene a sensation. All the pulling and pushing, it’s everything you remember with Saerom—it’s more. Riding your dick becomes effortless for Saerom, gravity barely a nuisance as her bouncing hastens. Second nature returning in seconds.

You’re becoming less of an active agent, more of a recipient of pleasure, barely holding on by Saerom’s waist. While you certainly feel like you're pounding her pussy, she’s the one putting in all the work. You can imagine it’s tiring for Saerom, but if it’s half as good as it feels for you, then any amount of exhaustion doesn’t matter.

Her unbridled passion eventually subsides though, replacing the forceful slams of her butt with slower and more conscious motions. Though she still has her lips on yours, it’s a lazy placement. Not as much of a kiss. You'll take it. Saerom also isn't bothering to support herself with her arms by your sides, opting to lay on your chest instead. Your cock goes in, tick, tick, tick, out, tock, tock, tock. Many beats, many seconds, and many breaths between each plunge. Then, even the slick sliding of Saerom’s cunt on your cock gives way to more of a grinding motion. She twists her hips, bringing her ass around in erratic ellipses. A whole new host of euphoric sensations on your cock. You’re reacquainting with her tender inner muscles, clenching on your shaft. Your fingers around her midriff press into her skin, your eyes roll back, and you have to tense your jaw.

A grinding halt.

Saerom is inert, warming your cock. Her head is on your shoulder, mouth on your neck (while not actively suctioning, the sensation of her plump lips sends shivers throughout your body regardless). She stirs, straightening her back again. There’s no way you want to let go of her waist, want to have her stop kissing you, want to remove the weight of her tits and whole body on top of yours—Saerom’s curves are ergonomic with how well they fit on you—however, she sits up, her knees on each side of your waist, back straight. Your dick is a stanchion, its tip poking at her entrance, and you don’t mind trading the feeling for the image.

A grinding start.

Instead of only feeling the twisting and the back-and-forth movements of her hips, now you get to watch it, doubling the thrill. Saerom’s eyes are filled with lust and she’s biting a finger, her other hand on your shoulder. Everything about Saerom hypnotizes you, and you can’t keep your hands idle. You return to sinking your fingers into the mass of her ass, then you’re exploring her curves again in this new context.

There's a large mirror leaning against the wall across from you, right in position to show off Saerom's backside. This is the first time this year and this night that you've got a good view of her bare butt. Perfectly round (you'll redefine circles to be second place if you have to) and ample enough for your digit to make a significant crease. Her ass is a famed masterwork, lusted over by many but not seen in true pure form except by the incomparably fortunate you.

Upon your renewed vigor and thirst, Saerom restarts her ride, the chaotic grinding becoming a focused lifting and dropping of her whole self. She has to hoist her knees up to squat on your cock. The image is accompanied by sounds, making the trade worthwhile. The flesh of her ass slapping and slamming against your crotch echoes her bedroom, some slick noises in there too. Her hands clench into fists by her side as she savors the stretch of her pussy.

This brings you back to the last time you fucked: a year ago, in a love hotel, a careless drunk hook-up. Saerom rode you cowgirl expertly then, and it seems she’s only gotten better now. You’d think the self-admitted lack of practice would show—but once more, she proves that time hasn’t passed between this year and last.

While Saerom seats herself into your perfectly plumb penis repeatedly in her cowgirl ride, not missing a beat or bounce, you get exactly as you wish: the hypnotizing view of Saerom's tits jiggling in the confines of her blue tube top. You get the most beautiful demonstration of physics with each bounce of her breasts. Then you take physics itself into your own hands, grabbing each breast and squeezing over the fluffy fabric. At your rough fondling, Saerom lets out some higher-pitched whimpers in between her constant pleasured groan. She rides down into your cock harder, and you let go to see how wildly her breasts can bounce. Saerom's mouth is open in bliss; yours is more in awe, her breasts bouncing up and down as if wanting to be freed of the top themselves. You'd be inclined to agree.

Thus, with a grunt that gets Saerom's attention, she stops bouncing and lets your dick rest guts-deep inside of her. She shudders. You sit up, a burn in your abs that you cast aside. Saerom raises her arms and you pull upward, watching her boobs squish, then pop out from under the tube top. You're tempted to re-clothe her just to see that again (squish, pop, boing, immature sounds accompanying the sight in your head). However, with the article of clothing already around her elbows, you might as well finish the job. No more hesitation, you toss the blue top right into her laundry basket (nice shot).

Saerom pushes your chest, returning you to your recumbence. You don't mind her forcefulness—in fact, you cherish whenever Saerom handles you roughly. You know exactly what that leads to. She lifts her entire body up, unsheathing your glistening cock, then drives herself back down. This first bounce is deliberate. She's watching your reaction, no doubt giving you a satisfied smile because of your weak groan or your face twisting with pleasure before she restarts her ardent riding.

Yet again, all these places for your eyes to land upon—her thighs jiggling as she springs up and down, your cock appearing and disappearing inside Saerom, the thin sheen of sweat covering the entirety of her flawless skin—yet there was only ever one possibility after flashing through those equally addicting sights. You're fixated on Saerom's soft tits, unrestrained by the shackles of clothing. They freely ripple, rise, fall, rise again, her nipples drawing some invisible erratic path in the air like the chaos of a double pendulum. There is no predicting the movements, but you're staring as if you're trying your damnedest, knowing that you'll fail. Happy that you'll fail.

"What do you like better, hmm? Watching my tits bounce with or without clothes?"

What an intriguing question. (You're jealous of her ability to form cogent thoughts in this situation.) You're not sure. Obviously, seeing her tits completely exposed, her brown nipples in plain view is a sight you never want to relinquish. However, the bounce of her tits within the tube top is oddly compelling. It's the sort of view you could get equally as an audience member or as an average fan replaying the same three seconds of a fancam—you get the privilege of getting to see this Saerom from a whole new angle.

Not even the most advanced camera can capture the full extent of your senses being. The perfect POV video of Saerom riding cowgirl will never convey the heat of Saerom's core, the constant clamping of her cunt around your cock.

But then, if you had a camera and had to hold it right now, you'd have to let go here in confusion.

Saerom leans forward and places her hand palm down on the bed by your sides.

You're surprised at her action and, at her hitherto wordlessness, you're also surprised at her saying "I'm going to ride you as hard as fucking possible."

What an intriguing declaration. Wasn't she already doing that?

She lifts her ass and does not lie and rides you as hard as fucking possible. Never doubt her. You knew intensity came in the form of horny Saerom, didn't know it could lift your soul past the stratified layers of atmosphere above this very home, where jet streams blew past and didn't compare to her speed or didn't compare to the air knocked out of your lungs.

Wanting to hold back from cumming, you slow down—well, you want to slow down, but it's not really up to you, judging by Saerom staring off into space with a slack jaw, by the insistent motion of her hips. Maybe she'll ride your cock until you both die or neither of you may die and she'll be fucking you cowgirl until heat death? She's in a trance, cock-drunk, lust clouding her brain, and you have the same fog, though the fog is also pulsations that you want to delay. Now a dynamic duo, heat and pressure cook inside of you, and you could unload and breed and fill Saerom any second now. You have to physically hold her from fucking into your cock.

It isn't until your fingers grip hard—you might even be leaving traces of nail marks—that Saerom is pulled out of her rhythm, panting. She whines and pouts and after brushing her long hair aside, looks at you with an empty-headed expression. "Wh-what?"

You try your best to maintain composure, but really your whole body is dedicated to clenching every muscle so that you don't orgasm on the spot, despite her now sitting still. "Reverse cowgirl," you say, keeping up your false resolve.

Saerom nods mindlessly, raising her ass. It's more honest of her, commendable, to eschew the pretense that she had anything in her mind. She gets into position for reverse cowgirl, kneeling with her legs hooked under yours, her ass placed right in your lap. Instead of a reflection a few meters away through the mirror in her prior cowgirl stance, now you get a perfect close-up. Sweat, pores, goosebumps, all that texture in the dim lighting of her bedroom. More than ever, you want a spotlight—having no such device, you aspire to paint bright red with your hand—smack, a loud one, like a whip on her right cheek, and at once you get the vividness you want.

She gasps and looks back, the vixen smugly grinning as if to say "one more".

It's too easy to fall in, to give her what you want, and her left cheek recoils nicely in the same way. It's tempting to keep going, to keep submitting to the little diversion that makes this moment and night last forever. But if the shape of her ass is tempting, her tight asshole is a drug to an addict, and you've unknowingly abstained for far too long. Right now, do it, take your cock, align it with the entrance, and thrust into her. You want to… but you also know better than that.

Besides, Saerom takes the matter into her own hands—hand, as she reaches back to hold your cock. She softly places your shaft between her supple cheeks and after a quick wiggle of her hips to situate herself, she starts sliding her ass up and down your length. This buttjob alone is enough to make your balls twitch, to make you jumpy at the prospect of cumming early once again.

Her rhetorical words don't help—"You know how many times I’ve thought about you and fucked myself in front of this mirror?"—because now, you're picturing it, and the images overlap in your mind. In the mirror and in your imagination alike, her deft fingers are teasing herself, crawling between her legs, and rubbing her clit. In this imaginary world, the juices from her cunt are being wasted on the floor or on the sheets or on a towel if she were so poised; in the real world, there is no waste, as this nectar finds its way onto your cock, whether it be dripping right into you or by her moist hands reaching back to keep your shaft in place.

The undulation of Saerom's hips is much gentler than her previous ride—she must have recognized why you wanted her to stop in the first place. You'll happily take the sparks of pleasure that this lazy friction gives you, your cock neatly nestled in the crack of her backside.

"I can even show you later," Saerom says.

"Show me what?" you ask.

"Ahh, don't worry about it." Once more, she grabs your cock behind her, but this time she's twisting her whole upper body to look at you. There are so many targets for your inevitable cumshot: her arched back has the perfect valley for your seed to run down, toned muscles to paint white; the thought of cum streaking down her tits could make you bust on the spot; and sullying Saerom's alluring face is naturally a favorite pastime of yours, especially making her sharp jawline drip with cum as you feed your load right onto her lips, or maybe you should make a mess of her bangs.

Anyway, what were you supposed to be worrying about? Whatever it was, it wouldn't matter compared to Saerom aligning your cockhead at her entrance, plunging your whole length at once, at twice, at thrice, and then it's a blur of bliss.

You want to say it's the same as a few minutes ago—after all, what's the difference except turning around—but her velvety walls surrounding your cock feel completely novel to the regular cowgirl position. Your shaft is pointed at an angle different enough to give you whole new sensations of pleasure, and if not for the momentary reprieve of the teasing buttjob, you'd climax in the first few thrusts. That doesn't include the whole new visual stimulation of her perfectly perky ass lifting and dropping in rhythm, its fleshy weight ricocheting with each downward collision.

Again, you feel inert, more like a toy being used than a person having sex. In a way, it's fine, natural even with Saerom's eagerness. There's only so much touching and fondling you can do until it seems a waste of energy—you don't need to do anything to keep Saerom bouncing on your cock as long as it's hard. And for your part, you're getting sweat and moans and jolts of pleasure extracted out of you without any effort. However, naturally, you want more participation, to feel more involved.

Therefore, your first course of action is to sit up, breaking Saerom's rhythm, and she looks back at you, her breaths heavy and sporadic. It reminds of you the classic ending fairy, her chest rising and falling, but you get to watch her breasts in their full bareness moving with each exhalation. Then, you grab her with two hands by the waist—by now, a gesture you've repeated a hundred times, and thus you know exactly where to put your fingers to have her held still, like her hips are handles. Keeping up this tight grasp and never fully unsheathing your cock, you reposition the two of you until you're both kneeling, with you behind Saerom.

Her back rests against your chest, and her long hair is right in your face. You take a moment to smell Saerom. Maybe her shampoo is lavender or rose—you're a Flover, not a florist—but for certain, you haven’t smelled it before. Then, you brush her hair with your fingers, all disheveled by the continuous bouncing and riding.

You take a nibble of her ear, and you can see the whites of Saerom's eyes for a moment in the mirror, your face next to hers. "My turn," you whisper into her ear.

Saerom gulps, barely maintaining eye contact in the mirror.

This position, inspired by JAV, is perfect for your goal: repay Saerom's passion by getting the leverage to piston into her pussy as hard and fast as possible. It starts by taking her arms, hanging listlessly at her sides, and pulling them behind her back.

Caress her face one last time—call it the moment's final tranquility. The silence save for the air passing your lips. The darkness save for glimmers of light, the night in the window.

Your hips snap into place, back and forth, cock going in and out, rhythm accelerating all at once, drag racing. You're already at your top speed, your peak strength, fucking your whole soul into Saerom. Clap, clap, clap, the audience and the performers on the stage of the bed are the same. The uproarious applause cannot be conceited because neither of you has your hands free.

Saerom yelps and moans, and you can't tell which is wider between her mouth and her eyes. The observational task through the mirror becomes harder as her hair swings wildly, long dark strands haphazardly strewn about her face, plus you get distracted by her breasts swinging even more wildly.

At least you now have an answer to Saerom’s previous open question.

Each of your words is punctuated by one or two or three thrusts (actual punctuation omitted for readability): "Can’t believe I haven’t fucked your tits yet or your throat or your tight little—" Well, these plunges are powerful enough—CLAP, CLAP—to merit the interruption, as it completely breaks the flow of what you were saying "—asshole. Fuck!"

Asshole, fuck—you want nothing more than to do that Saerom right now, temptations and jitters and dry throat as you look down and see that vulgar entrance, and it completely breaks the flow, slows down your thus-far dogged pace.

Her hands are shaking so you let her wrists go, and you expect her to fall forward (you’re looking forward to that, aren’t you? Saerom face down ass up, a lucid dream’s image); instead, her limbs limp at her sides, and she leans into your chest, returning the warmth and sweatiness and softness of her back—firmness of her lats and shoulder blades.

She takes a deep breath. You nuzzle your chin onto her neck, and Saerom giggles—then she’s silenced when you wrap your arms around her: one arm around her tits, compressing them while you toy with a nipple in your hand, with the other arm around her neck in a stranglehold. You aren't aiming to asphyxiate Saerom (the force of your cock can make her as light-headed as you want her) but rather, to have her whole body in your complete control, manhandling her like a plastic sex doll.

It’s fair play to how she rode you mere moments ago (or maybe it’s been much longer; the clock might tick above you, but its count is worthless in this situation). You didn't need words to know how much she enjoyed this push and pull. You could hear it, see it, every sense attuned to your mutual pleasure. You’re not just fucking Saerom’s plush cunt. You’re pinching and rolling her nipples. You’re sucking on the back of her neck.

Emboldened by the few weak moans that escape Saerom, you’re back to that ardent rhythm, though long and deep strokes of your cock are replaced with quicker and shallower drives. Two people can’t get any closer than this. Your dick is repeatedly entrenched in Saerom’s cunt while the rest of Saerom’s body is held tight in your embrace. Close but there’s distance: she can’t look at you, her pupils rolling up.

This hold becomes tedious, even with Saerom having the defined abs to give her core strength for days. What would be a relaxed position—the two of you kneeling, Saerom in your lap—becomes tiring when it involves the exercise routine of sex. You take all the pillows from behind you, place them in front of her knees, then push her down with a hand on her back with the pile of pillows for support. You're positioned perfectly so that her face is at the edge of the bed, more importantly, visible to the large mirror opposite to the bed.

Look at yourself. You're exhausted, crease lines on your face, sweat on your brow.

Saerom's exhaustion is more beautiful—if not beautiful, compelling (it is beautiful, don’t philosophize now). It makes you want to pump harder, to find out if you can drain her of her stamina first. A tall task, you've seen the woman's more intense workout sessions too, experienced it first-hand in your past marathon weekends of fucking.

Hissing, you carefully extract from Saerom, then smack her reddened sore buttcheeks with your shaft. Her fucked cunt gets some cock-slaps too, a tactical delay that earns a few cute yelps from Saerom. If you’re going to cum, you’ve decided it’ll be here, with Saerom face down, bent over pillows, her ass up for you to squeeze, watch jiggle, and plunge into. Doesn’t mean you’ll cream her cunt in one more stroke. Savor this as long as you can.

One more hit of her pussy lips with your dick. A dripping string of her juice flicks off.

A fistful of hair, you pull while you begin slamming your hips forward. You shove your cock inside, again and again, a slow rhythm, no rhyme, like there's a point you're trying to make by fucking Saerom into the bed. If there had to be a point, it’s that your dreams materialized too easily because even your lucid dreams didn’t go this well. And further, though not much further, following this logic, you fuck Saerom’s pussy with thoughts of another hole. An even tighter hole, somehow. Too tight. Visions of Saerom’s anal grip have your fingers digging into Saerom’s back, have you pushing too hard for this denouement. You have to be measured about your penetration, needing to pull her into you. If nothing else, ensuring she doesn't slump past the edge of the bed. Saerom is the pile of pillows underneath her, soft and lifeless and you wouldn’t mind spending all day in her.

Burying and unburying yourself into Saerom, your dick is soaked in slick and raw, sore. All this pounding is getting to you. A heady mix of hormones and heat. You’ve done your job. Saerom can barely keep her eyelids up, her every breath heavy and slow. She doesn’t even move.

This is your final ramp-up, the pace almost numbing, and then the internal throbs come out of nowhere—you can’t delay your end much longer. These past few minutes have been completely devoted to your stimulation, so it was only a matter of time. You push your knees down into the mattress now, having to hold onto yourself as much as Saerom. (What part of self you’re holding onto is a question you won’t or can’t answer.) feeling the familiar pulses of climax in two of your strokes, you're tempted to clamp down on her waist and keep your cock buried inside.

But then, you look at her ass. The roundness is so perfect and, like with her face, the only thing worth doing to perfection is to flaw it.

Here begins the end of all journeys.

Here, in this beautiful moment, you understand, the dots, tiny prickles of pleasure were grains of sand. They return in an overbearing way. Your mind is an infinite beach, where time stands still and then gives way to waves and the tangy orange sunset. This is sweet and fruitful perfection, the orgasm temporary but more real than any existence can claim. The shape of Saerom’s body, the sandcastles, the nostalgic memories, you’re damn near tears at the thought, but this is a cry of bliss as you moan and let everything out.

A long first short of semen lands on her back, creamy white streaking down the dips. With Saerom bent over, the cum runs down toward the back of her neck in the central valley of her spine. You're tempted to keep unloading there. But, after seeing her ass rise and fall, you then aim for her buttcheeks, giving each one an equal amount of love, mixing sweat with seed. You watch them clench as Saerom feels the warm sticky load, watch them ripple as heavy breaths make her whole body lurch back and forth. How hypnotic the pendulum. You cum more ropes than you expected, absolutely drenching her backside. You only know that Saerom is awake because she brings her hand to her neck, where your semen collects, then licks her hand to taste.

The two of you catch your breath. You want to sit against the back of the bed, your body slack and lacking energy, but you take the initiative to grab a big handful of tissues and clean the mess you've made on Saerom's backside.

Eventually, you and Saerom lie on the bed. She holds your hand. You look at her and let quiet wash over you both for a while.

To break the silence, you ask, "You okay?"

The end of the journey is only the start of a new one. Cyclic. Possibly infinite. Saerom’s answer to your question is a question: "Do you want to fuck my ass?"

You pause. Definitely infinite, judging by time's nonmovement. The answer is obvious, your "yes" breathless and nearly the neediest you've found yourself.

"I’m gonna shower," she says. "Also, I’ll need you to get hard for me again."

"I’ll help you clean up then." After all, what could re-spark your erection more than soaping Saerom down, watching water drip down her curves? But when you get up, she places a hand on your shoulder.

"I have a different idea." Saerom grabs her phone, opens up photos, and goes to the hidden album.

Your jaw drops while she smiles, stands, and heads to the bathroom.

Top left of the screen, 10:04, but never mind the time. You’re not sure where to begin, so you open the latest. A simple selfie in her bathroom with naught but a towel around her waist, the steam of a hot shower in the air. You didn’t think a selfie could be art, and then you see her wet hair and the droplets of water making trails down her tits, and you’d proudly have a print of that hanging in your living room.

Careful, don’t go crazy stroking yourself—wait, when did you even start doing that?—keep a casual pace of your hand up and down your shaft.

Spoiled for choice, you tap the gallery at random and find a video of Saerom on her bedroom floor. Her clear suction dildo is attached to some large book, weighing it down. Clever. (Note that the proxy cock is about the same size and shape as your real one.) She aligns its silicone tip, looks at the camera, wasn’t lying—your name’s but a whisper as she sinks down into the toy. Then she starts riding, and you understand her practice was studious. It’s like a dance perfected, how she makes her body move on her knees, tits bouncing, eyes unwavering. The same way she was riding your cock earlier. So that’s where she got the practice.

There are plenty more racy images, particularly artful ones of her nude silhouette as a shadow against her wall and less than artful pictures of fingers spreading her perfect pussy lips. Other short videos arouse you equally: a 2-second video of Saerom pulling her jeans down to her thighs, enough to show off the squish of her butt cheeks; an 8-second video of Saerom taking off her shirt in a public toilet to flaunt her bralessness to a mirror before running to a stall at the sound of the door opening; and an hour-long video of a cheerful Saerom dancing to various songs, nude in her living room. Actually, that video was only 7 minutes long. Felt like an hour though.

The sound of water flowing from the bathroom stops. Saerom should be coming out soon. You didn’t realize how tightly you were gripping your shaft.

It’s unbelievable the sheer number of pictures and videos there were in the phone’s gallery. Had to be at least one for every day since you last met her. It’d be difficult to quantify which was your favorite, and which one you would masturbate to the most.

However, the answer was clear. The hottest video, or set of videos, was yet another dildo. This one isn’t as girthy as the clear suction dildo, as she holds it in her hand. Two key differences. First, this pink phallus had little marks on it. Each subsequent video had another mark, a centimeter deeper. In some of the videos, she’d be fully nude while in other videos, she’d have a hoodie or oversized shirt on, but nothing else, leaving her bottomless. Sometimes it’d be daytime, birds chirping, sun shining into the room, and other times, it was at night, dimly lit as the room is now. Second, and more importantly, is that every video had the same format: she sat comfortably in her bed, legs spread, then she took lube, coated her fingers (initially one, but then it became two, three), and slid them in her ass—the fingers were only the start though; afterward, she kept her anal entrance relaxed as she spread lube onto the pink dildo, then slid the toy inside herself at an extremely gentle pace.

She had already been able to take your dick in her ass, though it wasn’t the most pleasant experience back then. You enjoyed it visually, but seeing the strain and discomfort on Saerom put you off of it (not to mention the wrenching tightness for you, barely inserting a third of your length). You thought you’d have to save the anal experience for another day. Didn't think it'd be today. Plus, the mere concept of progress here, the enjoyment she’s having, is somehow making you harder than ever, as if you didn’t just cum five minutes ago.

You can even find where Saerom hit a plateau in the middle of the collection of anal training videos. She had a pout on her face and rolled her eyes when she couldn’t push the pink dildo deeper inside her asshole. In the next video, she tried the same length but with a bullet vibrator on her clit—even used tape to hold it. Not only did it help, to get the toy deeper inside, but she also squirted all over her phone camera.

The door opens, greeting Saerom to the sound of her moans from her phone until you quickly pause it in surprise. Nothing on but a towel. Picturesque. In her hand, a bottle of lube.

"Oh, hey. I remember buying that," you say, pointing to the bottle. "Did it expire?"

"I didn’t think about that." Saerom examines the bottle. "January 2024. Should be fine."

She stands in front of you, drops her towel, and you thoroughly examine her figure. The hourglass curves, you want to make her toss and turn, forget the time. The sole sure sign of the time's passage is that night falls differently, moonlight mixing with the small lamp—now on the ground, not sure when that got there—casting subtly new angles of shadows on Saerom. In all lights, she looks ethereal, contrasting her casual attitude. A light smile, she dusts off her bookshelf. A light step toward her desk, she readjusts a potted plant. Like she forgot you were here for a moment, a light giggle as she remembers your presence and takes her phone back.

"I take it you liked what you saw?" Saerom declares, rhetorical.

Right, you should nod here. So nod. But you’re holding your breath too, nodding emptily. You’ve decided she doesn’t look ethereal; she is ethereal, immaterial, of another world. You can’t touch her even though you did, consequences of ethereality you can hardly endure. Endure you shall because you must. Her nude form is unmatched. Her ass is unmatched. Your hands on her ass were a ghostly dream.

Saerom walks around the room, cleaning more. You’d offer to help but you’re simply awestruck, your eyes like a hawk. She fixes the lamp, the pile of pillows, and the clothes laying around on the floor.

Returning your gaze, she eyes your erection. Saerom points, and you’re back in position, and she's back to the floor, lube still in hand.

You sit on the edge of her bed. Soft, springy, doesn’t make too much noise even when two people are testing the limits of its suspension—now you're sure of it. With the wet mess, hopefully, the sheets dry as you remember. Your feet are right on the ground, but there's something different this time. The tension and doubt of earlier are silent; if you had to take a stab at it, you've never seen this sort of raw hunger from Saerom as she's kneeling between your legs. Your cock twitches, free in the air, when she licks at it experimentally.

"You don’t have to do this. Your pics kept me hard as a rock." Look, a statement as dumb as not contacting Saerom.

You're fortunate that Saerom is set on getting your dick in her mouth. "Shut it," she says, "you know how much I love sucking this dick."

"Right… but remind me."

A smirk tugs at the corner of Saerom's lips, then a soft exhalation. The warm breath sends tingles through your cock to the rest of you. What is there in the rest of you? You can only wonder when Saerom starts to give the same licking worship to your cock as you did to her whole body, spending as much time bathing you in her saliva. Her tongue is soft, wet, and all over your shaft, and the smooches on your cockhead plant your feet down into the ground. Your fingers curl. Five into the air, five into her hair. Let her go. She has work to do.

Saerom, relinquishing her momentary trance, opens the lube bottle. She squeezes a dollop onto her hand, can barely match the amount of saliva that she’s already drooling. Saerom tries her best to go to work, to give you a blowjob while applying the lube at the same time. Her palm rubs the cool lubricant onto your shaft, fingertips work all the half-viscous fluid around your whole cock—makes sure plenty is under your tip (does that part even need to be lubricated like that, or is she just toying with you?)—then she uses her dextrous tongue to spread the lube further. Pulling back, Saerom seals her lips on your cockhead, cheeks hollowing as she sucks and uses both hands to stroke you up and down. She’s diligent, but all that lube ends up being washed away by the excess of spit from her eager mouth bobbing down into your length, impulsively taking you into the back of her mouth. A waste, though you’re going to buy new lube for her soon. She has work to do, and you’re not stopping her for now.

You can tell that taking you into her throat isn’t on purpose; however, Saerom is so captivated with sucking your cock that she ends up gagging a couple of times. You're worried at first, pulling your hips back, but Saerom looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout on your cock—as if to ask why you took away her favorite toy, and imagine a harrumph for theatrical measure. At the unexpected, unspoken brattiness, you raise your hands. If she wants saliva streaming down her chin to get your full length into her throat, so be it. So be it that she wants her eyes to water.

A question Saerom won’t answer, too busy: you've already given her what she wants, so why is she whining and humming on your cock like it isn’t enough? Then you realize she knows what she's doing, knows how the vibrations are getting from your cockhead to your real head. knows how the foamy slobber makes her lips feel extra soft and pillowy. Amen to all the fluids, holier than water can get.

Having eaten her out however many minutes ago, you empathize with how tiring oral service gets. When Saerom finally pulls back from your dick, she exercises her jaw, moves it side to side, and stretches it.

Fix the thick strands on her forehead, putting the bangs back in place. She might have just showered, yet you could easily have mistaken her damp locks for being wet with the mess she’s made in her blowjob.

Saerom wipes the excess of saliva and licks her palms, then grabs the lube. This time, she’s more careful. More handiwork spreading lube than mouthy work as she kisses and tongues your tip with greater restraint.

In such a sensitive state—your previous orgasm wasn’t that far in the past—even the faint grazes of Saerom’s tongue draw out involuntary moans from you, and your mouth is a tight contorting curve. Something of a smile, something of a frown. You manage to ask regardless, "How does it taste?"

"The lube? It’s a little sweet, but not the best flavor. Here." Saerom squeezes a drop onto her hand and offers her finger to you.

You wrap your lips around her middle finger, and you forget you were supposed to be tasting something as you made eye contact with her. Saerom smirks back. Is it a fruity flavor? Maybe it’s flower yet again, to match her shampoo. Doesn’t matter. You keep her finger in your mouth, and she laughs when you give it a soft bite before she takes her hand away.

"I, for one, prefer the taste of this cock." Saerom licks in a circle. "It’s musky and sweaty and salty, and I love it. Especially when pre-cum comes out like this—" she tongues at your cock’s slit, and you shudder.

Pretend that time is unwavering, a force inerrant, yet your mind can do so much to trick you, to make the past/present/future all toys in the same room converge. Turns to dots, to visions. You could be sitting here as you are, a passive man for the rest of your life (for all you know, this night will be the rest of your life), or you could be making good on promises.

You have work to do. This is the unthinking reverie of a man possessed by visions of a single thing you’ve been waiting for, for a year, for a lifetime, for dreams eternal. Don’t call it a reverie. Your actions are not light. You pull Saerom up from her kneeling stance, a hint of unnecessary rabid strength. This force is used in place of words, forgoing language in a new way. Your grip on her hand says something. If only you could say what it is. And she never liked when you just stood there silent, but her mouth is open and her eyes are needy.

Her brows are raised when you shove, and her yelps are unsurprisingly filled with surprise when you bring her to her desk, unforgiving in how you lever her arm back, grab wrist, animal thoughts, smack, one, two, the orbs of her ass jiggle. You’re in a human place, a human still. Posthaste, clearing the haze in your head, you clear out the stationery from the middle of the desk. There’s the rest of her, perfect, yet it middles to the true perfection of her asshole. You lay your cock between her asscheeks, left hand cupping their heft.

Saerom needs something from you, but she’s so beautifully compromised. Her arm is bent back, her wrist tight in your grip. Her legs are straight, but you see the buckle in her knees—it’s taking active effort from Saerom to keep her ass lifted in the air for you. All the while, her face is right on the desk, and she twists her head to look back. She’s pleading with her eyes. Put it in, put it in. Why say it out loud when the soft whimpers tell you as much.

Despite all the primal force and exhibition, you’re no animal. As much as you want to dive straight in and impale your whole length at once, she needs to acclimate even with her diligent practice with toys. Besides, it gives you an excuse to admire her ass when you push your lube-covered cock’s tip against her tight sphincter. Leave it there, for a breath, for two. Deep breaths. Long breaths. Breaths that let you stare at Saerom’s ass until time ends because you’ll never tire at the shape outlining sublimity, the weight so perfect, the firmness of the glute muscles, the smooth and light skin marked red by your hand and beginning to bead with sweat, the crease into her equally ample thighs. Your tip is at the start of anally penetrating Saerom, and all you can think about are the two surrounding cushions. You will never tire of staring at Saerom's butt.

You do tire of having only your tip in the chokehold of Saerom’s tight entrance. So eventually, you push in, a glacial rate, a tectonic rate, eras, timescales for scientists. The minutes dilate like you’re pushing against a law of physics, a speed limit, even if your length is plunging into Saerom’s ass as slow as it can. New paradoxes, record it. The waves propagating throughout your body, at one inch, at two inches, three, four, five, etc, record them. The snug ring of her asshole is almost at the base of your shaft, yet there’s a complete saturation of bliss, record it. All this pleasure must be recorded rigorously in your mind as charts and tables flash by in an attempt to put numbers down to the innumerable.

Saerom’s back arches on this first penetration, her eyes rolling up into her head, where she isn’t thinking about anything, and now you aren’t either. Saerom’s anal walls are built like a cocksleeve to hug and clamp around your shaft. With this inexorably tight hold, you can’t move, a statue, marbled by pleasure.

Looking back at you, Saerom frowns, her thinking returning. She doesn’t speak but she says why the fuck aren’t you totally inside, and you can hear it out loud in the bedroom only filled with ragged breathing. In frustration, she lifts her ass higher by tiptoeing, and you have to grab something, the edge of the desk, her waist, whatever you can. You look down, and her legs are trembling now. Long groans escape you and Saerom when you’re finally guts deep, finally inside her ass with your whole length. Never have you gone this deep inside Saerom; the last anal attempt was more half-assed. Now you're stretching Saerom in places she didn't know she had, content with her warming your cock.

You pull back, squeeze a bit more lube on your cock for good measure, and begin anally fucking Saerom in earnest. Can’t let patience rule you. Her pussy is tight; this ass has a complete throttlehold. To ram into Saerom’s asshole means you succumb to the constriction and thus what would be a torrid rhythm is turned spasmodic—fierce, yet subject to fits of paralysis, where you return from fleshly lust to scientific observation. Metrology in mind, you measure the precise amount of your dick inside of Saerom's butt, calculate the forces with which her asscheeks jiggle.

Nothing so surgical about your hands as you pull by her hair bundled in your fingers, enough to lift her head off the desk. Saerom looks at you with a nearly crazed frown—no, that’s her smile upside down—mad lust in her eyes, and teardrops every time her asshole is impaled by your shaft, down to the balls.

As much as you’re fucking Saerom, Saerom is fucking you. Regardless of her submissive position bent over the desk, she backs that ass up into you, and her smile shifts from smug to wild to docile and pliant with every thrust.

Thrust back and you see her gaped asshole, the width and consequences of your cock's pounding. It’s winking, at a rapid rhythm somewhere between her breaths and her heartbeat.

Who cares that you're in the middle of fucking Saerom’s unmatched ass—you can't help but get on your knees.

"Oh, fuck," Saerom says, "what are you—ohhh."

Your tongue finds itself in Saerom’s used and stretched-out hole. One hand is holding an asscheek with a firm grip while the other hand is teasing her pussy lips. You drive your tongue deep enough that her asshole can’t just relax, can’t just ungape itself from being this well-fucked—it’d be a waste of effort and time, and you haven’t eaten out this perfect ass yet. The flavor is foreign but welcome, or whatever. Your lips refuse to release from her widened hole regardless of taste, and your tongue will rival Gluttony’s sin in your relentless analingus. If you do release, it’s only to kiss each of her plump cheeks, to give them the love they deserve, but her anus deserves more love with the bliss it sends to you. Give that love, and romance is returned in a thrumming moan, vibrating through the wood of the desk on which Saerom’s head lays.

In search of deepening that pleasant noise, you fully focus your hands’ attention on her leaking cunt. There were already clear strings leading from her slit to her thighs, from between her legs to the floor, but when you begin to insert fingers into her untongued hole and circle her clit, the leak becomes a whole-hearted drench. Saerom near crumples, slumping at the desk, your active hands keeping her from totally sliding off. The pitch of her voice heightens, and her whole body shakes.

"I’m f-fucking, cu-cumming!"

Your fingers are battering into her pussy, your tongue is sloppily tending to her asshole, and you’re kneeling next to a puddle growing as the spray from her cunt reaches its maximum pressure—

Catch her. As she shudders and limps into the floor as you envisioned, you hold Saerom as you two sit and inhale and exhale and inhale and—and slowly now, exhale.

"Slowly now, exhale," you say.

Saerom turns her head, eyes like a stray cat fed. Look deeper, and it’s more like there’s nothing there past the sclera’s white, the iris’ dark brown, dim of her pupils. The colors and shapes are all in the right places, sure. Nothing. Stroke her cheeks, its high bones, and her nose and her jaw. Be careful with those. Don’t get a cut on their sharp edges. The thought evolves: how sharp can she be? Her words and glare can cut, at times. Here, she’s feathers. She’s clouded; no, she's clouds. She’s fur. Looks back at you, the quietest smirk, like this one doesn’t say anything—she can be a cat, sure.

Though your breaths are now steady, you have to carry her as you relocate your two bodies to the bed. While Saerom’s orgasm has racked her, you are not faring much better. Truly flagging, it takes a whole minute until you’re both lying on the mattress—the clock you forgot or pretend not to care about said 10:28 with its longest hand up, then 10:29, longest hand up again when you look again.

Your arm under her neck, Saerom looks at you. "So we’re done for the night?" she asks.

You laugh weakly. "You’re asking like we’re not."

Saerom rolls her leg over your waist, hooking your erection between her calf and thigh to make a point.

Again, your laugh has little air to it. As much as you want to go on forever, spend all the moonlight fucking Saerom’s ass, you don’t have the energy left to move. You close your eyes, sorry in your heart for ignoring her succubine advance for a final round.

You’re going to sleep. One or five or thirty minutes pass. Can’t tell. The internal hourglass is too tired. Sand won’t even fall. There should be an ending here regardless.

Weight. Instead of an ending and empty darkness of sleep, weight, and heft, the now intimately familiar but always welcome warmth and plushness of Saerom’s butt against your crotch. You feel her hair scattered on your face, tickling and itching, and you half open your eyes, but you stay stock-still. Instead of next to you, Saerom is lying on top of you.

You should’ve known this would happen. It’s not the first time she’s done this to you, not even the first time on this bed. When you were stressed from the responsibilities and the changes of your new non-idol occupation, you answered a Saerom booty call, expecting to have fucked out your tension and worry. However, the moment you lay on her bed, you fell asleep—then woke up to Saerom sliding down onto your cock like it was a bomb that would explode at the slightest bump.

You didn’t complain then, and when you watch Saerom apply lube on her thighs, making them shiny and wet, you don’t complain now. The muted glimmer of her pale skin, her thighs giving way to your cockhead as it pokes out with each slide, yet those don’t compare to the loving caress of her flesh on your shaft.

Saerom must know you’re awake. There’s no way you can ignore the coolness of the lube on your tip, or her finger smearing the small beads of seed on your slit. She carries on yet, the sluggish up-down motion of her legs becoming a back and forth: she moves forward to slide your length against her pussy lips, then moves back to give your shaft her thighs' full embrace.

You buck up into her labia, her thighs, and that’s when she gives up the game, a chuckle as she shakes her head, moving hair off your face.

"Look at you," she whispers, "pretending to be asleep."

You groan when she grasps your shaft carelessly. "I didn’t want to interrupt."

She sits up, grabs the lube, applies more to your length by stroking and twisting, then guides your cock into her asshole before leaning back into your chest.

Kiss her neck. Lightly, with pecks, you didn't forget. It matches the verve with which Saerom fucks her ass into you.

That is to say, none.

Unlike with the desk, this is the laziest anal sex you’ve ever had. Every few seconds, a deliberate rolling of her ass. In, out, this piston couldn’t drive a toy car. There’s purring like a car anyway: guttural sounds from deep within your throat, Saerom matches them, still not used to the brute stretching of her asshole. If her pussy is a natural moist velvet that enveloped your cock, her asshole is the closest thing you can imagine to a sex toy, made to wring your cock out, lube fully necessary for the tightness. She's almost stuck on your shaft, making each act of pulling out a whole grippy ordeal.

After enough of this lethargic penetration, you endure the ordeal and unsheathe fully.

There's only one way this can end. You truly understand how this night is a cycle. The giver becomes the receiver; the subject becomes the agent—the push and the pull are bound in sequence.

Never any words to communicate the time to switch where they aren't needed and are a waste of oxygen by now. (You, the liar or the fool, must know you're fluent by now.)

You peel Saerom off your cock, setting her aside on the bed. You're not so gentle when you flip her over. She sits up, kneeling, facing away from you (facing the dear enemy, the clock, above the head of the bed). Hands on knees, she wiggles her ass and looks back at you. The soles of her feet are equally inviting, toes wiggling. (You want to bite them.) She bites her finger. Never fails to make you act.

You're quick to your feet, standing by the edge of the bed, and then grab Saerom's waist and pull her toward you. Falling forward, she gets on all fours.

Push.

If the rest of your life could be defined by pushing and pulling with Saerom, that would be fine by you.

Cock in her asshole, nothing more.

Fine, there's a little more. You're holding your shaft, your thumb on your tip, and you tease Saerom's anal entrance one last time. even if this hole has acclimatized to the exact mold of your dick's shape, evidenced by its continued gape, you can't help but savor a final time. You rub your tip around in a circle.

Enough of that. You push an hour into a minute, pull a minute into a second, push a second to the wayside. There is no truly timing in the animalistic act of doggystyle, especially not with Saerom. Hands in her hair, hands on her back, hands spanking hard against her ass, hands cupping her breast as you bend over and kiss where your fingers dug in, every thrust consolidating into one. You're under some self-made thrall, and Saerom is in that same complete thrall. With her feet keep kicking up at the sheer bulldozing force into her very guts, you take one moment of not having her ass in your hands to knead her soles. Then you're back inside, making sure that mold-tight hold of her asshole is perfectly set, or whatever was there is being rearranged. How you're fucking Saerom on all fours, it's like you're rushing for an ending, and you get what you want soon enough.

A single fiber of your being and your soul (in other words, hormones and nerves) becomes a quivering fire, then two fibers, then four, and the pretty pattern flowers into something equally pretty in its chaos.

As this night can't last forever, the doggystyle position can’t last either.

She falls back down, face onto the mattress, and she spreads her legs in a split. You keep pounding, your false energy like the retreating soldiers of a battle sounding off their final shots, and as you do, you massage her ass. Saerom shouts into her pillow at your throes, though it's equally spaced with satisfied hums at your unfailing handiwork. Hands are the only part of you that fail to fail. You want to fill her insides with cum, to destroy the crumbling dam of your restraint. Want to paint her guts white. Want becomes need. You’re fucking her hard enough to turn the necessary into the truth.

"Saerom, I’m…" Finish your sentence. You can’t.

Saerom has her own idea about this ending anyway.

She pulls herself off you. Her tight anus is reluctant to let go of your pulsating cock (you empathize). Saerom rushes to your waist, crawling down to the floor and onto her knees in front of you. It gives you a second to breathe—no, it doesn’t; Saerom’s lips are sealed around your cock already. By the look in her eyes, she wants to suck your soul out. All uncertainty thrown aside, she pushes herself down into your length with a repeated rhythm. Each loud and forceful gag of her self-throatfucking comes with a mess of spit that stains her bed, waterfalls onto the floor.

However, you have the final say.

Grab her hair, pull your cock out of her mouth, and stroke yourself as you aim down.

The first shot hits her chin, dripping, but the other jets of cum cover her neck, her shoulders, and her collarbone, exactly as promised. There are no revelations in this orgasm—unfortunately, you haven’t been superhumanly recharged. The edge of your sight blackens and your knees halfway give out. For this is purely physical. Pure hormones and static sparking pleasure to your body as you stroke your cock to Saerom’s visage and form, and quivering fire is jittery lightning when you cover all that unblemished skin in sticky cum, vulgarizing, fulfilling promises sexy.

Your mouth is dry. Everything else too.

A phone is handed to you. A picture is taken. A smile is on her lips. (A final lesson, smiles don't drip the same way cum does.)

There should be an ending here, but see, climaxes are the true ending, and the true ending is just a necessity. As you and Saerom cuddle, there is an understanding. Comfortable, but uncomfortable. The future, a future, between the two of you exists in some uncertain state. The two of you might find something deeper in this bond, or might never know anything more than friendship and sex. Don’t think too hard for now. It exists unspoken, for now. Whatever would exist is far away from the confines of this bed, and this hold on her body, and eyelids lowering with the understandings between you intertwining—not solved, but trying; if it were solved, then you would just say it right now. We’re together. We’re not together. We’re just fucking. Who cares. If it were solved, there would be no ambiguity to the ghost touch of Saerom’s fingertips on your back and a breath trying to let a word out but letting that warm air become past sand in the glass bulbs and the upper bulb is damn near empty.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

#fromis smut #kpop smut #male reader #reader insert

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lesbianpepsi · 9 months

Text

would it be a sin if i stayed?

pairing: ghostface!sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: you find out your girlfriend is hiding something from you

words: 3.120k

warnings: mentions of murders, gf!sam, knife, scream shenanigans, stab wounds, treating wounds, fear of cheating(?), swearing, bad writing

authors note: so it's been a minute huh, excuse the rusty writing i've been in pain and in a writers block

Everyone's entitled to their own secrets; there's nobody in the world that doesn't have at least one secret.

Some people have small secrets such as not liking a certain food but saying they like to please the other person. Others don't have such sweet secrets.

The darkest secret you have is the fact you slit your ex's tire once after she cheated on you, it's not insanely dark or even cool, it's simply just a secret that you don't want people to know about.

Yet there's people in your life that hold such darker secrets, ones that could never be revealed to anyone; not even their most loyal loved ones.

Unbeknownst to you that person is Sam Carpenter, your girlfriend of over a year.

—————

Me (17:29pm): i'll get started on dinner soon then?

Sammy<3 (17:32pm): Yes please. Hopefully I'll be done soon with my shift and can hopefully even help you a bit with the cooking! 👩‍🍳😊

Me (17:33pm): maybe i'll postpone for a bit then

Sammy<3 (17:33pm): No, start cooking. You need to eat and Derek is a bastard who won't let me off early anyways 😂😂

Me (17:34pm): fineeeee

Me (17:34pm): see you soon then, love you <33

Sammy<3 (17:36pm): I love you too, Y/n ❤️

Me (18:12pm): i finished making dinnerrrr:))

Me (18:22pm): sammmm

Me (18:29pm): sam?

Me (18:31pm): please answer me sam, where tf are you?? ik you finish your shift at six

Me (19:06pm): Sam this isn't funny, please answer my calls.

You bite your bottom lip nervously as you reread over the messages hoping to see that small bubble pop up any second.

Sure traffic was a reasonable reason to why Sam's late but she'd always message you after finishing her shift at work.

Sam's one of those people who never leaves the house without her phone being higher than 80%, meaning her phone being dead wouldn't explain it. She always made sure it had more than enough battery in case Tara or you called her and there was an emergency

So why the fuck isn't Sam answering your texts? You can't help but worry after everything that's happened to the poor woman and her family with Ghostface.

You've already tried calling her three times to no avail. Nervously you switch over to Tara's contact as your thumb hovers over the call button, debating whether you should ask her if she's seen Sam or not.

If Tara hasn't seen her and Sam is in fact just running incredibly late then you're just going to worry the younger Carpenter for no reason.

"Fuck." You mumbled to yourself as you lowered your thumb to dial Tara, deciding it's worth the risk.

Just as you're about to press down you hear the doorknob to your front door jangle, immediately you whip your head around to see Sam entering calmly.

You drop your phone and rush over to her throwing your arms around her desperately as you cling to her.

Sam doesn't say anything as she slowly raises her hand to your back, rubbing it up and down slowly.

"Where were you, Sam? I thought something had happened." You say worriedly as you pull away staring into your eyes intently, noticing a glimmer in her eyes that you have never seen before.

Her eyes looked darker, almost a lustful look in them.

She sighed as she smiled apologetically. "Some girl puked all over the place so I had to clean it up so I wasn't done till six thirty, then my phone died so I couldn't text you."

You ponder for a second on the possibility of Sam's phone actually being dead since the messages and calls went through, meaning it would be impossible for her phone to be dead.

Biting your tongue you nod as you smile at Sam, just relieved to have her here.

"Okay, glad you're safe then. I've made a plate for you so you just need to reheat it." Sam grins as she presses a quick kiss to your cheek making your ear burn just as they did the very first time they kissed you.

"You're the best." She says and you chuckle giving a weak smirk. "I know right, the best girlfriend."

Sam pulls away from you as well, finally giving you a proper look of her. You tilt your head confused as you notice the baggy black hoodie she's wearing, practically devouring her and hiding her arms and upper body.

"You didn't leave wearing that this morning." You comment mindlessly as you grab the end of the sleeve, rolling your fingers around the soft texture.

Sam stiffens as she roughly pulls her arm away from your grip, crossing her arms over her chest. You frown at her abruptness.

"It was in the trunk of my car." Sam replies dismissively with a wave of her hand before turning to enter your room.

You remain where you stand a little frown toying on your lips. What was that about? You thought as you glanced at the doorway to your bedroom, the light being flickered on by Sam.

"I'm just gonna take a shower real quick then I can eat dinner and we can watch some movies?" You hear Sam yell from your room also hearing the erratic movement from her as you walk closer.

Leaning on the doorway you see Sam placing her phone, car keys and work badge on the dresser.

"Want me to reheat your food for you?" You suggest with a smile. Sam nodded her head as she turned to face you, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead this time as she whispered, "I love you so much." before passing you and locking herself in the bathroom.

A few moments later you hear the loud sound of the shower water hitting the bottom of the tub before it gets muffled by Sam entering the shower.

Against your better judgement you glance back into the room where Sam's phone is kept, the desperate urge to check it gnawing at you.

You didn't want to snoop through it, no, you just wanted to see if she was lying or not. Which you basically already knew she was.

You glance back at the bathroom door before rushing into the room to look at Sam's phone.

Reaching the drawer you picked up her phone and to your horror the movement of you picking it up lights the screen up.

 Sam's phone wasn't dead.

She lied to you.

Sam wouldn't cheat on you, right? No, Sam would never. She loves you too much for that.

Right?

Shaking your head in hopes of getting rid of those thoughts you place Sam's phone back into its original position, staring at it before leaving the room to reheat Sam's plate of food.

You trust Sam with your life and more and don't believe she's cheating on you since she's already quite possessive and protective of you after Ghostface.

After placing the plate into the microwave you move back into the living room, dropping down onto the couch with a sigh as you wrap your fingers around the TV remote, pressing the on button.

The TV started up and immediately you were introduced to the loud male voice of the news reporter. You pulled out your phone and didn't pay much attention till you heard him utter a line that made your blood run cold.

"-two male victims stabbed to death near Parker Street, the police have no lead suspects as of now but a CCTV footage has been leaked showing the brutal murder and the killer wearing the infamous Ghostface costume."

Your eyes widened as you slowly lowered your phone, pushing yourself up the couch as you straightened your posture.

Ghostface is back? It doesn't help that Parker street, that's the street where the bar Sam works at is at.

"Sam!" You yelled and panicked as your eyes remained focused on the screen.

You could hear the shower stopping before moments later the door the bathroom being thrown opened and Sam rushes into the living room soaking wet with a towel wrapped around her body.

"What's wrong?" Your girlfriend asked as she moved to your side, holding your face with a possessive grip as she turned it to the side to see if you were hurt.

You shake your head making her let go and nod towards the TV, Sam takes your hint and turns to focus on the screen.

She's silent for a moment, her breathing eerily calm as her eyes meet with yours.

"Ghostface is gone, we don't have to worry." She says as her hand glides into yours.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as this is a total 180 reaction to how she reacted last time when Tara's classmate was murdered, and it wasn't even confirmed it was Ghostface at that time.

"Sam, the person was literally wearing a Ghostface outfit and two people were murdered on the same block where you work! This cannot be a coincidence." You rush out as you look down at your phone where it lay on the couch. "We have to call Tara, Mindy and Chad. I'm not letting you all go through this again." You say as you grab your phone but you're stopped by Sam's hand wrapping around your wrist.

Looking up at her confused you see a blank expression on her face, not a panicked look you expected to see.

"This is not our Ghostface, Y/n, calm down, please." Sam replies, moving her hand to interlock with yours with a tight grip.

Your jaw slackens as the crease between your brows gets even bigger.

"A dude in a Ghostface outfit killed two people near where you work, Sam!" You insist on trying to make Sam notice how dire this situation is.

She shakes her head as she shuffles a bit closer, the droplets falling off of her and a few dropping onto you.

"My Ghostface doesn't do random public killing, this is very out of character. It's probably just some psycho who's using it as a disguise, Y/n. It's fine. I'm safe, Tara's safe, the twins are safe and you're safe." You're speechless at Sam's smooth words, never hearing her so calm and confident.

Last year she threatened to move countries instantly when it wasn't even confirmed it was about them.

You let out a humourless chuckle as you shake your head. "And what did Mindy say when Tara was acting like you right now last year? It's a bit too close to home."

Sam shakes her own head as she flashes a smile that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. "You trust me, don't you?"

You let out a barely audible scoff as you nod your head at the question as if it was a stupid question to ask.

"With my life and more Sam." Sam's smile softens as she nods her head gently, as if knowing what you were going to say.

"So trust me on this, my love." She whispers, raising her wet hand to lay on your cheek lovingly. "Please." She adds in a whisper as her thumb runs up and down your cheek slowly.

You maintain eye contact with Sam as you begin to feel yourself getting lost in her dark brown eyes, unconsciously nodding your head slowly.

Sighing you snap out of your trance as you smile weakly at her, squeezing your interlocked hands.

"I trust you."

—————

A few days have passed and the only person other than you who's showing concern over the murders is surprisingly Tara. The girl who was very adamant last year that this almost exact scenario wasn't related to them in any way.

You've been texting her non stop about your worries about the entire situation but you haven't said anything about your concerns about Sam.

She lied to you, sure it was something very niche but with the timing of the murders; something just felt off.

You have also noticed that Sam has been even more loving lately, not that she isn't always wonderful to you, but it's more than usual.

You love the attention but you still can't help but feel that there's something wrong.

It's a Saturday night and Sam's working the night shift again, you're not doing anything special so you decided to sleep in early.

It's around two in the morning when you get awakened by a slam of the door, it immediately sprung you out of sleep since you've always been a light sleeper since the entire Ghostface incident.

You rub your eyes as you slowly sit up, glancing around the room and notice Sam isn't in bed.

Concern runs through your veins immediately as you push yourself off the bed to stand up, your feet hurting the cold floor as you move towards the door. Is it a complete dumb move to investigate the random loud noise? Yes, absolutely. But you can't help but think it's most likely Sam and maybe she's having another one of her attacks.

"Sam?" You yell out softly as you open the door and glance around your small apartment, squinting your eyes to see better in the dark.

There's no sign of Sam but then you notice the light peeking through the bottom of the bathroom door. You definitely didn't leave the bathroom light on.

You head towards the bathroom door and go to open it but it's locked, you frown as your concern grows.

"Sam? Are you there?" You ask as you keep trying to unlock the door but to no use.

A muffled grunt is heard through the door before you hear Sam's raspy voice.

"Go back to bed, Y/n, I'll join you soon." Sam's muffled voice says as another low grunt is heard. That doesn't help your nerves at all.

You can feel your heart pick up a pace as you desperately keep trying to unlock the door.

"Open the door, Sam, please." You beg as you keep trying to open the door, shaking the doorknobs desperately.

"No." Sam says sternly, making you shake your head at her stubbornness. "Sam if you don't unlock this door I swear I'll kick it down. Please open the door."

"No I-" Sam goes silent for a moment before continuing her words. "You can't see me like this, you'll leave me."

"Sam I love you more than anything in this world, if you're hurt I want to see you and help you. Please." You say sincerely as you still your moments on trying to open the door, trying to show Sam how much you care for her.

She doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity, your fear growing with each passing second as you swallow nervously.

Then you hear it, the door unlocking but Sam doesn't open it for you. Immediately you throw the door open and scan your eyes to find Sam sitting on the edge of the bathtub wearing her usual grey tank top, tight black cargos and thick black boots with bruises and a singular stab wound on her arms.

Your breath hitches as your eyes widen dramatically, your fear about Ghostface attacking Sam again being confirmed.

Sam refuses to make eye contact with you as she sloppily tries to patch herself up, wrapping a bandage around below her shoulder that's already staining with a ruby red shade.

"Let me help." You whisper as you move to stand in front of her knowing in the frenzied state Sam is in she wouldn't tend her wounds properly.

She finally looks up at you and you notice the look of pure fear in her eyes, it breaks your heart.

Sam stiffly nods her head as she lets go of the dirty bandage and lets it fall gracefully onto the floor.

You don't take notice of anything else around you as your entire focus is only on your bleeding girlfriend.

As you focus on the slash below her shoulder you see that she's sterilised it and only needs help with bandaging it up.

You grab a new roll and gently hold onto her elbow for a grip as you begin to tightly wrap the bandage around her wound.

As you keep wrapping enough layers around your eye's unconsciously flicker over to the bathtub, and the moment you see the objects scattered inside you feel your heart drop.

A bloodied knife is peeking out through a thick pile of black which almost looks like a blanket but that isn't what catches your attention. The bloodied Ghostface mask thrown carelessly near what you presume is the cloak is what makes your heart come back to life and rapidly speeds up.

Suddenly everything makes sense.

The lie about her phone being dead when it wasn't, coming home late and the very calm reaction to the murders.

Sam wasn't attacked by the Ghostface on the news; Sam is Ghostface.

You can pull your eyes away from the hollow eyes of the Ghostface mask as you keep bandaging Sam's stab wound up, the feeling of shame making your throat tighten.

Not ashamed of Sam but the fact you don't immediately want to run away. Call the cops or even scream. Instead you stand there as you treated her wound.

"That's enough layers, Y/n." Sam's quiet voice breaks you out of your stare as you avert your eyes back to hers, stilling your hands as you lock with her brown eyes.

Oh those big brown eyes.

Grief swirls around in her eyes as if she's already grieving your relationship; grieving her life.

You take a deep breath as a shaky smile slowly forms on your lips making Sam's eyebrows scrunched together confused.

"I'll never stop loving you." You whisper to her as you finish bandaging her wound up, dropping your hand from her elbow to place on her cheek.

Sam leans into your touch laying her own cold hand over yours, looking up at you with a softer gleam in her eyes.

"I'm not a bad person, I only hurt bad people I promise." Sam whispers in a gravelly voice. You feel some reassurance from that but what shocks you the most is the fact you're not sure if you wouldn't have minded if they were bad or not.

Would it be a sin if you stayed with her? Probably. But killing is most definitely a bigger sin which only makes you think of one thing.

 You and her will still be together in the afterlife.

"Let's go to bed, my love." You whisper as you offer Sam your free hand to take to help stand up.

Sam stares at it for a moment before she complies and slides her hand into your hand, a small smile grazing her lips.

Everyone has their secrets and who are you to share them with?

—————

authors note: i'd do anything for sam (i hate this so fucking much)

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x fem!reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera x reader #scream six #sam carpenter angst #gf!sam carpenter #my fanfic stuff #my writing

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the-modern-typewriter · 16 days

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PLEASEEEEE POST THE F/F SNIPPET I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH. I loved the last one you posted so when you said there's MORE? HELLO?

“Nope.” Astra flicked the light switch on the wall again, once, twice. “It’s definitely dead.” She moved over to the window, drawing the sweeping curtain aside and peering down the rain-sodden street. “Looks like the power’s gone out for everyone.”

It was supposed to be her birthday. Who wanted to have a power-cut on their birthday? She couldn’t even cook the dinner she had planned. Of course, she hadn’t told anyone it was her birthday, it felt too much like a demand for gifts or attention, but she’d been looking forward to at least doing something special.

She turned.

Lucille hummed an acknowledgement, continuing to light candles, flitting from one to another. They made the room feel strangely more like a temple than before. Lucille was one of those impressively and sometimes terrifyingly uncluttered people; her attic flat was all smooth white lines and high ceilings. It always felt far more peaceful than Astra’s place, which tended to be sprawled through with half-finished easels, half-drunk cups of tea and stacks of marking at any given stage.

Astra bit her lip. She felt rather useless simply standing there staring, even if Lucille had already done most of the candles anyway, so asking if she could help felt a bit pointless. It was all clearly in hand. She cleared her throat.

Lucille shifted to face her at the sound and held her last match up to mouth, illuminating a flash of soft pink lips, before she blew the flame out. She shook the matchstick, trailing smoke as she set it aside, but held onto the candle in her other hand. The wax was a deep purple, the flame the same flickering gold as all the rest.

“Have you ever experimented with wax before?” Lucille asked, oh so casually.

Astra released a breath, startled by the sudden question, and shook her head. Her pulse shot up. “No,” she said. “But we talked about it.”

She very much doubted Lucille had forgotten that, judging by the look in her eyes.

They had met a little under a year ago, when Astra had wandered into one of Lucille’s exhibitions after work. Astra’s works were all traditional fine art paintings – when she had time anymore anyway – but Lucille’s had been shown in photographs that day.

“People get funny about me exhibiting actual people,” Lucille had said, coming to a stop next to her. “It’s a shame, really. A photograph doesn’t quite capture the same effect, you know?”

Lucille’s work had, technically, been painting also. It was just that she had painted on people’s skin rather than a canvas.

One man stood with his chest brushed skeletal, each line of his bones and ribs lit glossy white again. His heart was the only burst of colour. Another piece was a woman whose mastectomy scars had been painted over with blooming flowers, new growth, life. Another of the photographs still had been a portrait of a woman with half of her face perfectly made up with make-up, and the other half painted to be shattering like glass. Ruined.

“It’s quite an effect, though,” Astra had replied. Her heart had hammered wildly in her heart, too big, entranced in a way she hadn’t felt in a while. “I can only imagine what the real thing is like.”

Lucille had smiled, head tipping to examine her, up and down. She watched Lucille back. She was a delicate sort of woman, cute and unthreatening. Astra had felt Lucille's attention slide through her veins like something molten all the same.

“I’d love to do you,” Lucille said, then. “Sometime. If you’re free.”

That was how it had started.

Astra didn’t consider herself the most lovely of models – she spent too many hours teaching art in classrooms and stealing chocolate digestives from the staffroom to be much of a work of art herself – but the paintbrush sweeping over her skin had been soothing.

She’d been painted by Lucille a number of times since then, small things; a bluebird on her shoulder, an ocean up to her ankle, a ring of fingertip-shaped bruises meticulously crafted around her wrists. She was always reluctant to wash the paint off, but she’d spent a long time staring at the bruises in particular.

That was how it had evolved.

“I think you’ll like wax,” Lucille continued. “Though, as ever, you are free to say no at any time.”

Astra walked across the candlelit room and sat down in the middle of the floor in response. She raised her brows at Lucille. It wasn’t what they’d had planned for the evening, before the blackout, but she certainly wasn’t objecting to the idea.

Lucille laughed, softly, under her breath. She filled a bowl of water in the sink before coming over too, sitting down. She set the candle and the bowl to the left and studied Astra for a beat. Her attention had turned laser focused again, in the way that always made Astra’s breath catch.

Lucille was the kind of woman who suited candlelight, moonlight; anything less defined than the bright fluorescent strips of artificial bulbs. They made her seem otherworldly. Astra watched her consider, something sliding honeyed in the pit of her belly.

“Off,” Lucille murmured.

Astra pulled her dress over her head with practiced ease and tossed it a safe distance away, somewhere without fire, before wriggling out of her tights. A shiver ran down her spine as the cooler air hit her bare skin. A second shiver followed as Lucille reached out, warm fingers brushing up her calf, before moving atop her knee to press and guide her legs away from where they hunched instinctively against her chest. Astra rested them flat stretched in front of her.

Lucille leaned in to press a kiss to her lips, deep and calming, before she pulled back.

“You look beautiful,” she whispered. “Stop worrying. I’ll do your front, so you can see the finished work.”

Astra huffed and smiled, waving a hand for Lucille to go ahead.

She watched as Lucille reached for the candle. She watched as Lucille held it over her legs with a steady hand, letting her see the first time. The purple wax pooled and dropped, splattering a starburst against Astra’s thigh.

“Oh, fuck.” It blurted out of her in a shocked astonishment.

If the paint brush had always had a lulling feeling, gentle and cold, then the heat of the wax was almost like being hit. It was the same flare of heat that quickly cooled. It was, all in all, impossible to focus on anything else.

“Okay?” Lucille asked.

Astra managed a nod and managed not to giggle, breathlessly. The world apart from them suddenly felt very far away.

“Good.” Lucille reached out with her free hand, and then in one swift movement grabbed Astra by the throat and pressed her to lay down on the floor. “Don’t move,” she whispered, against Astra’s ear, before nipping her neck. “You’ll be in trouble if you make me start over.”

Astra bit her lip for an entirely different reason than awkwardness, face flushing. She didn’t move.

The candlelight painted the room awash in shades of ochre, amber, and red; softening and sharpening corners, transforming the world she knew into new definitions. The light rippled and danced across the ceiling.

The second droplet of wax landed on her stomach, then the third, the fourth, the fifth and a small sound escaped her throat. She couldn’t brace for it. It was too unpredictable, never exactly the same heat twice. Some stung, some burned, some were the same gentle warmth as a kiss. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing turning ragged.

Lucille shifted more candles closer, more shades for her palette.

It took every inch of will power Astra had to hold still as the colour splashed over her; purples and blues and bright yellows and whites. She curled her fingers into fists, digging her nails into her palms. She thought she might scream – not from pain, exactly, but because of the way every burning wax-stroke made her more aware of her body than before. More sensitive.

Lucille stopped when she started whimpering, at a particularly hot droplet just below her waist. Her hips twitched. Needing to move. Needing to deal with it somehow. Lucille leaned down to blow cool air on the spot, another soft laugh on her lips.

Astra released another, helpless, curse word in response.

“If you can’t restrain yourself, dear, I’ll have to do it for you.” Lucille’s voice was teasing. “You’re being very distracting.”

“ME!?” Astra yelped.

Lucille smothered a grin, then started again.

She pieced her work together like the fragments of a mosaic and with time the heat turned to white noise, wax pattering like bright rain upon the windows of Astra’s mind. It was not, exactly, soothing, by any means and yet something about it was. It was overwhelming. It didn’t allow for wandering minds or ordinary troubles. She was a work of art, nothing more, nothing less. All she had to do, in the grand scheme of everything, was hold still. It was easy to get lost in the feeling.

Every so often, Lucille would pause, but time lost all meaning. It came in drips and drops, rather than anything so plebeian as seconds or minutes.

Finally, Lucille set the candles down completely.

Astra’s head swam, and the world felt softer, and she didn’t think it was just candlelight.

Lucille leaned back over her, arms braced on either side of Astra’s head, making sure not to dislodge the wax. Her blonde hair tickled Astra’s cheek.

“Good girl. Okay?” she asked.

Astra made a noise of agreement because words felt like far too much effort. She grinned up at Lucille to make it clear. Lucille smiled back. She leaned down to press another kiss to Astra’s mouth.

“Do you want to see?”

Astra gave her a look, because yes, of course she wanted to see.

Lucille’s smile turned to a grin again too and she helped Astra to sit up, slowly, so that she could get a good look at what she had become.

Astra’s eyes widened, her gaze roaming over the purples and blues and bright yellows and whites. Lucille had made her a constellation, a galaxy, a twinkling array of stars picked out upon the deepest swirls of night.

“Ooh.” Astra’s breath left her in a long, amazed, sigh. “Wow.”

She was, without question, fucking beautiful.

She would go to an entire gallery filled with pictures like that, 3D across the curves of her body; painstaking, blot by pretty blot.

She met Lucille’s gaze.

“Happy birthday,” Lucille said.

She’d known.

“I didn’t get through enough candles, technically,” Lucille continued, “but you can still make a wish. If you like.”

Astra laughed, and dragged her into yet another kiss, another, and another still. She kissed her breathless. She could think of nothing to wish for, in that moment, except what she already had.

The lights above them flickered, before switching back on as the power outage came to an end. Astra blinked against the brightness.

Lucille gave the nape of her neck a reassuring squeeze and pulled back. “Get cleaned up,” she said. “I’ll get dinner on.”

Astra caught her hand, and squeezed it back.

“Thank you,” she replied.

Lucille tossed her a wink, bringing Astra's hand up to her lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

She was never going to feel the same lighting candles on a power-cut again.

#hides face #i am weak to the whims of the people #okay last one #back to your regularly scheduled enemies to lovers and heroes to villains and all that 'what you expect from tmt' jazz #f/f #lesbian

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damianbugs · 1 year

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in remembrance of that anon that i tragically lost, here are some recs for THE most underutilised duo in the batfam. i could write ridiculously long essays about the tragedy of these two characters, and how they could become something great, if dc would get a grip a let tim grow up, preferably in the next decade. no complaints about damian. he is perfect.

this is also a cry for HELP. PLEASE write more big brother tim fics i am literally on the verge of collapsing as i ask. he is so unprepared but well meaning big brother so let him carry out his duty towards damian and duke PLEASE.

right then, anyways:

TIM AND DAMIAN FIC RECS ON AO3

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

MY NOTES: i know body swap aus can be a little worrying, but this is a phenomenal fic on not just the complicated relationship between tim and damian, but also their own individual struggles and how that brings them closer together in an unspoken yet profound way. a must read if you appreciate the characters in their entirety.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

MY NOTES: secretly protective big brother tim u mean the world to me. they are so fun in this, even with the medical emergency occurring alongside the sillies.

i only sink deeper (the deeper i think) by call_me_steve

Drake clicks his tongue and tilts his head off to the side. “This really isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

Oh, really? Damian starts furiously finger spelling, just to be annoying. You know, I thought the floating platforms would be of the utmost excitement.

“I caught a solid half of that and I think you’re making fun of me.” Drake goes to shift before remembering that he can’t - his face beneath his domino contorts into something unpleasant. “My legs are falling asleep, dude.”

You move, signs Damian, for real this time, and I go under.

“You talk,” Drake shoots back. “And I go under."

MY NOTES: it wouldn't be a real saki fic rec post without at least one kidnapped and almost dying in order to escape fic. i think about the conversation about love and danger at least once a week at random intervals and do not know how to be normal about it. at all.

The Wound Begins to Bleed by audreycritter

Now that Tim’s moved back to the manor, he just wants a few afternoons a week without Damian around.

Funny how getting that was the catalyst for him becoming a better big brother.

MY NOTES: okay so maybe i've read this a billion times and maybe it's my favourite tim and damian fic ever to exist but isn't that just proof you need to read it too? such a real fic. so personal. can't think of anything else but u must read it

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

MY NOTES: oh... oh. Oh i am on the ground dead forever. damian and tim bonding over the shared fact that they got a version of bruce they'll never, ever meet. finding a common ground in grieving something they never had. oh.... how marvelous.

The Study of Birds by MaskoftheRay

Tim and Damian have hated one another since the day that the youngest Wayne arrived in Gotham City. A few years later, that hatred has cooled into a mutual disdain and somewhat-wary tolerance. If necessary, they can even work together— though neither likes to. Then Tim discovers that Damian enjoys bird-watching too.

Or: sometimes the difficult things are the most rewarding.

MY NOTES: truly something so special about stories where tim and damian find comfort and something to cherish in animals. a middle ground born from compassion and empathy perhaps. so sweet.

#tim drake #damian wayne #batfamily fic recs #batfam #saki batfam fic recs

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lunarw0rks · 1 month

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i forgot what i wrote in the ask that got eaten tbh but anyways more valeria thoughts because i need her

OH WAIT I REMEMBER

thoughts about valeria coming home from a long day and using you to destress but the day also wasn’t easy on you and one of her degrading comments goes a little too far, hits a little too close to home.

her being the absolute master of reading body language, catches onto the slight shift in your demeanor before you can even safe word/signal out and everything comes to a complete stop.

and like the switch between the domme/intimidating persona and the one where she genuinely cares about you is night and day. before you know it, she’s hovering over you, cupping your face in her hands and scanning you worriedly.

maybe i just need to be comforted… i think being in her arms would solve 99% of my problems tbh

-🎧

(it's egregious how long it took me to respond to this and i apologize pookie.)

﹌﹌afab!reader. dialogue would be in spanish. implied, notorious purple strap, naturally.

valeria is used to tears, whimpers, even you— clawing at her even when you don't want her to stop. she's a seasoned dom by this point, and even more so when she finds that one special partner.

though she loves you more than anything, she still uses you to distress. and we all know she's got loads of stressors, so it's more often than not you're subjected to some rough play. all in good fun. you're pampered endlessly afterward. and of course, it's pleasurable for you.

but sometimes it's just too much.

like any other hard session, you're limp below her at this point. so many rounds that you've lost count, and you can't feel your limbs. only the nerves ablaze at the apex of your thighs. the sting of her strap abusing your cunt repeatedly, past the point of pleasure. it's only seconds before you register the discomfort— and even less before valeria slows to a stop.

"shit." she curses, "i'm sorry, amor. was i too much?" kisses along your wet cheeks to pry you from your dazed state, until you give her a nod, a look, anything. it'd be dumb of her to expect you to get words out right now, and she's able to read you like a book.

even quicker, she reaches for a towel (fresh, folded, and laid out beforehand) and smooths it along your sweaty skin, her hooded eyes trained on you through it all. wipes you clean and cares extra for any bruises or marks.

absolutely no sessions for at least a while after. insists on having the chef make you something filling and made with love, all while she's getting you in some flexible clothes and clearing her calendar for the next day.

#🎧 anon #valeria garza #valeria mw2 #valeria garza smut #valeria garza x reader #mw2 #call of duty #los vaqueros #kortac #rachel speaks

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 27 days

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Okay here's one. I really dont think I'm the asshole but my ex sure does.

AITA for refusing to buy my partner a jar of pickles?

So this story has like, a little background and some confounding factors i think but i really could go both ways on whether i was the asshole.

Ill start with both my ex (21nb) and i (23f) had severe mental health issues and were working on treatment when we were together. Theyd been in and out of inpatient stays throughout our three year relationship. Towards the Day of Pickles, i had my first inpatient stay where i got help i desperately needed to keep myself safe. This happened to be about a week after my 23rd birthday, but about two and a half weeks before their 21st birthday.

Anyway, at that time i had just gotten out of the hospital and started a new job at Joanns Fabrics (i outlived that retail fucker and im proud of it). I had been unemployed for the previous year and a half because of the pandemic and so the retail job was really my saving grace to have some sort of income to buy gas and groceries. My parents let me live rent free with them in their basement but i spent a LOT of time essentially squatting at my ex's dorm because my situation with my parents was not great.

Now my ex was also being financially abused by their mom so they had a monthly "allowance" of 200$ (of their own money they made at their on campus job) and no access to their bank statements. So i spent a lot of my own money on gas and groceries for both of us, and anything we wanted to do for fun, like visit the city. Without an income, this was SUPER stressful for me and i spiraled pretty hard with feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness. Supporting two people, even minimal living expenses, on an income of exactly 0$ is the WORST.

Anyway, i got out of the hospital and pretty much immediately went back to picking up as many shifts as i could at work because id been on staff for all of two weeks before hospitalization. Knowing retail, i was probably on the precipice of losing hours or being fired altogether.

My ex wanted me to take time off to celebrate their 21st birthday (they didnt celebrate my birthday that year) and travel to see their family and drink etc. I got scheduled for an inconvenient time. I would have to miss their birthday if i didnt find someone to cover. I managed to switch shifts with another coworker who was nice enough to let me have her morning shift, so i was able to at least travel separately and be a little late to dinner.

The night of their birthday my ex wanted to get drunk and so we went to the liquor store. Now im generally pretty picky about alcohol but if i get anything special i always get enough to share. Mysteriously, no one ever offers to share the expense or pay me back. So with all of 150$ in my account, i purchased enough alcohol for myself and the rest of the party, and a bottle of (cheap af) liquor for myself. I was broke af until my next paycheck and was pretty much planning on giving up meals and staying at home because the commute to work was shorter and meant less gas.

My ex picked out a jar of boozy pickles and asked if i would get it for them for their birthday. I should note that with all the stress i was under i had found a birthday present for them but hadnt actually placed the order (was waiting to get paid). I also didnt lie to them about this and had told them that i hadnt gotten their birthday present yet. They were upset by this and told me they felt like i didnt care about them, to which i snapped and raised my voice a little.

I gave them a bit of a reality check. I told them in no uncertain terms that i was under a lot of stress, from nearly killing myself to being flat broke with little to no help from my family other than a conditional roof over my head, ordering their birthday present wasnt super high on my list of things to do and that i knew what i was going to get them and that i intended to order it as soon as i had the money to do so. After years of the sole attention being focused on keeping them alive, i needed some support and acting like i didnt care completely ignored EVERYTHING i did to keep us both afloat.They cried and played the victim as they tended to do and i was too stressed to do anything but be angry.

So when they asked for the pickles i told them no. I have NOTHING left in my bank account, and anything that was in my account was already allocated for something else.

They told me i was being selfish for buying myself alcohol on THEIR birthday, not even getting them a present, yelling at them, and then refusing to buy the one thing they asked for, especially after i refused to take off work the day before to hang out with them and their family. In front of our friends.

I told them that i was purchasing the alcohol for the whole party, that the present had slipped my mind, and that they were accusing me of not caring about them when i snapped. Then i walked out.

My bff went outside to help me cool down and i told him what was going on and how stressed i was and he said that he agreed with me, it was childish to expect me to pay for everything with no help from anyone and then act like im unreasonable for having to put limits on what i can purchase.

My ex ended up getting so pissed by all of this they broke up with me two days later, saying that their birthday was the final straw for them after I'd been so codependent and relying on them too much to survive.

I think its all ridiculous given all of the stress factors i was dealing with at the time. I feel like we're all entitled to the occasional emotional outburst/bouts of forgetfulness when we're stressed. But my ex seems to think im a selfish asshole. We've been no contact for the last two years so this isnt like a pressing concern or anything but it does make me roll my eyes occasionally.

So tumblr, aita?

(Btw im also much more financially stable now that I'm fully and properly medicated and away from them.)

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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whinesandwhimpers · 8 months

Text

rodolfo parra x f!reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)

SFW

he loves to cook!! esp for u, loves when u praise his cooking and tells him how the meal he made tastes, hes deff cocky about his cooking tho like he knows hes good but hearing u say it!!

honestly u giving him any type of compliment about anything about him not just his cooking skills is like music to his ears

he is a romantic because i said so and we know its true anyway

gives u flowers, not just on the first date

kisses ur forehead, wrist, palm, everywhere, every fucking inch of u

big on physical touch with u

actually listens to what u tell him!! and remembers!! remembers what u like, dislike, if u have been wanting something for a while he'll surprise u with it before u can get it urself

breakfast in bed providing typa guy, doesnt even have to be a special day

a perfect fucking gentlemen. boundaries? respected. hand? held. home? safely. (hotel trivago)

if a bad guy kidnaps/hurts u, he is seeing red and the bad guy is not walking outta there alive, might even torture him a lil if rudys got time?? no one hurts his girl

will absolutely teach u spanish if u dont know it, gets so happy once u start understanding whatever he says in spanish to/around u, when u respond in spanish hes beaming :)

if hes jealous of someone talking/flirting to u he'll silently watch, knowing u can handle it/trusting u, until he spots any discomfort coming from u then hes coming over, putting an arm around ur waist, making it known to this person that ur his and they have zero fucking chance with u

when he proposes, he gets Alejandro's help, makes it perfect, pulls together all your fav things, fav flowers, fav drinks, fav food - its a priv dinner, not at some fancy restaurant, because he wants it to be personal - fav ring, he either already knows what u wanted or he got Alejandro to pretend he needed ur opinions and outright asked u which one ur fav is before he reported that info back to rudy

NSFW

hes not vanilla because i said so

he'd deff be down to try whatever u wanna try, he'd make sure ur never in pain or discomfort tho

switch

soft dom, wouldnt want to see u in pain or degrade u, ur his whole fucking life, his heart, his sun and moon, he is cherishing u and worshipping the ground u walk on

"look at you, mi amor, taking me so well"

"have i told you how beautiful you look lately?" he asks, his hand on your cheek.

you giggle, smiling softly at him and leaning into his hand, "you tell me at least once a day, my love."

"hm, not nearly enough then, hermosa." he replies, leaning in to kiss you.

orgasm denial tho if ur bratty, asking "are you gonna be a good girl for me, amor?"

...or edging until ur a pathetic blubbering mess pleading with him that u will be good and to let u cum - rare tho because ur normally such a good girl for ur sweet rudy and he hates seeing u cry no matter the situation - afterwards he's taking care of u, kissing any tears off ur face, spooning u

unintentionally leaves bruises on ur hips from gripping u too tightly, he just gets carried away with how good it feels holding on and thrusting into u :(

kisses any bruises the next morning, mumbling apologies between each kiss

likes leaving hickeys on u tho and spotting them later peaking over ur shirt, or the fully obvious ones that everyone can see, loves knowing everyone knows ur taken, ur his

his fav positions are ones where he can see ur face, ur eyes, kiss ur lips, its not just fucking to him, its intimacy, its special, its love

likes cockwarming because it means he gets to be physically close with u, u cradled against him, ur arms wrapped around him - while he's working, he has a strong will so if u shift a lil on his cock he wont let it bother him, "stay still, amor, im not finished with this paperwork", but it will bother u and when u get impatient and needy and start begging in his ear he'll take a break from his work to make u cum

hes the wide eyed, pouty, pathetic, whimpering and begging type mess of a sub, he just wants u so badly :( wants to please u, wants to cum in u :(

if u haven't cum before him he'll beg u to let him help u

if hes tied up he will be pulling at those bonds trying to get free just to touch u

if u tell him "no touching" he'll try so hard to be good but then his will snaps at a particular noise u make or how u work urself on his cock and he WILL desperately beg u whining out a "por favor, i want to touch you, mi vida"

his fucking wide doe eyes looking up at u (i cant-), if ur strong enough to resist that look good 4 u

dom or sub his focus is on u and making u feel good

king of aftercare ofc, hes bringing u some water, cleaning u up, cuddling u, etc, whatever! u! need! after the first few times hes got u figured out and doesnt even need to ask anymore

#rudy parra x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo parra headcanons #wrote w the idea of a gf in mind but like u can ignore the girl mentions idk #ive never wrote headcanons before is that obvious LOL #my writing

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grandlinedreams · 7 months

Note

I don’t know if you’ve done something like this before..but could maybe write about a time where reader took care of zoro and then one where he took care of you??

Thank you!!!

Absolutely I can do that for you!! Idk abt anyone else but the softness of taking care of someone when they're sick/hurt,,oof

[Heads up!: fluff, tiny bit of angst, Zoro being Zoro, mention of injuries, mention of being sick]

"Hold still."

Zoro tries to do as you ask, though the tickle of thread pulled through his skin makes him twitch, and he grunts when you swat at his upper arm. "What was that for?"

"I said hold still!"

"I'm trying, damn it!" Zoro huffs, brow furrowed as he does his best not to move any further. "Don't understand why you're the one doin' this anyways."

"Because Chopper is busy taking care of Luffy and Sanji," you explain, holding the black thread taut and snipping it. "And you were already injured, but you popped your stitches." You pause. "Would you rather I let you bleed to death?"

"Guess not."

You pause, raising an eyebrow. "You guess? That's not much of an answer, Zoro." Your expression softens. "Try not to get torn up too many times, okay? I worry about you."

"Don't have to," Zoro grumbles, then studies your handiwork of neat stitches rather the bleeding, ragged mess it'd been when he popped them. "Thanks, I guess."

"No problem." He listens to the click of the first aid kit, the shadow that falls over him as you stand. "Guess I owe you one."

"Not at all." You know he'll probably want to take a nap, and you prepare to take your leave before you glance at him. "We're crewmates, Zoro. We look out for each other."

"Yeah, fair point."

You watch as he leans back, mindful of the fold of his arms behind him as he closes his eyes. You wish you could do as he does, though you understand why he has the knack for sleeping anywhere.

Still, you smile. "Sleep well, Zoro."

ㅡ

You're burning up.

It'd been bad luck to get caught in a bout of nasty weather, the sudden switch from bright and sunny to cold and rainy coming with very little warning, even with Nami's skills.

You'd been busy making sure that the Sunny wasn't battered too badly by the swell of waves and fixing things that'd been shifted with the violent rocking to change clothes ㅡ and now you're paying for it.

Though Chopper had diagnosed it as nothing to be too worried about, Zoro still doesn't like the flush to your cheeks and heat that radiates from your forehead, your breathing strained and uneven.

So he takes it upon himself to keep an eye on you. If anyone asks, it's because his normal spots to nap have lost their appeal at the moment ㅡ but if the look Robin gives him is any indication, she at least knows there's more to it.

Zoro is far from a perfect caretaker, but he tries. He soaks a rag in cold water, squeezes it, then settles it on your forehead, hoping to bring your fever down. When it dries out, he repeats the process.

You drift in and out of fevered sleep, and he listens to the little mumbles ㅡ often of your crewmates, including him. He wonders what you're dreaming about that includes him ㅡ and if it's good.

He highly doubts that it's much in part to him, but he's still pleased when you finally wake enough to want food ㅡ and he goes to get it for you before you can protest.

"Don't need you gettin' everyone else sick," he tells you when he returns with a bowl of soup. (He hadn't even threatened to chuck it at Sanji, who'd been surprised at the lack of verbal barb from the swordsman.)

"What about you?"

He scoffs. "I don't get sick."

The look you give him says you're far from believing that, but you turn your attention to the soup instead. Managing to get at least half of it down, you let Zoro finish the rest of it. (Much as he hates that stupid cook, he does make good food.)

"Thank-you for looking after me." Zoro watches as you sink back down into the heavy mess of blankets, likes to think that there's a little more healthy color to your face.

"Yeah, yeah." He looks away. "It's like you said. We're crewmates, we gotta look out for each other." You stare at him, and he huffs. "Right?"

Your expression softens. "Right."

(You get better after another day or two. And when Zoro does actually catch what you had, you're the one who offers to take care of him.)

#ㅡmine.#one piece scenario #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous #–ml: zoro.

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yeeterthek33per · 9 months

Text

Love it, Love you (Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested

Summary: You and Caitlin are filming for the disney matildas series.

---------

Slow motion scene of Caitlin bounding over to you on the sideline, hands grabbing your face, pressing your lips together after scoring against Spain. There's a soft flow of piano music over the top.

"Ya know, I don't think we ever really explained that one to the girl's either."

Caitlin chuckles softly and shakes her head in agreeing negativity. Both of you are sitting on the white couch in your house in London. You're tucked under her arm.

"Yeah, no, I don't think we'd told them at that point. So I think they kind of freaked out on us after the game."

You lean off the couch with a soft laugh, head in your hands, ruffling your hair slightly.

Caitlin shakes her head with a sigh.

"That's an understatement. Poor Steph, girl was getting bombarded as well. Not that she knew either. Cait and I were just sitting there while they all kind of just lost their minds. Steph looked utterly disappointed that we hadn't told her sooner."

"Your sister.. well."

You give Caitlin a look.

"My sister looked ready to deck you. Macca looked like she would probably have to hold her back and Sam just facepalmed and told the girls to cool it so we could actually answer. Tony didn't even bother sticking around for the whole debacle."

"Yeah, that was a tough one. I don't think Lans has been able to trust me properly since. I love the girl, but man does she hold a grudge."

You slap her on the shoulder with an eye roll.

"Excuse me, you forget you're engaged to her sister here. I imagine any protective older sister would be peaved about one of their best mates suddenly sidling up with their sibling. Also I'd like to point out you could very well still call that woman to help you bury a dead body and she would do so no questions asked. So I'd like to think she still trusts you very much thanks."

Cut to a video of Caitlin celebrating with Alanna after a brilliant header from the defender against Jamaica.

"Don't know if that makes it better, honestly. I'm afraid she'll stick me in my sleep one day."

Cut back to the couch, You give her a playful glare.

"Just because you copped the shovel talk from one of the tallest girls on the team, does not mean she'd actually murder you. At least not without prompting. I can't imagine she would kill you without you doing something first."

Caitlin just turns her head back to the camera with an incredulous look.

"Anyway, that was four days before our third anniversary. Literally two days before I proposed. I think Alanna might have been too late to stop it or you know, try to break us up. Ya know?"

You fake a cough into your balled hand, turning away slightly.

"What? Did she actually try? Oh my god, I swear I will kick her butt if she actually tried."

You whip your head around at her, a disbelieving laugh leaving your lips.

"Oh you'll kick her but will you? What happened to being terrified of her?"

Caitlin keeps her mouth shut and you tut softly, hand resting on her knee.

"That's what I thought. Yes she did try to forbid me from dating you, cinderella style and all. But after some convincing, she switched it up to reminding me that I could still dump you if I changed my mind and she wouldn't totally gut you afterwards."

Caitlin looks dead on into the lense, an unimpressed look of told-you-so playing on her expression. You burst out laughing at that.

"See what I have to deal with? Why did I agree to marry you again?"

You smack her on the chest, backhanded.

"You're the one that proposed doofus."

She just grins cheekily.

"Oh yeah, I did too. is it too late for a refund?"

You roll your eyes, and scoff.

"Give you 'refund'."

She rubs your shoulder, pecking you on the cheek.

"You love me."

"Debatable."

You receive puppy dog eyes in return and poke her nose, a resounding groan as you push her slightly, turning back to the camera again.

The video fades to black and shifts to a new scene between you.

---------

You're standing in your backyard watching Caitlin run around and play tug of war with Peach.

"I'm so proud of her, everything she does is just phenominal and I'm glad I got to be part of her journey. The moment I got the call from her saying she'd been considered for an Arsenal transfer, it was then I knew I would follow her anywhere."

Cut to footage of Caitlin scoring against Aston Villa.

Cut back to you looking at the brunette, with major heart eyes.

"We were only together for about a few weeks at that point, but having been close friends before then made it feel like longer. She wasn't one hundred percent in it, especially since she thought she'd be leaving me in Australia on my own since Alanna was about to transfer to tottenham too."

Footage switches to Alanna, in a Manchester City hoodie, sitting in her own living room.

"I felt weird, leaving my sister, we'd always been one for one, and this was the first time we'd properly been separated by ocean. She came with me to Orlando and before that, had stayed with our parents. We both got contracted for Sydney and just hadn't really separated after that. Though I was pretty chuffed to find out she was moving closer again, with my best friend at that."

Back to you in the backyard, Caitlin now sat beside you on an outdoor recliner.

"Surprised the hell out of me, getting that call from my manager, he was like, Y/n, I've got big news, Arsenal want you. I think I was so shocked I just laughed. I thought he was one crazy a****** for joking about that. What are the chances I get contracted by the exact same club as her within just weeks of each other. Surprised her too."

Caitlin puffs out a laugh.

"You didn't mention why though. Surprised because I just mopily walk into training, thinking about how to deal with the distance anxiety and just, in you walk, day thirteen of me being in London. 'Hey, sweetheart, how's your day been? Oh yeah by the way, I'm playing here now'."

"To be fair, It was meant to be a surprisez considering I basically had to schedule everything perfectly. Without Steph's help, because ya know, that would've been suspicious."

You lean your head on her shoulder, her hsnd comes up to run through your hair.

"Stephs face was pretty funny though, what are the chances three Aussies all get contracted within just weeks of each other. The older girls were all like 'what is jonas thinking?'. It's definitely been remarkable though, both of them are phenominal and they deserve every bit of everything we achieve with the gunners."

She looks down at you with a loving smile and you grin widely back up at her.

Footage of Steph and Caitlin's starting for Arsenal, standing in the lineup, your face new amongst the starters further down the line, right beside Leah Williamson.

"It was certainly something else. Being able to play with such big names at the time. Kim Little was one in particular that I'd been terrified of in that moment. How many times I'd seen Caitlin go head to head with her. Now I know her better though, she's just a big softy and she's got a soft spot for me, too."

Caitlin shakes her head.

"I think she means spoilt, this one can do no harm in the captains eyes. The baby of the team she likes to claim. Even though she's only like two years younger than me."

You protest.

"Twenty-three was pretty young, obviously not the youngest on the team, but it's not like I was pushing thirty already, jesus."

Caitlin gets an offended look on her face.

"Excuse you, thirty is not even that old. 'Pushing thirty already' you're twenty-six, thats not far from thirty thank you, also don't let Kimmy hear you say that."

You chuckle.

"Eh, she loves me. But you're closer to thirty than me so."

And you poke out your tongue at her. Your girlfriend just looks at the camera again.

"Bloody childish, what do I tell ya?"

You kiss her cheek, a small smirk on your lips.

"You love me."

---------

Video footage of the two of you making a huge passing play up the left side of the field, playing against England. The ball gets switched in a fast tikki taka motion as you both move up the line. You make a run for the box and it's like Caitlin doesn't even have to look for you as she sends the ball right to your head for you to sneak past Earps, who despite her best efforts, can't make contact with the ball.

Cut to you both walking through a forested walkway outside of the city. A long shot from the back, and then flicks to a full shot at the front as you both slowly walk down the concrete pathway.

"When she received her first call up to the team, she called me frantically, practically balling her eyes out."

"Balling my eyes out, I could hardly talk into the phone to get it out. Coach had called me when I was at home on my own, and Caitlin was in at the office."

"I stand by this, but you'd actually called me at the worst time too. I was sitting beside my coworkers on a mini break, one of them is a physio on the Arsenal team as well as one for where I work. All they hear coming from my phone is just incoherent blubbering, followed by "Babe! I GOT IN!" Of course, I wasn't following exactly what she meant and my dumb brain just went, in like, the ice bath?"

Your laughter rings out at that.

"That's what you thought I meant?"

Caitlin nods slowly, a small blush developing on her cheeks.

"That's just what we'd been talking about at the time, including how you in particular refused to touch the ice baths for the first six months, someone basically had to carry you in with them. So like, I was excited for you to finally have gotten over that fear on your own."

You push her slightly, a loving smile making it's way onto your lips.

"That's really sweet, but no I did that three months after that, when I finally decided to stop being a wuss, now that I was actually playing in the big big big league, I had to. But that's beside the point."

"Uhuh, sure sweets, anyway, when she finally started going into the phone call itself, it did finally click in my head because I never actually explicitly mentioned the ice bath either so we were both still pretty excited, but for different reasons."

"Yeah, I did not like her initial reaction at the time."

"I was still super confused why you were like full sobbing about it though. I was like 'okay, congrats baby, you did it, no big deal'. I think she was ready to hit me after that one."

"Mild understatement."

Caitlin chuckles, bringing your knuckles up to her lips.

"so when she brought up how amazing it felt to finally break onto the national team, I just was like 'Ohhhhh... oh.... OH, Congrats baby!'."

The footage cuts to your hands linked in the between you, her thumb gently caressing the skin there before cutting back to a mid shot of you both from the front as you giggle softly.

"I just kept thinking, what did she think I meant, what does she mean no big deal. Cocky woman. To think I wanted to marry her too. She did get super excited for me, though, after that. She's a little slow, but I love her."

You give her a shit eating grin as she glares at you.

"She's honestly such a little brat sometimes, can you believe this?"

You giggle softly, bumping hips with her.

"You love it."

---------

Footage of some of the afterparty in the locker room plays, Caitlin clearly in view sculling champagne out of the trophy.

"Back at the Cup of Nations. We were out celebrating in a VIP bar, and they'd given us free entry, the whole team, I mean. There were drinks being passed around every two minutes. I think we were just so ridiculously drunk after that. Steph was the only one not really drunk. "

"Well yeah, to be fair she was kind of... well."

You roll your eyes at the striker.

"She was injured, so she had to kind of not drink. Caitlin, the dumby, dropped her kitbag in the doorway, so when we drunkenly stumbled in, we kicked it out of the way. Out popped the engagement ring. Luckily, I didn't notice. But neither did Caitlin. Steph did though, pretty sure it was the first thing to catch her eye as she dropped us both off in the hotel room. She just picked it up, threw it back in the bag, and when we were both on the beds."

"Relatively."

"Somewhat. She took a photo of us, sent it to Caitlin, and said, "Congrats, don't let Lans see you propose." Not the message I was expecting to see that morning. I'd accidentally picked her phone up.-"

Cut to you sitting at the kitchen island in your house, Caitlin standing at the stove.

"You claim it was accidental, but we both know the truth, babe."

"It was! You left your phone right next to where I charge mine instead of on your own bloody bed side. Anyway! That was how I found out she wanted to propose. Because my lovely fiancee here couldn't put her stuff away. As always."

You give her a mildly playful, unimpressed look.

"Pfft, that was all drunk caitlin, I don't associate with that chick. She's an idiot."

You purse your lips.

"Clearly."

Caitlin stays stirring the pan for a second before turning around suddenly to your suppressed laughter.

"Hey!"

You let it out at that point, shoulders wracked with laughter, head on the bench. When you finally catch your breath, you look at her again, but she's turned back to the stove. What you can't see is the small smile on her lips, which the camera does.

"Love you."

She turns her head slightly to say something back.

"You better. Ya dork."

It's your turn to pout again.

"Hey!"

You gesture to your girlfriend in front of you, eyes in contact with the camera.

"See what I have to deal with? Won't even say it back, so mean."

She turns back to you with a small wink, smirk playing at her mouth.

"You love it."

---------

The image switches to you both sitting laying back on a lounge chair set up outside the back door, watching the summer sun go down in London.

"I'm so grateful we get to be together throughout this whole experience. She's the love of my life and she's an amazing football player too."

You smile up at her from your place leant against her chest. The camera pans around as you both share a quick kiss.

"I don't know, feels like you've got me beat. I feel like I don't tell you I love you enough."

Caitlin gives a quick glance to the camera lens.

"She does it every two hours and still says that."

You pout up at her. She pinches your cheek softly, kissing you on the forehead.

"You're lucky I love you."

Caitlin looks fully up at the camera this time.

"See?"

"Oh my god. Hush up"

"You love it."

"I love you."

She chuckles and you just shake your head and bring her in for a full kiss. Fade to black.

---------

#woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord imagines #caitlin foord x reader #caitlin foord #alanna kennedy

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denaliwrites · 7 months

Text

It's How I'm Made

Tenth Doctor x Genderfluid!Reader

Summary: The Doctor has been especially protective of you since your coming out, even willing to go to bat for you in the face of aliens that look like they could probably snap him in half. Can be read as a sequel to On the Brave Shit.

Soundtrack: YES MOM by Tessa Violet

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Enbyphobia. Misgendering. Anxiety.

"Do you really think you can stop me, little girl?" the alien in front of you taunted, and you hated that it worked, that you wavered, that you almost lost your grip on the pipe you were using as a makeshift weapon.

The alien laughed, rubbing salt on the wound.

"Oh, come on now," you heard the Doctor say from behind you. "You can't be that dull. I mean," he paused for effect, scratching the back of his head as he awkwardly shuffled closer, "that's obviously an adult human. And, also, he's clearly a man. I mean, look at him!" The Doctor motioned vaguely at all of you, with a knowing look shot to you before shifting back into a passive expression.

Your heart swelled, though, and with a new surge of confidence your grip tightened and you stood firmer, facing off the alien with a glare.

"Don't be ridiculous, this is obviously--"

"An adult human male, yes," the Doctor cut in, followed up with a dramatically exasperated sigh. "Really, you'd think an alien from a planet with sixty-seven genders would get it, wouldn't you?" he asked, turning to you.

You blinked. "Sixty-seven?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor said cheerfully. "And, remarkably, none of them are 'male' or 'female.' I mean, they have a few that are close enough, at least in terms of what a human can wrap their head around."

"Oh." That explained why the alien in front of you seemed... like a guy? You thought, anyway.

"Could also be the perception filter," the Doctor commented absentmindedly. "Anyway. Apologize to my friend, please." You knew the Doctor well enough to tell when he was no longer making polite requests. When he was angry.

And by God, he was pissed.

The alien, luckily, seemed to catch onto that. It turned to you, bowing deeply. "My sincerest apologies."

"Oh. Er... accepted?" You weren't... really sure what to make of this whole situation. It wasn't every day you got misgendered by an alien from a species with sixty-seven genders yet couldn't seem to grasp the idea of gender presentation.

As if no transgression had passed, the Doctor effortlessly moved on with a grin. "Now, how about we get you home?"

After you and the Doctor had dropped the alien off on its home planet and you had met, by your estimate, sixteen and a half of those aforementioned sixty-seven genders, you leaned against the TARDIS doors while the Doctor flipped random switches on the console -- you swore it was different every time.

"Are you all right?" the Doctor asked suddenly, and it was only then that you realized there were tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Erm, y-yeah, I'm... fine."

He did not look convinced -- understandably.

"Listen, what that alien said --"

"Is that all people see when they look at me? A little girl playing dress up?" you asked suddenly, stopping the Doctor in his tracks. "Is that all I'll ever be?"

The Doctor looked so devastated for a moment before he cleaned up his expression and replaced it with his carefully curated neutral default.

"I thought--" You were cut off by a sob that you did your best to choke back. "I thought I looked so great today."

"Hey, now," the Doctor said, joining you at the door in a few long bounds. You stared up at him hopelessly. "You do look great," he assured you as he leaned against the door with you. "You look how you want to look, and that's what matters. Right?"

"Not if people don't see me as what I'm trying to be."

"Oh, there's no trying," the Doctor said. "You are what you are. Other people don't matter. Even I don't matter. The only person, or alien, or whatever, who matters is you."

The way he looked at you made your heart swell, but you still weren't entirely convinced.

"Do you feel masculine right now?" he asked.

"Not really," you answered honestly.

"... Right. Well. I should've expected that. Okay. Did you feel masculine before that alien said anything?"

"... Yeah," you answered, still honest.

"Then you're masculine. Don't let anyone take that away from you. Especially an alien from a species with sixty-seven genders and yet no concept of being a different gender than the one you were born as."

"Do they have trans aliens in that species?"

"Yes! That's why it's so baffling!" the Doctor sighed exasperatedly.

"Oh, so they're just.... like, a mega bigot," you observed with a laugh. The Doctor returned the sound, and the two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles that lasted way too long, yet not long enough.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #reader insert #queer reader #genderfluid reader #trans reader #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #the doctor #david tennant

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rheasesposts · 8 months

Text

Down

jj/ksi x female!reader

summary : Y/N is the Sidemen’s assistant, and JJ had had a crush on her for the longest time and a party at his place just might shift their relationship.

——————————————————————————

Being on the set of Tinder in real life as the Sidemen’s assistant was quite tiring, yet hilarious to watch the boys act so immature. Y/N knows the feeling very well.

“Y/N!” Kon yelled after one of the girls left. “One of the girls for the video called in sick, she can’t make it. We need you to replace them.”

“What? No way.” Y/N shook her head. “They’re expecting hot and available girls, well besides Simon, Vik, Ethan, and Josh.”

“Come on, it’s only for around 10 minutes, and the guys already know you.” Kon pleaded and gave her puppy eyes. She groaned as she gave in, and Kon clipped a mic to her shirt. “Thank you, Y/N. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Whatever.” Y/N huffed and walked to the line of girls waiting to go in the room, but she was basically at the front since there were only 2 girls ahead of her.

“Where’s Y/N?” She heard her name said by Simon in between switching girls.

Kon nervously looked to Y/N on the other side of the wall then back at the tall man, “Uh, she’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

Y/N was next, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t know why she was so anxious, she’s known these guys for a few years now, and they’re not actually flirting.

“Good luck!” The girl that just finished smiled at her as she walked out, and Y/N weakly waved bye to the beautiful woman. Kon urged her to go in, and Y/N legged up to the tinder cutout. All the boys gasped and chuckled as she stood in front if their eyes.

“Hi, I am Y/N, I’m 23, and I’m from Essex.”

“Oh, we know, baby.” Ethan laughed loudly, and she slightly raised an eyebrow before gesturing for them to start. “Okay, I’m Ethan, and I’m not really feeling myself today, can I feel you instead?”

All the boys guffawed at him and Y/N turned her head in embarrassment, “No.” Ethan went to the NO letter sign and gave her a sorry expression.

Josh stepped forward next and announced, “Could you feel my shirt?” Y/N hesitantly rubbed the fabric he held out to her. “It’s made of boyfriend material.” Y/N giggled softly before flicking her finger to the NO side. Josh shouted in protest before walking dejectedly next to Ethan.

“Hello, I am Simon. Could you do something for me, Y/N?”

“I already do a lot for you anyway.”

The remaining Sidemen ooh at her response, and Simon offers her an offended look, “Hey, I was gonna make it a nice one. But now I guess not.” Simon just walked to the NO side, and Y/N chucked quietly before locking eyes on JJ’s awaiting figure. Y/N suddenly became even more nervous and picked at the skin around her thumbs.

“Do you like black guys?” JJ asked with a massive smirk on his face. Tobi popped his head out from behind KSI and held a finger up, indicating he was intrigued to hear the answer.

“Some.” Y/N politely answered and presented a small smile to JJ. He lifted his eyebrows and came closer to the cutout. His hand came through to her, and she looked down at it confused. “What, Jide?”

“Let’s go find out if you like this one.” He grabbed her hand, and she tugged him so he jumped over the little ledge thing in the way. All the boys whooped and hollered as JJ and Y/N cackled in each other’s arms. “Is this a yes?”

“Yeah.” She nudged him to go over to the YES signs. “Okay, calm down, next.”

“I’m Tobi, and I hear you like black guys.” He tried, and Y/N pity smiled before nodding her head. “Let’s go!” Tobi and JJ hugged once Tobi made it to the YES side. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Vik stepped up and held his arms out, “On a scale of 1 to 10, you’re a 9 and I am the 1 you need.” Harry and Tobi cheered for him, but unfortunately Vik was swiped to the NO side.

Harry, last but not least, held his hand together in-front of him as he boisterously stated, “I am gonna call the cops,” he stops briefly to imitate calling the police with his hand then delivered his next line, “it has to be illegal to look that stunning.” His hands were out around him like jazz hands. Y/N pointed to the YES side, and Harry thanked her before running over to Tobi and JJ.

“All the single men over there.” Simon noticed and glanced at Y/N who shrugged.

“Didn’t wanna potentially upset anyone’s missus. Never know, never know.” Y/N reasoned.

“They’re literally your friends, they’d understand.” Ethan clapped his hands and laughed. “Although, don’t know about Freya, she’s a feisty one.”

Josh and Y/N shot him annoyed looks.

“Well, anyway, if you viewers didn’t realize or know, Y/N is our good friend and assistant so that’s why we’re continuing to talk to her.” Harry straight up says to the camera and wraps an arm around her. She smiled and waves then walks off to take the mic off. “Ok, that has been Tinder in Real Life, part whatever, thank you guys for watching and we’ll see you next Sunday. Byeeee.”

“Y/N, you’re a little minx.” JJ whistled and threw his muscular arm around her waist.

“Yeah, didn’t know you’d be in the video.” Simon mentioned loudly and gazed at Kon who held his hands up in defense. “Why’s that?”

“Girl called in sick, I was the last minute replacement.” Y/N shortly explained and removed JJ’s arm so she could gather her things.

“Are you coming over to mine tonight with the rest of us?” JJ questioned the girl.

She momentarily stared into his eyes before clearing her throat, “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, I do. Do you want to come?” He countered her argumentative tone with his own. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Sure, I’ll come.” JJ nodded at her words. Simon looked between the two like they were a tennis match. His best friend liked her, and he was too scared to do something about it. “What time?”

“7, or just whenever you can make it.” JJ sweetly phrased then stalked off to get his things to leave as well. Y/N saw on her watch that it was 5, and her and JJ lived on opposites sides of London.

“JJ, can I just come over now?” Y/N asked, and she strolled over to him. “My flat’s across London, and I don’t feel like making that drive.”

“Yeah, sure.” JJ wiped his sweaty hands on his pants before leading them out to his car. The car ride was silent to his flat, and when they arrived, they didn’t speak either. She plopped down on his large sectional and closed her eyes. She felt the weight dip beside her, but she was too exhausted to open her eyes. Y/N felt a hand slide the piece of hair that was over her nose to behind her ear. “You can sleep, if you want.”

“Just wake me when people get here.” Y/N rolled onto her side and kicked her shoes off to put her feet on the couch. JJ decided to tug her upper half and put it on him as a pillow to which Y/N hummed and hugged his midsection to be more comfortable. JJ could honestly say that this is heaven. As time flew by, a knock resounded across JJ’s flat, and he carefully and unwillingly placed Y/N’s head and arms on the couch.

“Am I first?” Ethan barreled in. When he caught sight of the sleeping woman on JJ’s sectional, he bolted back to JJ. “There’s a girl on your sofa.”

JJ laughed at Ethan’s whispering, “It’s Y/N, fam.”

“Oh, then Y/N WAKE UP.” He shook her relentlessly until Y/N smacked Ethan for him to stop. He giggled like a little girl.

“You prick.” Y/N grumbled mostly into the sofa cushion beneath her. JJ couldn’t help but feel annoyed with Ethan now, too. Something about Y/N making him want her approval over anyone else’s. “You shouldn’t have let him in.”

JJ snickered before rubbing her back, “The others will be here soon, and we won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

“OI, I am still here!” Ethan commented noisily.

Before JJ or Y/N could retort, a knock came from the door. “I got it.” JJ went to get it and in came Talia, Simon, Vik, and Tobi. “No Ellie?”

“She had a headache, didn’t wanna be a grump the whole night.” Vik explained.

“Y/N, my favorite assistant!” Simon cheered and squeezed her tightly. JJ felt jealous, and he knew he shouldn’t.

“I’m your only assistant, you twat.” Y/N replied, snarky and straight to the point. But Y/N’s face gained a smile when Talia came and sat next to her. “Talia, my love.”

“Y/N, I have missed you. Too bad you’re running around with these lot.” Talia insulted her fiancé and his friends. Simon gave her a frown.

“Harry, Lux, and Cal said they’d be late, they’re getting the drinks.” Vik informed everyone, and went back to chatting with Ethan and Tobi.

“Who else is coming, besides Josh and Freya?”

JJ answered Y/N, “Chris, Randy, Will, and maybe a few other people.” She nodded and laid against the back of the sofa. JJ convinced himself to sit beside her and if anyone comes, let the others answer the door. “Are you gonna be drinking tonight?”

“Jide, please. Of course I am.” Y/N grinned his way and leaned into his side. JJ tensed for a second before relaxing and enjoying her body close to his. “I wish Harry would hurry up, though.”

“He’ll be here soon.” JJ murmured. Simon and Talia shared a glance before tuning into Vik’s rambling on how football really isn’t his sport. Y/N as time passed was more on JJ than the couch, and his hand was on her thigh, wrapped around her middle. Harry had arrived with Lux and Cal and all three were towing booze. A couple of drinks in JJ’s system made him more comfortable and Y/N was practically on him by now. “You’re so pretty.”

Y/N scrunched her face and gripped his neck, “No, you are.” The two were too caught up in each other to notice everyone else watching them from the corners of their vision. “So handsome.” Her mouth reached up to peck his exposed collarbone, and JJ shuddered from her airy kiss. “JJ, you’re so fine.”

“I need you.” JJ blurts out into her ear, and she smirks before kissing his neck.

“Beer Pong!” Simon bellowed causing JJ and Y/N to separate and get up to go play. “Talia and Y/N against me and JJ?”

“Nah, fam, couple against couple.” JJ gripped Y/N tightly to him as she laughed quite tipsy. Talia and Simon again exchanged looks, but nodded to KSI before setting up the game. “We got this.”

“Yes, yes.” Y/N chanted back, and her and JJ fist bump. Talia put the last bit of drink in a cup and decided her and Simon would go first. She missed the cup she was aiming for, but Simon didn’t. “I got first drink.” Y/N downed it, and JJ stood amazed at her. “Ok, our turn.”

JJ shot and made it into the cup, and Y/N did, too. “Drink up, ladies!” The two got to shoot again, and JJ sinked it in. Y/N’s ball went off to no man’s land so it was Talia and Simon’s turn.

The game continued until Talia and Simon met their final defeat when Y/N’s ball went into the last cup. “Let’s go!” Y/N and JJ embraced and cackled as they had won. “You look so good right now.”

“Yeah?” KSI cockily replied and pulled Y/N to the hallway where it was quiet. Y/N hummed and pushed her lips against his jawline. “Y/N, do you want this?”

“Yes, now stop talking.” Y/N demanded and smashed their lips together. JJ’s body hit the wall behind him and his hands held her waist. Y/N moved her kisses down his neck and over his collarbones which made him grunt softly. She left hickeys in her wake and didn’t stop until JJ interlocked their lips again. A moan escaped Y/N’s mouth when JJ’s hand traveled to her butt and gripped it. “J.”

“My turn.” JJ whispered and trailed his lips to behind her ear where he sucked. Y/N breathlessly whined and tangled them closer. He maneuvered down to the base of her neck where he placed a nice purple hickey.

“JJ.” He loved when she said his name. JJ peered up at her as he lifted her shirt to peck her chest and stomach. “Let’s go to your room.”

JJ hurriedly dragged them both to his room and slammed the door closed. He was pushed onto the bed, and Y/N straddled him. JJ’s fingers clasped onto her hips and molded into them as they continued their hot and heavy make out. At some point, Y/N was switched to be on her back with JJ dangling over her, his chain swinging in her vision.

“Too beautiful.” JJ groaned into her neck. Y/N hauled his mouth back to hers. Their lips sunk in to each other, and they slowly detached. “Do you want to or no?”

Y/N smiled, “If you do.”

“I do, I do, but I want to know if you’re sure.” His eyes searched hers. She simply nodded and brought him in for a kiss. Y/N slipped her shirt off and pulled at his, encouraging JJ to do the same. He did, and Y/N traced his abs and chest muscles. His breathing stuttered, and she smirked. “Y/N.”

His light scolding made her gently laugh. “What?”

“You know what.” JJ put his hand on her left boob and squeezed and she moaned. “See.”

Y/N enjoyed his teasing and returned the favor by palming his hard-on through his sweatpants. JJ clenched his eyes shut, and Y/N knew what she was doing. “Are you gonna love me now?”

JJ’s lust overtook him, and he basically tore off Y/N’s jeans and threw them somewhere on the ground. His pants were off seconds after hers. The two gazed at one another as they existed almost naked. JJ looked up once more for confirmation which Y/N smiled and nodded. He instantly pushed her underwear aside.

—————————

JJ woke up with a body clinging to him. He was about to freak out when all his memories came flooding back from the previous night. Y/N was perfectly curled into his chest and their legs were intertwined. Her breaths were hitting his skin delicately. Her hair was a mess but he still thought she was the most perfect being to have lived.

There was commotion outside the door, and a minute later, Talia bursted in. Good thing JJ and Y/N were both covered. “What the fuck?”

“Shhh.” JJ hushed his best friend’s girlfriend. But that didn’t help since Y/N jerked awake and groaned at the sunlight hitting her pupils. “Baby, Talia’s in here.”

“Loud ass.” Y/N snarked, and Talia snickered. “Yes, yes, we had sex, everyone calm down.”

Talia’s jaw dropped, “Oh my God, Simon is gonna love this.” She ran out and screamed for Simon.

“So, what does this make us?” JJ nervously questioned while wiping the hair from Y/N’s face. She hugged him tighter and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend if you’re down to be my boyfriend.” Y/N slyly said and held his cheek in her hand, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. JJ’s expression transformed into the widest grin Y/N has ever seen.

“Yeah, I’m down.” JJ responded.

——————————————————————————

#ksi x reader #jj x reader #sidemen #sidemen imagine #sidemen x reader #harry lewis #simon minter #tobi brown #ethan payne #josh bradley #ksi imagine

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