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capslocked · 4 months

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HONNE, TATAMAE & THE OTHER ONE

male reader x shin yuna

9k words

Yuna shuffles into your office with the same sneaky smile, the same easy slouch, and she settles into one of the chairs across the table. There is, apparently, more to talk about.

It's a matter of image, of perception, is what she knows.

You know every good lie starts with the truth.

So you swallow. You pause. Some other part of you understands Yuna can't ignore who she really is, and you’re not sure you can either.

Look - Shin Yuna is the kind of woman that turns heads, even with the best of intentions. A long, lithe silhouette; an easy, rosy sort of youthfulness clinging to the swell of her cheekbones, the curve of her waist. Take a dress that's cut to show a little thigh, or a hairstyle pushed back on one side - earrings, or heels, or just the subtle swipe of red over her lip - it doesn't take much for men (or anyone else) to figure that out. A girl who, more times than not, really ought to have a boy's hand planted on her ass, in possession.

So the opportunity to capture such a form perfected - all toned and graceful and flush for curves, her legs never seeming to end, the slithering fit of the dresses - these were the things they wanted. Package it, put a logo on it - better yet, a ribbon or a bow - and ship it straight to the consumer.

Somebody everyone wants, somebody no one can ever have.

“So,” Yuna asks from the other side of your desk, lips slanting halfway coy. “Are you going to treat me like an adult?"

Her fingers play idly with the hem of her skirt, and she lets a long, slender leg slowly slide out from beneath her.

“In what way,” you answer, half paying attention.

"The photos." She doesn't have the slightest qualms about lifting it higher. The soft creak of leather, and a deepening smile. "Am I not allowed to be a little racy?"

"That's certainly... one way of looking at it."

You glance away from where her stockings wrap around the soft curve of her thighs to flip back through the photos in your lap, one after the other, each a little different from the last. The beach, the sun, a flimsy white slip of a bikini top that hides exactly nothing, her muscles wet and glistening and perfect. Beyond suggestive, it's considerably inappropriate.

But then to a lot of people, Yuna is a lot of things.

She’s more clever than anyone gives her credit for. And she’s fucking gorgeous, sure. That’s definitely not up for debate, but god is she young - she's barely twenty. And here’s some rather uninteresting food for thought: you couldn't even technically take her for a drink without faking an ID or breaking some law or another, like a real one. So go ahead, chew that down. Girls her age are typically studying, or working a retail job and getting wasted on the weekends. And they aren't typically making six, seven figures turning their head to the camera and asking how much more skin?

You have some thoughts.

Prudently, you’re her publicist, and it’s your job to make sure that the public gets a good look at her and sees exactly what you want them to see. It's unfair. She wields sex like a weapon. She's got the face, the body; it's an easy sell, commodified and commercialized down to the finest detail, the softest curve, the slightest arch of her brow. The idea's to not let anyone look too long, should they catch something you haven't approved yet, or the fact that she's quite possibly a real person with a real life and real feelings, which could easily fuck up her brand, so unfortunately, that's a bit of a no-go.

Sign of the times maybe, no ethical consumption under another something, yadda yadda - it's a shitty business, really, and the whole thing usually leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

(And just to be upfront, as an important disclosure: you are fucking her brains out on the side, which is a different kind of ethical dilemma, with a different kind of flavor to it.

You’re supposed to be something of a role model - and she’s gone and fucked up bad by falling for you. From her perspective, it probably makes sense. Girl gets boy, bespoke song, credits roll and it's fine. No sin to atone, no 'after'.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. It’s metastasizing into something you’re not even going to attempt to put into words. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, you know that. And you know the girl has daddy issues, but then you've never had a problem whatsoever playing into it. The possessiveness, the control - she gets off on it. You're pretty sure that she'd do just about anything if you asked her, and you'll admit that the thought alone makes your stomach stir, your mouth run dry.)

Yuna taps her knuckles on the wood of your desk. “What’s the verdict?”

"Well, professionally," you say, caveat in hand, and you give the photos one last flip through. "I'd say they're fine.”

"Oh?" Yuna cocks her head to the side. Her long, blonde hair curtains over her shoulder, and the smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth is almost wicked. She leans forward, chin propped on a palm, and you see that her expression is bright, glittering with interest. "And unprofessionally?"

Sure. It's a fair question.

Though she's wearing her stage face, the one that looks all big eyes and doe lashes, a hint of a pout on her plush bottom lip, and she's staring at you expectantly, the way she might look at a man she's just asked for the time.

You've seen her look a million other ways. You've seen her with her knees spread, her cheeks flushed, on all fours, straddling your lap, face pressed into the sliding glass door of your shower, her eyes screwed shut as she chokes out your name. And god, doesn’t she look good in all of them.

Your fingers tap against the photos.

“Unprofessionally," you tell her, and the smile on your face is tight - unknowable. "I think they’re a little… gaudy."

Yuna frowns, and it's just a flash before her expression is carefully blank again, the stage face back in full swing. She's been doing this since she was a teenager, so the mask is impeccable, but you know her, and you know that she's thinking: about the photo shoot, the way the photographer was looking at her, and the way you had looked at her later, too.

She knows what you've seen. She's wondering if that's why.

"Really," she asks, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Really," you confirm with a small sigh, though you're still smiling. It's a small, private sort of smile, like you're remembering a joke. You don't miss the way she glances down at your mouth either. "Let me be clear, you have a shot at real success. I mean, you have a chance at a career. A real, sustainable career.”

She's sitting there with her legs crossed, her foot tapping restlessly, and when she's silent for a moment too long, the way her eyes narrow just a smidge, her head tipped slightly, you realize how it sounds. Patronizing.

"Look," you amend. You're not the best at apologies, but you try. "I just mean - I think that you could be doing something that you actually enjoy."

"Who says I don't enjoy this," she says, and there's a bite in her tone, a challenge. She's leaning back in her seat now, arms crossed.

"What, taking your clothes off for the camera?" You laugh, a quick bark. Isn’t that a cruel question, and you can see it in the way her eyes flash. "You could do a lot more than that, I'm just saying."

"Right," she says, and she doesn't blink, doesn't even move. Her gaze is fixed, unwavering. "Because I'm not pretty enough."

You open your mouth. Close it.

It's not a question. It's a statement.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Do you know what makes me different from the IT-girl-of-the-month? The Jang Wonyoungs, the Bae Irenes, the Kim Jisoos of the world?" Yuna cuts in.

"Yuna, this isn't-"

"You should know. " She laughs. "It's your job, knowing things, isn't it?"

The silence stretches thin between you. She's not wrong. There’s the quintessential beauty, the timeless classic, the fantasy-wrapped-up-as-a-daydream - oh, it's all sexual, but the product there is palatable (read: marketable). An idea the general public wants to take home to their mother, not take to bed. A beauty so docile and innocent, you feel guilty harboring those untoward thoughts it makes you have.

Yuna is somewhere possibly, someway probably the opposite. You’ve sold her as such, as fantasy in sheep's clothing. She's neither afraid to put the images to words, nor speak her desires aloud. It's her own brand of sensuality, and it's what the public wants - has always truly wanted, since the dawn of man and of popstars fucking their publicists - what the public wants but turns itself in knots just to pretend they don't. The only way it’ll end up in anyones’ parents' home is under the guise that it will be smuggled upstairs and held down into the springs of a mattress. Hand over her mouth, or maybe around her throat, just so she'll shut up.

She's not a nice girl, or the girl-next-door, a bride-in-a-box, but you'd known that before. The line between fact and fiction is fine indeed.

"You're different," you tell her, finally.

"When I first came in here, you had no qualms, no issue to raise, and now all of a sudden, everything is too much," she says, and she's not smiling, her tone flat. "If it was a problem from the jump, you would've said so."

“I just think a little subtlety would be a nice change of pace. It could go a long way, I mean, I could show you the data- "

"So you're going soft on me, is that it?"

You blink, and the realization hits.

"Just where was this noble version of you when we first started out? You had no problem then, remember? Put a sixteen-year-old in front of a camera, in this industry, and all of a sudden-"

"Don't."

“And suddenly it's all 'oh no, that's a little too much, we need to dial it back'." She sighs, a single sharp burst. "Why is that? Is it because you think that now you own me? I fuck you, swallow your cum and call you daddy, and now these are your decisions? Is that it?"

She’s standing now, her chair shoved back so fast it nearly clatters to the floor. There's a storm on her face, almost a rage. This now become a familiar story. The one where the girl's too pretty for her own good. Too much, too soon.

"I'm not a child," she tells you, her tone measured, a sharp contrast to the fire in her eyes. "I know what I want. I know how to get it. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I'm different. You're right."

She's different, but the girl's clever, too. And she's stubborn. It's a dangerous combination.

You breathe slow. "Then why don’t you act like it."

“If they’re going to call me a slut,” she hisses, and she's walking forward. Her palms land on your desk, hard, and you glance down at her clenched fists, at her neatly kept nails, "you know, after we leak them all those steamy photos online-"

Your mind clicks. You reach to slam the cover of the photo book shut. She's caught your hand, though, in hers, holding it firmly to the desk.

Yuna glances at the photos over again, at the tight fit of the swimwear, or how the ties slip in an invisible breeze. And she's biting her lip, trying not to smile, you can tell. "You know it might be worth it for once," she says, slipping a finger between the buttons of her shirt.

There's a long, tense moment, and before you can register it, Yuna has rounded your desk; she’s closing the distance, fast.

And she’s lowering her eyes. Putting her lips on yours.

It knocks the wind from your sail, for just the instant. You're speechless.

Because her fingers. Her mouth. Her hair. Yuna's everywhere, and she's warm. It's utterly selfish, you understand: you want her to be yours. You want her to be yours and no one else's.

She’s realizing she might be.

You feel her grabbing for more of you. Wanting. She tilts her head, her breath hot, and you kiss her back, her mouth slick against your own, and the kiss is a fast, deliberate kind of messy. Your teeth catch her bottom lip, and her tongue slips past yours, licking into your mouth, her hands clutching at the collar of your shirt. It's not like it is when you're fucking, which is slow and hot, and she's on her back, legs around your waist, her nails biting into your skin, or when she's bent over the arm of the sofa, her ass in the air and her back arched, her breathless moans a chorus of yes, yes, please. This kiss is more battle, more heat, less gentle and less finesse. It's the kind of kiss that's just short of an argument.

"You're an asshole," she breathes into your mouth, and it's not a compliment.

You smile against her.

"So are you," you murmur, and her lips are parted, her eyelids fluttering shut, her breath coming quick and hot.

"Then maybe you should just fuck me," she says. She's not asking. “Yeah.” You press your words right into her neck, her collarbone. “Maybe I should.”

Your hands are on her hips faster than you can realize what it is they’re doing, palms pressing into her, and then you're walking her backwards, shuffling a few steps until the small of her back collides with the edge of your desk, and you're lifting her up onto the surface, the photographs falling to the floor, scattering.

"I thought we weren't supposed to do this here," she murmurs, pulling away for just a moment, her mouth swollen and wet, her eyes dark. She knows exactly what it does to you: the goading, the taunting - the looks of faux-innocence later over a bare shoulder, her ass in the air. How it can get you to fuck her within an inch of her life. What it’ll get her, the return on investment.

"And I thought we agreed to longer skirts."

Her thighs are smooth, silky, and they part, the lace of her underwear stark against her skin. You slide a hand beneath the elastic band, sinking down, and down, until she inhales sharply.

"The fuck do you end up doing going up the stairs?" you add, and your fingers are tracing the swell of her hip, and you can feel the goosebumps on her skin.

She bites her lip. You sink down to press a kiss to her thigh, and then the other.

"Nothing," she tells you, and her eyes are wide. "I guess it all just hangs out."

She simply smirks right back into you, throws her arms over your shoulders. You’re snared, caught - she’ll always be able to fuck what she wants right out of you.

"Jesus, Yuna." Your hand curls around her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse, and her shoulders roll back.

You push her down, and she's sprawled across the desk, legs stretching wide, her head tilted back and her chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you. That turns you on? Being a brat?"

She sucks air past her teeth, and you can measure each rise and fall of her chest. The lace under her hips is soaked, her pussy swollen and pink. Like if she doesn’t get your hot, open mouth on her clit this instant, you’re both going to have a problem.

You slip two fingers into her instead, and Yuna keens.

"I know it does," you say, and your voice comes out lower, drier than you expect. She's hot, so wet around you, her pussy fluttering. "It fucking turns me on, too."

"Please," and “god,” is what all you receive back in half whispers, while her legs are spread, her heels now really dug into the square of your back, and she's got a fistful of your hair like she owns it. Her voice is high, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t be such a fucking tease."

You're not going to make it easy. She's not going to make this quick.

"What, and you aren’t?"

You curl your fingers inside her, and the noise that leaves her is positively obscene. She's grinding against your palm, her hips bucking, and her lips are parted, her eyelashes dark and thick, fanning her cheeks. She's panting, her thighs trembling.

"No," she breathes. If she’s shaking her head, you can’t tell. "I'm exactly what you tell them I am."

Your hand stills, and it takes a moment for her to realize that the pressure inside her is gone. Her eyes snap open, her mouth twisted.

"Fuck you," she spits. "Put them back."

You're already sinking down to your knees, and you've got her skirt shoved up, the lace panties pulled aside, her hips canted, her pussy glistening. The stockings can stay, fuck, the heels, too. She's so fucking hot, her legs spread apart and her lips red. Her palm shoved into her brow, and her breath just barely more than a ragged huff of air. You can feel her body wound tight and ready, her eyes on the ceiling.

You put your tongue against her, flat and slow. Inaccurate, indiscriminate, licking up her wet cunt. And her whole body arches off the desk, a cry leaving her mouth with her head thrown back. Her thighs are shaking, and her heel presses into your shoulder, and god, she tastes incredible.

"Please." It comes like music, really, a song of desperation. You can hear it. She's singing it for you now. "Oh god, please, fuck-"

So you do her one better. You put your whole mouth over her, and she fucking shivers. You don’t even try to ease into it - you're devouring, ravishing her, working your lips and tongue all over her pussy, lapping the length of her in broad, hot strokes, and she's almost shrieking, her body going taut. You suck on her lips, pressing your tongue into her clit, and when you pull off her, your hand takes over the place where your tongue can't quite reach, her wetness slick around your fingers. Yuna's close - you can see that she is, you can hear that she is, and it's her gasp that lets you know.

"I'm -" she says, her voice reaching higher, her nails digging into the flesh of your shoulders, the wood of your desk. The sound she makes is wretched and beautiful. "God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming - fuck!"

The licking, the lapping, the fucking fingering. You can feel her slicked cunt pulse and throb in a satisfied, anticipatory kind of way. Even if she wasn’t audibly wet around your knuckles, you’d read Yuna like a map.

Your thumb taps across her clit, once - twice, thrice, and it’s just that.

She arches off your desk, thighs trembling as your tongue works her over, This hard, hungry kiss, and she tastes as sweet as she looks - as filthy as she acts, too. Her pussy is slick, her hips rolling, her body trembling, and she's making soft, little ah, ah, ah, sounds into the wet seal of your mouth. She's trying to keep it quiet, because she knows as well as you, everyone in the damn office does, probably - it's one thing to play at being a slut. A complete other to really fuck like one.

Your finger slips in and out of her pussy, and then another. They fill her up. The knuckles bending and pushing deeper. Yuna's fucking ruined - your desk is ruined.

But then there you are, complicit, and perhaps a little evil: licking and licking and licking right into her, making her grip twist in your hair and her thighs clench around your face. You can feel it in how her breathing is coming fast, faster, her whole body growing taut, and it was never going to take long, you figure, the way her hips were rolling the moment you got your hands on her. You can tell. She's close, and she's so pretty, all flushed and writhing, her skirt hiked up, her ass perched on the edge of your desk, and when her mouth falls open and her breath catches in her throat, you pull yourself up to watch her, the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, and she's shaking.

"Look at me,” you tell her, a kiss trailing unsatisfyingly into the crease of her thigh, your voice running coarse.

She does, her gaze glassy, and the sound that leaves her mouth is a sob. That’s all it really takes.

“Show me. What face you make when you cum on my fingers sweetheart, show me what a slut you actually are-"

You can watch it all in real time, the panting, the heaving. The sculpted lines of her pretty face screw up, real tight, and she lets out another moan, breathier this time, her mouth hanging open. She does it again when you press down. And Yuna fucking shakes, her hands balled, white-knuckling, and the desk rattling beneath her.

It's all a matter of slight degradation, you’ve learned, the barest humiliation. Like the paradoxical freedom she knows she can find in a hand clenched tight around her throat or her hair pulled and twisted into a fist or the sharp sting of a smack across her ass. Her pretty face. She likes a little something that burns. Something sinewy, visceral, raw: you call her a whore, a filthy fucking cumslut and it makes her body curl like she has hot metal pressing into her skin. Makes her breathless, like she wants you to own her.

Sometimes it's better than being fucked.

(Sometimes.)

Because just look at her: she’s in the middle of coming apart, mouth fallen slack, brow furrowed - and she gets real quiet when she cums, the absolute opposite of the journey she’d taken to get there, all those loud little, uh-uh-ah, fucking please god, her moans, her whimpers - her orgasm ripping right through the middle of her, the hourglass of her entire body stiffening on borrowed time as it washes across her features.

You let out a loud sigh, something she can moor herself to that isn’t your fingers, the desk, or your hair at the roots. Yuna can be every bit as uncomplicated as she can be complex, but god, you love her most like this: an unrehearsed, beautiful mess.

"Baby," you tell her, because it's easier to just call her that, and because you don't know how else to end the statement, because you know if you ask, she'll let you - hell, she'll beg for more, and that’s got your brain feeling rather mushily incoherent at present.

"Daddy," she responds - because of course she fucking does; she’s gasping, and her cheeks are still so pink, her body sated, and your heart leaps into your throat.

It's a problem; you've been trying to work it out for a good few months now, and by this, you mean the little moment you have right after you're done, where your eyes meet, and you smile at her. A problem, too, her lips. A problem, because she kisses you, soft, and slow, and easy. A problem, because her heart's probably already yours.

If anyone were to ask, you would have said there's no greater pleasure than knowing a girl that's almost died to take your cock, but maybe that's the point: it's just supposed to feel a bit better if you're a little head over heels, a little stupid about it too.

"I'm going to use this perfect pussy now," you warn her - just simple formality - because you're already rolling her down onto her back, your cock hard and aching against your trousers.

You've got your hands on her stockings, tugging them down to her ankles, the lace of her panties around her thighs, the neat garter of her garter belt wrapped around her hips, her cunt bare beneath it. You unzip, too slow. You tug yourself out.

“I’ll be good,” she says to you, a promise.

“Yeah,” you return to her, “I know.”

And you slip your cock into her cunt, just barely - maybe an inch, maybe more - and you hear a little noise leave her throat, low. Broken.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, and god, you just can't help it, it's easy; you sink deeper, nice, slow, everything smooth inside her, until another broken sort of gasp spills off her lips.

And then another: "oh my fucking god."

You snap your hips back in, bottoming out this time in the wet heat of her perfect cunt, and she just fucking collapses. Yuna looks like an absolute dream in this state of half-dress, half-distress: black suede around the ankles, stilettos, with just the perfect heel. There are worse things, you can imagine, and she looks perfect sprawled out against your notes and portfolios, all this hot, aching want. As gorgeous as she is fucked. You tear into her stockings, a little. You’ll tear more.

You already know you're going to hell. Or at least that’s where you should already be, but you hips crash into hers again, fucking her legs wider apart, spreading her open across your desk for you, getting her slick all over the photos, her career - it’s all so perfectly unfair.

"You have no idea, the things I want to do to you right now," you breathe, your tone hushed, and you're talking again, like you often do. There goes your mouth - but your hips drag back, and then again, her pussy clenching, vice tight and impossibly wet.

It's a long, torturous, lazy sort of a pull, that draws these pretty thin moans from the very center of her.

And the way that feels, your cock buried deep in her cunt: better than good - heaven, if you care enough about labels for it, or the names of things. You haven’t any real way to tell; the gates haven't opened or anything, so all you're working from here is an educated guess. From the fact that Yuna’s eyes have slid closed, her lips parted, and her whole body starting now to tremble gently with it.

"Jesus, this perfect, tight pussy grips me so good, god - such a good girl, always so fucking wet for me," and your mouth is pressed to the arch of her ear, whispering every last thing you know will make her cum again, like a dream.

And she is, she does.

She's twisting up to grip at your hips, her head falling to one side. When you drag your cock through her cunt, slowly, you watch her lips purse and the way the flush moves all the way down the column of her neck, past her collarbone, her shirt half undone and her tits heaving against the white, sheer fabric. You fuck her for a little, and then you roll your hips slow, so slow.

Until your pace is fucking punishing, deep, and so hard. You can’t help it.

Because it's unbelievable - she's so perfect, so tight around you. Fit snug like a glove, like she was made to take your cock, to whimper and mewl at your mercy. Her lips part further and she keens, her brows twisting in similar disbelief as you pound your length into her. The heat pooled in your belly, the way she looks under your desk: fuck, she's so beautiful like this, properly fucked.

You'd let her ruin you for life - it's that simple.

"Yuna, you - fuck," you barely say, and you sound more than slightly stunned, so she’s filling in the gaps, elaborating in the spaces you cannot - that she loves it, that you’re so good for her, and so is that, and that, and that - the way it hits, right there, keep fucking her just like that, because right there, right there, right there, right there - the way she props herself up on her elbows to tell you, "you're fucking me so deep, oh my god - yes, oh my god, fuck."

By the time Yuna shudders through another orgasm, a silent ghost of a wail leaving her pretty frozen mouth, her lashes are batting against her cheeks, and she's biting her lip, so hard you're certain she's going to break the skin, her back strung like a bow. It's the look on her face, that soft sort of reverence, and how her lips are swollen and spit-slick, the pretty hollow of her throat. Your thrusts become faster, shorter - your own moan thick in your throat, your jaw hanging slack.

“Here,” you say, and she’s just putty between your fingers, on your cock.

You’re flipping her around, onto a different angle. You know she likes it, the way her tits are pressed against your desk, and it's hot the way her ass tilts right into your hips, arched. Proffering. "Be good for me, and spread yourself open."

She's already so meek when she complies. "Anything, sir. Stretch me out; I want you to make me yours."

God, she's practically purring when she talks like this. She knows exactly what that fucking does to you. Knows that when her eyes draw back, big and watery and full, you're a goner - if your cock wasn't deep in her pussy, fucking her open and raw, the view would nearly be enough. And all of this, the pretense, the pantomime, she knows how to bend the line of your body to her own, because when she turns, and presses her red mouth to the crest of her shoulder, you are hers.

You could probably cum, right now, deep down into the molten hot of her cunt: if your hips keep up their ruthless pace, if her ass was sticking up the slightest bit more - the sound that would come from her.

"Take that perfect cock - and fuck my pussy up," Yuna mewls, her voice saccharine and slurring, a touch whiny. She rolls her hips. Your cock grinds, still, though it stutters now - shallow and quick.

"All this pussy, for daddy's cock," and you're sure that the entire office can hear her now, the moans that escape from her mouth - but you can't even find it in you to care. You're caught, all of her a net you've willingly been ensnared by, and here you figure that's the slightest bit appropriate; you're so fucked, and it's funny, too. Funny enough to laugh about, later. "Nobody fucks this tight little pussy the way you do, sir."

It's a smile she hears in your voice when you say, "is that right? Go on then, let’s hear all the things you'd have me do to your slutty little cunt."

The line's crossed again, in some indecipherable direction. Where, again, exactly, does it matter? There are lines and lines, and none of them quite mark the beginning, the end, the periphery. This time you don't pull back; you dig deep, and it makes Yuna cry out like you’re killing her. Which, in a way - you already have.

So your hips stutter forward again, once more, and you lean into the slant, so fucking deep it's practically impaled. There’s nothing quite like holding this girl’s hips and pounding her from behind. Her pussy alone is fucking incredible. And the sound her ass makes against the flat of your stomach, the crease of your thighs - it's unimaginable, the way Yuna makes these little squeaks of a noise, like half-broken moans, when you fuck deep, deep, deeper into her. The way her arms splay wide and search frantic across your desk. And as you grab her slim, dainty wrist, pin it back and pull her tight - fixing her upright until you have her head lolling back against your chest - you simply fucking pound away.

Fucking all these little curses and sounds of appreciation out of her throat. Your cock forcing out each syllable, "yes," and "fuck," and "god, oh my fucking god - I cannot believe," now on repeat, how her tone grows tighter. How she moans - a lot, like something's being worked loose.

"Uh-uh," and you're holding her steady now, with one broad, strong hand at the back of her neck. "Keep telling me, and maybe I'll let you cum."

Your free hand finds purchase in her hair. Yuna's groan coming out pathetic and wanting, her mouth half open. You wrap her silky golden locks around your fist, her hair thread neatly through your fingers, and then give the slightest of yanks.

Christ, her pussy just fucking soaks onto you. Greedy. Needy.

"Shit," and Yuna gasps when she can, where she's allowed to.

"Oh, is my little girl into getting her hair pulled?" and you can see the signs of affirmation: the muscles inside her flexing, grasping you as you roll in, a small, soft nod, and the way she sighs your name, like a prayer on her lips.

Listen, she can barely speak, the way you're fucking her apart. Yuna's body is wound like a bow, like string and taught wire. Bent into the side of the desk and open for you, her pussy pulsing tight around you with every stroke.

"Sir, I'll do - whatever you need, just - just - let me have your cum, please -" and there, she's begging now, and her voice is tinny, breaking, breathless and airless.

Then it’s her fucking hair. You pull so much on it harder this time, with another measured thrust inside her, your body flush against her ass. Fingerprints searing down onto where her hips flare and taper, impossibly narrow.

You’re probably hurting her. You’re probably ruining her for anyone else - nothing will ever satiate her more than the way she sobs as your fingers twist tighter through her hair. Around her fucking miracle of a waist. It's an obscene sound that echoes down to your cock, as deep, hot and fucking filthy as her cries when she cums for the third, fourth?

"Just," Yuna barely makes, her eyelids heavy, her gaze flitting somewhere behind her. "Just look at you, fucking me so hard, filling up my tight little pussy, making me take everything your cock has to give. God, you love wrecking my perfect little hole, don't you?"

No, or yes, or probably. You’ll figure out the details later.

"God, I love it when you get real messy, when I get you like this-" your words run seamlessly into the searing heat between your bodies, like punctuation, like the end of days -

"Use me." She doesn't just say it. "Take me, and cum in me, wherever you want. Daddy, you can have my mouth, or, or, you can - you can finish inside me."

And god, you could, you really could: just the timbre of her voice does things to you, the way that it curls around the words daddy, and sir, and you're fucking me so goddamn good. She's saying them now, her whimpers breaking into outright moans and all: shit, please, please - you're gonna make me cum - oh - oh fuck! And when she's wound that tight, a quivering, sopping mess of a girl, you put your fingers against her clit, circling and pressing in tempo to the thrust of your cock.

The cruel metronome that makes. Hell, it fucking sends her.

She’s begging you to finish inside her. It's fucked up - and she knows it. She wraps her heels around the square of your back, and the tension rises, and rises, the coiled spring tight and waiting - just a push away, so you slam into her once, then twice more, the push of a hand splayed between her tits and your fingers digging into the muscle of her thigh. She wants you to cum in her pussy, fill her right up; she tells you that, again, that she wants it, and her voice is raspy, high. That she wants you now, as if she didn't before, and how does this compare, because she needs it now.

You hold out for just a little. You’re holding your breath. Just a little, just until Yuna’s eyelashes flutter open over her shoulder and she says your name, so sweetly, and says, "please, just, inside."

You shouldn't.

You can't.

So here, barely able to think at all, you end up doing the unthinkable - thinking all the while of pumping her right to the finish and draining your balls straight into the deepest reach of her cunt, how fucking tempting it may be - you muster an ounce of good judgment still adrift in a sea of lust. Your throbbing cock draws out of that wet, inviting heat and into your fist, and watch how that makes her begin to unspool: the way she tries to press her knees shut. She's sobbing for it, pleading, her lashes dark with tears. "No, no, fuck me, please, I'm begging you. Please, I'm going to be so good - god, please -"

You tug her back, look her in the eye, and let out a loud, shaky exhale. "Knees, princess."

She's too wracked with need to do anything other than comply. Her jaw drops. “But-”

"Mouth," you cut in, sharp enough that her gaze lifts, and you're right there - on the precipice, so close, watching her tongue dart out of her mouth to run across the swell of her bottom lip.

Watching her knees fold into the carpet, her stockings down loose around her thighs, her underwear hanging off an ankle. The rise and fall of her chest like rolling waves, and you can see her hands fisting on her knees, and her face: you watch the emotion flash over, like water on glass, and a moment is all it takes. She leans her face forward to your hand, as you wind her hair into your fist, her lips parted and her gaze lowered. She's obedient, taking the weight of your cock with her pretty pink mouth like the fucked-up-little-fantasy that she is, opening so nice and wide.

Her eyes flit up to yours, her mascara-ringed lashes fanned against the pink of her cheeks.

"My face," she tells you, or something close to it, "fuck my face. Go ahead, use it - cum all over me."

Your cock slides halfway home, her cheeks hollowing, and when it presses to the back of her throat, she gags. You curse and tip your head back, the wood of your desk digging into the flesh of your palm.

"What did you say," you half groan out. "Baby," you add, just for good measure, just to play along, "c'mon."

The tip of Yuna's tongue sweeps and swirls just beneath your cockhead, and she moans her answer around your length, lapping at a leak of precum. "I said," she's repeating now, her cheek brushing across your shaft, and you shudder. "Fuck, what I said was I want you to cum all over my face.

Jesus.

You bury your cock into her mouth once, twice. Let it sit there. Let her really struggle for it, the angle just a tad awkward from above. Let her lips stretch wide, and her shoulders shake a little - tears start to gather, pricking her eyes, her lipstick a mess, the way your cock fits, plugging up her throat so full. You hold her like that for just a second, a little less - until Yuna's moaning, the vibration low in her mouth, and her eyes flutter open, closed.

"Fuck," you spit out, and "perfect," and your voice is shot, your whole face warm, and you're going to cum on her - everywhere on her. Yuna, who’s been staring up at you in wide-eyed submission, gives you a little nod, like she means it.

Like she’s earned it.

And maybe she has: it only takes one last look to seal it - her hand curled around your cock, her cheek matted with her own spit and lipstick, the bright smudge of her own cum from the point of her chin to the cleft of her cupid's bow, and her eyes are locked on yours, eager and hot. Maybe she hasn't - and maybe you should make her beg, fuck her mouth some more - it's almost cruel, how she looks. A perfectly pretty picture, poised and pliant and waiting, and she's right there, beneath you, and fuck - this is so wrong, and you'll ruin her, you'll mark her up like this. She'll be painted like a work of art.

Your pulse thickens. Stands right up in your veins.

Then, your control, snapping: her pretty lashes flutter, her mouth gone slack, her jaw still tilted up like she expects a gift, an offering, her palm wrapped so nice and snug around the base of your cock, her expression dazed, and so easy, and perfect, so eager. You tilt your hips just a fraction further, and she fucking swallows, her tongue tracing the underside where you throb harder, heavier - her body lilting up as you press in so deep.

“God,” you breathe in, out. It hits hard. It hits fast. “Yuna-”

A tensing of your stomach coils up through like smoke, and your grip tightens on the edge of your desk, the other in her hair, a helpless, desperate thrusting, and there - it's a wonderful, brilliant sort of explosion, like light, the white-hot burn of a fever breaking. You cum all over her face and into her hair, spilling out streaks of hot, filthy white onto her sculpted features and the sweet line of her throat, and god, there's so much, she's taking it so easily, all her breathing hot and heavy and loud.

Her skin alabaster and porcelain; cotton and canvas; she lets you fucking paint her, all messy and ruined.

In fact she’s even smiling like she’s holding in a laugh, all gooey-soft with satisfaction, and you're jerking your cock slow through her slender fingers, even after there's nothing else left to give and every inch of her face is marked - the way she wears your cum like new skin. You feel the shockwave tear your nerves open, and then the calm, right on its heels, spreading out from your core to your fingertips, out through the roots of your hair.

"Ah," you exhale, a tight gasp. Yuna takes the entirety of you into her mouth, sucking down your length - harder - as she swallows back a final, sticky load, her own hair sweat-slick to her face.

Just look at the damage: that’s a story not even you’d be able to spin. There's cum on her nose, dribbling past her cheek. On her jaw and on her cheek. Filthy white streaked all over her parted lips, her neck. Down her shoulder blades, and soiling her hair, and leaking down past her collarbones.

(Christ, was this better or worse? You can't even tell. Every version of her that's been served on a plate for you has seen fit to make you sweat.)

When the dust begins to settle, you’re left panting and spent. Yuna, the collateral on this fine, whiny, disaster of a deal. A collection of photos, and some thoughts and ideas, that now sit disheveled on the ground. There's a scathing voice inside your head that's demanding to be heard, reminding you all-too-casually that this is not any way to manage a client. She could snap her fingers, call out to that sycophant at the top floor, and your career would be over - she could do anything she should ever desire.

You know, on a baser level, this, and worse: the duality of the thought. Her tight cunt on your desk, you on your knees; the sharp gasp you can steal from the top of her throat, perhaps when she feels the gentle pressure of teeth around one rosy nipple. The pinch of your thumb and index finger around the other. Her nails down your back in ten angry lines, and the throb in her throat, while you slide the whole width of a hand, rough, over the flesh of her ass.

Maybe the desk, like everything else, can just join the pile on the floor.

"Yuna," you say, the vowels pitching like a sigh.

Her palms find the sharp crease in your pants and slide upward. She's gazing up at you, bright, her face sticky with you.

"You can't send me out like this," she tells you, matter-of-factly, letting a smile cross the lines of her lips - or a smirk. A wordless extension of the previous sentence - of a few.

You pull out and away from her: a white and gray dotted tie hanging loose, unknotted; a button still fastened somewhere mid-center, your trousers pulled off and loose down just below your knees, the fly gaping open. She's in a similar state, the cups of her bra slipping loose, her mouth flushed, lips swollen and red, the outline of how she’d let you use her in a smeary, runny stain across her cheek.

"Maybe let your manager know," you tell her, pulling your belt in place, and you think you catch her eye rolling. "That you're going to be late."

Yuna doesn't hesitate.

"Tell her yourself," she responds, "I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear I'm not actually dead - just having gotten fucked stupid on my PR person's cock."

"I might forget to include a couple details."

"You shouldn’t." Her eyebrows jump. And she's chewing, lazily, on the full curve of her lower lip, her teeth glinting like razors. "Here, before you throw all this to the sharks -"

So, so very dramatic, and with this: her thumbnail pressed beneath your chin. It draws your gaze up - up, and down: from the splay of her legs and the gleam of wetness between them, a brief rest along the arcs of her chest - the room's a total fucking wreck. Your necktie, her skirt, her blouse, her pantyhose. The papers and books all spread, bent, broken, the stack knocked clean onto its side. The skirt's probably still pulled too far up her hips for decency, her breasts shoved up to her neck and the collarbone, and then there's her face - her chin streaked with cum. Yuna smiles then, the corner of her mouth pulled upward.

She might kiss her if you'd let her.

Cum on her lips be damned, she's beautiful like that, like she isn't even trying. And in fact, she never really had to - this girl, she'd do it alone. The idea that someone could be as universally loved as she, is enough, a marvel even, but here she is in front of you, every atom and curve a siren, a study in perfection and composition. Like she’s not just all your mistakes laid out to bear.

"Take a second to take a proper look, hm? Get all the memories in, while they're fresh."

"Because?"

"You can remember I'm only the person you say I am, for you."

"You can remember I'm only who you say I am, for you."

"Oh, of course," and the laugh that leaves your throat sounds dry, cracked open. The band of her skirt stretches, snaps back, so neatly that it leaves a pale line on her flesh. And now there are your hands, fitting around her hipbones, a sigh: a short, sudden motion, tugging her up. Yuna gasps: something surprised, delighted. She's all grins and teeth, all clean, bright incisors.

"Mine," you're breathing, the flat of her stomach underneath the fingers you've placed upon it. "This is mine - you. Yours - you're all mine."

It’s possessive, but, you’re not all incorrect.

"Yeah," she more than agrees.

There's a ribbon-taut quality in the way it leaves her mouth, the tension in her body coiled up through to the bones. She makes it sound like the beginning of a promise, the beginning of something much larger.

And by the way." She’s still buttoning her shirt. Putting herself together. You’ve seen the triage, the damage control. This is the Yuna you get.

So, she needs the second - a respite to lick a stray stripe of slick and cum off her wrist - blotting her cheeks with a ball of wet tissue, until all that's left is the smeared lipstick, her stockings splayed around the floor. The pattern you've worn, where your fingerprints would've shown, gets covered up under her skirt and her coat, wrapped up in a scarf.

The smug satisfaction in her tone pulls your focus, just in time, her hair's falling in waves down her shoulders - perfect, but not flawless: there's a creased line, a hint of her throat, just beneath the collar. There's a slight wisp out of place. The buttons aren't arranged all the way from her collar to her sternum.

"I'm going to go with that photoset, with the white top, in the sand - gonna post 'em online and generate some buzz. You even said it yourself: they're fine. " She pauses, pushing away a strand of hair. "Professionally, of course."

"Professionalism." You smile. "Of course."

She walks out carrying the stilettos: pumps in either hand.

"Always. Catch you soon," she promises, and you do catch a last flash of her expression, lips parted, the lower curving into a satisfied smile, right as she flicks the lock on the door open and your office goes back to quiet.

For a split second, it's unbearable: the silence.

And you think again.

She can have anything, get any boy, girl, whoever, any designer, photographer, make-up artist in the world; there's something so unmistakably intoxicating about the fact that the thing she's decided she wants, is you.

#yuna smut #itzy smut #itzy yuna smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic

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togrowoldinv · 6 months

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Teamwork

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

The Avengers, Natasha’s family, and you and the kids watch your youngest daughter play soccer. Natasha coaches the team with a little extra motivation coming from the spectators when the team is struggling

Note: This is soft soft soft. Featuring a lot of the Avengers and Nat’s family. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Natasha stands on the opposite side of the field from you as she tries to coax three and four year olds into playing soccer.

“You’ve got to run, Taylor! Come on! You got this!” Natasha tries to encourage your daughter. She puts her hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

She’s the most uninterested of any other kid out there. You try not to laugh at the way she just keeps getting distracted by her surroundings.

“Let’s go team!” You cheer from the sidelines. The other parents clap along with you, trying to encourage their kids.

“Taylor, kick the ball!” Your youngest son shouts to her. Soccer is his sport, so it kills him to see all of the kids just running aimlessly.

“The ball didn’t do anything to me!” Taylor yells back.

You have to giggle at her words. Everyone who is watching, including the Avengers and Natasha’s family, die laughing at her words.

“I think you’ve got quite the debater on your hands, y/n,” Yelena says from next to you.

“She’s just genuinely too nice to play sports,” you say, shrugging. Sure, you love sports and wish she did too but they aren’t for everyone.

At halftime, the other team is demolishing Taylor’s team. Natasha, who stepped in as coach while the actual coach is out of town, calls in the Avengers to give a pep talk to the team.

“Alright, little ones,” Steve addresses them. “What we have to do here is continue to play as a team. You’re all doing great at that. Keep it up.”

“Yeah, you’re really working together out there,” Thor agrees. “Excellent work!”

“Oh forget that. Rogers and Thor here have gone soft,” Tony pipes in. “Five dollars to everyone who scores this half!”

“Make it twenty, Mr. Iron Man, sir,” one of the little boys argues.

“Hm, you drive a hard bargain,” Tony ponders the deal.

“Twenty, Unkie Tones,” Taylor pipes in. She looks up at him with sweet eyes. He can’t say no to her.

“Alright, twenty bucks. Let’s do this!” Tony says, clapping his hands.

Natasha sighs at the boys’ antics. She should’ve known.

“We can do this, team. I believe in all of you, okay? Team on three,” Natasha says.

All of the kids cheer on three. They don’t necessarily say team but Nat just smiles. The second half goes much better. It seems money is a motivator for the kids.

Even Taylor is more into it. She is running for a goal, so everyone cheers for her.

“Go Taylor!” You say. She turns and looks at you with a smile on her face. “No, no, keep running! Don’t stop!”

“Oh,” she giggles to herself. “Okay.”

She ends up successfully scoring a goal. Her team cheers for her so does the sidelines. Her first goal of the season and everyone who loves her got to see it.

“Otlichnaya rabota! Well done, Taylor!” Nat says as she lifts her in a hug. She kisses her cheeks softly. Taylor preens at the attention, snuggling into her mama.

The kids finish the game and end up still losing pretty badly, but they had so much fun. Nat gives them a final pep talk once the game is over and directs them to another parent that has snacks for them.

“Nice job, coach,” you tell her once she approaches the spectators.

“That was stressful,” she says. “But also fun.”

You wrap her into a hug. She gladly reciprocates. A crowd of kids who scored gather around Tony. He realizes he’ll have to pay up.

Taylor is the last one to make her way to him. She was no doubt taking her time eating her snack and drinking her juice box.

“Saved the best for last,” Tony says, getting a final twenty from his wallet.

“Tony, you don’t have to pay her,” Natasha hops in.

“No, no. A deal is a deal, right underoo?” Tony kneels in front of Taylor.

“A deal is a deal, Mama,” Taylor agrees.

Natasha chuckles. Tony hands Taylor the twenty dollar bill and she gasps. To her, it’s so much money. She gives Tony a hug and runs to Wanda, her current favorite aunt, to show her the money.

“Where was Uncle Tony when I made my hat trick last season?” Your son Jack wonders aloud. You laugh and give him a soft smile.

“Alright, let’s go home family,” you say. All of the Avengers look at you too. “How about lunch at the compound?”

“Now we’re talking!” Thor shouts. Always a loud one, that man.

“Works for me, babe,” Nat agrees. “Melina, Alexei, Yelena?”

“We’re in,” Melina answers for the group.

“Okay. Let’s all go home then,” you say this time.

The group all file into cars and drive to the compound. You have a nice cookout and enjoy each other’s company.

It’s truly the best family in the world. Days like this these days are rare, but you’re always so grateful for them.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #steve rogers #tony stark #yelena belova #wanda maximoff #thor

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anistarrose · 2 months

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The thing about the Heart Attack segment in Wonderland is that they put so much aromantic subtext in it. They accidentally put SO much aromantic subtext in it, on behalf of multiple characters, and I'm thinking about it constantly. Let me tell you all about it.

Magnus is dropped into a dating game and literally leads with "I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am in this." Now, it's perfectly valid to read this as due to him waiting for Julia, or just him being plain old uncomfortable with having his love life put in the spotlight. However! I cannot stress enough the exchange that happens just a minute or two after that line:

Magnus (describing his ideal date): ... and we don't see each other again, ‘cause I'm really not interested in dating. Audience: [exaggerated] Oooooh! (cheers) Griffin: The silhouette is like, fanning itself. Lydia: Playing hard to get, huh? It seems like our contestant is into that.

And I just have to say: unfortunately, this is one of the most aromantic fucking experiences I've seen represented in fiction in my life. I mean — saying you're not interested in romance, then having those words twisted on you, like they're some secret coded way of saying that you are interested in romance? Not having a single way to express your disinterest that'll actually be believed? That's some aro shit right there. God. Fuck.

As an aside, it's enough to really tell that Heart Attack is not designed to be a reprieve from the pain, even though it's the "good outcome" of Trust or Forsake. It's designed to be uncomfortable. To funnel suffering to Edward and Lydia, just like all the other games do. (More on that later, in fact.) But in summary:

Magnus is a character who can be read as uncomfortable with romance for either aro-spec reasons or unrelated reasons. But in either case, his discomfort attracts reactions that reek of amatonormativity — and therefore, resonate with aromantic experiences. (Psst, I did recently write a gray-aro Magnus fic!)

Two more analyses below the cut (and only one of them is for another Horny Boy):

Obviously the next character I need to talk about is Merle. I've found aroallo readings of his character to be compelling for a long time (having sex with plants so you don't have to worry about romantic commitment, am I right?), but the way he describes his "ideal date" is another factor:

Merle: I volunteer to drive her vehicle, and tell her it's filthy, and so we go through the uh- drive through vehicle wash and she pays for that too. Um, and then I take her to have dinner with my family, and- Magnus: Wait, like your wife and stuff? Merle: She meets my ex-wife.

Merle's probably exaggerating as a joke, continuing on about both him and his partner being miserable, but I think the fact that Merle's mind goes here is genuinely drawing from a lot of poor romantic experiences in the past. He didn't get a choice about being on Heart Attack, and his marriage with Hecuba was similarly "arranged".

It's also worth noting that at this point in time, Merle is putting in the work to be part of Mavis and Mookie's lives again, but is not interested in doing the same for Hecuba — he instead just asks Mavis how Hecuba's doing. That said, given that Magnus is the one to put the focus on Merle's ex-wife, I think it's fair to read the "family" comment as Merle actually expressing that he'd rather spend time with his kids than give any special romantic attention to his date. Moving on to the rest of the "joke":

Merle: She's having a miserable time and she's really mad, she can't wait to get outta there. I take her back to her house, and so I lean up against the door jam and say, 'Sure you don't want me to come in for a few minutes?' and she slams the door in my face.

It's possible Merle just has a more roundabout, self-deprecating way of expressing a similar thing to what Magnus did: Merle just isn't interested in dating. To me, the last line implies he might not say no to sex, if offered — but overall, it reads as if Merle is putting minimal effort in because he's looking for an excuse to get out of this relationship anyway.

It's also possible that Merle's "rejection" of a suitor being so disguised as humor could point to him still coming to terms with his disinterest in dating. Particularly, in comparison to Magnus, who is so vocal and unashamed about it, while Merle might still be figuring this all out.

(Honestly, the self-deprecation Merle turns to here is actually kind of sad, when viewed in that light — he already lets himself be the butt of jokes so often, and now he feels like the way romance doesn't click for him has to be a joke, too? Oof. Someone give him a hug and tell him he's not broken this instant!) But regardless:

Merle views dates, and perhaps romance in general, as things that will inevitably turn disastrous for him and any party involved with him, and he would rather spend time with his children than repairing a relationship with an ex, or cultivating a relationship with a new partner. This is not an experience exclusive to the aro-spec umbrella, but you can't say that an aromantic reading of his character doesn't fit him like a gardening glove...

...which he wears while fucking his plants. Because plants don't demand emotional intimacy, nor take too much time away from the platonic relationships that matter more to him. And you know what? He's fucking valid for that! Fly your flag, nasty grandpa!

But moving on: I promised you aromantic analysis of characters outside of our protagonists, and henceforth, that analysis I will provide. And not just because I admittedly see Taako as the token alloromantic (though clearly an aro ally; if he hadn't chosen Forsake we wouldn't have gotten all this incredible characterization!)

I digress. So let's go on to addressing the lich twins in the room: Edward and Lydia.

Remember my argument earlier that Heart Attack serves the purpose of collecting suffering just like the rest of Wonderland does? How it's just a subtler way of making Wonderland's victims fundamentally uncomfortable?

...Using, of all things, romance?

How the vogue twins, for whatever reason, felt inspired to make people uncomfortable with matchmaking and adoration? How, some way or another, they noticed how much potential romance had to induce suffering? Being pressured into a relationship, being told that no matter how firmly you say you're uninterested, you're not really uninterested?

...Relatedly, I have always gotten the sense that Edward and Lydia projected relentlessly onto their victims.

Edward: This resolve, this desire to do whatever it takes no matter the cost to save yourselves — do you know who you three remind me of? Magnus: No? Merle: Who? Edward: Us!

I'm even going to go a step further and say that on top of projection, they want their victims to go through things they went through. Swallowing the guilt of having fucked someone else over to survive, of course — that's basically self-admitted. But possibly also... the feeling of not being able to get back what you lost (Keats). The feeling of being able to heal (Keats).

So, where does that leave Heart Attack?

Lydia: It was the three of us, surviving against all odds. The world against us.

Their family of three was (is) indescribably important to them. I'm not necessarily saying that societal expectations of romance, especially of romance as a priority above that of family, left a bad taste in their mouths — if not downright contributing to their trauma — but, okay, I wrote the rest of this post and now that I'm back, I can no longer deny it. I'm definitely, absolutely saying that.

At the time of the podcast, we know Edward and Lydia's own relationship is heavily strained. Until the end, they are lying to themselves and to each other about the fact that they continue to be emotionally and magically reliant on each other. After all, Lydia wouldn't say "I guess we really needed each other after all" in her dying moments with such surprise otherwise.

This is the second reason that I... well, I wouldn't quite call it a "theory," but I find it most impactful to read Edward and Lydia as characters for whom the concept of Love has baggage. And always has, from their origins as youth in a tough spot in an already amatonormative world.

Maybe the constant societal devaluing of platonic, familial bonds left them with serious emotional scars. Maybe the constant conflation of Love and morality just weighed on them and weighed on them and weighed on them until they decided: well, we don't love the way people expect us to, so we might as well give up on being the good people they expect us to be. We might as well embrace this new fuel of suffering.

...And you know, I hope this gets across what I mean when I always say I headcanon villains as aromantic to make them more sympathetic.

Edward and Lydia, textually, are already tragic villains. As twins and liches, they're also textually foil characters to several of the Seven Birds. But I also like to think that they have a lot in common with Magnus and Merle, and the possibility that tugs at my heartstrings the most is the possibility of them all falling under the aromantic umbrella.

#taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #vogue elves #wonderland twins #(i always forget which tag i use for them lol)#aspec taz #taz meta #happy aro week this essay is my gift to myself <2

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archivomeow · 6 months

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when you lost control

read on ao3

summary -> Carol Danvers can keep her cool… just not when a guy obviously is hitting on her uninterested girlfriend.

pairing -> Carol Danvers/Reader (Established Relationship)

a/n -> If you guys could check out my pinned post, it would mean a lot <3 Also enjoy some protective & gay Carol. This is a very short one shot, like definitely shorter then my usual ones. ALSO TITLE IS A TAYLOR LYRIC (“when you lost control, red blood, white snow” aka “is it over now?”)

You and Carol have been a thing for quite a while, it was tough, she was busy a lot and not-on-earth a lot… But you made it work.

Finally there was a moment where both of you had free time, time to talk, to do anything and everything, so you figured a date is a good idea.

There was one bar in particular that you two haven’t visited yet in the area of your apartment, so that’s where you agreed to meet up, the only issue being that Carol was late. You didn’t expect her to be early, but at least on time. There wad a chance she had to cancel and you two were stuck not seeing each other again, but you still had hope.

Checking your phone made you even more anxious, especially when the time hasn’t changed. As the seat next to you was taken, your annoyance was growing, your disappointment, anger, everything that you weren’t meant to he feeling today is what you were feeling.

“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone?” A voice next to you caught you off-guard, you turned your head just to meet eyes with a man, you in fact didn’t know.

He was about your age or older, smirking at you, his eyes were busy in the mean time looking at your tight dress, which in fact was not for his to look at.

“Waiting.” You kept your tone cold, making sure to not seem interested, him continuing this conversation was the last thing you wanted.

“Well, why don’t I keep you company, hm?” He chuckled like he just said something funny, nothing about this was funny.

There was a pit growing in your stomach and you were just praying for the phone to ring, for your girlfriend to show up, however all you got left was sitting at a bar, stood up as of now and talking to a guy who wanted to score.

“No, thanks.” A polite smile appeared on your face for a moment, just enough for him to see it as an invitation to place his hand on your shoulder.

You could feel his cold fingers brushing over your shoulder, you wanted to run, just leave, instead you…froze. He was in fact talking, but you were in fact not paying attention, you just had to figure out a way to get out…Fast and safe.

The man got quiet, looking behind your back, at something you couldn’t see.

“Hey there, sweeth—“ He didn’t got to finish, as the woman behind you twisted his hand, the one placed on your shoulder before hand.

The blonde pushed him, with a lot of strength, as the guy yelled out for help, she moved closer whispering something into his ear before letting him go.

She turned to you, worry on her face, well after all maybe your date wasn’t ruined, just late.

“Carol.” You sighed in relief, as you shoulders relaxed and soon enough wrapped around the woman.

“Hi honey…” She whispered, her voice was calming you even more, you finally felt at home.

“God… He just came out of nowhere and I—“

“It’s fine… I say we get out of here, hm?” She smiles at you, leading you out of the bar.

The cold air hits your warm skin, making you shiver, the good side is that you get to wear your girlfriend’s jacket.

“So… What did you say to him?”

“Oh, you know… Only nice stuff…” She chuckled before opening the door to her passager seat for you.

#marvel #writing #carol danvers #captain marvel #brie larson #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel cinematic universe #carol danvers x female reader #carol danvers x you #female reader #writblr #fluffy #fluff #carol danvers fluff #mild hurt/comfort

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tired-teacher-blog · 17 days

Text

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

_ "I was so excited today when dad told me you were coming!" little Eri squeals enthusiastically while holding your hand and jumping with every word.

_ "I wouldn't have missed it for the world, we'll have lots of fun right?" you respond with the same level of excitement before picking her up in your arms and twirling her around as lively giggles escaped you both.

_ "Alright don't move, stay like that for a moment." your boyfriend appears with his camera in hand, ready to snap yet another photo of the two of you.

It's a habit of his, capturing moments like this to keep as a memory, and printing them out to frame, and you've grown so used to it that sometimes you strike a pose without waiting for him to ask.

_ "Good job girls, you look beautiful," he smiles dotingly before tucking his camera away and joining you, "dinner is ready." he announces with a smile before planting a soft kiss on his daughter's cheek, and another on your lips, lingering a bit until hearing Eri's playful protests.

You can never explain or understand how, but moments like this, when you're together with them, talking, laughing, playing, without a care in the world, moments like this are what makes you the happiest, so if heaven ever existed, then this is yours.

_ "This tastes so good Shouta, you did wonderful." your eyes widen in surprise as you take your first bite.

_ "That's right dad! Good job." little Eri chimes in with an adorable little giggle lacing her words.

This is shaping up to be a wonderful evening that both you and your boyfriend desperatly needed, especially after the hell you've been in for weeks..

You needn't think of that right now, you will at least have a little peace of mind tonight.

The doorbell suddenly rings once, one loud ding that interrupts your happy chattering and gets you all snapping your heads up in surprise.

_ "I'll see who it is." your boyfriend announces with a smile before setting down his half empty glass of water and standing up to do just that.

Your eyes shift to little Eri who seems uninterested in the newcomer as she carried on with her meal, unlike you who are now wondering who it might be.

It's possible that this is one of his friends, he did take the day off -as did you- to spend it whole with both Eri and yourself, so maybe something happened at work that he needed to learn about.

_ "Oh hello."

That voice, it's strange, yet so familiar, who does it belong to? If only you had the guts to look up and see who's looming over you right now.

_ "So we meet again, flower girl."

There it is, the same condescending tone that's been hunting you for weeks, you know whose it is, but refuse to believe it.

_ "That's enough Emi!"

Only now did you finally lift your head up to see the furious look in your boyfriend's eyes as he glared at the same beautiful woman who visited you a few weeks ago, and whom you wished to never see again.

_ "H.. hi, nice to see you again." you hurriedly stand up and bow to the woman who doesn't reciprocate the gesture.

Her name catches your attention though, Emi.. you could swear you've heard it before, but can't for the life of you remember anything about it.

Aizawa pushes his way between the two of you and gently holds your hands, the frightening expression of earlier is now replaced with a soft one , and it makes you feel secure despite the situation, "would you please take Eri to her room? I'll explain everything later."

You do not question him, and simply nod in approval before extending your hand to a confused Eri, whose innocent eyes kept traveling between the three adults surrounding her..

_ "Aren't you going to ask?" you hear the smirk in her question even with your back facing them both, but you keep a steady step towards Eri's room because you know you weren't the one meant to respond.

Aizawa says nothing too, not before making sure you've disappeared behind Eri's door, and then you hear it:

_ "You tracked her down? What is it you want exactly?" his voice reaches you clearly, even though you aren't in the same room as them anymore.

He sounds furious and it's scary, where did your gentle boyfriend disappear? There is obviously so much you don't know about their past, and the realization is making you feel like a total stranger.

_ "You know exactly what I want so don't play dumb with me! You went ahead and got yourself a little plaything after I entrusted you with our daughter! How could you expose her to that?"

Of course, it's Eri's mother, that's why her name sounded familiar, it's because Shouta had told you about her before.

_ "What's going on? What does that woman want with dad?" Eri's sweet and worried voice brings you back to reality, it isn't the time for self-pity, because this clueless little girl who -by the looks of it- is unaware that she was in the presence of her mother only moments ago, is in need of some reassurance right now, and it's your job to provide.

_ "Oh this is just a grown-ups discussion, it's nothing to worry about sweetie I promise," you bend down to her level and smile through your lie before carrying on, "how about we watch a few more episodes of your favorite show? We can do it on my phone."

_ "Really?! Yes let's do it!" her attention immediately shifts towards the new topic as she starts jumping in excitement, and her innocence melts your heart.

You tuck her in bed and take a seat at the edge of it before handing her your phone and connecting it to her headset, she doesn't need to hear any of the arguments outside, you on the other hand, are understandably restless, but still keep your calm demeanor in front of her..

_ "You can see her whenever you want, I already told you this, but I will never give her up." he sounds more hurt than upset, and it breaks your heart to pieces.

_ "I just.. I don't want to lose either one of you again, Shouta please, can't you give me another chance? If not for me, then at least for our daughter's sake."

Another chance..

Her words felt like acid poured in your ears, and you cannot bring yourself to hear his response.

You press your hands to your ears as your mind turned into a tangled mess, what if he says yes? It would be perfect for all of them actually, especially for little Eri who would finally have her mom around like she deserves, but where would that leave you?

You glance at the sweet girl leaning her head on your shoulder, and wonder if it's your place to be in her room right now when her mother isn't, maybe it was never your place to begin with, you have been longing for somewhere to belong and someone to love until you met him, and it felt perfect, too good to be true in fact, but maybe that's just what it is.. too good to be true.

If there is a way for them to be happy together, then what gives you the right to selfishly take it away?

_ "Hey, did you hear me?" a gentle tap on your arm brings you to your senses, and it's him, smiling sweetly like he always does, but for some reason, this same smile that usually warms up your heart, is now filling you with nothing but dread.

_ "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't see you walk in," you force out a chuckle and turn to check on Eri, only to find her already deep in slumber, "oh look, she's already asleep."

How long have you been out of it anyway? Apparently long enough for Eri to doze off and for your boyfriend to come in unnoticed.

_ "She is," his gaze lingers on the little angel's sprawled frame before shifting to you, "listen, I'm sorry about what happened out there, it's.."

_ "What? No it was nothing, come on," you avoid his eyes and fix Eri's pillow before planting a gentle peck on her temple and taking your phone back, "I just hope everything goes well, so just do whatever's good for Eri."

He doesn't reply, a blank expression on his face as he watches you approaching, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

You grab onto his shirt and lean closer to capture his lips, and he freezes for a second before melting into the kiss..

_ "Shouta, I'll be here for as long as you'll have me." you had to say those words, even if you're certain that your time together is nearing its end, you -at least- want him to know how much he means to you.

He smiles wearily as his eyes bored into yours, he seems exhausted and clearly reluctant to talk so you don't push it, and instead prepare to leave so he would have a chance to think things over, but he stops you in your tracks with a pleading look on his face before leaning his head on your shoulder.

_ "Please don't go.." is what he heavily breathes out while clutching onto your arms.

Of course you'll stay and be the pillar he desperatly needs, because who knows, maybe this would be the last time you'll have the chance..

To be continued..

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yagirlwrites · 1 year

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The Night We Met (The Sounds of a Good Boy Blurb)

Their first meeting! I'm so excited/nervous to hear y'all's thoughts on this one! This is set a while before the first part so a very interesting dynamic between them and a long way to grow before we see them in TSOAGB.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Hope you like it! Let me know your thoughts and if you'd like more blurbs about these two idiots💞

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it’s not to be copied, transferred or translated. Happy reading!🥰

The Night We Met

The party was in full swing. Bodies swaying on the dance floor, drinks and blunts being passed around, music deafening and the air thick with sweat and heat.

She had once again found herself at a frat party she had no interest in attending. It was getting old. Every party was exactly the same, with exactly the same kind of crowd, same forced conversations; ultimately ending with her driving her friends’ drunk asses home.

She loved her friends and that’s the only reason she agreed to spend her Saturday night here; drinking from the same cup of cheap beer she snatched when they first got here, her friends long gone with someone they were gonna hook up with, and she was outside breathing in the fresh air after the stuffiness of the inside.

A guy had come up to her while she was just trying to have a moment of peace and was now talking her ear off about something she didn’t care enough to pay attention to. She was getting annoyed and he was not taking a hint.

“Look, man. I’m not interested okay?” She blurted it out without thinking, but she wasn’t going to take it back, she meant it. She’s not going to hook up with this guy and she doesn’t want to spend any more of her already shitty night getting her energy sucked out of her by the most uninteresting person she’s ever met.

He looked surprised. Like he hadn’t even realized she was capable of speaking, seemed to love the sound of his own voice so much he couldn’t imagine anyone not being interested in what he had to say. She had to repress an eyeroll at his face and just moved away from him walking further out into the backyard.

She assumed she was alone but then she heard a chuckle coming from her left. It was too dark to make out exactly who it was, and frankly she didn’t care. She was looking up at the stars when she heard the footsteps approaching and she couldn’t stop the eye roll that followed. Was there no way for her to get a few moments to herself at this god damn party?

“That was kinda harsh.” The voice spoke, clearly talking to her. She didn’t respond, hoping he’ll just leave if she ignores him. No such luck.

“Poor guy seemed like he was pouring his heart out to you. I think you hurt his feelings.” The tone was more sarcastic than empathetic, and she sighed turning towards him.

Now that he was closer she could somewhat make out his features. He was tall, his hair was peaking out under a backwards cap, he was wearing exactly the same thing as every other frat douche at this party. How original.

His right had was clutching a cup, and a ring caught the moonlight as he brought it to his lips which were pulled into a smirk. She knew they would be, he sounded smug. She looked in his eyes with a blank stare, daring him to keep going, making it painfully obvious how much she didn’t care for his opinion.

“Do you like to hurt guys’ feelings?” He questioned, ignoring her stare, determined to get a response out of her.

She knew this. She should just walk away and not give him what he wants. So that’s exactly what she does. She turns away from him heading back inside with the full intention of finding her friends and getting the hell out of there. He doesn’t follow or make any more comments as she enters through the back door.

She knew it was going to end up a fruitless endevour. After about 20 minutes of searching through the sweaty bodies and the crowded rooms with no luck she made her way into the kitchen which seemed to hold a lot less people. Finding a clean cup and getting some water, she leaned against the counter pulling out her phone and texting her friends for the 3rd time. She didn’t expect an answer though. She decided she was done here and after she had her drink she was going home wheather those girls answered her or not.

As she was typing out the texts to let her friends know she was leaving, she could feel eyes on the back of her head. She glanced over her shoulder seeing the same guy from earlier perched on one of the barstools on the other side of the counter. She sighed. This fucking guy again. She wanted to turn back around and keep ignoring him but he pulled out that cocky smirk again and she got an intense urge to wipe it off his face.

She turned, her body fully facing him now. Leaning towards him on he counter, hands under her chin eyes taking him in. She shamelessly ran her eyes over his figure. Checking out his tanned biceps and veiny arms, the way his shirt clung to his chest. He’s clearly fit, not doubts about that. She took on his fingers, slim and long and that ring was golden and shiny under the kitchen light. Her eyes followed the veins in his neck, seeing his Adam's apple bob as he tried to subtly swallow under her gaze. Next came his chin, bit of stubble, mouth, pink and plump, shiny with remnants of whatever was in his cup, covering his upper lip a small moustache. She could see some freckles on his nose and cheeks, his cheekbones sharp. His hair was dirty blond as far as she could tell from what peaked out under his hat.

Lastly she met his eyes. They were blue with green swirling in them. And they were still looking at her. But he was no longer smirking, he looked serious, maybe even a little nervous. This pleased her greatly. Mission accomplished.

Seems he wasn’t expecting her to so blatanly check him out. He felt bare and vulnerable under her heavy gaze and it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was desperate for her to pay attention to him earlier and now that she had it shook him.

He was holding her stare, unwilling to back down still. His ego wouldn’t let him.

She gave a non commital hum in response and smiled at him. It was a smile of a woman who had nothing to prove and every intention of fucking with his head. He thought he could play games with her and instead he was feeling like her prey. The smile on her face was beautiful, she was beautiful, but her eyes were fiery and they screamed danger.

Something deep within him stirred at the way she was looking at him. Like she could devour him without breaking a sweat and leave him behind without looking back. He recognized that look. It was the same way he had looked at girls countless times before. Like they were mere playthings, to have fun with and move on once he got bored. He didn’t like being looked at like that. He didn’t like her looking at him like that. But he couldn’t look away, it was like he was in a trance.

She could see the effect her gaze had on him. He was no longer a smug smirking asshole. He was still and rigid like it was taking everything in him not to break down. He was holding her stare but she could see the emotions swirling in his eyes. He seemed to be feeling a lot of them.

He was very pretty. She couldn’t deny it. He was attractive. He looked exactly like the kind of guy that was probably more than capable of satisfying a woman and he knew it. But her appetites were different and she wasn’t sure he could handle that. So she pushed away the urge to run her fingers over his pretty face and pushed back from the counter. Her phone buzzed in her hand, surprisingly her friend was calling.

“Hello?” She answered the call, struggling to make out the voice on the other side through the noise.

“I’m outside. Can you take me home please?”

She could sense there was something wrong with her friend so she moved into action.

“I’ll be right there.” She hung up, grabbed her cup of water in case the girl needed it, pocketed her phone and made to leave.

“Is your friend okay?” She heard him ask as she was half way to the door. It was the first time he spoke since their interaction outside. He sounded genuine, like he was concerned. That almost threw her but she had other things to deal with. So she simply said

“I don’t know.” And left him there without another look.

------

It had been nearly a week since the party and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Truth is, he had noticied her as soon as she walked through the door that night.

She was with her friends, two girls, she was smiling at them and she looked like she was having a good time. She was very pretty, he noticed that right away- but there was an energy about her that drew his eyes back to her throughout the night. He couldn’t look away for long, she was mesmerising.

He watched her dance with her friends, dodge guys and sip from the same damn cup for almost 2 hours. He felt like a a creep, but he couldn’t help it. Her clothes were tight in all the right places, curves taunting him. The way she swayed her hips and ran her fingers through her hair had him in a trance. He tried snapping out of it, he really did.

There was a girl talking to him, not the first one that night either. She was pretty and she was into him and she was paying him attention, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on the way her body was leaning into him or the way her hand was wrapped around his arm- his eyes couldn’t stop searching for her.

The girl noticed this, it was hard not to, and left. It was the third time that night his intentions of getting laid where hindered by her. Or more himself, really. He couldn’t blame her for something she had no control over, he wasn’t that delusional. He felt pathetic and his frustration started bubbling up. What was he doing? Staring at some girl across the room like a loser. It had become painfully clear that she was the one he wanted that night. So what was he doing? He was Rafe motherfucking Cameron. He didn’t stand on the sidelines hoping some chick would pay him attention. If he wanted something he went after it and he got it. And he wanted her.

So he decided to finally act on it. Just in time too, she seemed to be losing interest in the party. Her friends were gone now and she looked bored and over it. So he took his chance and made for her, but before he was even half way there he was pulled away by his friend for shots or something else he was not interested in and he wanted to punch something. Gimme a fucking break.

After forcing down a shot to appease his friends he excused himself and left, intending to finish what he started. But she was gone. He searched for her in the crowds of people and he couldn’t find her anywhere. He couldn’t believe after all the staring he’d been doing that he actually lost her. His feet were taking him out the back sliding doors before his mind could catch up. He supposed it was a good idea, to catch a breath and calm down. He was acting like an idiot over some girl he hadn’t even actually met.

As soon as he stepped outside he felt calm though. He didn’t know what it was, maybe the cool air filling his lungs or the noise of the party being dulled, but he felt like he was finally at peace. But then he heard a voice, some guy standing off the side talking to someone he couldn’t see. He couldn’t make out what he was saying but he wanted him to shut the fuck up. Whoever he was talking to seemed to agree, because their words cut his rambling.

“Look, man. I’m not interested, okay?” It was a girl, she sounded incredibly bored and her tone was cold. Ouch. That must have stung, he thought. He couldn’t help but think her voice sounded nice to his ears.

Then the girl moved and he saw her. His breath caught in his throat as he realised it was her. The same girl who had held his attention for hours, same girl he thought had left and he would never see again. Never get a chance again. But here she was. Now standing closer to him in an effort to escape that douchebag. He was in the dark so she hadn’t seen him. This was it. This was his chance.

He couldn’t help but look back at the guy she had just left, he looked flustered and embarrased as he abruptly turned and went back inside. He chuckled at that. What a pussy.

She had heard him now, she knew he was there. It meant he had to move, before she pegged him for a creep hiding in the dark like that. But all of a sudden he was nervous and all the usual smooth words escaped him. He was never nervous around girs, he had plenty of reasons not to be. He could get whoever he wanted. So he didn’t quite get why his brain wasn’t cooperating now.

He forced himself to say the first thing he could think off. Break the ice, start a conversation, then he’ll be fine. He’ll know what to do once the ball’s going.

“That was kinda harsh.” He wasn’t sure why that left his mouth. There was no turning back now though, he had to commit. Stupid.

“Poor guy seemed like he was pouring his heart out to you. I think you hurt his feelings.” He said as he stepped closer to her.

He wanted to wince. What the hell was he doing. He sounded like he was taunting her. It wasn’t what he was going for at all but now that it was out there he could only think of one way to turn it around. He was about to make a flirty joke but then she looked at him.

It was the first time that night she had looked at him and his heart was racing a mile a minute. She was even prettier up close. Moonlight reflecting her features in the dark. She gave him a quick once over, a bored look on her face. He didn’t like that at all. She held him in her clutches all night and she was going to look at him like he was nothing interesting at all? He felt angry and now he kind of wanted to taunt her, get a reaction that was someting other than this.

“Do you like to hurt guys’ feelings?” His words were aimed to cut, to provoke, to push her buttons. He needed her attention. He was desperate for it. Even if it meant getting her anger.

But it never came. She just turned around and left him standing there, without so much as a backwards glace. She had left him in the cold, and all of a sudden he no longer felt that calm from before. The air stung going down his lungs and the bitter taste of his own stupid words lingered on his tongue. What had he done?

After that abysmal encounter he decided to dull the ache with booze. He made himself at home in the small kitchen, not feeling up to socialising. Wanting to simply be left alone with his drink to lick his wounds.

He had no idea what the fuck happened out there. He got completey fucking blanked. She made him feel small and irrelevant and he felt pathetic at the thought. Who the fuck was she to make him feel like that? And more importantly why the fuck did he care?

Sure he usually got what he wanted, not experiencing rejection often but on the rare occasion it happened - after the initial sting, he didn’t dwell on it. He knew there were plenty of other girls who wanted him and he’d smoothly move on to the next one. But he couldn’t shake her off. His mood was sour and he was angry with her, but mostly with himself.

He decided he needs to snap out of his moping and bite the bullet, call the night a bust and get going. Usually he wasn’t one to give up on having a good time but he really didn’t feel like enduring any more of this party when his mood was ruined.

His thoughts kept flitting back to her though, frustrating him further. He was sure she had left now and he would probably never see her again. It was a pretty big campus, and if he hadn’t seen her before tonight there’s no reason to believe he would again. The thought was supposed to soothe him, he wouldn’t have to be reminded of the embarrassment he felt tonight if he ran into her again. But it ended up causing a sting in his chest, he wasn’t sure why. Why would he want to see her again? She’s a bitch. He decided.

And just as he was beginning to believe it the kitchen door opened and the woman of the hour made her way inside. She was standing right across the counter from him, back turned, looking at her phone. He couldn’t believe this. For fuck’s sake. But a small part of him, part he chose to ignore, was recognising that fluttery feeling in his stomach as butterflies.

He didn’t speak. He just stared at her. Both annoyed and nervous. There he was again, unable to take his eyes off the girl who doesn’t even notice he exists. His frustration was bubbling up. She’s so fucking annoying.

As if she could feel his stare on her she finally took a quick look over her shoulder and her eyes landed on him. He could see she was annoyed and her quiet sigh further confirmed it. He smirked. She wasn’t indifferent after all, she’s was just very good at pretending.

The realisation made that fluttery feeling in his gut get stronger. Maybe this wasn’t a total bust after all - angry sex is damn good. Maybe his night was finally looking up. He was about to open his mouth when she turned, facing him fully and his breath caught in his throat at the way she was looking at him.

He could feel her undressing him with her eyes, gaze painfully slowly running over every visible inch of his body. She looked cool and shameless and completely in control of the situation. The heat in her eyes made him feel vunerable and he could feel his skin flush in their path. She took her sweet time taking him in and it was making him feel all sorts of things. Flustered? Turned on? Annoyed? Naked.

All that and more. It was as if she could transform him into a puddle of anxious nerves and overwhelming arousal simply with her presence and that look in her eye.

A hum was all he got from her. And then she smiled. And by God those butterflies were having a field day.

He could see a danger behind that beautiful smile. The way she was looking at him was making him feel everything at once. He was turned on and scared and excited and it felt like he would burst from all the emotions running through him. His insticts were telling him to run away from her gaze, his ego telling him that he should be wanting to tame her instead of wanting to lay at her feet and see what she gives him for it. He had no clue where that thought came from. He was conflicted and he was sure it could be seen written all over his face. She unhinged him. This was uncharted territory. But something in him was screaming at him that he really should see where it goes.

But before he had the chance to make a real decision - to respond, do anything really - her phone was ringing and she was turning away from him, breaking the spell he was under and leaving him more confused than before. What even just happened?

He could hear her tone change from mildly irritated to worried, not sure how he managed to pick up on any of that given she never even spoke to him, but he did. He noticed the shift in her and his heart stopped for a moment. Something was wrong.

She was on the move then, grabing her stuff and heading out of the kitchen without looking back at him. And even though that should have angered him, her leaving him in the dust again, it didn't. All he wanted to do was follow. Help. Something. Anything.

"Is your friend okay?" His words surprised both of them.

She looked at him then, a look he hadn't seen on her before. There was something new there. Something slightly vulnerable perhaps. His breath caugh in his throat at the sight. It didn't last long however, barely a moment before she trained her expression back to a scowl. It was brief but he memorized it, wondering why it was she was so determined to keep herself so closed off all the time. She had been doing it all night, he could tell it was a well practiced act. He wondered if he would ever get to see beneath it. He wanted to. Badly.

And then she spoke.

"I don't know."

He was stuck there, long after her abrupt departure, shellshocked. Her voice made shivers run down his spine, in a thrilling and unfamiliar way.

It was such a brief interaction. Three words that had nothing at all to do with him, that were nothing special. But he didn't care. All he could focus on was how they made him feel. And how badly he wanted to see her and hear her again. It was as if he could feel himself develop and addiction from one fleeting shared moment. It was insane. And yet he couldn't deny it. There was something about her that made him want to get lost in the hopes that she might find him.

----

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @r0und3bitch @illicitfixations @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @goldenjo @kanib45 @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @fangirlwithlou @rafesxgold @cmac-writes @malfoytargaryen @alinaharlow @buggy-d-chopper @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21

#the sounds of a good boy #tsoagb #my work #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #sub!rafe x dom!reader #sub!rafe #dom!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #blurb

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randomwriting-misc · 2 years

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Endangered | Chapter One

Summary: Vampires and wolves are not the only supernatural creatures to walk the earth, and they are certainly not the only ones in Forks, Washington when Charlotte Annabeth Swan, "Anna", moves in with her uncle after the unfortunate demise of her parents.

Some may misidentify her as a witch, but that’s fine, she would rather them think that anyway. But the Volturi know the truth, and they are closing in on her.

*Starts at New Moon and loosely follows canon*

Author’s Note: Hello!

To clarify some things. I think it's icky how Stephanie Meyer treats the wolves in Twilight, so some things are more nuanced and different.

Paul is aged up in this as well. I wrote 27 pages of this fic in like three days, so granted my Paul Lahote phase lasts, and it probably will, expect a lot of updates! My favorite type of fic is when an OC falls for a side character and follows the main plot from a new perspective, and we definitely deserve more of the wolves in Twilight.Please enjoy this self-indulgent Paul x OFC fic.

Forks, Washington was a far cry from the sunny shores of Florida that I was used to, but there was nothing left for me there but painful reminders. Suddenly, I was an orphan picking up my life to move to Forks with my Uncle Charlie and my cousin Bella over the summer.

I had felt like a burden at first, with Charlie still dealing with the fallout of Bella leaving and getting hurt in Arizona. I could feel the tension at times, but, hanging out with my namesake turned out to be fun, and I found some friends in Jacob Black over the summer while his dad came over to see Charlie. I wished I could stay in summer forever, but August had snuck up on me, waiting to burst my bubble.

Shrugging my backpack onto my shoulder, I climbed out of my Jeep that used to belong to my dad, one of the things I was able to bring to Forks. I can tell all eyes are on me already. It’s the start of my senior year at Forks High School, and the only people I know are Bella, and on some level her boyfriend, Edward.

Bella climbed out of my passenger seat when her friends call her over.

“Hey, Bella, who’s your friend?” Mike asks, eyes a little too wide as he looks me over.

“Uhm, guys, this is my cousin Charlotte. She just moved here,” Bella says.

“You can call me Anna,” I said with a smile, “Middle name.”

They introduce themselves and start to chat. Mike and Eric are quick to put their attention on me, which earns me a glare from the girl who introduced herself as Jessica. I try to be polite but uninterested in their advances when Mike sends a glare behind us.

“Cullen’s are here.”

“Oh joy,” Eric says, matching Mike’s monotone voice.

Turning, I see Edward walking up to us, I had only met Edward a few times, each one awkward and jilted. When I first met him, he stared at me like he was trying to figure me out, and I was staring at him because I could sense he was supernatural. When he peered into my head, I quickly shut him out, and he looked like I had slapped him.

I’ll stay out of your head if you stay out of mine, I projected into his mind.

In my own head, I had been freaking out. My whole life my mother taught me to identify and stay away from other supernatural creatures, but Edward was allusive. I couldn’t exactly tell, and that made my stomach knot.

He barely nodded, and I figured I bought myself some time to avoid him in the future.

The next time I saw him I had figured out his true nature, but it seemed like Bella knew as well. So, I left it alone for the time being, even if he still tried to investigate my thoughts to figure out what I was when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

He looks at me questioningly now walking away from his car, but I just nod a greeting as he wraps an arm around Bella. A couple joins us as we walk into school. They are quick to walk on either side of me to get my attention.

“Hi, I’m Alice,” the girl says with a smile, “You’re Anna, right?”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say nodding. Alice’s graceful movements catch my eyes, and her skin looks like porcelain. Another vampire? This is another reason I would miss Florida. There’s never a vampire there, the sun providing a decent amount of protection for us.

“Bella has told me so much about you, I’m happy to put a name to the face.”

Alice moves to lock arms with me, and her ice-cold skin reassures me that I was right in my suspicion. Alice’s brow furrows at my touch. Confused by her reaction, I investigate her surface thoughts. She thought that maybe I was another vampire after Edward told her about my telepathy, but now she’s overwhelmed by how I smell.

Fuck.

I could see the resemblance in a way between me and a vampire, and I wish she had stayed far enough away to keep the theory. I had similar features like the paleness of my skin and a similar allure to humans. My hair was a deep auburn, the contrast with my skin making it look paler than I was. Unfortunately, this was only due to the weather in Forks, I miss than tan I had in Florida.

While Vampire features were sharp and harsh, mine were softer. Freckles peppered my face and body, something that usual the change would erase in a vampire. I didn’t stand very tall, and my movements are graceful in a similar way, but not all of the time, I was prone to falling and being caught off balance. Unlike a vampire, I had blue eyes that changed with my emotions. They used to be bright blue but have mostly been dark and deep the last few months.

But I wasn’t a vampire, I was a descendant of the Fae.

My mother was too, but she traded her immortality and the ability to return home for a life with my father. Fae are commonly mistaken to be witches for our abilities, and since we try to stay under the radar as much as possible, a lot of us go by that name.

There are too many supernaturals in this town for my comfort, I think as I look around to try to feel the energy around us. I clock the boy that was with Alice as another vampire, he looks like he’s in pain and not breathing.

I give her a look, eyebrows raised.

“Everything okay?”

She clears her throat and carries on, talking about sitting with her at lunch. From her thoughts, I can tell she already is planning to ask more about me. Apparently, the Cullens are concerned about not knowing who is close to Bella.

Rude, considering I’m sure Bella has told them why I moved here in the first place.

Forks, Washington just got a lot more dangerous. For everyone.

Read Chapter Two here

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fairyfandommother · 2 years

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‘Young Royals’ Season 2: An unhelpful guide to the first look at the upcoming season.

Image 1: Crown Prince Wilhelm at home, eating with his parents: Her Majesty, Queen Kristina of Sweden and The Prince Consort, Ludvig

It’s so sad that there are only placements for the three of them. It’s like even Erik’s ghost is gone now. Also very telling how Kristina and Ludvig are all smiles and Wilhelm looks rather uninterested and resigned. This is probably going to be the start of the season before Wille goes off to Hillerska for the new semester. A goodbye dinner even, given the fanfare (correct me if I’m wrong but the ‘family dinner’ we saw in Season 1 looked a lot less formal).

Image 2: Crown Prince Wilhelm shares a glance with his ex-lover, Simon Eriksson (guys they never even explicitly said they were together so they weren’t even boyfriends idt 😭)

This is their official return to Hillerska, I think. The students (maybe it’s the choir) are all lined up for a welcome ritual for the Crown Prince’s arrival. Simon is gonna try his best to avoid this boy. I just know it. And Wilhelm is gonna be devastated. He’s probably gonna be like “Simon” all happy and breathless and he’s gonna be met with a “Your Highness”. WRING ME AND HANG ME OUT TO DRY I’M GOING INSANE

Image 3: Crown Prince Wilhelm frowning in focus (is that Henry right there?? I spy a redhead) while August, The Asshole of Arnås smiles in the blurred foreground.

This image does not sit right with me. What the fuck are you smiling about you weasel? I can’t believe Lisa casted Malte as this dickhead because his cute baby face is working so hard to curb my enthusiasm at the prospect of him getting beat up. It’s also quite strange that he seems to be the only one smiling in this frame?? Like literally everybody else is just… not paying attention or mad as fuck.

Fuck you, August.

Images 4 and 5: (ltr) Madison McCoy, Felice Ehrenchrona, Sara Eriksson, Stella, and Frederika. Sara Eriksson and August, The Asshole of Arnas.

First of all, Nikita with her natural hair!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let’s go!!!!! Represent for the curly girls!!! This is such a huge deal for me as a black female fan of the show and I’m sure for Felice as a character. It represents her breaking out of that mold her mother put her in before to conform to conventional beauty standards. Love that she’s embracing her hair. Anywho… I put these images in a cluster because to me it seems like it happens either in the same scene or set around the same time (given Sara’s wardrobe). It’s probably the same first day as they’re all still in uniform. I doubt Felice would take very kindly to Sara and August conversing given what she knows but she also doesn’t know that Sara knows, Sara and August, The Asshole, don’t know that Felice knows. So, I’m thinking Sara and August are speaking away from the group (perhaps after they’ve left or walked off). August, The Asshole, looks teed off so I’m assuming this is a confrontation of sorts where he accuses Sara of spilling the beans to Wille and she has to convince him that she didn’t. Wouldn’t it be just great if Felice saw this little exchange and confronted Sara about it and Sara confesses what happened to Felice?? Wouldn’t y’al just love to see Sara face some consequences?? 🤭

Fuck both Sara and August tbh

Image 6: Felice Ehrencrona and Crown Prince Wilhelm share a quiet moment.

Wille looks so sad. Simon probably rejected him (as he should, let’s get one thing straight 😭), and Felice being the Best Friend Ever is rightfully trying to cheer Wille up. Wille had to make a lot of hard decisions last season, and those decisions hurt a lot of people, himself included. I hate what he did but it’s a messy situation all around and there’s really not much anyone can do about it. I believe in Wilmon Supremacy. Also, can I say that I love their friendship? I’m so happy that Felice, The Popular Rich Girl, is just.. so nice?? All hail.

Images 7 and 8: Simon Eriksson with best friends Ayub and Rosh + Crown Prince Wilhelm pining after Simon Eriksson in a classroom full of people.

I have TWO (2) theories about this set of photos. Given Simon’s wardrobe, I think it’s safe to say these scenes are probably close together (Omar was right, what is this kid wearing lmaooo). This is obviously during the week back (or even further in the semester) since the kids are back to regular clothing. My theories are more so with the order of these scenes.

Theory 1: Rosh and Ayub talk to Simon prior to the classroom scene where he tells them he’s gonna ignore Wille and they either stick by his decision or try to dig deeper into why he’s making said decision before he actually goes and ignores Wille in class ORRRRRRR

Theory 2: Simon ignores Wille in class and then tells Rosh and Ayub about it and they talk. I’m more inclined to believe this one because it makes more sense for him to meet up with his friends after school than it does for him to meet them before (assuming this is all the same day since he’s wearing the same clothes).

Let me also just take a moment to comment on Wilhelm’s very in-your-face staring here… like… he’s so obvious about it? And like, good for him?? Everyone else seems to be looking down at their books so maybe it’s a read aloud or a follow along but Wille’s not even trying to look like he’s paying attention. Also, how much do you wanna bet he kicked someone out of their seat to be able to sit with Simon? How many eyebrows do you think that raised? You go, Wille. Fight for your man.

Image 9: Crown Prince Wilhelm and Simon Eriksson, with their team, during rowing team training (?)

Looooot of assumptions here but they’re all in uniform and we know they’re on the team so let’s assume this is canon.

There’s so much going on here. Simon is like… all up in Wille’s space. One hand around his waist (check the mirror) and another on his side. Obviously this is a team building exercise and it could mean absolutely nothing but the significance of Simon being the one to have direct physical contact with Wille is pretty telling iykwim. This picture also seems kind of strange to me as I don’t think it belongs to the rest of the cluster which I’m guessing is the first, or even second, episode of the new season. This picture is singular in arrangement. There’s no partner. I’m guessing it happens a little later on (3 or 4 maybe) and after Wilmon have had some sort of development. A talk maybe? Cleared the air at least. Established some necessary boundaries.

Also notice who is very strategically missing from this shot? The captain of the team. I hope he got expelled. 🫶🏽🫦

Anyways, this makes zero sense but it’s just the initial vibe that I’m getting from this set of photos. I’M SO EXCITED FOR WHAT’S TO COME!! Also, @ that one Netflix France employee that leaked the season was coming out in November, I hope you don’t get fired 😭😭

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hyuckilstan · 2 years

Text

Pretty Boy (2) - H.Rj

Pairing: sub!Renjun x fem!reader.

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: not proof read so please understand if autocorrect fucks me up 😭, masturbation, dry humping, loss of virginity, nipple play, some dirty talk, riding, unprotected sex, lots of petnames. (I think that’s about it, idk honestly-)

Summary: you were supposed to just do a group project, but change of plans, oh well, you weren’t complaining

Wc: 5.7k+ words

a/n: pt 2 of Pretty boy if you wanna go read it. This was long awaited and I apologize for taking so long but... Enjoyyy ;-;

☽·Masterlist·☾

“Did you actually hook up with him?” your friend asked you wiggling her eyebrows, you looked at her confused, trying to understand what the heck she was talking about. He rolled her eyes pointing behind subtly.

You looked back, your eyes laid upon the one and only Huang Renjun, much to your surprise it seemed like he was staring at you, something about that made your ego inflate.

He waved at you shyly, you only smiled and turned your head again leaving Renjun blushing out of embarrassment. His friend Haechan didn’t miss this and laughed at him while Renjun hits his shoulders, causing the other male to groan dramatically.

“Yes but no, I gave him a hand and that’s it, he was so drunk and you know I don’t like that,” you said and your friend nods, “But he was cute, I’d definitely like to go further with him, I want to hear it from him though, it would be fun,” you say and your friend immediately agrees, giving you a thumbs up on your plan.

It’s not like you had bad intentions with your plan, you were actually quite interested in Renjun, it would be a totally different thing from what usually goes on in your sex life, you were mostly the sub so it would be nice for a little change, Renjun just so happened to have caught your eye for that.

And there was absolutely no doubt he was also interested in you, he made it clear that night and the days after when he would look at you not so subtly from the side and bicker with his friends about how he wants to approach you but can’t, he may be quiet but his friends aren’t exactly the same.

So you thought of something, why not make him confess in a fun way, to spice thing up, you wanted to see him ask or even beg you for it, for you and to touch you or for you to touch him.

And the way you looked away like nothing happened everytime your eyes met or how you would just walk past him as if you never knew him in the first place seemed to work, to be honest you didn’t even expect him to remember what happened but you got lucky he did, it would be sad if your chance with someone as cute as Renjun was to slip away from your hands.

“Okay!” your teacher clapped her hands loudly, grabbing the attention from all the students there, “I’m going to be picking pairs for a project,” she says and some of the students whined about how they wanted to choose their own partners.

“Hush! Anywaysss, I’ll start assigning the pairs so pay close attention,” she says and started calling out the names of the students, you were pretty much uninterested in whatever was going on, though you knew two things, project, pairs.

“Oh! Y/N and.....you! Renjin right?” she says loudly, Renjun’s friends were laughing with the mispronounciation of his name and you giggled as well as you faced behind to him. While Renjun looked at you, kinda drifting off from reality.

“It’s Renjun,” you say and the teacher nods, apologising for her small mistake, “Thanks,” he mouthed and you smiled and just looked away once again.

The class was over in no time to give the students time to think about what they should do, something about expressing what you were good at, anyhow you liked so you could say it was either very easy or very hard to think about, depending on the compatibility of the partners.

“Yo Y/N come here!” Jaemin shouted behind you gesturing you to go to their place, Renjun glares at Jaemin while he wiggles his eyebrows at him while biting his lips.

“Hi guys,” you greeted them, Jaemin, Haechan, Jeno and Renjun were there, Jeno was still looking disinterested on what was going on as ever, Jaemin was being his goofy self and Renjun was avoiding eye contact with you as much as possible while fidgeting with his own fingers.

How cute.

“So me and Renjun are on the project together,” you said smiling at Renjun, this time finally showing a smile that you were happy or seemed interested in him. “Tha-that’s right,” Renjun stutters and you couldn’t help but find him so cute that you gave him a headpatt which caused another panick in the male’s head.

“Y/N if we’re gonna work on something we’re good at, I could work with you in the bedroom, if you know what I mean,” Haechan half-jokes winking at you, normally you would roll your eyes at him, but this time you laughed at his lame joke, mostly to rile Renjun up.

The other friends give him a look of disgust, and soon they were bickering yet again. “Y-Y/N?” Renjun says, pulling on the hem of your shirt to get your attention, like those shy children asking their teachers for something, and as soon as he did he takes his hand away swiftly, “Yes?”

“Uh....where would you like to work on the project?” he asks, he was so fucking cute by how flustered he was being, “Definitely not the library, too many people, so either mine or your home, I have a roomate but whatever, is that okay?”

“Oh actually! My house is empty, I mean it’s not empty I have furnitures and stuff too but what I actually mean is that I basically live alone and my house is free so we can-”

“Don’t be nervous,” you say enjoying how nervous he was everytime you talked or interacted with him. His friends were once again laughing at him from behind, he just wished the embarrassment would swallow him alive or something.

“Ah sorry...so uh yeah, my house is free if you want to work on it there,”

“Sure! Let me give you my number,” he looked up at you, “Nu-number?” he stuttered yet again cursing at himself under his breath. “Yeah, to contact you about more details?”

“Oh right,” he says struggling to take out his phone out of his pocket and almost dropping it, he handed you his phone and you quickly typed in your number, “Here you go! Don’t hesitate to contact me on other matters too,” you said with a beaming smile, much different to your usual smug smile.

Renjun nods and bows awkwardly as you walk out of there and out of the class, sitting down and hiding his face, “That was so fucking embarrassing!” he stressed out.

“So Y/N is the handjob girl I’m presuming,” Yangyang says looking at his flustered friend. “When did you get here?! Also you told them?!” Renjun looks up at Jaemin, hitting his shoulders, “They were bound to know with how you were acting anyway,” Jaemin shrugged it off while Renjun groaned out knowing that what he said was true.

“But I don’t think she remembers,” he said under his breath which his friends didn’t manage to catch so they asked him to repeat what he said, “Nevermind,” was all he said before picking up his belongings and heading out to the next class.

The boy went to the next class, somewhat relieved he didn’t see you there, he sighed out going to his seat, as soon as he did a ding sounded out of what he thinks is his phone, maybe he forgot to mute it.

He opens his phone seeing a message from an unknown number, once he did, his heart started racing all over again.

Unknown: Hi JunJun! It’s me Y/N, telling you that in case you get surprised with this unknown number.

He exhales heavily, not knowing how to react to the petname, even though it was through a mere text, he could clearly hear you saying it.

Unknown: anyways can we work on the project on Saturday?

: Oh hello, uh sure Saturday works fine, I’ll let you know the address later....

Y/N✨: Okay I’m looking forward to it!

: Oh likewise

The antsy male waited for another text to pop up, but nothing did. He sighed sitting on the bed behind him, slowly leaning back to lay on his back, it was like you were playing with him, making him get what he wants but never enough and leaving him wanting more or expecting more.

Then flashbacks hit him, the night you were on top of him, despite being drunk and all that night, he remembers, maybe all too well that he constantly thinks about it.

He could remember how your pretty hands were wrapped around his member and how good it felt, he had touched himself numerous times but it hit different when someone else did, when you did it.

Sometimes he wish he didn’t so that you wouldn’t make his mind all conflicted, but he couldn’t just push that memory past his head, he wishes that he has atleast another chance to see you on top of him again.

“Fuck” he curses under his breath as his hands ever so slowly starts sliding down to the tent that was growing in his pants, this situation wasn’t new, ever since you set such a view for him he keeps thinking back.

And that resulted to countless nights where he would pleasure himself, pumping his length, imagining you on top of him while he asks you to stop but he knows he wants you to keep going.

But then again, it was just his imaginations which is often disappointing to him, he just wanted to fuck you, but he doesn’t know how to initiate that, he’s not as flirty as Jaemin, not as smooth talking as Haechan, not as good at striking conversations on a common ground as Yangyang or not as attractively mysterious as Jeno.

But unbeknownst to him, that would be the exact reason why you were also interested in him, he didn’t try too hard to perceive himself out to people as something he’s not, he was cute and adorable, a little geeky and he gets a bit too passionate talking about what he likes that he would end up rambling for example: the dreamer bird he drew and it’s abilities etc.

As cliche as it is, he was nothing like anyone you had met before and that intrigued you, it made you want to know more about him, but you know him, he wouldn’t just say it, you had to make him say it somehow, not forcefully of course.

It was more if a fun, little innocent game that would be a benefit for the both of you, its not like you would go too far to the extent that someone’s feelings could get hurt.

“You did it again you fucking pervert,” Renjun scolds himself breathing heavily as he came in his hands, getting up to the bathroom to wash up.

Guilt washing over him that he thought of you this way and what you would think of him, but who was he to blame for liking the way you looked, the way you talked and the way you looked at him.

He was going crazy over you.

·—☽✧•°♡°•✧☾—·

Y/N: If it’s okay, can I come over at night? My friend told me I had to work her shift :P

: Oh don’t worry about it! I don’t have anything to do anyway

Y/N: Thanks^^ you’re the best!!!<33

He throws his phone away, face palming himself, “Great! Now you made yourself look like you have no life,” he mentally scolds himself again, just then has doorbell rang, Renjun already knew it was his friends with the continuous ringing of the bell.

Groaning, he goes to the door to open it, “What do you guys want?” he asks in a stern voice after seeing his friends Haechan and Jaemin, “Well damn that’s how you’re greeting your beloved friends?” Haechan says acting highly offended.

“I’m just not in the mood for this right now, Y/N’s coming over and I’m just really stressed cause you know how I feel abo-” Renjun covered his mouth realizing that he was talking about you, it wasn’t nothing too shocking, not if his friends did not constantly call him out for having a massive crush on you, he literally just admitted it himself.

The two males in front of him looked at each other then to him with an ‘I knew it’ grin, “Don’t even-” ignoring what he was saying the both shouted like high school girls.

“Our Renjunnie finally admits he likes Y/N!” Haechan shouts, taking a chance to hug him tightly, Jasmin joined as well as Renjun groaned when they squeezed him in their arms.

“Don’t worry, I just know you’ll get your dick wet,” Haechan smirks, “I swear to god I'm so close to un-friending you right now,” Renjun says, “You can’t! You love me too much,” Haechan cooed at Renjun.

“Okay in all seriousness, do you want us to stay or go?” Jaemin asks, Renjun gives it a thought coming to a conclusion that these people won’t give him a good advice anyway, “I think I’m good at handling this alone so- leave”

Jaemin nods, “Mhm! I suppose game night can wait, but Jeno and I will probably come over tomorrow to pick some stuff up so don't get up too late,” Jaemin tells him and he nods, Jaemin then waves goodbye at Renjun while dragging Haechan out.

·—☽✧•°♡°•✧☾—·

“Hi Junjun!” you greeted when Renjun opened the door, he bowed slightly and told you to get in and make yourself comfortable.

“You got a nice home,” you complimented looking around the cozy home, it suited Renjun well, it was nothing too crazy but it was cozy. “Thanks...would you uh..like something to drink?”

“Uh no thanks I’m good, so tell me, you live alone or what?” you asked crossing your legs, Renjun’s eyes wandered down your thighs as the skirt rode up a bit, you simply ignored this when he looked away flustered.

“I guess, they just travel a lot,” he says and you hum, “So, I was thinking...about our project, perhaps we could do something with paint, that’s something we can both do,” you suggested and Renjun’s eyes lit up, liking the idea of that.

“Oh that’s great! So...should we get started? We could- go to my room,” you nod to his suggestion and went to his room after grabbing the items you needed.

Renjun tried his best to be sneaky with the glances he gave you, but he really admired you, and he has no idea why he was so nervous around you, he has always been a shy type of person but with you, it was in a whole new different level.

He was anxious about many things, if you had caught him staring at you, what you would think if you saw the countless drawings of you in his sketchbook he had drawn in art class or what you would think if you found about him jerking off to the mental picture of you.

“Hey Renjun! You ok?”

“Oh huh? Yeah no, I’m perfectly fine,” he muttered and you smiled at him, “Are you sure?” you asked again and he gulps down feeling like he was stuck.

You were now leaning closer to him, he felt his heart beat faster when you were now dangerously close to him, “I uh-” he stopped speaking his sentence when you held his chin with your index finger and thumb, “Sorry, but there’s paint here.”

“Oh? Where?” He chuckles nervously finding it hard to look at you in the eyes, with you being so close and all, he could hear your calm breathing, much different to his shaky one.

“Here.”

Without warning, your lips were now pressed against his pillow soft ones, at that moment, he felt like the world just stopped, a tingly sensation in his stomach made it even more magical.

When you pulled away from the short lasting kiss, you chuckled when you saw that he was just sitting there like his brain short circuited, “That- i- what-”

“I was your first kiss wasn’t I?” you ask, he pushed his lips together in a line, he could taste your strawberry chapstick, his ears and cheeks started burning up and a tint of pink coloured his cheeks as he nods.

“Yeah....” he responds in a whisper, he wanted more honestly, but he was too scared to ask, well fortunately for him, you knew.

“Do you wanna....do it again?” you requested and Renjun nodded in response, too quick for his liking but you giggled at him, finding his fluttered state extremely cute. You leaned closer to him for another awaited kiss, what really cane off as unexpected to Renjun was how deep the kiss was.

He got even more so surprised when your hands pulled him closer by the back of his neck, making him gasp and you smirked against the kiss, slipping your tongue in, at that very moment Renjun could feel the butterflies in his stomach, you did too actually.

But then at the same time, Renjun felt something else, and it was not the fucking time he thought, he pushed you away by the shoulders and he cursed under his breath, embarrassed by the fact that he was literally growing hard by kissing you.

You looked at him concerned, “What’s wrong pretty boy?” you asked, your face still dangerously close to his, “I just- have to-”

“Do you want me to touch you?”

The question so straight forward and sudden, it caused him to blabber out incoherent words, “What-” “I can see that baby, its not so unnoticeable,” you chuckled pointing down at his growing erection all while maintaining the eye contact.

Renjun felt his heart beat even faster, having wet dreams about you was one thing, but then his mind went back to your previous question which echoed in his mind as his throat suddenly goes dry, “Do you want me to touch you?”

“What will it be pretty boy?” your voice was low and seductive as you were thumbing his hands which slightly quivered when you asked that question, Renjun took a sharp breath, weighing his options, there was really nothing to lose honestly, just the fact that he had little to no experience and he would act weird, resulting in you to leave, he was always one to over think.

He looked away, unable to look into your eyes any longer without becoming a tomato, “What’s wrong baby boy?” you made him face towards you with your finger, “You don’t want me? There’s no pressure if you don’t,” you said in a tone that hints disappointment, “N-no!” he suddenly shouts and he cringes at himself, “That’s not it,” he blushes.

“Then what is it? You can tell me you know?” you asked patiently, as tempting as it was to just fucking give him all the pleasure you could deliver then and there, you would like his consent first. He went quiet for a while, thinking if he should tell you or not till he came to a conclusion, the quicker you say it, the quicker you will get over the embarrassment

“It’s just that- you’re really experienced, and I’m not, I’m worried I’ll do something weird,” he admits finally and you chuckle, he thought it was to make fun of him, but that thought was soon pushed away, “That’s what I like about you Renjun.”

Honestly, you saying his name calmed him down and he was able to look into your eyes, “Huh?” he looked genuinely confused and you chuckled again, “I find it cute of you, but the thing is....I could always....teach you, you’re such a good boy I doubt you’ll do bad.”

once again, Renjun’s heart flutters in your words of reassurance, “You will be a good boy, right?” you asked in the same low voice as before, this time resting your arms on his shoulders, subconsciously, Renjun nods, sucked right into your charm as he always was.

“Then...can you touch me? I’m your good boy....” he whispers, just enough for you to hear it, and you nod flashing him a smile. What happens next gives you a pleasant surprise though, this time round, Renjun was the one who initiated a kiss, and no doubt he was getting better, your arms link behind him to deepen the kiss and he hums in it.

He continues the kiss, you were a bit ahead of him but he managed, kissing you with much vigor and enthusiasm. Then one of your hands start traveling down his chest, at first he thought nothing of it, still too indulged in the heated make out.

Though, his eyes grow wide as he whimpered in your mouth when your hands palmed his erection, his quite thin material pants not helping at all. You smirked against his lips, “You sound so fucking pretty baby,” you whisper after pulling away to catch some air.

“I- nngh~” he bites back a moan when you did the same thing again, “You’re quite sensitive aren’t you pretty boy?” you giggled, continuing to palm him, “I wanna see that cute dick of yours again,” you whisper as you attacked his neck with kisses leaving him a whimpering mess.

“Please....” he sounded breathless, already. “Let me hear you baby,” you say, he lets out a whine when your hands leave his clothed dick, but you hushed him by pressing your index finger against his pillow soft lips.

“Lay down,” you said and Renjun followed your commands quickly, you get off the bed and Renjun being Renjun, worries again, thinking you were about to leave him like that, but you leaned down, playing with the waistband of his pants. You looked up into his glossy doe eyes, biting your bottom lip, you tugged on his pants and he lets out an ‘Oh’, lifting his hips up so that you could pull his pants down, leaving him in his underwear and shirt.

He still felt exposed though, especially when you eyes him up and down, following your eyes, he looked down at his grey underwear, a dark spot present, it was clearly precum, and a whole lot too. “Oh wow baby, you’re that needy?” you teased “Thats-” he tried saying something in his defense but he didn’t actually have one.

You and neither did he utter a single word when you took off your panties, Renjun watched attentively as the blue laced panties slid down your legs. You got on the bed, your knees sinked into the mattress and your thighs were now on either side of his laying figure as you started straddling him, “I want to try something first okay?”

He nods timidly, enjoying the view of you above him, once again after many days of daydreaming about it. Your hands rides up his gray shirt, his skin so soft and sensitive that it sent goosebumps all over his body.

He throws an arm over his mouth, trying to conceal a moan that exits his mouth when your suddenly tweaked his nipples, “Oh you like that,” you giggled, noting it down in your mind, his shirt was now rid up just enough to expose his nipples.

“ffuck...that feels weird,” he curses when your leaned down, flicking your tongue over his nipple while your hand kept tweaking his other one, “In what way pretty boy?” you said as you resumed your ministrations on him.

“In a good way, shit- a really good way,” he whimpers and you pull away breaking a string of saliva as you did so. You look at Renjun first, and fuck he looked so pretty, looking already fucked up, The back of his hand red from biting it on attempting to bite back his moans and whimpers.

You smoothly positioned your core against his erection, “Ready baby?”

”Ready for what- Oh shit!” he shouts when you grind your core against his clothed dick, “That feels really good” he says seeming out of breath, you smiled satisfied and proud.

You didn’t say anything further, only continuing to move again, his dick moving against your clit also creating a blissful pleasure for you, “Fuck...” you cursed with your eyes shut as you kept moving as sounds of pleasure left the mouth of the fucked out boy under you.

Soon enough, your juices started coating his underwear as well and nasty squelching sounds filled the relatively large room, along with you and Renjun’s own sounds of pleasure that left your mouths. Your head was thrown back and Renjun’s eyes were shut tight as you kept moving, that too with a now much hasty pace.

You looked down at Renjun, the strands.of his hair was wet and sticking to his forehead, his mouth slightly agape as he breathed heavily, his hands weakly moved to your dress, pulling on the hem of it, as if asking to take it off since he seemed to be to much in a haze to ask you to do so.

Renjun looked at you with glossy and expectant eyes as you struggled to take off your dress as you kept moving back and forth on his still clothed dick. Once you did, he loomed satisfied and happy, watching you as you easily took off your bra along with the dress, your breasts bounced as you focused on dry humping him again, it didn’t seem like he was going to last any longer.

“Shit- I think I’m about to cum,” he says and you look at him, biting your lips again as moans left your mouth, “Then don’t hold back,” you reply and a rather loud moan leaves Renjun’s mouth, which you could only guess he had came.

Your hips stopped moving, ignoring your own release considering Renjun’s sensitivity, “Fuck...I came...” he said staring up to the ceiling, out of breath and his chest heaved up and down. It took him a while to realize that you had stopped moving, “You didn’t-” you shook your head, “All I want is your pleasure baby,” you say pressing a kiss near his eye.

“But....I want you to,” the last words of his sentence was quiet, you raised a brow at him. “Are you sure you can handle it babyboy?” you asked and he shoots you a ‘don’t underestimate me’ look.

“Yes! I mean...I can be your good boy,” he says blushing with a small smile on his face, “Fuck, you really are my pretty boy,” you say cupping his face.

“Very well then,” you get off him, pulling down his arousal coated underwear, his cock already growing hard again, “Oh babyboy you’re quite needy,” you giggled, getting on him again, while giving his cock a few strokes till it grew hard again, which thankfully took a only a short amount of time.

Your entrance was already wet, which won’t make it hard for Renjun’s length to enter into your hole. Wasting no time, you position yourself, aligning his cock to your entrance, sinking down slowly, Renjun groans loudly when he feels your walls hug his cock deliciously, fluttering around his length as you sank down, staying like that for a while.

You cursed once you sank down entirely, clenching around his length feeling the delicious stretch inside your wet hole. “Y-you look really pretty,” Renjun compliments you, feeling more than aroused seeing your naked form above him, which only makes him remember, this is the first time anyone has done anything like this to him, in other words...you were his first, and he was glad, he doesn’t think he would have it any other way if he were to be honest.

“Thank you pretty boy,” you reply, holding yourself on his lower abdomen area as you slowly started rocking your hips, a sigh leaving both your mouths once you start moving.

You then start to lift your hips, sinking down again in a slow pace at first, yet it still feels so good and wonderful. Renjun couldn’t help but keep staring at your tits which bounced along with the rest of your body.

You noticed quickly, and with a grin you brought his hands, placing them on your breasts, encouraging him to touch you as much as he’d like to. He was a bit meek about it at first but he soon adapted, kneading the soft flesh, low moans that sounded like honey leaving his mouth repeatedly.

You now started to move in a much faster pace, bouncing up and down along his cock, head thrown back as loud moans leave your mouth as Renjun’s cock hits all the right places, he seemed to enjoy it as much as you, his face scrunching up in pleasure, still massaging the flesh of your breasts.

You took one of Renjun’s hands, your moans grew louder when you moved his hands down to your clit, “Rub it, not too hard or fast,” Renjun nods to your words, following your words and rubbing your clit, observing your facial expressions to see if he was bringing any pleasure to you.

And a feeling of pride grows in him when your moans grow much louder, your hips moving faster, he felt the same feeling as before when you were dry humping him, and he knew just what it was, “I’m so close Y/N,” he informs you and a loud moan fills the room, yours, to be specific.

“Fuck....me too baby,” your voice was breathy as you said, more like whimpered out that sentence. You proceeded to bounce up and down, your juices travelling down Renjun’s cock to his balls, down to the bedsheet, you were extremely close now especially with his fingers rubbing your clit, adding even more pleasure, the knot in your stomach tightened with each bounce, till you couldn’t hold it anymore.

A long and loud moan leaves your mouth as you climaxed, your mouth hung open at the electrifying orgasm, “I’m gonna- cum-” Renjun huffs, feeling overwhelmed with your walls clenching around him. And Renjun finally shoots his seeds in you, painting your walls white with a loud groan.

You both stayed there breathless, your chests heaving up and down. “Fuck, that...felt so good,” he says not believing what just happened was real, he would be so fucking disappointed if it wasn’t. You chuckled, “Yeah,” you said in agreement.

“Oh i- came-” Renjun goes wide eyed realizing that he has released in you, you get off of him, “Its okay Jun, I’m on the pill,” you say and he sighs in relief, not even sure of what that means, but you telling him not to worry was enough.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you ask, and he points towards a door just besides the drawer where his collection of action figures stood, “Come on, let’s wash up,” you taped on his hand, “To-together?”

“We just fucked Jun, and you’re still shy?” you teased him and he chuckles nervously, sitting up, “I suppose its still somewhat new...” he scratched the back of his neck.

You smiled at him, that same warm smile which makes him feel so safe somehow, “But okay...” he says again standing up and holding your hands which you had held out to follow you into the bathroom

·—☽✧•°♡°•✧☾—·

The constant ringing of the doorbell interrupts Renjun’s peaceful slumber and he groans, sitting up with a messy hair, still half asleep. The doorbell rings once more and he gets up, “Alright alright! I’m coming,” he says annoyed.

He pauses in his tracks though, scanning his room, spotting your discarded dress on the floor, his eyes bulge out, looking around but not seeing any signs of you around.

“Well goodnight Jun, I had a great time.”

“You’re going home this late at night?!” he asks in a worried tone and you nod, “Yeah, I’ll be fine, plus your shirt is surprisingly comfy,” you say with a wide smile, putting your arms out to show him just how comfortable you were in it.

“Still....you could just stay over...” he suggests in a whisper but you could still hear it, “Plus...I want you to- s-so can you stay?” he asks nicely, playing with his fingers.

“Okay.”

His heart beats even faster when the doorbell was no longer ringing. He dashes down the stairs, his eyes widening seeing your figure at the door, and he knew just who was outside.

“There he is!” Haechan shouts obnoxiously loud and Renjun was already annoyed in advance of what his friend will have to say. You turned around after closing the door, confused why his friends were huddling over Renjun.

“Let me go!” Renjun shouts after breaking free of his friends, walking to you with his cheeks tinted pink, all of them looking at him as if fighting the urge to tease him. “Hi,” he says and you reply with the same word.

“My friends are weird...” he says and you giggle, “I’ll be off Renjun,” you say and he looks at you blinking his eyes a few times. “We have school,” you remind him and he nods awkwardly.

“I liked spending time with you though, do you wanna perhaps go out after school?” this time round he was the one to make an advance, that didn’t mean he was no longer anxious though, he was screaming in his head, chaos happening in his mind.

“Sure, I’d like that,” you said and Renjun sighs of relief, “I’ll go get my stuffs,” you say and he nods seeing you walk up the stairs.

He looked back to his friends, “I want not a word,” he says but that didn’t stop his friends from mocking him and making fake kissing noises.

“But hey atleast you finally are getting pussy,” Haechan says wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He gave no mind to his friends anymore, all Renjun could think about now was that he was going to take you out on a date, a feeling of excitement filling him along with some fear of messing up.

Still, he unconsciously smiles, feeling warm inside, and despite all the fear and over thinking that was to come.

He couldn’t wait to take you out.

Taglist: @amangooo, @yeo-hehet, @zen626, @hwanchaesong (lemme know if you wanna be added, removed or if I forgot to add you<3)

#nct ff #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct dream ff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream smut #renjun ff #renjun fanfic #renjun smut #huang renjun ff #huang renjun fanfic #huang renjun smut #kpop smut

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