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#i have my own that i like. shrug emoji
tmmyhug · 5 months
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sure we make fun of fandom cliche tropes and stuff but i also literally dont care if you like them. be cringe my love you are free
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my doctor was sooooo fucking worthless and unhelpful im going to masturbate and i hope it fucking kills me
#“no need for follow up”#“yeah you did have several cysts we scrapped off your remaining ovary but. dw about it. idk why they were there. dw about it. oh also your#ovary on that side was freakishly huge but. dw about it. it might go away. dw about it#*doctor shrug emoji* “#“go see a gyno next year maybe. but not me im too important for that. go find and onboard a gyno to your situation. next year maybe idk lol”#he barely even looked at my incision like#this fucking appointment could have been an email. or a phone call. or they just could have let me start driving again. also i forgot to ask#if i can stop drinking ensure now or after the 6 weeks? cause that shit cost $$$$. but he probably would have been super unhelpful if i had#fr fr this guy only wanted to give me the time of day when he thought i might have fun cancer inside and now he's like gtfo!!!! get your#fugly cancerless ass out of here!!!! recover from a major surgery on your own you swagless cancerless loser 🤣 we arent helping your#swagless ass!!!#anyway it seems weird and fucked up that im was never offered to see a physical therapist and i guess am going to have to blindly trust my#abs they sliced thru are healing or whatever and to rawdog my own physical recovery of my muscles? even just dumb shit like. my center of#gravity has drastically changed since the mass removal and my back hurts like shit all the time because all my posture muscles were built up#for when i had an extra 30 pounds of cyst hanging in the front and my posture and walking reflected that. and i lowkey don't know how#hard i am able to be with my healing incision because its really tight and makes me hunch forwards still. like i would really like to know#how much i can safely or maybe should be forcing my skin and incision to stretch. without damage? is that crazy#am i crazy???#this shit is why i didnt see a doctor for 2 years until my problems had snowballed into a 30 pounds ovarian cyst that was crushing my other#organs and had one of my kidneys all backed up with piss. and even getting emergency treatment for it everyone was like. how did you like it#get this bad?? how could you not know you needed to seek medical treatment???? like. bro. seeking medical treatment isnt even a guarantee to#get medical treatment.#anyway he said my “remaining ovary seemed low key polycystic but dw about it. don't quote me on that im not dealing with it.”#bro i dont want to doctor google it i wanted an actual doctor to deal with it. fuck you.#like. maybe even a doctor who knows my situation so i dont have to struggle with getting someone to believe me and take me seriously.#but whatever. back to trying to figure out the daily protein and extra calories my body needs for recovery via doctor google i guess.#its fine 🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬
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aeide-thea · 8 months
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have been reading fic & thinking abt my relationship to fic, which is of course also among other things a mirror of my relationship to my own psyche, and like—i think all the discourse abt its being ~internalized misogyny~ to mostly/entirely read m/m is not ultimately, whatever the truth of it, all that helpful, either to readers or to Women! but of course that doesn't stop me from feeling weird guilt abt the fact that i don't read more f/f than i do, because if there's anything i love to do, it's feel unhelpfully bad abt myself on the slimmest of pretexts…
however! i did end up reading some f/f earlier, specifically transfem f/f, and it got me thinking—basically what i'm usually mostly reading fic for is the romance/sex, right? like, don't get me wrong, i love when a fic gives me a gorgeous double helix of, like, casefic and romance twisted together, that's ideal, but fundamentally most of the time the feeling up is what i sat down at the table to eat. so in a complex aegosexual way it's a fantasy i'm—not projecting onto, exactly, i don't want to be one of the people in it; but, like, lurking in the wings of with eyes big love-crumbs, to steal a phrase from a relevantly-named poet. :) and so it's no wonder that mostly i don't want to read cisfemme4cisfemme stuff, because that's not a dynamic that feels like it has any room for me, or even like i'm particularly welcome in the room. but like. if it's trans women? i'm there, i love that for them and for me. if there's a butch? i might get tripped up by our differing lenses on gender feelings and stub my toe a little but even so i'm probably here for it. (thinking here abt that one butch/femme geraskier ~cisswap which is, like, a gorgeous bruise i keep periodically pressing. <3)
so really it's just like. shocker: i'm not personally moved by fantasies abt romance which feature conventionally feminine cis women whom i don't personally find relatable or sexually desirable! and when i put it like that, it really instantly dissolves the weird useless discourse-induced guiltgunk. like. give me a woman who's, idk, tall and charismatic and strong and clever and talented at something (though honestly it's like that siken revised tweet, a lot of those characteristics are ultimately negotiable!), like women i've historically crushed on irl, and then give me a pairing for her that's like. another woman who's also enough of those things, or a man who's—honestly the kind of m/f i'm open to would be its own whole post bc holy shit am i fussy, it very much does exist but for now let's just stick a pin in that one—or somebody nonbinary, which… idk that i've ever actually seen nb/f in fic? i'm sure it exists! but i'm not sure it exists in any fandoms i've been into. pondering the question did get me really thirsty for a good 'farmgirl (of the luke skywalker variety) is absolutely stunned-and-ringing-like-a-struck-bell captivated by confident flamboyantly genderqueer love interest (example wanted)' dynamic, though…
#(this is entirely unrelated to the actual topic but every time i use a possessive to modify a gerund bc it's a verbal noun it's like#pls hold‚ time 2 decide whether i'd rather do the esoteric thing—'its being'—and have most ppl think i'm getting it wrong#or do the demotic thing—'it being'—and *know* in my own secret heart i'm getting it wrong#and both scenarios feel Bad! so it really is just lose-lose every time it comes up… a sad situation for a gerund lover like yrs truly. 😔)#(also yes what is 'wrong' when it comes 2 language anyway but like. you know what itches your ears and i know what itches mine.#…& obvs what itches mine somehow does NOT include (mis)using 'itch' as a transitive verb for comedically colloquial effect. shrug emoji!!)#anyway none of this is remotely groundbreaking or even unusual but. soothing 2 me to lay it out like this.#fannish things#i guess also#aut fieri uolo aut futuere#and no‚ the world definitely did not need >500 words retreading the same ground many other ppl have already trodden#however. what is a blog for if not to house long-winded unnecessary posts no one but the author (if that) really needed.#in conclusion anything i say abt My Relationship 2 Fic is really always a diptych with that anecdote abt the woman who called up queer bars#just to know there was a space out there where freedom and joy existed‚ and brush the edge of it‚ just a little#like am i personally embodying/visible as much of what i'm deeply emotionally bound up with? no.#is it nonetheless/therefore hugely important to me to see those possibilities stretched out before me like a far green field? sure is!!
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thesmokinpossum · 1 year
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for real tho, i managed to get away from the inherently erroneous belief that people are against me by default quite a long time ago but my traumas still manifest in the latent belief that people kinda forget me the minute they stop seeing me on the reg so it's incredicly comforting/validating but a little hard to believe when people say or do things that very much confirm that they still think and care about me even if they haven't see me in quite a while, idk
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totallynotjevii · 6 months
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i see something new and go haha thats neat and then it starts stabbing into my brain and im on the floor kicking and crying not wanting to obsess over another thing right now
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nonbinaryphantom · 1 year
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do u see my vision here
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saetoru · 11 months
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imagine rich boy gojo finding out your name for him in his phone is just “satoru” or something 💀 and then from the side geto is like “mine’s got an emoji!”
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NO HEART — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)
rich boy! gojo, college au, fluff, established relationships, dramatic gojo which is consistent in every version of him no matter the au
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studying with gojo satoru is the worst idea you could ever allow to happen—and yet, every time he asks, you let it happen.
“baby, aren’t you getting my texts?” gojo pouts. it earns him an unimpressed glare from you as you look up from your textbook, a glare that makes him wilt while geto snickers from the corner.
“satoru, if you don’t stop bothering me while we’re supposed to be studying, so help me—”
“but it’s funny, look,” he whines. and before you can stop him, he picks up the untouched phone beside you, tapping the screen to unlock it. except, he doesn’t make it that far.
suddenly the world stills. it stops spinning on its axis. and suddenly, gojo satoru’s face is the dictionary definition of devastation.
“satoru, what’s wrong,” you furrow your brows.
“satoru. satoru? satoru?” he repeats, each time in more disbelief than the last.
“that’s….your name, yes?” you raise a brow. and then realization strikes your features—or so he thinks. he’s soon to find out he’s mistaken. “oh, sorry,” you snort, “toru, is that better? toru, get to studying—”
“my name in your phone is just satoru?” he asks, cutting you off like you’ve genuinely wounded him—the betrayal on his face and the shock in his voice are all too real.
you blink for a moment before you realize the source of his tantrum seems to be the contact name you have for him in your phone. only gojo satoru would find a way to make a big deal out of his own name, you think.
“well, yeah,” you shrug, “it’s your name. plus i had it set when i first got your number from that project. i hated you back then.”
“you called me gojo back then,” he squints accusingly.
“yeah that’s because it was gojo satoru at first,” you nod. from the side, you hear geto snicker again about the full government name to himself—which earns him a pillow thrown at his direction by gojo. “i deleted the gojo part when we started dating,” you add.
“oh so you can delete my surname once we started dating but you couldn’t even add a heart?” he asks, jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed in that dramatic way he does. it’s a bit cute, the way he’s worked up over something so small—but it’s also entirely theatric, making you roll your eyes.
“would a heart make you feel better, satoru?” you purse your lips.
“no! not if you don’t add it because you want to,” he huffs, “you might as well just say you don’t love me!”
“satoru,” you sigh in exasperation. maybe if you didn’t have physics 1302 problems to work through—a whole six of them due before midnight, in fact—you would humor him in his elaborately dramatized attempt at getting your attention. but you have classes to pass and gpa’s to maintain, so you purse your lips instead. “it’s just a contact name. what’s mine?”
“it’s baby <3. with a heart. see?” sure enough, when his phone is turned to face you, it’s baby <3. with a heart.
“i have an emoji in my contact,” geto adds from the side, ever the instigator, “maybe it’s because i’m cuter—”
“you gave suguru’s an emoji?” he asks in distress, staring at you like you’ve told him you’ve cheated. you think you might hurt his feelings less if you did, with the way his lips are curled in a genuine frown.
“suguru set his own contact,” you defend, shooting the nuisance in the corner a sharp glare. geto only offers you a sly wink in return. “i didn’t realize you cared that much about contact names,” you shrug, “i can change it—”
“no need,” gojo huffs, holding up a hand to silence you as he turns away and sticks his nose in the air in defiance. “i’ll just change yours to your full government name. see how you like it.”
“satoru—”
“and you’re not getting a heart either,” he glares, deleting the <3 slowly just for show, making eye contact with you so you know the severity of your actions.
you roll your eyes, snatching your phone back as you shake your head. “if i make your contact baby <3 with a heart because you’re my baby, will that cheer you up,” you sigh.
he ponders it for a moment, as if debating the offer. and then his arms cross in defiance once more. “no. make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss emoji.”
“gross,” geto twists his face in disgust.
gojo turns to him, face blank and serious as he shoots, “single people should not speak when it’s not their turn,” before turning back to you. “i’ll consider forgiving you if you make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss.”
“okay,” you sigh, “baby boy it is.”
“with a kiss!” he glares.
“with a kiss,” you assure, rolling your eyes.
“can i also get a kiss?” he asks hopefully, eyes wide and bright and earnest enough to warm your heart.
you smile, chuckling at the way he looks so cute, at the way he melts your heart and makes you forget you have physics homework for a moment—but only for a moment because then you mumble, “no. now do your homework.”
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PLS THIS PROMPT KILLED ME
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kleftiko · 7 months
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❦ CHERRY SMOKE CLOUDS
“upon learning that your new plug is a virgin, you come up with a new way to pay for your weed”
cw: slight dubcon (sex under the influence), virginity loss (choso), car sex, corruption kink, unprotected sex, blowjobs
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
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You met Choso through your little sister's friend.
Without knowing Megumi and Yuji were over, you started ranting to Nobara about how your plug was moving across the country, and it was a travesty. When she gave you edibles, she packed them in cute little heart baggies, and you were never gonna find another one as good as her.
It wasn't until you turned the corner that you saw her and her two friends lounging on the couch.
Luckily, Yuji spoke up, telling you his brother grows and you could get from him.
That got you his number, and having known Yuji, you expected his brother to be a much more enthusiastic texter. You hardly expected one- to two-word responses, absolutely no emojis, and a period at the end of a sentence.
But if it got you what you wanted, you were fine with that.
Most transactions were made through Yuji or Nobara, and despite the lack of customer service that you got from your old plug, his stuff was good, so you couldn't complain.
Then, one day, Yuji messaged you, saying he was having a party at his place and you should come meet his brother. You didn't see why not, so you and Nobara got dressed up together and went.
It was unsurprising that there were a lot of people—Yuji loved making friends, after all—so it took a minute to find him. But he had a wide smile when he saw you two, giving you hugs and telling you his brother was in the garage.
You didn't have to excuse yourself cause your sister was already gone by the time you turned back, so you made your way to the garage.
Inside, there was only one person. A taller man with longer hair who was taking stuff out of the trunk of a car, and when he turned to you, you noticed his tired eyes looking at you. He was cute.
"What?" He asked.
"Choso?" You asked, and he nodded. You smiled a bit and said, "Y/N."
A look of recognition flashed across his face.
"Yuji told me you'd be coming." He then lifted the box in his arms slightly, as if to show you the alcohol. "Leave it to my brother to think a six-pack would be enough for a party."
You couldn't help the amused hum that passed your lips as your gaze traced the strained muscles in his arms.
"Want some help?"
After the two of you brought in a couple cases of liquor, you followed him back to the garage. Besides your sister and her friends, you didn't know anyone, and you figured at least Choso would have some weed on him if nothing else.
He leaned against his car and fished a lighter out of his pocket before looking at you and holding it up as an invitation. You smiled and moved to stand in front of him as he took out a case from his other pocket, placing the joint from inside between his lips.
"You don't wanna hang out with your brother?" You asked as he lit it.
Choso just raised an eyebrow at you, blowing out the smoke slowly and drawing your eyes to his lips.
"You don't wanna hang out with your sister?" He retaliated casually, holding out the blunt for you.
With a couple puffs of your own, you shift your weight onto your other leg. Choso's soft gaze stays on you, waiting for you to continue.
"Why smoke out here?" You asked, and he shrugged.
"Not a fan of people." He explained, and you gave him a look. He shakes his head, "don't make it seem like I'm a loner; I just don't wanna hang out with my younger brother's friends."
"Not a fan of younger people?" You don't give him time to answer before you say, "pretty sure I'm younger than you."
"You're fine." It's casual in the way he says it, but it does something to you, and you end up shifting again when he hands you the blunt.
His eyes flicked down to your legs, taking notice of your movement. "Wanna sit?"
Choso patted the hood of the car beside him as an offer, and you looked at his fingers sitting on top of the metal. They were long and lanky, with prominent veins running through his hand and up his arm. It led you back to his face, which is waiting for your answer.
So you hopped on top of the hood, taking one more puff than is courteous, but Choso didn't say anything as he took it back.
It was a couple minutes of silence; the two of you smoked until it was just the filter, and Choso threw it away. You started to feel the familiar feeling of your head becoming heavier—or, you were just more aware of the weight of it—and you sank back onto your hands with contentment.
"So, were you just here for the weed?" Choso's voice was pretty monotone, but you could tell he was making a joke.
A small giggle escaped your lips as you noticed the red creeping up in his tired eyes.
"I mean, I won't say no if you wanna share another, but I think hanging out with you is fine by itself." You admitted, and he shook his head at you.
A couple blinks was all it took to remind you that he really did grow some good shit, and you grabbed the bottom of his shirt to tell him the compliment when you looked up at his face and forgot your train of thought.
Instead, you tugged on his shirt and coaxed him to stand in front of you as you tilted your head up at him.
"You don't look like what I thought you would." You drawled out.
"What'd you expect?" He prompted.
You pouted, "pink hair."
Choso let out a soft chuckle, and you almost melted at the sight of his smile. Unintentionally, you leaned closer to him, your eyes focused on the bridge of his nose, where you noticed a faint scar that ran across it. With your noses almost touching, you looked up into his eyes, admiring the way they locked onto you.
"You're hotter than I thought." You mumbled, and his eyebrows raised slightly.
Choso pulled back.
"If you think this'll get you free stuff, you're outta luck."
You giggled and let go of his shirt, leaning back onto your hands with a lazy smile.
"I'd tell you that even if you weren't my plug." You said. "Though, I'm sure a lot of your customers offer favours instead of money."
Once again, he shook his head at you, his smile mirroring yours. You let your head fall back, feeling the stretch in your neck as you stared at the ceiling.
"Wouldn't blame you, sex while high is incredible."
"I wouldn't know." He said and you snapped your head at him.
"You've never had sex after smoking?"
He raised an eyebrow at you, and you understand what he was saying.
"You've never had sex?" You clarified, and Choso shakes his head in agreement, unbothered by it.
"Never had the time." He explained, and at the back of your clouded mind, you recalled Nobara mentioning that Yuji was raised by his older brother.
You slid off the car, standing toe to toe with Choso as you looked up at him. He didn't move, and you could smell his cologne and soft hints of weed.
"Do you wanna know what it's like?" You whispered, gazing up at him through your lashes.
The thought that you could give this man everything made that small pulse of arousal that's been sitting between your legs light on fire. As you stared into Choso's eyes, a mischievous smile played on your lips. The anticipation of what you could do with him sent a rush of excitement through your body.
Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Choso bent down and attached his lips to yours.
He tasted smokey, but it didn't bother you as you brought your hands up into his messy hair. His large hands travelled down your sides and roughly pulled you closer to him. Your knee bumped between his legs, and he uttered a deep moan into your mouth.
Detaching yourself from him, you grabbed his shirt and tugged him to switch places with him, pushing his legs into the hood of his car and forcing him to sit atop it.
Your hands then moved to his jeans as you kissed him again, undoing the button and zipper as you bit his lips. Choso let out a little whine, shakey fingers grasping at your own shirt when you stuck your hand down his pants and cupped his half-hard cock. As you stroked him, you scattered kisses and bites down his neck and along his jaw, leaving nothing to catch the hisses he let out of his mouth in response to your attack. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as his breathing grew heavier. The intensity of the moment heightened as you whispered in his ear, teasing him with promises of what was to come.
Then you sank your knees onto the concrete floor between his legs, pulling down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his cock and balls, your mouth watering at the size.
As you looked up into his eyes, you gently licked his red tip and watched him shut his eyes in pleasure, his hand coming to the top of your head. Then you took him to the back of your throat, eliciting a loud and wanton moan from the man above you. Despite slapping his other hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, you felt a shiver at the noise, knowing that you were driving him wild with something so simple. With each movement of your mouth, you could feel his grip on your hair tighten, urging you to go deeper. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you lost yourself in the intoxicating pleasure of giving him ecstasy. His dick was slobbered with your spit, and besides the faint music coming from the house, the garage was filled with the disgusting sounds of you slurping and choking on his cock and Choso's beautiful stuttering noises of bliss.
Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him; the salty precum and weight of his dick on your tongue had you rocking your neglected pussy into your heel. When his moans and whimpers started to catch at the back of his throat, you cupped his heavy balls in your hands, gently massaging them as you continued to pleasure him. The intensity of the moment heightened as you felt his body tense and his breathing become more erratic, signalling that he was about to cum. With a mischievous smile, you increased the speed and pressure of your movements, determined to push him over the edge and make him lose control completely.
The grip on your hair tightened as he let out a guttural groan, his hips bucking uncontrollably against your touch. The raw desire in his eyes fueled your own excitement, and you revelled in the power you had over him in the moment. As he finally reached his climax, you continued to stroke him through his release, savouring the feeling of his pulse against your tongue and his cum running down your throat.
His tired eyes were glazed with lust when you popped him out and stood up. His chest was breathing heavily, but that didn't stop him from grabbing your face and pulling you into a searing kiss, licking up the drops of his cum that slipped from your lips. You moaned at his eagerness to clean his own grime from your face and ran your hands down his clothed body, fingernails scraping along his muscles as they twitched.
"Please," He begged between kisses. "Please fuck me."
You pulled away, looking at the man in front of you with hunger.
"Back seat." You commanded, and Choso listened to you.
The two of you stumbled to the car, pawing at each other as you removed your clothes. By the time you shut the door behind you, the two of you were in your underwear. Choso was hard once again as you mounted him.
Taking off your bra, his eyes locked onto your tits before eagerly going for them with his mouth. but you grabbed his hair and pulled him back. He nearly whimpered at the denial, but you were firm.
"I need to see your face when I take your virginity, baby." You told him.
Choso nodded his head and helped you two rid yourself of the last bit of clothing. Grabbing his cock, you lined it up with your soaking lips as Choso's fingers fluttered over your hips in anticipation. You looked at him, only to find his watery eyes locked on your pussy as he swallowed harshly. You were sure that if you led him on any longer, he would start crying.
"Choso," your sweet voice cooed.
When he locked eyes with yours, you sheathed yourself over his cock, watching firsthand as his mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled back as a broken moan pushed past his lips. It was filthy and erotic, and it made you lift your hips and slam back down onto him just to see his reaction again. His body trembled beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him. The intensity of the moment fueled your own desire, igniting a primal need to dominate and explore every inch of his body.
"That feel good, baby?" You asked, knowing he couldn't answer. "Feel good to get fucked in the back of your car?"
Choso whimpered.
You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear, as you whispered, "You love being used like this for your first time, don't you?"
The sound of his desperate moans only fueled your attack further, pushing you to take him even harder.
"Your cock feels so good inside me, Choso." You continued to enjoy his reactive body. "so big, I don't think I can just fuck you once."
In his first bout of control, Choso grabbed the back of your head and shut you up with a kiss, hips lifting against yours in desperation.
"So fucking perfect." He managed to huff out, and you rewarded him with a squeeze of your pussy, making him lose the rhythm of his thrusts. The intensity of the moment heightened as Choso's grip tightened on your head, his kiss silencing your words. With each desperate thrust of his hips, he struggled to maintain the little bit of control he had.
He managed to gasp, overcome with the pleasure you were giving him, "You're absolutely incredible." The squeeze of your pussy caused him to lose his rhythm, further intensifying the passion between you.
You smiled wickedly and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"Yea?" You asked. "Wanna cum inside me?"
It was as if a switch had been flipped. His eyes darkened with desire, and a primal growl escaped his lips. Without hesitation, he grasped your hips firmly and increased the pace, thrusting into you with an urgency that matched your own. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and you let out your own noises of pleasure at Choso's actions.
Feeling your climax near, you dug your nails into his bare chest, urging him on. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you reached the peak of pleasure together, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy. Spurts of his cum painted the inside of you, making you moan at the feeling before collapsing against him, sweaty bodies entangling. For a long moment, heavy breathing was the only sound in the hot car. As the air slowly cooled, you both basked in the afterglow.
With a satisfied smile, Choso gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered, "That was incredible."
You breathed out a laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cuddling into him.
"Yea," you agreed. "We need to smoke together more often."
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pascal-oswell · 1 year
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you know as someone who really likes fan abnos youd really think id be out there creating some. and yet
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diluc33rpm · 1 year
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1/3 Is your perception of yourself similar or the same to how others perceive you?
this is inaccurate no one perceives me
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#hardly if at all#and if it is then that’s limited to... very specific people? i feel like the friends i consider closest#are the ones who have the least differentiation in perception#given of course they still have their own outside pov of me. i think i’d go insane if talking to people was like being in my own head 24/7#i guess that means i have a hard time considering anyone close but i can’t exactly blame other people when im the one affecting my attitude#or rather not even affecting but just... exaggerating#every time someone’s like ‘oh lol you seem so chill about everything’ i’m like ‘thanks i’m constantly so tired i want to cry’#or ‘i wish i had your confidence’ and im in my mind going ‘bitch what. bitch what. sorry could you say that again. that makes no fucking se#‘you’re so loud and crazy’ the camera cuts to me standing in a grocery store dead inside fending off madness as california girls plays#i mean i joke but it’s genuinely bizarre to me how 15 years of repressing rage turned into being fun at parties#if it makes people like me then like ? ? sure i’m flattered but god i just wanna fucking Lie Down. the turmoil of the unexpressed#i don’t even talk to people the same way i talk to myself it takes me kicking and clawing to get out my natural syntax if ever i can#hell i couldn’t even write THIS ask in it#(and i’m not sure what others opinions on me are but my vibe internally is just not all lowercase. like at all)#feel like most people i meet are like oh zach is this wacky dude!! and i'm like YEAH you're not wrong but#*insert the hAEUEGEHH inhale from the 'i lie to myself' skit*#least i’m pretty sure everyone has moments like those these days. the vibe is in shambles but we’re all a lil bit in shambles together#on this funked up planet earth there’s a ‘the rot consumes us all’ shrugging stock emoji in every one of us
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surusims2 · 1 year
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everytime someone reblogs my builds/interiors and tags it like simspo or something like that my heart grows tender so thank u
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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months
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hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸
uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗
hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!
warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending
You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 
“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 
“Please, stop apologizing.” 
You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 
“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 
You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 
“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 
“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 
“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 
“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  
“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 
A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 
“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 
You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  
“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 
An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 
“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 
“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 
“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 
When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 
“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 
You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 
Says Spencer Reid? 
“...sorry?” 
He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 
“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  
“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 
He swallows and nods. 
“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  
“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 
More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 
“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 
But you're not crying because he was nice.  
Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 
His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 
“I meant every word.” 
You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 
“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 
Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 
“Had?” 
The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 
“Yeah. You know what changed?” 
“What’s that?” 
Absolutely nothing. 
“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 
Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 
“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 
“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 
“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 
You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 
More silence. 
“But you don’t believe it.” 
A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 
“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 
A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 
“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 
“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  
You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 
“What?” 
His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 
“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 
“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 
“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 
Your heart drops as you study his face.  
No. 
Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 
Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 
You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 
“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 
“What are you doing? Don’t--” 
You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 
“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 
A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 
“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 
With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 
“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 
He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 
“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 
Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 
“You... you like me?” 
“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 
Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.
And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 
You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.
“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 
“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 
“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 
“No, but—” 
“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 
“Of course I have.” 
“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 
Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  
Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 
“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 
“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 
Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 
“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 
A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 
“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 
“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 
“I do.” 
“Will you kiss me?” 
“If that’s what you want.” 
You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 
When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.
To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 
“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 
“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 
A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 
“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 
“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 
------------------------------------------ 
epilogue
Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 
“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 
“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 
“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 
“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 
“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 
Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 
“Spencer?” 
He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 
“What does pulchritude mean?” 
It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 
“Don’t worry about it.” 
And so you let it float away. 
601 notes · View notes
fillinforlater · 8 months
Note
When is the next part of Eleven to One: Hate You Lots coming? I am dying to see Chaewon become the next cum slut.
Eleven to One: What's to Hate?
Male Reader x Ahn Yujin, Kim Minju, Kim Chaewon
Length: 4294 words
Tags: Daddy kink, nudist kink, submission, teasing, teaser, trap, making out, passionate kissing, being watched, girl on girl kissing, girl on girl action, fingering, loss of voice, loss of mind, breeding kink, hate sex, choking, riding, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, emotional manipulation, degradation, emotional hurt, everything is fucked up af, doggy, breeding doggy, self-restraint, female orgasm, creampie, good_girls!Minju and Yujin / broken!Chaewon (?)
TW: degradation, hate sex, emotional manipulation, the story is already very fucked up, what are you still doing here lmao?
Credit: @sooyadelicacies for being my co-writer!
(A/N: Finally, another part to this... series. I don't even know how to describe it, but we'll go down a spiral and completely out of control lol. Here is the previous part btw, here is the rest of the series)
"Daddy, I found a letter in the mail."
Yujin's nude body slides through a small gap in your office door. Oh, what a life you're living. All your insane previous work hours reduced to two six hour shifts in your own apartments. Hyewon prepares, executes and delegates everything, you only need to check and sign. She is great and makes you millions in mere weeks.
"Thank you, Yujin. Put it on the pile with the others, right there." You point at a corner of your desk, but Yujin hesitates.
"I think this one is... special," she says and shows you the large envelope. "Look at this playful Emoji on it. Something seems to also bulge it, definitely not paper; something round I think."
"The Emoji looks more like a smiley, don't you think?" you ask, looking past the white, definitely filled envelope to your smocking hot girlfriend. She shrugs her shoulders, you almost believe her.
"Chaewon?"
"She'd never put a smiley on there for you!"
"Maybe she is mocking me?"
"Oh, Daddy," Yujin chuckles. "Just read it after work. I have to head out now, dance practice."
"Sure, but can I ask you a favor?"
Yujin turns around again and smirks. Her amazing thighs jiggle when she steps a bit closer again. You could ravage her every single fucking seconds of your life, if only that was a possibility.
"Yes, of course, Daddy~"
"Try to get both Chaewon and Minju here at 9pm—scratch that, 8pm. I want them both freshly exhausted."
Yujin ponders for a second, playing with her long hair, before leaning in close to your ear, her heat radiating straight to your face.
"Hm, I think I can arrange that."
#
“Hello? Yujin? I'm here."
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Chaewon's loud voice comes from the front door of your apartment. It might still be enough to fill the vast confines of each room, but you can hear it slowly dwindle from hours and hours of vocal and dance practice. Surely she won't be able to keep this volume up for long.
"Should I call her?" Yujin whispers in your ear, obediently sitting on your thigh. 
"Let her look for you. Where is Minju?" you ask and take a look at your watch. 7:58. Interesting. Minju not being early isn't a surprise, but Chaewon being here before the time? She must have hurried.
"I told her to be here, 8pm flat," Yujin murmurs and fiddles with the collar of your shirt. You grab her wrists and look at her somewhat intensely.
"Try calling her. Hurry."
"Yujin! Where are you?" Chaewon calls again, then her voice cracks. "I don't want to play these games, not with this pig around—"
"What pig?" you shout back, making even Yujin shudder as she rushes towards your office to hide and look for a phone. "I do not allow such animals in this house."
You could practically hear Chaewon's face morph into a scowl at your voice. 
"You heard me! You're a pig. I am only doing this because Yujin invited me over!"
"Well then, come on in!" you sarcastically laugh back, making sure to be louder than her, to urge her not only to walk further into the trap, but also to raise her voice at you.
“Fuck you," Chaewon hisses and enters the living room. In the flickering light of your fireplace you see her hatred filled eyes stare at you. God, she tries so hard to kill you with just that look, but it's all futile. 
The white dress makes her look like an angel, a sweaty angel that has the fabric stuck to her small body. Her hair is a mess, her faint makeup is a mess, now her voice is a mess mess mess.
"Fuck you, where, where is she?"
"Oh," you mock her with a pout and reach for a glass of wine on a side table. "Your voice... you should drink something, hm?"
Suddenly, Yujin bursts into the room. Chaewon's features turn from gloomy to delighted, but just as quickly she just looks lost and, judging by the light pink hue on her round cheeks, horny. 
"She'll be here in a minute, Daddy," Yujin purrs and grabs the glass from your fingers. "Hi, Chaewon. Nice to see you~"
“Minju is a part of this too?" Chaewon asks. 
You ignore her and continue on. 
"I must admit, you do look quite stunning in that outfit. It's a pretty dress." 
"I'm not here for you to gawk at." 
"Hmm. No, I think it's quite the opposite." 
You turn your attention back to Yujin and motion for her to sit back on your lap and give you a sultry searing kiss. As she does, you fixate your eyes for one second on Chaewon. Oh, she is gawking. She is so focused on it, the way Yujin's bountiful curves melt into you, how willingly she becomes your good little baby girl, to be played with. You can hear her gulp and the revealing dress becoming too warm.
"Daddy, your tongue," Yujin quietly moans, trying to get more from you, but your ears have already picked it up: the arrival of Minju, hectic and clumsy as per usual. The front door crashes open, it hits the wall and almost comes back to haunt the poor girl.
"I-I'm here—Chaewon-unnie!?"
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"Minmin, look at who I personally invited over,” you boast from your couch and take a final sip of wine. “You're right on time, but try to be early in the future." 
"Yes, Daddy! Oh, I want to kiss you too, Daddy..." Minju says with longing, seeing Yujin on your lap.
“No, Minju, don't," Chaewon barely crooks out past her dry lips, her gentle red lipstick almost peeling off of it. She uses the remnants of her energy to put both a foot and an arm in the large door frame, but it won't be enough. Her blockade is too small, Minju could still get past it. 
In desperation, Chaewon resorts to other means. She grabs her taller friend and with a knee between her legs pins her against the door frame. Minju yelps, her own hands trying to avert the attack.
"Please don't go to him! Stay here, stay w-with m-m-me..."
Endearing, it makes you feel like the heartless animal Chaewon probably envisions you being. A pig, greedy for only the most beautiful, submissive, willing girls, never stopping. No, Yujin isn't enough, perfection isn't enough. You need Minju, on you—but there is something even more fun right now.
"On second thought," you say in the general direction of the two, Yujin's saliva still fresh on your tongue, her soft fingers on your cheekbones. "Don't kiss me, Minju. Go kiss her. Kiss her now, right on the lips."
"Wha—" Chaewon stops to breathe.
"O-okay, Daddy."
Suddenly, the roles are reversed. The hands that pressed, the knee that pinned, the eyes that begged; the dynamic falters. Chaewon, only wanting Minju to look at her, can't bear the adorable, loving features coming closer, the puckered lips, oh they look so soft…
"Minmin, time to put your training to use. Make Chaewon feel good," you say gently as Yujin keeps kissing your neck. You watch the show unfold before you.
First a peck. Simple, disarming. Chaewon's weak arms bend more and more, she can't keep her friend away. Of course she wants this, but you cannot be the one in control of it. Feel adrenaline rush through your body as Chaewon caves in, nothing compared to Minju's unstoppable approach.
Secondly, the tongue. Minju's prise open her Unnie's lips and you hear, see, even feel her squirm and willingly lose the battle when Minju wraps her arms around her waist. Chaewon becomes one with the doorframe, seemingly one with Minju when their legs brush and tongues twirl like greedy tornados. Chaewon even follows Minju, when she backs off a bit and disconnects their lips—just to adjust her hair, smile brightly with her huge blush and dive back in.
You turn to Yujin in disbelief.
"How—since when is she so good? Our little Minmin..."
"We trained her well, I guess~" Yujin smiles lewdly, another torrent of sloppy kisses.
"You lewd slut. Get me out of these clothes."
"Of course, Daddy."
"Also..."
"Yes, Daddy?"
"You're still the best kisser, Yujin."
She smiles from ear to ear, her hand already popping open your buttons and belt.
"Thank you."
You allow Minju to keep pleasuring a little longer Chaewon, to bring the elder to the brink of bliss. Like the test ride of a new sports car, Chaewon gets to feel every extraordinary, expensive curve and benefit of what she can never have. Not when you’re still pulling the strings.
"Minju, you're such a good kisser," Chaewon says softly. 
"Daddy's been teaching me well and—" 
"That's enough Minmin,” you call her and consequently bring Chaewon down from cloud nine. “Come here." 
Minju merely nods and without a care in the world, she moves over to you as you plant a sloppy kiss on her lips. Chaewon’s hands tremble as if she’s feeling the withdrawal of a drug.
"Daddy, did I do well?" Minju gleefully asks.
"Yes you did, baby girl." 
"What the hell?" Chaewon's eyes glaring daggers. 
"Oh. Did you think Minju was into you? That she was enjoying it? Why don't you tell Chaewon the truth." You command Minju.
"Unnie, I," Minju hesitates, her stammer only interrupted by Yujin slurping on your cock and drowning it in her drool. "I like you but... you are not a g-good kisser. I liked yo-your fingers but Daddy and Yujin are—"
"No! They are using you!" 
Chaewon has lost her voice, tears spark in her orbs as she reaches for her throat. She wants to shout at you, scream her love back at Minju, but it hurts. It's not coming out.
"Minju," you groan, your voice teasing. "Why are you still wearing clothes?"
"Oh, sorry Daddy. I'll lose them asap."
"Very good. And then you can get your prize."
In the flash of an eye, Minju is naked, her clothes spread all over a tearful Chaewon and a cockhungry Yujin, who you quickly guide next to you on the couch.
"I give you a choice," you tell your girlfriend. "You can masturbate while watching us or you can try to keep your hands off your body and then I'll fuck you the whole night. Your call."
Yujin's eyebrows furrow. It's rare for her to not touch herself when naked on any occasion, but around you and her hot former bandmates and all the sex that's about to happen, it is close to impossible.
You don't think about her for another second. Minju finds her way on your lap, your stiff, lubed up rod in her always curious hands. Grab her by the waist and spin her around so she faces Chaewon. A disappointed moan.
"But I can't kiss Daddy like this."
"Just turn your head to the side, Minmin. I can kiss you from every angle. Now spread your legs and show her how I fuck y—"
"No, I don't—"
You interrupt Chaewon by spitting at her pathetic figure kneeling on the ground. Her nerves must have been broken; confusion, anger and never before felt horniness all wrestle for control in her delicate body while she can barely speak.
"You know what you need to do," you growl and push your cock upwards into Minju who desperately searches for your lips as groans escape her own. "But just watch, I guess."
You begin to pump into Minju and kiss her with pure lust and dominance. Her entire being submits to you, becomes obedient and willing to take your cock faster, harder, deeper—you know the drill and so does she. Minju’s lips have an addictive taste, it might stem from Chaewon, whose sweet loss you can (metaphorically, of course) nibble from her friend.
"Minmin, you know Chaewon loves you right? Like loooves you? How do you feel about that? Do you think you can ever love her back the same way?" 
"Yujin… make him stop..." Chaewon all but cries out.
Yujin however is in her own world. Her struggle is real, no matter how deep she digs her nails into the couch, they try to sneak back and touch her needy spots. The three aroused nubs, her clenching pussy, hell, her entire body has become an erogenous zone at this point. She reaches for some of Minju's clothes to maybe tie herself up, but all she finds are panties, stained with love juice and perfectly smelly.
Chaewon looks back at you as you ravage her friend. Your thrusts go harder, your grip on Minju's hips and tits gets tighter, your tongue licks faster—has it always been this close? Chaewon wonders, her eyelids flickering.
His cock is... right there. Oh God, she is taking it so well, Minju's pussy looks so good, so stretched... and her midriff is so smooth.
"I-I," Minju's screams get Chaewon out of her dream. "I loved Unnie! Her fingers, her lips, but... she has not been th-there for mee—
"Ah, Daddy, I'm cumming!"
In the midst of her climax, you pinch Minju's nipples and bite her ear. Your cock stretching her to the max, you ask:
"What do you love? Say it!"
"Daddy's cock! Daddy's cock is the best."
"I'll do it." Chaewon unzips her dress, face pale and blank, voice fragile and pleading. "I'll fuck you. Please."
"And then?" you respond, a babbling Minju unceremoniously dropped onto a still restraining Yujin, who shrieks at the touch of hot skin, sweat and saliva on her own scorching body.
"I—what more do you want?" Chaewon asks shakily. 
"You don't get it do you? I don't care if you fuck me or not. I don't need you. No. I want you to beg for it. I want you to realize whose fucking house you're in right now. Your Yujin is mine. And your Minju? She won't ever love you unless I give her permission. So first, you're going to apologize to me. You're going to get on the floor and beg me for forgiveness and then you're going to beg for my perfect fucking cock, Kim Chae-won."
Chaewon, struck by lightning, hesitates to respond. Whatever sentence her brain is scrambling to create, it's not a worthwhile response. In fact, nothing is. She is a puddle, absolutely destroyed by your authority, her every weakness now used against her.
All that can work now is taking action. Fighting back, literally.
In a single motion, Chaewon rises from the ground and the ashes of her dignity like a phoenix, digs her fingers into your jaw and pounces on your lap. There is a new fire in her eyes, blue flames of frustrated rage that show that she is indeed no celestial, but a woman filled with vengeance.
Panties pulled to the side, she guides your cock behind the curtains of her short dress and like a magician makes it disappear in her tight entrance. Feel that she is a lot wetter than last time right from the get go; her pain resistance due to your size seems to have risen as well.
What can you do in the face of this power, this unbridled will, her hips that smash down on you with the force of a falling anvil, the pointy ends of her nails in the skin of your cheeks, piercing like arrows, her hateful moans of victory? Chaewon will fuck you senseless, squeeze out every word of a long apology and show Minju that serving you is a waste of time. You're a pig after all.
At least that's what you make her believe.
Your face twists into a smile. 
"A whore who can't control her urges. Who is the pig now? C’mon then, fuck it out of me, if you think you can! I'll tell you what: If you make me cum before I make you cum, I'll release Minju back to you. You'll both be free to go and I'll never bother you again. 
"You're sick,” Chaewon hisses back. “I want Yujin free too." 
Yujin looks at you for a moment, wondering if you would really give her away like that, fingers on Minju’s body to distract her from the juices leaking out of her pussy.
"Listen here," you viciously whisper and pull away Chaewon's hand which bothers your face. "Try to get some leverage in this position, before making absurd demands. As of now, you have nothing on me."
"I-I'm on top," Chaewon moans, continuing to bounce on your cock.
"It means nothing. I can easily make you cum like this. I can also make you cum by folding you in half and pressing you into the couch or picking you up like a human fleshlight or... fuck, I could order your friends here to force a hundred orgasms out of you, all before you can even think of satisfying me.
"Do you understand, Chaewon? Earn yourself the spot above me, because right now, you're nothing but a toy."
Chaewon's face contorts in pleasure and embarrassment. She can't let these insults get to her, but at the same time, she gets off to them. Her pussy clenches around your cock, needily sucking it back in, wanting it to fuck upwards and claim every inch of her hot, velvety insides.
"At least your body is honest." You smirk.
"Wh-what—ah, no!"
You get a hold of Chaewon's hips, her dress spilling out of your hands as you hold her steady and thrust into her. Unlike before, you make sure to give her every inch every time. Chaewon's eyes roll up in her head, then down to your body, easily overpowering hers from below. Her voice breaks at every moan and scream, and she can't bear the sight of her friends, who look on closely. 
Their Unnie is becoming stupid for this cock.
Minju pouts sadly. 
"Chaewon-unnie, you should enjoy it. Daddy's perfect cock...it's the most special thing," Minju mumbles, drool in the corner of her pretty mouth.
"Unnie, maybe you should apologize to Daddy. He'll make you feel good," Yujin says sincerely.
"N-never! I-I will n-not—"
All it takes is you swiping her clit, found under her dress. The tiny bundle of nerves had it coming and now the fearless leader is cumming on your cock. However, it is not this grand, cathartic orgasm for her, just a demonstration of your power. Frankly, this is what you think Chaeeon deserves: A pleasureless loss, pathetic for the woman she wants to be. So much on the line, yet she did not even come close to achieving her goal.
In a well-timed outburst of your horny rage, you pull out of her and throw her on the couch. Giving Yujin a teasing brush on her flexed thigh and then a kiss because she needs to hold out just a little bit longer, you then focus on Minju.
"Get on top of Chaewon," you order. "I'm gonna fill you in Doggy for being a good girl."
"Thank you, Daddy," Minju excitedly says and once again traps Chaewon with her body.
You push inside Minju's sweet pussy and tug at her hair. 
"Minju, how would you feel if I bred you tonight? How badly do you want to be bred?" 
Yujin almost became distraught, before remembering her place and knowing this was a part of your plan. You wanted to show Chaewon what was truly yours. 
"Daddy… I don't know if I'm ready to raise a child, but I want to carry yours so badly," Minju whispers and looks right through Chaewon’s hazelnut eyes. 
Perfect. You would fuck Minju, break her while Chaewon would be right below her, helpless to watch as you filled Minju with your seed. 
"I want you to tell Chaewon the truth,” you tell Minju and caress her smooth back before pushing it a bit closer to Chaewon. “Then you can be filled to the brim."
"I want Daddy! I want his Daddy cock and his Daddy seed deep in my pussy! I want him to breed Minju every day!"
Minju has never clenched harder around your dick than at this moment. It's not a hyperbole, because for the first time you find it irresistible to not cum in another pussy that isn't your girlfriends'. This moment right here, this impeccable, cruel set up is Minju has finally becoming ethereal truth and beauty: on all fours, drooling on her former lover's face, sweat pouring out everywhere, nothing can fill her heart like you.
Fill her, you do. The way to Minju’s heart is through her desperate, empty pussy—try to rephrase that at a different time, because now, it’s quite befitting. The breedable girl won’t be able to keep herself upright for long, that’s the measurement of power for how hard your thrusts are. You don’t really want her to anyways. She is allowed to freely fall on top of Chaewon, who constantly fails to close her eyes to Minju’s face.
A face of desire, of pleasure; a tongue hanging out, hoping to suck the same cock that’s rearranging her insides—also something that should be rephrased. One day, but not today. Today you give Minju loving spanks for being the good, rod-taking girl that you and Yujin envisioned her to be. After the fifth slap, her legs go weak first, her midriff meets Chaewon’s, but her pussy still sucks you back in. Minju is thirsty.
Thirsty for cum, and you give it to her greedy pussy that wrings you viciously. Minju is a vacuum, getting your balls dry and although you make sure everything is dumped deep inside her cavern, huge amounts still drip out of her and onto Chaewon, who shrieks at every impact of cum on her skin.
You're still dreamy, Minju's deep breaths are the only thing audible to you, her ass the only thing in your line of view. It seems you forgot something, a promise you have made.
"D-Daddy!" Yujin calls for you and shakes your shoulders violently. "I haven't touched myself, please, please, please fuck me now! I'm a good slut, use me, fill me, I need your cock."
You turn towards her. This poor girl is standing there, shivering, her wrists awkwardly turned to prevent her from touching her already squeezing pussy. In a moment of thrill for you and catharsis for her, you grab Yujin's hand and pull her into your bedroom. The door shuts and moments later, Chaewon and Minju hear their Dongsaeng cum, loud and proud.
"Yujinie is—" Minju whispers, wanting to start a conversation, but Chaewon interrupts her. 
"A-are you really going to be pregnant?" Chaewon quietly cries out, tears and snort on her face. Minju props herself up and smiles down at her dear friend.
"To be honest," she starts and blushes. "No, I'm protected. But it feels so good, so right to say it."
"Th-that is fucked up, Minmin," Chaewon whimpers.
"Unnie, sex can be so much fun. Here, put your finger in me, like you used to! He feels so warm, and there is so much."
Minju guides Chaewon's fingers to her freshly fucked, leaking entrance and although she hesitates for a bit, Chaewon starts to finger more and more cream out of her friends cunt. Minju softly moans and they both watch a downpour of white fall on Chaewon’s navel in the middle of August. 
"I was unsure at first too," Minju continues and cups Chaewon's face. "But it can feel so good, the best feeling ever. I won't leave that. 
"I still love you, though. We all do. Yujin and Eunbi-unnie and Hyewo—"
"What do you me—oh my God."
Suddenly, Minju kisses the beyond shocked Chaewon before the latter loses her mind to the most absurd scenario that is imaginable but also so immoral, it should not be. Instead Chaewon melts into Minju's lips and decides to stay quiet. She could never be part of such a fucked up game, it’s just wrong, filthy, absolutely disgusting. He is such a pig!
"Unnie, come here more often. Daddy can be so soft, he will train you, you will be better at sex and one day, he will cum in you and you will love it.
Minju, you are out of your mind… but what if—
"Trust me~"
#
The luxury of getting up at 11am and still making more money than most people do in their life time should be appreciated by you, but instead you whine over the fact that after three more rounds with Yujin after the initial, massive filling of Minju and eight hours of sleep, you have to get back to ruling your business empire. 
That's when you find the envelope Yujin brought yesterday. You finish a boring phone call and pick it up, still very much unsure of what the round thing inside it is. Tear it open and a letter slips right out—along with a cute little collar. Intrigued you begin to read while you pick up the round object.
Dear you,
yes, you. Yujin told me that you exist. You're her boyfriend and although she doesn't talk about you often, I can tell she really loves you. You seem like a very wise person, especially when you can get along with Yujin.
I wanted to ask you something: could we maybe chat a little? Talk face to face? I know it's a weird request, but I kinda want someone to talk to right now. I feel I can trust you, more than other people around me. If you can keep your relationship with Yujin a secret, this will be easy-peasy, right?
Feel free to talk with Yujin about this first, but you both keep quiet! I don't want the others to be worried.
Thank you very muchie!
Signed
Yena, meow
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928 notes · View notes
lvrsparadise · 7 months
Note
hi pook!
you should write an opposites attract with chris. (i would say matt but i feel like this is more of a chris thing)
like, the reader is calm, patient, and quiet while we all know how chris is.
love youuuu 😽
'LOUD' - C.S
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Synopsis - "Can you be quieter?" "Can you be louder?"
Warnings! - profanity, kissing, secret dating.
A/N - literally wrote all of this in class. i get to meet my baby brother today! (5th) by the time this comes out, he'll already be home. Thank you for requesting this pook! love you all ! synopsis sentence not used in story !!
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I huff and look out the window of the van as Chris cuts me off, yet again.
“Chris, let her talk!”
“No! Nothing she’s saying is important!”
“And why is that?” Matt looks back at me before looking back at Chris.
“She’s not loud enough to really get her point across.” He’s too loud. He makes an emphasizing gesture with his arms, throwing them out in front of him. 
“Chris, just stop being a dick!” Nick smacks his arm, and it sounds like it hurts.
“Ow Nick! What the fuck?!” Chris grabs his arm and attempts to bend back to the backseat to hit Nick back, but he ends up hitting me instead, and I am furious, and I think he can tell.
His eyes widen quickly, and his face goes pale.
“Oh shit. Sorry ba- Y/N” I have to try and refrain from showing any emotion to his almost slip-up. I nail him with a look for a beat before returning to my scowl.
“You asshole.” I can see the genuine apology in his eyes, and with that, I become a little less mad and kind of just slump back in the seat, looking back out the window.
I hear multiple sighs.
“Now look what you’ve done. Great going Chris.” Nick’s voice is laced with sarcasm, and anger.
“My bad, wasn’t trying to hit her.” He sits back into his seat.
---
A few minutes pass and the subject has changed and Chris has gotten a little quieter. 
I feel my phone vibrate from my pocket and I take it out to see a text from Chris.
Baby♡: i’m so sorry babe, i seriously did not mean to hit you Me: it’s fine. You can kiss it better later (kissy emoji)
A small grin forms on my face as I hear Chris chuckle quietly from the front seat.
“What? What’re you laughing at?” Nick asks as he leans over to try and get a peek at Chris’s phone, but thankfully Chris shuts his phone off in time.
“Nothing dipshit.”
---
After filming, which took over two hours by the way, we finally head back to the triplets house, and just as we pull out of the parking lot, my phone vibrates again, and I already know who it is.
Baby♡: you alright? You’re quiet back there. Me: i’m always quiet. :) Baby♡: true… Baby♡: are you staying over tonight? Me: idk yet Baby♡: pleaseeeee 
I let out a huff of air and roll my eyes.
“Hey guys, is it cool if I stay over tonight? I don’t feel like driving tonight.”
“Yeah that’s fine with me.” Nick turns his head to me and smiles.
“I don’t mind.” I can see Matt shrug from the driver’s seat.
Chris is silent, probably for the best.
“Alright.” I look back down at my phone and grab my headphones from my pocket, putting them in and press play on my playlist as my phone buzzes again.
Baby♡: yay! couch then my room? (context: Y/N 'sleeps' on the couch until matt and nick go to bed, then she moves to chris’s room) Me: like always (kissy emoji)
I hear a chuckle from the front seat before Chris and Matt start talking.
---
I plop down on the chase of the couch with a groan and a fake snore.
I open my eyes just in time to see Chris Nick and Matt bidding goodnight to each other before they separate, all going their own directions.
Chris looks at me as he walks down the stairs to his room.
I huff and wait for Matt to turn off his music before I grab one of the blankets from the couch and walk downstairs to Chris’s room, knocking softly.
“Come in!” I crack the door open to see him sitting at his desk, phone in one hand looking down to it, and the other on the mouse. I smile softly and walk into the room, closing the door behind me.
He snaps his head to me, concern etched on his face.
“I didn’t hurt you earlier, did I?” I shake my head softly, tossing the blanket I brought down on his bed and walking over to him.
“No. It only hurt for a second, but it’s fine now.” I place my hands on his cheeks, gliding my thumbs over the smooth skin.
Swiftly, he stands up, picks me up, and tosses me on the bed before plopping down next to me, enveloping me in a great big bear hug, and I melt into it.
“Good. Don’t want you to be mad at me.” He kisses my forehead, nose, and cheeks before giving me a kiss.
“Never.” I smile and lean up to give him another kiss.
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Tags ! ✮
@dwntwn-strnlo ✮ @ssturniolo ✮ @strniolo ✮ @20nugs ✮ @prettysturniolo ✮ @mxqdii ✮ @thetriplets3 ✮ @slaysturniolo ✮ @gwenlore ✮ @opheliaofficial07 ✮ @gabbylovesreading ✮
If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask ! ✮
I love you all !
And I hope you all have a good day and / or night ✮
490 notes · View notes
fcthots · 6 months
Note
Hi! I m glad to see your inbox open again, last week I started having a Jason Todd brainrot (thanks to Pinterest for this) and when I type Jason Todd x reader on Tumblr your blog was one of the first ones I found (and the one whose most fics I spent the weekend reading 😅). Thank you so much for feeding my hiperfixation, you are talented and portrait Jason amazingly on your fics.
So now that your request are open, could you do a Jason x fem!reader with the prompt "Here! Take my jacket/coat". I love leather jackets and I would love to try Jackson's 😍
Btw, I am planning on showing on your inbox every once on a while. Could I ask for an anon emoji too, pretty please 🫶🏼?
Hey anon, good to have you
dealer's choice for emoji? bc then ur getting 🪽bc I think its cool
You swear you're gonna freeze to death. You and Jason ditched the gala not even 45 minutes after getting there. You booked it outside and argued on where you should sit like a married couple. The argument slowly derailed from there.
You tuck your arms closer around yourself. Your dress didn't exactly have a lot of fabric to keep you warm. "I realize now is a bad time to mention this, but I'm cold."
Jason looks at you like a cat that is thinking about how it's smarter than you. "I told you to bring a jacket."
"What jacket would match a gown, Jason? Huh? None! None is the correct answer!" You whisper shout, but your words have no real heat to them.
He crosses his arms. "Well maybe you shouldn't have worn such a skimpy dress!" You can see he's fighting off a smile from his own sarcasm.
"YOU PICKED OUT THE FUCKING DRESS!" You play along, but your voice trails off in a laugh.
He laughs when you laugh. "UGH. Fine. I guess you can have my jacket." He says it with faux annoyance and he's altogether stopped trying to suppress his smile.
After he dramatically shrugs off his jacket, he helps to slip it onto your shoulders, unable to suppress being a gentleman even for your fake fight.
Once it's snug on you, he takes a step back, eyes trailing over your form, looking at the dress he chose for you in his color (you lost a bet, but the dress was actually very nice and looked very good on you) and his jacket slipped over your shoulders.
After staring into your soul for a full minute, he finally opens his mouth. "New plan." You quirk an eyebrow before he continues. "We make a run for the manor and you take all of your clothes off."
You blink for a moment, processing his unexpected words. You nod. "Good plan. Slight issue: I am in heels."
"Princesses get carried. Let's go."
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Text
Curses from Ex-Boyfriend || Oneshot
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Character: Artist!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Y/N navigates humorous breakups and manages an art gallery. A reunion with first love, Bucky, at an exhibition ignites a whimsical love story woven with unexpected enchantments.
Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi
Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 
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Y/N sunk into the barstool, her eyes telling tales of another failed relationship. Yolanda, the supportive friend, encouraged Y/N to share the latest misadventure in her love life.
Y/N sighed, "Okay, get this. The first one, Mike, broke up with me because he claimed my choice of pizza toppings was a reflection of our incompatibility. Apparently, pineapple lovers and non-pineapple lovers are destined to fail."
"Then there was Mark," Y/N continued, a smirk playing on her lips. "He couldn't stand the fact that I had a more extensive collection of pokemon than he did. He said it was a sign of divergent life goals."
Yolanda raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Tell me more."
"James, number three," Y/N chuckled, "Simple, he doesn't like dog."
"Alex was next in line," Y/N continued her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. "He called it quits because he believed my excessive use of emojis in texts was a clear indication of a lack of emotional depth. Can you imagine?"
Yolanda laughed, "You can't be serious! What about the fifth one?"
Y/N sighed again, "Oh, Tom. He said my insistence on arranging our bookshelf by color instead of genre was a deal-breaker. Apparently, a good relationship requires organized literature. Can you believe these reasons?"
"Bucky was the longest, wasn't he?" Yolanda mused, a smile playing on her lips.
Y/N nodded, "Yeah, high school sweethearts, you know? We were the classic emo couple, complete with matching black outfits and moody music playlists."
Curiosity flickered in Yolanda's eyes, "So, why did you guys break up?"
Y/N chuckled, "Dead serious. Bucky was deep into it. I remember one day, he used a spell to try and cancel a math quiz."
Y/N grinned, "Oh, maybe because I'm over with emo and I think because Bucky got into magic, like, real magic. He bought this ancient-looking spell book at a flea market."
Yolanda's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, "Magic? Seriously?"
Yolanda burst into laughter, "Wait, what? A spell to cancel a quiz?"
Y/N nodded, "Yeah, he was convinced he could influence the universe with his newfound magical prowess. The thing is, our math teacher did cancel a quiz that week, but I later found out it was because he had a stomachache."
Yolanda's laughter faded into a look of realization, "Wait, are you saying Bucky's spell worked, or was it just a coincidence?"
Y/N shrugged, "Who knows? But I guess that was the beginning of the end. Bucky's magic phase and my inability to take his magical ambitions seriously eventually led to our breakup."
Yolanda winked, still teasing, "Maybe he enchanted you with a love spell, and that's why your relationships have been so... uniquely challenging."
Y/N rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation, "Please, if Bucky had any magical influence, it would've been to summon more black eyeliner or something."
Yolanda joined in the laughter, realizing the absurdity of her own suggestion. "I guess you're right. Love spells and high school relationships don't really go hand in hand."
As they clinked their glasses together, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for Yolanda's light-hearted humor.
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Y/N groaned as she woke up with a slight headache, the remnants of the drinks from the previous night's escapade still lingering. Despite the throbbing in her head, she dragged herself to work at the prestigious art gallery where she served as the manager.
As Y/N settled into her office, her boss, the eccentric Madam Madeline, swept in with her fur jacket and oversized glasses, an aura of sophistication surrounding her. Madeline, always on the lookout for the next big thing, had an uncanny talent for discovering hidden gems in the art world.
With an air of excitement, Madeline announced, "Y/N, darling, I've found the next big artist during my travels around Europe. A true visionary! Prepare yourself; this is going to be huge for the gallery."
Y/N, still nursing her headache, tried to focus on Madeline's words. "Really? That's fantastic news. Who is this artist?"
Madeline beamed, "Oh, you'll see soon enough. I've arranged for the gallery to showcase their artwork. We need to get everything ready for the grand reveal. This could be a game-changer for us, my dear."
Despite the pounding in her head, Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline at the prospect of introducing a groundbreaking artist to the gallery's patrons. With a nod and a determined smile, she assured Madeline, "Consider it done. I'll make sure everything is prepared for the big showcase. This artist is going to leave a mark on the art world, and our gallery will be at the forefront."
As Madeline left the room, Y/N rubbed her temples, contemplating the exciting challenge ahead.
The day of the grand art exhibition arrived, and the gallery buzzed with anticipation. Y/N couldn't help but be excited about unveiling the mysterious artist's work. The moment Madam Madeline revealed the artwork, gasps of awe echoed through the gallery.
The paintings were truly impressive, capturing the essence of emotion and movement in each stroke. Yet, as Y/N studied the intricate lines, a sense of familiarity tugged at her. It was only when Madeline dramatically unveiled the artist's identity that Y/N's surprise reached its peak.
"Bucky?" Y/N muttered under her breath, disbelief washing over her. She couldn't reconcile the image of the once-emo high school boyfriend with the sophisticated artist standing before her.
Without the signature eyeliner and long hair covering half his face, Bucky had transformed into an entirely different person.
Madeline, reveling in the dramatic revelation, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, the brilliant artist behind these captivating pieces is none other than Bucky!"
Y/N's eyes widened as Bucky approached her with a confident smile. "Hey, Y/N. Long time no see."
It took a moment for Y/N to process the situation. "Bucky? The Bucky from high school?"
He nodded, "The one and only. Surprised?"
Y/N couldn't help but laugh nervously, "More than you can imagine. I didn't know you had this side to you."
Bucky chuckled, "Life is full of surprises. Just like art."
As the reality of the situation sank in, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected twist of fate.
Intrigued by the transformation in Bucky's life, Y/N couldn't help but ask, "Bucky, where have you been all these years?"
Bucky grinned, a twinkle in his eyes, "After high school, I decided to pursue art more seriously. I entered art school, but it turned out the formal education wasn't for me. So, I packed my bags and hit the road, traveling around the country to draw inspiration from different landscapes and cultures."
Y/N listened, captivated by the adventurous turn in Bucky's journey. "And then?" she prompted.
Bucky continued, "I found myself in Europe, sketching the beautiful landscapes and immersing myself in the art scene. That's where I crossed paths with Madeline. She saw something in my work, and the next thing I knew, I'm back home."
Y/N couldn't hide her amazement. "That's incredible, Bucky. I had no idea you were out there making a name for yourself in the art world."
Bucky smiled modestly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and gratitude. "Yeah, life has a way of surprising you," he remarked. "Art became my language, and every stroke on the canvas felt like a piece of my soul. Little did I know it would lead me here."
As Y/N continued to admire Bucky's work, a comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the soft background hum of the art gallery. The familiarity of their shared past mingled with the newfound understanding of the paths they had taken.
Bucky broke the silence, "You know, Y/N, seeing you again brings back a flood of memories. The art, the laughter, the quirky moments—some things never change."
Y/N smiled, "Indeed, some things don't. Life has a funny way of circling back, doesn't it?"
As Madeline enthusiastically dragged Bucky away to meet other attendees, Y/N found herself momentarily alone, surrounded by the captivating artwork.
Observing Bucky engage with the crowd, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the once-emo high school boyfriend who had evolved into a renowned artist. The whimsical nature of their teenage years seemed worlds apart from the sophisticated individual now navigating the art world.
Y/N strolled through the gallery, and she noticed a subtle but significant detail in each painting – a delicately drawn flower nestled somewhere within the vibrant strokes. The realization struck her like a soft breeze, and she couldn't help but smile. It was her favorite flower, a subtle signature Bucky had left in each masterpiece.
Bucky, engrossed in conversation with other attendees, glanced in Y/N's direction. Their eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Y/N felt a warmth spreading within her, realizing that the flowers in Bucky's art were more than just a visual motif.
The language of art spoke louder than words, and Y/N interpreted the message within those flowers in the quiet exchange of glances. It was a silent acknowledgment, a whispered confession that transcended the boundaries of time and distance. Bucky's subtle gesture conveyed, "I still think of you."
As the art gallery hummed with admiration for Bucky's creations, Y/N couldn't help but feel a connection rekindling.
After the event, the air crackled with anticipation as Y/N mustered the courage to approach Bucky. "Bucky, would you mind grabbing a coffee with me? It's been so long, and I'd really like to catch up," she said, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.
Bucky, meeting her gaze with a warm smile, replied, "Absolutely, Y/N. I'd love that."
As they sat in the dimly lit cafe, the atmosphere seemed to thicken with unspoken emotions. Conversations veered into shared memories and life's twists and turns. Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that, perhaps, this was a crucial moment—a juncture where destiny hung in the balance.
Later, in the intimacy of Bucky's hotel room, he opened an old sketchbook. Pages turned with a whisper, revealing an old photo of Y/N. Intriguingly, on the adjacent page, a spell was inscribed—an enchantment woven into the fabric of their shared history. The room seemed to pulse with an energy that felt both familiar and intense.
Bucky's chuckle was dark and enigmatic as he muttered, "Damn, it works."
The revelation left Y/N completely unaware. Little did she know that the seemingly whimsical magic from their teenage years had woven a thread connecting their souls, guiding them back to each other after years of divergent paths. As they continued to share laughter and stories, the magic of the past lingered in the air, creating a subtle but powerful force that bound them together.
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Author Note:
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