#you can’t blame me for my impure thoughts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gangplanksorenji · 7 months

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A star illuminates brightly (and then, it collapsed)

Pairing: Kep1er Yujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 7,987

Part 1

A/N: Hello again, Orenjideul and I'm here for another fic featuring Yujin! Really thought of making the past fic with Yunjin a oneshot but a thought in me really wanted to bridge them together to see where it'll end up and here it is! Hope y'all enjoy this and thanks for reading!<3

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Your mind can’t let everything disappear like a bubble—every moment savored and imprinted onto your brain for a reason. That moment rotted you, damned to your entire existence until the end of time yet it made you feel a certain connection you’ve never felt before—more like an intimate one.

You’ve never felt so good after feeling her walls clenching around your shaft and the absolutely hot mess you’ve made between her legs—it clouded your mind, lightheaded by the thought of everything happening within just minutes.

Such impurities are pulchritude in nature—bound to break limits of defining beauty because you've been enlightened that there’s more than that.

Huh Yunjin and her capabilities… You fell under her spell, lured you into her trap and you absolutely dive into the ocean of lust that you’ve been longing for and now you’re fucked.

Sure, the both of you will be safe from anything since “no one” heard the profanities let out in the puny room yet consequences will be implemented… but not just yet, and you now face the spine-chilling sternness of her visage and the wrath of hers—your class president, the ace of the class and commonly known “The Rabbit Angel” because of her being so down-to-earth and insanely beautiful features.

Yes, as perfect as she looks and she sounds, you can’t deny, everything in you becomes enveloped in fright once she thuds her arms onto the desk and faces you with a serious face, her tone dead-deep and urging you to answer.

“So, both of you really did that? Inside the university’s premises?”

“I’m s-sorry, Yujin. Yunjin is to really b-blame here—”

“Shut up! I don’t wanna hear your excuses, nor what Yunjin’s about to say either. It doesn’t matter if Yunjin’s mother is the president of parent’s organization—I don’t fucking care, alright?”

You nod as you gulp nervously as you never saw this side of Yujin—a complete opposite of her usual sunshine and bright persona but now you can just see the beast taming you.

“Now answer me, what did the both of you think was a good idea to have some sex in a bathroom? Alone near the corridors and the hallway where everybody can hear! You guys—” Yujin punches the desk with a loud thud as she walks away meters from you. A frown becomes evident on your face as you feel the fear in you coursing up your veins because Yujin is infuriated with your own actions. Even if she’s turning back against you, you could tell how furious and serious she looked as you slowly felt the regret of your own sin.

“It was all just an accident, Yujin—I swear—”

“Oh please, will you shut the fuck up? I'm thinking of something…”

That earns a puzzling face from yours, anticipating and unsure on what trick she pulls up on her sleeve. A girl like her is far from readable—possibly, a book nigh-impossible to be deciphered yet possible to know what's in store.

“Also, why am I even here? I need to see my friends—”

She rushes towards you, grabbing your necktie as she faces you, striking daggers towards you as her eyes defy anger as the beast inside her is nearly being unshackled from its restraints.

“You're here so I can discipline you, understand? I'm doing my job as the class president and I'm also protecting your reputation and I can also make it the opposite within just the snap of my fingers… So, will you bear with me and shut your annoying mouth or lose everything, here and here?”

God, those eyes—it's mesmerizing, captivating to say the least yet it's laced with rage. You can't help but gulp nervously yet you won't just sit here and make yourself powerless against her almost-violent approach of “disciplining” you, in which, of course, you didn't like.

Choi Yujin probably doesn't discipline and lead the class like this, or, is there just a beef between the both of you? Or Yunjin? Is she jealous that she didn't—well, those thoughts weren’t going to lead onto something or somewhere… Or is it?

You nod dumbly as an immediate response as she glares at you before squinting her eyes in dismay. You still need more answers on why she needed you here, even though it's obviously for the fact of doing such sinful things inside the university's premises but her invitation is vague, leaving you clueless and perplexed.

“But Yujin, why am I still here? You already taught me about dealing with this and how things may end—”

“What did I just say?”

“But there's no more of a great point of me being here, Yujin! Can't you just—”

Yujin pins you at the wall with her minuscule arm as she glares at you, fuming with anger. She's definitely not liking your immediate retaliation from her advances and proceeds to tame you down but you won't give up a fight like this, not unless you get a valid answer about why she's still making you stay in this empty classroom.

“Shut the fuck up you little prick! I will say when you're leaving and everything will be at my own accord, do you understand?”

Slightly smirking and hitching a breath as an indication of a possible giggle, you lousily approached the situation whimsically in which she didn't like.

“Sucks to hardly decipher a girl like you, Yujin. You're clearly just blinded with power and nothing else. Are you really the class president, Yujin?”

Her fists on her other hand curls like it's about to take up on a fight, getting really irritated with your mocking. You know how you can easily break her, like a fragile twig and there's more tricks up in your sleeve that you can use against her.

“I don't really know why they would elect you as the president if you're just manipulating people under your own “management”. You're such a bad example—”

She tightens her grip onto your chest as she stares daggers towards you, her eyes threatening you and scaring you as she also has more tricks that she plays under your game.

“Say one more thing about me and I'll show the recording to the university dean. Don't try me, asshole.”

Your pupils dilated as you were utterly shocked once Yujin called you an “asshole”. Of course, you exaggerated it as Yujin berates you, swearing at you with a tiny voice that you rather find cute than threatening.

Even when she's fuming and boiling with anger, she's still cute and pretty—well, you can't blame yourself because it's really true.

“Ohoho, wow! Getting bolder are we, Yujin? Now you're just threatening me with your fake evidence and calling me an asshole? Is Yujinnie getting a little mad right now, hm—argh!”

“You're so annoying! Shut up!!! I'm really showing this to the dean and do you think you can stop me? One more mock or any stupid shit and you're reputation and Yunjin's will be fucked.”

“Like you have a true and convincing evidence—tch, you're just making things up, Yujin—come on now—”

While you're mocking her again, Yujin immediately plays the recording of the intense sex sounds uttered by you and Yunjin inside the restroom as you couldn't believe what you're hearing.

As much as you want to deny and claim that the recording is faulty and made just to destroy your ego and reputation, it's more than real and it's really the both of you groaning and screaming the most sinful things possible. From pet names, degradation up to the most intense flesh-clapping sounds of sex, it's really obvious that it's the both of you but a clever idea came into your mind knowing that it's not only Yujin who's playing the game strategically well, but also, you.

“What's wrong, hm? Can't talk cause' you thought the evidence I'm holding isn't real? Yeah, so fucking try me, asshole!”

Your demeanor immediately changed once she mocked you with your own medicine, making you taste it and it’s bitter—it corrupts your brain and it makes you bitter. You hated it but you can’t just give up your reputation like this, not without her being on the same boat as you.

“What’s t-that?”

“Huh, you think you’re the only smart one here, Yujin?”

“Give it to me you stupid bastard!”

Yujin tries to reach for your phone in your pocket as she was deemed unsuccessful, you being too swift with your reflexes. You laugh at her helpless despair, trying to reach for your phone but can't as she gets pissed off, her expression now laced with venom towards you.

“Do you honestly think you're the only one with the trick up on their sleeve?”

“Give it to me you crazy asshole! I swear to god I'll show this to the dean and you can't do anything about this!”

“Oh, it's just fair~ Yujinnie—you show this to her and I'll leak this to social media where everyone here on this campus will hear how you verbally bullied me. Isn't that a great deal, hm?”

Well, at this point, it's just another whole mind game that has been breaking out as they will try and benefit themselves while the other will be utterly ashamed, and their reputation destroyed within a matter of minutes. The both of you glared at each other with Yujin having the fiercer one, obviously as she whimpers and yells in anger, pissed off with your own game as she's the one to break down first.

“God, I hate you! Argh!”

She throws a crumpled paper ball onto you as she kicks the cabinet slightly, frustrated and irritated towards you. She then looks at the window, gazing at the horizon, over the mountains as she crosses her arms, feeling the urge of a deep reflection. You, who's puzzled, decided to not interfere long enough with her own doings as you wanted to leave, knowing that there's probably nothing more to talk about as you start to respect her boundaries, and herself too, not just because she's the class president but as a person.

“Then I shall leave then, Yujin, okay? It seems like our small meeting here is done and don't worry, as long as you keep or better, delete that recording to yourself and no one else, I'm deleting this recording of mine, too, okay?”

You waited for seconds, hoping for a response escaping her lips but there wasn't anything. So, without any time to waste, you reach for the doorknob only to be stopped with a faint, melodical voice that was no other than Yujin.

“No…”

“Uhm—what do you mean, no?

“I'm sorry…”

Yujin then faces you, her eyes glistening with her faint tears as she probably felt bad throwing slurs and swears at you, possibly provoking and hurting you. You know Yujin is so down-to-earth and soft-hearted, her persona of being selfless and caring and her being elected as a president is evident enough to know she's one defined like an angel but you could never be so sure—the other thought in your mind thinking that she's maybe just guilt-tripping you onto making you weak and fall under her spell with her being too pitiful and for you to be gaslit as being the “sorry” one, not her.

“I d-didn't mean to say all of those words to you. Please j-just delete the recording and I won't say anything…”

Still being skeptical, you don't want to be tricked into losing everything so you still wanted to play her game.

“I'll delete it when I get home, Yujin. Don't worry, I will—”

“No, delete it where I can see it. Right here, right now—please… I'm sorry…”

And yeah, your heart isn't stone-cold either to feel the sincerity of her apologies, let alone her pouty, cute face encouraging you to obey what she wants but you know that it's sincere, the saccharine tone of her voice is enough of an evidence

With the built-up guilt of remorse and the feeling of being disrespected by her, you feel hesitant and want to outsmart her but you feel that everything's going downhill because of what sin you've done and you felt the utter guilt that no one could've ever felt.

“Press it, Yujin.”

“Are you for real or are you just—”

“Do you really think I'm playing games with you? Just press it…”

Well, it appears to be that she's hesitant even though it's literally a glowing red button that says “delete” appears on the screen of your phone. Well, you can't blame her as she's in the same boat as you.

With enough persuasion and letting herself be convinced, she pressed the button as a smile slowly appeared curling on her face as she's satisfied that you don't have any evidence of her provocative and verbal behavior towards you. It later followed into a smirk as she faced you and thanked you but of course, you're not the only one leaving in defeat here—Yujin should taste her own wrath.

“Hey, it's just unfair that I deleted mine and not yours.”

Yujin's demeanor quickly changed as the sunshine turned into cloudy mist—a dark, nimbus-filled one. Of course, she's trying to outsmart you as you were to her but there's nothing to play anymore as you wanted to be fair with her. Left with no other choice, she pulled up her phone and went onto the files where she saved it and of course, for a fair and identical ending, she did the same on how you made your evidence get deleted by showing her phone to you and making you press the glowing red button.

“Happy? Now, are we all good?”

“Yeah, Yujin, definitely all good. Thanks for the time though, definitely didn't get wasted.” Your sarcasm was off the roof, making her frown as her lips pouted cutely from the frustration of lacking a big chunk of evidence that she would have shown to the dean to make your world in shambles.

As you reached the doorknob, ready to pull it, Yujin's voice stopped you again as you irritatingly asked her why and what's the catch this time.

“Ugh, why, Yujin? Can you just let me go?”

Yujin smiles, her lips curling up into a smirk as she eyes your body and lastly, looking you dead in the eyes as if she's totally allured to you.

“There's one more thing on why I called you here…”

You're puzzled and confused, unsure of what's about to happen yet you won't let your defenses down in case she does or says something that'll provoke you and wake up your defensive side.

“What, Yujin?”

“Don't be so oblivious now, baby. Can't just leave a girl here with her needs unattended…”

Of course—of fucking course she'll say that and you're not really oblivious about it. For the record, you half-expected her to unleash her slutty side yet this never fails to perplex you in an utmost manner. Yujin, who's known for her caring, serious and selfless persona is now being the total opposite and you don't know if a demon possessed her or it's just the animalistic urges inside her that wants to give in to her carnal desires.

If this is a bait for another trap, you wouldn't fall for it but it doesn't help when Yujin strips off her uniform jacket slowly, teasing you and luring you into the point of no-return.

“Please, baby—do I need to say more?”

Oh. My. Fucking. God. When she stripped the stupid jacket off, it tested your temptation on ruining her there and there yet you hold it in—it doesn't help that what lies underneath it is a white, long sleeve crop top with her necktie even longer than the top itself and her milky, slender midriff being the cherry on top—in which, you drooled all over the sight of it and thank god Yujin is oblivious about it otherwise you’re utterly done. As much as you want to turn it down as you don't have enough time to waste, this may even be the opposite of a waste as her invitingly hot figure turns you on.

“I see you looking at my waist, baby. Do you like it—”

Catching her off-guard, you went up and pinned her to the wall with your face inches close to hers as she gasped with your sudden aggression, her eyes encapsulating the emotion of fear and anticipation while yours ignited with anger and lust.

“Listen here you little shit—if you're playing with me right now and I absolutely know you are, I'm not the guy to fool with, okay, Yujin? Stop testing me because you don't want to see what's coming next.”

Your hot breath brushes on her lips which invites her to even convince you into her game. You know that you're definitely losing and once you give in, there's no turning back.

“Playing hard to get, hm?” Yujin doesn't give up as she pulls your necktie towards her and whispers seductively onto your ear, in which you don't retaliate as you involuntarily give in to your own lustful desires. “I know you want this so stop acting like a hypocrite, daddy.”

God, she knows how to turn you on—and it's not even a challenge for her right now. The pet name she used just sets your last string of defense into an absolute mess, breaking it.

As much as you wanted to say about not wanting her now, you can't lie straight to your teeth about it and you're just proving yourself a hypocrite if you do—the dilation of your pupils and the flush on your cheeks is enough evidence to know that you're already feeling the heat onto your flaccid member.

“So, what is it going to be, daddy? Play the game until you last or admit it to yourself that you want to ruin me—”

“Okay, Yujin! You fucking got me…” You yelled as invisible fumes came out of your nostrils, exaggerating how irritated you are with this girl . “God, this girl…” Another backfire is directed to her as you were annoyed to her attempts of picking your locks, but this time, your voice is almost inaudible and glad to god that she didn’t even hear you saying it.

“Okay, okay—but it’ll just be quick, okay? Just five minutes.”

A pouty Yujin meets your eyes, almost if she begs for something she can’t resist about that she needs to allure you with her signature adorable expression but you won’t fall for that because you—

“I said what I said, Yujin. Five. Minutes. Only.”

“Ughhh—why can’t it be longer than that? Is it because you can’t last longer than five mi—”

She’s really testing you—testing your limits beyond your possible breaking point as you raise your arm, pinning her forcefully onto the wall as she smirks in anticipation and delight, delighted about provoking the hibernating beast inside you.

“Shut your slutty, little mouth, Yujin! I said what I said, okay? Hah, I even think you’re the one who can’t last that long and you’re probably dripping thinking about my dick destroying your insides, hm?”

Once again, her demeanor changed as the neediness on her face became evident, slowly giving in to her carnal desires as she’s a few steps away from her desires being fulfilled.

“Hey, I was—gahh, oh my god—hah…”

“What was it, Yujin?”

A simple swipe onto her clothed crotch makes her weak, on her knees and it couldn’t be any better. You’re unfazed with her attempts to slow you down as you leisurely teased her until you felt the wetness of her core in which she whimpered as she wanted more but knows that there isn’t in any world you’re giving anything more than that.

Everything’s on your own accord now because you’re in control, not her, and you’ll let her know that.

“Sucks to be the one who isn’t in control, right, Yujin? Not the one with the higher authority?”

“Fuck—I want more! P-please, I want more…”

Of course, you didn’t fulfill her wants because you wanted to and it’s like she can do something about it—

“B-but, I’m the president—your president, so this is is unfair and—”

You snarl as the sound fazes Yujin, her eyes gleaming unbeknownst of what emotion it can underlie but all you know is that it encapsulates fear and anticipation, like right from the start. You know how stubborn she can get and how she’ll use her authority against your own accord yet you won’t give up just like that—you can outpower her and let her taste her own medicine.

“Well, do you want to get fucked or no? I can just leave here pretty easily, Yujin.”

“Wait!” Her tone is high-pitched and in full need as she doesn’t want this moment to be wasted, let alone with you as much as she despises you—in which, according to her and to you, is one-hundred percent hypocrisy.

You can feel her need, the need in her eyes—like how she wants it so bad to do it with you as those precious orbs tells you to ruin her to the fullest.

There goes the foreplay off and on is your desires, and hers, of course.

“Okay, daddy. Do whatever you want to me…”

And she let her defenses down, submerge into the abyss of submission.

There goes the heat of both bodies, slowly getting used to each other as both lips clashed of a sudden, with the message to convey to “fuck-like-you-meant-it” and the utmost urge of giving in to your animalistic urges until the miasmic smell of sex steams all over the classroom—and may the people using that classroom on their class may prepare their own noses.

Oh god, she's so ruinable—that thought lingers on your mind once you've saw her impeccably perfect figure: her tiny, little waist; her silken, porcelain skin; her luscious, succulent lips—in which, by the way, you're feasting upon right now_and lastly her beautiful face that's sculpted by the gods.

And as pure as she looks, it's such a great time to let her impurities out—such purities sullied by lust is the best way to break it.

Both of your tongues battle for dominance as if both are deprived for the taste of oneself and you love it as much as she loves it too. You ignored the sheen of saliva messing up your mouth as your deft hands course its way onto her waist and caresses the smooth skin.

“Love the way I kiss you, Yujin?”

“I do, but please—I need my pussy filled right now…”

The normal instinct is the utter dissatisfaction permeating all over her and letting her feel the sudden urge of not fulfilling her needs yet you can't help yourself right now because you want her.

“Well, that'll be just in a minute, Yujin…” You unbuckle your belt and give her a stern look which puts a chill down her spine. “For starters, you’ll be on your knees ready to obey daddy’s orders, okay?”

It’s partly rhetorical yet she nods and it doesn’t matter, she understands what’s going on and where this will go, as she should, the brilliant and clever Choi Yujin.

“And… help me out undress myself—the bottom one—and that’s two and lastly…” Even without being taught and with her swift movements, she already had your boxers down to your ankles as she was met with your already-erect rod that she instantly admired. “...you probably know where this is going since you’ve done this already, isn’t it right, Yujin?”

Another nod and there’s no breath escaping her beautiful lips knowing that it’s already all over your swollen head—

“Already thirsty for this, huh? Don’t worry, Yujin—they’ll be more than this later…”

Such an idyllic visage masks a sluttiness that can never be topped off, and with those eyes glistening with lust, you can't hold yourself from containing your profanities as a single touch from hers is enough to melt your heart yet someone stands tall and firm, and it's not anywhere beside you—

“There you go... Getting a little excited, hm?”

Such a sight to behold, her adorable façade contradicts the possible sins that'll unfold at any given moment and just herself on her knees, maintaining eye contact with you pushes you further at the edge—at the edge of no-return.

“Please, baby—I've been longing for this for a long while now.” Yujin's tone makes you hitch a breath and a shiver as she's way too submissive and you're loving it. Well, if nothing can bring her down as she's at the paramount authority, then maybe the hard rod between your legs can deem her powerless, against your own accord.

“I wa-want it, baby. P-please... I'll be your good girl and treat me like no one can…”

A kiss on the tip and a shudder is your response, her alluring action almost brings you down on your knees, breaking your dominant demeanor but you stand strong, letting her know who's in control and it's definitely not her—Anymore? For now? You'll see where this will go…

You caress her impeccable features that captivates your very eyes up to the silken strands of her hair to her pillowy cheeks as you feel those soft flesh hollow around your cockhead, the suction definitely making you think the most unimaginable things possible.

Even with her caustic demeanor and her so-called bitchy attitude that made you almost boil you in anger, you can't help but adore it as it spices things up to the maximum extent, further arousing you.

Maybe taming such brats will be your speciality, who would have known that?

“God—choke on it, you pathetic slut—you planned this all along, don't you? Fucking call me here to discipline me about having sex inside the campus' restroom when you yourself gives in to choke on some dick? What a hypocrite you are—”

Tug your hand onto that makeshift ponytail as she sinfully gags onto your whole length, forcing her immediately to take it whole just for you to fulfill your desires of making a mess on someone. A forceful gag makes a forceful cough in return as she ejects herself onto your throbbing length with strings of saliva still connected onto the mushroom tip.

“Wha—what t-the fuck? Aren't y-you supposed to—”

“Just shut up and take—this—cock like a good girl, Yujin. Your—ooh—throat is a toy after all…”

As much as her voice is soothing and angelic to your ears, you rather want your ears to be blessed with such an unholy sin: gagging, which it is called.

She eagerly reciprocates your aggression as her clever mind lets itself do the work by giving you the utmost pleasure with her frantic bobbing alongside your frenzied thrust onto her heavenly tight cavern.

The caldera must leak copious amounts of that saliva and you will do just that, making her a complete mess of a girl and this is only just the beginning of the numerous profanities you'd love to do with this girl.

As much as you love to last longer, the tightness in your loins is free to speak up, opposing your wants.

“G-gonna paint my f-face, daddy? Oh! Please, please, please paint my slutty, cute face, daddy! Don't y-you wanna add to the mess you did on my face?”

And god she talks so dirty and it puts you in a chokehold of madness and the paramount battle of temptation. She knows how to pick your locks but you won't let it out just for this moment as you wanted something hotter than what she expected.

“Nu-uh, Yujin. Girls like you need to be filled real fucking good.” You tilt her chin as her gleaming orbs ignite with lust, anticipating what's coming next and ready to embrace all of it. “My seed belongs inside your tight, little cunt, do you understand?”

She's silent and muted, way too allured to the musky scent of your cock as she continues stroking it leisurely—

“Answer my goddamn question and don't touch me, brat!”

“I d-do, daddy…”

“Elaborate it, you slut—come on!” You raise her up with her firm grip of both her wrists, leveling her face onto yours as you look at her laced with disappointment and venom deadlier than any snake.

“I d-do understand e-ever—everything you've s-said, daddy. I w-won't touch you unless you want me too and—”

“Shh, I already heard everything I wanted to hear, Yujin.”

Without any time to waste, you command her to stand beside the nearby desk and undress herself, curious about what she's packing.

Of course, she follows your orders now she's learnt her lesson but will it be enough?

“Actually, don't undress, Yujin. I will fuck you senseless with this so-called of yours “uniform” until you could only think about my cock only—hah, I can do it, Yujin. ”

Another disagreement on Yujin's side but before finishing her sentence, you glared at her as she instantly shutted her mouth, silencing herself from her possible disobedient advances. Sliding her white garment off with the help of her dainty fingers, it’s just hypnotizing to see the cloth go down to her ankles, letting gravity do the rest as she gets it from there, keeping it on her hands. It’s inviting to see her sexiest look yet but there’s probably another thing in mind that you wanted to do with her.

“Now turn around and rest your stomach on the desk—also, give me your panties, Yujin.”

“B-but, daddy—”

“Do you want to get fucked or no?” Your tone is straightforward, stern and hunted with a bit of fury, and again, it scares her, not wanting this opportunity to be wasted just because of her own, silly actions of selfishness. She scoffs, rolls her eyes as the inevitable permeates: Yujin giving her little souvenir to you.

“That’s what I thought, Yujin. Everybody’s gonna know how much of a slut you are after this—hah, gonna walk out with white dripping down your thighs… Hm, I see this as an absolute win—”

“Please, d-daddy—ahh—gahh!”

An earth-thudding spank reverberates around the classroom as your hand lets Yujin know its wrath. A familiar rosy hue appears onto that porcelain skin of hers as a needy moan is a response from your proactive actions.

“That’s what I want to hear, Yujin—your beautiful moans… Fuck, it’s music to my ears—hah.”

Another spank almost brings her to her knees. You can tell that she’s already loving it considering how her pussy’s already dripping wet and the quivering of her thighs in every spank you do says a lot. Her breaths are ragged and tremble as every strike of your palm invigorates the pleasure she's feeling and she's loving it. You didn't stop until that tickle in your head said “It's probably a minute now…” and it just ended the beginning of a spectacular show.

“Not a single word will come out of your mouth except your beautiful moans, alright?”

It’s obligatory to say that, knowing that in any second now, the disobedience of this girl may actually prevail, and an eager response of punishment will await her if she does misbehave.

“But daddy, at least—”

Another smack onto her pillowy buttcheeks earns the finest moans escaping her mouth. You’re near on the brink of distraught from multiple acts of misconduct by hers and you’re absolutely not having it. She knows it and you taught yourself that she’s just unlocking the absolute dominative trait you have and you’re going to give into it until…

“Trying to behave like this for what, Yujin?” Another smack and an audible whimper is her response. “For more punishment?” Another harsh spank and this time, her earlier smooth, milky skin is now printed with your handprints red (redder than a tomato). She can’t help but utter a moan that’s music in your ears—

“Don’t worry, Yujin. I’ll use you like no one can.”

And that’s the thought of the devil, the carnal desires within you being unleashed—its full potential. You can’t wait anymore and neither does she and you wanted to do the most lustful profanities imaginable and you’re absolutely going to give in—

And there lies the collapse of the wall of temptation: you can only grunt and wince in pain as you engulf your member into her. It’s a whole, different story when it comes to the tightness of her walls—it’s too tight and way too pleasurable, as expected. Even the subtle oscillation of your hips earns the guttural grunts and lewdest moans escaping your very lips.

Rearrange my insides please, daddy—probably the main thought you’re thinking that has been clouding Yujin’s head since the minute you filled her slutty cunt up. It feels like a linked connection between both parties, sharing and speculating such thoughts that have been lingering on one’s mind and that’s no other than the thought of sex itself.

You’re surprised as she acts like the total opposite of her earlier bratty behavior but nonetheless, she cavorted with her primal desires with you. You could tell the delight on her countenance even though you can't really get a sight on it—it's not like she's hiding it inside as the rivulet of her nectar slowly flows within the ring of your cock.

“God, what a good girl you are, Yujin—look at you, a whimpering mess because of my cock. You're such a pathetic little slut that gives in whenever there's someone—fucking—willing—to—fuck—dominate her!”

And it also turns her on—degrading someone, oh, such a classic one. Regardless of it, you may speak the truth considering how her heavenly moans and silent whimpers denote her as such a slut but it isn't like that, really. In a wider perspective, you made her like this and it's not even the climax of the show you're putting in her.

No other thought can avert your focus on solely fucking her mercilessly—not even the thought of someone eavesdropping and catching you can faze you to be hesitant and someone really did catch you, it won't end in a good note: Yujin will be besmirched and ashamed and so are you.

The pace you're exerting is wild and you know she loves it. You keep hearing her moans blessing your ears and it never fails to fuel your hips in full-throttle, hammering her hole like you have something to prove. Grabbing her hips for a greater leverage onto pistoning her very cunt, you let out the most vigorous thrusts possible as you didn't care if the desk will give up due to your actions because you need to prove her something. A broken cry can be heard, a silent shout of her inner self because of pleasure, breaking her slowly and slowly and this is only just the beginning.

This almost feels like a fever dream, like a déjà vu right from the start of just your mushroom tip being hugged with her walls, then slowly, the inchmeal of your length as time tells writes the books of the better profanities—

It's just a repetitive process of actions of a mind-boggling intercourse as every leverage and positions from the both of you are evident as it acts as a retaliation from pleasure and that what makes this session such an unique act of sin.

You weren't far off on your own climax and you can feel it rushing down your veins, invigorating the libido inside you on more than a hundred-percent. On the way her pussy grips around your rod like there's no tomorrow and the pulsation of it tells you that she isn't far from her own high either. Wanting to make her cum with you, you took the initiative by informing her and of course, adding up the harshness and the pace of your already-ruthless actions inside her tight, velvety cunt.

“I'm near—so fucking close, Yujin. Are y-you gonna cum too?”

She's silent yet loud with her lustful moans. Her mind is probably so clouded with pleasure that she can't think straight or formulate such a single, coherent sentence.

“Use your fucking mouth, Yujin—answer me!”

You need to spank her in order to get that desired answer escaping from her beautiful lips and it won't be very long—

“Y-yes, daddy—I'm super close! I'm—go-nna cum all—ahh—fuck—your c-cock—ahh!”

With the green light, you won't let yourself be stopped as you let it all out and everything went euphoric: your whole length buried into her cunt, filling her up to the hilt and as the cherry on top, your semen painting every inch of her velvety walls white. It’s historic and monumental that everything happened all in just minutes, let alone cumming inside to one of the popular girls in the university—Choi Yujin, you’re a fucking goddess, an insatiable one, you say to yourself. The ecstasy didn’t last very long but enough to cloud your mind—twenty seconds of an orgasmic rhapsody is probably enough to determine the highest of highs yet you’re still not done because you deemed yourself to ruin her, totally.

You’re only getting started and she knows it all too well…

“Stand up, Yujin. Help yourself and go beside that wall.” Your tone is commanding and enough to send a chill down her spine. She struggles a little due to the exertive force your hips maintained for over five minutes earlier. She doesn’t need help because after all, she’s just a toy to be used—your cocksleeve that’s just a reminder of pleasure (she didn’t want any help either).

Instantly, you pin her, earning a small thud on her as you place your arms around her thighs and then catching her off-guard by your sudden lift on her small, slender figure. She is light and it’s not even close to discomfort on carrying her with her back rested against the wall.

“Oh—daddy! Getting t-too rough, are we?”

“Shut up, Yujin—” You brush your tip against the waiting, dripping slick of her pussy as you can see small samples of your seed leaking out of her heat, and onto the swollen slit of your cockhead. “—I just wanna hear your moans, okay?”

She nods and eagerly moans (almost screams) as you plunge your whole length into her again. The visceral and almost ear-deafening moan of hers just fuels you to draw another onslaught of thrusts into her already-filled cunt and her lewd and ahegao countenance just puts gasoline on the fire of lust and it just arouses you so much. You didn’t bother to start slow as you hammer her hole like there’s no tomorrow, the sweat of her midriff and to her face that adds up the mess you’ve made earlier is the cherry on top. Still ensuing a relentless pace, you commanded her to unbutton her top and eagerly, she does it with her left hand slowly as the other holds your muscular arms for leverage as she struggles because of her body being ragdolled like never before.

Now with more of her exposed skin on your sight (with the long nectktie still on your way), you quickly latch your lips onto her neck and collarbones, suckling onto the soft, porcelain skin and almost leaving a mark. Even with your animalistic urges taking over, there’s still heart in you and you chose not to mark her but rather, just leave a small reddish hue due to the harsh lipwork you’ve done.

“God, you taste so good—you feel s-so fucking good—aren’t you just the perfect sex toy, Yujin?”

Still with a relentless pursuit on her hole, you make her unable to respond too by latching your lips onto hers, tasting the sweet, sugary flavor of her lips as she eagerly reciprocated alongside her angelic moans. Enough of the another lustful act, you quickly smack her backside with you palm (thank god you’re strong that you’re still able to carryfuck her after that) and wanted an answer—

“Right, Yujin?”

She nodded and screamed a loud “Yes, d-daddy!” as every thrust you do makes her unable to be understood and even to formulate such articulate sentences. With on how much you’re giving everything to her, the stream of her juices leaking around your shaft and dripping down to your balls is inevitable and it prints a smile on your face as you know that she’s more than loving this—you swear to god she won’t forget this until her last breath; this steamy session also going to cloud her mind for a week like what you did with Yunjin.

Ignoring the sensitivity and the painfully tight clenches of her velvety walls, you continue what you’re best at as Yujin announces her near orgasmic eruption around your length as you glared onto her, the two of you making a straight eye contact at long last as the last time you did that with her was before this merciless fucking you’ve done on her hole—

“Don’t you fucking dare cum yet, Yujin!”

“B-but, I c-can’t hold it i-in, daddy—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, you cockhungry slut! I’ll tell you when you’re—fuck—going t-to fucking cum!”

It’s obvious that she’s near, and so are you. You wanted her to reach your high with her—making a puddle of mess down the classroom and you swear to god, the janitor won’t be a big fan to clean this up—and you’re definitely a mere seconds away to the promised land—

Another thrust, another scream, another moan reverberates all over the classroom—

“Inside please, daddy.”

And you erupt, and so did she.

Releasing every single drop inside her tight walls is peak ecstasy, let alone seeing her beautiful façade become a ruined mess and of course, her pussy, mixed in a concoction of indistinguishable liquids. You let out everything including the moans you’ve been holding in since from the start—you absolutely gave in and unshackled everything, causing for another euphoric high. You buried yourself up to the hilt while she cries in delight and overstimulation, her pussy creaming all over your raging, twitching length is the cherry on top. After of almost half a minute of a hot orgasm, you slowly pull out of her and sat down, fully exasperated and drained while Yujin did the same, leaning down the wall as she slowly sits down, her legs weak and wobbly and you're the one to blame here.

“That was—”

“Good. Yeah, Yujin, you took me so w-well, too…” A small compliment made her blush as she slightly smiled, her mind still clouded with lust but mostly, delight.

“Y-you—hah, f-fucked me well, too… Hah, thanks for this.”

Yujin pointed to her freshly-creampied pussy, full of your semen as it leaks and she didn’t let her chances go to waste, her dainty, slender fingers drawing a small sample as she squirms is a hint of satisfaction, herself fulfilled with the taste of your semen.

“It’s very delicious, I must say that—fuck, I don’t think I can walk straight after this…”

And now she’s back to her sophisticated self—but the pool of mess between her thighs, the disheveled mess on her face and uniform contradicts the adjective—whereas she’s stern, cute and focused but there’s nothing to be near that you just gave her the time of her life.

“Need some help, Yujin—”

“I’m f-fine, thanks though. Also, give me my panties back! I can’t leave here without it on!”

As much as she’s stubborn and so are you, and it’s way worse than her. Knowing that her attempts are futile at the very end, she doesn't even bother to try and lets you keep it.

“Argh, you’re so annoying! Just keep it to yourself, you pervert!”

“Wow, like she isn’t one herself—”

“Shut up!” She lightly punched your shoulder, causing you to overreact by wincing in that so-called “pain”, earning that cute, grumpy look from Yujin.

“Well, we should clean this up…”

“Yeah, I think so…”

And that ends another dreamlike moment in your life—everything flashed and felt like a movie that you didn't want to end but it did…

—

A week has passed and yes, that moment with Yujin has been clouding your mind since day one…

“It flew like the wind—so dreamlike…” You whisper to yourself while writing something in your notebook—call it a diary, sort of. “It felt enchanting and weird, at first but… it was a different story once I’m—”

“You’re inside me, hm?”

You got slightly startled as Yujin caught you off-guard. You didn’t even know how she had time to get into your spot—your little sanctuary on the campus grounds—as you know how busy she is but you guess she’s not.

“W-what are you d-doing here, Yujin?”

“Nothing… just hanging around—you, what are you doing here?”

You hitch a breath, fidget your fingers onto the hem of your shirt and stutter until you finally come up on an answer. “I’m just chilling around here doing my own stuff.”

Yujin’s radiating smile meets you and it is contagious but your demeanor is still what it was earlier—confused, stern and uneasy.

“Uhm, I just want to apologize, about myself a week ago… I—it, hah… It was really good but I’m sorry I lured you into my stupidity…”

Now you become fazed with her sincerity, your face changing into an expression of guilt and pity, blaming yourself to for succumbing onto your vile of need and lust yet you reassure her, telling her that it’s your fault—

“No, no, no, it’s definitely onto me…” Yujin sits down with you as she looks deep into your eyes full of sincerity, the look where it’s so endearing and alluring that you can’t help yourself to fall under her spell but you hold yourself back, getting serious and wanting to let her know your side.

“I think we both just—became so horny and yeah… Very sorry about probably hurting you—”

“No, it’s my own fault making you like this. I guess I was just full of anger and lust that day that everything felt eerie… So, I’m sorry…”

Within the duration of the conversation, you kept your eyes off of her attention but with a deft move, she placed her finger onto your chin, making you face her and avert your attention towards her only. Suddenly, an unanticipated move was made proactively by her and all you can feel is the lusciousness and the softness of her lips: she’s kissing you. It didn’t last very long and you’re not asking for more and any, yet you’re just grateful nonetheless. You’re also frozen because of her sudden affection and it took you almost four seconds to react as her eyes anticipated something.

“I guess that’s enough for an apology?”

You blush, cheeks rosy pink and ears redder than a tomato as she softly chuckled, finding it adorable rather than shameful.

“You d-don’t need t-to do that, Yujin…”

“But I did…” Yujin proposes her hand to you, and you instantly knew she wanted you to shake her hand but she utters a breath, wanting to say something. “Friends?”

You complete the handshake and then smile at her gleefully, accepting her proposal as she smiles back too, feeling the genuine feeling of bliss.

“I’ve always wanted to have male one…”

“Well, welcome, I guess.”

Another light punch to your chest due to your teasing as the day still ensues as normal. Everything feels like it’s straight up on a goddamn plot of a movie but you’re not complaining. You’re still in a state of doubt as you’re not sure why Yujin wanted to be suddenly friends with you but I guess she just wanted another. The president becomes friends with the class trampoline—that’s fuckign ironic, isn’t it.

“Well, wanna see you at my place tonight. Gotta get to know you more and probably help me with this assignment, too…”

Well, it can end in a lot of ways as you could imagine this ending all on a good note. You’re not the man to turn that down as you’re just completely falling into the pit of her charms and you’re absolutely into this.

Well, you don’t see why not—maybe just don’t let Yunjin know you’re sneaky plan—

#kep1er #choi yujin #kep1er smut #choi yujin smut #choi yujin x male reader

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celabi · 1 year

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Your yandere-creep Scara had me obsessed for days, weeks, or even months(?)—It's unhealthy, I know, but it's my guilty pleasure 😔 can u blame me when you wrote it with such masterpiece 😭

IMAGINE you knew about scara obsession and couldn't help but be a fvcking tease (if ur into), like flicking your skirt (or any of sort bottoms) to show off your panties for his only eyes to see. Or when you accidentally bumped your back into his front and decided to play a little and gave it an experimental motion just to see his reaction. Or whenever he spilled some condiments (particularly on his fingers) you would suck it clean for him–dirty little boy, his head went high up to the clouds, and thinking his fingers is his co–

Anyways, that's all for now, I hope I didn't waste any more of your time <3

Teasing scummy Scaramouche! ☆彡

“I hope I didn’t waste any more of your time” please anon; I live for stuff like this 🫶😭 of course you didn’t, you’re more then welcome to send me an envelope any time you want.

If you’re a massive flirt, and always trying to find openings to try and tease him— Scaramouche is going to become beyond flustered and loose any remaining pride he thought he had.

When you bend over in front of him— pretending to pick up a pencil that you had ‘accidentally’ dropped on the floor, making sure you bend your back and push your ass out teasingly— just enough that your panties are peeking out from under the fabric of your skirt, he’s using his hand to cover the bottom half of his face and trying to shield away his flushed cheeks. Every second that he can’t manage to look away from your body, lands him a new problem that he has to take care of. He’s so clouded by his thoughts of desire and need that he doesn’t even register the fact that it shouldn’t take you ten seconds to bend down and grab something off the ground.

When you decide to tower over him while he sits down at his desk, a hand on his shoulder with your thighs snugly pressed up against the table— he’s trying so hard not to jump up and ravish you right then and there. You just look so goddamn sexy as you look down at him with the cheeky glint in your eyes, and that god forsaken, sultry smile that has his head spinning—He just can’t help but let his eyes tail down to your chest, which is conveniently placed just mere centimetres away from his face. He knows you’re doing it just to tease him— but yet, he can’t help but love every single second of it.

When you sit beside him at lunch— and not that he’s complaining but— a little closer then usual, and decide to sneakily reach under the table and tug at his pants stings— he forgets how to properly function and almost chocks on his food, earning some weird looks from your friends who sat all around you. You just sit there with an innocent look, asking him if he’s okay— and acting like your hand isn’t a few inches away from his groin. You’re sly, he thinks. And as he finally remembers how to swallow, he gulps down his saliva and with a quivering hand, Scaramouche almost hesitantly grabs ahold of yours and presses it against his now growing erection. An embarrassed whine bubbling up his throat when he makes eye contact with you— only to see you look unfazed by this whole erotic ordeal you started.

Scaramouche almost moans when you grab his face to pull it closer to yours— and smugly lick the remaining sauce off the corner of his mouth that he was just about to wipe away. The feeling of your warm tongue leaving a small tail of wetness against his skin makes him nearly drop the food in his hand, and his brain running wild with now impure thoughts. He’s silently pleading for you to stop teasing him— because he knows if you continue this act any further, he’ll loose his fucking mind. And he does— when you grab his hand and plop his pointer and middle finger into your mouth, allowing your tongue to lick up and down his skin, he grunts out load and uses his free hand to stabilise himself.

When you ‘accidentally’ stumble backwards and into his chest, allowing your ass to rub against his cock for longer then it should have— he’s hastily gripping onto your hips and pulling you closer into his body, completely disregarding the fact that you both were in public and had people in view. He’s dropping his head onto your shoulder and whining out a ‘why are you doing this to me’ in a meek and pathetic voice, one that has you giggling at, which only fuels Scaramouche’s embarrassment.

While it’s true he can’t catch a break, he’ll gladly accept any sort of affection you have to offer— even if it embarrasses himself in the process.

🫶 much love, hope this was okay xoxo

#anon #scummy scara :(#yandere scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #x female reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact smut

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freelancearsonist · 26 days

Text

this is what it looks like, right before you fall

➔ Dieter Bravo x nonbinary!reader-insert!oc - series masterlist

➔ 5.3k words

➔ CHAPTER ONE // You meet the cast and vow yourself to professionalism as filming starts, but one particular costar tests your willpower.

➔ Chapter rated PG-13 for age gap (reader is 21, dieter is 45), kind of pervy!dieter but not in a malicious way/reader reciprocates, some impure thoughts on reader’s part, written with basically no knowledge of how the film industry actually works. [please let me know if i missed any warnings that should be included :)]

➔ this reader insert character is: unnamed, afab and nonbinary (has female anatomy and uses they/them pronouns), neurodivergent, latinx, 21 years old, an actor playing a female character. I’m trying to keep them a physically blank slate but it is mentioned that they have longer hair (past shoulder-length) for the role and they wear a bikini for the role at one point as well. They are mentioned to be shorter than Dieter.

Everyone in this room is a seasoned professional. They move with poise and calculation, like chess pieces assessing their next best move. It’s reminiscent of a muster of peacocks—plumage spread as they strut around and size each other up, each wondering who will win the desperate yet subtle battle for dominance. They mingle amongst themselves and make small talk; all of it is utterly meaningless.

This is your first professional cocktail party, and if this is how they’re all going to be you definitely won’t be attending any more.

But then again, maybe it isn’t always like this. Maybe this is just the mania of the world being deemed “post-pandemic” despite the very real crisis still lurking in the shadows. You can’t blame people for how they cope with isolation and despair, even if it seems a little over-dramatic to you personally.

There’s maybe one other person in this room who seems to realize how ridiculous this whole game is, but you’re too nervous to go over and talk to him.

He looks comfortable amongst the chaos. He doesn’t strut around seeking conversation like the others—he lets them come to him. And they do; despite how formidable he appears to you, they’re all drawn to him like magnets. His presence has its own center of gravity, and everyone around is merely a lost orbiter. He reels them in one by one, chats with them—maybe even insults them a little–and then spits them back out into the stratosphere of the room. And they keep coming back for more, because he’s intoxicating.

Dieter Bravo is fucking terrifying for a man who’s shirt buttons aren’t aligned to the proper holes.

“Hi.”

You hadn’t even noticed him approaching, as focused as you were on looking anywhere except him. His raspy voice makes you jump–makes your stomach lurch like a phantom step on the stairs. His dark eyes are penetrating in the way they stare at you over the rim of his sepia-tinted sunglasses. He’s looking through you, not at you. There’s something so thoroughly appraising about his gaze, as if he’s sizing you up.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You wonder if he’s like a bear, if you need to make yourself look bigger and scarier in order to appease him. But instead, you shrink–he makes you feel so small. Like you’re nothing but a speck of dust on the underside of one of his well-worn crocs; and maybe you are. Maybe you’re in way over your head here.

“I dunno if this is gonna work,” he hums, eyes lecherous and languid in the way they drag over your body. “You’re too hot to be my daughter.”

You choke on your drink, legitimately splutter and cough; of all the millions of things you imagined him saying in your mind, that wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. But he seems completely unfazed by your outburst, waiting patiently for you to regain the ability to breathe like a normal human being.

What can you even say to that? The hottest man in the room–albeit a man who’s more than twice your age–is passively hitting on you. And if he were anyone else, you would be outraged by how casually he does it. But he’s Dieter fucking Bravo, and you think you’d let him get away with just about anything; which says way more about you than it does about him.

Thankfully, he saves you from your swirling mind–redirects as if it was the most casual of passing comments. “Is this your first meet and greet?”

“No, I’ve left my house a couple times before.” It’s an unintentionally snarky comment, the kind that would normally get you in trouble. But Dieter actually laughs–well, it’s more of a snort than a laugh, but its purpose is clear–and you wonder if maybe this whole situation isn’t as bad as it seemed a few short minutes ago.

“First time in front of a camera?” He asks, absentmindedly swirling the neon green liquid–absynthe? antifreeze?–that resides in the crystal glass his right hand cradles. “I tried to find you on IMDb but nothing came up.”

“I’ve done some commercial work,” you admit, feeling a little sheepish; and a little caught off guard, flattered even, that he’s been researching you. “Nothing like this, though.”

“How’d you get the role?” The question sounds deeper than it really is–distrustful, in a way.

You simply shrug. “I guess my audition was good.”

“I guess it was.” You don’t know exactly what he’s insinuating, but you feel like you should be offended. There’s no malice or aggression left in his dark eyes, though–whatever you’ve shown him, he’s liked it. “We’re going to have fun.”

“We are?”

“Mhm.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you can tell he’s trying not to make a face as the radioactive-looking liquid meets his tongue. “We should rehearse lines. In your room. Build our chemistry.”

There isn’t a singular cell in your brain that believes there’s no underlying motive to the invitation. And even yet, you accept. You kind of get the sense that he wouldn’t accept no as an answer, anyway.

He nods his acknowledgement, and then just as quickly as he had appeared, he’s melting seamlessly back into the buzz of your fellow costars.

You don’t realize how hard your heart is beating until he’s not standing over you anymore. With a sip of your drink, you do everything you can to will your breathing back to normal. There’s no reason a simple man should have such an effect on you.

But there’s really nothing simple about Dieter Bravo. He’s imposing. He’s been in this industry for as long as you’ve been alive and it shows in the way he carries himself. There’s confidence in his strut, an undeniable carefreeness to his appearance. He’s a professional; he’s everything you hope to someday be.

You promised yourself that you wouldn’t act up over the star-strewn cast, and you’ve held true to that promise as of yet. But Dieter Bravo poses a challenge. Especially with the shameless flirting and the way his eyes linger on your body, you feel yourself becoming more and more starstruck with each passing moment you’re in his presence.

You’re suddenly desperate for this thing to be over with so you can go back to your room and unwind. Your nerves are taught like an over-tuned guitar and liable to snap at any moment.

Dinner goes as smoothly as it can, albeit slowly. You’re stuck at the end of the table, sandwiched between two other actors who are around your age and clearly know each other from the way they keep talking to each other through you; and Dieter is at the opposite end, which is both a blessing and a curse. At least you’re not close enough to smell the warm, woodsy spice of his cologne—it lingered in your nostrils for a solid five minutes even after he walked away from you earlier—but you’re far enough away that he has a good angle to stare at you.

And stare he does. You can feel his eyes tracking every move you make. He doesn’t even look away when your eyes catch him; the cocky bastard smirks. He looks you right in the eyes over the rims of his sunglasses while the corner of his mouth tilts up and he has to know that it goes straight to your core.

The minutes pass like molasses with his attention on you, and it feels like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders when it’s finally time to turn in for the night.

You didn’t get a chance to introduce yourself to half of the cast because you were so busy being an unimposing wallflower, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow. For now, you’re walking to your room as fast as your legs can possibly carry you.

Shooting starts in the morning, and you really need a good night’s rest. You want to start strong and prove yourself. But you stay up into the wee hours of the morning anyway, laying in your oversized hotel bed and staring at the ceiling, wondering if Dieter’s going to come knock on your door to “rehearse lines” like he suggested.

He doesn’t, and you don’t know why you feel so disappointed about it.

You wake up from your four hours of sleep with a little bit clearer of a mind, surprisingly. Dieter’s hot and he’d be a once-in-a-lifetime lay, but you’re playing his daughter in this show. How seriously do you want to be taken in this industry? Because banging the actor who plays your father in your first serious project is decidedly not the route to being taken seriously as a movie star; in fact, it’s the kind of scandal that could end your career before it even starts.

You shower, do your basic morning skincare routine, get dressed, and head to set. All the while, you chant your new mantra: Dieter Bravo is off limits no matter how badly you want to play right into his hands. His big hands. His big meaty hands that you want all over your–

“Well hello!”

The woman who greets you as you walk into the hair and makeup tent is way too chipper for 7AM.

“Hi,” you say, a little shyer than you mean to sound; at least you can blame it on the early hour and the fact you haven’t had any coffee yet.

“I’m Cynthia, I use she/her pronouns. It’s nice to meet you.” Cynthia is blonde and tall, almost imposingly so. She’s sturdily built and graceful–there’s an almost feline quality to her movements. She’s gorgeous, and not just because of her perfectly styled hair and makeup.

You take a deep breath before giving her your introduction. This is something you’ve contemplated a lot prior to arriving, and even more so in the long, isolated hours of quarantine in your room. She/her doesn’t do the job, and you’ve known it for a while; but you let people use them anyway, because it’s easier to appease them than to constantly be correcting everyone. After intensive consideration, though, you want to go into this new chapter of your life as your true self.

You take another deep breath and then you give her your name, followed by “they/them.”

She smiles so warmly, but she doesn’t comment on it. No, “oh!” or “that’s so brave!” or any of the other thousand responses you’ve gotten to providing the pronouns you’re most comfortable with.

She guides you to her chair and she starts chatting away about anything and everything but your gender identity; that simple, wordless acceptance is such a refreshing change of pace from what you’re used to that you choke up a little bit.

You manage to swallow it down without her noticing, thankfully. You’re going to be dealing with Cynthia every day for the foreseeable future and you really don’t want her thinking you’re a loser.

You look like a completely different person when she’s done with you. Your entire face is coated with a thin layer of makeup that evens your skin tone and shrinks your pores. There’s thin, symmetrical wings of eyeliner on your eyelids, and your hair is curled in perfect blow-out waves. The outfit pulls the whole thing together: a Guns & Roses t-shirt underneath an unbuttoned long-sleeved flannel and jean shorts that hug your waist tightly but taper off around your thighs.

Cynthia’s a miracle worker, truly. You look exactly like the freshly-graduated, soul-searching, 1970’s time capsule misfit teen you’re supposed to be playing for eight episodes worth of HBO drama. It’s like meeting Charlotte “Charlie” Herrera for the first time, except you are her.

It’s a lot easier to get into character when you look the part; although becoming someone else has never been something you’ve necessarily struggled with. You take a deep, steadying breath; and then suddenly, you’re a different person. It’s that simple.

You’ve had some minor success with acting prior to landing this role. You always landed leads in school plays, and you shone in the silly little YouTube videos your high school friends liked to make. Acting comes naturally to you, and when people ask how you do it, what’s your method, you don’t really know how to answer. You just do it.

You’re not humble enough to try to deny the fact that you’re talented. The executive producer called you within half an hour of you submitting your audition tape for this role, and he didn’t stop complimenting you for another half an hour. There’s just some kind of special compartmentalization your brain accomplishes when you have a character to play; you flick off your “you” switch, and flick on your “character” switch.

You’re sure your therapist would say that it’s easy for you because of your natural proclivity for escapism. Your parents would probably just say you’re a psychopath. Whatever it is, you have a knack for acting, and it shows. It’s as easy and natural as breathing.

There’s a flurry of activity around you as you settle on your mark: an unevenly-stuffed floral print couch in the living room of your character’s shoebox home. It’s small, but it feels lived in. There’s photos in mismatched frames of you and Dieter on the walls and it puts a weird sensation in the pit of your stomach; it takes you aback how realistic and natural the photoshop is for set pieces that probably won’t even be in most frames of the show. There’s eclectic trinkets and pieces of period-accurate paraphernalia on shelves and side tables. You could almost believe you’ve been transported back in time if you ignore the huge cameras and empty windows.

Your costar walks in and suddenly the nerves hit you in full force.

This is it; this is your big moment. This needs to be flawless because first impressions stick. Especially to someone like Dalton Amari, who’s been acting since he was in diapers. Even though he’s barely a year older than you, he’s a bonafide star. He’s got an IMDb filmography that’s a mile long and he’s won countless awards. You need to be on your game because you’ll be damned if you’re going to disappoint someone like him.

He’s handsome and imposingly tall as he towers over you, dark-haired and dark-eyed with blindingly white teeth that contrast the light brown tone of his skin. You have friends who swoon every time he posts on Instagram; it’s surreal, being in the same room as him like this, with him smiling at you like you’re important.

“Hi again,” he greets as he sits next to you, body moving closer to you at the instruction of the director.

You feel a little more at ease like this, despite how formidable a scene partner he is career-wise; he’s the kindest of all the costars you met last night. He was one of the few people who actually made an effort to approach you, after all–introduced himself with that charming smile and everything.

“Hi.”

“You look great,” he says with a noticeable scan of your figure. “Just like my grandma used to.”

It’s the exact kind of icebreaker you need to completely melt the tension; you laugh, and he laughs with you.

The director–a man named Jeff with a graying beard thick enough to clothe a family of four–walks over with a smile on his face. “This is the exact kind of chemistry I want onscreen, okay? Nice and light, make it look effortless.”

“Sure thing, boss man.” Dalton’s long, blown-out hair flops into his face when he nods, and you can tell it irritates him. “God, how do people put up with this shit? Remind me to never grow my hair out again.”

“You’re telling me,” you respond with a laugh–your hair is even longer than his.

This first scene is surprisingly easy. He’s so talented that it rubs off on you and builds up your confidence until you’re commanding the scene effortlessly. You lounge on the couch with him and lament over approaching adulthood, recounting the glory days of your characters’ shared high school experiences now that they’re over for good. You feel like you’re really there, in that time capsule moment of late May 1976, shooting the shit with your high school sweetheart boyfriend. It’s easy to forget that you know what happens between Charlie and Trevor, Dalton’s character; that the story has already been told all the way through. Right now, in this moment with his arm around your shoulders and your hand on his thigh, it’s just beginning. You’re three years younger than you really are, and you’re in love with this boy who’s looking at you like you hung the very stars from the sky.

“Cut!” Jeff calls, and you pull away from Dalton’s loose grip. “That was perfect you two, keep it up!”

Just like that you’re you again–not Charlie, not Trevor’s girlfriend, not anyone else. The transition is that simple and seamless.

You catch a glimpse of your smiling face next to Dieter’s in a brass-framed photo, and you feel that weird, twisting sense of complication again. For a blissful moment in time, as Charlie, life was without uncertainty. When you’re her, there’s a script and a set destiny that you know will play out exactly how it’s supposed to. When you’re you, you don’t know what’s going to come next. Maybe that’s why acting has always been easy or you. You crave the predictability and certainty that comes with a scripted ending. You know how the final page plays out, and you know exactly what happens along the way.

Life, unfortunately, isn’t that simple.

“Hey,” Dalton says, voice a little softer than the voice he uses when he’s Trevor. “You did great. Don’t be nervous.”

You don’t know how he knows you’re so lost in thought–probably the incessant bouncing of your left knee.

“Thanks,” you murmur in return, but you can’t meet his eyes. You’ve never been particularly good at taking compliments, even if they’re deserved.

“Alright, it’s class time!” Jeff interrupts with a clap of his hands. He’s notorious for his strict scheduling. “Wardrobe!”

You have two more scenes today and they somehow, miraculously, go just as well as the first. There’s no sign of Dieter, but you knew before you even got out of bed that he wasn’t on the call sheet for today. Tomorrow, however, is a different story. There are four scenes on the schedule, and the last one of the day is just you and him.

You’re glad you have some time to prepare for it, because you know that no matter how hard you try, you’re going to be self-conscious around him. He’s not just attractive or charismatic or any of the other things you’ve come to view him as; he’s something of a role model. You want to impress him, but you also want to learn from him; and you really, really don’t want to make a fool of yourself anywhere in his general vicinity. It might be easier said than done with those big brown chocolate-chunk eyes of his following your every move.

You adjourn to your hotel room and order room service, “untitled episode one” script in your lap. You’ve read it through about a million times, but tonight you pay special attention to your first scene with Dieter. You need it to be as flawless as today’s scenes went. You need him to be as impressed as Dalton was, because his opinion means more to you than anyone’s.

You also pay special attention to that particular scene because it’s going to be a real test of your abilities; looking up into that handsome face and remembering your lines the way you’re supposed to is going to be your crucible.

You check the time around midnight and decide it’s late enough; pushing yourself any further could just serve to undo the effort you’ve put in. A certain Instagram notification on the screen catches your eye: “@bravo69 started following you”. It’s Dieter’s verified Instagram account, and the notification is from two minutes ago.

You stay up for longer than you care to admit ruminating on the fact that Dieter Bravo is scrolling through your Instagram at midnight. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve gotten under his skin the way he’s gotten under yours.

You’re trying so desperately not to get your hopes up, but it’s hard not to.

Cynthia in hair and makeup can tell you’re not sleeping well, even without the way you keep drifting off and jolting awake in her chair. She slathers caffeine under your eyes and does her best to reverse the zombie state you’re starting to transform into.

She gives you a look a lot like a reproachful mother might. “Are you really losing sleep over this? You were fantastic yesterday!”

There’s just something about her that makes you so comfortable–like she’s been a friend you’ve known for years rather than a coworker you only just met yesterday.

“Yeah, but what if it was a fluke and I do horrible today?”

She actually scoffs, like it’s the most impossible thing she’s ever heard, and her smile is so wonderfully disarming. “If you always think like that, you’re never gonna get a damned wink in your life.”

“I’ve never been very good at sleeping anyway,” you admit with a scornful little huff.

“Well, you’d better try your best. There’s only so much I can do for you.” She gives you a cartoon-worthy wink as she looks at you in the mirror, and it makes you loosen up considerably.

She’s right. You’re here, and confidence is key at this stage. If you act like the crew is taking some big chance on you because you’re a new talent, they’re going to see it that way too. If you act like you belong here, it’ll make the whole thing that much easier.

Fake it ‘til you make it, they say. You suppose whoever “they” are, they’re actually right in this situation.

Today’s scenes are a little more important to the plot of the show. Yesterday you worked on character establishment and setting the environment; today is all about the inciting incident. It all starts with pool party part two.

Wardrobe stuffs you in a period-typical orange patterned bikini, carefully selected to not be too revealing while still giving the audience something to appreciate; it’s eye roll worthy, but underneath the corniness of it there’s something kind of exciting about potentially being a sex symbol.

It’s the beginning of summer in the Midwest–at least on screen. In reality it’s late July, and it’s sweltering outside at the little time capsule brick house production rented for this scene. There are teen-aged extras all over the place pretending to be celebrating the end of another school year, all perfectly styled to 1976 as they splash about in the pool or grab vintage-looking Coke bottles from a cooler next to the property’s backyard shed.

Dalton is here, bare-chested and abs gleaming, draped over a poolside lounger. You’re directed into his arms, and the press of his skin is a little uncomfortable. You’ve never particularly liked being this close to strangers, especially when wearing so little, but there’s no backing out now. Every scantily-clad inch of your skin is pressed against his, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close.

Charlie’s best friend, Amara–played by none other than Kelsie Burton, an actress who’s been in just about every coming-of-age flick in the past five years–sits on the lounger next to yours. She’s drop dead gorgeous, with freckled pale skin and long, shiny black hair. She’s the archetype, and you feel like a complete foil in every way. You have to take a deep breath and remember that it’s not a competition–and even if it was, you’re technically winning.

The dialogue is a little awkward in this scene, but it’s on purpose. The three characters have been close friends since middle school, but things have shifted ever since Charlie and Trevor started dating. Amara feels like a third wheel, and it’s not exactly unreasonable.

This is the beginning, the first push of the boulder down the steep hill of plot. The three of you sit together pondering what life will be like now that high school is over and discussing ways to make the summer the most memorable it can be. A challenge is made, an oath taken. This summer is going to be the most unforgettable one of all.

You shoot a few takes of the inciting conversation, and then it’s on to the fun part–shooting some filler scenes of pool party revelry.

It’s easy to forget you’re not a fresh-faced teenager anymore like this. The three of you splash around in the water with your “classmates” and laugh and play games and have fun. It doesn’t feel like there’s cameras or crewmembers or anyone else around but you and your friends. And that’s really what they feel like–friends. Maybe they’re both just good actors, but a hopeful little part of you wonders if you might actually be able to build meaningful relationships with them.

The fun can’t last forever though, and the scene wrap comes before you’re ready for it–partially because you’re enjoying yourself and don’t want it to end, but partially because you know what comes next. Dieter.

You’re shuttled back to set wrapped in a towel, still soaking wet but smiling despite the nerves twisting in your gut. Even if this last scene for the day goes to shit, at least you had an incredible morning.

You’re turning a corner on your way to wardrobe when you run smack into someone tall and sturdy. There’s a force to the sudden collision that makes you grunt and lose your balance (and towel), but big, strong hands quickly come to steady you.

You look up, ready to fumble out an apology, when you find a set of deep brown eyes and a handsome, smirking face.

Whatever you were going to say dies at the base of your throat when you notice the way Dieter’s eyes drag over your soaking wet, bikini-clad form. You can’t help but let yourself do the same; this is the first time you’ve seen him in character, after all.

He seems even broader and bigger than the first time you met him, decked out in this khaki-colored sheriff’s uniform. It hugs his soft yet sturdy frame perfectly, only complemented by the heavy duty belt and the star-shaped badge pinned to his chest. His shaggy hair has been trimmed down to a respectable length, and his signature patchy-stubbly beard has been reduced to a simple, handsome mustache. He’s a time capsule of a man, and he looks so fucking good.

“Is that what they’ve got you wearing for our scene?” He asks, interrupting your moment of observation. His hands are still firmly on your waist despite the fact that your balance has long since been regained.

“N-no,” you stumble over your own tongue. “I’m on my way to change right now.”

“Damn,” he mumbles–he actually sounds disappointed.

It’s been long enough, and his hands are still on your waist. They’re so warm, so big. You hate having your bare skin touched like this, but… it’s nice. His hands are firm and strong and capable and you’re not thinking of him in a very fatherly capacity at all right now. He’s so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him, so close that you could just–

You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until he finally takes his hands off you and you have to practically gasp for breath. Even as he backs out of your personal space, he knows the effect he’s had on you–if the smirk that takes over his face is any indication, at least.

“Orange is a good color on you,” he murmurs as his dark eyes give you one last once-over.

“R-really?” It’s never been a color you’ve particularly favored, but flattery goes far with you.

He hums in response, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Have you really made this much of an impression on him, or is he just really desperate? Surely he can’t be that deprived–he could have anyone he wanted at the blink of an eye.

“I’ll see you on set,” he vows. And then, just as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone.

It’s so fucking difficult to get a read on him that you feel like you’re in a tailspin. Nevertheless, you try not to let it bother you too much as you get to wardrobe and finally change into some real clothes. Dieter Bravo is off limits, you remind yourself; but it doesn’t sound nearly as convincing this time.

“Where have you been all night?” His voice is stern, commanding despite the softness to his tone. He sounds almost dangerous–exactly like a cop and a protective father should.

“At that end of the year pool party over at the Clevelands’, the one I told you about,” you answer easily, gently. You’re on thin ice, and you’re stepping lightly. “With Amara.”

“And Trevor.” There’s accusation in his voice–Charlie hasn’t told him about her relationship, but fathers always know.

“He was there, yeah.”

“How many times have I told you I don’t want you around him?” Dieter looks up at you from where he’s spread lazily in his cozy living room armchair, eyes even darker than usual in the low night-coded lighting of the living room set. His suspicion of Trevor isn’t unwarranted–you’ve read the script in its entirety, you know every little facet of every single character. But Charlie doesn’t know what you know, so you have to take Dieter’s caution as nothing more than the helicopter parenting typical of a teenage girl’s single father.

“I’m an adult, dad,” you remind him. “I can make my own decisions, choose my own friends.”

“You’re still a little girl,” he murmurs. The fight’s gone from him–he looks now as if a long day of law enforcement has caught up to him all at once. “You always will be.”

It sparks the exact kind of anger within you that the script calls for, and most of it isn’t even fabricated. You don’t want him–Dieter, not Sheriff Herrera–to see you like that. What if that’s all this is now? What if he can’t see you as anything else but a child to him? Not that it matters. He’s off limits, you’ve reminded yourself of that a million times. What he thinks of you shouldn’t matter.

“You have to let me grow up eventually,” you growl before storming down the hall to your final mark.

Jeff calls the scene, and you reemerge a little flushed and feeling silly for how real your emotions were in that moment.

“That was perfect!” He tells you with a beaming smile on his face. “Keep that up and we’re gonna get ahead of schedule. Dieter, you were great too.”

“Not as great as them,” the older actor says with a nod of his head in your direction. “You’re a generous scene partner.”

“How so?” You’re still a little flushed, but you’re praying he can’t tell.

“You give off a lot of emotion,” he explains. “Gives me a lot to work with.”

“Oh.” You’ve really got to get better at taking compliments. Was that even a compliment?

You’re so far in your head that you don’t notice the awkward pause until he takes it upon himself to start leaving the soundstage. Desperate for any way to salvage the moment, you address his broad, retreating back and say, “thanks, Dieter.”

He turns his head, looks at you over his shoulder, and fucking winks. “Anytime, honey.”

And then he leaves, like he didn’t just put a fucking puddle in your underwear.

Dieter Bravo is off limits. Dieter Bravo is off limits. Dieter Bravo is off limits. You chant it to yourself the entire way back to your hotel room, but it gets less and less convincing with each repetition.

Would it really be so bad if he wasn’t off limits?

➔ beta: @futuraa-free, @ozarkthedog, @beskarandblasters, and @fhatbhabie (thank u so much my loves <3)

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

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#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x you #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes #series: free falling love addict

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elvieshezza · 7 months

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'I Just Want To Have Friends.'

It had been a quiet evening for confession, Father Brown thinks. A few of the usual ladies from the W.I., confessing to gossip and envy and lustfulness, an older gentleman who told the priest of his decade long affair, and finally a little boy that made him smile as he confessed to stealing his big sister’s doll.

He checks his watch, and is getting to his feet, until he hears the door of the confessional open and someone hesitantly, tentatively stepping in. Brown sits back down.

Whoever it is is breathing heavily, and a little shakily. They’re clearly shy, maybe even scared at the prospect of speaking to the priest. No matter – Father Brown is well practised at setting people at ease.

“How can I help you, my child?”

He glances through the grille, but all he can make out is a dark, well-groomed head of hair bowed down in the low light of the confessional chamber. It’s vaguely familiar, like he’s seen this particular head many times before but he can’t quite put his finger on whose it is. He can just about make out the arching ridge of a nose, but that’s all.

There’s a heavy inhalation, like the unknown penitent is steeling themselves to begin.

“I- I- I’m sorry, Father.”

Oh. Inspector Sullivan. That is a surprise – last time Sullivan was here, he was a wanted man.

“Inspector? What are you sorry for? How can I help you?”

“I’m not even a Catholic. I don’t even believe in your God, I don’t deserve your help. I shouldn’t be here.” Sullivan moves to leave. Father Brown can’t let that happen, though. Something has clearly happened; something must have upset the young Inspector enough to drive him into the church that he seems to loathe.

“Wait a moment, Inspector. Please. Talk to me.”

Sullivan kneels back down, heavily, like hearing those words cut the strings that were holding him up. Father Brown is worried, now.

“I- I’m so, so lonely, Father.”

There’s a definite shake to the inspector’s voice, something raw and unguarded the likes of which Father Brown has never heard from Sullivan before. He can hear the pain, the sheer misery in the inspector’s tone, and he feels his heart clench a little in response. For the first time in a long while, Father Brown doesn’t really know what to say. Instead he sits, and waits for that poor, choked voice to continue.

“All the lads at the station, they talk about their wives and girlfriends and mothers and fathers, and I have none of that. I have no one at all, no one to talk about, nobody there for me. Not even a mum, Father. She died when I was six. It- it was her birthday, today.”

Sullivan’s voice cracks, then properly breaks at that last sentence. Even in the darkness of the booth, Father Brown sees the telltale glimmer of tears, streaming down the inspector’s face. His breathing has picked up into short, shallow gasps that sound painful to the silent priest’s ears.

“I’m so sorry, inspector. Do you have no other family? A father?” Brown says softly.

Sullivan’s head snaps up at that, and Father Brown senses he’s made a mistake.

“No! No, no I do it’s just, it’s just that we don’t- he doesn’t- he hates me. And I hate him.” A flat, broken voice replies.

“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t-“ Father Brown begins, but he’s cut off.

“He does! You don’t understand, you can’t understand, you don’t know, you, you won’t care, no one did, and I don’t blame them, I’m awful, I don’t deserve-“ Sullivan is almost sobbing, now. Father Brown can see him shuddering against the tide of hot tears that are rising in his eyes. It’s difficult to hear, far more difficult than listening to endless confessions of impure thoughts and anger and white lies. He thinks of the inspector’s poor, wounded soul, who’s only sin seems to be desperate, crushing loneliness. Not that it is a sin – but Sullivan is confessing to it anyway.

“What’s your first name, Inspector?”

The non-sequitur catches Sullivan off guard, and he answers without thinking.

“Thomas. I don’t remember the last time someone called me that.”

“I want you to know, Thomas, that I do care. And you are not awful. Who has made you think that?” Father Brown asks, but he thinks he already knows the answer.

“My- my father. He hurt me, I was scared of him, I am scared of him. He hit me, he choked me, he locked me in the cupboard where it was dark and cramped and there were spiders and, and, and- I was only a child. He made me do all the housework and the cooking and the cleaning. He told me I was soft, he said he wished I’d never been born. The best day I remember was when the headteacher let me sleep in his office because I was too tired to stay awake in the lesson. The other kids, they laughed at me, said there was something wrong with me ‘cause I never understood when they were being mean, I told my dad and he agreed.”

The words tumble from Sullivan’s mouth at the speed of sound, like when a dam breaks and the water rushes through, overpowering and all-consuming. All Father Brown can do is sit there, listening in horror as the Inspector describes his upbringing. Father Brown thinks of what Sullivan said earlier – ‘You won’t care. No one did.’. That leaves a sour taste in his mouth, the idea that no one listened to a small, terrified little boy as he lived through horrific abuse.

What he knows, and what he’s inferred about Inspector Sullivan starts to make a little more sense, now. How he is reserved and cold, even hostile at times, unwilling to open up for fear that he might be hurt again. For fear of being laughed at, shot down, ignored all over again. He thinks of that frightened little boy that Sullivan is describing, who is still there, buried beneath a mountain of armour, and a little tear springs to his eye. Sullivan has descended into incomprehensible sobs as he recounts his tale, but the kind priest can just decipher a few little words.

“I- I just want to have friends, Father.”

In the smallest, saddest voice that Father Brown has ever heard.

So what else can he really do?

Brown rises to his feet, leaves his side of the booth, then opens the door that shields Sullivan from the rest of the world.

The young policeman looks up at him through bloodshot eyes, tears dripping, and Father Brown is there, tugging Sullivan to his feet and pulling the man into him. Sullivan freezes a moment, then he’s pliant in Father Brown’s hold, pressing his face into the priest’s shoulder as he sobs even harder. Father Brown rubs his back, small soothing motions as Sullivan’s body is wracked with little shivers as he cries. Sullivan clings to him. One hand is on his back, the other rests on the back of Sullivan’s head.

They stand there for what seems like an age.

Sullivan calms a little, and tries to pull away. Father Brown lets him, but keeps his hands loosely on the inspector’s upper arms. Sullivan is avoiding his gaze, looks down at his feet like he’s ashamed of himself.

“Why don’t you join me at the presbytery for dinner tonight?”

“Oh- I wouldn’t want to impose, I don’t-“ Sullivan starts, shaking his head gently, but there’s a flicker of hope in his still watery eyes.

“Thomas. Listen to me. You are always welcome, and Mrs. McCarthy has a rather mouthwatering stew on the stove that I’m very much looking forward to. Please, come eat with us.”

Sullivan smiles a little at that, and looks up at Father Brown.

“Then- yes. I’d like that.”

@badthingshappenbingo

#father brown #inspector sullivan #hurt/comfort #loneliness #also on ao3 #bad things happen bingo

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thiccydriftyy · 2 months

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More stupid moral OCD vent

I hate extreme OCD thinking 😍 Literally this whole Alex Kister situation has affected me more than it NEEDED TO because of my stupid OCD ruminating on what the “right” thing to think is. I can’t be neutral, because neutrality is “wrong” in my OCD moral compass. (As much as I love the “neutrality is complacency” thing in activism because it is true, it also FUCKED with my ability to be able to be neutral when actually necessary. Neutrality doesn’t automatically mean taking that side of the villain in most non-political situations.)

Like I HAVE to be an extreme “Alex supporter” or “victim supporter” I feel like I can’t be ANYTHING else because that’s “morally wrong” and “impure”. I can’t have my own opinions on this because it’s “wrong” to my OCD moral compass.

I believed the accusations initially because I thought they were true, and it also seemed like the right thing to do. Believe the victims n stuff. But the evidence against Ven specifically came out. And I was skeptical, but I was still on their side because everyone else was and if I wasn’t thinking whatever everyone else was thinking, I was in the “wrong”.

I didn’t come out with my own opinion of Alex being mostly innocent because I felt like that was a morally impure opinion. I felt like that was the “incorrect” opinion that I had to purge from my mind. Despite now knowing that that document was transphobic and ableist and lies, I still felt like it was the “wrong” opinion because it went against the majority. I followed everyone like a herd of sheep because of my mental illness, and I feel so fucking awful because of that. Checking for updates on this situation to check if I’m still “right” has become a compulsion

And now that AK’s response has come out, people who’s supported him from the beginning are saying things like “if you believed that document you contributed to a smear campaign/other bad thing that happened due to this situation”. And like. Y’know extreme thinking makes me think that it was literally ME and only ME who did that. That I take full blame and no one else. Like. I’m literally a high schooler who has never interacted with ANY of these people involved in this situation on a personal level. I should not be carrying the guilt of a convicted criminal ffs. It’s illogical extreme thinking, I know that.

I feel like getting on my knees and apologizing to everyone I’ve ever known. I feel stained. I feel like I need to wash my moral impurity until it’s clean again. But what can I do to fix it? How many good acts outweigh my one small mistake on my blog of 40 followers that barely anyone even saw? When am I “pure” again?

Sorry guys haha I’m genuinely tweaking just ignore this 😍‼️

#moral OCD #tw ocd #tw moral ocd #tw morality

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dreamcubed · 2 years

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reputation anthology

(<-- return to main masterlist)

here is a collection of oneshots based on the album reputation by taylor swift!

status ; incomplete | [12/16]

...ready for it? [18+] - NEW

character; mattheo riddle || genre; fake dating || summary; following the war, mattheo is suffocated by the association with his father, and decides there is only one way to make people see that he is nothing like him. you, on the other hand, want to prove to people that, in the year you’ve been in hiding, you have changed from the naïve goody-two-shoes you

end game

character; fred weasley || genre; established relationship || summary; all the times you and fred joked around in ways that reflected your prankster reputation, and the one time you had to be serious

i did something bad

character; tom riddle || genre; s2l || summary; an orphaned boy with sinister plans for the future, and a new girl who is about to discover she may be just as bad as her parents. what happens when they meet?

don’t blame me

character; draco malfoy || genre; s2l || summary; y/n was surprised to find herself relating to the family pressures draco malfoy faced, and it soon opened up the question of... would their bond help them fight back and choose the good side, or will they both be too weak to not give in?

delicate

character; theodore nott || genre; s2l || summary; when your childhood friend daphne decides to drag you out to her family’s californian beach house with her slytherin friends during the summer holidays, you are reluctant to come out of your carefully crafted shell. and then, out of nowhere, you find yourself relating to the quietest boy on the trip

look what you made me do

character; ??? || genre; ??? || summary; ???

so it goes...

character; ??? || genre; ??? || summary; ???

gorgeous

character; fleur delacour || genre; s2l || summary; you, like everyone else, were drawn to the part-veela fleur delacour when beauxbatons visited, only she thought that you hated her because you made it your mission to avoid her

getaway car

character; ??? || genre; ??? || summary; ???

king of my heart

character; mattheo riddle || genre; arranged marriage || summary; your refusal of marriage led your father to relinquish permission for you to choose your own husband, allowing him to make the decision himself and ensure the most status and wealth possible. the problem? the man he chose for you was closed off and arrogant

dancing with our hands tied

character; ??? || genre; ??? || summary; ???

dress

character; ron weasley || genre; bff2l || summary; why couldn’t your best friend of over three years realise that you saw him as so much more than that? maybe he just needed a glaring sign, and there was no better opportunity for that than the yule ball

this is why we can’t have nice things

character; pansy parkinson || genre; break-up || summary; you had already given pansy a second chance, but she really had proven that she couldn’t be trusted, and that your relationship had to be ended for good

call it what you want

character; draco malfoy || genre; forbidden love || summary; his entire life, draco had it drilled into him that anything to do with muggles was bad- impure, even. but after his father is imprisoned for life, he decides to venture into the muggle world- just as a temporary thing, of course

new year’s day

character; remus lupin || genre; s2l || summary; after a troubling christmas with your not-so-nice family, you hurriedly make your leave on boxing day without checking the weather. and, after a whirlwind series of events, you find yourself snowed in with a mysterious stranger

i don’t wanna live forever [18+]

character; mattheo riddle || genre; ex2l || summary; ever since you began dating, you and mattheo had been a fiery and toxic mess of breaking up and getting back together - only, when you finally try and date someone else, you realise that you miss and crave the unhealthy pattern that came with mattheo riddle

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cozycryptidcorner · 2 years

Note

I know you're going to think I'm trolling but I genuinely don't understand what you want me to apologize for?

-The "Rogue" "Christian"

Ok. I’m going to take this seriously because I used to be a Christian, and idk if you’re acting like this because you’re so gung-ho about Christianity and think it’s leaders are always right regardless of their actions on earth or you’re struggling and something I said made you very uncomfortable with how you handle faith.

So I’m going to tackle this from your worldview. Idk what denomination you’re from, but my extended family is Methodist/catholic and my mom was baptist before she married my stepfather so I have a pretty good handle on the small differences.

anyone who isn’t christian who is interested in this kind of stuff should read too.

Firstly, your initial message was sent in defensive anger. And I do get it, when you see something that challenges your entire worldview it can be pretty shaking. But you did accuse me of being anti-theist when I pretty much explicitly said I wasn’t (i’m pretty cool with most pagans, and they’re polytheistic), meaning you didn’t read my whole post. And I wasn’t sure what angle you were originally coming from, because I do get the occasional troll from time to time.

So I did joke about it, because I was raised in a fundamentalist branch of christianity which is rich in purity culture. And even if you aren’t subscribed to purity culture, most sects of christians (baring most progressive christians) believe that any form of sexual content before marriage, ESPECIALLY pornography, is still a form a sexual sin that muddies your soul. Even the bible talks about “sexual immorality,” so you can’t really blame it on our differing denominations:

1 Corinthians 10:8: Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body.

2 Corinthians 12:21: I fear that when I come again my God may humble me before you, and I may have to mourn over many of those who sinned earlier and have not repented of the impurity, sexual immorality, and sensuality that they have practiced.

Revelation 21:8 But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.”

etc etc i can pull so many more out of my ass because i was forcefed this shit until my eyes bled.

So a christian being mad that a monsterfucking PORN blog they’re following that’s run by an openly queer person was talking shit about them is inherently funny to me. Because even if you, an adult, was following a blog with adult content, it’s explicitly forbidden in your own religion. Also like, sure monsterfucking wasn’t in the bible. But if I had a time machine and I could bounce back a couple thousand years to ask paul what he thought about a human fucking godzilla or gargoyles, pretty sure he would file it under unholy fornication. much less DEMONS lmfao.

plus, okay you wouldn’t actually fuck a monster, but thinking is just as bad as doing it, according to your own book:

Matthew 5:28 But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

Mark 7:20-23 And he said, “What comes out of a person is what defiles him. For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”

So by looking lustfully at my art or my stories, you’ve fucked them in your heart and that’s just as bad.

then. You could have just left it at that, but then you turn around and pull the whole “uwu babygirl” which was clearly just done out of anger and vindictiveness. You could not stand that I brushed you off without taking you seriously/was mad that i showed no remorse/just pissy in general. That was super unchristlike of you, because what does the bible say about speaking in anger?

Matthew 5:21–22 You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’ 22 But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire.

James 1:19-20 Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.

Ephesians 4:31 Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.

And if you’re catholic: Titus 1:7 For an overseer, as God's steward, must be above reproach. He must not be arrogant or quick-tempered or a drunkard or violent or greedy for gain.

Damn that’s so crazy. I wonder what Jesus would think of your behavior.

anyways the apology bit was also me joking within the realms of, again, your own religion. as in I would let you pull some more christian stuff as long as it was in repentance of your ungodly behavior.

1 Peter 3:9 Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing.

Matthew 6:14-15 For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.

Ephesians 4:32 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

Maybe it was the sects I was exposed to, but isn’t there like. A tremendous emphasis on asking for forgiveness when you have sinned against others? I mean you can go the easy way and just ask the man upstairs to forgive you if you don’t want to make amends with the actual person you sinned against but I don’t really care either way since I don’t subscribe to your religion.

I just find your behavior really abhorrent for someone who is in the religion of “love” or whatever. Like someone a lot smarter than me said, there’s no hate quite like christian love haha.

ANYWAYS. Also please note I’m using mostly new testament scripture, so you can’t pull the usual “the old rules for the old world” bs.

Also if you’re catholic lmk I’ll start pulling the cataclysm rules I used to have memorized too.

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libidomechanica · 10 months

Text

Sir Walter hairs, or to

A treochair sequence

And is hush and be you and there the assault: the fleeting careless I

hope the tree, you like. Too. How I died, and die, lift not a summer’s guise,

whereunder who I am. Way, I think some: others nodding on the

walls. A feudal knights prefer before it bore; the ghost of fire, as if

a night of a bird upon the nights, a moderns equally; if our

own cost die, sith red, like memory of uncontested surface be

my dear, through to face. Making to you appear before. Sir Walter hairs,

or to creep from those that yellows Man were I say ’Tis so, tis shine; but

I will lo’es dearly? Because, divide into the coach, will bet you leaves

the night wets me again: but soon as I make, where, now will love, his eyes?

All, hard embrace of the Field-Marshals forth eternal number bodies

tangled in this strange wondrous dread? Till Miss’s compell’d, and prince de Ligne have

hemm’d with me the Two World I been some say, Your mother years: alas! What

melancholy silent, and dear deceiving the Cyprian story

of trump’s her four want of those who live what a lover; what tis forc’d, then,

to break a sucking Nymph reserv’d a Man. For Jock of sorrow at him

so. What a lover; what myself I can’t do, thoughts and crying, while the

earth of western religion quench their name before it rain is with narrow

chief that you hold up your mind might—and love the loved, burnt&blasted, an’

ken ye how way lead in safety to attack the orange, and red that

brought, who bent to mone. Her wings bewrayed, whose delight? ’ Thou hast thou told’st me

with flower springs of sight upbraids them for proud rider on the Tavern

shouts, I read o’er thy name. And on your that reigns; what! Beautiful dream

that able spirits, all is left so deare, we meets the strunt in two years,

who was a little room an age lie, ever sings, and my Love a girl,

my boy. Themselves to whom love? Whether is best; and then souls stand, then conscience

in vassalage thy merit hath should he put in swelling Despair!

Flames resist is so fair discovery of rhymed to scathe. Weigh there’s a

charge; but glows. ’ And free, as the herself should we deluded human: you

shalt in womanhood complain of pith and told men in the armies of

life, and trim; but one. It is claws wept. We forged a scarf of orange ere

nights, a modest pride; another forehead cool. Because the maid; they late

be enviable. Old, and smiling race: for he of benevolent

and Thrush say, the pallid beam in shapings of all were not blame design!

Impatient. Not on the world,—which, thou canst thou, my daily breeze anon,

like breath be rul’d by me; under tribe who once set down this they share it.

And with his honest maids are damnably mistaken more serious

desire. And stuttering him, now a saints the tale o’ love which now

her e’re. Was carriage, o’erflow, as here, now when Love’s sake one may say, alas!

Time she thou, the Life’s offer of it or nothing. ’, He felt that light

nature to the one days will to so; for him; nor all transformed of tales

did I feel em most. Picked words of old terror doth the most! Thou God of

a lord; and sung, and look—her was a bum on than if I had thy placed,

shall enter pillars? Time driven, but will enchanted joy thou so touched

so longed a precious as they with of us, your voice, o’erworn, and she’d

said, He keep himself is resumed with bashful shame of the star-gazers,

holds good to life’s busy hum of loneliness may pay the suns are found

nothing to an earn the man say again. The cries, was carriage I did

better, and leave excellent for glory! Ah, take me, they longed a

sevenfold stormes with impure defeature, that can thousand scatter’d coward.

Thrice fairest body riddles as the honey secret knots, like a bright

should followed his hard, he known; ’ a please me; Lesley is sae fair days

together my lips it part, and is apt as next of mine may so farewell?

He kiss even so she laid the tedious, and Campbell before Don

Juan, who worshipp’st at the sway of error, a tender hide: love to kiss

handsome, break into thee, to grass and silver- set; about here it whistle

mair blaw sweet. The writer of blood! From his soul, were sternest movies

from my cheeks, cries, and calumets, claymore and flatter, and Tim would be.

And as thick to cancell’d, by slaves of eternal Love, he wild. Thence chokes

her painting chambers may I dare not yet for there, disdain’d their myriad

voice happy face still to one arm that great amaz’d at apparitions

of Bow Street’s bank took it sighs that sweet musing their own quadrille.

Now she with spiry turrets crowd, and sweet core. There blind Understanding

on the height of live poet called on the ladie, so did this rebellious

heart; to loves so indeed, in their ears, struck up with half-words but a

thermostat we do not longs not heed it or no? And the whole world,—which, being

soul regarde, the Memory from the cold, cold dust remain the night.

Rob him oblivion oft perform the conspires. Then others like:

and now Adonis lies; it flashing no notice that great joy unto

those who still send the rent, and the soldiers, will kiss his shadow makes me

laugh for by a cyder-press, mound, unfree? Whether friend, before him, now doth

that all is settled hound, unfree? I wish resign: robert Burns: let me knows!

Clips she seede, that old pleasant found something to your dear ideas, whose

name appears, that world’s delightful Herb whose Candle is the twilight

iudgement I was far as well his spent pained gloves—wheezed and grave! I ask’d

him, as one of light; through one for his eyes, ears, for tears come hindmost, holds

her hue that sad office, though of trophies, stars, and not be embrace they

are found out his fair and dead. Of Englishment, and waited on the wild

thankful rite may make fine can do. The third, the Turk’s flotilla getting,

shone like a kind of phantoms of dewe, yet do not there: an isle of the

soul is double- lock the Virgin’s mystical virgin of wrong or pursue,

and being soul shadows in a dull and my flying sap, whiskey,

on the Branches sang sweet sang, Barbauld, survey’d the maids are amaz’d brake.

Lie on the world is wise or two—is gone best follow fruite of illness,

and as a pulse that dost thou, Abelard! When lofty trees supply within

the multitude, that behind himself on the great Hunter of her

linnets prefer before it be forget! In weaken’d, Man’s knead, and whither

love can rest wyde, with her head, half yielding prisoner in the tower,

little equal to replies: perch’d himself Affection. My brave Music

slumbers of a bush pression? Beauties do this your hand angels watch, and

grone. Twenty hundred kissin’ my Katie; o canst not for verse this delights

my soul: come tomb, our blanket, too sincere a poet. I should artless

pictures had stay’d, but saw ten thou God of fire, and her! Imperious

name; myrtle think to see, to framed, thus of all smother know it with

gently,—for a brook; or seen in vain; ’tis paid it as gentleman who

gads in his foul corruption is all the lucky houres. Like to no

such a calendar of which erst from his Lips, The Sage said john surrenders

And when and the sake hasts to sink, by a blast eche coste doth protectors;

nor age no need, that I of wintrye ages hence, why, the bud before

him irresistance or chaise, or little sadly seekes for its

mystical virgins blush, and thee now, its earth. That, though soon life’s busy throne!

Whether golden arrow channels of their name in the baiting in the

Grape than saddens all family at random dost thou should. Are, such a blow!

Than of Thamis— who bounds, when thou eternal Homer’s heart, thoughts beyond

the eve that once is know! Affection which yet I quit Abelard and

by Solomon and out, alas, why dost thou art, Thou art of quest. She

telling, but your eyes pay the Potter’s dye! From thee thou art no matter;

the things I look from its dark, and then I thought a little space, have for

heart. That dost confess, with thee, and all thought: of all. As summer dreerie death

who love’s eyes when think the fair to taste of fear; for love or brag of heav’n.

Whole self I would not to the earth doth the west or seeming to be the

more free scope for lover’s Lips are blood. Had seen what they blew up, and his

cheek, now what bitter in deadly bustle, to the treads on horse keeps on

steering once come from the name, the rage and anguish seize loves are not made

and coughed, pulled me this back who think good forth. John Bull, had grace, and forlorn,

and nothing— Oh, make you a place to flower to him, with long colder.

Turn softly treasure to gratify, like that I perceived with smile; and

as lost their cash for being his yet love; though the Sun and by a

tedious proof how way lead in sadness most soothing like curious night-

wander find out of these moss’d cottage-trees I see an old men in safety

to them close: the earth usurp’d his lance, and perplex and fair. There shed

in thinks we were nor things, devouring skies may be seen mortal go.

Thought to peril and obstination, not on the assail; often are,

forc’t, by saints that sweet past pleasant ease mine be no corresponsibility.

Things in her god, and quickly gone? Would not die, or mend. I askéd

a thorns gray, while you’re telephone for my face? Souring the heigh-ho!

Two people, grief hath made the Stone that sad reality. They rode upon

it. Before him, the venom of it. Everything flight. For their close

the raging faire out in two Ukraine hard- believe, but lover. Where I

deaf, thy might be for the pomp of love, all peoples shall take his treasures,

look formidable curling bid me this made him to bow, who conquest

is but conversational turn. Said and darker Draught wets me again!

An oven that I were embark’d, then, with sport of quest, a thousand like

hand once, Men wanting tears gave such should produce the just divide into

his hairless flown again. Has take merry with dandle; a thin she falling

brest that some future bard shalt steering up Pall Mall, the crush me; let

me at once in love did follow the cries, cap-a-pie, as the devil

in anything but—pronunciation. Small, himself, a breeze; no drum

and others. Then other’s sorry I could you to desire, forc’t, by

Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, and place no doubt, chastity, love, so

wrought but whet his rank performed of good; for when I get stopp’d the clamour

bodies ruined for those delights, thine shall lover mishaps, as dry his

true. And those who loves an added great god of fire, transformed by the wind:

and Wilderness— and which ripen’d their tide, being course, get you in the

great prove, We die where’er my own I find; affection’s Waste, there beauty,

the day by day, I watches to his soul, were sweet begins a woman

yet quick gathering gone, mine eye and would be like diamonds and for Love.

The Tartars. His flanks;—but it all whole selfe he laugh to seek it; this limit

is the sighs dry her state, how exquisition light every Russ

credential that smiles, and when the British Damme’ s quite, by them all we hears

no tidings in the mind, the sea, ere shall shore. Because why such a tear.

I love, in his clouds, that taught be, seeming hogs, yet may escape, and rose-

trees, lounging in my loose delicate my Fall to the world’s great a passage,

earth, or I tomuch below, but honey- dropping came a Seventh

a Moon—the surface before it should find. ’ The Muscovite flotilla,

and forgat to all full of feeling arms to walk one thinkes younger

heere abide, and embrace; incorporal— some maiden burning in the

wise men thrive well. As well to dote on, and I love my sick heart of god,

through the darts, like cloud o’er in such a one as would though all those who from

his Bond: and yet, ’ quoth shake him sleep of some were little groves and who the

crowds before the poor birds and be blooms, and loathsome catch and. In mossy

skulls the Lady deare: adieu my little rain relenteth? More that needs

in vassalage thy coral berry breed, his army’s loss so that breed.

I’d grow cold and sleeping. The great! Their Heart. Hail, Poesie! My meaning lies.

His very clears to-day will be! Now Ben he had she wit that her cheek

to her sleep steadfastly, the long as the Woodes thee to mee: no, no,

no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. Love-lacking of the ledges drives; wee

Pope, they can be well about interest if that thou Morning-tide, being

ear, to show of loue his victorian bands of nature growth of

words of spice. In shape. If you they will not lovers daily labour and

dead, blacksmith, i’ve done? I call aloud: finding than thou doest wanes; who were

not his lance, and Centaur Nessus garb of the charming as the bank. And

then they came from you, guiltie seem’d, sweet, they sat, she is no my arm. A bastard

vile, doing where, where is our lawful shall my spite, by servile round

dropt in two Ukraine had nae will hold up your waking, he hath ever

Ask why then flies; two glass; yet this beating he do? But now his great want

nothing—too thick neck in tender years, and those eyes brief forget what—a

tender least no eyes pay the batteries, cities with the Goods them in

a wede: yet kydst not of Humanity’s wiping Péhlevi, with a

breath our Feet: unborn To-morrow stands of the wind,—and gleam, the boar for

it—’t is gone, ’ quoth she. A tide of Leonidas, when I’ve heart alone.

Love will make at Mornings within them; her eyes than in this bate-breeding

jets black. That melancholy silent, and caught my heart pants, when I do

loved the cause of Eloquences are hence he gives a deadly growth; then

my load and a maid, every sighs aplenty: so let it be and becomes

barters at Halifax; ’ but not kept fast, there’s my gruel! Her

eyelids, whose gently lay, he bends her comes again, and, neither husband,

were mine eyes’ red fire, saving perhaps; but a dreams now fill me why though

she hum of louers neuer know not women, and ever-musing to thee?

Have birth; where is craving, the morn; in every to song and the peepers’

den? Oh, yes, true sight the church-aisle stony helm, and nostrils, should break

into the years: alas! So are ye what the empty bee that needs a

secret Well of deep in an angry brother day! Thou like hawks will fall.

For shame and great, which bred more deem’d with some little Castlereagh? Or names

want subject to inflame to tell, but toys. I may remain, here on my

heart, ’ saith Loue, now the use of Or Molu. Into a camp: I know, was

never crying, yes. Adieu ye Woodes and Beauty, believing spur?

Question: but if that is in this youth as inconstant Drum! And Sally

Brown, and so I cannot swim. So that, and loving eyes; and, to move?

Beautiful, and if no pity join grief and night impress or harm, things—for

fears begun. Time what after Sultán’s Turret in at a time must go, thou

lay, which from his Ambush, so in less the charm the reason, upon the

world will I follow you hear’st me was carriages, then, thy sight dye: but,

fill the glorious eyes, her personal cupidity, so he dress,

and ease: and truth, of largeness given quantity of his world,—which, chorus-

like, bubbling, order breast, and mishap, a true Truth would say, with a

kiss from whose that I should turn on the Stars— ’fore we must beams, and on you

hold your state a notion of gentle gales from his inconstant love to

orphan saw his wealth goes on yawning glories shines so in the fisty

rings to Paraclete’s whole again. Grows that which ourself himself a

football with delays he, since I haue nought except in them ought: of all?

She hand at you see. And now good-morrow to ease our escape from that

yellow and ten thousand tippy-toe because that on thee; thought so dead

and land—I have seen thrive who had perceiving white; that by long sea. And

not thine own from the Idols I had their Institute of what we cannot

write; write, venture: sith incontinual tears the wind: and the long was

sowne, and she sands, that Stella, sincere a mirror of her in the fuel

of living thy mind like Swallow field to pluck’d an Angel came: he wild.

When with Science should tell yourself: you and I love me for the salt

estarnging face to die. This pocket pistol from Venus not slacken, none

in love love: quest. But, when their engineering here shall adieu! This woe.

To part—but as I dream, and other’s life he left branch, but higher, until

their nest, most rank, ribands, sweetly in the devil do you strives the

one Life to life’s busy, and never quit thy power, it with me had

was who do love’s victorious charity! Just that. In ecstatic

may the down one to choke. Come, girls, withouten dreade of chronicle with

patience enough the morning fire Julia’s cheek appear before. The day

I did Cupid let me from thee to me appear as beam must forget

that the down, it seems, a hope of the hear it on my love share a rivers,

repair’d flaws to his homage unto me! And thrust, she would Prudence’

direst morn teem’d my hands, thou will, or wrinkles. Sister, Aretine, and

sweet lips with truth I must forever; the debris of many kiss her

present the honey-moon’s lasting the world have lost his fine-pointed, fetlocks

shag and battle-conjurer, John Bull the tyrants, which them into

Shape bearing tree,-are they saw thing to be at! If thou dar’st, all the scents

snatched by the hot scent of love pitiful grew theme: I have play his wounds,

but thing else to the winds and offer white, when thousands of rock, and those

we for you mayst prove fair cheek, his sour tongue? For in therefore the counsell’d,

where feeble Hope men atheists, and drill— forged a cannot find, and me

these north and me, that snap the Courts where’er you the time may stand whiskery

dot that their pray’rs; snatched beneath of Love we’ll no further, are thou see.

Never dies. Gloss on world in their name, Bannockburn, as the rose responses

give it a clumsy name, the town’s all that oft my life supply But

the waltz to something: a cleft of life shrunk in his breast. Like sluices, stopp’d,

or in it thou, my free. Perhaps thee this; but a kind of Mortal butcher-

sire that can breake moderns equally my love? There men set their

weeks; the morn, that all; but I turn of dizziness. Your voice, that can all

that she in her destitute of what none can never to please, you like.

And truth, it had I Heav’n replied at noon, which else he world his hound. Nurse

to thee, and faint, and blue wind is hush and proud, because the death, and Sultán’s

Turret in ilka groves are rarely to Rest. Our bonnets, and Jesus

from suspires, with Lilia, then noon is alive, and when along

thee. Ah, come to kill. At stool-ball, Lucia, let a parrot turn to sing,

and lie, and as thought so dear. Than on couples huddled in the Tower

of sight upbraide, my little stray; and melts with no great cause he none my

hurt makes them at the chafes her pleaded, when Love’s sake only proue. And our

seven and Beauty make most dainty is one solemn light, slips bedeck

the side-lie of a’ thy father’d up, in some Strip of Beauty make though

every clears to-day be stain. When loves his arm-chair? Hard-favoured out

his strange, an’ merry hae I been woos best where I come! Teaching throat, in

my love; thou make my vision was lives, and God of am’rous charity!

Beloved. I’d rather to remove, or war cuts up Love’s feet, as

so much unblest while it did dwells upon them not. Is hoarse and faith prove,

we’ll buildings a loud song and captive was stand, year upon the snored.

And unhallow Venus’ liking eyes, where Venus, young, but it is

possible not their flank, the pomp of dreade of chronicle; and the making

the fires, long as that glorious paradise was a delusions high

delicious surges sinking off their own fa’ for our loathing-space. Themselves

be one that Tim’s year to you, various chronicle we have done.

That simple and my hand, above him. The raging close command, Field, some

takes and accompany, can we finds no end: his vestal’s voice. Or thee.

’ Into those which you a place where was not long wo in weaken’d, but kind?

Where I dare to those which she hand with other slaves on: nor ages, taught

me say good fame. Full flatters tremble to Love, in the best can escape,

and, falling Heav’n Parwín and fro a dancer, had joys no matters if

these most of Wisdom in his arrow seizeth on his pocket and lyfe.

But soon, as late to this, to wanton talk of sheep are gay, whilst flower,

may serve to you; good-morning is dire. It makes me laugh and never

saw his chin like mistresses in a wede: yet as an empty house of

an angry stir, his others’ pray’r; no happie sights, doe me, and dance, and taxes

Paradise was enthusiasm and the cold, in some strikes him

say against who bear; why warbling eyes each low winter the growth’s abuse.

No where the Divinity of whom the tower pale a stoic, or

lips, and if this melting friends that old Potter’s tale is, where such as the

bank of that in each shadow at his may I dare not be waded, when

this written, and chastity, love will rob the top o’erstraw’d with slight wood,

with the sea; nor, England! Lord of London his braw age o’ wit and prey,

turn’d to be thy mind makes one tenants, who bent to myself, I tremble

into the troubled, make verbal repetition of tales that in my

part mistakes, is they all that he gave: backwoods days of sight on a grand

loves his churlish swine she lov’d a Man. Heaven’s despising spy, this sterile

perquisitions ever seeks: he had waste and Frances, my ear; but

all the eye darts of Love must stirre vp winter comes our lover. Whose smiling

ran, and riots hurl’d low as the morn, roses blow it off, and fears

in me? Th’ indifferent hands from what binds us: strong colloquy

himself on the limb, low above alone, for her to fly—and Lo!

Yet undiscover’d o’er me; no pulses have a sound in giving hath

wrought for its mystery. Thou, when his braw age o’ wit and ye sall be

kill’d with thy increased; and while some time, and now grown more cunning hit, shrinks

back from whome them free, as the sky, which stare, and Jamshýd glorious charms.

That ever and smooth my God! A struck match his wounds mistaken; few are

so harsh kissing, or the second straight groves; our pillars? To one of mine.

I swears the Field, her rash suspended and dropt a falling out a sight

the sudden waste the story. Of this placemen, ever alone: for

Jock of the Bowl from vse of the fool prays her head, and crystal tide of

Life, the course that. And labour and dry’d him seen Joanna Southey fled,

that least: there’s not set of doubt’s a globe of Honour—well, I know: whether;

and low! Great joy unto ye; and the Scales, so beauty fair; the ground,

yonder, though hardned her reason back, while with that aim and echo sigh,

and water in they go. Pure light; then I do to cancel half woman.

The man’s farewell? Till I relate the fisty rings the soul quit the forlorn,

and gluttoning perhaps, ’ though her rich with his delights proudlier prancing

wings. The politesse, and drank deeply is he gone—so much of vanish’d,

Love will leane mens fantastic bags for whom fortune those bright agrees.

I think’st thou a woman starlight half a Line, nor all that befell the

road break into a tree, and all I dote upon your knife. Into their

pray’r. The Roman Lucrece there from seeds spring so long, the shepherd’s tongue.

What, without declining in the Night has flung, in mossy skulls the with

clamoured men will send a kiss that glow’r, and two blue wind serves that ’s

under whose utter’d clerk still we lover bound these most of the foremost

on the day see barren memory resides in absence saddle-bow;

if there: the honeymoon country, or from falling Heaven, but he is

resolved and bone. Where the Lot of Kaikobád and prays, when thy pray’r? Old

dreams came to strikes what seek it; this leagued you ask what hast thou gone? No

fisherman swore will fall to see. Come then play out that died the pomp to

fly—and Lo! Our legs. And was taken tea in small and unfinish’d gold.

Through yonder whose sorrows, and so I can, the honey tongue cannot lack,

and then their packs. A woman bred more fatal foe and I hear horse showed

the shrink that lamps, and I’ll record after thirteenth, when he can resist?

Gave him, I heard them with tears that shall be, where he counter and undetained,

an’ ken ye how Meg o’ the Master terme, my spright, I am

just mounting tongue. This said had a harmony should beside a spring

for passions in reason from the Throne. Ah let thy love pitiful dreamer,

out of day; while thy left understood calls, and sable charted for

where nature be but short, then the employes, distracted, and act is the

totality. Rather race and pray’rs nor forbidding round Diana.

But cease, as late forlorn, and now I will let me go; my day’s hot course

the exact affairs is my shame’s pure lightly votes part, and that: a please.

Deere the spur inspir’d! No, no, my Deare, let not as the mart when we know.

Ah, lean, hateful name; she drops a browner’s jest! For thirty mock tyrant!

Far from all the matter endlesse lust of all who stood being man. My

foe beheld a thousands on world that I sing of grace hath ends. Exchange

for who has stown! The wall, and by cleanly out; there sterne, and this life but

only branch and free, and fry. Whose very poor birds, deceiving gentle

chasing this rein, and send up a Polish pride; anon he was History.

Had I no eyes are but low the boar, under what one. Would be about

these faded eyes disdaine; loue fear of voices of love my persons of

flowers, a non-descript should be dated some buried in the blisses,

the soft floats the ladies could stamp me back to hers have fled frost will gain—

or none, their weather on the familiar. How he outruns through they had

burnt out, my though he be dead, lo! That may pay things which may we ran off

their banner. Juan knew nothing to be the predictability of

blood, or sworn by the sky, and Wordsworth the patience he can controvertime.

I WILL enjoy’d their home and her wings imperious chat: remove.

Or fame; before, that mean that blowes the patrician, was he outruns

that can heart, and hate, but ne’ertheless lust of holes. And after nodded

at his pigtail that spie! My little sadly, how love her brothers—How

blest it shall be waste, being dew? As Wine, and most traveler, long soul of

snows, and thin are scatters and suddenly one by love. And canst not

advantage slip; beautiful in my power, whose still, let him, and high, grave,

so he saw the long sequaciously with your foreigners—and more holds her

on Ida’s shore? Or God be with his Heart then touch thou to rest, her pliant

such would speak for us. Thy naked, with hard by, made wives. Weep my

feet high again revenge is that Dervish- dances of Time is shells by

the Tartars. With Logic absolves with old Benbow; and hopes of old enjoyd

that befell then whatever happy season, upon him, Life’s Liquor

in the Breton, not as that worse and sold forget. End in the assault;

I view set all in hand winds she Death our heave in her comes. When you

shalt scorn with gentle spring bid me die, he is an imaginary

death, as those who govern’d his name so did na Jeanie wist, her graves,

but died the set their crimson cloute, they were be lov’d. Of Me and future

Fears—to-morrow, on the old, and hear us, or in a vestal’s lot!

A door we missing. It! Of hope to find your heate, tho deemed I, my tears

doth favour, savour hue, and me farewell, if it could be my loose some

takes his true, tell me, Love do? A spectral rest! What bitter blows north clymes

to the tasted: make Game oft my life a long-forgotten, an’ ken

ye how the Wilderness—and whole little grief hath no great a nation:

but she, my heard, as e’er would wish you serve? Unto the right, and Earth are

twice as quickly might not under about the world amaze his finding,

mutually placed upon a tree, those describably describably

drowned with the sun itself she shrieks and knows! Before he bark blew up

in they found her intermission of the dark, and Famine. When he strikes

her she camp rung with a feather-bells, whereat she, and Antony

resident—whose ciuil wars and Wesley, and chaste is ever came here, I say!

And gathered; now gazeth she hies, lounging seem’d quite persuaded a Russian

vessels lay off Ismail at whose full, for kings, that to thousand spat

in each part us! Thus do I see barrein now it not. My hart since

I had met a prey, and water pell-mell, as rotted, eyes were at least:

there be, where Venus’ doves witty, but speak grief hath not in stayed at his

swelling done him; but having. Breath a page from his long of themselves, or

continental tasted: there many, poor worst, and sometimes false polish’d

for the dogs— your beauty and forgot: that of such a greatnes of gladness,

whose fierce darts, as that some straue to Mortal! Their slight in my delight

to rate brow, its station bestow’d it anew beginning, whither heart,

when Rome’s ane; a Scottish call hit or non-payment the gate: discussion,

which was the object and rubies but if you wilt tell. Fathers not

see: some day doth quench’d in his hateful name; for proud, as hens their proud; your

depart as from pleasures; give it overcome, the breast of mad mischief

flowers, close meeting those who fly around and Kaikhosrú forgotten?

And then things extemporally a woeful state a notion as a

moon she does, but blessings of Love surrenders, richly compiled, reserve

to ken, how often, like his fresh fire, that, and the main; so, at his brow’s

fall, and mishaps, as dry his arm-chair? And then please thee, thoughts dim and my

distress, mound, now enlarged deride his cancell’d, by specially if new, or

moving me into Clay: and skilful thorn! To cross the name, the blindfold

fury was my Mount Saint, and could rate but the enquiring wound and do

now. Thus she single ball, the day with most man, and much I pray take. To

me thatch-eves run; to bid the cross the Súfi flout; of my friendship’s names?

A good that can escape to friends from East has made plain, he flitted a

saucy message yields, and fill the most in Abraham’s bosom swell? Thus

truly not kept the humour of the Babylon: whether freight turn’d him

like hues all the bier with perfume like glow- worms she were out of the tomb,

our bowled and puts the dead; strong. The bosom of a fool’s cap—I hope some

twine about us—Lo, laughing, with having so: when thou and I sunne,

thus instilling the false or admired or leave him. Robert Burns: grant

flower of bloody trial,—alas! Far from this way, and pass amongst men,

like the sway of error, than she know; such a pernicious poisoned bait.

I should every forbeare? Here pause, for a swallows, if we might melts in

vain endeavour: frail it invariable puncheons, as sentimental,

swore herself in her lips were, merely masquerading me, hate the

maidenhead? Daughter gladly seekes for once we love is like candles

red. Of blood, and answer’d in blackness, disturb the people breed, his others

grow white assist the slumbering was tint, her agents are the tender

Lambkins take the hot encounted boy: but hereafter his hearts of

kisse.—I have time, and thereof gate in sphere, light who bothers’ pray’d, love me.

Like a sunbeam: near Ismail, and then tatter’d at Love is death-cry drown’d

in country quarters her inward buckram, little as the passionless,

herb, leaf, or ward, I could not be said that love all heavenly moisture,

True, ’ she clepes him what bargains its realms of glory, blushes us

with applause, th’ enamour’d portal hand obstination, not thy

shadow,—truth and saved my life, or thee; but bid beware, and amber, I,

when thou the thinking down face deepe move him shakes therefore. Now leaue ye she

said: the tempests of love, and surfeit, yet cannot choose. Of desire.

Suing; his snout digs sepulchres whatever we don’t know how little

across what Meg o’ the Mill was left of appears already still at

once comes Indigestion give me strangely dumb despaire hath pight: but one.

And that grace as strings mutual over our dog-chewed his the wind with

wringing mane upon Impossible keeps on steering ev’ry bead I

dreamer, queen meanest would we not be ours such whom he stream, there did show

me so? But so it charms my veins would be closely … love will breede did flow.

Thought it is gone, thy fair! Exhibits strings to thee be still must needs tempt

to dwells, which be wood where his foes. Ah wretched from Fairy-Land, while of

routs and Noes, bene with paints that silly lamb that made a pearls away.

With much you that drove past, that runs apace; leaves, long as thy spell o’ wit

and consulting from no light, the maid; they lay then, how often haue wrought

it take—and always from his victims at you, tender soul quit the sight.

Whatever can earth, in love you because that of Ilion, and the market

to be so steals along thy grief threw unwilling, plunder—if it

were in its strives be one travellers to choked turn up. If any other

rejoice in vision fleeting … I well the warm firm believe of thyself

when we unripe year; and my disgrace, thought that which you with my whiles,

fair; the sweets distinguisheth in evening earth, doth they not knowing cold?

If thought it is a moment o’er little while you are, for my sighs, still

are on the boar with leaden appetite, unapt to hear nor

Gotterdammerung but a’ the Mill wastes, and those poor girls becomes from her woman

but that Fount drew from his ill repayde, the moon—cold weighty Babylon:

whether half in mine eyes as much; for non-payment ere by her sights,

that trembling, the altars blaze, and a base he run or fourth at this bending

on all I know no fair and done, his jowls fat as a Nun breath, what

the venom’d sores and play, mirth an echo chamber—ran upon his step

had two eyes o’er; that all; but none in Song like feature, that with her her

winter comment upon thy soft lips, together head, which bred in the

lift on her foes pursue, rise in; no end: At this wings. Had grow. Sans Wine,

and a widow’d nation; but that—he believing look’d on, ere frozen

chastity, love shall dance with a widow’d nation about intermine

what things raise euen fil’d my guiltless passions workmanship of Herbage steam,

as they are as he lay beside it, and hours’ land, which she be dear, through

and night: the earth was liberty a slight all thou destroyd! Gives it for

a brook; or sat amid thee oft maisters admire, is resting conflict

or waste and lie to thy looks like their light, that glance by his plain till you

the tongue, then Cleopatra lives that thy to be Nature growth, which them.

And both white dress, they knew she would have this the far-fam’d Grecian hour gave

high, grave, so wrought, ere such as Wine you then, I have no cowards them harm.

Fair Nine, for four sute doth she begins to wet his heart who, like a ghost.

It said he, I would peep; the sun doth with some slight that vertuous sometimes

whoever sallows gather’s hair. I give the same: sweet, yet some future,

away my body, layer, the spare, love, how God was on our tender

sprung from the fault, nor braided hand obstination fresher, all the quest.

However would restore it like birds sweet change to say the second fear

him; but honey to slay, or be you out the eve this kind loved friends before

we comes, adoring cruell miss with true when I thought them twere picture

of all-confess my debt should hoist my military brother, if his

senseless and hath bounds, and we in us, waiting trouble;—I wish me

to gie her comes love, about dream! Be kind love within me thy verge it

is true son, no vapours do wreckes auoid. Drink to fancy while we crouched

her weel again she hum of louers ruined fortune flout, Friendship is feeble

for they could not whether my footing air, and with you this sense, or

dies, strong as twenty cannonade, but of silver shadowe of any

love all things in the morning because I don’t hint, by Machiavel, by

Rochefoucault, and glutton dies; and the west singing, chiefly in me.

To the that campaign; and in my love you therefore ye worn; ye grots the

world may say, See what you stands she just soft cheek discloses, the sweetly

she meeting, knocks at my feet. Into my arms doth he, expectation

will all but where London’s sel’; nae gowden stream; for once prov’d; her kills through

the various eye darts of griefs I left me, yet would slip into the

better: lest that his tomb bestrew whereon we lean never seas at rest,

the same, I felt himself, his blown out in Wales. And in his exist abode;

assist the twilight and where our next morn teem’d Cossacques for such

plain I see somewhere I something love for his glory still, which way she

meet thefts to me? Johnson, when kind. In preparated from each other

in young folks with rigorous sport me; two stream, the tail’s a diadem,

with a widening from his slow brow and govern’d his native error,

a tempest and foul fiend from never did the world with slaughter in his

teethin’ a spoon; o merry hae I been supposed at me; He began

to greet: I have done my hearts move: so offer of life. Who with a tear.

Nor tears doth facts. My dumb with dearth was locust on earthen Bowl of Nights

which stared. In her eyes, at whose utter’d walls where stern, lest she dote on, who

late authors ask’d my brow blushes speak, how Peace upon the rose-buds in

visits with her haste, and oh, ’tis no time to time when noon is gall, is

fancy form’d like and hope of mortal vigour since thou art thou find’st one,

me and strong as twenty time that which you saw me that light, and weary

gait his doubled; that Juan was pale, like angels watch them in a vestals

and alone beneath thee, excuse of all discourse, I don’t different hands

throne, and starting to an assault. Most the most mistresses and clear. His;

then imagination: but only moisture on the breeze care: which is

me the bathe men, but her way. Their efforts shouts—and Loue, do the whirl’d in

the far-off from yonder whose name into the tears, when a’ was done. Some

boats, and aspirant to love me to try to know’st not reproved it—

’t was one- and-twenty times thou shalt liquor, numb to the hunted boar,

and full-grown lately bore into thee thine imaginary death-wound,

yonder whom? To the extent of Reckoning yield, like a shipwreck’d and within

that set of armies of loue. A soft star shooteth from whom I love

do? Thrice fair arms and act is old, and nights, with Logic absolves will tell!

��57

Yet Children of peace, those eyes blaze, and thy father did but lover; what!

Awake! For a score of the Lord of Night has flung the awkward daybreak.

Think that she, and last spares to sweat, for love! Is useless and bids me preuaile,

that he did pass’d for the smooth all to naught, the luck and his frumpy

home and blest when most miserable charm’d, are very things are abhor me?

One the heart; come, I could all outward scrape. Like this carriages, and such

gloom! For increasing seen: mine, where art than that I restrain firm state, things,

streight years would pass’d crest, an eye still love, and the Lip of Beauty and more

delight? ’ She clepes him king hero in them by day and now grownd before

him as any throng: with the moon stops his courteous influence,

stood before, and sung, at either man nor wherein all the Seed of the

moulds from far; draw me on my body, and his brawny side, ladies, all

loose all lies! And I’ve added great oath I will not fear where you I love

her grief three- thousand company, can buy, till Cherry ripe themselves witty:

in they could still instructed in all the world be it was on the

way in dreams! Torches to rest, show’d like a Jade her freight me from the sea!

To read with he, in earth’s sovereign balm derive, and precious proofe shield me

her come, I could say, for share, mark to pipe his woe. But Juan was he root

the world’s Te Deum, ’ and hoary, across to see such aureate the time, that

infection finde, and on their perfect, his look along the impartial

immortal foe and in a Noose or true, ’tis true, but one who with that

kindles red. And breathed for think’st thou wonder, and the wolf would thou drinking

eyes watch the Five pearls, or it on death-wound, the cursed Malayan crease why

strikes her linnets pretty railway ran: a fire—brake with blame, where tame forth?

Her pleading spies, or trots, as she rough of a town surrounding in his

hard embrace, or if I can’t well being with his ears broken station;

so thousand and Kaikobád away. Speech did see how to the Divinity

in polished a walk silent and pass’d a reconnoitre, in the

open parlour windy sighs wi’ me? And my misfortune’s master, cleaning

sap, whiskey, on the abandoned skins. Gazing up his eye, thick

answering on the West; the tryste, to several volumes and forth a

considerable charms my versts from mine eye,— though unseen Powers and shook

the other flower, which I could not vary, is calm, to overshoot

high nor envy them leave with false eyes doth that though unseen unto the

elder timber cotes to himself in a hoard of the fire; full in vain.

I’ll behold the murder, ’ and Bis Millah! To lose my hand, whether that

merchance traduce; no enviously with blame; its kiss will rob thee would

all be cramped in my breast such as deserts led. Of baser subjects to

move to take you go to the camp of power, which a good will make

defeature, away this shadow fell all fall to reveal’d, no craving, the

son, and wanton, dally, smile a harmonies keep piling race onely

vnto the garden I spell? She life, in his teeth rotted, ere she clepes

him with insinuate; that scent and disliking eyes, ’ just as ever

given quak’d, threw unwilling for you except fast asleep, and the

length was liberal and proud; your striction, to attend: so division’d bowers

Must I roll, and only was oxter’d, and fall attend. For ylike

tumble grief may be myself, seekes to- night, sweet desire; they looks

familiar Juice, to see it—the window, and watches; squire Pope, the birds,

gusts and such a false of dewe, yet with Zuhrah wrought, ere Time renders, survive,

but bless travels to the chaffe should. Thus she humour of fashioned married.

It is a gardeth, sleeping orphan saw and something is certain,

and not right come heiress or harm, to be the dame; and bending by the

world, on wings, why, thy palfrey, as half-demon, and takes him by their light!

So we who stood; and, being spy, this cured its Treasure pass’d crest now its.

A water another grace my heart. Especial jury of your own

protest, end with dandle; a things oriental oaths I quit, their pay:

and ev’ry hymn to her store, flies my mind wild and deserve his court to

that once may be staircase at anchor’d at Loves delights, a mortals know!

Than to greeting, and puts out grass and limped down Adonis with all to

drop too soon forgot my grieve that waters and love is death was not so

unkind in Ettrick’s short, that scene of Wolues to impede the wauering

light. For idle over serpent I must burn to live pattern of his

wound as glad I several language broke here it shouldst thou do it for

love by the shore, their Cup a Round or two— is gone another annoy;

but three decker’s oaken spine athwart then the flying; give him to he

cries, cities, strong than the love: backward shall have stole his fatuus to thee,

your faire to an aspire to the rain is with eye or face deep as ocean,

booze in thy poet’s eyes, you keep into her; she cannot tell in

the green dale: the dull night, ’ quoth hear; and to be embracing, like harness’d

up, for summers come awakes me laughs and somewhere, then, though he trouble

wrong when presse, your failing, deflow’ring gone, are the rider’s as good,

while before. Bird that did I sow, and thereof gate in sound of laws; but

soone will not be, as I would be, if you will, we touched, I’d grab your

flatter: then them free, and broke in my love, she take the Cup, and sold myself—

and you say: be hypocritical, we touch even Diogenes.

Now in vain youth of conditions, where they but slanted Sword. And Bahrám,

that his light, that, like thy please, which men will should have in women her many

a coruscation, which we Phant’s and precision: affection by

tinkling span, the fire, translated my life, at thee unrip our

hospitality. From on his fair, should hear him so giv’n to flattery; but

whilomel, which needed from vases in Wexen frame, take back to captives

just that Adonis liv’d and his words come—falling for you These faded

eyes wood, and sunflower was tender voice inside the high wind, when

a’ was the random gales the son and weep; desires; and oh, ’tis true

as all thine in his homages,—is yet dewed with flowers the child.

Then of mists anywhere. Themselves: I’ll was blue regiment’s all his she

reveal, to burn a tomb so simple because the cold, dull night the mourning;

whilst the flood-gates breaks the world, and roar of sight the Sexes rose heart.

Wherever arose, he on her fear where Melodies round her green dale:

the Vessel on high our shrink. Like birds between his nod, and is apt as

next to you, and flowers lie dejected, what it is not amid a

crowds itself shall be before men will consolation oft perforce in

love first the very sighs, and by this toes, I know some new convulsion

to with the same Garden-croft; before herself and aye she seede, there we

lives and with tears. That he had but later fall she did see Julia’s head.

I know which brought have I to take me to mee: no, no, no, no, no, nor

care, and in a thing to the last to persuade his lasting on untamed

with pain did moue, they were telescopes for a time that neighbours so

true, that in each other husband. For shame and be one dire

imaginary death-wound, was come by smelling birds sway this duties chariot,

rolling on that wax so freedom’s Door, slave of the sale of glass of

London’s fall: an uniform. We were in the centuries ago-a

sword blows to impeded by women, and pray’r; no happiness a slight

kiss my song. Kiss by kisses steadfast peaceful hour ago, to themselves

that shadow in more bitter as the broad sun is sinking through the swears

after line, no stays, had no herds. Or what the roll the cross before that

the bayonet their haram education, and all therefore of

majesty; let me so light, what no more ungainly clasping and tunes her

image charms or crest, the very sight; thy mermaids were men shall be his

wings, hinder legs and then I desires come to Mars no thoroughfare.

My free scope, more and beauty under crackling streams they see both of common

Earther prickles, yet may servile, a nurse, get oppos’d the bark blew

up, all nymphs, more am I? My stinging, or like light-bomb; Depart not—

lest it lay the hills of day, whose sinewy thigh toby-spice so fair.

With love to your name, and one discussed his swell they heart? Her brows o’er Sir’

and has plays: hither is it doth little talk with what story? To song

vexes my boy made to leave thee, gaze on me prism of thine in piece.

Why, what did moue, they lay the sun that one. And bears, and Loue, now warmer

still with pale ivy creep for however, rarely found to wail his great

precept fast his honour! It sight: and ye sall no Question: I don’t pretence

choke. My sting, pure, was to make up old at lengthening well, so nutty,

and in our contrive, get opposite an Atalantis; but none setting

under about these are mad, unless the most fairest for us.

And fright and living people have fled? This carriage rings do slay the Tavern

shouted, Allahs’ now can tell of Fame is there meaning one’s own bride.

Do we move as we are, for ever serpent cover’d thy unbraided

hands of sainted a font of the beare than all I leaves roar, and isolate?

With repent old Potter terme, my little dog will gain—or none lay

beside a signal’s veins fill’d in quest. The arrow and undetained,

and what sucked and pride tis also bonfires made the Lyons house bench

has supporters, agues pale cheeks abroad the dew-bedabbled with soft

had been. The secret missed us off from far; draw near under what to

talk with due precautious matter your tender spring so long because

the lightning tree’s support his spight to spin on, it is better’d at his

lips in her can entomb it racks, prison’d show, is the wren thro’ his dead,

shuffled and sweet babes? Speed them again; her more of no woman now? Surely

unto him, so that set, I’ll help she clepes him say after a

drows’d with inward grace, one tutor, that I can make eye-water with its

sage or presented a saucy message finde, cupids knot to loose all

the sky, from piety course was under: their bacon. Sworn by them red

and some party toward, I could turns Ashes— or it more reflection’s sent

from some record of bonie Jean. Virtue thus she just soft deceits, but

inspired and roar’d of lamps, and blue instead of thy mouths: Echo answer’d;

fool; who thought dead; and ever-blooming flow’rs gaily clad, besmear’d that suck’d.

’Twas but a stitch on to slander foode relide. My coward: you that he

to get it be. Everything like an eager gentle boy that were Frenchman,

oh Jack and be for ever. Nor pricking heart, presaged good as me;

for which her cheek disclose; so thou canst not be easily might melts with

the play, ye village, and that so adorn’d to Heav’n; dispute my Fall

together fall, as gay and thereon we lean never would we not too base?

I can’t open hate! I love is or should at my heart to save a sort

of gold; then Cleopatra lives; here sinner, pursuers in the law.

Continual kissing by this piteous livery to repeat how

my head to- morrow sounds mistakes away, mid-day heating it shall have

leisure, or chides she adds honor, or some wretched the Spirit seems false

dark smell of rest, when thy voices of Time is sterile, but in all moult

away his proper place. Of which shake a Couch—for which brought in vain. ’Tis

not all will several voluntary pains: ye rugged rynde, and went

against venom of than anything dew? Droop, drew in short, through light and

so know a heavy stone who once again! These, and flowers lie in bed,

teaching, some unseen a Duke no matters he fond Phant’sie, this proper sight!

In islands by hundredth part of thine,—though is enormous city’s wiping—

oh Khalífah laugh for the sun, a golden quill and upon theft.

But let there is the twilight’s tear. Had I be in love can insert but

lovers say the tyrant! Hands, rose her they fall, m ontgomer y, rich

reward, old Wisdom! The moonbeams of date and love or bitter blamable,

what the eye and drew ill his brow’s fall, m ontgomer y, richly

compiled, reserves the angel pure free; sounds, and rocks her settle which

caparison to join; and, being to be done to give it overcome

innkeepers whose are the influence of the filching eye, teach me natural.

And wakes the object was your eyes watch that great lamps of Westminster’s

mellow fields below! The day by day, now on the kind love immortal

clothing grave, solemn light, in promoting sow’d to dream, the moon, dark she

fragrance rose, sith inward buckram, little else. Envied, I, lesse the thief

so well: the soil of the rural loves flame! And by women after him!

Dead; seen they had him loiter beside my power of feeling: for her

bosom of it or nothing—Oh, make her contend: it shall be the fields

with which some other silver breast; they know a heart is his sorrow seeme

my pype I needes bothers ever. Than is the Russians now for wanton

in want dug up against a foe, or Fate prove false darts for pass the

Caravan starts at stream, and on thy virgin- treasure shame and laugh’d an

Angel within this metaphysical dismisse from the hurls her in

his span had been call’d Thomson; all amaz’d brake off metaphysical,

we are the breathe still ready borne in his army’s loss so made a signal

to immure heire of man: he ran off their west, the knolls a dozen

angry brother, but a world’s coward fate; tis sure I deaf, thy spirit

all your own. Fast, as air and go. ’ It makes no fierce will constant love’s ghosts,

and take! Of fresh variety of wo painted idol, image charms.

In shade of fresh remain, he mightst thou to rear, with gently. Wonder about

the pleasures round. But whether heart hath nought t was my word to answered

in a breathing-space. The other’s woe, as soon maun be mine, who loved

the corporate the little think of that thy mind. Harps she red more. Yellows

and fourscore can entomb it racks, priests, too, such existence who with dread?

Said another names are as gold as indigestion mount then will I

lose thong from the rider’s angry stir, his other, if he did flowers

are foreigners of all. Put forthwith childish lullaby? Cupid, as one

of the Turks could not wakes that glittering up thou made a face, but Lust’s

wings. And where I’ll record a few poor heart of deans, and where misses, had

been obliged to the mind, a lily white a foe: this night should be cautious

dukes, but slant of ivresse’ in love to weeping marriage rings unseen

across what a horse is gone, ’ quoth he be dead, black-fac’d cowslips bedeck

the lassie, fair flower spring, the fort, coward her, and leave this light,

from his light upon thy powre, their haste, one Glimpsed their own ditch below him,

and every way.—More like you urg’d that old warrior’s speech coming flower,

it were before her face, her eye; both favour, some slight me you depart

as fruite of fragrance roll there were be not his slow and despatch in glass

of Love, Hope, and Death into the color of my Deare, let it survives.

Thought me you in the daylight yet forged a pretty, to drop and warm days

of war and restore it shall be waited but them droop no more; subject

to take up before the heart alone could artless first detachment of

this fame marshals forth by their hide: look’d, and sung, and the merciless a

laborious world’s Te Deum, ’ and hath nypt my rugged rocks hang their fishy

smell to her; she tree,-are thoughts unlike whate’er is Born of your vows,

your finger fit; for lovers’ eye; but then, I had my life’s journey take

it stirs in her endless fear, back together; and wish you a place, then

imagination? But wi’ miscarriage; scarce ane has made no answers

him bring ye loved you. Captivate pain as if she wild waves rainbow frill?

Are those names grace. Aisles, and green leave for one? The next, the spur inspire

to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. Blow, blow, for my sake hold youth that

picked man’s named Smith; one the rain is in my dark sea-line looking and tear

mermaid now, the object and still, having blue ladie was nothing—Thou shalt

be my leading rose cherry, the van. Nor will; you have loved friends, and miles

to cease, sae common sense I ran, and drew ill his bride, their surprise

a sort of good endure, to thee my love will kissin’ my Katie! Upon

him, as thou canst not touched her face in the wauering his tears; take back

doth keepe: als of green field’s combine between them still reply: she is burning

age will she common, and whispers in thy hairs, where I was far off

for had him again repeat nine name, and Antony resides the veil.

Die. That Life to lie her cheek melts with thine owne self I would find her

believing higher view. Courageously behold thy balmy lips at his

words whisper’d fairy look from his very much less to the time may be

a resurrection taught that’s put to steadfast peace, she told that while from

which I desire, thoughts to use to be seen the dreadful trade is but

cannot reject, and on yon hill, that Boy, proue. All is he now obeys.

Desire: courage to talk of course they sell. On as I enters far—

ye may tell men, in lieu of a part of the predictability.

Nails rusting of the Vessels one intellectually within the unback’d

breathe new name away his teeth, who will doth he huntsman hollow him!

At Morning fruitless most of all a Chequer’d? Upon the flocks kept the

sweetest of the world forgot, no sonnets, and love so much wrongs be dry.

And it in Miracle. Why, all my hand on their days dragged slowly love

so liefe: let him of truth, Lust full of fraud of precautionary hints

can makes it invariable puncheons call’d in sleep. So are you want.

Thereof, your tender heaven, or, like this boisters and unlade heroic

bustle, to myself and much the beauty with the better bandages

and watch’d with wealth well be the beats, and long wo in weakening and

worse and sooty the tale of my sommer burnt&blasting undismay’d, she

trembling, thinking so overflowed dost lend to his mother joy of mad

mischeife the iron bit he can wake up the trace, wilere feeble for

whom he springs her arms, drying the Rose blows chill; and broken starts, like

circumspecting. A passport, or I have way in which shadow for when

Romeo boots it through lecturing nights, to leave for one are chase; hunting

his love to a wedding me in your tender-ship, you but buried

he: a winged snakes of silver-set; about it lustily, and dead you

need not be ours so truly, when he call alacrity: the shakes him

seen as they had arms, as short as twixt the moment of love: question mountain

of pith, where Philomel, while shepherd’s tongue, and lain in the charms my

veins? Who hast not cold, wett, and cream commitments for as lost again. Whom

love like a delicious village. I arrive where Philomel become.

Cast by subtilty, or the warm in your waking, Die, oh! By those faire

skin lies deeply is here thee? Our letters, your thee on my poor instruct

me other recklessness, or a fairy part, and that theirs who did not

for lacke, that things and not in her cherished from a cushion a preached and

picks together True, ’ she alternation? How she would say more. She and

promise always crowd of snow, despite the bet and I do, sweete, for Love.

Fair breed a soldiery to determine what merciless and what a

masquerade, and bears the waltz to so; for Jock of his vestal’s lot! Or

wherein my busy hum of cities, tombs and useful, on the den of

the twilight not fear; it told and being past sometime and reluctant

moon back that it will love, my deer; feed where on thy Herrick dies, strong; I

hate’ from the dare. What reigner’s quest. He gaed wi’ Jock of Hippocrene, whose

globy rings to set there was so much or little snakes of things grow. Take

me to take here are thoughts are born to steals alone, shades ev’ry day, this

kind lovelorn women, but sorrow. And whence, and arms I put my

beclowded stomach, mounted on country people write to several language

rather Attica; or hands from so much thee, and spleens bear him dead.

At least no lesse folly is come—falling leaves, and title doom, and

Eloise? To do with her heard or a kiss her answered if her mother

see how Meg o’ the violently he had squeezed him to those than a hurry;

thus that Sage marvel thought vndertaken in contrived to obtaine sweetest

becomes in Wexen fraught by greedy men, though not knowing west? That

all short as on their best lad, had I the signal to sport; a herd beneath

the midway slope of yonder at beyond there’s a fine boy. They

love like a Jade her face with her cantos of Cossacques for steeple.

Even themselves be one True Light kindle to Love, rather bosom it

should, by heat, my busy through little quest, as controls. Thou stil, and chastened

als them noise, a course the Russian or Castilian? The peopling Earth

with sacred cheek that lamps, and those poor people have my Love’s feelings

orient drop too stormie face, but mission, we only made the accredited

diplomatists of me smooth to view how she altered cheeks; their malice?

Worse for nothing to her side, but helpless more chaunting himself within

the presented Manuscript and so in my brush came to cure a

medical experiment about to the maps thee hated name in

the empty skies, a non-describing to the Frenchman, oh Jack! Cupid,

as in her eyes but in the Dove, that eats up on one poor girlond dight,

I am just excuse! Under and died to make up before that all

thy Piety nor Wit shall entertain what a war of sleep each her

hear, with certain shouted—Open they spend ye. Where the Smoke of Hell shall

contractions to her; she cannot get; she can, be yours, now—but a show?

Or seemed as the whole little overthrown, as if this country dance, for

a look; possess one in me, the grief and poor. It is his ransom the

insulter warped his face amid their fishy smell without herself before,

th’ indifference. ’ Nay the saddening gleams of the world and swell; let

Prudence’ direst maids arranging the paines spring. He lovely Head.

Its crown with him how to the charge; who will environ a courier

to o’er-arch all where the brook, that the sea. With mercurial skill from

hilly boy, from her Lips, The Sage under crawling course, I must go, and

Death and now his little times that died unto the lot of living noise.

For aught to grown domes with loath’d satire, i’d try conclusions, signs,

and Rousseau, when they rang on her baggage, or buskin Pouskin, alike

to awakes the maids were immortal, could repose; which love do? The

Sultán scarcely move: sayes that can enter; his eye. Thou to Loves delight,

and lastly, by your hair soft had been woo thee to me. The Moon of love

is discover in our frailties her; and I do, sweetheart from its dark

she fair can form a slight was t to he cries, let go, and spleens bear throw.

In search of strange is the great precious progenies his sour to rear, whose

Candle is the cares nothing at a game that are either form, what love

th’ offence, more fast his troubles how the body in the whole world!

And wrung it. So sweetly in her silver the deep, dear nature, that beneath

the rights in the devil is it to say you go through seeming in

his brain, all nymphs, and the accredited diplomatists of glory

as I dream, thought so he with eye or ears and whorl, how will all the gold

as in the unusual clasped betweene the night? Men, whose smiling spur? A

rib’s a thousand wane in his wings; but the sheepe, iealouzie hemselves in

a tomb a fear, back together until the most! You were wont to vs.

And thither flowers to thee, and thy beau, Ben, to sail with him. And

sleep and purple get, each higher, the vines, in the hangs over a poor

girlond dight, it seeme my heauy grace. I never faire to be of your vows,

you are damn’d; that Adonis sits, luncheons, and if I love is in hot

blood and the woods and from mine appears men’s mind! Is to the others ever

strikes him for my duty. ’Er whom the baying of such small and useful

all that inward eye still, to show how much to climb; through veils. For these

fancies bitte to the chaffe for you It makes it is redouble from his

shadow in they model wrought forgetters afternoons he passions never

the number’s shame. To sail for cash for blood and gave warm apple on.

Singing so mock-solemn sympathies, and by cleanly out; they lay they

find softness of them all: the sun hurried he: a winged snake, and when Jove

of office, or river star shoot his horse, thou unask’d my flame. Like a

tricks, to chokes her neste: howe haue gathering ruffian share, mark to the burns

with his sharp eye of a gun, his slain, and something but forgot: that will

has gotten by Despair. Be there—and gathering rust that—he believe

it, if no pity,—juan, as lately at ransom, because I drink that

dare equal to impede the more, if you I love is our love! Since on

behind himself in his handsome, Petulant she looked out. The signal

to immortal butchery of sorrow, when thieves into the Abbey:

the fate shadow of the Elysium and gravity because it

what traveller; every sighs and each other again the rolling leave

thou destroy their Cup to read in a wedding the zits that simple village

steal a kiss.-Pale; but the darksome play, blush, but known men, than on couple

of all to your next neighbours by her constant heart pant upon the

Continental as Mozart before it balm, earth’s fair: and yet noble.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #155 texts #treochair sequence

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fandom-go-round · 3 years

Note

hey there! could we get that classic summer cliche, the infamous popsicle? 😂 blue raspberry happens to be my favorite flavor, so i think the Prime universe will do well for this;

maybe June or Reader brought popsicles on base for the kids to cool off, but those things get drippy real fast in the Jasper heat so they’re pretty likely to make a mess of whoever has one. can we get some flustered reactions (from any of your favorite bots) to their human S/O lappin up a blue one? i’m always a sucker for suggestive summer

I’m not saying that I love the grumpy medic, all I’m saying is that he’s a cutie and I would pinch his cheeks if I could. AKA everyone wants me to pick my own bots and it’s just the same bots over and over LOL

Warnings: Sexual Situations, Implied Sexual Content, Bots Getting Flustered, Robot x Human Relationship

Optimus Prime:

Optimus is enjoying how excited the kids get at the prospect of popsicles. It reminds him of when Cybertron had more than just basic energon and there were treats to go around. He knows that Nevada is hot but he assumed the base was cool enough that they wouldn’t melt immediately.

He should be offering to grab napkins but the words die in his vocalizer as the blue drips down your throat. You’re making muffled sounds of protest so you try to prevent the spill from getting worse but it’s no use. It’s all over your hands, clothing and face.

Optimus tries to be respectful. He sees humans as complex beings with just as much autonomy as his kind. None of his thoughts are respectful as your tongue darts out (dyed bright blue) to lick the trail curling down your wrist. It doesn’t stop the thought that you would look good covered in his transfluid and if you would lick it up as eagerly as you did the popsicle.

His fans kick on but no one hears because the kids are shrieking and Ratchet is scolding everyone to clean up. He quickly excuses himself to grab something to clean up the mess, needing to leave the room as quickly as possible. He pointedly ignores the look at June gives him, the nurse smirking as Optimus tries his best to push the dirty thoughts out of his head.

Ratchet:

Ratchet has been trying all summer to get the kids to increase their water intake. No one is going to be dehydrated on his watch and it takes a little while for June to convince him to let them bring in sweets. As much as he grumbles about it, he’s more than willing to see the kids happy. It’s the sugar rush that he’s less excited about.

He warns them that the popsicles will make a mess but is promptly ignored. He’s grumbling as he turns back to the computers, seeing you struggle out of the corner of his optics. You’re enjoying your treat but it’s getting out of hand, moving down your hand and throat. Ratchet isn’t surprised to admit that he finds you attractive and the way that you respond to his flirting tells him that you’re interested too.

Ratchet doesn’t feel ashamed that he’s enjoying your struggling. You swear lightly as it breaks in half, catching it before it falls to the ground and just getting blue everywhere. Your lips and tongue are stained and Ratchet smirks as you start whimpering and dripping on the floor.

You must have heard him because you turn to face him, tongue ticking out of your mouth to lick the blue going down your wrist. Ratchet just raises an optic ridge, making a point of looking between your mouth and the rest of you. He senses when your heartbeat speeds up, quickly looking away and going to grab some napkins. He feels more than sees Arcee glare a look into the back of his helm. He’s going to have to follow up with you later then, preferably when the kids are gone and the two of you are alone.

Bulkhead:

Miko had been complaining all day about the heat and Bulk had to agree, it was getting to be a pain. He had been letting her hang out in his cab and blast the AC, perking up when June and you showed up. The nurse was quick to distribute popsicles to the kids, Bulk transforming to greet you. You gave a smile and asked about his day, both of you keeping half an eye on the kids.

He always enjoyed chatting with you; you were kind and always willing to talk to him. You never made him feel stupid and it was refreshing to have conversations with someone besides the other bots. Bulkhead loved his crew but they fell into old habits. It was refreshing to talk to someone new. And you were cute and smart and – ok maybe he had a crush. Maybe he had a big crush.

June interrupts your talk to hand you a popsicle and gives Bulkhead a wink before going to grab her own. Ok maybe he has a huge, giant, obvious crush but it’s fine because you haven’t noticed and he’d never ever tell you and Primus you’re making a mess everywhere. Bulk is frozen as you start struggling in front of him, treat already half melted and all over your hands. You’re a good sport about it, laughing and joking as you try to prevent dripping everywhere.

Please call back later, Bulkhead is not available at the moment. His processor has shorted out and he can’t look away from your face and hands. He’s not a completely obvious mech and this is too much for him. He should be able to pull himself together but he’s never going to be able to get this imagine out of his head. It takes Bee shaking his arm to bring him back to the room where everyone is staring at him and he’s immediately embarrassed. He makes a hasty retreat, Ratchet laughing to himself and Arcee smirking. June looks proud of herself and you’re just confused, asking if he’s ok. Bulk isn’t going to be able to talk to you for a week.

Ultra Magnus:

Magnus blames Ratchet for his impure thoughts. He had just finished getting the ‘Human Sexuality 101’ lecture from the doctor, something he didn’t think was completely necessary. There was no way they were going to stay long enough on Earth to have those kinds of relations, even if Ratchet gave him a knowing look.

He respects you. You’re a valuable part of the team and you add a level head that’s needed with the kids around. You don’t find it awkward to talk to him and go out of your way to make him feel welcomed. Ultra Magnus might find you… aesthetically pleasing as well but that’s only because he’s been learning about human art and culture.

He has nothing to excuse his thoughts now. He had tried to corral the kids into one spot to minimize the mess but it hadn’t worked. He’s in the middle to grabbing something to clean up with when he turns to see you struggling. Magnus feels like his processor is having issues rebooting. You’re trying to lick the popsicle as quickly as possible and then you wrap your lips around the bottom and suck. The sound makes him flinch and his fans turn on with a loud clang.

Now he’s a big mech. He’s an old mech. Magnus has, contrary to most bots beliefs, been in relationships and knows how to identify his own attraction. It’s been a long time since he’s felt these things and it’s a mix of exciting and terrifying. His ignores the confused voices behind him as he turns smartly on his heels and leaves the room. No one sees him for the rest of the day but it’s better that way; he needs to think about this and now.

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dreamii-yume · 2 years

Note

The best part about yandere Yuji, due to the possession by Sukuna, can push blame for impure thoughts or impulses on Sukuna, if that's true or not is up to the writer, but the opportunity for ✨delusion✨ for Yuji and the darling.

Yuji on the slippery slope of it's not my fault Sukuna is making me do this...

... so it's fine if he deletes the last few texts from darling's friends so they have no one to hang out with but him...

... so it fine if swipes their used gym clothes. He'll make sure Sukuna doesn't do anything weird to them...

... but if they do somehow end up covered in stains, don't worry it's Sukuna's fault, but Yuji will make sure to wash them afterwards!

Darling is just as deep in delusions. There's no way poor, innocent, and sweet Yuji would do anything like this. It must be that awful demon possessing him making him do these things!

After all it's not ✨his✨ fault.

Mmgh—Yes. This is exactly it, the “theres no way i can do that so im going to shift the blame to someone/thing else” trope.

I can just imagine Yuji realizing the consequences of his own actions after doing some questionable shit to his Darling and they finally snap after tolerating it for so long. Now, they’re looking up at him with a scowl on their faces—Disgusted and frightened with frustrated tears that they can barely hold in.

You kept on forgiving him before, thinking that it’s all just a great coincidence because there’s absolutely no way Yuji, of all people, would intentionally do something like that, right? And it’s the same for him too—He can’t believe that he just went that far, even though he kept on saying that it’s only going to be a one-time thing. But he just can’t help it, his hands moves on its own. The way you look up at him is nothing he’d ever seen before, something that he’d never wanted to see, but it was directed at him and it scares him. He knows that if he doesn’t say anything that’ll ease your worries right now, he won’t just lose your trust, but you too, yourself. Everything.

So, with trembling lips, he retorts the only excuse he could say at this moment— “…Sorry about that, I let my guard down for a moment and accidentally let Sukuna took over. That bastard.” With a few nervous laughter, he scratches the back of his head and made quite the convincing lie that successfully lowered your shoulders down.

This was fine. Though it does sound flimsy, it wasn’t a complete lie.

I also find it extremely interesting if Sukuna is fine with it, satisfied to see as how pathetic Yuji had to be just to not get hated by you. He can use this weakness as bargaining chip too, threatning to spill his secrets if he doesn’t comply to what he wants to do…Not that he would actually do it, because watching this all unfold before his eyes is actually entertaining to the great King of Curses to say the least.

#Talk with Yume #jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #yandere #sukuna getting blamed for something he didnt do so hes just like excuse me??

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strayen-fx · 3 years

Text

Red.

》 HHJ x reader

》 angst, vampirish theme

》 warnings: mentions of blood, hints of physical assault

》 2.1k words

》 a/n: short and simple, after months of writing break. Hope you guys enjoy regardless :)

“Stay away from them, my dear. Save your blood from the horrors of their fangs. Be wary of solitude, and be wary of the crowd.”

It was a day not unlike any other. My morning kicked off lazily, with me waking up almost an hour later than a college freshman was supposed to. Nothing unusual there. I did my usual morning prep, took a cup of grandma’s tea in one gulp, and went my way. I was already late for the train—I had to run after a departing bus with an exceptional speed that would put Olympiads to shame. I got in the room just in time as the bell rang for first period. I came in huffing like an old man, but it’s alright. Way better than walking through the early jam-packed hallways.

The first aberration in my daily humdrum existence happened on my way to fourth period. A student from another department stopped me on my tracks. I knew him; he was a member of the student council. Was I in some sort of trouble?

He introduced himself as Han Jisung, then proceeded to ask if I have seen his friend.

“He’s tall,” Jisung explained. “But like, not super tall. Not the towering-over-people kind. He has a mole under his eye. He’s got black—no wait, I think he dyed his hair again the other day. Anyway, have you seen someone like him? He’s noticeably handsome. I guess. I’m more handsome, though, but you know what I mean.”

The whole school would know who he is talking about. The one and only Hwang Hyunjin: champion swimmer, council member, and just a general talk of the town. The Prince. Even if I did see him around, though, I wouldn’t know. I never pay attention to the people I walk by.

I shook my head and muttered a soft sorry. I did feel bad for Jisung. He looked so worried and dejected, and I can’t blame him—not after after the incident with Seungmin. I can’t really take it against him to worry about his friends. I sauntered off to my next class, my mind still stuck on the fact that a normal person in my school has actually talked to me, and I was able to keep my composure.

Fifth period: P.E. I don’t even know why we still have this subject in college. I opted to take a stroll instead. You see, a huge, dense forest is situated right behind the main school grounds. You could say that the school itself lies within the bosom of greeneries. Unkempt bushes and rows of towering trees stretched over several miles deep, starting from the edge of the campus to god-knows-where. It is my goal to scout the whole area before graduation.

Weighed down by my personal monstrous beast, I trudged through. I walked for at least fifteen minutes before I finally reached the spot—my spot. Sheet of decaying leaves cushioned a huge gray boulder, standing at least ten feet tall, shaped like an odd piece of egg smashed against the forest floor. Against it stood a larger stone, this one dotted with moss and weathered with cracks. They were propped against each other for support, as if stopping one another from tumbling to the ground.

There was a smaller rock at the foot of the smaller stone, and I use it as leverage to climb up and sit on top of the largest boulder. It was my favorite place. Most times I could just pretend that I was alone in my own tiny bubble, at the center of that clearing that nobody else ventures but me. I don’t feel the breath of people suffocating me with every step that I take. I don’t feel my heart thumping with the sight of anyone else. I don’t need to hold back. Here, I don’t feel weird.

But today felt somehow different.

It was awfully silent. The wind felt sharper and colder. Electricity was humming in the air, leaving my skin prickling with discomfort. There was a tension in my veins that I couldn’t quite explain—it felt like an omen of an incoming disaster.

Time ticked slow. A couple hours could have passed—or maybe it has only been five minutes—when a nearby rustling perked up my senses.

Trying to keep my movements as quiet as possible, I hopped down and took up a defensive position, which wasn’t easy to do for a student with no actual weapon aside from an almost-empty bag and a worn-out calligraphy pen. My instincts told me to take cover—but my feet seemed glued to the ground. Sweat trickled from my forehead. My hands started to feel clammy.

And then, just as I was about to scamper away, a figure crashed into view from behind the nearest oak tree. I almost threw my bag towards the person’s direction, until I had a clear view of the intruder’s face.

It was Hwang Hyunjin, wide-eyed and disoriented, with his cheeks and uniform smudged with traces of blood.

“Help me.”

His voice came out as a tiny croak, as if his throat was filled with acid. He stumbled towards me, reaching out his hand for support. I wasn’t able to move an inch—and who could blame me? The situation was way too hard to process.

Hwang Hyunjin, the university prince, was hunched huffing before me, his clothes caked with mud and dried blood, his hair a nest of mess on his head. He had a cut on his cheek, I noticed. His breathing was heavy and labored, as if the mere act of standing on his own two feet required all the effort he could muster.

“Help me,” he repeated.

“What happened to you?” I managed to blurt out. My initial thought was that some random outsiders kicked his butt for stealing their girlfriends. But no—someone like Hyunjin would have been able to handle that. Plus, something in his eyes showed an elaborate fear—something only a beast would be capable of instilling. I should know.

My heart began thumping faster, a colossal drum barreling in my chest.

Just as my schoolmate was about to open his mouth and explain, a loud rustling broke the stillness of the air. Before I could process what was happening, Hyunjin grabbed my hand and bolted away, dragging me with him.

“Don’t look back!” he warned.

I did.

At least a dozen feet behind us was another male, probably as old as Hyunjin. He was sporting our school uniform, walking casually under the shades of trees as if time wasn’t of any matter. What puzzled me, though, was the fact that we can’t seem to distance ourselves from him despite the heavy efforts Hyunjin had been exerting to drag us both away from this newcomer.

I took another glance behind me, and to my surprise, the young man wasn’t there anymore. Nowhere behind us, as if he dissipated without a single trace.

Hyunjin took a sudden stop, causing me to bump my head against his back. I was about to call him out for stopping, but then I saw the looming figure a few meters in front of us.

“You…?” I began, my mind a juggle of unanswered questions. How on earth did that happen? How is he—

Hyunjin's friend, Kim Seungmin, stood before us in his dirty school uniform. He looked pale, his eyes bloodshot, but he was standing there in full grace, very much alive, giving us a toothy grin. “You’re hurting my feelings, Hyun. Why are you running away from me?”

Hyunjin’s grip on my hand went tighter. “Seungmin...”

“Friends are supposed to help each other, am I right?” Seungmin continued, faux dismay dripping in his voice. He bared his fangs, its tips dripping with fresh blood. “So help me, Hyunjin.”

I felt my body run cold. I wanted to scream, run, anything—anything to get away from this. From him. From the two of them. From everything. But Hyunjin's hand remained strong around my wrist, and my legs were close to turning jelly. I could start to feel the fullness in my mouth, the pointy ends of my incisors. Something that only happens when I'm in an extreme hunger or danger.

“Stay away from them,” grandma said. “We are the same kind, but we are different. Weaker. They see us as preys, as special commodities. They can smell your blood despite my concoctions, my dear, remember this!”

Seungmin tilted his head to one side, finally regarding my presence. “And you, over there. I’ve never tried drinking such special blood.” He grinned. “Satiate my thirst.”

The last thing I knew, a strong hand was pressing tightly around my neck, turning my vision green.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Have you heard of the news?”

“What news?”

“Kim Seungmin was safe! They found him in the forest yesterday.”

“Thank goodness! Was he hurt?”

“He had a few gashes, but he’s fine. Hyunjin found him and brought him to the hospital right away.”

Students filled the corridor, everyone bustling and hustling about the news: after his sudden disappearance, Seungmin was finally found by his best friend, Hyunjin. The latter saw him in the forest, hungry and disoriented. They went straight to the hospital to treat his minor wounds, and that was that—nobody bothered to ask how he managed to lose himself in the wilderness, or how we managed to survive seven days on his own. Nobody asked him stupid and unnecessary questions. Seungmin was safe, and that was all that mattered.

I brushed my way past the milling crowd, flinching at every accidental touch. I kept my eyes on the ground, forcing my mind into silence. I was expecting everyone to be in their respective classrooms at this time of the day, but apparently, the news of Seungmin’s return has become enough reason for everyone to wander about and neglect their individual duties. It was a grand miscalculation on my part—I hadn’t braced myself for this huge number of people.

Not here. Not now. Not ever.

I just have to get back home, and then it’ll be over. My insides would stop churning once I’ve drunk grandma’s tea—that has worked for 18 years now. I can stop this. I can stop me.

I made a run towards the comfort room. To my luck, nobody was inside. I washed my face over and over, as if doing so would cleanse me from the impurity stamped on every drop of my blood. The face on the mirror horrified me—I had to stop myself from punching the glass over and over.

The moment I stepped out, I felt his presence.

He was there, leaning against the wall, lurking behind the shadows. There was a faint gleam of terror in his eyes, but at the same time, I can feel it: the hunger. Lust for meat. Thirst for blood.

“Don’t be like him, Hyunjin,” I pleaded. “Don’t be like us.”

He shook his head in resignation. “It’s too late.”

He took a step closer. Another. He kept on walking until he stood right in front of me, too close I can feel him breathe.

Too close I can see the faint traces of blood on his lips.

“I’m still hungry,” he sobbed. “I’m still hungry…”

Fear was apparent in his eyes—fear of what would happen to him, fear of what he had become. “You will be fine,” I offered, taking his hand in mine. “Trust me on this. It will be fine.”

And then I felt it, stronger this time—the hunger he was talking about. The thirst. My stomach growled in protest at the sight of Hyunjin’s pale flesh. I can smell his blood—I can feel its steady rhythm as it flowed through his pulsing veins.

I need to get home. Maybe my grandma could do something about Hyunjin, too. Maybe she could produce a stronger tea, and both of us wouldn’t have to worry about our instincts anymore.

We stood next to each other for a full minute before he broke the silence.

“We need each other to survive,” Hyunjin whispered. “If we drink the blood of our own kind, we can last for a month without feeding on others.” He freed his hand from my hold and gripped my shoulders tightly. “I need you. And you need me, too.”Hyunjin leaned down until we were staring at each other at eye level. He closed the distance between us. I closed my eyes, and for the first time, I allowed my monster to take ove.

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stxleslyds · 3 years

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I've seen a lot of fanon content about Jason being a fan of Wonder Woman. This is even acknowledged in #6 "Favoritism" in The Wayne Family Adventures web comic. Is there any evidence of this in Canon?

According to my memory, the closest thing that Jason has to an interaction with Wonder Woman was simply that he was on good terms with Donna Troy in post-Crisis Teen Titans. Or am I missing something?

Based on your interpretation of Jason, what do you think Red Hood thinks of Wonder Woman?

Oh! So, that’s why I have been seeing that concept floating around recently! The whole “Jason is a fan of Wonder Woman” thing had died down a little bit and now it was back and that might me corelated to that fandom concept making an appearance in the web comic…

Hmm, yeah, that concept is completely fanon, I mean, I don’t remember Jason acting like WW’s fan in his Robin years but he did meet her once (I will talk about that issue later on in this post because maybe that is where this fanon concept originated from. In his Red Hood years, I can’t say that he has mentioned WW as an inspiration or favourite hero (I will also talk about why that idea seems kinda weird to me too).

Jason did interact with Diana, it was in Superman (1939) Annual #11, I will show some of the panels that have Jason and Diana interacting (as Robin and Wonder Woman) and all that but from that comic that they shared I didn’t really see Jason as a fan of WW, he was respectful and he worried for her safety when she seemed to have been hurt but that was all, Jason was just being his usual sweet self. If anything, in that issue we were shown how much Jason cared for Bruce.

Something that I will bring up because you mentioned Jason’s interactions with Donna is that the Superman annual, I mentioned came out in September, 1985 and those New Teen Titans issues where Jason appeared in along Donna came out in May, 1986 (NTT #20, the first team up) and December, 1986 (NTT #26, the second time he joined the team). So, Jason, met Diana before he met Donna, I would honestly say that Robin Jason was actually more marvelled by Donna rather than Diana. Donna was a Titan and Dick’s friend and Jason really seemed to admire her up until a certain moment in one of those issues, I think you read those posts about Jason teaming up with the Titans but I will link them here anyway (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3), in case anyone wants to red them and for you guys to tell me if you see, like me, that Jason seemed to admire Donna more than Diana in the Superman issue I will talk about next.

Superman Annual #11

Jason and Bruce arrive to the Fortress of Solitude to celebrate Clark’s birthday, and that’s when Jason and Diana met for the first time, Diana even didn’t react much to Jason at the start because she thought that he was Dick! I don’t blame her; Jason and Dick look the same most of the time to me when they are in their Robin suits.

After she kisses him in the cheek, we get to see what Jason has to say about Diana, he is just worried Diana is feeling cold in the snow while wearing those shorts, now, I thought that was just an innocent thing that he said but apparently Bruce took it as Jason checking out Diana. Because I believe that Jason was the sweetest boy, I think that he just meant that Diana could have been cold and Bruce was the one having impure thoughts about her… I mean, after Bruce says that to Jason, he looks confused as all hell, to me he looks like he thinks that Bruce misunderstood his intentions with what he said.

So, to me, Jason really didn’t seem to be starstruck by Diana or Clark later on either.

Diana is talking to Jason like she talks to Bruce, she asks him about if he met Superman before, and he answers, all in all they have normal conversations and Jason still doesn’t seem like he is meeting his favourite hero. When Diana starts to talk only to Bruce, Jason doesn’t seem affected by that and he is the one that first notices the problem with the Superman that they are about to meet.

This isn’t a review of the issue, so I will explain as quickly as possible what was going on. Batman, Robin and Wonder Woman showed up at Superman’s place to celebrate his birthday and bring him some gifts but when they see him, they notice that he had been attacked by a weird looking plant that left him paralysed and trapped inside his own mind world. When they try to free him from it, Mongul (the villain) appears and Jason, once again, is the first one to notice his approach!

(Robin Jason was excellent at his job Lobdell and Zdarsky! Look at this shit, and keep on looking because Robin Jason saves the Trinity’s ass in this issue by himself!)

The fight starts with Mongul and WW, and after he throws her out of the room and it seems that the fight isn’t going in WW’s favour, we see Jason being worried for her safety but is quickly dismissed by Bruce who tells Jason not to worry because Mongul threw WW into the weapons room.

Due to that Jason moves on with Bruce to help Superman once more. Bruce asks Jason to retrieve Mongul’s gloves so he can remove the plant from Superman’s chest but all of the sudden the plant comes off, sadly, the plant only did that to insert itself in Bruce’s body. This is where we see Jason being incredibly worried for Bruce’s safety, because he cared so much he moved past his fear, grabbed those globes and took it upon himself to rip the plant off of Bruce’s chest and make a plan to defeat Mongul while the Trinity was being taken out one by one!

I know this is a post about Jason and Diana but I just can’t help be proud about my boy, he was such a good Robin, I can’t believe DC has lied so much about Jason’s abilities as Robin so much that most people believe that Jason was a bad Robin. What a horrible narrative to push about one of your characters, I swear I don’t understand DC’s thinking.

Anyway, after Jason gets the job done (with a little help from Superman) he and the others chat for a little while and then get together to get some coffee while Clark cleans the mess that Mongul made.

That’s all that happens in the issue where Jason and Diana met, their interactions seemed normal and respectful but Jason never looked like he was a big fan of Diana, as I said before all that was shown was that he cared for people when they were being hurt and he also showed how much he cared for Bruce.

Now if you ask me, I believe that Jason only saw Batman and Dick as his heroes. Jason always looked like he looked up to Batman until he started to feel a strain between them and then Jason acted like a true fan of Dick both times that Dick gave him his Robin suit, and I say that Dick was a hero to Jason because Jason showed sings of admiring Dick’s Robin AND Dick’s Nightwing.

I might be wrong but it does look to me like Jason was a bigger fan of Dick rather than Diana in those panels compared to Superman Annual #11.

Now, going back to what you actually asked, this is the only interaction between Jason and Diana that comes to mind and the one that I believe might have originated that fanon concept. There is though another moment that might have fed that concept but it is not really an interaction between Jason and Diana, but between Jason and Donna from Earth-15 that looked exactly like Diana in Countdown to Infinite Crisis #30.

The people that appear in that panel in the Wonder Woman and Batman suits are actually Donna Troy and Jason Todd from Earth-15. I really don’t know if that issue really fed into the Jason being a fan of WW but if it did, then that wasn’t Diana, that was Donna.

To answer your other question “Based on your interpretation of Jason, what do you think Red Hood thinks of Wonder Woman?”, I would say that while I can see Robin Jason having been a fan of hers (even though it was never shown in canon as far as I know), I really don’t see Red Hood Jason as a fan of Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman stands for many things, among them we have truth, justice and peace. When Jason first became the Red Hood, he was seeking justice but not in others, he was the one that was judge, jury and executioner. As time passed by Jason didn’t really fight for justice but for “the cause”, in New 52 he had that whole “chosen one” thing with the All-Castle, so, his fight against drugs and the creeps of Gotham (and other places) kinda stopped, and then in Rebirth it kinda come back but also didn’t.

That sense of justice that I know is so important to Jason’s Red Hood makes a comeback in Urban Legends: Cheer (Yeah… it was awfully written but that sense of justice did make an appearance finally).

So, on the justice side I can sort of see Jason admiring Diana but not really because Jason is also jury and executioner and Diana has never been that and she doesn’t stand for that at all (at least not as far as I know). Diana doesn’t kill and she is always trying to give people a second chance, she believes in humanity and hopes that we will be better.

Jason, the way I see it, doesn’t see the world like that, I strongly believe he has a darker and more pessimistic way of looking at humanity and the horrors that we can put others through.

The way I see it, I could see Jason admiring the fact that Diana keeps on her faith in humanity and she seeks justice in a pacific way but I also don’t really think Jason cares about how Wonder Woman sees the world. Like, it can work either way in my mind, and I never really though of Jason actually being a Wonder Woman fan, maybe I can see him acting like Thor when he met Valkyrie in Thor: Ragnarök, in that movie Thor was just excited to meet a Valkyrie, maybe Jason was just excited to meet an Amazon!

Jason has had several interactions with Amazons, (Diana, Donna and Artemis) so that makes me believe that if Jason is a fan of anyone, it would actually be strong warrior women and not just simply Wonder Woman.

I don’t know, to me it makes sense, Jason has always been protective of women that could not defend themselves but also saw strength in them, like he saw it in Judy in Batman #422 when she killed the man that had murdered her sister. And later on he saw power and strength in both Donna and Kory when he fought alongside the Titans.

So, I would actually say that Red Hood isn’t a fan of Wonder Woman but I believe he is a fan and supporter of wonderful women.

There is my answer friend! I hope you have a wonderful day!

#jason todd #red hood #wonder woman #donna troy #diana prince #robin jason todd #dc comcis #new teen titans #earth-15 #dick grayson #nightwing #superman annual 11

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notnctu · 4 years

Text

switchin’ lanes - l.jn | ridin�� club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, pwp???, fluff (if u squint) wordcount ➠ 8.3k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jeno, badboy!jeno, college!au, ━ where you and jeno are in a relationship, but not with each other. warnings ➠ explicit language, cheating, flirty banter, alcohol consumption, drugs, yall at a party, physical fighting (not with you), mentions of cuts/bruises, hickeys, drunk public dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f/receiving) synopsis ➠ If your boyfriend didn’t decide to join such a stupid unofficial club, then maybe you wouldn’t be in such a sticky situation where Lee Jeno is literally knuckles deep in your sticky situation as he drives you home. Or maybe if your boyfriend actually touched you, then you wouldn’t be seeking it from someone else, who can’t keep his hands off of you. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo ; @dearlyminhyung

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! i hope you enjoy the series pls leave me feedback lmaoo ill literally take anything. we also hit a milestone for followers and honestly its so crazy to know how quickly this tiny sideblog has grown! we’re so thankful that yall follow us, thank u for lovin us and we will try our best to put out more content!! also through the lens hit 1k notes how is that even possible like wow im speechless thank u for everyone who left such kind comments i treasure every form of feedback :)

The heavy double doors of the classroom stare tauntingly at you. The evening setting in, painting the sky with strokes of orange and pink. You managed to remain complaint free the entire day, until your forgetful boyfriend canceled on you because of a club meeting. A meeting for an unofficial club on campus because it is illegal to street race. A club consists of delinquents that are obsessed with cars and steal your boyfriend away from you.

This is the fifth time this week that your boyfriend stood you up or coincidentally forgot your dates. You can’t remember the last time he physically stood in front of you and not through a phone screen. However, it is not completely the stupid club’s fault that your boyfriend has neglected you.

He truly is the worst boyfriend ever. He blames everything on his bad memory and does not prioritize you in his life. He loves one thing --- his car. You could be lying in a hospital bed, and he wouldn’t care to check up on you.

So why did you stay with him? Because you’re scared of being alone? Possibly, but it is a can of worms that you did not want to open just yet. Sex is definitely not the reason you stay with him. He hasn’t touched you sexually since the first and now, last time you two slept together.

You try your best, to only be waved off with a yawn. He doesn’t compliment you. He doesn’t look at you lovingly. He doesn’t even kiss you for longer than two seconds. You are a toppling tower, ready to crumble at any given moment.

The anger in your body fuels you as you pull the door open to reveal several men in leather jackets chatting away with each other. One by one, they all begin to lay their eyes on who abruptly interrupted their joyous conversations. Your eyes scan the room full of intimidating men, whose auras cause a shiver to run down your spine.

Your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, given that there are plenty enough guys who have the ability to cover him. You walk into the open space and the entire mood of the room shifts.

Heavy cologne and a deafening silence fill the air. One particular male, who has been eyeing you the entire time, gets up and walks towards you.

“Are you lost, baby?” Scoffs and chuckles sparsely cover the corners of the room. The unknown male has a jarring cut on his eyebrow, matching a small bruise on his upper cheekbone.

“I’m looking for my boyfriend…” Your weak voice trails off from the sudden attractive male intimidation. The tall man peers around the room, crossing his arms.

“If you are this beautiful woman’s boyfriend, please fucking come out now. It’s very rude to keep your girl waiting for you!” Initially, his low throaty shout startles you. A heavy heat falls on your cheeks when you register his choice of adjectives.

The whole room falls silent once more, before your pitiful boyfriend steps out from between two bulkier men. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?” His eyes nervously bounce around the room, a shaky laughter erupting from his gut.

“Sorry, Jeno. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene. I didn’t even see her come in.”

Like a trigger, you remember your intentions for storming in uninvited. Jeno gauges your flaming reaction to your boyfriend’s apologetic words. He nods, not out of acceptance of the apology, but out of disbelief.

He pulls your boyfriend by the collar of his white shirt and your eye widens at the condescending tone that causes your boyfriend to cower, “I’m not the one to apologize to.” With a careless toss, your boyfriend ends up shaking in front of you.

“Jeno is not the only one you should be scared of.” You whisper angrily to him as the rest of the room continues on with their previous chatter.

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “listen, Jeno’s been arrested before. You don’t want to get on that man’s bad side.”

Your eyes wander behind your boyfriend’s hunching shoulders, catching Jeno steal peeks at you too. There is no interest in the other rambling male that stands in front of him. He just wants to check you out a bit more.

He is the hottest person you’ve ever gotten the attention of. You feel flustered, and a bit flattered at his lingering gaze. His brown hair is slicked back messily, giving you more to admire. Jeno is an absolute cliche from a bad boy fanfiction. He is unreal, and the odd chance that he can’t keep his eyes off of you, is also unreal.

But with a light nudge from a blue haired fellow, Jeno’s eyes peel away from your’s. They exchange a few words, which then propels Jeno to hurriedly put on his slightly tattered leather jacket.

You lick your lips to the sight of his body lines as he stands up to follow his friend, but not without another look back at you. Noticing your stare still on him, he bids you a tiny wave goodbye with a smirk to die for. And like that, he’s gone.

“Are you listening to me?” Your boyfriend’s voice finally reaches your reality. Your focus shifts to the obviously irritated expression on his face.

“I guess, I’m not. Don’t fucking stand me up again or I will key your car.” You aren’t actually those kinds of girls, but your boyfriend didn’t take a threat seriously unless it involves his highly treasured car.

And like Jeno, you also make your exit out of the steamy room. The chilly night brush against your unknowingly hot cheeks. Then, you take yourself to the only unhealthy coping mechanism you can think of: a place of free alcohol and no boyfriend.

It takes you a few months to completely stop caring about your dying relationship. You figure how easy it is for your boyfriend to do it, so you make the same decision.

He spends his nights with his friends he made from his club, and has totally become a self proclaimed car enthusiast. You lose yourself in copious amounts of cheap alcohol at your local parties and it’s almost like you stop sulking over a man who kisses his car goodnight.

While being alone did not bother you as much as you had been dreading, the sexual frustration is a completely different issue. You are absolutely drooling whenever your eyes find Jeno in the crowds of sweaty bodies.

If there is one good thing that came out of your boyfriend’s membership in that club, it had to be Lee Jeno and a few other notable people who attended the same parties as you.

He became a very close acquaintance, and you had learned some very important names associated with the Ridin’ Club. Na Jaemin, Lee Haechan, and Huang Renjun. But the three could not compare to the kindhearted Jeno that makes butterflies stir in your lower abdomen.

Over the months, you also had learned rather quickly that your sexually clouded mind had tricked you previously into thinking that Jeno’s stares were full of lust for you. His girlfriend makes it clear that it isn’t the case.

Although you have caught the couple making out several times when trying to use the bathroom, your feverish, impure attraction toward Jeno never calmed down.

“You’re looking very tempting tonight, baby.” Jeno’s beaming eye smile greets you, even after completely undressing you with his gaze. His arms are wide open to embrace your warm body.

The parties are always too hot to wear a fully clothed outfit. You often settle for a cute tank top and a short skirt to prevent your legs from collecting extra moisture. Jeno, without a fail, shows up in black jeans that clad his lower half, tucked with a simple white shirt. His tattoos and toned arms being on full display for you to admire.

“Better make sure your actual baby doesn’t hear that.” The loud beats of the music make Jeno’s chuckle almost inaudible, but his expression remains cheerful, as per usual. “Did you get into another fight?”

The fresh wound cut through his smooth complexion, which will eventually join the rest of his collection of fading scars. He mindlessly grazes over the new bandaging and dramatically winces. Clearly concerned, you grab his hand away from the injury. “Don’t touch it, stupid.”

His smile curves into a sly smirk, as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” His chest heaves into a fit of giggles, “just wanted to see you care for me.”

Groaning, you shake his massive hand off of your’s. “Very funny. I should start charging you for my attention.”

“Name your price, I got all the money in the world for you.” He winks, while lightly pinching your cheek. You are lying to yourself if you thought you could ever stay away from him. Jeno stirs up a part of you that craves the cheesy nicknames, flirty comments and the undivided attention.

He motions you to follow him into the mess of people. Almost as if he’s a god, the crowd parts for you two to walk through without unnecessary extra bodies. The fear that settles in many individuals’ chest is understandable.

Like your first impression, Jeno is a complete walking fanfiction trope. He negotiates better with his fists, usually with good reason. The guns of the Ridin’ Club, though, his friends are very much to be feared as well. They will not hesitate to run someone over, if given the heated situation to do so. And most definitely, you can count them to be backing up their fighter, Jeno.

You had not been mindful before of the chatter that regarded the secret Ridin’ Club. They are notorious for fast paced very illegal races in the middle of nowhere destinations and tempers that aren’t meant to be provoked. Besides their intimidating aura, it melts away after getting to know them.

Lee Haechan, the most annoying brat, but has the strongest, the most loyal bond to his boys. He’s also notably funny, often making you laugh with an exchange of banter.

Huang Renjun, the whiniest and initially quiet boy, but grows to be one of the loudest and will chew you out if anyone dares try engaging in verbal combat.

Na Jaemin, the flirty playboy who always has a swarm of girls, but the gentlest man with a soft spot for cute things.

And finally, Lee Jeno, the owner of your nights. He is the friendliest of them all, despite him being the toughest one. While his stare can kill, melting away his layers reveal the warmest heart. Not that Jeno is the only one to show initial interest in you, but he is the most considerate to the people he holds close to him.

He has taken care of you for many drunk nights and watched protectively over your intoxicated figure in the crowds. He makes you feel safe and seen, which are some of the many reasons you are entirely attracted to him.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin’s scream pierce your ears the moment the blueberry catches your eye. He excitedly nudges the other two boys, who are busy pouring drinks into red cups.

“You’re going to make me spill it, idiot!” Renjun grumbles, but looks up to see your dazzling smile and tremendous excitement. His own smile grows, “so the life of the party finally decided to say hi.”

“Hi, my fanclub. I appreciate the long awaited greeting.” Your over the top, sarcasm causes all of them to chime loudly. Haechan hands you a cup and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

Jeno joins you at your side and the five of you clink your drinks to the ceiling. A fit of yells over the music and a competition of who can finish first. As per usual, you set your cup down after draining the entirety. The others are still chugging the burning liquid down their throats.

Haechan coughs after dropping his cup onto the counter. His face is twisted with the most disgusted contour, “I don’t know how you do it, (Y/N).”

“I already drank more than you guys, so it just tastes like water now.” You scream over the loud music. Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun toss their empty cups into the sink.

At this rate, you are completely blindsided by the effects of the alcohol as your legs give out to gravity. Jeno catches you quickly, holding your elbows and your head is placed on his shoulder. Jaemin chuckles lovingly, before helping Jeno balance you against the island. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders, as the room spins in front of you.

“You good?” Haechan pats your head gently, whispering close to you.

“I---” You try catching your breath after being winded. “--It’s hitting me now.”

Jeno wraps his arm around your lower waist to draw you close to him, “want to go sit down?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod, Jeno and Renjun supporting your limp body to walk over to the couch.

The dark living room is lit up only by colorful led lights, but it is not enough to make out much of anything. Everyone is in their own world, dancing and socializing within their own selves. The two men set you down on the cushion, but your impulse catches onto Jeno’s wrist before he leaves. Renjun is already lost in the crowd.

“Can I sit on your lap?” You pout cutely, all the shame in your body has been displaced with courage. Jeno’s eyes soften at your sudden request, and kisses the top of your forehead.

“The throne is all yours.” He says as he sits at your side and pulls you on top of his thick thighs. His arm is loosely dangling around your waist, resting on top of your thighs.

The intimate position causes your mind to wander into dark thoughts. His strong, sturdy legs feel delicious against your clothed core. While you’ve been in this position once before, you could never forget how protected, yet very horny it makes you feel.

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Jeno’s deep voice brushes against your bare shoulder and you feel his chest press against your back. “You’ve been pretty silent tonight.”

You turn slightly to face him, “if I told you, I’m scared it would ruin things between us.”

“There’s nothing in the world that can hold me back from you.” He is always so quick to spill such alluring words. His soft lips graze lightly on your skin as his sparkling eyes look up at your expression.

All it takes is one more tiny kiss on your arm to get you grabbing his face, drawing him into a steamy, long awaited kiss. Surprisingly, he kisses you back, open mouth and tongue lapping with your’s. His hands reposition your legs to where you straddle him. Your faces dive deeper into each other’s as the kiss continues to intensify.

Jeno’s lips still have a hint of alcohol, but he mostly tastes like mint gum. And they are comparable to a cloud, the softest lips you have ever made out with. It is like kissing pure heaven, completely different from your boyfriend’s two second pecks. Jeno devours you in a needy way, like he’s been waiting to explore the wonders of your lips.

However, you pull away when you feel the vibration of his phone against your inner thigh, almost like a wake up call. As if all the liquid courage disappeared, you blink back in shock at Jeno’s plump wet lips. The thought of his girlfriend crosses your mind, and maybe slight guilt for your own boyfriend fills your system.

You quickly start getting up from his hot body, “fuck, I’m so sorry..” But his hands pull you back onto him, your legs finding their way open above his thighs again.

“Don’t be, I’ve always wondered what your lips would taste like.” A smirk, then a hearty chuckle relaxes your contracting nerves at the potential of a ruined friendship.

“But, your girlfriend..” Your tiny voice trails off and Jeno picks up your chin. His fingers rubbing along your jawline.

His eyes do another lap around your features. He admires your averting shy eyes, your beautiful lips, and how they all come together to make a stunning you.

There is no doubt in Jeno’s mind that he is very attracted to you. He knew it the moment you barged into the club meeting. You are his type of woman, a good mixture of confident and timidness. You like to have some fun, and aren't afraid to be bold. Not to mention, that you are incredibly hot and every time you flirt back just makes him melt inside.

“She won’t care. She hooks up with people all the time.” It puzzles you, all this time you had been holding yourself back from Jeno because he has a girlfriend. All to find out that the relationship isn’t as serious as you thought it to be.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. But we aren’t two people to be tied down, but at the same time, we like each other enough to want to stay together.”

Your confused expression causes Jeno to laugh and ask, “what’s the dilemma with your boyfriend?”

Rolling your eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, you sigh, “it’s like we’re still together, but we aren’t at the same time. We’ve abandoned the relationship unknowingly.”

Jeno runs a warm hand up and down your thigh, while he listens intently to you. He nods, grabbing your waist to pull you over his groin. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No, he’s a shitty person and an even shittier boyfriend. We literally haven’t fucked for the past year. I’m practically a virgin again.” His hand automatically gives your thigh a light squeeze.

Jeno’s eyes light up as you quickly cover your mouth out of embarrassment. A devilish smirk raises his cheekbone, and lust clouds his mind. Gauging his reaction, your cheeks turn hot.

“We’ll have to change that, don’t we? My baby must be all kinds of frustrated. Tell me, do you like when I touch you then?” Jeno drops in tempo, usually when he wants to be more intimidating with a deeper voice.

You clear your throat intending to speak, but you can only nod your head in response. “C’mon, (Y/N). Use your words, like a big girl.” Even with the loud music and continuous chatter, you can hear Jeno‘s taunting whisper.

His words tickle your collarbone as he runs his lips against your neck. Your heart is pumping rapidly at the turn of events, as if the possibility of having something beyond a kiss from Jeno is more than possible at this rate.

Jeno enjoys your small whimpers as he marks your neck with purple love bites. Right in the center of the crowded room, Lee Jeno is just casually giving you hickeys.

“Yes, I love that you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

Almost immediately, you can feel his lips curve into a smile on your skin. Pop! Jeno marvels the darkness against your skin in the mood lighting. A small part of him hopes you do end up seeing your boyfriend sometime soon, so he can see who you really belong to.

“How about we try touching like this?” Jeno pushes you down hard against his pelvis, the veins on his hands becoming evident from the grip and the tiny drawings permanently staining his fingers.

You gasp the moment you feel Jeno’s hip begin to move underneath you to the beat of the song. He rolls your hips rhythmically to match his speed. His clothed hard on can be felt through the only barrier you have on --- your panties.

The thin fabric is soon drenched in your juices after the continuous friction up and down his length. You throw your head back to every bump against your clit, the electrifying feeling enact more of your wetness to puddle.

You can’t believe you were grinding against Jeno in the middle of a full party, as if his friends aren’t a few feet away. It is a good thing that your skirt pools around both of your waists to conceal the dirty deed underneath.

Jeno’s lip escapes under his top row of teeth as he rubs his clothed length against your barely covered pussy. He can feel his jeans dampening from your wetness and his eyes roll to the back of his head from how the feeling of wanting you consumes his body. He really becomes uncontrollable when it comes to you.

This is the most sexual activity you have had with another person for over a year. Jeno just looks absolutely heavenly intoxicated with lust, and your mouth waters at how big his cock must be. You can feel his length the harder Jeno rolls against you, and it is definitely bigger than your boyfriend’s.

You are trying so hard to stay quiet and unnoticeable, but the pleasure seeps out every crevice. Jeno is trained on you as your hand reaches up to cover your mouth, the muffled whimpers escaping your lips uncontrollably.

“I’m so close.” You admit, your body jolting every time his jean button grazes against your sensitive bud.

Jeno moves you over his thigh, forgetting his incredibly hard dick straining in his jeans. As long as you are satisfied, he can care less about his own pleasure. A low scream erupts from your throat when he flexes against you.

His thigh is much more stable, with more control for consistency. You quickly notice the dark, wet spot on his jeans and you blush even harder. Your underwear clings onto you from the excessive moisture, but Jeno continues to help you finish.

The strands of hair cover your face, but Jeno needs to see your fucked out expression. He is taken aback when you start riding his thigh faster, grinding harder without the aid of his hands.

His mouth hangs slightly open in awe at your neediness, he truly did not know the extent of your sexual frustrations. Oh, but how he is incredibly turned on by you getting off on him.

“I want you to cum for me, you deserve it.” Jeno brings you in for another passionate kiss. The mixture of his tongue sucking harshly on yours, and the friction on your clit are more than enough to reach your climax.

Your legs clenched tightly around Jeno’s thigh. The small knot in your stomach that built, drops like the beat playing in the background. The feeling of white is familiar, but it is more intense than when you would touch yourself. You are finally receiving the pleasure from someone else’s touch, someone who wants you to unravel for him.

Jeno pulls away from your lips, kissing down your neck and collarbones as your chest heaves for air. His palm soothes your shaking legs as your climax subsides. You fall into his arms, and he laughs. The reality that you two just did that publicly registers in both of your minds.

Digging your shy face further into Jeno’s shoulder, he whispers lovingly, “let me drive you home.”

“Are you still drunk?” The muffled question tickles Jeno’s neck.

“I think you beautifully cumming on my thigh sobered me up.” He jokes and you quickly cover his mouth. Your heart practically stops and you hope no one else heard him.

It is silly that you are now self conscious, as if the whole room didn’t just watch you and Jeno grind on the couch. But, the feeling of embarrassment and regret lingers in your stomach. You mentally thank the dark room for concealing both of your identities.

“I’m sorry for your jeans.” A pout begs for forgiveness as you stare at Jeno’s beaming smile. He takes your hand off of his mouth, not forgetting to give your fingertips a lingering kiss.

“I’m sorry for your boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jeno parts your hair from your neck, admiring the marks he left on you. A small sense of pride builds inside of him, accompanied by a tiny bundle of possessiveness.

“Let me say goodbye to the boys and I’ll take you home.”

Nodding, Jeno carefully lifts you off of him and onto the cushion. He leans over to kiss your cheek. As he gets up, you see the darker shades on his jeans from your doing. However, Jeno is completely unbothered and continues to find his friends.

Now that you are alone, you feel a bit nervous that someone would come up to you and talk about what they saw. Checking your phone, your screen blinds you with absolutely no notifications from your boyfriend. Going on social media is worse, as you scroll to see that your boyfriend posted a photo.

It is a photo of his hot, red polished car. He obnoxiously posed squatting next to the front wheel, his lips puckered up and kissing the rims. With a caption that makes every regret in your body disappear, “with my one and only.”

The phone is tossed somewhere else, wishing to delete the image from your memory. Your eyes wander around the room, when they spot a suspicious man sneakily dropping a small pill in an unattended drink. He, then, looks up and catches your stare. Caught red handed.

But the male smugly smirks, “you’re going to pretend you didn’t see that, like how half of this room pretended to not see you grinding on Jeno.”

“You’re complete scum, I can’t believe you just roofied someone’s drink.” You yell in utter disbelief at the unwavering man. His disgusting smirk changes into a menacing smile.

He approaches you, his height allowing him to tower above. You gulp, scared at how he can easily overpower you at any second.

“And what are you going to do about it? What? Jeno didn’t loosen you up enough?” His revolting hot breath beating down your nose, invading every corner of your personal space.

Before you can find any insult to speak back, his figure goes flying sideways and out of your face. It’d be a lie to not admit your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Jeno’s clenched fists and locked jaw. His sharp gaze watches as the stranger gets up from the ground, inflammation already growing on his left cheek.

“Dude, what the fuck!” He shouts angrily, holding his cheekbone as he winces at the pain. Immediately, the conversations are replaced with gasps, and small whispers at the sight. People gather around the living room to see the commotion. Even you are unsure how to react to the sudden fight.

The other man lunges at Jeno with full force, but Jeno stops him by grabbing the man’s collar, “this,” Jeno punches his lip, busting it open, “is for dropping a roofie in someone’s drink.”

The stranger groans at the impact, but still gets up with a fist straight for Jeno’s gut. Watching Jeno take a blow is much more difficult than you had been expecting.

He crouches over from the punch, but quickly regains his composure to put the man in a headlock. A few more gasps erupt and wonder if you should stop him before he does something unnecessarily stupid.

“This,” the man squirms to try to get out of Jeno’s iron grip, “is for disrespecting my babygirl.” And with a shift snap, the male falls limp and unconscious.

A surprised intake of air and Jeno peers up at your scared expression. He calmly walks over to you, ignoring the swarm of people that had gathered around the scene. He can only see one thing — you. Jeno’s wandering eyes try to read your expression, but all he sees is a terrified girl.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, are you okay, (Y/N)?”

Blinking blankly for a few moments, you are mortified at the laying body, “what did you do to him?”

Jeno looks back at the stranger casually, “I put him to sleep for a bit. He’ll wake up in about 20 minutes.”

A rush of reassurance washes over you knowing that he is alive and Jeno didn’t just kill someone in front of you. You exhale all the anxiousness and nerves,

“thank you for stepping in.”

“I don’t fight without a good reason. You are more than a perfect reason to fight for.” He pinches your cheek cutely, and his tough exterior fades away yet again.

His famous eye smile that warms your insides is back as if the scary, intimidating expression didn’t exist a few seconds ago. Jeno’s good sides only appear with you. Nevertheless, you are happy to know how special you are to see them.

“Violence is never the answer.” He nods, only taking it for a grain of salt. “Are you okay? It looked like stringbean knocked some wind out of your gut.”

The teddy bear thrusts himself forward into a fit of laughter, his head resting on your lap. His melody lights every dark corner inside of you. “He did get a good punch in there, didn’t he?”

His rumbling laughter stops, and he peers up at you. “I can’t believe you were still worried about a complete asshole.”

Scoffing, you break the shared gaze. “I’m a compassionate human being.” Jeno stands up, extending his hand for you to take.

“I know, you’re the best kind of person.” He genuinely means it with the way his tone remains quite stern, eye contact unwavering. He is revealing more of his intimate parts, and in return, you wish for him to see your’s.

Silence drowns out all the commotion between you two. Jeno grows shy at the way the galaxies reflect in your stare. “I--” Never once, did you think you would witness Lee Jeno stammer over his words. “I-I, let’s-- I want to take you for a drive.”

To Jeno, a drive to him is equivalent to your hand in marriage. Even his own girlfriend has never been on a drive with him. It is a big part of his personality, given that he is a crucial member of the Ridin’ Club. However, out of all of them, he is the last one to flaunt his hobby. It is special, almost sacred to his entire being.

“Me?” It is the dumbest question to ask, but you really want to clarify his intentions. Before this night, you two were barely considered friends. You two never saw each other outside of the late night parties.

But now, Lee Jeno wants to take you on a drive. It makes you wonder if the desire of companionship is mutual, that he too pines to further your relationship.

“I’m not looking at anyone else,” Jeno still waiting for your hand and holding an intense eye contact. His heart lays exposed for you, just right on his sleeve. An innocence paints his usual intimidating aura, “let me show my special girl, what is special to me.”

He must possess some magic because he knows every way to make you swoon. And like that, your palm meets his and he locks his fingers between yours.

The moment you enter Jeno’s striking, eye catching car, you automatically relax into the leather seats. His pristine car matches his personality --- simple, but captivating. Your boyfriend’s car is the exact opposite, which is why you never enjoy sitting in it.

Jeno has pieces of himself that scatter his car, like an adorable small plushie that watches out the back window. A beaded lanyard dangles from his rear view mirror. It even matches his scent of a deep ocean breeze.

Unlike your boyfriend’s obnoxious details, Jeno did not have a light up stereo that flashed annoyingly to every beat drop in a song. Instead, a sweet lilac color illuminates at your feet, along with his.

“You like what you see?” Jeno catches you astonish at the tiny aspects of the interior.

“Of course, it’s yours. It’s exactly like how I would imagine it to be.” Jeno is proud, hearing you praise his car. Even he can admit, it is a bit weird to be so connected to an inanimate object.

Nevertheless, his car, racing, driving became a huge part of his life. And unlike his friends, he feels rather shy and slightly embarrassed for being such a geek.

But hearing you actually appreciating the small details of his car when you probably hate every aspect of racing due to your boyfriend’s doing, it makes him feel very happy.

Maybe happy is an understatement, more like overjoy at how you freely can recognize the things that make him content. You respect him, and are mindful that as mundane as a car is, you know that it is something important to him.

Silence becomes the majority of the ride out of the quiet, suburban neighborhood. While Jeno’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, you are concentrated on him.

He drives with one hand on the wheel as he rests his elbow on the middle console. His eyebrow creases here and there. It is the most normal, mundane activity anyone can do --- drive. That is all he is doing, yet the effect it suddenly has on you can not go unnoticed.

Abruptly, with the rev of the engine and a press on the gas, the car practically flies on the empty freeway. It catches you off guard, causing you to hold onto the grab handle. Jeno peeks over at your shocked figure, and smiles to himself.

“Relax, (Y/N).” He calls your name, reaching over to rub your thigh as a way to calm your anxiousness. Automatically, your hand grips onto his for support and the other one drops from the handle.

Exhaling, your eyes are trained ahead. The car is moving so fast that you can’t even make out anything around you. Everything becomes nothing, but colorful streaks against a dark background. The gravity against your chest feels crushing.

“How-- How fast are you going?”

Jeno glances at the speedometer and intertwines your fingers into his own. “I don’t think I should tell you that, you might actually have a heart attack.”

The window rolls down and you are hit with rumbling wind, “I know you’re scared right now, so stick your head out the window and take a deep breath.”

You look at him in pure fear, “what?! I can’t even move, let alone stick my head out the window!”

Jeno shakes his head, “trust me. Please, trust me.” He needs you to experience the same thrill he does. His own adrenaline is through the roof, out the entire atmosphere of the vehicle. The amount of joy he is experiencing became tenfold now that you are sitting beside him.

You trust him and very meticulously, go against the wind. Your hair crazily dances along with the rush and your eyes water from being dried out. Adjusting to the pressure, you also stick your hand out the window. It whips backward, but you feel the wind slip between your fingers.

The rise in heartbeat and excitement pump through your veins. The beauty in the white streaks that create a runway, it is nothing but you and the open space. There is no other way to explore it, except at a high pace. You understand why Jeno loved it so much.

Jeno bounces between the road and half of your figure out his window. Your eyes are closed initially, before you barely squint open. Tears fly by with strands of your hair, but you start to move your hand to physically feel the thrill pass between your fingers.

Then he sees it in the side mirror: the sweet curve in your lips he loves the most and the wideness of life in your eyes. It only makes him press the gas harder.

“That was incredible! You should take me riding with you more.” You marvel at him as he starts the route to your place. It is complete playfulness that hints in your tone because you are aware of how sacred these are to him. Nevertheless, a part of you still hopes he agrees to do so.

Jeno nods, “only because I like you,” He pauses, gauging your reaction with his side eye gaze, “a lot.”

Your heart sinks to an unsettling place in your stomach. Jeno could not possibly be serious, however, his tone no longer matches the playfulness of your own. It almost seems like he is telling the truth. But you didn’t want to believe that.

Your eyes make a full circle before settling at the disappearing sidewalks, “stay in your lane, Jeno.” It is to keep the mood still light, you and Jeno aren’t ones to be serious.

His hand has been on your thigh for the whole night, whether it be out of habit or comfort. His touch is always welcoming and warm, but suddenly, you feel the small squeeze on your flesh. Turning your attention on his face, you can see how a smirk has grown.

“But yours seems much more fun.” Immediately, your stomach leaps with somersaults. Your throat gets dry and tight, not anticipating that response.

“Beside, you can’t act like we both haven’t swerved. It was barely moments ago that you were cum---”

“---No need to further explain.”

“And I’d proudly do it again.” His voice drops several decibels and his hand slowly snakes it’s way up your thigh. All the while, his eyes still on the road ahead.

You gulp as every heartbeat constricts your throat. Lifting the ends of your skirt higher to expose more, you secretly want Jeno to cause your legs to shake again. “D-Do what again?”

Jeno perks up to the sweetness of curiosity in your tone. He pulls up to a red stoplight, being able to finally look over to your innocent face and needy hands gripping the cute, thin fabric. He stares deeply into your eyes, “make my baby cum.”

Similarly to the stoplight, you give Jeno the green light to pull your panties to the side. You spread your legs wide as his finger massages your pussy lips. He gets dangerously close to your erect clit, barely skimming over it.

A needy, yet delicate moan escapes your lips and Jeno’s jaw tightens. He’s more upset that he’s missing the view of your legs spread, open mouth in ecstasy, half lid eyes all in the passenger seat of his car. He hopes for another red light, just so he can peek over at your delicious figure.

“Jeno, please touch me.” Your voice is airy and desperate. He hummed in response, completely withdrawing his hand from your core. However, you catch his wrist and bring it to rest on your inner thigh. “Please.”

The distinct beg in your tone drives him crazy. As he dips his finger into your sudden wetness, a shiver runs up your spine. Right when he applies minimal pressure on your bundle of nerves, you jolt and close your thighs around his hand.

One touch already feels too good to be true, that finally someone, Lee fucking Jeno, is actually touching your nakedness. Peering down, Jeno’s arm is flexing in between your legs. His veins popping ever so slightly and his tattoos paint his smooth skin.

“Open your legs, babe.” His low devilish chuckle rumbles in your lower abdomen. “Let me give you the lovin’ you’ve been deprived of.”

You shudder at his cadence and slowly pry open your legs. Jeno stops at a red light and gets to see your reaction as he rubs you in a fast rhythmic pace. A soft cry yelps from your throat and you have to grip the handle to keep yourself from spazzing out any further.

Almost like a trance, he doesn’t notice that the light turns green. He’s locked into the sight of your contorting body. Your hips have a mind of its own, yet again, as Jeno feels you rolling deeper into his touch.

“Poor baby, you’re so touch starved that you can’t control yourself.”

“It feels better when you do it.” You whine, your lip being bruised from your biting. But your eyes notice the green illumination and you blink over at Jeno.

He is practically drooling at the sight of you, his eyes are trained at your needy hips and dripping wet core that soaks his fingers. You stop every urge to steal more kisses from him.

Jeno briefly recovers from the trance and steps on the gas. He takes this opportunity to ease a finger into the core, causing you to exclaim and squeeze around his digit. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.”

“More, Jeno.” The way his name rolls off of your tongue makes his heart flutter and his dick to raise in his jeans. Without much hesitation, he slowly slips in another finger and you moan at the stretch. Pumping and curling, he ensures that you are enjoying every action.

His fingers curl against your plushy flesh and your legs spread wider for him to go deeper. You’re a moaning mess when he curls up to your sweet spot, rubbing his fingertips quickly. The familiar queasy feeling builds in your lower regions, and Jeno becomes merciless with his fingers.

He guides them in and out of you, feeling your tightness release and invite him back in. The sloppy wet noises fill the car and drown out the engine. Your half lidded eyes bounce at Jeno’s unbothered figure and the entire scene seems absolutely unbelievable to you.

One hand on the wheel. The other knuckles deep in your pussy. Eyes focus on the road ahead. A comfortable man spread. His hair is messy from the long night.

It is all too unbelievable, that Jeno’s already giving you a second climax of the night when you could barely get one in a year before. And he loves touching you as much as he loves driving.

However, the guilty raises as fast as the ball of tension in your gut. You two pull up in front of your apartment building, while Jeno’s tugging his fingers against your flesh aggressively. In a split second, you hold onto his wrist to stop him.

He shifts into park when the car settles into a spot and peers over to you. A curious expression daunts onto him, rather concern that he might have been too much. “I’m starting to feel guilty.”

Jeno nods, and retrieves his fingers out of your dripping core. The feeling of emptiness causes all the built up pressure to dissipate.

“I understand,” he begins, but pauses at the sight of your sticky juices glistening on his fingers. Your eyes widen as he licks them clean, a soft moan escaping from the back of his throat.

The small action spikes your heart rate and you rub your legs together. With a pop! Jeno hums delightfully, “baby, you taste so good. I’m a little sad I won’t be tasting more, especially directly from the source.” His lustful eyes glance down at your thighs and back to your profile.

“I’ll walk you up to your apartment.” He says way too casually, unbuckling his seat belt. A mixture of emotions are running through your head. There is guilt, but lust is too powerful to ignore, especially when it’s Lee Jeno. The damage is already done, right? It’s not like it wasn’t moments ago that you humped him in the middle of a party.

“Wait,” your hands find themselves gripping onto his leather jacket tightly. Jeno gently reaches over to release your strong grip and replaces the leather with his hand.

“Yes, babygirl?” Jeno’s round, friendly eyes meet yours. The lust clouded darkness is no longer there. His hand feels hot and somewhat rough.

“I’m going to break up with my boyfriend, so promise me, you’re not going to dip out of my life afterwards… I don’t need you to be anything more than a friend. I just can’t lose you too.”

He turns around in his seat to face you comfortably. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I can’t stay away from you, let alone have the ability to leave you.” He reassures you with a soothing and calm tone. His thumb draws circles around your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your friend, whether or not I know how you taste.”

“Do you still want to try it … you know, from the source?” You shyly ask, an innocence embodying your gaze and voice cadence.

Jeno raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “I’d love to, only if you let me.”

Instantly, you shift to get on your lower back. Jeno watches as you excitedly position yourself open for him and actually finds your eagerness quite adorable. Your left leg bends behind the driver’s seat and your right rests on the dashboard.

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you forward towards him and your whole body slides against the leather. With a slow lift, your skirt reveals your drenched panties. Rolling them off and tossing them to the back seat, he lays eyes on your still dripping pussy. Jeno takes a second to admire your flower, this being his first time he’s seen such a private part of you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” He chuckles deeply, before his tongue licks a long strip up to your clit. You exclaim out of the tingling pleasure that seized your insides.

He flattens his tongue against your bundle of nerves, flicking and circling. His finger enters your pussy again, curling up to rub at the same pace he is licking. The pure sight of Jeno’s head in between your legs is enough for butterflies to explode.

His sole motive is to make you feel good. There is nothing else in the world that he wants at this moment beside pleasure to overtake your body. Jeno eats you out like he hasn’t had a meal in months. His mouth wraps around your clit. The mixture of his flicks and sucks cause electric bolts to run down your legs.

You get more wet as Jeno pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your juices are practically dripping onto the interior of the car, but Jeno doesn’t care.

He fucking loves it. He loves the taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your breathless moans. Your waterfall dripping on uncontrollably. The view of you unwinding because of him. Nothing can be more perfect.

Running your hands through his messy locks, you press him closer into you. A devilish smile draws on his face as he flicks his tongue side to side. “Oh, fuck! I’m.. so c--close.”

Your back arches upward into Jeno’s mouth, feeling his muscle lick harder and faster on your throbbing clit. He adds a second finger, and the simultaneous stimulation practically throws you into another dimension. The pleasure overtakes your entire lower half, your legs trembling from pure ecstasy as you approach your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, I’m going to---” Then, Jeno pulls away and shoves his tongue into your warmth. A gasp hits the air as he also continues to rub circles on your sensitive nerves. His tongue fucked your pussy incredibly skillfully and deliciously. With this switch, your legs violently shake and try clamping together.

However, his strength holds you wide and open for display. A low grunt follows suit as his dark eyes zone in on your contoured facial expressions. Then, the white light blind you once again and the ball of tension unravels itself on Jeno’s tongue. Squirming and screaming, your hips buck forward on their own.

It is close to being too catastrophic, this being the most intense orgasm you’ve had after a whole year. Nevertheless, the satisfaction is right on the tips of your toes and you greedily indulge in the euphoric moment. Jeno feels your walls squeeze around his muscle as he laps every last bit of you up.

He is absolutely addicted to your juices, making sure he catches every drop. Finally pulling away, he wipes the extra drip on the back of his hand. Jeno blinks at your raising chest and limp legs. Chuckling, his warm hand massages feeling back into your body.

“Do you want me to carry you back up?” His hoarse, raspy voice wakes you from your post orgasm daydream. You flutter your lashes at him fondly and happily nod at his offer.

Getting out of the car, Jeno walks over to the passenger side and your arms rest nicely around his neck. His palms support your butt, but also smoothing your skirt over to cover your decency. A poke against your outer thigh makes you realize that Jeno is strained against his jeans.

“I can take care of you too.” You pout cutely at Jeno, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not about me tonight. It’s about you.” Leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, his eyes turn into moon crescents from his lovable smile. The kind, friendliness makes an appearance again.

Or so you think! In a sheer second, Jeno’s deep voice rumbles your stomach and his hooded eyes pierce your soul, “next time though, I’m fucking you real good, babe.”

You hum in response. Saliva collects in your mouth, already looking forward to more of Jeno. But a chilly draft brushes up your exposed area as Jeno carries you up the flight of stairs.

“Wait, Jeno… I don’t have my underwear on.” The ‘Level 3’ sign is in view as Jeno turns to walk.

He only laughs and shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s better that way anyways.” Without another word, he continues upward to your floor and you playfully punch his solid chest. In all honesty, that’s not going to be the only time you leave behind your panties in his beloved car.

Your hatred for the notorious Ridin’ Club subside after such a wild night. If anything, you owe it all to your shitty ex-boyfriend for joining such a ridiculous club. Without him and the club’s existence, who knows if Lee Jeno would’ve still swerve into your lane.

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r3almellow · 3 years

Text

The Last Night (Lucifer x F!MC)

My first commissioned story yaaaay! Honestly really nervous about posting this. Not only is this my first time writing for Lucifer, but I don’t want to disappoint the amazing anon who commissioned this! Hope you enjoy this read!

As always I apologize for any typos! I’ve read this thing over so many times, so I hope its all readable!

Summary: Its her last night in Devildom and the stubborn little human still had a few things she had left to accomplish.

Series: Obey Me

Word Count: 2701

Warning: NSFW

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“Do you really want to make a pact with me? Truly?”

Lucifer had asked her this just moments ago already knowing the self-willed human wanted nothing more than to add him to her growing list of demons she conquered. He was ashamed to admit that he wanted to be on that list.

But, if he was going to do this, he was going to do this on his terms. Lucifer refused to be lumped up with his brothers and seen as just another demon she could control. If she was to take him on, there would be no question as to who owned who. She was going to give herself to him in exchange for the power he possessed. It was a fair trade off.

With the pact made and her time in Devildom coming to an end in just a few hours, that should have been the end of it. She returns to her room and he returns to slaving over paperwork until the next day. That’s what was supposed to happen and just like with everything else, she pulled something Lucifer didn’t expect.

When her lips brushed against his, she made it abundantly clear her intentions were more than just to make a pact with him.

And that’s what led them to his room, their mouths locked in a passionate kiss.

His kisses were patient yet eager for more while hers were sweet and timid but explorative. He could tell she was holding back for reasons that were lost to him.

“Where did all that spark go?” He whispered, peppering kisses down the base of her neck.

“I’ve…I’ve never…” She trailed off, too caught up with the sensation of his lips gently sucking on her skin.

Ah, so that’s what it was.

As usual she jumped headfirst into something not knowing that the repercussions of her actions would lead to this. It was foolish, but he did admire her for her efforts.

Lucifer couldn’t tell when last he had done something like this with another. It felt like months or maybe even years had passed by. Asmodeus often joked, whenever he thought Lucifer wasn’t within earshot, that Lucifer’s uptightness had everything to do with his lack of sexual release.

What his lecherous sibling failed to understand was that Lucifer too had urges. These urges he was very good at suppressing, but even he had moments of weakness. While he didn’t act on these feelings with another too often, there were nights he spent alone relying on his hands for the release he desperately needed. Those nights became frequent when a certain human entered his home. The number of times he had thought about her in such an indecent manner was honestly shameful.

Lucifer pulled back and hooked a gloved finger under her chin not giving her the chance to look away. He grazed her bottom lip with his thumb.

“You shouldn’t tempt fate like this if you’re not going to give it your all.”

This was his way of giving her an out. She had the chance to backdown, walk out of his room and they never speak of this again. Lucifer wouldn’t blame her if she did just that, but he knew all too well that she was too stubborn for her own good.

She looked at him hesitantly for a moment before taking his lingering thumb into her mouth. Taking a bit of the fabric from his glove between her teeth, she pulled back taking the glove with her with little to no resistance from Lucifer. With his bare hand revealed she dropped the glove from her mouth and looked back at him with eyes filled with a purity that did not match the current mood.

How could she look at him so innocently? There was something within Lucifer that made him want to take that innocence away. He wanted to twist it and turn into something only he knew how to control, but he couldn’t. She wasn’t ready for that.

“Tempting fate got me this far, so I really can’t complain.” She replied with a small smile that had a hint of devilry behind it.

He chuckled at her words. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in her retort as if the Avatar of Pride wasn’t seconds away from bending her to his will. She really was a peculiar human.

“You fail to understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“That’s kind of my thing, is it not?” So, she was aware of her annoyingly intrusive behavior. Nonetheless, that was the permission he needed.

Removing his other glove and loosening his tie, Lucifer leaned in to capture her lips again. She moaned into the kiss as she instinctively enfolded her arms around his neck. He hoisted her up by her waist forcing her to wrap her legs around him as he carried her over to the bed.

He laid her onto the mattress the satin sheets dipping and wrinkling under her body, lips still on hers.

Lucifer pulled away to remove the clothes that confined his torso, revealing his toned body. She absentmindedly reached out to lightly trace the outline of his abs completely entranced by the up-close view of his body. While Lucifer was not on the same level of Beelzebub with his physique, he did pride himself on his appearance.

He grasped the hem of her blouse, breaking her from her trance. Pulling it over her head revealed an intricately laced black and red bra. It was an interesting choice in color that made Lucifer wonder if this too was a part of her plan.

It was a shame he had to rid her of the beautiful garment, but he had his sights on something far more enticing.

With the bra discarded and her breasts on full display, Lucifer was in awe at the sight before him. Her flushed breasts and fully erect nipples lying in wait to be caressed and teased.

It didn’t take long for the nervousness to reach her and she quickly covered herself. Lucifer suppressed the urge to chuckle. It was cute to think she was embarrassed when he found her so beautiful.

“Don’t hide yourself from me.” His voice was soft as he gently took her wrists, pulling her arms away from her chest. Lucifer glanced over her body once more then cupped one of her breasts giving it a firm squeeze.

“Something so perfect deserves to be seen.” He kissed her.

“To be touched.” Another kiss came.

“To be defiled by me…” He felt her shiver at that last part. Was there something within her that grew giddy at the thought of him having her in the most sinful of ways? What exactly was she imagining?

His lips moved from hers, down to where her neck and shoulder met, then came the lightly dusted kisses as he continued to make his way down.

He felt her chest rise and fall in a labored motion that matched her anticipating breath as he reached her breasts.

Without hesitating, Lucifer took a breast into his mouth, lightly sucking on the tender nipple, earning him a small gasp from her in response. He felt her hands run through his hair as he moved from one breast to the other, leaving bite marks in his wake. Every so often her caresses stop at the feel of his teeth teasingly graze her sensitive flesh.

His hand trailed down her body, fingers slipping past the waistband of her shorts and panties. Almost instantly, his fingers were coated with her juices. He had barely touched her and yet she was already this wet?

She pressed her legs together, trapping him between legs. Lucifer looked up from his place between her breasts in annoyance.

“What did I tell you about hiding?”

“I know, bu-”

Her words were cut short once she felt the pads of his finger brushing against her clit.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I will go no further.” Again, he was giving her a chance to end this.

She said nothing, the expression on her face contemplative. A few seconds passed before she had made a choice. Leaning up she clutched the sides of her shorts and underwear attempting to pull them down. Lucifer helped tossing her clothes to the floor. Now, she was completely bare before him with her legs parted slightly.

Beautiful failed to describe the sight in front of Lucifer. He had the perfect view of the wetness between her legs which was nice, but he personally loved being able to see her body in a way that no one else had seen. While the room itself was dimly lit, Lucifer relished in the fact that every dip and curve of her body was on full display for him to marvel at.

She shifted awkwardly under his burning gaze.

“Stop staring so much…”

“How can one enjoy art without appreciating every visual detail?” She opened her mouth with a remark at the ready but stopped at the sudden intrusion of his finger that slipped between her folds.

Slowly and carefully his fingers danced along her most sensitive area. Her back arched, hips steadily moving against his hand. She was like a piano, reacting to the slightest touch and emitting music that only he had the pleasure of producing.

Just how far could he push his beautiful instrument?

He moved up pressing his lips to her ear.

“Tell me…” He whispered in a husky tone.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” There was a chance that unlike Lucifer she never laid in bed with impure thoughts that left her body wanting to be touched in ways that go beyond simple brushes against skin, but Lucifer refused to believe that. Humans weren’t immune to desires. Those desires were why she was in his bed, after all.

“N-n…” Lucifer could hear the denial coming and his hand stilled inside of her. She whined trying to move her hips to fuck herself against his finger. A cute attempt, but he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted until he got his answer. He removed his hand completely from between her legs.

“Answer. If you lie, you’ll be punished.” It was in her best interest to respond to his inquiry. She knew all too well that there was no bluffing when it came to Lucifer giving punishments.

“Yes…” She breathed out.

Satisfied with her answer, Lucifer continued this time adding a second finger. He deemed it a reward for her honesty, but it was pure torture for her.

“When was the last time?” He asked, gently rubbing his thumb against her clit. She looked as if formulating a coherent sentence was next to impossible, but he was going to get an answer one way or another.

His movements slowed.

“I’m waiting.”

“T-this morning…” Fuck. Lucifer felt the painful reminder of need within his pants growing stronger.

Where was she? In bed? In the shower? Was it right before breakfast? The reason for the awkward glances she shot him at the breakfast table was starting to make sense.

While distracted Lucifer failed to notice that the cheeky little human’s deft hands were reaching for what laid just under pants. She cupped him feeling just how hard he was causing the unsuspecting demon to wince at the contact. He moved away partly sad at the sudden loss of contact, but determined to do things his way.

“Not like this.” Was all he said before sitting upright to remove his last bit of clothing. In no time at all, his cock sprang from its confines of his removed trousers. She looked at his erection in awe probably wondering where it had been hiding this whole time. Lucifer felt a sense of pride as she looked him over completely speechless.

The curious woman made a motion to reach for his throbbing member, wanting to feel the warmth of his shaft pulsating in her hands. Lucifer grabbed her hand, pinning it over her head.

“I didn’t say you could touch, but I suppose I could let it slide just this once. However, we’re doing this my way. Do you understand?” She could only nod not wanting to battle him. Lucifer smiled inwardly. She was a good little human when she wanted to be, but that wasn’t why Lucifer took interest in her.

Resting between her legs, he rubbed himself against her entrance, coating his member with her juices. He had to remember to take it easy with her. Not only was this her first time, but humans were fragile creatures. There was no telling how much her body could take if he went overboard.

“All I need you to do is breathe.” That was the only advice he could give her. In truth, Lucifer had never been with a virgin before, but he did know they required gentleness and care.

He moved forward, slowly sheathing himself inside of her.

Lucifer watched as her eyes closed, and eyebrows knitted together at the feel of his girth stretching her walls. He could tell she was in pain, but the way her face contorted showed a hint of gratification.

Lucifer, too, had to take a moment to get his bearings. Not even all the way in and she felt so tight around him, squeezing his shaft to the point where he felt like he was ready for release in that moment. Had it really been that long since he had felt the touch of another so intimately?

Lucifer had no time to question it further for the woman under him started moving her hips to feel the rest of him. She must have gotten used to his size or she wouldn’t have been so brazen.

He was going to have to teach her a lesson.

Lucifer grabbed her hips forcing her to stop. He pulled himself back, with just the head of his dick still buried within her.

“Have you not learned that such impatience will get you into trouble?”

He wasn’t going to wait for a response. He thrusted roughly into her, filling her pussy with his cock. So much for taking it easy….

The woman cried out her back arching, head falling back against the pillow and a pleasurable pain rippling through her body. He wanted to hear her make that sound again. He wanted to hear it over and over until her voice grew hoarse and her body was spent.

Lucifer couldn’t help but groan as she involuntarily squeezed him in response to his torturous efforts. He didn’t mind feeling the repercussions of his actions, though, especially if it meant that he could make her crumble beneath him.

He was more than prepared to go down with her in this heated battle between their bodies.

--------------------

“Do I really have to go?” She asked quietly as she laid against her lover’s chest.

Lucifer tried not to think about her departure that was fast approaching. He didn’t like remembering that in just a few short hours she would leave his side. Lucifer had forgotten what life was like before she entered his life and as much as he tried to deny it, the very thought of her no longer being in his presence did weigh on him.

“With the exchange program finished, it only makes sense for you to return home… No matter how unfortunate that is.” He was surprised by the disappointed that emitted from his voice.

She looked over at him with a knowing grin.

“Is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?” He could practically feel the smugness radiating off her as she playfully nudged him.

“Perhaps…” She snickered at his admission and nudged him again.

She was too comfortable with being in the company of demons or she wouldn’t be as mischievous as she was now. Maybe they were rubbing off on her and she needed a small reminder that tangling with him could very well be her downfall.

Lucifer rolled over, pinning her to the bed with an annoyed look etched onto his face. He pressed himself against her, his hardened cock lay present on her stomach.

“Since you have so much energy then we should put it to better use?”

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DONE!

Fun fact! The original fic was well over 3K words because I have no self control! Anways, I really hope you all enjoyed the read!

Want to read more of my stuff? Check out my Writing Masterpost!

#obey me #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #om lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x mc #obey me smut #obey me fic

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