#it's unbelievable how much can some people change......

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

#artists on tumblr #Artistic #digital art #art history #anthropology #humanity #art discussion #art theory #skit yells

[qcomicsy]

Random convo I bet happen between civilians and vigilantes

Civilian: What hair product do you use man?? My man's hair is shiiiiining

Nightwing, chuckling: I just let it dry (lying)

Civilian: Naaaah, man I see you jumping from rooftop to rooftop everyday, tell me your secrets–

---

Gothamite: And who's gonna pay for this scratch on my car?!!!

Robin (Tim), trying damn hard to stay stealth: Don't you have insurance?

Gothamite, don't giving a fuck: No!

Robin: You should have–

Gothamite: You know what? HEY TWO-FACE–

Robin: No, no, no– Hold on–

Gothamite: HE'S RIGHT HE–

---

Gothamite: Okay- Cannabis is very much legal in L.A.

Batman: We're not in L.A.

Gothamite: Yeah that's funny because– *runs*

Batman: *Runs after him.*

---

Gothamite: See I don't hate you

Signal: Always good to hear that–

Gothamite: You doing a pretty good job.

Signal: I–

Gothamite, also a bus driver: But you gotta stop being thrown at my window–

Signal: I don't control where villains throw me.

Gothamite: Yeah bro– But you better start, otherwise there's gonna be one more out there–

---

Gothamite, also a security guard on his phone at 3 am: Yeah, no honey it's literally desert here–

Gothamite: HOLY SHIT

Batman:

Gothamite: Fucking warn a guy, mY GOD–

---

Gothamite: I thought you were taller.

Nightwing: I heard that a lot.

---

Gothamite: How do you see on that thing?

Batgirl (Cassandra):

Batgirl: I don't.

Gothamite, terrified: Oh okay–

---

Batman: Shouldn't you be at home?

Gothamite, who's also a teenager very much snicking out at four am: Shouldn't you mind you business?

Batman:

After being forcefully driven to home on the batmobile

Gothamite That was really unecessary–

---

Gothamite: Are you alone??? Where'd your dad? Where's Batman?

Robin (Tim Drake, early days): Batman's not my dad.

Gothamite:

Gothamite: See now I'm concerned.

Robin: Oh no–

Gothamite: What's is this a internship...? A job...?

Robin: You know what? Yeah, Pretty much.

Gothamite: Really? Oh okay, okay. I'm less concerned– Because–

Robin: Yeah I can see–

Gothamite: Like "is he kidnaping those children"?

Robin, chuckling: No, no–

Gothamite: You get paid?

Robin: Not really.

Gothamite: I'm back at being concerned–

---

Gothamite, from her window: Have you eaten yet?

Robin (Dick): No– (lying)

Gothamite: Oh, the poor child– Oh shame on you

Batman:

Gothamite: The poor kid– You're dragging him alone with you to fight crime on a empty stomach?

Batman:

Batman: I–

Gothamite: Unbelievable. I expected more on you– Hold on sweety I'll see If I have some cookies here to give you.

Dick: :)

---

Robin (Damian): Do I look like a fucking child?

Gothamite: Do you want me to answer that?

---

Old Gothamite being around the city since Batman year 1: You sound different.

Batman (Dick Grayson): No I don't.

Gothamite: Yes you do–

---

Gothamite: She looks different.

Gothamite: Mark is the same girl.

Gothamite: No honey, she looks different, she's was taller

Gothamite: Honey you're being paranoid.

Gothamite: She was a red-head!

Gothamite: Oh, Mark. Now the girl can't even dye her hair? Just because she's a Super-hero? Por girl can't even reinvent herself and people on this city start saying she's a different person?! Let her be! Her life must've be hard enough–

Gothamite: Jennet I swear to God that's not the same girl–

Batgirl (Stephanie), just trying to get some information:

Gothamite: You never notice when I change my hair–

#batfam #batfamily shenaningans #Nightwing #Batman #& #Robin #(kinda) #Batgirl #Batgirl Stephanie Brown #Batgirl Cassandra Cain #The Signal #The signal dc #Signal #Signal dc #long post

[sutorus]

OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification 

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist. 

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response. 

he had told you to dress up today. 

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs. 

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time. 

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him. 

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough. 

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him? 

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now. 

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely. 

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most. 

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands. 

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong. 

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that. 

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people. 

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four. 

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it. 

the heat inside you spreads further. 

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there. 

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds. 

your shut your eyes tightly. 

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are. 

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses. 

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win. 

a one in eight change. 

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day. 

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.  

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort. 

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger. 

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you. 

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least. 

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over. 

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy. 

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are. 

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. 

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know. 

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. 

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt. 

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all. 

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere. 

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy. 

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit. 

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers. 

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock. 

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race. 

but his fingers don’t leave you. 

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles. 

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you. 

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of. 

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse. 

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him. 

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for. 

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more. 

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well. 

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder. 

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another. 

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place. 

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you. 

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you. 

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease. 

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair. 

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch. 

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place. 

how fitting. 

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.” 

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense. 

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face. 

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it. 

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all. 

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger. 

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement. 

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout. 

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks. 

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

#call me a ldr loving cherry emoji twitter bitch idc! #the title was funny and fitting #✩.tw free use #✩.tw age gap #✩.tw degradation #tw age gap #tw free use #tw degradation #✩.toji #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x reader smut #toji x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x you #toji x you smut #im so beat i hope i tagged everything #this is short n not sweet at all. enjoy!

[lalal-99]

Sweet Thing {s.c.}

9 “ That feels good…” 14 “Spread your legs, sweet thing.” 33 “Please, just let me come!"

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: strangers to lovers, regular hookup turns serious | smut | wordcount: 1.8k

Synopsis: You know nothing about the hot guy you've been hooking up with for months. You're not even sure about his name. Obviously, you need to change that. In the middle of sex is probably not the right time, but so what?!

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Smut Tags: Porn with Plot | Explicit Sexual Content | Making Out | Hook-up in Bathroom | Bathroom Sex | Fingering (reader rec.) | Oral (reader rec.) | Edging | Overstimulation | Teasing | Some Dirty Talk | Slight Praise Kink | Dom/Sub Undertones (Dom!Changbin) | Mirror Sex

Note: Well, I don't know what to say for myself. The prompt event happened in March/April 2022. And here I am, 2 years later. Some requested prompts are still in my inbox, and I do think I will write something for each eventually. For now, please enjoy this one :) Also, thanks @jl-micasea-fics for letting me use your prompts. I know it's been two years, but still, credit where its due ;)

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

“Spread your legs, sweet thing.”

Against every fibre in your body, you disobey and further the distance to the unbelievably attractive man instead. Much to his dismay.

“Hey,” he tilts your gaze towards himself by the touch of your jaw. A sweet gesture, seeing you were heavily making out seconds before. “What’s going on?”

Hidden away in the small bathroom of your favourite bar, you find yourself perched on the counter. Most definitely the product of the alcohol intoxicating your system.

“Sorry—” you excuse yourself, wiping your hands down the sides of face. “I’m good. Let’s keep going.”

Expecting him to continue where you had left of, you’re surprised to find him leaning against the wall. “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that stunning head of yours.”

A light blush spreads over your cheeks towards your ears and your lip wanders between your teeth. Because the reason for your distraction is so stupid.

“It’s just, we’ve been doing this for a while.” Hooking up at this very bar every weekend for the past few months. For the life of you, you can’t remember how it even started. Possibly with a conversation and his hand on your thigh. Probably with a few shots while celebrating your birthday. “And I don’t know anything about you.”

“Which hasn’t been a problem until now. So, where’s this coming from?”

The first few times were fun. Hooking up in the bathroom, words limited to the absolute necessary. If anything, it made it even hotter. Being with a stranger whose name you hardly remember. But then the comments started. You don’t know which of your friend was the first to say something. It might have been Seungmin, questioning how you could keep hooking up weekly without knowing the first thing about him.

And now you can’t shake the comment out of you if you try. The voice is a constant tenant of your metaphorical head-apartment. Living rent-free.

“My friends. They’ve been asking questions about you. None of which I can answer.” Which is stupid, because it shouldn’t matter. What matters is the incredibly handsome and muscular guy in front of you. Changbin— you think.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t laugh at or dismiss their concern. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you look down at his hands as they begin travelling up your thighs again. Leaving goosebumps as they burn into your skin.

“Do what?”

“Get to know each other. Might as well play 21 questions while we’re at it.”

His lips brush against your jaw before he urges them against your neck. Checking the quickening of your pulse as he licks at the veins.

“Come on. Hit me.”

But you can’t think. His touches are a true distraction, moans tumbling out of your mouth as you finally spread your legs for him. He slots between them, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle.

“You do know how 21 questions works, right?”

His hands grope at your flesh, pulling you closer until you can feel him against your most sensitive part. Why’d you have to speak up? He could have been inside you by now, but you had to open your stupid mouth.

“Yeah— Just— Can’t think.”

“Fine,” he gives in, pulling at your lip as he kisses you. You’re so hot, you wonder whether you’re nursing a fever. “I’ll tell you three things about me, then. Speed things up. ‘S that alright?”

“Please.” You’re begging now, nails digging into the skin of his bulky arms as he’s dragging his clothed crotch against you. “Feels so good.”

“First one.” Changbin pulls your top up over your breasts, freeing your bra. His thick fingers brush against your nipples, forcing a shudder through your body. “I go to the gym five times a week.”

“Obvious—ngh,” you agree turns into a throaty moan as he nibbles at your left breast. Your panties soaked already as you mumble into the night. “Deeper.”

“I’m not even inside you yet.” His chuckle vibrates through your torso. Then he grazes his teeth against your second nipple, and you might as well have lost your head.

“No. Tell me— fuck— tell something deeper. Something not— not everyone knows.”

You’re entering heaven when his hand wanders down your side and towards the hem of your skirt. It wiggles below the fabric, setting flames to your loins. You’re burning from the inside out as this stranger handles your body like he created it himself. Knows how to make you go absolutely insane. And that’s with his clothes still on.

“I call my mom every day.” That definitely fits the category of deep talk. Although, the thought of Changbin’s mother doesn’t exactly fit the moment. “Number three, I’d like to take you out one of these days.”

When the tip of his thumb reaches for your clit, you see the realisation hit his features in real time. You’ve ruined your panties and he can feel it. He has ruined you, and he can see it. From your rolled-back eyes to your tossed-back head. You’re in absolute ecstasy.

Changbin thumbs at your nub, drawing circles with your own wetness. Smirking with pride like a lunatic.

“Your turn, sweet thing. Three things about you, then you get to come.”

No words describe the hatred you feel for yourself when you realise he’s serious. The trajectory of earning your orgasm is as much arousing as it is frustrating. If only you hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m—” You tumble forward as his middle finger enters you. And him? He cocks his head at you, playing confused.

“Sorry? I don’t understand you. Can you speak up?”

Asshole.

“Music,” you mumble, breathless. “I like music. Listening. Making.”

“That’s one. You’re doing so good for me.” A kiss swallows the whine as he enters another finger. Your walls are clenching around him as his thumb practically attacks your clit. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and Changbin knows. “I tell you what. Give me a second, and I’ll give you a third. Sound good?”

You nod, frantic, needing—nay, craving—another one of his fingers.

“I’m good— good at— oh, God.” Hands are clawing at his shirt, the black and red fabric almost ripping from the strength he ignites in you. Your stomach is tensing tight, and he slows down. It’s an alarming promise, Changbin threatening to leave you high and dry if you don’t give him another one. A second fact about yourself. “Maths. I’m good at maths.”

You’re all but howling when he enters a third finger and curls them up against your spot. That’s when you loose the rest of control over your body. None of your movements are under your own command anymore, Changbin’s the sole reason you’re even still sitting upright.

“That’s two. I thought you were good at maths. You’re one short of earning my mouth, sweet thing.”

The promise alone almost makes you fall of the edge. His mouth on you. Coaxing you to your sweet, sweet release. It’s not far, but Changbin is the only one who can make you reach it. You don’t doubt he’ll leave you on the edge if you don’t give him a third fact.

It’s unfortunate that you can’t form coherent sentences anymore. Let alone think of a third fact about yourself. Absolutely pathetic.

“Please—” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stare up at him, begging, pleading. “Please, just let me come.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases with a smirk. A soft kiss hits your nose, then your lips. “That’s not a fact, sweet thing. Don’t you want to come on my tongue?”

Again, the thought alone has you clenching on his fingers. You’re so full, so close, and yet, can’t think of anything.

Maybe if you copy one of his facts, he won’t notice, right? But what was it he said? Oh, right. Gym, mom, date. But, you don’t go to the gym and you don’t talk to your mom daily.

“So, what is it?”

“Date!” you blurt out and he looks confused. “Take me out.” But that’s a prompt, not a fact, so you correct even further, teetering on the edge of heaven and hell. “I’d like it, I mean.”

Changbin debates for a second whether your words count as a fact. You can tell he wants to tease you some more, relishes in it. Thank God, he decides against it.

A sigh of relief escapes you when he finally leans down, pushes your skirt up and connects his lips to yours. And that’s all it takes.

One second his tongue prods against your clit, the next you’re coming on it.

And come, you do. You’re sure you’re squirting all over his face as he swallows up every bit of your release. Cleans you with his mouth until you’re glistening in spit and overstimulation. It doesn’t seem he wants to leave the space between your thighs and you have to drag him away when it becomes too much.

“Sweet, sweet thing,” he teases with a smile when he comes up, licking his lips. His hair is a mess, likely from your hands tugging at the strands and he looks like sex-on-legs. Cheeks dark pink, lips just as, and eyes blurry from arousal. He’s so, so hot, and you’re heating up again already as he’s kissing your lips with pure passion. “So, about that date…”

“Name a place and a time. I’ll be there.”

He chuckles, pulling you from the counter and turning you around. You will never tire from him, treating you like a doll. Bending and breaking you as he pleases. Those damn muscles flex as his arms wrap around your body and he pushes you up against the sink.

“We’ll get there. In fact…” he pulls your skirt over your asscheeks, giving them a delicious squeeze as he hums. Next thing you know, he frees his cock, reaching into his jeans to pull out a condom. And you wonder how Changbin is still so hot while wrapping himself in the latex. “How about you come three more times.”

You gulp at the thought, finding him in the mirror.

“One for a time and one for a place.”

That’s only two. You’re good at maths, or at least you think you are. Changbin might have fucked that brain right out of you.

“And the last one— one— fuck, you’re tight,” he praises as he enters you from behind.

Once he bottoms out, he collects himself, flicking your nipples as he watches you through the glass. And yet again, you’re a chaotic mess in his hands. With your head thrown back against his chest, you’re sent straight back to your own personal nirvana.

That’s when Changbin finishes his prior statement, a proud smirk glued to his face. “The last one’s simply for good measure.”

Masterlist Leave your thoughts!

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #kpop fanfic #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #changbin smut #stray kids fanfic #changbin x reader #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids drabbles #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids fanfiction #skz drabbles #seo changbin smut

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

ㅤㅤmike schmidt x nanny!f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

word count: 3.5k

summary: juggling your role as abby's nanny, tensions rise as mike's fixation on the past leads to a heated argument between the two of you. unspoken emotions linger, pushing both you and mike to the breaking point.

warnings: some arguing, tension, piv, oral (reader receiving)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

A soft knock is enough for Mike to stir in his sleep but not enough to wake him. Abby is drawing happily in her room, content for now after you bribed her with chicken nuggets and a lengthy story time to come after. She’s been missing Mike. And she’s been wanting to go to work with him. You’re not sure how much longer you can tempt her to stay at home instead of going to the pizzeria. 

You close the door, a soft click following suit. He’s still sound asleep, completely unaware of your nearing presence. He asked you to wake him up. But it’s hard when he looks so peaceful. The sounds of birds and crickets reach your ear. You sigh. How long was he going to chase the past?

“Mike,” you say gently. “Time to go.” 

His brows furrow, a murmur falling from his lips. With a smile you shake your head, the bed creaks as you take a seat. “Come on dummy,” you pinch his cheek and his eyelids flutter. “You’re going to be late.”

“So close,” he mutters, his head moving to rest on your lap. Your heart jumps. All you want to do is thread your fingers through his hair and keep him exactly where he is but you know it’s not likely. As soon as he’s fully awake he’ll pull up his walls. “Can you help me take off my poster from the ceiling?”

As he talks his lips move above your thigh, the soft fabric of your sweats leaving little to the imagination. “Why?”

“Gonna take it to work,” his voice is hoarse with sleep. 

A sudden annoyance prickles over your skin, heat building in your stomach— Again with the dreams. Again with wanting to change the past. You’ve been working for him for months now (though can you really say you’ve been working for him when he hasn’t been paying you?) and he’s always been the same. You understand. You really do. But Garett isn’t here anymore, Abby is—you are. 

“No, Mike,” you say, your eyes following his sharp jawline dusted with a bit of stubble. He stirs a bit, legs moving underneath the covers one leg pops out. You swallow. It’s unbelievable the things he doesn’t notice about the people around him. His eyes finally open and you lean back, you’re not a fan of the angle. “Look, the poster is on the damn ceiling. What do you want me to do? Carry you on my shoulders?” 

“I was thinking the opposite.”

“Whatever you have in mind my answer is still no,” you eye the book on the bedside table. “You shouldn’t be sleeping on the job, you know that.”

“It’s called decorating,” he answers with a hint of annoyance laced into his voice. Well, he’s not the only one. He peels himself away from your lap and leans against the wall, you miss the heat of him already. “Besides what do you care about what I do during the job?”

“That place gives me the creeps. I’d prefer it if you’re fully awake.”

Mike sighs and stretches, the soft fabric of his shirt sliding up, a sliver of skin shows. Your knees brush against one another. It almost feels like you’re kids just hanging out with the parents still sleeping. It’s reminiscent, in a way. He runs a band over his face. 

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Too late for that.” 

“I’ll pay you with my next paycheck promise.”

You turn to him, eyes narrowing, “Don’t change the subject. You know I don’t care about any of that at this point. It’s been months, Mike. I would be gone if that was what I only cared about.”

He seems distraught by your answer, even more so than normal. “I... I know that. But you're always here, looking after Abby, taking care of the house. . . I want you to have a life and not be stuck here for Abby’s sake.” 

Ouch. Have a life? You don’t think Mike realizes that he basically shoved a knife in your chest. 

You slide off of the bed, your heart beats quick, a bit too quick for comfort. “Sorry that me helping out is a sign that I have nothing better to do,” you snap. You hear the start of an apology escaping his lips, both feet touching the ground as he contemplates if he should get up or not. “And if you’re so guilty about me being here maybe you should be here yourself.”

The regret settles even before you leave the room. You know he’s going to be thinking about what you said and twist it into the worst possible meaning his brain can fathom—which can be quite dark knowing Mike. 

You’re halfway down the hall, heading to the kitchen when Mike catches up to you. He takes hold of your wrist, slightly tugging you back until he’s got your full attention. You give it to him. Eyes fluttering as you find it hard to look into his eyes. He’s too expressive. You hate being able to see every emotion flickering in them, and likeways you’re scared he can read you just as clearly. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Oh, you’ve never heard him this mad before. Your eyes drop to where he’s holding you, his fingers an iron vice around your wrist. Your pulse races, the tips of your ears warm. His gaze follows where you’re staring, you expect him to let go but he doesn’t, instead, he squeezes harder, his thumb following the vein on the inside of your wrist. “Is this why you’re here? To play hero to my life?” 

Your eyes narrow, “Fuck off, Mike,” you yank your wrist away, a bit of skin catching on his nail. It stings. “Just go to work. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

You had just dropped off Abby to school and promptly doing the dishes before you head out. You didn’t need to wash the dishes perse, but you were hoping Mike would show up before you left. Alas, it was almost noon, and still no signs of him. Not even a phone call. Which he would usually do if he was coming back later than normal. 

You two did end the conversation quite nastily, so you guess you shouldn’t be too surprised that he hasn’t shown up, hoping that you’d leave before he came back. 

A bit too aggressively, you knead the sponge until suds appear. He’s a moron. A complete idiot to think that you were only around just out of pity. His words stung and biting back probably wasn’t the best solution. Shaking your head, you grab a plate and rub it hard enough to potentially peel off the enamel coating. 

“Stupid,” you murmur, finding a bit of relief in letting the words slip. “Stupid, idiot, moron—” 

“You shouldn’t do the dishes if it makes you that angry.” 

Your turn with a jerk, “Mike!” A plate slips, crashing into the sink, without even thinking another cuss drops from your mouth and you dunk your hand into the water to grab it. Just as your fingers graze the sharp pointed ceramic, Mike yanks your hand out of the water. 

“Are you crazy?” he says surprisingly calm, as if he’s to tired to raise his voice or show panic within the words. “Just leave it, I’ll clean it later.” 

Your chest heaves, he holds your wrist vastly differently compared to last night. Eyes wide, you feel the rise and fall of your chest, his gaze momentarily follows the movement before sliding his hand to your elbow. A shudder runs up your spine, your breath coming in short pants, your fingers curl into your palm. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs letting go. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You’re still holding me, Mike.” He looks tired. The skin under his eyes darker than usual, he even looks a bit beat up. Closing his lips, he swallows thickly and lets go. Your hands are still dripping water, you wipe them dry against your shirt. “Rough night?” 

He shakes his head, “No. Just the normal. Dreams were a bit rougher than usual.” 

“You took your poster then?” 

His lips press into a thin line and he takes a seat. Fighting the urge to close your eyes, you bring out a bowl, milk, and stale store-brand froot loops. His lips tentatively twitch into a small smile. 

“It’s Abby you’re taking care of,” he says. “I can look after myself.” 

“Can you?” 

He ignores the subtle bite in your remark and pours himself a bowl of cereal. He doesn’t eat immediately, letting the colorful hoops sit there for a while, he clears his throat. “I got my paycheck.” 

“Congrats.” 

“I can pay you.” 

“I guess you can.” 

His eyes flash, brows furrowing, “Why are you being so difficult?” 

“I’m—” Once again his words hit a nerve. Difficult. Something you often heard right before people left you. Difficult difficult difficult. “I’m not.” 

Mike shifts and stands straighter, your eyes drift to the cereal—must be soggy as hell now. “I know,” he says barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I know you’re not. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” You lie. “And about the other thing, you can pay me later. Get Abby a new set of crayons, she’s going so fast through those things that I’m scared she’s just swallowing them,” you smile weakly as you get up. “I’ll be back before your shift, okay? And I think I should take some time off for a little while.” 

“What?” Mike stands up with you, his shoulders rise, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “Why? Is. . . Is it because of last night? I’m—”

“You’re sorry I know,” you sigh. “It has nothing to do with you. I just. . . I just need to think for a while. I. . just a day, okay, just give me a day.” 

His demeanor changes, his shoulders drop, his eyes grow soft. He nods and you take that as your cue to leave. You grab your back off the couch and he follows you to the hallway. With your hand around the doorknob, you hear him one more time. 

“I care about you, you know,” he calls out and you swear you hear the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I don’t show it but I do.”  

You don’t know how to answer him without bursting like a bubble, exposing every setting emotion that rolls in your gut. Your fingers tighten around the metal and you nod without looking. 

“Red crayon, please.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, a small smile playing on your lips, “Abby, it’s literally right in front of you.” She just shrugs and extends her tiny palm towards you. “Fine you little artist, here you go.” 

You place the crayon in her open palm, she slowly closes her fingers around it and starts coloring vigorously. With a smile, your eyes move back to the TV, you’re not sure what’s happening on the screen. The picture on the screen blurs a little, static growing and growing until a soft creak of the floor catches your attention. You turn to see Mike leaning against the doorframe. You wonder how long he’s been there, watching you and his sister occupy the normalcy of the living room. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

Abby doesn’t bother to look up, too entranced in her drawing. Mike sighs as his gaze lingers on his sister. “Abby can you give us a minute?” 

She blinks before she looks up, suddenly startled, her curious eyes flits between the two of you. “Are you two gonna fight?” 

“No, Abby,” Mike answers, exasperated.”We’re not going to fight. Just. . . talk.” 

Surprisingly Abby leaves without much protest. She gathers her things and heads to her room, while walking past Mike, he softly ruffles her air. She sticks her tongue out and glares at him before disappearing completely. His face falls a bit upon meeting your gaze. You pat the empty seat next to you but he ends up sitting on the coffee table instead, your knees brushing together, he levels you with a soft look. 

“She’s going to ask questions you know.” 

“I don’t care,” he says hastily. “I do think we need to talk.” 

“Fine then. . . talk.” 

He seems unsure of himself now, “I know you’re mad about me because of what I said but I didn’t mean it—” 

“It’s not that,” you cut in. “Sure I was hurt, but that’s not what frustrates me about you, Mike. You have to let go. . . of him. He’s gone, Abby’s here.” 

He suddenly stands up, taking you by surprise, heads towards the kitchen. Your pulse rises as your eyes remain glued to the TV. In the distance, you hear him, “You don’t get to say that to me,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “You don’t know what it’s like.” 

You hear the fridge door opening and closing. You know he’s doing it simply to get away from you, from what you’re saying. You follow him, anger warming your cheeks, you find him leaning back against the kitchen counter, knuckles turned white while holding the edge. 

“So just because I didn’t lose a sibling I don’t get to talk about it?” you scoff. “That’s bullshit.”

“You don’t know what’s it like to lose someone and for it to be out of your control.” He’s shaking slightly, shoulders rounding as he speaks. “I need to know who did it. And I’m close, so fucking close.” 

You shake your head and finally, with a burst of bravery, you hold his face between your hands. His mouth closes shut. Your chest feels as if someone filled it to the brim with rocks. It’s heavy and overwhelming. You can barely breathe as you fix your gaze on him. Without even realizing you begin to stroke the apple of his cheeks, you swear he leans into your touch, your bodies growing closer. 

“Listen to me, Mike,” your voice trembles. “If you don’t stop you’ll end up losing everyone who cares about you.” 

His hand closes over yours, “Does that include you too?” 

“What if it did?” 

“I can’t. . .” he chokes. “I can’t stop.” 

You pull away, body feeling chilled in his absence. You blink away the tears, swallow the persistent knot in your throat. It was an empty threat. You know you won’t leave, no matter how insistently you implied that you might. “Then I think you should go. You’re going to miss your shift.” 

“Fuck my shift.” 

You feel the soft touch of his lips. It grows violent, smothering. You moan eagerly into his mouth, your wrist caught between his fingers, he pulls you closer. Mike slips his tongue between your lips and tastes you eagerly. Arousal pools between your legs, your stomach bottoming out as he whimpers and licks himself deeper into you. You melt against him. Your nipples tight and tingling with every lick. 

His hand curls around the back of your neck, the gentle pressure making you break away, “Mike—” you whisper, eyes teary. He licks the seam of your lips and teases your bottom lip with his teeth. Slack-jawed, you tilt your head back, he eagerly dips down and closes his lips around your neck. “Take me to your room.” 

He’s gentle. So painfully gentle that you fear your heart might stop at any given moment. The back of his fingers trace the contours of your body slowly, gooseflesh rising in his wake, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes deep breaths as he lifts your shirt. Your eyes roll when his hands immediately cup both your breasts, thumbs toying with your pebbled nipples. The pads of his thumbs smooth over them slowly, it’s almost ticklish. A shiver runs up your spine and you gasp, he sucks the air that escapes your lungs, slanting his lips over yours. 

The seam of your panties gather with slick. You desperately rub your thighs together. Heat blossoms over patches of skin, Mike sucks on your bottom lip and toys with the waistband of your sweats. “Can I taste you?” 

“Yes,” you pant, the thought of his tongue parting you making you near delirious. Your breath hitches. 

He gives your cheek a quick peck, “You have to get on the floor. My bed is too loud.” 

“Just how hard are you planning to fuck me?” 

His eyes darken, “Until you’re a mess.”  

You drop to the ground, Mike following you close with kisses down the column of your neck. Your legs spread and he tugs down your sweats, revealing your soaked cunt. His chest heaves. You follow the movement of his tongue as it swipes over his bottom lip, his thumb dips between your folds and moves up to brush over your clit. Your legs twitch, electricity coursing over your burning skin. 

“You have to keep quiet,” he groans, fingers slipping inside. Your head drops back, your back arches. A violent breath of air rips from your lungs and before it can become louder, you cover your mouth with both hands. “Good,” he murmurs, breath tickling your throbbing clit. Mike tentatively closes his lips around it, sucking, he pushes his fingers deeper. 

Your throat constructs in of itself. Waves of pleasure washing over you like warm grains of sand. The sounds coming out of you are downright sinful and with each thrust of his fingers it gets louder. Your insides clench around him and at the same time he curls his fingers, your eyes squeeze shut, your lips moving against the inside of your hand. Too good. It feels too good. 

Without even noticing you had begun to grind your hips, the sensitive bundle of nerves pressing against his mouth harder. Mike moans wantonly into you, the sound coming out muffled. He moves his head side to side and flattens his tongue over your clit. Your fingers delve into the soft locks as you pull him closer.

He delves his tongue back and forth, rougher this time, faster. Your body goes rigid, forcing you to cry out into your hands as your orgasm takes you over. Sudden sparks of pleasure clash throughout your body, intensifying to unbelievable heights as he plays with your swollen nub. His mouth and fingers move endlessly until you’re gasping for air, shattered remnants of your desperate pleas mashed against your palm. 

Mike glances up, eyes wild yet passionate with a cheshire-cat grin. His lips and jaw are soaked, glistening under the dim light. You feel your entire body motionless. He withdraws his fingers, licking them off one by one, he moves up your body and pushes his fingers between your lips. You swirl your tongue around them feverishly. Your cheeks unnaturally warm and heart thrumming fast against your ribcage. 

He pulls his fingers out, gently cupping the underside of your chin, he rolls his hips. Your breath catches at the feel of his cock against your sopping core, you squeeze his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons on his skin. 

Mike doesn’t bother to remove his clothes, instead, he slides his hand between your bodies and under his pants, pulling out his dripping cock, he aligns himself with your core. He pushes into you inch by inch, the sounds you make getting louder and louder—Mike covers your mouth with his hand. “‘Gotta keep silent,” he breathes into your skin. 

You nod frantically, your gasp bouncing off of his palm when he bottoms out. A loud groan escapes his lips, eyes meeting yours as his lips part. At the sight you clench around him, a fresh gush of wetness coating his cock.

Mike moves slowly inside you, finding a deep, rhythmic, steady rhythm that carries you towards bliss. His hips sway sensually, his thrusts pushing against the deepest parts of you. His hands tangle into your hair, and his eyes meet yours with a softened gaze. His breath is at your neck, and a guttural moan escapes his lips as he moves against you.

“Does—Does it feel good?” you whimper.

“Feels amazing,” he breathes into your open mouth, hips drilling into you, relentless. “You’re so fucking wet—” 

He guides both of your hands up your chest to your breasts, holding them subtly as you both explore each other’s bodies, his lips finding your neck and shoulders. Your fingers begin to move deftly over your hardened nipples. 

Breaking eye contact, he moves his lips down your neck, pressing them against your collarbone. His hips move faster now, and his hands roam over your body. You squeeze your breasts as a wave of pleasure washes over you, spilling out uncontrolled moans and cries that are subdued by his mouth above yours. He swallows the sounds you make. 

He presses himself in deeper, hips slamming into yours, you feel yourself quickly barreling to the edge. Your eyes tear up and his hand slips away from your mouth, down to your waist. You claw at his back, your toes curling. Mike breathes heavily against your skin, and his thrusts grow desperate. You lock eyes with him one last time before you come undone in his arms, your orgasm crashing around him—He quickly pulls out, making your breath hitch painfully at the loss of contact, he comes over your stomach. Cock sliding over the sweat-soaked skin. 

“Shit,” he grunts. “Fuck—That. . . that felt amazing.” 

Before you can answer he kisses you deeply. His tongue dances above yours, his hips still softly rolling as his cock softens. “Don’t go,” he whispers into your mouth, kissing you again. “Please don’t go.” 

You thread your fingers into the damp locks that are scattered over the back of his head, you tug gently, his eyes fluttering for a moment, a puff of air sensually leaving his lips. 

“I won’t,” you answer, nipping the corner of his chin. “Not sure I could even if I tried.” 

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x f!reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fanfiction #mike schmidt fanfic #fnaf fanfiction #five nights at freddy's fanfiction #josh hutcherson character fanfic #josh hutcherson characters fanfiction

[annie115]

Pure Desire (CL16 x Reader)

Summary: Charles feels a bit lonely at night and decides to call you..

Warnings: smut, 18+ (minors dni), sexting, phone sex, mentions of masturbations

You were working for the Scuderia Ferrari Hospitality since the beginning of the season. Since the only people who were your age were the drivers, you grew close to them quickly. Especially Max, Lando and Charles were the ones you spent most your free time with. But it was clear, to you and to Lando and Max as well, that you had a big crush on Charles. The way you looked at him, the way you blushed when he made you a compliment or when he touched you somehow. Even the way your eyes lightened up when somebody was talking about him. You were pretty sure that Charles was aware of your feelings, but he never said anything. Max and Lando were making their jokes, about how obvious you were but you couldn’t help it. You felt like a teenager again, when you were around him.

Charles was aware of how you were feeling. He was also aware that he didn’t feel the same for you. He liked you, a lot and sometimes he had to think about you under the shower, but love? No. The desire to have a relationship with you? No. Some nights, when he felt very lonely and horny and no video from the depths of the internet could help he was close to call you. He was pretty sure that you would accept, that you would do almost anything for him. But he wasn’t that kind of guy. You were his friend, and he valued this friendship. You were the one who was there for him after a bad race or a bad qualifying. You were the one who sometimes brought him back to the real life, during late night walks. He couldn’t just play with your feelings like that, could he?

No, he couldn’t. He said that to himself while laying in bed, unable to sleep. He needed sex, badly. He was browsing through the internet for almost an hour, without finding something that would satisfy him. Suddenly, his phone vibrated, telling him that he had a new notification. He grabbed his phone. Y/n has posted a reel. He opened Instagram and clicked on the video you had just posted, already knowing that it was one of your dance videos. You used to be part of a dance crew, but now that you were travelling so much it was difficult to go to the practices regularly. Nevertheless you managed to go there whenever you could, shooting little clips of dances for Instagram. Charles knew that you went back home last week, before coming to the race in Singapore.

The video showed you and a few other dances, dancing to Sam Smith´s “Unholy”. You took the lead in the part of Kim Petras, looking unbelievable sexy while flirting with the camera. Charles scanned your body in the video, the black sweatpants and the white cropped top left some room for speculation, even though your ass was clearly well shaped. Without really noticing he started touching his dick. After a while, when the video ended, he realized that he couldn’t finish with just you dancing. He sighed and opened WhatsApp.

Charles: “Are you awake?”

Y/N: “Yeah, can´t sleep..”

Charles: “Same here. Do you wanna hang out?”

Y/N: “I´d love to, but we´re not in the same hotel this time”

He sighed again. Maybe that was for the best. He didn’t know if he could just be there with you, without making a move. He was so horny, it was blurring his mind. He looked at the chat again, realizing that you wrote another message.

Y/N: “Maybe it´s for the best, I would´ve needed to change”

His heart skipped a beat. What did you mean by that?

Charles: “Why? What are you wearing?”

He was ready to shoot his shot.

Y/N: “Well.. not much..”

Charles didn’t know that the heat rose up in your body. You were laying in bed trying to relieve some stress to get some sleep but you couldn’t focus much. So you decided to dress up a little, to make yourself a compliment.

Charles touched his medium hard dick once more, trying to imagine you wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt with nothing beneath it.

Charles: “Paint me a picture”

You gasped, realizing in what direction he was going. It was wrong, you shouldn’t text him in this kind of way. But you were horny, so freaking horny for him.

Y/N: “Hmm.. I wouldn’t know how to describe it in English. But it has the same colour as your racing suit”

“Fuck”, Charles gasped quietly, starting to palm his cock.

Charles: “Why are you wearing something like this?”

Y/N: “What do you mean?”

Charles: “Are you always wearing things like that when you go to bed?”

Y/N: No..

Did you really wanted to go for it? You weren’t sure, but you went this far already and you needed the pleasure. Before you could reply, he called you. You gasped again, not knowing if answering would be good. Sexting was one thing, but on the phone? That was another form of intimacy. You imagined Charles voice with the French accent and it sent shivers down your spine. You accepted.

“Hey”, he whispered and you closed your eyes, his voice was so raspy. “Hey”, you answered. “Why are you wearing something like this, y/n?” he asked again and you directed your finger over your body, down to your panties. “I couldn’t sleep.. and..” “Were you going to touch yourself?” he asked and you moaned quietly. “Answer me”, he demanded and you closed your eyes again, nodding. “Yes I was”, you answered and heard a moan escaping your speaker. You imagined to hear how he ripped down his pants, but maybe you were hallucinating. “What are you thinking about when you touch yourself, Cherie?” he asked and your finger found its way to your clit. You were already dripping because of his words. Still, you were to shy to answer. You had never done anything like that. “Words, baby. Who are you thinking of?” You knew what answer he wanted and you were going to give it to him. “Y-You, Charles”, you sighed. “Fuck”, he mumbled and you now were fully aware that he was touching himself also.

“I´m thinking of you too, baby”, he said and you moaned again. “What would you want me to do if I was there?” he asked and you threw your head back, moving your hand faster over your clit. “I would want you to eat me out”, you replied, surprised by your own words”. “Oh fuck, I would eat you out so good baby”, he answered, his words slurred a little. “I would lick your little pussy until you finish”. “Oh fuck”, you gasped a little louder this time, inserting one finger inside of you. “I would make you so wet for my cock, Cherie”, he continued and you started to see stars. Never before have words affected you this much. “I would want you to fuck me, Charlie”, you moaned. “Oh believe me I would fuck you so hard you couldn’t stand for two days”, he replied and moaned afterwards. You were on the edge already, thrusting your fingers inside of you while rubbing your clit.

He did the same. He choked his cock with the thought of you sucking him off, with the thought of you riding him into delusion. “Cha-“ he heard you gasping from the speaker of his phone. “I´m here baby”, he said and heard a loud moan escaping your lips, showing him that you finished. The thought of you being all wet for him shoved him over the edge as well. He quickly grabbed a tissue from the night stand before he jerked himself off to the end.

With heavy breathing you listened to him finishing himself off. After a while, he started talking. “Guess now we both get a more decent sleep, huh?” he chuckled and you did the same. “Yeah, it definitely helped”.

Part 2

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write headcannons for Smoke and Bihan with their s/o who's overworked themselves to the point where they hardly get sleep and barely eat?

Tomas Vrbada

He’s naturally going to be concerned about your well being the moment you rejected food and or sleep on multiple occasions across a period of time.

Tomas understood that your work was important that that you’ll have a fair few nights where you went without sleep or eating, but he quickly draws the line when he could start to visibly see the physical toll your overworking tendency has taken. You could barely stand on your own two fucking feet without constantly shifting your stance, as your eyes struggled to stay open and the dark begs beneath them got worse.

To Tomas no job was worth someone’s health and well-being and this job certainly wasn’t worth yours in the slightest. Your work be damned but he wasn’t about to watch you slowly deteriorate overtime, whilst he’s stuck stood at the sidelines, knowing deep down that he could stop this before it becomes too late to make change.

‘Why?’ You asked when Tomas asked you to take some time off from work, biting back a yawn, thinking you were slick. ‘I’m in the middle of something important for work and I have to cover for two long shifts later this week, seeing as my coworker had dropped them on a extremely short notice…again.’ You muttered the last bit under your breath but Tomas heard it as though you were speaking at a normal volume.

‘That!’ He pretty much exclaimed before composing himself and sat beside you at your desk, taking one of your hands in his whilst his thumb rubbed your skin soothingly. ‘Look I get that you love this job and want to build a career for yourself, which I’m all for but,’ he looks into your eyes where you saw just how worried he was, ‘I don’t want to stand by and watch you destroy yourself for a job that doesn’t commemorate all you’ve done for them.’

Tomas rested his forehead against yours, his heart melting when he saw how easily you learn into his warmth. ‘So please, take a break, sleep and for my sake please eat because I can’t bear to watch you destroy yourself for others who don’t value you like I do.’ He whispered against your lips. ‘I see the effort you put in but there has to come a time where you must walk away from situations that don’t benefit you.’ You sat on his words and allowed yourself to feel just how exhausted, how heavy with fatigue your body was that you could barely lift a finger.

Tomas was right, like he always was, maybe a break wouldn’t be so bad if it meant you could cuddle into him and indulge in his cooking as much as your stomach could handle.

Yeah, that sounds way better than working.

‘Okay.’ You said softly. ‘I’ll call in tomorrow.’

‘No need, I already told them that you’d be taking a break and to not be contacted until you feel like you’re ready to go back in.’ Tomas admitted and you couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Unbelievable.’ You teased, only to yawn soon after before nestling yourself again him. ‘But I’m not complaining if it means I get to annoy you for the next few days.’

Tomas was the one the chuckle this time and kisses the top of your head. ‘Jokes on you, I love having you annoy me. Now get to sleep, baby. You’re more than deserving of it.’

Bi-Han

I see him as the kind of person to do the same but I could be wrong. He just strikes me as the type to not properly take care of himself, ya know? That’s just my opinion.

Bi-Han runs himself into the ground to become stronger for himself and for the future survival of the Lin Quei but the moment you begin to run yourself into the ground for other people at your place of work? He becomes the biggest hypocrite known to man.

So he wouldn’t think much of it at first but the more it happened, the more it became apparent to Bi-Han that something was wrong, very wrong and he needed to step in.

He finds your desire to make a career for yourself admirable but not like this, you don’t get respect from the people who’ll never understand the importance of a hard days work. In Bi-Han’s, everyone else should strive to earn your respect for the shit you put yourself through. Seeing as you weren’t given no thanks for your efforts, but instead countless more expectations to pick up your coworkers slack.

So I wouldn’t put it past Bi-Han to demand that you take a break, Grandmaster’s orders and all that.

‘Bi-Han I can’t just take a break! I’ve got important work to do-‘

‘Work that isn’t yours to complete.’ Bi-Han interrupted but he was right, you had finished your work in advance and now multiple people at work suddenly claimed that they had other obligations to do theirs, thus pulling them onto you instead with nothing other then fake smiles and even faker gratitude.

Curse your people pleasing tendencies!

You sighed, rubbing at your aching eyes that have only seemed to have gotten worse over the course of the past couple of days. ‘Then what do you suggest I do? Not finish them and let them bitch at me for their lack of responsibilities?’ You asked rhetorically, knowing that with Bi-Han, you’ll never win this argument as he always has something to back up his claims.

And besides you were too tired to argue against something that you both knew was true, it wasn’t your work to finish and so by that logic, no blame would befall you entirely. At least you hoped not.

‘It is due to their lack of responsibility that has caused you this fatigue, beloved. They’re more then deserving of the punishment.’ Bi-Han said. ‘You shouldn’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s decisions nor destroy yourself into looking reliable to your peers. You’re better than them, more resilient, dependable, hard working, determined but most of all; you take responsibility for any and all of your decisions applicably.’ Bi-Han sat back at his chair and gestured to the food before the both of you that had yet to be touched. ‘But now it’s time you rest and eat as much as you possibly can.’

#mk x reader #mk x you #mk imagine #mk imagines #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines #tomas vrbada imagine #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada x you #smoke x reader #bi han imagines #bi han x you #bi han imagine #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader

[yuurei20]

Short translation from Twisted Wonderland: the second novel.

Post-Overblot Leona (the flashback monologue)

"I grew tired of thinking, so I decided to enroll at Night Raven College, though I had no interest in it. I knew  I was just running away from the pain, but my heart felt lighter, nonetheless. 

If something is far away enough, you cannot long for it. 

The intensity of the sun, the scent of new leaves, the damp wind of the rainy season—it is so far away that it’s nothing but a blur, from here.

The restlessness dulls, and the pain slowly numbs. But, at some point, even that started to change.

A new pack was formed, and with it, new despair. 

‘Help us,’ they said.

‘You’re the only one who can do it. Please. Just as expected of our Housewarden. Our king.'

As king, I cannot let the pack starve. I knew that, but I also knew that Malleus cannot be defeated head on. I had to come up with a plan to take him down and win, by any means necessary. Anything to win. To win. I want to win. No matter what, I want to win.

And if I don’t, if I give it everything I have and I still lose, what should I do?

‘Ah…just forget it.’

When I realized that the plan to remove Malleus had failed, suddenly, I understood.

That everything is pointless. That the future throne I desire does not exist.

It didn’t bother me as much as I’d thought it would.

It's a fool’s errand to strive for something that cannot be obtained.

I want to forget it all as soon as possible, and be at ease.

But the pack spoke eagerly about the future, with sparkling eyes. 

That alone is terrifying.

It's not their expectations that scare me.

I’m scared of myself. Of how pathetic I would be if their words inspired me, so that I am never able to give up hope.

‘Weren’t we going to turn the world upside down together!?’ ‘You could take on Diasomnia, if you actually tried. I still remember that play you did three years ago!’

Somewhere in my heart, there's still the lingering hope that, maybe, I can still do it. It's an unbelievably optimistic, sweet thought, filled with wishful thinking.

Ruggie, Jack, and the others all talk about these foolish dreams that will never come true, but in the end, I'm just as much a fool as they are. 

I'm not strong, I’m not wise, and I'm not loved. Is this who I am? I can't accept that.

That's the one thing I do not want to admit. 

I'm utterly fed up with how unreasonable I am. Don't make me think that there might be a chance.  Just let me believe that there is no point in having expectations. 

I am tired of struggling and suffering for things I cannot attain.

I hate knowing how insignificant and boring I am.

People say I should try. What else can I do? I've already given it everything I have.

Maybe what I should be striving for is the strength to give up. 

And that sounds like the most painful thing of all.

Ah, life truly is unfair."

#twstnovel2 #twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #twst translations

[stars-and-inkpots]

Reverence | Gale x Reader | (18+)

You take the opportunity to show Gale just how beautiful he is, and you have the perfect way to make sure he understands it.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Mild sexual content, mostly implied sexual content, praise kink, touch-starved, body worship, fluff (at the begining), kissing (lots)

Notes: I am determined to help provide more Gale content because I don't think there is enough. This might get a part 2 if people are interested.

Part 2

Ao3 Link: Reverence

Word Count: 1,338

The city is a welcome respite from the harsh wilderness you’ve been travelling through for the past several weeks. Well, perhaps a welcome change for some of you; Halsin was far less excited to be within the city walls, but complained only once. While the city was stifling to him, he understood the appeal for the rest of you. Lae’zel, on the other hand, despised the crowds and made this more than clear on multiple occasions. 

But everyone was content with the decision to rent some real rooms at the Elfsong Tavern- the entire upper floor, in fact. Gale was particularly pleased with this; and while everyone had their own rooms, he was very content to remain in yours. 

Being in camp with everyone always there all the time did not give the two of you many opportunities to spend time together uninterrupted. Now, as you lay on the bed beside him while he reads through one of the many new books he picked up today, you can almost pretend that everything is normal and the world is safe. At least for the moment. 

Gale’s fingers card through your hair. Occasionally, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of your head. You wrap your arms a little tighter around him. Everything feels so domestic that your face flushes and your heart aches. Given the circumstances of… well, everything that's happened to you so far, you hadn’t devoted much time to thinking about the future. But as you feel Gale’s chest rise and fall with each breath, hear him chuckle to himself while he scans the book with rapt attention, you can’t think of any other way you would want to spend the rest of your life. The realisation is both daunting and a comfort. 

You find yourself staring at Gale. He’s too busy with the book to notice, so you have time to really take in the beauty of this man, and there really is so much of it. 

His hair, still slightly damp from his earlier bath, has grown slightly since you met him. You notice that the small braid you had put in his hair one night still remains, still miraculously perfect. When you reach out to hold it between your fingers, you can feel traces of magic within the strands and realise that Gale had enchanted it somehow, ensuring it would stay. It’s such a fond gesture: that he would go through the effort if only to maintain it- to keep a reminder of you with him all the time. 

The only indication that he’s noticed your discovery is the slight smile on his face and the pink that dusts his cheeks; he almost looks embarrassed. Gods, you love him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper. His blush deepens and his eyes finally part from the book to find yours. 

“Thank you,” Gale answers, but his voice is soft and you wonder if he really believes you. 

“I mean it, Gale. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting; and not only in looks. You are intelligent beyond words, your skill with magic is unbelievable.” He looks away from you, the book almost entirely forgotten in his hand. 

“Alright, now you’re only flattering me.” 

“Calling it flattery implies I mean none of it. Gale, and I mean every word.” You take his face between your palms, turning him to look at you again. There’s a sadness in his eyes, one that makes your chest tighten. You need him to understand how much he means to you. “And surely you are not one to call me a liar, are you?” 

“Of course not, my love. I would never dream of it,” he answers, and kisses you. 

“So, you believe me then,” you ask, like you’re testing him. 

Gale gives you a look, a strained, conflicted sort of look. This man is stubborn to a fault, but this is not something you are going to let up on just yet. 

“Your eyes are the prettiest I’ve ever seen, like the forest in autumn.” You pepper kisses across his face, moving to straddle his hips. You run your fingers through his hair, smiling fondly at the grey hairs that are present throughout. “Your jaw, your cheekbones, your nose, it’s like the gods sculpted them themselves.” With each new thing you list, you press several kisses to it. You can feel the warmth of his face when your lips brush over his cheeks. 

Your hands move to hold his hips while you move yourself further down, kissing his neck as you do so. You only barely hear him suck in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop you- Gods, he doesn’t want to stop you. When you leave a final kiss at the top of his chest, your hand moves to the edge of his shirt, giving it a small tug. “May I?” You ask, and Gale doesn’t trust himself to answer so he nods. You pull the fabric up, and he helps you take it off of him completely. Your hands find his hips again while your lips return to now exposed skin. 

“I will never get enough of your hips, love,” you say, tightening your grip on them ever slightly. “All of you, so soft, yet so strong.” His stomach is soft, but you can feel the muscles tense under your palm when you drag your hand across. You keep kissing him; his chest, his stomach, his hips. You can hear how his breaths are becoming shorter- can hear him sigh so softly. He’s always so responsive to you: a trait you absolutely love. 

Your fingers tease the waistline of his pants, and you finally hear him speak for the first time in minutes. His voice is unsteady, already wrecked from just this alone. 

“Please,” he begs breathlessly. You don’t hesitate. 

You leave his underwear for now; you still have a point to prove. 

You continue to kiss down his chest, and then across his thighs. You indulge him, leaving a collection of blossoming purples across his inner thighs. The last is rewarded with a whimper, and his fingers curl through your hair. He’s almost shaking, his pupils blown wide when he looks down at you.  

“Please,” he repeats. You smile, and if Gale knows you, which he does very well, he knows it means you’re going to drag this out and tease him for as long as you can. 

“Soon, my dear, I just need you to do something for me first.” You move yourself back up so you’re straddling his hips again. “Say you’re beautiful.” You’re back to kissing just below his jaw. Gale lets out a shaky breath, but hesitates. “All you have to do is admit it, then I’ll give you what you want.” 

“This is hardly fair.” Gale does his best to sound annoyed, but you can feel him beneath you. You know how much of a hold you have on this man. 

You kiss him; a deep and passionate kiss that promises more, but you pull away before he can deepen it. 

“Say it,” you ask again. “I’ll wait as long as it takes, love.” 

Your hands are all over him: his shoulders, his face, brushing his hair back, tracing the curve of his jaw. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Gale can barely focus enough to string a single thought together. All he can think about is you. You and your hands and lips all over him, kissing each and every part of him. He’s never really considered himself beautiful, though many might think him vain. But the way you’re touching him, holding him, telling him how perfect he is in hushed whispers against the side of his neck, it’s enough to convince him that maybe you’re right. 

“I’m beautiful,” he relents, voice soft but still needy. He feels you smile against him. 

“Good boy,” you answer, and he moans at the praise. “Now to make sure you don’t forget that anytime soon.”

#gale x reader #baldurs gate gale #gale x tav #baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

[unnerving-presence]

give me more Hcs of corruption kink with wesker please

of course <3 is this self indulgent because i would deadass act like this cause i’m both a people pleaser and a scared ass bitch who needs some reassurance in her life?? pfft.. nooo (yes)

not proofread

NSFW Below!

Wesker loves your innocence. It turns him on so damn much. He just loves how pure you are. It honesty drives him crazy. It’s something he promises to cherish and never change about you. He may want to taint that innocence, but he’ll always want it to stay. It’s the cutest thing about you. No matter how innocent you are or how you show your innocence, it’s always going to be his favorite part of you.

If you’re a virgin too? God, Wesker is holding back from absolutely pounding you into the bed. Tell him to be gentle? You’re lucky he has so much self control because hearing that only turns him on more. Don’t worry, he knows you’re inexperienced and will be gentle. You’ll get lots of praises and reassurance.

Another part of your innocence he loves is when you always ask questions or are oblivious to most sexual things. It really just solidifies the fact that you haven’t been touched by anybody else. Knowing that he’s going to be the one to taint your innocence, to teach you how to please him turns him on like no other. Also just.. finds it absolutely adorable when you look up at him and ask if you’re pleasing him right and if he feels good. You’re just so sweet and he loves it.

Even if you’re used to him he still can’t get enough of stretching you out. A mirror has been placed at a wall near the end of your bed just to he can spread your legs and watch as he pushes into you. It’s the cutest thing to see you rest your head on his shoulder and closed eyes and tensed brows. He knows he’s big, honey.. you can take it. He knows you can 🩷

He loves having you rely on him as well. It’s the cutest thing when you ask him for guidance when he wants you to do something new. It’s especially cute if you’re the one who wants to try something new, asking if he can help you. He just takes a certain pleasure in making sure you have a good time.

Cant get enough of the cute little noises you make. Whether it be your whimpers while you try and take him or your small moans when he thrusts into you, he loves each and every one of the sounds you make. Especially the whimpers. He has to put in extra effort to hold back, especially if you look up at him while you do it. You’re so irresistible to him and you don’t even know. It’s both frustrating at times but he can’t help but find it adorable that you’re so innocent and oblivious.

Breeds you for hours upon hours once he’s made sure you’re absolutely okay with him doing so and knowing how fast/hard he’ll go. He’s been holding back while teaching you and letting you get used to himself and he just.. really needs to let it all out. Gritting his teeth as he fucks you harder, holding your hips while he tells you how sweet and good you’ve been for him, panting at the thought of knowing he’ll forever taint that innocence, filling you up load after load knowing damn well nobody else has made you feel so good except him. You turn him on so much it’s unbelievable..

Even outside of the bedroom all Wesker wants is to protect you. You’re just the cutest thing and he’ll be damned if anything ever happens to you. Wesker’s never felt such affection. It’s honestly quite rare for him. Because of that, you’re special. More than you could ever know. Every day he feels like he got lucky knowing you’re in his life. You’ll have a good life with him.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker

[spidernuggets]

Hey! If requests are still open for Jason, can I ask for something. If this too much or uncomfortable you of course do not have to write it, I just wanted to check and see

Hbo Titans Jason where he and reader have always been best friends since before he became robin, possibly they are secretly pining for each other (because I love that trope lol), anyway at titans tower the episode where Jason was gonna jump, could you write that he does and it starts a timeloop that reader is stuck in and she's the only one aware of it, and classic timeloop trope she's trying again and again to save him but it never works out until eventually she can't watch him die anymore so when the day restarts she goes straight to the roof and jumps. This breaks the timeloop and the day starts again, she is alive, jason is alive. And team titans somehow have all the memories from the timeloops so everyone including jason knows that she has had an unbelievably shit time and then her and jason talk and he's kinda really mad that she did that and really confused and that's when she admits that she loves him

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

"57 times I relived the day, 57 times I tried to save you, 57 times I failed, 57 times I watched you die!"

Warnings: continuous mentions of suicide from Jason and one suicide mention from Reader

Notes: A lottttt of dialogue

Love how you think, anon

You have no words to describe your feelings towards your best friend. You have no words to describe your intense, undying love towards Jason Todd.

Undying and forever concealed feelings.

You and Jason have been ride or die ever since you were kids. You were both orphans, but he seemed to get the better end of the stick once he got caught by Batman while he was stealing the tires off of the Bat Mobile.

But Jason never left you in the dust. He always came and visited you. Gave you the nicest food from the manor, told you about his role of Robin, taught you all the tricks and moves he learned from Batman.

He said he could get you a room at the manor. Pull some strings. But you told him that Crime Alley was your home. And you could rely on him, as Robin, to protect you, and the other people whom Batman seems to overlook when saving Gotham.

But when Bruce put Jason under Dick's care within the Titans, Jason practically begged you to join with him. Seeing as he'd be moving to San Francisco, farther away from you, he wanted you to be by his side. Not because he thought you couldn't make it on your own in Gotham. No. He knows how much capability of protecting yourself

He wanted you by his because of his undying and forever concealed feelings for you. He barely managed to go a day without seeing your smile back in Gotham. Who knows how he could've felt if he had to live months, maybe years without seeing your face.

So after getting in his knees, begging you to come with him, he pulled some strings and begged once more. Put his pride aside just for you, and convinced his older brother, Dick, to let you join the Titans. He said you were a fast learner, strategic, and absolutely amazing.

And that's when Dick saw it. That shimmer in Jason's eyes as he described this amazing girl. Dick knew how Jason felt about you. But without revealing this new knowledge, Dick just came up with the excuse that if your presence will get Jason to stay in line, then you can join.

And Jason's bright smile just proved Dick's theory of Jason's obvious love for you.

"Oh my god, I think I dislocated like 50 joints and bones," you say sarcastically, walking into the Tower after a long side mission. "Gonna take a fat nap, Dickwad," you yelled over to Dick before walking towards your room and Dick just rolls his eyes, smirks and shoos you off.

Gar shoots finger guns at you, telling you it was a good idea and headed off towards his own room to catch some Zs.

You changed into comfier clothing, you headed towards Jason room, right beside yours, before going to take a nap.

Ever since Jason's encounter with Deathstroke and his... fall, Jason was benched. So you regularly checked up on him and stayed by his side while he remained silent, staring out the window, and blasting heavy metal and rock music.

You rapidly knocked on his door and entered his room, knowing he couldn't and wouldn't hear it over the music and his disassociating state. He wouldn't let anyone in. But you're not anyone.

When you entered, you turned down his music, just a smidge, and walked by his side.

You stared at the side of his face. His eyes shifted up and down, and his breaths were shallow.

You sighed. "Hi, Jay," you whispered. He didn't respond. "You're not falling. You're okay." You reminded him every time you came in to check up on him.

You walk towards the window and slowly close the curtains. "Keep them closed, Jay. Okay? Today's mission got my limbs in a twist, so I'm gonna go take a nap and come back later, 'kay?"

Jason didn't reply, but you noticed his Adam's apple bob, telling you he tried to hum in response but just couldn't. But that was enough for you.

You were finally into a deep sleep, but around half an hour in, you were awoken by yellong coming from Jason's room. So you quickly got out of bed and rushed into his room.

"How fucked up are you?!" Was the first thing Rachel said when she stormed in. "All you do is give people reasons to hate you!"

"Uhm, what the fuck Rachel??" You exclaimed as she obviously isn't reading the room that Jason wasn't doing good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason lowly replies. You try to look into his eyes, but they're still directed towards the closed window, and your heart shatters at his emotionless state.

"The crosses on my mirror!" Rachel says.

Jason finally tears his gaze from the window and turns to Rachel. "I still don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Rachel's eyes and gem glowed red, and her voice became distorted as she shoved Jason, hissing, "Don't fucking lie to me!"

But you shove Rachel back. "Dude, what the fuck are you on about?!"

Before she could reply, Jason spoke up. "I'm tired of this shit." You heard the tiny quiver in this voice and your eyes sadden, watching your best friend grab his jacket and storm out of his room.

You quickly tail behind him as Rachel screams fuck, walking behind you, slamming the door shut.

"Jason!" You called out to him.

"Don't fucking walk away from me!" Rachel yelled out.

"Woah, hey, what's the problem?" Dawn tried to calm everyone down.

"Jason drew crucifixes all over my mirror!" She cries.

"Thats bullshit!" Jason argues back, with you defending him.

"Shut the fuck up, Rach, he was in his room all day!"

"Jason, it's okay if you're angry," Dawn says.

"He didn't do shit, Dawn," you replied, annoyed.

"Don't fucking blame me for her voodoo issues," Jason growls.

"Jay," you said his name, giving a look to calm down.

As Donna walks in, asking what all the drama is about, Dawn tries to explain how Rachel thinks Jason drew crosses all over her mirror, Rachel yelling that she knows Jason did it.

This led to pointing fingers towards Jason. This is not how you wanted to relax, coming home from a mission.

At this point, it was believed that Jason planted the bourbon bottle, the picture of Ellis, and the orange sida bottle around the tower.

"You people are insane!" His eyes started to water. At this point of you and Jason's friendship, you both can feel one another's emotions. Not accurately, but you wanted to sob for Jason. All he ever wanted was to prove he is a worthy hero. "I'd rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes."

"Jason," you quietly call out, your voice cracking in the process. Jason couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to see your face, thinking that you believed them over him. That would really break him.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, revealing a sweating, wide-eyed Dick Grayson holding a small hand gun.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. But then your heart raced faster after Dick announced that Deathstroke was in the building, planting shit around everyone's rooms.

You knew it. You knew Jason would never do some crazy shit like that.

Speaking of Jason.

You looked around the room while Dick was further explaining the explanation. Jason was nowhere to be seen. Instantly, you ran past everyone, sprinting towards Jason's room, only to be met by a heavy silence.

"Y/n?" Gar called out behind you.

"I- I can't find Jay!" You exclaimed. You ran past Gar, heading straight to the roof.

When things got tough, you and Jason went to the roof, laid on the rough, pointy gravel, and talked to each other. Reminded one another that neither of you are alone.

And there may or may not have been a moment where you and Jason's eyes couldn't help but glance at each other's lips. But that was quickly interrupted when Gar and Rachel barged in and said they wanted to train.

But bursting through the door, the happy memories of your time spent with Jason were quickly erased. Now, all you could imagine when picturing the roof was Jason standing right at the ledge.

"Jay!" You cried out to him.

"I keep falling," his voice breaks.

Though he couldn't see you, you aggressively shook your head. "No, no. Jay, Jay you're- you're gonna be okay," you try to say through your stutters. "I- I wasn't there befire to catch you, but I will be now! Whenever you feel like you're falling, my hand will be with yours!"

"No. It won't stop. And.. And Bruce wasn't the first one who tried to help me. I can make a list, you know. Relatives, teachers, cops, Dick. Nobody's been up to the task."

"What about me, Jason? There's no way I'm on that list because I've been by your side since day one!" You took a step forward closer to him.

He shook his head. "I've got a poison in me. Shit spreads. It can affect even the healthiest people. I can't put that shit on you."

You dangerously took another few steps forward. "Jason, please. You know me- I know you! We help each other all the time! I'm not gonna stop now!" You didn't notice your cheeks getting wet and your vusion getting blurrier.

"Remember that time I was put into juvie? Four fucking people died. It follows me around like a curse. I'm the reason this place doesn't work. I'm the reason why everyone hates each other. I should have never asked you to come with me. You would've been better off back in Gotham without me." And Jason starts to cry. His tears mirror yours, salting and staining his cheeks, reaching down to his busted lips, leaving a slight sting to its wound.

"That's not true, Jason! You have no idea how much it means that you asked me to come witb you!"

Jason ignores you. "But I can fix it. Remove the poison."

"Jason what-" Your confusion was quickly cut off by your ear pitching shrieks. Jason steps off the ledge, his whole body falling limp.

You were too slow. You couldn't reach his hands. Your fingers couldn't even graze his.

You didn't want to look over the edge. You couldn't even if you wanted to. Your legs gave up on you, and the stones and gravel dug into your skin as you fell to the ground.

Your screams alerted everyone else as they all burst through the door, only to be met by your broken state that was crying and calling out for Jason's name.

It felt like you couldn't breathe when you woke up. You heard a bunch of yelling coming from the room beside you.

You groggily got up, wanting to see what the new commotion was on about.

You don't even remember going to bed or even coming down from the roof. It was probably because you couldn't stop thinking about Jason.

When you got out of your room, you heard the yelling coming from Jason's room.

Whoever the fuck was in there was about to get a real beating from you.

But when you walked in, there he was. Jason stared out the closed window, and Rachel accussing him of drawing crosses all over her mirror.

What the fuck.

Your head was pounding, but all you were thinking was that you had a second chance. A second chance to save Jason. A second chance to convince everyone that he was innocent. A second chance.

So you stormed up to Rachel, shoving her away from Jason.

"What the fuck, Rachel, he didn't do shit!" You yekl at her.

"And how would you know?! You were gone for the mission all day, then went to sleep right after!" She argues back.

You roll your eyes. "Because Jason was in his room all week, dumbass!"

"Jesus, you're just kissing his ass! Just because you're friends, doesn't mean he's innocent!"

"You're one to talk," you scoff. "You're the one following Dick around like a lost puppy! He isn't even here! For all we know, Dick could be the one who drew crosses on your mirror!"

"You don't get to talk about Dick like that! After everything he's done for you!" Rachel's eyes turn red.

"Dick has done fuck all for me. It was Jason who gave me everything!-" Upon the mention of his name, you turn your head and noticed he was gone.

Shit.

"Move," you mutter, pushing Rachel out of your way, ignoring the confused looks from Hank, Dawn and Kory as they watch you run towards the stairs that lead to the top.

"Jason, no!" You screamed out, only to watch him already step off the ledge.

"NO!" You shrieked again, living the previous nightmare. You hear the footsteps of the others running up, and as they got to the top, you gasped for air, waking up once again.

You quickly got out of bed and ran to Jason's room before Rachel could even get in.

This time, Jason looks at you in worry upon seeing you in a cold sweat.

"You're okay, Jay. You're okay," you quietly whisper out if breath, particularly to yourself rather than Jason.

But then, when Rachel storms in, you immediately shout, "Out!", pointing back through the door. Rachel narrows her eyes and walks out.

Now that she's gone, she can't accuse Jason, you have your eyes on him, and he can't walk off.

But the quietness was quickly faded when Rachel walked back in with Hank, Dawn, Kory, and Donna. Rachel quickly told them how Jason supposedly drew the crucifixed, which escalated to pointing fingers AGAIN.

And with this many people in one bedroom at once, it was hard to keep an eye on Jason. But you knew where he would be.

But even as soon as you got to the top, he ws already gone.

You couldn't even scream. But your breath was still taken away when you woke up again.

You didn't care how many times it took. You would watch Jason jumo off again and again. You would give yourself a heart attack again and again. You would get your breath stolen from you again and again. You don't care. No matter what, as long as you have these chances, you will save Jason. He is your best friend- he is the love of your life. And you'd do everything you can to stop him from jumping.

But this was attempt 57 to try and stop him. And you were running out of energy. Even though the day restarted, your vitality didn't.

And each time you woke up with short breaths, the longer it took for you to run up the stairs up to the roof.

Why isn't anything working. You tried to stop him from talking to Rachel, you tried to hold him back, you tried talking to him.

But what if he does stay? What if he doesn't jump? What if you do succeed?

Will the day continue? Will the day restart?

You were getting tired. You were getting tired of trying to shut everyone up, tired of trying to holding back Jason. You were tired of watching him kill himself.

Maybe this was your fault. You should've seen the signs sooner. You should've talked to him more.

Maybe he needed more. Maybe he needed more than you. Maybe you weren't enough. Maybe your friendship, your love wasn't enough.

You can't take it anymore.

You promised Jason that you'd be hy his side no matter what.

So you walk out of your room, the echoes of Rachel's yelling coming from Jason's room. But you don't walk there. You walk past the lobby, hearing Dawn ask where you were going. But you ignore her.

You walk to the stairs, heading up.

You didn't even give it a second thought. You walk off the ledge, knowing that you'd wait at the bottom for Jason. Because you can't even imagine a life without him.

When you woke up, it was different. Your breathing was even. Granted, you were still pissed off that dying didn't break the loop.

But there was no yelling. You couldn't hear Rachel's voice. When you walked out of the room and looked into Jason's, it was empty.

That's not right. It's too soon.

When you walked out of the lobby, you saw everyone standing around, huddled together in the middle of a discussion. But once they notice you, their eyes are full of sadness and worry.

"Y/n, I- I'm so sorry," Rachel speaks up first. Your eyebrows pinch together.

You look at your watch. Jason would've gone up by now. But he wasn't. He was standing with the others, looking at you with sadness and... and anger?

"What are you..."

"We know about... about the time loops," Dick says. "We don't know what caused it or why you were the only one aware of it during those times, but... It seems you've broken the loop with.. With your fall."

"And because you were the only one aware, and you took the fall instead of Jason... it must've cut off the loop," Rachel further explains. "But now it also made us remember all those times we had to relive the day."

"All 57 times.." Hank muttered.

You sucked in a breath. "I- I just-" You stammered, barely able to make a sentence.

But Jason walked up towards you, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you towards his room for privacy. Dick was about to follow suit, but Hank grabbed him by the shoulder and shook his head, silently telling him to leave the two of you alone.

"What the fuck, Y/n?!" Jason says once he locks the door behind you.

"Why are you yelling at me!" You bite back, still tired from the events.

"Why- why didn't you tell me you were reliving this situation, a horrible situation!"

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously I would, but there wasn't time! There was always a fixed time that you disappeared, ended up on the roof, and jumped! And with every attempt, the more tired I got, and the more late I was to get to you!"

"So you killed yourself?!"

"I just couldn't watch you die anymore, Jason!" Jason finally shut up. "And I knew I couldn't live without you either! 57 times I relived the day, 57 times I tried to save you, 57 times I failed, 57 times I watched you die! And I promised I'd always be by your side! That doesn't change, even with this!" Like the first time you watched Jason stand on the ledge, the same salty tears rolled down your face, Jason's eyes doing the same thing.

"That's- That's so stupid! I'm not someone to give up your life over! I'm not worth it!"

"You're worth it to me! Every day, I only wake up because I know you're gonna be there to annoy the hell out of me! I only wake up every day knowing I'm going to spend time with you! My life has no purpose without you!"

"Why?!" Jason raises his voice. "I'm a nobody! I'm an asshole! You're life is worth so much more than mine! Why would you only live for me?!"

"Because I love you, Jay!"

The two of you become quiet, staring at each other, waiting to see who was brave enough to confirm what kind of love you were talking about.

"Jason..." You whisper. "You are literally the best thing that has happened to me. Watching you step off so many times, knowing that I was becoming more and more useless to try to stop you, I felt like I wasn't enough for you to stay. So.. I just thought that if you jumping off that roof was inevitable... then I might as well join you.. Because I genuinely cannot live without you."

You could barely look him in the eye. You couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Your breath hitched when his arms wrapped around you. You felt his lips linger on the crown of your head.

"'m sorry, mama," he mumbled into your hair. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. "Didn't mean to make you go through all that. Didn't mean to think that you weren't enough."

He loosens his grip around you, hands shifting to hold each side of your face as his calloused thumbs gently caress your wet cheeks.

"I love you too," he gently kisses your forhead. "And you are more than enough for me," he kisses your nose, making you let you a faint giggle and a slight crack of a smile. "You are everything to me." He places a quick but loving kiss against your lips. "I'm sorry I tried to leave you. I'm sorry I didn't stay."

"Will you stay now with me?" You ask, looking up at him.

"Of course I will, babe," he lowly says, pulling you in for another warm and safe embrace. "Now come on. Let's get you some proper sleep where you wake up tomorrow morning, okay?"

You hummed in response, ending the day in now screams or shrieks. Just quick pecks here and there, cuddled against Jason's warmth in his bed and wrapped in his blankets.

Eventually, you were going to talk to him about finding him some professional help, but that would be a talk and a probable argument for later.

Right now, you just need to bask in each other's love and warmth.

holy guac!!! that was long.

Hoped you enjoyed anon!!! 🫶🫶

#mickeysideas #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #jason todd is my life #red hood x reader #titans jason todd #dc titans #i love jason todd #jason todd titans #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd angst #jason todd ff #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #jason todd fluff #red hood angst #red hood x female reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood x fem!reader #red hood fluff #red hood fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood one shot #jason todd one shot

[too-deviant]

idk if you’d be comfortable writing this but I was wondering if you could whip up an Aphrodite!reader who’s fed up with her beauty. She stops attending school and stays the full term at camp which makes Luke confused. So she tells him about how random dudes would hit on her and be creepy at her school or something. She’d prolly join him with Kronos bc she wants to feel respected for once. Would be such an angsty but filled with femme rage although totally cool if you choose not to write this~ Just wanted to share it with someone 💛

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader

Summary: Maybe you didn't want to be beautiful anymore.

Content: pretty angsty, brief mentions of male harassment but nothing explicit or triggering, again sorry for the wait i had w block pls forgive me. also not proofread sorry yall its been a rough week.

You were only faintly aware of the noise around you.

The chatter of the city was a mere buzz in the back of your head as you marched down the street. It amazed you, really, just how unbelievably dickish mortal boys could be. This one in particular; Mike Schwartz, a five foot something jock who sat on the bench at every game. He’d been a bother in your life since you started high school. Back then, you took the endless prospects as a compliment – you truly were your mother’s daughter. It was a boost to your weak teenage confidence. 

But as the years went by, the constant asking for your hand became an irritant. Especially when they couldn’t get the hint – at fourteen, turning down guys felt amazing, but when those same guys kept coming back for more, it made your eye twitch. Couldn’t they take the first no, tuck their tail between their legs and fuck off?

Apparently not. 

After four years of putting up with it, you were done. Storming out of the cafeteria, grabbing all your things, hailing a cab and getting the hell outta dodge. Maybe you should’ve stopped to think — called your dad, taken a few deep breaths. But the harder you thought about it, after trying not to for so many years, you came to the conclusion that you would’ve ended up here anyway. 

Here being the peak of HalfBlood Hill in the middle of September. It was only slightly unusual, because when you usually arrive at the start of summer you get to watch the crowds of arrivals setting up shop at camp. Now, however, it was fairly desolate. Less people, you knew. 

It was also a split second shock when you stepped across the border and felt the drastic change in weather. From the cool breeze of the autumn air to the warm summery spring that camp was in year-round. A shift that made you pause, but you kept on down the hill anyway. 

Chiron was waiting for you on the porch of the Big House, and without so much as a word, gestured for you to follow him inside. He was fairly understanding of your situation, but made you Iris Message your dad and tell him of your decision. He, too, was more glad you were safe than angry you ran off. 

“We can talk about this when you feel like talking.” He’d said. 

So you’d done it. Finally, you’d gotten yourself away from the hey hot stuffs and the you seeing anyone baby?s. You were back at camp, you were where you were most happy. 

But you weren’t happy. 

Being a year-rounder, you’d discovered, was a lot less busy than being a summer camper. You got more days off, longer breaks between activities. You found yourself spending more time in your own company; something you never really got to do before. Most of the time you were with your siblings, or your mortal friends, or you were being hounded by some frat boy and their friends.

It took a minute to get used to the loneliness, but you did. You explored camp, found places you hadn’t seen before. A cute clearing near a stream on the east side of the forest, or a Satyr sanctuary on the far end of the beach. You read more books, you trained a little harder, you perfected six new hairstyles on your little sister Elena and Annabeth from the Athena Cabin. 

And yet, you were still pissed off. 

“Why?” 

Luke Castellan was a name everyone knew in this little corner of Long Island. One of the oldest campers, head counsellor of the rowdiest cabin, token tour guide for the new kids. Oh, and the best swordsman camp had seen in, like, three centuries. He was cute, that much you’d heard all around your cabin. But you’d never really held a solid conversation with him until you became a year-rounder. The fewer people around, the more you run into him. 

You’d been practising a few neat tricks with a dagger when he spotted you. Said he was there to train himself for once and that you wouldn’t even notice he was there. You did, though. Especially when he took his shirt off twenty minutes in. 

You shared a water break, he asked you why you’d transferred to being a year rounder, and you indulge him in the story. He was super nice about it too, which made you angry. Was Luke the only nice guy on the planet? 

“But at least you’re happier now, right?” He’d said. You weren’t, you told him that much. He gave you this knowing look you’d never seen on him before, and asked Why?

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I love it here, I do. But I shouldn’t have to uproot my entire life and bring it here just to get some semblance of peace. I shouldn’t have to give up my education, my friends, my dad, just so I don’t have to get harassed every day. It’s not even like my mom gave me anything to help combat it, either. She just made me beautiful and told me to deal with the consequences! I mean,” You let out a weak chuckle, holding up the dagger you’d been toying with, “This was a birthday present from a friend in Cabin Six. Not even my mother, who is a warrior herself, could bother sending me a weapon. They really don’t give two shits about us, do they?” 

He’d parted his lips, eyes shining with something, and looked at you through his bottom lashes, “No. They don’t.”

You and Luke grew closer after that. A lot closer. By the time summer rolled around and the rest of the campers returned, you were inseparable. Many rumours spread but you two ignored them in favour of sneaking into that clearing you’d found and talking in whispers about your hatred for the gods. Who cared if they could hear you? Let them. 

It was Luke who had come up with the idea to steal the bolt. A quick job, in and out, and maybe then they’d listen to what you’d have to say. But they didn’t — they did exactly what they always did and risked the lives of two young demigods and a satyr just because they couldn’t be bothered doing it themselves. Selfish — that’s what they were. They didn’t care about anyone —

“ — but themselves!” You glared at Thalia, who stood before you atop Mount Tamalpais with her spear in your direction. “I mean, look at your dad. He didn’t care enough to stop the monsters from killing you, oh, but it’s okay because he turned you into a damn tree!”

“This isn’t the way!” Annabeth yelled from afar. Her hair was twisted in a style you’d taught her how to do that first year as a year-rounder. It broke your heart that she couldn’t see how right you and Luke were. 

“Curse them, Thalia.” You said plainly, holding up your dagger. Half mortal metal, half celestial bronze. A gift from Luke. “Curse your father and his children. His brothers. Curse them all like they deserve to be cursed! They deserve to be toppled.”

 You tilted your head, looking at them all. Luke and your army were heading steadily up the mountain. If you could convince them now, there wouldn’t need to be a battle. 

“Where are they now, huh?” You raised both your arms, “You’re fighting for your life against a titan on a mountain and the only god who came to help out was Artemis? And that’s just because she was here already.” You scoffed out a laugh, “You should thank us, really, for taking her. Had we not, you’d be dead already.” 

Annabeth watched. You were unrecognisable in that moment — your face streaked with dirt and blood, curled into a dark sneer that any of your siblings would berate you for because of the wrinkles you’d get. You didn’t seem to care all that much, though. Not when Thalia was lunging for you and attempting to pull you out of the rage you were in. Not when her spear and shield were no match for your measly dagger and you went toppling down the mountain. 

The next time any of them saw you was in Manhattan — after believing you to be dead for a year and a half, it came as a shock when you emerged from the crowd of monsters. Your hair was hacked short, and one of your legs had been replaced with a bronze prosthetic. You fought with a ruthlessness none of them had seen in you before, whether it be because you were on the losing side or because Luke had given his body to the Lord of Time before you had the chance to tell him you loved him. You were still angry, and even if you hated Kronos, you didn’t hate him nearly as much as you hated the gods. 

When Luke died, you were kneeled beside him. Your face was dirty, your hair was knotty, and there was a dent in your bronze leg. He lifted a hand to your face, “I’m sorry to have to say this, but…you’re sorta beautiful.”

“Sorta?”

He grinned, and then he died, and you were filled with such unbridled rage that you pushed yourself down to the ground of Manhattan and tore through Kronos’ army with fire in your eyes, not stopping until Apollo got rid of your sight and forced you to calm down. You didn’t know if you’d ever be calm, since the only person who ever understood you just died in your arms, but you dropped your dagger and stomped your way back up to Olympus like a bratty child anyway. 

Zeus didn’t punish you for what you did, but he did say he’d be keeping a firm eye on you. You joined the hunters, much to your mothers disdain, and didn’t ever allow yourself to look back.

#@lia’s works #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians

[shawnxstyles]

free session

DATE: AUGUST 8, 2023

summary: tom hurts himself a little at the gym, but luckily, you’re there to reassure him that everything’s fine. when he finally comes back, you decide to show him what a free session is all about.

request: yup!!

words: 7k

warnings: SMUT (slight praise kink, protected sex, dirty talking), language. this was a quick one

note: okay so i don’t do threesomes lmao, but i didn’t state that until after i got this request (this request is 8 months old i’m sorry). i chose to do tom, but i changed a lot, so i’m sorry if this isn’t even what you asked for at all… i hope someone likes it | NOT EDITED

gym!tom x trainer!reader

—

Tom had a steady routine; he went to the gym in the morning, ate, did his day plans or work, ate again, and then went to the gym at night again. Some people thought he was insane for going to the gym so much, but it felt like his second home. Mainly because the gym was his brother’s, Harry.

Harry and Tom were unbelievably close; out of all their siblings, they were definitely the tightest. Tom assisted Harry with renting, paperwork, and anything he needed for his little business, which wasn’t so little anymore. Once he got popular in town, Tom let his brother handle himself after all his constant nagging. Then Tom was off doing his own thing, worrying about his own life and job. It got consistent, tedious, and boring to say the least.

But on a random summer day when Harry called Tom to deliver the bad news, Tom regrets ever thinking that his simple routine was boring.

“Tom, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to find a new gym.”

“What? Harry, what are you talking about?” Tom drops his gym bag on the floor of his apartment, stopping short with Harry’s words. He presses the phone up to his ear, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip.

“I didn’t tell you before, but all my “loyal” customers have fled to the new fitness center down the street. You know, the one by the café?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s only temporary. I need to refurbish and find some more sponsors, and then hopefully, I can reopen.”

Tom sighs slowly into the empty air of his home, looking up at the ceiling in distress.

“I was trying to figure out how to tell you—”

“It’s alright, Harry. I’m glad you told me now. I’ll just… find a new gym.”

“If you go to my competitor, I won’t blame you.”

Tom replies with a hefty laugh.

“It’ll only be temporary.”

So, that’s what Tom has been doing—going to his brother's competitor. However, it was only supposed to be for a few weeks. But it ended up being a few months. Tom’s adjusted to the new gym quite nicely. He likes the wide variety of machinery and how many options he has. When he first came in, he was using machines he’d never even seen before.

Even though his gym was switched up on him, Tom is a routine kind of guy. It only took him a week to adapt to his new environment and get comfortable with everything. He developed a new schedule for his morning workouts since he can no longer go to the gym in the evening. He wasn’t necessarily a morning person, but for the gym-induced high, he would do it.

He had a specific day for arms, legs, chest, back, shoulders—everything. Over the years, he’s done his research on the body, and even took anatomy in high school.

Did that even help him?

To say he’s gym-obsessed isn’t too much of an overstatement, even if Tom disagrees. He would say he’s obsessed with his dog, but not the gym. He refuses to put himself in the category of “gym-bros” and dumbasses that live off protein shakes. Yeah, he likes those shakes too, but he wouldn’t die if he had more than one cheat day in a week. Tom likes to live his life outside of the gym, unlike those people.

Tom worked an average job with a good salary, and relatively lived an average life with good people. He didn’t go out much because he didn’t have many people to hang out with besides his brothers. Harrison has been his best mate since high school, but with both of their work schedules colliding, it’s hard to find the time. Plus, he’s been way too busy planning his wedding.

Yeah, a wedding.

Tom’s not surprised by the fact that Harrison’s getting married. In fact, he’s not surprised at all. Of course he’s happy for his best friend. He’s just… envious in a subtle way. Both Tom and him are 28 years old, and while Harrison met the love of his life and is starting a future with her, Tom is yet to even date a girl for longer than a few weeks.

He’s been on dates here and there, even had a few one-night stands in the past year, but after some time, he just gave up completely. Sometimes, a girl will smile at him or look him up and down, but he doesn’t even try to pursue them like he used to. For the few times that he is out with his friends or brothers and a girl is all over him, he’ll take the opportunity and bring her home.

But it never goes farther than that. And Tom is afraid he’ll never have more than that.

Shaking off the terrible thoughts to start his morning, Tom walks through the glass doors of the gym. He passes the front desk and towards the clean machines that are practically calling his name. The barely rising sun can be seen through the huge window panes along the entire building, making the scene look peaceful.

There were a couple of bodies in the area, but besides the delicate music seeping through the speakers, it was quiet. To Tom, this was tranquil.

After a few simple stretches, Tom snatches the jump ropes. He jumps until his muscles are loose and warm and they’re just itching to be challenged. Today, he decided to do legs with an additional ab workout just because. He was a little extra energized, and he craved for his body to be sore. He doesn’t do this often, but he needs to change it up once in a while, right?

Tom goes straight towards the leg press, knowing that that machine will fire his legs up immediately. When he starts his reps, he already feels the burn. He knows today is going to push his limits, but he’s ready.

—

About halfway through his workout, he wants to give up. But he knows that’s exactly when you need to keep going.

He’s struggling with his squats, really trying to lift these three plates that are taunting him. He can do two easily, which means he has to add weight if he wants to actually gain and keep his muscles. He takes a deep breath before trying to squat for the second time. He slides the padded bar over his ready shoulders. The weight is dawning and plummeting his own body to the ground.

As he lowers his legs, squatting with the best of his abilities, his lower back aches immensely before he drops the bar onto the matted floor. The plates clang against each other in the relatively quiet gym

“Fuck,” he groans and chucks off his headphones, clutching his lower back near his tailbone. This is now the second time he’s failed, but the first time he’s felt this pain. It wasn’t a shooting, sharp pain, but it was aching enough to warn him that he was positioning himself wrongly.

“Are you okay?” A woman’s voice asks concerningly a few feet behind him. Tom turns around too quickly, making his back hurt a little more. He tries to hide his hiss behind clenched teeth when he sees you.

Your eyes were wide with worry and your head was slightly tilted. You were sporting a tight sports bra with matching shapely leggings. You had a towel dangling in your hand and a black shirt in the other. Maybe it was because of his small pain, but Tom couldn’t help dragging his eyes down your body in awe. He hisses at the sight unconsciously.

“I’m assuming that’s a no,” You squint your eyes with a slight tease as you walk up to him. Tom nods while also fixating in the present. He had a tendency to drift off into his head if his imagination wandered enough.

“Yeah, I think I hurt my bad a bit,” he smiles while trying to stretch by twisting left and right.

“Maybe I can help? If you’d like me to,” You offer as Tom stares at you. Your eyelashes are fluttering almost innocently, and Tom is beyond intrigued. He nods with a charming smile, one that you just had to reflect back. It was easily one of the most gorgeous smiles Tom has ever seen.

“Just so you know, I kind of work here. Well—I mean—I do work here. I’m just new,” You rambled. You were a bit nervous. You were a certified trainer, but you’ve never trained someone outside of your schooling. Yes, you’ve done family and friends, but not a stranger. A random stranger who actually needs your experience. You’re not sure how you landed a job at this seemingly high-end gym, but you never question the good things that happen anymore; you just let them happen.

“Good to know. Since you offered, I assume you know what you’re doing,” Tom teases and you roll your eyes playfully. He eased some of your nerves.

When you ask how he was squatting, he explains what he was doing and when and where the pain was occurring. You nodded along to his words, collecting all of it and connecting it to your knowledge. You come to a conclusion long before he’s done and gaze at his body. You know a lot about anatomy and you’ve seen a bunch of bodies throughout your life.

But staring at his ripped and sweaty body has you feeling all warm and tingly. The morning sunlight seems to shine perfectly over his perspiration, twinkling as a few drops slide between his rigid muscles.

“I think you strained your back,” You say simply without blinking right as he finished talking. You shake your head as if you weren’t just ogling his muscles. What is wrong with you? You were supposed to be a professional.

“Oh,” Tom finally says with a slight frown to his face.

“Does it hurt when you turn as well or just when squatting?”

“Mainly just squatting,” he answers.

“Okay,” You give him a once-over as if analyzing him. You were analyzing him, just not in a very professional way. There was nothing professional about how your eyes turned hungry as they gazed at his blessed figure. “The best thing to do is to not sit. Or stop what you’re doing basically. I would say no more squats for a while or anything that strikes pain. But don’t terminate all your exercise. That will actually make it worse.”

Tom nods along to all that you’re saying with understanding. Everything that you’re telling him makes perfect sense, so there was a good minute where he zoned out and just stared at you. Your matching set makes your skin look smooth and defines every curve of your body. The way your hands moved as you spoke had him mesmerized like he was under hypnosis.

“Got it?” You ask as a heat floods up your neck. Tom blinks rapidly and mumbles a yes, but he looks all too distracted. He didn’t hide well that he was staring at you, but he didn’t seem like he was trying to either.

“Is there anything else?” Tom questions as the air between you two gets tense, voice lower than before. Panting and echoing machines are all that are heard in the space around you. You swallow your sudden nervousness that was about to cough up a whine. You wondered if he wanted you to say something else.

Maybe he wanted you to confess. Confess something that you were both thinking, but you both didn’t know.

“N-No,” You slightly stutter out when you answer, smiling to try to cover this feeling that’s bubbling up inside of you.

“Well, I guess I’ll just do the treadmill before I head out.”

“Right. Sounds good. Have fun!” You ramble as he walks away, chuckling with each step he takes. You turn away and your smile instantly falls as you groan to yourself, “Have fun? Why did I say that?”

You run your hand over your face as you try to regain your lost pride. When you walk back into the coach’s area, you slip on your uniform shirt, so people are aware you actually work there. You take a deep breath and mentally slap yourself in the head for being so unprofessional. You barely just started working here and you’re already breaking rules! You’re not allowed to have relationships with your clients. Wait, that’s a rule, right? Now, that doesn’t make much sense…

But you know for certain that thinking about someone sexually after just meeting them, rule or not, client or not, it’s inappropriate. You’ve never looked at someone and just completely melted at the sight of them. You can’t stop picturing the way his leg muscles flexed as he carried the heavy weight of the squat bar. Or the way his cheeks reddened and hollowed out air as he pushed himself to stand up straight.

Although you watch and help people work out for a living, you’ve never found it entertaining. But for some reason, your mind is just so utterly fucked over by this random guy that you’ve never seen before. He looks like he’s been doing it a long time, especially with that figure. Has he been at this gym for a long time? He seems like he has.

Your mind likes to wander and wander as you do busy work and wait for the day to end. From your area, you weren’t able to see the front doors, so you never saw the stranger again that day. You assume he left soon after your departure, but you wish that you saw him just once more. Maybe you’d get the confidence to catch his name and even offer a session. Free of charge, you imagine yourself saying accidentally because you’d be so distracted.

Throughout your shift you helped a few people and even assisted in the group exercise class. Though, you loved when you had one on one trainings the most because you got to see your client grow their strengths and their weaknesses.

As your shift came to an end, you collected your bag with a heavy sigh. It was only the afternoon, but of course you didn’t have any plans. You had spent a year working to become a certified trainer, but brought no one with you along the way. You took a gap year when high school ended to try to figure out what you wanted to do, and then you discovered training and you felt comfortable. You had some friends, but none were strong enough to stay with you. It was really just you, with the occasional hangout with your older sister who lectured you sometimes.

You felt lonely sometimes, but it’s not like you really tried to fix it either. You went out every blue moon, waiting for some magical miracle to occur. Nothing sprouts; no love, sex, relationship, or friendship spawned at your feet when you’re out late at night in a bar or club. So, you kind of just stopped going. Was it sad to say you kind of lost hope in dating and sex?

Besides the point, when you entered your apartment, you were alone. Just like most days when you weren’t busy researching ways to start a business.

Oh, was that mentioned?

You wanted to start your own business with your certification. However, it was hard because you had little to no experience in business. Your dad knew good tips and tricks, but he wasn’t experienced enough either. And since you were quite lonely, you hadn’t made many connections to people that might have loads of talent in the field.

One day, you would actually talk to someone, you swore. And they would help make your dreams of a business come to life. It’s not that you didn’t believe in yourself to make it happen; it was more than a reasonable goal. It’s just that you’re so unmotivated right now because of your lack of connections.

Ugh, why does life have to be so difficult?

—

Tom wakes up early with groggy eyes and a sore back. He had done some research online last night on how to sleep with a strained back. He was told to lay on his side with a pillow stuffed between his knees. But of course when he woke up in the morning, his body was flailed across his mattress like an eagle, pillows completely disregarded from him.

When he tried to sit up too quickly, a sharp pain erupted in his back, making him sit right back in the bed. Maybe he should just take his time like the woman at the gym said…

You were slightly disappointed you didn’t see the good-looking stranger again on your shift. You shamelessly glanced around the machinery, hoping to recognize his bulky shoulders and defined muscles, but they were nowhere to be found.

You got to see a few good bodies, but there was something about that stranger that just made your insides tingle.

Again, so unprofessional. This is why you can’t start a damn business!

—

Tom didn’t go to the gym for a week. A week!

His back was just in too much pain and lifting heavy weights sounded tortuous. He still went to work and went on evening walks with his dog, but he felt pretty lazy. He forced himself to take a week off of the gym to heal, and thankfully it worked. His mind kept lingering to the pretty woman who talked to him, but he kept excusing it with his pain. He must only be thinking of you because you gave advice he needs to remember, right?

By the next week, Tom was already back in the gym. He walked through those glass doors again, quickly checked in, and headed towards the machinery. He moved slowly as his eyes subconsciously tried to find you again. Tom had this… need to tell you that he’s okay and that your advice worked. Again, it was just an excuse, so he could talk to you again. Maybe he would see your name tag this time, or just ask for it blatantly.

He makes a quick once-over of the area, and is a bit disappointed when he doesn’t see you lingering. He goes straight towards the jump rope to refresh his muscles that have been resting for one of the longest times since high school.

Tom jumps and jumps and jumps… and then nearly falls over when he sees you turn around after doing a squat. The curve of your ass in those leggings made his mouth water and your charming smile made him crazy.

Before he knows it, you’re approaching him while he’s completely phased.

“Hey, I see that you made it back. How is your… back?” You ask, squeezing the towel in your hand with an intense grip. Your heart started fluttering a little from just the sight of him, and you wondered why you were getting so worked up over a stranger.

“It’s all good now! I think,” Tom chuckles while rubbing his neck. He nervously twists the rope between his fingers, trying to think of a way to keep the conversation going. “I, uh, never caught your name.”

Your heart skips a beat and a smile threatens to take over your face. It was such a little thing, but you’ve been wondering what his name was for the past week. A name to a face to fit your fantasies.

“Y/N,” You smile, but your eyes struggle to meet his face. He was just so gorgeous you felt like you might be blinded if you looked too long. “And you?”

“Tom,” he surely answered with a nod.

“That fits you very well.”

“What do you mean?” he questions and your eyes go a little wide. You hadn’t meant to say that. It sounds creepy and weird; to say that his name fits him… as if you were thinking about him.

“Well—like—I was wondering what your name was when I first talked to you and now that you said it, it makes sense. Not that I was thinking about you all week or something… that’s just creepy!” You awkwardly laugh after your ramble, thinking of the fastest way to leave this conversation so you can regroup. This is why your dating life is so shallow. You can’t hold a conversation for a second without rambling out nonsense or making a fool of yourself. It’s typical, really.

You thought he was going to laugh at you like a bully and walk away from your weirdness. But instead, he softly chuckles at your antics while staring at your face. Noticing that he’s still standing in front of you, you slowly drag your eyes up his body until you finally meet his eyes.

They’re that perfectly golden brown color that looks like oozing honey when reflected off the sun. Since you were only a foot away, you could see his nose was a little crooked and he had an uneven eyebrow. His hair seemed a bit unruly, but all you wanted to do was run your hands through it.

“I’ve been wondering what your name was, too,” he finally admits when the air around you feels like it’s closing in. Your heart was beating as if something was going to happen, but you knew nothing would. Nothing was going to happen in front of all of these people.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Tom hums as he watches your pupils dilate and eyes struggle to look at him. He’s been thinking about you all week, he can admit that, but now you can’t even look at him? He wanted to see your pretty eyes. “I’ve been wondering about a few other things as well.”

“Oh? Like what?” Your voice was slightly breathless and you felt the need to check over your shoulder every second. You felt like you were breaking some rule and you were able to be fired on the spot. It felt so wrong, but you wanted to see where this goes. You were all too intrigued by this glorious man before you.

“Like why you can’t look at me.”

“What? I’m looking at you!”

“Not longer than a blink.”

“S-So? Do you want to have a staring contest or something?” You bite your tongue when you stutter.

“Maybe. I just want to see your pretty eyes,” Tom didn’t plan on calling your eyes pretty right off the bat, but his bluntness is what made you finally look up at him. He saw innocence as well as desire laced within your irises. And he wondered if you really had been thinking about him all week. If you had, that would confirm that you want more. It would confirm that Tom isn’t crazy, and that there is some type of spark in between you too.

Will a one-time thing, like sex, dull the craving spark, or ignite it?

“We can’t here,” You say barely above a whisper.

“Do what? A staring contest?” Tom begins to smirk causing you to groan. He’s got to be one of the cockiest people you’ve ever met, but he has every right to be. Usually, you hate men that know they’re attractive because their cockiness just makes them an asshole. But Tom is the funny type, who pretends to be cocky, but he’s actually really humble.

How did you get all of that from only two conversations with him? And they were barely conversations!

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually. Care to tell?”

“You want…” You can see the way he tries to hide his growing smirk and it tells you all you needed to know. The air thickened between you both, heavy with tension and heat. Your heart was racing and your stomach burned in a way that pushed your courage over the edge. You’ve needed something like this for a long time, you just never knew how long you actually needed it. “You want me to give you a session!”

Tom clicked his tongue at your teasing, slightly chuckling. You blinked your eyes as you flashed your fraud innocence at him.

“What does the session include?” His voice was low and deep. There was a certain rumble in his tone that made your legs feel like jelly and your mind go blank.

“I-I can show you. Let’s go in the back,” You try to remain as playful as possible, but you were absolutely losing it. You just wanted him to take control and kiss you as hard as possible; to do the unimaginable. Of course, the horniest you’ve ever been in your whole life is at work of all places. There’s no way there isn’t a rule about having sex in the gym. You’re sure people have done it before, but never employees. That had to have been prohibited.

But your desire is taking control of all your actions right now as you lead Tom through the gym and into your miniature office. Since you were relatively new, your office was in the back of the gym in a little room. The other offices for the more experienced trainers were near the front and were wide open to the public. You didn’t like how your space was so far away from everything because it made you feel disconnected, but right now, you’ve never been more grateful.

As you guide him into your office, you shut the door and push in the lock. You had a small wooden desk with a single picture frame and a laptop. A few different papers lie across, but you’re quick to stack them and slot them in the first drawer. When you stand back up, Tom is closer to you than ever, hovering right over you.

Your heart rate increases exponentially as his hungry eyes pierce your soul. Your impulses want to rip his shirt dramatically off of his torso, so you can run your hands all along his sweaty, ripped stomach. You’d make sure to kiss every centimeter of skin before landing on your knees for him. You’re almost positive you’d do anything he’d ask. Before you can even blink, he’s leaning in, cutting the distance and inching closer to your weekly fantasy.

“So what do I get?” His voice was breathy as his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips. You couldn’t help but do the same.

“Anything. Anything you want,” You respond way too quickly, your desperation spilling out from you. Out of instinct, you took a step back from him, making your back bump into the wall. He was crowding your space as much as he could without actually touching you. And it was utterly killing you.

“What a generous trainer,” he placed his hand delicately on the wall next to your head. “Do you do this with all of your clients?”

“Only the fittest,” Your lustfulness made you brutally honest as if you had chugged truth serum. “But no, I’ve never… brought anyone back here before.”

“The first and the fittest. I might just have to book a session.”

“Luckily, a spot just opened. You can have it,” Your eyes meet him again. The second he sees your eyelashes flutter up, there’s nothing stopping him from kissing you. Not the tension, not the voices in his head, not the fear of someone knocking on the door asking for you.

Tom’s lips crash against yours in an eager kiss, lips melting together from the heat you’ve built up. It’s sweet and it’s salty, but it’s fulfilling that nagging ache you’ve wanted cured all week long. Your hands immediately find their way to his luscious curls, lacing your fingers through them just like you imagined. His rough-textured hand cups your jaw, angling you directing into his mouth when he slots a bit of his tongue inside.

His body presses forward against yours, rock-hard, stiff, and hot. The feeling of his heaviness and warmth was even better than you had conjured up in your crazy, little head. His rhythm was easy to rock with, and your body gravitated towards his. You whimpered into his mouth when his growing bulge poked the bottom of your tummy. Tom took that as a sign and popped off of your mouth. He trailed his wondrous mouth down your pulsing neck, causing you to stab your teeth into your lip to keep quiet.

Tom kissed and nibbled your skin without a care of who might see the marks. He didn’t know what would happen after all of this, but he wanted you to have at least one memory when it was all over. When reached your collarbone, he forced himself off of you.

“What do you want?” he grumbled.

“W-What? I don’t know! Anything, just do something, please.”

“You’re the trainer. You’re supposed to tell me what to do, no?” Tom’s teasing sends a tingle down your stomach that hits you straight in between your legs. “Do y’want me to fuck–”

“God, yes. Do anything, please,” You groaned, trying not to sound too desperate, but it was difficult when that’s all you were.

“Alright, alright, don’t worry.”

Tom pushed himself off of your body to remove his shirt. His glorious body was perfectly defined by his packed muscles wrapped in his tan skin. His skin looked so smooth, like a silky blanket. Your impulses got the best of you and before you could even think, they were roaming his god-like figure with curiosity.

“How are you so fit? Who is your trainer and how can I learn from them?” You question both jokingly and seriously. When he laughs, you can feel it vibrate through your fingertips and it makes you feel all fuzzy.

“I train myself, but I know some great cardio exercises I’d be willin’ to show you,” he winks as his hand lands on your hip. It was your turn to laugh now, your voice breaking the tight tension.

“Please,” You begged, tugging both of his hands toward you. It was your way of saying that he could do whatever he wanted now. “Go ahead.”

So he did. You removed your tennis shoes and then he yanked down your leggings. You were so needy at this point you didn’t even bother to discard your snug bra. If anything, you’re going to need its security with all the movement you’re about to do (hopefully).

His hands grabbed the hem of your leggings until they were completely off of your legs. You’re left in your soaking thong while he’s still in his loose gym shorts. Tom doesn’t waste another second because he’s growing just as impatient as you. He can feel himself twitching in his briefs, craving for a satisfaction that only you can seem to sedate.

Without a warning, Tom cups your mound with delicacy, fingers pressing against your aching hole. The gasp you let out is unwavering as your cunt clenches around nothing but your own desperation. He scrunches his palm, rubbing your underwear as you soaked through the fabric.

“Can feel that you’re soaking, darling,” Tom husks beside your ear, sending shocks of heat down your spine. You’ve never been so turned on in your life from someone, especially because of a deep, sensual accent like his. “Did I do this?”

“Yes, yes. All for you,” You nearly whined, but you withheld it with a strain. “Please just fuck me already.”

“What’s the rush, love? Got somewhere to be?” he taunted. You didn’t have anywhere to be and he seemed to know that. He was lucky you didn’t have any clients today or have any appointments. It was like the perfect coincidence that this occurred on this day. You’re grateful for the fate of the universe as he slips his hand into your panties to lace his fingers within your wetness.

“So fucking wet, love,” he grumbled so low you could barley hear it.

“I need it, please,” This is the most submissive you’ve ever been. You can’t recall a time where you have ever been this wet or needy for another man. There’s just something incredibly alluring about the man about you, rock-hard body and all.

“What do you need? Do you need me to put my finger in your tight, little hole? I bet it would just slide right in.”

“Fuck, Tom,” You growled in sexual frustration. His mouth spilled utter filth, but you were loving it. You felt the very tip of his finger nudging inside of you, causing your walls to clutch tightly. “I need you to fuck me. Please. No teasing.”

With an ever-growing smirk, Tom slips his hand out of your underwear and glides the material down your jelly-like legs. Your eyes never leave his hands, too scared to meet his intimidating eyes. You watch him with curiosity and desire as he tucks his thumbs in the waistband. His briefs come into your view and your eyes widen when you see the impressive bulge outline.

You swallow, intimidated by his size, especially since you haven’t had sex in a decent amount of time. He hasn’t even pulled down his underwear yet and you’re already frothing at the mouth.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I, um,” Your eyes wander around to your purse on the floor by your desk and you quickly bend down to pop it open. In one of your secret pockets, there is a nicely wrapped condom. “Here. I hope it fits.”

Tom laughs as he tugs his briefs down with ease. “You’re not good for my ego.”

You wanted to laugh in response, but you were too distracted by his cock. Mesmerizingly, you gaze at his hand stroking his veiny length, seemingly as desperate as you with pre-cum leaking at the tip.

Instead of grabbing the condom from your hand, Tom says, way too gravelly, “I want you to do it.”

So, with shaky hands and doe-eyes, you rip open the package and slide on the latex. The look on your face can easily make it seem like you’ve never even seen a dick before. But now looking at Tom’s, it feels like all the others are down the drain.

Within seconds, Tom has you back against the wall, one hand resuming beside your head and the other on your hip. Your heart jumped and pussy throbbed, waiting for him to break the lustful barrier in between you two.

“Ready?”

“Y-Yes,” You whimper as the head of his cock glides along your thighs before sliding in between them. Your arousal soaks the condom as he grips one of your legs, hoisting you up and around his waist. Your arms instantly wrap around his neck for security as your leg connects to him like a koala.

With one leg on the floor, you try to maintain your balance as he finally thrusts into you. You both collectively groan in sexual satisfaction, finally having your craving fulfilled. When you thought he had pushed all the way in, Tom pumps deeper inside of you, causing you to squeal.

“Shh, darling. Don’t want anyone to hear us fucking in your office, do you?” Your moans contradict his request, but you can’t help it. His hips were flicking up into you so fucking deliciously, and you couldn’t stop yourself from bucking right back into him. “Or maybe you do. You want someone to walk in and see one of their trainers getting their brains fucked out?”

“M-Maybe,” You couldn’t lie, the idea was enthralling. The idea and his dirty words made your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your head. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it, almost as if he’d studied this.

“But I don’t want to get fired,” You whined a little too loudly.

“Well, then you better be a good girl and quiet down.”

In order to obey his demand, you brought one of your hands to cover your mouth. You allowed yourself to moan in your palm when his pace increased and he bottomed out completely. You could feel yourself fluttering around his cock as he rammed into you like no tomorrow.

His free hand traveled down to your clit and circled the throbbing bud with roughness. You shrieked against yourself, clenching tightly around his thick cock to compensate. Blindly, you are clawing at the skin on his neck and chest. Still, even when he was deep inside of you, you were terrified to look into his dark eyes.

With every thrust, you felt the way his muscles contracted against you. You felt and heard the way you drenched his cock even more with the sight. His muscles and body were the first thing that caught your eye about him to begin with, so you’re not totally surprised that you’re dripping from that.

He looks like a model. A statue. A god.

Small beads of sweat began to form on his abdomen, glazing down his chunks of muscle as he jammed harder into you. Your head hit the wall hard in ecstasy when he lowered himself to your neck and nibbled right below your ear. Every breath and groan that slipped from his mouth just sent you into overdrive and made you insane.

“I’m close,” You breathily warned, squeezing your leg tightly around him to push him even deeper. Tom groaned loudly on accident, too overpowered by the feeling of you.

“Wish I could hear your sweet sounds,” Tom mumbles as he pinches the top of your thighs to make you squeal. He resumes his attention on your clit, so he can distract himself from coming, because he knows he’s milliseconds away from absolutely losing it. “I know you’d sound so pretty screaming my name.”

“Tom,” You whimpered instead, eyes screwing closed. Your back began arching towards his buff chest and your breathing was becoming more rapid, indicating that your release was right around the corner. “I’m coming, shit.”

“Let go, love. C’mon, know you need it,” his lovely accent guided you through it with gravel encouragement. With another skillful rock of his cock, you were coming until you saw stars. Literally. Your eyes were closed so tightly that you saw little white specks in your vision. “There you go.”

Tom took that as his sign to finally relieve himself. As his thrust got sloppier, he helped you through it. With a fist to the wall and head in your shoulder, he came harshly in the condom.

Your body squirmed in his hold, already too sensitive. He gently let you stand on both feet, keeping you steady as you regained your balance. He removed the condom, tied it, and tossed it in the garbage.

“I can take out y’trash if you want me to,” Tom offered as you both slipped on your clothes. The humidity in the room seemed higher than ever, and then to put your clothes back on was just torturous.

“It’s alright, it’s not like anyone will go through it,” You reassured as you struggled to pull up your sticky leggings.

There was a moment of silence that made your heart rate pick up.You were both fully dressed and there was nothing stopping him from walking out. What was he thinking? Was he trying to find the best way to leave without being mean?

“I—” You both spoke at the same time, a flush burning your skins.

“Go ahead,” You insisted, too nervous and impatient for his response. He probably never wanted to see you again and that was fine, this was just a one-time thing that you will be thinking about occasionally. Or every day.

“Okay,” Now, Tom couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. He felt a tad nervous all of sudden as if he’d never talked to a girl before. He’s done this stuff loads of times, but he can’t help but get flustered like a school boy. “Can I… have your number? You can totally say no—”

“Yes,” You probably responded way too quickly, but you didn’t care. He wanted your number and you weren’t going to waste a second pretending to think about it. A smile grows on his face that was even bigger than his devilish smirk from earlier. “What does this mean?”

If you didn’t ask him, you would’ve been regretting it forever. You knew you wouldn't have had the courage to text him that question. What if he never even texted you, and he was just asking for your number to be nice?

“It means I’m going to text you.”

“Okay, well, thanks for clearing that up for me,” You rolled your eyes, but at least he was honest.

“Maybe ask you out too.”

“Really?” Your heart jumped on a trampoline in your chest, excitement bubbling up within you. You have been on a date in about a year, and Tom seems like a wet dream come true. You thought that maybe he wanted a friends with benefits arrangement, but a date? Is this real life?

“Yeah, if that’s something you want—”

“Yes,” You probably responded way too quickly, but you didn’t care. He wanted to take you on a freaking date and you weren’t going to waste a second pretending to think about it.

You did give him a free cardio session. The least he can do is take you out, right? What’s better than a free cardio session? Free food!

—

thanks for reading, this isn’t my favorite thing i’ve ever written because it felt a bit forced… so sorry about that 😭

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @theslayerofthevampires @breaxthing @eatshitanddiee

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fics #tom holland fan fics #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fic #tom holland gifs

[jongseongsnudes]

thirty.

warning; nothing but the end is coming! 🥂🥳 1.3k words. masterlist.

“sunghoon seems to take such good care of you,” one says, her hand brushing your arm, “his future wife is going to be so lucky.”

“speaking of which... what do you think about me as your sister in law?”

“no no! how about me as your sister in law!”

somehow, you found yourself cornered in by a bunch of beautiful women the moment you stepped into the function hall, all the daughters and granddaughters of the rich rich. at first they were all very sweet, complimenting you about everything and anything.

then the questions came, all about park sunghoon and his dating life.

the topic of his marriage had been the talk of the town as of late, more so after becoming ceo. you know for a fact that women dream of becoming his dear wife and although you don’t want to admit it, it’s in the back of your mind somewhere too.

“i hope i’m not interrupting,” sunghoon’s voice causes everyone around to you to gasp in unison, their eyes immediately twinkling at the sight of him behind you. the man extends his hand out to you with the most charming smile on his face, making you instantly swoon.

you take his hand, allowing him to pull you towards the stage where he was due for a speech. everyone’s focus is immediately on you, some with envy, some in awe and some with just plain hate. but you’ve become used to it. being a park has given you many things, including much thicker skin.

“you’re very popular,” you whisper, just loud enough for sunghoon to hear, “feels like i’m watching the bachelor.”

“you’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

“i am not jealous.”

he turns to you, brows raised and with that stupid, know-it-all grin on his face. he knows you’re jealous, hell, YOU knew you were jealous.

it sucks but you are, knowing these ladies had a higher chance of getting with him than you because at the end of the day, your relationship was in so many ways, wrong.

“don’t fall in love with me while i give my speech.”

the man walks over to do his speech while you’re left standing behind him, ironically speechless because it was too late for that warning now. way too late.

there was a noticeable change in sunghoon recently that you assume was from the responsibility of a new position. although the man still enjoyed annoying you on the daily, he was evidently more attentive, more thoughtful, more mature in general.

a true man.

you’ve barely gotten to spend time with him these days, the man too busy with work but every moment that you did, he made sure it was worth it.

and this sunghoon really did something to you, having you fall deeper and deeper for him without even knowing it.

“wipe your drool, you’re making a mess.”

but of course sunghoon being sunghoon, still had that trash mouth of his that manages to ruin any given moment.

“funny,” you scoff and softly knock his chest, even stepping closer as an intimidating stance. what you forgot though, were the hundreds of watchful eyes and how the playful scene might’ve looked to them.

sunghoon raises a questionable brow and glances around the place before looking back down at you, “oh. in front of all these people? you want me that bad?”

“you are unbelievable.”

the man laughs whole heartedly and offers his arm, in which you take for him to lead you back down the stairs. the charity event continues on, with sunghoon mingling with the crowd and you by his side. nights like these really gave you a glimpse into what it would be like if you really were with sunghoon.

not as his step sister, but as his partner.

“just a little longer.”

“hm?”

“i know you’re tired, we’ll leave soon,” sunghoon keeps his voice low only for your ears, his hand rubbing your backs soothingly, “then you can have me to yourself.”

“whatever. i’m going to the bathroom.”

leaving sunghoon be, you head for the bathroom, only to be stopped by the loud mention of your name. the conversation between two men in the hallway immediately peaks your curiosity, your legs quickly stepping behind the wall to hide.

“he’s quite close to his sister don’t you think? they’re always together,” you hear a male voice, one you recognise as someone from management, “i think they’ve fucked at least.”

gulp.

“same but at the same time, i don’t think he’s that stupid,” the other responds with a laugh, “that’s like sabotaging the company and his own image. they’re step siblings but it’s still pretty fucked up.”

“someone apparently saw them cosying up in his office the other day.”

“shit really? oh i’m so ready to watch his downfall in this company.”

voices and laughter eventually drown out as they disappear around the corner, leaving you and their words to finally sink in. if their words did anything, it’s solidifying your thoughts.

that you and park sunghoon can’t happen for everyone’s sake.

“why do you look so suspicious?”

sunghoon’s sudden voice makes you jump for the second time tonight, having been too deep thought to even notice him. he watches you with amusement as he comes over to stand in front of you, eyes never once moving.

“i’m not doing anything.”

“liar,” his gaze bore into your face as his finger probes your chin up, making you look directly at him, “what’s wrong now?"

silence.

“what are we?” those words come out before you could even process it, surprising not only him but also yourself. so many times have you brought up a similar topic but time after time, the man would laugh about it and sweep it under the couch.

but you’ve finally done it, asking him the one question you’ve been wanted to for so long.

“is that why you’ve been sulky all night?”

“i’m serious sunghoon.”

“you don’t like what we’re doing?” the man takes a step closer, hand naturally grabbing hold of your waist, bringing you flat against him. he leans in but you hurry to turn away, much to his amusement, “you don’t like the secrecy? you don’t like the fact that you get me and these women don’t?”

“so we’re going to live like this forever? in secrecy?”

“okay fine. lets get married. is that what you want to hear?”

“what-” you were left speechless, not only at the suggestion of marriage but because of the sudden cockiness in his tone, “why can’t you take me serious for once?”

“i am serious.”

“you know that’s not possible. our parents are married, what will people think of the company and you?”

“then i’ll quit and we’ll run away. simple.”

“sunghoon. you’re the ceo, you can’t just quit-”

“i can’t do this, i can’t do that,” he interrupts you mid sentence, his tone evidently higher than before. you know when he’s not happy and right now, he’s definitely not. “i became the fucking ceo for you, i don’t know what else i can do. so tell me. what do you want from me?”

silence overtakes the conversation as you both stand there, eyes glued on each other, his hand no longer on your waist. the unspoken tension is so heavy, you feel suffocated, like there’s so much weighing down on your chest.

“i only want what’s best for you sunghoon,” you finally mutter up the courage to talk, not wanting to drag it on for any longer. “i’m going to study abroad. i’ll be leaving next week.”

end.

-

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#the enha universe #enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen drabble #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagine #enhypen scenario #sunghoon; step brother #enhypen smut #enhypen reaction #enha #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon fic #park sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon drabble #park sunghoon imagine #jongseongsnudes #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fic #sunghoon fanfic

[deconstructthesoup]

Thinking about it now, I think the thing that was kind of a curveball for me about Nerdy Prudes that's obvious in hindsight is that... Grace and her parents have a very loving relationship.

Don't get me wrong, Karen and Mark are still exactly the type of people who I wouldn't want to meet in real life. They're super conservative, they're ridiculously set in their ways, they think that seeing PG movies and carrying each other's books is scandalous, and the lessons that they've instilled in her daughter have clearly messed her up---she thinks that touching herself and lying to the police is the worst thing that she could've done even after she unintentionally gets Max killed and then covers it up, and something as inane and subjective as her virginity is what she cherishes above her family, which is insane. But honestly, I did expect Karen and Mark to be unbelievably strict towards Grace, and for her to be visibly tired with all the pressure.

Instead, Karen and Mark think that Grace is their little angel who can do no wrong. They're clearly worried about her once she starts acting off, and Mark actually seems vaguely easygoing for the Chastity standards in terms of letting her off. Even though their values are messed up, and they're pretty much the reason why Grace is the way she is, they're sweet and supportive.

Which makes so much sense for Grace. Obviously she wouldn't be so high-strung and uptight if she resented her parents. Obviously she wouldn't parrot everything they say if they were horrible to her. She has to have a great relationship with her parents, or she wouldn't be Grace Chastity, Nerdy Prude. Beyond that, that gives the relationship nuance! Karen and Mark can have unhealthy values that messed Grace up and made her go off the deep end over one sexual fantasy, and they can also absolutely adore their daughter and implicitly trust that she's doing what they think is right! It doesn't have to be a clear-cut "they're bad parents" dynamic! They can be good parents to Grace while also having failed her in some very key ways! This is fascinating!

And maybe this is just because they're played by Curt and Kim, who just make every relationship they play better, but it works. It really works. It makes the entire Chastity family so much more fascinating, because it's even more compelling imagining a scenario where Grace goes through positive character development and has to tell her parents that what they taught her is wrong. Can you imagine how hard that would be? Telling your parents, who have been nothing but loving and supportive to you for your whole life, that you're having doubts about what they taught you---and dealing with the very real possibility that all of that love and support could go away once that's out in the open? After years of having an open and honest relationship with them?

Would Karen and Mark not love Grace anymore if she was no longer her teacher's pet, straight-laced, prudish self? Would they kick her out? Would they try and change her? Or would they listen to her, and take the time to be better?

We don't know, because they're complicated. On the surface, they're stereotypical, but peel back the uber-Christian jargon and the 1950's sitcom attitude, and you have two individuals who clearly love each other, and their daughter, very much. Is that love conditional? Who the hell knows? Until Nick and Matt answer us, all we have is speculation!

And that's so! Damn! Fun!

#starkid #hatchetfield #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #grace chastity #karen chasity #mark chasity

[lw6-woso]

Struggles (Barca Femeni x reader)

(gif is not mine)

Y/N L/N.

everyone knows your name.

the unstoppable 18 year old striker for both barcelona and England who was able to make young girls believe they can achieve anything at a young age. from winning the euros in 2022 including winning the young player of the tournament and the golden boot with scoring in every game you played in with England. and even more unbelievable when playing for Barcelona.

everyone knew and loved you it was hard not to, however you was a very private individual nobody anything about you really not even your team mates new much about her even though you have been playing along side them since the age of 16.

you had your little perks about yourself that make people think with how you played, your reactions to certain things and finally your habits of getting destracted when doing media fidgeting with your hair or fingers. they easily picked up on if people really anaysed your behaviour and the more that they looked and observe it all came together like a little puzzle piece,

you struggled massively deep down and the barca girls finally figured it out.

it was a normal day for the barca squad with it being a match day the only thing was that they were laying Real Madrid the teams rival everyone knew that whether you are in the academy, womens or men's team real madris were the biggest rivals. the team had made it to camp nou and they were sat in the changing rooms dancing and singing to music except one person you.

she was sat in her cub that was next to Alexias looking at the floor zoned out completely, the only people who noticed was Jenni and Alexia. they looked at each other from across the room confused, you never acted this way except when you had become ill with the flu but that had happened once you never get sick like EVER.

Alexia took it upon her self to drag you by the hand out of the changing room and into a deserted physio room that hadn't been used in year and was now a storage room. she moved you so you were sat on a seat and she asked

"hey are you okay you dont seem yourself"

"yeah i mean i havent been sleeping much must be coming down with something" i said quietly, after you had said that Jenni had walked in slamming the door louder than she had expected to making you jump out of your skin.

"hey chica"she said sitting next to me.

"im fine you guys dont have to worry" i said.

"no we are not doing this not today so your going to tell us what is wrong or ill bench you" Alexia said sternly.

Ale and jenni where your team mums ever since you arrive in barca they took you under they wings and protected you like there own, so they new everything and that included your little secret that you were hiding from the world, the fact that you had ADHD and had a long history of battling depression.

this came with a lot of issues with not just your career and education but everything in your life especially when it gets bad, and today you had a bad day, everyone has bad days and today was a bad day.

"im having a bad day i forgot that i had ran out of my ADHD medication and i have renewed it yet and my mind wont stop i just want to sleep" you said tears coming to your eyes clearing overwhelmed.

"hey hey its okay im going to go talk to jonaton okay see do youv feel up to playing today" jenni said.

"yes and no i dont know" you said confused and annoyed and jenni nodded and left to go see jonaton.

"come on lets get changed get some water and get warmed up see how you feel you might be a super sub today" Ale said hugging you.

"Ale," you asked.

"yeah" she asked.

"i want to tell everyone" you said.

"what the girls" she asked.

"yeah and the rest of the world i think it'll be good you know to tell my story my battle," you said.

"you never fail to amaze me you know that i think it's a great idea," she said and we walked into the changing rooms.

In that game it was decided for you not to play for your own well-being and you understood, you watched from the sideline watching your idles and your family thrash Real Madrid beating them 6-0.

everyone was on a high celebrating and you decided to do it then and there.

"guys," you said and the girls instantly stopped to listen.

"I thought you all deserved to know this I wanted to share that well I don't know how to say this but I have ADHD and I have suffered from depression it likes to creep back up in my life a lot and I want your help to raise awareness and help tell stories about mental health within the game I want to tell my story," they said and they all gave me small smiles, not smiles of sympathy but smiles of proudness and inspiration.

they all clapped and hugged me having a large group hug. and this is only the start of the long way to sharing everyone's stories within the wonderful game of football and the dark side that comes with it.

*3 months later*

i was sitting in a studio on my own cameras recording ready to tell me story one story out of the many stories that were going to be said, i had reached out to many big names in the footballing community and they were happy and ready to tell their story and help.

"Hi, I am Y/N and this is my story," you said.

"hi I am Alexia Putellas and this is my story"

"hi I am Leah Williamson and this is my story"

"hi im Viviane Miedema and this is my story"

"hi im Alex morgan and this is my story"

"hi my name is Ellen White and this is my story"

"hello im mason mount and this is my story"

"I'm Ian Wright and this is my story"

"everyone in the entire world has a voice no matter who you are or how you are struggling never be afraid to reach out you are not alone you will never be alone reach out, help others, and get help for yourself. your story matters just like all of ours we are no different from you everyone struggles some different from others you all have your story and that story and how you overcame your dark times could save someone else," you said.

the camera turned off and the screen turned black.

A/N-this was my first fic so please feedback would be appreciated the good and the bad :)

#woso community #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #barca femeni #mapi león #barca femini #leah williamson #jenni hermoso #woso fanfics #engwnt #espwnt #vivianne miedema #ingrid engen #women football #awfc