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randomshyperson · 3 months

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Borrowed - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Wanda develops the habit of stealing your clothes, and you develop the habit of fucking her wearing them.

Warnings: (+18), bottom!Wanda (a bit bratty), established relationship, slightly of power dynamics, dry humping/clothed for a bit, oral (w), fingering (w), strap on (w), some dirty talking, a bit overstimulation. | Words: 2.289k

A/N-> This is actually an old idea, someone on Tumblr, not sure who, wrote an image about Wanda using our favorite hoodie, and I actually love all fics that have this dynamic so I decided to do a small fic about it.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

You were starting to think you were being robbed.

It was a plausible conclusion, considering how rarely you were out of uniform and the very few moments when you had the freedom to wear more comfortable clothes, and how quickly your sweatshirts disappeared from your closet.

With a frustrated sigh, and your hair still damp from the shower, you stared at the empty drawer for a long, reflective moment, trying to find solutions to the disappearance of all your hoodies.

Even after checking the other drawers, the laundry basket and even the compound's laundry room, you had no success. You were forced to make your way back to your rooms with your arms shivering from the cold, and a disappointed expression on your little mission.

Instead of returning to your room, however, you skipped to the next door, hoping to talk to your girlfriend and ask her if she had any idea where you'd forgotten your coats.

To your surprise, the answer came the same second your eyes met the figure distracted by a sitcom on the television; right there on the bed was Wanda, wearing nothing but your favorite hoodie that wasn't even the right size - nothing surprising when one steals clothes from a super soldier - but which she seemed to be making good use of.

"Wanda!" Your exclamation of surprise made her take her eyes off the DVD immediately. At first, she thought you were just saying hello, and smiled in your direction. But your face frowned and it was her turn to look at you curiously. "I can't believe you."

She makes a quick assessment of the facts in the seconds it takes for you to close the door and approach the bed; she doesn't reckon to have done anything wrong. You two spoke earlier, you even had a heated and inappropriate make-out session in the garage when you arrived, and she had dinner next to you before you left the living room to take a shower. No arguments, no news she forgot to tell you.

But you chuckled incredulously at the cluelessness on her face, and occupying the field of view between the bed and the television, you commented;

"I'm quite cold, you know that?" Wanda grinned in relief at your phrase. She doesn't have time to tease you about being clingy. You slowly lean your body towards her, effectively pinning Wanda to the mattress as you hover over her. All Wanda can do is sigh in anticipation, and her stomach feels already full of butterflies.

"I can warm you up." She lets out an inviting sigh, but although your eyes take on a darker hue, you smirk and extend the distance again. Wanda bites her lip, trying to hold back a complaint fearing that you would torment her and make her beg for it, but you take your hands off the mattress and place them on her waist.

With gentle tugs on the sweatshirt, you comment; "I'm sure you can, darling. You look quite warm."

Another gentle tug on the fluffy fabric and Wanda understood. She didn't look the least bit guilty about being caught, though. Adjusting herself comfortably on the bed, she gave you the most innocent smile she could manage.

You pulled the hoodie up just a few centimeters, biting your lip at the thin lace panties that were the only thing separating her intimacy from your thigh now.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" You ask, your hands moving under your hoodie, teasing her skin with gentle touches that make Wanda strangle on her own breath.

She quickly denies it with a nod, but when your fingers give a warning tug to her nipples, she squeals audibly.

"S-sorry!" She panted aroused, her shaky legs trying to force you down. But your body stands firm above her, and the difference in strength never fails to leave her frustrated and terribly wet. "I just... like them. Smells like you." She confesses, hoping that her sincerity is enough for you to forgive her and help her with the throbbing between her legs.

You hum distractedly, your palms leisurely playing with her breasts under the hoodie until you turn Wanda into a whining mess underneath you.

Your firm thigh between her legs also serves as a torturous stimulation - even for you, it's hard to keep up the slow, teasing pace while you have the deliriously hot, wet sensation of Wanda's pussy rubbing against your skin. When you catch a bead of sweat running down her forehead from all the teasing, you chuckle wickedly.

"Wow, I bet this one is starting to bother you." Your hands come out to tug the hoodie down, and Wanda grunts softly, offering begging eyes to you. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Are you hot?"

She nods almost shyly, a little guilt finally slipping through her irises. Not for the act of stealing your clothes, but for the fact that she was caught and will be punished for it.

You smile, your hands settling back on the mattress so that you can lie on top of her, without wasting time to break the distance between your faces now.

Wanda moans as soon as she feels your tongue on hers, so hungry and experienced, stealing the air from her lungs and making her see stars. She struggles to match the intensity of the kiss, very much because you allow her to use your thigh as she pleases, and she is feverishly grinding herself back into your skin in search of relief of the hot knot in her lower belly. You stop kissing her when she can only return breathy moans to your lips, and decide to mark the skin of her collarbone while Wanda builds up her own orgasm, her eyes closed and her nails digging into your now shivering arms for another reason.

It's definitely too hot - The padded hoodie is uncomfortable as the liquid arousal courses through her veins and her body jerks, but every time Wanda makes an attempt to pull the item off her, strong hands push the garment back into place. Until finally you grab her wrists and prevent further attempts while holding her firmly.

You bite her lobe also panting against her neck next, as you let her move her hips at will. When Wanda starts to pant a little heavier than before, you can tell that she is close.

"Are you really gonna come, baby? I never got to take your panties off."

She opens her mouth to tell you to go ahead and take them off, but the teasing alone pushes her over the edge, and what escapes her is a throaty moan. Her body stiffens under yours, and her eyes roll back before she goes limp. You release her wrists, pulling your knee away from her over-stimulated cunt, and watch your girlfriend's satisfied, breathless expression for a moment.

When your face comes into focus again, Wanda smiles as she realizes that you were also stroking her sweaty hair out of her face.

"Hey." She greets you first, her body still twitching and tingling with pleasure. "Are you really mad about the hoodie?"

You giggle, denying it with a nod before kissing her. It's chaste because she's still trying to get back into orbit and there's no scene more beautiful to behold than Wanda Maximoff blushing in the aftermath of an orgasm.

"You can steal my clothes all you want." You assure her meekly, before sliding your hands back under the fabric. "Just keep in mind that I will want to fuck you in every one of them."

Wanda bites back a smile, sighing as she feels your fingers reach her sides to pull down her ruined panties. She swallows dryly as she realizes that you're lowering your body as well.

"I'm counting on it, darling." She murmurs quietly, hoping you won't pick up on her secret intentions. But of course you do, and let out a husky giggle against her thigh that makes Wanda sigh. "I meant-"

"Oh, I heard you well." You interrupt her, scratching your teeth into her skin and making Wanda twitch in anticipation, the muscles in her spread legs flexing. She risks looking down, only to meet your dark eyes and wince under your gaze. "How bad do you want me to fuck you, Wanda?"

She swallows dryly, her trembling hands trying to grab onto the sheets but everything is so hot and uncomfortable inside that hoodie that Wanda thinks if she doesn't undress soon she might collapse.

"Please." She mewls, her hips thrusting up towards your face. "I need you." She baits you so easily that you ignore the fact that you were trying some form of punishment. Wanda throws her head back on the pillow harshly as you nuzzle her drenched intimacy, the evidence of her last, almost embarrassing quick climax glistening in your direction. You kiss her thighs, teasing your way until she's whimpering again and you finally think you've had enough. Your tongue isn't gentle, Wanda hasn't behaved well in recent weeks as a naughty brat appearing in shorter and shorter skirts every time you need to leave the compound for a mission, or disturbing your meals and workouts with vivid images of all the other activities you could be doing that always involve her ruined beneath you.

So you're not gentle. You eat her out like your last meal, licking all over her previous climax before sucking her little clit and sinking your face between her legs, your strong hands holding her legs wide open as her body betrays her and tries to escape the pacing. The next orgasm overtakes her without any difficulties, and you haven't even fingered her yet when Wanda pours herself out for the second time that night. She's still whimpering when one of your hands lets go of her bruised thigh so that your fingers can sink into her pussy and Wanda hears the sheet rip in her palm as she tries to find some ground.

She also grabs a fistful of your hair, panting as you raise your eyes to her, your fingers in frantic rhythm inside her pussy. Breathless, she tries to hold your gaze as she risks to guide your movements:

"Yes, darling. Just like that."

But you raise an eyebrow, and Wanda only has time to blink before all your movements are interrupted. You steal one orgasm from her as quickly as you start to build another; your hands spin her around on the bed and Wanda finds herself with her face pressed against the pillow and your body on top of hers. The rub of a familiar hardness against her ass makes her whine in need.

"It's cute when you think you're in charge." You whisper, filthily licking her neck and eliciting a loud moan from the witch. With her panties long discarded on the bedroom floor, you have no trouble pulling your rubber cock out of your pants and forcing it between Wanda's spread legs. She almost screams at the unannounced intrusion, but with the wetness of the last few orgasms, the toy slides in with ease. You pant softly as you bottom up. With your mouth inches from her ear, your hips begin a slow, steady rhythm inside her as you whisper; "It's your favorite, Wands. I left everything ready so I could fill you up just the way you like it." She whines into the pillow, clutching your fake cock tightly enough that you need to push a little harder to move. You kiss behind her ear before moving one of your hands to her tit again. Wanda's skin is burning under the warm clothes. "I put it on as soon as I got out of the shower." You let her know as you thrust deep inside her. "You really don't need to steal my clothes, baby. Hoodie or no hoodie, I would have fucked you tonight."

She comes harder than before this time, and with her impossibly tight, you don't see any point in holding back. Wanda is still coming when you fill her, the hot spurt inside her walls prolonging her climax and turning her into a babbling mess on the mattress.

You take pity on her. You pull your cock out of her fucked-up pussy, biting your lips at the sight of the leaking cum coming out of her before focusing on removing the sweaty, cum-soaked hoodie from your girlfriend's body.

Wanda tries to fight the exhaustion of three orgasms in a row, but she can barely keep her eyes open. It's been a long week.

You grip the rubber cock, adjusting your hips and rubbing the toy against Wanda's folds again, making her whine in protest, one of her hands desperate to grab your wrist and keep you out.

You hum attentively, although you don't penetrate her, you let the dildo slide on top of her clit, enjoying the way Wanda struggles to keep still.

"Had enough?" You ask even though you're able to watch her pussy clenching desperately at the emptiness, her body instinctively begging for more. Wanda gasps, her hips trying to buck away from the overstimulation only for her to end up rubbing against the bed during the attempt and eliciting a pathetic whimper from herself.

"Five." She gasps breathlessly. "Five minutes."

Your hips move away, and you stand up to remove your clothes while Wanda twitches and tries to catch her breath again on the bed.

She reacts immediately to the lack of your warmth against her, seeking your presence by turning her head. An exchange of glances is enough to let you know that she just needs the time it takes for you to get the handcuffs from the bottom drawer.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff smut

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futureman · 4 months

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don't wanna leave this play date

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: you and mike find a way to make a boring shift at freddy's a little more interesting

warnings: 18+ MDNI, coworker!reader, smut, pwp, overstimulation, edging, blowjob, extremely rough oral, throatpie, fwb

word count: 1.9k

(based on these two requests, tysm for sending them in!)

"Thank you. God, thank you so fucking much."

You can't respond to him with your mouth as full as it is, but he picks up the acknowledgment in your next extra-hard suck. He probably wouldn't have heard you anyway, not with how loud he's gotten over the last half hour.

Should you both be working right now? Yes. Could something go terribly wrong because you're too busy blowing your coworker to watch the security monitors? Oh, absolutely.

But when his curly mop of hair appeared at the edge of the doorway midway through your shift, you knew you'd end up doing whatever he asked you to. It might just be your fatal flaw—you can never say no to Mike Schmidt.

He buries his fingers in your hair, tensing but not tugging, as you steadily work him the way you know he likes. He's surprisingly gentle for someone so eager to get his cock in your mouth every night, but you figure there's not much else to do during a midnight to 6 a.m. security gig at a closed-down pizzeria no one gives a shit about anymore.

Plus, you like doing it. You like him. It's cute how unashamed and unapologetic he is about how badly he wants you, and he makes you feel so good, you've never even thought about turning him down.

Even on nights when he just needs a quick release to ease the boredom or relax him enough to squeeze in a nap, just the taste and weight of him on your tongue has you soaking right through your panties. And he always makes it up to you.

But you're bored tonight, too. With three hours left to go, you'd been sitting in your shitty folding chair wondering how the hell you were going to stay awake and pass the time when Mike offered you an enticing solution. Except, you're still feeling antsy, and you don't want this to be over as fast as it usually is. Tonight, you want to play a little longer.

You pull off of him with a lewd pop and jerk him off languidly, loosening your grip to stave off his quickly approaching orgasm.

"That feel good?" you ask breathily, inhaling a lungful of air after letting him rut into the inside of your cheek for the past ten minutes. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he nods.

"S'good, feels so good," he slurs, his head tipped back as he bucks off the chair and into your fist.

"You want more?" You start to twist your wrist whenever you get close to the tip, and you can see and feel the shudder that wracks through him.

"Yes, god, yes. Please," he pleads, just short of begging.

"More what?" you goad experimentally. It wasn't your intention to make him beg when he walked into your office asking for help, but now you don't want him to stop.

"Y-your mouth," his head lolls forward, and he bites his lip hard at the sight of you licking away the precum streaming from his tip.

"Deeper, can I—," he tries to ask, but you shift to tease the underside of his head, and he chokes out a groan. "Wanna fuck your throat so bad."

"Are you gonna cum if I let you?"

"Fuck, probably," he admits reluctantly.

"Then, pick something else," you give him a teasing smile, a little charmed by his honesty.

Continuing to stroke him, you duck down to press a wet kiss to the base of his cock, then surprise him by sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

"Jesus, fuck," he gasps, leaking more precum that dribbles onto your cheek as you alternate between harder suction and softer swipes of your tongue.

He tastes salty and heady, and you were right. You're wet as fuck and so tempted to shove your other hand down your pants to toy with your clit, but you know he'll do that later. And you're not even close to being done with him yet.

Your grip tightens as you pick up your pace and focus closer to the head, maintaining eye contact that seems like it's setting him off just as much as your mouth or hand. His whole body vibrates with those telltale whimpers, and he finally starts to tug at your hair.

"M'gonna cum. Shit, keep going, I'm gonna cum," he grits out, his chest heaving.

His eyebrows pinch and his lips part, and he looks like he's seconds away from blowing his load all over your face—but then you release him again. You slide your hand under his shirt to stroke his heated skin comfortingly as he squeezes his eyes shut, panting like he just ran a marathon.

"Shit...shit," he keens, and you can feel his abs tensing and relaxing under your palm. His cock jerks pathetically next to your face, and you grip the base to make sure he doesn't accidentally topple over the edge.

"Shit," he whines again frustratedly, half-heartedly trying to pry your fingers off him. "Why?"

You rest your head against his thigh and smile, watching him pout down at you. He really is so cute when he gets fussy like this.

"You really wanna cum that fast? What happened to wanting to fuck my throat?" you tease him, beginning to jerk him off again. He sighs in relief, and his hips jut forward to meet your hand on every downstroke.

"You already said no," he replies dejectedly.

"I said not yet," you correct. "If you give me one more, I'll let you do whatever you want."

He eyes you curiously like he thinks you're baiting him, and you guess in a way you are. By now, he knows you've been edging him on purpose, but he has nothing to lose and everything to gain if he accepts your deal. He knows you'll make him feel good no matter what.

"You can choke me," you continue, slurping messily around the tip. "You can be as rough as you want," you trail your lips down his spit-slick length to the base and lick a wide stripe back up, "and you can cum in my mouth, and I promise I'll swallow all of it."

He's nodding frantically before you can even finish, and his eagerness reminds you of a golden retriever.

"You're gonna be good?" you confirm.

"I'll be good, I'll be so good," he blurts out, his urgency slurring his words again.

"I know you will. Just one more time, I know you can handle it," you encourage him.

Then, you swallow him down without warning. He lets out something guttural and animalistic, both hands tensing to hold you in place, and you let him.

You never planned on making this easy, but you meant what you said. He can handle this. He can handle the tightness of your throat constricting around him, contracting intermittently to mimic how your pussy feels fluttering around him.

Or, at least, you hope he can. You feel his balls draw up dangerously under your chin, and when you peer up through your watery lashes, his eyes are starting to cross. That's not good.

Slowly but steadily, he nudges the back of your throat harder and harder until tears and drool are streaming down your cheeks and chin. He's mumbling incoherent strings of praise and curse words between drawn-out whines, but you can barely hear him over the wet sounds of your own gagging.

"Fuck, that's...good, that's so fucking good," he pants raggedly, picking up his brutal pace. It's like he's lost all control of his body, and all he can do is chase the high you've been denying him all night.

You gurgle around him, grasping his thighs to ground yourself against the force of his thrusts, and briefly contemplate trying to stop him. But it's too late and he's already too close. His face screws up, and then you know it's coming.

"I'm sorry—I'm...fuck, I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't—," he whimpers, fucking into his fist, "—m'gonna cum, I'm so close."

Moaning around him in response, you dig your nails into his skin, hoping the unexpected pain distracts him enough to keep him from cumming, but that only makes it worse. So, you let him.

The subtle vibration combined with the sharp bite of your nails sends him reeling. His expression goes completely lax, and then—

"I'm cumming...oh my god—," he all but sobs, burying himself as deep as you can take him.

You struggle to breathe through your nose as he empties down your throat, swallowing as much as you can, but you've been edging him for too long.

Viscous fluid leaks out of the corners of your mouth and down his cock, adding to the wet mess in his lap, and your harsh grasp on his thighs only seems to prolong his orgasm. After what feels like a lifetime, his whimpers taper into soft pants and he starts to rub soothing patterns into your scalp, an apology for his rough treatment.

You blearily meet his eyes, and they're glassy and unfocused, watching you reverently like he can't believe you just let him do something he's only ever seen in porn. And that you actually liked it. Shakily, he reaches out to thumb away the release dribbling down your chin, and you pull off of him briefly to suck it off his finger before returning to his cock.

That's why you do this night after night—that look right there. It's the awe and hunger that linger even after he's already thoroughly blissed out and softening in your grasp.

Except tonight, he's not. Mike is somehow still hard as a rock and thrusting weakly into your mouth, trembling like a leaf now that his aftershocks have subsided and the sensitivity is setting in.

Tentatively, you grip him at the base and swirl your tongue around the tip to gauge his reaction, and when he doesn't push you away, you take him further into your mouth. But on your next hard suck, his lips part and a violent shudder wracks his entire body, so you hesitate and pull off.

"Too much?" you wince, slowly uncurling your fingers from around his cock, but he shakes his head furiously.

"N-no, feels...so much," he says, dazed, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "Feels good. Can you keep going? Please."

His face is screwed up, as tense as the rest of him as he struggles with conflicting feelings of intense pleasure and pain, but he's not fighting it. He's actually enjoying it.

He flinches as you resume your movements, toying under the ridge with the tip of your thumb, and begins to squirm the longer you continue to play with him. A quick glance at the clock tells you there's still an hour and a half left of your shift—that's plenty of time.

In the four nights you've worked here, the security monitors haven't shown a single sign of activity and you doubt they're going to start now. Your gaze drops from his pained, yet hopeful expression to his twitching cock, and you make a decision.

You'll go as long as he wants. After all, you can never say no to Mike Schmidt.

"Mhm, whatever you want," you hum, then sink back onto him. He sighs gratefully, shivering at the sensation and your words, and verbalizes his gratitude repeatedly like a prayer.

"Thank you, thank you."

thanks for reading!

(dividers by @saradika-graphics)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson x reader

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essenteez · 11 months

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𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 || yunho

"falling in love with your best friend feels like eighth deadly sin."

"And if you really think that it's an obsession, don't worry." He spoke again, this time his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, his thumb and eyes now wandering around your half opened lips. "I'll take all of it."

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 : You made a tough decision that left you absolutely devastated. Falling in love with your best friend was unacceptable. You got to leave. The method was slowly vanishing from Yunho's life until he would get used to your abstance. Deep down, a voice kept telling you it was the right choice. However, Yunho never meant to let you go as he stood in your door on one rainy spring evening, demanding an explanation.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Yunho × (f)reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Angst, smut

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f!receiving), tongue fuck, anal fingering, ass smacking, missionary, deep penetration, pet names

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 6k

Is it possible to feel like your decision, at the same time, is the best and the worst? As if you’re attempting to go both ways, feeling like your body is ripping apart.

You asked some of your friends about it, desperate for a helpful answer.

"Depends.'' they always shrugged, which only meant they had the same idea about it as you did. Read as none.

In the beginning, you thought your approach to the problem would be the best solution for both him and yourself. However, the more time had passed, the more it all felt like the most fanciful of tortures.

Nothing had happened between you two, nothing deep enough that you could hold on to. So why, why did you keep failing to convince yourself that everything you went through was for the best. Was it because of guilt that was eating you alive whenever he looked hurt by the distance you had been widening for the past four months? Or because that was a normal reaction after sacrificing something important for a better cause? You were doing that for both of you, especially for him. Your intentions were good. Why wasn't it working?

And now there you were, completely frozen, face to face with him in the late spring evening as he suddenly banged on your door, ten minutes after you ignored his text once more.

You were now staring at the upset man in front of you. Due to shock, you couldn't look away. You allowed his eyes to burn into you.

He was drenched from the pouring rain outside, standing at your door that you should've never opened. His expression and posture reminded you of a wild animal that was about to attack you.

Your hand trembled on the knob as you contemplated slamming the door in his stoic but serious face. All you wanted to do was crawl under your bedsheets to hide for the rest of your miserable life.

You were wrong from the very beginning. You didn't put on any sacrifice. You've been running away like a coward, and at that very moment, you were about to receive your punishment.

"We need to talk, don't you think?" The jaw muscles tensing up under his skin as he almost hissed the words out.

You had to get away from him, as far as possible. Far away, so it was easier for you to breathe again. It was time to dig through the long list of excuses that, to be honest, you were running out of.

"I was actually getting ready to leave for a night out with girls, so can we…"

His index finger pointed in your face, which stopped you from continuing the poor act.

"This is the only chance I'm giving you to explain what's happening, (y/n). If you close this fucking door on me…" he hesitated but the power in his voice didn't weakened, "you'll never see me again."

The breath abruptly left your lungs. You swore your heart stopped for a second just to restart its beating with double the speed. You heard your blood pumping in your veins as the inner panic unleashed from his words that were like a magic spell.

There was no bluff in his words. He didn't mean to scare you, despite him knowing you were vulnerable for empty threats like that. The warning was absolutely backed up. You could see it by the way he stood there before you, how he clenched his fists, the way he looked at you with devouring anger in his brown eyes.

No doubt, you crossed all possible lines. And you had no idea how to handle the consequences. You knew one thing, you'd rather die than never see him again.

"What do you mean?" You still tried, wishfully thinking he spoke about something else.

No answer came your way. He simply passed you by and stormed inside your apartment. You were too scared to protest, not after the eyes he gave you before walking in.

You slowly closed the door, in need of every second to gather all the shreds of courage you had in you. There wasn't much.

Somewhat ready to get eaten alive by the unbearable remorse, you finally turned around. However, he disappeared from your eyes' reach.

"Yunho…"

"You still have some of those spare clothes I left once after a party?" He yelled from what you realized was your bedroom. "I'm totally soaked."

The last thing you cared about now was wet stains on your wooden floor, spreading from the door through the living room up to your bedroom and glistening in the weak lamp light.

You couldn't form a word, every sound was caged in your throat. The anxiety began its biggest harvest inside you. You felt all the strength leaving your body. All you could muster up was standing on your two feet in the middle of your living room, and that alone was impressive in your current state.

You were registering his steps in the other room. Yunho walked into the bathroom to get rid of the wet clothes. He spoke to himself about how nice that the dryer was there. Then he reentered the bedroom and next you heard nothing but his loud sighs.

"Come here." His voice had little volume to it, but the depth of its tone resonated in your ears and echoed in your whole being. The command was crystal clear and sent a set of sharp shivers down your spine.

You let your feet lead you to the doorframe of your room. However, you stopped them there.

He was sitting on your bed, aggressively rubbing the towel on his wet hair. He wore his plain black T–shirt and pair of gray sweatpants you stored in your drawer after he forgot it months ago. He looked like he had just walked out of the shower.

"Do you hate me?" He asked suddenly, still not looking at you. "Maybe I scared you with something I said or did?"

You wanted to refuse, feeling your heart cracking even more, but no sound left your dry mouth.

He, on the other hand, had a lot to say.

"Did I do something wrong, hmm? Cause I've spent three months going back and forth to all our meetings, and I genuinely don't know what that would be." He laughed bitterly, still drying his thick black hair.

You felt like shrinking while the guilt that kept growing towered over you unforgivably. You had seen Yunho angry before but never at you. Why were you so stupid to think it would never reach you after all you had done?

A tint of sadness invaded his chords, "You suddenly started to avoid me, mumble something under your nose instead of answering me, or you have been straight up ignoring me. You don't pick up my calls or respond to my texts and if you do it's always the same shit 'I'm busy, will call you later' which is bullshit cause you never do, (y/n)."

The tears showed up in your eyes, and you bit your lip to stop them from pouring out like a tidal wave.

He noticed it. The hand with a towel dropped on his legs.

"I don't know, did someone tell you we can't be friends or make you feel bad about it?"

Yes. Me. You cried inside your jumbled mind.

"No." You uttered, swallowing your tears.

"Then what?" He urged, aggressively tossing the towel aside after he turned it into a damp ball. Now, all his attention was paid to you, and you felt bare under his eyes.

"I don't know what to tell you." You whispered, the lump in your throat only grew.

"The truth, (y/n)." He begged. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, then fine, I can't force you. But after all this time and memories we've made, I think I deserve to hear a reason behind your decision. Not to mention everything was fine 'till Hongjoong's birthday."

Him, now linking the dots, made you feel as icy needles ruched in your blood, tearing your veins.

Something did happen at your friend's birthday party. One innocent game, alcohol untying people's mouths, and you ended up begging God to help you erase that night from your head.

You thought you kept your composure after drunk Bona spilled her crush on your best friend. This one sentence that she sang toward him smashed the glass of denial and released all the spirits of truth. The realization hit you like thunder, and the effects never left with time.

After that, you slowly, nor drastically, began walking away. Your behavior should not have been seen as related to that party's events.

If it was so clear to Yunho, was it obvious to everybody else?

Although he was right.

What were you thinking? It is Yunho, we're talking about. He would never leave a problem untouched when he saw one. There was nowhere to run and hide now, and it never had been.

You reached your hand to the light switch and let the room get embraced by darkness. There was no option for him to see the shame on your face when you would be telling him the issue that tormented both of you.

He didn't say anything, handing you the mic.

You walked inside the room and slid to the wall, calling on it for support. You were placed in front of him but at a safe but far distance.

"I love you." You confessed, shaking like a leaf. "I don't know what is happening, but I know I want you so much. Every inch of me craves for you, and I lost all control over my own self when it comes to you to the point I can't sleep at night, eat, or think straight. I've never felt like this before, about anyone. And we're best friends. I have no right…" The guilt caged your voice.

The silence on his side was crushing. That was the end. You had nothing to lose.

You took a deep breath, "That's why I've avoided you and purposely ignored you. I have to stay away, Yunho. For both of our sakes."

You heard him taking a few deep breaths.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Somehow, his voice bore the accusation.

"I was scared of rejection." You chuckled at your miserable position. "The girls laughed that I sounded absolutely obsessed when I told them about this. They said they were only joking, but I started wondering and got scared. What if I am? You asked if you scared me with something. You didn't. I'm scared of myself. Because…no one sane acts like that. No one sane falls in love with their friend."

As you finished the confession, you dared to look his way. Your eyes got used to the dark, and you managed to see his darkened features.

The left side of his face was slightly illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room. You were watched intensively as he was eyeing you up.

His upper body was leaned forward, his arms resting on his spread knees. He looked…disappointed? Angry? You couldn't really tell. However, his deep breathing betrayed that the chaos you let out in indeed affected him.

The question was how would he accept what you brought upon him.

"I'm sorry." You breathed out on the edge of crying. You felt awful by ruining your amazing friendship. "Truly."

He submerged his finger in his damp fuzzy hair and then proceeded to wipe his face. He seemed deep in thought. You watched how he stroked his thighs a few times before standing up.

"Yunho…" you gulped, seeing him closing the distance between you.

He was getting dangerously close.

"Please, stop."

The man listened to your command. Still, he halted only half a meter from you. Yunho gave you a second to calm down, let your guard down, therefore you had no time for reaction as his arm suddenly reached out for your hand, grabbing your wrist firmly, and began pulling you close to him.

You quietly whimpered, trying to twist your hand out of his grasp, but there was no use. He mercilessly dragged you until your bodies met.

You couldn't look up, not with all the panic thriving inside you. However, he did not mean to stop. You felt his finger underneath your chin, and suddenly, you found yourself looking in his eyes that shone with a new light in the dark room.

"I would never reject you." He let out a firm but gentle whisper. "What do you think that I came here for? To fight for you."

The bangs of his wet hair tickled your forehead. He stood so close to you like he only ever did in your intrusive thoughts and uncontrolled fantasies. You had no choice but to let his scent of cologne and rain embrace you from all sides.

The touch of his lips was more than you imagined. You whimpered into his mouth, at which he responded with a smile. You fought not to push him away from the intensity of your surprise. Everything was happening too fast and not how you had seen it in your head for uncountable times when thinking about the face-off.

Yunho kissed you slowly as if he was giving you time to get used to his touch and his taste. He let go of your wrist, and after gently putting your arm around his neck, he carefully wrapped your waist. His other hand moved from your chin on the side of your head. The embrace tightened.

You couldn't say you just allowed him to pull you close to him. You were like a ragdoll. The rollercoaster of severe emotions took away your will to move. He could’ve done anything he wanted to do to you, placed you anywhere he needed you to be. You were completely frozen.

Yunho was considerate of your state and didn’t want to push you. He broke the kiss and pulled his head back to look at you with a slight smile that showed understanding.

"Do you want me to leave you alone? If you need time and talk about it once you’re ready, I’ll wait." He assured you, the gentleness in his tone making your heart flutter. "I’ll wait as long as you need me to."

"I– I don’t know." You stuttered, no volume to your weak voice. "W– what would you want?:

"Can I be indecently honest?"

You nodded, the hope sparking in your heart.

"I want to stay. I missed you so much. For the past months, whenever we met, I felt like you were light years away despite you standing right beside me. So I want to kiss all your doubts and fears away so we both never feel that way again. I want to hold you close, taste you. I want to relearn my name as you moan it all night long. I want you. I've wanted you for so long." He flooded you with the confession that held much more fire and confidence than yours from a minute ago.

You trembled in his arms, grabbing more onto his shirt at his back as he wiped away a single tear that managed to escape and roll on your redden cheek. It felt like a dream, and you felt the familiar anxiety of the moment you would have to wake up as it happened all the time before.

After all these months of pain from keeping yourself away from the man you've been falling in love with, feeling like he was slipping through your hands with your own help, you were a shadow of a woman. You were a ruin.

"What’s your decision?"

But the will to fix everything that was broken smoldered inside you, and you felt that with the right blow of wind, it would turn into impressive flames.

"Stay."

He quickly groaned at your allowance, and your faces got close again. Both his arms now embraced your waist and back.

"Of all the things I just said, which one do you want me to do the most?" He asked, his lips brushing yours.

"Everything." You breathed out without hesitation. Experiencing the long yearning, you needed to feel everything, from innocence to obscene.

Your lips interlocked again, but this time, nothing tamed you for kissing him back as you had always desired.

With every breath between, the kiss was getting hotter, wetter. Your tongues twirled in a wild dance, teeth hooking on each other's lips. With quiet whimpers and moans, you drove each other crazy.

His damp hair was tangled in your inpatient fingers that massaged the back of his head and neck. He moaned in your lips from the affection. The sweet adlip instantly woke up the aching between your legs.

You felt the wall behind your back again. One of his arms left your waist and was placed above your head.

He broke the kiss, "You really thought that Bona's confession meant anything to me?" He panted, his half closed eyes never leaving your lips.

So he found the answer. He did mention he studied all three months of your random change.

"I didn't know what it meant to you. I was too scared to think about it. It just made me realize my feelings for you, and I feared for our friendship."

"And your solution to save our friendship was to stay away?"

"I'm sorry."

He clenched his jaw, and that alone was enough to double your already crazy heart rate. His eyes were pitch black, his brows frowned.

"It makes me really angry." He groaned. "To think your first thought was that I would reject you. That you asked yourself that tough question and saw no hope. That you went for the wrong answer. As if I ever gave you a reason to doubt."

"I'm sorry."

"It's me who's sorry, (y/n)."

You moaned at the speed he attacked your lips again. He didn't graced them for long with his unsatisfied affection as he moved onto your jaw, then sensitive neck.

You felt how his body pinned you to the wall. With the power he pushed into you, he picked you up. You were gasping for air from the waves of pleasure shaking your body as his hungry mouth kissed, licked, and bit on your skin.

"You always smell so fucking good." He cooed sultry, placing his hands under your ass, forcing you to put your legs onto his hips.

He pushed himself with you in his arm off the wall and began walking you two to your bed.

You were released from his tight embrace and let him push you on the sheets. With aw, you watched him remove his shirt, putting his beautifully shaped torso and abs on display.

"Now's your turn." He snarled.

His hands went down to your cotton, loose shirt, and ripped it apart with one pull. Your bare breasts bounced free. You only now remembered you had no bra on.

"Yunho–"

But he didn't care about your surprise. He just gently laid on your side, supporting his weight on his elbow. His chest rubbed on your right breast in a slow massage that had you wave underneath him.

"Goddamn it, (y/n)."

His hand embraced your neck, giving it a little squeeze. You watched it going down to your chest, between your naked breasts, and then lower on your stomach where his wrist twisted to go south. Now, you had his long fingers getting dangerously close to your throbbing folds.

You grabbed the sheets at the touch of his fingertip.

"Ahh.."

"I'm not the one who's getting soaked tonight." He smirked watching how your wetness spread underneath your leggings as his middle finger circled on your clit.

He wanted more, your loud moans too accompanying your flooding nectar. Two fingers decisively entered your pussy as the thumb worked on your pearl.

"Oh my…" you whined, arching your back.

To make your torture more difficult, he leaned his lips to your ear and began feeding your mind with the obscene.

"You're always so wet when I'm on your mind, kitten? Do your fingers fuck this dripping cunt like mine are now when your all alone?" He whispered, his breaths tickling your neck, "I can assure you, I walk hard all day because of you."

The image of him stroking himself fast, rough while moaning your name was a perfect way to bring you closer to the edge as his fingers now fucked you with a full speed.

"Yes." He grunted, satisfied with your whimpers and trembling pelvis. "Cum for me."

Yunho drank the sweetest sounds of euphoria from your lips. Your cute moans were like ambrosis for his ears. He craved for more, his soul, heart, and ego demanded more.

He sucked on the skin of your neck as his hand massaged the last ounces of orgasm from you.

"I dreamed of this so many times (y/n) – my fingers, all sticky and wet from your juices."

"Yunho…" you begged. "Please."

The yearning for him or his words along with skillful touch; you couldn't tell, but something was making you lose your sanity way too fast.

Yunho smug eyes began reading your needs. He just licked his lips before walking away to let the room bask in light again.

With the cover of the dark, you felt more secure. Now you laid there, feeling like there were hundreds of eyes watching you, even though the only person in the room with you was Yunho, who just nonchalantly stood there; one hand on the light switch, and the other, that just were inside you, on his sticked out tongue.

Unconsciously, you began closing your legs, putting hands over your chest, but he was quick to stop you.

He agility climbed on to you. Now you had his weight pinning you down, his slim pelvis between your thighs and his hands holding your hands about your head.

"Don't you even hide from me again." He warned you, looking you deep in the eyes.

His arm found its way under you, and with one pull, he moved you further up the bed before he raised himself and sat on his hills.

"I forgot to ask before ripping off your shirt," he smiled adorably, "but do you cherish your leggings?"

Knowing what was coming and feeling more than just excited about it, you shook your head.

Your soaked leggings and underwear shared the same fate as your shirt. With no hesitation, Yunho grabbed them in his fingers and ripped them apart.

You felt the cold licking your dripping slit, wishing it was that man's tongue.

"I had to turn the light back on." He grinned while studying your quivering folds. "I had to see it in detail."

His brow raised, and his eyes became absent as if they recalled something, a thought he cherished.

"I'm genuinely unable to count how many nights I imagined your taste." He voiced it. "How would you feel on my tongue. So soft and warm."

You shivered at those words. The way he said it, the way he watched you with almost worship… Yunho finally found himself on the spot he longed to be for many months.

"It's all yours." You whimpered.

He looked in your eyes again, searching for a bluff, but he was visibly relieved to see your genuine, needy expression.

"Put your pretty ass up for me, please."

You did what you were told, getting rid of the shirt, well now its shreds. Arching your back as your upper body stretched on the bed, you stuck your slightly circling butt towards him.

A gasp left your mouth as the smack landed on your plump cheek. It was sudden but more than welcomed.

"Somehow, I've always known you're filthy." He snickered, clearly glad of your reaction.

"There are a lot of things you have not found out about me yet." You uttered, biting your lip with a smile.

You flinched from another hit that left a stingy feeling and added another flood of your juices between your thighs. There was no option to not let the moan escape your chords.

"I can say the same about you." He growled as if you were about to learn something forbidden.

You felt how he grabbed your ripped leggings and slid it off your hips, down to your knees.

The warmth of his tongue almost made you cry. You grabbed the sheet between your teeth. Slow, but firm licks were meant to have you beg in a second. However, your taste was too much for Yunho to play the game of teasing any further.

He spread your cheeks and dived in deeper.

The man put his whole spirit to savor you with the way his tongue lapped on your folds, latched on your quivering core. He fed on your uninhibited wails that Yunho could swear were a balm to his heart that almost got broken today if you had not opened the door.

He now knew you were his, the same way he belonged to you. Completely. Equal in this healthy obsession.

The essence on his lips worked like the best aphrodisiac for his nature. He wanted to have you loud in pleasure, trembling in ecstasy. For a moment, he craved to control all over your being. Just so you could feel loved, desired, and perfect. So you could see yourself through his eyes.

His tongue found its way inside you. It was sudden, unexpected but more than appreciated.

"Ahh, yes." You hissed, the sheet ripping in your fists.

Yunho shifted his position to have better access to you. Your eyes rolled back at the depth he was penetrating you with. Long, skillfully muscle waved and curled within your walls.

His thumb began drawing circles around your upper hole. Gently, hesitant at first, but your appreciation for his tease made him brave enough to go inside.

With his tongue and thumb sunk inside, Yunho was at the finish of shaping a devastating orgasm for you.

Your face twisted with unbearable pleasure. Moans sent his way were full of gratitude and admiration for his mastery. For a few moments this man managed to make you feel like flying, see the stars above.

He abandoned your holes when he felt the last shreds of bliss left you. You fell flat on your bed, trying to bring yourself down on earth.

Yunho took his time to climb up your spine with juicy kisses, at the same time getting rid of his pants and underwear.

"Yunho." You called him between deep breaths to calm yourself down.

"Yes, beautiful?' He planted a kiss on your shoulder.

You touched his arm.

"Claim me."

He froze above you. You only felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. Somehow, it had you alerted.

You slowly turned on your back, still caged between his arms. His eyes were dark, full of unknown, to you, thoughts. Maybe what you needed from him sounded too much of a commitment. You confessed your feelings. You made him aware of your love. Yet…he didn't say anything back. Only that he wanted you.

"Will you?" You asked quietly, too scared to put any volume to not scare him away or worse, make him realize it was a mistake.

Still with this mysterious expression, he laid onto you, skin to skin. Your faces so close, you could see your reflection in his eyes.

"Like my life depends on it." He said into your lips, tone heavy with sweet threat. "In fact, it does."

You interlocked in a kiss that felt like a seal to what just occurred rather than simple affection. He kissed you deeply, desperately, but most of all you sensed a gratitude.

His velvet hardness began grinding on your sensitive spot with subtle yet decisive moves, lubricating his length with your wetness in the process.

You broke the kiss from all the air leaving your lungs. He was hard, hot against your skin, begging to enter you. And your pussy cramped at the pleas, more violently each second.

"Please."

He put his forehead to yours. Took a few deep breaths before he finally said:

"I love you."

Only then he allowed himself to push inside.

The words you had wanted to hear for so long and the soul easing fullness have tears falling from your eyes. He groaned at your tightness that engulfed him and spasmed around him. The warmth and your nectars embraced him whole.

You gasped loudly as he moved further, concurring more inches of your inferior. Yunho was exactly how you imagined him to be. Long and thick, with popping veins that rubbed on your walls. You moaned, whined, and squirmed with every push and pull.

"Can I go faster?" He wiped your tears of joy away.

"Yes." You panted. "You can now."

After a slow pull, he pinned into you with power, having you gasp in sudden pleasure.

He leaned on the side, now nuzzling your ear.

"You're taking me so well. I knew you would." He whispered, and if all your nerves weren't already awakened, now they were.

The pace fastened. He was taking you, fully almost possessive. He went deep, attacking your sweet spot with even but strong hits. The sound you made bordered with sobbing.

He raised up on his knees, now straddling your leg. The other one ended up over his shoulder. Only when he re‐entered you, you realized why he chose such a position. He reached depths you didn't know anyone could.

"Fuck." You cried out.

Yunho fucked you however he felt fit, placing kissing on your inner thighs as he hugged your leg while doing it. He winded and whirled his hips as he thrusted inside your defenseless cunt.

The release was approaching with no mercy.

"I'm so close." You grabbed his muscular thigh with both hands.

"I know, baby. I know." He moaned as your walls' texture rubbed onto him even more now that you were almost orgasming. You cramped around him, sucking his width unforgivably.

"Fill me in, please. I need your cum inside me." You couldn’t help but beg when the speed and force he was obliterating you with was too overwhelming. You had to have him burst inside. It was what you mean by claiming you, owning you.

He cursed loudly and leaned over, shifting his weight on his arms.

"You have no idea what you've just started."

The new position allowed the man to put on even more speed and power, pushing you off the cliff, straight to the void of the most heavenly bliss.

The euphoria embraced you from all sides. A flow of your juices flooded his cock, making it harder, too hard to not to explode.

"Oh fuck, yes." He whined and soon joined you in ecstasy. He pumped inside with low grunts leaving his throat, and you melted over the feeling of hot load, every last drop nourishing every corner of you.

He slid out after a few soothing pushes, followed by his semen. Yunho didn't have to watch this physical proof he claimed you. He knew you all his. He just lowered down and caught your weak frame in a tight, warm embrace.

Both calmed yourselves down by inhaling your scents, so familiar yet so new.

His eyes when he finally landed at you were smiling, all dreamy. You knew what Yunho's happy face looked like, and it was all plastered on his features right now.

You felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest at the sight. He was happy because of you. You made him this joyful.

"You love me." You slipped. The excitement and emotion didn't allow you to keep quiet.

He kissed you and kept smiling.

"You have no idea."

You didn't hide this time when Yunho watched you as if he learned your details by heart. You wanted him to see the woman and all her love she got for him.

"Come." He said and got off the bed. "We both need a long and hot shower."

"Soaking again?" You giggled lazily, admiring this Adonis of a man that now stood in front of you in all his glory. You bit your lips at the view of his glistening pride, knowing it all was for you to love and pleasure.

Seeing your eyes wandering all over him, Yunho couldn't help but smirk at your bluntness. He then leaned over to kiss your forehead.

"Better get used to it."

You realized how stupid you were to think you could live without his melodic laugh.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #ateez yunho #atz yunho #yunho smut #yunho oneshot #yunho imagines #jeong yunho #yunho daddy #ateez 18+

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prettyinsophie · 5 months

Text

burning desire

Synopsis: With Abby away at some party and your body aching and asking for release, you can’t help but touch yourself while pretending it’s your roommate.

warnings: top abby x virgin (lowkey loser) reader, fingering (r receiving), mentions of strap, squirting, r gets caught by abby, sex toys.

2.9k words

a/n: i’m going to pretend this isn’t way too specific. it’s my first time posting here so im sorry in advance if there are any mistakes, english is not my first language and i wrote this in a rush bc im going insane😇

ofelia si te sale esto no lo leas‼️

There was something utterly wrong with you.

As a girl, you went through your awful womanhood cycle and all that. You never entirely understood how all of it worked, you just ovulated when you were extremely horny and wanted to either kill yourself or everyone around you when on your period. That much you knew about your own body and every other girl went through the same.

The problem was you’ve been on fucking heat for over a month.

Your hormones were a mess, the sexual frustration consumed your being and you couldn’t find a solution. You were a virgin, and quite frankly, an awkward person so it was hard for you to even initiate small talk without quickly making it uncomfortable with your lack of social skills.

You tried distracting yourself throughout the day by attending your classes, doing homework, scrolling through Tiktok, and exercising. Even if you ended up beat by the end of the day, that damn aching between your legs would not leave you alone, and you had to touch yourself to at least make it less awful.

Unfortunately, you didn’t live alone. You shared an apartment with Abby, your high school friend who so happened to get into the same college as you. You didn’t mind, of course, you liked Abby, and now that she was grown and muscular you couldn’t deny she was a total eye-snack. Thing was, you were jealous of whoever the fuck she brought to your shared apartment, Abby must be some sort of goddess if she could make girls scream like that, begging her not to stop while choking in their tears, the bed loudly creaking to the point the blonde had to buy a new mattress. You resented it. You had to settle with sex toys while she fucked almost every week.

The amount of batteries you had in your drawer was embarrassing. Every night you had to abuse your pussy while thinking it was a certain girl doing it for you, had to get good at being silent because you’d throw yourself off the window if Abby ever heard you. Your clit ended red and puffy after an hour of nonstop intimate time with yourself, your eyes swollen because the scenarios in your head were so intense you cried while thrusting a six-inch vibrator inside you, touching that sweet spot it took some time for you to master hitting perfectly until your head went numb, and you squirted all over the pink towel you covered the bed with so you wouldn’t wet the pretty covers and sheets you slept in.

You were ashamed of how filthy your fantasies were for a twenty-year-old virgin, it always hit you once you were over, panting heavily in silence while blushing because your private thoughts and desires bugged you.

You hoped it’d all end soon, that maybe your hormones were a bit crazy just because they decided so be in a silly mood. Every girl goes through shit like this. But no. God was testing you, progressively getting needier as the days passed by. Your god-awful gorgeous friend/roommate worsened it whenever you were doing your assignments at the dining table, and she came home from the gym looking so dirty and delicious, your eyes struggling to focus on your laptop screen and not the way her muscles glistened with not-fully-dried sweat and looked like the glazed donuts you loved eating as a sweet treat, the comparison didn’t make sense, but her body made you feel hungry. You were so sexually frustrated you were convinced you had gone insane.

You wished someone would approach and straight up told you to fuck. You’d accept without second thoughts. But it was the real world, as pretty as you were, you still looked awkward and shy. Fuck your life, honestly. Why couldn’t you be dauntless like the girls who flirted with Abby? Touching her biceps while twirling their hair as they looked at her with nothing but lust and confidence. They were embarrassedly bold but they got exactly what they wanted because Abby was a sucker for pretty girls like that, she loved to fuck the cockiness out of them.

You couldn’t help but think about it every day. You were pathetic, imagining how it would feel to be under her, talking you through it, making you lie there and do nothing but take her until your legs turned into jelly and make you forget all about your stupid sex toy collection hidden in a box under your bed.

Anyways.

Tonight was going to be fun. Abby told you a friend of hers would be throwing a party, subtly inviting you, but you didn’t take the hint and told her to have fun, so off she went an hour ago, leaving you alone in your shared apartment.

Eagerly and with your heart thudding, you arranged everything before jumping right into it, at this point it was just as important in your nocturnal ritual as your skincare routine. You had bought a new toy, this one being 7.4 inches and a bit thicker than your other ones, so you were a bit excited to try it, hoping the sensation would help you release more of your frustration.

With a silky pillow under your lower back, you lied in your bed and took a deep breath, your fingers slowly rubbing your clit, making you gasp softly at the familiar but delicious feeling. Your muscles quickly relaxed as you kept circling your needy button. You didn’t need much teasing, you were already wet, arousal sneaking down and making you groan because it was icky.

Lately, you didn’t rely on your hand that much, ever since you figured out the way to hit your G spot, that’s almost all you needed to come. That being said, you took the pink toy in your hand, lining it down your entrance and teasing yourself by lubing the tip of it with your arousal, imagining it was Abby’s strap and spreading your legs. You had to be quiet every time you masturbated, but you were completely alone now and you wanted to treat yourself by taking the liberty to be as loud as you felt like. Pants and whines of desperation filled your room once you started taking inch by inch of the toy slowly. There were nights you straight up wanted to release everything and go to sleep, or nights such as this, where you felt like dragging your orgasm to make it intense and mind-breaking.

“Holy shit.” You whined once the vibrator was deep inside, you closed your eyes and played start to your fake scenarios.

In your wild fantasies, Abby would tease you, keeping her strap in place while circling your clit and making you wait for her to move. So you did that. Little whimpers left your lips while imagining her talking in your ear, whispering sweet encouraging words. You could multitask with no problem at this point, it was routine. You turned on the vibrator, hips jerking at the feeling and your lips hung as you gasped. Thrusting it slowly the fantasies grew steamier, and your cheeks flushed at the sound of your voice doing all those pathetic and pornographic sounds.

It was big. When you bought it you were so cocky about it but you were actually struggling to slide it in and out smoothly, but thankfully you were so wet it only took a few minutes. And so the madness began. In your head, Abby was fucking you with her strap, your hand moving fast and aiming for your sweet spot like your life depended on it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered out loud, the buzzing toy hitting the right place inside of you while you kept rubbing your clit clumsily because it felt so good.

You wanted her. Pitiful whines getting caught in your throat when you remembered Abby was far from your apartment, far from your room, and definitely far from your bed. She was probably messing around with another girl at that party. You winced at the thought, feeling like crying as you kept abusing your pussy. Imaginary Abby would slap you and grab your chin so you’d look at her, telling you to stop drifting away from her when she’s right there with you, to not listen to those silly thoughts of yours.

Your therapist would never hear of this.

“Oh my god, Abby! Please, please, please-” You were okay with being loud at this point, whatever you usually blabbered under your breath now resonating on the walls of your room.

Sometimes you wished you had four hands so you could add a little something to your intimate sessions. You wanted to know how it would feel to have her deep inside with her big and strong hand wrapped around your neck, preventing you from breathing properly while praising you. Shit. Your hand moved faster and rougher, seeking for the most realistic sensation possible. Wanting to pretend this was the real Abby pounding into you.

You needed her. Your eyes stung with tears as your chest heaved because the toy was now at the highest setting, hitting your sweet spot oh so deliciously you were even drooling.

With your eyes squinted shut your mind went fuzzy, the scenario pausing for a moment while focusing on the familiar twisting in your tummy and reaching for your orgasm. Abby was calling your name in the distance, you were so into it for a moment you felt worried about how real it went through your ears.

“Yes, yes, yes! Right there, Abby! Plea-se-!”

Your voice cracked. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you choked weak whimpers while squirting all over the towel, so intense even the toy almost flew out of your cunt. Your legs trembled and you panted loudly, riding out your fifth climax of the week. The cold air of your room hit your bare lower body and made you groan because your slick was drying up and you hated the feeling, but you also needed time to recover before cleaning your mess.

After a few moments, you sighed and opened your eyes, slightly leaning onto your side to grab your phone on the nightstand. You froze at the figure of someone standing by your door. Your stomach dropped and you could feel your heart in your throat.

Abby was there, standing with her arms crossed while looking at you with a stare you couldn’t decipher. No. This could not be happening to you. No!

“Abby-“ You sobbed, the shame betraying you by making you cry.

“How long?” She asked, her blue eyes staring into your soul even from a further distance. Her voice lower than how she usually talks to you.

“W-What?”

“How long have you wanted me to fuck you?”

The question sent a shiver down your spine. This was definitely not how you imagined it’d play out, not in one of your thousands of wet dreams.

“A while…” You mumbled embarrassed, looking away from her. Thankfully you were only naked from the hips down to your feet, you were wearing an oversized shirt that could cover your most private parts.

Abby seemed pleased with your answer. A heavy and shaky sigh left her nose as she walked to your bed.

“And you do this every night while thinking about me?”

The question (which sounded more like a statement) stabbed your core sharply. You nodded and felt your cheeks blushing in shame.

The bed creaked when she joined you in it, getting on top of you while smirking smugly. Your pretty face was adorned with confusion and embarrassment. Lips puffy from crying and your face dampened and red.

“Poor girl. Had to hear me pleasing other girls instead of you, hm? You should’ve just said so, baby.” She comforted you, brushing her fingers against your cheek, making you shiver at the unfamiliar contact.

“Didn’t want to mess with your innocence, you’re so pure I couldn’t dare break you. That’s why I used whoever wanted to throw themselves at me, but turns out that’s all you wanted all along? Wanted me to make you cry and beg?”

Holy fuck. You thought as you were getting wet again. You almost whimpered because this was the real thing. 4D Abby was on top of you and talking dirty with her husky and alluring voice.

“Yes.”

You hated yourself so much. Just a few moments ago you were so mouthy to her in your fantasy and you couldn’t even form a sentence with the real one. Abby laughed at you as if finding you amusing.

“‘Yes’ what, pretty girl?”

This was it. You were going to go for it.

“I-I want you to…fuck me and make me scream and beg for more.” You stuttered softly, looking into her eyes while batting your lashes because you couldn’t maintain eye contact.

“Yeah? I bet I can do a better job than your toys.” She leaned down, your faces closer than you ever thought they’d get, sucking the air out of your lungs.

You yelped in surprise when her fingers went down your folds, spreading the wetness as she teased your sensitive parts. “So wet, waiting for me to read your mind and touch you, huh? Gotta use your big girl words. C’mon, tell me what you want.”

Her voice melted your brain as her fingers spread your lips, making you gasp and squirm under her. You were too shy for your own good, she knew that as well but that made this more interesting. Abby wanted to see how far she could lead you, and how much control she could have on you.

“Please touch me.” Your voice was breathy and almost weak, feeling her fingers replacing your own was too much.

She circled your throbbing clit, causing you to close your eyes and whine loudly.

“You like that?”

“Y-Yes, so so much, Abby.” Your mouth was getting loose, drunk in pleasure and your head was still dizzy from your previous climax. Abby could feel herself getting wet from your reactions to minimal touch.

Poor little thing, so touch-starved. She thought while continuing to please you.

You mumbled curses and her name under your breath. Hands gripping the covers of your bed tightly because she was the one touching you, you had no control over the speed nor the pressure her fingers had on your sensitive bud. Your legs squirmed as you spread them further so she’d position herself more comfortably between them.

“Want you inside, n-need you inside!” You begged pathetically, looking at her with half-lidded eyes.

Abby couldn’t believe this. This was too good to be true and she couldn’t wait anymore either. She kept boundaries out of respect, she knew you were a virgin and had no experience, and she didn’t want to scare you off with her deprived desires. Yet you were there, asking her with tears in your eyes to fill you up. You were so desperate she wanted to eat you alive.

“‘M gonna use my fingers, doll. Don’t wanna fuck you with the same strap I use with other girls. I’m going to get you your own, and I’m going to fuck this horniness out of you. You’ll only need me.” She whispered in your ear before shoving two of her fingers inside you, gaining a loud whimper from you.

Her fingers were thick and long, she filled you up almost perfectly you didn’t want this moment to end. Your chest raised up and down as you struggled to breathe properly. She moved them in and out, curling them expertly inside your warm walls.

“Faster, please.”

Abby knew once you two were done tonight, every time she’d hear the word ‘please’ from you would be a trigger. She wanted to tease you, drag you to the edge, but she was aware of how frustrated you felt and it was pitiful. So she let you give her orders, just this once though.

She hit it. That magnificent spot of yours that sent you to the moon. You were a moaning mess, hairs sticking to your forehead with sweat while she kept thrusting her fingers forcefully.

“Fuck, Abby! There, holy fuck.” You blabbered, your back arching off the bed, and the pillow under you helped to reach your g spot smoothly. Abby was also panting, even groaning because you were giving her a show. The things she’d do to you from now on, whew, she was going to ruin you.

“So pretty, taking my fingers so well. Want you to come all over them, doll. You think you can do that for me?”

Nodding drastically up and down, she sped up if that was even possible. Your tummy swooped and you didn’t realize you had tears running down your cheeks. Abby’s face was blurry and your eyes struggled to focus. Your hand found her bicep, clawing it with your acrylic nails as you reached the delicious bliss.

“Shitshitshit!”

Moaning Abby’s name and profanities, you came on her fingers and probably her pants as well. You kept squirting while sobbing because you’ve never experienced an orgasm like this one, your legs shaking against your will. Now you were panting, catching your breath and when you opened your eyes and met with hers, reality hit you.

You opened your puffy lips to say something, but Abby cut you off.

“Next time it’ll be my cock.”

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby smut #tlou2 #abby fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic

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sytoran · 6 months

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟖 — 𝐓𝐈𝐓-𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

kinktober day 008 | milf!natasha x beefy!amab!reader

your wife thinks you've been acting a little off lately. she tries possible solutions to lighten your mood, but eventually it comes down to the 'hard' truth that you wanna fuck her tits.

cont. reader has a cock, teasing, possessiveness, praise word count. 951

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

"Okay, that's enough."

Natasha states firmly, folding her arms as she looks you over. Despite being married for nearly three years and having two kids, Natasha's finding it hard to understand you now.

You've been off the whole day, constantly looking disappointed and guilty. There's this nagging feeling in the back of Natasha's mind that tries to coerce her into assuming the worse, but she knows better than to let those voices take over her.

"It's nothing," you try to mumble, shying away from your wife's insistent gaze. Your eyes are anywhere but Natasha, flickering, and she swears you're flustered.

It's strange. For someone usually so headstrong and confident, it's definitely bizarre to see you acting like this.

"Tell me what's wrong baby, please," Natasha tries again, trying the gentler approach, pressing a hand on the side of your face, trying to make you turn your head to face her.

It only seems to make things worse, you desperately trying to back away and Natasha trying to move closer.

Just by your luck, the back of your leg knocks into the sofa in the midst of your escape, and you stumble. Natasha catches your wrist, attempting to suspend you and prevent the fall, but you end up pulling her down with you anyway.

That's how you end up laying on the sofa with your wife on top of you, her knee unintentionally pressing into the prominent bulge between your legs, now brought into the limelight.

There's silence for a moment, and you want to crawl into a hole and die, but your wife only lets an amused smirk grow on her face.

She lets a hand trail over the tent in your pants, lightly, and you shudder, letting out a hollow exhale.

"Why were you… embarrassed to tell me?" Natasha asks, cautiously, eyeing the ever-rising boner in your pants. She can’t help the warmth slowly rising between her legs.

You look away ashamedly, before woefully admitting your remorse. "Well, I thought you didn't want to like, have sex anymore. I mean, we've had two kids, and you're always busy, and you- I mean, you never seem to like, initiate it, or whatever. Not like we used to.” your mumbling nearly goes unheard, but Natasha’s keen ears prick up every word.

She tilts her head in a concerned fashion. “Baby, we have children in the house! I can’t just jump your bones every hour of the day like we used to when we were in college.”

"Yeah, I know. This was stupid,” you sigh, more so disappointed in yourself than anything. You lift yourself up from the sofa. “I'm sorry for worrying you, baby. You don't have to-"

Before you can even finish your sentence, Natasha’s pulled off your pants in record timing, hands encircling your thick, throbbing cock. All the air is knocked out of you, as you’re pushed back onto the sofa, and you’re quite sure your heart stops beating for a few moments.

“Nat? What are you- what are you doing?” you question lowly, biting back a gasp when your wife begins to rub her hands up and down your shaft through your boxers.

“Just because I haven’t said it, doesn’t mean I don’t want you inside me, dorogoya.” Natasha grunts, tugging off her own sleeping shorts. “the kids are sleeping upstairs, so everything’ll be fine if we’re quiet. anything you want in particular?” she asks, casually.

Noting the sudden change in the glint of your eye, Natasha smirks, knowing she had a definite answer.

“Shit. I- uh, I’ve kinda had three wet dreams about fucking your tits.” you confess, looking up hopefully into your wife’s viridescent eyes.

Her eyebrows raise. You chuckle awkwardly. Your cock, is still embarrassingly hard.

Before you know it, your wildest dreams have been fulfilled. Natasha is now pinned down under you, chest now exposed to the cool night air. your cock is stuffed in the valley between her tits.

You’re just so obsessed with them, because they’re hers. Soft mounds, so easy for you to wrap your bigger hands around and press kisses all over. As much as you love the little rascals that are you and Natasha’s children, you can’t help but miss the days when you could casually lift up her shirt and absent-mindedly play with your wife's breasts like stressballs.

But now, in the heat of the moment, with Natasha holding her tits and rubbing them up and down your long cock, you can’t quite formulate any coherent thoughts.

You pin down your wife’s sides after a few more minutes of rubbing. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” you groan out, beginning to thrust between her tits, slow and deep.

The edge of your cock peeks out at the top of her mounds with each thrust, and it takes everything in Natasha not to moan out loud. She didn’t think she’d be so turned on by this, by your hazy eyes lost in lust, staring at your cock disappearing between her tits.

You get rougher, unknowingly, hypnotised by the way Natasha’s tits shake. Your pre-cum gets smeared all over her tits, and you’re just about to lose it completely.

When Natasha presses a kiss onto the head of your cock, when it emerges through her breasts one last time, you come undone with a long groan, lost in hallucinogenic pleasure.

Your seed goes all over your wife’s ample assets: her pretty tits, her mouth and her face. Natasha smiles breathlessly, looking at you with glittering eyes. She’s so innocently licking off all the cum at the tip of your cock.

“Sorry for acting like a prick, Nat. I love you.”

“Mhm, I’ll forgive you if you do that more often.”

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #gxg smut #wlw smut #marvel smut #top reader #dom reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff

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rileyslibrary · 8 months

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Imagine Ghost genuinely caring about you but struggling to offer comfort when you’re sad.

He senses that something’s bothering you but can’t figure out what. Not only that, but he doesn’t know how to handle such things in a delicate manner.

He tries to get you to open up in his own way, though. He cracks a couple of jokes, to which you manage to smile—they weren’t very good—but that frown doesn’t disappear. He even mentions that you seem “gutted”, a comment you brush off, insisting that you’re—you guessed it—“fine.”

He weighs his options and considers asking you what’s wrong, yet he’s afraid this will result in either a dismissive “nothing” or an overwhelming flood of emotions he isn’t prepared to handle.

He even thinks of jokingly telling you to “stop being a downer,” but he predicts that such a remark would backfire, and rightfully so.

He doesn’t like prying into people’s personal lives. He hates it when others do that to him. And he can’t just openly hug you and reassure you that everything will be okay. That’s not how he operates. He wants to identify the problem so he can target it and provide you with a solution. He wants to help you, not just soothe you.

And then one day, he passes you while you’re sitting on the staircase, taking a break. He nods at you and heads straight to Price.

He starts vaguely expressing his concern about you. Price, on the other hand, wants specifics about the problem, but Ghost doesn’t have any because he never asked. All he knows is that you’ve been sad for quite a while, and he can’t bear to see you that way. But, instead of saying that to Price, he takes a different approach. He begins reporting your “misdeeds,” implying something is wrong with you.

“They barely fulfil their duties; they skipped training yesterday, and all they do in their spare time is sit somewhere, holding their head like this,” he explains, mimicking the stance he saw you in earlier.

Price asks if you’re slacking off, which could cause problems given your responsibilities. Ghost replies with a firm “negative; they are pretty attentive. They’re just not jolly about it.”

And Price looks at him, puzzled, like, “Jolly? What do you mean, jolly? Nobody is jolly while performing routine tasks.”

Ghost starts to get agitated and urges Price to take action. Price, for his part, picks up on Ghost’s concerns and agrees to speak with you.

However, Ghost has two conditions.

“Don’t tell them who reported it, and please let me know what’s bothering them. You know, so that I can take the necessary actions.”

#random acts of kindness Ghost would do instead of showing any form of verbal affection #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley

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vavandeveresfan · 3 months

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Holy shit, the New York Times is FINALLY interviewing and listening to detransistioners.

The tide is turning.

Opinion by Pamela Paul

As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do.

Feb. 2, 2024

Grace Powell was 12 or 13 when she discovered she could be a boy.

Growing up in a relatively conservative community in Grand Rapids, Mich., Powell, like many teenagers, didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin. She was unpopular and frequently bullied. Puberty made everything worse. She suffered from depression and was in and out of therapy.

“I felt so detached from my body, and the way it was developing felt hostile to me,” Powell told me. It was classic gender dysphoria, a feeling of discomfort with your sex.

Reading about transgender people online, Powell believed that the reason she didn’t feel comfortable in her body was that she was in the wrong body. Transitioning seemed like the obvious solution. The narrative she had heard and absorbed was that if you don’t transition, you’ll kill yourself.

At 17, desperate to begin hormone therapy, Powell broke the news to her parents. They sent her to a gender specialist to make sure she was serious. In the fall of her senior year of high school, she started cross-sex hormones. She had a double mastectomy the summer before college, then went off as a transgender man named Grayson to Sarah Lawrence College, where she was paired with a male roommate on a men’s floor. At 5-foot-3, she felt she came across as a very effeminate gay man.

At no point during her medical or surgical transition, Powell says, did anyone ask her about the reasons behind her gender dysphoria or her depression. At no point was she asked about her sexual orientation. And at no point was she asked about any previous trauma, and so neither the therapists nor the doctors ever learned that she’d been sexually abused as a child.

“I wish there had been more open conversations,” Powell, now 23 and detransitioned, told me. “But I was told there is one cure and one thing to do if this is your problem, and this will help you.”

Progressives often portray the heated debate over childhood transgender care as a clash between those who are trying to help growing numbers of children express what they believe their genders to be and conservative politicians who won’t let kids be themselves.

But right-wing demagogues are not the only ones who have inflamed this debate. Transgender activists have pushed their own ideological extremism, especially by pressing for a treatment orthodoxy that has faced increased scrutiny in recent years. Under that model of care, clinicians are expected to affirm a young person’s assertion of gender identity and even provide medical treatment before, or even without, exploring other possible sources of distress.

Many who think there needs to be a more cautious approach — including well-meaning liberal parents, doctors and people who have undergone gender transition and subsequently regretted their procedures — have been attacked as anti-trans and intimidated into silencing their concerns.

And while Donald Trump denounces “left-wing gender insanity” and many trans activists describe any opposition as transphobic, parents in America’s vast ideological middle can find little dispassionate discussion of the genuine risks or trade-offs involved in what proponents call gender-affirming care.

Powell’s story shows how easy it is for young people to get caught up by the pull of ideology in this atmosphere.

“What should be a medical and psychological issue has been morphed into a political one,” Powell lamented during our conversation. “It’s a mess.”

A New and Growing Group of Patients

Many transgender adults are happy with their transitions and, whether they began to transition as adults or adolescents, feel it was life changing, even lifesaving. The small but rapidly growing number of children who express gender dysphoria and who transition at an early age, according to clinicians, is a recent and more controversial phenomenon.

Laura Edwards-Leeper, the founding psychologist of the first pediatric gender clinic in the United States, said that when she started her practice in 2007, most of her patients had longstanding and deep-seated gender dysphoria. Transitioning clearly made sense for almost all of them, and any mental health issues they had were generally resolved through gender transition.

“But that is just not the case anymore,” she told me recently. While she doesn’t regret transitioning the earlier cohort of patients and opposes government bans on transgender medical care, she said, “As far as I can tell, there are no professional organizations who are stepping in to regulate what’s going on.”

Most of her patients now, she said, have no history of childhood gender dysphoria. Others refer to this phenomenon, with some controversy, as rapid onset gender dysphoria, in which adolescents, particularly tween and teenage girls, express gender dysphoria despite never having done so when they were younger. Frequently, they have mental health issues unrelated to gender. While professional associations say there is a lack of quality research on rapid onset gender dysphoria, several researchers have documented the phenomenon, and many health care providers have seen evidence of it in their practices.

“The population has changed drastically,” said Edwards-Leeper, a former head of the Child and Adolescent Committee for the World Professional Association for Transgender Health, the organization responsible for setting gender transition guidelines for medical professionals.

For these young people, she told me, “you have to take time to really assess what’s going on and hear the timeline and get the parents’ perspective in order to create an individualized treatment plan. Many providers are completely missing that step.”

Yet those health care professionals and scientists who do not think clinicians should automatically agree to a young person’s self-diagnosis are often afraid to speak out. A report commissioned by the National Health Service about Britain’s Tavistock gender clinic, which, until it was ordered to be shut down, was the country’s only health center dedicated to gender identity, noted that “primary and secondary care staff have told us that they feel under pressure to adopt an unquestioning affirmative approach and that this is at odds with the standard process of clinical assessment and diagnosis that they have been trained to undertake in all other clinical encounters.”

Of the dozens of students she’s trained as psychologists, Edwards-Leeper said, few still seem to be providing gender-related care. While her students have left the field for various reasons, “some have told me that they didn’t feel they could continue because of the pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process,” she said.

They have good reasons to be wary. Stephanie Winn, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Oregon, was trained in gender-affirming care and treated multiple transgender patients. But in 2020, after coming across detransition videos online, she began to doubt the gender-affirming model. In 2021 she spoke out in favor of approaching gender dysphoria in a more considered way, urging others in the field to pay attention to detransitioners, people who no longer consider themselves transgender after undergoing medical or surgical interventions. She has since been attacked by transgender activists. Some threatened to send complaints to her licensing board saying that she was trying to make trans kids change their minds through conversion therapy.

In April 2022, the Oregon Board of Licensed Professional Counselors and Therapists told Winn that she was under investigation. Her case was ultimately dismissed, but Winn no longer treats minors and practices only online, where many of her patients are worried parents of trans-identifying children.

“I don’t feel safe having a location where people can find me,” she said.

Detransitioners say that only conservative media outlets seem interested in telling their stories, which has left them open to attacks as hapless tools of the right, something that frustrated and dismayed every detransitioner I interviewed. These are people who were once the trans-identified kids that so many organizations say they’re trying to protect — but when they change their minds, they say, they feel abandoned.

Most parents and clinicians are simply trying to do what they think is best for the children involved. But parents with qualms about the current model of care are frustrated by what they see as a lack of options.

Parents told me it was a struggle to balance the desire to compassionately support a child with gender dysphoria while seeking the best psychological and medical care. Many believed their kids were gay or dealing with an array of complicated issues. But all said they felt compelled by gender clinicians, doctors, schools and social pressure to accede to their child’s declared gender identity even if they had serious doubts. They feared it would tear apart their family if they didn’t unquestioningly support social transition and medical treatment. All asked to speak anonymously, so desperate were they to maintain or repair any relationship with their children, some of whom were currently estranged.

Several of those who questioned their child’s self-diagnosis told me it had ruined their relationship. A few parents said simply, “I feel like I’ve lost my daughter.”

One mother described a meeting with 12 other parents in a support group for relatives of trans-identified youth where all of the participants described their children as autistic or otherwise neurodivergent. To all questions, the woman running the meeting replied, “Just let them transition.” The mother left in shock. How would hormones help a child with obsessive-compulsive disorder or depression? she wondered.

Some parents have found refuge in anonymous online support groups. There, people share tips on finding caregivers who will explore the causes of their children’s distress or tend to their overall emotional and developmental health and well-being without automatically acceding to their children’s self-diagnosis.

Many parents of kids who consider themselves trans say their children were introduced to transgender influencers on YouTube or TikTok, a phenomenon intensified for some by the isolation and online cocoon of Covid. Others say their kids learned these ideas in the classroom, as early as elementary school, often in child-friendly ways through curriculums supplied by trans rights organizations, with concepts like the gender unicorn or the Genderbread person.

‘Do You Want a Dead Son or a Live Daughter?’

After Kathleen’s 15-year-old son, whom she described as an obsessive child, abruptly told his parents he was trans, the doctor who was going to assess whether he had A.D.H.D. referred him instead to someone who specialized in both A.D.H.D. and gender. Kathleen, who asked to be identified only by her first name to protect her son’s privacy, assumed that the specialist would do some kind of evaluation or assessment. That was not the case.

The meeting was brief and began on a shocking note. “In front of my son, the therapist said, ‘Do you want a dead son or a live daughter?’” Kathleen recounted.

Parents are routinely warned that to pursue any path outside of agreeing with a child’s self-declared gender identity is to put a gender dysphoric youth at risk for suicide, which feels to many people like emotional blackmail. Proponents of the gender-affirming model have cited studies showing an association between that standard of care and a lower risk of suicide. But those studies were found to have methodological flaws or have been deemed not entirely conclusive. A survey of studies on the psychological effects of cross-sex hormones, published three years ago in The Journal of the Endocrine Society, the professional organization for hormone specialists, found it “could not draw any conclusions about death by suicide.” In a letter to The Wall Street Journal last year, 21 experts from nine countries said that survey was one reason they believed there was “no reliable evidence to suggest that hormonal transition is an effective suicide prevention measure.”

Moreover, the incidence of suicidal thoughts and attempts among gender dysphoric youth is complicated by the high incidence of accompanying conditions, such as autism spectrum disorder. As one systematic overview put it, “Children with gender dysphoria often experience a range of psychiatric comorbidities, with a high prevalence of mood and anxiety disorders, trauma, eating disorders and autism spectrum conditions, suicidality and self-harm.”

But rather than being treated as patients who deserve unbiased professional help, children with gender dysphoria often become political pawns.

Conservative lawmakers are working to ban access to gender care for minors and occasionally for adults as well. On the other side, however, many medical and mental health practitioners feel their hands have been tied by activist pressure and organizational capture. They say that it has become difficult to practice responsible mental health care or medicine for these young people.

Pediatricians, psychologists and other clinicians who dissent from this orthodoxy, believing that it is not based on reliable evidence, feel frustrated by their professional organizations. The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics have wholeheartedly backed the gender-affirming model.

In 2021, Aaron Kimberly, a 50-year-old trans man and registered nurse, left the clinic in British Columbia where his job focused on the intake and assessment of gender-dysphoric youth. Kimberly received a comprehensive screening when he embarked on his own successful transition at age 33, which resolved the gender dysphoria he experienced from an early age.

But when the gender-affirming model was introduced at his clinic, he was instructed to support the initiation of hormone treatment for incoming patients regardless of whether they had complex mental problems, experiences with trauma or were otherwise “severely unwell,” Kimberly said. When he referred patients for further mental health care rather than immediate hormone treatment, he said he was accused of what they called gatekeeping and had to change jobs.

“I realized something had gone totally off the rails,” Kimberly, who subsequently founded the Gender Dysphoria Alliance and the L.G.B.T. Courage Coalition to advocate better gender care, told me.

Gay men and women often told me they fear that same-sex-attracted kids, especially effeminate boys and tomboy girls who are gender nonconforming, will be transitioned during a normal phase of childhood and before sexual maturation — and that gender ideology can mask and even abet homophobia.

As one detransitioned man, now in a gay relationship, put it, “I was a gay man pumped up to look like a woman and dated a lesbian who was pumped up to look like a man. If that’s not conversion therapy, I don’t know what is.”

“I transitioned because I didn’t want to be gay,” Kasey Emerick, a 23-year-old woman and detransitioner from Pennsylvania, told me. Raised in a conservative Christian church, she said, “I believed homosexuality was a sin.”

When she was 15, Emerick confessed her homosexuality to her mother. Her mother attributed her sexual orientation to trauma — Emerick’s father was convicted of raping and assaulting her repeatedly when she was between the ages of 4 and 7 — but after catching Emerick texting with another girl at age 16, she took away her phone. When Emerick melted down, her mother admitted her to a psychiatric hospital. While there, Emerick told herself, “If I was a boy, none of this would have happened.”

In May 2017, Emerick began searching “gender” online and encountered trans advocacy websites. After realizing she could “pick the other side,” she told her mother, “I’m sick of being called a dyke and not a real girl.” If she were a man, she’d be free to pursue relationships with women.

That September, she and her mother met with a licensed professional counselor for the first of two 90-minute consultations. She told the counselor that she had wished to be a Boy Scout rather than a Girl Scout. She said she didn’t like being gay or a butch lesbian. She also told the counselor that she had suffered from anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation. The clinic recommended testosterone, which was prescribed by a nearby L.G.B.T.Q. health clinic. Shortly thereafter, she was also diagnosed with A.D.H.D. She developed panic attacks. At age 17, she was cleared for a double mastectomy.

“I’m thinking, ‘Oh my God, I’m having my breasts removed. I’m 17. I’m too young for this,’” she recalled. But she went ahead with the operation.

“Transition felt like a way to control something when I couldn’t control anything in my life,” Emerick explained. But after living as a trans man for five years, Emerick realized her mental health symptoms were only getting worse. In the fall of 2022, she came out as a detransitioner on Twitter and was immediately attacked. Transgender influencers told her she was bald and ugly. She received multiple threats.

“I thought my life was over,” she said. “I realized that I had lived a lie for over five years.”

Today Emerick’s voice, permanently altered by testosterone, is that of a man. When she tells people she’s a detransitioner, they ask when she plans to stop taking T and live as a woman. “I’ve been off it for a year,” she replies.

Once, after she recounted her story to a therapist, the therapist tried to reassure her. If it’s any consolation, the therapist remarked, “I would never have guessed that you were once a trans woman.” Emerick replied, “Wait, what sex do you think I am?”

To the trans activist dictum that children know their gender best, it is important to add something all parents know from experience: Children change their minds all the time. One mother told me that after her teenage son desisted — pulled back from a trans identity before any irreversible medical procedures — he explained, “I was just rebelling. I look at it like a subculture, like being goth.”

“The job of children and adolescents is to experiment and explore where they fit into the world, and a big part of that exploration, especially during adolescence, is around their sense of identity,” Sasha Ayad, a licensed professional counselor based in Phoenix, told me. “Children at that age often present with a great deal of certainty and urgency about who they believe they are at the time and things they would like to do in order to enact that sense of identity.”

Ayad, a co-author of “When Kids Say They’re Trans: A Guide for Thoughtful Parents,” advises parents to be wary of the gender affirmation model. “We’ve always known that adolescents are particularly malleable in relationship to their peers and their social context and that exploration is often an attempt to navigate difficulties of that stage, such as puberty, coming to terms with the responsibilities and complications of young adulthood, romance and solidifying their sexual orientation,” she told me. For providing this kind of exploratory approach in her own practice with gender dysphoric youth, Ayad has had her license challenged twice, both times by adults who were not her patients. Both times, the charges were dismissed.

Studies show that around eight in 10 cases of childhood gender dysphoria resolve themselves by puberty and 30 percent of people on hormone therapy discontinue its use within four years, though the effects, including infertility, are often irreversible.

Proponents of early social transition and medical interventions for gender dysphoric youth cite a 2022 study showing that 98 percent of children who took both puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones continued treatment for short periods, and another study that tracked 317 children who socially transitioned between the ages of 3 and 12, which found that 94 percent of them still identified as transgender five years later. But such early interventions may cement children’s self-conceptions without giving them time to think or sexually mature.

‘The Process of Transition Didn’t Make Me Feel Better’

At the end of her freshman year of college, Grace Powell, horrifically depressed, began dissociating, feeling detached from her body and from reality, which had never happened to her before. Ultimately, she said, “the process of transition didn’t make me feel better. It magnified what I found was wrong with myself.”

“I expected it to change everything, but I was just me, with a slightly deeper voice,” she added. “It took me two years to start detransitioning and living as Grace again.”

She tried in vain to find a therapist who would treat her underlying issues, but they kept asking her: How do you want to be seen? Do you want to be nonbinary? Powell wanted to talk about her trauma, not her identity or her gender presentation. She ended up getting online therapy from a former employee of the Tavistock clinic in Britain. This therapist, a woman who has broken from the gender-affirming model, talked Grace through what she sees as her failure to launch and her efforts to reset. The therapist asked questions like: Who is Grace? What do you want from your life? For the first time, Powell felt someone was seeing and helping her as a person, not simply looking to slot her into an identity category.

Many detransitioners say they face ostracism and silencing because of the toxic politics around transgender issues.

“It is extraordinarily frustrating to feel that something I am is inherently political,” Powell told me. “I’ve been accused multiple times that I’m some right-winger who’s making a fake narrative to discredit transgender people, which is just crazy.”

While she believes there are people who benefit from transitioning, “I wish more people would understand that there’s not a one-size-fits-all solution,” she said. “I wish we could have that conversation.”

In a recent study in The Archives of Sexual Behavior, about 40 young detransitioners out of 78 surveyed said they had suffered from rapid onset gender dysphoria. Trans activists have fought hard to suppress any discussion of rapid onset gender dysphoria, despite evidence that the condition is real. In its guide for journalists, the activist organization GLAAD warns the media against using the term, as it is not “a formal condition or diagnosis.” Human Rights Campaign, another activist group, calls it “a right-wing theory.” A group of professional organizations put out a statement urging clinicians to eliminate the term from use.

Nobody knows how many young people desist after social, medical or surgical transitions. Trans activists often cite low regret rates for gender transition, along with low figures for detransition. But those studies, which often rely on self-reported cases to gender clinics, likely understate the actual numbers. None of the seven detransitioners I interviewed, for instance, even considered reporting back to the gender clinics that prescribed them medication they now consider to have been a mistake. Nor did they know any other detransitioners who had done so.

As Americans furiously debate the basis of transgender care, a number of advances in understanding have taken place in Europe, where the early Dutch studies that became the underpinning of gender-affirming care have been broadly questioned and criticized. Unlike some of the current population of gender dysphoric youth, the Dutch study participants had no serious psychological conditions. Those studies were riddled with methodological flaws and weaknesses. There was no evidence that any intervention was lifesaving. There was no long-term follow-up with any of the study’s 55 participants or the 15 who dropped out. A British effort to replicate the study said that it “identified no changes in psychological function” and that more studies were needed.

In countries like Sweden, Norway, France, the Netherlands and Britain — long considered exemplars of gender progress — medical professionals have recognized that early research on medical interventions for childhood gender dysphoria was either faulty or incomplete. Last month, the World Health Organization, in explaining why it is developing “a guideline on the health of trans and gender diverse people,” said it will cover only adults because “the evidence base for children and adolescents is limited and variable regarding the longer-term outcomes of gender-affirming care for children and adolescents.”

But in America, and Canada, the results of those widely criticized Dutch studies are falsely presented to the public as settled science.

Other countries have recently halted or limited the medical and surgical treatment of gender dysphoric youth, pending further study. Britain’s Tavistock clinic was ordered to be shut down next month, after a National Health Service-commissioned investigation found deficiencies in service and “a lack of consensus and open discussion about the nature of gender dysphoria and therefore about the appropriate clinical response.”

Meanwhile, the American medical establishment has hunkered down, stuck in an outdated model of gender affirmation. The American Academy of Pediatrics only recently agreed to conduct more research in response to yearslong efforts by dissenting experts, including Dr. Julia Mason, a self-described “bleeding-heart liberal.”

The larger threat to transgender people comes from Republicans who wish to deny them rights and protections. But the doctrinal rigidity of the progressive wing of the Democratic Party is disappointing, frustrating and counterproductive.

“I was always a liberal Democrat,” one woman whose son desisted after social transition and hormone therapy told me. “Now I feel politically homeless.”

She noted that the Biden administration has “unequivocally” supported gender-affirming care for minors, in cases in which it deems it “medically appropriate and necessary.” Rachel Levine, the assistant secretary for health at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, told NPR in 2022 that “there is no argument among medical professionals — pediatricians, pediatric endocrinologists, adolescent medicine physicians, adolescent psychiatrists, psychologists, et cetera — about the value and the importance of gender-affirming care.”

Of course, politics should not influence medical practice, whether the issue is birth control, abortion or gender medicine. But unfortunately, politics has gotten in the way of progress. Last year The Economist published a thorough investigation into America’s approach to gender medicine. Zanny Minton Beddoes, the editor, put the issue into political context. “If you look internationally at countries in Europe, the U.K. included, their medical establishments are much more concerned,” Beddoes told Vanity Fair. “But here — in part because this has become wrapped up in the culture wars where you have, you know, crazy extremes from the Republican right — if you want to be an upstanding liberal, you feel like you can’t say anything.”

Some people are trying to open up that dialogue, or at least provide outlets for kids and families to seek a more therapeutic approach to gender dysphoria.

Paul Garcia-Ryan is a psychotherapist in New York who cares for kids and families seeking holistic, exploratory care for gender dysphoria. He is also a detransitioner who from ages 15 to 30 fully believed he was a woman.

Garcia-Ryan is gay, but as a boy, he said, “it was much less threatening to my psyche to think that I was a straight girl born into the wrong body — that I had a medical condition that could be tended to.” When he visited a clinic at 15, the clinician immediately affirmed he was female, and rather than explore the reasons for his mental distress, simply confirmed Garcia-Ryan’s belief that he was not meant to be a man.

Once in college, he began medically transitioning and eventually had surgery on his genitals. Severe medical complications from both the surgery and hormone medication led him to reconsider what he had done, and to detransition. He also reconsidered the basis of gender affirmation, which, as a licensed clinical social worker at a gender clinic, he had been trained in and provided to clients.

“You’re made to believe these slogans,” he said. “Evidence-based, lifesaving care, safe and effective, medically necessary, the science is settled — and none of that is evidence based.”

Garcia-Ryan, 32, is now the board president of Therapy First, an organization that supports therapists who do not agree with the gender affirmation model. He thinks transition can help some people manage the symptoms of gender dysphoria but no longer believes anyone under 25 should socially, medically or surgically transition without exploratory psychotherapy first.

“When a professional affirms a gender identity for a younger person, what they are doing is implementing a psychological intervention that narrows a person’s sense of self and closes off their options for considering what’s possible for them,” Garcia-Ryan told me.

Instead of promoting unproven treatments for children, which surveys show many Americans are uncomfortable with, transgender activists would be more effective if they focused on a shared agenda. Most Americans across the political spectrum can agree on the need for legal protections for transgender adults. They would also probably support additional research on the needs of young people reporting gender dysphoria so that kids could get the best treatment possible.

A shift in this direction would model tolerance and acceptance. It would prioritize compassion over demonization. It would require rising above culture-war politics and returning to reason. It would be the most humane path forward. And it would be the right thing to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

For those who want tor ead more by those fighting the cancellation forquestioning, read:

Graham Lineham, who's been fighting since the beginning and paid the price, but is not seeing things turn around.

The Glinner Update, Grahan Linehan's Substack.

Kellie-Jay Keen @ThePosieParker, who's been physically attacked for organizing events for women demanding women-only spaces.

REDUXX, Feminst news & opinion.

Gays Against Groomers @againstgrmrs, A nonprofit of gay people and others within the community against the sexualization, indoctrination and medicalization of children under the guise of "LGBTQIA+"

#detransitioners #detransition #gender critical #New York Times #gays #lesbians #trans #trans insanity #long post #article #detrans #transgender #post trans #desisted

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ssahotchnerr · 11 days

Note

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRT74Paw/ i feel like this is so aaron bf core i would love a drabble or fic about this <33 in desperate need of aaron fluff comfort rn

tranquility

i think we all need some aaron comfort right now 😣 cw; gn!reader, established relationship, fluff <3 the tik tok context is that one busy audio but then it turns to a peaceful quiet (y'all know the one)

you flinched slightly as the door shut behind you, the sharp sound disrupting your clouded brain.

you couldn't stop thinking; your mind wouldn't stop racing. all day, you were unable to shake the uneasy, frantic mindset. nothing was particularly wrong, but it was just one of those days where you couldn't tone it down, or shut it off, despite how hard you tried. attempt after attempt was made in terms of a distraction, none of which were successful.

it wasn't shocking, you knew there was only one solution; only one way to ease your thoughts and feel like you again.

aaron.

he had been working late recently, but at the reason being so, he planned accordingly to be home at an early, reasonable hour. even if that meant completing his caseload and paperwork for the day at home.

luckily the intention was made for today - he was already in his home office upon your arrival. you walked in silently, a deep contrast from the hurriedness of your brain.

"hey." aaron's head perked up, a smile on his face as he saw you approaching. he was still in his suit - apart from the tie and suit jacket, sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone - but a slight frown soon developed instead: not only observant of your state, but also due to the absence of your usual grin whenever you laid eyes on him.

you were on autopilot, determined on one thing and one thing only; as you neared, he rolled back his desk chair, allowing both the room and the invitation for you to come close.

you didn't hesitate, straddling his thighs and settling yourself onto his lap.

the armrest of the chair dug into your leg, and the overall obstacle of the chair made your position somewhat uncomfortable. but you pushed that aside; your chest to his, your face pressed into and nosing against his neck, your arms wrapping around his middle as much as they could with his back to his seat.

and the change was immediate. the second your body made contact with his, did it instantly relax. your breathing wasn't as stressed, the constant tension in the middle of your torso dissolved, but most importantly, those loud thoughts circling in your head eased, as if they hadn't existed in the first place. you entered an almost meditative state, finding peace and solitude at long last.

even aaron could sense the change, feeling your body mold against his own; one of his hands sprawled across your lower back while the other began to trace random designs, holding you as close as he possibly could.

"you okay?" he mumbled gently after a few minutes. his lips were at your ear, allowing you to focus on nothing but his soothing voice.

you exhaled deeply, aaron pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

"i am now."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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sweetestdesire · 5 days

Text

THE SILENT TREATMENT

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes forgets about a date night.

Jack was smart, he actually liked to think it was one of his best strengths. In fact, he liked to take pride in his capacity to always come up with a quick solution to most of the things life threw at him, except maybe this. Y/N was pissed and for the first time in what felt like his entire life, his brain failed him on how to fix the issue at hand. Perhaps that was largely because he didn’t quite know why she was mad, but there was also the fact that she refused to be rational and discuss the problem, and that wasn’t his fault.

Expressing as much landed Jack on the couch for the night, and now not only was Y/N even more upset with him, but his back hurt, too. It had only added insult to injury that Luke found this ordeal thoroughly amusing, and Jack thought it was times like these that throwing out the leech of his brother was his best option. The guest room could be his right now if not for a certain irritating younger brother, and the bed would be much better for his back, too.

“Still getting the silent treatment, I see.” Luke grinned, a little too enthused for Jack’s liking at his predicament.

Jack glowered, taking a sip of his much too bitter coffee. Usually Y/N made it for him, but between the sharp look she sent him when he approached and her insistence to avoid him, he safely assumed coffee was out of the question to ask of her for now. And because he didn’t need Luke to have more leverage to laugh at him, he forced himself not to make a face as he swallowed the bitter drink in his mug.

“And I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Jack grumbled, watching as Luke rummaged through the fridge.

“It’s not.” Luke hummed, pulling out ingredients that he most certainly had not paid for with his own wallet. “But it’s definitely entertaining to witness. If I were you, I’d already have figured out why I’m on the couch by now.”

“You’d have to actually date someone before you can be sent to the couch.” Jack raised an eyebrow, feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction as he watched Luke’s features twist into anger.

“Well, I know why you’re on the couch.” Luke interrupted, crossing his arms as he glared down at Jack. Now that? That caught Jack’s attention. Why did Luke know why she was mad at him? Why had she told Luke and not him? And why hasn’t Luke told him by now?

“You do?” Jack blinked, staring at his brother in bewilderment before scowling. “So then tell me, you dipshit.”

“That’s for you to figure out, and him to keep to himself.” Y/N interrupted, making both heads turn to her as she entered the kitchen.

And truthfully, as pathetic as it might be, Jack was slightly relieved she’d spoken to him after days for the first time, even if it wasn’t exactly the words he hoped to hear. Jack eyed her as she walked into the kitchen, watching as she pulled out two mugs and walked to the coffee machine and then he paused. Why did she need two mugs?

“Luke.” Y/N said a little too sweetly. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Almost like he knew, and Jack was sure he did because of the amused glance he spared, Luke nodded with an appreciative smile. “I would love one.” He grinned, and Jack glared daggers at him, tightening his grip on his own coffee mug.

“Okay.” Jack set down his drink, staring intensely at the back of her head as she pretended not to hear him. “What’s got you so mad? It’s been days, and it’s honestly not the answer to avoid the problem.”

“You’ll have to figure that one out on your own.” Y/N said coldly. “You should know what you’ve done wrong. I’m not spelling it out for you.”

“You should be quite the spelling expert by now, right, Jack?” Luke added, and there was enough mirth lacing his tone that it took Jack everything from splashing his coffee at his brother’s face.

At that, Y/N snickered and Jack turned to look at her with slight betrayal in his features, watching as she slid what he was sure was a delicious and not bitter mug of freshly brewed coffee to Luke. She wasn’t supposed to side with Luke, and she certainly wasn’t supposed to make him coffee in the mornings, yet here she was, doing everything in her power to remind Jack that she was still angry. It’s been days, and he was still as clueless today as he was the first day, still just as confused with what it was exactly he’d done to upset her this thoroughly.

And then, like the Gods have blessed him through a certain big mouth, he heard Luke’s loud voice, “You could certainly take a few notes on how not to forget about dates, you know.”

Oh, right. Jack was supposed to take Y/N for a date, the first date since his schedule’s effectively became a lot less flexible and a lot more difficult to squeeze in a moment with her outside of collapsing in bed beside her after a long day. Jack watched as she shot a sharp look at Luke, shutting him up with just one look as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Luke.” Y/N hissed, cutting him off and glaring at him as he shot her an apologetic look once he realized he’s accidentally spoken too much. But it was too late, Jack seemed to blink in realization, slowly rising to walk over to her across the kitchen.

“So that’s why you’re mad at me.” Jack mumbled. “I didn’t mean to forget our date, baby. I promise I’ll take you on one tonight.” He said, making her raise an eyebrow unimpressed.

“And?” Y/N pressed, making Jack’s eyebrows furrow.

“And I won’t forget again.” Jack nodded slowly, as if sure of himself and his ability to finally fix the situation.

Y/N, however, only scoffed, rolling her eyes before shoving past him, making him blink in surprise as she hissed, “You can stay on the couch in that case.”

“You’re supposed to say I’m sorry, dumbass.” Luke called from the side, and only because Jack didn’t want to sleep on the couch anymore, he grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her against his chest.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl.” Jack said, and it was gentle and sincere as he pressed a kiss against her forehead. And much to her dismay, Y/N couldn’t stay mad no matter how hard she tried because it was Jack, and he was difficult and in a world of his own, but he was her Jack, somehow lovable underneath all that irritating know-it-all attitude of his. “I won’t forget again.”

“You better not.” Y/N grumbled, letting him wrap his arms around her waist, reluctantly letting hers snake around his neck. “It won’t be the couch next time if you do, I’ll make you sleep outside.”

“Honestly, it’s what he deserves for taking my keys.” And after days of tolerating Luke’s amusement at his expense, Jack thought it was sufficiently satisfying watching his brother go silent after the harsh look she sent him over her shoulder, quickly leaving the kitchen with an excuse to leave mumbled under his breath.

“Can’t we send him outside instead?” Jack mumbled, burying his face into her neck.

Y/N only hummed, threading her fingers through his hair and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. “If anything, I should send the both of you outside.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes angst #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x female reader #jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes drabble #jack hughes thoughts #new jersey devils #jh86

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zyafics · 1 month

Text

brother's rival (part two)

series: brother’s rival → part one here

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

summary: you and your brother were born pogues, but once your family made enough to move to figure eight, you became a kook. unfortunately, rafe cameron doesn't welcome pogue-born kooks. and it doesn't help that your brother is determined to steal the title of king of kooks from him. so, if your brother is trying to steal something from him, rafe is going to return the favor.

warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut, angst

zya's notes: if you would like to be added to a taglist (still trying to get the hand of this), pls like the post pinned on my account. thank you!!

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

True to his word, Rafe texted you. Several times.

You just haven't texted him back.

It's not that you don't want to; you're itching to type back a response and see how he would react. You just can't seem to understand why. Why Rafe Cameron is talking to you, flirting with you, trying to make you feel things that you definitely should not be feeling for your brother's rival.

So, you kept your distance.

But that doesn't mean you've gotten him off your mind.

At night, in your bedroom alone, you close your eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. You've been stressed for the past couple of days, trying to figure out what to do with your summer, that all you want to do now is to find some release.

And you know the best solution for it.

You imagine Rafe in the room with you, taking in the shirt and panties you're wearing and nothing else. You imagine him approaching you, planting kisses against your lips while his hands are exploring every curve on your body. He would find the sensitive spot on your neck and tease, whispering dirty words in your ear.

You would argue back with everything he says, but in truth, all you want to do is submit.

Your hand dips to the space between your legs, kicking the comforter down to your ankles. Brushing your fingers against the cotton panties, you realize it's soaked—a testament to your dirty thoughts.

Your fingers push the fabric to the side, slowly teasing up your slit the way you believe Rafe would. He would go slow, taking in how your body reacts to the slightest touch. He would play with you, until you couldn't help but beg for it, and only then would he slip a digit into your cunt, starting a slow pace.

That's what you do.

You push a forefinger in, feeling your walls grip around the small finger. You start slow, building the sensation in your stomach as you imagine Rafe whispering praises in your ear, telling you all the dirty thoughts he had about you. What he wants to do to you.

Your pussy clenches, but it isn't enough to build towards an orgasm. You add another finger, thinking about what Rafe would say about how tight you are, about how you can barely fit two, and you quicken your pace. The teasing, the imagery, you can't help but let out a small moan, "Rafe."

But even as you build towards the feeling of a climax, it isn't enough. A thin layer of sweat coats your body and your legs ache at their overstretched position while your chest heaves—with want, with need for this release.

You crane your neck back, arching your back, letting out little whines as you feel how close you're getting but not completely there yet. "Please," you mumble softly, to yourself and to any God who would let you finish. "Please, please."

"You're doing it wrong."

The voice isn't your own, but you know exactly who it belongs to.

You eyes rip open, finding Rafe in the dark, standing near the entrance of your bedroom. You let out a little yelp, pulling up the comforter pooled at your feet as you hide your exposed body and readjust your panties under the sheets.

He looks content, leaning against the wall, while your heart is racing, your breathing erratic and, for a second, you don't know if you're hallucinating him or if he's truly here.

"What–what are you doing here?" You demand but your voice is weak, trying to regain some control over yourself after being caught in such an incriminating position.

Rafe appears casual. "I had to get some paperwork for my dad."

Your mother works with Rafe's father as a freelance accountant.

"In the middle of the night?"

He shrugs. "Ward Cameron never stops."

You can see he doesn't want to explain further than that. You want to probe, noticing the slight shift in his demeanor, almost minuscule, at the mention of his father, but you decided against it. You had other problems to be dealing with.

"That doesn't explain why you're in my room," you snap.

"Gave myself a house tour while your mom is looking for it." He says, pushing himself off the wall and stepping into your sanction, closing the door behind him. The lights from the hallway fades out, enveloping your room into a darkness—saved for the faint moonlight streaming through the sheer curtains and a lit lamp sitting on your nightstand.

You say nothing as he approaches you; your voice in your throat.

He stops at the foot of your bed. "You didn't text me back."

You don't know if you detect insecurity in his words or if you're imagining it. You settle on the idea that Rafe Cameron isn't used to not women throwing themselves at him, not demanding his attention, that he doesn't know what to do with it.

"My phone broke."

He watches you for a moment, trying to read you, before nodding silently. You don't know if he believes you.

You glance over at the door, afraid that Dean is going to walk in at any minute—because brothers do that—before remembering that he isn't home. He went out with a couple of his friends, staying the night at The Cut. That lessens the anxiety in your stomach, but it doesn't completely dissipate.

In the quietness of the moment, Rafe gestures out a hand to you. "Don't stop on my account, princess. Continue what you were doing."

You glare at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Fuck off."

He laughs.

Rafe settles himself on the corner of your mattress, making himself comfortable, while keeping his eyes pinned on you. You don't know what to do with this level of attention, with this spotlight, and while you had the strongest urge to get up and leave—you can't. You truly are wearing nothing more than a pair of panties and a loose, baggy sleep tee you stole from your brother's closet. If you stand up now, Rafe would receive a free show. You already embarrassed yourself enough, you don't want to add to the list.

You don't want to kick him out the room either.

His eyes studies the room around you; the tangled sheets, the disorganized pillow arrangement. It was an obvious sight of what happened. Cocking a brow of his, he asks, "couldn't come?"

Yes, but you weren't going to tell him that. You cross your arms over your chest and frown, trying to pull together what little pride you had left. "Are you going to tell a woman how to handle her own body?"

"I will if she's doing it wrong."

Your cheeks are flaming hot because it confirms that he did see. He saw you struggling. He saw you intimate. Clenching your jaw to relieve some of the embarrassment you feel, Rafe offers something unexpected.

"I can help you."

You don't know if you misheard him. "What?"

He chuckles softly, his hand grabbing the comforter covering you. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I have a hard time believing you are that selfless."

"I'm not," he confirms, slowly pulling down the comforter shielding your body. You let him. "But I'm always willing to help you come."

"Knight in shining armor?"

"Just yours, baby."

You don't answer him. Not knowing how to react after he calls you baby. He completely pulls the comforter out of his way, revealing your long legs and the lousy sleepwear. His blue eyes trail up to examine you, tracing the tiny cotton panties that barely covers anything to the outline of your hardened nipples under your shirt.

He moves closer. His hand running up your calves, your thighs, in such a gentle yet sensual manner, a shiver leaves your body. When he stops right in between your legs, near your core, he glances up at you. "Can I?"

Mesmerized by the sight of him, you nod. He lowers his hand to graze against the cover, laughing softly to himself.

"God, you're dripping," he mumbles, pushing the panties to the side as his fingers touch your slick cunt. You slightly jerk forward at the unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, touch of his. "And sensitive. Are you sure you can't come?"

You know he's teasing you. You predicted this. But you couldn't help but turn the conversation onto him. "I thought you were going to help me," you bite back. "Or can you not handle it?"

His eyes darken. "Be careful what you wish for."

"I want—" You stop yourself, hoping he didn't hear you. Rafe stiffens, looking up to your face.

"You what?" He demands.

His eyes are so hard, so commanding, you can't help but submit.

"I want to come." You whisper. "I want to come by you."

His grin is entirely too smug. Without wasting time, he easily slips two fingers into your wet folds and your walls clench around him. "Fuck," he whispers to himself. "You're so tight."

Just as you predicted.

Rafe begins to stroke you, starting at a slow pace as your cunt gets used to his size. His fingers are larger than yours. His pace more rough. His other hand grabs your hips, keeping you in place as your body unwittingly wrestles away from it.

You whimper softly, hearing the wetness of your pussy echoing through the small room. Your hips buck, trying to grind against his hand, but he holds you down, keeping total control over what he can do with your body.

You whine.

You can't help but feel a little disappointed. If he knew you were struggling, he should've also known it was by penetration alone. You can't come, won't come, even if he's the one controlling it.

"Rub yourself for me," Rafe commands, pulling you away from your thoughts. You look down at him, concentrating on your cunt before his eyes flicks up to meet your face, his eyes hungry. "Now."

Your hand tentative slips between your legs. You've never masturbated in front of someone else before, and you're nervous, but the command behind Rafe's voice make you obedient. A need to please. When you find your clit, you begin to move in slow, circular motions.

It builds and builds.

"Oh," you gasps, as the combined action causes your hips to jerk forward more violently. However, Rafe knew, holding them in place. The orgasm builds quicker, especially with his control. "Oh, fuck."

You let your head tip back against the headboard, allowing the pleasure to course through you in rapid succession. Rafe quickens the rhythm he started from, easing a small whimper out of you. "Rafe," you moan quietly, afraid of being too loud.

He notices.

He shakes his head, stopping his thrusts and leaving your core aching. "No, princess, I want to hear you say my name louder. I know you can do it."

You were afraid of being caught. You were afraid of the neighbors hearing. But, you were so close. "What if my mom hears?"

"I don't care." He declares, returning to his strokes, starting at the slow beginning. It causes a needy whine to leave your throat. "Either you say it right or you're not coming tonight."

His fingers curl inside of you, hitting the right spots you didn't even know you had, and an explosion of pleasure erupts inside of you. "Rafe," you moan again, with less restraint, a little louder.

He shakes his head. "Louder," he commands. "I need to hear you."

His strokes are precise and measured. He knows the exact places to go to make you feel good. Adding on, he extends his thumb and begins to rub your clit with you. This act, alone, makes your stomach knot, twist, and tighten in a way that's familiar and demanding. Your legs shake, your fingers quicken on their own, matching the pace of his rhythm, and you let out the loudest moan as you come. "Rafe."

You slump back against your mattress, feeling his grip around your hips loosen as his fingers pull away from your cunt. Through heavy-lids and short breaths, you watch as Rafe brings his slick fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. An expression of pride and satisfaction etched over his features.

"Fuck," he groans, "you taste so sweet."

Your stomach erupts in little flutters at the compliment, and before you get the chance to make a retort—to thank him, to argue back—a phone rings.

Rafe's head turns to your nightstand, where your phone is plugged in and lit with a name, and scoffs. He pushes himself off the bed and glances down at the caller ID on the screen.

"Your phone broke, huh?" He glances up at you, to which you couldn’t do anything but sheepishly shrug.

"Who is it?"

"Your brother is calling." He says with an hint of disgust, disconnecting your phone from the charger. Just as he's about to hand it to you, he withdrawals his hand quickly and an idea passes through him. He smirks. "What if I answer?"

Your heart lunges out of your chest and you force yourself up from the mattress, on your weak knees, reaching out for the phone. Rafe pulls back, raising it just out of your reach. "Rafe, don't."

"But wouldn't you like to know how your brother would react knowing I made you come?"

He would kill you.

You push yourself to your feet on the bed, using it as an additive height to grab your phone, but Rafe is clever. He steps back far enough where you can't move towards him without toppling over and his hand stretches out all the way out of your reach.

"Rafe," you beg, connecting your eyes with his in a pleading look. "Please."

"Not the perfect sister anymore, are you?"

You don't answer him, watching as his face twists in amusement. His eyes studying your face, his expression smug. "God, if only your brother know how you moaned for me. It would kill him, wouldn't it?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You don't know what to do.

"What is stopping me from answering?" He asks to himself, but the question lingers for you. It's a challenge. What can you give him that would make him stop.

And your answer is nothing.

There's absolutely nothing you can give him. He's a Cameron—he can afford anything and everything with the snap of his fingers. The Tanneyhill estate cost more than you could ever imagine and he is the son of a multimillionaire. You're just a Pogue who moved to Figure Eight, masquerading as a Kook.

You were no match.

But, you wonder, for a second, if there is something.

"We'll never do this again." Your voice is small at first, but when the words hit his ears, it caused his smug expression to falter slightly. You take that as a sight to grow confidence. "I'll never let you touch me again. I'll never even touch you."

Rafe's face lost its humor. His jaw slightly tense, his eyes studying yours. For a moment, you thought it wasn't enough. That he will still answer the ringing number flashing your screen.

But he lowers the phone and gives it to you.

"You're thinking like a Kook," he scoffs softly, his words thoughtful, before his eyes finds yours. "There may be hope for you yet."

When you have the phone back in your grasp, the phone call goes to an end. Your heart still beating roughly, your breathing hard, you clutch the device to your chest like it's a lifeline.

Rafe watches you. Just then, you hear your mother calls for Rafe from her downstair office. He glances at the door for a brief second, before turning back to you. "I'll see you around, princess."

Without waiting for an answer, Rafe spares one glance at the device in your arms—a visible annoyance on his face—before rounding the bedframe and exit from your room.

You take a second to compose yourself, to calm your breathing and adjust your sleepwear into their intended position. When you glance down at the light-up screen, you can't believe that you won. That you got Rafe to hand you back your phone without talking to your brother.

You don't want to admit that the threat you threw out scared you. That the idea of him not touching you anymore pains you. That the idea of never touching him makes you sad.

But it worked out.

So, as you click on the notification to return the missed call, bringing the phone to your ear as you wait for Dean to answer, you try to put on an appearance as if everything is normal.

As if Rafe Cameron didn't give you an orgasm.

As if you didn't love it.

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saetoru · 1 year

Text

[ SILENT TREATMENT ] ALHAITHAM.

alhaitham is a smart man—he likes to think it’s one of his best strengths. in fact, he likes to take pride in his capacity to come up with a quick solution to most of the things life throws at him…except maybe this.

you’re mad—livid, actually—and for the first time in what feels like his entire life, his brain fails him on how to fix the issue at hand. perhaps that’s largely because he doesn’t quite know why you’re mad (you insist he should know), but there’s also the fact that you refuse to be rational and discuss the problem, and that’s not his fault.

but expressing as much lands him on the couch for the night, and now not only are you even more upset with him, but his back hurts too. it’s only added insult to injury that kaveh finds this ordeal thoroughly amusing, and alhaitham thinks it’s times like these that throwing out the leech of his roommate is his best option—the guest room could be his right now if not for a certain irritating blonde, and the bed would be much better for his back too.

“still getting the silent treatment, i see,” kaveh grins, a little too enthused for alhaitham’s liking at his predicament. he glowers, taking a sip of his much too bitter coffee—usually you make it for him, but between the sharp look you send him when he approaches and your insistence to avoid him, he safely assumes coffee is out of the question to ask of you for now.

and because he doesn’t need kaveh to have more leverage to laugh at him, he forces himself not to make a face as he swallows the bitter drink in his mug.

“and i don’t see how it’s any of your business,” alhaitham grumbles, watching as kaveh rummages through his fridge with his food in his home.

“it’s not,” kaveh hums, pulling out ingredients that he most certainly has not paid for with his own wallet, “but it’s undoubtedly entertaining to witness. if i were you, i’d have definitely figured out why i’m on the couch by now.”

“you have to actually date someone before you can be sent to the couch,” alhaitham raises a brow, feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction as he watches kaveh’s features twist into anger, “but seeing as you have no love life—”

“well, i know why you’re on the couch,” kaveh interrupts, crossing his arms as he glares down the scribe.

now that—that catches alhaitham’s attention. why does kaveh know why you’re mad at him? why have you told kaveh and not him? and why hasn’t kaveh told him by now? how dare kaveh eat his food and sleep on the bed that could be his right now and keep this information from him?

“you do?” he blinks, staring at the blonde in bewilderment before scowling, “so then tell me, why have i been sent—”

“that’s for you to figure out, and him to keep to himself,” you interrupt, making both heads turn to you as you enter the kitchen.

and truthfully, as pathetic as it might be, alhaitham is slightly relieved you’ve spoken to him after days for the first time—even if it’s not exactly the words he hopes to hear. he eyes you as you walk into the kitchen, watches as you pull out two mugs and walk to the coffee machine. and then he pauses—why do you need two mugs?

“kaveh,” you say a little too sweetly, “would you like a cup of coffee?”

almost like he knows—and alhaitham is sure he does because of the amused glance he spares—kaveh nods with an appreciative smile.

“i would love one,” kaveh grins, and alhaitham glares daggers at his roommate, tightening his grip on his own coffee mug.

“okay,” alhaitham sets down his drink, staring intensely at the back of your head as you pretend not to hear him, “what’s got you mad? it’s been days, and it’s very counterproductive to avoid the—”

“you’ll have to figure that one out on your own,” you say coldly, “you should know what you’ve done wrong. i’m not spelling it out for you.”

“you should be quite a spelling expert with how long you keep that nose buried in books,” kaveh adds, and there’s enough mirth lacing his tone that it takes alhaitham everything from splashing his (awful) coffee at his roommate’s face.

“perhaps you’ll find value in reading some romantic novels here and there,” alhaitham shoots back, “since that’s your only experience with romance anyway.”

“maybe you can take your own advice,” you huff, “you need some romance pointers yourself.”

at that, kaveh snickers and alhaitham turns to look at you with slight betrayal in his features, watching as you slide what he’s sure is a delicious and not bitter mug of freshly brewed coffee to the blonde. you’re not supposed to side with kaveh—and you’re certainly not supposed to make kaveh coffee in the mornings, yet here you are, doing everything in your power to remind alhaitham that you’re still angry. it’s been days, and he’s is still as clueless today as he was the first day, still just as confused with what it is exactly he’s done to upset you this thoroughly.

and then, like the gods have blessed him through a certain big mouth, he hears kaveh’s loud voice, “you could certainly take a few notes how not to forget about dates—”

oh. right. he was supposed to take you for a date—the first date since he’s become acting grand sage, the first date since his schedule’s effectively become a lot less flexible and a lot more difficult to squeeze in a moment with you outside of collapsing in bed beside you after a long day. alhaitham watches as you shoot a sharp look at kaveh, shutting him up with just one look as he rubs the back of his neck.

“kaveh,” you hiss, cutting him off and glaring at him as he shoots you an apologetic look once he realizes he’s accidentally spoken too much. but it’s too late—alhaitham seems to blink in realization, slowly rising to walk over to you across the kitchen.

“so that’s why you’re mad,” he mumbles, “i didn’t mean to forget our date. i’ll take you on one tonight,” he says, making you raise a brow unimpressed.

“and?” you press, making alhaitham’s brows furrow.

“and…i won’t forget again,” he nods slowly, as if sure of himself and his ability to finally fix the situation.

you, however, only scoff, rolling your eyes before shoving past him, making him blink in surprise as you hiss, “you can stay on the couch in that case.”

“but—”

“you’re supposed to say i’m sorry, genius,” kaveh calls from the side, and only because alhaitham doesn’t want to sleep on the couch anymore (and definitely not because he realizes kaveh is right), he grabs your wrist and pulls you against his chest.

“i’m sorry,” he says—and it’s awkward, it’s a little stiff and almost sounds forced, but it’s gentle all the same and sincere as he presses a kiss against your forehead. and much to your dismay, you can’t stay mad no matter how hard you try—because it’s alhaitham, and he’s difficult and in a world of his own, but he’s your alhaitham, somehow lovable under all that irritating know-it-all attitude of his. “i won’t forget again. i guess being acting grand sage takes its toll even on me.”

“you better not,” you grumble, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, reluctantly letting yours snake around his neck. “it won’t be the couch next time if you do—i’ll make you sleep outside.”

“honestly, it’s what he deserves for taking my keys—” and after days of tolerating kaveh’s amusement at his expense, alhaitham thinks it’s sufficiently satisfying watching his roommate go silent after the harsh look you send him over your shoulder, quickly leaving the kitchen with an excuse to finish work mumbled under his breath.

“can’t we send him outside instead?” alhaitham mumbles, burying his face into your neck.

you only hum, threading your fingers through his hair and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head, “if anything, i should send both of you.”

thank you miss bub my luv for reading over this and helping me figure out this mediocre idea of mine jfjdfs

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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