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elliesgaythoughts · 12 hours

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How each Ellie era would react to receiving ye ole glock glock

(trans Ellie bc I love her)

a/n: y’all probably saw this on another account, I wrote it for em but they took it down so now bbg is where she belongs🤍 also to my trans peeps if y’all have any comments, advice, opinions or like constructive criticism for me it’s highly encouraged, your opinions are appreciated here, yep that’s all x

Jackson!ellie the second your pout landed on her tip it would be over for her, her fingers intangling into your hair as her eyes are glued onto how you kiss the tip of her pink flesh over and over, heavy open mouth breaths leaving her as her tummy spasmed all to soon at the feel of you suckling on to her softly, a strained “gonnacum” leaves her just as her hips buck softly.

Seattle!ellie seattle ellie would be too hyper focused on Abby to remember to take care of herself so you’d have to be extra gentle with her, not just physically but mentally. she’d completely melt as you praised how good she is for you as you guided her hand into your hair. her body going limp as she felt the warmth of your mouth caress her length, your hand holding hers and your eyes never leaving them pretty green orbs, “thank you” sweetly leaving her lips as she watches you tuck her back into her grey boxers and pressing a kiss to her pretty buldge.

Farm!ellie would have grown out of the subby auburn haired girl she used to be, not too shy to shamelessly stroll out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her waist and a offer on her lips “head?” she’d shrug and you’d happily kiss down her still dripping torso, cupping her breast with one hand and tearing the towel off her body with the other. she’d have no problem grunting out your name as she sweetly held each side of your face as she selfishly used your throat, her hips snapping forward as she ignores your gags and teary eyes, knowing you’d tap her thigh if you truely wanted her to stop. a strained “fucking slut” would leave her throat right before she pushed your head down her fully, stilling inside you and throbbing inside your mouth as she coated your tongue in her essence.

Santa Barbara!ellie would low-key like to be dommed, her subbiness doing a full 180, she just wanted to know that she belonged to someone and who better than you? “so fucking desperate, mama” you’d coo, your hand gliding up and down her solid dick, you knew what she wanted but she’d never get it without asking, you hum contently “this is fun” as you watched from your spot on your knees as her head dips, her lips part and her eyebrows furrow in agitation, you were giving her so much but she needed more to cum, for eyes watching your mouth, trying to signal what she needed, you knew what she needed, you always did, your thumb coming up and rubbing her tip in soft little circles “beg” and if course she has no problem with your order, butterflies in her belly at the thought of your lips wrapping around her “please, please mommy, please” your thumb speeds up an you move your head closer, teasing her and you can hear her voice crack in excitement “i- need your throat mommyyy” she whines “such a good fucking girl for me” and the moan that leaves her is fucking pornographic as you messily spit on her throbbing tip, twisting your wrist and sliding up and down her as you harshly sucked yourself off of girlfriends dick “y-yeah, im your good girl” your other hand smacks her asscheek and pushes her pelvis closer to your mouth “please, please can I cum?” and how could you refuse when she whimpered your name like that, you nod, her dick still in your mouth, your eyes on hers and your tongue dancing on her tip, luring out the sweet taste that spilled from her gasping and used form “fuuuck.

@williamellieslilho @yourelliewillms @bready101 @moonalumi @heygrimace @pascals-doll @infiniteinquiries @aouiaa

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justpostsyeet · 10 months

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Behold my first ever fanfiction

Tindómë Ch 1

Erestor gazed at Eilianniel serene expression, captivated by her every feature. Her eyelids fluttered gently as she dreamt, and a small smile graced her lips, making his heart skip a beat. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of affection for her.

As he continued to trace the contours of her face with his fingers, his mind wandered back to their passionate encounter. The memory of their intertwined bodies, the heat of their passion, and the deep connection they shared replayed vividly in his mind. He had never felt such an intense bond with anyone before, and he knew in his heart that Eilianniel was special.

Lost in his thoughts, Erestor's fingers gently brushed a strand of hair away from Eilianniel's face, revealing more of her beauty. Her presence brought him peace, and he cherished the times they spent together, whether they were engaged in deep conversations or simply enjoying each other's company. As Erestor lay beside Eilianniel, memories of the past flooded his mind once more, reminding him of the peculiar circumstances that led to their marriage. The alliance between his family and Eilianniel's Avari family had been a crucial move in securing borders and fostering relations between the Noldor and the Avari in Middle-earth. And so, their union was forged with the hope of creating a lasting bond between their peoples.

Erestor, though not of high birth himself, had proven his worth and loyalty time and again. His background as the child of a human concubine to a Feanorian prince was often a topic of gossip among the courtiers, yet his competence and dedication had earned him respect among those who mattered. The Avari, following their custom of matching the stars of birth, believed he was the perfect match for Eilianniel, and it was a decision that had significant consequences for both of them. In the beginning, there were those who ridiculed the Avari for their choice, dismissing Erestor as unworthy of such a marriage. They questioned why Eilianniel was not wed to someone of higher rank or lineage, someone more befitting of her noble birth. But, over time, Erestor's actions and commitment to his people began to silence the doubt.

He thought of his early life. He had been born into a world of war and strife, his life marked by the complicated circumstances surrounding his birth. The tales of his mother, Haleth, being called a seductress and blamed for breaking the sanctity of elven marriage haunted him. Some whispered that their love was true, a bond that transcended the rules of elves, but the judgment and stigma from others had left scars on his heart.His father, Caranthir, was a figure both loved and feared. Erestor knew his father cared for him, but his absence, occupied with military campaigns and other matters, left him feeling lonely and abandoned during his early years. The loss of his mother had been a devastating blow, leaving him with only fragmented memories and a lingering ache for the love he had lost.

Amidst the chaos of Middle-earth and the tumultuous family dynamics, Erestor had struggled to find his place. The disdain he faced from some of his elven kind only fueled his determination to prove himself worthy and rise above the prejudices directed towards him.

The news of Beren's daring act of stealing a Silmaril was a turning point in his life. It intensified the tension among his father and uncles, consuming them with rage and vengeance. It was during this time of making secret alliances that the decision for his arranged marriage to Eilianniel, his own wife, was forged. In the beginning, their marriage might have been driven by political expediency, but over time, it evolved into something deeper. They became each other's pillars of support, sharing their burdens and dreams, finding comfort and love amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

With Eilianniel, Erestor found the strength to confront his own demons and let go of the bitterness he held towards his elven heritage. He learned to appreciate the beauty and wisdom of the elves while embracing the strength and resilience of his human lineage.

The evil rise in Middle Earth again and once again his peaceful moments will be ruined. He has swore to never lift a sword again but he knows war drags everyone down so,he rises from his bed as sunlight enters his room because Imladris and it's lord needs him.

tindómë , quenya:noun - starlit dusk

#my fanfiction #please constructive criticism is highly appreciated #lotr #lotredit #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #the hobbit #hobbit #the silmarillion #Erestor #lord Elrond #elrond #Eilianniel

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thebitchbehindtheslaughter · 1 year

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The Heart Everbeating

Hi! This story has been in The Works for about a year now, so I hope you enjoy! Warnings for death, Christianity/Catholicism, and everything going wrong in the MC’s life

When one man falls for another, they say God, himself, shudders in disgust. Two men peacefully exchanging whispers betwixt the oxeyes and the late eve silence could send all of Heaven into a rage, wheels of flame and feather burning bright with divine wrath. The Spirit scoffs at the embrace of palms, The Son weeps at the embrace of arms, The Father recoils at the embrace of lips. All three were above any such mortal woes and so the Holymen and Holywomen would leap from their confessionals and morning prayers, setting down their scriptures and rosaries in the name of mallets and chains to purge the world of any threat to perfection’s untouchable paradise, for the loving whispers nestled within the daisies—promises to forever support, protect and adore, were far too demonic for the cotton ears of the immortal, immoral Shepard. Yet even once sentenced to the depths of The Nine Rings, no pretend border could halt the sweethearts’ yearning for one another, no prideful god fully capable of stopping the pounding of deep love’s heart; The Devil himself knows of and tries not to prevent honest admiration. Layers of wood, of rust, of ash, of soil, could not cease the fire within one man’s soul as he plucked at the freshly bloomed oxeye, near delirious with his burning desire.

A trail of ‘he loves me’s spiralled on the wind as the fiancé limped through the aisle of wrought iron and forsaken stone, his veil of moonlight bathing one man and his wilting bouquet in sensations of ethereal glamour. Hums of melodies yet to be played bounced off the flitting wings of the Calyptra groomsmen all the while, holding back their hunger in the name of the beloveds’ special day. The one man tied back his long, dark hair with the red ribbon his beloved had gifted him, hoping to enchant just as he’d been at their first meeting, continuing his pursuit without so much as a stumble. At the mere thought of meeting once more one man’s mind was overrun with his deepest desires, burning through his ice-coated flesh and igniting the spark which had never truly died, his own wrought iron fence of bone becoming the grates of a roaring coal furnace and as such granting him ample energy on his seemingly endless journey. Truly, one man was ever so far from the halfway point—a little black house overrun by only the sweetest of alleycats—but moments spent alone do slide unto the doorstep of eternity when one is used to moments with his beloved, so one dared not to pause to collect the rapidly disappearing petals, or to pluck fresher flowers, or to feed his dear groomsmen as they continued their song. Instead he chased after the growing stronger aura of his beloved, his darling, as he slowly neared the town gates.

If the ring of charcoal iron he left behind were to act as a church hall’s supposedly welcoming doors, then the buildings were certainly the rows of family and friends who arrived solely to bare witness to the beloveds’ moment of union as they leaned in close to admire the unearthly beauty one man found himself in possession of, the dewy mist which still hung in the evening air bringing the idea of tears to the candlelit windows that lit up his path. So attractive he felt as he walked the aisle he’d always dreamed of traversing, the scent of his beloved still rested in his lungs and it grew ever stronger the closer he was to the town square. The petals of the oxeyes he had gathered fell less on his gloves and more on the wind, his limbs moving faster the closer he sensed himself getting, one man’s mind growing equally as desperate for the face he so longed to hold once more, when one of his guests spoke and broke him from the trance he willing entered; “My old friend, is that truly you before me? My, you’re in that beautiful suit! Are you finally to be wed to your beloved?” There upon the porch stood a woman, the patches which crawled across her cheek marking her familiar in appearance, but the silver hair which clung to her head like spiderwebs struck her down as the grandmother of a friend who lived within those exact walls, but certainly she had passed long before one man’s eyes had closed? “Come in, my friend! It is poor manners to arrive to any wedding with an empty stomach!” So dearly did one man wish to see his beloved, to hold, to cherish, to kiss and recover the year that was lost between two meters of wood and mud, but as he always knew her granddaughter to be his old friend’s grandmother was most certainly correct. “Oh, my friend, I must lend you a bottle of perfume, as well. Tell me, would you prefer to smell of roses or daises?”

Traditionally, receptions were to be held once vows had been born and welcomed to the new world, but perhaps tradition could take a knee for the beloveds’ celebration. Only for the moments spent within the old and rickety house, of course, as after the cake was cut one man would return to the aisle and greet his beloved with promises written in a heat of passion and longing. With heat of passion mentioned, one man found it quite impossible to miss how warm the air surrounding the dining table truly was, though that could be blamed on the Battenberg cake and Earl Grey tea that was set before him with unsteady hands. “Dig in, my friend!” The older woman sat in the chair across from his own with a smile lined in childish giddy, reminding one man that all the town was abuzz with excitement for the evening that had just arrived, all because he had insisted on paying patronage to a small tailor shop many moons ago. Yes, he remembered that year as if it had played out just moments ago, the one where he slowly fell for the charming tailor’s son who knew his figure better than he did. He remembered the first time they spoke, how he had thanked the young man for his service and complimented his handiwork, and of course, he remembered the shy and flattered smile that offered as response. Certainly, if his mind still held to those magical moments within a small, family shop, then it held what led to the beloveds’ arrival to the small, isolated town. He wished it would forget—prayed, even, but it held steadfast. Lavender. He despised that colour more than anything, for once upon a time it had infected his life and forced him to the tailor’s shop to be suited for a tux in that very shade. Although, one man would never forget the generosity of the woman in the matching dress, one who shooed them away and took all fault for their escape. He hoped her and her bride would be wed one day. “Goodness, my friend, you’re going to be quite late!” One man’s untouched cake and well-stirred tea were carried off into the depths of the hot house, just as he began to feel… sick. He hadn’t a clue he could feel sick once his body was beyond death, but as the older woman had exclaimed he had not a moment to ponder. “Take care, my friend!” She called as he shuffled out the door, his groomsmen having awaited his return upon the porch; it would be his night and his night, alone, for only a few minutes longer.

Then came a buzzing, swirling spirit that twirled through him like wine in the glass of a nobleman, one born of unadulterated anticipation. For simply, he had twirled past the house he had known to be infested with cats but, to his surprise, had then been infested with vines and flowers. He could not find himself time to pause, however, so simply he continued on, the waltz in his step. Four steps at a time led him through an enthusiastic daze of sorting through crowds to meet his beloved at the ballroom’s centre, his own, personal history of wandering grand celebrations providing him and his movements great expertise. Oh, my beloved, his mind had pleaded as he stumbled from one side of the road to the other, his undead heart begging to pound in the pattern it knew so well. One man tightened the knot of the ribbon he’d so carefully laced into his hair, then a memory of how said ribbon had come to be teased him with visions of his beloved; he had been questioned as to what his very favourite colour was and, his gaze locked upon the eyes of the tailor’s son, he had simply said what he saw: Red. Red was a difficult colour—though nowhere near as difficult as indigo—so all that was offered was a red ribbon. His beloved had apologized in only a most sincere manner but he, oh, he had known that shade oh-so-well, and so, had giddily taken the gift and laced it into his long hair for the very first time. Oh, he would give almost anything to see his beloved’s flustered expression once more, how his red eyes had widened as if to show off all their glittering glory, his glasses falling down his face to assist in their unveiling. One man could not resist then, and had asked if he may. His beloved said yes. Such a beautiful memory had caused his dance through the streets to grow wild and desperate as he near cried out in love and admiration. Delirious, just as he was once he reentered the Ertha’s domain, though that time he was nearly at his beloved’s side, just stood at the edge of a true and real crowd. He could see the red through the shuffling shoulders. He ran for it. One man embraced the figure so tightly that he could tell instantaneously that it was not his beloved in his arms.

“Let go of my daughter.” Hands rough from the wear and tear of time grabbed at his suit jacket and mercilessly pried him away from the young woman whose face was alight with fear. He knew that face, well—well, perhaps only certain features. The puff of her bottom lip he knew he’d kissed before, the batting of her eyelashes he knew he’d felt flutter against his cheek before, the beauty mark at her jaw he knew he’d gushed over before—though certainly it had moved sides—and the red. He knew that particular shade of red far better than he knew anything else, and he despised how natural it looked when combined with the new shape of her jaw, point of her nose, and texture of her straight hair. That hair always curled when grown that long, though it rarely had a chance to grow past the shoulders. Perhaps his beloved’s sister had appeared in town to comfort him? Oh, he hadn’t even considered the existence of his beloved’s grief! Yes, his dear sister must have appeared to stay the past two years with him and assistance him in his recovery! Then why, he questioned as he could not comprehend the answer, did a woman with the exact new features of the girl appear at that moment, stood beside the younger, and took on the appearance of mother and daughter? Hesitant, terrified yet morbidly curious of the truth in hiding, did one man turn to look at the man who still held him by the shoulders. His fear was proved to be founded in fantasy, for he knew that face and its every detail, instantaneously. “… My love?” Delirium once again ignited within one man’s shaking chest, and caused him great ecstasy which guided his limbs about his beloved’s shoulders, pulled the two men close together, their bodies perfectly tailored to the other’s just as they were in their younger years. His pined for those lips like he never had before in all his years of love and admiration for the taller, desperate as he had been all that night without his beloved by his side, and pushed himself to the tips of his toes in a reach that lasted all of three seconds. He closed his eyes and anticipated the warm—near burning sensation of gentle love he’d come to know so well, but he was met with the pin-pricked fingers of a tailor’s hands. “M-My love, I…” Those gorgeous red eyes darted to the two women at their side for truly not a reason, at all, as his beloved had never been the least bit cautious when it came to expressing their undying affection—at the very least, not in that town. “You must understand my hesitation,” he whispered as if some godly fear had been implemented into his untainted soul; perhaps by that woman who had yet to learn how rude it was to stare? “You’ve been gone—dead! For thirty years, so how am I to react to seeing your face again?” In response to such words rife with sorrow and conflict, for the very first time in that moonlit evening one man could not think at all.

“Goodness, my love, I… I watched you die in that field of oxeyes! I held your shaking body, I watched the life drain from your eyes—the blood, as well! Y-Your own father shot you dead and I was the only one who mourned! Now, suddenly, three decades later you return to me? Why so long? Why must you have waited until I had finally moved on and healed?” His own mind was hardly aware of itself in that moment, as it drifted freely in the town square, inquired what the bystanders were thinking, and even what the woman and her daughter were thinking, but he could not bring himself to consider his beloved’s thoughts for he had to have been lying, though that was so far from something he would do especially in such serious situations as the one they were currently in. “My love… I’ve married another.” One man, his body shivering with horror, slowly followed that red gaze that instinctually filled with true love, though not for him. The woman and her daughter stared back… equally as horrified. “I didn’t believe you were coming back—How could I believe that? My wife she—she taught me how to recover, took her time to heal me, fully. Our daughter is sixteen, now. We are happy.” His beloved squeezed his arm and just as it always was, it comforted his aching heart. “I’m sorry, my love, but if you came back just to see me again, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut your return, here. My love?” For the very first time in his twenty years of life, one khan ignored the words of his beloved in favour of approaching another. He pulled the precious treasure from his hair and took the woman’s wrist, where he then placed it in her shaking palm and turned to the younger woman, to whom he offered the wilting oxeyes to, continuously numb despite her gratefully taking it.

Then, with a final look to the beloved and his beautiful family—with the additional press of a handkerchief to his one functioning tear duct—one man quietly left the village.

#the heart everbeating #original story #writers on tumblr #tragedy #likes are highly appreciated but reblogs are preferred!#me every time I write a story: Is this gothic literature?#gothic lit #original gothic lit #original character #original characters #original tragedy #tw death #tw christianity #tw catholicism #anyway #I assume you’re reading these tags after reading the story #if so please tell me how it is!#any positive feedback or constructive criticism is highly appreciated #thanks for reading!

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lilyrachelcassidy · 3 months

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'Amity' (Felix Catton x Reader)

A/N: Hiya, y'all. Welcome back after this what-seems-like-forever hiatus. Coming back with a fully-fluffy fluff, so if you are feeling mushy today, go for it.

Warnings: As much as I love exploiting TGs, today is not the day.

Summary: Some fluffy encounter with Felix.

Word Count: 0.6k

"Y/N, yeah?" asked a voice behind you.

You turned around, clearly startled to see no other than Felix Catton right in front of you. It was unforeseen, seeing as he had never engaged in nothing beyond a quick gaze exchange with you. You always wondered who would be the one to give in and finally initiate a conversation, should that ever happen in the first place.

"What's up?" you asked, innocently, bestowing him with a friendly grin on your part. Instinctively, he reciprocated the gesture.

"Uhm.. yeah. So I have seen you around the campus. Plenty of time, actually. We never really had a chance to talk... And I... you know..." He began toying with his fingers, momentarily losing your gaze.

Was he stressed? It seemed so... A bizarre sight it was, seeing a flustered man of two meters stumbling upon his words and blushing like a girl. Upon his downcast smile, your grin ever so widened at the cuteness of this scene.

But gosh, was he bewitching. These doe brown eyes and slightly too-long-hair played the tricks on your mind as he stood there, dwarfing over your figure with his lofty posture.

"You know, if you want to ask me out..." A taunting smirk pained on your lips. "I would be more than pleased to say 'yes.'"

He instantaneously, somehow with too much animation, looked at you from the ground. His eyes held a state of avidity and relief in them. After ogling you for a few seconds, frozen, he probably realized that he was gaping and so he smiled at you keenly with his gaze momentarily dropping to your lips. It was a hasty action, almost imperceptible if you weren't scrutinizing his face. But you noticed.

"Really?" he more sighed than asked. Even so, your eyes lit up and you nodded, trying to pull off the most composed version of yourself, yet failing miserably. "So that's cool."

You both laughed at that. You studied each other's expressions for longer than necessary, the two of you somehow locked in the moment and not able to draw away. Somewhere in the background, someone called out your name and it finally clicked that you should probably get going at this point.

"Listen, as much as I love talking to you... I have to go," you said with a pout which was actually genuine. You detested the fact that you couldn't stay out any longer, delve into the chat with Felix; but your teacher probably had already begun the lecture and it didn't deem ideal for you to lose another one of disquisitions after a day of a hangover break. Or a series of such breaks.

Felix pursed his lips, disappointment imparting on his features. With a mere nod of acknowledgment, he forced on a smile, making some nugatory movement with his arms as if suddenly not knowing what to do with them. "So see you after classes, yeah?"

"Mhm..." you hummed, casually smiling at him in response. Once he started to walk away, his long legs taking the strides that quickly carried him away from you, you determined to ask him one last question before departing: "Don't you want my phone number or something?"

He only twisted his head over his shoulder to get a better view of you. Then he beamed at you. "Already got it."

And he winked. A cocky, playful wink that made your insides flip.

A minute or two later, your phone screen lit up with the unknown number sending over a text: "So a picnic, next weekend?"

xoxoxooxooxoxoox

A/N: I feel like everyone at some point of their lives has to have a crush on Jacob Elordi. Imo the best version of him is the one in Saltburn, like *a girly scream of thirst.* As always, constructive criticism and whatever feedback highly appreciated.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton imagine #felix x reader #saltburn 2023 #saltburn #Jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi imagine

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tswaney17 · 20 days

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A Game of Chess

@elriel-month Clandestine Meetings! I've been sitting on this fic since the beginning of the year and I'm so excited to share this one with you. It's inspired by the song, When You Say My Name by Chandler Leighton and I highly recommend listening to it (it's very Elriel-coded). Hope you like this! 💕

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: None

Word Count: 1,114

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read the beginning below or click here to head to AO3.

Elain was not one for going out, especially not to places like Ritas for drinks and dancing. She was, by definition, a homebody. But when Mor had announced she was going and looking for takers, her eyes had traveled to the brooding Shadowsinger leaning in the corner of the room, and said, “I will.”

Surprise had lit everyone’s face at the declaration, but she only focused on his. Made sure she threw the challenge at him.

It had been six months since that disastrous Solstice night, and he had yet to say more than four words to her—never apologizing for what had happened or explaining why he abruptly left.

But despite that, when he did grace his presence at the River Manor, she felt his eyes on her like a brand upon her skin, even if she never truly caught him looking at her. She always felt it.

Well, tonight Elain was going to make him show his hand. Force him to watch her while she danced.

That was if he took her up on her challenge. And if Elain knew Azriel as well as she thought she did, she knew he could never back down from a challenge.

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved most of my fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Taglist:

@nikethestatue

@reverie-tales

@123moiaussi

@duskwhisperer

@zdenkah

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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

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celemilii · 2 months

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SEVEN | GEORGE RUSSELL FANFICTION

George Russell x Daisy Verstappen (fc: Camila Morrone)

taglist: if you want me to tag you in the next parts please let me know in the comments!

a/n: i hope you enjoy this story. It is one of my first fanfics ever so it will be short <3

(people destined to meet will do so, apparently by chance, at precisely the right moment)

DAISY and GEORGE fell in love when they were teenagers and it is a mark that they could not erase from their hearts; Definitely, it's much harder to try to put an end to something that shouldn't even have ended in the first place.

Day, in her desire to take care of her brother from their father's abuse, decided to relegate her feelings and focus on Max's career for as long as possible. Despite having left her feelings in the background, she knows that she remembers her first love because he showed her and proved that she can love and be loved, but she also knows that the first boy is the hardest to get over, no matter how much whoever loves her. arrive later.

Elsewhere, George was left frozen in time, wondering what could have been, until he convinces himself that what starts quickly ends just as quickly and moves on. Or at least he pretends to until, many years and many loves later, a reunion is imminent when Daisy agrees to be Max's engineer.

DAISY VERSTAPPEN

the engineer

❝You are my first love, George, and I want more than anything for you to be my last. But I can't leave Max alone.❞

GEORGE RUSSELL

the cute driver

❝I would never make you choose, how could I when I know you wouldn't choose me?❞

WARNINGS!

• This is a fictional work. Everything written in this story is entirely fictional, and any resemblance to real events or people is purely coincidental. Also, the portrayal of both celebrities and original characters does not correspond to their real-life descriptions.

•This is an original wattpad fanfiction.

• Constructive criticism is completely allowed, always within the bounds of respect. Similarly, weblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated as feedback.

• No type of copying, adaptation, or translation is permitted, and in the event of such a case, it will be immediately reported.

• English is not my mother tongue so if you see any mistakes do not hesitate to let me know.

• Inappropriate language, teasing, insinuation, family issues.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #fanfiction #formula one #f1 x reader #formula 1 #george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x oc #seven taylor swift #max verstappen #wattpad

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mrsrileywrites · 3 months

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🔞 ⚠️MDNI⚠️

Hello! 🤗

So, this is my very first time writing smut, actually, writing at all and it makes me nervous af🥲 I don't consider myself fluent in English and don't know much about grammar and writing stuff, I just poured my dirty little thoughts in here... Hope you enjoy 🤓 constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Here goes nothing...

Thinking about mean Simon, who got you on your hands and knees, your ass up in the air as he teases your entrance, he's been rubbing the head of his cock on your folds and clit for the past thirty minutes, a dark chuckle rumbles from his chest as he watches your drooling cunt clench around nothing, "Si, please..." you whine "you are just being mean now" desperate to have his thick cock inside you splitting your tight cunt, just for him to spank your ass every time you push it back into his teasing cock... and when he finally fucks you, he enters you with a sharp thrust pulling a loud moan from you, he fucks you merciless one of his hands grabs a fistful of your hair and he pulls you up harshly, his other hand comes to rest on your lower belly, pressing his palm to feel the tip of his cock poking from inside you right under your belly button, "Dirty little thing... wants to be fucked so bad, yeah?" he whispers next to your ear and all you can do is babble nonsense as your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod #cod mw2 #smut #mdni #18+ mdni

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wrenwreads · 2 years

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she’s enough.

having her around? edmund knows for sure he’ll be alright.

pairing/s: edmund pevensie x fem!reader

warnings: nothing

genre: fluff, edmund pining over his bsf

word count: 591

a/n: got me giggling while i was writing lmao 😭

“It’s not fair.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as her best friend plopped himself flat on her bed.

Her parents had let her stay with the Pevensie’s at a professor’s house for shelter — who would have thought they would end up being leaders of a kingdom.

She had been crowned Queen Y/N the Eloquent. Her ever so good skills in speaking benefited their home like no other. They had fixed so many conflicts without drawing out blood with her help, the siblings wondered what they would have done if Edmund didn’t accidentally smack her in the head back when they were 4.

“What is it this time Eds?” she sighed, leaving the stack of books she was carrying from her own personal library to sit down next to Edmund’s body.

“It’s just Peter— and Susan— not to mention Lucy. Why is it always me! Why not y— them this time?! As if I can’t do anything like that. It's just I need time—“

“Eds! Edmund! Breath, please” she pleaded, concerned at the speed the words were coming out of his mouth. Edmund only remained quiet, his face flat on her bed. She sighed, standing up from her position, she — lightly — hit Edmund on the shoulder.

“Sit up!” she hissed.

Another hit.

“Sit up, you twat!”

The insult had the boy standing up in an instant, shooting daggers at the smile Y/N was playfully displaying. “Who’re you calling a twat?”. Edmund sounded offended, Y/N knew him too well that the question had an action behind it for her to fall for. “No one. Well… someone with the last name Pevensie…”

“Peter, then?”

“No,” she dismissed, shaking her head jokingly. “More like Edmund—“ she shrieked his name in surprise. He had been quick, reaching towards her in seconds — his long arms wrapped around her waist as his fingers dug to her sides.

“Edmund! Stop—“ she could barely get the words out, her laughs drowning the whole room. Edmund laughed at the attempt, tightening his hold. “I suggest you take back your words, my lady. Or you’ll be trapped forever!” Edmund announced between his own chuckles.

“Never!”

Their laughs only got louder. The sound escaping the room. Two fauns just happened to pass Y/N’s closed bedroom door, the two looking at each other knowingly. “I am really having a hard time believing that those two will always be best friends.” One said to the other.

“Hopefully, one of them will gain some courage. Who knows, maybe we’ll get Narnia’s first prince in three years' time.” The other replied.

The two laughed, knowing the prediction is highly unlikely — but not impossible.

Back inside, Edmund had stopped. His arms still around her waist as the two took a moment to catch their breaths. Y/N had rested her head against his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat instantly calming her down.

Edmund watched in adoration at Y/N allowing herself to rest against him. Despite knowing each other for more than a decade — maybe even more — he still doesn’t believe someone as delicate as the girl in front of him trusts him enough to do so.

Maybe in the future he’ll finally tell her what he found so unfair. Why his siblings would continuously pester him about his buried feelings when they too had them one way or another.

For now, having Y/N allow him to wrap his arms around her, it’s enough. Knowing she confides in him as he does to her, it’s enough.

Having her around, she’s enough.

thank you sm for reaching the end. i appreciate it a lot. feel free to tell me what you <3 constructive criticism is highly valued. also accepting prompts or requests atm. love u lots xoxo

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dipplinduo · 3 months

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Just a lil' check-in regarding S&S D engagement <3

Hey! I’ve honestly been debating on making this post, and I’m hoping I can come across intentionally here:

Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten an increased amount of asks/comments/etc. that are essentially inquiring about S&S D updates in ways that seem to be more on the “demanding” side, for a lack of better words (e.g., repetitive, insistent questioning regarding updates, not-so-politely worded “requests” to either abandon certain storylines or add something into a storyline, and even expressions of dissatisfaction/disapproval for when I’m choosing to write for something other than S&S D itself).

I’ve chosen to remain disengaged from this kind of behavior since it personally has felt upsetting, discouraging, and pressuring to receive. It unfortunately doesn’t really seem to be going away, and it has been affecting my writing process. So I just wanted to make myself a little clear here:

I personally don’t appreciate and will remain disengaged from interactions I’ve characterized above. I feel that I put a lot of hard work into what I do choose to do, and I also really do enjoy writing dipplinshipping content in general. I know many people on here may be following me primarily for S&S D – and that’s fine! But please know that I’m putting an equal amount of passion and effort into the other works I’m writing, and while you don’t need to read them if you don’t want to, publishing them still means a lot to me, personally; I don’t view them as being any “less” than S&S D, even if S&S D is pretty much my magnum opus in terms of hits/engagement.

I recognize that I’m pretty playful in my interactions in general, and a lot of these interactions may be coming from a completely well-intended place. So I do have faith that many of the comments I’ve received probably wouldn’t have been said if people knew how I’ve been feeling about receiving them. I’m hoping this post can clarify things going forward and help us all have a better understanding of each other as we celebrate dipplinshipping and have fun engaging with each other. 😊

That being said, here are the types of engagements that have felt really enjoyable regarding S&S D, and personally motivate me a LOT to keep writing:

Asks/discussions about things/moments that you’ve liked, or are wondering about (I’m open to constructive criticism, too, of course)

Asks/discussions that express general excitement, theorize, or talk about/inquire about potential breadcrumbs, etc.

Fanart! God, I love your fanart!

Headcanons too – whether they’re S&S D related or not!

Reactions to chapters, or quite literally anything that sparks dialogue (these ones I do deliberately delay answering so it doesn't spoil people immediately after an update, lol, but omg I love, love, love them!)

Lastly – I will say: I am actively working on Chapter 13 right now! I know how much people are eagerly waiting for it, and I’m grateful that it’s highly anticipated. It’s my full intention to write well rather than just write for the sake of producing; I want what you read to be of quality and worth your while. I will be letting you know when it’s coming out, as I always do! Thank you for your patience and understanding. 💕

With love,

dipplinduo

#my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran #asks

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parisiterileymoon · 20 days

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Angel dust x male reader

Set in the 40s, Im a sucker for a good forbidden romance. (We are all freinds of Dorothy here;])

C/W:mafia, period accurate homophobia, suggestive material(implied fornication), murder, someone gets dragged by the hair, major character death, guns, google translate Italian.

~~

Anthony. His name rolled of the tongue. Anthony. An~tho~ny. When you looked at him, your stomach twisted in knots. You both got out of having to serve in the war due to belonging to the mafia. If anyone found out about your little affaire, you would surely be killed. You looked down to see your beloved Tony curled in the fetal position away from you in bed. "What, was I that bad?" you asked him, only half joking. "Nah toots, I'm just tired. It's...damn what time is it?" "uhhh- how do you not have a clock somewhere in here?" you rolled out of bed with a thunk, pulling on a pair of boxers and looked for your watch. "HA! Found it. Itssss 1:00 AM? Good god!" you laugh, placing your watch back on the floor with the rest of your clothes. All of a sudden you hear footsteps. Not like light and quick like Molly's but heavy and slow like... Henry. Anthony's father. You see, Molly was the only person who knew about you and Anthony. You frantically look around, hopping into the closet. His father bursts into the room. "Anthony, who is in here." you watch your lover panic. "Nobody, pa! I swear! It's just me!" "Questa è una fottuta stronzata Anthony e lo sai, don't lie to me boy!" he begins to look around and his eyes land on the closet. It's as if he can stare straight through your soul. Your palms begin to sweat and tears well in your eyes. Henry pretty much tares the door of the closet off. He pushes you to the ground. "YOU! YOU TURNED MY SON INTO A QUEER" you look at Anthony, sweet Anthony. For a split second you look in his eyes and feel safe. But than Henry kicked you in the stomach and grabs your hair. "PA STOP HE DIDN'T DO NOTHIN'" Anthony cries and drops to the floor, cradling your face. Henry kicks him away from you and begins dragging you outside. "NO PLEASE- PLEASE LET ME GO I'M SORRY" Anthony tries to run after you but his father pulls a gun out of his back pocket "you step one foot closer to me and I shoot you and the fag." "no..." tony falls to his knees. "No pa please..." "anthony I'm gonna be ok" you say, crying. Henry Yanks your hair. "WHO SAID YOU COULD SPEAK QUEER" he pulls you outside and throws you into the mud. He points his gun at you. "No son of mine... No son if mine will be a damn queer. I'm doing the world a favor by making sure you turn no more good men. Any last words?" you look over Henry's shoulder at your lover, screaming and protesting for his father to stop, and you smile at him. "Anthony," you reach out for him "find me on the other side". The last thing you see is your beloved Tony sobbing as he falls for his knees, crying your name. Your life flashes before your eyes as you feel a sharp and unbearable pain in your head. Than, almost like magic, you feel an odd sence of peace. You feel warm and comforted. You see a light. It was almost blinding. Somehow you knew... This... This is heaven.

Would he find you? No. No he wouldn't.

~~

A/N: if you have any gripes, please comment! Constructive criticism is highly appreciated<3

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x male reader #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust x reader #forbidden romance #Crying brb

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officiallyisagibrainrotted · 1 year

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.Sleepyhead.

Requested√(Julien overworks himself and nurses reader take care of him)

Warnings:Short, female reader.

G:Fluff.

He knew he was pushing himself to his limit, but he honestly never saw the problem with it. He would constantly overload himself with soccer to the point where he got used to it.

Till you came into the picture you would always constantly nag him about pushing himself to much. He tells you to stop being a worrywart and that he's fine . But you being a nurse couldn't help but constantly worry about him.

Even his teammates were getting concerned.

Finally the day came were his body has had enough, the day before he stayed practicing super late and today he got up early in the morning and hasn't stopped since .

He was aiming for the goal but his vision gets hazy , so his feet doesn't even make contact with the ball. His body suddenly became heavy and everything around him was a blur. He hadn't even realized his body had hit the ground, for he was exhausted to realize anything.

He slowly wakes up when he hears soft humming and small touches every now and then on his cheek. He felt his head press into the softness it was placed on .

It's a touch that he was used to , God he loves when you touch him like this,you were humming his favorite melody too.

But he soon realizes his location. "Shit,(Y/n) what happened?". He questions the girl as he rubs the side of his head that was hit against the ground earlier.

The girl continues her rubbing and soft hums."You fainted". She says softly as she looks at him lovingly.

"Oh". Was all he said.

"Mmhm".

"Julien?".

"Hm?".

"What have I told you about overworking yourself?".

He chuckled softly. "To not do it".

"Yea, but you did it anyway, men sure dont listen, huh".

She says this in between her hums and her soft touches.

"I'm sorry".

"It's fine, just please don't do it again, I don't want you to hurt yourself ok? ".

"Mhm".

With every small touch that made contact with skin he could feel himself drifting off to sleep.

He immediately grabs the girls hand. "Stop, you're putting me to sleep".

She says as she pulls her hand away from his grasp but instead of continuing her loving touches, she instead moves a strain of her brained hair behind her ear. She leans down to the boy and gives him a soft kiss on his lips , one he returned.

She pulls away softly, but the gap between them was still small.

She keeps her ever movement soft and delicate. Trying not to wake the male who's already drifting off into slumber.

"Well that's the point you big dummy". She teased lightly as she runs her thumb softly against his lips. She keeps her voice at a whisper.

His eyes become heavy causing the girl to blur out, her words start to fade .

"Now please go to bed Julien,I love taking care of you but I don't like it when you hurt yourself so rest up a little,yeah?".

"Mhm". He mumbles subconsciously.

The girl giggles at his response. "Sweet dreams my love , I love you Julien".

Yuppp that's it I hope you like this anon, I'm just as glad as you r to see a fellow Haitian!.

Request are open.

Constructive Criticism is always welcome.

Read the rules before requesting

Reblogs are highly appreciated 👍

And yeah that all my loves. Good night 🌃.

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dcbbw · 5 months

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Red Pill: Perspective

Fair warning, this is not fanfic. It’s original content that came to me in the middle of the night after a day spent online perusing TikToks and reddit subs on red pillers and divestment groups.

To provide some context, the term “red piller” is derived from a scene in the 1999 film The Matrix, in which Laurence Fishburne offers Keanu Reeves a choice: “You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

In a nutshell, it’s comprised of the most misogynistic men on the planet, including incels, who gather in online forums and groups to basically see who hates women more.

Divestment refers to the removal of oneself from people, places, and things that are toxic, stifling, and/or a detriment to one’s health (mental, emotional, physical). It is a prominent movement amongst black women.

I’m nervous about posting this, but my skin is thick, and my mind is open. I can take compliments, constructive suggestions, and criticism with equal aplomb. To everyone who read this over and encouraged me to post, THANK YOU! Your feedback was, as always, invaluable.

To those who will read this, THANK YOU! Your reads, likes, commentary, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you know.

Please excuse any and all typos, extraneous/missing words, and grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this piece as 99% error free.

Song Inspo: Rose Lineage (Yoga Remix), Marya Stark/DJ Taz Rashid, + others

Word Count: 796

I am a black woman, plump lips and full hips

My hues are a rainbow, ranging from the thickest cream to the darkest onyx

Pigmentation a reminder of transgressions against me from enslavement to rape

I make more with less, expected to settle for anything, and apologizing to everyone for not diluting who I am

Who I have had to become

I am held up for public shame and ridicule

Teased for my crown of kinks and coils

Seen as housing projects and food stamps

Smelling of hamhocks and collard greens

Called dumb and ratchet despite being in the most highly educated population

Despised for being strong and independent

Blamed for your cowardice and weakness when you abandon me and your children

Because I do not let you lead

I’ve seen where you go: jail, passport bros, your mama’s house

And still, my back supports you, your seed, my family, the church

And the foot on my neck that unsuccessfully tries to hold me down

*****

I am a brown woman, born of colonization

Speaking languages broken, in an accented voice that somehow makes me a stereotype

You eat at my table, your eyes feasting on my bosom and curves. You celebrate my holidays and try to take what culture I have managed to piece together, but I can’t call it appropriation

No, it’s cultural appreciation while you call me and my people third-world country names

You try to dim my brightly colored clothing, deny me freedom, and steal my joy

You call my people slumdog millionaires who cross borders to take your jobs

Jobs you neither have nor want

I am considered only a slight step up from my black sisters because my skin is lighter, but not by much

My hair is silkier which is considered a win in your world

But who knows what it would be if the beginning bloodlines had remained undiluted, untouched by interlopers

My anger isn’t off-putting because it is seen as a reflex of sorts, born of my primitive ways

You take it as a challenge to make me submissive

To you

To trust your America: your ways, your English, your culture.

None of which belong to you

*****

I am an asian woman, what you call the model minority because I study hard, and I work even harder

You consider my acts of service to others submissiveness, which makes me both fantasy and fetish

My quietude is mistakenly deemed as obedience

I labor hard in all workforces to make a better life for me and those who depend upon me to not be a disappointment

Yet you not being able to see me beyond the niche you have placed me in makes you the biggest disappointment of all

It makes no difference

I am seen as a doll, malleable and easily manipulated into sexual parts

Here only to serve you, to listen to you, to cater to your every whim and perversion

I powder my face to adhere to standards of beauty you hold dear, close

It makes up for my dark nipples that you conveniently ignore as you go in and out of throes

*****

I am a biracial woman, born of rape or love … sometimes both

I am no one, belonging nowhere

I am not homogenous, which you view as a flaw I refuse to correct

Hated by at least two races, I create my own ethnicity that no one acknowledges

Culture clash at its finest

You say my blood is sullied, my color a mixture that doesn’t blend well

I am an anomaly: different, exotic; fodder for disdain, envy, mistrust

Wondering when you look at me is it love, lust, curiosity

While you’re probably hoping I’m a “pick me”

All I seek is inclusion

In a world of black and white, brown and yellow

Where is the gray?

*****

I am a white woman, worthy of protection but not privilege

I am the standard of beauty … in your eyes

Thin hair, thin lips, skin that burns beneath the sun

It is I you parade publicly on your arm, it is I to whom you will make a commitment

A trophy of sorts

It is I who you want to bear your children

It is I who will never see the workforce unless you want me to

Barefoot and pregnant

Cooking meals, feeding children, leading the Harper Valley PTA bake sale

As long as I remain a size 8

I can’t be tall, that would emasculate your ego

The house must be clean, that accentuates my femininity

Aprons and pearls hide blackened eyes, bruised arms, empty bottles

Social media promotes my smile when you praise my meatloaf

You make others believe they want to be me

That my white skin elevates me somehow

But does it really?

Tagging: @jared2612 @marietrinmimi @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys

#dcbbw writes #original fiction #women #women of color #misogony #writer on tumblr

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biwritesfics · 1 year

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🌹Spoiled🌹

18+ Minors please leave ❤️

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Warnings: Smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, making out, general filthiness,brief mention of sexism, mentions of body aches (minor), the L bomb

AN: This is my first time writing smut please be kind. I do accept constructive criticism in fact I appreciate it.

Summary: Rosalie Hale spoils her girlfriend feel better after a long day

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I groan softly as I gingerly remove my heels. My body was not built to last a whole dinner shift in those pretty torture devices. Stupid sexist restaurant manager and his stupid sexist dress code change.

My feet themselves weren't the worst part; the pain went up my legs to my thighs and my lower back. I highly doubt that anyone cared about my outfit more than getting their table. It was just plain stupid and infuriating.

“Hey beautiful” an enchanting voice calls out to me. I sit up beaming. My blonde-haired girlfriend stands in the doorway smiling softly. “Rosie! I thought you were still going to be hunting!” I jump up and stand on tiptokiss her. She returns it with enthusiasm gently backing me up onto the bed until we fall backwards.

“You okay baby,” she asks pausing. Her golden eyes filled with concern having with no doubt differentiated that pathetic sound from my usual pitiful noises. “I'm fine just a little sore, you're actually making it feel better.” She almost immediately resumes rubbing my back and shoulders, nearly making me cry with relief.

“You work too hard Angel and you don't have to,” she says, cradling my face in her hands. I already know where this conversation is going to go. “I love that you want to take care of me but I need to make my own way in the world.” She frowns but only for a fraction of a second. “My sweet stubborn angel,” she murmurs fondly.

“Well if you won't let me spoil you with my money I guess I'll just have to spoil you another way.” My heart jumps in my throat as she turns around pressing me into the mattress. “Would you like that baby? She practically purrs the word. “Please,” I whine.

My panties were damp before but now they're soaking. The swell of her breasts rubs against mine as she devours my skin leaving purple marks in her wake. She chuckles softly as she hears my heart rate quicken even further

I arch my back up from the bed as she removes my bra and blouse. “So pretty” she murmurs, caressing my breasts. She hovers her perfect mouth over my pebbled nipple for a few agonizing seconds before sucking it into her mouth. Her touch is cold but my body is on fire. I moan her name and I can see her eyes darken with lust. She releases it with a lewd pop moving to give the other breast the same treatment.

She places open-mouthed kisses down my stomach to my navel. Her hands knead the flesh of my hips making me groan. She lifts my legs, removing my skirt and panties in one fell swoop. I whine feeling the cool air hit my burning core. “My pretty girl all needy and wet for me so soon?” She coos in her intoxicating voice making me clench around nothing.

She places soft kisses along my legs and inner thighs. Her soft hair trails along the sensitive skin heightening each touch. “Please,” I cry out desperately. “Please what Angel? Use your words baby.” I blush furiously , she knew exactly what she was doing to me. “Please touch me Rosie I-“ my words dissolve into incoherent babble as her mouth makes contact with my sex.

She kitten licks the length of my slit until I’m squirming and begging for more attention. Her lips wrap around my clit and I let out a strangled cry nearly seeing stars.

She gets more intense as she goes devouring me whole. Waves of pleasure crash over me one after the other. My whole body is tensed ready to break. She sinks two fingers inside curling into that perfect place that snaps me in two.

“Shh Baby just one more I promise it’ll feel good.” I just nod because I can’t speak when she touches me like that . Everything is too much yet not enough. I need her but each touch blurs the line between pleasure and pain.

I feel a massive coil tightening within me as tears fill my eyes. “So good!” I cry out over and over. She hums against me impossibly heightening everything. I shatter breaking into a million pieces underneath her ministrations.

My eyes roll back and my whole body shakes. Every fiber of my being is soaked in pleasure. It takes a while to come down from my high. I bask in the afterglow feeling deliciously fucked out.

“Rest now baby,” Rosalie murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I want to protest but my entire body feels like jelly. She pulls me close wrapping her arms around me. I bury my face in her chest sighing contentedly. I was definitely going to be sore tomorrow morning. Now it was for a much better reason. “Love you,” I murmur. “I love you Angel,” she replies

Yep so much better.

#rosalie x reader #rosalie hale #rosalie cullen #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight smut #girls who like girls #girl x girl smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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oraclekleo · 2 years

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[Idols After Dark] The Darks Side of Christopher Bang (Stray Kids)

You can see this as a reversed version of usual appreciation posts where fans describe all the good and positive sites of their favourite idols. However, nobody in the world is perfect, am I right? And according to famous psychologist Carl Gustav Jung we should accept, embrace and bring to light all our negative and dark sites as well because they only become dangerous for us if they stay hidden within our souls. And to honour this great man I decided to bring to the light some of the more negative aspects of an idol's personality to appreciate them in a way.

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Are you excited? Are you curious? Are you outraged because idols have no flaws at all? Let's see!

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Disclaimer: I have never met any of the idols or celebrities in person, I don't know them in any other way than what is publicly known about them and probably even less because I'm constantly busy and I didn't read everything about them. This whole post is based on my pure speculation, it was made for entertainment purposes and I have to put it clear it has nothing to do with real people. It's all just a mere fiction, please don't take any of it seriously. You have every right to disagree with anything written in this text and I welcome all kinds of constructive and respectful criticism, please feel free to express your opinions in the comments or request inbox. All I ask is to keep it civil and decent. I thank all of you in advance!

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!NEW!

Please, fill an anonymous feedback questionaire for my further improvement!

Anonymous Feedback

!NEW!

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Christopher Bang is a highly respected and loved leader of Stray Kids and that’s not an easy task. It takes a special and strong personality to manage that kind of responsibility and we will agree that Bang Chan is the right man for the job. However, not even the best people are flawless. Let’s find out what hypothetical downsides Chan could have.

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Bang Chan is a highly respected artist and that comes with a certain ego. He might get really upset when he feels like he’s not heard, his ideas are not taken seriously or are ignored. It might trigger him and his ego gets bruised by such disrespect. Bang Chan is a perfectionist to the highest level. He might suffer terribly when something he does or says is imperfect or flawed in his opinion, he will beat himself up over it and take any minor setback or failure to his heart. He needs to understand that making mistakes isn’t the end of the world, that he’s not less cool or perfect when he stumbles. He’s his own worst critic and it’s possible he might have many unfinished projects on his plate. Leaving them like that, saves him from facing the possible imperfection of a finished project. Bang Chan is likely to self-censor himself a lot, too and often run the “I shouldn’t…” in his head. Which is a shame because he definitely should, whatever he is thinking about. Lol. His own standards for himself are insanely high, though and he might need to let loose a little bit sometimes because he’s creating such an enormous pressure on himself.

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Chan might sometimes jump to conclusions and become hasty, not thinking things through properly. His mind is likely always brimming with ideas but sometimes they might become scattered and chaotic and Chan himself loses control over them. He might have tendencies to overthink and he has a huge distaste for routine. His moods can change easily based on his own perception of himself but at the same time he puts a lot of importance on what other people think about him. Interestingly enough, he might tend to dismiss praises and compliments but he will take any criticism to heart, which might sway him into the downward spiral of self-doubt. Bang Chan might suffer from days when he simply feels completely unlucky, like if the entire world was against him. It might make him question the traditions or customs as he feels like he needs to rebel against the order of things. He’s idealistic and an individualist, he doesn’t like when people put others and especially him into boxes. Trying to label him will make Chan feel offended. There’s only one of him and he’s the only original of himself, he will never fit into categories people made up.

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Chan being the perfectionist, he will try to control his environment and sometimes even people around him. He can spot flaws easily, actually he might even spot flaws which are not there. He can become stubborn and reserved sometimes when he feels like others don’t understand him. Chan can become lethal in arguments as he will adopt all kinds of ideas and views simply to win the argument. He can become moralistic and nitpicking during the argument, obsessed with details and scrutinising his opponents words. Losing in discussion isn’t an option for Bang Chan. When the argument is over and he has won, he feels no shame to leave all the moral ideals he has been using in the argument earlier. They are not needed anymore and he might just act against them himself making him seem hypocritical to his opponent.

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When it comes to love, Bang Chan is not exactly an expert, we might as well call him a dilettante. He might become pretty clingy as he only feels secure in a partnership. It doesn’t matter whether he goes to a social gathering or to the convenience store at the corner of the street, he needs someone to accompany him. At the same time, he spots flaws on his partner pretty easily which can lead to frequent rows. It’s not recommended for his partner to ogle other men as Bang Chan can easily become possessive and jealous. His constant self-doubts and high standards he has for himself will make him think he’s not good enough for his partner and throw him into frustration. In case Bang Chan gets disappointed or deceived by his lover, he’s likely to become bitter and it will take him a long time to heal and start trusting people again.

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All in all, Bang Chan is a highly sensitive and perfectionist man, who needs people close to him to keep his feet on the ground. When he enters the slippery slope of self-bashing over something, his close ones should make sure to stop him and give him the needed perspective. Chan might come off as a bit immature still, it’s very likely he will become more balanced in older age.

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embersofthewoods · 7 months

Text

Saigiku Jouno slammed his elbows on his desk and tangled his fingers deep in his wiry hair. He couldn’t concentrate. Not for lack of trying either; he had been attempting to type up this report for hours.

He flexed his fingers and felt for the keys of his braille typewriter. But, his mind betrayed him and immediately started to wander: “…it was so nice of Tetchou to get this for- AGH!” There it was again – he was thinking about Tetchou again! It was every time he tried to do anything, Tetchou’s voice would ring out in his head.

“No.” he told himself firmly. “You are not to think of him again. You must forget him.”

For how could anyone with such morals, and who was as strong as Tetchou, love someone like Jouno. Jouno was a freak, abnormal. No normal person should be able to hear heartbeats, to smell ants. Besides, he was useless, he would never be able to function like a normal person. Like, he had to use a braille typewriter, rather than a laptop like everyone else. He had to use cane sometimes in public. It was embarrassing, and Jouno couldn’t help believing that he was unlovable.

So, he had to forget Tetchou, like he had all those before him. Though this was proving difficult, as he saw him every day. And he was just so… irritating. Not to mention, irritatingly hot.

********

“So, how are you today, Jouno-kun?” asked Tetchou the next day.

“I am well, thank you. Let us stop being idle and get to work, please.” replied Jouno, curtly. Though, he noticed that Tetchou’s heart was beating rather faster than usual.

Tetchou sighed and looked away from Jouno. It hurt him that Jouno dismissed his pleasantries, when all he wanted was to have a conversation before they started the day’s work, though he could not understand why. It was possibly because Jouno has been his partner for so long and they had hardly had a casual conversation, he thought.

It took him several weeks to realise how wrong he was.

Jouno and Tetchou had been assigned to an undercover mission at a masquerade ball. Jouno hated undercover missions with a passion, as the clothes that had to wear were often fancy and highly starched. He hated the texture of starched shirts.

Tetchou watched as his colleague emerged from the changing facility, pulling angrily at his cuffs, and with his stick under his arm. He was wearing a suit of red velvet with intricate patterning, paired with a black shirt and tie. The outfit perfectly complemented Jouno’s red-tipped hair, and the effect was breathtaking. Tetchou could have sworn he felt his heart stop.

“Oh. Shit.” He murmured under his breath as everything began to make sense.

“Do I look okay then??” asked Jouno impatiently. Tetchou snapped out of his trance long enough to straighten Jouno’s tie and button the cuff that had been irritating him.

“There.” He said, “Now it’s perfect.”

“Hardly.” Jouno snorted, “Now, get a move on.”

Later that night, after the mission was successfully completed, Tetchou lay in bed, thinking. How infuriating it was that he had managed to develop feelings for Jouno, of all people. What made it all the more annoying was that Jouno would never in a million years feel the same way about Tetchou. He was so strong and brave, and he had been through so much shit – and Tetchou was just, well… Tetchou.

He sighed deeply and turned over in bed.

It could never work… could it??

Et voila here is the fic!!! Well, part of it - I've had to make it into two parts as it was getting pretty long.

I do hope you like it and ANY feedback would be hugely appreciated:) Like if you think it's shit - tell me it's shit. If there's one word you don't quite like - tell me!! Constructive criticism is always awsome.

Also (just for the record) this is the first time I'm posting something I've written so... eeee

Part 2 COMING SOON!!

@mixxdpunch @xansnacks you guys wanted to be tagged in this (I'm absolutely honoured)

#bsd jouno #bsd tetchou #bsd #bungou gay dogs #fanfiction

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sagephilosophie · 1 month

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