#this is an entirely self indulgent writing

[forlix]

𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy.

He moves to pour himself a shot. “What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Agreed. Case closed.”

There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.

Aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter, that is.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus. You can hear the music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He starts as if jolted out of a trance, then starts to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

The room’s dim lightning sets your boyfriend aglow. You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. 

“Always,” you say, brushing a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly you can barely remember what you wanted to ask him. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you hum, nudging the tip of your nose against his.

“Says you.”

Your lips find his again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity—and a lot of time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to murmur for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing, hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they would rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 

“It’s you,” you whisper. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”

Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear. Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes, but happiness looks even better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #bang chan x you #stray kids x you #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #*minific #*writing

[sxorpiomooon]

What the houses stand for in astrology

1st house

- yourself, how you look, how you are perceived, the kind of people you attract the most, your facial features, how you carry yourself, what qualities of yours attract people, views on life.

This is the only house in astrology that is YOU all the other signs and houses represent something in particular but this represents entirely YOU

2nd house

- where your finances will come from, how your finances will come, your good preferences, your tongue, your mouth, your lips, your voice, how you speak and what you speak, what people think of your speech

3rd house

- your siblings, your connection with your siblings, what you think about them, what your neighbours think about you, what your neighbours are like, your communication (writing skills in particular), social life, early education

4th house

- your house, your family, how your house is like, what your house is like, what your family is like, your connection and bond with them, roots, foundation, also women at times

5th house

- your expression, how and why you express yourself, your way of expressing, how your thoughts work, your opinion on arts and creativity, your art, your children, how you are with kids, what kids you will have, romance, love, relationship, self expression, curiosity, memory, studies early education etc

6th house

- health, daily life, enemies, where your health problems come from, what kind of health problems, how you are like in your daily life, what kind of enemies do you have, how do they cause you harm, pets, system, the area that you work in, your surroundings

7th house

- business, partnerships, anything formal even communication, presentation, marriage, open enemies, sharing, what kind of partner you will have, where they might be from

8th house

- anything and everything hidden, stalking, cult, your deepest desires, you deepest secrets, your trauma, sex, shared finances, intimacy, property, contracts, religion.

9th house

- education, what you might like to pursue, if you'll go out for education, short term travel, your intelligence and knowledge, higher education, your wisdom, philosophy, learning.

10th house

- career, reputation, men, family men, authority figure, long term goals and desires, work ethic, structure.

11th house

- friends, internet, things you'll indulge in, society, groups, technology, gains and losses, hope, timing.

12th house

-your subconscious mind, your psyche, your dreams, your deepest dreams, long term travel or settlement, what your birth was like, spirituality, healing, afterlife, limiting beliefs.

Check out my paid readings!!

#astrology #astrology notes #vedic astrology #astrology observations #free readings #askgames #astrology asks #exchange readings #exchange reading #tarot pac #kpop astrology #astro notes #astrology observation #astro observations #venus #houses in astrology #7th house #sidereal astrology #astroloji #astrology houses

[str4wbaeby]

𝓶𝓪 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓮 pt.3

ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳ ˣ ᵇᵒᵒᵏʷᵒʳᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

⤷ note : pt.1 | pt.2 | moodboard

it has been a week since you've last visited the bookstore and a week since your encounter with Ren. though you two continuously text back and forth throughout the day, with him even ringing you up a few times, you still missed seeing his pretty face. there was just something about him, that made you crave for him more and it was definitely something more than just his beauty; maybe his attractive personality? or the way he carried himself so elegantly or maybe the fact that he was a social success, effortlessly mixing in with people while managing a perfect reputation.

he was completely opposite of you and probably someone you desired to be. you were introverted; always minding your own business on the sidelines with very little to say. you found solace in your own company, often indulging in reading or studying. it's not like you didn't have friends, but you were not someone who was easy to befriend either. keeping that in mind, you were quite shocked at how fast Ren managed to wiggle his way into your small little bubble. and you were not gonna lie, but you did infact enjoy his company a lot, frequently finding yourself coming back to him to share the little bits of your life as Ren eagerly waited for you.

you didn't notice how your thoughts swayed away your attention as you zoned out from reality, until you heard a notification pop up on your phone.

"I was thinking if you wanted to grab coffee at the cafe near the bookstore tomorrow. it's been so long since I saw your lovely little face! it'll be my treat btw </3"

of course, it was none other than Ren. the heart emoticon at the end of the text made your heart beat a little faster as you quickly typed out a response.

"sure, why not! I'm starting to miss you too. let's meet at bookstore tomorrow and then we can grab some coffee"

"alrighty! see you tomorrow then, pretty girl", Ren smiled softly at the screen, looking over at the texts you've sent him throughout the day. how can someone even be this cute? he thought, rolling over on his bed to face the wall as he caught a quick glance of the several pictures of you that decorated his room.

Ren Takahashi had everything one could ever desire. he had fame, he had money, a successful career and a respectable image to uphold; well, everything except one thing. and that was his muse. Ren's passion for writing drove from his unsuccessful love life, where he never really got to experience true love from the people he had been with. this resulted in him into resorting to use writing as his only means to express the desires that dwelled deep within his heart. but he was starting to become a little frustrated. he wanted to be loved too, to be cared for, to be held in the arms of his beloved. he wanted to feel what it was like when someone devoted their entire self in just loving him, having eyes for none other. and that would the greatest success in his eyes.

and that's when he met you.

he still remembers the day, the moment he first saw you. it wasn't unusual for one to get stuck in the morning traffic, but amidst the chaos of honking horns and impatient drivers, his gaze found you, and time seemed to stand still. the sun illuminated your features, casting a glow that made you appear almost ethereal. from that moment on, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had stumbled upon something truly special amidst the mundane routine of daily life. you were standing on the sidewalk with a bunch of books in your hands, the gentle breeze moving through your hair, tousling it in the process. and God, you took his breathe away. it was in that moment, he believed "love at first sight" to be true as he profusely thanked the universe to have listened to his wishes.

and something that caught his attention even more was the corner of one of his book peaking out from the bunch you were carrying, a smile making it's way upto his lips subconsciously.

he entered his office in a good mood, that day. he was supposed to start working on the draft of his new novel and let's just say, he found the inspiration for it.

though he knew it could be a bit difficult to get your complete information, but with the connections he had in hand, the task became relatively easier and before he even knew it his obsession with you started to root deep inside his heart.

the more he observed you, the more captivated he got by your presence.

you were just so perfect. how could you not be his?

it bothered him deeply, whenever the thought crossed his mind; not being able to pay attention to anything else as his mind bugged him to take you. he wanted you and he was ready to do anything to have you. you were his since the moment he laid his eyes on you, you just didn't know it yet.

as much as he loved to observe you from the shadows, it was finally time for him to introduce himself. standing in the empty isle, he saw how your small figure reached out to take his book, struggling a bit to get a hold of it. he literally squealed like a little girl inside. you made him feel like a teenager all over again. he waited, until you were so immersed in the book that you failed to notice him creeping up behind you. but when you did notice him though, looking up from the book with your adorable doe eyes and flushed cheeks to see his towering frame, his heart melted right then and there in that very moment, every second he had previously spend yearning for you, begging the Gods to listen to his desperate pleas felt all worth it.

he knew he finally had you in his grasp. and, he's never gonna let go of you

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere prompt #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male oc #yandere insert #yandere fic #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere boyfriend #x reader #x reader insert #x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere #mochiii.writes #divider creds: cafekitsune

[the-modern-typewriter]

Just wanted to say thank you so, so much for writing Fate's Favourite. I actually found and loved your blog before I ever found that fanfic, and it was a delight to know it was written by you, and it's so clear how you've improved. But Fate's Favourite will always have a part of my heart, because it's the first story I've read that just has a platonic friendship that feels as equal as a romantic one without being romantic? And as a lonely aroace that means everything. EVERYTHING. (1/2)

(2/2) I had a conversation today that reminded me that I'm never going to have the queerplatonic relationship I want that I've always wanted since I was a child, and how it makes me want to write one so much more, but then I've never managed to write the story I've wanted to write my entire life because I'd always be afraid of being accused of queerbaiting or people just going, 'but it's actually just a gay romance this isn't what friendship looks like' and just. Thank you for Fate's Favourite.

--

Wow. FF is a blast from the past!

You are very welcome.

Apologies for the long, self-indulgent reply.

That story was one of the first things I ever properly wrote and my first (maybe second?) truly long-form story ever. I thus have a soft spot for it, even though in terms of craft and technique I can't so much as look at it without seeing all my numerous beginner flaws and cringing and can't bring myself to actually point people to it. Much improvement since then, as you say!

(An excellent reminder that writing is a learned skill.)

Anyway. The other interesting thing about that story is that I wrote it before I'd ever heard of asexuality or realised that was what I was. I was a very confused teenager being bombarded with this pressure to have crushes and date people and all that general societal messaging we have about romance being the most important thing ever. Especially in YA.

So I'd go home after school and write that story.

Obviously it's more unhealthy than what I'd want for myself in my real life, but the sheer intensity of feeling and importance of the platonic main relationship was something I had also never seen before but craved. And still crave, honestly. So I feel ya.

As for queerbaiting...

A lot of readers at the time told me they viewed the story as 'pre-romance'. AKA, it's a romantic relationship and they haven't realised it yet for whatever reason. They mostly didn't mean that badly, I don't think.

(Although I sometimes think though that if the term 'queerbaiting' was as broadly known and misused then as it is now that I would have been mercilessly lambasted out of ever writing again! And I wouldn't have known how to articulate the fact that wasn't, actually, what I was doing. I think we need to be kind to new writers. I think 'content creator' is gutting something vital in the ecosystem. But that's another rabbit hole.)

So I've been there. It happens. But other people's bad takes didn't change the story and what it meant to me as a lonely ace teenager or what it meant to you.

I have had readers before make a similar comment to you about how it was the first time they got to see something so important to their heart portrayed.

That matters so much more than whatever people say about your writing who don't need it.

Which is why we have to keep writing the stories.

Even if it's clumsy and raw. Even if it's the first thing you've ever tried. Even if it's (especially if) it's a messed up fantasy straight from the most primal part of your brain.

If we don't write it, it won't exist.

And that's so much worse.

The nay-sayers can come to the party, but it wasn't thrown in their honour.

#mentions of this story sure caught me off guard #though not in a bad way #I'm amazed it's still floating around #the writer's journey lol #the writing life #writing talk

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

kdnfb's Ten Years of Fanfiction Mania

Featuring: Unmasked

Summary: Written under an Anonymous pseudonym ~M~ to fill the following prompt ~ Historical Katniss and Peeta hate each other. They attend a masquerade ball and for some reason end up kissing each other. Sparks fly everywhere. Katniss tries to find the man behind the mask but Peeta knows it was Katniss though he doesnt say anything. They end up bethrothed even if they 'despise' each other. How they fall in love is up to u and how katniss figured out it was peeta is up to u

Rating: E for explicit sexual content, explicit language, implied/referenced rape/nonconsensual (not everlark), implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced suicide, implied/referenced miscarriage, discussions of illness, war, and injury in a historical setting, ptsd, minor character death. They worst of these tags happens offscreen and is merely discussed and dealt with rather than shown here.

A/N: ~Unmasked~ is my longest fic in terms of word count (around 234k), although Outside Chance and Spellbound are not too far behind and are both incomplete. Unmasked started as something meant to be fun and cathartic, then turned into a ridiculously long and self indulgent fic that I still, to this day, have no idea if the anonymous person who submitted the prompt to @everlarkficexchange even read, let alone whether or not they liked it. But I love what I produced for this fic.

Why write it anonymously and only reveal myself later? A couple reasons. 1) Historical is not my wheel house. At least not writing it. I am a shameless consumer of historical romances. I did some research for this fic but not nearly the level I would've liked to have done. Eventually, I said screw it, it's about the vibes not the accuracy. 2) I had a pile of unfinished wips when I started this, to include Outside Chance and Spellbound (both of which are still unfinished hmmmmm) and I really didn't want a lot of questions about when I was going to get back to those while I was working on this because 3) I'd just gone through a small slice of writerly hell to the point that I seriously considered deleting my entire tumblr and all of my fanfic. Details are not important right now, the result is. That's probably the closest I've ever come to calling myself done with fandom.

Then this prompt posted to EFE and wouldn't leave me alone. Eventually, I decided that if I was going to write it, I wanted to write it with as little pressure as possible. So I chose to write and post it as ~M~ until it was finished. Plus, I thought it might make it fun for people other than me if there was a bit of mystery behind it. And I don't regret doing that.

Writing behind a mask allowed me to be as long winded and self-indulgent as I wanted to without worrying about how tight the storyline was or how accurate the historical details were, or wondering if I'd be walking into my tumblr and a barrage of the kind of messages I'd come to dread receiving. The only thing I worried about, really was if the amount and kind of smut I included gave me away prematurely lmao.

While this was my first real foray into the realm of historical fics, I am hoping it's not the last. I've got too many ideas and half started pieces to back out of it now. But those, like this one, will probably remain untethered to a specific real place, and a specific time, mainly because I just don't have that kind of time for research if I'm not getting paid to do it lol. They will be works of love if not works of accuracy.

Unmasked on AO3

#ten years of fanfiction mania #unmasked #unmasked nonsense #i meant to post this like three weeks ago #ooops

[the-oracles-maw]

Take Care of Yourself, Luv? Please?

I am sick 🤪

Imagine Simon looking after you when you catch a cold

Imagine whenever he's not on deployment and living out the civilian life, he's constantly pestered by you to look after himself. He's so used to following orders he forgets the orders from his body.

Imagine Simon begrudgingly accepting your need to mother hen the man, to act like the perfect little housewife for him. It's embarrassing, but so endearing.

"What? Yeah, I just got home, luv. Price got us on the run around, I'll tell ya. ... Eh, I don't know what I want for dinner. Whatever you want, alright? ... No, no you don't have to do that... You... luv, you don't need to run me a bath..."

From his natural expertise as a soldier, he can immediately hear it in your voice that you're a bit... sniffly.

"Hey, you feeling alright?"

Imagine him raising his hand to get you to quit fussing over him. He takes off his glove (maybe with his teeth, you decide.) and places his tender, calloused hand on your forehead.

"mmm... a little warm, luv. How long you've been feeling like this?"

You initially brush it off as just a regular old seasonal bug. But imagine your surprise when Simon stops you mid sentence. He gazes down at you with such an unmoving, piercing gaze-

"Getting sick on me, huh? Can't have that. Not on my few days off now."

Don't even think about apologizing for being sick because this man already knows you will.

"Now..." His deep voice, cadenced with that smoldering Manchester accent. "I think you've fussed over me quite enough tonight... How's about daddy fusses over you for a change?"

Imagine this man is slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to get you to rest on the couch.

He's already pulling out the extra cushions so you can law flat on your back in the living room.

Imagine it being pretty obvious from the start that he's not exactly used to being a caretaker. His comforts are gruff, awkward and somewhat commanding.

"Now I ain't going anywhere till you drink this whole thing, you hear?"

Though quickly, he leans into it.

"See? this what happens when you look after yourself, luv."

He's so smug. He's using the things you'd tell him all the time when he comes home from work exhausted or burnt out, whenever you take care of him like the loving, devoted housewife you are.

Now, it's simply Simon's turn to be the loving, devoted househusband.

It feels weird on him at first, but he starts to have fun with it

Imagine this time, he's running you a nice, warm bath to soak in.

"It'll help your muscles..." He croons into your ear, as that is what you told him every time you ran baths for him, making you roll your eyes. "And... I guess clear up your sinuses, or something..."

Honestly doesn't care about catching what you caught, he's more than happy to hold you if you want him to, when you get lonely all snuggled up on the couch.

perhaps, if you ask him nicely, Simon will carry you around the house while he does chores or work so you won't get lonely. ❤️

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #cod mwii #ghost cod #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #the original babygirl #my writing #writeblr #entirely self indulgent #simon ghost Riley x fem reader #simon Riley x female reader

[lovegrowsart]

it's pretty wild to me that people don't see that aang running off to save katara in CoD is his luke in empire strikes back moment, where he runs headlong into his want and attachment and he's narratively punished for doing so and not learning his lesson - aang runs after katara despite guru pathik's warning, like luke runs after leia and han from yoda on dagobah despite yoda's warning; similarly, as a result, things go to hell in ba sing se like they do on bespin - aang enters the avatar state before he's ready and gets killed, and ba sing se falls to the fire nation, luke fights vader before he's ready, loses a hand, and symbolically commits suicide after vader tells him he's luke's father.

the difference between their character arcs is that george lucas and co. actually went thru with luke's hero's journey and understood the fundamental difference between attachment and love, whereas I don't think bryke understood this difference and then dropped this from aang's arc pretty much completely and replaced it with aang digging in his heels into his want and attachment and he gets rewarded with energy bending from a lion turtle, the avatar state from a random pointy rock, and his forever girl from the self-indulgent white men that couldn't bring themselves to give their hero a compelling character arc that meant he might not have gotten everything he wanted at the end.

#the wasted potential of aang's arc gets to me so bad #the narrative and thematic set up is entirely there and they just shove it in the bin lmao #it especially irks as someone raised buddhist and dealing with writers that invoke these themes out of a fascination #with the religion and philosophy but then a complete unwillingess to actually commit to what those themes require of the character arcs #anyway sorry to say it #but zuko's arc does a better job embodying buddhist themes than aang's does in the end #despite all misappropriated aesthetics to the contrary #aang critical #but its really the writing like i LIKE aang i love his potential i hate how self indulgently he's written by the end of the show #atla critical #meta* #holly talks bs #also yes it would've been better narratively for aang katara zuko to the go the way of luke leia han #even if katara couldn't have been revealed as aang's surprise secret twin lmao #the thematic conceit of the triangle is the same in that luke and aang get over their infatuation with the first pretty girl he sees #and becomes the hero he needs to be #meanwhile hanleia and zutara are saving each other and being cool and kissing #anyway

[bakingshitwritings]

Little silly thought I have and I want to share it.

Imagine being the s/o of Riddle Rosehearts (Or any of the heartslabyul boys) when an unbirthday party is planed on your birthday, on Feb 29. (For the sake of this, imagine this is your birthday) No one thinking that it would be anyone's birthday due to the rarity of that happening. Having to wake up that day exited to see what your lovely boyfriend has in plan for you, only to realize that they had forgotten about it. Seeing them run around planning and working on the unbirthday party.

Realizing they forgot about your birthday, you decide to practically ignore them, going back to Ramshackle. Having a single cupcake as celebration for yourself on your special day, entirely by yourself.

Honestly how it ends or what happens next is up to y'all. I simply thought about this while reading the manga. I would love to read something like this but I'm not familiar enough with the characters to do this.

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #trey x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #deuce spade #deuce x reader #twst x reader #heartslaybul x reader #this is entirely self indulgent #my own birthday is on feb 29 #i've had many people forget my birthday #twisted wonderland x reader #drabble #might write this

[cemeterything]

do you have an ao3 account??

i do but i haven't posted anything since high school (i have a complicated relationship with my writing because i got hardcore bullied about it after someone i trusted enough to share it with went and showed it to all my classmates)

#im writing a self indulgent thing rn actually but whether it ever sees the light of day is another question entirely #unfortunately i havent yet overcome the panic attacks i get whenever i open the ao3 publishing page

[purplink8]

Ok Ryuk no need to make it sound so gay haha stooooop

#death note #light yagami #ryuk #comedy #mangacaps #ryght #terraito #have this mangacap while i write an entirely self-indulgent analysis of their relationship from a shipper's pov #p

[girlsdads]

thinking about a maxiel baseball au…

daniel is a veteran starting pitcher former rookie of the year several time all-star who’s having the worst slump of his career.. his ERA is sky high he’s getting pulled from games in like inning 3.. gets traded mid-season from the team he’s been with since the start (in my mind it’s the dodgers lmaooo) and it’s a slap in the face as he’s shipped across the country to some team that’s not even in playoff contention… meets max the rookie starting pitcher who’s been EATING with his off speed pitches that no one can seem to hit… max who takes to daniel immediately but he’s blunt and intense and criticizes daniel’s pitching (he’s only trying to help bc he knows how good daniel can be 😔) and daniel is not used to not being the ace but suddenly he’s second string to this odd dutch kid with the insane forkball and it SUCKS… daniel’s still pitching like shit and he’s only ever really been a fastball pitcher but now that he’s older and maybe he was out last season w an injury so his fastball isnt as.. well.. fast as it used to be and ppl are just slamming home runs off of him now… max keeps offering to help him hone his off speed pitches but daniel’s being a stubborn pos bc he’s bitter so he keeps saying no until finally he agrees and uhhh they fall in love eventually (tho max was in love from the get go lollll) but definitely have a lot of sweaty frustrated sex first ✌️🤪 max wins roty and probably pitches a no-hitter and daniel climbs back to the top of his game and next season they end up winning the world series and max kisses daniel on national tv the crowd cheers homophobia in sports is no more and they lived happily ever after amen

#this has been rolling around in my brain for months and is entirely self-indulgent #TIL they play baseball in the netherlands #i’m not saying daniel gets traded to the mets… but im not NOT saying it #anyway if i was ever able to write a long fic it would b smth like this #maxiel

[8ripecunts]

holden 100% turns up at bills home when nancy and brian are at her moms for the weekend under the guise of ‘im just handing u some files’. holden knows what he wants but bill is all about protecting the peace and boundaries (its his family home afterall!) hijinks ensues (they fuck, cos holden always gets what he wants) and he eats up how he gets to have bill in his marital bed

#anon #ask #mindhunter #bill x holden #holden ford #bill tench #i was supposed to simply answer “yea anon ur right 👍” #but i dont wanna sound like a snob so here's a lil comic #.........which i got too carried away that i worked on this for an entire week askdjsfh #i dont usually tag my self indulgent work with the main title of the show #but i spent way too much time on this so im forcing everyone to see this #another “idk how to write fics but i can draw so let's make a comic of that idea” moment #yea i gave bill bangs bc lets be real that stupid flattop wouldnt last after an hour of sweaty fucking

[edens-pen]

"i'm not feeling human, i think he's a good guy"

summary | "i cry in his bathroom, he turns off the big light. i'm being the cool girl, i'm keeping it so tight."

pairing | eddie munson x fem!reader (no description)

wc | 1,303

warnings | angst, hurt no comfort, reader has a savior complex, eddie munson isn't a good boyfriend, one-sided relationship, but they are dating.

a/n | i needed to write this extremely badly. the way i needed to get this fucking fic off my chest. i also made a playlist of songs i listened to while i wrote/edited this. you can find it here, if you're ever not feeling human.

--

you shrug off the heavy lump that is your boyfriend on to your shared bed.

"i got him," you smile at steve, who lingers in the doorway.

a quizzical eyebrow raises in response. "you sure?"

"hardest part is only getting him up the stairs," you assure him, waving him off. "c'mon, let me walk you out."

steve nods, allowing you to walk him to the door. "he gonna be okay?"

"he'll be fine, just needs to sleep it off," you promise, patting steve's back.

he turns to face you, eyes staring at you intently. "are you going to be okay?"

it's not the question that stops your heart, it's the sincerity in his eyes. the way he's looking at you, the way he's searching for something.

"i'm great, just a bit sleepy."

it's a lie. he knows it and you know it.

he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and his lips linger for just a second too long. you don't pull away until he does.

"goodnight," he whispers.

you don't trust your voice to say it back.

when the door is tightly locked behind him, you make your way back to eddie.

you peel off his sneakers as he mutters to you, mostly incoherent until he gathers his slurred thoughts into sentences.

"had so much fun tonight."

tonight consisted of eddie getting crossfaded, celebrating his success with his bandmates, and then the entire bar. tonight consisted of soda and conversation with steve as you watched eddie laugh with women across the bar.

a little bit of light fun, but at least he comes home with you.

"'m glad, baby," you grimace.

tonight happened every other week for the last 8 months.

you lugging a drunk or faded eddie home after he made an achievement.

as corroded coffin got more attention, there was more to celebrate. the bar they played at was getting crowded, their first song played on the radio, them getting picked by a manager and most recently, playing at larger and larger venues.

it wouldn't be long until they had a record deal with international tours.

it's selfish but you wish you knew where all this left you.

once you've shimmied him out of his pants, he falls asleep soundly.

exhaustion wears on your bones as you move into the bathroom. it's been a long fucking day. eddie quit his job as the band starting taking off, leaving you as the only one working to pay the bills, to keep the lights on, to pay for the gas in the van that eddie drives to venues.

he promised it would all be worth it once they made it big.

you have to believe him.

in the shower, while eddie snores in bed, you let the water run over your face as you try to contain the shattering feeling inside you.

even as you dry off, you stay in the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat as you break into pieces.

you're usually so much better than this, you haven't cried in months, but sometimes it'll claw it's way to the surface. remnants of the girl eddie fell in love with. the one who cares too much and feels everything. the one who cried the time her boyfriend forgot her birthday.

but you're not that girl anymore. those things don't hurt now.

even so, you sniffle quietly in the bathroom and you jump when the door opens and a bleary eddie shuffles in, muttering something about needing to piss. moving to the wall, you watch as he uses the bathroom, washes his hands, and mindlessly flicks the light off.

you call out his name, but he grumbles something that's not an apology. he doesn't come back to turn the light on.

this is the cycle. wash, rinse, and repeat.

but you don't remember when your relationship became this.

it was so hard to explain because eddie wasn't a terrible person. not cruel or hateful. he just didn't consider you.

not when he made plans to play at venues far from home. not when he got drunk and needed to be picked up late at night. not when women slipped their numbers into his pocket. even if they were never used, still folded in his pocket when you washed his jeans.

he didn't consider you.

not as his girlfriend.

not as a human.

even when you slinked around in his t-shirts, trying to cling to him while he pried himself off.

he was everything to you. and you still didn't know what you were to him.

what you do know is you love him. you love eddie enough that it doesn't matter if he loves you back right now.

maybe he could do it later.

if he has time.

and as it would turn out he didn't.

he came home, bouncing off the walls about how inevitable happened.

there was a record label in los angeles that heard of a growing metal band from the midwest. they wanted to fly them out and before you knew it eddie was pecking your lips as you dropped him off at the airport.

you watched jeff's girlfriend go with them, tucked under her boyfriend's arm.

eddie insisted you stay home, swore he would be home to celebrate his accomplishment in a couple of days,

in a couple of weeks,

in a month or so.

"i don't think, uh, i'm--"

"you're not coming home," you finish, saying the words yourself. because even in the difficult moments, you're still saving eddie, still doing the hard things. still carrying him.

you're still cracking yourself open and giving him something he doesn't deserve from you.

still filling in his blanks.

"yeah, things are big for us now! i mean, we're signing deals and we'll be recording singles and i just can't come home right now. but don't worry about my stuff, i'll just buy some things while i'm out here," he promises. "and dustin and mike are taking good care of DND, so that's all good."

he doesn't apologize. nor does he ask if you're okay.

he just doesn't consider you.

he doesn't consider you when the local paper prints a picture of him and supermodel, hands interlocked on rodeo drive.

you shrug when people ask you about it. still protecting eddie, promising that the breakup was amiable, and you're still good friends.

because eddie is still a good guy. he calls dustin and mike every month, sometimes more. sends money home to wayne, who doesn't want to move out of hawkins, even buys him a house eventually.

he's the guy who stays to take pictures with fans outside of his hotel. the one who signs autographs until his hand cramps. the guy who gives away his guitar picks after shows. the one who shows up for everyone all the time.

he's still the guy who hasn't called since the last time you talked. the guy who hasn't written you a letter or even left a message with dustin for you. the guy who didn't even ask how you're doing.

the guy who's never asked. he's never needed to.

you've always been okay.

eddie made his home inside you and he never cleaned up. not even while he lived there. he made a mess, left his clothes on the bed, and let the dishes pile up in the sink and then he left the front door open.

he didn't bother to say goodbye.

not in this life, but perhaps the next.

--

years later, after he starts seeing a therapist, eddie writes a letter to you.

a detailed apology, an acknowledgment of everything he did and should have done better, a request for a second chance, a plea to let him love you right.

a week later he gets mail.

his letter, unopened,

[return to sender.]

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eden writes eddie #eden writes angst #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #this was entirely self indulgent #i need to see a therapist #stranger things

[raiiny-bay]

sun & moon boyfriends

#b and a #dhes is the sun like hot rage though #not happy sunshine character lol #these edits were done months apart but they’re going in the same b/a post anyway #the new bios for the character pages are coming along nicely btw #it’s been kinda fun writing them. i’m trying to challenge myself to write a lil differently than i normally do #i’m also adding an incredibly self indulgent amount of info to them #i decided i’m gonna add an entire section dedicated to describing their mannerisms #idk. i just think it could tell a lot about them. & it’s not something i really thought about before #i mean. i have. i know their mannerisms & quirks well. i just haven’t explicitly written about them #like. in detail.

[druidshollow]

arewe allowed to kin dune or is it illegal

fully legal. im honoured. but shed be like "you fucking wish you were as cool as me im the best out of literally everyone. if you were in front of me rigjt now id smash your skull in just because i can"

#shes a real charmer #always honoured when someone can find relatability in one of my characters even her shkshdks #shes my favourite out of everyone to write for i think #i like that she just. does whatever the fuck she wants #i like that her main driving motivation is to be stronger than everyone else and have control in every way possible #and always maintain thay control #so shes just entirely self indulgent #unfortunately for the world the things that make her feel fulfilled arent like. knitting or sports but instead violence and murder #i think its cool though. she can murder if she wants

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

I Think I Saw You

Ship: Eve Fletcher x Reader

Summary: You walk in on Eve doing something you that even in your wildest fantasies you'd never pictured her doing.

Word Count: 2.5k

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings: smut, spanking, fingering, fluff

“Eve?” You call out, knocking in her front door as you twist the knob, opening it. “Are you home?”

You don't hear anything, and shrug, walking in before shutting the door behind you.

You've always had a long standing invitation to make the Fletcher home your home, ever since Eve had spotted you walking home in the pouring rain when you had been in middle school and had offered to drive you home.

You had seen the Fletchers around, and had even gotten asked to babysit for them once before your father had screamed at you for considering it.

The Fletcher house had become your escape from your own oppressive household, and by the time you had hit senior year, you considered Eve to be a good friend, despite the age gap.

You also at that point had developed a budding crush on her, one you had desperately did everything to hide that you had it.

Now that you're older, and already working on your masters, the age gap seems less huge, and you no longer felt any awkwardness with the way you interacted with the older woman, despite the fact you still feel little butterflies whenever you're around her.

The closer you get to the kitchen, the more your ears are able to pick up on the sound of something playing on a device, and you let out a breath of air, relieved Eve is home.

You want to talk to her about possibly helping wi-

You stop dead in your tracks.

Eve is laid across a kitchen table chair, her ass bare as she has her pants and underwear pulled down to around her knees, and from your angle, you can clearly see she's watching porn.

Her hand comes down onto her backside, mimicking what she's watching, and grunts at the impact.

You can't see her face, but you don't have to.

You have view enough.

You've fantasized about your pretty milf friend more than once, but you've never expected to ever witness something like this.

“E-Eve?” You splutter out.

Immediately the laptop slams shut and the older woman nearly topples off of the chair as she twists to look at you.

“Oh my god!”

Her whole face is flushed, and her pupils are blown wide.

“I-” You don't know where to start. “What… What are you doing?”

Eve seems just as caught off guard as you are, and her mouth opens and closes.

“Were- were you just-”

You cut yourself off, unable to bring yourself to utter the word “spank”.

The silence is deafening, and you're both frozen in shock.

Your eyes flick from Eve’s face to her exposed ass, which has ever so slightly pinked, telling you Eve had been doing… Whatever this was for a while before you had walked in.

“You-” You swallow hard, nervous. “You do realize you're not going to get the- the feeling you're after on your own right?”

Eve flushes a deeper shade of red and avoids your eyes.

Your heartbeat is finally starting to even back out, and you're made aware of a steady, pulsing need between your legs.

“Eve.”

Your voice is firmer now.

Something tells you that she has the presence of mind to either kick you out or cover herself up, and that indicates…

Well.

“Is this your first time… Exploring?”

She finally meets your eyes, and she ever so slightly nods, seemingly at a loss for words.

You feel a rush of confidence.

Here's a chance to act on all the fantasies you've ever had about the beautiful woman before you.

“Would you like some help with that?”

Your voice comes out low, sultry, and Eve's breath hitches.

You smirk, and put an extra sway into your hips as you walk over to where she's laying across the chairs.

“Why don't you get up and strip for me, baby? I promise I can make you feel so good.”

Eve's face grows impossibly redder.

“I-I don't- we're not- you're-”

Your laughter at her struggling for words makes her stop trying to talk.

“You’re adorable.”

Eve blinks.

“Do you know how often I've thought about you like this, a hand between my thighs?” You husk out, maintaining eye contact with the older woman.

“You were my gay awakening, Eve. It was like I got run over by a truck one day when I realized how badly I wanted you to kiss me.”

Eve honest to god whimpers.

“Come on… I can see you want to. I bet it's been too long since you've felt someone else like this.”

Eve bites her lip, and after a few moments of consideration, she wobbly stands, pulling off her sweats and underwear in one motion, before shucking her shirt off.

You resist groaning at the sight of her body being bared before you, but it's a close thing.

Never in your wildest imaginings did you even come close to picturing exactly how beautiful she is.

When her bra drops to the floor, you turn the chair around, sitting down in clear invitation.

“Lay over my lap, alright?”

Eve looks extremely nervous, and you smile gently at her.

“I promise sweet thing, I know exactly what you're trying to feel, and I can give that to you, if you let me.”

You aren't sure what it was, but at your words she crosses the room towards you, and stiffly settles herself across your lap.

“Good girl.” You whisper, and you can feel her shiver beneath you, your fingers gently dancing up and down her spine, and some of her stiffness disappears.

“If you need us to stop, just say so, okay?”

“Okay.”

You've never heard Eve sound so small, so vulnerable, and it sends a thrill through you, making you suddenly dizzy with the realization that you have Eve Fletcher bent over your lap, waiting for you to spank her.

“Do you think you'll be able to count for me?” You ask in a low tone, your fingers trailing dangerously close to running over her backside.

Her breath hitches again, before she lets out a low moan.

“Is that a yes?”

It's like her ability to speak has evaporated, and she whines instead of giving you a proper answer, and you can feel yourself growing wetter.

“Awww…” You coo. “Has your brain gone all fuzzy just from being laid over my lap? How sweet.”

“Please!”

The word tumbles from Eve’s mouth, and you can't help but give in.

“Alright, sweet girl. On three, I'll spank you.”

You lift your hand in preparation.

“One… Two… Three.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounds through the room, as does the pornographic moan that comes from Eve, and she involuntarily bucks her hips.

“Liked that, did you? Dirty girl.” You laugh as Eve moans again at your words, and you slap her ass a second time, causing her to squirm.

Your free hand wraps around her middle, keeping her still.

“How many more times should you be spanked, hm? How often have you daydreamed about being turned over someone's lap like a naughty little slut?”

When Eve doesn't answer, she cries out with pleasure as you smack her again.

“Answer me.” You demand.

“I- I don't know!” She gasps out.

“Hm…” You pretend to ponder. “You don't know… Would it be safe to presume that you've fantasized about this at least… Oh, I don't know, twenty times?”

After a moment of silence, you reach over with the hand that's not wrapped around her middle and tangle it through her hair, forcing her head backwards so you can see how red she's turned.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Do I make myself clear?”

You can feel how she tries to nod her head, but all she gets for her trouble is you gripping her hair tighter.

“Do I make myself clear?” You repeat, your tone hard.

“Y-yes! You're clear!” Eve forces out.

“Good.” Your voice has turned husky. “Now answer me. Have you fantasized about being spanked like this at least twenty times before?”

Eve whimpers. “Yes.”

“Then that's how many times I'll be spanking you. And I want you to count. Otherwise, I might lose my place and have to start all over again.”

Eve is silent, but you hadn't asked a question, and so you let it slide.

“Count.” You reiterate, before you detangle your fingers from her hair.

Eve moans when you spank her.

“O-one.” She breathlessly gets out.

“Good girl.” You murmur, before continuing.

“Two.” She moans.

With each spank, Eve makes another pretty noise, and she dutifully counts.

It makes you throb with want, especially because you can feel how wet she is. She's dripping onto your jeans, and you're sure when she gets up there'll be a nice sized wet patch.

“S-s-sixteen.” She stutters through her whine, her whole body wiggling as she desperately tries to find some friction.

“You're doing so well, beautiful girl.” You praise, and she whimpers in response.

Your head is practically spinning from the rush you're getting off of this, and you bite your lip as you groan.

You bring your hand down in a firm smack, and Eve gasps out.

“Oh, fuck!”

You gently rub your hand over her ass, humming.

“What number?” You prompt.

“Seventeen.”

Eve's voice is rough, and you can't help but slip your hand a little lower along her ass, and she whines.

“No- don't-”

“Don't what, sweet thing? Feel how wet you are?” You smirk. “I can feel how you're dripping onto my leg, slutty girl.”

She whines, and you decide to forgo the last three spanks, and instead you retract your arm from around her middle so that you can spread her cheeks apart, and you gasp at how puffy her pussy is.

“Oh, Eve. You poor thing. Would you like me to make this feel better for you?”

When you don't get an answer, you shift her a little, giving yourself easier access so that you can spank her directly on her cunt, and the noise that spills from her lips is obscene.

“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

Eve whines again, and wiggles.

“I can't do anything until you say yes, sweetheart.” You gently chide, your hand coming back between her thighs, this time to glide your fingers through her folds.

“Yes.”

Her voice is heavy with need, and she sounds like she's on the verge of tears with it.

“How do we ask to be touched?” You remove your fingers, now slick with Eve’s wetness, and slap her ass again.

Her moan echoes in the kitchen.

“Please! Please touch me.”

“Awww… Good girl.” You coo. “You just want to be a fucking slut, huh?”

Eve whimpers, and you laugh.

“You're so desperate, look at you. I'd bet that you're fucking slutty hole will take whatever I'll give it without any problems… Should we test that theory?”

“Please, please touch me. Make me feel good.” Eve begs, and you can feel yourself growing wetter at the sound of it.

“Anything for you, pretty girl.” You say tenderly, before slipping one, two, three fingers into Eve, and she groans, bucking her hips.

You start off at an agonizingly slow pace, relishing in the way the older woman trembles beneath your touch, her plaintive begs and whines making you groan in turn.

“You're so wet, baby. This fucking greedy pussy of yours takes my fingers so well, you're such a fucking whore.”

You speed up your pace, and Eve drips down around your fingers, the sound of her sopping wet cunt filling the air, and your head grows heedy with the scent of her sex.

“God.” You groan. “You're fucking perfect, taking me so well, listen to how fucking desperate you are. Are you going to cum for me? Yeah? You wanna prove to me that you're a slutty little bitch? Gonna cum around my fingers in your fucking kitchen while you're bent over my lap like a dirty little whore?”

You can feel how she starts to flutter around you, can feel how close she is, and you slide your spare hand up and under, harshly groping at one of her tits, and Eve throws her head back and screams as she orgasms hard around you, her hips grinding wildly downwards in an attempt to ride out the waves of pleasure, and the sight is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot as well, despite how untouched you've gone.

“Fuck baby, you're so fucking beautiful like this. Fuck.”

Eve pants as she comes down from her high, and she whimpers when you retract your fingers from where they had been buried deep inside of her.

You bring your fingers up to your mouth and can't contain your wanton moan at the taste of her, and you know with complete certainty that you'll never be able to get enough of her.

“You taste so good, holy shit.” You say to her, and Eve cranes her head around to stare at you with an empty gaze, her face flushed deeply.

You smile softly at her, and run a hand through her hair.

She melts under your touch, her eyes gently fluttering shut, and you can't help the way your heart wells with emotion.

“Are you okay, Eve?” You ask.

“Mhm.” She hums.

“We gotta clean you off, honey.” You say.

“I know.”

“If I promised to stay, will you get up?” You try.

“Mmm…” Eve hums again.

“That's not an answer, sweet thing.”

Eve opens her eyes, and makes a motion to roll over in your lap, and your reaction time is a second too slow, and the older woman goes crashing to the floor.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Ow… Yeah… I'm… I'm okay. Sorry, my head feels… Fuzzy. Not from falling! From… From before.”

It's like a light bulb has been switched on in your head, even as you slide off the chair onto your knees to be sure Eve is really okay.

“Fuzzy like floating?”

Eve’s blue eyes draw you in.

“Mhm. Feels nice.”

You smile before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

“You have no idea what you're experiencing, do you?” You guess.

“Do you?”

Eve looks full of wonderment and in that moment you knew you were fucked.

You're head over heels for this woman, you're old crush coming rushing back tenfold, and of all the things to happen in this kitchen today, this is what causes your heart to start pounding in earnest.

“Yeah, honey.” You try so hard not to let your voice crack with your realization. “But we have plenty of time for that later. The floor is cold. And dirty. And a bath will be warm and clean.”

Eve's eyes brighten at the thought of a warm bubble bath.

“You'll run me a bath?” She excitedly asks.

You laugh, and move, gesturing that Eve should follow you.

“Of course I will. Aftercare is very important.”

Eve looks delighted, and you gently pull her close so you can whisper in her ear.

“Let me take care of you.”

#sky writes #sky's fics #c: eve #eve fletcher #eve fletcher x reader #mrs. fletcher #this was entirely self indulgent to the scene I had in my head