#I know I grew up hearing words that everyone would use which I know today were bad and I’m horrified at how normal it is

[yoohyeon]

About prev post about AAVE, I’m white so I will respectfully not add tags, but I want to say something important. I learned English watching Shows and listening to music, but also a lot by being on the internet so if I ever say something wrong, it’s only because idk that it’s bad seeing other use it and PLEASE tell me if do ! I try my best to see the difference and stop whenever I learned about the origins of some words but like the post says these days people are so disrespectful and stealing words here and there to the point people use it more and more without know what it is and it’s a problem…we have to do better.

[creatingblackcharacters]

“It’s Giving” AAVE, and the Denied Yet Undeniable Impact of Black Culture

I grew up knowing it as Ebonics; I didn’t hear 'AAVE' until I was an adult. Apparently it’s used derogatorily- I did not know. But when Robert Williams coined the term in the 70s, its meaning was:

“…the linguistic and paralinguistic features which on a concentric continuum represents the communicative compentence of the West African, Caribbean, and United States idioms, patois, argots, ideolects, and social forces of black people…Ebonics derives its form from ebony (black) and phonics (sound, study of sound) and refers to the study of the language of black people in all its cultural uniqueness.”

Familiar Examples include but are not limited to:

The History

It was unbelievably difficult to find a solely Black perspective on the subject. I’m gonna need everyone to let Black linguists talk, it’s literally their job. Anyway, I need y’all to actually WATCH this video. Don’t skip it thinking I’ll summarize. Watch it. Actually listen. That’s part of the problem to begin with, is not listening. Even if you have to read this lesson later, so be it.

One of the points emphasized in this video was that AAVE was formed of the need to communicate, and specifically to communicate in a way that hid what we were saying and thinking from antagonistic white society.

“…“the disguise language used by enslaved Africans to conceal their conversations from their white slave masters to the lyrics of today’s rap music, [the magical power of] the word has been shaped by a time when, as observed by Harlem newspaper writer Earl Conrad, ‘it was necessary for the Negro to speak and sing and even think in a kind of code.’””

Because it was in a form that white people could not understand, as well as already existing racist biases against the humanity and intelligence of Black people, naturally it was assumed that our way of communicating was ignorant and ‘false’. Even acknowledging it as a valid language was seen as abhorrent, by nonblack and certain Black people.

“For decades, linguists and other educators, pointing to the logic and science of language, have tried to convince people that Black English exists, that isn’t just a politically correct label for a poor version of English but is a valid system of language, with its own consistent grammar. In 1996, with the unanimous support of linguists, the Oakland School Board voted to recognize AAVE, or the more politicized term “Ebonics” (a portmanteau of “Ebony” and “phonics”), as a community language for African American students, a decision which might have opened up much needed additional funding for education. Instead it resulted in intense public backlash and derision due to the still widespread, incorrect belief that Black English was an inferior, uneducated form of English associated with illiteracy, poverty, and crime. It’s hard for a language to get ahead when it keeps getting put down. Some linguists, such as John Russell Rickford, have noted how even sympathetic linguistic research, which has derived a lot of benefit and understanding from Black English grammar, can unknowingly focus on data that represents African American communities negatively, giving “the impression that black speech was the lingo of criminals, dope pushers, teenage hoodlums, and various and sundry hustlers, who spoke only in ‘muthafuckas’ and ‘pussy-copping raps.’” The term “Ebonics” even now is used mockingly by some as a byword for broken English.”"

(Some of) The Rules

AAVE is a full dialect with grammar and social rules. But the ones most people are familiar with include:

Th becoming D (“dats”)

Double Negative (“I ain’t see nobody”)

Habitual Be (“It’s cuz he be on that phone”)

Possessive s absence (“I’m going to my grandaddy house”)

Question word order (“who that is with the ice cream and cake?”)

Zero copula (“who that?”)

"Why do you talk like that" Would you rather I code switch?

“Code switching, or adjusting one’s normal behavior to fit into an environment, has long been a strategy for BlPOC individuals to navigate interracial interactions successfully. Code switching often occurs in spaces where negative stereotypes of Black individuals run counter to what are considered appropriate or professional behaviors and norms in a specific environment, and regularly happen in work settings.”

In this context, you might recognize it better as “using your white people voice”.

Some Black Americans, for varying reasons including internalized antiblackness and a desire for assimilation, hate AAVE! Some people will hate that you don’t use AAVE! Never assume we’re all on the same page about its use! My own mother used to be big on speaking ‘proper English’.

Regional Differences

The same way regional differences affect standard pronunciation, it’ll affect the AAVE used. Culture in the area as well will affect the words that come from it. So someone Black using a phrase in Philadelphia might not automatically know what someone Black from Compton is saying.

Someone did their dissertation on this topic, and while I’m going to link the summary for yall to give it a shot, Imma be honest- I do not understand this. I tried. It’s interesting how something that comes so innately, once written out like this is like WHAT. But the research has been done!

Easier examples include:

"Aaron earned an iron urn"- Baltimore

GloRilla and "Mursic"- Memphis

A lot of AAVE from New York City is popularized; so you might hear words from anywhere that originated from Harlem or Queens, or New York Ballroom culture

Tonal Languages

One major source of misunderstanding AAVE is people not understanding tonality. AAVE is often tonal, similar to many African languages, languages in general- meaning that unless you hear it or are innately familiar with how it’s spoken, you might not know HOW I’m saying something and therefore will not understand what I’m trying to convey. Given the history, this was on purpose!

Black language- Black culture in general, really- is often conveyed orally. Everything we say and do is not going to be written down for someone else to study. Doesn’t mean we weren’t saying or doing it. If you want to understand, you have to listen!

“Linguist Margaret G. Lee notes how black speech and verbal expressions have often been found crossing over into mainstream prestige speech, such as in the news, when journalists talk about politicians “dissing” each other, or the New York Times puts out punchy headlines like “Grifters Gonna Grift”. These many borrowings have occurred across major historical eras of African American linguistic creativity. Now-common terms like “you’re the man,” “brother,” “cool,” and “high five” extend from the period of slavery to civil rights, from the Jazz Age to hip-hop: the poetry of the people. This phenomenon reflects how central language and the oral tradition are to the black experience.”

Some examples:

1) "You Good" can mean, depending on how it is said and the context in which it is spoken:

Are you okay?

Do we have a problem?

You’re okay.

You don’t want these problems so chill.

Do you have enough money/resource?

It’s fine! Don’t worry about it.

2) This was an interesting experience, watching the misunderstanding of AAVE occur live. It’s the realization that people read this as “This is something Bugs Bunny would wear” versus “Bugs Bunny would wear the fuck outta that outfit”. But if you didn’t know that, if you aren’t familiar with the tonality of AAVE, of course you’d think the first one is what it meant! And it's not wrong-wrong - he would wear it, but that's not necessarily all it meant.

3) “Chill-ay” versus “Chile”. Yeah, we didn’t forget that. This is often why AAVE is used to sound “aggressive” on the internet- if you perceive (however subconsciously) how Black people speak is aggressive, then when you decide to emulate my speech in your moment of aggression, it is because you think my Blackness will make you seem more intimidating! You find Blackness… intimidating. Same reason you think it makes you funnier than if you were to deliver the same joke using your own dialect. It means the jokes not funny; my language is what’s funny.

Black American Sign Language

We even communicate differently in sign language; there’s an entire history and culture behind the Black deaf experience.

“In April 2020, Nakia Smith, aka Charmay, created a TikTok account introducing five generations of her Black Deaf family and how they communicate in Black ASL. As a social media influencer of Black ASL content, Charmay made a series of educational and informative videos on the history and practice of Black ASL. Charmay’s video went viral, landing in a New York Times article, Black, Deaf and Extremely Online, and Blavity: TikToker Has Gone Viral For Putting The Culture On To Black American Sign Language. Additionally, Netflix requested Charmay to explain the difference between Black ASL and ASL.”

Everyone doesn’t speak AAVE!

If your Black character is not Black American, and has never once been connected with Black American culture or people, they are probably NOT going to speak AAVE! They’re going to speak whatever dialect THEY have! And that doesn’t make it any less “Black” of them!

Different dialects and languages across the diaspora include but are certainly not limited to:

Black British English

Haitian Creole

Gullah

Jamaican and Caribbean Patois

Everyone Owes Rihanna an Apology

Y’all remember the song Work. I know you do. It was mainstream’s love and joy when this song dropped to be overtly racist about it, Black Americans included. Everyone claimed it was ‘gibberish’, that she was just mimicking language on a song and ‘it would be popular’.

Meanwhile, it was her singing in her native island patois! The people who spoke her language understood it! Anybody who actually tried to understand it, understood it! Another popular song, Sean Paul’s Temperature, is also in patois! And I thought we loved that song!

So next time Black people speak and you find yourself thinking- ‘wow, this makes no sense’, I want you to think to yourself: ‘does it make no sense, or do I just lack the context/knowledge/language to understand it?’

NOW THAT WE’VE HAD SOME EXPLANATION BEHIND THE LANGUAGE!

Writing AAVE

Me personally, I admit I don’t like it being used in stories where it is clear the author doesn’t understand the dialect, or where it’s clear the only person who speaks it is the “Black character who OMG DID I TELL YOU THEY WERE BLACK”. I’d rather it be the regular Queen’s English. We speak that too. I’m not going to decry your fanfiction or your regular modern-day original story as “bad” if you choose to use whatever language your region commonly uses. We know how to speak it. We will be okay. Using AAVE is not going to sell me that this character is “Black” if the rest of the character writing is still bad.

If it means that much to you, because it is important to the character, then you as the writer need to commit to learning proper AAVE! This isn’t going to be a “look up every turn of phrase on google” or “ask Ice what every single thing means”. You’re going to have to do what everyone who learns a language does- immerse yourself in it! If you can’t be bothered to learn my language, I’m going to know that when I read your work.

Obviously if there’s a context where the Black people involved do not know how to speak a language, it is perfectly fine to show that, as long as you are showing that it’s not due to some innate stupidity or other stereotype that this person cannot communicate the same way others communicate around them.

“The N Word”

I know someone’s thinking it, so let’s address it. There’s a translation for this word in damn near every language that’s ever come across Black people. So don’t go “oh we don’t have that word in my language-” I bet money you do.

Yes, it could be used in historical context- the ‘hard -er’. Yes, it could be used in social context- the ‘-a’. It follows the tonality rules I discussed earlier; that is, the way it’s used and who is using it makes ALL the difference in how it will be received.

Everyone is not on the same page about the use of this word within our community. Some Black people think it should never be used, period, even by us! Some Black people think that it should be reclaimed and use it as such! The only thing we’re on the same page about is that YOU should not be using it.

I say this to say to nonblack writers: put the pen down.

My stance is, if you can’t understand AAVE, you CERTAINLY aren’t going to be able to incorporate the social use of this word. Period. If you scared of the potential smoke incurred if you fuck it up- and if we see it, you will catch it- don’t bother. Trying to “write realistically” does not cut it. You should be doing everything in your power to understand and write a great Black character in all ways before ever thinking this is something you should do. In fact, if you're that thirsty to use this word, you have some other things you need to consider.

In the historical context, just watch yourself. If you’re gonna drop that word, you need to be damn well-researched on every other aspect of Black life and oppression in whatever era you’re writing. Just dropping this word to say “life is racist” shows a lazy lack of understanding of antiblackness. You don’t even have to drop the whole word. A “ni-” at the end of the sentence is enough for me to know exactly where we’re going! But if you not gone do the rest of the work… you know what they say about stupid games.

The Fundamental Disrespect

If you watched the prior videos (and you should have) and paid attention up to this point, you have already heard the struggles that both AAVE as a dialect and those that speak it go through.

There’s a societal connotation of stupidity, aggression, and silliness behind the way I speak. None of those things are true, and it’s hard to be told that even the way you communicate with others is bad.

But the other reason it’s so hard is because we spend our lives hearing that those are the connotations… when WE speak it. It is not the language- it’s ME that makes it so! And that gets into the other part of this lesson, something that AAVE is oft victim to.

This part is a little scarier for me to write, because people don’t like it when you talk about Black Americans as a separate entity from the US of A as it is known. I’m gonna put on my political hat for a second, but I promise this ties into my overall point so stick with me!

Stolen Cultural Hegemony

The reality is that the United States of America has forced a cultural hegemony upon the planet (amongst other forms). Yes. That is due to the capitalism, colonialism, imperialism and damn near just about every other -ism at the US government and military’s disposal. I am not saying that part somehow changes, of course not. That’s just facts. There are people far smarter than I (Edward Said, take the wheel) who could explain this far better. But I’m only here to explain this one point.

What DOESN’T get acknowledged is how much of what is deemed American pop culture across the world is both 1) stolen 2) Black culture! We do not have equivalent political power despite what our hypervisibility would suggest, but our social currency is raw diamond- so naturally, it has to be plundered! The white American dollar might mean far more than my life, but it’ll pay for my creations- even more so when I’m not involved!

The issue is that if your society says that I am less than, how can you justify how you covet everything I create? If I’m supposed to be so much less than you, why do you seek my language, my fashion, my music, my body? Why do you feel entitled to my creation, but you think you should have it… Without me?

Sit on that one for a second!

Appropriation of AAVE

Let's refer back to that chart at the beginning. How many of these have you seen or even used before? How long did it take for you to know it was AAVE? Don’t get me started on the influence of AAVE in queer spaces!

Of course I’m going to get started. Ballroom culture, created by Black and Latino people in New York City in the 80s (Paris is Burning, anyone?), has spawned so much popular “gay” lingo, and it’s not even just “gay”- it’s of color! Black English in particular is the source of many of the words that queer people use now in casual conversation, brought into the ballrooms, normalized, and then proliferated with other communities.

I can always tell when a new phrase from AAVE has hit nonblack audiences because it’ll suddenly be in every sentence I see, often butchered. Remember that historical context- of having to speak in code. Have you ever considered why AAVE is always evolving? Why we have to find new ways to communicate with each other? Have you considered that when people are constantly taking and misplacing your words, they may lose meaning or value, and so you have to come up with something else?

Appropriation of Black Music

Jazz, swing, the blues, disco, rock and roll, pop, even rap and hiphop have all been subject to appropriation- intentional or not. Far more intentional than you might want to believe. And it all comes back to money!

White audiences in the 1900s loved Black music- as long as they didn’t know Black people were singing it! Often, songs would be completely lifted and given to white bands to re-record. When Frankie Lymon first came on stage to perform, some of the audience was stunned! Even you know Itty Bitty Pretty One!

A more modern-day example: not to pick on the K-Poppies, but unfortunately it’s a low hanging branch example.

What K-Pop groups are doing now is heavily influenced what Black pop, rap, and R&B artists were doing from the late 90s to this very day. Part of the reason I enjoy K-Pop is because it reminds me of the stuff I used to listen to growing up. How many times have you heard someone think a Korean rapper in a K-Pop group is “fine”, but “don’t like” rap otherwise? Or will listen to K-Pop groups, but have very few to no one Black of the same sound on their playlists?

Examples:

Rover by Kai (2023) vs Swalla by Jason Derulo (2017)- Idk how popular Kai is outside of EXO, but I do know that some influence was had. And I like the song, btw! I prefer the music video! It’s just not the first time it’s been done!

Sweet Juice by Purple Kiss (2023) vs Say It Right by Nelly Furtado on a Timbaland beat (2006)

Taemin and Michael Jackson, period. Taemin having a song called The Rizzness. How did ‘rizz’ get to him? How did he know? More relevantly, how did the people who wrote his music know? How did something that started with Black people in Baltimore get all the way to Taemin in South Korea without influence?

I’ll use another example, so it doesn’t feel like I’m picking on K-Pop. I’m currently listening to CĂN NHÀ TRANH MÁI LÁ (Vietnamese, if you couldn’t tell) and as much of a banger as it is, with its own amazing cultural spin on the delivery… it is CLEARLY influenced by Black American rap. He nicknamed himself Vietgunna. Yall.

A non-American musical example: Afrobeats has taken the music industry by storm… How many of those people who enjoy an afrobeat from a nonblack artist will enjoy it from Wizkid or TEMS?

Those polls, where they ask how many Black artists you listen to… try paying attention to see just how much of your music takes inspiration from Black creators, but there’s a non-equivalent amount of Black artists that you support!

Political Bastardization of Powerful Black Colloquialisms

The appropriation of Black English isn’t always for entertainment. Sometimes, it’s a purposeful, malicious tactic to demean the words, and therefore the intent behind them.

“Woke”

“Michael Harriot, columnist at TheGrio and author of the upcoming book, Black AF History: The Unwhitewashed Story of America, explains that this kind of insidious takeover and flipping of Black vernacular to anti-Black pejorative has numerous parallels in America’s past and runs all the way up to present day. “When you look at the long arc of history and America’s reaction to the request for Black liberation – every time Black people try to use a phrase or coin a phrase that symbolizes our desire for liberation, it will eventually become a cuss word to white people,” Harriot says in an interview with [Legal Defense Fund]. It’s perhaps this very context — Black people’s awareness of their history and their power to resist injustice — that made woke so ripe for the pernicious mutation it has now undergone. Indeed, the forced transformation of the colloquialism echoes how countless other Black ideas and intellectual contributions have been maligned. “When people during the civil rights movement began saying ‘Black power,’ all of a sudden it became a term that people equated with communism and anti-white sentiment — and then it eventually gave birth to ‘white power,’” Harriot tells LDF. “The ‘1619 Project’ [which centers the ramifications of slavery and the contributions of Black people in American history] has become an insult. ‘Black Lives Matter’ became an ‘anti-white sentiment’ that was banned in school and spawned ‘all lives matter’ and ‘blue lives matter.’”

#SayHerName

This discourse is happening again, it happens like every six months on here, and it’s one of the things on here that fills me with a hatred that I struggle with every single time. It is hard, I literally feel that hatred in the pit of my chest right now as I type this.

Kimberle Crenshaw (Black woman and the originator of the legal term ‘intersectionality’), the Center for Intersectionality and Social Policy Studies, and African American Policy Forum coined the hashtag in 2014. TWENTY FOURTEEN.

It was meant to highlight the violent deaths of Black women and girls at the hands of police, which happens at a high rate like Black men and boys, but often goes far less acknowledged. By appropriating the hashtag, you are actively choosing to speak over the very names and deaths of Black women and girls we don’t know, because we are NOT SAYING THEM, and therefore are allowing those deaths to continue as though they do not matter.

I’m going to stop before I get more upset. But know what violence you’re contributing to in your negligence.

How to Avoid Cultural Appropriation while Showing Appreciation

Everything is obviously not appropriation. It is possible for people to appreciate, replicate, and take influence without being disrespectful! It happens! And because it is possible, is why it’s so infuriating that it does not.

It’s frustrating that when something is on me, it’s ghetto, ugly, ignorant. But when it’s on the right stick thin pale girl, it’s chic, it’s fashionable, it’s new. So if it’s not the language, and it’s not the fashion or music you don’t like… It must be… Me. I am somehow not worthy of respect for the very culture I create.

Can you imagine being told that? That you are not worthy of being… you?

If you are worried about cultural appropriation, both in your writing and in your life, the easiest way to avoid that is to:

1) acknowledge and support the culture that created what you’re saying or doing and

2) actually treat them like human beings instead of zoo animals or a species to study. Show respect! It’s not hard!

This is my body, my language, my creation. It’s not just to entertain you! It’s my life! I talk like this because this is how I speak, not because I want to get Tiktok cool points. If I’m around people who treat the way I talk like childish babble, it makes me feel stupid and disrespected. We can see that, and we can read it in your writing.

And yes, you may be saying “well none of that is unique to AAVE, that’s how other languages work!” Okay then go speak those languages then lmao. But if you’re absolutely determined to understand and utilize mine, then you need to treat it with respect and not like the Gen Z slang babble (or worse- the threat) y’all treat it as. It’s a form of antiblackness that is so normalized that we don’t even think about it… but now that you’ve read this lesson, you can start! You can start taking the time to actively dedicate a thought to what you’re saying and doing and where it came from. You can take the time to notice when something isn’t right- and maybe even choose to speak up, because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers.

[batboyblog]

Copy Right and Public Domain in 2025!

It's January 1st 2025 which means it's my favorite unsung holiday! Public Domain Day! This is the day once a year when, in the US, copyrights expire and things enter the public domain, meaning they belong to everyone! even you, Steve!

American copyright for books, movies, art work, and musical compositions (but not recordings, more on that later) runs for 95 years (way too long!) so today works published in 1929 join us in the public domain.

So whats free? so glad you asked.

Popeye the Sailor Man

Many people assume Popeye originated as a cartoon character but thats not true, he comes from a comic strip. The strip was called Thimble Theatre and Popeye was something of a late addition. Thimble Theatre was first published in 1919, so Popeye's girlfriend Olive Oyl has been in the public domain since before the big 20 year copyright freeze of 1998-2019. Popeye first appeared as a minor character 10 years into the strip's run but was so popular he soon took over and the strip would be renamed Popeye less than 5 years later. Now as always whats public is only what appears in 1929, later developments, remain copyrighted. Such as, while Popeye always had super strength its not till 1932 his superpowers were tied to eating spinach, and Olive Oyl originally had a different boyfriend named Ham Gravy, who she dumped for Popeye when he became the main character. It looks like Popeye is following tradition for famous now public domain characters and getting a quicky horror movie this year.

Tintin!

This is personally very exciting as someone who grew up with the Belgian boy detective. Like Popeye I expect a lot of people don't know that Tintin started off as a weekly comic strip. Indeed Tintin appeared as a part of a weekly youth supplement in the Catholic newspaper The Twentieth Century. Any ways, Tintin was first published in there in January 1929, and soon would start what would become the first Tintin story, Tintin in the Land of the Soviets. Now only part of Tintin in the Land of the Soviets was published in 1929, the story line wrapped up in May 1930, so only those 1929 stories and what appears in them is free and clear and Tintin was published in black and white not color. Tintin's author Hergé had no idea what he was doing and was really learning on the job so In The Land of the Soviets is generally seen as his weakest outing and the only one he never opted to redraw in later years. Even so it's nice to see the character free in the world. No word on if Tintin will star in a horror movie.

Buck Rogers (but not really)

The original futuristic space man was published, again a comic strip, in 1929 which means he should enter the public domain today, but he won't. That's because he already is public domain! Before the Copyright Act of 1976 copyright was 28 years with the option to renew for another 28 years. The copyright on the original comic strips was not renewed so ran out at the end of 28 years, 1958. So Buck Rogers has been free and clear for close to 70 years now, whatever you hear about him today.

What else?

Famously last year Mickey Mouse entered the public domain, but all the entered public domain was one (maybe two) animated short, Steamboat Willie. Well this year a dozen Mickey Mouse animated shorts enter the public domain, including the first time Mickey has his iconic white gloves, and the first time Mickey speaks (the first thing Mickey Mouse ever says, voiced by Walt Disney himself, is "Hot dogs! Hot dogs!" in case you were wondering) This will give creators much more to work with if they want to use Mickey in their works which is exciting.

Speaking of Walt Disney, The Skeleton Dance is entering public domain, you likely don't know the title but I suspect you've seen at least part of it at some point

so look for this showing up on TVs in the backgrounds of films and TV shows in the next year or so

Books

The iconic novels of World War I, Ernest Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms and Erich Maria Remarque's All Quiet on the Western Front enter public domain. In fact All Quiet on the Western Front entered public domain last year, but only in the original German, the 1929 translation by Arthur Wesley Wheen is whats entered the public domain now. John Steinbeck's first novel, Cup of Gold, William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own, and Agatha Christie's Seven Dials Mystery (always get an Agatha Christie novel on this list for the rest of our lives). Dashiell Hammett published both Red Harvest and The Maltese Falcon, later made into one of the greatest films of all time, in 1929. Future children's book author E. B. White (who's go on to write Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little) and future New Yorker cartoonist and humorist James Thurber teamed up to write the delightfully titled Is Sex Necessary? Or, Why You Feel the Way You Do a book of spoof essays making fun of popular books on Freudian sexual theories at the time. The Roman Hat Mystery the first of the long running Ellery Queen mysteries was published, Queen would keep publishing mysteries into the 1970s (and Ellery Queen was a pen name for two people). Richard Hughes' A High Wind in Jamaica and Oliver La Farge's Laughing Boy also came out in 1929 and are in the public domain now. There's much else but those are the highlights sorry if I missed your favorite 1929 novel.

Movies

Alfred Hitchcock and Cecil B. DeMille's first movies with sound, Blackmail and Dynamite respectively, came out in 1929. Marx Brothers' first feature film The Cocoanuts joins the public domain. Other comedy land marks are Harold Lloyd's first sound film, Welcome Danger and Buster Keaton's last silent film, Spite Marriage (which Keaton also directed). John Ford's first sound film, The Black Watch, which also is 21 year old John Wayne's first appearance in a film, as an uncredited extra, he worked in the art department. Hallelujah the first studio film to have an all black cast came out that year. Also worth noting is The Hollywood Revue of 1929 a singing and dancing review, one of the earliest and the movie that popularized the song Singin’ in the Rain, maybe the first time a movie made a song a hit.

Musical compositions

musical compositions, ie the lyrics and musical notations you might see on sheet music are governed by the 1976 Copyright Act, and music written in 1929 is public domain. Music recordings are governed by a whole different law (we'll get there). Songs written in 1929 include Singin’ in the Rain by Arthur Freed & Nacio Herb Brown, Ain’t Misbehavin’ and Black and Blue by the legendary Fats Waller, What Is This Thing Called Love? by Cole Porter, Tiptoe Through the Tulips by Alfred Dubin, You Were Meant for Me by Arthur Freed & Nacio Herb Brown, and also Happy Days Are Here Again by Jack Yellen which would become FDR's campaign theme song in 1932.

Art!

a number of pieces by Salvador Dalí including:

Illumined Pleasures

The Accommodations of Desire

The Great Masturbator

are entering the public domain as is René Magritte’s The Treachery of Images.

Art is hard because while movies and books are clearly "published" and put on sale, what counts as "published" for a piece of art? the law is not totally sure.

Musical Recordings

as I promised, we got here. Till 2017 there were no federal laws governing the copyright of music recordings before the 1970s, it was governed by a confusing patchwork of state laws and it was not totally clear what was or was not free and clear even from the very earliest recordings ever. Now the term of a music recording's copyright is set at 100 years (way too long) so music recorded in 1924 is now public domain such as. Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen by Marian Anderson, Everybody Loves My Baby (But My Baby Don’t Love Nobody But Me) by Louis Armstrong, California Here I Come by Al Jolson, Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin, Shreveport Stomp by Jelly Roll Morton, Mama’s Gone, Good Bye by Ray Miller, and It Had To Be You by Marion Harris. Now many recordings a lot less famous can finally be preserved and digitized to save them for the next 100 years. Many abandoned works are literally rotting away since without the copyright holder's permission digitizing a work isn't legal.

[kithtaehyung]

minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

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Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked. 

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind. 

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst. 

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself. 

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat. 

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks. 

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits. 

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans. 

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him. 

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is. 

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house. 

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away. 

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.” 

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.” 

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly. 

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off. 

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart. 

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers. 

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together. 

Taboo, even. 

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just… 

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span. 

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag. 

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day. 

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things. 

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall. 

“What.” 

“I worry sometimes.” 

His gaze lifts. “About me?” 

“Yeah.” 

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to? 

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.” 

Someone like him? What does that mean? 

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.” 

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.” 

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday. 

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest. 

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact. 

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets. 

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again. 

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter. 

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street. 

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans. 

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?” 

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too. 

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.” 

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?” 

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.” 

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.” 

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead. 

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought. 

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point. 

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return. 

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.  

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand. 

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—” 

“Course I don’t.” 

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again? 

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again. 

What the hell is up with today? 

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now? 

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too. 

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first. 

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously. 

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached. 

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.” 

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.  

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time? 

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street. 

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.” 

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.” 

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.” 

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one. 

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.” 

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence. 

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home? 

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.” 

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences. 

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.” 

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over? 

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.” 

Ah. 

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!” 

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk. 

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting. 

And he looks impatient as hell. 

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived. 

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?” 

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second. 

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question? 

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks. 

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it. 

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.” 

Oh. 

Why did… you kinda like that? 

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.” 

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence, 

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi. 

For a hardened soul, his name is so… 

Tender. 

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once. 

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi. 

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right. 

Left seems promising. 

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for. 

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared. 

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby. 

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance. 

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out. 

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form. 

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down. 

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed. 

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months. 

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth. 

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the… 

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

Dragons. A lot of them. 

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal. 

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass. 

…Yoongi? 

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge. 

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere. 

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers. 

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past. 

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke. 

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling. 

Shit. 

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company. 

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often? 

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time. 

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here? 

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side. 

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase. 

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win. 

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful. 

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on? 

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight. 

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now. 

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you. 

What do you do? What even can you do? 

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance. 

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!” 

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.  

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life. 

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!” 

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him. 

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do… 

This one thing… 

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you. 

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck. 

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply, 

“You shouldn’t be up here.” 

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?” 

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet. 

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward. 

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant. 

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now. 

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.” 

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.” 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” 

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages. 

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill. 

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.” 

Live with it. How poetic. 

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor. 

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps. 

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling. 

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe. 

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs. 

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down? 

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same. 

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.” 

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.” 

“What?” 

“Do it.” 

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now. 

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?” 

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit. 

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought. 

This is going too well. 

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now. 

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded. 

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime. 

Yoongi’s right. 

You’re in it now. 

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run. 

You’re really doing this. 

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go. 

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front. 

“Get back here!” 

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns. 

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine. 

And he’s… enjoying this? 

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees. 

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit. 

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!” 

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between. 

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck! 

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes. 

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face. 

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life. 

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no. 

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is— 

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd. 

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?” 

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.” 

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside. 

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in. 

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear, 

“Kiss me.” 

“I said get out!” 

“What?” 

“Come here.” 

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.” 

Oh. 

You were just… Oh. 

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either. 

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.” 

…Huh? 

Agust? 

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun. 

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight. 

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes. 

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever. 

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey. 

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that. 

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck! 

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day. 

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts. 

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory. 

Did you both really make it this far? 

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do. 

Rest. Sleep. Home. 

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three. 

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not. 

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.” 

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.” 

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“No.” 

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it, 

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right? 

Right? 

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop. 

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it. 

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for? 

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up. 

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again. 

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all. 

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive. 

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district. 

Han Station is a floating railway? 

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head. 

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward. 

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head. 

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore. 

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name! 

“Agust!” 

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle. 

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt. 

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now. 

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe. 

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection. 

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way. 

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry. 

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by. 

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time. 

Your tangerines… 

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away. 

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal. 

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake. 

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off? 

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers. 

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.” 

We? Stay? 

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.” 

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?” 

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.” 

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.” 

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.  

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.” 

Mm. 

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow. 

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. 

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have? 

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now. 

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust. 

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train. 

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—” 

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.” 

“Understood.” 

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling. 

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with? 

…Who exactly did you save? 

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into. 

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman. 

Right before sliding doors shut the world out. 

—

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[alexsnerdycorner]

Touchy-Feely

Title: Touchy Feely

Word Count: 3011

Warning: Smut, Swearing, Unprotected sex, a bit of an age gap, talk of attempted incestuous rape (one sentence).  Bisexual Charles and logan. AFAB reader, dirty talk (so sorry for horrible it is), Oral sex, P in V sex, Anal (Male receiving), Praise kink, multiple female orgasms,

Fandom: X-Men movies / Marvel

Pairing: Charles Xavier X Fem!Reader X Logan

Rating: Mature

Summary: This is based on a request I got from my old fandom blog. I’ve rewritten it, added smut, and edited it. The reader (F) has the ability to make people aroused on contact (much like Alisha from Misfits) and to manipulate others emotions, memories, and more. This is post Days of Future Past, but Charles still has hair and ability to use his lower body because it made sense for the story.

A/N: I had a difficult time rewriting this as I had an ex named Chaz, which is short for Charles/Charlie and he graped me. I’ve always loved Charles Xavier and I’m trying not to let the grapist get to me, but sometimes I am unsuccessful. I hate myself for letting things go so far as to “allow” him to do this to me. But I kinda flinch every time I hear his name or variations of it. Also, this is my first time writing a threesome. Please don’t judge it that harshly.

You discovered your powers five years ago when you turned seventeen and went on a date to prom and your boyfriend’s best friend asked for a dance. This led to him trying to drag you to the bathroom to fuck you. That was when you found out that you could make anyone feel aroused just by touching them. Your boyfriend of the time broke up with you because there was no way he’d be seen dating a mutant freak. You knew for sure you were a mutant when your father tried to comfort you that night and wiped the tears from your eyes and tried to undress you. Luckily your mother was home to drag him off.

You were angry, and wished that he knew better. Better yet, you wished that he would try to burn his hand off. A moment later your father turned on the stove and stuck his hand over the burner, catching his hand on fire. That was when you found out you also had the ability to influence people’s actions and thoughts.

After that, your parents sent you away to Charles Xavier’s school for mutants, or, the nicer way to put it, gifted individuals. Charles took you in out of the goodness of his heart, as he would with any other mutant. You never told him of the embarrassing powers of eroticism, only of your ability to manipulate other’s emotions, actions, and memories. Your first week at his school after Bobby Drake pushed past you and accidentally touched your hand, you had to forcibly push him off you. He didn’t know any better so you altered his memory of the situation. But you were still so visibly upset that the professor, who was ten years older than you, tried to comfort you, you stumbled back to avoid his touch. But were unsuccessful, able to tell how aroused he was by the look in his eyes.

You then confided in him about your true powers and afterward made sure that the other students knew not to touch you, claiming you had a power similar to Rogue’s. Charles always took special interest in you and allowed you to stay at the mansion over the holidays and summers when all the other students went home. You grew to like and desire him, but were too scared to say anything because he was your mentor, but suspected he to had feelings for you. Eventually, you had graduated and became a full-fledged member of the X-Men.

While there, another man also took interest in you, Logan. He was a good-looking man with large muscles and claws made of adamantium. You could feel a lapse in his memories and tried to work with him to get them back. All attempts made were unsuccessful.

Today, you had pretty good control over your powers and it was a few days until your twenty-first birthday. Everyone was on vacation for the start of the holidays leaving you, Charles, and Logan alone in the mansion. You woke happy to get some peace and quiet for once instead of having to deal with students and teaching. You spent the whole day reading for your leisure in the library, but not long before dinner time, you went back to your room to change as Charles requested that you join him for dinner. You put on an alarmingly short dress for your taste that hugged all the right curves.

When you arrived in the dining room Charles sat at the table with your favorite meal in front of the two set seats. You wondered why logan wasn’t joining the two of you.

“Logan is out for the night,” Charles said, looking up through his scraggly brown hair. He paused a moment as you tried to hide a frown, “Good evening, Y/N”

“Hi, Charles,” you smiled at him and sat next to him. You made small talk as you ate dinner.

“Oh, Y/N, I have something for you on the kitchen counter. Would you be a doll and go get it.”

“Really?” your eyes glowed with excitement as you stood and walked to the kitchen. On the island counter sat a small cake iced with the words Happy Birthday Y/N and next to it was a small black velvet box with a white ribbon tied neatly around it. Below your breath, you gasped, “What?”

“Open it,” Charles whispered in your mind.

You smiled and shook your head, “Charles, get out of my head.”

You walked back out into the dining room with the box in your hand.

He had a big stupid grin on his face that you just wanted to kiss away, “Just open it.”

You carefully untied the bow and pulled the top back a bit roughly because the hinges on it stuck. You gasped when you saw what was on the inside of the box. With a huge smile, you took the small necklace into your fingers and examined it. It was in the shape of an infinity sign but with hearts on each end. Beautiful red crystals lined the pendant.

“Oh my god, Charles, it is so beautiful!” you looked up at him, “Thank you so much!” you walked over to him, “would you put it on me?”

He smiled, “of course.”

You handed him the necklace and pulled your hair out of the way. He put the necklace over your head and as he clasped it in the back, his fingers ran across the top of your back. He jerked his hands away and cleared his throat, “I’m so sorry, y/n”

You forgot how much you longed for human contact until now. You turned around and shaking your head, you looked him in the eye, “No, it...it felt good.” You could tell it felt good to him too, his face was beet red and he was taking deep breaths, trying to cover up how aroused he was from your powers. “I forgot how nice the human touch could be.”

You could see that he felt embarrassed for touching you, he had the same face as he did in his office that day he first touched you.

“You know, I am an adult. I’m not that young girl whose hand you touched in your office years ago. I’m different. I have more control.”

He smiled, “I know. You have, uh,” he cleared his throat, “definitely changed. In more ways than one.”

Your desire for him grew with every passing second. You could tell his was too.

“Do it again.”

“What?” Charles asked.

“Do it again. Touch me. I want you to touch me. It feels nice.”

“Y/N, I... I don’t want to take advantage of you like that...I-”

“Charles!” You interrupted. He stopped rambling and looked at you. “I like you a lot. I’m old enough to make my own choices. I know you like me too.”

“But, Y/N…”

“Charles, shut up,” you leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

He put his hand on the back of your head and kissed you back harder. You straddled him in his chair.

Charles broke the kiss, “Logan’s going to be here any minute.”

“I don’t care,” you kissed him hungrily.

“He’s going to walk in on us,” Charles said between kisses.

“Good, let him. Maybe he’ll join us.”

Charles laughed into your lips and pulled your body closer to his, “God, you are so beautiful.”

“So are you,” you rubbed against him, humping his lap. He stood up, pushed his plate across the table, and set you on the dining room table and stood between your legs. You could feel him hard against you as he kissed you back harder, pushing his body against your own and let his hands wander.

“You have no clue how long I’ve waited for this. How much I’ve dreamed of this” Charles said as you trailed kisses down his neck. He let out a soft grunt.

“I do know. Who do you think put those dreams there to begin with” you slid his tweed jacket off him and tossed it onto the floor.

He let out a breathy laugh, “You sly little minx” and smiled into your kiss.

He traveled his hands up the skirt of your dress as you loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt. You could feel the heat between you and Charles. His tongue danced with yours. His hand slid on the inside of your upper thigh. You let out a soft moan of ecstasy. He grabbed at the hem of your dress and slid it over your head and threw it behind him. In your bra and panties, you slid his shirt off his lean and slightly muscular body as he marveled at the sight of you.

Charles made out with you some more before you moved your hands from his chest to his belt. You fiddled with the belt blindly as you were too enthralled in Charles to look down. As he slid his hand over the small of you back to the hem of your panties, you slid the belt off him, tossed it aside, and went back to his zipper and button.

Charles’ hand was at the clasp of your bra when you heard a deep and growling throat being cleared from the doorway.

“Come on, we eat on that table!” you pulled away from Charles’ lips, a small trail of saliva still hooking your lips together, and leaned your head on his shoulder. You saw Logan leaning on the door frame, trying to overt his eyes. But you saw what was truly in his eyes. Lust.

Charles looked up and saw Logan as well. You felt his hands travel down to button his pants back up, but you stopped him with one hand and announced, “We will take it to the bedroom. Under one condition”

“What’s that?” Logan asked, mostly to humor you.

“Join us,” You hopped off the table and stood in front of him. His throat bobbed as he tried to show restraint. You reach out to touch him, forgetting about your powers for a moment but caught yourself before you make contact. You drop your hand, “Please”

“He wants to, I can hear his thoughts. He wants it bad. Nearly as bad as you want him.” Charles interrupted, trying to make you feel better about almost touching Logan without consent.

“Stay outta my head, Charles,” Logan did not break eye contact with you.

“Is it true?” You whisper.

Logan growled again, but this time it was a different type of growl. It was a growl filled with want and desire. He reached out his hand and grabbed yours, he took your open hand and placed it on his hardening bulge, “Princess, I’ve wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

Your lustful smile grew and you kissed him with a hard, deep, passionate kiss, “Then join us in the bedroom”

He swept you off your feet and turned to Charles, “Comin’ handsome?”  

Charles’ eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. And he followed Logan who led them to Charles’ bedroom. Once the door was shut behind the three of you, Logan lightly tossed you onto the bed and gave you one last kiss before taking his shirt off his body in one swoop.

Logan turned to Charles, “What’re ya waiting for? An invitation? The lady wants us naked. I don’t need to be a mind reader to tell you that.”

Charles stood there for a second too long for Logan’s liking so he stalked over to a stammering Charles, kissed him, and started to undo his zipper to his pants. Logan pushed down Charles’ pants and Charles stepped out of them, leaving him in his underwear. Charles closed his eyes and kissed Logan back as Logan backed them both up to where you sat on Charles’ bed. They pulled apart and looked at you. Heat rushed to your face and to your core.

“See something you like?” Charles spoke up while maintaining eye contact with you.

“I see two things,” You sat up in the bed and drew the both of them close to you. First you kissed Charles, then you kissed Logan. Your hands moved down to Logan’s jeans and unbuttoned and unzipped them. Charles took his pants and yanked them down revealing a large growing bulge in Logan’s underwear.

“Charles, I think Logan sees something he likes as well.” You smirked up at the men.

“I see two things,” Logan said. And pulled you so you were sitting on the edge of the bed. He knelt down in front of you and hooked a finger around your panties. While maintaining eye contact with you, he said, “I can smell how wet you are,”

Charles leaned down to kiss you while Logan slid off your panties and tossed them aside. Logan removed your bra with one hand. You took Charles’ boxers and pulled them down and then took his cock into your hand. You started to jerk him off. With your other hand you reached down to Logan’s head which found its way between your legs. His hands were on your thighs and he began licking your clit in a circular motion.

“Oh fuck, Logan,” you swore, lowering your head to Charles’ cock. You took Carles into your mouth and ran your tongue over the head. This elicited a groan from Charles. You moaned against his cock in approval.

Logan continued to suck at your clit as Charles took one of his hands and placed it behind your head to stoke your hair. You saw Logan reach down, remove his boxers, and pump his cock twice before returning one hand to your thigh and the other to your slit. He slowly worked one finger into your dripping cunt. You mewled with Charles’ cock still in your mouth.  You pulled at Logan’s hair as he added another finger. You felt a building tightness in your core.

You took Charles out of your mouth and moaned for both men to hear, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

“Come for him darling,” Charles moaned as you continued to stroke his cock, “Come for him like the good girl I know you are”

With that you let out a loud moan that reverberated throughout the room. Logan added one last finger to your pussy and you came undone, clenching his head between your thighs.

“Oh, fuck, Logan!” You shouted. Logan removed his head from your thighs and looked up at Charles.

“Come down here and taste her on my lips,” he commanded. Charles followed the orders given to him and pulled his cock from your hands to kneel next to Logan. He took Logan’s member into his hands and kissed him on the lips. Logan’s hand rested on your knee while the other held the back of Charles’ head. Still recovering from your first orgasm, you watched for a moment as Charles and Logan made out.

Charles pulled away from Logan and turned to you, “You want a taste?” he asked.

You slowly nodded your head and leaned forward to meet his lips. You tasted your sweet juices on his lips and groaned, “I need you inside me, now.”

Charles looked to Logan.

“Give the princess what she wants, bub.” Logan broke their connection and stood up. Charles followed suit and stared while Logan commanded you go on your knees.

“All yours, Charles,” Logan whispered, “Get on the bed.”

Charles followed the instructions and knelt on the bed behind you. He guided his cock into your still wet cunt and drove all the way into you, causing you gasp. Charles bent over and kissed your back.

Logan moved from his place in front of you to behind Charles, “God, you two are so beautiful.”

While Charles moved in an out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, Logan worked on getting Charles’ ass ready for him. Both men were well endowed and Logan especially had girth to his cock. When Logan’s first finger made its way into Charles’ ass, Charles jumped a bit, not expecting it. But gasped in pleasure when he added a second finger.

“Y/N, You’re so fucking good. You are taking me so well, love.” Charles whimpered.

You moaned as he nipped the back of your neck. He picked up the pace and began slamming into you all the way down to his balls.  You felt the bed sink down behind the two of you and logan was undoubtedly lining himself up at Charles’ entrance. When you didn’t think that Charles could go any deeper, you let out a ragged breath when Logan pushed into Charles which made Charles push further into you.

The three of you moved in unison. You could hear Logan and Charles moan and groan and kiss. You felt yourself approaching climax. The knot in your stomach grew and grew.

“Fuck, Charles, I’m gonna cum,” You sputtered.

“Come for us, princess” Logan ground out.

You felt your walls clenching onto Charles’ cock and you moaned out, “Oh fuck, you feel so good!”

With the next few thrusts into you, you felt the knot burst and you came undone. With a grunt, Charles’ thrusts were becoming erratic and uneven.

“I’m close,” he panted and was next to come. He stayed, pushing his cum further into your pussy and moaning with pleasure. The bed creaked with Logan’s thrusting.

“I’m almost there,” Logan cried out. And with a few more thrusts he came into Charles’ ass with a howl.

Logan pulled out of Charles who then pulled out of you. The two men then situated themselves on the bed so that you were between them. You could feel sleep calling your name.

***

You woke up in the morning lodged between a hairy Logan and a snoring Charles. Neither of your companions were wearing shirts while their lower half remained covered by the sheet. You were wearing nothing but the sheet. You dared not wake them, so you stayed put, staring up at the ceiling with the sun shining in on your face.  

[cyber333angel]

rafe with a glasses kink for my glasses girlies (me) <3

mr ward cameron had asked you to tutor his son rafe about 2 months ago, hearing about you from a close friend. everyone who got help from you ended up with a good grade by the end of the year, so naturally of course ward wanted that kind of help from a girl like you. you did go to school with rafe, watching him goof off in class with his kook friends thinking their better than everybody else. he was obnoxious and you swore you could never like him but as the meetings in the library went on, you grew fond of him. every now and then he would joke around with you, pulling a giggle out of your serious demeanor loving the way your smile widened whenever you were around him.

however, on a wednesday where the two of you usually meet up at the local library you see a sign saying they would be closed today. seeing this you go to text rafe, telling him to reschedule for the upcoming saturday. you feel a rush of nerves come over you when you see the text of him inviting you to his home for the tutoring lessons, not knowing why you accepted the invitation you started to drive over to his house. walking up the steps to tannyhill your eyes stay widened, not used to seeing houses this big on the cut. you ring the door bell, backpack full of paperwork and your laptop with your braids in a bun. the door opens, seeing rafe in his typical polo shirt greet you with a bright smile, “hey teach.” you shoot him a shy grin, “hi rafe.” as you walk in he closes the door behind you gesturing to go upstairs to his room. “c’mon my rooms upstairs.” when you arrive to his room it’s oddly very tidy, his desk placed by his bed. the two seats are placed next to each other, you and him sitting side by side you fluster. you usually don’t sit so close to him but there’s not much you can do so you sit down and take out all the homework needed. about thirty minutes pass, your explaining the problems to rafe as he watches you. not paying attention at all to what your talking about. “rafe are you listening? this is very important your exam is on monday!” picking his eyes up from your lips he stares at your eyes through your lenses. eyelashes fluttering when you blink he answers, “yeah..yeah im listening. why don’t we take a break?” you stare at him and agree to take a break since you know he won’t listen to you without one. “alright fine. 10 minutes.”

୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

you don’t know how you ended up with your seat at the desk so close to rafe as he kissed you, you didn’t mind it though. his large hands riddled with rings holding your head to his as your wet tongues intertwined. your glasses kept getting in the way of you two, straining his head back preventing you from going any deeper. you suggest taking them off which was also an excuse to catch your breath for a split second. “rafe-rafe maybe i should take my glasses off..” you tell him as he plants kisses up and down your neck. “nah keep em on sweetheart..” feeling his rough fingers slide down to your thigh, giving the inside of them a tight squeeze. “you gonna let me make you feel good?” you nod shyly, taking your hands and placing them on rafes, breath hitching. “use your words for me c’mon.” pouting at him for making you ask for it to tell him, “yes rafe want you to touch me!” flashing that handsome smile at you he praises you for listening. “atta girl.” under your skirt that rafe had pulled up to your waist was the thin fabric of your panties being hooked over to the other side of your cunt. rafe whistling when he sees the arousal dripping from your pussy, “this all for me baby?” you whine at him, it’s obvious your only like this because of him. “yes s’all for your rafey please..” he slides two long fingers into your cunt curling them up into you thrusting back and forth. taking his other hand and gently grabbing your throat to kiss you deeper as the pleasure at the lower part of you grows. you feel yourself starting to climax when rafe shakes his fingers back and forth in your cunt rapidly. you gurgle in his mouth from the kissing, mind getting blurry as he fingers your bundle of nerves. “hngh..!”your eyes go half lidded as you cream on his fingers, squirming around in the chair as he tried to get the last bit of pleasure out of you. you grab rafes hand and he pulls out his fingers from your warm sopping cunt, licking the arousal from his fingers. “taste so fucking good..” as you calm down from you orgasm you see rafe still has a bulge in his pants, wanting to help him too. “rafe I wanna make you feel good too..” you paw at him through his shorts, looking at him with needy eyes. he smiles at you and holds your face, “yeah you wanna help me out pretty girl?” you nod your head slowly and he helps you up from your seat taking your hand to lead you to his bed. rafe sits on the bed letting you sit on your knees below him. you look up at him and he starts unbuckling his shorts, exposing his hard cock. gripping at it he asks you, “you ever did this before baby?” you shake your head no, only hoping to make him feel as good as he made you. “that’s alright I’ll teach you..” rafe takes your jaw and plunges his two fingers in your mouth, you gag in them and he helps you. “breathe..breath through your nose. good girl.” you slurp on his fingers, sucking on them roughly as you hold his hand. “there you go. you think your ready now?” you release your mouth from his hands with a pop answering excitedly, “yes!” and he gives you a kiss on your forehead.

as your standing up on your knees below him, rafe holds the back of your head and his cock. tapping it on your moistened lips,“open.” he says and you do as your told. your mouth forming an “O” shape just for him as he plunges his dick into your mouth making you gag, holding onto his knees as he gets you used to his length. you let him use your mouth, thrusting your head up and down on his large cock. “fuckk baby taking me so fuckin good..” slurping up all the spit around him, your mouth is a sloppy mess, echoing in his room are only the squelches from your mouth and rafes breath hitching as he starts to cum. “shit..” with his hand on your head he suddenly grips your hair, and harshly pushes in some last thrusts “fuck fuck fuck..” you choke as he hits your throat repeatedly muffling a quiet “mmph!” when he rips his cock from your mouth. spraying all over your glasses and your face as he cums. you sit there a little surprised as rafe catches his breath, seeing you covered in his mess. he leans closer to your face and examines you, “you look so fucking pretty for me baby.” he says smiling at you. rafe then picks you up from your armpits to help you stand on your feet, guiding you to the bathroom. “let’s get you cleaned up alright?” you nod as he closes the door, taking off your glasses.

[pitchsidestories]

cheerleader II Grace Clinton x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1882

a/n: inspired by the request if we write for Grace Clinton, enjoy. 🤍

“Hurry up, Celin, I don’t want to be too late for the match.”, Grace Clinton told the fellow football player impatiently, the arms crossed over her chest. The rest of the friend’s group had already been ready to leave fifteen minutes ago.

The Norwegian meanwhile took a final glance at her bathroom mirror, checking if the curls she just made fell right, before announcing:” I’m coming.”

“Finally.”, Grace sighed relived.

Eyerolling Celin padded the shoulder of her friend: “Don’t be annoying. We’ll be on time.”

“Someone can’t wait to be the personal cheerleader of her girlfriend today.”, Khiara Keating teased the fellow Lionesses teammate with a huge grin on her face.  

When the goalkeeper mentioned you Grace cheeks turned immediately red which Charli Grant couldn’t help but to point out in a swooning voice:” I think it’s adorable. Look at how much she’s blushing!”

“Oh, shut up!”, your girlfriend begged annoyed who felt her face becoming even hotter than before.

Amused Celin commented: “Disgustingly cute.”

“Celin!”, she yelled at her.

The Norwegian looked innocently at her teammate:” What?”

“Stop it. No one said it was disgustingly cute when you got engaged.”, Grace reminded the woman who was only two years older than her.

Smiling at the memory Celin admitted: “ No, that’s true. Bethany was really annoying about it though like a mum. She asked me if I was sure about it? And that we’re still in the puppy love phase, blab la bla.”

“She just doesn’t want you to make a mistake.”, your girlfriend replied softly.

Dramatically the midfielder groaned:” Yes, and that’s sweet of her but she really needs to stop using dog metaphors all the time.”

The smile on Grace’s lips grew even bigger as she thought of Beth Englands golden retrievers who were adorable in her eyes and made her wish that you both would eventually get a puppy together, maybe the summer would be the perfect time for it:”  Everyone loves dogs though.”

“And her golden retrievers are so cute.”, Charli added in a tone she usually reserved for Harper.

The youngest of the four, Khiara was looking alarmed at the time on her phone:” Girls now we really got to hurry up!”

“Tell that to Celin.”, Grace scoffed.

She pouted: “It wasn’t my fault!”

“Yes, it was.”, your girlfriend laughed.

As they stepped out Charli was putting an arm on each of the best friends, while reminding them why they were heading out today: “Come on, girls. It’s time to watch some grassroots football, now.”

Your teammate Ava bumped her shoulder against yours as you walked out on the pitch together. With a smirk she commented: “Y/n, havd you spotted your cheerleader already?”

“Not yet. I fear they run a little late. She's bringing some friends with her today.”, you replied, your gaze wandering towards the entrance of the football pitch. But there was still no sign of Grace.

Avas eyes widened: “There's even more of them coming?!”

You nodded patiently: “Yeah, Celin, Charli and Khiara are coming as well.”

“Holy F-…”, Ava replied, stopping herself before your coach could hear her.

Your goalkeeper, Max, joined your conversation, lifting their eyebrow at you; “But you warned them that we do this just for fun and that we are not really good in our league, right?!”

Grimacing, you looked at your two teammates; “Uhm…”

“What the hell, y/n? We're totally going to embarrass ourselves in front of them!”, Ava yelled out, her voice rising with anxiety. She exchanged a panicked look with Max.

“Girls, calm down…”, you started, fighting back a smile.

The defender shook her head, her blonde ponytail swinging: “How?!”

You rolled your eyes with fondness: “You guys know Grace already and you never had a problem playing in front of her.”

“That’s different!”, Max interrupted you but the corners of their mouth curved into slight grin.

“Yeah, she’s only there to look at you with heart eyes during the match.”, Ava agreed, giggling.

You could feel your cheeks heat up: “Oh come on…”

Max shrugged nonchalantly: “She’s got a point.”

“Her friends are very nice, you’ll see.”, you promised them while you caught yourself looking for your girlfriend again.

Ava raised her eyebrows: “Let's hope so.”

“I guess we should start warming up.”, Max changed the topic and started to jog across the grass.

Ava clapped her hands: “Yes, let’s go.”

Max looked back over their shoulder towards you: “Come on!”

Laughing, you followed them: “I’m coming, children!”

“Children? You’re the child here!”, the goalkeeper laughed.

“Since she got into uni she thinks she’s an adult.”, Ava continued to tease.

“Hey!”, you protested. You were not even the youngest player on your team.

Max deliberately ignored you: “She wishes.”

Before you could reply, you were almost knocked off balance by someone jumping on your back and wrapping their hands around your shoulders.

“She’s still our baby!”, Rileys voice shouted right next to your ear.

You shook the redheaded midfielder off: “Ugh, stop it. I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”, Max countered smugly.

“At least I’m faster than you!”, you grinned and increased your pace, switching from a fast jog into a sprint.

The goalkeepers jaw dropped: “Without stretching! If we’d do that, we could go home right now.”

“Honestly, some things you can only do when you’re young.”, Ava shook her head.

Riley laughed: “My knees hurt from only watching her.”

“You sound like Lucy Bronze, Riley.”, you chuckled, remembering the phone call you had with Grace when she was away with the lionesses in Spain. Your girlfriend was happy about the fact that the English defender put her under her wings.

Even though the knee of the Barcelona player was hurting after she ran against Grace in training the older woman was still joking around with her like the pain was nothing.

Dropping the name of the famous lionesses Riley’s mouth dropped wide open: “Excuse me?!”  

“Yeah, it’s true but Luce wouldn’t just sat by and chat when she has to warm up.”, Khiara joined the conversation with a teasing smile on her lips.

Your teammate pouted, begging not all too serious: “Never ever bring your girlfriend and her friends again.”

“Riley, you got compared to Lucy Bronze that’s a compliment., you tried to cheer the older woman up before you turned around to kiss your girlfriend who was standing next to the Mancity goalkeeper, hi babe, glad you could make it.”

You were willing to ignore Celins fake gagging noises unlike Grace. She scolded the Norwegian for her reaction:” Celin!”

“Ignore her, Grace. Have fun watching the game, girls.”, you told her softly.

“We’ll.”

“Good luck.”, Khiara shouted after you, widely grinning.

Grateful for her support you mouthed: “Thank you, Khi.”

“You’re welcome.”, she replied.

During the match, Celin bit her lip, looking worried at what was happening in front of them:” Oh god, their team is bad.”

“Don’t be mean.”, Grace immediately defended you and your team.

With a mischievous grin Khiara reminded the Tottenham players:” You guys were bad too when we won against you 7:0.”

“You said you wouldn’t remind us anymore.”, your girlfriend whined.

The mancity goalkeeper countered: “At least it stopped Celin from being mean.”

“Grace, your girl scored!”, Celin excitedly interrupted them.

Proudly Grace said:” Not too bad, right?”

“It was a really nice goal.”, Charli admitted.

When Max celebrated your goal with you, she pulled you close to hum into your ear:” Little one tell your girlfriend she needs to come more often if her presence makes you score such bangers.”

“Oh, but you know she’s a busy girl.”, you answered grinning.

Confidently she shook her head:” Doesn’t matter. We need some wins.”

After the match, Ava announced to your girlfriend:” Grace, we need you to attend more games it works wonders on y/n’s performance.”

“I’ll try to come more often. But my weekends are pretty booked.”, Grace promised.

 In a reassuring tone you responded:” You don’t have too.”

“No, I want to come more often. I really enjoyed watching.”, your girlfriend looked at you lovingly.

“To be fair I enjoy watching you play too.”, you confessed sweetly.

She smirked while suggesting:” I think we could make a deal out of it.”

“Yes, we’ll try to see each other’s games as often as we can.”, you nodded eagerly.

The promise was sealed with a kiss from her on your lips:” That sounds fair.”

Two weeks later, the roles were reversed and you watched Grace and her team play against Manchester City in the FA Women’s Cup.

It was a suspenseful game that eventually went into a penalty shootout. You held your breath as Amy Turner converted the final penalty for Tottenham. You could not hide your joy for your girlfriends team while you watched them run towards each other and celebrate their win.

“Becky, you were amazing!“, Grace yelled at their goalkeeper who was able to save two of Manchester penalties.

Beth England pulled her two teammates into a hug: “I’m so proud of you, girls!“

“You really saved us with your goal in the last minute of stoppage time!“, Grace yelled happily at the striker. Her cheeks were still red from the game as her gaze drifted over the crowd of people applauding the win.

Beth shrugged with one shoulder: “They had to make a mistake at some point. She’s over there by the way if you’re looking for her.“

A new bright red flashed across Graces face: “Yes, I was searching for her.“

“Come on. Go to her, get your winners kiss and then we can celebrate together.“, Becky laughed and pushed the younger player in your direction.

Beth called after her: “Hurry up!“

“Trust me, I’m running as fast as I can.“, Grace laughed back at her as she made her way across the pitch.

She stopped right in front of you, a huge grin on her face.

“Hi, love. I’m so proud of you and your team.“, you greeted her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Thanks. I’m glad you could be here.“, she replied.

As you pulled out of the hug, you held up your phone and presented your girlfriend your text messages: “Ava, Max and the whole team congratulate you and forgive me for missing training today.“

“That’s so sweet of them.“, Grace smiled, visibly moved by the thoughtfulness of your football team.

You nodded: “Yes, they are the best.“

“They are.“

“Go and celebrate with your team, babe, you deserve it.“, you laughed and gave her gentle push.

Grace held out her hand for you: “Join us.“

“Are you sure?“

“Absolutely.“

“Okay, I’m coming with you.“, you finally agreed and followed your girlfriend onto the grass.

Grace carefully took your hand in hers: “Good. The girls will be happy to see you.“

As soon as you reached the celebrating football players, you smiled: “Hi, girls.“

Charli beamed at you: “You’re here!“

“Gracies' lucky charm!“, Celin yelled with a slight tease in her voice.

“So that’s why we won.“, Charli concluded with a grin.

Grace pressed a kiss to your cheek: “Oh yes.“

Celin shot her a sceptical look: “Sure. It was probably her.“

Grace turned towards you, searching for your eyes: “Ignore the sceptic Celin. Love you, y/n.“

“I love you too.“, you replied and kissed her passionately.

[sunnycanvas]

Hi can I request a part 2 for unfaithful baldwin where he regrets or the reader escapes?

Find her! Find her!

Baldwin IV screamed at the top of his lungs. He was sweating so much. His beautiful blonde hair was drenched in sweat. His eyes wide in fear and shock. Baldwin IV quickly shifted his hair back by his hand as he screamed in his thunderous voice. "What are you doing, does it take so much time to follow my orders"? Knights assembled quickly in front of the king. Shocked at such furious face. Baldwin IV was known to have strong mind and great courage. It's unlikely to see him furious. He manages to remain calm in most tense situations. The knights assembled in front of the king confused. The king's mistress was surprised as well. She slowly approached her beloved but kept safe distance. Last thing she wanted for her to get scolded as well.

"Your queen consort is missing" "Which one of you helped her escape" "Tell me now and I will spare you"

The knights trembled in fear not knowing what to respond. For the queen consort to go missing. Especially when they were given strict orders to keep continuous watch on her was not going to go well for them. Nobody dared to speak up and Baldwin IV 's mistress watched everything astonished. Even she didn't think the queen will be able to escape. "Helping her escape is a crime against crown" "I will investigate the person who helped her escape" "The person will not only be punished but their family as well as people who shares their nearest blood kin with them will suffer as well". "This fate can be avoided if you admit right now which one of you helped her escape and where she might be, right now". The whole hall grew quite and King Baldwin IV waited patiently for an answer. The hall became so quiet that one could easily hear the sound of water dripping. King Baldwin IV waited patiently as time went by his face became redder and his eyes grew colder. The king's mistress couldn't help but think if (Y/N) is found by the king. She will never be able to have same relationship as before with the king. "Baldwin IV is sensitive about his honour" "I know that he is not only upset about her escaping due to personal reasons but also about his honour as well ". She knew the king despite the love he shared for his queen won't be happy about people gossiping or perhaps mocking him that he can't control his wife. "This has taken a huge blow on him" "He has been possesive and careful when it came to her" "Ever since she caught us the king knew she would try to escape". "Nobody thought she would be successful though"

"Quick get the horses ready we will find the queen, I will personally lead the search". Baldwin IV repeated last words with so much venom that it sent shiver across everyone's spine Baldwin IV 's mistress although scared was shocked at sudden proposal ran towards the king forgetting about gravity of the situation. "Your majesty you recently caught another disease" "It won't be good for your health" . Baldwin IV raised his hand up indicating "Stop". The mistress grew quite. She quickly composed herself and said "My apologise your Grace" "As your humble subject I should have been more careful" .

"Who let a woman in knights meeting"

The mistress was shocked since Baldwin IV has never spoken to her like that, "My apologise my lord I will leave right away"

"Make sure you do, it seems like the palace has been lenient when it comes to security". The mistress didn't say anything and quietly left plotting her revenge when the queen is found. "I will ensure to win him back and make the queen's position so poor that she will seem invisible in palace"

"Gaurds, prepare the horses and ensure to send message to nearby Kingdoms as well" "Repeat the same message I gave you today to them as well"

Meanwhile:

"Thank you so much". I bowed against lady Sybilla the wife of King Bohemond III of Antioch I remember one of the Muslim sources mentioned her as Muslim spy but I never thought that it would be true. "No need to thank me" she replied with poisonous smile. "Just ensure not to get caught, erase all your traces" "In case you do, don't tell them who helped you". I asked her again doubtful "King Bohemond III of Antioch doesn't know, does he?".

"No he doesn't" she replied. "Now leave" "Your and mine journey ends here"." Leave as fast as you can, we have so less time right now" I smiled again and bowed one last time before I left in disguise looking for time portal. It took me some time until I finally reached my destination. "This has to be it" I thought as I looked at the place. Hopefully my calculations are correct. I need to hurry before I am caught or else my life will be over. Baldwin IV will be even harsher about guarding me but before that, I shuddered as I thought of his face red in anger. His eyes wide and cold and his teeth gritting. "Worst he can do is severely scolding and lot more restriction. I quickly dismissed myself of these pessimistic thoughts and went back thinking about my original plan . Based on my calculation time portal must be here. Time portal should open inside this river right now.

(Y/N)!!!

I froze. No! No! No! Why now?! Does universe really hate me so much. I could see the king, my husband with group of knights "Gaurds quickly stop the queen". Seeing them approaching I started running as far as I could, of course I was not match for trained knights with horses. I could hear my husband pleading"(Y/N) please don't jump" "Killing yourself will lead to enternal damnation in hell" "Your body won't be buried" "You won't be accepted by church". "Come back to me and I will forgive you". Angry I yelled at my husband "I hate you" "I will rather go into damnation of hell than being with you" "You killed whatever we had because of your adultery" My husband stopped at looking back at me shocked and hurt "(Y/N)"

Later:

"You mean to tell me that the queen jumped in river in front of everyone and was never found".

"Indeed my lady" replied the knight who secretly acted as spy for lady sybilla of Antioch. Sybilla laughed joyfully and said "In front of king as well" "How did the king react". The knight snickered and said "He later jumped in river as well when nobody was able to find her". "The king kept on trying to find the queen" "Finally he was physically retrainsed by his knights" "Everyone has accepted that the queen drowned in sorrow".

"After that" Lady sybilla of Antioch smiled like a excited child. The knight gleamed in joy and said "The king looked mentally dead when we arrived back" "He didn't say anything much" "Later he blamed his mistress saying that she was the one who seduced him" "That it was her fault this happened"

Lady sybilla nodded with joy and said "The king is known to be mentally strong" " Even when he first learned of his disease he was calm and accepting about it". Lady sybilla smiled again saying "That girl gave me more than I was expecting". "Soon Jerusalem will be ours"

Back to our time:

I was found in dead of night by station master near the railway tracks. I was drenched in water. I was asked questions but I could barely say anything in state of shock. I later was admitted to hospital. Soon I was discharged and left for home. Once I came back home.I was happy to wear my cozy clothes. "Finally, it's all over" I took my IPad and sat on my sofa surfing the web. I was curious about how events played out after I left. I did quick Google search and found out:

"King Baldwin IV ensured the gaurds kept close eye on Queen consort (Y/N) of Jerusalem after she found the king with his mistress. She was monitored all the time. Queen (Y/N) was able to escape though. Nobody knows how she was able to escape. Not even most researched historian of crusades can tell. Some historian have suggested that Raymond, count of Tripoli helped her with a maid acting as her spy to escape. While some suggested king Bohemond III of Antioch bribed some church members to help her escape but nobody knows for sure. The king went into his deep sorrow. His disease got infected worse because of swimming in contaminated water. We know now that he suffered with dysentery and swimming made it worse. The loss of queen affected his reign. The king reign was no doubt affected because of loss of his queen.....

I read further and realised how mistress was shunned. How her seduction was blamed and how Baldwin IV was thought to be king easily manipulated until recently rest all events went same with princess sybilla. "Yes, he is not a man to be manipulated" I thought Although unlike before Jerusalem did have quite a few losses like never before, I read further was able to find "Although king died of natural causes his body was never found". This last line seemed suspicious to me. "Wait.. wasn't he buried but his bones later removed from tomb in the late 12th-13th century after the recapture by the Ayyubid dynasty". I had a bad feeling about this, something isn't right

"Ma, Cherie" I froze. "Please not again". I turned around fearful and saw my king behind me looking sickly. "You shouldn't question my sense of duty" "I knew it I could find you ". I gulped in fear. "What did I get myself into" I thought

[phthalomushroom]

The Family (2)

last next

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

warnings: language, mentions of trauma, mentions of shooting, alys rivers, Italians

word count: 1.7k

notes: thank you for all the love on the first part, and sorry I wasn't able to respond I've been really busy this week. I changed the name and I think this fits a bit better. I hope you enjoy this chapter the next one will be a bit more drama filled - there's plenty more to come. <333

Six Years Ago….

No one ever got a table at Federicos. No matter how early someone called to ask for a reservation they would tell you they were booked out weeks in advance. If you did get a table they would cancel the reservation on you, apologizing for the important event they had to host. Everyone in town knew this challenge, but that didn’t stop anyone from trying to get inside. 

Well, at least that was how it was for everyone besides the Targaryen family. The Targaryens owned all kinds of shops and restaurants across King’s Landing that were fronts for their other dealings. But Federicos was special because it was just a gathering spot meant for celebrations and get-togethers, the family friend who owned it always had the private room of the restaurant ready for use in case the family had a need for it. 

Aemond didn’t tell you much about the family business, you only knew bits and pieces from overhearing conversations or from the gossip of those in the city. He always said that he never liked the idea of you being caught up in the craziness of it all. 

You’ve known Aemond since grade school, basically grew up together. You’d always catch him staring in Science and English. It was only in highschool when his locker was next to yours did he finally start talking to you. Those brief conversations quickly turned into study sessions during study hall, which turned into after school plans, which turned into him asking you out. 

But tonight, the first big homecoming dance of your senior year, Aemond had booked the private room of Fredericos to celebrate with all your friends. You would say that everyone was going their own way but everyone who grows up in King’s Landing usually stays, either opting to start work right away or going to Citadel University.

Unbeknownst to everyone, not that it was their business anyway, you had applied out of the city, far away places.You had gotten into all of them but were still waiting to hear back from your top school at North College of Winterfell. 

Your phone pinged with a text from Aemond telling you he was waiting outside. 

You finished getting ready, though, Federicos was a formal place you never went over the top. You opted cute and semi-formal, since you were heading to the dance right after. You quickly stuffed your purse with the essentials before bounding down the stairs. 

You walked past your passed out father, the typical beer cans surrounding him, and headed for the door when you noticed today's mail had slipped through the door’s mail slot. You would have stepped over it all when you noticed a big thick envelope at the bottom of the pile.

Bending down you grabbed the letter, flipping it over to see it was addressed to your from Winterfell. You quickly opened it, heart hammering in your chest when you read the words you didn’t know you were hoping to see.

Congratulations.

********

There were people who you never wanted to see again from King’s Landing and there were people who you couldn’t wait to see.

Vincent Federico was someone who you could not wait to see.

The small Italian man was as heartwarming as his meatballs and was always willing to do what he needed to help. When he first heard of your moving out after your blow out with your father, he offered you a job as a waitress to help keep you off the streets. When he found out that you were leaving for Winterfell he didn’t say a word to Aemond about it, keeping it a secret until the very day of your departure. 

Of course he would say he knew nothing about it, but you knew he had overheard your conversation with Baela that night. 

Now walking into Federicos the nerves hit you all at once. Vincent smiled as he saw you come in from where he sat at the bar, getting up from the stool to envelope you in a big bear hug.

“Long time no see, kid.” The man grinned in a way that his gold tooth where his left canine should be shimmered in the light.

“I know, I tried to visit but I didn’t want to ruin business.”

He waved you off. “You're outta your mind.”

“No hug for me Vinnie?” Baela piped up from next to you.

Vinnie grinned wrapping his arms around her, lifting her up off the ground before setting her back on her feet. “I saw you last week, you miss me that much?”

“Of course.”

“Careful, Jace might get jealous.”

“Jace knows that our relationship is one of pure garlic bread, he knows better than to interfere.”

Vinnie chuckled, waving his hand as he turned toward the tables. “Follow me, I got your favorite table all prepared.” 

He seated us at the corner booth that overlooked the restaurant. Vinnie had already set out a plate of his famous garlic bread, knowing it was your favorite, as well as having already poured your favorite wine. Since Baela and you have been coming here for years, you already knew what you were getting and put your orders in. 

Baela and you started catching up on the things that you weren’t able to share over the phone. Baela caught you up on the latest gossip of the city, of the schoolmates you left behind. Unsurprising, a majority of your graduating class  still lived in King’s Landing. 

Which meant you were bound to run into someone eventually.

“So,” you started taking a sip of your wine. “What’s the plans looking like for you and Jace?”

By now your meals had arrived, in between mouthfuls of spaghetti Baela asked. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just trying to get an idea of who’s gonna get the apartment in our divorce.”

“Why? Sick of me already?”

You chuckled. “No, I just mean with how serious Jace is I’m surprised you two haven’t made bigger moves for the future.”

“We’re still young, marriage now is like being a child bride.”

You grinned, understanding the feeling. “Oh, I know. But have you two talked about moving in? I mean you’ve been together since middle school, you know everything about each other.”

“We knew everything about each other.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since he officially became part of the family, he doesn’t tell me as much. He keeps secrets from me, tells me it's for the best and that he’s protecting me. I don’t know, this probably sounds cliche.”

“It does,” you admit, but you remembered a similar feeling when you dated Aemond. “But that is who he is now.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You leaned closer. “Anything.”

“If the shooting never happened, would you have ranaway?”

You played with the rim of your glass, causing a slight high pitch noise. “I think I would have left eventually.”

“Would you have left with Aemond?”

You looked up meeting Baela’s eyes. “I think if everything didn’t go down as it did I would have stayed here and I would have regretted it like my mother did.”

“Is it really so bad?” She asked. “Being here, being with us?”

I shook my head, about to respond when a hand slapped down on the table, nearly spilling the wine. Alys Rivers leaned down smiling sweetly at you.

“Look who's back in town.”

Her green eyes were like daggers as she looked you up and down. You returned the gesture noting her skintight red dress, her too tall heels. 

You smiled. “I see you haven’t changed since highschool Alys.” 

She whipped her dark hair over a shoulder, threading her fingers through the strands. “Well, I hope you’d see some change in me (Y/N), I certainly see you have changed.”

You remained composed, taking a sip of wine. Even though she was three years older than you she still found it in her to act like the child she did in highschool. Aemond always told you it was because her dad didn’t give her enough attention but you knew she hated you because you didn’t come from a well off family. You didn’t back down then and you certainly weren’t going to back down now.

“So what have you been up to?” You asked, faking nice.

“Oh, I’ve joined the family business.” She made note to move her left hand to the side of her lips, bringing attention to the ring on her finger.

Your ring. The same oval diamond ring you saw four years ago. 

Which meant…

You let your eyes widen for a second before composing yourself. “Wow, congratulations! I’m happy for you.”

“Aren’t you going to ask who the lucky man is?”

She would not win, you wouldn’t let her. You can spiral later, but not in front of her.

You shot a look at Baela to find her frowning at her plate, she knew and she didn’t tell you. Now you were in the midst of a battle of wills and she was trying to sit it out. 

Hell no.

You kicked Baela under the table, gaining her attention. If she was going to keep something like this from you, the least she could do is help.

Baela cleared her throat. “Who is the lucky guy Alys?”

 “Well, you should already know who it is,” she waved Baela off. “It’s Aemond of course. We’ve been going out for the past three and half years, now. The proposal was long overdue.”

“Of course, you aren’t getting any younger are you?”

Alys sucked her teeth. “What a joy it is to have you back in the city, (Y/N). You’ve really been missed. I just hope that the Targaryen are as welcoming as I am.”

“She doesn’t have any involvement with the Targaryens anymore, Alys.” Baela sat up straighter at the mention of the family.

Her family now.

“Of course she does. Aemond told me everything about your relationship you know,” she leaned closer. “I just hope they don’t find out the real reason you left.” 

Your heart sank but you kept your composure. You finished your wine. “I have no idea what your talking about.”

Alys grinned, clearly satisfied. “Well, it was nice running into you. Send my regards to Jace, Baela.”

She went to leave but before you were relieved of her presence she reached into her black hermes bag and pulled out an envelope, setting it on the table.

“Aemond and I would love to have you at our celebration dinner.” With that she blew you a kiss and joined her friends in the private room.

You didn’t look at the invitation as you grabbed it off the table and shoved it in your bag. “What the fuck just happened?”

Tag List: @dixie-elocin @liannafae @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy

[lilyisclueless]

First For Everything

18+

Gojo and Geto find out you’re a virgin, then quickly find out after you wouldn’t mind them taking it from you.

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Satoru Gojo x Fem!reader

Tags: virgin!reader, Virginity loss, Threesome, Praise, Oral, Multiple Orgasms/overstimulation, Fingering

word count: 2637

Part 1/2

———

“Wait… you’re a virgin?”

The question immediately makes you feel heat travel to your cheeks. Two pairs of eyes lock on you, one an endless sky of blue, and the other pair so dark that if the light wasn’t hitting them the right way, it felt like you’re staring into a deep abyss. Both are almost too much to stare into on a good day, much less when they’re looking at you like that.

Gojo and Geto are your best friends. You three have grown very close over the past two years, so close that they didn’t have any shame when it came to you. They were as vulgar around you as they are with each other. Usually, that’s fine. Usually, you just have to put up with them spewing the most filthy things, typically the next day after a hookup. That was fine, even if you had to discreetly clench your thighs together. Sometimes it’s things like “What kind of sex toy do you use” or “What’s your bra size” too, and you used to blush at those questions but you’ve gotten used to them.

You say they, but you mainly mean Gojo. Although Geto always patiently waits for your answer, you can’t say he’s much better.

Today Gojo decided to ask you what it feels like to be fucked as a girl. You three are hanging out in his room since the white hair devil’s mouth wasn’t the only filthy thing about him. He was also filthy rich and got a king-sized bed for his room way back. You and Geto were sitting against the headboard a little ways apart, him reading his book while you scrolled through your phone. Gojo had been resting his head in your lap and legs across Geto when he finally grew bored enough to ask.

You didn’t even have a strong reaction. You didn’t blush, you didn’t feel shy. It was an easy question to answer.

“I’ve never been fucked so I wouldn’t know.”

You honestly didn’t think much about it until you felt both of the gazes on you. Their surprised expressions confused you slightly until Gojo asked his next question, which left you feeling a little embarrassed because yes, yes you were.

“What? Not everyone can be whores like you guys,” you huff, averting your gaze back down to your phone to avoid their piercing eyes. You not only hear but feel Gojo laugh below you, which only makes the red on your cheeks spread.

“No way! You totally are a virgin!” Gojo’s tone was teasing, and you knew that you wouldn’t live this down. Now for a while. This would be his new favorite topic.

“You don’t have to be a whore to have sex, you know,” Geto speaks up, and you glare over at him. He raises an eyebrow back, almost daring you to say he’s wrong, and you decide then and there you weren’t going to feed into this.

“Who would’ve thought? I knew you weren’t as active as us, but I never took you for a prude.” Gojo reaches forward and pokes your cheek playfully, and you’re quick to swat his hand away. “So why haven’t you popped the cherry yet?”

Now that question did actually embarrass you. Because there wasn’t a real reason why. You just… haven't. Between school, missions, and these two constantly dragging you around, you haven’t had time to make another male friend. Much less a fuck buddy.

That, and maybe you had the tiniest, tiny, itsy-bitty crush on your two friends. How could you not? Beyond being two of the most handsome men there are, the way they talk about their conquests almost makes you jealous.

Gojo pouts when you continue to ignore him. As if to get back at you for ignoring him, he turns his face away from you. You can feel his soft white strands gently brush against your exposed thighs, all three of you wearing your school uniforms still, but you pay him no mind. Geto chuckles as he closes his book, setting it to the side for now.

“There’s no shame in being a virgin. Me and Satoru were virgins once,” Geto says, ever the sweetheart, “I mean, not since we were like sixteen. But there’s no problem being eighteen and still a virgin.”

Aaaaaand there he goes, throwing in his side shade as usual.

“I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I can associate with a virgin,” Gojo teases, and you roll your eyes, “how can I say I’m a proper whore if I hang out with a virgin?”

“He’s got a point. We have a reputation to uphold, as you always say,” Geto joins in, his tone just as teasing.

Gojo reaches up, plucking your device from your hands with his nimble fingers. You protest, but he puts the device out of reach. You glare down at him, finally prepared to speak to him if only to tell him to fuck off, but he beats you to it.

“I mean, we could always fix that,” he grabs the hand that was reaching for your phone, moving it out of the way to make eye contact with you, “would you like us to pop your cherry?”

It was a joke. He knew it was a joke, Geto knew it was a joke, you knew it was a joke. He thought you would roll your eyes, give him a little ‘as if’, or call him a perv. He didn’t expect much of anything, truly.

He felt the way your body shuddered at the question, the mere thought enough to get your heart racing. You hadn’t meant to react like that, but it was too late. Gojo felt it. Geto saw it. You could have saved it, but joke or not it had genuinely flustered you. Your brain was coming up blank.

The boys watched you for a moment. At first, they thought you might have been embarrassed. However, as they watched you fumble to come up with a response, watched the way your blush went from a soft red dusting your cheeks to a flow wildfire, growing every second they stared at you, the realization set in.

“Wait…” Gojo starts slowly, making you flinch, and he rises on his elbows to get a better look at your face much to your dismay, “do you?”

You shove him off you before quickly scooting to the end of the bed. God, there was no way to recover from that. Even if you denied, denied, denied it wouldn’t save you. They knew, and you wanted - no, needed to get out of there. You are way too embarrassed, and your only hope is they’ll show you mercy this once and not tease you about it later.

Before your feet can touch the ground, you feel a pair of muscular arms wrap around your midsection. You squeak, embarrassingly, as you’re pulled back. You feel a hard, warm, broad chest against your back, and a few strands of long dark hair dangle in front of you as the person behind you rests their head on yours. His arms wrap tightly around your stomach and chest, and you quickly realize there’s no escape.

“Why the hurry?” You could feel Geto’s voice rumble in his chest as he spoke and he could feel the thudding of your frantic heart, “no need to panic.”

“I’m not panicking,” you’re quick to say, gripping at the arms that were holding you back and trying to pry them off you. It was a pointless attempt.

“You so are panicking.” Gojo had at some point moved to sit on his knees, and now he was sitting in front of you. He reaches forward, and you flinch softly when you feel his fingertips brush against your cheek, delicately moving a strand of hair and tucking it behind your ear. “Dude, relax. It’s just us. We’re not mad that you want to fuck us.”

You groan loudly, sagging against Geto’s chest in defeat. You can feel the deep rumble of his chuckle. It isn't that you think they’re mad. You’re just totally embarrassed, and you don’t want to hear their teasing right now. “It’s not like that.”

“So you don’t want to fuck us?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So you do want to fuck us?”

“Satoru,” you warn, throwing a glare at him that is ruined by how red your face is. His lips twitch in amusement, but for your sake, he does his best to hold back. “What I meant was I didn’t think you guys would be mad. I just… really don’t want to be teased about this. You guys are ruthless sometimes.”

It was rare you show any kind of vulnerability around them, and they felt a little guilty at how you avoid their gaze and instead focus on your fidgeting hands. Even your voice had a softer, quieter tint to it. Did they really tease you that much?

“We wouldn’t tease you about something like this,” Geto speaks up again, “at least not if we could tell you are really being affected by it, which is obvious you are.”

You relax a little in his hold, especially after Gojo agrees with his statement. These boys could be a lot sometimes, but at the end of the day, they’re your best friends. They like to push your buttons, maybe even a little further than they should at times, but they did their best not to go way too far.

You sit with them in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth radiating from Geto. He kept his chin on top of your head, the tall bastard, as he allowed you to relax against his chest. It was a peaceful quiet that let you get rid of any last jittery nerves.

Gojo watches the two of you for a while. The blush on your cheeks slowly dies down, and it’s only when you’re back to normal he shares a look with his best friend.

It was no secret between them that they really thought you were attractive. They both occasionally talked about fantasies of having their way with you, Gojo being the worst about it while Geto at least tried to be respectful towards her. They couldn’t help it. Beyond just being horny bastards, you’re the only girl they’re close to. Besides Shoko, but it wasn’t the same.

The only reason they’ve held back so far was for two reasons; one, they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable and, two, they both had a thing for you and didn’t want to take things further out of respect for each other.

But fuck, how could they deny you wanting them to take your virginity? Even if it wasn’t intentional to ask, it was out there now. No words were spoken between them, yet somehow they had a full conversation.

Their eyes read: I’ll take the L if she wants you if you’ll take the L if she wants me.

“So, which one of us do you want to take your virginity?” Gojo asks, sounding so casual as if he was asking your favorite color or which ice cream flavor you’d prefer. Your cheeks start to heat again, and you glare at him.

“You just said you wouldn’t tease me,” you respond, a little more than just irritated. Gojo places his hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his palms before drawing slow circles into your skin. You felt heat twinge in your stomach, and it only grew when you saw the expression he was giving you.

Hungry. And he was staring at you like you were a meal.

“I’m not teasing you. I’m being dead serious,” he responds, but slows the movement of his fingers, “unless you’re not comfortable? We can drop it and move on.”

Despite the topic at hand, you thought it was oddly sweet how considerate he was being. Still, your heart rate starts to pick up again at what he was saying.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… I just,” you hesitate for a moment, looking away from him again, “I don’t know. I’ve never done it and I also really don’t want to ruin anything between us.”

You hate feeling so vulnerable, especially in front of them. They are always so level-headed and have their shit together. They found it cute though, even managing to tug at their heartstrings at how much you care about their friendship with you.

“It won’t ruin anything.” Geto moves his chin from your head to your shoulder. He squeezes your body in reassurance before burying his face into the nook of your neck. His nose tickled the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, but he didn’t put his lips on you. Not yet. “And either one of us would take good care of you. If that’s what you want.”

“That’s right, even though I usually like to play it rough.” Gojo plays it off as a joke, but considering the things you’ve heard him say… he definitely likes it rough. “So what will it be? Me, Suguru, or a topic change?”

You give it some thought, gently chewing at your bottom lip. The fact you’re thinking it over at all made both the boy’s heart rate pick up. While they’re both ready to accept whoever you choose, neither wants to be the one kicked out.

You mumble something under your breath, tilting your head down to hide behind the curtain of your hair. Gojo puts a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The blush on your cheeks had suddenly increased tenfold.

“Hmmm? Don’t be embarrassed, it’ll make me embarrassed,” he teases, releasing your chin now that you are looking up at him.

“I said… what if I didn’t want to choose?” You speak up, and Gojo tilts his head to the side. You’d never admit to him how cute that was.

“Like you want us to rock paper scissors over it?”

“Like I want both of you.”

Both of them felt the blood rush to their cocks. They freeze for a moment, immediately sharing a look with each other. They would be lying if they said they hadn't thought about sharing a girl, but neither of them actually ever breached the topic. Now the opportunity was not only there for the taking, it was with you of all people.

You were just about to take it back when Gojo finally spoke up again. “Holy fuck I didn’t even know I could get this hard.”

“Two is a lot for your first time, angel. You sure?” Despite giving you the option to back out, he finally presses his mouth against the skin of your neck. He presses gentle kisses against you, and your breath hitches at the sensation. You unintentionally start to tilt your head to the side, giving him more and more access.

“I-I mean, not at the same time… just, you know….” You trail off, unable to think straight with Geto’s mouth on you and his hard-on pressing against your ass.

“You mean you just want us taking turns fucking that tight little hole of yours?” Gojo kindly explains for you, and you can’t stop your thighs from clenching together and the small whimper that escapes you. Even Geto groans in your ear at his choice of words and holy fuck.

Maybe you can’t handle them both. You already felt like a mess, the way your body was aching for them. You could already tell you’re wet, and they haven’t even touched you yet. Despite that, you couldn’t stop from whispering breathlessly, “Yes.”

You’d be the death of them, and you had no idea. They’re about to make sure your first time is so good that you can never enjoy sex with anyone else again.

[hsrockstargf]

Object of Desire*

AN: this is my first time posting on here so please be gentle☺️

࿎࿎࿎࿎

summary: Honey Rose, one of the most sought after adult film actress, get picked to do a scene for director Harry Styes. What happens when she finds out that he will be the one doing the scene with her?

work count: 7.5k

tropes: pornstarry

warnings: 18+, language, explicit smut, fluff

══════════════════════

Lights, Camera, Action. 

I’ve always wanted to hear those words be uttered before a scene- to feel the adrenaline rush as I make the script come to life. As a little kid I would whisper them to myself before I would put on a short skit for my grandma, and it made me feel like I was a real movie star. Now at 26 years old- I am the furthest thing from a movie star, but I guess an actress could be the term for my job. 

The adrenaline that I love to feel rush through my veins is present as well as the nervousness that is making my hands sweat slightly. The possibilities of today swirl around my mind as I walk down the long corridor to meet the director of today’s shoot. 

I never thought this is what I would be doing to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. What started out as occasionally posing for a lingerie company to help me get through school turned into signing up for an OnlyFans and making $7,000 a week. 

I never did anything too risque on my page, only posting pictures of me half naked without showing my face and occasionally taking a few requests from subscribers. My following grew exponentially and it continued until I didn’t know how to manage all of the content people were asking me to film. 

A few months ago, a manger reached out to me wanting to represent me. Although this was a far fetch from the job I’ve always wanted, I couldn’t turn it down. Having sex in front of a camera with a whole team watching you and a million more waiting to see it with a person you barely know is scary and intimidating- but I took the job anyway. I like the money and sometimes the sex is actually quite enjoyable when I can get out of my own head.  

This particular job came as a surprise to both me and my manager. Usually, my manager would reach out to a filming company, give them my head shots, and then wait to hear back if they wanted to use me for the scene they were wanting to film, but for this one the director himself reached out to my manager. Apparently, he had seen some of my work and wanted me to be one of the stars in his new video. 

Harry Styles- is the biggest name in the porn industry and someone you don’t say no to.  Not only is he one of the hottest and sought after pornstars, but he is also known for being a fantastic director. Every single one of his videos has at least a million views, if not more; they are hot and sensual, plucked right from all the fantasies that I’ve stored away in my brain. He started out just like everyone else, at the bottom of the totem pole, but he became so successful so fast that everyone in the industry wanted to work with him. Recently, he’s been focusing more on the directing side of his job, foregoing the acting part which many people have complained about, but of course he doesn't care. 

I’m not embarrassed to admit that I’ve gotten myself off multiple times from watching him. Just listening to his deep, slow, and raspy voice would make my cunt slick before reaching into my night stand to grab my purple bullet vibrator. I would press it to my clit and circle it around while I watched him kiss down the length of the random girl’s body before he would uncover her wet pussy and taste her for the first time. He would use both his tongue and fingers to get her off before fucking her into the matress, making her scream out in pleasure as he takes her from behind and slaping the plump flesh of her ass as she comes on his thick cock. He would fuck her through her orgasm, and the sound of both of their moans would make my stomach swirl with pleasure. I would always tease myself, not letting myself come until I knew he was about to orgasm. To not disturb my neighbors, I would flip around on my belly with my vibrator still pressed closely to my swollen clit and bite into my pillow as I listened to his deep moans as he came, finally finding my release alongside him. 

It’s gonna be hard for me to look him in the eye today and not picture him like that; to not think of the way his back muscles flex while hovering over his partner, thrusting into them as hard and fast as he can or the way the vein on his neck pops out when he tilts his head back in pleasure. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to focus on my costar as Harry directs us, only focusing on him and what he wants from me. 

“Honey?” A small woman stands in front of me, holding a clipboard and a pair of headphones hanging around her neck. “Honey Rose?” 

“Yeah, that’s me. Sorry, I guess I’m a little distracted.” I answer to my stage name, and laugh off my embarrassment. She giggles along with me, easing my nerves. 

With an extended hand she says, “Hi, I’m Jenny, Harry’s assistant.” I take her hand and offer her a smile. “I’ll be showing you around and then I’ll take you to meet him.” After we shake hands she pulls away and turns around. “Follow me and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.” 

We make small talk while walking down the hallway towards an unknown destination. Jenny rattles off all the things she did this morning, preparing for the shoot and she also tells me how excited Harry is to meet me. 

My stomach once again flips at the thought of being in his presence, but I don’t get a chance to think about it more when Jenny stops in front of a door that says ‘Honey Rose.’ 

“I get my own dressing room?” 

Jenny looks at me with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Of course you do. Have you never had one before?” She opens the door, stepping to the side to let me walk in the room first. “Harry always makes sure his stars are taken care of.” 

I shake my head while walking in the room. It’s nothing too extravagant, with a love seat couch tucked in the corner with a small coffee table in front of it and a vanity on the far left wall, but it’s nicer than anything I’ve gotten before. Usually I have to get undressed in front of all the crew before slipping into a robe, so having this space puts me at ease. 

At least I’ll have some privacy throughout this shoot. 

“If you just wanna set your stuff down I’ll take you to meet Harry. He’s just now finishing setting up the bedroom set.” I take my coat off and hang it over the back of the chair and then place my purse on the coffee table. “You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” I stick my hands in my pockets to hide the fact that they are shaking and follow after Jenny. For being as tiny as she is she sure can walk fast and I find myself wishing she would slow down so I can prepare myself. 

The set is a normal looking bedroom. It’s cozy, warm, and inviting. The bed is dawned in white sheets, a white duvet, and a tan throw with brown pillows. The bedside tables are decorated with items to make it look like someone actually lives here and a mirror leans against the wall across from the bed. 

There aren't a lot of people in this room right now, some are setting up certain light fixtures and others are testing out the equipment, but I immediately know which one is Harry. Dressed in long black flared trousers and a matching black shirt, he stands next to the mirror, angling it so it perfectly aims at the head of the bed. 

He hasn’t noticed us yet, but when Jenny clears her throat he looks up in the mirror and immediately makes eye contact with me. “Harry, this is -”

“Honey Rose.” My fake name rolls off his lips and I find myself begging to hear him use my real name. “I know who she is, Jenny. Would be kind of hard not to know.” Harry stuffs one hand in his pocket and makes his way over to me. “I’m Harry.” He extends his hand out to me and it takes me a second before I do the same. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Harry.” I hope he doesn’t see the school girl blush on my cheeks, but I can’t help but find myself so taken with him. His hair falls perfectly in waves in a slight middle part that frames his face. There is a shadow of facial hair surrounding his jaw and around his lips, drawing attention to the pinkness of them. His eyes shine bright compared to the darkness of his hair; beautiful sea green staring straight at me. The tattoos on his arm stand out and I find myself looking over each and every one, but then I remember that I’m still holding onto his hand. I let go rather quickly and he chuckles at me. “I’m excited to work with you. I’ve heard nothing but great things.” 

“Well, I should hope so.” Two dimples pop out on the sides of his cheeks as he smiles while pushing his hair back and off his forward. “But I’m curious, are they talking about my directing skills or how I fuck?” 

I keep myself composed, even though all I want to do is tell him that my information is coming from the videos that I’ve watched of him. I gather up all the confidence in my body and say, “Both, but I guess I’ll only be seeing one of those talents today.” 

A confused look flashes across his face, but he doesn’t let it last. His lips perk up and he quietly says, “We’ll see about that.” Now it's my turn to be confused. I open my mouth to ask him what he means by that but he stops me. “Honey, would you mind joining me in my office? I just want to go over a few things with you, if that’s all right.” 

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Harry places his hand on my lower back and escorts us out of the room. His office isn’t too far away, but the walk is filled with a thick tension. He ushers me in, and tells me to sit on the couch like the one similar to mine in my dressing room. Harry takes a seat next to me, not sitting behind the desk which honestly makes me feel more equal to him. 

“As you may know, my videos are praised for how real and authentic they seem. I don’t do the corny pizza delivery guy bullshit or any of those cheesy porns that have terrible dialogue and even worse acting. I like to make everyone on set feel comfortable, so that they can actually feel the pleasure instead of faking it. Does that make sense?” He crosses one of his legs over the other, and the way his trousers move it showcases his thick thighs bulging under the surface of the fabric. 

“It makes perfect sense, and I really respect what you are doing here. Most of the time they just throw me in a room with a guy and just tell me to fuck him.” 

“I can promise you that’s not gonna be the case today, but I do need to ask you a few questions. You can answer whichever ones you want or not if you don’t want to.”  I nod my head at him, telling him I understand. That smirk reappears on his face, but this time I don’t get so flushed. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to sit on top of his desk and have his head be buried in my cunt. “I just need to know so I can fuck you just how you like it.” 

“Y-you’re gonna be the one fu- in the scene with me?” My heart rate picks up in anticipation and I hope I didn’t just hear him wrong. He hasn’t done a video in such a long time. Why would he start now? 

“That wasn’t the original plan.” Harry stands up, walking closer to me before crouching down in front of me. His knees touch mine and even through the fabric of both of our clothes I can feel his warm skin. “When I was looking for the girl for this shoot I came across one of your videos.” Harry’s fingertip grazes over my knee and he starts to draw circles on it. “It was just you, laying on a bed, with a vibrator on your pretty little pussy.” He looks up at me, and grabs a hold of my jaw. “You had beautiful moans coming from these lips. I just knew that I couldn’t sit there and watch someone fuck you, not when I could be the one doing it.” 

I turn my head, still keeping eye contact with him. His thumb that was on my jaw now rests against the skin of my lips. I puker them, softly kissing his thumb before taking it into my mouth for just a moment. “You want to fuck me, Harry?” His eyes are dark, lustfully watching as I kiss his thumb, suck on it, and then let it plop from between my lips. 

“Oh, honey.” Harry moves his hand away from my face, placing it on my knee again. With both hands, he pushes my thighs apart and situates himself between them. “You have no fucking clue.” I burn under his gaze. His touch is light and teasing, kneading the muscles of my thighs while he looks up at me. “I still need you to answer a few questions for me. Can you do that for me, honey?” 

“Please, call me Emma.” I don’t mind being called Honey. In fact it makes me feel confident and sexy, but right now I just want to feel real with him. 

“Okay, Emma. Are you okay with me warming you up before we shoot? I can do it right here, spread you out and make you come on my fingers so you're more sensitive while we film. You need to be warm, wet, and ready for me.” 

Harry kisses up the length on my pant leg, placing his lips right on top of the sem and stopping when he gets close to my center. “Yes, please make me come, Harry.” After I give him the okay, he doesn't waste a second before undoing the button on my pants and pulling them down my legs. He takes in the sight of my red lace thong and by the way the air creates a cool sensation on my panties, I know I’m wet for him; and he can see it. 

“I’m gonna ask you a few questions, but you have to promise me that you’ll answer them truthfully, okay?” 

Harry patiently awaits an answer, starting to slowly kiss up my thigh. He kisses both of my knees and continues to switch between both legs as he travels upwards until he reaches my midthigh and sits back up. “Yeah, I-I’ll answer them.”

“Let’s start with an easy one.” Harry drags his hands across my skin, nails scratching slightly. He finds my hips, tracing his thumb in the crease where my hip bends from sitting down. “Are you okay with me kissing you?” 

“Yes, I actually prefer it.” With the grip on my hip, he pulls me to the edge of the couch so I’m barely even sitting on it. He leans into me, pressing his chest against mine as he tucks himself into my neck. 

“Hmm,” His curls tickle my cheek, his sweet smell overpowers me, and his nose teases up my neck. “Is there anything that’s a hard no for you during sex?” I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” 

The fact that he isn’t even asking me these questions puts me at ease. Though I haven’t had a lot, my costars never asked me what I was or wasn’t comfortable with. The directors never cared, only making sure every piece of dialogue and every cue on the script was hit. 

“You can do anything to me. If it’s you doing it, I know I’ll like it.” 

“You’re stroking my ego here, Em.” 

The tip of his nose grazes my jawline before it's replaced by his lips. He is still holding onto my hips and even though I love his hands there I wish he would touch me elsewhere. Just from him being this close to me, my cunt is slick and my clit is throbbing, waiting to be touched. 

“I’ve watched you before. I know how you fuck, so anything you want to do go right on ahead. I can take you, Harry.” 

“Oh, I have no doubts about that.” Placing a kiss on my cheek, he stands up and sits down next to me again. “Stand up.” Obeying, I stand up on shaking legs and turn to face him. Legs spread, arms stretched out along the back of the couch, and a smirk on his face, Harry sits there eyeing me up and down. “Strip for me. Let me see what’s mine for today.”

I cross my arms, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt and pulling it over my head. His eyes move to my chest, taking in the matching red lace bra. Harry takes one arm off the back of the couch to adjust himself in his pants as he continues to take me in. “You know, it’s not fair that I’m half naked and you’re still completely clothed.” 

Harry clears his throat and reaches out to grab my hips to turn me around. “This isn't about me.” His fingers find the band on my underwear and my breath hitches when he starts to slowly pull them down. In the wake of the fabric, he kisses where it once laid. “So sit down on my lap.” Pulling on my hips, he sits my naked bottom half on his fully clothed lap.  “Spread your legs.” I hook a leg over each one of his thighs and lean back onto his chest. “And let me make you come, so I can fuck you how I want later.” 

The rings on his fingers are cold on my blazing skin. Touching over the expanse of my stomach, my hips, my thighs and briefly the tops of my breasts he teases me with everything I want while simultaneously avoiding the place I need him most. 

My pussy is soaked with my arousal, dripping down and probably landing on his trousers, but at this moment I can’t find it in myself to care. 

“Do you want me to just rub your clit and get you off that way, or do you want me fingers? Stretch you out a little bit so I fit nice and snug in you?” 

I tilt my head to the side to find him already looking at me. Our lips are so close I fainting feel his skin, but we both don’t make the move to lean in; to fuel the fire we both feel growing. “Want your fingers. Please.”  

Harry looks down at my lips for a brief second before turning his head away from me. Out of the corner of my eye I see him looking at my body that’s spread out for him and the lust in his eyes is unmistakable. 

I take advantage of his head facing forward and tuck my face in the crook of his neck. He smells even better this close up. His smell is sweet, reminding me of walking into a bakery while also being smokey, like a fresh campfire on a fall evening. 

I repeat his actions from early, gliding my nose across his neck. When his fingers finally touch my cunt I whimper into his skin. I accidentally bite into his neck from the shock of finally feeling him. “Hey. You can’t mark me yet, Em. Wait until later and you can leave your marks anywhere you want.” 

The tips of his fingers trace over my entrance, gathering up all the wetness caused by him. He drags them up and uses my arousal to start slowly drawing circles on my clit. Instead of biting him I kiss down the side of his neck to try and quiet my cries of pleasure. 

“Maybe I didn’t even need to warm you up. You were soaked before I even touched you.” 

In my desire induced haze I accidentally say, “I always get so wet for you.” My cheeks heat up with embarrassment and if I could bury myself into his neck anymore I would. 

“Oh?” His fingers speed up, making me squirm in his lap. “Are you telling me you’ve watched my videos while rubbing this little clit of yours? You’ve came from watching me fuck someone else. Is that what you’re telling me?” 

From the bulge pressing into my ass, it’s obvious this is turning him on. I let my embarrassment slip away and just let myself be in the moment with him. “Yes, Harry. I’ve always wanted to fuck you.” 

“Well, it’s my lucky day isn't it, baby?” He doesn’t warn me before filling my pussy with his fingers. Long, thick, and ring clad, his fingers work against my g-spot. Combined with the teasing and his relentless strokes on my clit, my stomach begins to tingle and the muscles in my cunt squeeze around his fingers. 

“God, Harry. I’m so fucking close.” His movements are slow and skillful, not needing to go fast and hard to make me reach my end. 

“You’re a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” His fingers stop fucking me, but he presses his fingertips up into my g-spot and massages the spot that makes me see stars. Somehow he’s lifted the hood of my clit so he’s directly on my nerves. “Can’t wait to get you underneath me, so I can fuck you into the sheets. Spread your pussy out and take you just like I fucking want.” 

I throw my head back on his shoulder, needing some fresh air. My lungs can hardly keep up with my shallow breaths and I’m so dizzy I feel like I could pass out. “Please, Harry. I need to cum.” 

“You don’t have to ask me. Just let go, honey. Make a mess of me.” 

And so I do. I feel myself clench around his fingers and my ears start to ring. The sound of his voice telling me how good I am filters through the noise, but for the most part I can’t focus on anything except the pure bliss running through my veins. Harry kisses my cheek, as he coaxes me through my orgasm. “Good girl, Em.” 

I fully relax into his chest as I come down from the high. He slips his fingers out from me and puts them up to my mouth. “I would love nothing more than to taste you right now, but I want to make sure the first time I do it’s caught on camera.” 

Harry drags my come across my bottom lip before slipping his fingers into my mouth. He lets me take my time cleaning his fingers up and he keeps eye contact with me the whole time. 

“What do we do now?” I ask after his fingers leave my mouth. 

“You are gonna go get a snack, get your hair and makeup done, and get dressed.” He pinches my bare hip which makes me yelp, but he just smiles at me. “But you gotta get off my lap so you can do that.” 

It’s crazy to see him go from this sexy dominant male to someone who is also playful. It makes my heart beat faster in my chest when he looks at me with a smile. 

I climb off him and go to grab a tissue from his desk to clean off the mess between my thighs. “Nope. None of that.” He snatches the tissue from my hand and puts it in his pocket. 

“I can’t clean myself up?” I cross my arms over my chest and for a second I forget I’m just in my bra, but I’m reminded when Harry’s eyes travel down to my tits. 

“No.” He walks over to my underwear that were haphazardly discarded and kneels before me. Tapping on the side of my ankle, he silently tells me to raise my foot so he can dress me. “While you are getting ready I want you to think about how wet you are. I want you to feel your come on your thighs and think about what we are gonna do. How I’m gonna fuck you. How I’m gonna make you come again.” He kisses my hip bone before standing up, dragging the fabric along with it. Harry makes sure it’s in place and snaps the band against my skin. “I’ll see you later, honey.” 

Throughout getting my hair and makeup done I shift unfavorably in my seat. My underwear is absolutely ruined from my orgasm, but now it's slick with my want for Harry. I can’t stop thinking about what we are about to do. 

In front of me lies my ‘script’. There isn’t much in it other than some lines I need to say. The premise of the whole video is a couple waking up tangled in the sheets together after being away from each other for a while. 

I think about what I plan on doing to him as the girls around me talk amongst themselves. Usually I would partake in these conversations and make friends with them, but right now my brain can only focus on one thing. 

They curl my hair, fluff it out and apply some light makeup to my face. I didn't want any foundation on because it will just get smudged anyway and I don’t want to look sloppy, so all I have on is some mascara and a light lip gloss. 

A silk black robe is wrapped around my body with my skin bare underneath and matching black slippers are on my feet. It was awkard taking my clothes off in front of the wardrobe person, especially considering the poor excuse of fabric that was my underwear. 

 The air is cold in the hallway as I walk towards the studio room and I know everyone that passes me can see my nipples through my robe. 

The room that was once filled with maybe five people now houses twelve. It’s hard to walk in the room with how many bodies there are and I barely see Harry through the crowd. I protectively shield my chest away from prying eyes and lower my head. 

Harry has changed from earlier, now wearing a black fitted t-shirt that shows off his muscles and a pair of grey sweatpants. I can tell by the bulge in his pants that he isn’t wearing any underwear and the sight instantly makes my mouth water. 

He finds my eyes across the room and at first he smirks at me, taking in my skimpy robe and the exposed skin on my thighs. He must see the apprehension in my eyes because he looks around the room and shakes his head. “Anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to be in here needs to get out.” 

Disapproving sighs are heard around the room, but they don’t hesitate to listen to him. Harry is known for being a sweet and caring guy but I’ve also heard that he isn’t afraid to put his foot down when he needs to. 

He waits until all unnecessary personnel exit the room, being left with the camera man and the sound lady. “Are you ready?” Harry kneels on the opposite side of the bed and puts his hands on his hips. 

“More than ready.” I pull the blanket back, ready to slip under the covers and Harry does the same. “Do you usually wear that to bed?” I say referring to his outfit. 

“I could ask you the same.” He grabs the sting that keeps my robe closed and tugs on it, not hard enough to open it, but just enough to pull me closer to him. 

“No. I usually sleep naked. Shouldn’t we make this as natural as possible?” I wink at him and pull his hands so the string gets loose. The silk moves against my skin as the front opens, but I only allow Harry to see me. 

His eyes drink me in, looking at every exposed piece of skin I have to offer. “Are you trying to be the director now? Trying to steal my job are you?” 

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I bet I could do a better job.” 

Harry reaches into my robe, pinches my hip and says, “Get that robe off and get under the covers.” The dimples that I’ve come to love poke out as I do as he says. 

Harry walks over to the two other people in the room and says something inaudible as I get myself comfortable. He must have told them to leave, because after they check the equipment they both turn around and leave. I’m used to people seeing me naked now and I’m not ashamed of having sex in front of people. In all actuality it turns me on knowing that people are watching me and my partner, but we are only focused on each other. 

“You didn’t have to kick them out. This isn’t my first rodeo.” I lay my head up against the headboard and watch as he starts to take his shirt off. No matter how many times I see his bare chest I still swoon every time. This is my first time seeing it in person and I can't wait to leave little love marks on him like he said I could earlier. 

“I know. I didn’t want them in here.” 

“Why?” 

“Just didn’t want them to be in here.” He bends down to take his sweats off, only leaving him in his underwear, before climbing into bed with me. 

“Won’t it be hard without them in here?” 

Harry turns towards me and leans on his elbow. “Those cameras over there are already filming and there are mics around the room to pick up your pretty noises that men are gonna drool over, so no, it won’t be.” He pulls the blanket down to expose my breasts. Leaning forward he takes my nipple in his mouth and lightly swirls his tongue around it. “Just lay down, act like you are asleep, and then wake your loving boyfriend up so he can fuck you senseless, okay?” 

“Whatever you say, director.” He chuckles at me and lays down. I press my naked body up against his half naked form and he groans. 

“Should have thought the whole naked thing through. I already need to be inside of you, so let’s hurry up.” I laugh into his chest and pretend like I’m peacefully sleeping on his chest for a while. 

Under the sheets, I discreetly sneak my hand from his tummy to the tops of his boxers. Being the professional he is, he doesn’t make any noise or give any indication that I’m close to touching him. 

I feel guilty because he got me worked up already and I haven't given him anything in return, so I pretend to wake up and lovingly look over at him. To portray the act of being his girlfriend, I caress his face, push back his hair, and take in the way he looks while he’s relaxing. 

I know he isn’t asleep, but he looks so cute and peaceful laying here like this with me. Throwing back the covers, I expose myself to the camera and run my hand along the top of his boxers. Harry stirs a little bit, trying to look like he’s waking up, but he keeps his eyes closed. 

“I’ve missed you, baby.” I whisper to him while dragging his underwear down his narrow hips. His cock is half hard, laying against his stomach. I take him into my hand, and his warm skin feels so nice against mine. I position myself between his legs while working my hand up and down his shaft. “Wake up, Harry. You’ve been gone for too long. I need you.” 

Once he’s fully hard, I put his tip in my mouth lightly sucking on it while my left hand reaches down to grab his balls and squeeze them. A little moan escapes him and he moves around more as he ‘wakes up.’ I take him further into my mouth, letting him tap the back of my throat before coming back up to lick at his tip. 

I hunch over him more, so I’m on my knees as I blow him. I continue to bob up and down, letting him stay in my throat for longer periods of time. His hands sneak into my hair and pushes it away from my face so he can watch me. “You just have to have my cock in your mouth first thing in the morning don’t ya, honey?” 

His dick pops out of my mouth and I replace it with my hand. I lay my head on his thigh, batting my eyelashes up at him while I jerk his dick in my hand. “I’ve just missed you, didn’t you miss me?” I pout my lip out at him slightly, playing into the needy and horny girlfriend role. Honestly, I don't have to even act that part. My pussy is a mess and I know the camera behind me is picking up on just how wet I am. 

“Of course I did.” He grabs the side of my head and hovers me over his wet dick. “Now, put my cock back in your mouth so I can show you just how much I missed you.” I don’t know why he asked me because he doesn’t wait for me to lower my mouth on him all the way before he’s thrusting into my mouth. 

Harry controls my head, fucking my throat while he lays under me. His moans are sinful, and make my cunt even more slick. I run my hands up and down his thigh, stopping over the tiger and scratching at it with my nails. “Fuck.” He moans at the pain and fucks my throat even harder. “Am I not fucking your mouth hard enough? Huh? You wanted me to go even harder?” 

I pinch his hip, telling him it’s okay to keep going and he does. Harry’s hips come off the bed while he pulls my head down over and over again. Tears leak from my eyes from the pressure, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Throughout all my sexual experiences I don’t think any man has even been this vocal in bed with me. His voice is rough and raspy and his moans are deep and sultry. Every word he says drips off his tongue like honey. 

Harry suddenly pulls out of my mouth and forces my head to look up at him. “Get up here now. Need this little pussy in my tongue now, before I fuck you.” 

The thought of his mouth on me makes me squirm and I move fast at his words. I crawl over his body,  touching his chest and arms on my way up. “Can I get a kiss first, please?” 

“Don’t have to ask me, baby.” Harry grabs the back of my head and pulls me down to his warm lips. Kissing him feels exactly how I pictured. He’s soft but rough, fast but takes his time, and in control while making me feel like I hold the power. His tongue works against mine and I find myself loving the way he tastes. 

I pull back from his lips, knowing if I don’t stop we’ll  just kiss the entire time. If this was just for us, I would kiss him until my lips bruise and all the air evaporates from my lungs, but this isn’t just for us. Grabbing his cheeks, I open his mouth wide. “Stick your tongue out for me, baby. I need to make sure you’ll be wet enough to fuck my pussy with your tongue.” 

“Don’t think I’ll need it with how wet you get, but I’ll never pass up the opportunity.” Harry winks at me as I spit into his mouth. My mouth is sloppy from the kiss we shared and the way he was relentless fucking up into my mouth causing a string of I admire how it looks sitting on his tongue, ready to be used. 

Harry grabs my ass and pulls me until I’m straddling his head. He yanks my hips down, forcing me to fully sit on his face. His moan is unmistakable as he tastes me for the first time and I simultaneously moan at the feeling of his tongue on my clit. 

Grabbing onto his hair for stability and also rocking my hips against his tongue I utter, “Fuck, Harry.” My clit is so sensitive from my orgasm and I know it wouldn’t take me much to finish again. His tongue licks from my entrance to my clit where he sucks it into his mouth and shakes his head to stimulate it further. I sound like I just ran a marathon with how heavy I’m breathing, but I can’t even find the time to be embarrassed about it. 

It comes to a surprise to me when I feel his hand smack my ass once on each cheek, making my skin sting. Harry pulls away from my pussy just for a moment, “Can you not take me sucking on your little clit, baby? Does it feel too good?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just dives back into my cunt and sucks my clit into his mouth once again. As he shakes his head back and forth, his stubble on his cheeks rubs against the inside of my thigh creating a nice achy burn that I will feel tomorrow morning. 

When he smacks my ass again, I cry out and lean my head against the headboard. “Keep doing that, Harry. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“You like me smacking your ass that much, honey?” I nod my head and whimper. He does it again and I nearly come just from that. “You’re such a dirty little thing.” 

After a few more licks at my clit, I come all over his face and start shaking above him. My legs feel like jello and I don’t even know how I’m going to move from the position. “I could make you come on my face like that all fucking day, such a great thing to wake up to.” Harry realizes my weak legs and he runs his calloused hands over my hips and down my thighs. “You still want me to fuck you? Show you how much I’ve missed being deep in your little cunt?”  

“Yes. Please, I need you inside me.” Harry reaches up and wraps his hand around my throat. Before I can even comprehend the fact that his long fingers, that I came around earlier, are around my neck he pushes me off his chest and down to the bed beside him. 

Instinctively, my legs part for him and he gladly slides between them. His dick slides between my slick lips, tip lightly touching my still aching clit. “I can’t wait til I slip right into you.” Harry presses a light kiss to my lips, trailing them over to my cheek, across my jawline, and down my neck. As he goes further down, sucking light bruises into the skin of my breasts, he pinches my chin and turns my head until I’m watching us in the mirror. “But you gotta keep your eyes on me.” 

“But-” 

He climbs up my body, and whispers in my ear, “Listen to me, Em. Be a good girl and listen to me, okay?” 

“O-okay.” My body shivers, hearing him call me my name during sex is everything I didn’t think I needed, but now it’s all I want. Harry trails my body in kisses again and this time I keep my eyes on him in the mirror. He buries his face into my cleavage, licking, kissing, and sucking my skin, leaving his mark behind. His large hands take in both of my breasts when he starts giving my stomach the same attention. 

“Are you dripping yet for me? Do you think I could slip right in?” 

“I don’t know. I guess you could always find out.” I tease. Harry turns his head and looks at me in the mirror. He takes in the smirk on my face and shakes his head while biting his lip. 

“I love that mouth of yours,” Fingertips trace the outline of my lips, taunting me, “but I think I can find a different use for it.” Now fully hovering me, he grabs my hips and wraps my legs around his waist. “I want to hear those pretty little noises you make.” Sitting up on his knees, Harry holds my hip with one hand while lining his cock up to my entrance. “You think you can do that for me? Can you tell me how good I’m fucking you?” 

“Yes, Harry. Just please, fuck-” Before I finish my sentence, Harry is already pushing into me, stretching my pussy out just for him. We both moan out at the feeling, and my nails dig into his abs. Red angry marks are left over the ink of his butterfly tattoo and I wish I had the time to admire the marks I made. 

“Yeah, that’s good.” Harry finally sinks into me all the way and both of his hands are now gripping my hips with a fierce strength. “Mark me like that, baby. Mark me however you want.” 

When my nails dig into his biceps he hisses and starts fucking into my relentlessly. Harry thursts into me while also using his grip on me to fuck my cunt onto his cock. The sound of our skin slapping against each other and the pleasure we are giving each other fills the room. 

I find myself thankful that he kicked everyone out. Usually in these situations I find myself faking the moans, the pleasure, on my face, and the way my body is moving, but with him everything is natural. 

I look at us in the mirror, with Harry now hovering over me and whimpering my name over and over again in my ear. His back muscles bulge and claim my attention as he fucks into me, deep and slow. His pelvis stimulates my clit every time he pushes deeper in me and I reluctantly take my eyes off him to throw my head back in pleasure. 

“Takin’ me so good, Em.” He captures my lips in a kiss and our tongues clash. “I’m gonna need you again, but next time I want you all to myself.” Harry picks up in pace and I can barely hear him over the sound of my own moans. “Just for us, no one else.” 

“I-I think I like the sound of that.” I clench down around his dick that’s soaked in my arousal and I feel the ache in my  stomach, begging me for a release. 

“But you like getting fucked in front of people, don’t you? You like getting fucked like the slut that you are?” He’s so close to my ear that no one will be able to hear his words in the video, but I can and it’s making me drip past him and onto the bed sheets. 

If I answer him I know it would be loud, so all I do is nod. Harry slips out of me and I whimper at the empty feeling. It doesn’t last too long though, because Harry flips me around till I’m laying on my stomach and quickly fills me up again. 

“I wish I could fuck you in every position, but you feel too good squeezing me.” The tip of his dick massages directly into my g-spot with every thrust he gives me and I bite the pillow to subside my screams. “Nuh uh,” Harry wraps my hair around his hand and tugs my face to the side so I’m looking at the mirror.  “Need to see the pretty face as you come.” 

The grip on my hair is released and placed back on my hips to angle them upwards. I slip my hand between my legs and rub lazy circles into my clit. The small stimulation pushes me over the edge, and by the way Harry’s face scrunches up and the deep moans escaping him I know my own orgasm caused his. 

Breathlessly he falls forwards; forehead resting against the space between my shoulder blades. We stay like that for a while, catching our breaths and taking in each other. Harry kisses the skin of my back repeatedly as I sink into the sheets with him still inside me. 

“Well, Em. I think we made a good video.” 

[madeinnaboo]

His master | Anakin Skywalker

this is very short. I apologize🥹 

also I am planning on writing part two for Training, I just have to figure out what it should be about since I didn't expect anyone to like it enough to ask for a part two (I love you!!!!)

lastly, I sadly can't answer comments under my posts, this is my secondary blog, and I use my primary one for personal use:( I do read everything tho!

summary: you're Anakins master and you help him with a certain situation words: 1.2k

requests are open:)

warnings: m! receiving, sub! Anakin, nothing too crazy:)

,,You're lost in your thoughts, padawan" You say after noticing Anakin staring at his feet for a long time. He quickly looked up at you, with red spreading across his cheeks.

,,I am sorry, master" He apologized, and you smiled at him. You came back from a hard mission, and it was clear that both of you needed some rest. After finally arriving back at base on Kashyyyk, Anakin followed you everywhere you went like a lost puppy. Finally, right before you entered your tent, you turned around to face him. He got surprised and almost apologized for walking into your tent. A smirk grew across your face. 

,,Its late Anakin. Go to sleep, you need to rest" You said and you noticed how his face became more dim. Did he really expect to be with you in your tent?

,,Yes master" He said, but didn't walk away; instead, he just stood there, staring at you. With a deep breath, you took a step closer to him, making sure no one was around.

,,You did great today" You said as you gently caressed his cheeks. As soon as he felt your warm touch, his eyes closed in pleasure. You carefully studied his face before he finally opened his eyes. You smiled at him after he thanked you, and you turned around, entering your tent. You felt his presence in front of your tent for a while before he finally left. Quickly, you pushed all thoughts about him from your head, knowing how wrong they were. The tension between you and Anakin has been growing every day, and soon you realized he cared about you more than he should. You tried to force yourself to be just a master to him and nothing more, but there was just something about him. About the way he looked up at you every time you stood close to him, the way his breath caught in his throat when you touched him while helping him with his lightsaber. Anakin has always been very cocky and sarcastic toward everyone but you. To him, you were so much more. Someone he would do anything for, even though he knew you didn't feel the same about him. Which was a lie. A shameful lie.

It was after midnight, and you finally went to bed. You knew you needed to rest because you had to go back to Coruscant in the morning. After a while, you closed your eyes, getting ready for the much-needed sleep; however, there was something making you unable to fall asleep. Deep down, you felt that Anakin wasn't sleeping. You rolled your eyes and got out of bed. You walked out of your tent and headed to his. He was probably still awake, working on some scrap, completely forgetting about time. Normally, you'd let him do whatever he wanted with his free time, but you needed him to focus on hiding his feelings tomorrow since you had a meeting with the Jedi Council. After finally reaching his tent, you didn't wait for anything and just simply walked in, pushing the heavy material from your face. Your eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, you just stood there. In front of you was Anakin in his bed, panting heavily as he stroked his cock. His head was buried deep in his pillows, so he didn't hear you coming. You just stared at him as he pleasured himself, unable to move.

,,Anakin?" You finally spoke, and he almost jumped. Your eyes met, and his face instantly turned white. You expected him to quickly cover himself, while he would apologize multiple times, but instead he whined. His hand was still stroking his cock as he was watching you now. 

,,Master please" He whined out, and your heart almost dropped to your stomach. You were caught so off guard, you genuinely couldn't think of what you should do. Another moan from him brought you back to reality.

,,Please master, it hurts" He almost whispered, and you felt your body moving closer to him. When you were standing directly next to him, his free hand reached for yours, tightly squeezing it afterward. Your eyes traveled from his face to his naked chest, his strong abs and then his cock. He softly whined as he saw you staring at it. You were fighting an inner battle. You desperately wanted to touch him, but you also knew that you'd be crossing a line you could never cross back. After some time, you made up your mind and got on your knees in front of his bed. With no hesitation, he sat up, placing his legs next to you, basically caging you. You put your hands on his thighs, and his hands went to your hair. 

,,Anakin, this has to stay between us" You told him, and he impatiently nodded, pushing your head closer to his crotch. You took a deep breath before grabbing his thick cock. He was so incredibly sensitive that even the smallest touch from you made him almost cum. You licked his pulsing tip while looking at him through your lashes. A loud moan escaped his pretty lips, and you wrapped your lips around him. After some time of just teasing his tip, you finally licked his whole shaft before fully sucking him off. His cock was thick and long, making you unable to fit him whole, so you helped yourself with your hands. His head was thrown back while his mouth was open. This is more than he ever dreamed of. You were purposely sucking him off at a very slow pace. Soon, you felt his hips buckle into your throat in a desperate move to make you go faster. You dug your fingers into his thighs, making him know he didn't have that sort of power over you. However, since he was so good for you, moaning so nicely, you sped up your pace, focusing his tip every time you went up. 

,,M-Master" He fought hard to say even a single word, and you knew why. His breathing was heavy, and his cock started to twitch inside your mouth. Shortly after that, his hands squeezed your hair more tightly before his warm cum painted the inside of your throat. Anakin bit his lower lip painfully to stop himself from moaning too loud. When you knew he had given you all he had, you cleaned his tip with your tongue before swallowing his cum. He was looking down at you with so much love in his eyes. After a while, you stood up and his hands caught yours. Neither of you knew what to say.

,,Thank you, master" He said while looking up at you now. You nodded with a soft smile before running your fingers through his hair.

,,Go to sleep Anakin" You said before you felt sadness consume his body. You had to go before something more would happen. With quick steps, you left his tent and went back to yours, checking if anyone was out. You sat down on your bed with a loud thud before putting your face in your hands. This was so wrong. Your mind was quickly filled with images of his face as he came into your mouth. With a deep breath, you fell into your bed and forced yourself to fall asleep.

[sundew199]

Quiet

a/n: uh based on this thought I had 🤭

tags: f!reader x reiner, oral f!recieving, slight voyeurism, smut, Reiner's a freak but we already knew that. Barely any plot

3.2k words

Running a fairly successful company at your age was no small feat. After the dedication to took to earn the respect from other business moguls and prove that you weren't just another wannabe dreamer, going out of your way to prove you were capable of running a successful company. There were ups and downs, which were to be expected, but there was one person who kept you steady and focused on the end goal.

Reiner had been working at one of your competitor's companies at the time you met him, leaving a lasting impression. Your initial plan was to use him for insider information, because who doesn't do that in the business world. He gladly accepted for whatever reason you didn't know at the time, later finding out it was because he liked you and saw your potential. The friendship grew into something more when he left the competitor to come work for you, giving your company that extra kick to solidify your name in the business world. You gave him the position of vice president without a second thought, Reiner was smart and very well rounded when it came to the economy and trade values, without him it was hard to say where your company might be today.

Of course the business relationship the two of you formed didn't end there, blossomed into something more. After about a year of working together, Reiner asked you out on a date and you had no inclination to decline. That night was the beginning of your romantic relationship with him, now living together and engaged, running the company you started from the ground up, together.

Recently, you've been working from home, hosting meetings with your board and valuable employees, saving you so much time from having to drive downtown every morning. Reiner would go in more often than you would, but he had the day off today and what a stroke of luck it was that it was the same day as your monthly board meeting.

"You're not going to take all damn morning are you?"

His breath tickled your ear as he spoke, holding you to his chest in a loving squeeze, not ready for you to leave bed just yet.

"Hopefully not, but I can't make any promises." Turning to kiss his lips, running tender fingers in the back of his scalp. He hummed lowly, beginning to haul you onto his lap before you placed a gentle hand on his chest.

"I need to get ready."

"Just real quick." Palming your ass cheek while giving it a squeeze, an attempt to entice you to stay in bed and help with his morning problem. You would any other day, but you missed your first two alarms and any longer in bed could result in you being late to your own meeting,

"After." Giving a breathy laugh and sliding out from his arms and off the bed to the bathroom to look halfway decent for your employees. You could hear Reiner huffing from the bed still, dramatically expressing his annoyance with you leaving his grasp so quickly. He always played it up for fun, never doing it to be manipulative only to get a few laughs.

Since the meeting would be held over Zoom in the quietness of your home office, there wasn't really a need for you to dress up all the way, a nice shirt and some jewelry would sell the facade of you being dressed completely in business casual. You made a point to peck his lips on your way out of the bedroom, intentionally swaying your hips in the scandalous short shorts you wore to be a tease and biting back a laugh.

Grabbing a quick cup of coffee and the notepad with company docs paper clipped to the side, you sauntered to the office, deciding to leave the door open a crack. There were just about five minutes to spare to get logged in, open the portal for everyone to join and make this the quickest monthly meeting yet. You would admit the thought of Reiner having his way with you like he always did most mornings made you antsy to get this done quickly.

"Morning everyone!" Chirping as soon as the last person was seen to join the meeting, forcing yourself to be a bit more cheery today in hopes it wouldn't drag things on for too long.

Everyone greeted you back, some forcing a happy face as it wasn't exactly how they wanted to spend their mornings, while the rest seemed to be chipper or doing a better job at faking it.

All you needed to go over with them was the budget for the remainder of the year and a few upcoming projects that needed a few approvals before getting them up and running. Your lead marketing and public relations for the company took the initiative of getting you up to date on whether the marketing strategies suggested by none other than Reiner were working and playing in the company's favor. She droned on, reading directly from a report she put together before this, making it impossible to focus on what she was saying. Based just on this, the meeting unfortunately may take up a good portion of your morning, exactly what you didn't want.

All you could do after marketing wrapped up and the chief of accounting began his own spiel was scribble on the notepad next to your desktop, pretending to be writing notes. In truth you were thinking about Reiner and how badly you wanted to climb back into bed and ride his dick till he couldn't cum anymore. Fuck, that would be nice right about now, ease the ache rising between your legs the more you thought about splitting yourself on top of him.

"If we can improve sales and beat the monthly quota, there would be room and more leverage for giving the green light to these potential marketing projects, don't you agree?"

Snapping up at the question from your chief of accounting did you realize you were daydreaming, barely catching what they were discussing. Quickly you pushed aside your notepad and forced yourself to focus and come up with a believable answer.

"Yes absolutely. How are we looking for sales this month." Diverting the conversation to the head of sales, ensuring there'd be less of a chance to make a fool of yourself from the lack of attention you had at the moment. He nodded on the other side of the screen, clearing his throat and reaching for the report he had to present this month.

Letting out a small breath of relief at your save, you reluctantly brought the notepad closer again, to actually take notes. And you did, conjuring up ways to help the sales department exceed the monthly quota until you noticed your office door being pushed open. A tuff of blonde made the heat rise in your veins, personal desires pushing forward and drowning out the discussion currently being held.

He stood on the other side of your desk, behind the monitor and out of view, mouthing a question to you. Reiner asked if it was going well, briefly switching to business mode and then back to the fire simmering inside him, lips curling in a smirk. You gave him a subtle nod, one only he could make out and forced your eyes back to the screen to dial back into the discussion.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him leave, shutting the door halfway and giving the impression he was off to do something else. But the moment he left, you wish he stay for some reason, just seeing him walk in shirtless in low hanging pajama pants had you clenching your legs together. You wanted - no needed him. Needed him down between your legs eating you out like he was starved. God he could work wonders with that fucking mouth of his, have you trembling and forcing multiple orgasms out of you without breaking a sweat.

Focus.

You needed to focus. The more you let your mind wonder, the longer this meeting could take and keep you from satisfying the hunger.

The glare from the sun peering in from the windows behind you casted onto your monitor, prompting you to pull the blinds down and dim the room a bit. Tucking one of your legs under you, adjusting in your seat, you saw the door open again, refusing to look knowing it was Reiner and listen to the conversation between your head of sales and marketing. Right, you were still discussing how to beat the monthly quota, Jesus this actually might take forever.

Without warning a hand grabbed you by the ankle, startling you and making you jolt. No one seemed to notice in the meeting, giving you a second to look down and see Reiner crawling under your desk to you. What the fuck was he doing? And why now of all times.

With one of your ankles still in his grasp, he reached to grab the other, untucking it from where you sat on it, spreading your legs apart wide. You felt incredibly hot all of a sudden, watching his face inch closer and closer to in between your spread legs. Reiner let out a small sigh, releasing one of your ankles to pull at the waistband of your shorts.

Quickly, you looked back towards the screen, gripping his wrist to stop him and to turn off your camera and mic, telling your staff to give you one moment and to carry on.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hissing, an edge of irritation in your words.

"Nothing. Just...pretend I'm not here, and don't be too loud alright? Can't keep yourself muted and off camera for long sweetheart." Kissing your inner thigh deftly, twisting his wrist out of your hand and pulling your shorts and panties down. Thankfully you hadn't reached to turn your mic and camera back on as he did so or the expression on your face would be a dead giveaway. Reiner sighed again at the sight of your glistening folds, tucking his bottom lip into his teeth and releasing with a whisper of a chuckle. Experimentally, he rolled his tongue out, bringing it to swipe over your slit. You shuttered, gasping and hooking one of your legs over the arm of your desk chair while he held the other away.

"Get back to your meeting baby." Reiner instructed, kissing your slit and flicking his tongue over your entrance.

God you were teetering on the edge of killing him or shoving his face into your pussy, not even sure how you were going to make it the rest of the meeting with him down there. Sure the easiest solution would be to shove him away and make him wait, but he was already down there making out with your pussy in such an oddly tender way, there was no way you were going to stop him.

Reluctantly pressing the mic and camera options, you adjusted slightly in your seat and cleared your throat.

"Sorry, had to take care of something real quick." Bashfully apologizing with a white light, feeling the vibrating chuckle from Reiner on your folds.

"No problem. We came up with a plan to inexpensively bring in more sales and would like to know what you think." The head of sales spoke with a proud smile.

"Sure go ahead. After if we need to, go over what project management has and HR." Forcing out as steadily as you could, keeping the needy whine at bay as Reiner swirled the tip of his tongue over your clit, slowly.

"Great." A couple people said in unison, turning all their focus back to the head of sales. He spoke enthusiastically about the plan to you and everyone else and from what you could focus on, it all sounded great so far.

Reiner's mouth moved away from your clit, and back down to your now dripping entrance. You were good at putting on a face and you hoped in this case no one suspected anything, even though your legs were beginning to shake off camera. He hummed into your flesh, dipping his tongue around and in your entrance, lapping up your arousal with hunger. He was purposely taking his time, teasing you with light touches and slow movements, driving you to near insanity.

"Taste so good." He whispered, shoving his tongue inside, pressing his face into your cunt with the tip of his nose bumping your clit.

All you could do was chew on the inside of your cheek, strain your face to remain unfazed to stay professional. The hand not holding your leg back came into play once he had his fill of fucking you with his tongue, middle finger swiping over your slick folds, toying with the idea of shoving it in. To muffle the moan nearly slipping out, you cleared your throat, reaching down to grip his hair harshly, only for him to roll his eyes into the back of his head and quietly hiss. He knew what he was doing by showing his enjoyment and you decided that you were going to kill him once this meeting wrapped up.

"I think that plan is excellent, I say we implement it immediately after this meeting." Steadying your voice perfectly much to your surprise, smiling warmly to your staff. "Do we have anything from product management?"

"Just a few items of discussion, I won't take long, promise." The man chuckled, seeing some of the others rolling their eyes and trying to keep yours from doing the same, for one reason or another. As soon as he began to speak, Reiner slipped his middle finger into your entrance, pulling it back out to start a rhythmic pump. You clench his hair harder instead of moaning, hoping and praying the head of product management kept his promise.

Daring to sneak a glance down between your legs, you regretted it once Reiner's glazed over eyes met yours, appearing drunk and holding himself back. He slipped his finger out, dipped it into his mouth to suck it clean and only to shove it back in with his ring finger this time. Maybe instead of killing him you could fire him, or write him up. He wouldn't care, he was getting too much enjoyment out of this to worry about if you'd actually reprimand him. Deep down you knew you wouldn't, but it was tempting.

Looking back up to the screen and seeing mouths move but no words reaching your ears, you knew you were fucked. Monthly meetings were important, but not that important, not with the way Reiner's two thick fingers pumped in and out of you slowly as his tongue flattened over your clit repeatedly. You couldn't see him, though you knew he had the dirties smirk on his face right now and your emotions were at war with each other or whether to be mad or not.

The next five minutes went by painfully slow, product management continuously getting side tracked in his own words, allowing you to redirect the irritation to him instead of the man sucking on your clit. Reiner alternated between harsh sucks and gentle, keeping his fingers moving in and out with ease, using the slick arousal to his advantage. Your legs were violently trembling, a tell tale sign you were close, along with the constant chewing of your bottom lip. You wanted to cum yes, but you wanted to cum screaming Reiner's name and not swallowing it for the sake of the meeting still going on.

"You can cum if you want, I'm not stopping you." He whispered coming off your clit, meeting your eyes and catching his slick cover lips and chin, how he swiped his tongue on his bottom lip to greedily taste it.

At your breaking point with just about everything, you released the tight grip on his hair, sucking in a sharp breath.

"I'm going to have to cut this meeting short." Sternly interrupting product management. "If you have any question please email me, have a great rest of your day."

Faster than you could process, you clicked the bright red "end" button on the corner of your screen, leaving absolutely no room for anyone to say anything. If they had a problem with it, oh well, you didn't care and you owned the company entirely and could do what you want.

"Fuck, please I'm so close." Whining as soon as the you closed the last of the zoom tabs on your screen, slouching deep in your desk chair nearly to the edge.

"Mm, missed hearing you." Chuckling back and wasting no time latching back onto your clit, bending the fingers inside of you to flutter in a 'c'mere' motion, sending you arching off of the chair.

Reiner groaned right on your clit when you gripped his hair again, pushing him harder into you. He swirled and flicked his tongue behind closed lips, locking eyes with you and moving his fingers to search for that spongy spot deep inside you.

"Right there, oh my god, fuck!" Exclaiming right as he found your g-spot, having to hold onto the arms of the chair for stability as the lower half of your body raised entirely. Reiner's hand holding you back by the thigh moved to hold you down at the hips.

"That's it baby," Encouraging with a raspy satisfied voice, coming off your clit with a pop and a deep chuckle, working his fingers even fast, causing your slick arousal to stream down his palm and down to his wrist.

Everything in your body was shaking, mind going blank and vision hazy as an intense orgasm approached closer and closer. You whined and writhed in the chair like you were trying to get away, like it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

"Doin' so good, need you to cum sweetheart." Almost growling out the sentence, going back to your clit to harshly suck, tipping you over the edge right then and there.

Stars littered your vision as you came, going slack in the desk chair and feeling a hand prevent you from slipping off entirely. Reiner waited a moment before slipping his drenched fingers out for you to gain your bearing a bit, removing them slowly when you began to sit up. He swiped his tongue over both just barely before pushing your chair back to give him room to stand.

"Open." Softly instructing, dipping the two fingers coated in your arousal into your mouth to clean them off. His lower stomach tightened, the muscle there clenching noticeably as you sucked his fingers like you would his dick, giving him that dangerous doe eyed expression as you did so.

"Sorry about the meeting." Uttering softly when you popped his fingers out of your mouth.

"No you're not." Amusement dripping in your words as you reached for your abandoned shorts and panties from under the desk, smacking them to his chest.

"You're right I'm not." Wrapping an arm around your waist and hoisting you up to lock your legs around his midsection, carrying you out of the office. "In fact I was trying to find a way to fuck you during that meeting, but couldn't think of how"

"Reiner!" Feigning the disapproval in your tone and laughing as did he, heading for the bedroom to fuck the absolute life out of you, but that didn't need to be said to know.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Pearl's Secret - Bucky Barnes

Character: Bucky x female!reader

Summary: After a traumatic night at the Celine Mansion, young Bucky grows up to hunt stolen art tied to his past. His investigation leads him to a high-stakes auction, where a dramatic theft uncovers new clues. A chance encounter in a park propels him closer to unraveling long-hidden secrets.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It was the coldest day Bucky could remember. Heavy rain lashed against the windows, the wind howled through the cracks, and darkness enveloped everything outside. He couldn't believe how the warmest place he'd ever known could turn into something so bleak and terrifying.

Ten-year-old Bucky hid inside the fireplace, tucked tightly into the small space. He hadn't known about this hiding spot until the owner, Mrs. Celine, had shoved him in there. "Don't come out until I say so," she had whispered urgently, her voice quivering with fear.

Despite her own terror, she had saved him from the intruders, protecting him as if he were her own, even though he was just an orphan—a nobody. She looked different now, her face pale and eyes wide, unlike the calm and gentle woman he used to know.

"Where is Y/N?" Bucky asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"She's safe," Mrs. Celine replied, her hands trembling as she grabbed a long sword from a knight sculpture standing near the fireplace. She paused for a moment, then looked back at him with a fierce determination in her eyes.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” she said, her voice steadier now, though still edged with fear.

“Yeah?” Bucky replied, his small hands gripping his knees tightly, trying to make himself as small as possible in the cramped space.

“Protect my daughter,” she said, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him shiver more than the cold. With those words, Martha turned and rushed out of the room, leaving Bucky alone in the shadows.

Today was supposed to be a day of celebration. Every year, the Celine mansion hosted an Easter event for the local children and those from the orphanage.

The owner, Antoine Celine, a French aristocrat, and his wife, Martha, an American socialite, were known for their generosity. They were wealthy and loved to do philanthropic work. Every holiday, the Celine mansion was filled with laughter, food, and games, and the children always went home with gifts.

The reason the Celines opened their home was for their only daughter, Y/N. Bucky had heard from the older kids that she was too weak to play outside or go to school. Her parents invited other children to the mansion to ensure she had friends and didn't feel isolated.

The first time Bucky met Y/N was when he was trying to catch a white cat, which had climbed up a tree. He looked up to see a girl dressed in fine, porcelain-doll-like clothing with the cat nestled comfortably in her lap.

“She’s afraid of strangers,” the girl said, her voice soft yet confident, as she jumped down from the tree with surprising grace.

Bucky stared at her, quickly noticing how different she seemed from the other kids. "Are you the owner of this house?"

"Yes," you answered simply, a small smile playing on your lips.

"They said you're weak, but you could climb and jump from the tree. I couldn't do that," Bucky said, his tone filled with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

Hearing his words, you extended your hand to him. "Let me show you. It's not difficult."

From that moment on, Bucky and you grew closer. You would call for him, and he would come to the mansion, welcomed with open arms by your parents, who were thrilled to see their daughter finally making friends.

While playing at the mansion, often playing hide and seek with you, Bucky would explore every corner. The place was filled with paintings, artifacts, and old weapons—like a treasure trove. One room that particularly caught his interest was a gallery with three large paintings, each depicting a woman wearing pearl accessories. He wondered what the Celines had done to accumulate such wealth.

But perhaps it was this very fortune that brought about the tragic events of that day. After most of the children had gone home and only he remained to play with you, the lights suddenly went out. Darkness fell, and chaos erupted. Intruders burst through the windows. Antoine, your father, was quick to act, ushering everyone to safety.

You were panicking, struggling to breathe. Bucky helped you use your inhaler, his hands shaking as he held it to your lips. Your body was weak because of your asthma, and you were clearly frightened.

“Bernard, take Y/N to the safest place,” Martha ordered, handing you to the elderly butler. Bernard quickly scooped you up, moving as fast as his old legs could carry him.

Then, a scream pierced the air. Everyone froze, terror written across their faces. Martha's eyes widened with fear; she knew that voice—it was her husband.

"Go!" she yelled at Bucky, dragging him towards the fireplace. "Hide, and don't come out, no matter what you hear."

Bucky nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He squeezed into the fireplace and tried to control his breathing, making himself as quiet as possible. He stayed there, trembling, until he heard the distant wail of police sirens.

Finally, he crawled out, his legs numb and unsteady. A policeman he recognized, Jack, was standing in the foyer, looking around with a grim expression.

“Bucky?” Jack said softly when he saw him, quickly taking off his jacket and draping it over the boy's shoulders.

“Where are Mr. and Mrs. Celine? Where are Y/N and Bernard?” Bucky's voice was a mixture of fear and desperation.

Jack sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying. "I'll tell you when the time is right. For now, you should go home."

“But where is Y/N?” Bucky insisted, his eyes searching Jack’s for any hint of reassurance.

“She’s not here,” Jack said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

The next day, Bucky learned the truth: there had been a burglary at the Celine mansion, and a murder had taken place. Your whereabouts, along with Bernard’s, remained unknown. He also found out that the stolen items were the three paintings of the women with pearls.

Bucky realized, as he stood outside the now-empty mansion, that he was still just a kid who couldn’t do anything to help that night. From that day on, he vowed to become a police officer so he would never be helpless again.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

15 Years Later

Bucky had made it his mission to find you and Bernard. Growing up, he had followed the news of the Celine Mansion murder closely. The case had garnered international attention, primarily due to the mansion's extensive art collection. Despite the media frenzy, the three paintings of women adorned with pearls—the ones that had captivated him as a child—were never mentioned among the stolen artworks.

Determined to uncover the truth, Bucky joined the White Collar Crime Unit, specializing in art theft. He hoped that recovering the stolen art from the Celine Mansion might also lead him to you and Bernard.

He felt a deep sense of obligation to the Celines; their charity had provided him with an opportunity to attend college, and he was driven to repay their kindness.

In his office, Bucky was a whirlwind of focused energy. His desk was cluttered with files, photographs of artworks, and leads on various stolen pieces. His eyes, sharp and intense, scanned documents and screen after screen, piecing together clues with relentless dedication.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the keyboard as he pulled up images of art pieces and cross-referenced them with the stolen inventory.

Most of the time, Bucky encountered counterfeit artworks. When a seller insisted that a piece was authentic, Bucky’s expression turned skeptical. His jaw tightened, and his brow furrowed with irritation as he examined the so-called masterpiece, especially when it's related to Celine.

“This is fake,” Bucky said decisively, his voice steady and unwavering as he handed the appraisal report back to the seller.

The seller, visibly uncomfortable, stammered, “But how can you be so sure?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. 'Because when we were kids, we have our own little marks on those paintings and artworks. Little signs only we knew about,' he thought.

He glanced down at the art piece, his eyes narrowing in recognition. “And this,” he said, pointing to a specific detail on the painting, “is not one of them. It’s fake.”

Bucky’s confidence came from the mischievous games you used to play together, where you both secretly marked the paintings with tiny, almost imperceptible symbols—proof of authenticity known only to the two of you. Those childhood secrets now served as his key to identifying the genuine articles from the forgeries.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

Back at the office, Bucky was engrossed in his work, his eyes scanning through a new batch of leads when a snippet of conversation from a nearby cubicle caught his attention. He leaned closer, straining to hear the details of the conversation between two colleagues.

“…I heard from my informant that there’s going to be a big auction soon,” one of them said, a hint of excitement in their voice. “Apparently, a major painting is going to be featured—one of a woman wearing a pearl necklace.”

The mention of the pearl necklace made Bucky's heart skip a beat. He straightened in his chair, his pulse quickening. The painting described matched the ones he had been searching for, the very ones that had been stolen from the Celine Mansion.

He immediately reached for his phone, dialing his friend and fellow investigator, Mark. As the phone rang, Bucky’s fingers drummed impatiently on his desk, his mind racing with possibilities.

“Mark, it’s Bucky,” he said as soon as his friend answered. “I need you to pull some strings for me. There’s an auction coming up, and I need to attend it. It’s about a painting with a woman wearing a pearl necklace.”

Mark’s voice crackled through the phone, a mix of curiosity and concern. “Are you sure it’s one of the Celine paintings?”

“I’m positive,” Bucky replied, his voice steady but filled with urgency.

There was a brief pause on the line before Mark responded. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do."

Bucky hung up, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this auction was more than just an opportunity—it was a chance to finally uncover the truth and perhaps, after all these years, find the answers he had been longing for.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The auction hall buzzed with excitement. Guests in sleek, tailored suits and elegant evening gowns filled the room, each one wearing a mask to maintain anonymity. The atmosphere was electric, charged with anticipation and whispers of the extraordinary painting set to be revealed.

Bucky, his own mask fitted securely, scanned the crowd. The guests chatted animatedly, their voices rising in a cacophony of admiration and speculation. The painting, a masterpiece by a renowned artist, was highly coveted due to its association with the Celine family. The prospect of owning it was thrilling, especially given the painting’s rumored price.

“Did you hear? It’s supposed to be worth a fortune!” one guest exclaimed, adjusting his mask with a gleeful grin.

“Absolutely,” replied another, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s related to the Celine collection, and with the owner’s death, the value has skyrocketed. It’s going to be a high bid for sure.”

Bucky could barely contain his frustration. The chatter was deafening, but he needed to stay focused. He knew that the value of the painting had increased significantly because of its connection to the Celine family’s tragic fate.

Finally, the auctioneer, a distinguished figure in a sharp suit, stepped up to the podium. He raised his hand to silence the crowd, his voice commanding attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “it’s time for the highlight of tonight’s auction. We are pleased to present an extraordinary painting, a masterpiece that has captivated collectors and historians alike.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation. The auctioneer pulled away the cover, revealing the large painting. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight.

The painting depicted a woman adorned with a pearl necklace. But what struck Bucky most was a single pearl that was a deep, unmistakable red. It was unmistakably one of the paintings created by you—its distinct mark making it immediately recognizable.

His shock was palpable. The painting was genuine. The mark of the red pearl was a detail only you would have included, a personal touch from his childhood friend.

Suddenly, the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. The sound of gasps and frantic murmurs filled the air as guests scrambled in confusion. Bucky’s heart raced; he struggled to make sense of the chaos around him.

When the lights flickered back on, the painting was gone. A wave of panic swept through the crowd. The auction hall erupted into chaos as guests shouted and tried to make sense of the theft.

Bucky sprang into action, pushing through the crowd. He searched desperately for any sign of the painting or the thief. Amidst the confusion, he spotted a figure in a full-face mask moving swiftly towards the exit. Without hesitation, he pursued her.

The confrontation was fierce. Bucky tried to grapple with the masked woman, but she was swift and skilled. Before he could gain the upper hand, another masked figure appeared, and together they overpowered him. Bucky was forced to retreat, bruised and breathless, as the thieves escaped into the night.

The next morning, the news headlines were dominated by the heist. The stolen painting was a major story, but for Bucky, it was a clue that brought him one step closer to finding you.

Sitting in a park, Bucky sipped his coffee, the warm cup a comfort against the chill in the air. The stolen painting felt like a breakthrough, bringing him one step closer to unraveling the mystery he had been chasing for years.

The scene was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night. He was lost in thought when he saw a person with a yellow umbrella approaching. The umbrella’s bright color was a stark contrast to the grey sky, catching his attention.

As the figure stopped in front of him, the voice that came under the yellow umbrella was heavy but familiar. “You want to climb the tree?”

It was like a thunderclap in his ear. The voice was the same as it had been fifteen years ago. Bucky looked up, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw you standing there, grown up and with a knowing smile.

“Hi. It’s been a long time,” you said, your eyes shining with recognition.

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Author's Note: Hey everyone, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! I’m currently grappling with a writer’s block and have tried various methods to spark new ideas, but nothing seems to be working.

Any feedback or suggestions you have would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for your support!

[ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal]

Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not enough, I am certain that you’re truly fine

PART ONE

Ot8 x reader

Word count: 867

Just a warning, this is my first fanfic! Does have age regression themes so if you’re not a fan, I ask that you respectfully just don’t read <3 also this will definitely have some angst

!THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!

It had its hard days being their friend, part of it was from the hate you would receive from fans and another was how you eventually fallen for them through the years. You always liked Han, way before his debut, but you never wanted to tell him. You didn’t want to mess up the friendship you cherished with him and you also figured he wouldn’t feel the same. Now those same feelings of possible rejection only grew.

Friday quickly came, that meant the weekly game night with you and the guys. When Han told the guys how much you loved video games, Felix was over the moon and decided that once a week, we all would spend our night playing games and enjoying each others company. We all sat in various places in the living room, some were seated on the couch, some on the floor. I was seated on the floor, leaning against the couch with a controller in my hand as I played against Hyunjin who is sat next to Changbin on the couch.

“Yah! You cheated!” Changbin tells me once the match is over, showing how I beat Hyunjin in a one on one match.

I turn quickly to look at him, but before I can say anything, Felix interjects for me. “How can you say she cheated when we all was watching her?” He ask, eating a brownie. “Also, why are you speaking for him?”

Then the dorm was filled with banter, something that always happened during these nights. Han would stand, start arguing with Jeongin for God knows what. Chris would try and make peace amongst everyone, Seungmin would have his camera out recording everything, and I would just sit their laughing, not wanting to be in the middle. But tonight was different, instead of laughing, I stayed quiet.

Today was a particular hard day at work, and just like Han, sometimes your anxiety gets the better of you. But I did not feel like burdening the guys with my problems. Normally on days like this, it wouldn’t fall on game night and I can go home and regress. I knew if i passed on game night, that the guys would worry, so I tried to push my anxiety and the need to regress aside and I came here.

“That’s enough!” Chris speaks up to the guys after realizing I been quiet since the match ended. Chris’ worried eyes stay on me, but he doesn’t mention anything to me. Instead he sighs, “Clearly the arguments are doing more harm than anything, so let’s just all watch a movie.”

“It is actually getting pretty late, I should get going.” I tell the guys softly as I stand up which makes the guys worried.

“You never leave on game night.” Minho says suspiciously, his eyes squinting as if he’s trying to read me. “And if you do, you let one of us bring you home.”

“I just have some work to catch up on.” I trying making an excuse, earning a scoff from Minho.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Since when you care about doing work on your days off?”

I sigh, knowing he is right, but I have to leave before I have a mental breakdown. “Min, I just have work-” I start to say but he cuts me off.

“(y/n) I swear if you start giving me that excuse again, I am not going to be happy.” Minho says firmly, concern written all over his face. My eyes slightly widen from his firm voice, my mind threatening to fall into that familiar headspace. Before I can say anything, Han interjects.

“She might have just had a long day.” Minho sighs and stands up.

“Well I had a long day too but I am not making up lame excuses to try and leave.” Minho’s words cut me like a knife. I know deep down, his words are coming from one of concern, but I still can’t push past the hurt he is making me feel.

I stand there, as I see Minho walk away, my eyes filling with tears that threaten to fall. When I hear the door slam, I flinch and that’s when my tears break free. Han immediately comes hug me, holding my tightly.

“He didn’t mean it (y/n/n), Minho Hyung is just worried.” He tries telling me only for my tears to fall harder, which makes it even harder not to slip. I can’t do that infront of the guys, they’ll judge me, they’ll hate me, I can’t lose them. These thoughts keeps flying through my head, not realizing that my tears is making the guys panic since they haven’t seen me cry before, besides Jisung.

PART TWO

[howlingday]

(demi-arkos au) Pyrrha Nikos is the daughter of Athena, Athena the goddess.

she's a demi-god and has never met an equal in all her time as champion of minstral, not even the more experienced huntsmen can match her.

which is why she's so shocked when there happens to be another demi-god at Beacon. a son of aphrodite! She thought only her mother had been brought to remnant through magic, but there's another?

a story in which jaune doesn't know about being a demi-god of love and beauty and Pyrrha is going to be, like, so normal about that.

(Pyrrha gets natural skill at strategy and weapon use. jaune's power is being beautiful, and later on, learning to harness the literal power of love to do what his semblance does. both of them are super durable, super strong, super nimble and have combat ADHD (think Percy Jackson rules) plus their aura)

I

To say Pyrrha wasn't like other girls isn't intentionally conceited. She was a child born of two women, one of whom was a god from another world! Or, at least, that's how it was explained to her. Someway, somehow, the goddess of wisdom and tactical military combat, Athena, had her influence drift into the realm of Remnant. Herein, she began to spread this influence to great inventors of their world, mostly residing in Atlas and growing it into the booming superpower it is today.

Though Atlas was where Athena's influence was strongest, it wasn't exactly home to her. No, her home was closer to the sea, in a quaint little city south of the Solitas mainland. It was here, in the city of Argus, that she fell in love with the brilliant mind of Carnelia Nikos. She'd met many a mind in her travels of this new world, but it was only the beautiful intellect of Carnelia who caught her attention. They'd met the way many mortals did, with Carnelia selling wares and making a good argument for making a purchase, which Athena did. On one condition.

Following this one condition, Athena and Carnelia went on many dates. To the library, to the museum, and eventually to the truth of the matter; that Athena was a god not among this world. Carnelia was surprised to learn this, and as hard as it was to believe, she accepted it as the truth. She'd heard tales of the Brother Gods abandoning Remnant, among other gods who drifted in and out in the centuries past. Athena then asked if Carnelia wanted anything in return for learning this earth-shattering knowledge, perhaps to ease her fears or to cement the goddess' words as fact with no room for doubt.

"There is one thing..." Carnelia said, her eyes wandering across the street to the park. A park filled with happy families of mothers, fathers, and, of course, children. Athena smiled, as this was in her power.

--------------------------------------------------

Pyrrha Nikos grew up as a child without equal. She ran miles longer than adults without semblances. She bested any combatant who challenged here, even veteran huntsmen and huntresses. But the most surprising trait of all was that Pyrrha Nikos was humble.

"Oh, no, I'm nobody special." Pyrrha said in an interview. "I'm sure anyone could best me if they kept training and then gave it their all in the fight."

Some would call this a humble brag while others would call it a challenge to everyone she has and ever will fight. To Pyrrha, though, it was more of a hope that she couldn't help but voice. The only other people who could hear it from her were her mothers. Athena would later warn and scold Pyrrha that doubt was an insidious thing that would only bring her downfall, as she had seen it so many times before.

Pyrrha, though try as she might, could not shake the doubt away. She couldn't remove the hope she held in her heart for a defeat any more than her mother could remove her own divinity. So, with shaky breath, she would continue to fight in her tournaments and keep winning. And winning. And winning.

Until...

--------------------------------------------------

"Ugh... I hate flying..." Jaune groaned as he stepped off the bullhead. He then carefully vomited the remainder of his brunch meal from before taking flight in the abominable flying machine. Apparently, he had more to spew outside as well as in. Looking out to Beacon, though, his discomfort became only memories. "Wow..."

A towering... tower in the middle of the floating island. He watched as students passed carrying weapons on different shapes and sizes. It was like something you'd read in a fairy tale. Or, at the very least, a high-end young adult urban fantasy series. He lowered his glasses to get a better look...

"Oh my gosh, look at him~!" Jaune shoved his sunglasses up into his face, making himself wince in pain, before tugging his hoodie down further than it was already set on his head. "Yang, he's got a flame katana~!"

Jaune let out a sigh but kept his guard up. The last thing he wanted was to have another incident like back home. He was already tired from the 'harem wars' the neighborhood girls waged when he'd lose his disguise. Thankfully his sisters could beat back anyone and everyone who tried to get too close to him, but they weren't here now. Jaune was all alone, and the sound of a girl shrieking was enough to put him on edge.

See, Jaune has something his mother referred to as a 'glamour'. To make an accurate analogy, he drew people in like a flame draws in a moth. The only inaccuracy in this statement was that the moths would die out quickly. People didn't. People got hurt and they suffered and they'd bring ruin to each other just to get a glimpse at him.

BOOM!

Kind of like that, yeah. Jaune ran to where the explosion happened, finding two girls running away, one with snow white hair and the other with a black bow atop her head. Meanwhile, in the crater below, there was a girl covered in soot and wearing a black and red outfit. Not one to leave somebody in danger, he reached a hand out to help her.

"Uh, hey... I'm Jaune."