#but i ended up pushing them so far back that they never saw the light of day
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03 ✦ I think i’m addicted to the title ‘you and me’ ! ༄.°
𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader
masterlist . . . ✰
𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : my favourite chapter by far 🤭 kind of a fluffy chapter! def the longest in the series till rn too (I hate writing long chapters, please save me 🙏); anyway. the time has finally come fr! here’s your the ultimate climax chapter <333
𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : mention of kissing , hand holding , talking about being a bottom/top , hands around neck , light neck biting (twice) , y/n trying to internally best-friend-zone hyunjin but it doesn’t work , oblivious idiots in love ;
𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 1.05k
DAY #03 . . .
days merged into one another because all I did was go to school and prep school, nothing more and nothing less.
I internally even sobbed, realising that I hadn’t read any of my books for the past six months.
we got our test scores back an hour ago, leaving the results of a bet looming over my head. a bet I made with hyunjin. a bet, whose loser had to kiss someone.
I bet that hyunjin would score higher than I would, and he bet the opposite. loser has to kiss anyone the winner picks.
except, we weren’t serious about the consequences because he had gotten out of a pretty serious relationship just a couple of months ago, and I was… well, I hadn’t had my first kiss yet.
instead of reminding each other of the bet, hyunjin and I were holding hands under the table—which we did quite often because he said my hands were cold and he was ‘warming them up’—when, one of the days preceding halloween, the topic of being a ‘bottom’ or a ‘top’ came up in the class.
“I think you’d be a… bottom,” hyunjin whispered to me.
“duh,” I rolled my eyes.
“why? you like when the other person does all the work for you, don’tcha?”
“well, yeah,” I said, shrugging.
the conversation quickly moved on to what our type was.
“she needs to be as mentally unwell as I am,” hyunjin said. “and have the same sense of humour, too. a little shorter than me, and smart. like, book-smart as hell. oh, hopefully someone who goes to the same prep school so we could see each other a lot, you know?”
I nodded, thinking of any of the girls in our class who fit the criteria, but failed. I even tried to go out of the way and mentally scrolled through a list of girls from other prep school classes, and still turnd up with nothing.
“y/n, what about you?” he nudged my arm.
“mmm, obviously mentally unhinged, because if not, it’d be boring if they didn’t match my freak, right? also, they better be ready to hear out all the freaky fantasies i’ve collected after being a book girl for so many years. the list is unbelievably long,” I said, half-laughing. “I don’t really mind if they’re younger or older than I am, but I would never date anyone shorter than me.”
he laughed and nodded his head at me, his eyes crinkling. I was honoured to be one of the few people who saw this version of his smile—the kind that reaches his eyes.
classes ended earlier than usual—at 7:50, instead of 8:00 p.m., which is still relaxing—so we spent more time in the park near my house together, before hyunjin could leave.
“come on, i’ll walk you home. it’s getting a bit late,” he said, jumping up from his swing, and extending his hand.
I took it without a second thought, and we talked about everything that happened in our classes at school as we kept walking.
“oh my god,” I groaned, looking at the ‘out of service! sorry for the inconvenience!’ sign taped to the elevator. ugh.
“let’s go,” he said, happy to convert me to his staircase-is-better-than-elevators agenda, pulling me up the stairs immediately.
trailing behind him, I asked, suddenly curious, “what led you to conclude the fact that i’d be a bottom?”
when we reached the third floor, he waited a beat before pulling me towards the wall. he pushed me against it gently, and slowly wrapped his fingers around my throat, towering over me and staring down into my eyes. I looked away to the side in embarrassment, as my cheeks flushed.
a second later, he let go. “the fact that you liked that, i’m pretty sure, is proof enough, don’tcha think?”
I mumbled a ‘whatever’, and we kept walking up the stairs. from the corner of my eyes, I could see his mouth still moving, continuing conversation, but my mind kept straying to his lips. and his nose. and his eyes. oh my god, he was beautiful.
“remember our deal about letting me bite you?” he asked suddenly. I nodded. I always bit his finger to annoy him (as I did to my other friends, as well) and he bit back a remark of ‘you’re just begging for me to bite you too, huh?’ to which I cockily remember replying, ‘try it’.
I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket and pushed my hand towards him, assuming he’d bite my hand like I did to him, and get it over with.
instead, he pulled me by my outstretched hand towards the wall again. his hands rested around my neck and tilted my face to my side. he gently nipped at my neck, and I laughed softly.
“tickles,” I mumbled.
best friends, I reminded myself.
he let go, and we walked up another floor to reach mine.
before I could wave to him, he asked, “want another on the other side?”
I quietly took small steps towards him, and his warm fingers found their home on my cheek, tilting my face away slowly. he bit down on my other side for a lot longer than the first time.
I held in a whimper, this time.
best friends.
I was pressed in between the wall and his body. I plopped my head down onto his chest, trying to calm down my racing heart.
best friends, right?
we were both smiling a little and his hand rested against my heart.
“got that heart beating so fast, all for me?” he smirked. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.
best friends, I had to keep reminding myself.
I mumbled a ‘good night, hyune,’ to him and walked out of the stairwell. he let me go, knowing my parents would get mad at me if I got home even a minute later than I was supposed to.
he smiled, wishing me a good night and walking down the stairs again.
the cheeky little bastard.
I continued cursing him out in my mind, as I unlaced my shoes and stepped into my house. still scolding him internally for nothing, I tried to calm down my racing heart and shaking legs.
best friends aren’t supposed to have this kind of effect on each other… right?
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kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !
#skye's cafe ~ ⋆.˚#⭑𓂃 skye's stayverse!#skz#skz fluff#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids#stray kids fluff#stray kids x reader#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#h. h#hwang hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin x you#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x you#hyunjin fluff#stray kids hyunjin#kpop#non idol au#high school au#best friends to lovers#stay#stray kids everywhere all around the world#you make stray kids stay
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made these edits for the age swap au. dies
#there were supposed to be like two others#accompanied by sketches of my own#but i ended up pushing them so far back that they never saw the light of day#so i was like fuck it#i’ll take the one thing that’s actually presentable and post that#so here you go#for tome’s suit i took the blue from her seifuku and picked a color from the opposite end of the spectrum. which turned up a nice brown#if she had a tie i’d make it green#cnp rants#mp100#reigen arataka#tome kurata#mp100 ageswap
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Disability Tropes: The Perfect Prosthetic
[ID: A screenshot from the movie Nimona, showing Nimona, a small white girl with red hair, grabbing the right prosthetic arm of Ballister, a knight in black armour with black hair and light brown skin. He is holding a broken bottle in his prosthetic hand while Nimona admires his arm. Overlaid on the screenshot is white text that reads "Disability Tropes: The Perfect Prosthetic" /End ID]
In a lot of media, prosthetic limbs are portrayed as these devices that act as a near-perfect replacement for a character who has lost, or was born without a limb. So much so that in a lot of cases, the use of a prosthetic has basically no impact on the character beyond a superficial level or their appearance, or it's portrayed as something that's even better than the old meat-limb it's replacing. This trope shows up most often in Sci-fi, but it shows up in all kinds of stories outside of that, even otherwise very grounded ones!
If a story isn't depicting the loss of a limb as the be-all-end-all worst thing that can happen to a person, they almost always default to a perfect prosthetic, functionally curing the amputation with it. But the reality is that prosthetics are FAR from perfect, and as someone who has used them for their entire life I don't think they ever will be. Limb difference is still and always will be a disability, regardless of the prosthetics available, and this really isn't a bad thing.
Why is this trope so common?
I meant it when I said this is a really, really a common trope, so much so that the majority of the media I've seen with amputees and characters with limb differences that released in the last decade or end up using it. Even stories where becoming an amputee is treated like a fate worse than death, ironically, aren't excluded from this. I have a few theories as to why this has happened: The pessimistic answer is that it's easy. You get to have a disabled character and claim you have disability representation, without really having to do much extra work or research because most of your audience won't notice if you aren't accurate - in fact they kind of expect it. You also, for the most part, dodge the backlash other kinds of disability representation (or really any minority representation) usually get. The more optimistic reason is that, for a long time, amputees and people with limb differences (as well as a lot of other disabled people) were predominantly shown in media as sad, depressed and unable to do anything, very much falling into the "sad disabled person" trope. As a kid, this was really the only way I saw people like me on screen or in books. And so, the limb difference community pushed back against that portrayal and were pretty successful in changing the narrative in the public's eye. A little too successful. A lot of creatives were genuinely trying to do right by our community, listen and do better, but many simply overcorrected and instead ended up creating stories where prosthetics were essentially cures instead of the mobility aids they are. I also think the public's general lack of understanding about disability plays a roll in all this. There are a lot of people who, in my experience, believe that the more visible a disability is, the worse it is. Limb differences and amputations are very visible, but prosthetics, even those that aren't trying to be discreet, make them less so. While using a prosthetic is very, very different to a biological limb, you won't necessarily see how in a casual interaction with, say a co-worker or neighbor, especially because there is a very real stigma applied to people with limb differences to keep those things hidden from the public. There are other reasons too, such as the fact that a lot of creatives don't even consider the connection to real amputees when creating characters with robotic limbs in genres like sci-fi and some fantasy, so they never stop to consider that these tropes could be impacting real people. Amputees are also very frequently used in "inspiration porn" content that uses the angle that disabilities can be "overcome" with a good attitude, downplaying the way those disabilities actually impact us. The prosthetics industry - specifically the component manufacturers, often also push the idea of prosthetics being the only way to return to a "normal" life, both to the wider public and to people with limb differences and amputations (which can add to that sense of shame I mentioned when it doesn't play out that way for them). On top of that, I also think the recent increase in popularity of concepts like trans-humanism contributes to it as well. these movements often talk about robotic or bionic body parts being enhancements and "the way of the future", and I think people get a bit too caught up on what may be potentially possible in the future with the real, current experiences of people with "robotic limbs" aka prosthetics, now. There are also inherently disabling things that come with removing and replacing parts of your body, things that will not just go away with some fancier tech.
So How do you actually avoid the trope?
So, we have some ideas about why it happens, but how do you actually avoid the "perfect prosthetic" trope from appearing in your work? The most important thing is to remember that this is still a disability. The loss of a limb, even with the best prosthetic technology or magical item in the world, will always have some inherently disabling aspects to it - and this is not a bad thing. The key is to not over-do it, lest you risk falling into the old "sad disabled person" trope. So let's go over some of the ways you can show how your character's disability impacts them. You don't have to use all of these recommendations, just choose the ones that would best fit your character, their circumstances and your setting.
The prosthetic itself is just different
Probably the most important thing to address and acknowledge for prosthetic-using characters, is the actual ways in which the prosthetic itself is different from a biological limb, and the drawbacks and changes that come with that. For the sake of simplicity, I'm mainly going to focus on modern prosthetics here, but it's worth considering how to apply this your own, more advanced/fantastical prosthetics too. One major thing that most people writing amputees fail to acknowledge is that prosthetic limbs are not fleshy-limbs with a different coat of paint. They do the same basic thing their meat-counterparts do, but how they do it is often drastically different, which changes how they are used. A really good example of this is in prosthetic feet. There are dozens of joints in a biological foot, but most prosthetic feet have no joints or moving parts at all. Instead of having dozens of artificial joints to mimic the real bone structure of a foot, which are more prone to failure, require power and make the prosthetic much, much heavier for very little gain, prosthetic feet are often constructed from flexible carbon fiber sheets inside a flexible rubber foot-shaped shell. This allows the bend and flex those bones provide, without all the drawbacks that come from trying to directly mimic it. Making the sheets into different shapes makes them more ideal for different activities. E.g. feet made for general use, like walking around the city, are simple and light, shaped to encourage the most energy-efficient steps, while still allowing their users to do things like wear normal shoes. Feet made for rough terrain often have a split down the middle of the foot to allow the carbon fiber sheets to bend better over rocks when there is no ankle, and some newer designs also include a kind of suspension using pressurized air pulled from the prosthetic socket to allow some additional padding. Running feet have large "blades" made of these carbon fiber sheets to absorb more pressure when the foot hits the ground, and redirect the force that creates to propel their user forward as quickly as possible.
[ID: A photo of 4 prosthetic feet. On the left, the foot is covered with a black shoe, the one to it's right consists of a small, carbon fiber blade, split down the middle, in roughly the same shape and size as the previous foot. Next to the right is an even simpler and smaller carbon fiber foot with no split, and finally is a very short foot that is vaguely rectangular in shape. /End ID]
These are some of my own prosthetic feet I've had over the years. The two on the right are designed to be used by someone who is less mobile, and the ones on the left are made for someone who is more active. As my needs changed over the years, I've used different designs and styles, and keep the old ones since my needs do tend to fluctuate.
There are also robotic feet available that are designed as a kind of "all-purpose" foot that use an electronic ankle which more closely mimics a biological foot, but they are not very popular as the mechanism adds a lot of extra weight and it requires a battery and power to work, with many amputees feeling the jointless carbon fiber feet do a better job at meeting their needs. The same goes for arms and hands. "Robotic" hands that mimic a meat hand exist, but they aren't really that popular, even in places like Australia where the prohibitively expensive price tag isn't as much of an issue due to government programs that pay for the device for you. Instead, most arm amputees who use prosthetics that I know prefer simpler devices that do specific tasks, and just swap between them as needed, rather than something that tries to do it all. A big part of this is because the all-purpose hands can be clunky. they often require manual adjustment using the other hand to do simple things like going from holding a deck of cards to putting them down and picking up a glass of water, for example. The few that don't require that, I've been told, are often temperamental and don't actually work for every person with a limb difference.
Altered Proprioception
Loosing a limb is a big deal and this is always going to have an impact on the body in some way that won't be solved with a fancy piece of tech. One such example is how limb loss effects your sense of proprioception. This is your sense of where your body parts are in space. It's how you (mostly) know where your foot is going to land when you're walking, or how you're able to do things like lift up a glass of water without needing to actually watch your hand do it. Your brain does this by creating a mental map of your body, but this map doesn't get adjusted if you loose a limb. If that map doesn't accurately reflect your real body, you're not going to have an accurate sense of proprioception. This might look like a leg amputee being a bit less stable on their feet, or like an arm amputee needing to look at their arm or hand to be able to grab something with it. Those born without their limbs who take to using prosthetics often have a lot of trouble adapting, as their brains aren't used to having that limb in the first place, whereas an amputee's brain can sometimes be tricked into using their outdated body map to help them adjust to the prosthetic (though its impossible to line it up perfectly). Prosthetics that directly integrate with the nervous system, while rare, do exist, and even this direct connection doesn't completely erase this issue for reasons doctors aren't quite sure about. This is something that does become less of a problem with time. Eventually, someone proficient with their prosthetic will learn to compensate, but their sense of proprioception will never be 100% perfect. At the end of the day, no matter how it attaches, a prosthetic is still not a natural part of the body, and that will always cause some issues. It also means if they aren't practicing it all the time, they may have to relearn how to compensate for it.
Extra weight
You also have to remember that a prosthetic is not a natural part of the body, like we already talked about, and so no matter how good it is, your brain will most likely always interpret the weight of the prosthetic as something attached to you, not part of you. This means that, even though prosthetics are actually a lot lighter than biological limbs, they feel so much heavier. This is because, while a meat limb is heavier, a lot of that weight is from muscles which are actively contributing to the limb working, so it doesn't really feel like its that heavy. When you have less of your meat-limb though, you have even less muscle to work with to move this big thing strapped to it, so it feels heavier. The more of the limb you've lost, or just didn't have, the heavier the prosthetic has to be, and the less muscle you have left to move it. It's for this reason that a lot of amputees and people with limb differences get tired faster when using prosthetics. Some of us are fit enough where you almost wouldn't notice the extra effort they need to put in, but once again, just because you can't see it from the outside, doesn't mean it's not an issue.
Avoiding Water
Most prosthetics also aren't waterproof, and so prosthetic users have to be very careful about when and how they come into contact with it. For amputees with electric components, contact with water at all will likely damage the device. This can even include especially heavy rain, something I was told to avoid when I got my electronic knee prosthetic and something I assume would also apply to arm amputees with complex, electronic hands. For those with non-electronic prosthetics, water can be hazardous for different reasons. If the prosthetic has metal components, water may cause them to rust, especially if it's salty water. Other prosthetics have foam covers to give the illusion of a limb with the general shape of muscles and fat, but these covers do not come off, and if they get wet enough that water seeps all the way through, it is very hard to dry it and they may become moldy. Finally, cheaper modern prosthetics may also float. Many are made of very light-weight materials and some have pockets of air trapped inside them. For leg prosthetics in particular, this means a user might, at best, struggle to swim with them on, but at worst, may get flipped upside down and become trapped underwater - something that happened to me as a very young child. On the flip-side, older prosthetics were usually made of heavy materials like wood or steel, and so had the opposite problem, acting like a weight and pulling a person down if they were to wear them in the water. Water-safe prosthetics do exist, I had a pair of prosthetic legs as a teenager that were hollow, and designed especially for me to swim with fins on when swimming in the ocean, and Nadya Vessey, a double leg amputee in New Zealand even got a mermaid-tail prosthetic made especially for use in the water. Most amputees though just swim without any prosthetics at all, and in 99% of cases, this is the easiest and safest way to go.
Prosthetic-Related Pressure Sores and Pain
Many people with limb differences also experience pressure sores from their prosthetics. Modern prosthetics typically attach to the body using a socket made of carbon fiber or fiberglass, held on either by pressure, using a vacuum seal or through a mechanical locking system built into the socket. No matter the specifics though, the socket has to be very tight in order to stay on, and this means that extended periods of use can lead to rub-spots, blisters and pressure sores. Many socket prosthetics also use silicone liners to add extra padding, but this means wounds caused by the pressure can't breathe, and bacteria in sweat has nowhere to go, meaning if the person doesn't rest when one of these wounds occur, it can very easily and quickly turn into a serious infection. In a properly fitting prosthetic, used by someone who has fully adjusted to them, this doesn't happen often, but it is something most amputees and people with limb differences have to at least be mindful of. Some new prosthetics use a different method of attachment, called Osteointegration - where the prosthetic attaches to a clip, surgically implanted into the person's bones. While Osteointegration avoids many of the issues like pressure sores that come from a socket, they have their own issues: mainly that they are incredibly expensive, and as of right now, have a pretty high failure rate due to the implant getting infected. Because the implants are directly connected to the bone, these infections become very serious very quickly. Many people with Osteointegration limbs have to be on very strong medication to keep these infections at bay, and they are generally considered unsuitable for anyone who is going to regularly come into contact with "unclean" environments.
Maintenance
[ID: A screenshot of Winrey, from Full Metal alchemist Brotherhood, a white woman with blond hair handing out the sides of a green hat. She is measuring a piece of metal from a prosthetic she is making while Ed, the prosthetic's owner, gives her a thumbs up in the background. /End ID]
Finally, prosthetics also require maintenance from a specialist called a prosthetist, and they don't last forever. Some parts, like a foot or hand, can be reused over an over, but the sockets of a prosthetic need to be completely remade any time your body changes shape, including if you gain/loose weight, you start experiencing swelling, or you're just a child who is growing. Children in particular need new prosthetics every few months because they grow so fast, and as such, their prosthetics have to be made with this growth in mind. If they go too long without adjustment or an entirely new prosthetic, it can seriously impact the child and their growth but even small adjustments can be costly, depending on where you live. While prosthetics are built to be sturdy and reliable, they need a lot of work to stay that way. The more complex the prosthetic, the more work is needed. Complicated electronic components may need to have regular maintenance done by your prosthetist or even the specific component's manufacturer, and depending on where you live, this might mean having to send your prosthetic limb away for this to be done. While my prosthetist technically has the skills and knowledge to do the maintenance on my electronic knee, for example, the manufacturer forbids anyone not from their company to provide this service, meaning my leg needs to be shipped off to Germany once every few years if I want to keep the warranty. This has the unfortunate side effect of sometimes your limbs getting lost in postage (shout-out to Australia Post, who lost mine twice), meaning it can be months before you get it back or get a replacement. Usually, you'll be given a replacement in the meantime if you need it, but walking on a leg that isn't yours, even when its correctly fitted, always feels a bit weird (maybe that's just me though).
Not every difference is Inherently Negative
We've talked about some of the negatives that come from having a prosthetic, but not every difference is negative or even really that big of a deal. In fact, often times, it's these little moments in the depiction of a disability that go the furthest and make it feel the most genuine. My amputations effect me from the moment I wake up, to the moment I go to bed, but that doesn't mean every single way it impacts me is always inherently bad or negative. For example, back when I was working a normal job and going to university, I would often come home, throw my legs off at the door with the shoes still attached and get into my wheelchair, the same way you might throw your shoes off after work and replace them with comfy socks and other comfy clothing. This is something I've only ever seen on screen once, with Eda from the Owl House (and she wasn't even an amputee yet, her limbs were just detachable)
[ID: an screenshot of Eda from the owl house, a very pale woman, laying on the couch in a bathrobe, her hair in a towel. She has taken her actual legs off, throwing them to the other side of the seat. /End ID]
After that, my day mostly looked the same as most other people working a 9 to 5, I'd make myself dinner, watch some TV or play some games, maybe do some extra work at my desk or chat with friends. The only difference is that it would all be from a wheelchair, mainly because my prosthetics were heavy and it was just easier to use the chair around the house. The fact my afternoon and evening routine was done from a wheelchair wasn't a bad thing, it was just different. Likewise, I also don't sleep or shower with my prosthetics on, for the same reasons most other people wouldn't take a shower or sleep in thigh-high, steel-capped boots. In your own stories, this might look like giving your characters similar alterations to how they go about their day. Let them take their arm or leg off when they're resting or relaxing, show them taking a few minutes longer to get ready because they have to put it back on, show them doing some things without it. Arm amputees in particular tend to get very good at going about their days without their arm prosthetics, and leg amputees often either learn to get around more relaxed spaces like their homes using a different mobility aids like wheelchairs or crutches, or just through hopping if that's something they're physically able to do. Even when everything is going well and working as intended, your limb-different character won't wear their prosthetic 24/7, no matter how much they love it. There doesn't have to be something wrong with it or painful about it to not want it glued to them at all times, just like you can love a pair of big heavy boots but not want them on when you're trying to sleep. For more action-focused stories, being an amputee, also changes things like how you fight. The specifics will vary from person to person, but for example, when I did Hap Ki Do, a Korean Martial art, my instructor heavily modified when I learned what techniques. Beginner-level kicks and most leg attacks were impractical for me, as the force from the kicking motion would usually cause one of my legs to fly off. I also couldn't jump very well, due to some complications with my original amputation that made my stumps too sensitive to withstand the force of landing again. So I ended up learning a lot more upper-body attacks much earlier than it is typically taught. By the time I got my green belt, I was practicing upper-body techniques usually saved for black belts - including weapons training that I could use my secondary mobility aids for, like crutches and my cane in a bad situation. Many holds that rely on creating tension in your target are also less effective on amputees, because either the anatomy that causes those holds to be painful just simply isn't there, or the body part in question can just be removed to escape. Whether we're talking about the negative things, or just neutral differences that come with using prosthetics, you don't want to go too far with any one example. The key is to strike a balance. Of course, the old writing advice of "show don't tell" also applies here. It's one thing to tell us all of this stuff, but unless we actually see it play out, it won't mean much.
How NOT to avoid the trope
Before we move on, let's focus for a moment on some common things I've seen that you SHOULDN'T do as a way to get away from the trope.
The Enhanced Prosthetic
A lot of sci-fi in particular will take prosthetic limbs, make them function exactly the same as a biological limb, but add something extra to it. This does change the way the prosthetic functions and is used, but it usually still ignores the actual disabling parts of having a prosthetic. A really good example of this can be seen in pretty much any futuristic setting, but personally, I think Fizzeroli, from Helluva Boss is the best one to demonstrate what I mean. Fizz is a quadrilateral, above knee/above elbow amputee with highly advanced prosthetics that function, more or less exactly like the limbs he lost, but with the added benefit of being super-stretchy. Fizz is an acrobat and a clown in service, at least initially, to Mammon, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. These prosthetics help him perform and we even do see how they change little things like how he walks and just goes about his day, but the show still treats them like natural arms and legs, but better.
[ID: A screenshot of Fizzeroli from Helluva Boss, a white-skinned imp with 4 black, prosthetic limbs, dressed in teal a nightgown as he lays in bed, reading from a list /End ID]
We see that he never takes them off, even when sleeping, and when he needs to use them as regular arms and legs, they do everything he needs, perfectly fine - at least when they're working correctly. The only time he ever even takes them off or has any issues with them, is when they break in season 2. The word amputee is never used to describe him, as far as I remember, and the fact he is one never really comes up at all, except for when they break or when the story focuses on how he lost them. Which brings me to my next point.
The Glitchy/Broken Prosthetic
One way I see people try to avoid the perfect prosthetic trope, is to take the prosthetic and break it or otherwise make it unreliable by having it malfunction, but not really changing anything else. This approach is heading in the right direction but still kind of misses the point of the criticism a lot of limb different folks have with the depictions of prosthetics in the media. Yeah, prosthetics do break down and some do require extra maintenance, but if your character's prosthetic is still exactly the same as a biological limb (or even better, in the case of the "enhanced prosthetic") when it's not broken, and the only time their disability is treated like a disability, is when it breaks, you're not really addressing the issue. Real prosthetics, like we discussed, even when functioning at 100%, exactly as the manufacturer intended, don't function the same as a meat-limb. They are fundamentally different, and the glitchy/unreliable prosthetic completely ignores all of that. Once again, Fizz is a really good example of this - the only time his prosthetics are not perfect, is when they break or are malfunctioning (despite the criticism, I do genuinely love Fizz as a character, but he unfortunately does fall into a lot of disability tropes).
[ID: Another screenshot of Fizzeroli, this time in a torn up jester outfit, looking down, panicked, at his prosthetic arms which are fully extended and laying motionless on the ground, with his left arm visibly short-circuiting with electricity around it. /End ID]
Now this isn't to say you can't have your character's prosthetics break down or malfunction at all. just that this shouldn't be the only way you differentiate the prosthetic from a biological limb. You should also be mindful of how or why they're breaking. A typical prosthetic isn't going to break down randomly from normal use unless something is very, very wrong or your character just has a terrible prosthetist (which unfortunately, does happen). You might experience issues if you try to make the prosthetic do something it just wasn't designed to do, or expose it to something it wasn't designed to deal with though (e.g. submerging an electronic prosthetic in water and trying to use it to swim).
Just add Phantom Pain
Another common pitfall I see when people are trying to avoid the perfect prosthetic trope, is to just give the character in question phantom pain - which is a side-effect of amputation where your brain's mental map of the body doesn't acknowledged you lost a limb. Your brain tries to fill in the gaps, since there is no signals coming from that part of the body anymore, and assumes either something must be wrong and so you should be in pain, even when you actually aren't. Alternatively, it can also happen when your brain was so used to feeling pain from that area before, in the case of people who had chronic conditions before they lost their limb, that it just keeps remaking those old signals itself. Like the broken/glitchy prosthetic approach, this also doesn't really address the issue with the perfect prosthetic trope, because it has nothing to do with the prosthetic itself. Phantom pain doesn't come from the prosthetic, nor does it effect how they're used, and so including it doesn't really address the issue of the prosthetic being functionally the same as the original, biological limb. This isn't to say that you shouldn't include phantom limb sensation or pain as something your character experiences, but just keep in mind that, when used on it's own, it doesn't counter the trope. Also, just be sure to do your research, everyone's experience with phantom pain is different and it's not something everyone with a limb difference even experiences.
Why is this trope even a problem?
Alright, so we know what the trope is, we know why it became so prevalent, ways to avoid it and also how not to avoid it. All good information, but why is this trope even bad? Why should you try to avoid it? Outside of just wanting to portray a real disability that effects real people more accurately in your creations, the prevalence of this trope actually contributes to a lot of real-world issues, especially when it's as overused as it currently is. I've talked before about "the jaws effect" - where the depiction of something in the media, especially something that the public is widely uneducated on, influences how people see it in real life. The Jaws effect specifically referred to how the popularity of creature-feature movies featuring sharks, like Jaws, caused the belief that sharks were monstrous killing machines to become much more wide-spread, even going so far as to influence decisions about laws and policy surrounding real-life shark preservation and culling in some parts of the world. But sharks aren't the only thing this has happened to.
Disabled people are so thoroughly misunderstood by wider society, that when tropes like this one become popular, people can and often do start to believe the misinformation they spread - in this case, believing that our prosthetics are a perfect replacement for a biological limb, and that getting a prosthetic means you're not disabled any more. While this can be annoying and cause small scale issues for some of us, like people giving us a hard time for using disability accommodations we very much need, it can also impact us in systemic ways too. If the wrong people believe these tropes, it can and does have a very real impact on the lives of disabled people through things like changes to policies to make it harder for amputees and people with limb differences to access financial assistance for other things outside of our prosthetics we may need assistance with.
Conclusion
Despite the very real harm tropes like this can do when it's overused, I don't think it should go away entirely. Some of my favourite pieces of media even use the perfect prosthetic trope and there are even some kinds of media where I even think it's somewhat unavoidable. Characters with perfect prosthetics in kids media in particular, especially when talking about side characters, can help to correct some of the other stereotypes kids may have seen elsewhere - such as prosthetics being "creepy" or "scary" - in a way that is casual and easy for them to understand. The problem with the trope, in my eyes, is it's excessive overuse. It's the fact that it seems to be the only representation amputees and people with limb differences are getting now. Not every story with a limb-different character can or even should delve into the reality of what using prosthetics is actually like, but we need at least some stories that do, without it being this majorly depressing thing.
#Writing disability with Cy Cyborg#Disability tropes#Long Post#Disability Representation#Writing Disability#Writing#Writeblr#Authors#Creators#Writing Advice#Disabled Characters#On Writing#Disability in Media
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what's that sound?
includes: nsfw! continuation of my college athelete!choso linked here. vouyerism, oral sex(f receiving), somewhat bottom choso, p in v, unprotected sex, choso is a little pervy, he’s never eaten pussy before either, choso cums from hearing i love u then he gets a little emotional. he’s just a loser!!!!!
word count: roughly 3k
a/n: we r so back!!!!
choso has been at his best since he met you.
ever since you two got together, he's been much different. not just to you—to everyone! there’s a pep in his step when he walks, he’s a little more confident when he talks, and he’s even playing better on the field now! (totally not because he knows you’re in the bleachers and he’s trying to look extra cool just for you.)
and it pains him in more ways than one when he has to stay away from you for so long. with the new league about to hit its peak, coaches are adding in extra hours, school work is getting more and more tasking by the day, and only talking to you on the phone for a couple of minutes and texting the whole day is nowhere near enough for him. even though he’s the one that needs most of the space!
you’re so sweet about it too, assuring him you’d be fine and he has to prioritize his sports career. you still show up to the occasional practice to offer a quick kiss before you go home, and you leave him snacks in his book bag when you see it lying around. you’re honestly such a blessing, why is the world so against the two of you right now?
but a single ray of light shines down on Choso’s dim day when the head coach sends a text that they can have the day off since they played so well in the last game. he’s almost flying out of his class seat right then and there—his mind is going straight towards you.
he feels like shit as he makes his way out of the flower shop; bouquet in hand. it’s not much, but he hopes you find it sweet enough that you’ll forgive him for how long it’s been since he last saw you. he stood there, individually picking out the best blue hyacinths and white orchids from the bunch, all fresh and neatly wrapped as a sort of poetic apology. you might not even know what it means, but who cares? it’s the thought that counts.
and he feels even weirder driving to your doorstep after all the times he’s run there instead. he’s still nervous even after all the times you’ve held him, kissed him, fucked him. you’re just so perfect, who wouldn’t be near pissing themselves right now with you behind the door?
he’s carefully sliding the single key you gave him in, pushing inwards after he hears the soft click. fingers tightening around the paper holding the flowers together, he steps in. empty.
what the hell? you should be home right now. it’s Friday—your classes end early and your favorite podcast should be up by now. but you’re not here.
choso’s brows furrow. He peered into the kitchen and checked the downstairs bathroom, the backyard, and even under the stairwell. nothing.
agitation crawls up his neck as hears a muffled noise from upstairs. it's faint; almost impossible to hear, but he’s sure it’s you.
the staircase is barely creaking as he makes his way up insanely slow. his grip on the flowers are tight, almost inhumane as he’s prepared to use them as a weapon. his steps are quick once he reaches the top, deathly silent but still quick as he closes in on the cracked open door of your room. the noises are getting slightly louder, more frantic and they sound less like pain and more like moans. moans..?
choso’s heart cracks once and he stops dead in his tracks. there’s no way. he knows he’s been gone for a long time, but it hasn't been that long, right? fuck—you said you loved him, you said it so many times, you wouldn’t cheat on him so quick. you wouldn’t cheat on him at all. so why are you–
“f-fuck cho.. miss you s-so much..”
oh.
oh.
oh.
the blood flow in Choso’s legs finally picks up once again, and he’s noiselessly pushing himself against the wall right next to your doorpost. he’s craning his head so far to the side, but he can finally see it. he can finally see you. and holy shit, he might have just cum in his pants.
your legs are spread, bed facing the door as your fingers disappear into your cunt. your shirt–his shirt is pulled up right under your chin, leaving your cute tits out in the open as you harshly tug on one of your own nipples.
the view is stupidly mesmerizing, and choso catches himself just before he starts drooling at the sight of you. he’s not even paying attention to how hard he is, he’s completely entranced by every little action. the way your body is twitching, how your fingers are moving, how your eyes are pressed tightly shut as you cry out his name.
choso is genuinely about to lose it. he just wants to crawl over there and eat you whole, in more ways than one. but he’s practically glued to the spot; he’s even holding his breath just to not ruin the moment!
but he’s getting knocked out of his incomprehensible trance when you let out a particularly irritated groan.
it’s so annoying. you haven’t been able to cum once since your boyfriend has been scarce. it’s not like you tried anyway, you’d much rather have him pump your orgasms out of you like he seemed to love doing. but it’s been so long, and you’ve been so sexually frustrated that you had to turn back to playing with yourself like this.
it’s not that you couldn’t call him, you’re almost a hundred percent sure he’d run all the way to you if he was on the other side of the country. but you didn’t want to bother him too much. his schedule has been overflowing with activities and he’s probably so busy, you didn’t want to seem inconsiderate! so you’d settled on seeing him when you knew he was free.
but this is getting way too bad, and you’re sure you’d start losing sight in your left ear if you don’t get it out right now.
so against your better judgment, you’re using your free hand to reach over to your phone, banking on the fact that his voice will be enough to get you off. he doesn’t have to know, right? And plus, you can always tell him later when you feel less guilty.
it doesn’t take long for you to find his name surrounded by hearts in your contact list and you’re calling without a second thought. it takes a couple of seconds before the line actually starts to ring.
the loud noise from Choso’s back pocket startles him so much that he drops the flowers he’s forgotten he’s holding. he’s silently cursing himself amidst the noise of his phone singing out, and now he’s lost on what to do.
you speak first though, voice breathy and low as you call out his name. he bites down on his lower lip, slowly stepping into the entrance of your room. you bite back a laugh despite the obscenity of the whole thing. he looks like a kid who got caught with their chubby hand down the cookie jar, he’s just way too cute!
“were you watching me, cho?”
almost immediately he’s a stuttering mess of excuses and apologies. he swears he didn’t mean to, he just wanted to surprise you—he just got a little carried away!
and you can’t hide your smile as you shut him up, gesturing for him to come closer. you’re sitting up now, more covered than before as your shirt rolls down.
you pat the space beside you, signaling for him to come over. it feels like ages, almost eons when your bed finally dips from his weight, but he’s still so far away. it’s definitely an improvement from the first time he came over, but you need him much closer than he is.
you can see his body tense up as you shift closer. he’s still avoiding your eyes, finding the floor much more interesting than the face of yours he always says he can’t get enough of. your fingers are giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze as he apologizes once again. you’re not upset. nowhere near even—this might have been the best possible outcome. but if he’s all mopey like this, neither of you will get anywhere.
“y’know, i don’t mind you watching me.”
you can feel him physically cringe at your words, but you’re not done just yet.
“so, you can keep watching me, or…”
his eyes finally meet yours after what feels like an eternity, waiting for you to go on. there you go.
“or?”
“…you can help me.”
quite literally, you can see the gears turning in that silly little brain of his. but he’s choosing to forgo an actual response, pressing his lips against yours instead. you can’t help the moan you let flow out of you, and he’s grunting in response, arms closing around you hard so he can push you onto your back once more.
choso’s kisses are heavy and full of need, tongue dancing around yours as his fingers graze the exposed skin of your thighs. you feel so good under his rough palms, he can’t help but try to soften his touch. he doesn’t want to hurt you! after all, you’re his most prized possession. he has to take care of you in every way he can.
and you’re half expecting his fingers to replace yours as they were a couple of minutes ago, but he’s pulling back with a sharp huff. you’re lazily opening your eyes, gaze connecting with his again as you start to notice the tips of his ears are a burning red.
“can i... i want to taste you. please.
even with his eyes still trained on yours, his entire face is flushed. even after all these months, he’s still as nervous as ever.
you offer him a welcoming smile and nod. he’s clearing his throat as he moves away, making quick work of getting his shirt off before settling between your legs.
and he’s a little overwhelmed coming face to face with your pussy like this. he knows you’re watching him, and he’s watching your essence drip out and down your cunt as he thinks. he’s racking his brain, trying to think of the best way to approach this. but your hand guiding the back of his head closer towards your aching heat is all the encouragement he needs.
once his tongue comes in contact with your slick, his eyes fall shut. you gasp at the experimental licks he’s giving you, warmth of his tongue sending jolts all the way down into your toes as he groans at how sweet you taste.
he’s catching on with lightning speed, lightly dipping his tongue into your entrance between every couple of strokes from his tongue. his nose is bumping your clit just right, and you’re tugging at his hair quite harshly as he continues to suck at your hole.
it’s his tongue going deep into your cunt that has you arching off the bed, nails digging into his scalp as your thighs close around his ears. his strong hands are only wrapped around your thighs, locking you tight in place as he ravages his new favorite meal.
and the tip of his tongue is starting to invade your sensitive spots as he fucks it in and out of you, wiggling it around when he’s sure it’s as deep as he can go so you’re arching high off the bed. you’re desperately trying to push him away—you’re not sure you can handle all this! but choso is too far gone; he’ll apologize later. right now, he’s going to get a fill of this flavor he’s been missing out on for weeks.
but even with your pleas and cries, choso doesn’t stop. you’d think he’d gone deaf from how hard your thighs were pressing on his ears. truth is he can hear you loud and clear. he just wants to make sure he gets every single drop of your release down his throat.
he’s only had a sneaky taste of it after he helps you finish on his fingers. when you’re finally off the high and sleeping wrapped in his arms like a baby, he’ll bring his digit to his lips, childishly licking at them to get whatever remnants are on his fingers onto his tongue. but it won’t be long before pangs of guilt and shame cover him, and his hand will settle right by your side.
but now? there’s no way he’s about to give this up. he can feel it. the way you’re tightening around his tongue, how your moans are starting to crack just like they always do.
and he’s right because your thick release is hitting his throat in no time, flooding his mouth as he slurps up every last drop.
when he finally lets you free from his vice grip, you’re both panting and sweaty. his chin is entertained covered in your release. you can barely keep your eyes open, but you can hear how choso is fighting to get rid of his pants next.
it’s not long before Choso’s lips collide with yours in a much softer kiss. he’s been slightly… satiated. but his boner is getting more painful by the second, and he misses the way you envelop him so dearly.
he doesn’t break the kiss as he hooks his elbows under your knees. he’s pushing up, not stopping u til your calves are rested perfectly against his shoulders. he didn’t know you could bend like that. you didn’t know you couldn’t bend like that. but both of your trains of thought are broken when he finally pushes into you. a short string of curses falls from his lips when you clamp down around him just like you always do.
and regardless of how impatient he’s been all this time, choso never fails to fuck you properly. his thrusts are calculated and deep, each one making your entire body twitch under him.
you never fail to give him the praise he deserves either, telling him he’s doing so well they turn his harsh grunts into weak whines.
but he loses all composure when you call him ‘my good boy’. you can swear you hear him sob, but the noise gets drowned out fast by the sound of skin slapping as he picks up the speed of his hips
your eyes are crossing, fingers dipping into his shoulders when his pelvis starts to brush your overstimulated clit. he’s hitting everything so right, deep whispers of your name breezing through your head as he pounds into you.
you’re practically an inch away from getting fucked into a concussion but it’s the least of your worries right now. you’ve missed this—you’ve missed him. it’s the moments where he’s so raw with you, no masks of shame or fear covering how he truly feels that you love the most. this is the cost that you love.
but you’re still a human being, and one with limits. your orgasm is bubbling hard in the pits of your belly, so you’re tightening your own hold on him, mumbling about how you’re getting close. and you barely last another five seconds before a stupidly broken ‘i love you’ falls from your swollen lips.
those three words are sending choso over the edge so fast he can’t help the strangled noise that comes from his throat. those words are pumping energy throughout every vein of his body, and even through his orgasm, he doesn’t stop his movements. his face is digging into your neck as he rides out the rest of his high, tears dripping onto the skin of your collarbone.
you’re so confused when you recover, that you don’t know what to say! all you can do is shush him, dragging your fingers calmly through his messy strands as you try to calm him down. even through his fit, he’s still apologizing and it breaks your heart over and over. all you can do is press a sweet kiss against the side of his face and tell him how cute he looks with his face all wet like this. then he remembers.
he’s returning to your sides within seconds, setting the bouquet carefully in your arms before explaining what it’s supposed to be. they’ve already been out for quite some time though, so you’ll need to take them downstairs to place in a jar before they start to wilt too badly. but you’re in no state to walk like this.
so choso is scooping you up bridal style despite your protests and carrying you down the steps. he only puts you down to place you in front of the kitchen sink as he moves around to find a suitable container. it’s adorable you think, how proactive he is about this. but he’s done pretty quickly, and all you have to do is lean over the basin and push the jar onto the sill.
which you do with a gasp because he’s pressing onto your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. but that’s not what catches you off guard, it’s how hard he is. and with the way his hand is trailing down between your thighs, you know you don’t have long before you’ll be getting filled up again.
if you think you’ve missed him, you have no idea how much he’s missed you. and even with that, he’s so considerate! he knows how tired your legs must be, so he’s keeping you up with his vice-like grip as he fucks into you from behind right in front of the kitchen window. your brain's been turned to mush a long time ago, you don’t even care if your neighbors see you like this. all that’s on your mind is how bruised you’re going to be when choso finally lets up, and how much cum he can pump into you until he has to go for his next practice.
#choso smut#college athlete!choso#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#choso x reader smut#choso kamo x reader#choso x reader#jjk choso#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader smut#choso#choso x you#choso x y/n
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Escape the Spotlight (Hanni of Newjeans)
Hanni x Male Reader (Y/N) Word Count: 1841 words Summary: Y/N fucks Hanni after her birthday, oh also this is canon so sum issues about them rn.
The soft hum of the city filtered through the dorm’s open window, carried by the cool evening breeze. Hanni had left it cracked just enough for the noise to feel distant, like a reminder of the world outside, one she was eager to escape from tonight. She leaned against the desk in her small, cozy dorm, her phone loosely grasped in her hand as she reread the last message she sent.
“Hey, come over. I need a distraction.”
Simple, direct, and maybe a little too forward, but she was tired of holding back. Her birthday was supposed to be a time to celebrate, but all it had been was a whirlwind of interviews, scheduled social media posts, and the pressures that came with being under the spotlight as an idol. For once, she wanted to forget about the cameras and scripts and just be herself.
The only person who could assist her in doing that was Y/N.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, but the minutes dragged as she waited. Her heart pounded in her chest, anticipation creeping up her spine. It wasn’t often that she invited someone into her private space like this, but Y/N was different. There was something about him that made her feel... safe. She didn’t need to put up her walls or play a part when he was around.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. His message was brief:
“On my way. Be there soon.”
Hanni exhaled, a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She pushed herself away from the desk, pacing a bit to calm her nerves. She had no idea what tonight would lead to, but she knew she wanted it to be far from the reality she lived in every day. No cameras, no judgment, just her and Y/N.
As she moved around the room, she glanced at herself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. Her reflection showed a different side of her—Hanni Pham, the idol, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was just Hanni, in a simple oversized hoodie and comfortable shorts, her dark hair tied up messily. She was free from the usual layers of makeup and the high-maintenance outfits, and for once, she liked it. It was the real her. She wished more people would see, but they didn’t.
She rubbed her arms absentmindedly, feeling the familiar anxiety settle in. Being an idol wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The expectations, the scrutiny, the never-ending demand to be perfect—it was exhausting. And as much as she loved her fans, sometimes she just needed a break.
Tonight, she hoped Y/N would be that break.
The knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. She moved quickly, her pulse quickening. Pulling the door open, she was met with the sight of Y/N standing there, looking a bit out of breath but with that familiar smile that always made her feel at ease.
“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and slightly teasing. “Didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I? ”
Hanni shook her head, stepping aside to let him in. “No, you’re just in time.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was an awkward pause as they stood there. The tension between them was subtle but palpable. They’d known each other for a while, but tonight felt different. Something was hanging in the air, something unspoken, and neither of them seemed ready to address it—at least not yet.
Y/N took in the room, noticing the faint scent of lavender that lingered, the warm glow of the dim light she’d set up, and the slight mess that hinted at her life outside of the polished image people saw on stage. It was intimate and personal.
“You look... comfortable,” he remarked, his eyes tracing over her figure, not in a way that made her self-conscious but in a way that made her feel seen. Really seen.
She smiled, playing with the hem of her hoodie. “It’s my birthday. I wanted to be comfortable.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you decided to spend it... with me? ”
She shrugged, her voice softening. “I didn’t want to spend it alone.”
That admission hung in the air, and Y/N seemed to understand. Without saying a word, he stepped closer, his presence immediately grounding her. He wasn’t there to judge or to expect anything from her. He was just... there. And that was what she needed most.
They moved to sit on the floor, leaning against the foot of her bed. The conversation flowed easily at first—catching up, joking around, talking about things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But as the minutes passed, Hanni found herself opening up more, telling him about the things she didn’t usually share with others.
“It’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “The whole idol thing... it’s not as glamorous as people think.”
Y/N listened intently, his gaze never leaving her face. He nodded, not interrupting, just letting her speak.
“I just... I want to be myself, you know? ”She laughed bitterly. “But sometimes, I don’t even know who that is anymore.”
There was a silence, heavy but not uncomfortable. Y/N reached out, gently taking her hand in his. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a warmth through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“You’re Hanni,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “That’s enough.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his words. It was such a simple statement, but it meant everything to her at that moment. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel the need to put on a mask. She could just be... her.
Without thinking, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. It was soft, almost hesitant, as if she were testing the waters. But when Y/N kissed her back, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, something inside her clicked.
This was what she’d been missing. This connection, this intimacy. The world outside didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was him and the way he made her feel like she was enough, just as she was.
The kiss deepened, growing more urgent as the tension between them finally broke. Hanni’s hands slid up his chest, pulling him closer as their breaths mingled, the room around them fading into the background. All of her worries, her stress, her insecurities—they melted away in his embrace.
As they pulled apart, breathless, Hanni rested her forehead against his, her fingers still tangled in his shirt. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. “For being here.”
Y/N smiled, his hand resting on her waist, grounding her. “Always." Y/N removes his shirt with a quick motion, leaving Hanni with a desired look. Hanni instantly kisses Y/N with more passion, as if she were dehydrated for lust. Both of them moan as their mouths explore each other. After an intense makeover, Hanni grabbed her shorts and tossed them to the side. Y/N then put his hands over her thighs; Hanni’s already wet from the sloppy kisses they had. Y/N rubbed his hands on her pants, making circles on Hanni’s clitoral area. Instinctively Hanni moans under his mouth. “Ugh, yes, make me cum Y/N.Hannah is reaching her limit; she holds on with the kiss and moans louder and louder with every hand movement of Y/N. “I am going to cum, Y/N, I am going to cu... ughh.” She reached her orgasm, slowly fading to Y/N's body as she loses her energy. They looked at each other with a smile. “I want you on me, Y/N.” Without wasting any time, Y/N removed his pants, greeting Hanni with a bulge in his boxers. Hanni’s face was flustered by the view. She was smiling and grinning. “Wow.” leaves from her mouth. Instantly she moves onto his boxers and removes slowly while looking at Y/N eyes. Y/N cock flew from his boxer and hit Hanni’s face. Both laughed, but then Hanni swallowed the rod in her face. “Oh Hanni.”
She bobbed her head up and down, swallowing inch by inch of Y/N cock. She is making slurping sounds, moaning while taking what’s her. She continued the blowjob, occasionally changing the pace. “I am getting close.” When she hears this, she increases the pace like she's racing a deadline. She speeds her bobbing, galloping every inch of Y/N cock, and after a minute Y/N shoots his hot semen in her mouth. She swallows all of his cum, even licking the ones that overflow from her mouth. Hanni then stands over Y/N, removing her hoodie, showing her cute boobs to him, and playing with her nipples—that’s already hard.
Hanni slowly lowers her body to Y/N, aligning her opening to him. She kept eye contact with him, having conversations with their eyes and being playful with it. His cock entered the heavens when Hanni finally let him come in, breaking the silence with a moan from both of them. She adjusted as the tip was entering. It is not their first time, yet she's still tight as ever. Y/N groaned from the feeling of his cock entering Hanni’s pussy. As she lowered her body more, it also adjusted with Y/N's size; after all, 7 inches isn’t that easy to penetrate.
Hanni gives up and lowers her entire body to him, leaving her to lose control of her body and slams to Y/N, but luckily he catches her and at the same time kisses her on the lips, creating another makeup session. She slowly moves her hips and starts her ride. “Oh, god, your cock feels so good on me,” she blurts from her mouth.
Just like the blowjob, she also increases her pace slowly. She truly wants to make it all the time and to experience another world far from her idol image. They parted lips as the pace started getting faster. Hanni then let Y/N do more of the work; he's now the one driving the pace as he fucks her hard, leaving Hanni with moans and pleasure.
“Fuck!! ,” she screamed as she coughed. Y/N followed with his seed shooting inside her. ‘Oh sh*t, I cummed inside fuck my bad,” he said to her.
Oh yes, cum inside me. I am on pills, you dumbo.” With her approving of him to cum inside of her. Y/N carried Hanni and changed into a dogstyle position and kept fucking her.
This goes throughout the night; time passes, lives change, and a new world is ahead.
Hanni kisses Y/N, “Thanks for coming; I had fun.” “Me, too. I am always here when you need me. Goodnight.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Thanks for reading!!
A/N: Hanni smut?, Hanni smut, Hanni smut!, HANNI SMUT!??!!!
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18+ / mdi
content: loser!cheol, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), overstimulation (m receiving), eating out, face riding, u can either assume they're in a relationship or just fwb, etc.
wc: 1378
a/n: someone requested this at some point so im here to deliver 🫡 if u guys are interested in more from this couple lmk<3
part 1 , part 2, part 3
masterlist
"f-fuck, don't stop," seungcheol breathed out, glasses foggy from his heavy breathing.
you took this as a green light to increase the pace of the bobbing of your head, taking more and more of him each time. occasionally, you would envelop the tip of seungcheol's cock between your lips, sucking lightly as you looked up at the pretty boy.
"it's so good, fuck, s-so good," he kept on groaning, hands digging on the bed he was sitting on, making a mess of the sheets.
it had been a few weeks since your chance encounter at jeonghan's party – an encounter jeonghan had fully orchestrated in order to rid seungcheol of his virginity. ever since then, you and seungcheol became inseparable, with you making it your mission to make the pretty boy cum any time you got him alone.
today you had showed up at his frat house unannounced, knocking on his door and immediately pushing him in when he had let you into his room. attacking him with a depraved kiss, he became weightless under your touch, allowing you to do whatever you wanted to him.
seungcheol's life had greatly improved ever since he met you. not only did he have a gorgeous girl completely obsessed with making him lose his composure, but he had also found a friend in you. the two of you would often hang out together, sharing many things in common. except that most of your get togethers would end with seungcheol's balls completely empty and a satisfied look on your face.
after sucking his cock almost to completion, you disconnected your lips from it, moving onto his balls to lick and suckle at them, something you knew drove seungcheol crazy.
you looked so pretty beneath him, completely addicted to his cock. there was clearly nothing in your mind at the moment that wasn't seungcheol's pleasure. to this day, he wasn't quite sure what you saw in a guy who was as inexperienced as him. he was yet to ever eat you out or finger you, never getting the chance as you were always the first to jump him (and maybe he was too shy to initiate anything on his own – he just didn't want to disappoint you and ruin the thing you two had going).
so far, the two of you had sex many times (you always on top), and you'd allowed him to make out with your tits a few times. other than that, seungcheol had the great pleasure of feeling either your hands or your lips wrap around his cock as he cried your name. surprisingly, he was not embarrassed of how pathetic he sounded any time you touched him, how easily he gave in to you. seungcheol could tell you liked the effect you had on him, so he was liberal about letting you know how much he enjoyed your touch.
when you finally made him cum, sucking his balls while your hands handled his cock, he threw his head back, chanting your name in low breaths, occasionally interrupted by uncharacteristically high whines. your mouth enveloped his cock once again to swallow his cum, moaning around his cock and letting your eyes roll back at the taste. whether you were playing up your reactions to get seungcheol to lose his mind or not, he ate it all up, ego inflating at how much you enjoyed giving him pleasure.
climbing on top of his nude body, you laid your skirt-covered crotch above his own, gasping when you accidentally felt his now flacid cock under you. catching his lips in a steamy kiss, you began whining against his lips when your hips began gyrating against his. despite still being incredibly sensitive, his cock began hardening again, though the feeling of your grinding still felt incredibly intense to him.
"can i have you like this, cheollie?", you murmured against his lips, "hmm? does it hurt, baby?"
he nodded, answering both your questions at once. it hurt so good to feel your almost-bare cunt grinding against his cock despite the intense sensitivity of it at the moment. his hands grabbed onto your hips, grinding you even harder against him.
crying against your lips, he begged for more, barely able to follow your lips in a kiss despite wanting to so badly. luckily for him, you continued to lick and kiss at his lips despite his constant cries against your own.
"h-hurts so good, fuck. please ... y-your cunt, i-"
"my cunt? you want it, angel?"
"yes, please! w-want it on my face. wanna- wanna lick it so bad."
you gasped against his lips, moaning at the thought.
"oh, cheollie ... wanna lick it? fuck, can i sit on your face, pretty? hmm? can i make you cum and then sit on your pretty face?"
your grinding never halted, only becoming faster and harder as he spoke against your lips.
tears fell from his eyes, glasses fully foggy by now as he nodded against your lips. your hands went up to wipe his glasses with the fabric of your skirt, bringing them back up to his eyes with a sweet peck to his lips.
his cock was fully hard by now, and you were far too desperate to wait for him to cum through mere dry humping, so you dipped your hand between your bodies and wrapped it around him, speed too fast for him to even comprehend before his high took over him once more.
you praised him through his orgasm, as you usually did, telling him what a good and pretty boy he had been for you. but then your desire took over, making you rip off the remaining of your clothing and sit back on his lap.
seuncheol whined at the sight of your bare body. despite having seen it far too many times by now, he couldnt help but be obsessed with it. even on days when he had already had you, he'd think of you when his hand wrapped around himself late at night. sometimes he'd look at pretty pictures you'd send him – pictures that had him losing focus when he thought back to them in the most inconvenient moments possible.
when he tried to grab at your body like he usually did, you lightly slapped his hands away, giggling at him, "cheollie, gonna sit on your face now, okay?"
"i- i don't know what to do ... want it so fucking bad, but-"
you shushed him, pressing a peck to his lips after. smiling at him, you reassured him.
"it's okay, cheollie. just ... just lick, yeah? you'll know what to do, i promise," and with that, you removed his glasses and climbed up his body, ass on his face as you arched your back for him.
he groaned at the sight – which lasted far too little for his liking. you lowered yourself on him and it was like an animal took over his senses. you had been right, his body knew exactly what do do.
his strong arms held onto your hips, bringing your cunt as close to him as humanly possible. the proximity was practically suffocating him, but he didn't care. he licked and sucked and groaned at your cunt, almost unable to hear your own cries at the feeling.
"cheollie! fuck ... it's so good, 'sso fucking good," you mirrored his earlier words.
before long, you began grinding against his face, using him for your own pleasure. and he happily let you, moaning like crazy at the thought of the pleasure he was giving you. at some point, you began doing most of the word, even angling yourself so his nose would nudge against your clit while his tongue explored the rest of your cunt.
he claimed your orgasm like this, rendering you a limp version of yourself as you weakly crawled away from him snd let yourself fall on the bed.
his face was ruined with your cum, but he had licked as much as he could out of you. wiping it carelessly with a nearby rag, he went over to you, holding you as you laid on his bed.
"you learn so quickly, cheollie," you smiled at him, satisfied look on your face.
"you're going to kill me," he said as he put his glasses back on, making you giggle.
#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x reader#svt fanfic#svt x reader#seventeen#seventeen imagine#svt#seventeen oneshot#seventeen smut#svt smut#svt imagines#svt scenarios#seventeen scenarios#scoups scenarios#scoups oneshot#scoups x reader#scoups fanfic#scoups smut#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol smut
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Hey hey, saw ur requests were open for Thranduil and knew I needed to submit something!
Could you do a Thranduil x fem human reader where she braids her hair without knowing the significance for elves? They both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything, supper fluffy ending y’know?
Thank you in advance and have a great day!! :))
Beautiful misunderstandings | hobbit
pairing: Thranduil x fem human!reader 👑
You simply wanted to accept an invitation to a celebration, but something about you makes the elves literally drop at your feet. Can Thranduil resolve this misunderstanding, or will he be affected as well?
tags/warnings: just lots and lots of fluff, no warnings
word count: 3,6k
an: to be honest, most of what i wrote is my own headcanons because i did not find lots about hair culture with the elves.. so please: educate me! Are there some hcs in the fandom? :)
+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3
The forests of Greenwood greet you with open flames of torches licking up their hot tongues against the dark skies, coloring the path the horse trots along in their amber lights and the wooden smoke that fills the air. Evenly distributed along the pathway they light up just enough of Greenwood that it doesn't take away from the sight that awaits you at the end, where the trees give way to an equally decorated bridge and the foliage thins out enough for you to take in the tall arches framing the open doors of the Great Elvenking's halls.
You have already been a guest for many of Thranduil's festivities ever since he established trading relations with your small fisher town. Due to the bond that twirls around the two of you in some unfathomable and complex manner, you also know that nothing he ever does is anything but grande and imposing.
Still, you can't help but push your lower lip in between your teeth.
Not once have you gotten the impression of standing out more than the difference in race and status already marked as obvious factors, neither Thranduil nor his elves treated you like you felt right now:
Completely out of your known waters.
The elvish customs were far too many for you to know them all and you always try your best to consider all and everything that you've learned in the two summers you could consider yourself an acquaintance to Thranduil. Whatever form this acquaintanceship took on is another worry, or rather, another unknown that you can't exactly express to anyone.
It's nearly as confusing as the steps of the dance you studied in your room before you left this morning, a step forward and two back, Thranduil asking you to accompany him to his dances but never dancing with you.
Tonight, you want to change this predicament of always ending up in the arms of another elf while the one you yearned for watches from the sidelines! You didn't work this hard for the fabric that hugs your figure in a beautiful dress for nothing and even if the fabric isn't as shiny or light as the dresses the elves wear and the stitches marked your fingertips with the evidence of the labor and long nights, you are proud of the garment.
The wind plays in the hem as you emerge from the guarded forest and its thick and dense foliage and it winds itself around your legs after you dismount your horse. A quick kiss to his muzzle, followed by an exhale of warm, familiar breath and you hesitantly let a servant take him away, mumbling a soft "Thank you" while you stay where you are and watch until they disappear around a tree.
Nervously you start walking up to the bridge, the reckless water under it crashing against the stone walls and it goes along with the blood that pumps high and fast through your body and rushes in your ears. The atmosphere is loaded, sizzling under the nearly suffocating heat that's only bearable in the cool shadows of the palace in front of you so you don't waste another second.
You brush off the hood of your riding coat, smoothing out some fly-away hairs that escaped the braid you carefully weaved earlier this day as you duck your head in reverence to be allowed in these sacred halls.
Whispers catch up to you from outside, a breeze dancing through leaves.
When you lift your chin again, you find that it's not the air affecting nature but rather your presence halting nearly all the elves that gathered on the first bridge inside the caves.
They say elves are graceful and purposeful in their movements – the way dozens of eyes are locked onto you and lips move in not-so-silent murmurs defiles that claim though.
It's nothing you haven't encountered before, the talks behind your back that came along with Thranduil's attention shining down on you like the sun – hot, engulfing you completely and rendering you breathless as well as a bit sweaty at times whenever he looks at you, and you learned how to handle it. His attention brought forth a lot of awareness of his folk to the woman who visits Thranduil just as often as he rides into your town and becomes the topic of conversations for weeks. What's a girl to do except accept that a King never comes alone?
You're used to elves watching you, most of them in respect. Thranduil's authority radiates onto you, as well as the protection that he swore would lay upon you as long as he's there to give out orders.
The first elf whose eyes you questioningly meet drops to his knees in the same instant, barely a breath of time passing by.
A gasp leaves your throat.
Words do not follow. They remain echoing in your head, pushed back by the spectacle that spread before you like wildfire. Too fast, too much.
Within seconds of you entering, the buzz of lowered voices dies down as elf after elf either bows or completely meets the ground they are standing on. The spectacle is confusing and throws you completely off; this reaction is nowhere near what you've experienced before and you do the first thing that comes to mind to handle this totally unsuspected confrontation of elves bowing to you, a human from no known family and nothing to your name other than the weight it carries on Thranduil's tongue.
The only thing you manage to stammer is: "Good evening," and a high-pitched, "Thank you?" before you take your legs into your hand and dash over the bridge.
Thoughts as unstoppable as you run through your mind while you navigate the curving halls of the underground palace, the stonewalls not cool enough to diminish the heat that sits low in your neck, growing the longer you think about all that has happened between Thranduil and you and how it's not much more than nothing but a close alliance of human and elf.
One that you hope would take on a different turn, because some of the actions by Thranduil could be considered friendlier than one would treat an ally or friend. You think back to all the gifts you have received, the white gems for example that, barely bigger than your nails but woven into the upper part of your braid, reflect the light and throw silver dots against the walls that lead you to the point Thranduil had asked you to meet him in one of his many letters.
The route involves more encounters with more elves, some bow more subtly, their hands on their chest in a greeting that you do know, and some others, mostly those who've already fallen in barrels of wine and are less sophisticated in their movements in their drunken state who repeat the word "bereth" as if it's a prayer in a language that's far beyond you to make out right now.
At the end of the hallway, you make out the back of a familiar blonde and even from afar you notice the resemblance that Thranduil's silver circlet has to the silver ribbon you have woven into your hair in a similar way and height how his circlet would look placed on your head.
Is this what brought such uproar to the elves? Have you accidentally copied their king?
"Thranduil!" you call out, his name lacking any title though not out of disrespect. You have the highest respect for the King of the Elves and slip a "Your Majesty" rather often into conversations because you know how much he favors his name from your tongue and teasing him like that brings a joy to you that you can't explain anyway else then:
Hearing him laugh and smile or roll his eyes at your antics fuels the love you harbor for him.
Now is not the time for teasing chit-chat, you are desperate to find out if you have actually misstepped by presenting his gifts like this at a festival that's solely about him.
He turns at the sound of your voice and, oh lord, even his eyes widen as soon as they land on you and you want to perish rather than step any closer but the hurry in your legs and the nervousness in your stomach makes it impossible to do anything else but run to the one soul in this world that brings you comfort.
You arrive at a full stop, and your heels would have stirred up dust if you were a mare.
Now it's not only Thranduil's eyes that seem to have developed an inability to stray farther than your head; his mouth falls open as well and he makes no effort to close it again. The fact that this behavior is completely ungracious and ill-mannered has apparently not dawned on him yet. The longer you spend helplessly looking up at him, you swear you can see most of his thoughts visibly inching away behind that baffled expression.
At first, there's nothing.
Then some clarity returns into the blue eyes you love so much and Thranduil exhales a quiet: "Berio nin."
Now, that's Sindarin you've heard before – that the context he has said these words were moments when he playfully begged the Valar to aid him with you tormented him in some way throws you off your balance even more and you take a step back.
"I did not–" you start and raise a hand to wave it at all of you, "This, I had no idea. Did I offend you? Or the elves?"
"Offend?" Thranduil asks bewildered.
"Well, the way they reacted. I wasn't sure," you laugh distraught. Thranduil's eyebrows instantly furrow, and you're quick to follow up: "Not in a bad way!" you explain and he loosens up, "They, um, they bowed? And some may have fallen to the ground?"
"Ah," he chuckles and his reaction calms you a bit. He could've been screaming or throwing you out. If he's laughing this can't be that big of a serious misstep. Thranduil looks at you through lowered lashes and runs his tongue over his teeth, a smile threatening to break through the serious expression he tries to obtain. "I believe a conversation and education is in order. If you would follow me to have this conversation somewhere else," he says and holds out his arm for you to grab.
He leads you around a corner and another one, walking swiftly yet seemingly in no hurry until Thranduil opens a door and quickly pulls you inside the room.
Candles littered all around light up what you immediately understand to be his private chambers, the many robes you recognize, the colorful falcons with shimmering scented oils and shells full of jewelry, pearls, gems, and rings in gold and silver. There, right where Thranduil stops in front of you to block out your view, you take a peek at a giant bed behind flowy white curtains.
You blush.
Even more so when you see Thranduil blush as well. His eyes return to your hair again, just like he had on the short walk to these chambers; tilting his head down to you as if some magical force bound him to staring at you in a manner he hadn't done before.
"You are my guest so I see it to be my responsibility to clear up what may have been a–" he pauses and his eyelashes flutter as he thinks of a fitting word, "a misapprehension. Not that you could have possibly known the outcome of what you doubtlessly suspected to be a kind gesture."
You nervously cross your arms behind your back, intertwining your fingers so you do not meddle or ruffle the carefully layered fabrics of your dress. "I solemnly swear I was not up for any mockery."
His eyes widen again. "I would not have accused you of such!"
You tilt your head in confusion and bite down on your lip, ungraceful as well and a habit you should definitely quit, especially in the company of a King.
"What was it that startled the elves?" You think back to the way Thranduil had reacted, the wide-blown eyes, the pink lips formed to a delicate 'o' – "As well as you, Thranduil. You couldn't even get a word out except for a prayer." You let out a single laugh to cover up your embarrassment.
The elf lifts his chin higher as if that could prevent you from noticing the blush deepening, growing much more red than just a delicate pink that stands out from his ivory skin but not much that it couldn't be interpreted as a light intoxication of either wine or fresh air.
"I do not remember that," he lies with a dismissive voice. "Anyway, let me clarify the current dilemma instead of wasting time discussing the past."
"Definitely not that far back that you could count it as 'the past' but sure," you sigh and decide to ignore the glare he sends you as you confront his very unsubtle passive- aggressive change of topic from him to you. Thranduil had centuries of building up a thickheadedness to lead the Woodland Realm and you had mere months on your hands in trying to push a way through it.
"Well, the behavior my folk portrayed was simply said the respect they pay for any honorable and eminent," Thranduil says, not batting an eye over the unbelievable words that come out of his mouth.
"What?" Your voice is nothing but a high squeal, "Why would they do that? They know I'm just a human!"
Thranduil scoffs, "Just a human, she says. Do not dismiss yourself in any way and most definitely not as just a human. Humans are such fascinating creatures, all those feelings compressed into an ephemeral life and bodies that endure pain and even if you waste away to dust you try to mark down your existence into every stone that you touch." Before you can burst into tears at his rather sentimental and emotional view of your people, he continues in a tone more factual: "To answer your question– you conveyed that I was courting you and they simply knew there would be grave consequences if they did not respect my intended."
All the air left your body in a singular exhale, thus leaving you to grasp at the few thoughts that stayed through the cut-off of oxygen. Not that they were any good.
Courting you? Being his intended?
You can only stare at him aghast.
"But– courting? You weren't, we weren't– there was no courting!" you stammer.
The world is reeling.
Black spots dance in the corner of your sight.
It takes all your focus to stand still and not sway back and forth, giving in to the abrupt slide downward reality has suddenly become.
"No," Thranduil says.
A part of you withers at the finality of the statement because of course, he, Great Elvenking Thranduil, would never be caught courting a human. The absurdity of it must be why he was laughing earlier, praying to the Valar to become a witness of what must be your greatest humiliation.
"No, there was. I was simply waiting for your realization as well as acceptance to officially proclaim it."
Now it's your mouth that falls open without any strength left to prevent it.
Thranduil swallows, hard, his jaw set tightly and his eyes fixating on you. "All that I did, and thought to do, was in prospect of taking you as my betrothed," he states; the smallest of quivers underlining the massive impact this admission causes to him. He lifts one hand to his chest, pressing his knuckles against the fabric where underneath his heart lays. "I ache to love, treasure, and worship you. Every second of all the days I may have the pleasure of your company in my life or it shall be colorless from now on."
His eyes glitter, the endless blues of the sky, affection burning in them like the sun, broadening your horizon of what you believed love to be and there is no doubt in your mind that Thranduil's words are nothing but the truth. Confounding as that truth should be, it is that – certainty.
A smile breaks on your face, watery and wet as tears of pure happiness spill onto your cheeks and even if your heart has been on the tip of your tongue at every word you have ever said to him and in every glance that you have ever directed in his way, the need to validate his revelation.
You step carefully step closer and the hem of your dress brushes against his gowns as you close the bit of distance. Thranduil watches cautiously, leaving his hand against his heart, and only tips his chin down to follow you until you step into his personal space. The whole regal and stoic image he portrays even after confessing his love passionately mere seconds ago breaks as you feel his wavering breath and you swear you can hear the loud pounding of his battered-yet-strong heart.
"Is it my hair?" you ask quietly and catch him off-guard.
Thranduil smiles and his chest heaves in a deep inhale of air. "Yes," he laughs in an exhale, "Do you wish to know how you managed to completely dismantle me? Rob me of all powers?"
You nod once and one hand of his comes to rest on your shoulder from where he leads you to a silver basin standing in a corner decorated with more oils and vines climbing the stone walls.
The sight that the clear water inside it shows you, Thranduil standing behind you, more than slightly taller, brings a warmness to your cheeks. Even if the prospect of his image finding a constant in your life from now on is undeniable, you're not sure if you will ever get satiated by it.
Thranduil slowly reaches the elaborate braid you are so proud of despite the public tumult it had caused. "There are many things sacred to my folk and hair –" he starts and lets his fingers travel the length of free-falling hair, "holds the memories of our history, our connection to the Eldar and kemen – the earth. We do not cut it but rather let it grow to pay our respects to Eru for his creation, the natural and untouched world, flows in us all. It bears the marks of our ancestry though many cultures convey their personal history in many different ways."
You listen intently, trying not to get distracted by Thranduil's hands smoothing your hair and the deep rumble of his voice wrapping around his language that pulls you into a trance.
"Among us Sindar, we wave our customs into the very strands of this sacred hair. Our warriors, for instance, adorn themselves with tightly woven braids, serving not only as protection in battle but as a testament to their strength and unwavering discipline."
"The intricate and jeweled braids you wear," Thranduil's fingers glide along the white gems, thus nudging them against your head, "they speak volumes of noble heritage and high standing. Even if you do not have royal blood in your family, a braid like this will be more convincing to the contrary."
You blush as you realize how you unknowingly changed your entire status.
"By adorning your hair with the jewels I bestowed upon you, you declare to all my claim upon you," Thranduil chuckles and meets your eyes in the water, "Braids are the essence of our heritage, denoting rank and occupation, and they speak volumes in courtship."
"Oh," you say, "I knew Elves court through gifts. Would I have known this…"
Thranduil shakes his head, smiling widely as he continues playing with your hair, "You say that but not once have you realized all that I have given to you were of my pursuit."
"Well, I– this wasn't… I thought you were being nice," you sputter and grow even redder in the face.
"Unbelievably rude and ungracious to consider me ni–" he interrupts himself and shivers, "No I will not speak in such obscene language." Thranduil raises an eyebrow before returning his attention to the lesson in courting, "Through these intricate weavings, we convey our intentions and the profound depth of our bonds. While dalliances are not uncommon, my folk only marry once in their life."
"Love is eternal and unwavering, and each twist in our braids declares the union of our souls. By weaving your hopes and pleas for reciprocation into your hair, you speak a silent yet powerful language. The braid you chose, resembling my crown and adorned with my jewels and a silver ribbon akin to my own hair, could not have delivered a clearer message."
"So I basically lied to your elves," you pull a face in shame, "Great."
"You may call it a lie," Thranduil says slowly and his hands travel to rest on your shoulders. You lean into the gentle pull and let him turn you around so that you are face-to-face again. There is a dedication in his eyes, a look of hunger and yearning, "Or," his voice sounds even deeper and reverberates through your entire body, zipping up your spine that you automatically straighten, "You allow me to present our courtship openly if a deeper connection is what you desire to form between us."
Your heart thumps in your chest, double the tempo that one would call normal and it only speeds up when Thranduil cups your face in his hand and his fingertips graze the silver ribbon that sits tightly against your head.
"Allow me," he repeats, quieter.
"Your word and the world will know you are mine," he pleads.
You waste not a second to ponder over what your heart already decided. "I allow it."
©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart
#📁files: thranduil fanfics#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil x reader#thranduil oropherion#thranduil x you#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit x reader#the hobbit x you#king thranduil
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Past, Present, ...
Summary: After sleeping with Bucky after months of comforting him during his nightmares, Y/N returns from a three-week mission to find out she's been replaced.
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Near death, Implying attempted suicide (it's not)
Word Count: 5.7k
A/N: Not Beta'd. Dusting this off from the drafts. I wrote this while sleep deprived. Not sure how we got here but the original ending wasn't a happy one. Enjoy whatever this is instead.
How much space is too much?
According to James Bucky Barnes, three weeks isn't enough.
Three weeks on an assignment was enough for Y/N to become homesick. She understood she would have to pause her life to save the world, but what no one informed her was that the rest of the world would continue to play.
“Y/L/N?” A familiar voice shouted.
Adjusting the strap of her duffle bag on her shoulder, Y/N turned her head to find her co-worker jogging towards her. Slanting her eyes, Y/N raised her palm to block out the sun.
“Wilson,” she addressed the man when he was near.
Bent over with his hands on his knees, Sam panted. His sweatshirt stretched across his back making the dark patch of sweat more prominent. Squinting up at Y/N, Sam breathed, “Did you just get back?”
Y/N bobbed her head, adjusting the strap on her shoulder once more for emphasis rather than comfort. She did not need to ask to know Sam just returned from his run. He usually ran with Steve and Bucky, but they always finished well before Sam. It wasn’t uncommon for him to return hours after the super-soldiers.
Pushing off his knees, Sam stood, tilting his head toward one of the many entrances in Avengers Tower. He knew better than to offer to carry her duffle bag. The weight of missions was often packed in the bags they returned with.
Y/N and Sam strolled side by side. Sam only paused to open the door for Y/N. Trekking into the tower, he could finally relax his eyes from the intense sun. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the elevator to arrive.
“I thought you were already back,” Sam admitted, watching the light above the elevator doors.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. Her mission was supposed to be longer. If anything, he should have anticipated her return later. Facing the man beside her, she asked, “Why?”
Ding.
Scrambling into the elevator, Sam leaned against the wall across from Y/N. She reflected his behavior, leaning against the wall behind her.
Once the elevator started moving, Sam confessed, “Bucky skipped his run today. I thought I saw you with him before I left. Guess I was wrong.”
Y/N bit her bottom lip, reopening a recently closed wound. She released her lip long enough to confirm what Sam already knew. “You were wrong.” Ignoring the coppery taste flooding her tongue, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth again.
She hadn’t seen her teammates in three weeks. She hadn’t seen Bucky longer. She assumed they were doing great, but Bucky didn't share her thoughts. He denied it, yet he went out of his way to avoid her since their last mission together, since they slept together. How one could be sweet in one moment and cold in another, Y/N would never understand.
Y/N and Bucky started off rocky. He hated her from the moment they met. Bucky was struggling in the field, so Steve asked her to keep an eye on him. Bucky rejected her the second Steve introduced them. He saw through Steve’s plan and stomped his feet like a child. Rather than confirm Bucky’s insinuation, Steve vouched that she deserved to be on the team for her talents, not to babysit Bucky. He even suggested that Y/N and Bucky spar to prove it. Bucky loathed her then. She laid him out several times that day. It was the reason Steve sought her out in the first place. Bucky was a far more experienced fighter than Y/N. He should have won every fight. He lost them all.
Muffled voices were heard from the other side of the doors. Voices Y/N craved to hear since she departed for her mission. When the doors spread, Sam was the first to enter the room. “Hey guys,” he called out, extending his hands toward Y/N, “look who I found.”
Y/N tentatively stepped off the elevator, joining her friends in the living room. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so many eyes on her. “I didn’t know there was a party,” she joked, waving.
Tony was the first to speak up, a glass of honey liquid in hand, “Glad, you're back. We were just getting to know Bucky’s girlfriend over here.” He lifted his glass.
Y/N’s eyes followed the direction of Tony’s glass. Her hand tautened around the strap of her duffle bag for support. Y/N hadn’t noticed the extra body in the room at first. The team always had someone over for business or pleasure; it didn’t matter. This time it did because staring back at her was Bucky’s guest, his girlfriend, undoubtedly here for pleasure.
The stunning woman beside Bucky introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Evangelina, but everyone calls me Lina.” Y/N could see the muscles in her uncovered arms tense. Even though she couldn’t see the hand attached to the arm from the other side of the bar, she knew Evangelina was holding Bucky’s flesh hand. “But Bucky calls me Angel,” she added, batting her eyelashes at Bucky.
The woman wasn't solely attractive; she also had a heavenly name. Y/N mentally gagged at the thought of hearing Bucky call his girlfriend Angel.
The coward refused to meet Y/N’s eyes. He took a lengthy drink from a glass matching Tony’s. Stark usually drank top-shelf liquor. Y/N might have been concerned under different circumstances, but she knew the liquor did not affect him, unlike herself.
“Y/N,” she weakly introduced herself, gnawing on her bottom lip again.
“We were just having drinks. Care to join us? There is plenty of alcohol. I can make you something,” Evangelina offered politely.
Y/N’s teeth clamped tight on her bottom lip. She spent three weeks wishing she could return to the tower, only to be treated like a guest, an outsider in her own home.
It was then that Bucky decided to face her, yet his eyes looked right through her. Y/N’s chest tightened. She didn’t know it was feasible to feel more alone in her home, surrounded by friends and a man she had been intimate with, than by herself in a foreign country. She wondered if he could see the hurt written on her face.
“I-I don’t-”
Bucky’s whiskey-strained voice interrupted, “No. No drinks.”
A gasp pulled Y/N's attention away from the couple. Cold, pale hands rested on her cheeks, rotating her head from side to side. “Y/N, you’re bleeding,” Natasha chastised.
Wrestling out of Natasha’s hold, Y/N utilized the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her lip. Staring at the crimson fluid coating her skin, Y/N jerked her head. “I can’t.” Blindly smashing the elevator button behind her, she whispered, “I have to…” her voice trailed off as she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. Disregarding everyone’s silent questions, she bolted into the elevator, only letting her shoulders sag when the doors closed. The strap of her duffle bag slid from her shoulder landing with a thud. Gliding her back down the wall, Y/N cradled her knees and wept.
Every night before bed, Y/N prayed the sun would never rise because when day broke, Bucky vanished. Her dreams filled with memories of their last mission together. Reality was the price of admission for eight hours in heaven.
Y/N clenched her jaw at every public display of affection between the new couple. In the time she had known him, Bucky had never been touchy-feely in public. Now, he couldn’t appear to stop. Bucky only ever reached for Y/N after a nightmare or horrific mission. He reached for her at his lowest and she responded with open arms. He might have another woman occupying his bed, but he continued to fuck with her head.
The voice in her head wasn’t her own anymore. Every thought she had echoed back in his familiar deep timber. She couldn’t shake him. A twisted part of her brain wondered if he couldn’t shake her either.
Sam’s comment when she returned from her assignment should have been her first clue. He had mistaken Evangelina for her. Sam had been the first to mention the resemblance between the two, but it wasn’t the last time Y/N received those kinds of comments.
In the time that Y/N had gotten to know Evangelina, which wasn’t much, she concluded that she didn’t hate her. The two had more in common than she wanted to admit. Evangelina made it a point to befriend all of the Avengers; Y/N included. Y/N hated that she enjoyed her company. It was a tough pill to swallow at first, but she couldn’t hate the woman for her taste in men. Who didn’t find Bucky Barnes attractive?
Bucky had been more challenging to read. He didn’t prevent the women from becoming friends, but he didn’t encourage it either. He continued to keep his distance from Y/N, only interacting with her in group settings.
The Avengers were unaware of Bucky and Y/N’s history. Their relationship was exclusively behind closed doors. Y/N wondered if Evangelina would be her confidante if she knew Y/N had warmed his bed first. Maybe Bucky told her and that was why she pushed to be Y/N’s friend. Maybe that was the reason she asked to raid Y/N’s closet for her date with Bucky. Even though Y/N desperately wanted to slam the door in her face, Evangelina was innocent in the situation. So, she agreed.
“You have so many pretty dresses,” Evangelina said in awe. Her hand ran across each piece of fabric dangling in the wardrobe.
Y/N’s fingers plucked at a loose thread on her comforter. Although they were now friends, helping Bucky’s girlfriend pick out an outfit for their date was still awkward. At least it was on Y/N’s end. Evangelina was none the wiser.
“Perks of being an Avenger.”
“What’s it like being an Avenger? Bucky never talks about his work life. He’s always tense when he returns from a mission.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow even though the other woman couldn’t see her. Bucky was slow to open up, especially about his past as the Winter Soldier. Y/N wasn’t surprised he dodged the topic. Ever since Natasha leaked classified files, Bucky’s past became public knowledge. Bucky and Evangelina’s relationship progressed beyond what Y/N previously had with Bucky, at least on the surface. She didn’t know much about their life behind closed doors. Bucky never took Y/N on a date or made her his girlfriend, but he let her hold him in her arms at night and let her in after a difficult mission. Yet his girlfriend practically confessed she knew nothing about his troubles. That was what shocked Y/N.
“It’s…” she paused, attempting to find the right words to convey the difficulties of the job without disturbing her. “It’s like war. You save and lose people. It’s rewarding and sucks at the same time.”
Evangelina pivoted with a black cocktail dress in hand. “That sounds awful.”
Y/N shrugged. “People do it every day. Steve, Sam, and Bucky were all military men before this.” She waved her hands around the room.
Evangelina caught the shift in Y/N’s tone. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, a reaction Evangelina grew used to from her exchanges with Bucky. Altering the subject, Evangelina pressed the cocktail dress flush to her body. “What about this one?”
Y/N sucked in a deep breath. She wore the dress on her last mission with Bucky. Though he didn’t say it in public, his reaction when they returned to the safe house that night was enough to know Bucky admired the dress. With Evangelina’s similar figure, Y/N knew Bucky would equally appreciate it on her, especially since he wouldn’t get to rip it off of Y/N again.
She would have told Evangelina about the dress, but it was none of her business. The past was in the past. One Evangelina wasn’t a part of. If Bucky hadn’t told her about their past neither would she. Was it bad to send Evangelina on a date in the dress Bucky had fucked her in? Probably. Did she hope he would think about her the entire date? Absolutely.
Clearing her throat, Y/N plastered a phony smile on her face. “Good choice.” After the date, the dress would be tarnished, like rerecording over an old tape.
Y/N never considered herself a masochist, but she couldn’t escape the role of a domestic sinner. She couldn’t sabotage Evangelina’s relationship no matter how Bucky made her feel; however, she could ruin her own relationship. There was a time in her life when she thought Bucky was the one. Part of her still believed it. It was the part she had to sacrifice.
She told herself Bucky’s soft caresses and lingering stares meant nothing, that every promise spoken was a lie to satisfy the moment. Everything Y/N ever loved had been hard to part with, so she convinced herself Bucky never truly loved her. He couldn’t with how readily he replaced her. Could he? It didn’t matter because he chose Evangelina.
“Hey, Y/N,” Steve welcomed jovially.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as Steve’s voice carried down the hall. Who was he talking to? Rounding the corner just in time, she hadn’t missed the way Steve’s eyes enlarged at the sight of her.
“I didn’t realize,” Steve began, his eyes flashing between both women. “I thought you were Y/N.”
Evangelina chuckled, gliding her hands across her abdomen to smooth down the front of the dress. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Y/N was considerate enough to lend me her dress.” She turned to Y/N, who was still standing in the archway of the lobby. “Thanks again.”
Before Y/N could reply, a hand slinked around her waist, drawing her into a solid body. Startled, Y/N tensed.
“Hey, Ange-” Bucky’s tongue twisted as his eyes landed on Y/N. He was relieved he peeked at her face before he complimented her appearance. He dragged his arm back to his side in a flash. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
Y/N chewed her lip, taking a step back. Bucky was dressed from head to toe in black, matching Evangelina. Y/N wondered if they planned to dress for her funeral before or after they killed off any romantic feelings she had for Bucky.
“I did the same thing,” Steve laughed. Bucky glowered at him, forcing his hands into his pockets. Steve held his hands up, “I didn’t touch anyone though, that was all you.”
Bucky grumbled, crossing the lobby to plant a kiss on Evangelina’s forehead. His right hand rested on the small of her back. “You look gorgeous,” he whispered against her hairline.
Evangelina grinned, “You don’t look bad yourself.”
Y/N couldn’t argue with that.
The faint smile on Bucky’s lips disappeared as the hand on Evangelina’s back ran up her spine. The tips of his fingers halted over a loose thread beside the zipper. Anyone would have glossed over it, but not Bucky. Not when he was the one to patch the dress up and certainly not when he was the one to tear it in the first place. When his gaze collided with Y/N’s, she knew he recognized the dress. His eyes blatantly proceeded to check her out.
Y/N flushed as he studied her; however, the moment his eyes drifted to his best friend, Y/N’s blood ran cold. “Are you two,” he pointed between Y/N and Steve. His voice was unable to fully ask the question he wanted to.
Steve slung his arm over Y/N’s shoulder. It was meant to be a joke, but Y/N saw the blaze in Bucky’s eyes. She didn’t know if it was directed at Steve or herself.
“I wish,” Steve beamed down at her. “I have a conference with Fury in an hour. I was hoping to get there early.”
Y/N sent Steve a soft smile. Steve and Bucky were best friends. If anyone knew what transpired between the two on their last mission, it would be Steve. His reaction proved otherwise. She was confident Steve didn’t know about her past with Bucky or he wouldn’t have unknowingly taunted Bucky.
Evangelina ran her hand along Bucky’s back affectionately. “What about you, Y/N? That dress looks amazing on you. I’m almost jealous I didn’t borrow that one.”
Untangling herself from Steve’s hold, Y/N focused on responding to her new friend rather than Bucky. Puffing out her chest, Y/N said, “Thanks, Lina. I have a date.”
Evangelina grinned, “You should join us.” She directed her attention to Bucky, slapping the center of his chest. “They should join us.”
Y/N’s eyes bulged at the prospect of a double date with Bucky. Absolutely not.
“Could be fun,” Bucky added, but his voice lacked emotion.
She officially lost her mind. There was no way Bucky was actually on board with this idea. The man spent most of his time avoiding her. The second she attempts to move on, he tries to interfere. No. No. No.
Y/N shook her head, lying through her teeth, “It’s still new. I’m not ready to introduce him to anyone I know yet.”
Bucky’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s figure for a moment. “That’s not exactly a new relationship kind of dress.” His eyes narrowed in a challenge.
Y/N pursed her lips. “It is for the kind of relationship he and I have.”
Bucky and Y/N’s first assignment together was a disaster. Bucky wasn't prepared to return to the field, but he insisted he was fine. The mission was successful, but only after Bucky hesitated and Y/N was stabbed. The knife was meant for Bucky, and he took her sacrifice for his mistake poorly. They argued even while Y/N was getting stitched up. At the time, they couldn’t stand one another, but looking back on it, it was the tipping point from enemies to friends.
Tony pressured the two to get along for everyone's sake. He suggested going out for a drink and hashing it out. It was the typical outing for a man of Tony’s status with enemies. Bucky had been the first to yield, offering to buy Y/N a drink. As long as it meant they could move forward, he didn’t care. Y/N declined. Bucky scowled in frustration.
“I probably shouldn't tell you this, but ever since the whole enhanced superpower thing, alcohol is like poison to me.”
Bucky’s face softened. Alcohol had been an issue for him and Steve as well. He detested that he couldn’t get drunk, especially with the unwanted memories that plagued his head frequently. It paled in comparison to her side effects. At least he could still consume the liquid and pretend.
“How about dinner then?” Bucky proposed.
Y/N nodded. “Dinner would be great.”
After that, the pair functioned well together. At least until Y/N witnessed Bucky’s nightmares or when he pulled away from everyone after a challenging mission. That was when Y/N began comforting Bucky. While it wasn’t a problem before, it was now.
“Stop staring at me,” Bucky grumbled.
Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from the super-soldier. It was their first mission together since he began dating Evangelina. The two of them were trapped in a safe house on the other side of the world. It wasn’t the first time they had stayed in this particular safe house. It was the exact safe house they inhabited on their last mission.
“You’re hurt,” Y/N observed. Bucky naturally had a sway in his gate. Today, it was heavier, as if he had been lugging extra weight around for hours.
“I’m fine,” Bucky rasped, keeping his back to Y/N. He kept his focus on igniting the fire in the fireplace before them.
Y/N frowned. “I don't mean physically.” Bucky remained silent. “Maybe you should call Evangelina,” she proposed. It was the practical thing to suggest, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Bucky than she intended.
Bucky whirled around; the fire blazed behind him. “I said I’m fine,” he barked. His dark eyes pinned her to her spot on the worn couch.
Y/N chewed her bottom lip. If he was going to get angry with her for caring, then she’d get furious right back. “If you’re so fine, then why have you been avoiding me?”
Bucky grumbled something under his breath, running his hand through his hair. “I already told you, I haven’t-”
“Bullshit.” Y/N rose from her seat. “You fucked me after that HYDRA mission and discarded me like garbage,” she fumed. “I gave you space. I’m gone not even an entire month and suddenly you have a girlfriend. Fuck you, James.”
Bucky stormed the room until he was standing in front of her. His nostrils flared as he ran his tongue along his teeth before baring his teeth. Y/N tipped her head back, daring him to put his hands on her. Bucky studied her face momentarily, their faces hairsbreadths from one another as he hissed, “Fuck. You. Y/N.” From this distance, she could see the muscles in his face twist. She knew he was pissed. Bucky pulled away. “You think you know everything. You have no idea what it's like to have someone fuck with your head.”
Y/N shoved his chest hard. Bucky didn’t even flinch. “You! You’ve been driving me insane with your games!” Her hands moved to shove him again, but he caught both of her wrists.
“Don’t,” he growled.
Y/N ripped herself free from his hold. His grip wasn't tight enough to hurt, still she rubbed her wrist anyway, trying to rid her body of his touch.
“Go back to your boyfriend, Y/N,” he commanded.
Y/N squinted at the man in front of her. This version of him was a stranger. “I heard you,” she voiced softly. “That night,” she pointed to the bedroom down the hall, “when you thought I was asleep, you said you love me.”
If she wasn’t an Avenger, she wouldn’t have detected the way his eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Bucky no longer had to wear a mask from HYDRA, but it seemed everyone except Bucky got the memo. His voice matched the stone-cold expression he wore. “I lied.”
It was the lack of sympathy in his voice that slammed the casket closed. With two little words, Bucky Barnes had buried her in the same place he made love to her.
Bucky returned to the tower after dropping Evangelina off when he stumbled across Natasha with a glass of wine in hand. She was snuggled under a blanket on the couch, watching a true crime show. Since he was unsure where everyone else had gone, he settled on the spot beside Natasha.
“Long night?” Natasha questioned, side-eying the brunette.
Bucky moaned, running his hands down his face. “Long week.”
Natasha swirled her glass of wine. “There is still a bit of wine left. It won't get you drunk but it might help you relax.”
Bucky pursed his lips. “I don’t think that will help.”
Natasha shrugged. “There’s some liquor Y/N’s boyfriend left on the counter over there.” She pointed to the nearly empty bottle across the room. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, “He’s here?”
The red head nodded. “They just got back from dinner. She said they were going upstairs to watch a movie, but after the amount of alcohol they had, I’m sure they are doing more than that.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Bucky stiffened. “They were both drinking?”
“Yeah. The boyfriend came down a couple times to make mixed drinks. He offered me one the last time he was down here, but,” she raised her wine glass.
Before Natasha could continue, Bucky was out of the room, taking the stairs three at a time. He didn’t expect Natasha to understand. People didn’t go around broadcasting their weaknesses. Y/N told him hers, despite them not being friends. It wasn’t his position to share the information. He regretted it now.
Bucky pounded his fist on the wooden door of Y/N's bedroom with a force that made the hinges creak. “Y/N, you in there? Open up,” he pleaded, his voice laced with concern. When he tried the handle and found it locked, his heart sank. “Y/N,” his voice grew more desperate. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door and leaned in, straining to hear anything that might give him an indication of what was transpiring inside. Despite his repeated requests, the door remained sealed shut, and Bucky's impatience and frustration mounted with each passing second. His voice grew louder, his fists clenched tightly, as he roared for Y/N to open the goddamn door. But there was no response. Finally, Bucky stepped back, his eyes flashing with rage, preparing to kick the door down.
The door opened the second Bucky lifted his boot. A man Bucky had never seen before pushed past him, flying down the hallway. “I didn’t do anything,” he cried as he stepped onto the elevator.
Whiplash hit Bucky hard. His head twisted between the man on the elevator and Y/N’s open bedroom door. The second he caught sight of the man's face, he filed it away preparing to deal with him later. Bucky ran into Y/N’s room. His heartbeat drummed loudly, drowning out the sound of the TV playing in the background. He called her name, but there was no response. He scanned the entire room, finding it empty. His boot kicked a glass, the brown liquid staining the carpet. With a lump in his throat, Bucky knocked on the bathroom door and waited for half a heartbeat before he jerked the door wide open.
There she was, sprawled out on the bathroom floor. Bucky crouched down beside her. His flesh hand shook her shoulder as he called her name. No response. He rolled her onto her back, his fingers searching for the pulse on her neck. Bucky almost missed the faint thrum of her pulse beneath his fingers. His own body was shaking. He called her name once again but was met with silence.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y. send the medical unit to Y/N’s room,” his voice quivered as he addressed Tony’s artificial intelligence.
He stepped over her to turn the shower on. Leaving the sliding glass door open, he enveloped her torso in his arms, dragging her bodying into the shower. Crumbling to the floor behind her, he cradled her body under the spray of the cold water.
“Come on, Y/N. Wake up,” he pleaded. He tapped her face repeatedly. “Come on. Not like this,” his voice began shattering. Her head lulled into his chest. Bucky’s fist clenched, mindful not to crush her, as a loud sob tore through his chest. Bucky held her tighter than the clothes adhering to their skin beneath the water. He swayed her slowly as tears gushed down his face. “Come on Y/N. Come back to me,” he croaked. “Tell me to go fuck myself. Anything,” he begged, praying for a reaction. It was futile. Bucky smashed his lips onto the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Y/N’s eyes fluttered open with a groan. Her body was sore on the brink of death. One look around the room confirmed she nearly died. She visited the medical wing frequently between missions. The injuries she had endured on the missions were nothing in comparison to what she was experiencing now.
A pressure landing on the back of her hand had her head snapping to her side. Bucky sat with his forehead pressed to the back of her hand, a prayer escaping his lips. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows searching for her last memory of Bucky.
The brunette lifted his head, running his fingers through her hair. “You scared me,” his voice was shaky, his eyes never left her face.
“Where’s-”
Bucky snarled, “Your boyfriend? Don’t worry about him, he’s an asshole.”
Y/N flinched. “He didn’t know.”
“That’s not why he’s an asshole. He ran and left you on the bathroom floor to die.” Bucky watched as Y/N processed the new information. The lack of surprise concerned him. He didn’t want to ask, but he needed to know. “Did you know there was alcohol in your drink?”
Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Of course, I didn’t, Bucky. You’re an asshole for leaving me too. I’m pissed at you. I’m not suicidal. You did your good deed. I’m alive. Now you can go back to your Angel.” She spat the last words, parodying his words from the safe house.
Bucky sat back in his seat, rubbing his chin. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He just wanted to push her away. He pushed too far. He almost lost her. He couldn’t avoid her any longer, she deserved an explanation.
“It wasn’t a lie,” he mumbled. Part of him didn’t want her to hear it, still wanting to starve off the conversation.
“What?”
He took a deep breath, leaning forward. His elbows rested on his knees with his hands clasped in front of him. His face turned serious. “I love you.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat while her face turned sour. “But I can't be with you.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”
Bucky winced at the hurt in her voice. It hurt him too. That’s why he avoided the conversation for so long. “I’m too vulnerable around you. I fall back into my head way too easily. I don’t want to be reminded of my past. Then I met Ang- Evangelina and suddenly, I’m not thinking about all of the people I’ve killed, or the way HYDRA tortured me. With her, I’m living in the present.”
Y/N sat up harshly, the tears had stopped flowing a few sentences ago. “Because you won’t open up to her! You’re running from your problems and the second she’s gone, you’re gonna be stuck in your head again. Alone this time. Sorry, I was only a distraction long enough for you to fuck me. You don’t love her. You love the idea of normalcy with me!” She insisted, jabbing her finger into her chest.
Bucky closed his eyes, his head in his hands.
“For fucks sake, Bucky. She looks like me. This isn’t reality. This isn’t you. You're playing a role in some cheesy romcom. You’re letting her emulate me to fill a spot. She’s my understudy and you know it.”
Bucky ran his hands through his hair before looking up at her. Teary-eyed, he confessed, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am anymore. I just want to be normal again.” His head rested on his bent arms, leaning against the bed. His back jolted with each sob.
Y/N rubbed between his shoulder blades. “We’re not normal Bucky. None of the Avengers are, but we’re real.” She ran her hand through his hair comfortingly. “You and me, we’re real.”
He wiped his tears, shaking his head, “She’s out looking for a dog for us to adopt.”
Y/N scrunched her nose. They were taking the next step. Before she knows it, they'll be moving in together, getting married, and have a kid on the way.
“I don’t even want a dog. I couldn’t take care of it with my lifestyle. It just seemed like the normal thing to do. Most families have dogs.”
Y/N hated the idea of Bucky considering a family with Evangelina. She knew him better though. “I always took you for a cat person.”
Bucky smiled at her. “Yeah? What about you? Are you a cat person?”
She nodded. “Less work to train. More realistic in our lifestyle.”
Bucky hummed. The idea of them sharing anything both scared and delighted Bucky. “What kind of cat would we get?”
The corner of Y/N’s lips turned upward. Playing along, she didn’t need to think about her answer, she had already thought about it before. “It doesn’t matter, but he’d have to be white so I could see him against all of your black clothes. Although, cat hairs might be a pain before missions.”
Bucky nodded, his elbow on the bed, propped his head up in his hand. His other hand held Y/N’s as his thumb rubbed circles on the back of her hand as she talked. With a raised eyebrow, Bucky asked, “He?”
Y/N nodded, offended he would suggest otherwise. “You know, so I can come home to my boys. Plus, you need more friends. You two can have a guy's night while I’m away.”
“What if I want to come home to my girls?” Bucky argued.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “We’ll let fate decide. Whichever we find first.”
He nodded, agreeing to the compromise. “Alpine.”
“Huh?”
Bucky sighed dreamily, “The name.” It was too easy talking with Y/N about adopting a cat as if they were discussing children. It hadn’t crossed Y/N’s mind yet, but Bucky was aware that he wasn’t thinking of the past. He was thinking of the future. A future with Y/N.
Y/N snorted. It wasn’t the name she would have picked but Bucky liked it. She got to pick the color; it was only fair Bucky got to pick the name. “Alpine it is.”
Three weeks later, Bucky and Y/N welcomed Alpine to their shared room at Avengers Tower. The team melted when they met the feline. Even Evangelina. Despite the breakup, Y/N and Evangelina remained friends. The women were filled with too much grace and poise, not to. A trait Bucky had admired in both of them. It should have unsettled Bucky for them to remain friends, but Bucky knew where he belonged now. He might not know who he was or who he is now, but he was certain his future was Y/N.
#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#james buchanan barnes#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfic#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#bucky fic#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky#james bucky buchanan barnes#james barnes#james buchanan bucky barnes#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes one shot#bucky x reader angst#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst
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Could you do a giselle dom pervy step sister(female reader) smut where they don’t like each other at first but ig giselle found a way to turn that hatred into them fucking in secret while their parents are in the house
ANONNNN!!! YOUR MIND!!!! I've been thinking ab this ask for WEEKS and I finally have time to write about it omg obsessed
content - stepcest, blackmail, smut (pervy!giselle, cunnilingus, fingering, face sitting, squirt, voyeurism/public(?) sex)
wc - 2739
a/n - catching up slowly but surely on asks, I have no school this week so imma try my best!
you never really warmed up to giselle.
you never really WANTED to ever warm up to her. she was mean, annoying, obnoxious, and greedy. I mean, how fucking self-centered do you have to be to make your baby stepsis call you by another name because she "doesn't deserve to call me by my real name" as giselle had said. what infuriated you was how pretty she was too. someone who was such a bitch shouldn't get the benefit of being attractive, especially since aeri knew and definitely used it to her advantage. whether it be to the people around her like friends, classmates, teachers, or even your parents, she finessed them like no one's business.
but she could never trick or fool you. you were a challenge to her, and it pissed her off not getting what she wanted. giselle HATED your guts. you were smart, sweet, cute, and generous, traits she simply was not. she hated how your guys' parents eyes' would light up in excitement when you came to them with an academic achievement, looking at you with admiration and love, eyes that would look at aeri with annoyance and disappointment.
aeri's not stupid, she knows why she's disliked, but she doesn't really care. it only really started to affect her seeing YOU be soooo liked by them. she simply hated you because you weren't easy, and you hated her because she saw everyone as easy. though, however much it upset you, it upset her to a degree you couldn't even imagine. she had to win the invisible game, and she was going to get her way with you, one way or another. so she devised a plan, which was to put simply, blackmail.
one day when you were gone at school, she set up a secret camera in your room facing your bed. she laid back on the living room couch in content, watching you come home from school, shooting each other a painfully fake greeting, before you ascended upstairs to your room. during nightfall, you would of course, fulfill your physical desires while everyone was asleep in the house, unaware of the recording device from across the room. and in the morning when you left, your wicked stepsis would sneak back in to retrieve the footage, playing it back and giggling to herself, knowing this would ruin you.
giselle's sweet baby stepsis, a sexual deviant during the after hours, shoving a huge dildo into her pussy to force multiple orgasms from her own body.
aeri was giddy with joy, now owning what single-handedly would win her the upper hand. the day continued as normal, but as you were about to go to sleep, there was a knock at your door. you rolled your eyes when you opened it to find a smug aeri, her phone in her hand with a play button over a still image of you in your room. your eyes shift between her and her phone confused before she pushes you inside and shutting the door behind her.
"what the fuck is that aeri?"
she huffs and sits comfortably at the end of your bed, "first of all, it's giselle to you, don't forget. second, how 'bout I show you?"
playing the video on max volume, your muffled moaning erupting from the small screen, watching a video of yourself masturbating. your ears ring and your cheeks flush, pouncing onto the older girl and trying to tear the phone away from her. your older stepsis is far stronger than you and easily you get overpowered, her hands pinning your wrists together and against the bed, her legs straddling either side of your lap.
with one large hand gripping your wrists together and the other hand hovering the still playing video against your face, she smirks, "what? shy? you weren't so shy last night when you were shamelessly fucking yourself, now were you? hm, y/n-ie? my sweet little sister?"
you grit your teeth and shake your head back and forth to deny the accusation, as if it weren't true. her dark chuckle fills your ears and the room, joined with the loud squelching of your pussy coming from the video. you feel tears start to well in your eyes and you plead with her.
"unnie, please... delete that!"
she coos at you, "awww sweetie, you think I'm that easy? not without a price, I won't."
you continue to plea in a desperate voice, "unnie please! I'll do anything! just please, delete it, or don't share it! anything you want!"
her lips curl into a sinister smirk that you can see even in the dark. you feel your heart drop to your stomach at the thought of what she must've suddenly imagined, immediately regretting your choice of words. before you could even consider opening your mouth to take back what you said, aeri drops the phone and covers your mouth.
"anything huh? will you behave for unnie and do anything I want?"
you debate shaking your head no, but when you hear a particularly loud moan come from the video playing next to your ear, you nod your head yes.
"good girl, you may be stubborn but you're not stupid. a little bit dumb for your choice of words though," she hums above you and trails the hand over your mouth downwards, dragging her long slim fingers across your sensitive body, jerking with every inch of contact she makes.
you whine as her fingers circle your hardening nipples and pinch them between her fingertips, giggling at how your body reacts to her touch.
"sensitive little baby, aren't you y/n-ie? fuck you're so cute, you shouldn't be so fucking cute."
aeri hated how much she was enjoying this almost as much as you did. she hated how cute her little sis was, writhing under her, eyes welling with tears in fear, body reacting to every subtle brush, thighs rubbing themselves together to suppress the ache at her core. and you hated it too, you hated that your older sister made you feel so fucking good, how her touch ignited flames in your stomach, how you panted into the air the more intimate her touch became, how you anticipated and needed more when you realized how disgusting this all was.
you both hated it, but you both couldn't get enough.
looking up into giselle's eyes at the same time she looked into yours, locking onto one another and gazing into lustfilled stares, the tension filling the air. the hatred boiled over and morphed into a new emotion, desire. a compromise emerged, and mentally, you both knew what it was. it all felt too good to want to stop, so you gave in.
leaning up and smashing your lips against aeri's, her immediately pushing back into you, pressing you down into your mattress. sloppy wet kisses loud and echoing through the room, both your moaning filling your ears and drowning out any possibility for moral dilemmas to pierce your mind. the hand pinning your wrists down, traveling up to hold your hand, interlacing her fingers through one and letting the other one go.
you let your free hand shoot into her hair, pulling her closer into you and shoving your tongue into her mouth, eliciting a whine to escape giselle's throat, accepting the intrusion. her other hand finds your thigh and brings it up, wrapping your leg around her waist and grinding her hips against your clothed core, making you both groan out into each other's mouths.
"fuck, you're good. why are you good?" she moans into your mouth.
"I'm not- a fucking- amateur." you pant out between kisses.
"yeah? then tell me, has anyone else made you feel this good?"
she questions, almost as a challenge, and you're scared to answer knowing it's just another piece of blackmail to hang over your head. you both already know the truth, obvious by your hips rutting back against her, your sweat dripping down your forehead, neck, and chest, your core aching with need, and your eyes blown to oblivion.
"fuck you," you answer instead.
she chuckles lowly again, the tone and vibration in your mouth when she does it making your pussy throb between your legs.
"not before I fuck you."
flipping you over and onto your hands and knees, tearing your shorts and panties off, throwing them to the ground. she wastes no time shoving your legs apart and licking along your leaking slit, making you moan out and bury your head into your pillows.
"you're so fucking sick, do you know that? being so wet and horny for your unnie like this, you disgusting little whore."
giselle says as if she's not soaked in her own clothes, nipples hard and hole clenching around air. she feels so powerful, so in control, and it feels so good to have you whining under her. sticking her tongue out and getting to work immediately, dragging her wet muscle greedily and swiftly against your pussy, drinking in all of your slick. muffling your moans into your pillows and clawing at your sheets hard enough to rip them.
her strong grip on both of your legs forcing you to keep them apart, slapping your ass every so often and making you scream out into the pillow. her tongue moves around your core so fucking good, alternating between sucking and flicking at your clit to thrusting and licking inside of your cunt, the sounds unbearably sinful and delightful to especially aeri's ears. she's drunk, on the taste and feel of your pussy, the way your body reacts, and the muffled cries being torn from your mouth.
she closes her eyes and relishes in your delicious juice swishing around her mouth, moaning into your pussy at how fucking good it feels to have you like this. her core aches and throbs so painfully, she clenches her thighs to hold it in. she lands another slap on your ass before shoving three fingers into you, already starting with an unforgivable pace, curling them and finding that spot in you easily. you scream and claw at the sheets, almost assuredly knowing your pillow wasn't muffling your cries anymore, not like either of you cared. aeri was going insane and felt herself becoming more and more addicted to you. addicted to ruining you, addicted to having power over you, addicted to owning you.
with the arch of your back and body stilling, you gush cum all over your stepsister's face, thighs trembling and chest heaving, moans slipping out of your mouth like a waterfall, your pussy mimicking the motions of one too. giselle drank all of it, everything, licking all over your leaking cunt and wiping her face of it too, sucking her fingers dry to not leave a single drop wasted.
she didn't even let you rest as she flipped you over onto your back, quickly stripping of her pajamas and lingerie, before climbing up to your face, her thighs resting on both sides of your head.
"use your tongue for something useful, pervy slut."
pfft, hypocrite.
she gives you no time to respond or think before shoving her fat pussy into your mouth which you immediately start to drag your tongue all over, coating it in her slick. your hands grip her juicy thighs and you dig your nails into them, her wincing above you and gripping the headboard with one hand, the other hand in her mouth to muffle her sounds.
you never rip your eyes away from her face for even a second, obsessed with how much sheer pleasure rests on giselle's face, her mouth biting down on her hand, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and eyes clamped shut. your nose hits her clit repeatedly with your tongue buried deep inside her cunt, flicking it to stimulate inside her tight walls. she tastes so fucking divine, cum directly entering your mouth and your spit drooling out the sides of your lips.
her hips quicken and she fully rests her weight on your face which makes you delighted, drinking her up and pulling her in, suffocating between her thighs. not that it mattered, you loved it. you couldn't breathe but you pushed through, thrusting your tongue in her and maneuvering her hips as her clit hit the tip of your nose.
"drink my squirt you little bitch, take it! don't waste a drop! fuck!"
she demands you as she cums in your mouth, her pussy squirting onto your tongue. her thighs shake in your hands and you close your eyes to avoid squirt getting in them. you feel like your drowning in the sheer amount of liquid coming from aeri's pussy, but you obey your sister, drinking everything that slides down your throat. she finally calms down and you tap on her thighs in a panic, literally not able to breathe. she laughs above you and stays there, watching color drain from your face before she lifts herself up, watching you cough and gasp for air.
"sick fuck," she says before smashing her lips against yours' and digging her tongue into your mouth again.
suddenly, she pulls away and gets dressed, picking up her phone and waving at you with that infuriating smirk on her face as she opens the door and leaves, "see you again, baby sis!"
and from then on that's when it started, fucking your step sister in secret. at first it was only at night, every night since the first time. then it progressed to whenever your parents were out of the house, fucking on the couch in the living room, on the kitchen island, in the shower, in each other's rooms. at some point, she started to get more flirty with you, her touches lingering for too long when she held your hips in the kitchen to move past you or sliding her hands up your shirt when she'd greet you with a hug when you came home from school, whispering an "I missed you" into your ear, her breath against it making a shiver go down your spine, which always drove you insane.
at some point though, giselle couldn't give less of a fuck if your parents were home or not, she just wanted to fuck you. your family would be having a movie night in the living room and you'd go to the kitchen to get more snacks, the older girl following you to "help." then she'd pin you to the kitchen counter and slip her fingers down your underwear, dipping them into your already wet pussy.
"really y/n-ie? you're fucking wet? were you eye fucking me all night that you couldn't help yourself get horny? let me help you with that baby."
she would whisper breathily into your ear before fingering you right then and there, you clutching the popcorn bag in your fingers and biting down on your lip, trying so hard not to moan and get caught, thankful the movie was loud enough.
or during a dinner party WITH YOUR RELATIVES, she would "accidentally" drop a spoon on the ground and go to retrieve it, only to separate your thighs and trail a long tortuous lick across your exposed pussy, aeri having demanded you to wear nothing under. you're suddenly gripping your utensils and coughing on the food in your mouth, acting like it went down your throat wrong. your sister climbing back up from under the table with a lost spoon and a smile.
and of course, she fingered you under the dining table that night too, your face red and physically incapable of eating for about twenty minutes, clutching her forearm as you came around her fingers in front of everyone. you had bit down on your lip so hard, blood had started dripping down your chin and onto your dress, excusing yourself to clean up. panting out of breath in your room and ripping the dress off of you, your sister following behind you and pinning you to your bed with a smirk.
"that was impressive baby, you were able to keep in all those delicious moans huh? well, don't you dare fucking keep them in now, they can't hear you from here, and we're not even close to finished."
smashing her lips against your blood stained ones, the taste of metal filling her mouth.
and while you're not sure if you're starting to like your sister or not, you definitely start getting used to it (maybe obsessed).
a/n - the other night when I was looking at this ask, I suddenly had the urge to write a "rich girl aeri x reader fic where they both fucking despise each other and are just rich bitches until one night they both break from all the sexual tension and fuck in the back of aeri's car" fic... I'll get to work-
#ffos reqs#aespa#giselle#aespa giselle#aeri#aeri uchinaga#aespa x reader#aespa smut#aespa fanfic#giselle fanfic#giselle smut#kpop gg#fanfiction#kpop#girl group smut#giselle x reader#girl group#girl group fanfic#karina#winter#ningning
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JJK MEN AS DADS — headcanons.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥featuring: geto suguru, nanami kento and toji fushiguro.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥note: enjoy this alternate universe where everyone is okay and safe and happy.
╰┈➤ interested in sending a commission?
╰┈➤ GOJO'S VERSION
—GETO SUGURU ;
some of you might not agree with me on this but he probably never saw himself becoming a dad
sure he loves kids, they do annoy him when they’re loud and all over the place but he never thought that he would have kids
that is until you announced to him that you were pregnant, and his entire world changed
his daughter is pretty much everything to him but he doesn’t spoil her (gojo does)
he wants to teach her proper manners, the right way to communicate things and isn’t big on spoiling
and you both end up raising a sweetheart who’s in love with uncle satoru.
“baby, stay in my sights.” you heard suguru talk to your daughter as you both walked down the food aisle. she was well mannered, didn’t act up or tried to be bratty when told something (unless she was having a really bad day, which was very different).
watching your husband parent a child that looked like a mix of you both was a different kind of love. he was gentle, careful and most importantly trying to be there for her.
from taking her on daddy-daughter dates, to talking things out with her when she was mad at him or when she messed up, suguru proved himself worthy of becoming someone’s father.
“who knew someone else would come along, and you’d call them baby,” you teased the man with a small smile, letting him push the cart while you walked next to him. he shot you a playful glare before grabbing a can of tuna.
“don’t even start—i somehow got used to speaking in girl voice from being forced to attend her tea parties…” he sighs but you know it's far from a tired one. he looks at your daughter with so much love, so much adoration that your heart flutters.
you were incredibly lucky.
“tell me you love me in your girl voice, come on,”
"move."
—NANAMI KENTO;
this man was made to be a father
despite how tired he looks he always makes time for you and your girl
very lovey dovey and is very proud of referring to you two as his girls
whenever he is asked to hang out, he goes 'lemme make sure my girls dont need anything'
hes quite literally the best
most patient, loving and understanding husband/father
ever since you gave birth, kento and your daughter had a routine. you two would feed her at 8p.m when he comes back from work, he would then take her to the bathroom where he would bathe her then read her a bed time story. he would then kiss her goodnight, keep the small moon shaped light turned on before closing the door.
it was endearing because he put it on so much effort when it came to her. you knew it was the bare minimum for a father, but you were still very grateful that you married a good husband and an even better father.
both kento and your daughter were now in the bathroom. bath time usually took about twenty minutes to half an hour, and it would be filled with giggles coming from your four year old and kento's occasional chuckles. but it was oddly quiet, so you decided to go check on them.
when you opened the door, your heart melted at the sight. your daughter had fallen asleep in the bathtub, and so your husband was trying his best to get her out and dry her up before she caught a cold.
and he was doing it so quietly that you couldn't help but ask if he needed any help.
"baby, do you need help?" you whispered to the man holding the sleeping girl, lightly kissing his nape and squeezing his shoulders.
"I got this." he whispered in response, turning around and pressing a light kiss on your lips and forehead.
you watched with heart eyes as he gently woke her up to dry her hair, kissed her forehead and continued on with their routine, before it was time to say goodnight.
nanami kento was an angel sent from above.
—FUSHIGURO TOJI;
this man isn't new to parenting, in fact you knew you weren't his first wife
but you were accepting of it, helped giving the grieving man a second chance at life as he liked to say
you met megumi when he was still so young and the little boy loving you was enough reason for toji to confirm that you were indeed the right one
loving a child that wasn't yours wasn't given to everyone, toji was well aware of that
and as you watched the man parent megumi, you were a bit hesitant to announce to him your pregnancy
when you did tho, he sobbed like a baby
and twins? a boy and a girl? oh he was in for a ride
"you little rascals better let me love on my wife in peace." your husband whispered to the two sleeping babies in their cribs. it was 9p.m and they were fortunately fast asleep.
you on the other hand, were busy with your oldest.
finally after getting them in bed, you were with megumi in the kitchen asking him what you should pack for his lunch tomorrow, which the ten year old responded with what he typically always chose.
megumi wasn't a difficult child, but with the arrival of the twins, you were a bit worried that he would think you and toji no longer cared for him. dealing with twins wasn't easy, but you were aware and willingly brought two lives to his family, and were fully responsible for it.
when toji was with the twins, you would help out megumi with his homework. and when it was time to breastfeed the babies, toji would take megumi to basketball practice or engage in a random activity together.
"a juice box?" you asked while packing his lunch, which the little boy nodded at before staring at who was coming down the stairs.
"you got school tomorrow at 8?" toji asked megumi, and the little boy responded with a nod. not much of a talker.
"are they asleep?" megumi quietly asked his dad, who raised an eyebrow at him before saying 'yes' and you watched as your son fiddled with his fingers, anxious of what to say next.
"gumi, do you wanna see them?" you stepped in, a hand resting on his back. the little boy looked up at you with sparkly eyes, grateful that you understood him.
"go, and if they do wake up call me." you kissed his forehead and watched as he carefully tiptoed upstairs.
toji's eyes stayed glued on you during the entire interaction, and finally let his arms wrap around your waist once your son was upstairs before resting his forehead on your shoulder.
"thank you," he whispered out, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.
"for what?" you chuckled, caressing the taller man's back.
"for making everything feel like it's worth it."
2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.
#moon's works#geto suguru#geto smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu geto#jujutsu kaisen geto#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#nanami kento#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami x reader#nanami imagine#jjk toji#jjk nanami#toji smut#toji x you#toji fic#toji drabbles#toji zenin#toji x reader#dilf toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu toji#toji scenarios#suguru geto#getou suguru x you#geto suguru x reader
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Demon simon who gets so damn angry when he finds out hunter had lover/crush
Why he so damn mad??? He can't stand him! And it bothers him so much
Then you have hunter who connect dots later and is howling from how funny situation is his *husband* is lil jelouse from his ex / celebrity crush that he kept clinging into him in almost painful grip for weeks
Oooh I love this idea! Lol jealous Simon is such a fun concept but I changed it a bit lol
CW NSFW: jealous demon ghost, groping at the end.
Imagine you, good hunter, in the search of a solution for your. . . problem. . . end up having to meet your Ex. Darek isn't a bad man, he's merely a merchant for all things dark and demented, or so he likes to say whenever the inquisitors come knocking on his door for devil worship. And Darek isn't a bad looking man either, he's got pretty light brown eyes and blonde hair down to his shoulders. He's a charmer who's fooled many a fey into giving their hearts with just his looks and honeyed words.
How you got together is a story echoed by many hunters; He needed some monster parts. You needed some weapons. The sex was just a nice way to soothe over any hiccups in your business relationship and give you both a way to release stress. There was never any feelings, no strings tying you together, just mindless bliss and mind-blowing sex.
Ghost hates him.
If you didn't need Darek, Ghost would already be using his skull as a cup. It wouldn't even take much to take him to the depths bellow, the man reeks of so much sin that the only question on the event of his death would be: which circle would want him the least?
Even when he's invisible, you can still feel Ghost glare at you with the intensity of the nine hells from the moment Darek leans in to brush his lips against yours. It doesn't lessen even a degree when you push Darek away, your mind too wrapped up with thoughts and the possibility of being killed like a common cultist to even think about dealing with Darek's fuck boy behavior.
"Since when did you become such a bore like the other hunters?" Darek huffs, but he's not too hung up about your rejection. The man has a revolving door of lovers, most of them definitely prettier and softer than you.
"Got a slight problem." You say as you take off your glove. An inch of space around your ring finger is burned, the flesh scarred over and blackened so it looks like a wedding ring.
You have to admit, as far as devil worshippers go, Ghost's particular cult was dumb as shit. Why they thought that burning a ring on your finger would somehow make this 'marriage' more satanic is beyond you.
Darek takes your hand, thumb brushing against the scarred flesh. Ghost has never wanted to murder some human more. "Ah, the joys of matrimony." Darek grins, "Don't tell me you already want to leave the poor bride?"
"Groom." You say quickly, tone flat, and you're unsure why you feel the need to correct him when you're talking about a demon. "And yes. I need a way to dissolve this union before some other hunter takes my head."
"Tisk tish, and here I thought you would be more considerate for others." Darek chuckles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and nibbling on your knuckle, a lustful look in his eyes. He does that on purpose, both of you are able to smell the sharp scent of brimstone as Ghost looms behind you, invisible but not unnoticed.
Darek lets go of your hand, starting to go over some old books that he has. They're little help in the grand scheme of things, but you're not in a position to be a chooser, so you agree to buy them.
"Now then, how will you pay?" Darek asks, resting his head in his hand. "You know, it's been so long since we both saw each other. I would be willing to give you a discount if you gave me an hour of your time." He purrs.
You consider it for a moment. It would be nice to let off some steam, especially as you haven't exactly had time to relieve yourself with Ghost always by your side.
And all Ghost can think is: the fucking audacity. He doesn't care if you and Darek have history you are his human, his 'bride', his to touch.
You feel Ghost growl. The 'ring' on your finger vibrates, heat flaring up your entire arm and it feels like a lightning jin is stuck inside your chest. It feels nice- no, it must just be the binding making you think that you're wanted just because a demon is throwing a hissy fit.
"Maybe next time." You still say despite yourself, paying in cash and leaving with Darek telling you to call him if you get bored of the married life.
No sooner are you on the street does an unseen force pull you into a dark alley. Claws, good for rending flesh from bone and not much else, gently scrape down your front before they curl around your belt and pull you close against a body bigger and hotter than yours. Ghost's tail curls around your thigh and on instinct you clench your thighs to trap it, but the crushing force behind it is lessened by the damned curse around your finger (The fact you don't try to punch him is one you will worry about later).
You look up, expecting to snarl at the same skull faced demon you've unfortunately been married to. Only for your mouth to fall to the floor when you look at. . . a man. A handsome man, in the rugged way other hunters are handsome; Blond cropped hair, short like a soldier's and your fingers twitch to scratch his scalp. Firm and strong muscles, hard won just like yours. Five o'clock shadow that many hunters sport when you forget to shave. Dark brown eyes that look very nice when mixed with Darek's hardened feature — wait a moment. . .
He looks like Darek! More precisely a hunter version of him, the version you aways thought about whenever you two would fuck. The only way you can tell it's Ghost is by the Hell reflected in the blacks of his eyes.
"Ghost what the fuck?" Is the only thing you can come up with, your eyes the size of dinner plates.
Ghost just grunts, pushing his weight until you're stuck against the wall. "What do you see in it?" He demands.
"What?" You ask, pressing your hands to his chest and trying to push him away, but your strength evaporates and all your wayward hands do is slide along his muscular abdomen.
His tail moves despite the tensing of your thighs, pressing against your groin. Mild panic builds in your brain as the spines along his tail are sharp enough to tear flesh, but all that violent potential is dampened by the marriage. Instead of tearing your balls off, those spines flatten down, creating a strange sensation against your groin that, unfortunately, has your cock chubbing up.
"What. Do. You. See. In. It?" Ghost repeats himself, each word hissed through semi-human teeth, fangs bared at you.
"Fuck Ghost!" You growl, and the best you can do is grope him in retaliation. Some part of you wants to blame the binding for your passiveness, another knows that the binding would not stop you if you didn't want this.
"Why debase yourself with that mortal?" He asks, his tone changing. He may be a demon of wrath, but he's no stranger to lust. His clawed fingers slide down, not even needing the binding to curb his strength as he cups your groin gently but firmly. "What do you get from it that you can't get from m- from someone else?"
Neither of you mention his slip up, you especially as the firm sensation against your clothed cock has you panting like a dog.
"Wh- what? Je-jealous ar-hm! you?" You manage to say, biting your lip to keep yourself from making a sound a hunter should Not make. (A hunter also shouldn't be groped by a demon but here you are.)
Ghost laughs, sharp and dark. "Absolutely not." His tail curls more around your leg, the size of it making you unconsciously spread them so you're not crushing it. "I am Not jealous of a meager mortal." He growls, his hand continuing to gently grope you, the other hand fiddling with your belt. . .
#I'm a dirty cock tease :)#gnome correspondence#trinckets of the hoard#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#cod simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x male reader#demon ghost#cod demon au#gay#lgbtq#Gnome's imagines#call of duty x male reader#call of duty x reader#demon simon ghost riley
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The Arrangement (12) - In the Beginning
Chapter summary: Astarion meets up with Ava and it triggers something deep within him.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Mention of masturbation. Dissociative episode. Bloodlust.
Word count: 4.8k
Series Masterlist . Ao3
He should have known this would happen eventually.
His love affair with the sun had reached an unavoidable end. Yet again. Luck had seldom ever been on his side, so this shouldn’t sting this much.
But it did.
His eyes darted to the half-moon window high up above through which scorching shafts of sunlight tore and lit up the dingy cellar.
Revulsion stirred within him and the flares of anger threatened to consume him whole.
The very same sun rays in which he had bathed for weeks were now a sore reminder of his true and inescapable nature.
He titled his head back against the wooden crate, his eyes fluttering shut in defeat as he sat on the cold floor.
Astarion had served his purpose and was now cast to live in the shadows once more, bound to his hunger and to all the inconveniences of being a vampire spawn.
The pain of being scorched by the sunlight had been revived in his mind after weeks of freely strolling around the Sword Coast in some impromptu quest to save Baldur’s Gate whilst having to deal with an inconvenient wriggling dweller inside his head.
But all the physical pain of being burnt mercilessly paled in comparison when his ears picked up approaching footsteps.
He knew who they belonged to.
The sound was carved into his mind like a dagger that wouldn’t budge.
You.
He winced as the squeaky door was pushed open.
“Astarion?”
He gritted his teeth, silently praying you’d simply walk away and leave him to his misery.
But his prayers had never been answered before, and that wasn’t about to change now, least of all when it concerned you.
In truth, he doubted any God above would be able to keep you from plaguing his thoughts.
“Astarion, I know you’re in here.”
Then leave.
He remained silent, eyes fluttered shut and an urge to be swallowed whole by the ground below.
Light and careful footsteps drew near and only came to a halt as a swift rush of air indicated to him that you were crouched in front of him.
Shit.
“Hello,” you said and he could hear the warm smile in your voice.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and he was sure that if he had a beating heart, it would most likely skip a few beats. Instead, he felt his stomach lurch as hunger simmered dangerously.
Your kind eyes met his and he craved nothing more than to have you be gone.
From all the afflictions he was yet again a slave to, you were by far the most painful one.
“Did you come here to mock me?” he spat, the poisonous words leaving his mouth before he could hold back.
Your eyes widened slightly. “Mock you? Astarion–”
But he cut you off like a knife through flesh. “Spare me – I saw the way they laughed as my skin crumbled to ashes. So if you’ve come here to have your share, you can just leave.”
He was being unfair and he didn’t need your wavering smile as proof.
After all your travels together and his unrequited feelings towards you, he couldn’t fight his arrogance from surfacing.
But you never gave up on him – through deceit and manipulation, you were unmoving and relentless in your loyalty to him.
“I’ll have you know that I scolded all of them for doing so,” you said firmly. “It was uncalled for, especially after everything we’ve been through together.”
His jaw clenched harder and his eyes narrowed.
Oh, he couldn’t stand it. That look on your face – pity. It immediately triggered a visceral reaction deep within him, and when he saw you reach out to him with your hand, he flinched away and recoiled against the crate behind him.
“Don’t touch me.”
Your hand immediately stilled before dropping to your knee, and he saw a glint of sadness cross your eyes.
It wasn’t disgust or anger that caused him to utter such words.
He just knew your touch would ruin him and that he’d allow it.
“We can find a way to solve this,” you tried again with newfound determination. “We will find a way.”
He scoffed, averting his gaze.
Unfortunately, the laws of the worlds didn’t bend to the whims of lesser beings without compromise.
And he soon realised what really bothered him was how vulnerable he felt – how exposed and weak he surely looked in your eyes.
Pathetic.
Useless.
Tainted.
Broken.
“Do you trust me?”
He remained silent.
“Do you?”
Your insistence gnawed at his nerves, causing him to lock eyes with you again.
“It goes beyond trust, darling. If walking in the sun again – or curing vampirism altogether – were that easy, I would not be here in the first place.”
Even through his snarky remark, you found a way to hold a smile and it immediately disarmed him. “Astarion, if there is anything our travels together have taught me is that we're quite good at turning the impossible into possible,” you said with conviction. “If there is a way to help you, we will find it.”
In another lifetime, he would have called you a foolish human who uttered big words without knowing their meaning.
But in this one, he did know you didn't extend promises lightly.
And if there was a sliver of hope he could cling to, he'd take it, especially now that Cazador was no longer around to compel him otherwise.
“Well, who's ‘we’, exactly?” he asked, easing himself against the crate.
Your face lightened up. “You and me, of course.”
The two of you. Just the two of you?
Oh, he liked the sound of that. Very, very much.
His jaw slacked as hope kindled inside him, soaring dangerously high.
“Well, and Wyll – he's offered to help.”
Said hope plummeted back to the ground, shattering.
He scowled with a click of his tongue. “Did he, now? How chivalrous of him.”
You nodded. “I'm sure the others will come around, too.”
Astarion supposed this was a decent prospect, but almost grimaced when you extended your hand to him.
“Deal?”
He wanted to believe your relationship with him surpassed a mere friendship value, but he had grown tired of hoping for more.
Still, he would greedily take anything you would offer him.
Whether it was an indication that you craved more than friendship, or a simple handshake.
As such, he took your hand in his, revelling in the familiar warmth. “We have a deal, darling.”
Once he entered The Blushing Mermaid, it was evident that the presence of six Flaming Fists was not welcome at all.
Bork immediately asked for only two to stay inside as they were beginning to frighten the clientele.
But, much to his convenience, he immediately found who he was looking for, sitting in the furthermost corner of the lounge area.
Ava.
The plan was simple: try to get a confession from her – if applicable – but they would still be bringing her in for questioning as Rob Sorel, her lover, awaited her with Wyll.
A measured smile spread across her face as she noticed the fists behind him.
He slithered to her table with determined steps, aware that there was a possibility that this conversation would lead nowhere.
He slowly took the seat across from her, casually placing his twin daggers on the chipped table.
Ava's eyes dropped momentarily before meeting his again. “Oh, Astarion. Offering a silent warning with poison-coated blades? You needn't do that with me.”
Astarion's lips twitched upwards in silence.
He knew this dance better than most. He could read others quite efficiently when it came to sudden shifts in body language, and he had noticed Ava sitting straighter and her saccharine smile wavering all of a sudden.
And he had her right where he wanted her.
“You can't be too careful. Isn't that what some say?” he said, absentmindedly drumming his fingers along the handle of one dagger.
She took a sip from her cup before tilting it. “I'd order one for you, but I know this isn't your drink of choice – unless you brought her along for a sip, that is.”
Her taunt was enough to set him ablaze and the tip of his blade was immediately carved into the wooden table, earning a jolt from her.
“You do not get to goad me with her,” he snarled, gripping the handle so fiercely he might snap it in half. “She is off limits and you were delusional to even think you could bring her into this without consequences.”
Suddenly, her face twisted into a hard scowl and whatever traces of sweetness vanished. “I would not do anything with her without talking to you first.”
“You still offered her a deal, thereby roping her into something she is not to be a part of,” he retorted. “Her blood is off limits. She is off limits.”
Ava leaned back with a roll of her eyes. “Is this a case of you not wanting to share? Not even if that could be beneficial to you?”
His grip loosened slightly as his brows furrowed. “What is your point?”
She took another sip. “Her blood mixed with yours could be beneficial to my experiment and, thus, to you and even that massive horde of spawn in the Underdark.”
Of course Ava would want to play her cards right to keep him around.
It was a temptimg prospect, and he would never consider it at your expense.
He was no fool and you were no bargaining chip.
“I could never ask that of her. She stays out of this.”
She forced a yawn. “Have you forgotten your arrangement with her? Her blood for your good behaviour? Or does all sense of reason rush to your cock when you feed on her?”
Ava's words slashed through the air and he was momentarily taken aback.
The nature of your arrangement with him was vastly different. It wasn’t as simple as him being kept in line like some obedient pup. He could have turned the offer away and live exclusively off boars and deers – much to his horror.
The difference was… well, you.
Your unwillingness to let him go.
Your blood.
Your insistence on helping him keep his mind clear by allowing him to freely feed on the blood of a thinking creature.
And not just any thinking creature.
You.
His first.
The only blood he craved to the point of madness.
“Though, I can tell you haven't fed in a couple of days,” she went on with a dramatic pout. “A lover's quarrel, hmm?”
Oh, she was vicious.
This was the same woman who had shared a bed with him to ease him coming to terms with intimacy. For the most part, her simply being naked by his side hadn't helped much, but it seemed enough, and he was desperate to overcome the prison that his mind had become.
However, this was also the same woman who slayed her kin without hesitation.
She could go from being as kind and sweet to holding a stake to his chest.
Astarion felt a sense of dread wash over him as he realised he had greatly underestimated her.
Now, he needed to tread lightly.
The blade sunk deeper into the table as he leaned closer. “You wanted her blood in exchange for information.”
“Yet it is a far less selfish bargain than your arrangement with her, is it not?”
He ignored tar taunt. “Who is after me?”
“I do not know yet.”
He gritted his teeth. “Lies.”
Ava's face softened and he watched her slip into her usual overly sweet demeanour. “Astarion, we can be here all night hurling accusations and witty remarks at each other,” she said with a sigh. “Or we can approach this in a more sensitive manner.”
He didn't budge. “Who is after me?”
“I do not know who is after you,” she said. “Someone is, but I have yet to find out who.”
There was something in her tone that felt disingenuous. Almost as if she hadn't expected him to press her on this.
“Or there is no one at all besides you,” he said casually.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Me? And what would I gain from doing such a thing? Your blood is an integral part of this experiment. Locking you up in a prison cell would prove to be a nuisance.”
His patience was wearing thin.
“Darling, I've been around long enough to know people lie – you are a pristine liar, but a liar nonetheless.
In truth, he was merely bluffing in an attempt to spot any cracks in her story. He needed anything he could get from her.
And a part of him still hoped this was all a misunderstanding.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I can see what you are trying to do and it won't work.”
He thought as much. Still, he had to give it a try.
“What about Waterdeep?”
For the first time that night, Ava looked genuinely dumbfounded. “What about it?”
“No casual killings over there, hmm? In the past hours – accidental ones, perhaps?” he pressed.
She frowned deeply in response. “What are you accusing me of, exactly?”
“Someone was murdered and I am simply trying to rule you out as a suspect,” he said, feigning concern.
“You overestimate my reach outside Baldur's Gate.”
He scoffed. “But not the reach of a certain patriar who so happens to be your lover.”
Ava's lips parted but she didn't utter a word.
“Rob Sorel has dealings in Waterdeep and knows which strings to pull to order a murder.”
She was visibly agitated, but he couldn't tell the cause. Was it the mention of a patriar? Or was he simply nearing the truth?
“Who was killed?”
It was all pointless.
A shame.
He merely turned in his seat and motioned for the two Fists at the door. Both immediately approached with the Mage Slayer right behind.
By this point, Astarion wasn't sure if Ava was even involved in this at all, but he couldn't take any risks. She would be taken in for questioning regardless of his judgement.
“Astarion?”
The room was immediately plunged into silence as multiple heads turned to watch the scene. From behind the counter he spotted Bork shaking his head in clear disapproval, visibly displeased with the ordeal.
“Astarion? What are you doing?”
His eyes met hers as he sheathed his daggers. “The right thing.”
He was known to do that from time to time, even against his better judgement.
She rushed to her feet, clawing at her dress in search of her own dagger. “Astarion!”
He could hear the rising panic in her voice, and he silently watched as the mage cast Hold Person on her before she could so much as blink.
She was instantly left petrified in place as the violet sign on the floor caged her in.
Gasps echoed around him and the two Fists promptly rushed to her side.
“We'll handle it from here,” one of them told him.
There was a part of him that vaguely wondered if this was the correct approach.
A part of him that hoped for Ava not to be involved in any of it.
And then, from across the room, he saw you.
He blinked twice, thinking his eyes betrayed him, but there you were, standing by the door with a Fist at your side, staring back into his crimson eyes.
And it was as if he had been mentally slapped.
Ava had dared to involve you.
You.
And it had been his fault.
The unruly and dense crowd in the room wasn't enough to contain him from darting hurriedly to meet you.
Annoyance hit him first and it was woven into his words once he was in front of you, gripping your forearm. “Why are you here? I told you to let me handle this.”
You immediately yanked free with narrowed eyes. “I wasn't trying to interfere. But this idiot,” you said, pointing to the Fist who merely shrugged, “pushed me inside and – wait! How did it go with her?”
Astarion caught hold of your shoulders, pulling you to the side as Ava was carried away through the door.
As soon as it closed behind them, the fanfare commenced once more in between heated whispers and glares from those around the two of you.
“Marvellous as you can see,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “She didn't confess to anything, and I had limited time.”
You pushed the door open once again and he promptly followed you outside, until he felt a hard shove from someone's hand.
“Move, spawn.”
He glanced over his shoulder only to see a frowning Fist right behind.
“We are not cattle to be ordered around,” he spat, adjusting his vest. “Honestly, Wyll ought to have you all stand trial for severe lack of manners.”
“It's Duke Ravengard to you,” the Fist growled, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Astarion clicked his tongue humorously. “It's Wyll to me and Duke Ravengard to you, Fist.”
Before tensions could escalate any further, you were already tugging at his sleeve, and dragging him across the wooden pier.
Just as the Fist opened his mouth, a myriad of clashing and banging sounds were heard from inside and he turned to open the door.
Probably a tavern brawl.
What fun!
Seconds later, the armoured man was toppled to the ground as the door burst open with people yelling profanities and slinging fists at each other.
“I'll kill ya! WHERE IS MY CHICKEN, YOU OAF?” a drunkard missing most of his teeth yelled, holding a frying pan in his hand.
“YOU ATE IT, YOU IMBECILE!” said another, stepping on the fallen Fist and nearly losing his balance.
Behind them, Astarion spotted several items being tossed whilst Bork's voice begged for order.
He almost clicked his tongue.
Tavern brawls were too much fun and he always adored adding fuel to the fire by standing on the side and instigating these drunkard fools.
But a quick glance at you and he could tell you wouldn't approve of such activity, so he remained at your side.
The other two Fists that were standing guard nearby, clumsily rushed to the entrance.
“Go call for backup!”
The youngest nodded and nearly bumped into Astarion as he tried to keep his helmet steady.
“Oh! Do not leave! Do not move!”
Astarion immediately raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn't dream of it.”
“Right. Thank you!”
Idiot.
Surprisingly, you hadn't let go of his sleeve and your hand moved to his wrist, pulling him to cross the road until you reached the metal balustrade that allowed a privileged view over the Grey Harbour Docks.
It was far away from the chaos that had erupted, but not quite far that would potentially get you into trouble.
Although… “Maybe we should leave.”
Astarion arched an eyebrow at you. “And going against the voice of authority?”
Your face dropped and he fought the urge to pinch your cheek teasingly.
You were so easy to rile up.
“You scheming little delinquent, you,” he said with a devious smile and a chuckle. “I'm all for acts of rebellion, but we ought to stay nearby this time.”
“Do you think we should go help them out?” you asked, glancing over at the rising commotion nearby.
The two of you exchanged looks before shrugging.
“No. They can fend for themselves,” you said, leaning over the fence, eyes set on the lulling sea that spread vastly into the distance.
“Actually, they're quite incompetent, but I don't feel like creasing my shirt,” he said with an annoyed click of his tongue, inspecting his sleeves as he joined you. “Let them fight off the drunkards. We get to collect the scattered coins on the floor afterwards.”
You shot him a curious look. “You do that?”
“Well, obviously? I put the gold to good use, at least.”
“Embroidery?”
That tugged a genuine smile from him and he caught himself staring at you under the moonlight.
Gods.
He would never tire of admiring your beauty and how it was almost embarrassingly too easy for him to get lost in your eyes.
It also didn't help that he hadn't fed in a few days.
Bloodlust clouded his mind and made his insides turn.
It was the soft sound of your voice that snapped him from his thoughts. “What now? I mean… Ava.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, they are to interrogate Rob Sorel and see how both their stories hold up.”
You heaved a deep sigh. “So we wait.”
“We wait.”
Astarion had grown used to the silence that would often settle around the two of you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was the kind that he had never experienced before.
He wasn't sure there was a name for it, but he knew the feeling attached to it all too well.
The silhouette of passing ships on the horizon, dancing along the calm waters added to the overall soothing atmosphere.
He could stay a while longer like this.
With you.
His eyes eventually darted to the side and he nearly jolted when your head turned to him, as if you had felt his burning gaze.
“You can feed on me once we get home.”
He wanted that.
He needed it.
He craved it.
But… “I can do without your blood for a while longer, darling.”
A white lie.
He could feel his mind spotting and blanking at times already, especially when near you. Maybe he had gotten too addicted to feeding on you to the point his body could no longer go extended periods of time without blood.
Your blood.
And as much as he appreciated your offer, he needed to withstand his hunger.
Ava's words echoed in his mind and he almost felt repulsed from having allowed himself to be so dependent on you and putting you through it in the first place.
“Are you alright?” you asked, visibly worried.
“Yes – of course, darling,” he forced a smile to curl his lips.
Your hand came to rest on his forearm. “Astarion, you can feed on me. I mean it.”
His eyes dropped to your neck, the symmetrical puncture wounds still visible from when he had last bitten you.
Hunger swelled to the point of agony and he could almost smell your blood and feel it coursing through your hand.
You gave him a reassuring nod, which only made it harder for him to resist the urge to give in.
“I should go hunt, actually,” he eventually managed to say and his words felt like ash in his mouth.
You chuckled slightly, squeezing his arm. “You'd probably have to bring a Fist with you.”
He grimaced, but appreciated your attempt at diffusing the tension. “They would end up being the ones hunted by some beast in the woods, and I would have to step in and save the godsdamned idiot.”
Your eyes widened and then you laughed.
Hard.
And it was the most comforting sound he had ever heard in a long while.
It was enough to steer the bloodlust away and he laughed with you.
“It reminds me of the first time you fed on me,” you said, wiping off the teardrops that had formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing. “Remember? When you drifted off into the woods to hunt for something more ‘filing’?”
Oh.
Shit.
His smile wavered and you immediately caught on to the sudden shift.
“What?”
He thought he had told you what truly happened that night….
…. he hadn't?
“Well… I…” his words failed him and as he pondered how he should approach the topic.
Concern suddenly splattered across your face. “What is it?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I didn't exactly go hunting,” he said with a tense chuckle.
You remained silent, waiting for him to go on.
“I just had to get away from you… to… uhm, well – take care of a little problem that stirred whilst I fed on you, if you catch my meaning.”
He allowed the implication to dangle from his words, and it wasn't a particularly subtle one.
And then your eyes widened once more in sudden realisation.
“Oh… it makes sense,” you said all flustered, withdrawing your hand from his arm. “You did say my blood feels really good.”
‘Good’ was an unfair understatement.
It always felt divine.
“Don't misunderstand,” he quickly added. “It was totally out of my control. I was quite surprised when I realised just how…” hard he had gotten.
“Just how…?”
“Just how much your blood affected me.”
He could remember it clearly in his head.
How desperate he was to slip into the woods and find a secluded place so he could see just how much of a mess his trousers were.
He could feel it, obviously, but he wouldn't know the extent of the ‘'damage’ until he undid his trousers.
“Did you… get…. really hard?” you drawled out in a hushed tone as if scared someone other than him might overhear you.
Astarion figured this was the last topic he expected to be addressing given that the background noise consisted of screams and threats and loud noises and glass smashing.
Hardly the right ambience.
“Yes.”
He could almost remember the feel of the bark of the tree digging into his back as he hurriedly undid the lacing at the front until he was able to free his cock.
“And what did you do?”
Were these merely questions that stemmed from curiosity or were you trying to stir something else…?
“Well…” he started, “you can't expect me to reveal such things aloud.”
He watched you swallow hard as you nodded. “You can say in my ear, then? If you want to, of course,” you quickly added.
You were too adorable and he was in dire need of a distraction from his bloodlust.
This would suffice.
He leaned closer, and pressed a kiss to your heated cheek before his lips grazed the shell of your ear.
“I had to take care of it.”
You shuddered.
His cock had never been as hard and as thick before he had fed on you. It had made him utterly speechless to see all the precum dripping from the tip.
He had been almost too scared to even touch it.
But when he did….
The groan that had erupted from his throat had been too difficult to rein in. His cock had felt warm and it had throbbed from your blood coursing through it, giving it a faint pink tint to it.
“In the woods?” you asked, gripping the railing with both hands.
“Yes.”
He could hear the faint beating of your heart increasing. “What if someone had run into you?”
His cock twitched.
Innocent, little pup…
“Why, darling… did you want to run into me,” he lowered his voice as his lips brushed against your ear, "and witness my despair as I touched myself?”
You gasped.
Despair didn't quite cover it.
He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever felt like he'd implode lest he reached climax.
It was a novelty and he had felt… alive.
He had heard of how delectable the blood of thinking creatures could be, but he had never anticipated this feeling of fullness and how addictive it could be.
“It was so warm… from your blood, sweetheart,” he purred, feeling himself getting carried away.
You bit your quivering lip before replying, “Did it feel good?”
Maybe too carried away.
And when you shuddered again under his faint touch, it was as if he had been slapped back into another plane of existence.
He suddenly straightened himself and blinked.
What was he doing?
His abrupt change in demeanour was enough to earn a reaction from you, and he could see lust in your half-hooded eyes as you stared at him in confusion.
And just like a tidal wave that one couldn't hold back, he felt disgust and revulsion lacing themselves into a powerful mixture that caused him to take a step back.
His mind was flooded with Ava's accusatory words and the memories of him seducing you for his own benefit.
“Astarion?”
Your voice was miles away and he couldn't even bring himself to blink anymore.
The nauseating feeling was heightened by the fact that he had a very inconvenient erection strained against his trousers, begging for attention.
“Astarion… what is it?”
Your voice seemed even more distant than before, as if he had been plunged into a well and couldn't get out.
Why couldn't he get out?
Why was his cock so hard, but his mind so repulsed by it?
And the impending feeling of dread began to slowly overtake him like storm clouds rolling over the mountains, bent on flooding the land below.
And when it began to rain in his mind, it poured.
He needed to get away.
He needed to get away from you.
You tried reaching out to him with your hand, but he flinched away. “Don't touch me!”
And he could see it in your eyes.
Pity.
Again.
“I – I must go.”
And he didn't look back.
TBC
#astarion#astarion bg3#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x oc#astarion x female tav#astarion smut#astarion x female reader#astarion x f!tav
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i didn't have an amazing christmas this year so i projected this onto bestfriend!roommate!simon and im sorry about it but im also not sorry about it but i tried to end it nice
more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 6/?)
cw: mature language and content, mentions of past trauma, mentions of unrequited love and lack of family, mentions of death and loneliness, allusions to violence
you waited for the ringing of the call to stop. you were seated on the couch, the laptop propped up in your lap as you stared at the screen hopefully. your heart skipped a beat when the ringing stopped, a circling loading screen popping up until a grainy video came through.
simon was seated in the dark; you guessed that he was hunkered down in his room, seated on his bunk. he had his skull mask on; the plate sewn onto a balaclava, eye-black hiding most of him in the void of the terrible quality video, and you tried not to notice the mysterious drops of something against the white of his mask.
"hey, simon," you greeted him, giving him a gentle smile. simon ran a gloved hand over his head, nodding.
"''ello, luv. i know the time is bad, if...if you want to head to bed, 's alright with me."
you scoffed, "you know that's not happening. i don't care what time it is here...i always want to talk to you."
he grunted lowly, looking away for a moment at something out of your view before looking back. you moved to go sit by the window, keeping the laptop propped up as you looked outside. you could see the soft lights lighting up the neighborhood; twinkling lights, mostly in red and green, sparkling between the soft snowfall that had began to fall against the pavement.
there was something so peaceful about the moment. you could see the wind pushing the snow at an angle as it fell, starting to add a fresh blanket of white to everything. if you squinted, you could see two people in the apartment across the street, trying to build a small bike in the early hours of the morning. one of them held papers, instructions you guessed, and the other held a screwdriver and was trying to fit the two back wheels onto a base.
"how are you?" you asked suddenly, looking back down at the laptop. "you look like shit."
simon laughed dryly, "you can't even see me."
"i know you," you laughed with him. "and i know that even through the shitty camera, you're worse for wear."
he hummed, looking down for a moment.
"i've had better days," was all he offered, and you swallowed hard, trying to look at him better.
"i miss you, simon."
you said it easily. you did miss him. he was so far away; you didn't know where he was, but you knew it was far. and he did not say when he would be coming back; you suspected he didn't even know himself when he would be.
"i miss you, too, luv."
you looked out the window again. you looked at the couple again, watching one of them take a few bites of some cookies that were laid out while the other had a few hearty gulps of the milk in the glass beside them. your eyes watered a little. their house looked...full. stockings hung over a dwindling fireplace, christmas tree lights giving the room a soft yellow glow, a mountain of presents gathered under a full tree of ornaments.
there was nothing in your apartment. no lights, no tree. you never liked to keep one; you had no one to buy presents for. and simon--this day only brought the wrong kind of feelings to the surface. feelings of torture, of unexpected discovery, of death and the stench of it which couldn't be covered by lighting evergreen candles or baking sugar cookies.
so much of the day surrounded family--of which you didn't have. no one to visit, no one to bring the wine while you cooked the ham, no one to hand you a gift and no one for you to give one to either. you had learned a long time that it was best not to dwell, but it was hard. it was hard when you looked across the street and saw people that had so much more of something. something that you desperately wanted, but couldn't be bought.
when you looked back down at the laptop, simon could see the tears in your eyes clear as day. your eyes were so glossy and wet, and he swallowed hard as he looked at your face, illuminated by the twinkling lights that were bright outside.
"sorry--" you whispered, reaching up and wiping your cheeks with the sleeves of your sweater. "sorry, i don't know why...i don't know what's wrong with me." you laughed it off, but simon could hear the pain in your voice. something aching and scratchy, something hollow.
"did...did you get what i sent?"
you looked up at him, frowning a little.
"sent? like...a package?"
"oh, christ, luv, don't tell me you haven't left the flat all day?"
you opened your mouth to respond, but you closed it, smiling shyly.
"just...go check outside. i can see it bloody snowing, go get it before it gets ruined."
you got up from your seat, going outside momentarily. when you came back inside, you had a wet box in your hands, and you set it down on the table as you when to go get something to cut the tape off. when you had opened the box, there was a smaller one inside, a nicely wrapped burgundy box that fit in your lap. you took a seat in front of the camera again, seeing simon's messy handwriting on the top of the box.
happy december 25th.
you laughed reading it, looking up at the camera after you reading the message.
"just another day, right?" he asked. you had new tears now, but they weren't sad. your heart was beating fast, making you take shaky, fast breaths, and you tried to smile, but it was hard.
"j-just another day," you whispered back to him. you took the top off the box, taking the tissue paper out to reveal a little plushie inside. it was a black teddy bear, but this one was unique. someone had fashioned a little skull mask of it out of felt, messily sewn fabric fit over the bear's face with the beady black eyes peeking out from the eyeholes--just like simon's. you picked up the bear, letting the box fall to the floor, and you tipped your head back as you tried to keep your tears inside. "simon--"
you and simon had never really gotten the chance to just be kids. to just be. to just enjoy and to receive something that didn't serve a purpose or a function, something unnecessary and trivial--something considered extra. because possessions were luxury, and you can't remember the last luxurious thing you had ever gotten.
"i know," he said lowly. "fuck, i--"
he pushed his own laptop down, and the camera tilted so you could only see his lower half. you watched him lose a bit of control, more tears coming down your face as you held your breath. simon cleared his throat loudly, ringing his hands together nervously before he picked the camera back up to his face.
"i'm getting the next fuckin' plane out of here, y'hear me?"
you brought the bear to your chest, hugging it gently before nodding. you wondered if this was why he had gotten you something like this--something to hold onto when he was gone. something to remind. something that would make you remember in the simon-shaped void you seemed to dwell in all too often.
"okay."
you had spent many december 25ths without him. you had spent many december 25ths right here, on a lonely windowsill, watching through the windows of lives that you wished you were living. this loneliness was not new--but now the loneliness was shared, and it hurt to share it.
you fell asleep there, watching glittering lights between the snowfall and holding the bear to your heart. the laptop went dark after awhile, and you slept there by the windowsill, wondering if anyone looked in and wanted to live this life instead.
the empty, quiet life of nothingness and bad dreams.
but it was something warm that woke you. a familiar hand, cradling the back of your head, whispering against your hair.
his breath was shaky. sucking in with difficulty, and then breathing out in rough stutters. your eyes opened slowly, your cheek squished against his tactical vest. you realized that he must've just gotten home--he was still head-to-toe in his gear, and you were staring up into the skull plate.
"simon--!"
you wrapped your arms tight around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. you gasped as you held him close, and it took everything in you not to burst into tears. your heart fluttered at the thought that he must've left as soon as he told you last night--determined to get back to you.
when you pulled back, simon rested his forehead against yours. you nuzzled your face against his, soft breaths as you grounded yourself in the realization that he's here, he's with me, he's alive.
"just another day," simon murmured, gripping your head with both hands. you swallowed hard, opening your eyes and meeting his own. you swear you saw something sad in them, something emotional, tears of some kind, but he blinked it away before you could look too long. "but i...had to come home."
your nodded reaching up and putting your hands over his on your face.
"i love you, simon."
if he had paid enough attention, he would've heard what those words truly meant. that you didn't just love him, you love him. not want, need, not a preference, but a requirement. undeniable, endless, raw, soul-sucking love--the kind that tore up your insides and spit them out without remorse.
but how can you really love someone like me?
simon tangled his gloved hands into your hair now, tugging gently.
"i love you more."
how can you love someone who's already dead?
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty
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Touch Me Up
Summary: Your a new employee to JYP studios, and have been assigned to the group of Stray Kids; a makeup artist. What happens when one of the members catch interest in you?
Warnings: None?
Genre: Fluff
You watched as each of the boys took their turns for their photoshoot, barely making it in time to replace the other makeup artist. Her shift just ended, meaning yours will start in another five minutes.
It was difficult knowing when you were needed due to constant changes in schedules, for both the idols and the employees that support them.
You had only been with them a month, still learning about Korea itself and it's language.
You moved from America a little over five months ago hoping for a new start. And you were lucky to have landed yourself where you were job wise.
You saw the shades the boys were wearing, and intrigued by the theme. What was the theme? You couldn't tell, honestly.
But they did, however, look hot.
They are still in their ATE era, and their ideas have been pretty successful so far, so you weren't worried.
STAY have really enjoyed all that they had released. Including you.
You would never say it out loud to the boys, but you were probably one of their biggest fans.
"Y/n! We need you over here!" You heard someone say, making you snap out of your thoughts.
"Coming!" You responded, walking towards the man, your bag of makeup slung loosely around your shoulder.
When you stopped where you were needed, you saw a flash of green in your peripheral, making you turn.
You caught eyes with Seungmins, making your breath hitch. His hair was still quite long. You thought he was going to cut it, but I guess not yet.
It was fluffier than usual, making it look as soft as a cloud, and it was still his natural black hue, light bouncing off, shining to your eyes.
"What do you need, Minnie?" You asked him, digging through your bag.
"Touch me up," He said, looking at you without expression.
Your face turned red. You knew what he meant, but your mind can't help but take what he said out of proportion.
When you had the gloss in hand, you turned back, only to see him grinning.
"Touch up my makeup," He repeats, making it clear what he wants.
"I know what you meant," You mutter before twisting the cap, hearing a loud pop as you pulled the brush from the cap.
His smile closed, leaving his dimples on display while you brush it gently against his lips, not wanting the color to be too strong.
As you pushed it against his plump flesh, you saw the indent from the brush moving with you, making them appear larger than they are for a short while.
Moving from the bottom lip to the top, you watched as the same thing happened, focusing on the way his breath feels on your working hand.
You didn't dare look at his eyes, knowing that they were focused on you, staring deeply into your own.
His nose twitched slightly, making you halt your motions.
"Now press them together, please," You say, pushing the brush back into the tube before twisting it the opposite direction, sealing it shut.
He does as you request, but insanely slow, teasing you with amusement. All you could do was watch.
"Like what you see?" He grins, grabbing his hat on the chair next to him.
"Wha-wait what? No I'm just making sure it looks okay," You say flustered.
To make it look like you were telling the truth, you bring your hand up to his face, your fingers targeting his lips. You gently caress his bottom lip with your finger, swiping the under part to get the excess gloss.
His breath hitches along with yours, but before you could take your hand from him, he grabbed your wrist with his slender one, holding it in place.
"Am I good now?" He asks quietly, staring at you.
"Yes," You breathe back, not looking away.
His smile is small, but it's there.
He turns his head and nuzzles into your open palm, making your thoughts and heart race.
He places a light kiss to your hand, finally letting go.
"I'll see you later, y/n," He says with a wink, slowly walking backwards. "Don't leave,"
Your eyes widened, processing what he's saying incredibly slow. But once you understood, you nodded.
"See you,"
#skz reactions#stray kids#stray kids x reader#kim seungmin#puppy seungmin#seungmin x reader#2min smut#stray kids smut#skz#skz smut#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids masterlist#stray kids minho#stray kids felix#stray kids ot8#stray kids seungmin smut#stray kids x male reader#stray kids seungmin#skz scenarios#boypussy skz#skz imagines#skz masterlist#kim seungmin smut#seungmin smut#seungmin#kim seungmin x reader#SoundCloud
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He Loves My Heart-Shaped Sunglasses
Felix Catton x Fem! Reader
You and Felix spend Valentine’s Day together. <3
Smut (lowk filthy) + Fluff
Wc: 2,550
An: Wanted to post this before v day, but i got sidetracked, thankfully pushed it out before the day ended :3
February 14th.
The day of love.
The day to show your special someone how much you care for them.
The day that’ll bring out the joy and excitement out of most, but will also bring out the bitter feelings of some.
Felix has never really favored Valentine’s day. He may be a soft romantic now; a year into your relationship, but before, he was used to hookups that led to his lonesome morning after. Hence why it was so hard for him to ask you out last year on this very day.
He spent hours in different shops; trying to find the perfect gifts for you. Obviously, this process would’ve gone by quicker if Venetia didn’t get distracted by the hundreds of soft stuffed animals every few minutes, and if Farleigh had even went.
“Please Farleigh! Surely you can help me! You know more about these things than I do!”
“No can do lover boy, besides, you have Vee going with you.” Farleigh had said with an amused smirk.
After a little more of groveling and begging on Felix’s end, Farleigh still didn’t budge. The fact that Felix had said that he wanted to “woo” you, hadn’t helped his case either.
The beaming lights of the shops reflecting off of the bright pinks and reds had Felix’s head starting to ache.
He had settled on getting you a bouquet of red roses, a basket of your favorite snacks, and some other little goodies.
That day when you saw one singular rose on your desk in your english class, the last person you expected to be nervously glancing in your direction was Felix.
After a long, panic-filled conversation with the blubbering boy, you two had finally become official, and Felix swears to this day, that it was the best day of his entire life.
Now, Felix has gotten a bit better at buying gifts for you. He knows you like the back of his tattooed hand. But he can’t help but feel nervous to see you this morning. After all, you only have one, one year anniversary with your love.
Felix observed as the other students of Oxford were handing out gifts to their significant others. Felix couldn’t help but think about how his presents for you were far more superior to everyone else’s.
He had been so distracted, that he hadn’t noticed you walking up.
You tapped on his shoulder and he had nearly leaped out of his skin.
He quickly realizes who is in front of him, and grips you up like you were light as a feather.
“Angel! Oh my goodness you startled me! Happy anniversary sweet girl!” Felix says grinning, like he was looking at the brightest star in the galaxy.
“Happy anniversary my love,” you return through your giggles.
“Here! Here! Open the gifts I bought for you honey!” Felix rushes out as he’s pushing the bags into your hands.
You jokingly chide him for nearly knocking your things out of your hands, but quickly start digging through one of the bags.
He had given you one of his sweaters, a pair of heels you had been eyeing in town, a few other items, and most importantly, a beautiful ring covered in diamonds.
“S’not an engagement ring, not yet anyways, but a promise ring, because I promise to love you always and forever. Tha’s a bit too cheesy, isn’t it? Sorry, I had this whole thing I was going to say but-“
You cut his rambling off with a deep kiss to his rosy lips.
“Thank you Felix, I love it with my whole heart, baby.”You say while pulling away breathlessly.
Felix’s face started to hurt from the constant smiling, but the thought of that flew out the window as he remembered that you had gotten him something.
Felix had practically ripped through the big box you gave him; feeling like he was about to burst at the seems. You smile softly, imagining him with a wagging tail and perked up puppy ears.
You had bought a few articles of clothing, more cologne, a new book that he said he had been interested in reading, and of course, a stunning bracelet, that matched the exact same on dangling on your wrist.
After many more kisses, hugs, and sugary sweet words exchanged between the two of you, you both head to class.
Felix was counting down the minutes until he could see your dazzling face in front of him again. His class felt as if it had been going on for hours, and the fact that he couldn’t focus on his lesson for even a few minutes while thinking about you, wasn’t helping. His mind was drifting to what he had planned for the two of you later tonight.
You, on the other hand, were on the same boat as Felix.
All that consumed your mind was Felix; you’re sweet, dashing Felix.
You’re suddenly snapped out of your thoughts by your professor, who had agitatedly started lecturing you on the importance of focusing on class.
And finally, after multiple grueling hours, and a heated make-out session in a storage closet, classes for today were over.
Felix suggested that you two go into town, and go on a date to the cafe you both loved. At this point, it was your guys’ cafe; your designated spot, where you both can run away from the world and just enjoy one another.
After spending hours, which seemed like minutes, in the cafe, and throughout town, the two of you settle on going back to your dorm.
Normally, the two of you just go to Felix’s dorm, but his was still somewhat airing out from the smoke session you two had the night prior.
Although, the idea of you two walking through town sounded romantic at the time, you hadn’t thought into how long you two would be walking.
“‘Lex?” You call out softly. Felix immediately turns to you.
“Can you carry me? M’feet hurt honey.” You say with a slight pout, to get your point across.
Felix, of course, being the amazing boyfriend he is, quickly picks you up, bridal-style and carries you back.
You ask him multiple times if he was alright carrying you for so long, but after his reassurance and light nip to your nose, your worries are put to rest.
The two of you eventually settle on your bed, and you curl against Felix’s warm body.
“Wait, darling, I forgot a few things at my dorm,” Felix rushes out.
“Mmm, no ‘Lex, stay with me”
“It’ll only be a minute angel, I promise.”
Felix nearly doesn’t have the heart to pull you off of him, but he can’t afford to keep you from your final gift for much longer.
He leaves with a quick kiss to your forehead and nose, and goes to retrieve the items from his dorm.
He comes back and spots you sitting up on the bed with what he thinks is nothing, but his shirt on, and strawberries. You had also opted for a can of whipped cream, instead of melted chocolate, because after last time, you didn’t want to endure the process of the chocolate staining your white sheets, and hardening as you two tried to use it.
“Wha’s this baby?” Felix says with a smirk as he inches towards you.
You feel his warm, hand on your calf as he reaches you.
“What? Did you really think we were going to go without some fun on our anniversary baby?” You say while looking up at him with longing.
“Unwrap your gift, Felix.”
The brunette boy wastes no time in stripping you from his your shirt.
There, he sees, the lacy brown lingerie covering your body; the brown being almost, if not fully, identical to the color of his dark brown irises.
Felix kisses your neck, leaving no area of skin unmarked with purple bruises.
“Mm, wait” He says as he leaves behind a slight strain on saliva on your flesh.
“Oh my god Felix, seriously?” You say with slight annoyance.
“Relax. I have something for you.” Felix chides.
Felix pulls out a box, containing a necklace; with his initials on it.
“D’you like it baby? I think it’ll be perfect, tha’way none of those other boys could even think they could have a chance with you.”
“Why boys, Felix?” You ask slyly, trying to push his buttons a bit.
“I say boys because, my angel..They could never fuck you like I do…Like a man.” He says lowly, showcasing the bass in his silky smooth voice.
You let out a whine at this; loving when he gets possessive over you, “put it on me Felix, claim me.” You purr.
He moves your hair out of his way, and puts the necklace around your neck, subtly grinding his hard, pulsing cock against the little fabric you had covering your cunt.
You let out a sigh, as Felix moans lowly in your love-bitten ear.
He then grabs a strawberry and stuffs it gently between your lips, making you bite down on it.
The juices trickle down your chin as he moves the fruit around inside of your mouth. He licks a stripe up from your throat to right below your lips.
He goes back and leaves a bite on your throat, making you tilt you head back with a sharp moan, giving him more access.
Felix kisses you roughly as he grabs the whipped cream. He squirts a line of the sweet cream onto your navel; watching it slowly glide down to your soaked core.
“God…’Lex don’t tease me,” you whimper meekly.
“But y’taste s’sweet, lovie.” Felix says, letting out a giggle that makes your pussy clench.
“Oh look at you, m’dirty little thing. Clenchin’ around nothin’,” Felix says smugly as he kisses down your warm body.
Abruptly, Felix dips down and licks a stripe up your achy cunt.
“Fuck ‘Lex!”
Felix grins at your shriek, as he presses sloppy kisses to your clit.
“…I thought I told you to stop teasing me baby,” you say, pushing his head down onto your cunt, prompting him to start licking and sucking where you want him to.
Your back arches off the bed as you squeal in ecstasy. You grab Felix’s hair with both hands roughly; he moans at this, which sends shockwaves through your body.
Felix fucks you with his tongue for what feels like hours, sticking his tongue in and out of your pulsing hole.
Felix feels your thighs trembling, making it clear that you’re close to reaching your climax.
Felix removes his mouth with a slick pop and a charming smile, making you cry out.
“Wait! Wait no. ‘Lex, why’d you stop? Baby. Baby please I need it. Put it back please-“
“Shhh, angel. M’gonna give you somethin’ better. Gonna give you this cock. Tha’s what you wanted, right?” Felix says pressing his lips to yours, again, and again.
Felix continues kissing you as he pulls down his pants and boxers, pulling out his stiff dick.
He rubs the tip against your folds, watching his precum drip against your wetness.
“Mmm, y’ready f’me sweetheart?”
“Please, please, please ‘Lex. I’ll be so good! So so good, I promise! Please give it to me! I need it!” You shout eagerly.
“God, you make me feel whole,” Felix says as he slowly pushes his cock into your heat.
“Thank you ‘Lex! Thank you! Oh fuck!”
Felix almost immediately starts thrusting in and out of you roughly, opening your legs wider as he plants his feet.
“Fuck babe! I swear y’made f’me. I thank any ‘n every god tha’ led us to each other, honey.” Felix says with a delicious groan.
“Shit! God that’s it baby. Don’t stop!” You say, reaching down to start toying with your clit.
Felix nips at your fingers; having noticed your dainty fingers rubbing circles. Silently ordering you to quit it.
You wrap your legs around his meaty torso tightly as he flicks at your puffy pussy.
“Oh! O’fuck! Right there! Mhm!” Felix feels as if he’s consuming your moans, picking up his already brutal pace to absolutely abuse your cunt. His main goal being to make you squirm in ways only he can.
“Uh huh? Yeah y’like that angel? Feels- oh f-fuck. Feels good doesn’it?”
Felix lets out more deep groans, with the occasional whine.
“‘Lex. ‘Lex, baby. M’cumming.” You rush out breathlessly.
“M’right there with y’baby, m’right here. Just, fuck, wait a second..Wanna come together, beautiful.” Felix says panting.
The only noises to be heard in the somewhat small dorm are the moans and gasps of two passionate lovers, and the squeaks and banging from the plush bed.
In any other scenario, you’d be pressing your hand around your mouth, stressing to Felix about the importance of staying quiet; not wanting to get more noise complaints. But right now, you could barely even think about where you are; focusing only on the circles being rubbed on your glistening cunt, and the feeling of Felix’s warm, almost candle-lit hot limbs touching yours.
Felix’s pace begins to falter, growing sloppier and sloppier with every thrust, showing signs of Felix nearing his blissful end.
“Yes! Fuck yes! Come f’me angel, please! Give it t’me! C’mon, y’know y’can, here hold m’hand.” Felix says, reaching his clammy hand to your already sweaty one.
“F-fuck! ‘Lex!”
In the span of seconds, the two of you are coming undone together, gripping each other’s hand so tightly.
You feel your climax shake through your entire body, making you jerk against Felix’s hold, as he tries to keep himself together.
Felix collapses softly next to you with a soft “holy shit,” making sure not to startle you in your hazy state.
He brushes the hair from your moist skin and peppers feather-like kisses onto your face, collarbone, and scalp; helping you calm down from your high.
You look at him bleary eyed, taking account of his wobbly smiles as he tries to catch his breath.
‘Does he ever stop smiling?’ You think to yourself.
“Hi honey,” Felix whispers.
“Hi baby,” you whisper back with a giggle.
“Y’so gorgeous, y’know that, angel?” He says, after softly pulling out and snuggling closer to you with a blanket.
“So i’ve been told,” you say, blinking sleepily.
“Wait, sweetheart. Y’can’t sleep yet! I gotta clean you up!” Felix says in a hurry, jumping out from underneath the blanket. He quickly walks over to his desk, which has a pack of wipes on it, and he finds a towel on his dresser.
You fight sleep, as Felix softly wipes you, making sure not to put too much pressure on your already sore cunt.
He sits you up a bit, putting on of his cozy sweatshirts on your frame and gently lays you back down.
He quickly puts a pair of boxers on once he hears your soft whines, begging for him to cuddle you.
He lays down and drapes your body on top of his.
The last thing you feel before drifting off is a sweet kiss being pressed onto your forehead.
“Happy Valentine’s Day lovie..and most importantly, happy one year anniversary.”
feedback always appreciated bb <3
#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#felix catton#jacob elordi#saltburn#felix catton x reader#jacob elordi x reader#felix catton x you#felix catton imagine#oliver quick x reader#oliver quick#farleigh start x reader#farleigh start#venetia catton#valentines day#felix catton smut
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No one fucks with Luke, not with MC around.
So I'm the second eldest (eldest girl) out of all the kids in my family. And I grew up being taught that you gotta protect the younger kids at all cost, whether they are related to you or not (Im from the deep south so thats also part of it). So I know that if it were me in the Devildom, I would end up super protective of Luke. My brain would automatically associate him as being sorta like my younger brother. That kid would kick my maternal instincts into high gear.
The classroom buzzed with the usual chatter as demons and angels alike milled about before the lecture. MC walked in, their bag slung over one shoulder, scanning the room for a seat. They hadn’t expected anything out of the ordinary today—just another class in the Devildom’s peculiar take on higher education. But then they heard it: a sharp, angry voice that cut through the noise, followed by the unmistakable sound of a chair scraping against the floor.
MC’s gaze snapped to the source of the commotion. Their eyes widened as they saw a demon towering over Luke, his fist raised, his face twisted in anger. Luke, ever the brave little angel, stood his ground, but it was clear he was outmatched. The demon snarled, “You think you can mouth off to me, you little brat? I’ll teach you some respect!”
Time seemed to slow as a surge of protective fury flooded through MC. Without thinking, they dropped their bag and stormed across the room, already summoning the power within them. They didn’t even bother to conceal the venom in their voice as they yelled, “Oh, please do it! Please hit him! I want to see you do it!” Their words were sharp, challenging, daring the demon to make a move.
The classroom fell silent as everyone turned to watch, eyes wide with shock and fear. The demon hesitated, his raised fist wavering as he realized that this wasn’t just some ordinary human standing before him. MC’s eyes blazed with a dangerous light, their hand already glowing with the beginnings of a spell. The air crackled with energy as they prepared to summon one of the brothers, anyone who could deal with this threat.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” MC continued, their voice rising with each word. “Hit him, you bastard. Put your hands on him, I dare you!”
The demon’s friend, who had been watching from the sidelines, suddenly shot to his feet, panic written all over his face. He had seen MC’s power before—had heard the stories of what they could do when pushed too far. “Wait, don’t! Don’t hurt him!” he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear. “We didn’t mean it! He didn’t mean it!”
MC’s gaze snapped to the other demon, their eyes cold as ice. “Oh, I’m not gonna hurt him,” they snarled, their voice low and dangerous. “I’m gonna kill him for putting his hands on Luke.”
The words sent a shiver through the room. The demon who had raised his fist paled, realizing far too late that he had seriously miscalculated. He quickly lowered his hand, stepping back as if to distance himself from the threat he had foolishly provoked. But it was too late. MC’s fury was a storm, and it wasn’t easily quelled.
Luke, still standing his ground, looked up at MC with wide eyes. He had never seen them like this—so fierce, so ready to protect him at any cost. “MC…” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the tension in the room.
MC didn’t take their eyes off the demon. “You don’t ever lay a hand on him, do you hear me?” They took a step forward, and the demon stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to put distance between himself and MC. “If you so much as think about hurting him again, I swear by everything holy and unholy in all three realms, you’ll regret it.”
The demon’s friend tried to intervene, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “We’re sorry! He didn’t know who he was messing with! Just—please, let him go. We won’t bother Luke again, I swear!”
MC held their glare for a long, tense moment before finally allowing the energy to dissipate, the spell fading from their hand. The air in the room seemed to release a collective breath, the tension easing slightly as MC took a step back. The demon, pale and shaken, quickly ducked his head and muttered an apology before scrambling out of the classroom, his friend hot on his heels.
MC watched them go, their expression hard and unyielding until the door slammed shut behind them. Only then did they turn to Luke, their fierce demeanor softening into one of concern. “You okay, Luke?” they asked, their voice gentle now, a stark contrast to the wrath they had just unleashed.
Luke nodded, though he looked a bit shaken. “Yeah… thanks, MC. I didn’t think he’d actually… you know.”
MC smiled, ruffling his hair affectionately. “No one’s gonna mess with you while I’m around, got it?”
Luke smiled back, relief washing over him. “Got it.”
As they walked together to find a seat, the classroom slowly returned to its usual noise, though there was an undeniable tension in the air. The other students whispered among themselves, stealing glances at MC. The story of what had just happened would spread quickly, adding to MC’s growing reputation in the Devildom as someone not to be trifled with.
But for MC, it was simple. No one messed with Luke—not on their watch.
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