#but it's tied up in a bow with 'it's Just A Joke'
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LADY OF THE LAKE — House of the dragon
Aemond Targaryen x Tully!Original character
Description: The one-eyed prince is betrothed to a Tully. A fish and a dragon, a horrid match. Perhaps, with time, the two find they fit each other well after all. A dragon rules the skies, while the fish rule the sea.
Chapter warnings: mentions of arranged marriages.
Authors note: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, let’s hope I’m not too rusty. I tried to keep on theme with the Sesame Street names and I didn’t really like ‘Abby’ for a Tully so Natasha it is!
As beautiful as the maiden herself, many said about the daughter of Elmo Tully. Long locks of auburn hair and eyes as blue as the ocean, the perfect image of effortless beauty and innocence. Yet, beauty wasn’t all that mattered to the one-eyed prince. A pretty face isn’t all he wanted in a wife. What if she was dull, or just plain dumb?
“An alliance with the Tully’s will be a great opportunity for us, Aemond.” His mother explained, her face painted with annoyance. His eyebrows furrowed, why must he suffer the same fate of a loveless marriage just like his mother and father? Many thoughts raced through his mind.
He would’ve much preferred the solace of never marrying and becoming commander of the city watch. Many women have expressed behind closed doors their distaste for the prince, how hideous his scar was, or how he would never have time for a woman with his studies and training. why would he want to condemn anyone to such a fate of being wed to the maimed prince?
Yet, sometimes, late at night, he imagines what it would be like to have a wife. Someone to hold close, someone to protect, someone to start a family with. Nothing like the marriage between his parents, he would be good to his wife unlike his father.
“It is not up to you, anyway. You will meet the girl and you will serve your part as prince of the realm.” Alicent said, huffing out a sign of anger.
His nostrils flared. Aemond stormed out of the council room where few lords sat, swiftly making his way through the halls of the castle. His head swirling with anger as he made his way to the training grounds to begin his practice for the day.
Natasha’s heart raced in fear. Many accounts of people have spoke of the second son of the king’s gruesome looks and rough attitude.
“It is a great opportunity and honor to be considered for this,” her handmaiden said as she laced up her corset. Her father had broken the news to her earlier that morning. They were preparing to set off to kings landing in before noon to reach kings landing by the morning.
She gulped. The horrid feeling of nausea flooding her stomach.
What if he didn’t think her worthy of him? What if he was the cruel man rumors say he is? What if he is ugly? Her thoughts racing around her head.
Of course, she dreamt of becoming a wife to a loving husband and mother to beautiful babies. Yet, it felt as if her world came crashing down at the thought of her betrothal to the prince of the realm.
“You will be a princess!” The young girl exclaimed with excitement as she tied the laces into a bow. Natasha let out a nervous laugh, attempting to lighten her own mood.
She prayed to all seven gods for their mercy, for she might need it in the days to come.
The roads to kings landing were long, with her brothers Oscar and Kermit’s immature mocking, singing of their sisters betrothal to the prince.
“Nattie will be a princess! All prim and proper!” Oscar exclaimed, Kermit laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
Natasha scoffed. “So hilarious, Oscar.” She rolled her eyes.
“Imagine having to marry AND bed the prince Aemond, commonly know for his horrific looks!” Kermit was almost dying of laughter as he spat out.
“Father!” Natasha turned to her side, the lord of riverrun barely listening to his children as he shoved his nose in scrolls.
“Stop tormenting your sister, boys.”
The brother’s laughter just barely died down as they whispered jokes to themselves.
Natasha shifted her gaze outside the window of the carriage, taking in the beautiful scenery of the kings road as dawn rose. Her nerves slowly returned, nausea seeping back into her stomach as they approached kings landing.
The heavy sound of gates opening made her heart stop, they were there. They were finally there.
The carriage came to a stop. “Lord Elmo Tully, Lord paramount of the trident and Lord of Riverrun and his children, Kermit, Natasha, and Oscar Tully.” The Guard announced.
Her father stepped out of the carriage to be greeted by the hand of the king, Otto Hightower. The boys went next, bowing to the Hightower lord. Lastly, Natasha.
With her beautiful grey-blue dress with sliver embroidery to represent her house, which contrasted prettily with her Mahogany colored hair and blue eyes. Fitted perfectly to her features and picked by her hand-maiden herself.
“My daughter, Natasha.” Her father gently took her hand and presented her to the hand. She gracefully curtsied, “A great pleasure, my lord hand.”
“Indeed, my lady. The Queen asked me personally to escort you all to the Godswood where she and the Prince Aemond await your arrival.” The hand said with a soft grin.
Natasha took in a breath, which was hard with how tight her handmaiden, Elissa, tied it. The hand led the family through the keep. Elissa quickly caught up to them from the other carriage, linking her arm with her lady’s.
The beautiful weirwood tree came into view as the guards opened the doors to the Godswood. Standing under it, the Queen of the seven kingdoms and the Prince Aemond with Guards and maids roam the area.
“Please, we have refreshments over there. Help yourselves.” Otto said as he made his way over to his daughter and grandson, most likely to prepare everyone for this meeting.
Elissa and Natasha stood to the side as her brothers raided the table of food and drink. “My heart feels like it might burst.” Natasha whispered.
Her back was turned to the prince, she was too frightened to meet his gaze. “It is alright, my lady. You are kind and smart and very beautiful. What isn’t there for the prince to like?” She caressed her arms.
Elissa peaked beside Natasha to look upon the prince. His sharp looks and long silver hair weren’t completely…unpleasant to look at.
“He is actually quite handsome, my lady.” Elissa smiled.
The River-lady slowly turned her head to the weirwood tree. Her eyes meet the side of the prince. His face chiseled and strong, his long silver hair pulled half-up, his Valyrian features graced her vision.
Her gaze raked over his form. His strong arms in his tunic and small waist she was almost jealous of. He looked as if he walked out of one of her romance books. A dashing knight for her to love and to hold.
Aemond’s gaze met her own. Her heart hammered in her ribcage as if she looked upon the face of a god. His own eyes widened, mimicking her own.
Through his own eyes, he felt the same. Her long, locks of red, shining in the sunlight of dawn, almost like a halo. Her striking ocean blue eyes staring into his own, and her delicate features. She was like an angel, cursed to live her life with him.
Her dress fitting her body perfectly, though he shamed himself for the those thoughts. For all have said she was beauty of the maiden herself.
“She’s quite beautiful, is she not, Aemond?” Otto asked his grandson.
“Quite.” He hummed.
#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd fanfic#fanfic#game of thrones#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#prince aemond#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#house targaryen#house tully#oscar tully#kermit tully
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Intriguing!
So... What do you think about revisiting Danny phantom in general? Revisiting the fandom I've noticed a lot of fanfic that have Danny's parents finding out his deal rather violently, or generally having more violence/angst than the original show..
I’m assuming you’re sending me this ask because of my recent burst of Danny Phantom art, so, it’s probably not a surprise to say I’m doing a certain amount of revisiting myself, and certainly not about to shame anyone else for it. It was a very dear cartoon to me in many ways and left some enduring hallmarks on my own writing, and I can absolutely understand people feeling the same way.
That said, as someone who’s been in this fandom for a while, albeit quietly- there certainly is a thread of macabre interest in fandom spaces, one I don’t always know that I agree with, especially when it comes to the Fentons.
My personal verdict on the Fenton parents specifically is I think they are not handled fairly by canon. This is a problem that Danny Phantom as a show shares with Fairly Odd Parents, though I would argue the Turner parents in FOP are quite a bit worse at this.
Roughly, I think how the Fenton parents are canonically depicted suffers from a phenomenon that affects many parts of the show: DP, as a series, has a bit of a sense of confused priorities between comedy and drama, and as a result, what’s 'real’ in-universe and what’s “just supposed to be a joke”. The kind of humor that DP tends to spring for is exaggerated or shocking behavior- it also tends to be a humor that hinges on the idea that other people are generally inconvenient to the main character. So humor-characterization is inconsistent here- Jack is negligent until it’s more inconvenient to depict him as overbearing (see: Girl’s Night Out and other cases he desperately wants to bond with Danny) he’s a recluse only loved by his wife until it’s more inconvenient to depict him as having an active social life (Masters Of All Time and that he and Maddie are going to a themed party so they’re dressed ‘weirdly’ in public)
A big victim of this is Jack’s sense that ghosts aren’t people and his desire to dissect them. Because here is the thing: it’s all talk, in the worst way. It hinges on the idea Jack- someone who knows enough of what he’s doing that along with Maddie and, in the past, Vlad- ripped two different holes in reality hard enough to permanently alter someone’s relation to undeath- has never seen a ghost before the series as he says in Mystery Meat.
The series has a big problem where it hinges on the Fentons’ inventions and expertise but also wants to treat them like idiots constantly. And if you notice how much I’m talking exclusively about Jack- that’s part of the problem. Maddie, in many ways, outside of episodes that throw her a bone, despite constantly being told by people she’s too good for Jack, is really treated as an extension of Jack. Masters Of All Time even suggests that her choosing Jack in the first place was just a path of least resistance between her two college friends, and she’d have married whichever one stuck around.
The Fentons are not respected as experts, so Jack is given his ignorant line about dissecting a ghost. The Fentons need to remain exaggerated, ridiculous, an inconvenience to Danny- so they threaten his alter ego and point guns at him, but this is funny and not serious and not a reason to be worried about them as parents, because they are not on Danny’s level. Nobody is ever on Danny’s level. There is literally an episode called The Ultimate Enemy. The antagonist is an evil future Danny. The only person who could ever be Danny’s ultimate nemesis is Danny himself.
And when the series stops milking the Fentons for jokes about how they’re so stupid and how Jack is an idiot and Maddie married that idiot but even she doesn’t respect him even though she loves him and dutifully follows him everywhere and god how can these people care about ghosts they’re so ignorant and out of their league-
-then it kinda shuffles its feet awkwardly and goes, yeah. the Fentons love each other, and love their kids.
Yeah, Jack has framed photographs of Maddie, Jazz, and Danny on his personal workstation.
Yeah, in Mystery Meat Jack was seriously debating walking away from his lifework because it upset one of his kids.
Yeah, every time in canon the Fentons find out Danny’s secret they’re immediately all in supporting him.
Yeah, even not knowing it’s Danny, Jack has an amiable conversation with him in Million Dollar Ghost and the ghost containment units designed by the Fentons get some jokes about that they’re a little cramped but they aren’t horrifying prisons of inhumanity- and as soon as Danny Phantom the ghost boy has a good point, Jack lets him go on purpose.
Yeah, Jack is a competent ghost hunter who can take on Skulker and win as well as beat down the giant lake monster Skulker brought with him in Girls’ Night Out and would do this in a heartbeat, no jokes and no sidetracks, because that monster just chewed on his baby boy and nobody does that to his baby boy.
Yeah, Maternal Instinct is an entire episode of Maddie throwing hands with (or deceiving and manipulating) literally anything she thinks was responsible for getting Danny in this dangerous situation.
...And then the series says “but that’s not funny! Here, have jokes about the Fenton Stockades, that exist and have spikes and Jack wants to put his kids in them for time out, when the spikes apparently don’t hurt given Jack is not injured for being put in there. Here, have a joke about Jack attacking Jazz with a vacuum cleaner because he gets hellbent on the idea she’s possessed for no good reason. Here, have an uncomfortable joke about how badly Jack Fenton wants to vivisect a ghost while it screams. Funny funny funny. Why- why are you flinching?”
It basically creates a comedic situation where the show is constantly winding up like it’s gonna punch you- with the idea that the Fentons are bad parents and this has consequences for Danny and Jazz personally- and then laughs in your face if you flinch. It’ll never actually punch you- but it will sure keep swinging its hand really close to your face and laughing at your reactions.
This is, I’m just gonna say- one of the worst elements of the series, this weird relationship it has with “hahaha are we depicting an abusive family or not? ;)” where its actual point is that Jack Fenton is a person who should be shamed for being overzealous, for caring about this niche field, because nobody cares about ghosts! (unless the entire premise of the show does) Nobody wants to think about ghost science! That’s LAME! (unless Vlad does it)
So I think ultimately this creates a polarizing experience in the fandom. What part of this information do you take?
Do you take, say, my personal approach, which is:
“Hey, so it’s pretty clear and consistent that the Fentons love their kids and wouldn’t hurt them. The Fentons are nice people. They can be obsessive or headstrong but there’s nuanced and salient ways to examine this in the basic framework that they care, both about their family specifically, and in general- and while I think they can have flaws or conflicts with their kids, and with ambient ghosts in the world, I really don’t think they’re in danger of torturing a sapient entity in their basement and it frustrates and annoys me that canon ‘makes a joke’ of them doing these things because it thinks they’re so incompetent that these things are not really malicious actions, when- whether or not you successfully shoot them, it takes a certain kind of person to point a weapon you know is dangerous at something that looks, and talks, like a fourteen-year-old, especially when you’re a parent who has probably at least once in your life worried about something happening to your kids, and the ghost of a teenager means something happened to someone’s kid, in a general sense.
So my end conclusion on the Fentons is I think they are being depicted in a kind of metatextual bad faith, that they are not cruel or malicious people, and in my personal take or understanding on the series, I’d massively dial down those elements, and if any remain, take them seriously as problems they have in their relationships with other people.”
Or do you take an approach more rooted in,
“If the Fentons are shown to be negligent parents they are negligent parents, I’m going to examine and depict them as that, and I find this very hard to forgive, so it’s going to have real and nasty consequences.”
Both are basically valid. The place where I tend to get a little uncomfortable is twofold:
First, I think sometimes people just really want some fictional tragedy to either create or consume, and to that end, you aren’t going to get much juicy drama out of the Fentons being reasonable people. This isn’t evil or unforgivable, but for me, it’s definitely my least favorite fannish content to create or consume. I’m no fan of angst for angst’s sake, and I feel like there’s enough misery and heartbreak in the world that I’m not interested in wallowing in it unless it’s got something interesting to say.
Second- and this is a point I’m gonna be saltier: A lot of abusive Fenton fics that refuse to forgive them for the poorer-taste jokes the series makes, simultaneously give Vlad a blank check, when he has done targetedly malicious things to Danny.
Now- do I also have a more sympathetic read on Vlad, and feel like canon also gives him a bad rap? Yeah! But you can’t have it both ways. You can’t say, “I can’t forgive the Fentons for stuff that was tagged onto them because canon thought it was funny, but I’m gonna editorialize Vlad’s depiction to lionize him as the ideal parent figure for Danny to run into the arms of.”
And the main reason I get so worked up in this, is I feel like Jack in particular (when Maddie is characterized as subordinate to Jack, following his cues, etc., and that’s its own demon) is... characterized as kind of a mocking caricature of traits that I personally recognize as an autistic and ADHD person.
Because the reality is? In many practical ways, I am Jack Fenton.
I like a bunch of weird stuff people find unacceptable or gross, like bugs
I’m hyperlexic (that means I talk, a lot)
Scatterbrained, forget words or where I left something or, sometimes, to do something important
Passionate and excitable including and especially in situations where it’s not normal, or expected, to have this much energy
I absolutely can forget birthdays, even for people I love dearly that mean the world to me! It’s horrible! There’s almost nothing I can do about it! My brain refuses to hold onto this information reliably and no amount of caring fixes it.
And being this way, living like this? My worst nightmare has always been that people think I either don’t care or that I’m just too much of a stupid, flippant buffoon to get right.
The thing about Jack is he’s “a person like me” and he’s “a person like me” who was designed to be a joke. We’re clearly expected to view him as untrustworthy, stupid, just like a big dumb dog of a man who barks in the wrong directions, who sometimes, when it counts, fetches a stick like he’s supposed to. Good job, Lassie. You got little Timmy out of the well.
And I am going to say with certainty and confidence that feeling like this is how people see me is the most unbelievably crushing feeling I have ever experienced in my life. That my excitement and passion means I’m unprofessional, stupid, don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s nearly painful for me, as an adult, to watch Danny Phantom because the show can never get off Jack’s case. And the few times it does, he hauls overtime arduously to make a difference, to help, to build something that will protect others, to put his own life on the line to stop hostile ghosts.
And immediately, then he goes back to being stupid stupid dog man. ha ha. why does his wife love him? no wonder his kids don’t ever want to be seen with him. no wonder his best friend is trying to kill him and he doesn’t even know, the big idiot.
(never mind that we see a scenario where he does know. and admits he would’ve forgiven Vlad anyway. but he can’t forgive Vlad hurting Danny.)
So to rein in this wild tangent: I’m not saying all must love Jack Fenton and despair. I’m not even telling people to hide their angst. If I have a sincere request, it’s this:
If you’re inclined to thinking of Vlad as a cool, troubled, complex person (as I do!) and are haunted by the implications of The Ultimate Enemy specifically for Vlad, that when Danny lost everyone else in his life that Vlad really genuinely tried to help, and was not gloating and happy and victorious to have Danny as his protege, and when that went badly, he was haunted to the end of his days by not having been able to help-
-but immediately turn around and think Jack is just a rotten awful person who’d absolutely hurt his own kid in spite of canon to the contrary (when there’s just as much, if not more, canon of Vlad being willfully hostile)
It might be good to examine why you’re feeling this way, and if this might not come down to the fact that even when canon has people call Vlad a desperately lonely fruit loop, it has a lot more respect for him than it does for Jack, and this isn’t because it’s actually taking a stance against any of the qualities it gave Jack that someone might find disagreeable- it’s because Jack’s just “a big old fat idiot nobody likes, right?”
and that’s... not something comfy to buy into.
#Danny Phantom#readmore#I have a lot of feelings about the fenton parents#and about how generally cartoons like to normalize child abuse in the context of jokes#and this creates a very upsetting similarity between parents who are otherwise characterized as good and reliable#but given these jokes anyway#and parents who genuinely seem really nasty#but it's tied up in a bow with 'it's Just A Joke'#readmore +#addition#writing ideas#media analysis#meta
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if you would've been the one ─ rafe cameron
summary: rafe gets engaged and you find out.
warnings: angst, swearing, not proof-read
author's note: if you guys didn't know, i love writing angst so enjoy!!
The Pelican Yacht Club hums with the familiar buzz of a humid summer day. You stand behind the bar, the scent of saltwater mixing with the tang of citrus as you slice limes for the afternoon rush. The air is thick, almost suffocating, but you’ve gotten used to it. It’s a typical day—until it isn’t.
You glance up when the door swings open, letting in a flash of sunlight that makes you squint. It's Sofia. She isn’t scheduled today. The sight of her here, so out of place in this moment, makes your stomach twist. You force yourself to look away, feigning interest in the drink menu as she walks past. You can’t help but feel a twinge of resentment as she greets the staff with her bright smile, as if she’s the sunshine that everyone’s been waiting for.
Part of you hates her for that smile, hates the way she effortlessly lights up the room. But it’s not really her you’re mad at—it’s what she represents. Rafe Cameron’s new girlfriend. The girl who has no idea about the summers you spent next door, about the nights you sat on the dock with him, talking about everything and nothing. The girl who has no clue about the history between you and Rafe before she ever came into the picture.
You find yourself inching closer, pretending to fix a shelf of liquor bottles while you strain to overhear her conversation with your boss. Sofia’s voice is low but excited, the kind of tone people use when they have news that’s too good to keep quiet.
You catch bits and pieces of the conversation—something about a new start, a fresh chapter. Your heart pounds as you try to piece it together. Then you hear it, clear as day.
“I’m engaged,” Sofia says, a soft, dreamy smile spreading across her face. “Rafe proposed last night.”
You freeze. The glass in your hand slips slightly, a cold splash of water running down your wrist, but you barely feel it. You’re too stunned, too caught in the moment. Engaged. She’s not just his girlfriend anymore—she’s his fiancée. And she’s leaving. You hear her tell your boss she’s quitting, planning to move in with Rafe, start their new life together.
Your heart sinks, the words echoing in your head like a tolling bell. Engaged. Moving in with him. The world blurs around the edges, your fingers gripping the counter as you try to steady yourself. You force a smile when your boss catches your eye, but it feels thin, barely there.
Your heart thuds violently against your chest, every beat echoing like a cruel joke pounding in your ears. It feels as if your very emotions are ripping at your heartstrings, tearing them apart one by one. The realization claws at you, raw and unyielding. Engaged. You can’t even say the word in your head without feeling your throat tighten, a wave of nausea creeping up as if the world itself has betrayed you.
Your lips curl, the bitterness flooding your mouth as if you’d just bitten into a sour lemon. It’s a twisted smile, one that burns with hatred and betrayal. She had no idea—how could she? How could she possibly know the history, the gravity of everything she just shattered with those simple, giddy words? Bitter tears prick at your eyes, the kind that sting and make you blink rapidly, as if you could will them away.
Without thinking, your fingers fumble at the ties of your apron, ripping it off with a sudden, violent tug. The fabric falls to the floor with a muted thud, but it feels like a thunderous crash in your ears. You don’t care who’s watching; you don’t care what they’ll say. The room seems to tilt around you, your vision narrowing as your breaths come in shallow, rapid gasps.
You place your trembling hands on the counter, feeling the cool surface beneath your fingertips as you try to steady yourself. It doesn’t help. You bow your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you suck in a ragged breath, trying to rein in the flood of emotions threatening to drown you. The noise of the yacht club fades to a dull hum, everything around you blurring as you fight to keep it together.
Suddenly, nothing around you matters anymore. The clinking glasses, the murmur of the club members, the dull chatter of your coworkers—all of it fades to a distant, meaningless buzz. Your job, your manners, your reputation—all the things you’ve been clinging to for a sense of normalcy—seem laughably small in the face of what you’re feeling. The rage and heartbreak surging inside you demand an escape, a release you can’t find standing behind this bar pretending everything is fine.
Without a second thought, you shove the door open, storming out of the yacht club. No one notices. No one even calls your name. The warm, sticky air hits you like a slap in the face as you step outside, but it does nothing to calm the storm brewing within you. You stumble forward, gasping for air, your chest heaving as if you’re drowning. You bend over, hands clutching your knees as you choke on your sobs, each tear hot and unforgiving as it spills down your cheeks.
You force yourself to look up at the sky, its bright blue taunting you. The sun burns harshly, casting long shadows over the marina, but you only feel the darkness wrapping around you. A bitter laugh escapes your lips, followed by a curse you fling at the heavens. You want to scream, to demand an answer from whatever cruel force is out there pulling the strings of your life. What about her? you think desperately, the words echoing in your mind like a broken record. What about her made her deserve a ring, Rafe’s ring?
Your hands clench into fists as you straighten up, trying to find your balance, but the ground feels like it’s shifting beneath you. The memories of Rafe slam into you like a tidal wave, overwhelming and inescapable. The late nights by the dock, the way he used to look at you when he thought no one else was watching, the soft, fleeting kisses that felt like promises he’d never actually made. They all flash before your eyes like a haunting nightmare you can’t wake up from.
It hits you then, like a punch to the gut—the realization that everything you shared, everything you held onto, meant nothing now. He’s chosen her. He’s given her everything you once dreamed he’d offer you. And in that moment, the weight of it all is too much to bear, your knees nearly buckling as you clutch your chest.
A rush of adrenaline surges through your veins, and before you can even think, your feet are moving. You take off, sprinting away from the yacht club, away from the suffocating weight of it all. Where you’re going? You have no idea. You just need to move, to run until the pain isn’t the only thing you feel. The wind pushes against you, almost as if it’s trying to slow you down, but you ignore it. You let it whip through your hair, the strands tangling into a mess of disheveled curls as you race forward.
Your feet pound against the pavement, carrying you closer into town, toward Figure 8—the gilded paradise of the wealthy, where your story with Rafe first began. The roads twist beneath you, familiar yet foreign now, each corner a sharp, painful reminder of the past. You pass the spot where he kissed you for the first time under the flickering streetlight. The bench where you once sat for hours, talking about dreams that were never meant to be. The old corner store where he’d steal glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. It all burns a hole straight through your chest, the memories hitting you harder than the humid wind in your face.
You don’t stop. You can’t. The images flash by in a blur, each one slicing deeper into your already bleeding heart. It’s like you’re running through a living nightmare, haunted by ghosts of the life you thought you might have had. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, the tears streaming freely now, hot and unrelenting. Mascara streaks down your cheeks, black rivers tracing the contours of your face—a perfect, messy representation of where you were mentally.
You push yourself harder, faster, until your legs scream in protest and your lungs burn with every gulp of air. The world around you blurs, the people, the cars, the houses—none of it matters. You keep running, driven by the pain that won’t let you rest. Your chest heaves, a raw ache settling in as the adrenaline begins to fade, replaced by the crushing weight of exhaustion. You stumble to a halt, bent over, hands on your knees once more as you gasp for air.
You’re breathless, hair a wild halo of loose curls sticking to your tear-streaked face. Your vision swims, a cocktail of sweat and tears blinding you as you look up at the sky, feeling nothing but the hollow ache in your chest. Here you are, in the place where you once made all your memories with him. But it feels like a stranger now—empty, cold, and unwelcoming.
You stand there for what feels like an eternity, hands braced on your knees, gulping down air as if you’ve just surfaced from drowning. You can’t even process where you are—all you can feel is the tight, agonizing pressure in your chest, like your heart is being squeezed by an invisible fist. You’re vaguely aware that people are walking by, probably staring at you, but it’s like they’re part of a distant dream. Their gazes feel like nothing more than a blur on the edges of your vision.
But you don’t care. You’ve been stripped raw, exposed in a way that makes everything else fade into insignificance. You push yourself upright, your fingers digging into your waist as you take in deep, ragged breaths, trying to slow the pounding of your heart. The mascara streaks have dried, the salty residue of your tears leaving your cheeks tight and sticky. You close your eyes for a moment, just a moment, trying to pull yourself together.
Then you hear it. A voice—his voice.
"Y/N?"
The sound of your name hits you like a bolt of lightning, jolting you back to reality. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat as the familiarity of it wraps around you like a cold, clammy hand. You know that voice better than your own, and yet, hearing it now feels like a punch to the gut. It’s haunting, the way it slices through the air, so soft and unsure, as if he’s almost afraid it might actually be you standing there, looking as broken as you feel.
Slowly, you turn around, your eyes widening as you meet his gaze. Rafe Cameron stands just a few feet away, his expression a mixture of shock, concern, and something else you can’t quite place. For a second, it feels like the world stops spinning, the sounds of the town fading into the background until it’s just the two of you, standing there like the past has come back to drag you under.
He takes a hesitant step closer, his brow furrowing as he takes in your disheveled appearance—the wild curls, the streaks of makeup, the look of utter devastation in your eyes. You can see the questions forming on his lips, the confusion in his eyes. But you’re too stunned to speak, the words trapped in your throat. All you can do is stare back at him, feeling the sharp sting of fresh tears welling up again.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Rafe’s voice is laced with genuine concern, the sincerity in his tone unmistakable. His eyes scan your face, searching for answers, and for a fleeting moment, he looks like the Rafe you used to know—the one who held you close on quiet nights, the one who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.
But the sound of his words makes you feel sick to your stomach. The irony of his compassion now, when it feels like he’s the one who drove the knife into your heart, twists inside you like a dagger. You let out a bitter, humorless laugh, the sound cutting through the air like shattered glass. It’s as if he’s playing a cruel joke, and you’re the punchline.
“What do you care?” you snap, your voice raw and venomous. You can feel your top lip quiver in disgust as you shake your head, unable to look at him without the pain flaring up like a fresh wound. His expression falters, the shock evident in his eyes. It’s like he’s been slapped, his confusion deepening as he takes in the sheer hurt radiating off you.
“You don’t get to act concerned,” you spit out, each word drenched in the bitterness that’s been festering inside you. “Not after everything. Not after this.” The last word comes out almost as a whisper, your voice breaking under the weight of it.
Rafe’s expression shifts, a deep crease forming between his brows as he stares at you with wide, bewildered eyes. It’s almost laughable—the look of shock, the utter confusion twisting his features as if he genuinely has no idea why you’re standing here, mascara-streaked and heartbroken. He takes a small step closer, his voice soft and pleading.
“What did I do?” he asks, sounding clueless, like a child who doesn’t understand why they’re being scolded. His tone is so sincere, so filled with concern, that for a split second, you almost believe him. But then the truth crashes over you again, sharp and unforgiving, and it sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through your veins.
You scoff, a bitter sound that feels like acid on your tongue. His naivety, his complete obliviousness to the damage he’s caused, only fuels the fire inside you. You look up at him, your eyes blazing with the kind of betrayal that words can’t fully capture.
“I don’t know, Rafe,” you say, your voice dripping with venom as you take a step closer, your gaze piercing right through him. “You tell me. Maybe an engagement, perhaps?”
You spit the words out, practically throwing them at him, your voice cracking under the weight of your own disbelief. You watch as realization dawns on his face, his eyes widening slightly, the color draining from his cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. It’s like he’s been struck dumb, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger and the pain radiating off you in waves.
The silence between you is deafening, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid. You can see it in his eyes—the moment he pieces it together. And it’s almost satisfying, watching the horror settle in, watching him realize that the life he’s built, the future he’s promised someone else, has shattered you in ways he never anticipated.
“You didn’t think I’d find out, did you?” you whisper, your voice hoarse as the tears well up again. “You didn’t think it would matter.” The words hang in the air, heavy and accusatory, and for once, Rafe Cameron has no response. He just stands there, staring at you like you’re a mirror reflecting all the mistakes he’s made.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
The words fall from his lips like an empty promise, and you can’t help but scoff, the bitter laugh bubbling up uncontrollably. You know it means nothing. It can never mean anything. No apology, no amount of regret can ever take back what’s been done, what he’s taken from you. Your chest tightens as the anger swells up, hotter and sharper with each passing second.
“Oh, you’re sorry?” you spit, your voice rising in pitch with every word. You can feel your fists balling at your sides, your body shaking with the weight of everything you’ve tried to swallow down, tried to bury. “You’re sorry?”
You throw your arms up in the air, an exaggerated motion of frustration, a physical manifestation of everything inside you that’s about to break free. “You think some bullshit apology is going to make up for what you’ve put me through?” you shout, your voice rising to a scream. The words burst out of you in a raw, jagged rush, like you’re finally tearing through the wall of calm you’d built just to keep from falling apart. “You think saying ‘sorry’ is going to make me forget everything? Forget you? Forget the way you made me feel like I was the only one in the world and then turned around and chose her instead?”
Your breath is ragged, your chest heaving as your emotions spill out of you uncontrollably. You’re not even sure where the words are coming from now, but they come in a torrent, desperate and aching. "How am I supposed to wonder for the rest of my life," you continue, your voice shaking, "why you chose her instead? What was it about her that made you pick her over me, Rafe? What the hell did I do wrong?"
You step closer, not caring anymore about the distance between you. Your face feels hot, your pulse pounding in your ears, but you can't stop yourself. "You think I won’t wonder, every goddamn day, why I wasn’t enough?" you add bitterly, the weight of your words crashing down on you.
“I didn’t do it to hurt you, I… I did it because she’s stuck by my side through all of this stuff I’ve been going through.”
The words hit you like a slap, but you don’t let him see the sting. Instead, your head snaps over to him, your eyes narrowed so dangerously that if looks could kill, he’d drop right there, dead. Every ounce of frustration, anger, and betrayal gathers in the pit of your stomach, and your mouth twists into a bitter frown. It feels like your entire body is ready to explode.
“And what? I wouldn’t have?” you snap, voice raw with fury. “You didn’t give me the fucking chance to, Rafe!” Your heart is pounding now, each beat a furious reminder of everything you’ve been through—of the way he’s shattered you, piece by piece. “You gave up! The second things got a little hard between us, you gave up. We could’ve worked through it if you actually tried!”
The words fly out of you, harsh and cruel in nature, but they don’t feel like enough. You shove him, your hands landing firmly against his chest in a fit of frustration. “I love you, Rafe!” you scream, the sound of your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “I fucking love you, and it has destroyed me watching you give your all to someone else. You have ruined me!”
And that’s when it breaks. The dam cracks, the tears flood, and you’re not just crying—you’re sobbing, your body wracked with the weight of it all. Your chest aches with the sobs, your body collapsing under the strain as you stand there, shaking uncontrollably in the middle of the street. All the rage, all the hurt, all the unanswered questions spill out of you like a river that’s finally burst its banks.
Rafe stands frozen for a moment, as if unable to process the sight of you, broken and vulnerable in a way he’s never seen before. His face goes pale, his eyes wide with guilt and horror, realizing that he’s the one who’s caused all of this—he’s the one who’s done this to you. And the weight of that realization hits him harder than anything else could.
Without another word, he pulls you into his chest. The gesture is sudden, almost desperate, as if he needs to hold you as much as you need to be held. His arms wrap around you tightly, firmly, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. You can feel his body against yours, the warmth of his chest as you crumble in his arms, your sobs echoing between you both.
For a moment, you stand there in his arms, the two of you swaying slightly as if the ground beneath you is unsteady. His grip on you is firm but gentle, like he’s trying to hold together the pieces of you he’s broken, letting you cry out your frustrations, your sadness, your heartbreak. The tears flow freely, soaking into his shirt, and he just holds you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head. He doesn’t say anything, because he knows there’s nothing he can say to make this better. So he lets you cry, lets you release everything you’ve been carrying.
For just a second, you almost let yourself lean into him. His hold feels like comfort—like a memory of what it used to be, back when you felt safe and wanted. But then the reality slams into you like a tidal wave. He’s not yours anymore. He belongs to someone else now, someone who wears his ring, someone who gets to wake up next to him every morning. The realization crashes down on you, a flood of emotions so overwhelming that you choke on your own sobs, the pain squeezing your chest until it feels like you can’t breathe.
“I can’t stand to see you like this, Y/N,” Rafe says softly, his voice trembling as he looks down at you. His eyes are filled with a deep sadness, like he’s finally seeing the full extent of the damage he’s caused. He pulls back just enough to see your face, his hands cupping your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. The way he’s looking at you—it’s almost unbearable, like he’s mourning something he’s only just realized he lost. “This isn’t your fault,” he continues, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re right, it’s my fault. It’s my fault for not trying harder.”
His words are raw, filled with a regret you’ve never heard from him before, and it makes your heart ache even more. You want to scream at him, to push him away and tell him that it’s too late—that his apologies don’t change anything. But you’re too exhausted, too broken to fight anymore. You just stare at him, tears still streaming down your face, your lips trembling as you try to find the words to respond.
“But it doesn’t mean that I don’t… love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. The confession hangs between you like a fragile, broken thing. You can see the truth in his eyes, the love that’s still there, buried beneath layers of mistakes and regret. It’s there, as real as the pain in your chest, and it cuts you deeper than anything else he could have said.
The words sink into you, bittersweet and hollow. It’s what you’ve wanted to hear for so long, and yet it feels like a cruel joke now, a confession that comes far too late. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you try to steady yourself. His love—it doesn’t change what’s happened, it doesn’t erase the hurt.
“You don’t mean that,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you shake your head, refusing to let his words sink in. It’s almost like you’re trying to shake them off, as if denying them will somehow lessen the pain. You close your eyes tightly, squeezing out the last of your tears because looking at him—seeing the raw, honest look in his eyes—will only make it hurt more. It’s too much. The truth you’ve waited so long to hear is finally being spoken, but it’s laced with the bitter sting of timing that’s all wrong.
Rafe’s grip on you tightens, his hands trembling slightly as he holds your face, desperate to make you believe him. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he searches your expression, as if he’s looking for a way back to you, a way to undo everything that’s happened. “No, I do mean that,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He pauses, the words hanging between you, heavy and filled with a regret so palpable it feels like a punch to your gut.
“I’ve known it since the day I met you,” he continues, his eyes boring into yours as if he’s trying to imprint this moment into his memory, to make you feel the weight of his confession. “But I made a mistake. Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life, and I know that now. I’ve known it every single day since. And that—” his voice cracks, and he looks away for a brief moment, as if he can’t bear to see the pain on your face—“that is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
The sincerity in his voice sends a fresh wave of agony crashing through you. You want to scream at him, to tell him that it’s too late, that he’s made his choice, and there’s no going back now. But the words get caught in your throat, choking you, leaving you gasping for breath. Because as much as you want to deny it, as much as you want to hate him, there’s still a part of you—deep down—that wants to believe him. That wants to believe you’ve always been the one, that he’s just as haunted by the loss as you are.
But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s made his choice. He’s with someone else now, someone who gets to have the version of him you once dreamed of, someone who’s standing by his side while you’re left picking up the pieces of what could have been. And that reality cuts through you like a knife, leaving you reeling.
“I wish that mattered,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible, each word a struggle as you force yourself to look him in the eyes. The storm of emotions churning within you feels like it might tear you apart from the inside, but you need him to hear this, to understand the depth of the pain he’s caused. “But it doesn’t change anything, Rafe. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re engaged to someone else, and I’m just… supposed to accept that.” Your voice breaks on the last word, the sound coming out fractured and hollow.
Rafe’s expression drops, and for the first time, you see something close to genuine despair flicker across his face. His blue eyes, which once held a spark of recklessness and life, now look empty, consumed by a dark realization. It’s as if he’s seeing the full weight of his choices for the first time, the horrifying dread of what he’s done sinking in like a stone dropped into still water. You can see the exact moment it hits him—the gravity of the mistake he’s made.
When he proposed to Sofia, he thought he was finally getting his life together. After years of chaos and self-destruction, he believed he was taking a step towards stability, towards becoming the man he always felt he needed to be. He convinced himself that this was the right path, that Sofia was the safe choice—the one who could ground him, the one who would stand by him through thick and thin. But now, standing in front of you, seeing the devastation in your eyes and hearing the brokenness in your voice, he realizes the truth he’s been running from all along.
He’s made a grave mistake—one he can’t undo.
The realization tears through him like a knife, and his knees nearly buckle under the weight of it. He looks at you with a mix of horror and regret, his face pale, his eyes glassy as if he’s about to crumble right then and there. He reaches out a hand, hesitating, his fingers trembling as if he’s afraid to touch you, afraid that this might be the last time he ever gets the chance.
“Y/N…” he breathes out your name, his voice breaking on the syllable. He looks utterly lost, like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss. “I—” His words falter, and he closes his eyes, a shaky exhale escaping his lips. When he opens them again, they’re filled with a sorrow so deep it takes your breath away. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was finally getting my life together. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.”
You shake your head, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces. His confession feels like a dagger twisting in your chest, confirming what you’d feared all along—that he never truly let you go, that you weren’t just imagining the way he used to look at you, the connection that lingered despite the time and distance.
“But you chose her,” you whisper, your voice laced with a bitter sadness. “You chose her over me, Rafe. And now you’re standing here, telling me this as if it changes anything. But it doesn’t. It’s too late.”
The words hang between you like a death sentence, and you can see it in his eyes—the crushing realization that he’s lost you for good, that this is the consequence of his choices. The haunting realization that he’ll have to live with this regret, this aching emptiness, for the rest of his life.
#rafe cameron#drew starkey#obx#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe angst#rafe cameron imagine#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x female reader#obx 4
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The greatest gift
it's the most wonderful time of the year as they like to say so how about you recieve the best gift from santa on top of that 😈
this is suggestive perhaps??
Characters featured: mikey, hanma, baji, mitsuya
₊˚⊹♡ Mikey
You were joking when you asked for "Mikey" for christmas. You thought Hina and Emma knew you were joking.
So why the hell was Mikey currently tied up with a christmas ribbon and sitting under the christmas tree in your house, staring back at you with a slight smile?
"Merry christmas."
"I- HUH?!" you quickly covered your mouth, not wanting to be too loud at midnight. "Mikey, why are you in my house?" you whisper yelled.
"Emma and Hina jumped me." was his comically simple response. Well, it would be comically simple if Mikey didn't scare the living crap out of you just a few moments ago.
"That- That doesn't explain anything!" at this point, you've given up with trying to be quiet.
"I can't tell you anything more. I have no idea what's happening either."
"How are you so calm about this anyways?" you walked closer to him, inspecting the tag on the ribbon that said "Merry christmas from Emma and Hina".
"Now that I think of it, it is pretty weird to be kidnapped by your sister."
You're not even going to ask how they managed to get him in here without the keys.
"Well, uhhh... how about I unwrap you...?" you offered awkwardly after a small silence.
"Are you sure you want to do that? You'll unleash the true present by doing that." something... strange flashed behind his dark eyes.
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing. ♡"
₊˚⊹♡ Hanma
"Merry christmas. ♡" you froze at the sound of his voice.
You were woken up by some weird noise downstairs, quietly walking down to investigate the source. You even took a knife from the kitchen just in case.
But instead of a robber or kidnapper, what you found was Hanma Shuji tied up in a big red ribbon. Smiling at you.
"Don't you merry christmas me." you didn't know what to say or do. You were scared out of your mind just now and that combined with the strange sight in front of you made you at a loss of... anything, really.
"Woah, that's a big knife... What were you going to do with that?˜" he sounded more amused than anything.
"You little... I don't... What is even happening?" you dropped the knife on the ground.
"Someone told me that you want 'Hanma Shuji' for christmas."
"Well, you know what I thought I was going to get for christmas? Kidnapped, that's what!" you yelled, not even caring about how loud you are right now.
"Hahahah, how amusing!" he laughed, seeming very satisfied.
"You won't be saying that after the things I will do to you. You know you can't escape when you're tied up, right?" a smirk crossed your face suddenly. A sense of boldness overtook you.
"Oooh, aren't you bold. ♡" his smile only widened.
₊˚⊹♡ Baji
"No way." you had to do a double take when you saw what you thought you saw.
Turns out this christmas is more interesting than you thought it would be. A present from Toman ended up being Baji Keisuke in the flesh.
"Mmmf!" he's probably telling you to free him right now, which admittedly, is hard to do when your mouth is gagged.
"Wow, this is like, the best present I ever got. I gotta thank the boys later." you walked closer to him, kneeling down and inspecting him in all his tied up glory.
Baji looked half angry half embarrased, and honestly that just made you want to tease him more. You kissed his cheek, smiling cheekily.
"Hmmf..." you laughed a little at his face.
"Mmmf! Hmmm!"
"Okay, okay, I get it, I'll let you out. But that doesn't mean that I'm done with you just yet." you smiled, taking the bow of the ribbon into your hands to untie it.
"Mmm..?!"
₊˚⊹♡ Mitsuya
"Me and Mana have a surprise for you." Luna ran up to you all of a sudden.
"What is it?" you placed your hands on your knees to get closer to Luna's height.
"Wait till christmas." that was Luna's only response before running off to continue playing with Mana.
"Hmmm..." you hummed, a bit confused.
.
"Was this... Luna and Mana's gift?" you looked at the comically large christmas present under the tree. What in the world did those two give you?
You carefully removed the lid of the box, worried about the contents. Only to find Mitsuya inside.
"I- What the hell?" Luna and Mana sure are some evil children.
"I don't know either. Hakkai approached me just now and said "sorry" before wrapping me up and putting me in this box with no further explanation." his eyes never left yours.
"I think I know who's idea this was..." you stepped inside the box, sitting directly across from him. He raised an eyebrow.
"Your little sisters told me something about a surprise for christmas..."
"Oh my god. That explains... a lot." he looked as if he just made a big realisation. You couldn't help but laugh a little at the sight.
You pecked his lips all of a sudden, making him jump slightly. "Tell them thank you later."
"Shouldn't you be thanking them?" he smiled.
"No, I'm sure you'll be the one thanking them tommorow." His eyes widened at your mischevious smirk.
an early christmas present for my mikey, hanma, baji and mitsuya babes 💕
i want to make sure yall are well fed with that christmas dinner this year
#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev x you#mikey x y/n#mikey x reader#mikey x you#sano manjiro x reader#hanma x reader#hanma shuuji x reader#hanma x you#baji x you#baji keisuke x reader#baji x reader#mitsuya takashi x reader#mitsuya x you#mitsuya x reader#mitsuya x y/n#baji x y/n#hanma shuji
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playing with his hair
giirrrl idk, a feral thought maybe; bf!felix x fem!reader w his long hair since i’m too lazy to make it a whole detail fic for now lol so, (i deadass tried to make it a drabble but it pass the 1k words😮💨)
genre - warnings: smut, fluff!! dry humping, handjob, grinding, unprotected piv, mention of cockwarming, idol bf felix btw
word count: 1.6k
a/n: this is what i have to deal with everyday, actually, oopsies, he’s next to me rn! also writing in present it’s so new, I like to read it when yall write like that, but I’ll stick with past tense😁 edit: girl i had this in the drafts for days, but he was a little too happy in his recent promoting video, he’s sleeping outside, someone pick him up /jk srly pls
Felix likes to try new hairstyles ever since he let grow his hair, he feels very confident with it and likes the way you randomly stroke it every time you’re together.
Your idea of fun is one of those very rare free afternoons for him since he’s all the time busy at work; it’s when you’re just chilling together at your place because you feel too lazy to go out but very comfortable with each other’s company.
Your days are simple, and your hours with him are very limited but he always makes sure to enjoy being with him; so you try to do everything at once, watch a movie, talk, lay on his chest while he’s playing games on his cell phone… and suddenly, just playing around, with you sitting on his lap in front of him, giggling while playing with his hair.
“Fuck, your hair is so fried” you tease him with a smile, looking at your fingers entangling with his straight hair.
He pouts, “Stop, then don’t touch it…” he responds also joking, just watching you with heart and sparkling eyes.
Felix rests his hands on your tights and caresses them softly. You down your gaze to meet his, he’s suddenly looking at you so sweetly that makes your cheeks get a little warm.
“Can I play with it?” you asked joyfully.
“With what?”
“Your hair” you replied in an obvious tone, “I can do pigtails, braids, middle part, side part” you continue to say, laughing while playing with his hair.
Felix chuckles softly, completely in love, closing his eyes sometimes, then looking up at your arms.
“Wait here” you speak again, standing up from his lap and going to get a comb, hair ties, bobby pins and some random hair clips to take pictures of him just for fun.
“You can also do my make-up if you want” he comments, raising his thick voice so you can hear him.
You sit back down on his lap.
“Oh no, you wear makeup almost every day, let your face rest today” you answer, kissing him tenderly on the bridge of his nose, hiding a little bit the fact that you love seeing your boyfriend’s bare face, straight black eyelashes, big dark eyes, full lips, cheeks and nose with freckles all over.
You laugh at doing whatever you want with his hair, taking silly pictures every time you find him adorable, just giggling saying your favorite inside jokes, then ending with a bow on his hair.
“You can really use me, huh” Felix says, giving you a funny but adorable look with his eyes wide open.
Felix starts caressing your back, with more consistent and intense caresses and he suddenly realizes how you haven’t kissed each other on the lips the whole time, so he moves closer to you and you without hesitation receive his kiss, following a tender and slow rhythm at first, pressing your lips together in a delicate lip rubbing, but you’re a bit desperate when it comes to each other, so your boyfriend catches his breath between kisses and looks himself at the work of being more glued and pouncing on you, with his touches all over your body, from your thighs to your back, slipping his hands under your blouse to feel your bare skin.
Your make out starts to heat up precipitously that you can feel the growing erection in his shorts, so, with your hands wrapped around his neck, you begin to move over his cock, pressing it to your core and stimulating you both. At this point, your pussy is throbbing and you feel slightly heated. You’re always impressed by how incredibly fast you want and desire him. You both moan softly at the friction. As you pull apart you smile slightly mischievously at him and for some reason you start kissing his neck, which Felix loves so, causing him to give you a huge tender smile showing his teeth, clutching his grip on your hips tighter.
You pull away once more to meet the wide grin on his face, which gently turns into a slightly strained expression as you continue to move your body against his erection, Felix gasps, his lips forming a soft expression of satisfaction this time with his submissive facing enjoying the naughty act of crushing his cock with your center, with your clothes on.
“Fuck, baby, it feels so good” Felix sighs, biting his slightly swollen, full lips, lowering his gaze to your pussy being trapped in him, moving his erection back and forth, guiding your hips for better movement.
You smile satisfactorily at him in response, each time feeling the heat of your body and pussy brush against your panties, wetting them all over, just playing more with your arousal. You see him, he looks so fucking cute and yet so hot with the last few hairstyles you gave him, two little high ponytails with bows leaving the rest of his hair loose, he looked silly cute, but serious manly moans coming out of him contrasts somehow so perfectly.
Felix sighs again sonorously, his legs shaking a little, he doesn’t think he can take it long enough without cumming if you keep moving so dedicatedly on him so he speaks again:
“Mmm, c’mon baby, take off your clothes, or do you want me to take you to bed.”
A pleasant shock goes through your body as you hear him a little more needy, you’re not thinking straight and you don’t want to pull away from him so you just reply a simple, “It’s okay like this, Lix.”
With your heart beating fast you grab his shorts, indicating you want to pull them down, Felix helps you right away, releasing his pink, needy, throbbing cock, you look down at his member and then at the same time you join gazes, Felix looks at you so needy and innocent, his big eyes begging you to touch him, you can’t help but melt every time he does that and in a needy sigh, with your cheeks a little red, you stand up, embarrassed, pulling down your comfy cloth shorts along with your panties, climbing back onto his lap, catching your boyfriend licking his lips at the sight of your cute bare mons venus.
Felix smiles, so excited at the thought of feeling you on him again, now with the sensation of your warm wet center in him, he gets more excited at the thought that you were finally going to settle on him ready to fuck, however, you start pumping his entire erect length, making him gasp loudly as he throws his head back, marking his bulging Adam's apple in his throat. Felix returns to his posture, looking straight into you with desire, biting his lip as you with a smile, touch all over his cock, stroking his tip gently with your fingers, feeling his stiffness and the slight sticky precum sliding down your hand as you jerk him off.
You’re so wet, and Felix is getting over the edge, so you finally accommodate your body, squeezing your pussy tighter on his cock, grinding on it a little before you put his cock inside you, encouraging in him more arousal if that was possible, teasing him and you at the sensation of his dick rub between your labia, until you feel his throbbing member so foreplayed, and until you see your boyfriend’s sweet expression as he can’t resist anymore and, finally you insert his rigid manhood completely in you. The temperature of both your bodies rises, it feels so fucking good to be filled by him, every move you make comes out of pure bliss, panting, sliding on his cock in a rhythm that makes him shudder and moan; Felix feels every part of his body beat intensely, enjoying every thrust into him.
“Oh, fuck, l-ove, ke-keep going please, I’m gonna cum, fuuck” he whimpers, desperate in a high-pitched tone, closing his eyes.
Felix thinks about the idea of cumming all of him inside you, of filling you up, brings him to a better ecstasy and in a thick sigh of relief and satisfaction, he manages to cum, relaxing a bit all the tension built in his body, making his thighs restless in soft tingling and trembling. You rest your hands on his shoulders and hide your face on the side of his neck, moaning close to his ear and with your face brushing against his soft hair, gently overwhelming you with his sweet scent, you bite your lip at the sensation of his hot semen shooting inside you and you also sense you’re so close to your climax that, despite being slightly tired, you intensify and increase each movement, sliding a little more slippery as you are filled with his cum. You hug him without thinking, your walls squeeze his sensitive cock still stuck in your core, you’re climaxing so intensely that you open your mouth almost in an inaudible squeal, your vision blurs for a few seconds and you let yourself release completely onto your boyfriend.
You feel the joining of agitated chests and breaths, Felix hug you warmly wrapping your back, once again your body melts at the slightest touch of his, but you can’t help but feel him so close to you, acting tenderly. Felix doesn’t even have to say it, but you know he loves you, you feel it too, so you relax your body on top of him, stroke his hair and he gives you a soft kiss on your shoulder as he caresses your back and keeps you in such a vulnerable position with both sexes together, with you on top of him until you decide to move.
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𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk
#lee felix#lee felix smut#felix smut#lee felix fluff#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids#skz#lee felix x you#lee felix x reader#felix fluff#felix x you#felix x reader#felix stray kids#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#skz x you#skz x reader#lee yongbok#felix hard thoughts#𐙚wen writes♡₊˚⊹#ybklix♡₊˚⊹
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who in the twst cast lets you put a ribbon on it. (Heartlsabyul, Savannaclaw)
NSFW, MDNI, gn! reader <3
(Octavinelle, Scarabia) (Pomefiore, Ignihyde) (Diasomnia, Rollo, Crewel)
Heartslabyul
Riddle - He's. a bit hesitant at first but he's into it once you do tie the silk around his cock and kiss the tip <3 Makes him feel special and cared for, and will allow you to try out different designs on him, but he has a fondness for the red ribbon with white lace trim <3
Trey - Laughs a bit at first because it sounds like a trend Cater would mention, but tries it out because you asked. Not super fond of the feeling of silk and satin against his cock, but he seems more receptive to lace...
Cater - Lets you try it without question. Would post it on his Magicam if it wouldn't have him banned but take cute pictures and spends time editing them so that you can have a collection of them on your phone <3 He'll even design a custom ribbon with you if you ask!
Ace - Refuses vehemently at first, is ashamedly horny once you fasten it around him. Makes stupid jokes ("what's the point if it's gonna get ruined," etc) to try and delay you from doing it, but he whimpers when you tighten it just a touch.
Deuce - He wasn't quite sure why it appealed to you- he's never really thought of his dick as pretty before you had ever told him as much- but he's pleasantly surprised when you try it out. Is even more into it if you play into his desire to be an honor student and treat the ribbon like an award <3
Savannaclaw
Leona - Scoffs at the idea of you tying a bow around his cock like a toy, but eventually relents if you beg enough. He does Not want to feel silk or satin on his dick, though, so offer him a ribbon made of something like muslin or he'll shred some designer clothes for you instead.
Ruggie - Is fascinated. He makes a bit of fun at first, but melts a bit at how focused you look when tying a neat little bow around his cock, and how it looks with his cum splattered on it. Will half-jokingly bring it up in the future whenever he comes across some pretty scraps of fabric.
Jack - Is also another one who protests because he thinks it's excessive, but really enjoys the stimulation around his cock when it's tied snugly against him. Will absolutely refuse any pictures though, he paid attention to the lectures on internet safety as a kid-
a/n: will be doing the other dorms, but lmk if you want me to elaborate! <33
#moth.flutters#nsfvv#riddle rosehearts x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#deuce spade x reader#trey clover x reader#cater diamond x reader#ace trappola x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#jack howl x reader#twst smut#twst x reader smut#im sorry i just really need to put a bow on deuce spade's dick and i-
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୨୧ LET ME TIE A BOW AROUND IT
// OT7 ENHYPEN when you want to tie a bow on them
─── ( on 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉) marking them as yours, but not the way most people'd expect !! 𝒇 ! reader ┊ CONTENT: fluff + est relashionship + nicknames + kisses ┊ WORD COUNT : 1181
reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!
𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 - around his wrist
You were playing with his hands, your fingers gently grazing his knuckles in a way that made him feel at home and at ease. The way you carefully, but also affectionately massaged his hands could lull him to sleep any second if it weren't for you aburptly stopping. "Babe, what's wrong?" He asked, his voice sounding groggy as if he had just woken up from sleep. "Nothing, I was just reminded of something." You murmur as you awkwardly hold his hand in yours. "And what's that, pretty girl?" Heeseung sits up straight as he plays with your fingers. "I'll be right back." You kiss his cheek, leaving a hot spot on his face before running over to your room. You returned not long after with a roll of pink satin strands in your grasp. Heeseung watches as you return to your seat and pull out enough ribbon to wrap around his wrist with a smile.
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 - on his clothes
Jay was a big guy on fashion. He always came to you whenever he wanted an opionin on something, and something he walways wanted approval on was his outfits. "Sugar, what do you think of this?" He asked, posing for you as if it were a fashion show. "looks absolutely lovey." You reply. Today though, your comments did not persua him that his outfit did not lack something cruical. "Are you sure? Because it feels really empty, and i don't know what's missing." You shurg your shoulders at this, knowing that you can't do more than what you've already done. While Jay squints at the mirror, you get an idea and rush over to your room as you grab a string of ribbon and run back. "I have an idea." You walk over to him and tie the silky material like a ribbon on his pocket. "This is exactly what I was missing." He gives you a big kiss on the head.
𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 - on his fingers
His fingers ran up and down your arm as he mindlessly scrolled through the content that was on his phone. You laid beside him, your eyes glue to the screen, but the feeling of his warm fingers against your skin managed to divert your attention. For a moment, all you could think of was how pretty his hands were as your eyes trailed his moving hands. They were comforting but also very attractive. Something about them just fished you in. "What'chu looking at?" Jake asks, his breath hittig your nape. "Nothing." You blurt out quickly. "I know you like my fingers, yeah?" He teases, and you groan. "So what?" "So tie a bow around them. I've seen the videos you repost on tiktok." He says, his fingers tapping your arm. "right." you murmur and crawl out of his arms to grab the satin ribbon you've kept in your room to the point they were on the werge of rotting. "You just managed to make them prettier, honey." He says, admiring the accessories.
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 - around his bicep
"You know, you've got great arms, babe." You pointed out to your boyfriend while on a wak home. "thanks, I take great pride in these." He releases your arms around his as he flexes his biceps through his jacket. "Like what you see, hmm?" He coos, and you just roll your eyes with a chuckle before continuing to walk without him. Sunghoon sees the uninterest in you and rushes to catch up with you. "Wait for me!" "Hurry up! I'm freezing!" It's these small banters that make everyday bright, and it was always known that you were joking, so he did not take anything to heart. You and him walked around the craft store when a roll of pink ribbon caught you eye. Sunghoon walked over to you and raised an eyebrow at your findings. "Let me borrow you for a second." You pulled out a string of ribbon and tied it around his bicep. "Let me take a quick picture." "Whatever you say, princess." He hums.
𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 - in his hair
Sunoo had kindly asked you to massage his scalp as he felt that he had been a hard worker for the past week and deserved a reward. Through feign objections, deep down you did want to play with his hair - if anything, this was one of may things that you always looked forward to. You sat yourself down on the couch and let Sunoo lay his head on your lap. Your fingers slowly crawling up his head while the TV caught your attention. The muted lights and comfort of you thighs, must've soothed him to sleep. You heard the soft snores and looked down at him to confirm that he was indeed asleep. Recently, you were wrapping presents and the red ribbons were just an arm away. You slowly grabbed it, making sure not to wake him up. It was a challenge, but at least you were finally done. You only hoped they wouldn't slide off when he wakes up.
𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 - around his waist
Christmas was soon, and Jungwon would annually ask what you wanted for this holiday. At the moment, you were sprawled on the cool floor of the livingroom. You see your boyfriend, Jungwon, slowly peek his head in you field of vision. "have you thought of something for christmas yet?" He asked, sitting down next to you as you rise from your laying position. "Not really, have you?" you asked and he shook his head. "i wouldn't want you to buy me something, having you by my side is more than I could ask for." Jungwon smiled as he pressed a light kiss to your ear. "then I can say the same for you, no? I just enjoy having you here." You attempt to lean agaisnt his shoulder, but it seeems like he's already run off to somewhere. Later, he comes back, asking, "can you help me tie this?" He points to his waist. "Why, babe?" You asked. "So that I can be your christmas present."
𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 - around his neck
It's been a long day of practice for Riki at the dance studio. He comes home all sweaty and aching all over his body. You see this and hurry over by his side. You offer your shoulder for him to lean on but he jokes that you'd be crushed, in which you scold him for saying such nonsense while being in his state. "Go take a shower, you stink, bby." You say, pinching your nose bridge. Riki rolls his eyes, but does as you command. A few minutes pass and the sound of the shower continues to echo through the house, and you start to believe that he might have falled asleep, until he steps out with his hair wet. "Damn, my neck hurts." He complains. "You want me to tie a bow?" You tease, but he replies with a nod and you take him seriously. Now, he is sitting with a scawing tie around his neck.
TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd
#yuvany's work౨ৎ#enhypen#enhypen x reader#k films#en diaries#enhypen fluff#enhypen x you#enhypen drabbles#enhypen imagines#enha x reader#enha fluff#enhypen scenarios#enha imagines#enha#enha scenarios#lee heesung x reader#jay park#jay x reader#sim jake x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon#sunoo x reader#kim sunoo#yang jungwon#jungwon x reader#riki x reader#nishimura riki#enhypen niki
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In love with you - part 2
Pairing: Powder x fem!reader
Warnings: friends to lovers, SMUT, kissing, fluff
Synopsis: Powder had been your best friend for years, the two of you met when she was running from the cops when she and her brothers broke into and blew up an apartment in Piltover and you helped them escape. What you never imagined, is that the love of your life was always right there in front of you…
A/N: This is a fic about Powder from the alternate universe, it has nothing to do with Jinx.
🌟 English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes.
Part 1
💙 @brocoliisscared @bbybubbles @cattjull
Powder was in her workshop working on a project with Ekko when you walked in, making her stop working and look back, she smiled when she saw you. You walked past Ekko, giving him a quick hi, and went to your friend. “Working too hard?” you asked as you wiped a grease stain off her face. Powder felt her skin crawling at your touch near her mouth. “How about a break? Movies, sleepovers, braids on hair? What do you say, huh?”
Powder just couldn't say no to you, how could she? After all, you were her best friend and the person she secretly loved, all she wanted was to keep you close, if not in a romantic way, then she would still have you as her best friend and could simply look at you, dream about you, touch you even if in a subtle way, a friendly way... That's why she never revealed her feelings, she didn't want to lose you, above all you were her best friend, she needed you as a friend too. “Ok, you got me with the braids,” Powder joked. “How stupid of you,” you said with a laugh. “You’re the one who said baby.” You always ignored whatever flared up inside you every time she called you pet names because it shouldn’t mean anything.
“Movies?” Ekko’s voice echoed from the other side of the room, you looked at him, “I don’t want to miss this, can I go too?” You knew that what he really wanted was a chance for a second date with Powder and maybe she wanted that too, but she was just being proud. In reality, you couldn’t know the dissatisfaction she felt inside when you happily agreed to let him go with the two of you.
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔
Powder was sitting on your bed watching you as you put on your makeup, Ekko was sitting in an armchair in the corner of your room flipping through a physics book he took from your shelf. You took advantage of the heat to wear a short dress that showed off your thighs and highlighted your curves. Powder tried not to look too much or at least be as discreet as possible, but it was getting harder and harder. You took your cherry lip gloss and applied it to your lips, pressing them together to spread the lip gloss. Powder looked away and took a deep breath. God, how she wanted to taste the cherry on your lips.
“Hey Pow Pow, can you tie my dress, please? The straps are loose,” you asked as you sprayed on your perfume. She approached you from behind and pulled the ties of your dress to undo the bow and then retied it again, tightening the ties tighter this time. Her fingers brushing against your skin made your skin shiver, she on the other hand, made a point of touching your soft skin. She always thought about what it would be like to undress you, those thoughts drove her crazy.
“I love the smell of your perfume, it’s so good,” she said finally, resting her hands on your waist and nuzzling your neck to smell you. This was much more intimate than a best friend’s affection, Ekko would have noticed if he hadn’t been too focused on your book. Moments like this weren’t uncommon between the two of you, it happened sometimes. You ignored the signs because Powder was your best friend and this was just her way of showing affection and if you thought otherwise, it was because you were too needy and you knew it. Powder was nothing more than a caring friend who liked to compliment and touch a little too much.
You smiled and put your hands in hers only to remove them from your waist. "You should wear it once in a while since you like it." You said, moving away from her and grabbing your bag. Powder laughed a little to herself, either you were playing dumb or you were simply a fucking dumbass and didn't understand her advances on you or maybe... maybe you just didn't notice it because you didn't want her like she wanted you and that specific thought always brought her back to reality, that she was an idiot in love with her best friend.
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁
You arrived at the cinema and bought your tickets and popcorn. Powder as usual, bought a strawberry and cream milkshake. She sat in an armchair between you and Ekko. Of course he wanted the seat next to her. “When did this become a date between them and I was the third wheel?” You thought and laughed to yourself. “What are you laughing at?” Ekko asked, tilting his head to look at you. “Nothing,” you replied, pursing your lips. You looked at Powder and noticed that she was tense. You thought about making an excuse and leaving them alone, but you wanted to watch this movie too much for that.
The movie was about comic book heroes and the three of you shared this passion, so as soon as the movie started you were all very apprehensive and entertained. Or at least that's what you thought. You were the only one entertained by the movie, you only moved your hand to grab the popcorn and bring it to your mouth, your eyes never leaving the big screen. You didn't notice that Powder was looking much more at your legs, now very exposed by the dress that rode up when you sat down, she imagined herself between them. "Damn Powder, focus on the movie", she thought to herself. When she finally pushed her dirty thoughts away and focused on the movie, she felt Ekko's hand on hers and his gaze fixed on her. She understood what he was getting at and immediately pulled her hand away from his and kept her eyes on the movie. He snorted and adjusted in his seat to go back to watching the movie.
After a while, you rested your head on Powder's shoulders and your scent that she loved completely infested her and she had difficulty concentrating on the movie again. She wrapped her arms around your neck and you snuggled even closer to her. This gesture wasn't strange between you and not even to Ekko, he knew you were close and took it as a friendly gesture, just like you. Just like Powder knew it was, but wished it was something more.
You crossed your legs, making your short dress ride up even higher. This didn't go unnoticed by your friend and she tried to look away and focus on the movie, but it was too difficult, especially since your skin was crawling from the cold air conditioning in the movie theater. She thought she could make your skin crawl too. God, how she wanted you... She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt her insides aching. Was she really getting horny now?
Powder tried hard to change the focus of her thoughts, but it was very difficult with your breathing close to her neck, she looked at you and you were focused on the movie, she wanted to be able to hold your face and kiss you. What would you do if she did that? “I need to go to the bathroom,” she whispered and you pulled away from her. “The movie is almost over, are you going to miss the ending?” you asked in a whisper, but she shook her head.
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁
When Powder reached the bathroom, she entered an empty stall and locked the door by leaning against it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to think about you too much, but it was too difficult and she needed to relieve herself.
She felt dirty every time she did this, but this was stronger than her. She closed the toilet lid and sat on it, she slipped her hand between her pants and panties and began to play with her own throbbing clit. She closed her eyes at the sensation and bit her lip to keep from moaning as she thrust two fingers inside herself. She sped up the pace of her fingers more and more as she thought about you, your smell, your damn short dress, your legs, she touched herself and imagined herself between them, eating you, fucking you with her fingers, just like she was fucking herself. Nothing would make her come stronger than that.
And then she thought about kissing you and tasting the cherry lip gloss on your lips while your pussy squeezed her fingers and that was when she came, cumming hard on her own fingers.
“Fuck,” she whispered when she was done, removing her fingers from her pants and wiping them with toilet paper. This wasn’t new to her, she’d touched herself plenty of times while thinking about you. But touching herself in a movie theater bathroom, that was new.
You were at the exit door of the cinema with Ekko waiting for Powder to return, the two of you were talking about the movie when she finally appeared. “What took you so long? You missed the end of the movie”, you said when she stopped next to you. “I don’t think milkshakes go with popcorn”, she said massaging her stomach.
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁
After the movie, you guys went to Zaun and stopped at Vander's bar and ordered some not-too-strong drinks. Gert wasn't working the night shift that day, which Powder was grateful for, so she wouldn't have to see her flirting with you again.
However, Powder's joy didn't last long. Your hexphone vibrated on the table and she could read the message that Caitlyn, your ex-girlfriend, sent you,
"Hey sweetie, I miss u. I can't wait to see you again ❤️".
Powder never really liked any of the people you dated, but she tolerated them all. But with Cait it was different, she really couldn't stand her and never hid it and for some reason, Cait was the only girlfriend of yours who didn't like your best friend. Maybe she noticed something that the others didn't? You couldn't say, but the hatred between them was mutual and it only got worse when Cait cheated on you with Maddie, she always had a soft spot for younger girls.
You broke up with Cait as soon as you found out about her cheating on you and you were devastated by it. You saw her again two months after the breakup and didn't tell Powder because you knew she would get mad. Not that she was wrong, but you were too needy and afraid of breaking up alone, when in reality you just needed a little self-love.
“Y/n,” she practically screamed, “I can’t believe you’re dating her after everything she did to you.”
“Pow, I didn’t get back together with her, I only went out with her once after that and we text each other sometimes, we’re just…”
Powder sniffed and shook her head in disbelief, “Unbelievable,” she said softly before leaving the table, leaving you and Ekko alone. You looked at Ekko and before he could say anything, you went after Powder.
Ekko finally realized something that only you didn’t notice…
should I continue? 👇🏻👇🏻
merry christmas to all ❤️🎄
#arcane#jinx arcane#jinx x reader#jinx x y/n#powder x reader#lesbian#jinx league of legends#powder arcane#jinx#jinx x you#jinx x fem!reader#powder x jinx#arcane league of legends#arcane x reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x female reader#arcane x you
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virgins can have kinks too!
4.1 k words / summary - multi-chap posts of me experimenting with smut writing
warnings - piv, unprotected sex + creampies, virgin shiggy, college au, porn with minimal plot, partially clothed sex, BRIEF suicide joke, fem reader, 18+ mndi
~~~
If Tomura could go back and change any one thing in his life, it'd probably be how you two met.
Touya is messy enough to live with, now Tomura was forced to account for all the dirt-clodded shoes and unwashed hands of strangers coming into contact with his possessions. Those first hinting throbs of a headache were beginning to tease at Tomura’s pterion, and unfortunately his only access to water was blocked off by a thick weld of moist, musty athletes. Not that they intimidated Tomura, of course, they were just… an optional pain that he’d rather avoid. All their clunky terminology went over his head, and in his experience the people that Touya invites to his parties are not the inclusive type. What Tomura did understand was that they were perfectly posted up against their kitchen sink so as to be as inconvenient as possible; intending to verbally batter whatever unfortunate girl tried snagging from the fridge.
To be fair to them, though, tap water was Tomura’s backup plan. His initial objective was to sneakily steal a plastic bottle before returning to his room. All those were gone, which is sooo funny to Tomura because he’s certain that he just bought a forty pack yesterday.
Yet if Tomura were to point that out, Touya would just shift blame back onto his recluse roommate for knowingly leaving out water when he was inviting people over. So he doesn’t bother finding the stupid punk.
Similarly, he doesn’t so much as attempt either bathroom sink for water. One being annoyingly split off between the kitchen and Tomura’s room, and the other in Touya’s room. Touya’s room was a self imposed no-no for Tomura during their day-to-day, so he can’t fathom a reason to enter during the degenerate’s party. Judging by occasional thumps and ever shifting shadows beneath the gap, Tomura assumes the shared bath is in no better shape.
Right as he sets to retreat, his eyes zoom across their open floor plan -- all the way into the living room, honing in on two girls. One familiar from their shared mythology class, and the other entirely foreign. Himiko Toga is curled around the shoulders of the second girl, twirling strands of mystery girl’s hair with her long fingers.
Himiko greedily consumes all things cute, she chews them up and keeps them between her teeth to amalgamate with the next adorable target her sights set on. By the end of her life, she’ll probably puke up a cat-eared ball of pink glitter tied up with bows and proudly proclaim it to be her life’s work.
Currently, he’s watching Himiko chow down on someone that he, surprisingly, also finds cute. It's distracting.
Himiko lowers her hands until both arms are wrapped around your waist, nails burrowing into the material of your shirt. Her cheek presses against your shoulder, loose strands of blonde hair tickling up your neck.
Your neck strangely captured Tomura, then. Thick with your pulse and tissue, he wants to feel it pillow under his teeth. His lips are rough and chapped and suddenly all he can think about is how they’d feel scarring up the soft flesh of your jugular.
Himiko must be thinking that too because he watches as she turns cheek and digs her nose into the juncture of your neck.
Oh.
Tomura blinks himself free of the stupor and shakes out his hands, then wiping them dry against his pants. He didn’t think Himiko could actually hold down a relationship.
“Whatcha starin’ at, boss?”
Voice so raggedy and low, almost a staticky purr at Tomura’s back, he can instantaneously pick out who it is.
“Did you know Himiko had a girlfriend?”
“Huh?” Touya steps forward, eyes narrowed out into the crowd, “Where? I can’t see shit.”
“I told you to just get contacts, moron,” Tomura grumbles, then pointing as inconspicuous as he can (not very at all) towards their mutual friend still slithered around the unknown girl.
“Kid, that’s not her girlfriend.”
Tomura looks up at Touya, glaring through tangled, powder blue bangs, “You’re joking, right? I’m not stupid.”
“Seriously, it’s not,” Touya snickers, “Why? You interested?” when Tomura can only silently seethe up at the man, Touya grins: a sight more disturbing than reassuring, his teeth are too big and prominent, the bags under his eyes crinkle up weirdly, and it reeks of selfish glee. Touya jams out his index and middle fingers, waggling the index first, “Which one? Blondie?” then his middle, “Or new girl?”
“I don’t want to talk about this with you,” Tomura knocks down the man’s hand with a disgruntled scoff, “You’re mental.”
“We’ve been friends awhile now, no?” Touya stubbornly returns to pointing, “I’ve never seen you get worked up over a girl, it’s funny. So, which one?”
“It’s funny?”
“I’ll set you up.”
Admitting to the fact he’s got a beating heart and libido is so embarrassing, which leads to Tomura halfheartedly muttering, “If I had a thing for Himiko, I wouldn’t have told you first.”
“You’re cute,” Touya quips, reaching up to pinch Tomura’s cheek between black-painted nails -- pointedly ignoring the annoyed huff and swat resulting. He steps around Tomura to venture through the jungle of his guests, “I’m on it.”
Touya is one of the best, and worst, people that Tomura has ever met. Touya is bothersome and rude and sometimes downright narcissistic, but also headstrong. Touya decided the day his dad bought him this house that he wanted to room with the dork from his freshman year geography lecture. Touya decided that Tomura and him were best friends when Tomura helped him pass their aforementioned geography class. Touya decided last year that the pair should bleach their hair together for a laugh. Touya decided just now to be Tomura’s wingman.
His singlemindedness pairs almost lethally well with his sense of loyalty. It almost made Touya seem… admirable.
Tomura internally gags over the thought, quickly refocusing on real life where Touya is leading Himiko (who is leading her mystery friend via deathgrip on your hand) back towards the kitchen.
Himiko giggles upon seeing Tomura, “You thought we were dating?”
Nevermind. Touya is just as insufferable as he was three years ago badgering Tomura for his lecture notes.
“Be nice. You’re so touchy, I’m sure everyone thought we’re together,” mystery girl squeezes Himiko’s hand, then smiling over at Tomura, “But I’m totally single.”
Oh.
Touya’s the most direct, masterminded person Tomura’s ever met.
All that masterminding goes to utter waste if Tomura can’t wake up and relearn social cues, though. Touya jabs an elbow into Tomura’s gaunt side, ribs aching from the blow.
“Okay,” Tomura nods dumbly, swallowing the unease trapped in his throat and once again drying his hands against his sweatpants.
“If you couldn’t tell,” Touya yanks Himiko into his side and out of your hold, “So is he.”
Himiko whines and reaches out as Touya drags her off, the pair slinking somewhere deep into the crowd of thrashing, bumbling bodies.
“You don’t look much like the party type,” you hum, maybe a little unhelpfully. Tried and true method of flirting, however, is being just a tad mean. A less fluffy version of the tragic come here often? line is sure to crack this man’s icy exterior.
“My roommate,” Tomura flings a thumb over in the direction Himiko was hauled off, “He’s the delinquent, I just share the space,” suddenly the insides of his sweatpants are too hot, and so is the flimsy white shirt on his chest, “I just wanted water.”
Sweltering air beats from the center of his chest down to his ankles, even tickling up his neck. The longer you stare at him, the hotter his body feels. Scorching up his face too, burning away layers of dried, ungroomed skin to reveal every muscle twinge. Tomura wants to both comb his hair back and hide behind the strands (most of all, though, he wishes he’d bothered brushing it whatsoever before making his venture). Being so trapped between either option makes his brain short circuit until he’s, rather bashfully, tucking hair behind his ear like some blushing ingenue.
Thankfully you don’t appear troubled by the sight, instead grinning wider and even laughing at his admission (Tomura likes your smile: lips giving prominence to flattering teeth, balls of your cheeks plumping, and lashes fluttering. Definitely more lovely than Touya’s). You fold your arms, “Poor thing. You probably don’t wanna be stuck out here, huh?”
Insecurity visibly crawls along the downward twitch of your lips, your brows furrowing. Tomura stares at you, committing each divot and angle of your body to memory. By the time he’s finished, he realizes you’re waiting for him to respond.
“Yeah…” he mutters lamely, scratching at the crackled film of skin over his chelidon, then smoothing a thumb into the depression as his heart hammers up his throat -- pressing a disarray of words against his palate. They linger by his uvula, gagging him into stunned silence, until he can finally choke out an uneven, “Do you wanna go back to my room?”
As soon as the question was in the air, buzzing unattended between your faces, Tomura wanted to claw out his eyeballs. Maybe rip out his tongue, too. Such gore would surely erase any memories of his implying he thought he had a chance with you. That was far preferable to the disgust about to cross your face.
Except, that disgust never comes.
Alternatively, you nod, “Sounds fun!”
Tomura kept his area tidy enough. A stack of bowls, two cups, three empty Dr. Pepper cans, and a single Maruchan ramen cup on his desk. A lump of clothes he’s procrastinated washing carefully lines the edge of his bed. But that was all, really.
He wanted his room to be livable, and if he felt so childish as to be proud of it then he liked the sight of his uncluttered carpet. How easily he could make the trek from bed to computer to door (and, of course, the desultory detours to his bookcase or closet) without tripping on trash or abundantly strewn clothes. If he felt further inclined to childishness, Tomura even congratulated himself on maintaining a room cleaner than Touya’s.
Even despite the stacked bowls and cups on his desk and emptied soda bottles cluttering his desk legs.
None of that is sufficient anymore. He’s inspecting your face like it’ll burst open with an alien race for any sign of judgment. Cautiously, Tomura kicks a tangle of loose shirts under his bed while you’re distracted ogling his decorated shelves.
“You like Omori?” your question startles him from kicking a pair of boxers under his bed.
“Huh?”
You’re pointing at a lineup of four acrylic stands -- not the complete set, Tomura only burdened his wallet with purchasing the main party over including Basil and Mari -- on the top shelf of his bookcase, “Omori, right? I didn’t think you’d like that type of game.”
“Do I not look like I would?” he doesn’t know why that inference hurts his feelings. Shamefully, he cards his fingers through his knotted hair, slotting more locks behind his ear, “I played it a long time ago. Now I’m too busy for anything else story-driven, so I’m mostly on League. Or Overwatch if I feel like killing myself.”
“You don’t look like you like suffering, I guess is what I meant,” you draw your bottom lip up between your teeth (he hopes it doesn’t sting, he wants to kiss it better if it does), “But knowing you play Overwatch…”
“I try to avoid it,” Tomura prays his self-grooming is subtle, or at least lowkey enough for you to not notice as you continue browsing his various knick knacks and figures, “You game?”
“Eh, RPGs usually. I don’t like working with others when I play, it makes me nervous to screw up.”
“That’s cute,” he doesn’t mean to say it aloud, honestly. Two measly words small enough to slip through his pursed lips. Two words big enough to ruin his night.
“Think so?” but you’re… smiling again.
“I guess,” Tomura’s eyes shift quickly over to his pillows. Are they soft enough? Should he flip them over? What the hell is fluffing, and does it actually do anything?
“Are you usually this shy? Or am I special?”
Not often does Tomura feel truly helpless, but your incessant teasing pairs lethally with your fluttering lashes and painted lips. He wishes he were more accustomed to conversing with strangers, especially pretty strangers that were interested in him. Part of him wants to believe that if you’re attracted to him now, you’ll be stubborn enough to stick out whatever cluelessness he bumbles out -- but he doesn’t. He simply cannot bring himself to buy that.
“You’re making me nervous, like I’m about to puke.”
“Flattering,” you join Tomura on his bed, soft knee nudging his, “I hope you don’t. It’d kinda ruin the mood.”
He’s terribly unable to keep the casanova impersonation up, though, “What mood?”
You throw your head back and laugh. Hearty and full and so mortifying for him, worse are your next words, “You know why people go into private rooms at parties, right?”
“Uhh…”
“You do. I do, too. That’s why I came back here, you know? If you only wanna talk, that’s fine -- you’re fun to just talk to! But I came back here ‘cuz I want to have sex with you, if you want to, too.”
Tomura can feel that dreaded heartbeat climbing up his chest and into his gullet again.
“You’re forward…”
You shrug, “I know what I want.”
Tomura claws at his sweatpants, chest aching and fingers numb from how your eyes are zeroed on him. He nods slowly, racketing another giggle from your chest -- you lean closer, your hand brushes his.
“Yeah?” you coax a hand around Tomura’s far shoulder, swiveling him to face you.
A rattle and hum from his ceiling fan gurgles the sound of his reply, you hate it.
From the shape of his lips, you can make out his agreement. With no specific intent and only a general sense of lust to guide him, Tomura leans into your touch. Snatching his hands, you shuffle his palms under your shirt, sifting the flesh up your warm belly until they’re cupping your tits. He squeezes blindly, teetering closer along his mattress. Finally, you strip off your top -- then greedily going for Tomura’s as well. He contently allows it, even lifting his arms to grant the removal.
“You’re so pretty,” Tomura noses at your neck, hot puffs of air warming your skin, “Can’t believe you’re actually here.”
His hands are soft from a lax life, if slightly clammy with nerves, and they feel nice squeezing around your hips. Tomura dips his pelvis downward, keeping your thighs scooped snug around him -- bonus for the momentary relief of pressure against his aching groin. His fingers bow beneath the waistband of your skirt until your own are tethering his in place.
“Can I leave the skirt on?” your thighs tighten around Tomura’s slim waist, you tilt your head so your soft lips press against his cheek, “Its kinda hot. To me.”
Tomura rolls his shoulders, whole body shuddering at the request. He nods with clenched eyes, digging his nails into your skin -- he likes your idea more than he can put into words (granted, his tongue may as well be superglued to his teeth right now).
“I can do that,” he manages to scrape out, drawing his fingers down the bunched material of your skirt and up your thighs, “Can I take these off?”
“Please,” you cant your hips up for Tomura to yank off your panties, he bundles them in one hand and stows the other where the material once laid. You swear you hear him whimper at the contact.
His fingers dance up your slit, gentle massaging that intensifies upon introduction of his thumb on your clit. Tomura drops your underwear off the side of his bed and uses the freed palm to work off his sweatpants, but just before he can snap the drawstring -- he stops completely.
“Wait,” he pants, “Hang on. Don’t move.”
Tomura runs out like he’s caught fire, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him and leaving you splayed on his mattress.
He returns with a fist curled around something, and determination written in the lines of his face. Replacing himself between your thighs, Tomura hides the contents in his hand under the pillow beneath you. Before you can shoot any questions, he’s lifting your skirt and lowering his chest to the bed.
As if he can sense the curiosity burning away your mood, Tomura hurriedly buries his face in your cunt.
One gasp is stuttered short by another, Tomura flicks his tongue inside you with a groan. Pulling back only to spit on your clit, the liquid bubbling down your slit until it catches on his prodding fingertips -- your thighs jolt around his shoulders at the act. Middle finger worming into you with ease, Tomura’s burdened by the vestige of Touya’s hand on his shoulder and husks into his ear.
Yeah, condoms are in the top drawer. You need advice?
He’d been uneasy initially, nodding uncertainly, but Tomura’s grateful now.
Just as he’d been instructed, Tomura curls his middle finger and screws the pad up until- your knee knocks into his skull and he keens at the rough treatment.
“S-sorry,” you stammer out, chest arching up.
Bypassing your apology, Tomura flattens his tongue on your clit and slithers a second finger inside you. Surely by tomorrow, his arm will be sore with the work he’s pushing through, but he’s equally sure it’s worth it as you clamp around him and seize.
Strumming your gspot in time with your clit, Tomura loses himself in the thought of how your snatch would feel around his cock -- grinding against the marshmallow mattress below to relieve the pressure. Your only relief is how he greedily sucks your clit; he lets you grab his hair with both hands and roughly tug him to and fro. He lets you fuck his face, eats it up in earnest.
Prying your thighs back from his ears, Tomura shoves his sweatpants down and reaches under your head. Pulling back a foil square that crinkles with each nervous shake of his hand. Tomura’s plain black boxers soon crash to the floor as well.
“Hey,” your voice pipes up meekly, a little slurred after your orgasm. Drowsy eyes half-lidded and even sweeter on him, “Can you, uh…”
Tomura’s burning hot, flushed and vaguely sticky; bangs slickened against his face with sweat and cum. His breathlessness axiomatic of how little composure he could maintain, “What?”
“Don’t…” a shyness that now seems bizarre overtakes you, your fingers curl into his palm and unfurl the condom from his grasp, “You shouldn’t… I wanna feel you.”
He blinks down at you vapidly. So stupidly blank he's immediately ashamed of himself for blanching at your plea.
“You want it too, right?” you reach up and paw at Tomura's shoulders, “You wanna fuck me raw?”
“Uh-huh,” again dumb.
Tomura spares that response no reconsideration, instead preoccupied by holding your thighs open to nudge his cock into you. His tip bobs at your clit in the first few jerks, but his thinly construed patience is rewarded on the third attempt. You tug on his hair as Tomura humps into your sex.
He whines upon feeling that first squeeze and suck of entering your cunt, his pelvis itching up against your clit with every thrust. Blunt nails carve into the fat of your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer -- Tomura’s cock carves deep into your gut, hot and heavy. Chapped lips sear up the length of your neck, his chest squashing against yours, he teeths at the lump of your pulse and lathes the thumping point with his tongue. Budding his knees right beneath your ass, Tomura burdens the tops of his thighs against yours. Then wrapping your waist with both arms, continuing to suck your soft skin between his teeth.
Tomura gasps as the warmth of your hands finds his back, rolling lower and lower until you’re actively pushing him closer. He likes this -- loves it, even. He’s horrified to know he could’ve been having sex his entire college career and simply didn’t.
He’s further horrified that perhaps he’ll never have sex again when you leave (but mostly, he’s finding that he just doesn’t want you to leave).
“Be my girlfriend,” delirious, he’s babbling into your ear, whining and shuttering and smothering your body with his, “Be my girlfriend…! Wanna fuck you every day-- need you every day. So fucking warm and soft, all perfect for my cock,” Tomura pulls up from your neck to kiss the thin stretch of skin over your collarbones and treading to your breasts, “Like you’re made for taking it.”
What you want is to have the mental cognition to respond to him kindly, but what you have is a mushy brain and a flourishing climax scorching through your body. Grey matter melting into the bowl of your skull as Tomura kisses and pants into your tits.
“Tomu’-!” is all you can manage to squeal, nails digging jagged red lines down the man’s back.
“You cumming?” he reaches between your bodies to incise the pads of his fingers across your sodden clit.
A final push into your sensitive body, the attention spiking your head back into his pillow. Faintly, through the rush of dopamine pumping through your extremities to where your hanging mouth is expelling wanton wails of Tomu’! and yes, God! and cumming!, you can hear Tomura. You can hear him chuckling low and deep with ecstasy, “So pretty when you cum. Squeezing me so tight, too. You like me that much?”
He whines unexpectedly, wrenching both hands to your hips and branding the imprint of his calloused palms there.
“You’re gonna make me cum,” he grits his teeth, scratchy throat puking up pulpy, disjointed moans of your name and fuck, fuck fucks, “I’m gonna cum,” he latches onto your tit, muffling his pathetic mewls as your legs lock him in your cunt (trembly and weak as they may be), “Cumming, cumming- ! Fuck!”
Stilling above you, Tomura chokes out soft breaths and murmurs of appreciation as he cums. Sincerely thanking you as his spend paints your insides. Collapsing on you once his balls are empty. Tomura barely has the wherewithal to roll onto his side in order to avoid overheating you under him.
A rattle and hum from his ceiling fan regains your attention, but this time it doesn’t seem too bad. You can’t find yourself to be very annoyed, even when the music pumping from outside vibrates Tomura’s bedroom door. Above those sounds, the one you appreciate most is the soft pelting of Tomura’s breath against your neck; damp with a mixture of sweat and his saliva, and sore from his incessant teething.
“Did you mean it?” you’re probably being mean, asking such a layered question so immediately after his release.
“About?” his voice is raggedy, sharp to a bladepoint -- if you couldn’t see the dazed, awestruck film over his lidded eyes, you’d mistake him as trying to be rude.
“Me being your girlfriend. Did you actually mean that? Or did your dick have the braincell?”
“Oh,” Tomura pushes onto his elbows, arms shaking, his hair drops over his face and this time you’re the one to brush it behind his ear. Despite cumming in you minutes ago, he blushes at the gesture and looks at your bruising neck rather than your eyes, “I guess. I don’t have a car, so I can’t drive you around for dates.”
“I can take the bus, you know,” you laugh at how Tomura’s face suddenly sours at your words.
“As if I’d let my girlfriend take the bus by herself. Do you know how many freaks go on that thing?”
“‘Cuz you’d know.”
“Yeah, I’m one of them,” the giddiness rising in his chest over your giggling at his jab quickly overtakes his face, cheeks burning with a proud smile. Tomura hides his face in your neck, “I guess it’s up to you.”
“It's up to me if you were serious or not?”
Quietly, he hums, then rasps out something you could construe as a joke if you didn’t care so much about how he felt, “I only open to begging in the sheets. Being desperate to date the first girl I fuck is so pathetic.”
Which is so insane to you because you met this man only a few hours ago.
A broiling affection that builds between the slats of your ribs, bricking off your lungs and heart just to cook them up hot and gooey and primed for the man on your chest. At least Tomura’s burgeoning crush could be reasoned away with the fact he’s a recent ex-virgin (not like you, with visitors running rarer than Tanzanite).
Still fluttery and alight with the wash of your orgasm, you give your heart the braincell and nod sluggishly, “Yeah. I want you to be serious.”
Decidedly, you spare no mind how you two barely know each other.
#shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki smut#tomura smut#bnha x reader#bnha x reader smut#virgcore shiggy
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Under the mistletoe with Ace ❄️
Summary: One of the crew members put up mistletoe somewhere on the ship. Will Ace finally lure you underneath, or will he chicken out? ~1.2k words. CW: fluff! kissing. gendered language, e.g. "princess"
Let's unwrap the first present of my holiday event! It comes with a pretty surprise—artwork by none other than @hirakyun13 who is collabing with me the whole event! 💓
Whoever decided to put mistletoe up in the ship had a good sense of humor. It was perched in a very opportune, deliberate spot. It couldn’t be more visible.
Who put it there? Marco? Someone else?
People passed under it all day long, cracking jokes about who they were going to kiss, pretending to grab crewmates into hyper-exaggerated, joke-makeout sessions. Guffaws and chokes of laughter echoed across the ship the whole day. It certainly made the ship feel like there was more holiday cheer going on.
When you first spotted the small bundle of green leaves, tied up in a pretty red bow, it must have been no coincidence that Ace was standing nearby, chatting with a handful of crewmates. He leaned on the doorframe, seemingly oblivious to what lied above.
Turning his head to look at you, he winked. It’s like he had a sixth sense as far as you were concerned—he could just tell if you were nearby, if you were looking at him, hell, sometimes you wondered if he could somehow read your thoughts. His radar for you was downright uncanny.
The winking had occurred a handful of times before, always when you were least expecting it. You flushed crimson, face turning bright red in an instant. Ace pretended not to notice the way you instinctively averted your eyes for a split second afterwards and embarrassment. You brushed the sight off. No point in fantasizing about Ace standing under the mistletoe winking at you, right? That’s totally normal. Nothing there to hyper-fixate on. But as much as you tried to let the interaction go, it ran on repeat in your mind all day.
Later that night the crew had a nice feast. It was a special day, Christmas eve, a holiday out at sea that—even though no one really celebrated—acted as an excuse for a banquet, more rowdiness than usual.
Ace had a couple of drinks during the feast. He didn’t go overboard, but he was psyching himself up for what he was going to do later. His eyes stayed trained on you whenever he could get away with it and his mind raced. Was he going to be able to pull this off?
When dinner was over and everyone took their raucous laughter elsewhere, Ace knew that you had the habit of tidying a bit. Recently he had been joining you. He did anything to get some time with you, one on one.
“Want some help, sweetheart?” His eyes were warm, freckles devilishly handsome, hair sitting perfect. That’s the word for him—perfect. You almost couldn’t take it. Especially when he called you nice things like that.
You agreed, of course. You’d (similarly) take any time with him that you could get. As he helped you take stray dishes to the kitchen and wipe down tables (Thatch was taking a well-deserved break), Ace gravitated to you, maybe more than usual.
He worked beside you, so close your arms almost brushed. When the work was done, his heartbeat skyrocketed.
“How does a nightcap sound, princess? Or some hot chocolate?” His gesture was sweet, thoughtful, and polite—very much in character.
“Hot chocolate sounds good.” You smiled back, trying now to get weird or awkward, holding back the overwhelming feeling of being flustered.
Within minutes he had two piping-hot cups of hot chocolate in hand, grinning. He handed you a mug. It was the perfect temperature and tasted delicious (maybe it was so delicious because he made it?).
“I heard some of the crew say it’s snowing outside. Want to see? I’ll keep you warm, no need for a coat.” Ace’s smile was genuine, not suggestive in the slightest. He radiated pure kindness, emphasized by his chivalry. It made your heart melt.
“C’mon.” He gestured towards the hallway—the one that just so happened to have the mistletoe hanging at the end)—and you led the way.
As you advanced closer to the mistletoe, Ace was internally screaming at himself. It was the perfect opportunity. For Ace, time stood still. It was like you were moving in slow motion.
When you realized that you’d both be under the mistletoe at (almost) the same time, you turned red in the face at the implication, wishing that you actually could kiss him. A sweet holiday fantasy. One that you were sure would never happen.
So, you passed under the bundle of green hanging on the doorway and your heart sank. You had indulged in the guilty pleasure of fantasy, one that you knew was no good. No point in getting your hopes up.
Hopefully your face would go back to normal soon, not crimson anymore. You were painfully embarrassed at the thought of Ace realizing that you were blushing out of your mind. Maybe he’d realize that you were flushing because the mistletoe, maybe he’d catch on that you wanted him like that.
Just when you thought the moment had passed, just when you were exhaling and internally steadying yourself, Ace reached forward and grabbed you by the hand gently, pulling you backwards and close to him so your bodies were pressing on one another’s. Up close like this, Ace looked better than you could have imagined.
His eyelashes were ridiculously long, it was unfair. You could see how deep and rich the color of his eyes was, how his freckles winked and danced every time he grinned like that.
“Wha—?” You reflexively blurted out, breathless, but he cut you short with a kiss. His big hand cupped your cheek and he pressed his lips on yours softly.
A thousand miles a minute, your heart threatened to explode. You went completely rigid, gripping the handle of the mug you were holding so hard you almost broke it.
The kiss was long and delicate; he caressed your cheek like you were something precious to him. The warmth from his hand spread to your entire body; it was thawing a chill that you had been holding in your heart for months as you tried to keep your intense feelings for him at bay.
When Ace finally pulled away, you could see blush dust his cheeks. His smile was softer, just as sweet, and his eyes were mesmerizing, riveted on yours. Somehow, he just got hotter up close, more captivating.
“Ace, what’re you—?”
“I couldn’t help myself, gorgeous. I’ve been wanting to do that for ages. C’mere.”
He pulled you into another kiss. Followed by another. He couldn’t get enough of you. His free hand wandered slightly, trailing downwards to your waist as he pulled you closer. A singular thought raced through both of your minds at once—“finally”.
Each kiss was romance movie levels of fantastic. Fireworks. A torrent of emotions finally flooding out, expressed, for the moment, in kisses alone. Who knows how long this would have lasted, or where it would have gone, if it weren’t for the unwelcome (but wholesome) interruption.
“Y’know you guys are really missing out on the sn—OH SHIT!” Marco’s jaw dropped and he shielded his eyes for a moment. “So, the mistletoe finally worked? Fucking hell, we’ve been waiting for you two goofs to get together all day.”
happy holidays~ i'm posting again (with another artwork by @hirakyun13) on the 18th, 20th, 24th, 25th!
the present for the 18th is looking very... curly and blonde...
regular masterlist holiday event masterlist
#op x reader#portgas d ace fluff#portgas d ace x reader#ace one piece#one piece ace#fire fist ace#one piece x reader#one piece reader insert#portgas d ace x you#portgas d ace x y/n#portgas d ace#ace fluff#one piece fluff#op fluff#one piece x y/n#one piece x you
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Little Gift- Introduction
Pairing: Soft Dark Neteyam x Human Fem Reader
Beautiful Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2
Sumarry: The RDA are forced to negotiate with a certain Olo'eyktan. Luckily, there is only one thing he wants.
Warnings: dark, dubcon/noncon, suggestive, kidnapping, aged up Neteyam, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, humiliation, dark Neteyam, swearing, power imbalance, etc. (not exhaustive) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
A/N: I had this idea in the middle of the night two days ago. This will be the introduction of the mini series. It is dark content so read at your own risk.
tiyawn: love
mawey: be calm
oeyӓ: my (possessive)
Masterlist
The rope is coarse against your wrist and ankles, tied tight enough to leave squirming out of the question. However, it's the thick fabric gag that has you grinding your teeth together in discomfort. They leave you no opportunity to ask questions. No way to understand your fate before it unfolds.
Colonel Quaritch had been even more cold and distant as you were prepared for the mysterious treck. You had been in the middle of packing your stuff, preparing to return home with the rest of the RDA when you had been dragged away and dressed against your will.
Now kneeling here in the middle of Pandora’s forest wearing little more than sparkly scraps, you have never felt more exposed. The intricately beaded top does little to nothing to cover your hardening nipples and it’s easy to catch some of the Colonel’s brats sneaking a glance occasionally.
“Colonel,” Lyle calls to your left. “For a final touch.” He holds a large pink ribbon in one hand, eyes snapping over to your small form with a smirk.
“Be quick.” Quaritch grumbles but he doesn’t hide the amusement painted across his face.
You attempt to scoot away when Lyle approaches you but he wrangles you back into place one handed. Another recom keeps you still with hands on your shoulders and before you know it Lyle is using the ribbon to tie a big bow directly over your breasts.
You muster every hateful thought into your heated glare, not that it does much to kill his mood.
It’s obvious that you are the one left out of the joke everyone seems to revel in. Several times you wonder if all of this is some sick prank. Dressing you up only to drag you into the middle of the woods and leave you for dead. Perhaps even kill you themselves.
However, thirty minutes of kneeling in the mud with a small army on high alert around you proves plans to be otherwise. There is something ominous about that pink bow tied around you, something even more suspicious about the traditional Na’vi clothing that has somehow been made to fit you perfectly.
“That bastard sure likes to take his sweet time.” Mansk huffs.
“What more did you expect from one of Sully’s filthy half breeds?” Quaritch sneers, readjusting the heavy artillery into his shoulder.
“Makes a lot of demands too. Swear if we didn’t need these resources-” Lyle starts but is cut off.
“And yet we do. So shut your trap and pay attention.” The Colonel snips at him. It’s almost comical to see how fast Lyle straightens and goes back to scanning the terrain for movement.
Always the Colonel’s bitch.
You wish this ridiculous gag wouldn’t stop you from finally speaking your opinion freely. If you are about to meet your demise, the least they could let you do is get some long awaited satisfaction.
Tension bleeds into the atmosphere. The former marines snap to attention and guns are locked into place, the formation fanning them out to combat any potential threats.
It takes several dreadful seconds for you to see them but finally a pair of golden eyes just barely shines through the thick forest. They are in the trees, crouched to the ground, in bushes, some even swooping overhead on banshees.
You marvel at their ability to hide in the nooks and crannies of the forest. However, even now you recognize that they are choosing to be seen. They have decided to make their presence known.
Your heart thunders.
Tied and kneeling between the two juxtaposing crowds feels like being offered up as a human sacrifice.
Do the Na’vi believe in live sacrifice?
Perhaps they too put up dead to their deity as a sign of loyalty.
And you are pampered and primed for the taking.
“Signed, sealed and delivered as promised.” The Colonel grunts, boot clad toe nudging your vulnerable form.
Dread slinks through your veins.
What have you done to deserve this?
The Na’vi that steps out into the open is one that you can recognize instantly. Even a human of low status among the RDA knows what Jake Sully’s eldest son, and now Omatikaya Olo’eyktan, looks like. His face has become a focused target that the RDA have been working to exterminate for months. Now, it feels all for naught as they have been brought to their knees and forced to leave Pandora with little resources. The same reason you prepare yourself to say goodbye to this mysterious planet for good.
However, that was the idea before you were prepared like a trussed up main course for the taking.
You struggle fruitlessly in the binds once more and Neteyam’s eyes center on you. Peering up at him hurts your neck as you are once again reminded of how tall and muscular the Na’vi are. His shoulders give the illusion of spanning out even further with the traditional feathered mantle he wears.
His head slants to the side before he is prowling closer. You attempt to jerk away from his large hand coming to your face but that only ends in you falling back on your rear. His lips turn down as he inspects your tied wrists. There is nothing you can do as he holds both of them easily with one hand.
“I was told she would not be harmed.” He speaks lowly, voice thick with a Na’vi accent.
“She put up quite a fight. Even getting her to hold still during the shot was a pain in the ass.” Quaritch replies.
You remember all too well the fear that had overcome you when they brought out that long needle. The developed serum was a success naturally but it still racks your anxiety higher to fully breathe Pandoran air without your mask. Even more so, you feel strangely more exposed in front of this Na’vi legend without the glass to separate you from him.
“I don’t appreciate excuses.” His golden eyes flicker towards your face and a small smile appears. “But I am pleased to see it fits.” Long fingers trace the lines of your necklace top before toying with the ends of the pink boy.
You stiffen beneath his touch, eyeing the sheathed dagger across his chest.
Do sacrificial ceremonies require specific clothing?
Maybe dressing a sacrifice up in pretty ornaments and clothing proves to their deity its value.
Either way, you hope it’s fast. The Na’vi are trained killers, but at least they should know how to end a life swiftly.
“I would be pleased to see the resources you promised.” The Colonel bites back.
Neteyam sighs and purses her lips as if the small army around them is simply an annoyance instead of a threat.
“Trades are not historically present between the Omatikaya and your people. I am not opposed to taking instead. Remember that.”
You can hear the shifting guns behind you. The Colonel’s anger boils through the air and you are surprised to find no smart response coming from him. Neteyam leisurely tugs the ends of the bow, perfecting its shape and you are mortified to feel your nipples tighten beneath them. He nods his head and a few armed Na’vi step forward and hesitantly hand over a few tubes of minerals.
You recognize it as unobtanium, most likely the small amount left to mine from the last Home Tree. Your eyes widen. All of that for you?
It wouldn’t be enough to make the RDA’s trip a success but it would surely cut down the financial loss significantly. But why give it over? Just to kill you? Had their deity sent out a bounty on your head and if so, what had you done to piss Her off so immensely?
“As promised.” Neteyam rises back to full height, hands settling on his hips. “I trust you understand what is to come to those who do not honor this agreement.”
“Consider her a…peace offering. A special gift from the RDA.” You can hear the smirk in Quaritch’s tone, even the chuckle that Loyd fights to hold back. Your teeth dig into the fabric gag, praying more than ever that now would be the one time you would be able to rip him a new one.
Your own special gift before you leave this life.
“I tire of your presence, demon.”
Quaritch scoffs but you can already hear the shuffling of retreating boots as they slowly but surely exit the scene. The only home you have ever known and now it is nothing more than a memory. You’re left to the demise of the Na’vi like a shiny object to be collected.
And with the way Neteyam smiles and studies your form intently, you can’t have found a better analogy. Kneeling once more, large hands cup your cheeks, fingers encasing the whole side of your head.
“Oeyӓ tiyawn, you are shaking.” He tuts, features softening at breakneck speed. Eyebrows furrowing, you watch closely as he carefully parts the hair from your face. “So nice to meet you, properly that is.” He chuckles, as if telling a joke only he knows the context to.
Unease tightens your muscles and you’re sure that if your heart rate picks up anymore the organ will simply give out before they even have a chance to kill you.
He sends a look to the side and instantly the rest of the Na’vi party retreat back into the forest. Your forehead creases. What is a sacrifice without an audience?
Unless.
Neteyam’s fingers comb through your hair.
Unless the Olo’eyktan has decided to have his fun with you before you are offered up.
Tears spill from your eyes and you can’t stop yourself from trying to beg through the gag.
“Oh tiyawn,” His thumbs wipe away your tears. “You do not need to cry anymore. Not now that you are mine.”
A hiccup catches in your throat, wide eyes looking up at him.
“My sweet pet.” He husks, lips curved into a prideful smile.
Your heart drops to your stomach.
Pet.
How does he even know what that word means? The Na’vi do not keep pets. Perhaps he misspoke.
But when one large hand circles around the back of your neck and you remember one thing: this man was raised by both Na’vi and Sky People.
Frantically shaking your head in protest you try to get out words that will convince him to release you. It’s a strained effort with the cloth gag and his giant hand grasping your neck.
“Mawey, little gift, before you hurt yourself.” He lingers over the cloth gag and for a moment you have hope that he will remove it, instead Neteyam gives you a sympathetic smile. “My poor tiyawn, I would love to remove it but I think we will need to go over some ground rules first. I’ll need you to listen without distraction for that part.”
Your thoughts tangle into a million knots as vast ideas of what these rules may entail generate frantically.
It would be easier to believe that a Na’vi has no purpose for a Sky Person as a pet but it’s impossible to miss the lust swimming in his golden orbs. Nor the wandering hands that now come to squeeze your plush hips.
“You’re even more breathtaking up close.” He grins. When had he seen you from a distance? “Especially in proper clothing.”
You can barely see through the cloud of tears over your eyes so you miss when Neteyam unsheathes his knife. That is, until you feel the cold material against your ankles. Terror grips your heart but to your surprise the Olo’eyktan cuts the rope around your feet.
Foolishly you take advantage of this slight freedom only to be snatched around the waist and pulled onto his lap. Neteyam chuckles as if your escape attempt is the cutest thing he has ever seen. Your hips ache slightly at the stretch it takes to straddle one of his muscular thighs.
“Misbehaving already, hm?” He raises a hairless eyebrow at you, one hand slink down to settle over your rear. Luckily he seems more amused than angry. After all, you have to admit that there was no real chance of you outrunning him in the first place. And now that those muscular arms are locked around you, there is no hope of beating his strength.
Humiliation runs deep when you feel the first trickle of arousal stain your tiny loincloth. Neteyam’s thigh flexes and your pussy greedily takes the friction as an invitation. His nostrils flare, no doubt taking in your changing scent.
He doesn’t further your embarrassment, however. At least not yet.
“My father told me about these.” He muses, fingers playing with the bow once more. “It’s said to represent gifts. I always thought they were silly but now…” Heat runs straight to your core when his thumb dances over one escaped nipple. “I quite like the look of it on you, little gift.”
A whimper escapes your lips without permission, snagging his attention.
“Needy little pet, aren’t you?” A dark laugh rumbles his chest as his thumb casually slips underneath to bow to torment one nipple. “Do not worry, oeyӓ tiyawn. I’ll have you seeing stars before the night is through.”
Everything in your mind says no but Neteyam’s skin is warm and his hands are skilled as one teases your nipples while the other explores your backside. Your body preens into the touch, desperate for some semblance of comfort to hold onto. And in the dangerous atmosphere of Pandoran nights, your instincts tell you that this man is what separates you from death.
However, you are still held as prey under his gaze.
“But first I think it is time to get you home.” He leans forwards until your noses are touching.
“You will be more comfortable in my bed, pet.”
And so it begins! As always, I would LOVE to hear your thoughts! <3
unofficial taglist: @pandoraslxna @tallulah477 (thought you might like it, baby) @itchaboi-itchyboy @zafrinaxyz @lilghostiequinni @criticallybella
Please let me know if you would like to be added to the official taglist for future parts
#neteyam sully#avatar smut#avatar fanfiction#avatar way of water#avatar wow#neteyam smut#neteyam x reader#avatar neteyam#neteyam x human reader#kidnapping#smut#dark neteyam#soft dark neteyam#aged up neteyam#olo'eyktan neteyam#adult neteyam#neteyam#older neteyam#avatar#james cameron avatar#avatar twow#avatar 2#omatikaya#human reader#possessive neteyam#dom neteyam#dom/sub#protective neteyam
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❤︎𝙇𝙚𝙩'𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙭 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩❤︎
𝙃𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙭 𝙗𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤 𝙜𝙛!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - Hobie finds out the real reason for you being popular around headquarters, and his honored to fix the problem.
✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - SMUT...with plot. A bit of sexism, name calling (whore, tramp), pet names, virginity taking, oral, unprotected sex(WRAP IT UP), crying
✩𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - this is based on my Hobie brown x bimbo!gf oneshot, but it's not a part two or anything of that nature, but if you want to go back and read that, you can find it here. Anywho, I hope you guys like this story❤️😘
Hobie wasn't a chatter, not even close, but ever since you and him became a thing, he tried to make himself a lot less unapproachable. Instead of sporting a serious, straight-face and expression 24/7, he carried a soft smirk most of the time. The difference sounded small, but honestly it made him seem a lot nicer. More people started conversations with him when they saw him, he was let in on topics that no one bothered to talk to him about before. Topics like you.
Hobie always wondered why it caused such a stir when you and him got together, and it boggled you just as much. If only you knew what people was saying about you. Now, it wasn't a secret to you that people knew you. You were a social person and you talked to a lot of people, but what you didn't know was what people were talking about when you walked away.
Hobie was walking through one of the halls of headquarters, hands in his pocket as he stalked down the hall in his usual attire, the only thing that was different was the bright pink bow that was tied to one of his back belt loops, courtesy of you. "Hey man, you got a little sum back there!" Someone joked as he walked past. He couldn't help but chuckle as he turned to the person who was in the hall. He never cared to learn the names of the people around headquarters, so he definitely didn't know his name, but nonetheless he still interacted with him. "I know, my girl did it," Hobie smirked. "Your girlfriend that real girly one, with the short ass skirt and shit?" The guy smirked, the description of you made him internally twitch with irritation. "Yea, what about it?" Hobie smirked as he tried to keep his cool. "Ya know, almost everybody is plotting on her, right?" He smirked, pushing himself off the wall as he walked closer to Hobie, "she's like…top wanted in all of headquarters." "Really? Why's that?" Hobie's smirk hid his urge to throw him through the wall. "You really don't know? She's the only whore that still has her virginity," the random man laughed, "after that get together last month, everyone been trying to be the first to pop her cherry. It was honestly surprising, giving that she dresses like a complete tramp--" Hobie couldn't help it anymore, one super-powered punch later, and he was laid flat out on the floor. He couldn't help but think this is what he got for trying to be nice to people as he stomped away, his objective now to find you.
You weren't hard to spot, all that glitter and rhinestones made you look like a walking star. You were chatting with Gwen, a sweet smile on your plump, pretty lips as you rambled on about god knows what. It would've made his heart melt if he wasn't so irritated. You barely had time to register his arrival as he came over and scooped you up onto his shoulder like a stack of potatoes, "I gotta borrow her for a second," Hobie uttered to Qwen as he stomped away, a hand holding your skirt down as he carried you away. "Hobs! What's going on?!" You giggled, your legs kicking a little bit as he carried you to a secluded area.
"Love, what happened at the get together?" His rushed tone stirred up worry in your chest, "why?! What happened?" You asked softly, your big doe eyes full of worry as you looked up at him. "Just-- tell me what happened darling. Tell me everything that happened," he sighed softly, realizing that his tone ushered you into a worried state. "Well…nothing really… everyone was chillin', having fun, we started drinking, and we played a few drinking games and after that, gwen took me home cause' i got too drunk," you shrugged. "Then why are people talking about something that happened at the get together and how your a virgin and all this other shit love?" He sighed softly. His hands rested on your hips as a look of embarrassment and realization washed over you. "We were playing put a finger down, and someone said put a finger down if you've had sex, and I was the only one who didn't put a finger down, and everyone made a big ass deal about it," you explained softly as you looked down. He stood there for a second, his expression blank as he processed the information before letting a chuckle out. Was that seriously it? Everyone had the hots for his girl because she admitted to being a virgin?
"Is everyone really still talking about that?" You asked softly, embarrassment evident on your face. He couldn't help but chuckle some more. "Sadly darling, you're a bit of a hot topic~" he said, a sympathetic smile on his face as his thumbs rubbed circles into your hips. You let out a whiny groan as your face fell into your hands, "oh my god~ I was hoping they would forget about that, what's even the big deal?!" You whined as your face fell into his chest, his arms wrapping around your shorter frame as he shook his head at how stupid this whole thing was. People were over sexualizing you because you wasn't sexually active.
Suddenly an idea popped into his head, causing a smirk to spread on his lips. "How about you let me fix it?" He smirked, making you look up at him with a questioning look, but as soon as you see the smirk on his lips you know what he means. Intimacy wasn't hobie's favorite thing, but shit, he willing to do damn there anything for you. "You for real?" You asked softly, your embarrassment melting away into nervousness and excitement. "Of course darling, let me show you how good I can make you feel~" his voice sultry as his big hands gripped your waist "let me fix your problem, love."~
Your head was spinning. You felt hot and everything felt like it was moving too fast and too slow at the same time. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were a inch away from breaking into a sweat and what made it worse was nothing even happened yet. "Jus' say the word love, and I'll stop, okay?" His tone was lighthearted but his gaze was serious. The nervousness was coming off of you and waves, and he only wanted to make this easier for you. "M'kay hobs~" you uttered with a little nod of your head. You were on your knees atop his bed, looking up at his towering figure. He was trying his absolute best to ignore the mind-numbing throb that was coming from in his dick as he looked down at the sight. He had a perfect view of your cleavage and the way your big pretty doe eyes looked up at him made him wanna shove his dick down your pretty throat.
"Go on and lay back f'me love," he gently ordered, and you mindlessly obligated, sweeping your legs from under your body, swinging them off the edge of the bed as you slowly laid back, giving him a good view of your entire body. Your thick chubby thighs and wide hips paired with the little chubbiness of your tummy and your perky tits sitting prettily in your hot pink bra that peaked out of your white tank top sent him mentally flying. "You ready darling?" He asked, his voice soft and caring.
With a simple nod from you he sprung into action. His hands sliding up your bare thighs, slipping under your sparkly pink skirt as he gently rubbed and gripped them before spreading your knees apart. Your heart thumped out of your chest as you watched him lower himself down to his knees, making his face level with your heat. You propped yourself up onto your elbows as you watch him bunch up your skirt. Hobie's cock twitched in his pants at the sight before him; you were wearing hot pink lacy panties, which matched your hot pink bra, and he could see the outline of your soft pussy lips and swollen clit through the soaked fabric. "Fuckk" he breathed as he paced himself. The sound you let slip past your lips when he gently pressed the pad of his thumb into your clothed clit made it harder for him to control himself. He had to remind himself that this wasn't for him, it was for you.
His thumb circled your clothed clit a few times before gently pushing on your sobbing hole, coaxing a few soft whines out of you before finally hooking his fingers onto the sides of your panties. You eagerly lift your hips as he tugs the flimsy-and damp- fabric down your legs. Hobie was happy to see that your nervousness were slowly melting away, being replaced by eagerness and excitement. Hobie's mind spun wildly as he caught a glimpse of strings of your wetness pulling away with your panties, you were fucking soaked.
You let out a breathy giggle as you watch him pocket your panties, but your giggle quickly turns into a moan when you feel his finger slip in between your folds. He could feel you clenching around nothing, he didn't even have a chance to slip is finger into you. "Relax darling, I got you," he cooed as his other hand reached up to rest on your lower stomach his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin as he slowly slid his finger in. Fuck you were tight, he could only imagine how your tightness felt wrapped around his cock and he almost came in his pants.
You quickly found out that Hobie was a pussy drunk, his tongue deep in your soaked cunt as his thumb rubbed tight circles into your clit. You couldn't even squirm away from him as he coaxed moans and whines from you, his strong arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted you. You thought you were gonna die the first few minutes, but once he found the spot in you that made you moan the loudest, you were a goner. He was a messy eater too, the sound of him suckling hard on your clit only made your walls clench, which only made him suck and lick harder as he groaned deep in your pussy.
By time he finished his meal, you were two orgasms deep and your cunt was filled with slick and spit, the same mess that was on his face. You panted as you watch him get up off of his knees, thankful for the break, but your mind went wild when you heard his belt buckle and his pants zipper. Hobie chuckled at the sight of your eyes widening when you saw how big he was. 8 inches of pure girth. How the hell was that gonna fit in you?! "Hobs, I don't think it's gonna fit~" you whimpered softly as your thighs subconsciously closed. He could see the fear and nervousness written all over your face and he couldn't help but coo at you.
His hand gently grabbed your jaw, forcing you to take your eyes off of his lower region and lock eyes with him before deeply kissing you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as you tasted yourself on his tongue as it explored your whole mouth, a long string of saliva connecting you both as he pulled away. "Don' worry love, I got you, okay?" He cooed softly, earning a soft nod and a "m'kay" from you. "Remember, jus' say the word, and I'll stop," he reminded you. You were starting to relax again, allowing him to spread your thighs apart with his torso, until he reached down, grabbing his length so he could guide it in you.
His cock was twitching in his hand, leaking precum from the tip. It left you feeling excited and scared. He was just so big, but all your thoughts disappeared out of your mind when you felt his messy, precum slicked tip start to push past your folds, making you clench down as your head lolled back.
You were a complete and utter moaning mess, but Hobie stayed patient with you, pausing whenever you clenched too tightly and constantly comforting you and coaxing you through it. The sight of you under him, face scrunched up with pain and pleasure as strings of moans and whines spilt past your lips as he sunk deeper and deeper into your pussy was enough to make him cum now. "You doin' so good f'me darling, good fucking girl, so wet, so fucking tight," he grunted into your neck, sucking hickeys into your soft skin, his eyes rolling back as you clenched around him at his words. "Hobs! m'cant~ your too big~" you whined as your walls choked his dick. He looked down in between you, you didn't even make it halfway. " shhh i know love, but imma need you to relax for me. It'll fit, jus' stay with me now ," he grunted as you whined out, your cunt milking little bits of cum out of his dick.
By time you got past the halfway mark, you were in tears, clinging onto his arms, which was holding him up on either side of your head. His heart ached slightly as you looked up at him, tears spilling down the sides of your face as you panted, "d-did I do it? Is it in?" You whimpered, making his head spin, it felt disgusting how much it turned him on to see you crying like that. He bit back a groan as he looked down between the two of you again. His whole body momentarily went weak, your small, tight, weeping pussy, stretched wide around his dick. You only had two inches left. "Almost darling, your doing so good f'me, yea? Just a little more, okay? You ready?" He cooed softly, kissing away your tears. "m'kay~" you whimpered.
If he kept dragging this out with you, he was gonna bury before he even got a thrust in. He braced himself before slammed into you, forcing the last two inches into your pussy. Your eyes widened and a silent scream left your parted lips, wincing at the pain as Hobie quickly wrapped a arm around you, holding you close. "Fuckk~ good fucking girl, see love? I got you, its all in now. M'so proud of you darling," he could feel you clenching around him at the praise as you whimpered into his neck, fighting off the urge to scream out.
"Soo fucking big~" you cried softly as you slowly got used to the large intrusion. "Shh I know, I know love, but your doin' so good," he cooed as he waited for the signal to move.
Before you knew it, he was fucking you dumb, jerking your body deeper and deeper into the mattress with each thrust. The mixture of moan, whines, screams, and incoherent babbles left your lips as he held the back of your knees up, giving him the perfect view of your small pussy getting abused by his cock as you left a gorgeous ring of your juices around his base. He watched as your eyes rolled back when he hit that one gummy spot in you, groaning as you clenched down on him tightly. He would sometimes give your cheek a soft tap whenever your watery eyes rolled back, wanting to make sure you were still coherent enough to tell him if you wanted to stop, even if he knew that you wouldn't want to.
It only took a good few more thrusts in the right spot for you to cum all over his dick, clenching so tightly on him that he could move as you screamed out, forcing him to cum too as he groaned into your neck.
You both were a panting mess, your hair messy and hickeys all over your neck, and his arms all scratched up and his mouth and chin still covered in your slick. "m'like when you fix my problems," you panted softly, earning a deep chuckle from him.
#Hobie brown#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x black!reader#hobie brown x bimbo!reader#hobie brown x you#hobie spiderverse#spider punk#across the spiderverse#spiderman#Smut#lilixoxo smut#hobie brown smut#lilixoxo writes#lilixoxo stories
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જ⁀➴ mr. supportive dad || matt sturniolo
the morning sunlight peeked through the white curtains, illuminating the toys scattered across the living room floor. matt sat cross-legged on the plush rug, letting his two-year-old, ivy play stylist as she tied his hoodie strings into what she proudly called “the perfect bow.”
“you’re gonna make me look ridiculous, darling,” matt teased, watching her tiny fingers fumble with the strings.
her big blue eyes glimmered as she giggled, completely ignoring her dad’s protests. “pretty, daddy! you’re sooo pretty!”
matt couldn’t hold back his grin. parenthood wasn’t something he’d ever pictured for himself back when he and his brothers were just three goofy kids filming youtube videos in their car. now, life was a chaotic mix of diaper changes, bedtime stories, and saturday morning cartoons—and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
he leaned forward, grabbing his daughter gently under her arms and lifting her into the air. she squealed with delight, her curls bouncing wildly. “alright, vivi, but if uncle nick and uncle chris see this, you’re explaining why your dad’s wearing bows,” he joked, pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her back down.
“bow good, daddy!” she insisted clapping her hands in approval.
the moment was interrupted by the sound of little feet pounding against the hardwood floor. his four-year-old son, max, came running into the room, clutching a paper plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was definitely more jelly than peanut butter.
“daddy, i made you breakfast!” his son declared proudly, holding out the plate like it was a michelin-star meal.
matt raised an eyebrow, inspecting the sandwich. it had uneven edges and visible bite marks all around the crust. “you made this all by yourself, huh?”
the little boy nodded vigorously, jelly smeared across his chin. “yup!”
matt pointed to the bite marks. “so… why does it look like someone took a big ol’ bite out of it?”
max froze for a second, then straightened up, his little chest puffing out confidently. “it’s a new design, daddy. i call it the bitey sandwich—it’s fancy.”
matt blinked, trying to keep a straight face, but a laugh bubbled out despite himself. “oh, the bitey sandwich, huh? that’s genius, buddy. you’re a regular chef.”
he beamed at his dad’s praise. “do you want me to make another one?”
matt ruffled his son’s messy hair, shaking his head. “nah, chef, this one’s perfect. a true masterpiece.”
before max could respond, the front door creaked open. matt’s wife stepped inside, arms full of grocery bags. she stopped mid-step, her gaze sweeping across the scene—matt with a lopsided bow around his neck, their daughter trying to climb onto his back, and their son wiping his sticky hands on his pants.
“i leave for twenty minutes, and this is what i come home to?” she said raising an eyebrow but smiling despite herself.
matt stood, scooping lily onto his hip. “we’re just a family of innovators,” he said with a shrug. “ivy’s starting a fashion line, and max is opening a restaurant. i’m just the supportive dad. isn’t it right kids?”
his wife rolled her eyes, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “okay, mr. supportive dad, maybe you can innovate your way into helping me unload these groceries?”
before matt could answer, max tugged on his sleeve. “daddy, can we play hide and seek first? please?”
matt glanced at the groceries, then at his son’s hopeful face. “alright, five minutes. but no cheating this time, max. last time you hid behind the curtains with your feet sticking out.”
max giggled, already sprinting toward the hallway to find a hiding spot, his sister hot on his tail chanting “maxie no cheating maxie no cheating maxie no cheating!”
glancing at their retreating figures with amusement, he walked over to his wife and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “you know love, we’re raising some weird kids, no?” he mummered against her cheek. “you say that like it’s a surprise,” she shot back, grinning.
“i don’t know how you do it,” she said after a moment, leaning her head on his shoulder.
matt chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. “do what?”
“be so good with them,” she replied her voice soft. “they adore you, you know.”
matt looked toward the hallway where their kids ran. “they make it easy,” he admitted. “’mean, don’t get me wrong—max’s jelly sandwiches are questionable, and vivi’s fashion sense is gonna ruin me. But at the end of the day… they’re my favorite people, along with you ofcourse.”
she smiled, snuggling closer. “makes the two of us actually.”
an; yes i named the son max after 4x wdc max verstappen what about it
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every time i rewatch the bear i think about how sydney (often) actively resists opening up emotionally to/getting closer to carmy - more under the cut
moments that immediately come to mind:
when carm asks syd about her dad in s2 e2: she interrupts him and brings the convo back to food.
when carmy asks syd about her new place and how her dad is feeling about the move in s3: i don't remember the actual episode but she interrupts him again to talk about work. what was the reason!!!
when carmy initially asks about syd's mom in s2: she has shown that talking about her mom is difficult (see: her convo with marcus at her place when she made him a beautiful meal), so this could be ambiguous but i think still worth mentioning.
WHEN CARMY TELLS HER SHE LOOKS NICE IN S3: she immediately takes off her bow???? i havent been able to stop thinking about this beat because why does she do that. does she not want to be perceived by him that way? does she feel guilty because she just got back from meeting with another chef for another position (thereby potentially dissolving her and carmy's partnership)? WHY WHY WHY (also she's so real for this because i think it's at least partially meant to signal that she's uncomfortable with his attention if he's not going to accompany it with meaningful communication). yes she favors scarves in the kitchen and she was getting ready for work but i think there's something else going on and have been rotating this scene in my head like it's a rotisserie chicken.
the fact that she half-lied about why she came to work at the bear in the first place, and, relatedly, that he made the best meal she ever had: maybe carm caught onto this one but she doesn't ever openly tell him that she's a fan of his work (and that he made the best meal she ever had!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) i say half-lied because she almost immediately tells him that she knows who he is. so.
i've been thinking a lot about syd's feelings for carmy and how she likely fears emotional intimacy with him. it's a stark contrast to how easily she opens up to marcus or asks richie questions about his daughter or even mentors/becomes friends with tina.
carmy is deeply interested in syd as a person and SHOWS it - in fact the few times in s3 that he's civil to her is when they are not working in the stresses of the kitchen and he's asking her about her life.
i can't think of a time where syd asks CARMY about his family (remember - she asks richie about michael), and when he opens up (without prompting from her!!!) about michael being an addict to her she lightens the mood with a joke, and when he opens up about how donna was a nightmare and he's trying to reclaim cannolis, all she says is "whoa." (btw i actually love sydney because she's so emotionally stunted like that's my girl <3)
she will open up about sheridan road, and her fear of failure (so inherent to who she is and her motivations in the show!), but not so much about HERself and her personal life. it's fascinating.
an exception to this is when syd tells carmy to call richie and apologize - even then it's not syd "asking" per se, but it is her taking a step and knowing what's best for carmy (and the kitchen) in that moment.
i think this is meant to indicate how carmy is different from everyone else in syd's life - almost like he doesn't "fit" into any of the other boxes she has for people.
now, i personally read this as romantic. there's something BIG blocking sydney from accepting that, though, and i think it's that carmy is so tied to her passion, her profession, her LIFE'S WORK, and she will not, cannot, fuck that up. we all talk about claire being an obstacle to a potential romantic connection between the two - and she is - but i truly think sydney's unwillingness to confront her interest in carmy is a bigger, more substantial hurdle (though not at all impossible to overcome!)
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About bucktommy and 911 in general
You know, in the end, this just feels extremely cheap and cruel.
Showing bucktommy be incandescently happy in all the episodes but 8.6? Even in this ep you can feel how much they care and genuinely love each other. Audience was largely optimistic and excited about them, in a way we have never seen for other buck's LI.
Only to what? Throw it all away because you can't be bothered to write a satisfactory arc for them? Because Buck is the epitome of the guy who dates a lot but always gets broken up with? That to be able to decide if you want to be in a committed relationship if you are bi you have to explore first or else your decision is null and void?
What a way to waste potential and your characters arc.
The special thing about Tommy was that he was beloved by not only bucktommy fans, but GA, and most importantly he was a sort of representation we don't see all that much in media. People loved him because they saw themselves in him, they could connect to his journey and they were genuinely rooting for him to find love and family with Buck. To waste it all away, and to do so by basically throw at us all that we loved about them is unnecessarily cruel.
What hurts the most is that even buck and tommy themselves didn't want to break up. but instead they "must" because bowing down to harmful stereotypes about bi people who are "confused and so they must experiment before settling" is more important than telling a compelling story.
Even without bt break up, I feel like this season took a sharp dive for the worst about well thought storylines in a way that baffles him. Gerrard was reduced to a joke, as was Ortiz, both pgs that could have been used to create compelling arcs that intertwined the 118 even more but instead we got this cheap throwaway joke of a Gerrard, Ortiz was basically throw out of office in a single ep. Hotshot sl could have been fun but instead it's just.... there. And coming back too just for funsies, cause apparently that sl was more important to develop instead of a interesting queer relationship.
Athena once again doing copaganda. Bobby coming back to the 118 without any particular struggle or even guilt about dropping the bag. Things said in interviews that we expect to happen and never even made it to the screen (Eddie's loneliness? Chim and Hen having conflict over Mara? Buck feeling guilty about injuring Gerrard?).
The way Maddie cannot have any sl that is not either tied to a man or about motherhood. Madney having another surprise baby instead of them choosing on purpose to expand their family. Hen & Karen gaining trauma after trauma about their children and not having any other sl that is not tied to that. Josh just existing in the periphery and only becoming important as the "insightful token gay" but not having any type of meaningful screen time since Carson.
The other side characters like Sue, Ravi, Linda, Carla completely disappearing without anyone mentioning them. Ravi has not been given any important sl ever since he talked about having cancer and ever since reduced as a comic relief without anything to add to his character but he's a "landlord".
Chris is out of the picture for who knows how long, and is basically kept around to be traumatized over and over again. Eddie hasn't gotten any character development until first s5 and seemingly now, but i'd argue that the whole thing just felt rushed because what do you mean it takes one chat with a priest for him to do a 180° while he still isn't talking to Chris? And Eddie was the one who got the best treatment of all of them this season.
It's the way this show is slowly chipping itself away. It's the way they start a queer story line promising it would be impactful and handled with care and then half-assing it a best. It's the way the other queer characters are never explored and able to breath and revel in their queerness in the first place. Because, really, when was the last time Hen and Karen kissed on screen? When was the last time they went on a date? When was the last time their arcs were not about children or getting hurt, but just about them as individuals? And on this thread what about Maddie? Or Josh? Or Chim? Or Eddie?
Everything feels reused again and again and again without no real development than then starting the circle all over in half a season.
What a waste.
#evan buckley#tommy kinard#bucktommy#911 abc#evan buck buckely#tevan#eddie diaz#karen wilson#hen wilson#henren#maddie buckley#chimney han#madney#christopher diaz#ravi panikkar#josh russo#bobby nash#athena grant#bathena#911 discourse#911 s8#911 spoilers#911 show#911 season 8#911
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I want to think a little about Blitz's self-perception with regard to his lack of education/sophistication. In my opinion, HB gives us a very accurate portrayal of what it feels like to navigate relationships when you're a person with a long history of feeling like you're never good enough ("I can always do better").
Let's start with his friendship with Moxxie, though like a lot of my posts, it will find its way back to stolitz.
Moxxie doesn't necessarily have more formal education than Blitz. I mean . . . he likely had the economic resources growing up, but I don't think Crimson seems like the kind of parent to prioritize education. Besides an education in violence. I assume that both Blitz and Moxxie had some basic education as kids, but the difference is that Moxxie likes "high culture(ish)" things like musicals and bow ties, enjoys knowing details about history, and probably reads for fun. He's also the kind of ". . . um actually . . ." friend who can make even a secure person feel a little stupid. Not that Blitz doesn't sometimes need to be called out, but Moxxie does seem to take some joy in correcting him.
And yes, Blitz bullies Moxx and calls his junk tiny and tells him to eat a salad, but like . . . it's pretty obvious that to some extent, Blitz is covering up for feeling inferior to Moxxie on some level.
We see how Blitz really feels about this in Truth Seekers.
Borrowed observation from excellent reaction youtuber Omn1media: When Blitz hallucinates Moxxie lecturing him, Moxxie goes really hard specifically on the insults to Blitz's intelligence. Moxxie's speech is also much more rambly/laced with figurative language than it is in their real (non-imagined) interactions.
We can see from Blitz's face in these scenes that these comments really get to him. Of course they do- he's making them up in his own nightmare.
"Foolish flights of fancy" is the rest of the caption there . . ."
He's very upset by the idea that he's really inferior to Moxxie- under all of the bravado, he's deeply insecure. It probably doesn't help that the truth gas made him admit that he didn't like the musical that Moxx recommended. Yes, I know that was a Cats joke, but also, Blitz bothered to lie, and he doesn't seem allergic to hurting Moxxie's feelings, so I think he wanted to pretend to "get" the "higher art" that Moxxie likes.
Okay so if Moxxie (with an essentially equivalent status and education) manages to unintentionally make Blitz feel stupid and uncultured, how does this translate when Blitz falls in love with Stolas, who IS objectively very high status and very well educated and DOES speak in "fancy rich people" language?
Oh. Right. The pedestal, the impossibility, and all of that.
I'm not saying that Hell's strict hierarchy doesn't have a lot to do with how Blitz perceives a real relationship between himself and Stolas as impossible- it absolutely does. And so does his history of failed relationships and heaping backpack of trauma. But also, the education/sophistication piece is there, and it's major.
I'm on the fence about whether Blitz actually sees himself as stupid or is just worried about being perceived that way by others. He obviously knows he's very good at the work he does, and that takes both a certain level of strategic thinking AND some very brilliant improvisation. I think he knows this. But he also knows he'll never . . . let's say, be the best read person in the room (if you want to know my thoughts on Blitz and literacy, click here- but short answer, I think he's quite literate but also dyslexic).
I think that like many real people who are kind of out of the box in this way (disrupted education and/or neurodivergence) he's simultaneously aware that he's very intelligent AND deeply insecure about being stupid or having others devalue his kind of intelligence.
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