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navybrat817 · 4 hours ago

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Love drunk Bucky! What about a drunk reader?

Yes, we've seen drunk!Bucky in Pretty Girl. A drunk reader could be fun.

Your Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You're very vocal about wanting Bucky Barnes.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Drunk reader with no filter, drunk confession, dirty talk, humor, slight feels, talk of consent and communication, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Raw. Next question.”

You sipped your drink, the room going eerily silent. It was the quietest it had been since everyone gathered in the lounge for some drinks hours ago. Pairs of eyes stared at you with a mix of fascination and shock as your words hung in the air.

Just moments ago, Clint had been going through his phone and showing everyone candid photos he managed to snap of everyone. Most of them were hilarious, but the most recent one wasn't hilarious at all. It was clearly hot based on your reaction.

“What did she say?” Steve whispered to break the silence.

“You heard what she said. Everyone heard it,” Sam whispered back, giving you a quizzical stare. “How many drinks have you had?”

You held up a finger followed by another couple. “Like this many. And water. Hydration is so important.”

“Hold on. Back to what you said a second ago.” Clint turned the phone toward him with a raised brow and slowly turned it back toward you so you could see it again. “You know that’s a picture of Barnes, right? Not some model or actor?” he asked.

Bucky Barnes, the beefy super soldier who was trying not to shatter the bottle in his metal hand as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. Clint managed to snap a photo of him when he removed his shirt after a recent workout, which begged the question of why he was taking the photo to begin with. Bucky wasn’t looking at the camera since his eyes were shut, but his parted mouth, slightly messy hair, and sweat shining off his torso made him look like a thirst trap. The sweatpants only made the picture that much hotter.

“Yeah, I know. He’s hot. We all know he’s hot,” you shrugged. “And I said what I said.”

Bucky audibly exhaled. You had a penchant for being very honest with the team which they appreciated. If someone asked for your opinion or thoughts on something you didn’t hide how you felt. You were careful not to be cruel if you disagreed with anyone, but you still led with honesty. Alcohol didn’t change that.

So, if you said you thought Bucky was hot and you wanted him to fuck you raw, you meant it.

Clint exchanged a quick glance with Natasha before the redhead nodded to the spot beside you. The spy looked like she was having a hard time not smiling. “And you know he’s sitting next to you, right?” she asked.

You downed the rest of your drink and shrugged again. “Yeah, I know. And I’d let him fuck me raw. Every day. Twice on Sundays,” you said unapologetically as Steve coughed. You swung your head toward Bucky with a sultry smile and leaned in a little closer. He smelled your perfume before you sat down tonight, but now the sweet smell combined with your natural scent was making him dizzy. “You’d fuck me raw, right? Maybe fuck me from behind so you can get nice and deep.”

The bottle shattered which only made you smile more. Bucky’s nostrils flared and everyone backed up a few inches, except for you, the newest member of the team. The person who loved to leave little treats and snacks for him to make sure he ate throughout the day. The same person who made a show of bending over and stretching in front of him whenever you two worked out together. The only one who seemed to get a real smile out of him since you showed up like a shining beacon of happiness and sass.

And now you were telling him you want him to fuck you. Raw. He thought about it, of course- how wet and snug you’d feel around his bare cock, how you’d take him like a good girl. He pictured you sobbing his name and squirming as he pinned you down and brought you over the edge again and again. Licking his lips, he imagined the taste of your arousal on his tongue and wondered if he could make you squirt. He sure as hell wanted to try.

Bucky heard Thor’s footsteps, but didn’t take his eyes off you as the God of Thunder took a seat. “Clearly, I’ve missed something.”

“I said I want Bucky to fuck me raw,” you said without missing a beat.

Bucky bit back a groan. He was two seconds away from throwing you over his shoulder like a caveman and taking you away from everyone. There were so many filthy things he wanted to say and do to you…

And your bluntness didn’t seem to bother the blonde. “I thought you two were already having relations. With how close you two-”

“I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘relations’?” Clint asked. “Relations.”

“Is that not what they’re discussing?” Thor asked, taking a sip from his flask. “Though if there is no protection there is the risk of procreating, but they would have beautiful offspring.”

You leaned in a bit closer, but Bucky gripped your arms to move you away from his spot. “I don't want the glass to cut you.”

“You're so thoughtful. And amazing,” you smiled. He adored your smile. “And if a breeding kink is what you’re into, actually breeding me or not, I’m all for it. I’m wet just thinking about it.”

Thor laughed and held up his flask. “That’s the spirit.”

Bucky’s cock twitched in his pants. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it,” he all but growled. He inhaled so deeply he could actually taste it, and he wanted more. And if he could smell it, Steve could smell it.

“Okay then.” Clint removed his hearing aid. “I think I’m done.”

Steve jumped up when his best friend glared at him. “I think I’m done, too,” he said, not wanting to face Bucky’s wrath even though it wasn’t his fault he also had heightened senses.

“Let’s go, boys. I think these two should talk without us,” Natasha suggested, hauling Sam up by the arm and giving both of you a wink. “Be good, okay?”

“No promises,” you replied in a sing-song voice.

“Shouldn’t they get a room? I’m just saying,” Sam said as Natasha dragged him away.

“Breed her well, Barnes. Make us proud!” Thor shouted. Steve hauled him from the room, too, with Clint hot on their tail.

“Alone at last,” you giggled. If you were at all embarrassed, it didn’t show. And now that the two of you were alone, the tension skyrocketed. “You know, this isn't how I pictured saying any of this, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” he said. He couldn't believe you wanted him, but you did.

“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or weird. I’d never want that.”

“That’s the last thing I feel,” he exhaled, still gripping your arms when you finally moved into his lap and straddled him.

“Good,” you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

As much as he wanted to feel your lips against his, he stopped you. And as much as he wanted to tear your leggings away and have you then and there, but he couldn’t. “I’m not fucking you. Not tonight.”

The playfulness slipped from your eyes. So did the smile from your face. “Oh. I thought…” you breathed, looking away and quickly blinking. God, he hoped there weren’t tears in your eyes. “You don’t actually want me, do you?”

Bucky hadn’t meant for his words or stopping the kiss to come across as rejection, but that was exactly what happened. “That’s not–”

“Oh, my God. I ruined everything, didn't I? Why did I open my mouth?” You sniffled and tried to move away, but he wouldn't let you. “Six months of friendship and crushing on you and I-”

“Hey. You didn't ruin a thing.” Bucky gripped your chin with tenderness he didn’t think he was capable of anymore, and his heart broke when he saw the tears swimming in your beautiful eyes. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life,” he admitted, brushing a tear away that fell. “But you’ve been drinking, and that means you can’t fully consent, and I will not take advantage of you, no matter how you say you want me or this. I respect and care for you too much for that.”

HYDRA took consent away from Bucky for a long time, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world. He’d hate himself for doing anything with you without your full consent. He wouldn’t be the kind of man who did that. The man you deserved would be the one who properly took care of you in and out of bed.

And he’d be the best man for you if you let him.

“So, you do want me?” you asked, your voice uncertain.

“I did say more than anyone else, and I meant it,” he replied. You had to believe him. “But our first time should happen when you're sober.”

However you wanted your first time to be, he'd make it happen. He'd make love to you or fuck you or both. As long as there was clear consent and communication, he’d give you everything you needed and more, and he knew you'd do the same for him.

The smile you gave him repaired the cracks in his heart. “You’re a good guy, Bucky,” you said, snuggling against him. “And it isn’t just sex I want, but, well, I do want to have sex with you.”

“You’re adorable,” he chuckled and rested his chin on your head. “And I know. It isn't just sex I want either.”

Bucky wanted to take you to bed, but he also wanted to take you out on dates. He wanted to make you laugh and smile, wipe your tears and comfort you when you cried, and be the one you confided in. He wanted to be your man, and he wanted you to be his best girl.

“I wanna be yours,” you sighed as if you read his mind, his heart skipping a beat. “Can I be your girl?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes when he kissed the top of your head. “You can be my girl.”

And tomorrow once you were sober, he’d officially ask you to be his girl.

Happy Moanday, lovelies! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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svtiddiess · 1 day ago

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Precious Paws: Cats And Cuddles

Synopsis: Wonwoo is a possessive kitty who can’t stand it when you smell like anyone else but him. That’s why it’s so important for him to cling to you the moment you walk through the door.

Pairing: black cat hybrid!Wonwoo x afab!reader

Genre: fluff, hybrid au, drabble

Rating: sfw

Word count: 798

Warnings: showering together (but nothing sexual happens!), lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This is part of my Precious Paws series! Check out the masterlist here!

Click here to join the series taglist!

Click here to join my general taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Padded footsteps echo through the apartment as soon as you step inside after a long day at work. A small smile tugs at your lips—you already know who it is. Sure enough, Wonwoo, your black cat hybrid, appears. His soft, black ears perk up at the sight of you, and he quickly scuttles over, only to pause right in front of you. He sniffs the air, his nose twitching, before letting out a sharp hiss.

"You smell like other humans," he snarls.

"Nonu, I just got back from work. Of course, I smell like other humans," you chuckle, amused by the routine. This is a conversation you’ve had countless times before.

"But I don’t like it," he huffs, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t like it when you smell like anyone else but me.”

Before you can respond, he wraps his arms around you tightly, nuzzling into your neck to rub his scent all over you. You laugh softly, your hands coming up to embrace him as you let him do as he pleases.

After a few moments, his shoulders relax, his ears droop, and his tail lazily curls around you.

"Nonu, I need to go shower," you murmur.

"No," he protests, tightening his hold. Chuckling, you run your fingers through his black hair, earning a soft purr in response.

"We can’t just stand here all night," you tease, but Wonwoo only grumbles, his tail flicking in protest.

Sighing, you start waddling towards the bedroom with him still clinging to you like a koala. You stop just outside the bathroom door and pat his back, signalling for him to let go, but instead, he buries his face further into the crook of your neck.

"Nonu, I really have to shower. I feel gross," you explain gently, hoping to reason with him.

"Then let me join you," he mumbles, his tail swishing hopefully.

"I thought you hated water," you tease.

"I don’t mind getting wet if it means staying with you," he says softly.

Your heart warms at his words, and with a small smile, you agree. Carefully, you take off his glasses and set them aside before leading him into the bathroom. You help him out of his oversized sweater and sweatpants before undressing yourself.

The moment you step into the shower, he wraps his arms and tail around you again, holding you possessively. You giggle.

"Nonu, how am I supposed to wash up if you’re clinging to me like this?" you ask, amused. His response is an unintelligible mumble, making you shake your head fondly.

Somehow, you manage to grab the shampoo, and Wonwoo loosens his grip just enough to let you lather it into his hair. He purrs softly as your fingers massage his scalp, his ears occasionally twitching in delight. After rinsing his hair, he offers to return the favour, his careful hands working the shampoo into your hair while you relax under his touch. When he finishes rinsing it out, you press a soft kiss to his cheek, watching as his ears flush red.

The rest of the shower becomes a playful exchange of helping each other, and before long, you’re both stepping out, fresh and warm. Wonwoo insists you match his fluffy pyjamas, and you can’t bring yourself to refuse.

You sit him down at the vanity and begin drying his hair, the warm air making his ears droop as he starts to doze off. He always enjoys this part of the routine, and you find it endearing when he pouts at you after you gently wake him. Once both of your hair is dry and skincare is done, you climb into bed together, snuggling under the blanket.

Wonwoo rests his head on your chest, nuzzling into your collarbone as his tail drapes protectively across you. You giggle softly when his fluffy hair tickles your neck. In the quiet, your fingers comb through his hair while he traces random patterns on your stomach, his soft purring filling the room.

"Stay with me forever," he whispers, breaking the silence.

Your hand pauses, and you cup his face, gently tilting it up so he meets your eyes. His dark irises sparkle like stars in the night sky, filled with longing.

"I promise I’ll never leave you, my Nonu," you whisper with a smile, pressing a kiss to his nose.

His cheeks flush a deep red, and he hides his face in your neck, embarrassed. You giggle, finding his shyness endearing. Though he’s always eager to shower you with affection, he turns into a flustered kitten whenever you return it.

In the peaceful silence, you hold each other close, eventually drifting off to sleep. Wonwoo, your possessive but adorable black cat hybrid, may be a handful at times, but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Series Taglist: @gyubakeries @archivistworld @kwanniehae @sunnysidesins @adoreuzi @iwannakisspoutycheol @haniegame @moonyxhcbi

General Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @cherrybb96 @kyeomiis

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vixen7243 · 3 days ago

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Part 2

Masterlist | Original Thought | Pt. 1

TF141 X AFAB!Reader (Soon)

Tag list: @the-faceless-bride @persephone-kore-law

*Persephone had given the brilliant idea of being closeted bisexual to add to the drama...And of course I'm going to run like a maniac with it because YEESSS, as one myself, I have so many things to put in with this. and hope they/you like how I'm taking the route so far. If anyone would like to be added to tag list let me know, and leave comments on thoughts of ideas or if there's just anything you like so far.🥰 Enjoy the reading.* CW!:SA,VIDEO OF SA, HARRASSMENT, MENTION OF SELF HARM *Oh My God, this is longer than I thought I would do, but by god. This is the set up and hopefully yall like it.*

From early on it was easy for Y/N to realize that she was into girls, secondary school when she was 11 being the biggest case in point when she had her first experience kissing a friend, ‘to see what’s it like’ of course. The giggling was endless, but when she wanted to keep going back for more and seeing that she wasn’t interested in wanting to see what it was like to kiss a boy, she talked to her mom and had a long talk and learned about lesbians, and that she was one from what she was gathering. Her mom was, to say at the very least, unsupportive, and angry, claiming having come from a family that is conservative she told Y/N never to kiss a girl again, never look at girls like that ever again. The fight that broke between them was horrible, and as much as she wanted to call her dad and tell him about what had happened, she was afraid that he would also be upset with her, and maybe disown her, telling her she was never welcome back home. She wished she hadn’t given her mom a chance this year to keep her, but the guilt of having chosen her father ate at her making her think it would do her and her mom some good to spend the year together. Now, she regrated it, regrated it even more when she came to her mom with questions of her feelings and thoughts.

As time went by, she counted down the days till she could return home, she stayed on the phone most nights with her stepmom, trying to stay positive. Only, the worry started to set in when there was only 3 months left till it would be summer and she could return home. Her stepmom had informed them that she hadn’t heard from her husband, Y/N’s father, and that she was worried for him. With him gone, your mom would be able to keep you longer, due to the fact he was supposed to be picking you up and flying back to Barr.

Then one day she had gotten a call from her stepmom, broken up with sobs, it was hard for Y/N to understand her, but she could just barely pick up that she had said something about her dad going MIA and visitors? She wasn’t sure, but she was panicked as she went to her mom crying, begging to go back and be with her grandparents and Sharon to wait to hear about her dad. She never understood what had happened between her parents to make them divorce and for her dad to move from America all the way back to Scottland, but whatever it was, she had no doubt her mother was to blame. When she refused, took Y/N’s phone and soon moved, she hated her. Hated her with a passion, tried endlessly to find her grandparents on any social media and Sharon too, but Sharon had kept her last name, and she had no clue what it was. She wished she had asked before, she cried most nights after they had first moved thinking the worst fate for her father, mourning his potential death. She never let her self-stay close to her mom, she shut her out and delved headfirst into her sexuality, dating a girl that she had learned, after they had moved, was gay. As much as her mom wanted to say something, she had to bite her tongue, only because she learned that her girlfriend was the daughter of her new boss.

That’s certainly not to say that she didn’t making life at home a living hell for Y/N, chores, no phone, took all the money she somehow managed to make by doing yardwork for neighbors and even pet and baby-sitting. Y/N eventually broke up with her girlfriend, when she had realized she did like her at first, everything was now because she was dating her out of spite and loved her more as a friend than romantically. Even though she was angry, Katy understood and, at first, kept a little bit of a distance before becoming great friends.

When she was 15 and her guy friend came over to work on a project, when she walked into her room after grabbing drinks and snacks, he was laid out on her bed, shirt ridding up showing off his abs. The flutter feeling in her stomach and blush had her freezing in her doorway as she stared at him. What in the hell is happening? Why am I feeling so...

“Sweet, you brought soda.” When he sat up, you slowly walked in and handed him a can before going to your desk quickly sitting down and trying to hide your face. “So, you want to go through the article, and I’ll look for more websites to use as references?”

“Sure.” Burying your nose into the papers you had printed earlier that day, you couldn’t stop looking at him, why did he seem so different? He’d been over plenty of times, times when you guys laid in bed watching movies or playing new games, had slept stacked on each other a few times even and you’d never felt anything before. So. Why now? What was different? Why were you feeling how you usually down when you would see an attractive girl that you were crushing on? “Oh god.”

“What? Can’t find anything?”

“Huh? Oh, no, nothing.” You chewed your lip, cursing to yourself when you felt him lean against your shoulder, he was reading the page, but you felt his breath against your neck, could ever so faintly hear him mumbling under his breath as he read, and it was making the hair on the back of your neck stand. When he finally went back to his spot on your bed you let out the breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Trying to refocus on the work at hand, you tuned him out and got a few pages of writing down before debriefing him on what you wrote and handing it to him so that way, he could add to it with whatever he had been able to find.

While he was packing up his back you cleaned up the cans and wrappers before watching him, non to subtly. “What’s the matter? You’ve been staring at me on and off all evening?”

You shook your head, although he was your friend, he wasn’t close enough that you would ever tell him that you were feeling things, things that you only feel for girls, since you were gay... or you thought all this time and had been. But now here he was out of the blue riling things up inside of you. “It’s nothing.” He was popular in your school, the same group of girls that had tormented you and bullied you since you had come out had the biggest crushes on him, and most importantly, Sam, the head bitch, had dated him for a while and hated that he hung out with you. If you told him, you started feeling... conflicting feeling towards him, things that you haven’t yet processed properly, he’d tell his friend, because he couldn’t keep anything to himself and then they would go around spreading things about you behind your back.

“Yeah right, just tell me?” When you avoided looking at him, he sighed, “You heard then huh?”

“What?”

“That Sam and I are back together.” Looking at him surprised you scowled, “We talked out some issues, and figured why not try again.”

“Didn’t she -”

“We talked things out.” He cut you off standing up.

“She sucked your cousins dick.”

“Y/N”

“He took a video and spread it all through the school.”

“And we talked about that, it’s none of your business anyways.” He waited at beat before squinting at you slightly, “Do you have a thin fer me?”

“WhAt?” You looked at him wide-eyed and mouth open, “Why would you ask me that? Ye know I-”

“Sam said you have been looking at me differently lately and that we’ve been spending time together too-”

“We’re working on a project together.”

“I told her that... you're not denying that you’ve been looking at me differently.”

Scowling you crossed your arms over your chest huffing, “Because that’s insane Jake. Ye know I’m lesbian, I’ve never been into guys. Ever.” When he opened his mouth to say something you quickly spoke up, “And even if in some other bizarre world, why would I start liking ye?”

He glared at you at that, “What the hells that supposed to mean?”

“Yer not special Jake, pretty fucking typical and boring, why would I have a thin fer ye?” You wanted to bite your tongue off, you’d never been to mean to anyone other than Sam and her little click, but you vouched that, that’s because they deserved it.

“Fuck you Y/N.” He snatched up his back and walked out, you took a deep breath before collapsing onto your bed sighing. You weren’t sure who to talk to, but you wanted to talk to someone, so, pulling out your laptop you pulled up skype, you’d found a sweet guy that lived in Edinburgh, Scottland, when you were looking for your dad and had become good friends. Dominic, he was gay and your most trusted confidante when it came to anything you needed to talk to someone about.

“Hey lass, what’s going on?”

“I’m, surprised you answered, isn’t it like midnight for you?”

“Yeah, but I can’t sleep, so again, what’s te matter?”

You leaned back into your pillow and told him what had happened when you first walked back into your room and seeing Jack on your bed to what you had said making him leave. When he stayed quiet you wrapped your arms around your waist, “I’m confused on why I was feeling that way to him and then he wouldn’t shut up about Sam and what she had said about me.... There was so much going on in my head and he was overwhelming me with so much I just went off on him and said what I shouldn’t have.” Looking up at him you whispered, “What’s going on with me?”

“Oh Christ lass,” he started laughing a bit before shaking his head, “Ye’ve gotta crush on him.”

“What? But I-”

“I know, but... from the sounds of it, ye like him. And There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“So, I’m... I’m bi? How? I’ve never liked any guys before? How am I 15 and just now liking a boy... JAKE no less?!”

His laughter made you sigh, “Late developer. It happens.” You doubted that you were still confused on your feelings but decided you’d just slowly sort yourself out.

So, for the next few months you broke down your feelings and realized that yup, you were into both guys and girls, and Jake was ignoring you still.... until. There was going to be a party at Sam’s, and your best friend Kieran had pulled you along, you lied to your mom that you were going to her house, and she lied that she was going to yours. When the bother of you walked into her house, Kieran pulled you into the kitchen handing you a cup, when you took a sip you choked huffing, making her laugh, “You never drink before?”

“No, my god, have you?”

“Few times, with family, mom would always have a cow though.” She took a swig from her cup before urging you too try and take another drink. After 2 cups, you were slowly feeling the effects before you seen Jack walking to you, Kieran already got the rundown of what had happened and that you had concluded that you were in fact bi now. She just wasn’t sure if you would be so comfortable around him yet. “Want me to distract?” She whispered tucking into your side.

“No, it’s okay.” You said taking a deep breath before smiling when he stopped in front of the both of you.

“Hey.”

He was staring right at you, you felt the blush cover your face, you swallowed thickly, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you and crack, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Kieran chirped, her smile spreading when he glanced at her for a moment before looking you over. You weren’t the thinnest, you had a little extra meat around your middle and your thighs certainly had no gap, but your confidence helped you feel comfortable wearing the short shorts, tank top and torn flannel that when seen from behind damn near made you look like you weren’t wearing any short at all.

“Wanted to talk to you in private.”

Your eyes widened as you looked to Kieran before looking back at him, “Alone? With me? Why?”

Rolling his eyes he grabbed your wrist turning and pulling him with you, when you felt the cup being pulled from your hand you looked back at Kieran who was giving you thumbs up making a smoochy face before laughing. You looked at the back of Jack’s head anxious, Where are we going? Upstairs? Why? You didn’t pay attention to the people that were watching the two of you disappear up the stairs, your sole focus was Jack and them way he laced his fingers with yours. Despite yourself on a few occasions, he had been an invading guest in some of your fantasies and dreams, that to now feel him pulling you into... oh god, a bedroom, alone, the two of you. “Whas goin on?”

After he had closed the door he guided you to the bed, making you sit down, he looked at you intensely, “I know you like me,” as you opened your mouth getting ready to say something, the hand he was holding, he pulled making you push forward and resting your other hand on his shoulder, “You’ve been staring at me a lot more since I left your place a couple weeks back, and don’t think I didn’t notice how you always blush when passing in the halls. Just say it Y/N.”

Your cheeks were burning, he was so close, you could feel his breath fanning your face, opening your mouth, a small croak came from your throat making you close your mouth swallowing before going again, “Yer still wit-”

“Say it.”

The quiet of his voice made you throw caution to the wind, “Okay, fine... Jack... I like you.” Closing the distance, you kissed him, your breath halting in your throat, his lips aren’t as soft as the few girls your previously kissed, reaching up and cupping his jaw, it was firmer, sharper. A boy, not a girl, your mind reeled with the sensation of your nerves being consumed with Jack, Jack, Jack. Feeling his hands grab at the flannel you were wearing and start pushing at it to slide it down your shoulders. Easing back, you gathered yourself, “Wait.”

“Come on.” Pulling the shirt off his hands started going for your tank.

“Hey, Jack.” Before you could say anymore, he kissed you again slowly working the top up, your body froze at hearing something in the room bang, blood running cold when laughter sounded from the closet.

“Shit, I can’t hold it in Jack, fucking look at her.” The laughter echoed in your ears as you quipped your head around and watched as 2 boys stumbled out of the closet laughing.

“Never seen so many rolls, jeez, ever heard of self-restrain piggy?”

“What are they doin here?” You looked to Jack shocked, tears threatening to build as he smirking then shook his head.

“I was close guys; this doesn't count against me since you guys interrupted.”

“Wha-”

“She would’ve stopped you anyways, she was trying.”

“Unless you were just going to ignore her protests?”

“Shut up, just keep recording, this will be good.”

“Wait, recordin? Why, stop Jack!” You cried as he yanked your tank top up before holding you, arms pinned behind your back.

The other 2 pulled their phones up recording, flashes on, catching everything, as you thrashed trying to get loose their laughter rung loud in the room, “You thought he liked you? What a joke, maybe you would’ve let him fuck you.”

“Would’ve been an easy bet for Jack to win. How annoying, I thought she was a lesbian?”

“Faking that shit for attention probably, knew no guy would want to be with a piggy unless there was something interesting about her.”

“But to think that even a girl would find this attractive? Yeah right.”

The tears were unstoppable, their horrible remarks burning and cutting into you, finally getting loose enough in his grasp, you dove down to your top slipping on your flannel running out crying, the others following and laughing, snorting at you.

“Y/N?!” You didn’t stop to wait for Kieran as you made a mad dash home, climbing up and into your room. Your phone started ringing, seeing Kieran, you ignored it, ashamed and embarrassed.

Through the weekend, you stayed away from your phone, the constant dings and ringing going ignored till it finally died. On Monday, your mother none the wiser of what had happened forced you to school. Walking up to the front you tried to ignore the laughs and people pointing at you, when you walked into the main hall, everyone was staring at you, your skin breaking out with goose bumps. Head down, you got to your locker, when you opened it, pictures and notes flooded out, you looked at as much as you could before your vision blurred. They were still images of the video, notes and drawings of pigs and insults, the worst, comments to harm yourself. “Y/N.” Looking up at Kieran, the worry written all over her face, you watched as she picked up all the papers and yanked them out of your locker yelling at everyone that was now huddled around you, phones out and laughing. After she had all the papers, she pulled you into a bathroom before you broke down, holding onto her. “Come to my house, let’s just skip today.”

Following her to her place, you sat with her in her room, telling her what had happened when you and Jack went upstairs. She held you tightly throughout the whole ordeal, curing Jack and his stupid friends. It was only a few hours before the both of you jumped at her door opening, her father stepping in looking at the both of you, “Why did you skip out of school? What’s going on here?”

“Dad, listen, please just understand we have very valid reasons, just...” She looked at you hesitantly, “Can’t say right now.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” He looked over at you, “No child of mine skips school, what’s going on?”

Before she came up with anything you started standing up grabbing your back, “I’m sorry sir, it was my fault, I pulled her out of the school and suggested we skip.”

“Y/N.”

“Why?”

Making your way to the door you tried to squeeze past him, but his hand shot out blocking you, “No reason sir, please ju-”

“We should just tell him, he will help yo-”

“Don’t Kieran.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing!” Pushing his hand down, you bolted out and started making your way home. Going to your room you charged your phone and saw every notification start to pop up, messages from anyone and everyone from school laughing at the video and calling you. Silencing it you laid in your bed crying, shortly, your mom came home screaming at you as she climbed the stairs.

“What in the hell did you fucking do?!” As she slammed your door open, the hatred in her eyes burned into you, “My boss just called me and told me you whored yourself at some fucking party? What fucking party did you go to?!”

“What? How-” Keiran told him, you snapped your mouth shut, you couldn’t believe she told him. You knew she was trying to look out for you, but damnit if you weren’t made at her for saying anything.

“Answer me! Don’t you dare play dumb; there’s video evidence of you screwing someone? Have you lost your damn mind?! Everything I fucking do, and this is how you repay me?!” You glared at her as she went on; How is this my fault? Why is she insisting it’s my fault?

“I didn’t do ANYTHING on purpose! They forced me and recorded me!” She glared at you before turning on her heel leaving slamming the door behind herself. You sighed walking to the door locking it before grabbing your phone and computer, pulling skype up you called Dominic. While the ringing was going you opened your bank app, checking what you had before opening a new tab on your computer for flights.

“Y/N, wha-”

“Ye remember a while ago when ye suggested I move out that way to just run away?”

“Yeah?” He looked at you skeptically, “Are ye-”

“I’m buying a ticket as we speak, I will be there in two days.”

“Woah, lass, whas go-”

“Please, Dom, jus... tell me now if I can’t stay with ye till I find my dad so I can figure something else out for hiding.”

“Of course, ye can stay with me, but lass, what the hell happened?”

Booking the flight ticket you took a deep breath, trying to hold the tears back, being tired of crying you didn’t want to shed anymore. You told him everything that had happened over the weekend, the party, letting your phone die and having a mental break down to the crap that happened at school, your friend telling her dad who is your mom's boss. Finally, the yelling match with your mom that just transpired. When you finished, he slammed back into his chair huffing, “Jesus Christ lass... what te fuckin hell? Firs off, yer more tan welcome here, ma and pa have been wantin to meet ya bad and when they hear bo-”

“No, please Dom. Please don’t say anything bou-”

“Lass, listen, I’m real fuckin sorry bout was happen to ye, but we gotta tell them somethin. They are goin to won-”

“Tell them, I’m coming to find my dad, which won be a lie, ye jus don need to tell them the other shit. Please Dom? PlEaSe? I’m beggin ye.”

He was quiet a moment, but he relented, “Fine, but they ask more questions, we tell them lass.”

“Fine.”

The two of you hashed out the rest of your plan, you’d stay low at home, steering clear of your mom for the next day before calling a cab to take you to the airport the following day, ignoring her and creating distance was a piece of cake, she was still irate with you and constantly trying to think up of lies to tell her boss about your ‘mistake’.

When the time came, right as soon as your mom was out the door, you grabbed your 2 bags and made a mad dash to the cab that waited out front, sliding in, you felt like everything was moving on X2 speed, the drive to the airport, getting through tsa, and waiting to board. Your heart pounded in your chest; you were finally leaving your mom, and going to look for your dad, you remembered faintly the areas he would take you and replayed every detail hoping that when you get there if you can’t find him, then at least his wife. When your phone started ringing, you slowly looked at it before staring, Kieran, she had no clue what you were doing. You had ignored her calls and texts yesterday and the previous night, you knew she would and is still worried about you. You wanted to tell her what you were doing but didn’t know any more if you could trust her not to tell her dad and then eventually report you running away. Damnit though if the guilt of her worry and self-blame didn’t eat at your conscience, sliding the answer across your screen you lifted the phone to your ear.

“Oh my god! Y/N! I’ve been trying to reach you! Listen, please, I’m so sorry for telling my dad, but he needed to know! Please understand I only told him because he would help. He said he talked to your mom, but she called the cops to file a report.” The momentary silence lasted long enough for you to sigh, “H-how was it making the report? Did they say what they would do?” When you didn’t respond, you heard her sniffle, “Please, Y/N, I’m so-”

“Don worry bout me anymore Kieran. I’ll be okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jus don worry, I’m not mad at ye, well...not anymore.”

“Y/N, where are you? You turned your location off.”

You looked up at the boarding sign, “I’m goin home, I’ll see ye later okay?”

“Oh, okay...Love you.”

Swallowing, you grabbed your bags walking to the podium, “Bye Kieran.” You hung up quickly before turning your phone off and wrapping it in napkins and tossing it in a can passing by.

Landing in Edinburgh Airport you hailed a cab and gave them Dominic’s address, you’d sent him money to buy you a new phone, so he knew the time window of when to expect you. Pulling up to a beautiful house I handed the driver some cash and started making your way to the front door. When it opened you smiled, Dom, in person quickly ran to you hugging and picking you up, “Jeez Dom, don’t break yer back.” You laughed, but when he set you down, a hard look on his face made you shut up.

“Don be sayin no mean shit bout my best frien. I ain fraid to smack some sense into ye.”

“An I an fraid to smack some sense into ye if you lay one hand on her.” You both turned to see his mom at the doorway with his father.

A sheepish smile made its way onto his face, “I was only messin ma, promise.”

“Hmhm” She hummed smiling walking down the path before smiling at you and wrapping her arms around you. “It’s so nice to finally meet ye hun.”

“Oh, uh, thank ye fer lettin me stay here till I find my dad and mom.” You smiled back looking between her and her husband.

“Come in dear.” He said grabbing your bags smiling, you all walked in, they lead you to the main room and sat you on the couch. While his mom got drinks for everyone you looked around, “When Dom said ye were comin to look fer ye father, I asked a few questions around town to see if anyone knew anything.”

You looked at him shocked, “Oh, ye didn’t have to do tha, I don want to bother ye all while I stay here.”

He shook his head, “I don mind one bit, I only wish I had some good news fer ye, with the lil I knew and Dom, not many people could really offer anything.”

“I understand, there were a few places I remember visiting and going to many times when I was younger, I was goin to visit those places and ask around, if not fer them then at least my grandparents.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll be more than happy to drive ye around and help.”

And they did, it was a couple weeks of traveling and asking friends, and old connections till you found a small scrap of information. It was a long, short given to you by one of Dom’s dad’s old cop friends, but you didn’t want to leave no stone unturned. Going just outside of Edinburgh, you went to the address that was scribbled down, it was a long dirt driveway to a beautiful 2 story house, huge with hills and fields surrounding it. On one side there were highland and belted Galloway cows, the other side of the road was cheviot sheep, your heart was pounding a mile a minute in your ribs, your limbs felt heavy as you climbed out of the car, looking around. Everything felt so...

“Can we help ye all?” That voice, your body felt like the earth was shaking, could feel every muscle trembling as you slowly turned around and ... It was like everything froze in time, tears weld in your eyes, even though it had only been 4 years, it was like you’d only just seen him yesterday.

“Dad.” You whimpered; you covered your mouth.

Looking you over, he swore he thought he was looking at a ghost, “Y/N?” Nodding your head, he took one step down the stairs before the both of you made a mad sprint for each other. The collision of you both slamming into each other, wrapping your arms around one another tightly, weeping into the others shoulder. He pulled back first, cupping your cheeks in his hands moving the hair from your face, “My god, Y/N. Yev grown so much.” You both laughed before going back into holding each other, it wasn’t until his wife came out asking what was going on till she saw you.

“Oh my god, MA, PA!” She screamed before running to you laughing and hugging you.

You looked to the door, your grandparents walked out confused, and slightly worried, but upon seeing you, God, they all had never felt so whole and complete, they all cocooned you into a bear hug. Only pulled apart to thank and welcome Dominic and his parents inviting them in.

You never told anyone the truth of why you ran away and sought them out, you didn’t even have to worry about your mom making a report, when you had left she counted it as a silent blessing that she could move and start over fresh, she never thought you went back to your father, all that matter to her was that you were gone. Your dad and mom asked as often as they could to figure out the truth, but you only insisted that you missed them and decided enough was enough, you were going to find them no matter what. You’d told them and your grandparents that you were lesbian, not expressing that you were bi, they excepted you none the less, and you were sure they would still except you even if you told them, you were bi, but you weren’t going to be dating or seeing any guys for a very long time. Yes, you knew and understood not all men were the same, but that doesn’t change the fact that at the thought of being intimate with a guy had you breaking down and having an anxiety attack.

It wasn’t for a long time till you found inner peace with yourself and what had happened to you those years ago, you just always kept to one rule when it came to guys. You were never going to get anywhere near intimate with one unless you guys were a serious thing; no one nightstands, no games, no bets, no lies.

#call of duty #task force 141 #x reader #john price #simon ghost riley #john price smut #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #captain price #141 #gaz cod #tf 141 smut

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sunshinehaze1 · 2 hours ago

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About Last Night…

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Summary: You met The Dieter Bravo last night, but does he remember meeting you?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. smut, handjob, f!oral, unprotected PiV, mentions of drug use, reader has hair long enough to tug, smoking

a/n: This was written for @jolapeno Dear-uary Challenge and I received this prompt. Thank you to @peepawispunk & @80ssong for their beta reads! 😘 I hope you enjoy!

word count: 1,744

ao3 | ml

Dieter groans, turns onto his side, and opens his eyelids to find two ibuprofen tablets and a glass of water on his bedside table. He's unsure how he even managed to get to his bed. He can't remember much of last night; as usual, he drank too much, smoked too much, and snorted too much. He knows he needs to get his partying under control; he's not keen on another stint in rehab or being the subject of more tabloid fodder. His team would be grateful, too. But he enjoys it too much. He loves hosting parties at his house and having access to beautiful men and women who want to shower him with adoration and attention. Aspiring actors, writers, and producers all want a piece of him. It's not easy to give those perks up—one of the benefits of being an actor in high demand.

The tablets are sitting atop a slip of paper. He picks them up and throws them back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, emptying the glass of water in a couple of gulps. He picks up the slip of paper, his thick thumb and index finger grip the note, and he admires the neat handwriting as he reads:

image text: D- you may not remember much, so let me refresh your memory. This may be where I left you, but we’ll start where we first met. Even with the stroke of a hand and gripping conversation, this place is the pits.

Dieter, confused, rereads the note. Who did he meet last night that would have left this note? As usual, his house was overflowing with people. Most were friends or people he'd worked with in the industry; surely, it wasn't one of them. His friends tend to bring along their friends, and those friends bring their friends, and soon, his Hollywood Hills home is overrun with strangers.

He pulls on his green robe and exits the bedroom, traipsing over the remnants of the night before. Dodging obstacles of empty glasses, discarded clothing, ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and roaches, coffee tables dusted in white powder, and rolled up hundred dollar bills. A record spins around the player, scratching and skipping with each rotation. People in various states of undress are scattered across the floor and couches.

He finally reaches the conversation pit—avocado green cushions accented with cream and mustard yellow pillows. He descends the carpeted stairs, still unsure what kind of wild goose chase he's being led on. As he straightens the pillows, a slip of paper dances through the air when he moves them around. Dieter bends down to pick it up after it floats to the ground. Suddenly, a flash of recollection races across his mind.

A vision of you and him, bodies close together, barely any space between you two. Your arm draped over his shoulders, and your hand in his lap gripped tightly around his cock. Your hands make languid strokes along his length as you purr into his ear, teasing him. He's impossibly hard, and his eyes scan the party to see if anyone has noticed his precarious situation. A rush of heat skates up his chest to his neck as the risk of getting caught arouses him. You coo, "Baby, you're so hard, I can barely wrap my hand around you."

A moan falls out of Dieter's mouth, his gaze occupied by your grasp on his length. He watches as you continue your lazy strokes, the waistband of his pants resting just below his balls. Your movements are hidden by his fluffy teddy bear coat that he has positioned over his lap but not shielded from his view. He's mesmerized by the lacquer on your nails and the reflection of light that bounces off them with each pass along his cock. He feels arousal roil in his belly, and his balls begin to tighten.

Breathily, he spits out, "I'm going to cum."

Squeezing him tighter before you quickly release him, "Not yet, you aren't." You lean in and kiss him on the cheek, "I need a smoke." you giggle as you tuck his still painfully hard dick back into his pants and pull away.

He hears that sweet sound in his mind, and his cock twitches at the memory. Eager to find out what's next on this salacious tour, he reads the note:

image text: orange and bright, this is the perfect place to get a light.

Dieter was drawn to this home because of the mid-century modern architecture, and he leaned into the aesthetic. Much of the decor is original to the house, including the burnt orange malm fireplace on his back patio.

He heads outside. The sun is now high in the sky, having slept the morning away. Dieter squints to avoid the torture of the sun's rays on his brutal hangover. As he approaches the seating area around the fireplace, he spots a slip of notebook paper under an ashtray littered with discarded butts and blunts on the table.

It prompts his memory. After you left him with blue balls in the conversation pit, you dragged him outside for a smoke. He walked closely behind you with his hands on your hips to conceal his erection as you navigated through the party crowd. His dick was aching, desperate for release. But his curiosity to know more about you was enough of a distraction for now.

He observes you taking a drag from the cigarette between your soft lips. "How long have you lived here?" you inquire as you purse your lips to exhale the smoke up and to the side, away from his face.

"Um, a few years now. I bought it after Cliffs Beasts 6." His eyes rake up and down your body, taking in your curves and the disarming smile that spreads across your face.

"I liked that movie."

Dieter scoffs, unbelieving someone like you would enjoy the movie, let alone see it. It was a flop, an example of a studio trying to milk everything out of a franchise at any expense. There is no way you actually liked the movie.

"No, really, I did." There's that smile again; he knew then that he was done for, his body warmed by the sincerity in your eyes.

Chuckling to himself at the memory, he looks down at the slip of paper, which reads:

image text: I cried out, with your tongue inside, while the Kid sang about Nikki.

Dieter enters his music room, eyeing the wall of his record collection. His fingers dance along the spines of the album covers until he finds Purple Rain. Carefully, he pulls the record out of its sleeve and watches as another slip of paper falls to the ground. He replaces the spinning record and gently places the needle onto the vinyl, A-side up.

The castle started spinning

Or maybe it was my brain

I can't tell you what she did to me

But my body will never be the same

The images of last night in this room flood his mind. You, on your back, laid across the faux fur rug. It was as vivid as if you were there with him right now. Your shapely legs stretched out in front of you, with your perfect pussy glistening in the dim lamplight. His body prone with his face between your thighs, inhaling your scent. He laps into your sweet heat, his tongue teasing through your folds and flicking over your clit. His forearms wrapped around your thighs to hold you in place when you begin to writhe, pushing your core into his face, chasing your orgasm.

Oh, her lovin' will kick your behind

Oh, she'll show you no mercy

But she'll sure enough, sure enough

Show you how to grind

He laps at your release while you cry out his name, unable to control the rutting of his hips against the rug, searching for relief from his aching, throbbing cock. He's been on edge for the last couple of hours, patiently waiting for his release.

At the memory, he realizes he can still taste you on his lips. It's faint, but it's enough to make his cock move. Having sobered up a bit more, he's intrigued to find out where he'll be led next and picks up the piece of paper:

image text: you’ll find this journey come to a close in the place where you like to powder your nose…

Dieter walks down the hall to his bathroom. Vintage aqua blue tiles cover the floor, shower, and halfway up the wall, trimmed in navy blue tiles. The mirror above the matching pedestal sink is covered in writing—a phone number in red lipstick with handwriting that matches the notes—your phone number. Thanks to you and this little scavenger hunt you sent him on, he's slowly pieced together his night with you. He may not remember it all, but his senses help, recalling the feel of your soft, silken skin, your floral perfume, and the way you taste. And he's transported back.

He pictures you bent over the sink as he slides down your panties. Tugging your hair as he slides his cock inside you from behind. Remembering the gasps and moans, you couldn't help but release as he thrust into your warm, wet heat. Rubbing your swollen clit as you approach your second climax, nibbling on your ear, which finally sends you over the edge. Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing his cock so tight he had to pull out quickly to paint his spend across your bare ass. His sweaty brow meets yours, the both of you gasping to catch your breath as he leaves a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose.

His dick was now half hard at the memory.

He pulls his phone out of his robe pocket and opens the camera app. He points it toward the mirror as he takes in his disheveled state: hair tousled and astray, light brown curls pointing in every direction. He notices a stain down the front of his grey tunic and his striped pants slung low on his hips. He does little to improve his appearance before he snaps a picture, tongue wagging, eyes wide, making sure his semi-hard cock is captured in the frame.

He types the number you left on the mirror and attaches the photo.

"I found you."

A couple of minutes later, his phone pings, "It's about damn time; I've been waiting all morning for you. 😉"

Thank you so much for reading! I’d love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏼

tagging a few folks who may be interested in reading: @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @ak-vintage @kilamonster (lemme know if you prefer I not clog your notifs)

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo brainrot club #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #about last night #jolapenosdearuary

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kosmicdream · 8 months ago

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Ode to Togashi

Stream of conscientious incoherent rant about manga/hxh below, read at your own discretion as i AM NOT EDITING IT:

While I’m still in the mood to talk about art and what i love about manga, i feel like i wanted to share (some) of my thoughts on why HXH continues to be one of my favorite stories. Togashi’s writing method continues to be probably like, the closest one that i aspire to replicate in my own work, partly because i love to see how much it builds and learns from itself, reinvents itself, ect. But i DONT think Hxh is perfect, even if i wouldn’t change anything about it or togashi’s writing style.

When I first got into HXH, it was actually through the old anime. I watched that all the way thru before reading the manga, and when i was watching the anime it was during a period of time when i hated all shonen. I still kinda hate “the shonen” model, despite loving many shonen series, but something abt HXH pulled me in to give it a try and i was quickly hooked. I of course, already had experience with YYH growing up as a teen but i somehow missed HXH completely until my early 20s. I had already started trying comics by then, but it was EGGSHELLS and i had not started FFAK at that point.

HXH almost lost me at greed island my first round, ngl. I appreciate it now, andi still think the set up for Greed island was amazing but the arc itself.. I was not into it, mostly cause i think the villain for it was kinda lackluster and i didn’t really think the world of greed island had a strong design sense. There was interesting aspects, i enjoyed Bisque as a new character and she helped carry a LOT of the weight of that arc for me, but it was kind of a drag. IDK if it was also partly the adaptation for that arc, but i didn’t enjoy it much more in manga form either. It just went a bit faster. However, the end of that arc and the final fight was surprisingly brutal and enjoyable, which made me optimistic and helped me to continue. And then the chimera ant arc was the first arc i read ONLY manga first and i truly fell in love with it, obsessed even. That arc, as many readers already know, is probably like the closest thing to FFAK’s “Parent” for inspiration. Obviously, FFAK draws from a lot of things (Trigun is probably the 2nd strongest influence on FFAK) but it isn’t quite the same as HXH. As MUCH as i adore hunter x hunter part of me does cringe and laugh that like, in the end, a battle shonen manga still excited me that much but like.. As MUCH as i clearly love battle manga.. I am so over them. You know? Who cares. IMO. No matter how great it looks, i probably am never going to be more impressed (visually) with an action scene than the ones Yukito Kishiro drew. He did it, He won the action manga game to me. I have no idea what’s actually happening in Gunnm most of the time but as far as the visual spectacle of it all, it literally doesn't even make sense how good his action scenes look. (I could talk a lot about Gunnm too, but i’ll save that for another time IG) Like how the fuck does someone draw that good and it just made everything else by comparison just like, not.. Matter too much to me anymore. Which is great, because I can then look at other aspects for a work rather than just being drawn in by the visuals. And stuff.

Where i’m at now.. I dont want to read another, even if its drawn well and .. the powers are SO powering or whatever. And i love to draw action scenes, they’re really hard and i still have so much more to go to learn about them. At best, I think im okay at them. But even when i work, i just get tired now so i cut them down a lot. Thats partly because i jsut dont have the time to draw fighting scenes. So i kind of feel embarrassed by a lot of them that ive made, i know I was lazy. Lazy in a way I’m not proud of the result, but im proud of the compromises to get the shit done. Which is the most important think in the end, to juggle your own expectations and limitations with the timeframe you have to get somewhere you need to go. I will still read more action/battle manga in the future.. But im in no rush. And im certain, for the most part, they arent going to teach me anything I don’t already know. They might entertain me and i might be like “..huh!” at a few things, but my expectation for them to do more than that is pretty low. I’m delighted when im wrong, but i cannot deny the apathy towards them is super deep. Togashi to me, is one those authors, that makes me really wake up and realize there’s still a lot of unexpected territory out there.

He writes like an enthusiastic newbie, not a seasoned old timer that he is, who basically helped popularize the “tournament arc” and “dark edgy shonen” stuff with YYH. All his characters in HXH are geniuses, which is kind of a valid critique and can be annoying as hell too… Id say most readers dont really get how the hell nen works, yet somehow the story still functions so well in its character motivations/conflicts that it kinda doesn’t matter too much that.. It doesnt really make sense? We have to relearn what nen is basically every arc. Its not gonna stick. And yet im just so excited every time it updates and i really want to know what he wants to do with his new arc, if he is going to be able to do it. Nen to me is like a fake fantasy science that is tangible and real yet also you’re in a dream and you try to read the letters on a page, and you can read it but if you stare hard at it. The words are just blurs, or it doesn’t really connect. I like that there’s this malleable illusion that it functions in a way, that is concrete, but it isn’t really. But its enough that i can believe that for the characters, who are also not real, it is real for them.

The fact that i can talk about “”””NeN””” like this to me is essentially why it becomes the perfect shonen to me because it takes itself so seriously, so genuinely, yet it also is nonsense but not in the way where its like.. Irony poisoned, “gotcha” twists? Im sick of all these subverting shonens that arent subverting anything. Or even just the attitude that is what makes a good shonen these days is to subvert, diminish, laugh, ect at shonen while completely stepping inside the same footprints again and again. So much manga just wants to be dragon ball, but dragon ball was good cuz it was just a fun, well drawn action manga that wasn’t trying to BE dragonball. It was just dragon ball. (maybe now its trying to be dragon ball, which is why i dont care about whatever sequel attempt we’re at now, but that’s another story.) Its fun to me that i dont know if Gon is gonna come back in Hxh. like, maybe he will and his powers will be restored ect.. But at the time of writing this, and for YEARS we just.. Have the main pals of the manga separated. Their friendship has changed. There’s a great shift in it. Gon met his dad, who sucks, but that kind of was his main quest. Sure, we have kurapika’s arc, and many other routes to go - but in a weird way HXH is done and it isn’t done at the same time. I’m just like, what are we going to do now. TOGASHI said flat earth real and was like, the other half of it is UNEXPLORED AND SO DARN DANGEROUS and theres SOM BIGGGGG DINOSAURS THERE and it just feels so gleefully like.. You’re on the swingset and some kid just keeps having to up the stakes but in the most kid-like way possible. For serious. But Togashi’s 58. But he’s right too, the dark continent IS so cool.. I just imagine leorio going there and getting so sick and shitting mutant diahrea and dying the SECOND he sets foot there and its awesome. That’s NOT what’s going to happen but im delighted at the opportunity.

This is the point where I’m writing something when i take a pause and wonder how the hell i got here. I have skimmed the above written text. Whatever point i think i was going to make, wasn’t made, but i expressed.. good feelings here. This is how i write. I typed all of that in about 15 minutes with no idea where it was gonna go. Part of the process now would be to go back, organize, edit, ect. To *TRY* to make it a little more comprehensible, as with all writing. Believe it or not i have gotten better at editing my own work. But the true nature of it all is still the same. And its the same in the way that i dont want, no matter how much i improve at my craft, i dont want to lose that enthusiasm i feel when i reach 58. I think that would be such a triumph, id be so lucky to be able to muster that energy. When I think of togashi, i think he has that. He has that real artistic spark that no amount of time/experience has ever diminished and that’s why i think he’s truly my personal favorite mangaka. (maybe tezuka too)

#felt like sharing more of my journals #ive really cut down on these but you know what .. fuck it #togashi time #hunter x hunter #togashi #hope anyone enjoys this if you manage to read it #its kinda all over the place lmao

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osamusriceballs · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 25 <3

Iwaizumi x striptease

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 1,4 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"You're so fucking hot."

A low groan escapes his lips as his hips arch into yours while you straddle his lap. You continue to kiss his neck, your hands gently resting on his shoulders to maintain your balance on his muscular thighs. Athletic trainer? You almost snort. He looks more like an athlete himself. Iwaizumi's hands are restless, alternating between gripping your hips to sensually thrust into you and exploring the curves and contours of your body.

"You too," you sheepishly look up and smile at him, your cheeks warming as you admire his attractive face up close. The intense eye contact continues for a few moments, with both of you remaining silent, only the sound of your soft breaths filling the room.

That is until you can't resist any longer and begin to squirm on his lap. "Come here." He tilts his head and easily connects his lips with yours, much to your relief. You feel yourself melting into the kiss, savoring the soft caress of his lips against yours and the gentle increase of pressure. You moan as his tongue grazes your lower lip, silently requesting more access, to which you eagerly oblige by parting your lips.

Your passionate make-out session is suddenly interrupted by the loud music coming from the closed front door, undoubtedly from the new neighbors next door. You pull back slightly at the noise, just enough to notice a slight frown on his face, and he sighs deeply while squeezing your hips. Since the new neighbors moved in next door, they've made a habit of playing loud music every Saturday night, making you feel like you're in a crowded club. Their music is usually energetic and intense, probably used for home workouts, but tonight's music is different. It's a slow, sensual melody that makes you want to sway your hips as you cling to Iwaizumi.

You both exchange glances while the music plays, and his initial frown quickly dissipates along with your disappointment of the music ruining your sweet moment. "Dance for me?" He suddenly breaks the silence with a gleam of excitement in his eyes, his happiness evident as he gazes expectantly at you. "Really?" you hesitantly ask, feeling somewhat perplexed by the unexpected request.

"Hmm. The music is perfect for this." He grins, his expression so tender and affectionate that you give him one last peck on the lips, pressing your lips against his long enough to elicit a groan from him before you finally get up.

Your movements are initially stiff as you're not quite sure how to proceed, but as you notice his leg bouncing in anticipation, you decide to go with the flow. You're convinced that you can't go wrong; Iwaizumi has adored, praised, and cherished your body so many times that you can't imagine him ever being disappointed in anything you do.

You slowly dance to the music, gently swaying your body while maintaining eye contact with him. You do a little twirl, just enough to let your skirt flutter a bit, earning an approving hum from him. "Always so fucking pretty for me," he runs his hands over his pants and takes a deep breath, his eyes tracking every movement of your body.

"What should I take off first, Hajime?" you ask, batting your eyelashes as seductively as possible. His leg stops bouncing at your question, and he quickly licks his lips before leaning forward ever so slightly. "You're letting me choose?" You feel a shiver run down your spine at his expectant gaze, your body growing warmer as you stand before him, swaying to the music.

"Your shirt. I think it would look better on the floor." He grins, watching as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, slowly reaching for the hem of your shirt. "You don't like it, then?" You ask with a teasing smile, and he immediately shakes his head. "No, I love it! It's my favorite color on you." You raise your eyebrows at his statement, mentally noting to wear this color more often.

"Oh? Should I keep it on, then?" You let your hands fall to your sides, ensuring that you continue to sway to the music and let your hands wander down your sides.

"Baby," he groans in frustration, his hands caressing the fabric of his pants once more, and you decide to give in. You bring your hands back to the hem of your shirt and slowly lift it. You expose inch by inch, his gaze fixed on the movement of your hands as it trails down your chest, leaving your upper body clad only in an almost see-through lacy bra. Once you've finally pulled the shirt over your head, you hear his breath hitch. You know how much he adores the bra and the matching panties, that's why you chose to wear them today to surprise him - the perfect choice as it seems.

"What next?" You ask, your voice slightly higher pitched than usual, conveying how hot and bothered he's making you feel with the way he watches you with his bright green eyes, much like a predator eyeing its prey, ready to devour. "The skirt." His response is so quick that you know he thought about it while you were undressing, but that was exactly the effect you aimed for: to stimulate his imagination and to make his mind go crazy. You sway your hips just a bit slower, maintaining eye contact to intensify the tension while you unzip your skirt from the side, making sure to caress all of your exposed skin. The fabric falls down to your feet as you pull it over your hips, leaving you in a matching set of lace, almost bare in front of him. You don't feel the cold at all, not when Iwaizumi's gaze is so fiery and intense. The bulge in his pants is clearly visible, and you're relieved that the dark material of your panties hides the damp spot, which is nearly invisible from the outside.

"The bra next?" you tilt your head while you speak, your fingers fumbling with the cups of your bra as you wait for his response.

"Not yet. I want to savor you a bit. Do a twirl for me, love." You hold your breath for a moment and quickly nod, presenting your body from various angles as he watches attentively, his cock almost throbbing at the sight of you dancing so seductively only for him. Only for his eyes.

You keep your eyes on him when you bring your hands the the clasp of your bra, and this time he does not interfere. You fumble just for a second with it before you manage to unhook it, your body shivering in excitement. You let the fabric run down your shoulders, the movement feeling like a caress, and you find yourself wishing that he would finally touch you. That he would run his hands down your shoulders and kiss you and show you how much he loves you.

The bra joins the other clothes on the ground, and you let your hands roam along your body, touching yourself softly while you dance to the music. "You can't even imagine how sexy you look right now, love. So fucking sexy." He runs his hand through his dark hair, swallowing hard and raking his gaze over your body. He sounds so turned on, lust evident on his face, the tension in the room almost unbearable at this point.

You bite your lip and bring your hands to the hem of your panties to finish the show, but Iwaizumi moves quickly and catches your wrists before you can pull them down. You stare at him surprised, your eyes widened while you wordlessly let him pull you towards the bed until your back meets the soft mattress and he hovers over you. His hands go to your ankles and spread your legs, your core throbbing at this action, aching to be touched when he makes you feel even more exposed in your current position. Your jaw drops when he leans down and presses a kiss on your stomach, his teeth grazing at the lace of your panties, and you squirm under him when his hot breath meets your skin. A grin adorns his lips when he pulls the material back, just enough until it loudly snaps against your body.

"Just lay back and let me do the rest, love. I'll take care of this myself."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #HERE YOU GO!!#I'll will not be able to finish all the fics this month T.T #but I'm free after Thursday for two weeks- like I still have classes but no work! <3 #So I'll manage to write them over the weekend hopefully! <3 #I hope you enjoyed reading this! <3 #I found it quite challenging to write this to be honest #I really hope that this is okay #I'll post the next one on Wednesday #I'll also put that in the masterlist #don't want to keep anyone waiting T.T

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clowningaroundmars · 4 months ago

Text

previously:

Here, the Doctor leaps over to the side, narrowly avoiding a fist to the jaw and swinging 42’s still unconscious body into the air… letting him tumble over the ledge.

"Catch!" He announces brazenly.

42 falls down, down, down.

Gwen watches in horror.

here we are you guys!!! the final chapter! are you guys ready? :)

don't worry, i won't play with your guys' hearts for too long! well. i mean

oh yeah, and remember that death tw on chapter 1? well yeah. no gory details ofc but just mind the warning

anyways, enjoy! :D it's the final stretch

<< part 4 of 4

Doc Ock cackles gleefully as he watches 42’s body tumble into the air and down onto the concrete parking lot several stories below.

With one last burst of rage-filled strength, Gwen football-tackles him over the ledge while his guard is down, sending all three of them sailing through the cool night air.

Doc Ock clearly doesn’t expect this, if his screaming was anything to go by.

But Gwen wasn’t concerned at all with his idiotic cries, she was a woman on a mission and by god if she wasn’t going to complete it!

If she failed two of her friends and directly lead to both of their demises, then what the hell was she wearing the mask for?

No, this ends now.

She quickly grabs Doc Ock by the back of his neck and grips onto another one of his tentacles as they fall through the air, ripping it straight out of the node on his spinal cord with all of her might.

“N-no-- don’t!! AAAAAAAAAUGHH!!”

The Doctor’s soul-wrenching yowl of pain might’ve made Gwen feel a little bad… under normal circumstances. But at the moment, her every bit of focus was pointed towards Miles-42 like a compass pointing True North, and she wasn’t letting him out of her sight now.

Making split-second calculations, she kicked the Doctor’s body off of her and used the tentacle’s technological properties as a last-ditch effort to hook herself onto a nearby streetlamp, swinging her entire body’s weight with a loud grunt of effort.

She intercepted Miles’ flailing body in mid-air and succeeded in grabbing a hold of him, swinging down onto the ground safely and falling onto the concrete. She crashed onto her knees and rolled over a few times, clutching 42's head protectively all the way down.

The Doctor… didn’t make it.

With a sickening crunch and splatter, he was a disgusting mess of red, wet garbage on the concrete. His tentacles weren't long enough to reach back up to ledge of the building and his slower reflexes caused him to miss the streetlamp entirely.

His remaining tentacles laid next to him just as limp and as dead as he was.

Well, shit. That was gonna be a nasty surprise for the paramedics to find later on, huh.

Gwen sighed with relief as she laid her head back down and took a minute to catch her breath.

What a day. She wanted this to be completely over now, but… she knew that despite this small moment of relief, she wasn’t quite out of the woods yet. Literally.

But also…

“Miles,” she grunts with effort, every muscle in her body crying out as she pushes herself off of her elbows to sit up.

Miles-42 is laid across her lap now and showing zero signs of waking up anytime soon. Gwen’s heart started kicking into overdrive again, and she held him in her hands…

Just like you held Peter… after killing him, an evil little voice sneered at her from the back of her mind.

“Peter? Peter, oh god. What did you do?!” Gwen sobbed, excavating her beloved friend from the rubble of her school’s gymnasium.

He wasn’t gonna make it… oh god, he really wasn’t going to make it. The poor boy could barely open his eyes, and his bloody, beaten face was something that was going to haunt her in her nightmares forever.

It was etched into the back of her mind, the back of her damn eyelids, especially when to her delight-- or horror, it was hard to tell in the moment-- he managed to crack open his swollen eyes and look directly into hers.

“Gw-- Gwen…” he coughed, weakly.

Gwen continued to cry. “No no no no no, no, no! What did you do!? Why?!” She pleaded, wanting any answer, anything to hold onto.

“I… I wanted to be special. Like you,” he managed, even weaker than before.

Gwen knew it. She could feel the thready pulse of his heartbeat growing weaker and weaker with every passing second, and time was running out.

But she still held on.

“… Peter?” She sucked in a breath.

“Peter?”

“Peter?!”

“Miles?!”

Gwen sobbed once more, clutching yet another beloved friend in her arms, in a position eerily similar to that fateful night. “Miles!”

All of the feelings she felt the night that her best friend had died came crashing back down and flooding into her chest like a tsunami.

She sniffled angrily, ripping her mask off of her face and working to pry Miles’ mask off of his own face, too.

... Damn it! What the hell was this stupid thing made out of?!

She didn’t want to break his tech, as complicated and extremely well-made as it was. She knew it was valuable and expensive to make, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She needed to see if he was still possibly alive, if he could give her a sign or something, and she wasn’t going to be able to do it with this stupid mask in the way!

She didn’t trust her shaking hands to be able to read his pulse in this state… she needed to see his face.

After a couple of minutes of careful jabbing and prying, Gwen was finally frustrated enough to just slide Miles right off of her lap and pry the whole thing off of his face with one firm pull.

She managed to do so without injuring him even more, and immediately got to checking the color of his lips in the low lighting of the near-empty parking lot. She fussed over him, sniffling and wiping her tears all the while.

It seemed like his bleeding stopped for now at least, but that was without even knowing how much he had lost in the first place.

“Miles… Miles?! Please,” she begged as she held him in her arms once more. “Answer me, please! Let me know you’re still alive, anything! Wiggle your eyebrows or…” she sniffled, “I… I don’t know but god, please, anything!”

What the hell did Doc Ock even do to this kid anyways?

She examined his face once more through the tears in her eyes and noticed a new injury that looked relatively fresh, still bleeding somewhere from his temple.

Maybe he knocked Miles out for a longer time in his mad dash to the roof… and if that was true… he really, really could be dead.

Miles-42 wasn’t a superpowered being like the rest of the Spider Band, he was a regular kid with cool gadgets and intense at-home training, but a regular kid nonetheless. Gwen could recover from a hard head injury herself just fine, all she would have to do is just sleep the pain off.

But Miles…

Miserably, Gwen sunk down even lower to the ground and sobbed her eyes out, tears wetting her face and staining the spray-painted Prowler logo on Miles’ shirt.

She stays like this, clutching onto the limp body of someone she would’ve been happy to call her friend-- especially after all they’ve been through today-- and now he won’t even live to see the fruits of his labor.

Fuck.

Gwen’s wandering thoughts takes her over to his uncle Aaron’s face, how he was going to react to the news of his nephew’s untimely and unfortunate death.

Gwen thought about Rio and… well, she cried even harder.

But she didn’t get to finish because… Miles then stirred a bit, his breathing speeding up a bit before he laid his head back and sighed softly.

Gwen stopped crying. She was shocked, staring back into his blank face with wide, teary eyes.

… Was it her imagination, then? Did she want Miles to be alive so badly that she convinced herself that he moved a bit while she wept?

No. No, she’s got to suck it up, stop letting her emotions get the best of her and give it a real try this time.

Steadying her breathing and wiping the snot from her nose, she brushes her hair back from her face and turns Miles’ face towards a nearby streetlamp that casts down a cold, white light onto the scene.

With gentle fingers, she lifts up one of his eyelids, then his other eyelid, and then finally bends down to listen to his chest as closely as she can.

She hears a heartbeat, though not so loudly underneath all of the gear he wears, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

Miles really stirs this time, groaning and sucking in a breath as he slowly comes back online.

Gwen laughs wetly, wiping more of her tears and boogers and sadness away, only tears of joy left brimming in her eyes.

“Miles! Oh my god, you’re alive… you’re alive! You made it!” She announces gleefully, giving him a happy little squeeze.

“Ow,” Miles answers hoarsely, squinting in the harsh, cold light of the streetlamp overhead and coughing a bit.

“S-sorry, sorry. I’m just. Well, y’know pretty excited that you’re alive. I thought that you were actually dead for a minute there, bud! You really gave me a scare!” She laughs and sniffles.

Miles finally cracks an eye open long enough to exhale a bit and lay his head back down.

“Uhhh… who are you again?” He mumbles, and Gwen’s heart sinks.

Oh no.

“What? Uh, i-it’s me, Gwen! Y’know, the girl who you’ve been fighting to escape this horrible building with this whole night? Oh no… is your head injury that bad?” She frets.

Miles then cracks a smile, not quite being able to laugh but getting pretty damn close to doing so.

“Gwendy, relax. I know who you are. Joke,” he explained, and it earned him another head bump from being promptly dropped right back onto the hard ground.

“Ow,” he complained.

“You are a dick,” Gwen replied, folding her arms over her chest. She didn’t stop smiling through her tears, though.

“Were you crying over me? Oh my god, you were totally crying,” Miles says with a smile, not making any movements to get up at all.

Gwen unfolds her aching legs from underneath her and stands up on her knees. “Shut up. Stop talking. You’ve sustained a critical brain injury and you need to not make stupid decisions before we get you out of here, alright?”

Miles chuckles quietly. “Mmnyeah, true. Lemme keep my mouth shut.”

He wasn’t slurring his speech or confusing her for another person, so that was a good sign.

He wasn’t moving any of his limbs, though. So… that was possibly a bad sign.

“Can you, uh,” Gwen starts, glancing all around her as she fully stands up, “can you walk? Or sit up? I can carry you, but I need to know that you’re not paralyzed from the neck down first. I don’t wanna risk any more injuries, y’know?”

Miles wiggles his feet and flexes his hands inside of his gauntlets for a bit before laying back down and sighing again.

“Yeah, I can move my limbs. I don’t think anything’s broken… except for this massive fuckin’ migraine I got goin’ on right now. Just, uhm. Just gimme a minute.”

Gwen continues looking over her shoulder. The blades of a chopper are vibrating through the air several miles away but it’s gaining speed quickly, and steadily getting closer.

“Okay, you might wanna hurry up on that, because we’ve got company coming and we still need to get the hell out of here,”

Miles blinks on the ground for a few more seconds, gears very obviously turning in his head as he does.

After a few seconds, he says, “okay. Help me up, then. Slowly,”

It takes them several more minutes of pained grunting and a slow ascent up to get Miles standing again, but once they’re both steady on their feet, they get a move on.

Gwen has one of his arms over her shoulder, steadying him and carrying some of his weight.

“Wait,” Miles says suddenly, just as they’re rounding a corner of the building where several guards and scientists are still milling around. There are a few big white buses parked close by, most likely hired to transport the personnel away from the facility. Some are already sat inside.

Gwen ducks back around the corner and takes a peek at the scene before turning her attention back to her friend.

“Shit, you’re right. There’s a lot of people out there, most likely waiting for Octavius or something. We’ve gotta find a way too book it out of here undetected, though…”

“Mh, yep,” Miles grunts, sucking in air through his teeth for a second. “Ow, sorry. My head’s killin’ me… which kinda sucks, ‘cause my escape plan was to just hot-wire a car and hightail it outta here.”

Gwen laughed incredulously. “Oh my god. That was your grand escape plan this whole time?” She shakes her head. “In every single universe… Miles Morales is the exact same dork I always hate to love,”

“Psshhyeah right, hate to love. You’re not foolin’ me,” Miles smirks at her exasperated expression.

Gwen rolls her eyes and instructs Miles to lean against the wall and stay put while she goes to search for a viable vehicle they could steal.

“Cool. Good luck. I definitely won’t die,” Miles informs her, which just makes her roll her eyes again before bounding away.

Time for some espionage, Gwen thinks to herself as she skirts the outer edges of the parking lot and tries to avoid being seen by the several other armed personnel still waiting around to receive confirmation that they can now depart.

After a little bit, a few ambulance trucks pull up with flashing red lights and the paramedics jump out, which actually gives her some relief. The professionals were on the job now, everything was taken care of; they also served as a perfect distraction from what she was doing…

Which was looping around the entire building’s perimeter and seeing which car was left unattended and unlocked.

She really didn’t want to have to break any windows, especially because she needed to keep as quiet as possible since she still needed to go back and fetch Miles… but if all options were exhausted…

Bingo!

She eventually came across a parked Ford F-250 near a line of trees located just behind all of the ambulances and the commotion. It was unlocked (haha, sucker!) and was perfectly empty, ready for the taking.

Gwen couldn’t believe that despite failure after failure plaguing her on this day, her luck finally turned around at the last minute… what a relief!

Overhead, the chopper finally reached its destination, drowning out every sound around them with its spinning blades as it slowly lowered itself down onto the helipad located at the top of the building. Leaves were whipped violently into the air, trees swayed and shook with the force of the winds.

Gwen rejoiced again at the added distraction that would surely help with her sweet escape.

The helicopter crew wouldn't find much waiting for them up there, save for the unconscious bodies of several brutally-beaten henchmen, of course.

She fetched her friend who was now sitting with his knees tucked up under his chin against the wall, and together they limped their way back to the truck and climbed in.

Once inside, they successfully hot-wired it using Miles’ gadgets. Then Miles went to climb out of the driver’s seat.

“Uhh wait, huh. Where’re you going?” Gwen asks from the passenger seat.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? You’re driving. Hop in.” Miles groans as he lowers himself from the high-as-hell cab, clutching at his side.

Gwen titters nervously. “Ohhh, no, no I’m not! I don’t even have my license yet, I can’t drive!”

Miles takes his sweet time painstakingly climbing into the back seat of the truck. He shirks his pack off, throws it onto the floor of the cab, and stretches himself out over the seats to lay down.

“Yep, I don’t have my license either, girl, you don’t see me chickening out when I’m picked to be the getaway driver!” He remarks, once comfortable.

Gwen huffs in annoyance, leaping over to the driver’s side and locking all of the doors once she makes sure they’re shut tight.

“Dude, forreal! I have no clue how to operate a truck like this! The gear shift isn’t even in the right place,” she complains.

Miles cracks one eye open. “Please tell me your dimension doesn’t have y’all driving on the left side of the road…”

Gwen huffs again. “No, I'm not British, Miles. I meant… this looks pretty high-tech for me and… what do all of these buttons even do? …Is this a touch screen?”

“Gwen, seriously, I get that this is a brand new experience for you but listen: there are like, no laws in this dimension. Literally not even kidding. Just pull up the GPS on that touch screen, punch in my address and we can get going. Left pedal’s gas, right pedal’s the brakes.”

She hesitated, but... there was no arguing with that! Who was Gwen to make decisions in a dimension she wasn’t even a part of, really? If Miles told her that his dimension ignored all traffic laws, well… then, when in Rome, right?

And besides, who else was getting them both to safety if not her? She needed to suck it up before they were noticed by any personnel sweeping the area, or before any cops showed up.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

“Well,” Gwen said nervously, both hands on the wheel and her eyes directly on the road in front of her, “bon voyage, then! Let’s pray I don’t get the both of us killed,”

“Vamos con dios,” Miles mumbled, an arm draped over his eyes. He quickly lost consciousness once again.

About half an hour into their drive (which-- aside from terrible braking every now and then-- was admittedly pretty smooth, all things considered), Gwen pulls over to a greasy 24-hour fast food place that seemed to serve all of the shittiest, unhealthiest food ever invented under the sun.

She woke Miles up and asked him what his order would be, borrowed his jacket to cover up her unique costume’s design, and ducked inside.

She was surprised to see Miles up and sitting in the truck bed when she returned with their food, legs swinging like he hadn’t just gotten injured helping her fight a menacing four-armed madman not even an hour and a half ago.

He looked the worse for wear, braids frizzed out as they hung right over his shoulders like they usually did, but he was more alert now than he had been before. He looked fine, given the circumstances.

They sat side-by-side, gazing up at what scarce stars there were out in the early morning sky, the edges of the horizon peeking a slight blush of pink through the trees.

Gwen scarfed down her triple bacon burger and inhaled her large fries, only stopping every once in a while to take a sip of her extra-large milkshake.

A mildly amused Miles enjoyed his own fries and meatball sub in companionable silence.

“Feelin’ better?” Gwen asks, still munching on the last bit of her burger, which has now thoroughly stained the lap of her costume with grease.

Miles laughs, wrapping up the second half of his sandwich for later. “Yeah, a quick nap and a good meal helps a lot,”

Gwen hums in thought. “You were out for… a while. Like, back at the parking lot. I was getting real worried there, actually,” she admits.

Miles glances at her, studying her face for a second. “… How long? I mean, you were crying, so I guess it was a while,”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “Can you stop bringing the crying back up again? I just… I got scared, okay? You didn’t tell me what your grand escape plan was before you… uh, passed out, so I mean...”

Miles is skeptical. “Uh huh, the escape plan. That’s what you were worried about that whole time, right?” He ribbed her a bit, intending for it to come off light-heartedly.

The tense silence that fell in that moment made him a bit nervous, though.

Gwen looked… upset.

He backpedaled. “Uhhh, I mean. Yeah, yeah, the escape plan! The escape plan... woulda been a real shame if I croaked back there before telling you what it was. Of course.” He clears his throat awkwardly.

Gwen offers him a small smile and starts clearing the wrappings and the trash around her folded legs.

“I… uh. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this before. Well, not all of the details but. I don’t really do the whole friend thing anymore because of… I mean, I lost a friend before. And you’re Miles and-- I mean, not my Miles but the other Miles is-- was my friend, and I think we’re cool now, but when I saw you falling I just…”

Gwen sighs. “Sorry. I’m rambling. This is awkward.”

Miles leans back against the side of the truck bed, positioned in the same way that they were sitting back when they were having a bit of a heart-to-heart in the vents of Octavius’ compound. Funny how little moments like this seemed so serendipitous like that.

He studied her face again in the yellowing lights of the restaurant’s signs, thinking for a bit.

“Miles… the other Miles kind of told me some stuff. Not too many details, sure, but. Yeah,” he offered, trying to signal to her that he was down for a chat, no matter how depressing the topic got.

Not very many people in his world got to understand him on a deeper level, not even his own girlfriend. It was nice sitting next to someone who dealt with just as much trauma as him, if not more. It was... an opportunity for connection. Why not take it?

Gwen looked up at him. “Oh, you two talk about me?”

“Yeah, you’re all we talk about, your highness,” he laughs, then sobers up again. “Nah. I mean, y’know like, we talk about everybody. And he likes you, you know. So, yeah... sometimes you get brought up.”

Gwen sighs, leaning her head back against the truck bed and looking up at the stars above. “He shouldn’t, honestly. I think he can find someone from his dimension that… that’s gonna actually appreciate him, you know?” She looks back down into Miles’ eyes. “Not a self-deprecating thing, by the way. Don’t worry,”

Miles holds his hands up with an easy smile. “Not worrying,”

“Well good!” Gwen smirks. Then she shrugs. "I'm not sure it'd work out between us. That's all."

“... So about that back there… I took a look in the side mirror and uh,” he gestures to his shirt, the Prowler insignia now slightly messed up and blurred in some spots thanks to Gwen’s salty tears. "Yeah."

Gwen looks away, ashamed. “Yeah,” is all she says.

“Was your friend… a good friend?” Miles prodded a bit, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

Gwen saw right through it, even when she was purposefully avoiding looking at him. “Yeah. He was. My best friend,”

“Damn,” Miles replies. “I reminded you of him that much?”

Gwen laughs bitterly. “Don’t flatter yourself. I mean… I thought of you as my friend, which… y’know, you are, until we get to go our separate ways and forget all of this even happened. And I uh… I don’t like seeing friends get hurt. That’s all.”

Miles bobbed his head slowly, digesting this bit of information and taking a sip of his own milkshake.

"He, uhm." Gwen swallowed. "He died in my arms."

It was all she could say.

Miles winced because he understood. He really, really did.

After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “Listen. I, uh. I wouldn’t mind calling you a friend after all of this, if you don’t mind. Like, even after we go home,” He strategically avoided eye contact with her. "We been through too much tonight to call each other strangers, right?"

Gwen smiled at him again. It was a sad smile. “Why don’t you have any friends, by the way? You seem cool. Well. When you’re not in work mode, that is.”

Miles chuckled. “Wow. Do I seem that lonely?”

Gwen shrugs. “The other Miles also tells me some things… sometimes. You just happen to come up every now and then, that’s all,” she manages as playfully as possible. She throws him a wink over her shoulder.

Miles' upper lip quirked up. “That little traitor. I’m giving him a wedgie the next time I see ‘im.”

Gwen barks out a laugh. “Good luck! He’s ten times stronger than you and he can go invisible,”

“Yep,” Miles nods to himself. “You definitely still have a crush on him.”

Gwen throws a fry at him and then they decide to finally dump their trash and continue their journey back into the city before the sun really started waking up and blinding poor Gwen, who was already learning how to drive on the fly and probably didn’t need the relentless sun rays beaming directly into her eyes while she was still at it.

They rode the rest of the way in much better spirits.

They drive past Newark, New Jersey and before Gwen knows it, they’re driving through Manhattan and reaching the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Okay okay, okay, okay okay okayokayokay,” she mutters to herself, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel and leaving slight indentations in the material. “I got this, I got this,”

Miles is now seated in the passenger seat, seatbelt firmly clicked in place. He’s leaned forward, ready to stop Gwen at any moment and pull the emergency brakes.

“Yeah, yeah, you got this, you got this! Don’t be intimidated by all the other cars around you, this ain’t our truck, remember? Everyone else is gonna be doing whatever the hell they wanna do, but don’t do anything stupid on the bridge, right? Otherwise, just keep your foot hovering over the brakes, like I told you before. Let this truck coast,”

Gwen tries her best to internalize all of his rapid-fire advice and not accidentally find herself flooring the gas by accident at the same time. She’s pretty sure her finger marks are going to be sunk into the polyurethane foam and possibly even the metal underneath forever.

She didn’t know who in the world owned this truck, but whoever he was, he was going to be real pissed off when he discovered it in the future.

Which, actually, speaking of…

“Sooo, how uh… where are we going to put this truck once we’re done with it? Should we… pull over soon, leave it in a parking lot somewhere and take the train the rest of the way?”

Miles chuckled. “Leave it? You kiddin’? This truck is basically brand new, pristine. We’re taking this straight to my uncle’s chop shop, we’re gonna take this stuff apart, sell a part here and there, keep the rest for our own gear.”

Gwen gave him a cursory glance. “Uh, your uncle has an auto shop? Huh. Dunno why that surprises me.”

“It’s not a legit business, that’s why. He only runs it as a front. We use it mostly to bring in abandoned cars, use the metals, wires and glass for our gear, other weapons we make to sell. Sometimes Aaron fixes other people’s cars and bikes for some money, though… and bribes.”

Gwen chuckles a bit. “Sounds about right. But I guess I don’t blame you guys. Gotta do what you can to… survive… right?”

She trails off as they get closer to Brooklyn's residential areas and see a rampant spike in crimes. Gwen’s Spider Sense goes off as she sees crime after crime being committed in the brand new hours of the dawn, when the sky hasn’t even finished lightening up to a nice baby blue yet.

“… I see that you guys, uhm… these New Yorkers here in this dimension are a… lively bunch, huh?” Gwen comments distractedly as she drives past someone actively committing grand theft auto.

“Yyyyep,” Miles sighs. “Home, sweet home.”

“You ever wonder what it’s like to live anywhere else in the world sometimes?”

“Only everyday. But us Morales never run from anything. So,” Miles shrugs.

Gwen gives him a fond look.

"Sure do wish I could stop some of these people, though-- wait. Is that man mugging that other guy over there?" She cranes her neck over the wheel to get a better look.

Miles grabs the wheel to keep them from veering into a line of parked cars. "How about we just keep driving, okay? Eyes on the road, girl."

Gwen laughs sheepishly. "Right! Sorry. Spiderwoman instincts."

"Yeah, trust me, I get it." Miles replies flatly. "Don't get distracted. This crime's ours to fight, not yours. Just get us home, like, alive please?"

After finally rolling up to Aaron’s garage at five in the morning, bright and early, Miles lowers himself down from the cab once again and limps over to ring the doorbell.

He presses it in a series of patterns that Gwen only vaguely recognizes before the metal garage door eventually starts rumbling open, revealing a slightly disheveled Aaron still in his PJs, but with a fly coat on as per usual, and some nice-looking Timbs. He was casually leaning against a vintage Cadillac.

He held a mug of coffee in one hand that read “WORLD’S WORST UNCLE” in bold lettering on one side.

Gwen bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“About damn time,” Aaron grumbles, scratching at his beard and pushing off of the Cadillac. “What took y’all so long?”

Miles only gives him a cursory glance before going around the front of the truck to help Gwen down from the cab and dive into the backseat to retrieve his stuff.

Aaron raises an eyebrow at her.

“Uh, hello… sir. I’m Gwen!” She responds, mostly to dispel the awkwardness that hung in the air.

Aaron eyes the truck as he paces casually towards the two teens, gaze occasionally flicking down to the purple jacket that Gwen still sported... that very clearly belonged to his nephew.

"What, uh," Aaron starts, "what... happened to you two?"

"Ah, you know. High risk life-threatening mission, the usual!" Gwen quips on auto-pilot. Her mouth moves faster than her brain does sometimes.

Miles followed Aaron’s gaze and quickly stepped in front of her, holding his pack out for him to take.

“I got it,” he informed Aaron. “All of it.”

Aaron made a noise of approval, taking the pack and examining it.

It still had a few cobwebs dangling off of it. He hummed in thought, eyeing his nephew once more.

“Sooo, we’re gonna go upstairs now, cool? I gotta clean this super awful and deep wound I got from… uh, saving Gwen here. Yeah, she was gonna be sushi if I didn’t jump in front of her. It was Doc Ock, by the way,” Miles continued, as they both made their way into the garage and towards the door in the back. “Doc Ock, that we killed, too. By the way. Mostly me, of course. But, y’know. No need to thank me or anything!”

Aaron laughs and shakes his head. "I'm tellin' Rio, kid. I am! I'm snitchin', I don't care."

"What!" Miles exclaims indignantly. "About what?!"

Aaron's shoulders are shaking. "I'm tellin' her you got another girl around now,"

Gwen laughed loudly, grabbing Miles by the back of his shirt and yanking him towards the back exit door.

“I do not! Do not call her! Bye!” Miles called out before stumbling into the landing that lead up to the elevator of his uncle’s building.

Miles apologized about his uncle in the elevator ride up, and when he opened the door to Aaron's spacious apartment, he kicked his shoes off and sighed with relief.

“Make yourself at home, by the way… mi casa es su casa, and all that,” he says nonchalantly as he peels his shirt off of his body, shedding gear on the floor all the way to the couch.

Gwen only stands by the door, jacket in hand, fiddling nervously with the material.

“I should… I should go.” She finally says after a moment of hesitation. Guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. “I shouldn’t stick around if I really don’t need to--”

“Why, ‘cause of Spider Society rules?” Miles scoffs, pulling a first aid kit from under the couch and inspecting his wound. “Am I still bleeding on the side of my face, by the way?”

Gwen sighs. “No. And, no. You’ve stopped bleeding a while ago. Look…” she dumps his jacket onto the back of a computer chair and looks down at her watch. “This little adventure was very fun and all… but you got hurt because of me, and I should--”

She stops when she sees Miles’ wound. It looked nothing like she’d ever seen before on a person... and she’s seen her fair share of wounds.

The gaping… thing that Miles was inflicted with didn’t look like any wound she’d even experienced before.

It was green, still had a slight glow to it from the weird snake-like marks winding out from the center. The dried blood scabbing over didn’t bother her at all, she knew how ugly a stab wound could look most days, but the green glow…

It looked a lot like the glowing green circuits back in that power box that she destroyed at Octavius’ compound…

She gasped.

Miles looked up from his inspection and they locked eyes.

“Uhhh,” his pupils bounce around for a bit, trying to think of something to say. “It’s… it’s not as bad as it looks?”

Gwen winces and then swiftly turns around, immediately punching in her own dimension into the watchface. “I’d love to stick around… but I gotta go. Don’t die on me, okay?” She tells him, speaking quickly.

Miles is caught by surprise, but eventually concedes. He places a hand over his wound and nods in her direction. “Uhm. Yeah, cool. Will do. You uh, you take it easy, too. Yeah?”

Gwen only offers him a sad smile in return and her own watercolor-bright portal is immediately opened. Then, she’s stepping through it like she’s being chased down.

After the portal closes, everything that was in the vicinity settles down after floating in the air a bit.

Miles is left alone blinking in the place it used to be, unsure as to why Gwen just dipped on him like that out of nowhere.

He looks back down to his wound, only maybe slightly infected, but still very sure that the poison most likely worked itself through his body by now. Especially after that meatball sub and the fries...

Maybe seeing poisoned wounds upset her or something, he figured, shrugging and going back into the open kit laid next to him.

He starts cleaning his wound with isopropyl alcohol, wincing every now and then when the chemical stung a little harder as he peeled away dried blood.

It isn’t until after he’s done that he remembers their conversation about her best friend, back in the truck at the fast food joint.

He shuts the kit closed, tucks it back underneath the couch, and picks his phone up off of the counter where he usually leaves it before heading out to dangerous missions.

He selects and copies Gwen’s number from the Spider Band groupchat that he never sends messages in, opens a new message box, and sends only one text.

Thanks, btw. For everything.

#spiderverse #gwen stacy #miles g morales #earth 42 #aaron davis #well here it is you guys. the final chapter #we made it!!#can you guys tell that action is not my forte? lol #if it was paced all weird n stuff i apologize. but hopefully you guys got a kick out of this anyhow #i loved exploring these two and their dynamic!#i'm glad that this fic took place over a hefty chunk of time bc i thoroughly enjoyed putting them into as many Situations as i could manage #if i could write these two just sitting down and having a convo abt life i would #they're just so much fun to dig into esp wrt their own traumas and hangups #also. hope my gwen wasn't too ooc! i based her mostly on what we saw in atsv since i've never written her before #but i hope i stuck the landing anyways #so yeah. as always thanks so much to anyone who reads this! ^^b #byeeeee :)#mi writing

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thelightningstreak · 6 months ago

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Chapter 12 for Trigun Fic, Love and Violence

Available on AO3: Start from Chapter 1 | Go to Newest Chapter

Summary: A town of humans accidentally rehabilitate a floundering, injured Knives after his deadly battle with Vash. Canon divergent gen fic.

Rated: T

#Trigun #Trigun Stampede #Tristamp #Trimax #Millions Knives #Vash the Stampede #Meryl Stryfe #Zazie the Beast #Redemption!Knives #the global outage tried to take me out but I still managed a Saturday update lol #i swear this story just keeps going #just letting the boi and others write themselves to see where it goes ahh #hope I'm not wearing anyone out or spamming the tags too much #but ahhh if you read I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!

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raphaelderberry · 5 months ago

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so this is probably my best digital painting yet!

reference image is from here (x) I have no rights to it and make no money from this.

#portrait #digital painting #this is very much the closest to photorealism i ever intend to go. not that it is that- i just don't usually get this close.#i did learn a lot!#i hope to use the stuff i learned to make more intentional choices in future #i found out that skin texture is incredibly hard to paint! all I could manage was making it look like she's wearing liquid foundation #i'm also really trying to get the hang of colours! even in this i had to adjust it so much after I'd finished to get it to look less flat #the neck was so hard :( i think it still looks a bit odd #also in the photo shes wearing this beautiful Nigerian dress. but i was so tired at his point it was day 2 of painting for hours #so i gave up on it :/#btw if you are reading these tags (anyone):#none of this is supposed to read as negative or self critical. I just enjoy talking about developing art skills and what's hard about it et #if you have thoughts I'd be very happy to hear from other artists #not particularly looking for advice though. this is just fun for me :)#i didn't intend to paint this actually i was just getting skin tone references for a character #and i got so absorbed into this little practice painting #if i'd intended to post it i would have chosen someone more well known or a model or something #i feel a bit weird about posting a painting of someone i don't know #and idk if she's in the public eye at all #but i doubt this post will be seen by many people so it's probably fine

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waterfallofspace · 2 years ago

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Old Habits and New Friends.

The one where Y/osano has a cold, and learns how to be okay with this 'weakness' showing in front of her coworkers family. In turn, she learns a bit more about how much they care for her.

So I've been thinking about the beloved bringer of life doctor a lot. She's haunting in every sense and I adore her. Thus, this was born. There's quite a lot of 'character dynamic study' things in this, just fair warning! I love thinking about 'A/DA as a Family' Things <3

Characters: Y/osano, R/anpo, D/azai, K/unikida, F/ukuzawa (briefly) and no ships, this is all platonic-family things <3 Word Count: 2.9k

(References to Y/osano's backstory so slight spoiler warning)

~~~~~~~

As she stands outside the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, Yosano allows herself to take a moment. A gloved hand rubs her nose, trying to fend off the cold that’s been attempting to break her all week. Sickness isn’t a common occurrence for her, but it’s not incredibly rare either. She bites back a cough as she reaches for the handle of the door, sliding into the office with confidence she isn’t quite feeling.

The room is mostly empty, the only other person visible being Ranpo. He’s seated at his desk, munching on some ‘candy of the week’ and scanning the paper. ‘Likely hunting for cases. He managed to irritate the police again so they haven’t come to him for a few days. Seems he’s getting bored.’ Her presence isn’t addressed, though there’s no doubt he knows she’s here.

Another prickle works its way through her chest, barely being contained by a quick throat clear. Pointing herself towards her office, Yosano allows her gait to border on running as she glides towards the safe embrace of privacy. Being sick has never been something she was fond of, even before Mori.

She’s always had the mentality of ‘fight through it, don’t show weakness’. Mori certainly didn’t help with that, stoking her strong personality right alongside the fear of being weak. Even with the ADA, she’d managed to distance if sickness emerged, or fight off anything before it could progress past a mild cold.

“Yosano?”

Freezing, she allows the hope of a clean escape to fizzle away, pasting a smile onto her face as she turns to face Ranpo. ‘Hopefully he just wants a little praise, or help picking a case. Something simple I can finish quickly before he notices I’m… unwell.’ The thought is pointless, he’s been aware from the minute he saw her. She knows this just as much as him. Still, denial is a powerful drug if you want to believe it strongly enough.

“Yes, Ranpo?”

“Help me with these cases. They’re just all so boring! Not worth the trip, I could solve them from here. Is it so much to ask for something interesting to happen?”

“Let me have a look. Hm, what about this one? Three people vanished from the-”

“The most boring of them all! It’s so obvious that it was the ferry captain, and they’ll all be returned safely within the week, it’s some insurance thing.”

“I see. Well then, ma- hehh… maybe the car crash?”

“Open and shut, he was on his phone and fled the scene. He’ll turn himself in tomorrow, the guilt weighing on him. Next!”

“There’s also th- the… hh’keshh-! hk’yieshh’iee-! ih’keshh’ieu-! Excuse me, sorry.”

She ducks into her arm for the fit, turning as far from Ranpo as possible. When she spins back with the apology falling off her tongue, Ranpo has leaned forward, eyes showing under the brim of his hat. He’s looking her over in a way she’s painfully familiar with: studying her. After a moment he lets the nonchalant look rest over his face once more, eyes ducking back under his hat.

“It’s fine. Unlike my boredom. Find me an interesting case, I’m running out of snacks!”

“Is that how we ask for things?”

“Mmm… fine. Please find me an interesting case.”

“Better. I mean- it’s quite difficult since you’re so talented at solving them but… hold on- ek’teshh’ieu-! Scuse me. Maybe this one?”

“That one is al- oh actually, I didn’t see that one before.”

“You’re welcome then. So is it worthy of your-”

Breaking off, Yosano spins around again, aiming the cough towards her arm once more. She lets her thoughts wander as it pours out. ‘Damn it, I was hoping to hold out a little longer. This cold might be stronger than I gave it credit for, but I’m still tougher. I can take it.’ Ranpo has remained silent, but as she turns back he meets her gaze with a smile.

“You want a candy?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you though.”

“I think you should have a candy. It’s exactly what you need right now.”

“Well alright, since you insist…”

Grin forming, Ranpo reaches into his desk and pulls out a bright wrapper, holding it out in his palm. A blush creeps across Yosano’s face as she recognizes the brand of cough drop. She takes it, turning it over between her fingers before popping it in her mouth. In an effort to change the topic from the direction it’s steering in, she dawns a playful smirk.

“You shouldn’t be eating these like sweets, you know. They’re not bad for you, but they are still medicine.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t snack on them. I just keep them around in case…”

“Good to hear. And uh… thank you, Ranpo.”

“No problem!”

The innocent tone is a comfort and she offers a smile in return. The taste of honey offers a soothing relief against her throat, but does nothing for the buzzing in her nose. Rubbing a finger against it, she allows a single sniff before dropping her hand again. She chews up the cough drop, surprise crossing her features as Ranpo lets out a laugh.

“I thought I was the only one who did that!”

“Did what..?”

“Chewed them up. You’re supposed to suck on them, but I’ve always liked chewing them.”

“Oh, yeah! Actually… you are supposed to let them linger. It’s better for you that way, you get to absorb more of the effects, but I’ve never had the patience for thhahh… that. hH’ieshh’iue-! hk’eshhii-! ek’zieshh’ieu-!”

“Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

The laughter they had been sharing fades immediately. Her body language veers to defensive, arms crossing over her chest. The change doesn’t go unnoticed by Ranpo as he sits up in the chair, head tilting down to meet her eyes. All smiles are gone, instead her face is tight, a tense calm resting over it as Ranpo offers something unreadable.

“I’m fine to work.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I asked if you should be resting.”

“No. I don’t need to rest, I’m f- fine… hh’eNG’shh-! ek’tnngt-!”

“Hey… you don’t need to do that.”

“Do- hn’tngt-! what?”

“You know what I mean. There’s no need to do that, okay?”

Yosano pales a little, but gives a tight nod as she feels the tickle swell once more. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay with Ranpo, it’s… it’s okay.’ She lets the words repeat in her head, arms slowly uncrossing as she raises one to her face, leaning away from Ranpo again.

“hk’iESHh’ihh-! heh’KSHHii-! heh- kn’TIEZSHhh’iue-!”

Without a word Ranpo abruptly stands, starting to walk towards the couch. He gestures for her to follow, and with a hint of hesitation, she does. Once they reach it, Ranpo sits first, choosing a position at one end of it, before motioning next to him. She follows the direction once more, still hesitant, trying to figure out where this is going.

She sinks down onto the couch, posture tight, each muscle tensing. ‘What is he going for here… is he trying to put me at ease? It’s not working if so… b- but that’s not like him. There’s got to be some goal. Some plan he’s putting to work based on deductions about me and my health. Maybe he’s-’ Before she can finish the thought a sensation rips her from the spiral.

Ranpo has one hand running down her back, calm eyes peeking out from behind his hat. It’s as if he’s waiting for her reaction before continuing. She lets herself go limp, releasing the tension that had been gripping her. A small smile slips over his features, his other hand coming up and guiding her head down to his shoulder. Before she can process the change, she finds herself relaxing into his touch.

“I’m gonna keep looking for cases. You are gonna rest.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

Even as the words form on her lips she feels her eyes flutter shut, leaning deeper into Ranpo’s shoulder. True to his word, he begins rambling about cases, explaining the ones that are too easy, and pondering on the ones he’d need to see the scene to figure out. Yosano lets herself drift into the sounds of the office, worry fading away.

~~~

After a few minutes the door slams open, Dazai waltzing in. He freezes at the sight of them, hands in his pockets as he surveys the scene. Yosano pops up quickly, careful to tighten her expressions once more as she feigns nonchalance, letting her legs cross and one arm droop over the couch. The safety she felt with Ranpo has evaporated, her relationship with Dazai not solid enough to allow it to remain.

Weakness has never been something she’s okay with others seeing, and Ranpo was the first it truly felt okay with. Dazai though… while she doesn’t dislike the man, she’s hesitant to let him see her in that state.

‘I see Mori in him sometimes… Just- in the small things. The way he carries himself, how he plans, the expressions he’ll choose to wear. Though… I often wonder if he feels the same about me. I know he isn’t the same, and I shouldn’t be treating him like he is… but…’

She lets her eyes drift to his face, expecting some form of taunt to spill out at any time. Instead, much to her surprise, his usually unreadable expression softens and without a word he places himself on the free side of her.

Her gaze tracks each movement, hand raising to her mouth as another cough starts to break through. Through it all, Dazai remains silent, posture very cautiously relaxed in that deeply rehearsed method she’s all too familiar with.

The coughing tampers off, the itch in her nose taking this as a perfect time to re-emerge. For a minute she considers suppressing it, but Ranpo’s hand still gently rubbing her back provides enough comfort to let it out against her arm.

“hh’KSHH’iee-! hk’ESHH’iue-! hahhh- tnSHH’ihh-! ‘Scuse me.”

“Bless you.”

“Th- thank you.”

The blessing comes as a surprise, and she finds herself thanking him out of instinct. She still holds a reasonable amount of caution, but there’s something… almost soft about the expression he’s wearing. As she lets out another sniffle, he points a measured look in her direction, before muttering something.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that?”

There’s a noticeable pause as Dazai’s cheeks gain a hint more colour than before. He raises his gaze to meet hers, and clears his throat before speaking again. Yosano can’t help but feel a rush of protectiveness as the voice that comes out sounds almost timid.

“I just asked if you were feeling okay?”

Yosano wants to say yes. Everything inside her is screaming to say yes. ‘Deny till the very end, don’t show weakness, don’t admit flaws. Tell him that you’re fine, and then be fine. We don’t tolerate weakness in our soldiers.’ But… something about the cautious look on his normally collected face washes every image of Mori from her mind.

Dazai is nothing like him, no, he’s just like her. Taken in way too young by a person with no intentions of saving them. Never given the chance to be anything other than what he planned for.

She had managed to find something special here; to become someone special here. Someone that’s good, and kind, and her. And watching Dazai’s actions since he joined… seeing the look on his face now… well, maybe he’s trying to find that too.

“Not really. I have a bit of a cold. hih’ISHhiee-! aisHH’iew-! hk’SHH’iue-! hh’KSHH’ih-!”

“Bless you.”

“Wow, even I couldn’t get her to admit to illness out loud.”

Up until now Ranpo had remained silent, watching the interaction play out. However, upon her admittance, he gives a low noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp. At the statement Yosano turns to him, Dazai’s eyes following suit, and gives him a light smack.

“Hey! That hurt…”

“Oh really? Are you- injured now? Because I can certainly help with that if youuu…”

“No! No, no I think I’m okay.”

Laughter bubbles from her chest as she lets her head dip to rest once more against Ranpo’s shoulder. Dazai joins in with a light chuckle of his own, leaning back into the couch. Not a minute passes until Yosano’s sitting up again, another set of sneezes tumbling out into her waiting arm.

“hh’KSHHiee-! aiiyshhh’iue-! hehh’tizshh’iue-! Excuse me.”

“Bless. Hang on.”

With that Dazai stands up, walking over to his desk and starting to aggressively rummage through the drawers. Ranpo and Yosano watch it unfold, neither sure what he’s doing, until he returns, triumphantly holding a pack of tissues above his head.

“Thought you might want these!”

“I didn’t know you kept tissues in your desk?”

“Yeah, well… never know when they might come in useful. Placing them in Kunikida’s belongings when he comes in with the sniffles is particularly fun.”

“You’ve done- hH’TSHH’iee-! ‘Scuse me. Done that before?”

“Of course! This one time I bought a bunch of identical packs, then kept leaving one on his chair in the same exact position every time he left the room! When he asked, I always said I didn’t know what he meant. Ended up going home early cause he was sure he was losing his mind!”

By this point Ranpo is leaning against Yosano, the couch shaking with laughter. Dazai shoots them a wicked smile, tossing the pack at the couch, which she catches easily. Attempting to suppress laughter of her own, she wears a fake glare, pointing it first at Dazai before turning it to Ranpo.

“Boys, that’s not nice.”

“Maybe not, but it sure is hilarious. Besides, he’s the one who forces me to do paperwork on a weekend! Way I see it, he’s asking for a little torment.”

Yosano just sighs, pulling a few tissues out as she directs another “hih’KSHH’ihh-! tiezshh’iue-! hk’ISHH’iee-!” into the soft folds before lightly blowing. Grimacing at the quality of it, she coughs a few times before sucking it up and blowing again.

Ranpo gives her a sympathetic smile before turning back to the paper, dead to the world once more as he surveys cases. Yosano turns her attention back to Dazai as he drops back onto the couch beside her.

“That was gross, sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. You should hear me in the spring.”

“You have allergies? I… ih’KSHH’iee-! I never noticed-”

“Bless you. You wouldn’t have. I take meds most of the time, or if it’s a really bad pollen day I tend to just avoid the office. Hah! It drives Kunikida insane.”

“Does it now?”

“He still doesn’t know why I don’t come in during the spring on seemingly random days! I make sure to pick a few days where pollen is low too so he can’t track the pattern. I also make up excuses that he can tell are lies, but can’t actively disprove!”

There’s a deep seated glee in his voice as he describes all the details of how he torments Kunikida. Yosano can’t help smirking at the boyish nature of the teasing. It’s cut short by another coughing spell, ducking down into her lap.

This time she feels two hands grazing her back. One is absentmindedly rubbing circles, the other is hesitant but gentle. A yawn escapes as it comes to an end, Ranpo looking up from the paper.

“I told you so! I said you should be resting!”

“Yes you did. Right as always Ranpo. I guess… I should probably go home…”

‘But… I don’t really want to… Home is empty. It always feels cold, even with the heat on. But here… with them… this feels warm…’ She doesn’t say any of this out loud, but there’s no need for that. They both know. While Dazai may not have Ranpo’s deduction skills, he sees more than most.

Slowly they start to shift positions until her head is resting against Ranpo’s lap, her legs strewn over Dazai as he slides in next to Ranpo, echoing her earlier yawn. ‘That man is able to fall asleep anywhere. I’m quite jealous of that skill.’ Letting her tension start to fade away, Yosano feels a sigh escape. She melts into the warm embrace, drifting off to sleep. Dazai quickly follows suit, his head dropping onto Ranpo’s shoulder.

~~~

About an hour later the door swings open once more, this time Kunikida stepping inside. At the sight of Yosano and Dazai sleeping, he opens his mouth to make a remark. Ranpo shuts him down with a single look, tilting his head to let his eyes show once more. He’s careful not to disturb them, quiet as he begins to speak.

“Don’t wake them. They need this.”

“But-”

Kunikida cuts himself off, pushing up his glasses as he seems to sort through his ideals in his head. Ranpo patiently waits, letting his arm rest against Dazai’s shoulder as the younger man shifts. Eventually the peaceful look on their faces seems to sway Kunikida as he grabs a book and sinks down beside Dazai, beginning to read it. Yosano stirs, a few sleepy sneezes brushing from her lips.

“hh’ishh-! kishhh-! heh’tieshh-!”

“Bless.”

The blessing Kunikida offers is timid, volume matching that of the sneezes. A smirk crosses Ranpo’s face as he watches Kunikida attempt to keep his face neutral. Yosano mumbles a thanks before curling back into herself and drifting back off.

~~~

By the time the president walks in, he finds all four of them asleep, a tangled mess of limbs and snores. They should be working, it’s nearly two on a Thursday, but he can’t bring himself to wake them. Content spreads through his heart, a smile breaking through to his face as he grabs a blanket from beside the couch and lays it over them.

“Sleep well, children.”

#waterfallwrites #this is SO wordy im so sorry hahaha~#its also a lot less dialogue focused than my work usually is #so hopefully its still enjoyable #i tried to make sure the paragraphs were a manageable length #aNYWAYS point is- i love their dynamics and poni's yosano drawing got me THINKING sooooo #here this is #thank you to anyone who bothers to read this!#and i hope you enjoy if you do~~#b/sd #y/osano #snz #snzkink #snzfic

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wabblebees · 11 months ago

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#just sat and read a whole book cover-to-cover for My Own Damn Self for the first time in... 3?? years??? at least?????#dude. dude #ive tried to before but it never stuck #my brain was too busy running and running and running and running #and i spent so long just sitting in survival mode #that i just. stopped being able to read #and make art too #but i just managed to read a really cute fantasy book cover-to-cover #and yeah it was WAY fucking shorter than the ones i was swallowing whole in middle & high school #but. it only took me like 2 hrs. and id been putting it off for fucking ever bc it really felt like my brain just couldnt hold it before #so this means nothin at all to anyone else but ig i just wanted to say im celebrating lmao #yippee! hooray! et cetera #hope u get to enjoy smth today that you haven't gotten to do in a long long time too<3<3<3 #bee speaks

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saintrosalyn · 1 month ago

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BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths.

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep.

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him.

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room.

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself.

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine.

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge.

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift.

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside.

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you.

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst.

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate.

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels.

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver.

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence.

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him.

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in).

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone.

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again.

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong.

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.”

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments.

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head.

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall.

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn��t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach.

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon is such a meanie #He's gonna give reader an ulcer fr

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 2 months ago

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Hard Launching ∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summary: lando and y/n wanted to hard launch their relationship after dating secretly for a while. lando finds the perfect way to do so.

☘ ln x reader ✧˖*°࿐

☘ fluff + humour ✧˖*°࿐

masterlist ☾☼

lando and y/n had been discussing for a while about hard launching their relationship. they had managed to keep it out of the media for an entire season, but the media liked to paint lando as a villain, in more ways than one. not only were they attacking his skills on track, they began collecting pictures of lando with women, no matter how many years ago, and publishing them with articles about him being a womanizer.

the funniest ones were the pictures of lando and her sister out on some bonding time. reading those articles always made y/n laughed, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t have them bookmarked in her browser for a pick me up when she was having a bad day.

at first, they had thought of doing a simple post with a cheesy caption. enough to let the fans knows that he was off the market again. but, it also felt kind of boring, and that was not lando or y/n’s style.

they discussed it for weeks, looking at different social media websites for inspiration, until it struck lando. scrolling through instagram, he’d found the perfect way to hard launch his relationship with his girlfriend.

when y/n asked him, he said, “you’ll just have to wait like the rest of the world, my love. but, i know you’re going to love it.”

y/n waited, just like he had told her to. she waited for two months, until one day, in the middle of her work, she received the instagram notification of lando posting and tagging her. this was the moment, y/n thought.

opening instagram, she found a reel, instead of a post or a story like she assumed. quickly, wearing her airpods, y/n clicked on the reel, increasing the volume in the background.

the reel opened with someone recording lando as he walked, head down and concentrated. the person recording said, “excuse me, what are you listening to right now?”

lando took out one of his airpods, and said, “my girlfriend yapping,” and then walked away.

the reel immediately cut to different instances of y/n talking and lando patiently listening. they were all sped up videos, and y/n watched her animated hands as she ranted, and lando listening, changing his position every so often. the music in the background was a lively, jaunty sound, and it fit so well with the reel.

there were a series of videos, from their home, from the paddock, from conference rooms where they were waiting for zak, or even from the gym where lando worked out, and y/n basically followed him, still talking his ear off. there were multiple videos of them on facetime as well, or screenshots of their hour - hour and half long conversations.

y/n laughed. it truly was the perfect way for lando to hard launch their relationship. it described them perfectly, if she did say so herself.

scrolling through the comments, she saw a lot of fans crying that he was a taken man now. she saw some saying things like, “this is the realest representation of a relationship.” there were some hate comments too, but they were stupid, so she ignored them.

she commented on the post as well, typing, “wait till i send you a 20 minute voice note on my lunch break” to which lando immediately responded with, “can’t wait, i got my airpods and my phone fully charged”

y/n laughed again, opening her text messaging app, and sending a quick “i love you this was perfect” to her boyfriend.

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

hi! i hope you guys enjoyed this! it came to me while i was driving to college! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #formula one #ln4 #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln x reader #ln

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thesummerpetrichor · 5 months ago

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𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂

Father in law!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Your soon to be husband leaves you at the alter, but you should have guessed since the practice seemed to run in the family. It’s hard to be upset however, when his father comes to repent for not only his own but his son’s wrong doings. Aka fiancé’s dad Javi fucking you in your wedding dress after his son ditches you at the altar.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Minimal editing, unspecified but thicc and legal age gap, infidelity, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, insane dirty talk, toxic father son relationship, reader is delulu, praise kink, petnames, sex in front of a mirror, veil pulling??, a few spanks, creampie, Javi fucks you into the mattress, unprotected P in V [don’t do it!!]. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Literally just porn without plot, lotsa fucking, I want father in law Javi. Minimally edited lmao I just banged this out Can’t wait for you to read it!! Hope you enjoy, nasties! Mwah!

Masterlist

You rich and I'm wishin', um

You could be my mister, yum

Delicious to the maximum

Chew you up like bubble gum

You love me, he wants me

I think I want you too

Best day of your life- yeah, what a fucking joke. But what were you expecting? Ditching people at the altar seemed to run in the family. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a harsh assessment of the Peñas, especially Peña senior, who, despite all you had heard of him from your ex fiance, had always shown you kindness.

The thing is, it becomes really fucking hard to be charitable to a family when their son humiliates you infront of the entirety of Texas. Leaves you high and dry on the steps of the biggest church in town in your great grandmother’s silk dress. It becomes even harder when you learn his mother had been in on it all along, sparing you not even a little apology, or a comforting embrace after her son's little getaway plan had been revealed.

Instead of extending you a supporting hand, she ran away to make sure her baby boy was okay, and that this entire ordeal hadn’t taken a toll on his emotional and psychological well being.

How thoughtful.

Of course, you were the pathetic one– unable to look anyone in the eye, sobbing on your fathers shoulder till you couldn’t breathe any longer. So distraught and unwell even getting out of your wedding attire seemed impossible. It only made you feel even more pathetic. At some point you ended up curling up in your hotel bed, still in the “happiest day of your life” outfit, and pleading for some time alone from your friends and family to wallow in your own suffering.

You would eat your feelings in the from of the apology chocolates the hotel had complimented for you, but you couldn’t manage to even do that without feeling like a total fucking looser.

After all that had transpired, and after years of hearing nothing but sour things about your soon to be father in law, safe to say you were surprised to see him at your hotel room door at midnight as the ambassador the family seemingly sent to smooth things over.

For it being only your second time meeting the man, this was far from the most opportune scenario. In fact, him showing up all sorrowful and apologetic for his shitty excuse of a son, in his navy blue suit and loose tie, made your already pathetic day all the more difficult to get through.

Your whole relationship you had blamed every fault of your boyfriend on his absent, detached father. You’d heard plenty about the lack of childhood visits, quality time, and playing soccer that had plagued your partner’s life, and had found it quite easy and comforting to pile on every relationship problem you ever came across as the consequence of Javier Peña’s lack of responsibility and good parenting.

What you didn’t expect, was to find that Javi Peña was a whole lot more normal and level headed than you anticipated. He was just a guy trying to make a good living and provide for his family. Sure, he was a little bit reserved, but he was only ever warm and sweet and even quite chatty with you. To be frank, you should have seen your boyfriend’s shitty behavior as a consequence of his insufferable mother from a mile away. God knew you weren’t expecting Peña Sr. to be the better of your two soon to be in laws.

That being said, you would have never expected to be on your hands and knees, on what was supposed to be your marital bed, being pounded from behind by your ex soon to be father in-law.

Because that's where you are now, eyes rolling to the back of your head thanks to the most intense pleasure you've ever felt. The drag of Javis cock against your walls has been building a steady heat in your belly, the stretch of him so perfect and delicious it has you pushing your hips back to meet his every thrust.

Any other day a man like him wouldn’t have needed much to woo you– with his cut jaw, handsome features and those chocolate brown eyes you wished his son had inherited. Safe to say on a day like this one it took even less, just a few rubs on your back, a hand smoothing over your head and trailing down your waist, a few “pretty girls” and “poor things” and some fucking sympathy from someone from your boyfriends sorry family.

Fucking pathetic.

But Javier knows his son is pathetic, knows he is a good for nothing moron who doesn't even know what he was losing out on when he walked out on you.

“He’s a fuckin fool- look at this tight little pussy, squeezin’ me so fuckin good. Bet he didn’t fuck ya like this, huh baby? Didn’t make ya cum over and over, make ya scream… stupid fuckin boy..” Javier’s grip on your hips tightens on hearing your moan, and he curses under his breath when your pussy flutters around his cock.

Your legs are threatening to give out under you, your knees tender from how long you've been leaning on them. Javier’s hand moves to grip the fabric of your veil, using it to pull your head back and make you face the mirror that's been teasing you all evening. “Look- Look at ya- fuckin cryin’ on my cock. ‘S the only reason ya’ shoulda’ be cryin’ in this pretty dress..” With drooping eyes you're faced with your own reflection– stains from your mascara running down your face now less thanks to the sorry of the afternoon and more thanks to the way Javi’s cock has been nudging your sweetspot.

You watch your tits spill out of your beautiful silk dress, the fabric now disheveled and a far cry from the sophisticated, simplistic garment it once was. You can barely recognise it, but then again you can barely recognise your own reflection. “Look at that pretty little body- fuckin made for me.”

“Yours-” you cut yourself off with a gasp, Javi’s hands squeeze your hips and your cheeks set ablaze at the way he looks at you when you catch it in the mirror. The whole sight is so debauched and depraved– you on your hands and knees for a man who could easily be mistaken for your father. But somehow it's even dirtier- the possibility of your ex finding out sends you into overdrive.

The silk of your dress brushes against your hot skin, flipped lewdly up to reveal your bare ass, bunched at the waist, the straps drooping and threatening to fall. Javi pulls the zip down even further, watching as it hangs off your body, draped like fabric from a 15th century painting.

Javi’s voice calls your attention back to the present moment, lewd words showing you he doesn't hold back the way his son does. “Gonna fill this tight little cunt up..” The stretch is so delicious between your legs, you feel the steady throb continue to tighten the coil inside you and you can’t help but moan. “Yeah, you want that? Want daddy to put a baby in you?” the thought makes you shiver, that name makes you shiver, has your cunt clenching around his cock. What an image- you, belly round with your father in laws child, well, your ex father in law. Unlike his son you were sure he would be the perfect husband, would bend you over ever surface in your picket fence house and fuck you just like he’s doing now.

Deep, and hard and fast, just like you need it. Just like you've always needed it..

“Please daddy, want your babies, wanna be yours…” Your voice is so broken and wrecked you're afraid he can’t understand what you're even saying. To be honest you can’t be bothered much, it feels so good, his thick, hard cock feels so good pounding between your thighs there's little else you can keep your mind on.

“Yeah? you like that sweetheart? we can play house..” you nod your head and his hand tightens its grip around your veil, exaggerating your movements, bending you to his will. “Wanna play house with daddy? can be my pretty little wife” you fist the sheets, pushing back against him with his every thrust. You do want that, you’ve always wanted that. And what better person to do it with. Sure, his wife always complained about how he was never around, but that's looking a lot more like a her problem– especially with the way Javi’s tip continues to kiss your sweet spot.

“Yes daddy, please..”

Javier lets go of your veil, and pushes his palm between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress till your cheek is pressed against the warm, fluffy duvet. One hand keeps you there, the other lands a quick spank to your ass and kneads at the flesh with a newfound desperation. “Won't be able to even say his goddamn name after I'm done with ya. Stupid boy doesnt know how to treat a pretty thing like you– so sweet, so gorgeous, so fucking smart. Too fucking good for him.”

With your lips parted and breathing heavy you drool onto the covers, letting Javi pound you into the mattress and overshadow every other thought that dared cross your head earlier in the day. If his plan is to make you forget about anything that isn't him, it sure is working. You don't think you’d even want to sound out his incompetent son’s name after he’s done with you.

As if he can read your mind his voice calls from behind you. “Want ya to be drippin with me.” the wet schick of his cock fucking into your tight, wet, hole reminds you of just how needy you are for him, and the prospect of having him dripping out of you– down your thighs, between your legs, leaving you all messy for him to come back and do it all over again, drives you absolutely insane.

“He’s fuckin useless, just like his ma. But look at you, so fucking tight ‘round me, making all those pretty sounds, she fuckin’ wishes she was you.” His words have your cunt squeezing around his cock, and a lewd, pornographic moan slipping past your lips. “My girl’s gonna be the perfect lil’ mamma, aren’t ya, so fuckin’ pretty.” You would certainly like that- in fact you’re almost surprised with how appealing it sounds to you.

“Gonna be perfect for you daddy, only for you.” your dress rides up even further, the front slipping further down.

“Thats my fucking girl.” That growl of his sends shivers down your spine– possessive, and confident and dripping like honey from his lips. It was almost like it could send you over the edge by itself. The lewd creaking of the bedframe fills the room, the sound of skin on skin driving you wild. The way he handles you– firm and deft but gentle and passionate, it's nothing like his son.

He’s nothing like his son.

“Yeah, bet it feels good don’t it, bein’ fucked by a real man? Feel daddy so deep in ya? Nothin ever been that deep before, huh..” You shake your head ‘no’ and he coos at how pathetic you must sound, barely able to make a coherent sound, forget string together a whole sentence.

“Make me go fuckin’ crazy, babygirl.”

What he says is fucking filthy, there’s no denying, no justifying it. It makes you squirm, makes you even wetter, makes you want him even more.

“Think you wanna go back to him? With daddy’s cum drippin between those pretty thighs, show him how a real man treats his girl?”

“Gonna make ya beg him to stay, gonna talk some sense into him, just so daddy can have ya all to himself, ain't that right? You gonna sneak into daddy’s room in the middle of the night? All wet an’ achy? Beggin’ daddy to fuck ya how ya need?”

“Wanna run away with me baby, live in a perfect little house, let daddy give ya his babies, fuck ya full’ve my cum every single night?”

His hands roam your body, smoothing over your hips, reaching forward to squeeze at your breasts, pinching and kneading the flesh. He bends down to trail light kisses along your spine and the feeling is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Your head twists side to side against the sheets as you squirm, each sensation like it's heightened to the maximum, the heaviness and the throb between your thighs at an all time high.

You know you're close, you can’t hold it off much longer. Your cunt squeezes and your toes curl. You also know Javi won't last, you can feel him pulse against your swollen walls, can feel the way he desperately thrusts into you, pushes you further down against the mattress, grips your skin with that renewed fervor, with the desperation of doing anything to hold on to the incredible sensation.

“Come for me, babygirl, come for daddy, show daddy how much ya needed this, show daddy how bad ya need his cock.”

Your legs part even further under you, if that's even physically possible, your entire upper body being smashed into the mattress. You call out Javi’s name, followed by a string of desperate, strained, whiny daddy daddy daddy’s.

With a strangled moan that's partially muffled by the covers you come undone, your head spins and your heart pounds in your chest, you feel yourself gush and clamp down around his cock. You feel Javi’s hips stutter behind you and his cock throb against your wet walls. The feeling only prologues and intensifies your orgasm, your body going slack and eyes rolling back into your head.

“Please daddy, need your cum, please, give it to me..”

Javi’s groans catch your attention as you come down from your high, still reeling from the aftershocks when you feel his cock twitch inside you and paint your walls with his hot spend. Your words are strained and slurred, but they clearly get the job done. You shiver and press your ass back against him to meet his stuttery, sloppy thrusts, and bite your lip when you feel him tighten his grip on your hip, feel him land a final spank to your ass for good measure as he slows down.

You keep your ass in the air, face still pressed against the mattress as Javi pulls out. You hear him mutter a few strained curses under his breath as he does, and catch him looking between your legs to see his spend obscenely leak out of your used hole. He reaches his fingers to rub against your messy folds and you whine, feel him gather up your juices and push them back inside your cunt in a way that has you almost cumming right there again.

Your dress is still pooled at your waist and he unzips it entirely, sneaking his hands under your thighs and flipping you over and yanking you towards him.

“You really want daddy’s babies?” Your head falls back against the bed when you feel his hand cup your cunt, rub your messy, swollen folds with the calloused tips of his fingers. You barely manage to nod.

“Then I ain’t done with ya yet pretty girl.” You tilt your chin to catch his gaze, now in nothing but your stupid little wedding veil. You’re not sure about the best day of your life, but this sure as hell contends for one of the best nights.

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

I'm neon phosphorescent

Open like a Christmas present, oh

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

If you're seeking heaven

Then you wanna come and get it alright

Be my daddy tonight

What's up what's up

Be my daddy be my daddy

Be my daddy be my, be my daddy tonight

AHHHHH feel like I’m going to hell for this one. Thanks so much for reading!! Please please please let me know what you think. I’d love to know your thoughts!!! Thank you to everyone who engages with my work, you keep me writing!! 💗🐝

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 28 days ago

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Hey. Hi. Hello. Today I learned about the existence of 15th century Welsh poet Gwerful Mechain and that she apparently has a surviving work of erotic poems.

Please. For Christmas. For Yule. Please tell me more because I can't read Welsh.

Heh heh. Oh, Gwerful Mechain is the absolute best.

(Quick housekeeping to keep the post manageable - I previously wrote about things like cynghanedd and cywydds and englyns and such here, so check that if you need an explanation.)

What's fun is that we don't know a ton about her, because not a lot got written down about people in her time. Her surviving work covers a 40ish year span at the end of the 1400s to just into the 1500s, but we don't know when she was born or died or anything like that. We know her parents' names? And that she was from Mechain, hence the bardic name. And that she married a guy and had a daughter, something which actually does mark out her body of work as different from her contemporaries; being a wife and mother, she couldn't do the usual bardic role of travelling the country to spread news and play at courts. This means she doesn't have any of the praise poetry that a lot of male bards produced about the lords that hosted them.

But, there's stuff we can piece together about her. For one thing, she was not just literate (not a universal skill for anyone at that point, but especially for women), but she was astonishingly well-read and had what appears to be a classical education, given her poetic references and traditional Welsh meters. For another, her work often had recurring themes of religion, sex, and women's rights, sometimes all at the same time.

At the point Gwerful was active, Welsh bardic culture heavily featured ymrysonau. An ymryson is like... well, I hesitate to say "sort of like a rap battle" after the way everyone and their dog now thinks that's what the Mari Lwyd does, but they were like a cross between a rap battle and the publication war between two rival academics. A bard would write an englyn and publish it in the local parish newsletter. Another bard would see this, and write their own englyn about how stupid the first bard's englyn was, and publish it in the same newsletter. The first bard would see this and retaliate. The second bard would retaliate to that. And on and on it would go, like a printed tennis match for all the parishioners to enjoy, until someone wrote a conclusive verse OR until someone went "Lol, you got me good there" and bowed out with dignity. Sometimes, these things were fucking vicious; but other times, they were just banter between two bards who knew each other and were enjoying the chance to keep their poetic skills in tip top condition.

Now, Gwerful was an active and enthusiastic participant in ymrysonau. We have many examples of her work from these. There are two of particular note that I'll list here, each against a different bard:

Dafydd Llwyd o Fathafarn. Mathafarn and Mechain are not so distant from one another, so no real surprise that these two locked horns a lot, but the impression I always got from their ymrysonau is that they were good mates, actually. These fell into the 'banter' category more often than not. Dafydd was a Welsh Nationalist who was hoping for a Welshman to rise up and throw off the yoke of English oppression, and most of his work is about that, but he turned up the filthy erotic shit for any ymryson with Gwerful because BOY HOWDY was that her specialty. IIRC she did occasionally poke fun at his Welsh Nash leanings, especially his obsession with Mab Darogan (OLD Welsh idea that translates to the Son of Prophesy - the Arthur-style figure that will one day drive out the English overlords), but mostly their ymrysonau were incredibly beautifully-written odes that could be summed up as "Dafydd, my man, my good friend, I mean this sincerely: suck my entire clit".

She often won.

Ieuan Dyfi. God, what a fucking asshole. This one was not banter. Gwerful played for blood with this prick.

We actually would know nothing about Ieuan Dyfi if not for Gwerful Mechain, because it was her poetic response to him that meant his only surviving poems made it to the modern day; that, and the record of him being brought before a church court where he admitted adultery with Anni Goch, a married woman. Oh, and the record of him being brought before the law courts at Liverpool, accused of domestic abuse and gambling? If I remember right?

Two things to know that set the scene for what came next:

One of Gwerful Mechain's surviving poems is an englyn considered to be possibly the oldest extant poem about domestic violence written by a woman: I’w gŵr am ei churo (To the husband who beats her)

Dager drwy goler dy galon - ar osgo I asgwrn dy ddwyfron; Dy lin a dyr, dy law’n don, A’th gleddau i’th goluddion.

There are a lot of translations for this one to try to keep its poeticness, but this one is pretty good:

Through your heart’s lining let there be pressed, slanting down, A dagger to the bone in your chest. Your knee smashed, your hand crushed, may the rest Be gutted by the sword you possessed.

She has others, too, that deal with sexual assault, and something scholars often note about Gwerful is her remarkable knowledge of the law as it pertained to women's issues. So she was not, you see, a woman with a high view of a man accused of domestic violence anyway.

But then Ieuan Dyfi wrote five poems about Anni Goch, the married woman he'd fucked, each more "Wow dude, she said no" than the last, culminating in I Anni Goch; a full cywydd of misogynistic Medieval-incel bullshit about how false and evil women are, which listed all the false and evil women of history including classical and mythological figures.

And. Well. Gwerful had some views.

Her responding cywydd - I ateb Ieuan Dyfi am gywydd Anni Goch - basically blasted the guy back into his own impact crater and disintegrated him. What she did with it, essentially, was to mirror his cywydd. Where he'd gone "Isn't it so true how great men throughout history have always been brought low by women, amirite lads? Here's examples", Gwerful went "Isn't it so true how 'great men' throughout history have behaved appallingly and fucked up through their own actions and then somehow managed to blame women, amirite lads? Here's examples." Where his examples had been historical figures, so were hers. Where his had been classical, so were hers. Where he went Biblical, so did she.

And what's so interesting about that last one is how pointed she was with it - for some reason, in his big list of evil women, Ieuan Dyfi did not go for the most obvious and low-hanging of fruit (no pun intended) - he doesn't cite Eve. In response, Gwerful also sidesteps the most obvious and low hanging of fruit - she doesn't cite Mary. In so doing, she makes it clear that she doesn't even need to.

There is no record of him responding to her. IIRC, there is a record of him doing three years in prison.

But! Outside of all of that, the big thing Gwerful was known for was her erotic poetry. You'll be unsurprised to hear that it wasn't written for shits and giggles - much like today, women of the time were told that most of their value was in their looks, and they had plentiful insecurities about their bodies. Gwerful wrote her erotic stuff to confront those insecurities and shine a light on the issue. There are so many examples of this, but far and away the most famous is definitely Cywydd y Cedor - roughly translated, 'Ode to the Vulva'. Though I have also seen it titled Cywydd y Gont - Ode to the Cunt. It's such a shame that the English language is literally, physically not capable of cynghanedd, because it means unless you learn Welsh you will never understand the beauty and the lyricism of the piece, and how it elevates and undercuts the content at the same time; but it's a joyful, masterful, irreverent work that uses the fancy language male poets were forever dedicating to the rest of a woman's body and applies it squarely to the vulva. In fact it basically opens with "Men are cowards, describe more cunts or gtfo" before launching into its main subject matter. The last line is pro-pubic hair, too, like I really must stress how much Gwerful Mechain would have to offer Tumblr if you could speak Welsh. This is probably her most widely translated piece, though, you can definitely find English versions. Although you can tell how blushing and reticent the translator is - and therefore how sanitised their translation is - by whether they've called it Ode to the Vulva/Cunt, or Ode to the Pubic Hair.

Needless to say, the original is not sanitised.

(Actually, I should also say - this one is also a response piece, probably, but in this case to a bard who lived a century earlier - Dafydd ap Gwilym, the absolutely legendary and uncontested king of Welsh romance poetry. He wrote a poem called Cywydd y Gal - Ode to the Penis. I have only just put two and two together on that.)

As a final note, I should say that my personal favourite Gwerful Mechain poem on this subject, mind, is actually I'w morwyn wrth gachu - to the maiden who is shitting. It's an englyn written in Gwerful's customary high poetic form, but it is what it says - it describes a woman taking a shit, and farting as she does. Beautiful and magical and disgusting and banal, all in one go:

Crwciodd lle dihangodd ei dŵr - ’n grychiast O grochan ei llawdwr; Ei deudwll oedd yn dadwr’, Baw a ddaeth, a bwa o ddŵr

Funnily enough, it's hard to find a good translation for this one lol.

My attempt:

She crouched where her water escaped - creased From the cauldron of her heat; Her two holes were arguing, Shit came, and a bow of water

Eh. It's so bland in English. Honestly, if you could read Welsh...

Anyway, if anyone reading this can read Welsh and wants to read some of Gwerful Mechain's stuff - including some of the pieces she was responding to in the ymrysonau - you can find a load here. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed!

#asks #wales!#closed for cleaning on mondays #poetry

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