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vauer · 1 day ago

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𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Reader x Jinx

SUMMARY: you are a thief who steals from people who are passing through your town. this time you came across the wrong person. that didn't stop you from fucking her though.

TW: sub!Jinx, fem!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, some kind of plot(?), fastburn

(English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes💌)

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰

Jinx moaned softly as she kissed her new friend's thin lips. The edge of the countertop rests uncomfortably against her lower back, forcing her to arch her back and make a dissatisfied mumble, only to hear a quiet chuckle in response. She couldn't believe how quickly this girl had managed to win her over.

A couple of weeks ago, a strange woman came into her small workshop. You were pretty and looked to be no more than twenty, but your piercing gaze was too intently and sharply jumping over various details of the interior, studying the situation. And you were wearing some ugly kind of wig.

“I haven't met you here before. May I know the name of such a charming lady?” your eyes sparkled playfull. Your intonation and body language put Jinx in a stupor. Since she faked her death and fled to the edge of the world, away from Piltover, changing her appearance, she has not yet received any attention from anyone. Jinx wasn't really sure if it was sarcasm, because she didn't look her best right now: crookedly cropped hair had grown back and looked even more untidy, and bright blue hair roots were starting to grow out from under the purple dye. And that's not to mention the oil and dust stains on the clothes.

“Powder," Jinx said after a couple of seconds of reflection. Lately, she's been using her old name to avoid attracting attention.

“Like baby powder or gunpowder?” you grinned annoyingly, leaning slightly on the table.

"Like gunpowder," Jinx replied grimly, rolling her eyes.

"Then you can call me Fuse," you grinned again, winking. Despite your outspoken flirtation, Jinx didn't miss the way your gaze appraisingly scanned her hideout.

"I have a business here, not a dating club," she grumbled, lazily rolling a blue hexteck ball around the table. Jinx chuckled inwardly, noticing how your gaze immediately eagerly darted to the jewel, as she suspected.

A couple of days later, she finally caught you trying to sneak into her workshop late at night.

“Are you looking for this?” Jinx appeared behind you, inserting a blue ball into the gun and pointing it at you.

“Rather for you,” not confused, you took a seductive pose, leaning on the table. “Jinx, right?”

“Well, how did you find out?” She rolled her eyes, pouting and moving closer to use the edge of the gun to push the hood off your head. Well, at least you weren't wearing an ugly burgundy wig right now. "I don't want to kill you. I'm kind of done with it.”

“Who else would have this round blue thing but Jinx? You're almost a legend. Almost,” you shrugged. You didn't seem to care much about the hextek-loaded pistol next to your temple. "You don't have to hide your identity here. No one cares who you are.”

"Except for you, of course," Jinx rolled her eyes.

“I don't care either. But I can say that you are too charming for the inadequate maniac they call you," you grinned flirtatiously again.

The shot cut off the edge of your bangs.

“Shut up!” Jinx said tiredly, going upstairs to sleep. Anyway, there was nothing to steal from her except the blue ball.She earned a couple of coins by repairing all kinds of utensils for the residents of the city, and that was all her money.

You had been coming to her several times a day for the past two weeks, but at least hadn't tried to steal anything. You just stared at Jinx while she worked, fixing something or building custom devices. After a while, you started chatting about little things, you brought her a snack when Jinx sat in the workshop for hours without leaving. She had to admit that she liked such a quiet life much more than the hustle, intrigue and dangers of Piltover.

Day after day, and at some point Jinx found herself pinned against her own desk, whimpering softly in need as your deft hands pulled off her top, tracing the contours of her tattoos with your fingers. You leaned to her neck, leaving weightless kisses on the pale, almost transparent skin.

Jinx's knees were already buckling with impatience and excitement, and a fog of lust filled her head. Squeezing the thin skin of her thighs, you lifted her up, setting her down on the table. You lips gently touched the skin between Jinx's breasts, saying one word.

— Perfect.

Jinx flinched, her eyes widening. Then a purple flash followed and she practically hung on to you, wrapping her legs around your waist and kissing you deeply, simultaneously taking off your top.

Meanwhile, you reached for her pants, pulling them off along with her underwear. Jinx leaned back, supporting her reclining position with her hands. Her stomach was trembling slightly with excitement as your lips dropped a kiss just below her waist.

Finally, you wrapped your arms around her hips, lifting her legs and pressing your lips to her wet and throbbing flesh, making Jinx moan and arch her back.

Your soft tongue explored her folds inside and out, knocking more whimpers and moans out of her and causing her muscles to contract from overexcitation.

"You're doing great for the first time," you purred, pulling back slightly to run a finger over her sensitive clit, lightly teasing her entrance before gently pushing two fingers inside. Jinx tensed slightly, but then relaxed, and feeling pleasantly full, began to move her hips towards your hand. The wet sounds only added to their excitement.

You smiled contentedly at the sight of Jinx’s eyes closed with pleasure and her bitten lower lip. When you curled your fingers upward slightly inside her, Jinx screamed at the unusual sensations, breathing heavily.

“What is it?” She mumbled plaintively as you plugged her with a wet kiss, continuing to move your fingers inside her. You showered Jinx's chin and neck with soothing kisses, feeling her inner muscles begin to contract, bringing orgasm closer.

You accelerated your movements slightly, pressing your fingers against her upper wall and applying pressure to her swollen clit. Jinx didn't have time to figure out what happened when she felt a clear liquid squirting out of her on her thighs and stomach. Blushing, she tilted her head back, allowing the orgasm to swallow her.

***

A few weeks of being alone and talking to herself had loosened Jinx's tongue. She desperately wanted to brag about how brilliantly she had convinced the whole of Piltover and her own sister of her death.

“And then I slipped out through the ventilation and hijacked the airship while they mourned the dead and me,” Jinx enthusiastically talked about her adventures, while you lazily braided her short hair into small pigtails.

“And then where did you put it?” you asked.

“And that's beside the point, as far as I remember," Jinx narrowed her eyes in displeasure. You grinned, pulling her closer to your chest.

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munson-blurbs · 1 day ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: It's Hendrix's first Thanksgiving, and though he's not even one month old, he still manages to be part of a sweet surprise.

TW: Reader is breastfeeding, mention of Grandma, reference to the events of chapter 8

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

November 1999

You had given Eddie one job: buy the items on the shopping list—and only the items on the shopping list. There’s the usual weekly groceries, but now there’s the addition of ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner.

And, of course, a plethora of diapers and wipes for your nearly three-week-old son.

Sweet baby Hendrix is the reason why you’re excused from navigating the overcrowded Walmart aisles, and why Eddie and Harris have gone in your place. You gaze down at your infant son, wincing as he latches onto your breast.

“There you go, little man,” you murmur, smoothing down a wisp of his hair. “We’ve got this.”

The apartment is unnaturally quiet; the only sound coming from the living room radiator kicking on to ward off the early winter chill. It’s the calm before the holiday whirlwind, a slice of silence carved out just for you.

You savor it, inhaling deeply. Hendrix remains undisturbed by your chest rising and falling, happy to be filling his belly before his next nap. He spends his days eating, sleeping, or crying. As Harris says, he doesn’t do any tricks yet.

Hendrix finishes nursing as the front door clicks open. Adjusting your shirt, you offer Eddie and Harris a tired smile.

“Glad to see you two survived.”

“Sure did.” Eddie places the bags on the countertop. “And we stayed within budget.”

Your heart surges when he begins unpacking and pulls out a plastic bag filled with Granny Smith apples. Even though Eddie and Wayne will be doing most of the cooking this year—which means a lot of pre-made and boxed dishes—you had insisted on making Grandma’s applesauce.

“These the right ones?” Eddie asks, wiping a fake bead of sweat from his brow when you answer in the affirmative. “Thank God. I know how much the applesauce means to you.”

You offer a grateful smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. It reminds you of the very first Thanksgiving you’d spent with him happened before you two were a couple—before he’d even taken you on a date.

And, no, the drunken hook-up after his show at The Hideout didn’t count.

Thanksgiving 1996 was spent eating Oreos and snuggling up on the couch, watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with Eddie and Harris. Grandma was still alive, and you even caught a glimpse of her pre-illness self when Eddie played the Sinatra record. It seems like a million years ago, but it’s only been three.

“Mommy, guess what?” Seven-year-old Harris calls out from where he’s peering into Hendrix’s bassinet. He doesn’t give you time to guess before he blurts out, “we got a surprise!”

You raise your brows. “A surprise? What is it?”

“Can’t tell ya.” He throws you a wink—where did he even learn that?—and makes a beeline for his room.

Turning to your husband, you put your hands on your hips. “That surprise better not be more candy,” you warn. “He still has so much left from Halloween.”

Eddie shakes his head and grins. “Not candy.”

“Then what?”

“Can’t tell ya.” Eddie mimics the same wink as his oldest son, solving the mystery of its origin, tucking one particular bag underneath his arm.

If you weren’t still freshly postpartum, you may have chased after him and insisted that he spill the secret. For now, you settle for flipping him off, and he blows you a cheeky kiss in return.

Thanksgiving begins like any other normal day. Well, normal for the Munson household.

Hendrix wakes up around the clock, but you get up for the day when his shrill wail jolts you from your sleep at six A.M. Your breasts are heavy with milk; a good thing, considering he sounds hungry.

Harris, clad in his blue flannel pajamas, shuffles into your bedroom an hour later. He’s still wiping sleep from his eyes even as he talks.

“Can we watch the parade?”

You hold your forefinger to your lips, praying that Harris’s entrance doesn’t wake the baby sleeping in Eddie’s arms.

“It’s not on for another hour, Har Bear,” you whisper, patting the comforter. “But you can hang out with us until then.”

Harris nods, scrambling up onto the bed and plopping down between you and his dad. He glances up at Eddie with a pout.

“Can I hold Hendrix? Pleeeeeease?”

Never one to shy away from theatrics, his brown eyes are wide as he pleads.

“Actually,” Eddie says, his gaze flicking over to Harris, “I think we should get the surprise ready?”

Harris wrinkles his nose for a split second before he remembers. “Oh, yeah!” He tugs on Eddie’s undershirt sleeve. “We gotta do the surprise.”

You reach out for the baby, but Eddie shakes his head. “Not so fast, Sweetheart. All of the Munson boys are in on this.”

You’re not quite sure what your three-week-old could possibly contribute, but damn if you’re not intrigued. So you sit back, propped up against the pillows, and wait for them to return.

Five minutes is long enough for you to doze off again, your body desperate for any scrap of sleep it can get.

“Dad, she’s sleeping!” It comes from a voice right next to your ear.

“Gently wake her up.” This voice is a bit farther away. Something shakes you. “I said gently, Har!”

You blink, massaging the back of your stiff neck from the awkward position you assumed during your impromptu nap.

“I’m up.” You manage a small, tired smile. Harris stands right next to your bedside, but Eddie and Hendrix are nowhere to be found. “Is my surprise ready?”

Harris nods, glancing back at the empty doorway. “So…we just unwrapped the turkey, and it looks a little weird.”

He’s supposed to deliver it like it’s bad news, but his mischievous smile betrays him.

Still, you play along. “It looks weird? What do you mean?”

That’s apparently Eddie’s cue. He creeps into the room, cradling Hendrix in his arms. Except the baby is no longer wearing his sage green pajamas. Now, he dons a brown onesie, a cartoon turkey face emblazoned on the belly. But the pièce de résistance is a tiny hat, a light brown pom pom puffing out from the top.

“That’s the cutest turkey I’ve ever seen!” Tears spring to your eyes, another sign that you’re still in the throes of postpartum hormones. You wipe them away before they can cause concern for the emotionally intuitive Harris.

You reach out to take the teeny turkey from your husband. “I could just eat you right up,” you coo, pressing a kiss to Hendrix’s chubby cheek and breathing in his baby powder scent.

“I found it,” Harris announces with a triumphant grin, “and Dad paid for it.”

“I know my place,” Eddie chuckles. “My wallet and I were ready.”

There’s a beat of silence as you take it all in. Your husband, proudly beaming as you snuggle Hendrix to your chest. Your oldest son, tickling Hendrix’s onesie-clad feet and making himself laugh. And your newborn-turned-turkey, scrunching up and then unfurling his little fist as he relaxes contentedly.

Harris looks up at you expectantly. “Is the parade on now?”

You and Eddie laugh, and Eddie ruffles Harris’s hair.

There’s certainly plenty to be thankful for this year.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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lunaandco · 15 hours ago

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guys my age

pairing: alexia putellas x ofc

summary: the new rookie looks up to alexia, yes, but it's not as innocent as she would hope to

warnings: age difference: claudia is 20 yo; power imbalance; I forgot pina's name was actually claudia, so there is two claudia's on the team, deal with it; smut, thigh riding, nipple play

masterlist

Claudia is quite pretty. Alexia never tried to actively deny that, but it bothered her that she noticed far too much. Pale skin, rather small built, brown hair cut to her chin and icy blue eyes that made her look more innocent than a girl her age should be. Claudia was too young for Alexia's taste. And yet—

She was one of the Barça B girls joining them for training for a while now, reeling from the adrenaline of the debut, cheeks lit aflame and skin shimmering with sweat. When she arrived, the first days she spent them figuring out if she should be called Claudia or Díaz, since Pina was already stabilised on the team. But Pina chose her surname, so Claudia kept her name.

Shirt off, the red and blue fabric thrown over her shoulder—her debut shirt, she would probably frame it. Alexia remembered that euphoric feeling, of the first game, of the first goal.

Claudia's volley had been the seventh goal of the day, almost irrelevant to the punctuation. But it had huge emotional impact, and Alexia was sure it would make the rounds on the Internet, it was beautiful and powerful.

Salma threw an arm over her shoulders, as they sang some Barça chants. Alexia joined quietly, as she dressed on her street clothes. Slama and Claudia had become tight at some point or another, between training sessions and media obligations from the club.

Alexia wouldn't be surprised to see them become a couple, sooner or later, women's football was full of partners that were teammates or rivals, but there was something that bothered her about it.

She waited by the car, patiently. Alexia may be one of the older, more settled players, but she understood the juvenile need to celebrate a little.

Finally, Claudia rushed to her side, after saying her good-byes to Salma. It was when they were alone like this, that Alexia felt the strangest.

Backpack slung over her shoulder, a pair of dark blue jeans and a green bomber jacket, Claudia looked her age. But her blue eyes, always shimmering with delight, turned a little bit glassier and bigger, looking at Alexia.

"Thank you for driving me," she said quietly, settling on the passenger seat. Alexia wanted to ask where her parents were, how could they have missed their daughter's debut at the highest level, but she decided against it. The last thing she needed was to delve into her mommy issues.

"Don't sweat it," Alexia replied. "It's nice to have company in the car. Drives get lonely."

After that, they were silent, as Claudia hummed the songs on the radio and Alexia focused on getting her to her apartment without checking the map. She had drove this path more than once, Claudia always being passed around by the players with cars.

"We're here," said Alexia, parking on a miraculous free spot.

"Merci, capi" said Claudia, picking her things up. Alexia ignored how the nickname made her feel. Claudia bent over to give her a goodbye kiss on the cheek, like she always did, but Alexia was shocked when she felt Claudia's lips on the corner of hers, close enough to be noticed, far away enough to claim it was a mistake.

The kiss lasted a second longer than it was proper, but it was enough for a crawling feeling to take over Alexia's stomach.

"Adéu," said Alexia, but she was talking alone, as Claudia slipped away quickly.

💙❤️

The next game was away at Germany, and the team was buzzing with excitement. Alexia kept to herself a little, claiming that she was a bit tired because a bad night sleep, and letting Irene and Marta take over the captain duties.

Claudia had been assured that she would be subbed in around the 60s mark, Pere was very excited to see what his new youngster could do. Her and Salma spent all the plane ride giggling, showing each other silly things in their phones.

Alexia watched them for a while, a bitter taste invading her.

She could feel the ghost of Claudia's lips on her, and could not stop thinking about the way she looked at her, blue eyes big and shiny, like she adored her.

It wasn't uncommon for the rookies to have admired Alexia for long, but Claudia made it feel different.

Alexia couldn't lie and say she was never endeared, but that endearment was turning into something inappropriate, that she could not allow to happen.

💙❤️

The room assignments at hotels were made at random, making sure everyone shared room with everyone, in an attempt to increase the team's chemistry. Nevertheless, it still caught Alexia by surprise when Claudia rolled her suitcase inside of her room.

Alexia hoped the stay would be uneventful, for the sake of her consciousness, but at night, when the lights were off, and sleep was hard to come by, she heard the sheets rustling in the bed nearby, as Claudia got up and crossed the distance between beds in a blink of an eye.

Alexia was laying on her side, facing Claudia, but she kept her eyes closed, thinking that if she pretended to be asleep, Claudia would leave her alone.

More rustling, this time from her bed, and soon she felt Claudia's body, accommodating against hers. Claudia's head was pressed to her shoulder, little whines leaving her throat as she tried to find a nice position.

Alexia gulped, the feeling of Claudia's bare thighs against her own was too much. But instead of pushing the girl away, Alexia threw an arm over her torso, pushing her closer to her body, and dropped a kiss to her hair, already feeling the grasps of guilt.

Claudia's whining died and was replaced by a short purring sound, before her breathing stabilised and Alexia was left alone with a sleeping teammate on her arms.

She was, oh, so fucked.

💙❤️

Alexia woke up to to her alarm clock. In her arms, Claudia groaned, pressing her forehead to Alexia's clavicle. Turning off the alarm was challenging, having Claudia in the way, but she managed.

Alexia sighed, wondering if Claudia would be able to hear her heartbeat.

"You're very comfortable," said Claudia.

It confused Alexia, how Claudia could be so normal about this, how she didn't seem to notice what she was doing could get her, them, in trouble. Like flirting with your decade older captain was not a dangerous game to play.

"Claudia..." she started, but her voice died down on her throat as Claudia looked up to her, eyes sleepy but burning with desire. She pushed up a little and drop a small, quiet kiss, this time fully on Alexia's lips. "This is not a good idea..."

Claudia hummed, eyes closing and and squirming a little. Alexia's thigh was lodged between hers, ans she let out a little sound that had Alexia tightening her grasp on Claudia.

"Capi..." She should have stopped it. She should have been the responsible, wise captain she had been trusted to be. But that silly nickname took away all her self control.

The kiss was messy. Tongue and teeth clashing, Claudia was moaning softly, as her hips started moving, using Alexia's thigh to get some friction. She was suddenly grateful they had both chosen to go to bed with only a t-shirt and panties, because now it was easier to slide her hands all over Claudia's back, up and down to hold her hips and help her move.

The noises Claudia was making, both of their shaky breaths, Alexia was glad the volume wasn't enough to make it through any walls, because she could not stop. She felt the wet patch on her thigh, and it drove her even more insane.

Her hands pulled Claudia's shirt up, so she could play and suck on her nipples. The moans got higher pitched and soon Alexia had to help Claudia with her shaky hip movements, until the rookie was coming all over her thigh.

"Alexia..." she exhaled, cheeks rosy and eyes glazed, Alexia bit her lower lip. "Ah... Let me..."

Claudia's hand travelled to her panties, she wanted to help Alexia have an orgasm too, but Alexia wasn't ready. She could not let her know how wet she actually was, how turned on she was because of their illicit kissing and humping.

"We're going to be late," she said. Claudia pouted. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to take it up with Pere."

Alexia couldn't see that Claudia agreed. If there was something she wanted more than Alexia, it was to carve her spot on the team.

"Alright." She nodded. "But later..."

"We'll see," said Alexia, trying to be as vague as possible, but it was obvious to the both of them that she would cave in sooner or later. "Vamos," she gave Claudia a light smack on her thigh, and the girl giggled as she leaped off the bed, picking up her clothes and pausing to get one more kiss before going to the shower.

Alexia sighed, as she heard the door close. She was so fucked it wasn't even funny.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x oc #luna's one shots #alexia putellas smut

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bakukags · 3 days ago

Note

hiii i luv your blog!! honestly the 'more then enough' fanfic had my crying lol :)) so i saw your requests were open and was wondering if you could do a bakugou x reader were y/n is bakugou's and deku's childhood friend and they have a lot of trauma bc of their dad who is an ex pro hero becoming a villian when shes in ua and bakugou has always had feelings for her and comforts her when class 1-a sees it on the news. make any changes youd like :))

the 3 things bakugou taught you (bakugou x reader)

summary: As a childhood friend of Bakugou and Deku, you had always dreamed of attending U.A. to train and become heroes together. However, everything turns upside down when Class 1-A discovers that your father, once a former Pro-Hero, has now become a Villain. In the chaos of it all, you find that Bakugou is full of surprises and that there may be more to him than what meets the eye.

pairing: bakugou x female! reader

genre: fluffy angst

warnings: slight swearing

word count: 4,176

a/n: thank you so much for all of your kindness and support <3 my request box is open!! please let me know if y'all would be interested in a part 2 or how I can improve my writing :)

Growing up with Bakugou Katsuki had taught you three things:

Bakugou Katsuki had a temper like a firework - explosive, loud, and colorful.

His bark was somehow worse than his bite.

No matter how grumpy he was, you couldn’t stop smiling around him.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Bakugou grimaced, as you jogged to catch up, an extra bounce in your step. However, he slowed down slightly, allowing you to fall into step with him.

“My dad’s coming home today.” Your grin widened. “I’m going to visit home later today to see him.”

Your father was the pro-hero Aeris, who was known for his air-like attibutes and unique speed. You had also inherited his abilities, and his day-to-day heroism was what first motivated you to enroll into UA alongside Bakugou. Growing up, he had encouraged you to become a hero that not only helps the world, but changes the world for the better.

“Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true.” Whenever he came home from work, he always reminded you of his life motto with a warm smile lighting up his face. “And you my dear, have the most beautiful dream. But you must also be ready to have the strength to pay the price when it comes to fruition.”

From then on, you had resolved that you would do anything to become a hero. You father’s words had inspired you to become someone who would willingly sacrifice yourself in order to fulfill your dreams of saving the world; just like your father. As he rarely came home, you were especially elated on the days he did, today being one of those days.

Bakugou grunted in response, eyeing your chipper expression with thinly veiled annoyance.

“Well stop it. It makes you look stupider than normal.” He grumbled, looking away from your bright smile.

“Mhmm,” You hummed noncommittally, not really listening. The walk back from class had become your guys’ unspoken routine. Ever since the two of you had moved into the dorms, Bakugou always waited after class for you to pack your bag so that the two of you could walk back together. Of course, he’d rather die than admit to you that he was waiting, often making up excuses such as finishing up an assignment or perfectly timing the speed at which he placed his books back into his bag.

“I’ll go with you. To see your father." His tone indicated that it was a non-negotiable statement. You tilted your head, slightly confused. He had never accompanied you before.

“I can’t have an idiot like you wandering around at night.” He clarified, clearing his throat. “You’d be too easy of a target for Villains. It’s almost like you want to get attacked.”

You opened your mouth to point out that you were one of the top 5 students of Class 1-A and that you could handle yourself, thank you very much. However, the words died on your tongue when you caught sight of how his fingers twitched restlessly at his side, at how he was intentionally looking everywhere but at you. Many people wouldn’t pick up on it, but you knew him better than anyone. The signs were were clear - Bakugou Katsuki, of all people, was worried. For you. Your smile widened.

“If you wanted to spend more time with me Katsu, you could’ve just asked.” You teased, laughter bubbling in your voice.

“That’s not, I don’t- stop making things up crazy woman!” He spluttered in response, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Much to Bakugou’s dismay, you continued laughing, causing you to almost miss Izuku falling into step alongside you.

“Hey guys! Good training today, huh?” Izuku exclaimed, smiling at you. You grinned back, nodding excitedly in agreement. Your spirits were still high from your previous conversation with Bakugou. However, upon spotting the freckled boy, Bakugou’s face immediately morphed into a deep scowl. His eyebrows furrowed irritably, but he remained silent.

“Izu!” You grabbed onto his arm, just like you had growing up. “Training was amazing! Did you get a chance to see my practice match? I could hardly believe it - Shoto and I tied!” You chattered incessantly, easily falling into natural conversation with him. The three of you used to always hang out together and you found yourself suddenly missing the green-haired boy’s presence.

“It’s been a while since we’ve hung out!” You continued. “You should join us more often - it’ll be just like old times!"

A pink flush spread across Izuku’s cheeks, trailing down his neck.

“Of-of course, I’d love to!” Izuku stuttered, eyes glancing down at your arms that were still wrapped around his. A faint crackling popping sound, along with the smell of smoked caramel filled the air, causing the both of you to glance at Bakugou. He now had his hands curled into fists, jaw tightly clenched.

“He’s not invited.” Bakugou spat out, eyeing the two of you murderously. Growing up with Bakugou however, made you immune to his violent tendencies. You smiled sweetly in return, letting go of Izuku in favor of placatingly rubbing Bakugou’s arm.

“You’re always invited,” You said to Izuku before raising an eyebrow at Bakugou, daring him to argue. He hissed like a cat baring his teeth, but didn’t protest.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind!” Izuku nodded, eyes flickering between you and Bakugou hesitantly. “You guys must be pretty close now - almost inseperable huh?”

“We’re not.” Bakugou snarled at the same time you chirped “Yup!” The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you let out a laugh, shrugging nonchalantly.

“It’s funny because you guys are total… opposites.” Izuku spoke carefully, glancing at Bakugou as if he was a ticking time bomb ready to explode at any moment. The green-haired boy’s words were true - Bakugou oozed aggression and abrasiveness, while you were all cheerfulness and tact. While Bakugou burned intensely like the sun, you were constant like the moon. Just as bright, but in a different way. After the blonde boy had been kidnapped by Villains, he had refused to talk about the situation to anyone. Everyone had pestered him with countless opinions and questions - except for you. He didn’t need to speak in order for you to know how he felt or understand what he needed. You had spent your whole life learning him, and now, all you had to do was merely stay by his side as an unwavering source of support. The two of you had been attached by the hip ever since.

“His grumpiness adds to the appeal.” You giggled. “Right?” You turned to look up at Bakugou, ready for a classic snarky remark, but your eyes met molten embers instead. Taken by surprise, you tripped, stumbling over your own foot. Two hands immediately reached out to steady you: one belonging to Izuku and the other belonging to Bakugou. The blonde boy let go of you just as quickly as he had touched you, as if your skin had scorched him. However, Izuku’s hand remained, steadying you. You shot him a grateful look.

“Thanks.” You regained your balance with a sheepish smile.

Bakugou’s face darkened as his gaze shifted from yours to Izuku’s hand, which still lingered on your arm. A low growl left his lips as his eyes burned holes into Izuku, who instantly let go.

“So-Sorry! I’m glad you’re okay! I mean-are you okay?” He sputtered, eyes wide.

“She’ll be fine once you leave.” Bakugou spat venomously, a vein bulging out of his forehead. Izuku chuckled uncomfortably while your gaze darted nervously between the two boys, unsettled by the sudden escalation of emotions. The air suddenly felt a little too warm, too tense. In a second Bakugou was moving, stopping only when he stood between you and Izuku, effectively separating the two of you.

“What kind of idiot can’t even get back to the dorms without falling?” Bakugou sharply retorted, nostrils flaring. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.” He stalked away, leaving you to direct an apologetic glance at Izuku before following close behind.

“That was rude.” You glanced towards the blonde boy as you struggled to catch up to him.

“Not my fault Deku pissed me off.” He grunted in response.

“And it’s not his fault that you have a short fuse.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

If those words had come out of anyone else, you probably would be slammed against the wall and blasted into oblivion. But you were always the exception. He growled, the sound low and dangerous.

“Not right now, sunshine.” He barked your nickname out like it was a curse, but you knew better than to take him seriously. Your words had struck a little too close to home, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He angrily slammed the door to the dorms open, uncharacteristically propping it open for you.

“Move it. I don’t have all day.” He practically yelled in your ear, causing you to wince. He at least had the decency to look back at you half-apologetically, before lowering his voice to a more suitable volume. “Well? Why aren’t you walking idiot?”

“Thanks, I think?” You shrugged, hesitantly walking through the door. “But you really got to tone it down Katsu, I me-”

The words caught in your throat. You froze, causing Bakugou to ram right into you.

“What the hell sunshine? What kind of idiot stands in the middle of the doorway?” He barked, but you didn’t respond. Your eyes were glued to the television, trained on the newscaster Miyagi who imparted the breaking headlines for today.

“Breaking news - A Pro-Hero has turned out to be a Villain? You heard it here folks, Ex Pro-Hero Aeris was found injuring several innocent children just this afternoon. It appears he has been secretly working alongside the League of Villains as an undercover agent.”

The screen cut, and suddenly, footage of a man filled the TV screen. His grin looked borderline crazed, an unknown murderous glint flooding his eyes. Two heros held him down as he struggled against them, handcuffs digging into his wrists.

Your legs gave out, and you stumbled backwards. Somebody immediately caught you, muttering something into your ear, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from the screen. All you could see was your father’s deranged expression flooding the screen.

“No.” You whispered, eyes peeled on the TV, arms trembling. “No. This can’t be real.”

"How could you do this?” A civilian yelled at the ex Pro-hero, angry tears blurring her features. “Don’t you have a child too? A daughter?”

All eyes turned to you, the dorm falling impossibly silent. This couldn’t be happening. Your whole world was collapsing, right in front of your eyes. Your arm reached outwards in attempts to grab onto something, anything, that could ground you. A warm hand enveloped yours immediately. You latched onto it, squeezing tightly. Something deep inside of you knew that you should look tear your eyes from the screen, but you for some twisted reason, you couldn’t. You needed to know more. You needed to know why.

Your father stopped struggling, finally allowing the heros to usher him into a police car.

“So?” Your father shrugged. His posture suddenly looked eerily calm and nonchalant, but his eyes remained dark. Frenzied, yet disturbedly content. He looked stared right into the camera. At you. “Why would I care? I never considered her to be my daughter anyways.”

Those words were all it took to send you spiraling. The walls closed in on you, trapping you, until suddenly, it was impossible to breathe. Your whole life was a lie. The person you had always looked up to in life, the person responsible for your existence, had just revealed that he never truly cared if you existed. You thought back to your childhood. He had taught you how to ride a bike, how to cook chicken marsala, how to use your powers for good. He had been your sole role model, had shaped you into the person you were today, and now he was-

Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true.

Your dad’s life motto rang in your mind unbidden, yet it no longer sounded like encouragement. It sounded like a threat.

Are you happy? You wanted to ask him. Was the price worth it? Was betaying me, betraying the world worth it? Even though the questions screamed inside your head, you knew you didn’t want to hear their answers. A part of you knew what his response would be and hated it.

“It’s a trick.” You whispered, still in denial. A tear tricked down your cheek; you barely felt it. Your voice grew louder, more insistent.

“They’re lying. They have to be lying!” The words rang in the room, sharp and empty. A gust of wind rushed surrounded you as your face twisted with fury. Your classmates stared back at you, speechless. You had always been the calm and collected one, the one to rein Bakugou in whenever he exploded. But the roles had suddenly reversed, and suddenly you were the one bubbling over, about to explode. They had never seen you like this before - all seething, abrasive, aggressive. Even you had never felt this way before.

“It’s really a shame,” Mineta was the first to speak up. “that your father is a criminal. I mean, you’d think even criminals love their daughters-”

Before anyone could even blink, you were across the room, slamming Mineta hard against the wall.

“Say it again.” You growled dangerously, hands wrapped around his throat. A couple classmates tried to intervene, only to be blown back by a harsh gust of wind.

“It’s a pity. You’re so pretty, but I guess even you have violent tendencies.” Mineta sneered, wheezing when you tightened your grip around his neck. “It makes sense though. Like father, like daughter. ”

His words crawled along your skin and you instantly dropped him. He spluttered, leering as you backed away. All your life, you had been proud to be called your father’s daughter. But now, you felt nothing but a wave of shame and disgust. You looked up at your classmates. They all stared back with stiff postures and raised defenses. As if they too, thought that you would become a Villain. Blinking back tears, you did the only thing you could do. You ran.

You ran until your lungs nearly gave out, until nausea overwhelmed you. Gripping the edges of a nearby trash can, you emptied out all of the contents of today’s lunch. Your body trembled as you fell to the floor, pulling your knees in. The sound of stomping echoed in the halls, loud and harsh. Bakugou. Your stomach churned; he was the last person you wanted to see.

“Go away.” You growled, torn between wanting to be left alone and being too drained to run away. He ignored you, like he usually did, but this time it made you furious. Why couldn’t he just listen to you, just take you seriously for once?

“I told you to go away Bakugou Katsuki!” The words were icy cold and you heard the stomping pause for a moment. All your life, even when you both got into disagreements, you had never once called him by his full name before. Yet for some reason, you couldn’t let him see you like this - embarassingly weak and pathetic.

“What are you, my mother?” He retorted. The footsteps continued again, until he was soon towering over you. “Don’t call me that - shit’s weird.”

“I mean it.” Your words were coated with venom. You refused to look at him. “Leave me alone.”

Bakugou ignored you again, choosing instead to take a seat next to you.

“When have I ever listened to you?” He scoffed. “Don’t expect me to start now.”

You didn’t reply, curling deeper into a ball instead. The two of you sat in silence for several moments. The longer you sat, the more it all sank in. Your whole life had been a sick and twisted lie - how could you even start to separate the fiction from reality? Your breathing started to grow more ragged as you spiraled further, your throat tightening. You watched as your vision grew more and more blurry, until a choked sob ripped free from your chest. Hiding your head in your knees, you finally let the tears pour down your cheeks, let your shoulders shake from the sobs.

You felt a hand grab yours, the same hand that had wrapped around yours earlier in the dorms. Bakugou silently pulled you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in a tentative hug. Immediately you burrowed yourself into his broad chest, finding comfort in the way he held you closer to him, as if his arms could protect you from reality.

“I don’t even know,” You murmured, breath hitching. “what to believe anymore. If he raised me to be like him, then maybe I’m-” A villain too. You swallowed the words back into your throat, but they still hung in the air, unspoken. Another sob wracked through your chest, causing Bakugou’s grip on you to tighten. You stayed like that for a while, seconds passing into minutes. As the blonde boy tentatively rubbed soothing circles into your back, you couldn’t help the incredulous laugh bubbling alongside your sobs - Bakugou being calm and soothing? Your life was definitely falling apart.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re obviously not a villain.” He spoke with absolute certainty, as if he was merely stating a fact, like how the sky was blue or the grass green.

“You can’t know that.” You murmured, remembering the way you had nearly strangled Mineta, the way your classmates had all stared at you afterwards. “Mineta-”

“Is taken care of.” Bakugou’s chest rumbled as he cut you off, tone menacing. “He’ll no longer have the audacity to look at you, let alone even speak to you. Neither will the others. I’ve made damn sure of it myself.”

Warmth spread throughout your stomach, rising up into your chest and onto your cheeks. You hid your flushed face further into his shirt. You opened your mouth to protest-

“Don’t even start sunshine.” Bakugou interjected, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You were upset and Mineta had a shitty attitude. If anything, he deserved it.”

You let out a watery chuckle. Only Bakugou would justify nearly strangling someone. As if sensing your upcoming retort, he spoke again.

“You didn’t hurt anyone. And you never will because…” He paused, eyes trained at the wall above your head. The following words sounded like they were being ripped from him against his will. “you’re one of the good ones, alright? Why else would I spend so much time with you? It’d be embarassing, ya know?”

You understood what he was trying to say. Bakugou always needed the best of the best, in every aspect. Which meant that whatever he chose to do or whoever he chose to spend time with, all of it had to be good. The best, in every sense of the word. After all, it’d be embarassing to him if it wasn’t. He’d view it as an unforgiveable slight towards his perfectionistic tendencies.

“Thank you Katsu.” You breathed in deeply, his signature smell of ashy caramel and fresh pine filling your nose, relaxing your limbs. You weren’t quite sure how you had gotten here, how you had somehow managed to slip in between the cracks of his impossibly high standards. You certainly didn’t feel like the best and you weren’t even sure if you believed his words, but they somehow still brought you comfort. At least you knew that someone in your life was raw and real. It had always been that way with Bakugou - what you saw was what you got.

"It’s nothing.” He huffed, but you caught a hint of a smile on his lips. Moving his hands upwards, he started playing with your hair, his touch oddly gentle.

It wasn’t nothing, but you didn’t have the strength to argue. Instead, you silently accepted the bottle of water he was offering to you. After muttering a soft thanks, you allowed the liquid to coat your dry tongue while matching the sounds of his even breathing with your own. And as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, you felt something in the air shift. For the first time, you noticed the fluttering in your stomach; the racing of your heart. You wondered if Bakugou felt it too.

The blonde boy eyed the window, watching as the rain started to pour down, droplets splattering across the glass. The sound was soothing, melding perfectly with the melody of our matched breaths.

“I like the rain.” You said, tilting your face slightly toward the window.

He snorted. “Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You like everything.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s annoying.”

“Not everything.” You protested, shifting your body.

“Well, you like me.” He joked, all bravado. You stilled. One moment passed, then two.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Bakugou paused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. A faint crackling pop echoed in the hallway. “I only meant who wouldn’t like m-”

“I do.” The confession blurts out of your mouth before you can even think. “Like you I mean.”

Maybe your defenses were lowered because of the constant crying. Or maybe it was because of the way he was gazing at you now - like you were something precious, something so beautiful that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, even for a second.

“Took you long enough to catch on.” He swallowed, nonchalance forced into his voice. Another pop echoed in the hall. You stifled a grin as he forcefully stuffed his sparking palms into his pockets to hide them. A moment passed before your eyes widened as you connected the dots.

“For how long?” You breathed, voice catching in your throat.

“Too long.” He said gruffly, keeping it vague. “A snail moves at a faster pace than you.”

A laugh made it’s way out of your throat. “You could’ve said something!”

“That’s lame,” He huffed. “and you know it. But since we’re already on this topic, Deku better stay the hell away from you now that-”

You kissed the edge of his lips, partly to shut him up and partly because you could. He instantly froze, a shade of red rising up his neck.

“If you’re gonna do that.” He whispered, the sound deep and husky. “Then do it right.”

He yanked you towards him, the move rugged and harsh, pulling your mouths together. Kissing him was like a smoldering fire - hot, burning, and intense. His arms pulled you closer, and you wanted more of this, more of him. He kissed you like a starving man tasting bread for the first time, and when you pulled away, he groaned reluctantly, chest gasping for air. You caught his gaze and held it, a brief moment of understanding passing between the two of you. And for the first time, you knew that despite everything, you were going to be okay.

A smile crept it’s way onto your face, the way it always tended to whenever Bakugou was present. In your head, you found yourself unconsciously amending the list of things you had learned about Bakugou over the years:

Bakugou Katsuki had a temper like a firework - explosive, loud, and colorful. But when the time called for it, he could also be gentle, quiet, and fiercely protective.

Although his bark was somehow worse than his bite, when it came to you, he had no problems following through with his bite. After all, he was an excellent kisser.

No matter how grumpy he was, you couldn’t stop smiling around him. You still weren’t quite sure why yet, but you did know one thing for certain.

Through thick and thin, through the lies and the villains, Bakugou Katuski would always be there for you. He might be abrasive and biting. He might be aggressive and impulsive. But he was also solid and real. He was true to his word and below all those layers, he was inconceivably, irrevocably good. And of course, most importantly - he was most definitely all yours.

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auroracalisto · 3 days ago

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secrets and scars

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 847 words summary: the reader has been scarred for some time now. fiyero discovers them and does something rather... unexpected. a/n: idk what this is. but like... yeah. hope it makes sense. i was gonna queue this and save it for later but i’m gonna go ahead and post it. i have a few queued posts for jonathan bailey characters in the coming weeks so. i’ll try to feed you all for the holidays. ♡ tw: reader has scars? no direct mention of where they are but it could be triggering. slight reference to sexual content, reader is naked for a hot minute but nothing graphic happens. you'll understand when you read.

Scars. They littered your body, an unfortunate reminder of the past you barely escaped. It was as if your body didn't want you to forget.

You wished you could.

You're lost in your thoughts in one of the many archways of Shiz University, staring out at the blue sky above. Your fingers itch to touch your scars—to scratch, to peel them away. You didn't want the reminder of who you once were. You didn't want the reminder of what once happened to you.

In all of Oz, you'd give anything to be able to erase your scars.

Anything.

It's a flurry of a night—confusing all around, and then somehow, Fiyero ends up in your dorm, kissing you, touching you, and by the love of Oz, how is he so quick with your clothing?

But before you can stop him, panic-stricken, he sees them. Your scars.

He's silent, wide eyed as he looked at them, lips parted as his eyes flicker from each mark on your skin.

He licked his lips a bit nervously, glancing up at you.

"You—are—" he stopped himself, seeing the panicked look on your face. "Oh, Y/n," he breathed out, moving to sit beside of you on your bed. He gently pressed a hand to the side of your face. "I'm sorry. I should have asked."

You slowly shook your head. "No. No, it's okay, I just—just didn't expect you to move so quickly. You, uh—"

"Surprised you, hm?" he softly asked. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he found his voice once more. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, his eyes fall to your scars, and you can tell he wants to ask you questions—how you got them, what happened, how long ago it happened.

Instead, he says something that takes you by surprise (because of course he did—Fiyero was filled with surprises, was he not?).

"They are beautiful."

"What?"

"Your scars."

You're silent for a moment. "My... my scars? Are beautiful?"

He smiled softly at you, taking ahold of your hand. He looked into your eyes. "Yes. Your scars are beautiful," he softly said. "I won't ask you about them. You can tell me when you decide you are ready, if you ever are."

Your eyes soften as you admire him from your spot on the bed. You feel so exposed—naked to the man not only physically but also emotionally. It was an odd feeling. A... welcomed feeling.

"May I touch them?" Fiyero softly asked.

"My scars?" you questioned for what seemed the hundreth time in the past few minutes.

"Yes. Your scars."

"You want to touch them?"

Fiyero looked at you, an incredulous look on his face. "Yes, Y/n. You can say no, it's quite alright. My feelings will not be hurt if you say no."

You watched him, swallowing nervously. "You... you're so odd," you softly said.

He snorted softly, a smile embracing his features. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

"Only for you."

You gave a small nod in return, and watched as he moved down the bed, focusing on the part of your body with your scars. His eyes flicker up to yours and he pressed a soft kiss to the puckered skin.

"Only for you," he repeated.

You feel flustered more than anything, looking away from him and his beautiful brown eyes.

How odd, indeed.

"I... I don't like them," you softly said.

"You do not like your scars?" he softly asked, a finger gently brushing against one of them. "Did something—"

"—I'll tell you. One day. Just..."

"Of course," he said. "I understand. But... Y/n, I meant what I said. They are beautiful."

You pursed your lips.

"They show how much strength you've had to survive, Y/n," he said, leaning forward and letting his lips connect with yours. "They're beautiful because they show me you've had to be brave. To be courageous in the face of such disaster. Your scars may be something you do not like, but do not wish them away."

You don't look at him, but you do not push him away.

"I do not know how you got them," he said, "and I am so sorry if what happened to you was... well, unsavory. But... they show such strength, Y/n."

"Strength is ridiculous and you know it," you muttered. You just want to rebuke his statement, as sweet as it may be.

He pecked your lips again.

"Perhaps that's not the best way to describe what it is, but I can't think of what would be better," he said. "This brain of mine doesn't want to work when the most beautiful person in all of Oz is letting me see their secrets."

Your heart pounded in your chest and you looked up at him, eyes softening.

"You are so odd," you repeated.

He snorted softly. "Yes. We've established this, Y/n. Thank you."

A smile quirked on your lips and you gently grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss.

"You're welcome."

#fiyero #fiyero tigelaar #fiyero tiggular #wicked fiyero #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #fanfic #wicked #wicked x reader #wicked 2024 #wicked movie #wicked the movie #fiyero x reader #fiyero x gn!reader #jonathan bailey

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dorabellingham · 1 day ago

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Mini Bellingham

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when after fans suspect, you actually find out you're pregnant

may contain spelling and translation errors!

A few weeks after the last wave of rumors that Jude Bellingham was going to be a father, you realized that something was really different. It wasn't just the slight swelling in your shirt, nor the symptoms that you attributed to the fast pace of travel and the crazy routine in Madrid. After a few days of feeling more tired than usual and having some morning sickness, you decided to put the doubt to rest once and for all.

The next morning, you took a pregnancy test from the bathroom, and a few minutes later, the two little lines appeared on the screen, confirming what you didn't even know you were expecting: you were pregnant. The emotion was intense and immediate. You laughed to yourself, tears welling up in surprise, and you stood there, absorbing the feeling of now having a precious and charming secret to share with Jude.

You knew he needed a surprise to match. After all, if the love of your life was going to find out he was going to be a father, it had to be in the most special way possible. You quickly planned a gesture that was symbolic and at the same time very much connected to the dream you both shared. In the following days, you sneaked out to organize everything: a mini-uniform of the English national team with the number ten and the name Bellingham on the back. You thought of every detail and, to make the surprise complete, you put together a kit with the uniform, the pregnancy test and a handwritten letter.

On the weekend, Jude arrived home after a hard training session, without thinking about anything. He was hungry and just wanted to rest. You smiled when you saw him come in distracted, already taking off his boots and adjusting his shirt. As soon as he sat down on the sofa, you approached him smiling and held out a small box with a red bow, which he accepted, confused.

—Is this… a present?

Jude asked, arching an eyebrow with a curious expression. You bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement, and shook your head.

—Go on, open it!

You said, with a smile that you could barely contain.

The eldest Bellingham opened the box and, when he pulled off the tissue paper, he came across the small uniform of the English national team. He looked at you with a surprised expression, not fully understanding, until he saw the pregnancy test. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in a smile of complete surprise and disbelief.

—Babe…? —He could barely speak, swallowing hard. —Are you… serious?

You nodded, smiling with your eyes full of tears.

—Congratulations, daddy!

You whispered, the words almost coming out like a melody.

He laughed, a surprised laugh, his face hidden in his hands as he processed the news. Emotion took over him, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight, long hug, laughing and crying at the same time.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Jude pulled away enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with happiness.

—A mini Bellingham… I can’t believe it! I’m already the luckiest man in the world just to have you, and now… Is this real?

You laughed, wiping a tear from his face.

—It’s real. And you know what’s funny? I think even your fans were already suspicious. But now, only the two of us know.

He looked at the mini-uniform in his hands, turning it over and getting lost in the details.

—I don’t even know how to thank you for giving me the greatest gift in the world, Y/n.

He kissed the top of your head, then brought his hand to your belly, still flat, but which would soon begin to show the first signs of this new phase.

You took the letter, handing it to him.

—There’s one more thing.

He opened the envelope carefully and read, still emotional:

"Dear Jude,

Thank you for being the best partner and the love of my life. I knew I wanted you to be the father of my children from the moment I realized I would do anything to be by your side. Today, I begin a new journey by your side, and I can only imagine how much we will love this baby. Our baby.

Thank you for everything, and thank you for being you. With all my love,

Y/n."

Jude could barely contain his emotion as he finished reading the letter. He looked at you, touched, and simply said.

—I love you more than anything in this world, love. More than I ever thought possible. And now... now there are three of us.

You snuggled into his arms, feeling completely at peace. From that moment on, your world was bigger, more complete, and the wait for that little Bellingham would be the sweetest of all.

#jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x you #dorabellingham #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #football #football fanfic #real madrid #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagines #judebellingham #jb22 #jb5 x fem!reader #jb5 x reader #jb5 #football x y/n #football x reader

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letsbangts · 2 days ago

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thank you || jjk

⤷ summary: your appreciation for the man you married

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.4k

⟶ genre: fluff, married couple au, established relationship au

⟶ content: husband!jk, fratboy!jk briefly mentioned, sweetheart kook that could cause cavities

⟶ warnings: none just pure fluff

a/n: so this is inspired by you may want to marry my husband. hope you enjoy! :) as always hope you enjoy & let me know what you think!

masterlist

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

I have been married to the most extraordinary man for four years. I am planning on many more (a plan that has been in effect since our first date seven years ago and will continue to be). And for that, I feel I should express my gratitude.

Thank you.

Honestly, I do not know what I am thankful for, for everything, I guess? For him always being there, for him staying by my side. For loving and treating me exactly how I have always wanted a man to.

Now, you may wonder who this gentleman is, and I am so happy to tell you, Jeon Jungkook.

He was an easy man to fall in love with. I did it in one day.

Let us take a trip down memory lane, shall we? Seven years ago, a young lady struggling with dealing with college and her part-time job gets dragged out by her best friend (I guess I should be thanking her too) attends a year-end party at a frat house one late evening. About an hour later, she bumps into a boy who spills his drink on himself, though all he can do is say to her with the brightest smile: You okay there, Clumsy?

And when she looks up at his face, she realizes that this is no douche frat boy with beer on his shirt, but an unbelievably attractive high-spirited young man. She shyly replies: Yeah, I'm okay. That is when what was supposed to be quick party banter with a stranger turned into a night of great conversation and a polite walk home. That then turned into sweet exchanges of subtle flirtatious texts and small phone calls that had this young lady thinking: Uh-oh, there is something loveable about this person.

As the couple enjoyed many hangouts during the beginning of summer (by the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to marry him) amidst the ever-growing flirting, they finally acknowledged their immense attraction. Then the hangouts turn into dates when that lovely young man finally asks her out. That is when they would have officially kicked off their step from subtle flirting to very blatant obvious flirting—the beginning of a couple that would only continue their journey together.

So that was the start of us.

I am a bit biased, but I will create a list based on my experience of coexisting with him for about 2,556 days on the reasons I am thankful for him and thus love him. The following list of attributes is in no particular order because everything about him is so important to me.

Starting with the basics: His blindingly contagious smile, his gorgeous body filled with pure joy and positivity (and muscle), his adorable fluffy hair that falls over his forehead to match his striking brown eyes, and his effortlessly breathtaking passionate singing, of course.

He always knows how I am feeling and how to match his mood to whatever one I am in. He can read my face with just a simple glance. I have always appreciated how he adjusts his mood to fit my own. If I am in the dumps and his spirits are up, he brings them down to comfort me; even if he is down in the dumps, he lifts his spirits to keep a smile on my face. And for that:

Thank you.

If I could list just one of the things that made me fall in love with him from day one and still makes my heart flutter to this day, it would be his little acts that are natural for him, which shows how much of a gentleman he is. From always opening doors for me, making sure I walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket to wear, or carrying me into the bed when I fall asleep on the couch. He may not know how much I appreciate the little things, but those little things always remind me I sincerely have the best man out there.

Silently suffering with the things I put him through that he may not want to do. Sitting through the cliché chick flicks, trailing behind me in the store as I look at three different tops that he says all look great on me but always end up picking the one he can tell I want more, or even giving up his personal space and all feeling in his right arm because he knows I sleep much better entangled with him.

That brings me to something he may not know that I know about him. He holds in a lot more than he leads on. The song he tells me he is struggling to perfect but tells me it is only a little bit of writer's block. Yet I can see in his eyes that it stresses him much more than he says. Yet he is always quick to change topics with a:

How could you have gotten prettier while I was gone?

So tell me about your day. Did anything interesting happen today?

If I did not know him so well, I could have easily missed these things, but I have come to learn about the kind of person he is. He is the type of person who always puts others before himself. He leads himself to take on the role of making sure others around him are okay. He already knows he does not have to hide his worries from me, but Jungkook still always tries to keep the minor worries to himself because he believes they are things I will excessively stress over on his behalf. (and he is right, I would, what can I say I love the guy)

We have come to know each other so well over the years, huh?

When looking for a dreamy, last-minute adventure, he is my man. He always comes with me on random just-cause trips, be it a road trip to the countryside for a break from the city or a train ride to the sea to walk by the shore.

Thank you.

If it is still unclear, here is the kind of man Jeon Jungkook is: He surprised me on my first day at my new job with flowers because he knew how nervous I was. He is a man who is always up early and goes out to surprise me every Sunday morning by putting a different kind of flower on my nightstand with a love note. A man that comes out from the minimart or gas station and says: Hold out your hand. And, voilà, a plastic ring he got from a gumball machine (had that been his proposal, my answer would have been yes).

I am sure you understand what I am trying to say by now, and he already knows how crazy I am about him. Wait! Did I mention that he is incredibly handsome? I will never get tired of looking at his handsome face.

If I am making him sound like a prince and our relationship sounds like a fairy tale, that is not too far off. I consider his proposal one for the books: Ever since you stumbled into my life, quite literally. I have never been able to picture being without you. Will you marry me, Clumsy?

Jungkook, I was serious about what I told you in our vows:

I always want more time with you, Jungkook. I want more time with the guy who takes me to get ice cream in the winter. I want more time sipping beer in bed with my drinking buddy. Although I desire our time together to be endless, we cannot live forever. But as long as I am alive, as long as I am a person on this planet, I will continue to follow you wherever the road takes us. So let us walk it together, alright?

Your dependability and loyalty are the qualities that show you are the most extraordinary husband, the most extraordinary man, and will be the most remarkable father one day. I know you will lead our future family into a lifetime of happiness because that is where you have been leading mine for seven years. I know you will continue to do so.

I will wrap this up because I can go on and on about how you are the most genuine, non-self-oriented gift I could have received. So, thank you for being you. I hope for the day that I get to tell our children about the kind of man their father is, the man Jeon Jungkook is, and about the love story I am honoured to be a part of.

(P.S. That day I mentioned will be coming in approximately nine months!)

With all my love, Clumsy xo

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mr-celestial-writings · 1 day ago

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General Relationship Headcannons (Bats pt 1)

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Richard "Dick" Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy "Tim" Drake

Summary: How do I think these characters would behave in a relationship. How I think you two would meet, their love languages, their first dates. You know the rest.

Gender Neutral Reader

DC Masterlist!

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Bruce Wayne:

You two met at a Charity Fundraiser. He literally bumped into you. It was instinct to check you out, his analytical eyes scanned you. But it was perfectly hidden with his Playboy Brucie Persona.

He immediately went to charm your socks off. You may not have any vital information, but hey, at least you'd be a good lay.

He was very, very surprised when you turned him down. You sited not being interested in him as the reason.

Well, now he's just offended.

After that Night, Bruce began stalking seeking you out more. He learned everything he could about you. He had a point to prove, alright? He totally didn't find you attractive.

The more he spent time with you, the more he learned about you from you... The more Bruce looked forward to spending time with you.

Bruce found that he fell hard and fast for you. You were just... amazing! You were like a warm blanket on a cold winter's day. You were like the few rays of sunshine that Gotham gets a year...

Bruce eventually dropped the Brucie act around you, and he was surprised when you responded positively to Bruce just... being himself.

Bruce asked you out not too soon after that. He went all out on your first date. Candles, the most expensive food, a band. Bruce did not hold back.

You went along with it, but after words you told Bruce that you were okay with low effort, laid back dates. He felt like a bit of an idiot.

Bruce's Love languages would be Acts of Service and Quality Time. He loves doing things and spending time with you.

Richard "Dick" Grayson:

Haley brought you two together. The Puppy had gotten off her leash, and run straight into you. Dick apologized so much as he collected Haley from your arms.

Dick helped you off the ground, for a 3 legged puppy, Haley had a lot of power. He introduced himself, and offered to get you something to eat an an apology.

You two hit it off right away, though! Dick was funny and charming, and you bounced off of him easily.

What was supposed to be an apology hot dog ended up in a new friend and an exchange of numbers.

Hang outs became daily events. Dick would coo over Haley with you and buy you food. You were really fun to talk to!

Some months later, Dick decided to shoot his shot and ask you out. You were amazing, and just so fun to me around!

Your first Date would be at a cafe. Dick wanted to Impress you, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable with some massive, grand gesture. Who was he, Bruce?

Dick's love languages would be Quality Time and Physical Touch. He loves being around you and touching you. He also gives the best cuddles. It's a win-win.

Jason Todd:

Jason encountered into you at the Iceberg Lounge. He was just doing his usual rounds, making sure everybody was happy, along with scrapping together any information he could.

He noticed that you were uncomfortable, being hit on by a bunch of goons. Something told him he'd regret it, but he swooped in. He gently place his hand on you hip, it was sold you could easily escape if needed. With a few sweet words and nicknames, Jason chased the guy off.

He then properly introduced himself. You two got to talking, and Jason found that he... really liked talking to you.

Your friendship blossomed, and a year later Jason was hit with the fact he had a crush on you. Thank you Roy, for that.

He took his chance, and decided to ask you out. He was super relieved when you said yes.

This dork brought you to a bookstore for the first date. After browsing around he then brought you to a decent restaurant. It was all worth it to see you happy.

Jason's love languages would be Quality time and Words of Affirmation. He doesn't feel like he deserves you, reassure him that he does.

Timothy "Tim" Drake:

220k, strangers to lovers, slow burn, coffee shop AU- Sorry. You are a barista at his favorite cafe. You were the one who usually took and made his coffee.

He once asked you why you worked such unholy hours, since you were always in when he patrolled. You looked him dead in the eyes and said that college wasn't going to pay for itself, and that sleep was for the weak.

That's when he decided to look into you. He wanted to study you and everything about you. You were just amazing.

Bruce stopped that in it's tracks and forced Tim to talk to you like a normal person. No stalking and unhealthy relationships on Bruce's watch.

He was terrified as he talked to you. He led the conversation a best he could. The more he talked to you, the more relaxed he was.

You two got along very well! Tim was surprised about how well you two got along. You two shared a lot of interests. Tim felt... seen.

It took a couple months for Tim to work up the guts to ask you out. He was so excited when you said yes.

He brought you to the Observatory. He knew no villains would attack, and it was quiet. He bought you so much from the gift shop.

Tim's love languages are Gift Giving and Words of Affirmation. He has a lot of trouble with his self worth. Love on him, assure him that he is more than his role as a CEO or Red Robin.

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a/n: I split this up, like, a lot. It was going to be a massive post with all the male characters I write for. Then I was going to do the same thing for the fem characters I write for.

But that was very fucking overwhelming. So I decided to split it up into the factions I write for. So, expect A Few of these types of posts lol.

Also Happy American Thanksgiving!

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starmocha · 1 day ago

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OK. I THINK I HAVE A NEW IDEA OF HOW SYLUS' MYTH WILL PLAY OUT.

"Amidst the chaos, wings flap and stir up a whirlwind of sand and gravel. On that day, the girl marked for execution unleashed the Fiend from the Abyss."

— Official summary in Where Darkshadows Fall trailer description box

This will be my third theory. Theories 1 & 2 share the same post and are very, very brief, and honestly, not as well-developed.

OK, let's get started <333

For whatever reason, MC is to be executed. I theorize that she hopes to escape her death sentence and she seeks out Sylus, the infamous dragon said to bring about Philos' downfall. Perhaps, she assumes that if she can slay him, she will be pardoned.

However, she is obviously weaker than him. Sylus, as we know him, is a very complex person. Even though he does have an imposing aura, he does not attack without reason, and he also does not attack people weaker than him.

I believe this scene we see in the beginning is MC "training" with Sylus after having been in his company for quite some time. He is not sneering at her foolish attempt to kill him but rather critiquing her mistakes when approaching her prey.

It could also explain 1) she has no weapons, 2) she's alone, 3) she attempts to strangle him bare-handed with one hand (girl pls 🤡), 4) she shows no fear or resistance when captured by Sylus, even as he comments on how easily she can be killed if he applies more pressure to her heart.

Kind of similar to how in Zayne's Snow's Embrace myth, MC was training under Zayne's guidance for quite some time, and he would often give her lessons. I feel like this is a similar situation with Sylus being a mentor of some kind.

(Also, side note: she dresses similar as him??? Feels more draconic fashion than Philos, just saying. She might have been with him for even far longer than a few measly months.)

The mark he gives her could simply be just that. A bruise that serves as a time limit for her to develop her skill and show growth. He wants to see her progress, wants to see her become stronger, so this is could serve as a motivation device for her.

Now unlike with Zayne, Sylus is more upfront about his personal feelings, so we get intimate moments like these, where it leaves little room for doubts about their romance.

We also have a memory (Secret Times, most likely, based on the others' past myth 4-star cards) of Sylus carrying MC in his arms as he flies (🎶 A whole new world~ 🎶)? They're also described as kindred spirits (a term Sylus would later echo in the main story during his first appearance). Shared thoughts and feelings? Perhaps bonding over their status as outcasts?

Now, Sylus seems to be prophesied as bringing about Philos' downfall. Could...MC unwittingly have caused this? Could something have happened that led to Sylus going berserk and decimating Philos?

I believe a "betrayal" (or assumed one, believed by Sylus) may have happened that led to their tragedy. I'm leaning more towards a tragic misunderstanding. I'll make a part 2 since I'm at my 10-pic cap on mobile 😔

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads ☆ dragon sylus yapping #lnds ramblings #lnds analysis #fam how did i dooooo

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arpicityandneed · 2 days ago

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Hi there! I'm so excited to hear your page is growing! Your work is amazing and I can't wait to see what you write next. Thank you for taking the time to share your work with us! 💜

If there's still space, could I ask for 2 or 10 with Steve or Bucky?

Thank you again and good luck in school!

Thanks!! It's my pleasure to share honestly.

Steve (#2 sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them)

18+ f!reader. Cap!Steve. Dirty talk. Spanking. Semi public sex.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, all you could do was feel. Your cheek was pressed against cool glass as your boyfriend fucked you ravenously.

Alright maybe you shouldn't have teased him so much- each selfie sent during a tactical meeting was just your way of passing the time.

In your own defense, you'd been unsupervised.

But Steve had simply thrown you over his shoulder when he got back, ignoring your squeaks of protest. Your tshirt (his actually) was ripped in half before you got thrown on the bed, and all you got was one of his shit eating grins and a "you asked for it" before he was on you.

That was three- four? rounds ago, and at this point you weren't sure if you wanted to curse or thank Erskine's serum. Your boyfriend's stamina was endless.

"Come on pretty girl, where'd all that attitude go hm?" Steve was panting in your ear, thrusting his wickedly fat cock into your cum filled pussy over and over as his massive hand slapped your ass cheek.

"Thought you wanted my attention. Well now you have it baby." He bit down on your shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks as you clenched down around him, every roll of his hips dragging the head of his cock over your spot and making you keen.

"Stevie," you moaned completely out of it as you fucked yourself back onto his cock shamelessly, each balls deep kiss of his tip to your cervix making your eyes cross.

"Yeah yeah, I'm here sweetheart. Just gotta gimme one more and I'll let you rest for a bit mkay?" Steve may be enthustiatic but he was still gentle with your nonenhanced body. (As gentle as you wanted him to be anway.)

All it took was his hand snaking around to find your clit before you were screaming his name, grateful for the soundproof glass of Stark tower.

Steve groaned and pulled your hips flush against his before he added even more of his super sized load to your overflowing folds. If you had hand shaped bruises on your hips tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised, but more importantly you wondered if birth control worked with super soldier sperm.

Gentle hands picked you up when you would've fallen to the floor happily, carrying you to the shower and turning on the hot water as they held you close.

"Hey baby, can you open your eyes for me?" Steve cajoled softly, cupping your cheek in his hand as you blinked up at him blearily.

"Try that shit again and I'll have Bucky deal with you, he loves putting little brats like you in their place." Your eyes widened in shock and more than a little bit of interest, and it just made Steve laugh.

"Next time baby, rest now."

(10 minutes prior)

Bucky moved silently, Steve's text with coordinates and a simple note 'enjoy the show' made him curious he could admit. But he wasn't expecting to see your pretty little self fucked out and pressed against the glass.

Steve had picked the perfect spot, the exact coordinates giving Bucky a private view of Steve's window and your fully naked body split open on his best friends cock.

"Well I'll be damned," Bucky muttered as he adjusted his erection in his pants.

Even 70 years later, Stevie was still a fucking punk.

#f!reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve ☆#hundred follower event ☆#asks ☆#mina writes ☆#bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #buck x bucky #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #bucky ☆

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mamaagirlbehindyouu · 24 hours ago

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Fake Dating, Real Feelings Pt.1

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 925

Summary: Your friend Tara invites you to a party, but she has an ulterior motive. (This chapter is mainly build-up to what I’ll be writing in later parts, so if you don’t like slow burns then you may want to wait for later chapters to be released to begin reading <3.)

Warning: A little bit toxic (but will get better in later chapters!!)

A/N: This chapter is kinda ass ngl but more parts will come out later w/ more fluff-heavy chapters (and potentially smut)

You sat in bed, propped up on two pillows, scrolling on your laptop. It was finals season- meaning you were now starting the 9 page term paper that was due tomorrow at 12pm. It wasn’t ideal, but you had enough time to where you were still putting off writing your paper. You weren’t writing your essay on your laptop, you were scrolling through Pinterest.

That was, of course, until you got a text from someone. Picking up your phone to see who the message was from, you instinctively kicked your feet when you saw the name of who it was from. Tara. Your friend tara. The friend you just so happened to have a massive thing for.

Shutting your laptop and properly sitting up, you unlocked your phone to read the message from her.

Tara: Hey, you up?

You stared at the message for a moment, contemplating whether or not to reply. It was already 9:30, you could just leave Tara on delivered and lie tomorrow that you had had an “early night”. After all, your paper needed to get done and you could tell from the nature of Tara’s text that she either wanted to go somewhere or do something.

Yeah right, that would take more self control than you had.

Y/n: Ofc, what’s up?

Immediately after sending the text, you were met with a “Read 9:36 PM”. You watched the gray bubbles dance on your phone screen, before they disappeared and re-appeared.

Tara: Last time I’ll ask this, I swear

Tara: Will you come to a party with me tn? I want to show up like 10:30 😊

You groaned, staring at your phone again before replying. This wasn’t an infrequent request from Tara by any means- she always needs a DD considering the fact that she seems to love getting wasted. With time, the request had become more and more of a chore as she seemed to get drunker and drunker at each party you took her to. Going to parties with Tara wasn’t fun anymore, but you knew she would just find someone else to go with her if you said no and you didn’t want that.

Y/n: I’ll be there in 30.

Throwing your blankets off and setting your laptop on the nightstand, you got up, walking over to the closet. Why did you always go along with whatever Tara wanted? Well, the answer to that was obvious, but you would rather die than admit your feelings for Tara were getting serious.

After throwing on a black miniskirt and tank with a jacket on top and some boots you got into your car and began the drive to Tara’s house. This was a drive you knew all too well, and not for good reason.

When you got to Tara’s house the front door was already open, with just the screen door shut and Tara visible and sitting on the stairs. She was wearing flare jeans and a ribbed blue henley with some white Converse. You couldn’t explain how, but Tara always seemed to make the most basic of outfits come off as breathtaking. Maybe her face card was enough of an accessory.

Spotting you from where she sat on the stairs, Tara leapt up and smiled, waving her hands at you. She opened the screen door, squealing.

“Y/n! You came! Thank you so much!”

Tara’s joy was always infectious, making you forget your original reservations about that night. A smile spread across your own face as you waved back awkwardly, unsure of what to do whenever Tara’s attention was fully on you.

“Of course I did,”

You said, unaware of how un-enthusiastic you came across. You were always excited to see Tara, but being around her often made you feel awkward, frequently making it seem like you have a lackluster temperament.

“Could you act any less excited to see me?”

Tara teased as she held open the screen door for you, allowing you to enter her home.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ you began to speak, but Tara cut you off, noticing how you seemed genuinely apologetic.

“No, I was joking. It’s okay, y/n/n,” she reassured you, offering another smile.

You smiled back and nodded in agreement, not wanting to say anything else about the matter, still embarrassed about the interaction. Tara led you up to her bedroom (not that you were unfamiliar with it).

“I just need to do my makeup real quick and then we can leave,” Tara assured you, aware that it was getting closer and closer to 10:30.

“‘real quick?’” you laughed. “Since when do you do your makeup ‘real quick’?”

“Hey, last time you came over I did my makeup in ten minutes, max- That’s, like, record time for me,” Tara defended herself, raising her hands in the air, primer in hand.

“It was more like half an hour, not ten minutes,” you corrected her as she rolled her eyes. “And why’d you invite me this time? Or was it just to be your designated driver again?” you half-called Tara out, passing it off as a joke, as you took in her features, taking advantage of the fact that she was preoccupied. You loved all of Tara’s features, but her eyes were definitely at the top of the list. How could anyone not love them?

“About that..” Tara said, stopping her makeup application, making an uncomfortable face. “I kind of need you to pretend like you’re dating me.” Suddenly, you were snapped out of your thoughts.

Pt. 2??

Photo Creds: miaolliez and geminiprinc3ss on Pinterest

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream vi #scream #x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #slow burn #sapphic #jenna ortega x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #fake dating

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cripplecharacters · 2 days ago

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Hey folks, fully abled writer here! I've got a question about nicknames/descriptive names related to physical differences and abilities. I write a lot of fantasy fiction with differing name and language systems than the real world. I'm also fond of using compound names, such as "Dawnbringer, Hardcutter, Bluemark, Bearhunter, etc." So in a fantasy world where much of this society has given names and clan surnames following a specific theme of strength and durability, I have a character that has both his given name but also a nickname many people call him. This nickname is "Firebrand," and I invented him many years ago when I wasn't very critical of my writing or biases and just wanted a cool-sounding fantasy name. He is is a city guard in a city that is regularly attacked by fantasy animals for plot and environment-related reasons, and as I developed this character more I decided that rather than his original dark edgy backstory where he was called Firebrand because he was tortured, he now gains the name Firebrand because he survived a dragon's fire breath and came out of it with burn scars up his chest neck and arms, particularly on his hands that limits some of his movement and dexterity. I intend to make it clear in the story that it isn't a derogatory name, it's part of their society's theme of having names that signify how people survive things.

He likes the nickname and the meaning it has in his culture, because to him it means he's good at his job and he has survived hard times. Right now, the story is told through third-person P.O.V, and he is primarily referred to in non-dialogue narration as his nickname. In dialogue, he usually introduces himself with his given name and surname, but many people including the rest of the city guards refer to him with the nickname . His family and boyfriend will use either name for him depending on the context and company. At a later point in the story, when he and some others end up in a situation where they are dealing with fairies and the magical rules about giving them your name, his nickname gives him an advantage against the fairy rules.

Is this a reasonable concept at all, or is it all very weird to use an injury and acquired physical difference to identify someone with? Or, if the concept is alright but the name itself is bad, do you have any suggestions for how I might want to come up with a different nickname? I'm thinking if the use of the word "brand" in the nickname has too much of a negative connotation, I could try to replace it with something like "Firehand" or "Firebrave" that might have a clearer positive connotation to readers as well as his in-story society.

And although it's not the purpose of this question, I have been doing research about burn scars and treatment; this blog has been helpful! Since the burns were deep and he has limb tremors and cramps as well as scars, he has exercises and ointments to keep his scarred skin flexible, and he takes care not to take long tasks that will strain his hands with fine motor skills or whatnot. When on duty, his uniform includes gloves and a high collar for protection, but in casual clothing his hands are bare and his clothing doesn't hide his scars unless it's for weather protection. I may come back in the future with more questions about that, but I've determined what I need to start with about the physical effects his injuries have on him.

Thank you, and I hope you're all having a good day!!

Hello!

This sounds fine and pretty cool to me. The most important part is that the name isn't intended to be derogatory and that he actually likes it.

As a different disability-related example, "Wheels" and all its variants is a surprisingly common nickname that wheelchair users use (mostly younger guys). Sometimes you have a few of these dudes in one group and three people look at you when you try to call for one of them, it's just a fun nickname. Could it also be a cartoon-bully level derogatory insult if it was used for a character that hates it? 100%. It's very context dependent.

That's the same sentiment that's crucial here I think. Your character likes it and is proud of it? Go ahead. It makes sense in his cultural background and his nickname falls under a similar naming convention so it fits. I like the mention of how it reminds him that "he has survived hard times", since it's something that I've heard from burn survivors who explain why they choose "survivor" over "victim" to refer to themselves.

To answer your actual question: yes, I think it's a reasonable concept that makes sense in the character's setting. In another context yeah, it could be weird to identify with an acquired physical difference like that, but other people will do it anyway, you could as well make it "yours" and be proud of it, wear it as a positive. I don't think it's something that is an automatic "no" even if kinda weird. I'd go case-by-case and in your character's case it seems great.

As for the actual name, I agree that "brand" does have a negative connotation in English, all the criminal/cattle/label associations are less than ideal. I don't think it's detrimental to the concept like some other potential nicknames could be (looking at all the No-Faces and Half-Faces, which I do think are strictly derogatory) but if changing it to something less loaded wouldn't be an issue I'd probably do that. Both -hand and -brave are pretty awesome (the latter kinda reminds me of a warrior cat name but that's definitely a me problem), since they're either neutral or very positive in their connections.

Personally I care more about the fact that you're researching your character thoroughly, don't think that him being a burn survivor comes with some intrinsic negative traits, nor seem to put him in one of the Four Boxes. That's more important than terminology and vice versa - one could use the most up-to-date correct terms to refer to their OC and still make them into an offensive nightmare with bad execution. It doesn't mean that specific words aren't important but they (generally) aren't what breaks or makes representation that people want to see.

You seem to be doing good: my advice is to rethink the -brand part due to its connotations, and just keep researching as you write him.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #valentinerose529 #terminology #burn survivor representation

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mullermilkshake · 1 day ago

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Sukuna’s proposal

Yakuza!Sukuna x Fem!reader

MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, fem reader, knives, blood, graphic depictions of violence, references to non-con, stabbing, potential death, gun use, fighting, risk of death/murder, threats of violence, marriage proposal.

Shinjuku - 1982…

Mr Nanami called your name from his office, "Can you come in here please?"

"Is everything alright?" for the first time since you started this job, Kento Nanami showed a concerned look across his face.

"I have someone incredibly important coming and I have to be upfront with you," he offered up the chair across from his desk and allowed you to sit. "To be honest, I thought you would have left by now."

Was he questioning your professionalism? You had been there a few months and he hadn't uttered a word. "How so?"

"Well this sort of work isn't exactly your usual office work, I know you're aware of my security systems."

You were also very aware that at least Mr Nanami was Yakuza, though it never bothered you. It was simple enough to come into work, do your job and leave in the evening. Of course it came with its risks, but any job linked to the Yakuza warranted more open eyes than usual.

That was why you opted for spray in your bag incase someone came with overzealous hands. You could handle yourself in some capacity, so it was never an issue.

"I'm also aware that you are Yakuza, Mr Nanami. That doesn't bother me if that's what you are trying to imply?"

Was that a sigh of relief? "So you're up to speed then, this makes things easier. I apologise I never implicitly clarified before you came, but as you may have noticed, it's difficult to find civilian staff who won't run at the first sign of trouble."

Mr Nanami seemed like a reliable man at least, he was prompt, respectful and incredibly chivalrous. Something that may come in handy later should trouble actually arise.

Though for now, it seemed plausible to suggest that you were in good hands. As long as that didn't change and he left you out in the cold.

"I took this job knowing what sort of work you may have been in, I just need a steady pay check to afford my apartment. I don't need to know anything or ask questions."

Mr Nanami nodded and leant forward in his chair, lacing his fingers together in thought. "Good. At least I won't have to explain this."

He rummaged through his desk drawer and pulled out a knife. large enough to be mistaken for a kitchen knife, though it was dainty enough to be pocket sized if you squinted at it hard enough.

"I want you to keep this in your desk out front. The man who's coming is the type that some people despise for various reasons and I do not like the fact you have nothing as a deterrent while he's here."

Some might have suggested in their minds that the man himself was a serial killer or something, but that wasn't it at all. That signified to you that the man in question was someone of great importance to Mr Nananmi.

His own boss perhaps? Someone with enough power to make enemies out of the wood work to warrant protection from a secretary out front at collateral.

You bet on that it was his boss.

"Alright then," you leant forward and took the knife from the desk, its weighted handle gleaming in the low light of the screens off to the left side of the room you never dared to look at. "If that's what you wish of me, consider it done."

Mr Nanami got up from his chair as a signal for you to do the same. "Thank you, I hope you never have to use it."

"I hope so too," following him, he led you out of the office and back to your desk to which you slipped the knife into your drawer just like he had done before. "What time will your guest arrive?"

"Tonight, but I won't need you to bring him through. I'll greet him myself," he made a move back to his office and stopped in his tracks. "It's best if you don't make direct eye contact with him, his presence can be overwhelming to some."

You nodded to give non-verbal communication and turned to your work for rest of the day until Mr Nanami came back out of his office to greet the shadow at the door.

"Chairman," seeing Mr Nanami bow to another man was an odd sight.

The man being shorter in stature than himself, bright hair and unusual tattooed markings on his face. He was beautiful, the markings were beautiful in their own way, and being a Yakuza man made his presence all that more intimidating.

Well, to other people. Not to you.

To you, he was just another man just like Mr Nanami.

For a fleeting second, the two of you made eye contact to which you bowed your head in respect and continued working, noting his silent footsteps wander past you and into Mr Nanami's office.

Another hour must have passed in silence while your pen scribbled away, scratching over the quiet for something to listen to. Paperwork and filed reports sorted alphabetically to make the time not drag whilst there wasn't much else to do.

A knock at the outer office door was the most interesting thing in the whole room, it sounded timid by the rapping of knuckles which led you to believe it was Ino coming back to tinker with the network, or fiddle with something computer related.

But it wasn't.

It was a man you had never seen before. "I'm sorry, is there any chance I can see Nanami right now?"

"Sorry, but Mr Nanami is in a meeting right now. He can't be disturbed, would you like to leave a message?"

"No that's fine," he moved towards the desk and just past it, looking at the office door. "I only wanted to see who was out here before I get my guys."

What?

He held up a gun and moved fast enough to get behind you. "Why he would put a woman out front is beyond me. The Chairman's in there, isn't he?"

So that man inside with Mr Nanami was the Chairman?

You said nothing, making little micro movements towards your desk drawer. The weapon seemed as though bad luck had graced your desk, spending not even twenty four hours in your possession and you were already edging towards it to use it on a man you'd never met before.

There was a gun pointed at your head and you were as calm as you had ever been. Though what was the use in panicking?

The barrel of that gun pressed against your head. "Answer me, bitch."

"I don't know who you're referring to," so close now, the drawer handle in your reach.

"Don't fucking lie to me," he was trying to be as quiet as he could, teeth gritted and all. "I have four guys out there ready to storm this place and they'll take turns with you, believe me. So cooperate and tell me."

He was making threats like that already? He was either incredibly wet behind the ears to use something so drastic this early, or it was a bluff.

"Alright, I'll get the keys to the office."

The excuse was enough for the pressure of metal to leave the back of your head and allow you to open the drawer naturally and moved your hand around to feel for the knife's handle.

'If a person has possession of a knife when threatened, they better follow through in using it.' That was advice you had heard once from somewhere.

Might as well listen to it.

It all happened so fast, taking a hold of the weighted handle and moving forward a fraction so you could drive the blade into the man's thigh. The gun went off regardless by your head and the shot rang through your ears though it wasn't enough to stun you.

You weren't sure how you got up from your seat the way you did to draw the knife out of him and lunge again with the steel pushing onto his chest, enough to topple him off his feet and drag him to meet the hard floor with you on top of him.

The ringing vibrated your ear drums, tingling too much to notice Mr Nanami's office door open. You were on top of a man who threatened you with a gun and there was so much blood.

But he was still alive.

It wasn't shock. It couldn't have been. You were still coherent, you just couldn't hear much. The red on your hands was new, sticky and warm enough to keep you out of the moment until someone took a hold of your shoulders.

It wiped you out and into reality, grasping at what you had done in the present in front of your employer and a stranger who was eyeing you intensely.

"Can you hear me?" Mr Nanami shook you a little, his voice muffled somewhat. "Are you alright?"

"He threatened me- I didn't know what else I could do."

And now you were justifying yourself. You would do the same thing if there was a time machine to take you back.

"But are you alright?"

"I'm fine. There might be others outside," how were you talking so clearly right now with just your little rapid breaths at your lips? "He asked about the Chairman and said there are four others."

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah. I'm alright," the blood was a nuisance.

Mr Nanami lead you over to your chair and pulled the desk phone to his ear. "I'm calling Naoya, he'll be able to take you home."

"Don't let that ingrate in on this Nanami," the Chairman spoke for the first time.

"I can't leave until this is cleared up, she'll need to get home."

"I'll take her back, Uraume is waiting in the car," the Chairman approached the desk and folded his arms with purpose. "Naoya is a brat, he'd only mess it up. I'll make sure she get's home while you clean up the trash."

Wait. Clean up? Things were catching up to you. "Is he dead?"

Had you just killed a man? You should have been more freaked out about it. But you weren't.

"He's kicking for now. Shame. You should have aimed higher."

Right in front of you was a hand, the Chairman's hand. You made a note of the darkened polish adorning his manicured nails, black bands around his wrist.

You took it without question. "I'll bare that in mind next time I stab a man."

"Good. Nanami, call by tomorrow when this is sorted."

"Yes sir."

His hand was far warmer than you anticipated. He never let go until you were in the car, a sort of blur until he broke the silence.

"Care to explain how a civilian found their way into a vipers pit of the Yakuza?"

He was the Chairman, it was only respectful you answer him honestly. Right? "Money. I needed the money. I was aware who Mr Nanami was as soon as I saw him."

The world zipped by from the car window, unaware for the crime you had just committed. If the man wasn't dead, he was certainly gravely injured enough to warrant a prison sentence should anone find out. It was never discussed or mentioned by Mr Nanami or the Chairman.

It was more like an afterthought from yourself.

"Yet you still accepted the job offer anyway? And now you've stabbed a man with a gun. This life is hardly one to brag about when you're collateral."

"It doesn't scare me," only his reflection was in your periphery, you didn't turn your head to face him. "It's a job. I've had my fair share of hardships to know life isn't easy. Defending myself is something that comes naturally."

You could have sworn you heard him chuckle. "Defending yourself is far more difficult than people understand. It takes someone strong to do what is necessary."

That much was true. And that statement was enough to get your head turning to face him. Even in the dim light of the passing street lights, he was beautiful.

How did someone such as himself find his way into becoming a Chairman?

"Sometimes we're faced with difficult decisions when the hardest choice is the wisest. It's just something that has to happen."

The blood had dried along your fingers and began to crack and chip away leaving streaks of exposed skin at the joints. It would take more than just one shower alone to get all of this yuck off of you.

"You speak more truth than most of the men under my watch. It's refreshing."

"Sir, we've arrived," a voice from the drivers side came about to ground you.

"Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it."

The car door was suddenly opened for you, the driver bowing and their identity remained hidden. The other door opened and the Chairman approached you.

"I never got your name, Mr Nanami never told me."

"Sukuna. It's Ryomen Sukuna."

Even in the darkened sky of the night's glow tapered off with the neon signs of Shinjuku, he was still beautiful. You spoke your name too and offered a bow before taking steps towards the door to your apartment.

A quaint little ground floor, and it was all yours.

"Do you need assistance?"

"No, I'll be alright from here."

His eyes were in the back of your head as you wandered past him. "I'll be forward because it's not every day I meet a woman who pulls something so extraordinary to gain my attention like you did today."

"Hmm?" you turned and watched him from your front door almost, he made no attempt to follow you.

"Marry me."

"What?"

A proposal from someone you had spoken few sentences to was a first. But you didn't find yourself shying away from the subject.

"Marry me."

"I..."

The man in front of you softened his eyes, never judging you covered in another mans blood. "Think about it, and come to me with any answer you choose."

He bowed to you and turned towards the car, the driver opening the door to let him disappear into the darkness of tinted glass.

After that night, you wondered about that man and who he really was.

You gave him your answer several days later.

And it was a firm yes.

#yakuza au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #uraume #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk ryomen

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irkimatsu · 2 days ago

Text

Anyone wanna spend Thanksgiving sprawled out in front of Overlord Husk's dinner guests while he rails you into the table?

Overlord Husk/F!Reader, Husk eats a nice Thanksgiving dinner and then helps himself to dessert while everyone else watches. Allusions to a gangbang are made but Husk isn't letting anyone else touch. Oral (both giving and receiving), ass licking (Reader receiving), vaginal sex, facial... and it's not a kink but Husk and Reader end up being pretty rude to an imp based on his species (and also based on the fact that he's an entitled fucking prick), so I may have to explore the implications of that one later. When I'm not writing nasty exhibitionist smut.

18+, obviously!

It’s your first Thanksgiving by Overlord Husk’s side, and it’s just as extravagant as you’d expected it to be.

About fifty people sit at the long table in one of the casino’s VIP lounges, each with heaping plates of food and overflowing glasses of liquor in front of them. Husk’s employees flit around the table, filling dishes before they can become entirely empty, while the crowd becomes more and more rowdy on the bottomless alcohol.

You’d normally be part of the serving staff, but Husk has decided he wants you by his side as his date tonight. He has you seated at the head of the table with him, dressed in a long, sparkling dress that shows just enough cleavage to entice curiosity, while also hiding enough to make it clear that most of tonight’s guests have no business staring.

Not that it stops anyone. As you indulge yourself with turkey, potatoes, and luxurious side dishes you’ve never imagined before, Husk’s guests can’t help but comment on you, as if you’re a doll that can neither hear nor comprehend their words.

“Husk’s still got that pretty thing on his arm, huh?”

“Longest I’ve seen him with the same one. Bet she’s amazing in the bedroom if he hasn’t gotten bored yet.”

“Lucky bastard… think he ever shares this one?”

“God, I hope so. After all this savory food, I could use some dessert! What about you guys?”

Husk initially seemed irritated at all the chatter directed at you, but he’s long since calmed down, his tail no longer lashing, his teeth no longer gritting. You know better than to believe he’s okay with it, though; more likely, he’s just letting his rowdier guests enjoy the holiday for now.

Their bodies will turn up behind the casino later tonight, surely.

One by one, Husk’s guests start denying refills on their plates and allowing the staff to take them away, although they’re more than willing to take more and more liquor into their glasses. Eventually, everyone has finished, including you and Husk, and all the platters have been cleared away, leaving nothing but the ornate table cloth and fifty glasses of drink; not one person had yet decided they’d had enough on that front. They’re already slurring their words and speaking much too loudly, but you know how much Husk’s usual crowd loves to party, so you can’t say it surprises you.

“Mmm, wonder what’s for dessert?”

“I know what I want. There’s something real sweet smellin’ right here at the table…”

“Fuck yeah, there is. Looks nice and soft, too. Can’t wait to sink my teeth in and get a taste…”

They aren’t even trying to be subtle as their predatory eyes keep flicking between you, and whichever companion they’ve chosen to gossip with about you.

“What toppings should we have with it? Some cream, maybe?”

“Should we get the girls to bring us some of the whipped stuff? Or maybe we can make some ourselves?”

“Fuck, why not both? Nothing wrong with some variety! Besides, our tasty little dessert deserves a treat of her own…”

The chatter of the crowd is interrupted by Husk lightly tapping his spoon against the side of his glass. It’s a subtle sound, but contains enough of his commanding charm to get every eye at the table turned toward him, all voices silenced.

“It sounds as though you’re all ready for dessert,” Husk says, a wicked smirk growing on his face. “Shall I get it prepared?”

The crowd begins whispering to each other, not quite ready to celebrate just yet.

“Do you think he’s really-”

“He heard us and hasn’t killed us yet, I think he’s gonna let us-”

One particularly wild-eyed guest is grabbing a staff member and desperately whispering to her to bring over some chocolate sauce and cherries this instant.

Husk’s claws lightly grab your chin, points oh-so-slightly pushing into your flesh, as he turns you to face him. “I’m going to get started on dessert. Is that okay with you, doll?”

Your eyes briefly flick to the fifty greedy faces locked onto you, before going back to your Overlord’s eyes. His pupils are wide, his gaze surprisingly soft… he wouldn’t really offer you up to this mob, would he? Not without asking you in advance? This is really something he should have prepared you for earlier this afternoon…

But deep down, you have to trust him. He’s never violated your boundaries before…

“I’m ready, sir,” you assure him.

“Very good.” He moves in to kiss your lips, so tender and loving, as he takes the zipper of your dress between his claws. “May I?” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Yes, sir,” you murmur back.

The crowd explodes in cheers as he pulls your zipper down, then slides your sleeves off your shoulders. You moan into his mouth as a warm paw engulfs one of your breasts, gently massaging it beneath a mix of fur and claw.

“You all aren’t wrong,” Husk announces to the crowd. “She’s just as sweet as you’re imagining…” He kisses from your lips to your cheek, over your jaw and down to your throat. You whimper as he nips at the front of your throat, and your voice inspires whispers of awe among the crowd. Quite a few guests have run out of their limited patience; they’ve already begun stripping down and tending to their physical needs.

You’re not interested in them. Instead, you run your hand down Husk’s chest, slowly tracing your fingers over the golden buttons of his jacket, before lightly resting your palm on his growing erection.

He lets out a growling laugh with his face still buried in your neck. “You want something sweet too, huh, baby? Don’t worry, you’ll get your fill… as long as I get mine, too…”

He leans you back far enough that you have to grip the tablecloth for balance as he latches his mouth onto your once-neglected breast. He holds you up with a palm pressed firmly between your shoulders as he feasts, suckling and nipping your breast on a determined mission to elicit the cutest little moans out of you.

The crowd is only growing more restless, talking louder and in great detail about exactly what they wish they were doing to you, exactly how they’re going to take you as soon as Husk hands you over. It’s almost flattering, the way they’re admiring your pleasure like this…

But with Husk’s mouth and paws on you, you don’t want to imagine anyone else coming near you. And with the possessive way he’s suckling on your breast, fangs leaving tiny pinpricks in your flesh, Husk doesn’t seem keen on sharing, either.

The hand holding your breast moves down so he can wrap his arm around your waist, and he lifts you with barely any effort. His mouth never leaves your chest as he lays you down on the table, glasses clattering as your back makes contact with the tablecloth. It’s a bit firmer than you’d normally like, but the cloth is surprisingly soft on your bare skin. You pull your arms out from the straps of your dress, then rest your hands on the back of Husk’s head as he feasts on you, scratching the base of his ears in the way that you know gets his chest rumbling.

Both paws start running up the outside of your legs and inside your dress, nails occasionally catching and tearing your stockings. He growls into you again as he hooks his claws into the waistband of your stockings and your panties and pulls, tearing them from your body with the slightest motion. He shoves the tattered remains off the table, and you notice two guests diving to grab the scraps.

How generous of your Overlord, to allow them that much.

He finally removes his mouth from your breast, revealing a bright red ring around your nipple to the audience, and hikes up your dress until everyone can see your nude bottom half.

“Holy fuck, she’s soaked,” you hear an observer say. “Little slut gets off this much from us watching her, huh?”

“Can’t wait to see what she does when we’re not just watching…”

Husk doesn’t say anything; any time spent talking is time spent without his face buried between your thighs, without his rough tongue drawing firm lines along your lips, without his teeth pinching possessive marks into flesh that’s already bruised from previous encounters. Your back arches against his ministrations, mouth and tongue worshipping everywhere he can reach except where you need it most.

“Sir- please-” You beg as you lightly tug his ears, your hips bucking; he’s not the type to just give you what you want right away, not before you ask nicely. “Sir- my clit-”

He pulls back just long enough to sling your legs over his shoulders, then dives back in, moaning as he buries his muzzle into your wetness. You gasp as the fur on his cheeks tickles your soaking thighs, but it’s not quite enough.

“My clit- please suck my clit, sir- please, I need it, please-”

Finally, you must have shown enough desperation. His cold nose presses against your mound as he latches his mouth onto your clit and gently bathes it with his tongue.

“Fuck, Husk-”

Scandalized “ooh”s and laughter roll through the crowd, but you’re too drunk on Husk’s mouth to notice.

“Someone’s forgetting her place…!”

“Hey, sir! Can I punish her for using your name like that? I’m good at making holes like her scream-”

Why should you care about what these idiots have to say about you? All you need is Husk suckling your clit, starting off gently but steadily going rougher, working loud, breathless gasps out of your mouth. He nuzzles into you further, moaning from your taste and from the way your public hair tickles his snout. You’re so lost in his mouth’s vibrations and the fronts of his teeth pressed into your mound that you barely notice the table creaking as someone climbs on top of it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stuff that disrespectful mouth-”

You’re vaguely aware of a thick, red cock in your face, but before you can react to it, Husk roars as he reaches out to grab the imp by his tail and lift him up to his face, leaving you gasping for breath on the table. The nude imp writhes in Husk’s grip like a captured mouse, squeaking out half-formed apologies.

“Did I say you could go anywhere near her?!” Husk growls.

The imp continues stammering, suddenly much less cocky, as the rest of the crowd falls into a stunned silence. “I’m sorry, sir, I thought we were all-”

“I’m the one who gets to eat first,” he continues to snarl. “The rest of you are only getting a show.” Husk turns his gaze from the insignificant thing squirming in his fist and to you, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of you. “Unless you want this thing’s hands on you?”

You’re sure Husk knew your answer before he even asked the question. “Of course not. I don’t care if he watches, but I only want your hands on me… Husk.” You emphasize his name, delighting in how the imp’s face twists in rage as your disrespect.

“Then that settles that.” He drops the imp onto the table with a thud, and the imp immediately scurries back to his seat and scrunches himself down, fully cowed by Husk’s threat.

You’d be surprised that Husk let him go relatively unharmed, but Lucifer knows what’ll happen to him the next time the Overlord gets him alone. Especially since imps don’t have the advantage of near-immortality on their side.

“Any other protests?” Husk asks, and no one at the table has enough of a death wish to speak up. “Good. Now…” He smiles softly as he traces his claw down the side of your face. “Shall we continue with our show?”

“Please,” you gasp. He answers your plea with another kiss to your mouth, his muzzle warm and wet and tasting just as much of you as of him, a delicious combination you’ll never tire of.

“How about you get on your hands and knees?” he asks, his dark velvet voice hypnotizing you into moving before you can think. You roll over onto your stomach beneath him, and his claws grip your waist and pull it off of the table. “Keep your chest down, that’s it…”

Your dress barely clings to your midsection, hiding nothing that this whole crowd wants to see. Instead of the raucous cheering from before, however, all you hear are whispers too hushed for you to make out any meaning from them.

They’re frightened, but still can’t stop staring and commenting… it’s a nice compliment.

“Watch and learn, boys,” Husk says with a laugh as the table creaks behind you. “I’m gonna show you exactly how to treat a pet. Maybe if you can ever figure it out, I’ll even let you touch this one… maybe. If she’ll let you.”

He presses a firm kiss to a fresh bruise on one of your thighs, then the other, then to your swollen, dripping lips. He gently suckles your lips, slurping up your wetness, before licking his way up over your taint and dipping his tongue into your ass. Your whole body shudders as his tongue dips in and out of your sensitive hole, and you can’t help but moan, your voice wordless and shaking.

You think you hear someone mutter, “whore”, but you don’t really care.

“Which hole, which hole…” Husk mutters to himself as he kisses your asshole, then kisses his way back down to your pussy. “Fuck, it all tastes so good, I can’t decide…”

You squeal happily as he suckles your clit again, bringing you closer to climax but not letting you over the edge just yet.

“What do you think, doll? I’m fuckin’ dying to be inside you, but I can’t make up my mind…”

“Fuck my pussy,” is the first thing out of your mouth. You’d love it either way, as long as you get to feel his cock inside you, but his tongue lapping at your cunt has your attention focused there.

“Hm?” He doesn’t move his mouth from you; you’re going to need to do some more convincing.

“Please fuck my pussy, Husk…” You push your waist back, moaning as you grind against his rough tongue. “Fuck me, baby…”

Husk laughs between your legs. “Trying to butter me up, doll?” he asks before kissing you one final time. He pulls away from you for a moment; and you hear fabric and metal shuffling behind you as he removes his clothes and lets them land where they please, whether on the table or on the floor. Once he’s stripped, he moves so that his chest is pressed against your back, his paws cupped around your breasts. “Or maybe you’re trying to show these assholes what they’ll never have?”

Both? You can’t think of any motive besides getting his cock inside you, now, god, now. His body is so warm against yours, his silky fur slides so beautifully against your skin, and the combination of his cologne and the natural scent of his fur is just as intoxicating as the rum you were just drinking.

You don’t need to answer to get him to grind his cock between your lips, his barbs brushing beautifully over your lips and clit.

“I know you can cum just from this, baby,” he murmurs into your ear, then laughs at the pathetic squeal you make as his cockhead catches against your clit just fucking right. “But I’m not feelin’ very patient right now, if you don’t mind…”

“Fuck me,” you gasp out as his hips press against your ass, stimulating you yet also making you feel so fucking empty. “Please… please, Husk, fuck me…”

“You’re so cute when you’re desperate…” He presses a kiss to your cheek as he pulls back and slides forward again, this time stretching you open with his head. The room grows dead quiet, allowing his kisses and the wetness of his shallow thrusts to echo through the air for everyone to hear. You groan as he pushes deeper, his soft barbs brushing wonderfully against your walls and making him feel even thicker than he already is. “Fuckin’ tight, baby…” he groans before another kiss.

He always starts you off slowly; you’ve gotten much better at taking his barbs in the months that you’ve been with him, but he always wants to be damn sure you’re okay before he takes what he really needs. While his long thrusts from head to base normally help to ease you into things, tonight, your gut burns so deeply with need that this sort of preparation only serves as torture.

“Fuck me, Husk…” you moan, voice slurring on liquor and hormones. “I can’t take it anymore…”

“Already? If you’re sure… let’s show them what you can do.” His paws tighten on your breasts as he picks up his pace. He starts out withdrawing just as slowly, before ramming his whole length into you with all the force he can muster. A few strikes to the sweet spot deep inside of you have you clawing at the tablecloth, forehead pressed to the table as muffled moans and whines pour from your mouth.

“C’mon, baby, c’mon…” Husk’s paw gently tugs at your hair, pulling your face off of the table. “Let them hear you…”

After replacing his paw on your breast, he begins fucking you again, leaving less time between each deep thrust. You still can’t keep your head up, but you manage to lay it on its side, allowing everyone to hear your moans and one side of the table to see the way your face twists every time he bottoms out. You see their own faces twist in response; some of them look like they’re about to snap already, especially the pair that are now using your torn panties and stockings as masturbatory aids.

“Harder,” you moan as you thrust your waist back against his. “Fuck me harder!”

“Needy thing,” he chuckles, his grip on your breasts tightening as he kisses over your cheek and neck. Once his mouth reaches your shoulder, he gently sinks his teeth in, his tongue lapping up tiny droplets of blood as he ruts faster and faster. His barbs grow firmer inside you, rubbing against every sensitive spot from your entrance to your core with such intensity that you almost break.

“You guys wanna see a trick?” Husk asks, near breathless from exertion. “Her hands are on the table, mine are on her tits, no one’s touching her clit… but…” He bites your shoulder again, harder this time, as he ruts even faster. Your screams are starting to hurt your throat, but you have no desire to stop letting him know the hold he has on you. Hardened barbs rub against your walls, threatening you with pain but only truly delivering pleasure, until-

“Fuck! Husk!”

He moans against your shoulder as you clench around him, your whole body shuddering with orgasm. It does nothing to stop his frenzy, each thrust extending your climax until you’re not sure how much more you can take. Just as you’re about to cry out from overstimulation and beg him to please cum inside already, he pulls out of you, releasing your shoulder with a relieved gasp.

“God, that was close…” he groans with a shivering voice. “You see that? Once you learn how to make a pussy cum from the inside, you’ll have dolls begging you for a ride.” He leans down again, his heavy breaths warming your ear. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

You barely have any voice left, so you answer with an affirmative hum as he chuckles and kisses your ear.

“Prove you can do that, and maybe I’ll let you show off inside her someday. Until then… how are you doing? Think you can turn toward me?”

Your muscles are heavy as lead, but knowing what’s being asked of you and why gives you the strength to turn around. You lift yourself up on shaking arms and raise your head until your mouth is relatively level with his dick, hard and throbbing and slick with your cum.

“Clean me off?” He barely has time to ask before your mouth is wrapped around his head and greedily suckling down his precum. “Fuck, I don’t even need to ask… good fucking girl…” He pushes on the back of your head, urging you to thrust him in and out of your mouth. You curl your tongue beneath his shaft, and he hisses through his teeth as you press it up against him, cursing quietly whenever it hits a barb just right.

“Babe,” he exhales as he pushes against the back of your throat, smothering you beautifully in his pubic fur and musk. You’re gagging and drooling, but you know he’d let you pull back if you wanted. It’s just that he can tell you’re not even trying to escape. “Fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last-” He groans loudly as he ruts into your throat, urging out a few more wet-sounding gags. “Haaah… you guys like that sound, don’t you…” He thrusts again, and swears again. “I know I fucking do…”

He pulls out of your mouth in one fluid motion, leaving you coughing drool and precum onto the lower half of your face. You nuzzle the side of your face against his soaked cock and moan, visibly delirious with lust. “I wanna suck you more… please…”

“I know you do, baby, but I’ve got another idea,” he says as he lightly strokes your head. “You want my cum?”

“Please, I need your cum-” you beg. “In my throat, in my cunt, wherever you want- please-”

“Wherever I want, huh?” he asks. “Then how about you look up at me, stick your tongue out? There you go, so fucking pretty… both hands on my dick, squeeze me real nice…”

You follow his commands by reflex, barely thinking about anything other than how badly you need his cum inside you. You don’t care where; as long as you have that proof that you’ve satisfied your master, your Husk.

“I heard them talking earlier about how they wanted dessert topped with cream,” he says with a laugh. “What do you say, baby? Wanna give the crowd what they want?”

Your breathing hitches as what he wants dawns on you. “Please,” you urge as you jerk his cock with both hands. “Cum on me-”

“No talking, tongue out,” he says curtly, his voice tight; he’s not going to last long, and he needs you back in position as soon as possible. It feels like only an instant before Husk howls, his hot seed spurting all over your face and tits. It’s so hard for you to sit still when you want to catch every drop on your tongue, but even without you trying, he makes sure to give your mouth as healthy a load as he’s given your skin. His knees buckle as the last of his cum dribbles down his shaft, and he moans in what almost sounds like pain as you lick it off of him.

“C’mon, baby, I’m sensitive…” he chuckles as his knees finally give way. He’s able to lower himself onto the table slowly enough to not crush it, and as soon as he’s kneeling at your level, he’s holding your chin and smiling. “Such a good job… that’s my girl.” He kisses you deeper than he has all night, his tongue apparently searching for any drop of his own seed you may have remaining in your mouth. The two of you swap the remains back and forth, lips parted just enough to let the crowd see the glob of white on your entwined tongues. After the kiss breaks, he moves down to your breasts to lick up some of the cum he left there, then moves back up for another heated kiss. “So? How was dessert?”

“Amazing,” you assure him as you kiss his mouth yet again. “You know, I wouldn’t mind seconds…”

“Greedy little thing… the others haven’t had theirs yet.” He kisses you again, then slides off the table and holds out his paw to help you down as well. “I’ll have the staff change the tablecloth and bring out the rest of the desserts. We’ve got cakes, pies, puddings, and of course a selection of sweet liquors. Eat and drink to your fill! We’ve also got cigars, if you’d like to relax after your dessert. God knows I fucking need one right now…”

Already you’re comforting yourself with thoughts of being curled up in Husk’s lap, breathing in his cigar smoke as you drift off to sleep in the haze of your afterglow, his arm holding you close, his wing hiding you from prying eyes who have seen enough and don’t need any more…

Husk turns to help you zip your dress back up; thankfully, it’s long enough to hide the fact that your panties are long gone, and after seeing what they were used for, you don’t particularly want them back.

You’ll be nice and let those two keep their souvenirs.

“When everyone heads home, I’ll get you a few more helpings,” he promises with another kiss.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husk #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk huskposts

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southeastasianists · 4 hours ago

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It was the mid-1980s when Paul Toh came of age as a gay man, decades before smartphones and dating apps made sex a lot more accessible right at your fingertips. Toh has been diagnosed with HIV since 1989.

Now semi-retired with his own business distributing antiretroviral therapy medication and HIV pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), the 59-year-old said that in those days, cruising in public parks, toilets, and back alleys of dirty shophouses along pre-cleanup Singapore River for sex was par for the course.

Unsurprisingly, cruising in public made gay men easy targets for police officers. “They started going to these cruising grounds undercover, with the explicit intention of entrapping and arresting gay men,” Toh added.

Police raids in nightlife establishments with gay clientele also became common, with prominent gay discotheque Niche having its liquor license withdrawn by the police in 1989 and the Rascals incident of 30 May 1993, in which multiple patrons were arrested for not having their NRICs on them. This came to be remembered by veteran activists as Singapore’s Stonewall.

Fear about the spread of AIDS was part of the reason why police intensified their clamp down on queer spaces. In April 1987, Singapore experienced its first AIDS-related death. And one year later, the Director of Public Affairs of the Singapore Police Department said in a Straits Times article that “homosexual activities have been strongly linked to the dreaded AIDS disease,” making it an “added reason in the public interest for police to disallow homosexuals to convert places licensed for entertainment into places where they can congregate.”

Iris’ Work of Fighting Stigma

76-year-old health advisor Iris Verghese was among the first health workers to rise to the occasion when Singapore reported its first HIV/AIDS cases.

“I knew just as little about HIV/AIDS as everyone else,” said the retired nurse, who first joined Middle Road Hospital, a now-defunct treatment centre for sexually transmitted diseases, in 1974. As part of her job, Verghese was tasked with contact tracing people who had sexually transmitted infections.

The job brought Verghese to brothels and nightclubs in Geylang’s red-light district, which meant she was no stranger to serving society’s Others with kindness.

“A lot of it has to do with my faith.”

“I thought about my role models like Jesus and Mother Teresa—they didn’t care what illness you had. If they could hang out with people with leprosy, then who am I to refuse to care for those with HIV/AIDS?”

Verghese’s work is well-documented, and everyone has given her the accolades she deserves—from President Halimah Yacob to the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Singapore to the Straits Times, which named her an everyday hero in 2019.

Plague, a 15-minute short film by Singaporean filmmaker Boo Junfeng, captures the emotional gravity of the care work performed by Verghese and health workers like herself.

The emotionally-stirring film is inspired by Verghese’s work with HIV/AIDS patients in the ’80s and offers a look into the life of Jamie, a patient who stopped coming to the clinic for treatment and counselling.

In the film’s climax, set in the patient’s HDB flat, Verghese tries to dissuade Jamie from inflicting internalised stigma. Jamie insists on using disposable plastic cups and utensils and cleaning every surface he touches for fear of passing the virus to his loved ones.

Wanting to prove that HIV/AIDS is not transmissible through saliva, Verghese takes Jamie’s plastic cup and drinks from it. She then hands him a regular glass, beckoning for him to drink from it, only for him to swipe it away, breaking the glass and cutting himself in the process.

Thus comes the true test of Verghese’s dedication to her profession as she steels herself to the drastically heightened risk. Now that her patient is bleeding, she is dealing no longer just with saliva, but with blood carrying the virus.

In our interview, Verghese recalled many incidents like these. One that stuck with me was her counselling session with Singapore’s first HIV patient, a young gay professional, in 1985. “As I listened to him and gave him a hug, he broke down and cried,” she said. “He said he felt so good afterwards.”

Safe Sex Outreach in the 80s

“Things were very different in the ’80s and ’90s,” said Professor Roy Chan, Founding President of Action for AIDS Singapore (AfA). AfA is a non-government organisation founded in 1988 to fight HIV/AIDS infection in Singapore.

“There was no internet then. When we set up AfA, we had to rely on word of mouth, phone calls, faxes, pagers, and so on. Mobilisation was not as easy then, but we overcame the obstacles we faced. It was very much more hands-on in those days,” Chan recalled.

Chan set up AfA as a non-governmental organisation in 1988 to respond to the needs of people living with HIV/AIDS, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity, as well as to advocate for greater action and awareness around HIV/AIDS.

AfA was also one of the first community groups in Singapore that served the needs of LGBTQ+ individuals—namely men who have sex with men—disproportionately affected by HIV/AIDS.

“Back then, people didn’t have as much access to the internet as we do today, meaning that accurate information on HIV/AIDS was much harder to come by, making education efforts vital,” Chan recalled. “On the flip side, no internet meant the gay nightlife scene was more vibrant than what it is today.”

Since the gay community in the 1980s and 1990s did not have the internet and mobile phone apps to meet other people online, they had to go to physical spaces to fulfil their need for connection, whether it was nightlife establishments or cruising grounds.

Gay clubs were hence crucial in AfA’s outreach programs on safe sex practices back in the ’80s—even if it meant risking the possibility of police raids.

Back then, there were very few places in Singapore where gay men felt safe enough to gather in abundance, making gay clubs a viable hub for outreach and education.

AfA’s outreach efforts endure today in the form of the Mobile Testing Van initiative on weekends. The van, parked outside popular gay nightlife spots in Singapore, aims to bring HIV testing closer to the public, bridging the fear and stigma of walking into a stand-alone clinic to get tested.

The Consequence of Outreach

The people brave enough to put themselves out there to serve a larger cause were but a small minority, especially given the cultural milieu of the time.

“There was so much that was unknown about HIV/AIDS even among the medical community, much less the general public,” said Verghese.

“Even at Middle Road Hospital, two doctors resigned, and twenty-five nurses asked to be transferred out.”

AfA’s awareness campaigns and fundraiser drives drew a lot of publicity—and no doubt some backlash.

Still, beneath all the headlines and the star power lent by high-profile celebrity allies was the silence surrounding individual HIV/AIDS cases.

“It was all very hush-hush. People didn’t want to talk about it. No one wanted to know who died of AIDS,” Verghese shared when I asked if the atmosphere in the 90s was similar to that depicted in films and drama series such as The Normal Heart and Pose.

The shows portrayed the HIV/AIDS crisis in the disease’s epicentre in New York as being a time of deaths and countless funerals attended by surviving gay men.

One exception to this veil of silence was Paddy Chew, the first Singaporean person to come out publicly as being a person living with HIV/AIDS.

Chew—well-known for his one-man autobiographical play Completely With/Out Character—told Verghese and her husband that he wanted no crying at his funeral.

“He asked me to arrange his funeral such that his ashes will be thrown into the sea from a Singapore Armed Forces boat,” said Verghese. She and Chew’s close friends were instructed to be dressed in their party best, with helium balloons that were to be released out at sea.

“There was one helium balloon that drifted away from the other balloons. To me, that felt like it was Paddy’s soul saying goodbye to us one last time.”

A Tale of Two HIV Diagnoses

Perhaps by coincidence—or not, since Verghese was one of the very few nurses dedicated to caring for HIV/AIDS patients at the time—Toh’s then-partner was also one of Verghese’s patients.

“My then-partner Freddie and I handled our HIV diagnoses very differently, but of course, we also came from very different backgrounds and life experiences,” said Toh.

“I found out about my status because an ex-lover of mine had come down with pneumocystis pneumonia (PCP). I flew to Sydney for a diagnosis so that I wouldn’t be registered in the local system here if I was found to be positive.”

On the other hand, Freddie found out about his HIV-positive status because he was a regular blood donor. Not only was his diagnosis inevitably recorded in the national registry, but Freddie also ran into legal trouble. He was charged in court for false disclosure of his sexual activity.

“Because of how the entire trial turned out, Freddie was sentenced to imprisonment for twice the expected duration. It affected his entire outlook in life, feeling like he was being framed by a bigger power with an agenda, with the whole world against him,” said Toh, who cared for Freddie until he passed in 2008.

Toh, on the other hand, took his diagnosis as an opportunity to re-evaluate his life and make the most of the eight years that the doctor told him back in 1989 he had left to live.

“When I received my diagnosis, the only thing in my mind was this: it is the quality of life that matters, not the quantity.” And so, the two spent the next few years of their lives travelling the world, making their remaining years as meaningful as they could be.

Anything for a Chance at Life

Maximising his remaining years did not stop at travel for Toh. Having managed to get his hands on antiretroviral therapy in Sydney in the form of azidothymidine (AZT), he went on to look for more effective forms of medication while the technology was being developed in real-time. Toh wanted to help other HIV patients like himself.

In 1994, Toh joined the Asia Pacific Network of People with HIV/AIDS (APN+), a regional network advocating for the improvement of the lives of people with HIV/AIDS in the Asia-Pacific region, later becoming a Board member and secretariat.

“North America and Europe were progressing swiftly in their battle against HIV/AIDS thanks to the work of activists there putting pressure on their governments and the medical community to channel funding towards the research and development of suitable treatment for HIV/AIDS,” said Toh.

“In Asia, however, it’s a different story. We had to be street smart in our advocacy while also looking elsewhere for allies.”

This meant looking to donors in the West who could be persuaded to recognise the importance of HIV/AIDS advocacy in Asia.

“I was very lucky to have the opportunity to be one of the first few Asians who had access to HAART, said Toh.

HAART (Highly active antiretroviral therapy) is a triple-combination of antiretroviral drugs discovered in 1996 by Professor David Ho. Toh had been invited to attend the 11th International Conference on AIDS in Vancouver, Canada, where the discovery of this triple cocktail was announced.

Within three months of beginning HAART treatment in 1996, Toh saw his health improving tremendously, with his CD4 count—a measure for the immune system of PLHIV—increasing exponentially and his viral load becoming undetectable within the fourth month.

Although Toh already had a supply of free antiretroviral medication from his healthcare provider in Sydney, he continued to look elsewhere for alternative sources for patients who were unable to afford the patented medication.

“Unlike Taiwan, Hong Kong, and South Korea, where medication for HIV/AIDS was provided to patients for free, Singapore was the only Asian Tiger which did not do so,” said Toh.

“Meanwhile, pharmaceutical companies in developing countries like Brazil, India, and Thailand were manufacturing their own generic antiretroviral medication in spite of patent laws, making it more affordable.”

While still not free, MOH announced in 2020 that HIV medication would become subsidised.

Singapore’s Very Own ‘Buyers Club’

With patented HIV/AIDS medication in the ’80s continuing to be inaccessible to many who needed it, buyers clubs—similar to the one featured in the 2013 film Dallas Buyers Club—would soon emerge worldwide, including Singapore.

“The funny thing was that Australia had easy access to HIV/AIDS medication, so there was a lot of stock available in Sydney,” said Verghese. A family vacation down under in 1987 turned into an informal research trip for her to network and gather the information that she needed to perform her job optimally.

During her trip, she met HIV researcher Dr David Cooper, who brought her to Albion Street Centre (now known as The Albion Centre), which specialises in HIV/AIDS management.

Through her newfound contacts, Verghese managed to get her hands on some of the unused stocks of medication in Sydney back to Singapore for her support group.

“We even got the help of the Singapore Airlines flight attendants to pool together their unused baggage allowance to bring this medication back,” she recounted with a laugh.

Antiretroviral medication was not the only asset that Verghese brought back. She learned a lot about the virus from the professionals she met in Sydney, allowing her to move faster than the national response and gather the information needed to tend to her patients.

A Ground Up Initiative

“George Yeo was actually very impressed with what we were doing,” recounted Verghese. “He wanted to meet with the community to learn more about our efforts and arranged a closed-door meeting with us.”

The meeting was the culmination of months of sending letters to Yeo, the Minister of Health at the time. The dialogue session was held to discuss the government’s rule that mandated the bodies of AIDS sufferers to be buried or cremated within twenty-four hours of dying.

This rule was finally lifted in December 2000, after four years of advocacy by AfA.

They argued that the policy was outdated, having been implemented in the mid-1980s when hardly anything was known about HIV/AIDS.

“I think we’ve certainly had to prove ourselves as an organisation over the years,” Chan said. “There might have been concerns among some who thought of us as a gay rights organisation, or misconceptions that AfA worked solely on issues that concern gay people.”

“But we’ve proven ourselves over the years to be a serious and effective organisation tackling HIV/AIDS and sexual health with clear metrics of success, and the results and continued support from the government speak for themselves,” added Prof Chan.

Toh, who served as AfA’s Executive Director from 2007-2009, concurs.

“Actually, not many people know this, but MOH has been quite supportive of AfA over the years. Even during my term, they would hold closed-door discussions with us, intently wanting to work with us on eliminating HIV/AIDS,” said Toh. He reckoned that MOH did not want to be publicly seen as supporting something considered by society as ‘morally corrupt’ no matter how beneficial it is to wider society.

The Fruits of Our Predecessors’ Labour Are Not Handed on a Silver Plate

The history of HIV/AIDS and its role in fomenting community-building among the LGBTQ+ community has always been a topic of fascination for me.

I can only imagine what it must have been like to see everyone in your social circles and communities succumbing, one by one, to an unknown disease.

Covid-19 provided the closest representation of the tumultuous and uncertain time in the ’80s.

In the midst of writing this, however, the comparison became a much closer one. Monkeypox is now affecting men who have sex with men more than the rest of the general population.

“It’s not the same thing,” Chan said, cautioning against making blanket comparisons between monkeypox and HIV/AIDS.

“For starters,” he intoned, “monkeypox is not an unknown disease. We’ve known about monkeypox for decades, so it is nothing close to HIV back in the ’80s.”

Admittedly, life is easier for a gay man like me, who came of age at a time when HIV/AIDS is no longer considered a significant threat.

With common knowledge of medication as well as preventative measures like safer sex and pre and post-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP and PEP), it is easy for me and my peers to take for granted the freedoms that we now enjoy, thanks to decades of advocacy and destigmatisation.

But as Prof Chan said, “It is important not to be complacent. The freedoms and advancements we have today were not handed on a silver platter. Earlier generations had to fight very hard for all of these things.”

#Southeast Asia #Singapore #History #LGBTQIA Issues #Health #HIV/AIDS

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