#if that woman exists she needs to know she's based
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(Feel the need to state this up front: I'm bisexual, afab, kinda cis but also kinda trans, nonbinary isn't the word I'd use for myself but... alas, it's the only one people recognize as a general consensus)
I've started to understand why the term sapphic is more appealing to some people, but it still really bothers me as a descriptor/category. When talking to a friend about it (she strongly prefers Sapphic as a term), I started to sus out why:
The vast majority of my initial exposure to the term was always attached to something... aesthetic? Stories or art or music, but of a specific *type*. To the point where it gained a hyperspecific meaning of a period or historical setting, "gay woman trapped in comphet marriage and needs to be saved by bold lesbian", young girls fooling around with girls with no need for commitment because everything is fleeting and nothing is permanent and choices dont matter... on their own, these are perfectly fine narrative choices and are fun to play in sometimes, but they sure start to just seem... repetitive and restrictive and borderline fetishizing. To me, it reads as a term specifying that the love women feel for other women is the only kind allowed, that it's true and pure in a way the love a woman feels for a man isnt, and that her true self can never be realized without admitting she was in love with women since the beginning and was always supposed to be. Achillean gives me the exact same vibe.
On the other hand, my friend feels the term is *less* specific, and to her it allows *more* room for people who don't identify strictly as feminine or as a lesbian, for her it just is a broad umbrella term that allows for any variation of girl-identifying-person who likes girl-identifying-people.
Ultimately, I don't think she's wrong, and I don't know that my interpretation is right. But I think I've been exposed to a.... imma call it a "hyper-aggressive romanticization" of a particular way of existing that just puts me on edge in a way that's hard to explain to people who don't feel the same way about it. I don't think there's anything wrong with romanticizing something like that it's just that... for me, who still identifies as a woman despite being om T, who is married to a cis woman, etc... it feels ironically exclusionary and fetishizing, and mostly feels fantastical and escapist, rather than grounded in anything real.
TL:DR, it feels like a book genre, not a usable term/identifier
Ohhhhh okay I see I wasn't sure if there was something actually problematic about the term that I wasn't aware of, that sounds like it's just a preference based off of the vibes of the way some people use it
honestly I prefer sapphic and achillean because the terms "wlw" and "mlm" are so clunky and hard to say and sound goofy in my brain lmao not to mention the fact that mlm has a separate negative meaning that gets mixed up a lot
and the term "lesbian" is very specific and doesn't apply to all women who are attracted to women
so like....... idk I guess it sucks that some people have given the term sapphic a bad association for some but I'm gonna keep usin it if that's the only reason why bc I don't really care about all that and if ppl know me then they'll be able to tell that I'm not being a weirdo about it lol
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even if there was a woman out there who was actually like "i hate babies and i love punishing fetuses so i intentionally have unprotected sex so i can get pregnant just to abort it and i do this as often as i possibly can" like doing it for reasons that she herself declared as evil and nefarious for the purpose of causing problems. i still think it would be wrong to stop her from getting her abortions or whatever because like. Who decides which abortions are allowed. is there an abortion council that comes together and is like "based on all the evidence we have gathered we now come to the conclusion that your abortion is MORALLY ETHICAL and can be performed! congratulations" like.... if some abortions are deemed not allowed then there will be a way to deem All abortions as not allowed and is that really what we want
#>#if that woman exists she needs to know she's based#and stronger than any us marine. she has my utmost respect
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i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.
just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.
you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.
to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.
#obligatory disclaimer that i’m aware luffy is the protagonist & a lot of interesting stuff is explored w him. this isn’t abt him though.#part of me wonders if this is an aspect of why people will write off this arc sometimes tbh... like that & the political themes.#but yeah anyway i get why people say that for all there are 100% misogynistic tendencies in oda's writing & character design#it is very very hard to say that he as an individual is an ideological misogynist. like the level of care he puts into his female cast mem#-ers generally speaking & how he approaches what existing as a multi-dimensional individual would look like in their specific contexts is#like... in a lot of ways still something that is unprecedented across all forms of media.#but also not the point but anyone who says nami in particular doesnt get real fights/is unskilled um... no you're wrong read her fight in#alabasta & then all of skypeia.#like in alabasta she takes on arguably a stronger opponent than sanji when considering the structuring of BW. not only that but she does s#with a weapon she has never used before while actively reading the instruction manual. and she WINS. she wins based on sheer intellect &#the ability to utilize skills the audience already knows she has. the pre-existing basic fighting skills she's introduced with are elabora#-ed upon by incorporating her skill w navigation. same with the way her cunning is used in skypeia to cover her lack of sheer brute. &#the best part about it is she's fucking tough in a way that makes sense! she isn't strong/weak just for the sake of positioning her as such#it is thoughtful & it strengthens her as a character rather than just like giving the power-scaler types smth to mindlessly chew on.#like do i wish nami got to fight more & take a more active role in that regard even if i don't think she needs to be a fighter in the same#sense as the monster trio? yes absolutely. i'm guessing this is going to be smth that bothers me potentially even more with robin.#but that does not mean her fights are not masterfully written when she gets them or that she isn't tough as a bag of nails.#respect my darling woman or die.#skypeia#nico robin#nami#grey's one piece tag
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#okay but reading this Belloc essay on Austen really made something click in my mind#and it’s because of something he said#which is that women care more about what men think of them generally#(as a general rule. not all the time. etc.)#and men care more about the opinion of the one woman they care about#like women do care (as a first instinct at least) what every man she meets thinks of her#but men are mostly indifferent. until they’re NOT.#which makes women more vulnerable to a greater number of people#but men are MORE painfully vulnerable to the woman whose opinion they care about#and I don’t actually know that that vulnerability only extends to a woman they are attracted to/feel romantic feelings for#I think if they just think well of you as a person you (a woman) have a lot of power over them#which is sooooo interesting and makes so much sense!!!! and is something I’ve sort of been dancing around with teaching#like. a lot of the boys I teach come to care about what I think about them#which doesn’t mean they all have a crush on me. though that step can be super easy and super small#hence the need for the boundaries of steel etc. but it does mean that they care what I think about them!#and I’ve always felt that instinctively and felt that I had to be so gentle with them because the power to crush them is mine if I so choose#don’t let me overstate it. it doesn’t happen all the time or anything close to it. but the thing about me being a teacher is that#they are forced to know me not just in a surface-level way. simply because I spend so much time with them#and talk to them a lot!#ANYWAY. enough about me but yeah this hit me so hard and of course exceptions exist#and/or endless variations on this exist because people are unique and surprising and also everything is changing all the time#etc. etc. but there is something to this I think! and you know what#it’s so interesting because that base-level instinct for women (allowing it to be a thing I mean) can be grown out of#I have trained myself out of/maturity has helped me leave behind that immediate female instinct#of being hurt at the idea that this random waiter (for example) is indifferent towards me. I’ve come to accept it#the instinct is still there!!! because imo women are always scanning and searching and sizing up. and also we are so open to being won over#if that makes sense? which is why insta comments complaining about how only good looking men get away with things like. PLEASE.#there are so many medium-ugly men who get married. it’s the average because the average woman is prettier than the average man#(this is not an insult) women CAN be and usually are so open to being surprised. won over. moved by the simple fact that a guy likes them#and men are not like that. but my point is: men don’t grow out of caring if they care. when they care they care sooooooo much. anyways yeah
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Yayoi Dojima should've stayed Chairman. Sure there'd be no further games w/Tojo drama b/c they'd have gotten they're shit together but she deserves to kick their asses.
no but actually let that woman stay in charge !!!!!! LET HER COOK
#snap chats#yayoi if you gotta have daigo here at least make him like. idfk patriarch of the dojima family then fuck it#i just think yayoi wouldve been the best chair woman ever#no im not biased im right and my supporting argument is that she married sohei#ok she's resilient she's a soldier she's based#yakuza 3 conflict who ? dont know her see daigo wouldnt even have gotten shot#yall think yayoi woulda sold kiryu's land. 💀💀#PART OF ME SAYS YES BUT PART OF ME IS LIKE 'does she respect kiryu enough not to do that or' 💀💀#either way kiryus gonna start swinging#yakuza 4 conflict dont even exist if mine didnt neck himself. yayoi prob woulda told katsuragi to kick rocks#daigo too friendly that his problem yayoi knows how to throw hands and when not to#yakuza 5 plot its like. My Son's Missing Mine Find Him#mine has to drag daigo back to the tojo kicking and screaming#'no mine please i have to repay this debt to my high school classmate who barely remembers me :(((((('#mine's not having it daigo needs to get his priorities straight and now he's gonna hear it from him AND his mom#top ten cringe son moments#yakuza 6. tojo aint even involved in y6 lbr LMAOOOO#and yakuza 7. i mean that can go as it did thats like The One Time daigo did something smart#and i reckon yayoi prob woulda come to a similar conclusion as he did listen he had to get his smarts somewhere#no matter how limited they seem sometimes hes smart#i rambled too long jfc anyways Stan Yayoi
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the western animation nerd in me wants to commission an editor (alas: i am broke) to edit together an amv of Taylor Swift's "Clara Bow" where
the Clara Bow section: would have a montage based off of Betty Boop. Because she was a caricature of Clara Bow (and also Baby Esther since Clara Bow copied her scat + baby-voice gimmick) and heavily influenced the infantilization of women in animation (for anyone who doesn't know: Betty Boop was purposefully designed to have a baby head and an adult woman's body to reflect her voice. infantalization in animation of women is based similarly off of "baby proportions in head" + "adult woman body" via peanut-shaped heads, big eyes, and facial spacing (space between nose and lips, a small bottom of the nose as well as a short height of nose, and many more) mixed with an adult body with breasts) Betty Boop, through globilization, famously impacted how Osamu Tezuka drew children and women (along with other influences, of course, but Betty Boop was one of them). So she impacted both Japanese animation and USA animation through trickle-down influences, but her biggest impact was probably on the iconic Ariel of the "Little Mermaid"
the Stevie Nicks section: would have a montage based off of Ariel from "The Little Mermaid". Betty Boop influence Glen Keane in his designs for her as he was trying to differ away from Disney's past princess designs (where you'll see stylization, yes, but also more adult-modeled facial structures) and one of the sources he looked for how to draw this 16 year-old girl was the design conventions (aka: infantilization) of Betty Boop, another famous teenage girl(? Betty's age is complicated and in constant flux depending in what age range best suits the story, but teenager is her classic statis) in western animation. From then on, seeing Ariel explode with popularity, they carry the same design philosophy to Belle and so on to success after success leading to the "Disney Renaissance" period. You can see other studios start to take note of this global success, as Dreamworks changes (it's wild seeing the facial differences between "Prince of Egypt" or "El Dorado" compared to any contemporary human-female characters from the studio) and you can even see Japanese animated properties start to change away from designing adult faces in its animated women (That generalization specifically is likely be correlation and not causation, I will fully admit, but globalization of media has lead to some fascinating influences and trends). Betty Boop was the start of this animation design trend of visually infantilizing women, but Ariel is the one who really catalysted and popularized the trend. Like. To the point that you'd be hard-pressed to not be influenced by her impact of not her, or "the Disney Princess Style" directly lmao
the Taylor Swift section: I'm not sure. I waffled between several different styles and properties ("Avatar: The Last Airbender", "Frozen", Miyazaki specifically from Studio Ghibli, "How to Train Your Dragon", "Steven Universe",... I think you could make an argument for having the Taylor Swift verse just be a montage of a bunch of properties) but I think for the infantilization throughline + chronology (as "Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind" came out before "The Little Mermaid") + western (USA specifically) animation stylizations of how women are designed... I think I'm going to go with the "Into The Spider-Verse" series? And say to cycle that tiny final verse with shots of all the series' female characters. because it truly has changed animation as we know it. Yet it still keeps with infant baby-heads for some of its female characters. Thankfully, not all of them as I think that would've been reductive to the movie series message about "Anyone can be Spider-man"; though even all the female adults have bigger eyes than the adult males which is one of the traits of infantalization. But it makes sense for both the teen boys and teen girls to have some infantilization in their faces since they are in-between childhood and adulthood. But yeah, the infantilization is the most prominent in Gwen and Penny. But it's cool. I don't see visual infantalization as bad btw, I just see it as a design choice that I like tracking the family tree of since it's a design choice that can be done in any style lol But I'm not confident in my choice of "Spider-verse", because it's female characters are not the main characters and I kind of want that to be an over-arching theme as well. But Gwen does sell a LOT and this series has impacted the animation industry's stylization in general (and hopefully also itd depictions of women and diversity ♡). So maybe I'll change my mind, maybe I won't. But the parts with Clara Bow/Betty Boop and Stevie Nicks/Ariel? I love that part of this concept so, so much, I'm cemented on those verses, and I am on CUSP of something with this idea lmao
like?? do you see the vision? idk, man. maybe i'll animate something or edit it myself (i won't; i'm too sickly rn lmao rip)
#me#which before anyone @s me on if male characters can be visually infantalized: yes. they just need baby heads/faces and adult bodies#so i think you could argue Miles Morales' design has some visual infantilization. esp when you compare his first movie design and its seque#also if you wanna learn more: i learned the basics from what I know from sitting in lectures with Dr Elizabeth Rega#who worked at Western University of Health Sciences and would deliver lectures at animation powerhouses (like Disney but not limited to#it) about anatomy. and shes a doctor-doctor; not just a doctorate-doctor. her lectures were wildly cool lmao#but her lectures were from ''The Little Mermaid'' on if i recall correctly. i did the Betty Boop research myself as a result of a special#interest in Betty Boop that ive had since childhood lmao but yeah visual infantalization is FASCINATING highly recc Dr Rega's research lol#also my opinion on Taylor Swift is ''ehhhh. i like her stuff sometimes. not a fan of her lack of speaking on politics'' but my tiktok fyp#refuses to let me go far without learning about a new song on her album drop. and the name ''Clara Bow'' made me go 👀👀👀👀 bc mY GIRL#BETTY BOOP IS BASED OFF OF THIS WOMAN. (plus she's also regarded as the first ''It Girl'' to ever exist) SO MY LISTENING EARS ARE **ON**
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The Guilty Plea
SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER
Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)
Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)
Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.
If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?
---
Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.
Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.
You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.
This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.
"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."
You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"
"Vera?"
"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.
"Right..."
"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.
Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"
"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."
"I never meant to imply--"
"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."
He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."
"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."
"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.
"She doesn't exist anymore."
Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."
"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.
In more ways than one.
"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"
"Why should I care--"
"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--
Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"
Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"
"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."
You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"
"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"
"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."
Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.
---
You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.
A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.
First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.
An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.
You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.
You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.
You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.
You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.
"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.
"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.
"I didn't know it was that bad..."
All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.
The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.
Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.
With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.
You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.
Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.
The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.
Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.
You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.
That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.
You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.
Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.
Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.
Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.
You pass Kyle's room.
Johnny's.
Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.
It was Simon's.
You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.
Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.
Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.
You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.
Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.
Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.
Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.
The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.
Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.
The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.
They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.
They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.
So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...
They believed him.
"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."
"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"
"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"
For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"
"What--what..."
"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."
"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"
Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"
"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"
He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."
"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"
"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"
Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"
"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."
"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.
"Don't call again..."
"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.
"Me and your Aunt Cass..."
"Daddy please, don't do this--"
"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."
"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.
"Don't come to the house."
"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.
Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.
Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.
Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.
"Bonnie..."
Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.
He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.
"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.
You say nothing.
In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.
"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.
"It's been a week."
His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."
"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."
Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.
Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."
Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."
The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"
"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."
"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"
"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"
Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."
I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.
Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."
Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.
His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.
Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."
And you need to. You really fucking do.
Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.
Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.
He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.
And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.
And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.
Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.
The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.
The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.
You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.
Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.
He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.
Part 4!! OUT NOW
#simon riley angst x reader#cod angst#tw torture#tw angst#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost angst#ghost x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty
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before we shatter — jjk [one]
genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook
word count : 6k
summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.
chapter warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature content, fluff, so much angst, smut, talks of infertility, clit sucking, fingering, Jungkook worships her, dirty talk, doggy style, reader is in so much pain i love her sm, fall vibes <33, gift giving as a love language, pussy slapping with his d, big dick energy, jungkook is desperate. that's about it please mention if i missed anything.
read part two here
a/n : based on this ask so thank you anon for coming forward and giving me a chance to write this. i also wanna mention that im no doctor so please forgive me if i didn't do the topic of infertility justice. the second part gives more clarity in their case so please be kind to wait. enjoy and im v v grateful for you. you're so loved.
When you were a child, barely five, an orange butterfly came flying outside your front door. Your mom told you about it since she saw it first causing your entire face to instantly light up like the fourth of july.
An inexplicable joy filled your whole body making your day ten times better, not that you were having a bad one. A five year old can’t have a bad day whatsoever.
After you were done chasing it around, secretly hoping that it would land on your nose just the way they show on television, you had to let it go and head back inside.
Oddly enough the next morning you saw it again, this time it was not flapping its wings like it had last night, instead it was sitting on the window beside the door. Quiet and still.
You, ever so curious, had to ask your mom about it. “It might find comfort there,” she said.
Up until you met your boyfriend you had spent the majority of your time wondering where your comfort place is, what is that one place where you can just be yourself and not pretend to be some stoic woman. A place which lets you cry whenever you want but also replaces those tears with wide smiles and loud giggles.
Turns out, it’s your boyfriend’s arms.
It’s true. Jungkook with his kind, sparkly bambi eyes and bunny smile stole your damn heart a few years ago and is not willing to give it back. Although you can’t complain, in a world where people can’t seem to find the one for themselves, the angels up there granted you a guy every inch a gentleman. Safe to say it’s not one like one of those titular relationships you've come across.
He’s your solace, a roof where you can safely just about exist.
He heals you.
Dating an Idol comes with several perks, the biggest one of those being dealing with the huge amount of selective criticism. You feel hurt, of course, but when you’re with Jungkook, they are nothing but words behind a pixel. A pain that only lasts momentarily.
This pain though, is not as mundane. This one is making your stomach twist in apprehension. You’ve lost the count of how many deep breaths you’ve taken.
“I’m afraid this is a case of infertility miss _____” the doctor says, earning your attention.
You’re not able to form a word, however that does nothing to stop your subconscious mind from screaming, I knew it.
Being stupid enough to think you were well prepared to hear her say this, you mustered up the courage to enter the four walled white space which, at that time, didn’t feel as narrow as it does now. It’s almost as if it’s closing up on you.
Only after you sat before the woman in white coat and bad news, did you realize how gut wrenching this actually feels.
You face her with a weak smile, one that doesn’t actually reach your eyes, “Are- are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
Dr. Ana leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. The move itself tells you more than you need to. “Miss _____, I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with this but I suggest you try. I would also like to tell you, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but you can always go with adoption. The options are endless.”
Your throat feels awfully dry and you gulp. “Thank you uh, can I ask you for a favor?”
“Anything”
“If you happen to cross paths with Jungkook, please don’t mention anything about this to him.”
Dr. Ana flashes you a kind smile, “Of course not ____. It’s your personal matter. I wouldn’t dare.”
“Thanks a lot.”
With one last nod you excuse yourself from her office. Your phone buzzes inside your pocket and you take it out, seeing Jungkook’s number stare up at you.
“Hey”
“Hey, my love. Are you busy?” His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. It also brings up a question. Will he act the same towards you after you tell him where you are and what you just heard? Will his voice be filled with the same amount of excitement and affection for you?
“No, honey. I’m actually at my sister’s place. She was craving some alone time with her husband and asked me to babysit Coco”
You can visualise him awing already. Jungkook has grown attached to your sister’s daughter a little too much. His bond with Coco is just so bright it makes you wonder if they happened to be an actual father and daughter duo in the past life. They’re both full of beans and it’s a delight to see them both together.
He chimes, “Ah my little Coco bean. Is she near? Let me hear my angel.”
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to come up with any transitory excuse that doesn’t make you run for the hills. “She’s sleeping right now. Made me work for it but I managed to settle her down”
Jungkook moans from the other side of the line and you mentally curse yourself. Not only are you lying through your teeth but also using your innocent niece as a pawn. From the day you began dating Jungkook, you’ve not looked at any other man. For the first time now, you have this nagging feeling as though you’re cheating on him.
“Well, alright next time then. When are you coming back home?”
“As soon as they do. Do you miss me already?” I tease.
“Pfft me and miss you? Impossible”
You gasp, the audacity of this boy. “How rude!!”
Your goofy boyfriend dares to chuckle, “I carry you with me everywhere I go, love. It’s hard to miss someone who’s this close to you every time of the day.”
It doesn’t take you long to grasp what he is referring to. The heart shaped bracelet rests proudly on his wrists and the man had refused to take it off ever since you gifted it to him. A sense of longing already creeps up in your heart, twisting it until you run out of breath.
Your chest expands as you fill it with much needed air, “Listen, honey I’ll give you a call soon yeah? I think Coco has woken up and I must go check if she needs something,” you fake a chuckle, “You know how she gets when she’s irritated”
“Oh yes of course. Promise to give me a call soon?”
This time the smile on your face is genuine, “I promise”
“Give Coco a kiss for me. I love you.”
“I love you.”
There’s a heavy weight on your chest as soon as you hang up the call. Maybe it has always been there. So, for a couple of minutes you just stand there in the hallway of the hospital taking in the sterile smell and worrisome patients, praying that the highest power up there gives you one last chance so you could try and fix what’s been ruined.
The commotion around you does nothing to overtake the voices in your head and sadness fires through you as you feel like you’re burning your boats. Despite all of that, you pray for one last time, this time for again being strong enough to let go.
Let go of your happiness.
Let go of your salvation.
Let go of your comfort.
Let go of Jungkook.
˚୨୧⋆。˚
You click the door shut behind you, hanging the coat on the rack. You’re not even done turning around when a muscular arm wraps around your abdomen and you’re pulled back against a taut chest.
“I missed you” his voice is muffled against your jumper.
You run your palms over Jungkook’s forearm, stopping to interlace your fingers with his.The way his hands fit with yours is adorable to you as if they were made to do so. The bracelet on his wrist is cool against your skin and you smile. “You know what’s funny? This guy I talked to earlier said it’s impossible for him to miss me”
He rests his chin on top of your shoulders, cheeks warm against yours. He has grown out a stubble which makes him look manlier for some reason and you can’t stop caressing it with your fingers whenever you cup his face.
“You’re talking to other guys?” If you hadn’t known Jungkook better than himself, you would have missed the pout of his lips when he said that.
You turn your face and place a sloppy kiss on his cheekbones, “Only my favourite guy in the whole world.”
He breaks out in a toothy grin and holds your gaze. “You’re my favourite girl too but I think you already know that.”
You nod but the pang of guilt is still lingering in your heart. “Still love hearing it.”
Jungkook releases you from his embrace and walks back, rounding the kitchen counter until he’s holding up a large bowl. “Ready for our fall ritual?”
Jungkook and you have been using your mum’s recipe to bake chocolate chip cookies every fall and while you enjoy baking with him, the thing that you take the most pleasure from is his face when he munches on the first cookie.
It’s one of your favorite sights ever. It takes quite a bit of effort to bake them but hell if you wouldn’t do it all over again just to see him close his eyes and moan like it is the best thing since sliced bread.
You join him behind the counter and look around. From the way the batter has already been prepared you suppose he’s been at it for a while. There are some chocochips in a small bowl across from you with some cranberries next to them because he knows you like them in your cookies.
“You don’t ever forget about the cranberries, do you?”
“Nope. They’re your favourite plus if you eat well, I can eat you well– ouch,” he jumps, “What was that for?”
You offer him a glare which does nothing to stop the smile threatening to break out of your lips, “Behave”
His face inches closer to yours, “Now honey don’t be acting like I didn’t give you the best orgasm this morning”
Oh well, how can you forget about that? Ninety nine percent of the time you love waking up in his arms while he’s the big spoon but there’s that one percent where he wakes you up with his head between your legs, sometimes with his face under your shirt sucking on your nipples. Indissoluble passion within him. His ability to satisfy you with his mouth alone needs to be studied because god if you don’t crave more and more.
You blink, once twice thrice, “You’re incorrigible”
He lets out a cackle at your flustered face as you wonder when you will stop blushing like a fool around him. It’s been years and he still makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a ball of jitters. Jungkook leans back and straightens up. He plucks the apron from the counter before coming up behind you. “Hold your hair up for me” He demands.
You grab a fistful of your hair and lift them up as he settles it on your neck before tying the knot at your back. With one last kiss on the back of your neck he joins you.
“How long has it been since you began making this?”
“Not long ago. Thought I’d wait for you to come back home and then continue”
You watch him add the chocochips into the dough. His tattoos are barely visible behind the cozy sweater he’s wearing. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, Jungkook with his perfect physique and gorgeous face looks good in everything, more so naked, but nothing triggers your cuteness aggression more than him wearing a fluffy knitted sweater, believe it or not. One which you knitted at that.
He pulls your attention away pausing your little drooling session, “How’s Coco bean doing?”
A sudden urge of getting close to him creeps up and you sneak between the counter and him, hugging him as you nuzzle your face in his chest. He smells like cinnamon. He places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin there.
“You smell so good”
“Thanks and she’s as chaotic as ever. Nailea bought the cutest pair of pyjamas for her,” you look up at him, “She looked like a loaf of bread when they made her wear it.”
“No way. Should we buy her another one of those?” he pulls back, barely able to hide the excitement on his face.
“You’re gonna spoil her”
“Damn right I will and if you call this spoiling, wait till I get one of those made by me.”
There it is.
If Jungkook wasn’t so fond of children, would it have been easier for you to cope? You do realize that you’re a stone’s throw away from losing him for once and for all. In the old days you heard somewhere that it takes a strong man to save to save himself and a great man to save another.
You want to be that brave person who saves him from lifelong loathing and regret towards you.
This turning point in your life gives you two options, one where you can hang by a thread and bite your tongue while you continue your life with him, another where you set him free. The latter one wins and you, however, lose.
“Hey you went silent there. You okay?” He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheekbones so gently you try not to cry.
You nod and flash him a smile. Or at least you try to smile and detach yourself from him. “Perfect. Let’s get those cookies baking shall we?”
Jungkook keeps looking at you with an expression which tells you he’s trying to search for something, but you try not to give anything away. Yet.
He gives you a look, his eyes sparkling under the low light in the room,
“Wait here for a second i’ll be right back”
“Where are you goi-”
“Just a second. Don’t move” His voice trails off as he goes further into the bedroom. A minute later when he comes back, there’s nothing different about him except the sneaky smile on his face. He walks towards you and grabs you by the waist as he sits you on the counter. Your hands instantly clutch his shoulders for support.
“What is happening, baby?” You mumble, clearly in a fog.
He says nothing as he gets down on his knees. Taking a hold of your right leg, he places it on his thigh. You swallow.
He looks up, clashing his eyes with yours, “You ask too many questions, do you know that?”
Seconds later he’s taking something out of his jogger pocket and a cool sensation brushes your skin. You peek down, curiosity finally killing the cat as you see a silver anklet adorned by a pink stone in the middle of it embraced around your ankles.
His name is a whisper on your lips, “Jungkook”
He gets up, facing you as he stands. But not before pecking the anklet as well as your skin. His face which earlier was eerie, now entirely soft.
“Mom sent this for you.”
You don’t hold back tears this time, letting them run free. You glance at the jewellery again as it shines under the light of the kitchen lamp. The pink stone glares at you as if it knows you’re not worthy of such a valuable item.
“It’s beautiful”
He gently wipes the tears away,
“It’s just the beginning, love. I’m not gonna stop until I see a band wrapped around your finger. I feel too lonely being the only one there.”
You playfully smack him on the chest, a giggle slipping free. With a tired shake of your head you admit, “This is overwhelming”
“What is?” he asks,
“All of this,” you keep your gaze on him, sniffing as you continue,“Your little acts of service, your love, your presence and now this gift. I feel like I’m taking too much not giving enough”
Your throat feels too tight, as if someone is just cutting off your air supply when you should be feeling free in his arms.
Jungkook’s eyebrows tense as he reaches for you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear he tries to reassure you, “Don’t say that. I hate when you question your worth,” he pecks the back of your hands, “These hands feed me, hold me when I need them to, give me warmth, gentle touches”,
His lips find both of your eyes next as you close them, feeling his soft lips on them,
“These eyes tear up with happiness every time you listen to me in the studio”,
Your ears follow next, “These ears tolerate my snoring”,
Then your lips, “And this mouth, my favourite, whispers ‘i love you’ to me every morning, leaves kisses on my skin, screams my name and most importantly, forms the loveliest smile when I make you happy.” His eyes are oh so gentle as he says this.
You’re about to respond when his phone buzzes on the counter next to you. Your heart stops. Fuck is it Dr. Ana?
To your surprise, it’s Jimin’s number on the screen.
“Pick it up, honey. It might be important.”
His thumb presses on the red button as he declines the call, “I’ll talk to him later. My girlfriend comes first.”
Neither of you say a word as the room gets filled with a comfortable silence. The cookies are long forgotten, your eyes doing all the talking. Even if you try your hardest you’re not sure you can say anything which is remotely justifiable of what he just said to you.
Jungkook is so much more than meets the eye, he’s vulnerable, he’s empathetic, he’s loving. His eyes shine the brightest when he’s happy about something and you’re so full of contempt about the fact that eventually you will be the one to snatch away that shine. This hornet’s nest is going to ruin me, ruin him.
“I wanna kiss you so bad” He whispers, leaning closer but you stop him with your palms on his chest.
“Wait, I-I want to talk about something”
His voice is downright pleading when he says, “Later baby. I’m fucking gonna die if I don’t take that mouth right now. Please?” his breath touches your bare lips.
Feeling a flutter in your chest you nod and he leans towards you, hand cupping your lower jaw as he touches his lips to yours. Softly at first, then his pace quickens. Your hands grab his sweater as you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. His moan echoes followed by your own as you both lose yourselves in each other. You let go of every menacing thought and just focus on the taste of his lips.
He pulls back slightly, taking a deep breath as he fills his chest with air. Those beautiful lips are pink and swollen from the heated kiss you just shared with him. Getting rid of the sweater, he tosses it aside as his eyes sparkle with amusement.
Without wasting any time he begins nibbling at your neck, slightly biting onto it as your hands run over his back. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. Not to toot your own horn but you have the most gorgeous boyfriend and you’re not ashamed to show him off.
His lips ghost over your nipples from over your high neck top and you groan.
“Jungkook, please”
He pulls back with a smug look on his face, “Please what ____?”
“Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad.”
“Yeah? Is that what my girl wants?”
At this point your body is thrumming with anticipation and desire as you watch him move his hands closer to the waistband of your pants. His hands pause when they meet the lace material, his pupils dilate.
He smiles, “It’s the one I gifted you. Were you hoping for this huh?”
Your lips stretch into a smile. You hadn’t particularly hoped for this, no, because your relationship with him is not just based on physical pleasures. You guys have sex of course, but it’s not the prominent part of the bond you share. It’s more than that. The lace lingerie set was gifted to you by Jungkook on a random day. It was one of those quote unquote just because gifts.
“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a quick kiss.
He grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you there for a moment before leaning back and looking straight into your eyes. “I think you should lose it or else I’ll ruin it”
You gasp, swatting him on the bicep. “Don’t you dare. It’s my favourite pair”
Without preamble he picks you off the counter making you wrap your legs around his waist. You both are so close it takes your breath away. Chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face with lips inches away from each other’s as you share a breath.
He walks into your shared bedroom as you clash your lips against his, pulling his lower one between yours, earning a groan out of him. You both are downright feral, letting your hands run over every area of each other’s body. Jungkook’s hands grabbing your ass, yours pulling on his hair lightly before trailing down his chest, pausing on his pecs.
When you reach your bedroom, he sits himself down with you on top of his lap. Your hips move forward and you hiss as your still jean clad pussy brushes his cock. He’s so hard you wonder if he’s close to coming already.
Rough hands scrape over your back, hips, down your thigh before they finally settle on either side of your waist, gipping them tightly but also with a hint of gentleness. One thing you admire about your man is that he doesn’t treat you like a fragile woman, he knows you’re strong and you’ll not break if he’s rough with you.
Jungkook pulls back from your lips.“Fuck honey, you’re such a goddess. Look at this body. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine”
You shake your head, totally under his spell. “I’m the lucky one here, baby. You have no idea how lucky I am.”
His hand brushes over your ass before he dips it inside your pants, reaching your already soaked pussy as he pushes a finger inside you. This earns a whimper from you as you tip your head back.
“That’s where you’re wrong, ____. Want me to show you how lucky I am?” He takes the finger out before pumping it back again. You moan as his other hand gips the nape of your neck and he brings his mouth to your neck, biting on it.
“Oh my god” you cry, seeing him suck the finger clean and face forming an expression filled with the deepest level of satisfaction as he closes his eyes.
Setting his eyes back on you, he sighs, “This isn’t my first time tasting you, honey. But it gets better every fucking time and I find myself craving you an unhealthy amount, you know that? Do you know how crazy I am for you? Could eat you out everyday and wouldn’t need anything else to feel full.” His words send a shiver down your spine. “You’re my favorite meal.”
He pushes three fingers back inside with a slight force and you let out a scream, arching your back. He takes one nipple into his mouth and gives it a long suck, letting it go with a loud pop.
“Oh yes, just like that. Suck it again, baby” You beg and he does exactly that as he takes the other sensitive bud into his mouth.
You’re not sure if you have been this vocal about your needs with anyone before him. Not that you dated a lot, for a person who’s a hopeless romantic to the core you’ve always found yourself waiting for the right one. Additionally, you believed your body to be as sacred as a temple. Surely there had to be a guy somewhere who would treat it as such.
Then, enters Jungkook who not only was out of your league metaphorically but literally. He lived miles away from your place so there was not a chance you could have let anything take place between the both of you. But as they always say, the heart wants what it wants. To put it briefly, there was chemistry, a connection you didn’t want to lose.
Strong fingers pump into you. In and out, in and out. “You’re so wet. What do you say? Should I lick you clean?”
“Yes, ah oh my goodness that’s sooo good” you toss your head back, slowly grinding against his hands.
He wraps an arm around your waist, lifts you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed. Keeping his eyes still locked with yours he gets rid of his jogger, letting his cock spring free.
It bobs and you lick your lips, already wanting to take it into your mouth but you know for a fact that he wouldn’t let you do that, not because he doesn’t want you to but because he wants to give you the highest amount of pleasure first. As he always does.
Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as gives his cock a pull, his eyes running over your whole body. Up and down then back at your face again. You’re still not fully bare in front of him while he’s standing there, all in his glory.
“Lose the pants” he commands.
You immediately slide out of them and toss them on the floor somewhere. He grabs you by the hips, jerking you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down on his knees. Spreading your legs wider he releases a breath. Warmth touches your wet pussy and you prop yourself up by the elbows to look at him.
You need to look at him if you want to stay sane, have to feel him with you here. Shivers run through you even by the thought of not being able to feel him and this ever again. This might as well be your last day on this god awful planet from the way the ache in your chest keeps on increasing. It makes a home there, not letting you entirely forget about the eventualities.
“God you’re dripping, honey”
“For you” you admit.
Hot and wet kisses are left to the inside of your thigh and your hands find the back of his head as you grip it lightly.
His head lifts up, his eyes finding yours, “Don’t hold back,____. Grip it as tightly as you want to. I don’t want any hesitations because when I fuck you, I’m not going to be holding back. You hear me?”
A desperate moan leaves you, and he rewards you by kissing your pussy. Keeping his eyes on you, he doesn’t give you a chance to whine out your needs before his tongue is licking a single line up your clit.
He moans and gently tugs on your clit. “Such a perfect cunt”
You push his head against your pussy and rock forward, chasing your orgasm.
“Feels so good, feels so perfect, baby” you murmur.
Just when you’re starting to feel the climax incoming, when Jungkook suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you, so he’s lying down and you’re on top. Then, he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated kiss.
He pulls back, “Sit on my face, my queen”
Your eyes widen and you hesitate, but you don’t want to. You wanna let go, knowing you’re lucky enough to get something like this in this lifetime, so you give in. He hoists you up by the hips, positions you over his face and pulls you down. His warm breath feels like a soft whisper against your pussy.
You cry out in pleasure as soon as his tongue dives deep inside you, squeezing your tits in your hands. Grinding against his face, you close your eyes and just… feel. Feel the heat, feel the emotions, feel the intimacy, feel the ache in your chest.
A thought crosses your head and you wonder if you’re doing something wrong, something selfish. Touching him like this and getting consumed by him feels like you’re doing nothing but ruining him.
He sucks on your clit with sheer eagerness and desire, pulling you further down so you’re putting your weight on his face. Concern perks up and you look down, trying not to crush him but it seems like he couldn’t care less.
“Let go, honey. Just focus on my mouth.”
Let go. God, how bad you hate those words. They feel like acid in your ears.
“Keep going, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stop” you cry out.
Soon enough you’re aching your back, cunt pulsing against his lips as you come. He swallows every single drop as if he’d die if he doesn’t and leaves you in awe. You slump, letting your body relax.
Much to your amusement, he doesn’t give you enough time to relax before he’s turning you over until you’re on your knees. Hot passionate kisses are placed on your sweaty back, pulling a gasp from you.
“What a fucking sight. I wish you could see how stunning you look right now and it’s all because of me, isn’t it? This glistening back, this wet cunt,” he strokes a finger down your pussy, “It’s all because of me and you dare to call yourself lucky?”
You catch a sight of him stroking himself over your shoulders and your breath quickens.
His abs are glistening with sweat and his chin still has your cum on it.
He smirks, “Like what you see, honey”
“You’re beautiful”
His eyes soften, letting his hands drop from his angry and already leaking with precum cock, he grabs either side of your hips and lines himself against your needy pussy. You let your head drop on the mattress and clench your fist, preparing yourself for him. He gives your cunt a slight slap with his cock before filling you in, groaning as he goes deeper.
You moan, “Fuck baby. That’s so deep.”
“You’re so warm, honey. You feel like home” he thrusts again.
His hands grip yours, and he covers your body with his own, still thrusting inside with rough movements. His chest feels warm and safe against your back as it fills you with a deep sense of safety, protection and love.
You match every thrust of his with your own, moving your hips backwards. Your tits are getting equal attention from him as he pinches the two sensitive buds between his fingers.
You both chase your high with you screaming out his name and him whispering yours like a prayer. He gives in one last thrust before he’s coming inside you, his teeth biting on your shoulder. You’re following him soon as you grip the bed sheet tighter in your fist, moaning as you come.
Before you collapse, he pulls you upright and lets his cock slide out of you. His fingers push his cum inside your throbbing cunt, making your stomach twist in pain.
You murmur. “I love you”
His lips stretch into one of those lazy smiles you love so much. “I love you too, my precious girl. Now, do you wanna sleep or go make those cookies?” a sloppy kiss is pressed on your forehead.
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull him on top of you, “Should we save those for later? I really wanna cuddle”
He presses a soft kiss on the tip of your button nose, “Sure. Let me clean you up first. You don’t have to move an inch, just relax.”
Minutes later he’s coming back with a bottle of water and a bowl of marshmallows. You bite back a chuckle when you look at his face. There’s such a deep crease between his eyebrows you’d think he’s trying to win a game of uno or something.
But it’s short lived when he places the items on the nightstand and gazes at you, his eyes having the same funny look they had earlier in the kitchen.You try to summon your most unbothered and good natured grin but it doesn’t do shit to stop the electricity from running through your blood.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, biting your lip.
An uncertain laugh slips out of him, “I don’t know. I’m- God, I really don’t know but I have this weird feeling that something is not right.” He begins cleaning you up but you can’t shake the feeling of nervousness and anxiety away.
You know for a fact that he’s right. Something is not right, in fact nothing is right.
He peeks at you from between your legs, “Hey, what is it that you wanted to talk about?”
The air whooshes out of your lungs. Should you come clean? Is it the right time?
You huff a tight laugh. “It’s nothing actually. Can we talk about it later?”
When he’s done cleaning you up he places a small kiss on both your knees and stands up. Offering you a nod, he says, “Whenever you feel like it. I’m not going anywhere”
Yet. He’s not going anywhere yet.
You grin, “I wouldn’t let you”
He lets a laugh slip out as he walks inside the bathroom. Then, he comes back, settles himself beside you and brings you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His feet find yours as he touches the anklet with them.
“Let’s sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up” he promises.
Morning comes quickly as the sun casts its glow on your sleepy yet excited eyes. Holding out a hand, you try searching for your boyfriend next to you, but a slight sting arises in your heart when he’s not there. You open your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight.
Although, you hoped you did not wake up, you hoped death consumed you in your sleep because the person across from you is a total stranger. A stranger whose eyes are misty and mouth is pulled down in deep frown, a sunflower bouquet in one hand and the other one holding a blue file so tightly you can see his knuckles turning white.
Jungkook holds out the file to you, “How long were you planning to hide this from me,____?”
For the first time in your life, you hate your name. You hate how bitter it sounds coming from his mouth like this.It has always been “____, you’re my everything,” “I love you,____”, “_____, you mean the world to me”.
Acid bubbles in your stomach at his words, and you can’t help but sob. You wonder if the butterfly was preparing you for this day. If she could talk, what would she have said to you?
The words that leave him next might as well be daggers in your chest, "Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?"
@fluttershy-vanilla @theyysam37 love you pookies. enjoy <3
#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#bts#jungkook scenario#jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x you#bts x reader#jungkook imagine#bts scenario#bts fanfic#bts scenarios#bts smut#bts jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook drabble#jungkook series#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook oneshot#fluff
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since we're talking about call outs lately, i've been called out many times, most of which are made from lies and sometimes by altering screenshots, but the most effective call out i ever got was like, in early 2015 there was a tumblr user everyone knew was a terf, but she would say "actually i support trans women" this was before crypto terfs were as talked about so the language wasn't really there to say "hey this person is a crypto terf." but yeah some people put posts of this woman on my dash and i made a random post on my blog "why do yall reblog her shes a terf" and of course she searches her own name daily, found my post, and replied to it that me calling her a terf was racist. that was it. no other interaction. but she went on all night talking about me being racist and just making things up as she went "oh i bet she says the n word all the time irl" kind of shit that had, like no basis? But her follower base took it 100% and i literally had thousands of anons telling me to kill myself, trying to goad me into being racist (didnt work), and the most concerning thing was i got hundreds of anons being like "what was the point of doing hrt if you still look like that, you should kill yourself." It was like, violent and overwhelming. and on top of it I'd get random young teenager trans people who followed her and bought into her bioessentialism showing up in my messages being like "you give trans people a bad name" "you're why transphobia exists" etc etc it was fucking crazy.
but i lost like, no followers because everyone around me understood, this woman was a terf. this all set up the real one though.
later in the year a teenage "communist" trans girl made some snarky comment about me being racist on a post of mine blowing up. i ignored her cuz like, who cares it's just some random teenager. but i guess people were looking for a reason to hate me cuz that blew up, lots of people just took that at face value no need to investigate. when someone finally did send the girl an ask being like "hey how is she racist" she replied "I dont remember but I know she is" and even more people just took this as 100%. the thing is, i do remember her being one of those "you make trans people look bad" terf following young trans people, it's not that she didn't remember, it's that she didnt want to admit she followed a terf and she believed a terf just saying shit. I lost like 3/4s of my followers, i had a lot of people i thought were my friends just stop talking to me, and going forward every time i got a call out there would usually be a line of like "also she's racist, everyone already knows this" all cuz this girl needed to make a snarky comment cuz she just loves terfs.
the thing about the "i dont remember" bit is it made some weird game of telephone. "I dont remember" became "oh she's racist, i think she says the n word" which became "she called black bloggers the n word" like people just made shit up about me and connected it to this call out. and when id be like this isnt true id be met with a "this is just known, youre a known racist" and it's like, to this day i will still find people be like "hey good on you for growing as a person and not doing that any more" and its like I NEVER DID IT TO BEGIN WITH
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hello, I would like to make a request, a story based on the last episode of yours, Five talking to another Five in the final conversation and they talk about his wife and Canon Five doesn't have one, thanks if you want
a/n: i absolutely loved writing this ty for sending this in ! <3
warnings: language, slight angst, spoilers
summary: Five discovers his missing piece
When Five stumbled into Max’s and came across an entire diner full of alternate versions of himself, about a million different questions raced through his mind. However, the most pressing issue he found himself wanting to address was the context behind the lovingly placed portrait of a woman on the wall.
“Who’s the girl?” He asks his counterpart, his eyes remaining glued to the painting. The woman’s smile was gentle, her eyes kind, and her face the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He almost felt drawn to it in a way, as if there was some type of magnetic pull gravitating his focus to her and only her. It was like seeing a ghost or a familiar face from a dream that you’re not quite able to place.
“Don’t you recognize her?” The other Five retorts perplexed, confusion clearly etched on his features. “That’s y/n.”
“Can’t say I’m familiar,” the Boy confesses with an apologetic sigh as he finally pulls his attention away from the painting and sets it back to the Five in front of him.
“No wonder you’re such a mess,” server Five notes with a diverted smile as he tops off their coffee. Calling over his shoulder, he announces to all Fives, “The poor bastard doesn’t have a y/n.”
Murmurs of surprise and astonished laughter fill the cafe at the news, prompting Five’s face to heat in embarrassment at being the butt of a joke he has no grasp of. What do these Fives know that he doesn’t?
“Could you please be so kind as to fill me in on who this y/n is,” he requests agitatedly through gritted teeth. Reaching into his pocket, his counterpart pulls out a weathered photograph and slides it across the table for Five to see.
“Y/n is the missing piece that completes every Five. We all meet her in different ways at different points of our lives, but every time she manages to anchor us back down to earth. Y/n is the glue that holds us together when everything goes to shit. She believes in us, sees the humanity in us despite the horrors we’ve seen and the atrocities we’ve committed. She gives us unconditional love even when we think we don’t need it, when we think it couldn’t possibly exist.”
As Fives look down at the photo before him, he sees himself- or rather, another version of himself- enveloping y/n in his arms. They stand in front of a beautiful home with a picket white fence and a garden full of flowers smiling with pure bliss. It’s clear that the woman loved this version of him by the adoring look in her eyes, and it’s even clearer that she meant everything to the Five sitting across from him.
“She means something different to each of us, but I was one of the Five’s lucky enough to make her my wife,” his companion notes with an evocative smile. “That photo was taken on our honeymoon.
“Where is she now?” Five asks somberly after handing back the photograph.
“Dead,” he replies quietly, releasing a mournful sigh as he sinks back into the booth. “Lost her in an accident while I was trying to stop the apocalypse for a third time. That’s when I decided it was time to hang in the towel.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“We had a good run together, I wouldn’t change any of it,” the replica admits with a reminiscent smile. He takes another look at the photo, committing it to memory before handing it back to Five. “I think you need this more than I do. You may not have had the chance to know your y/n, but judging by the look on your face when you spotted the portrait I have a good feeling you would have loved her just the same.”
Gingerly taking the photograph back, Five stops to admire her gentle features and adoring smile before tucking it safely into the pocket of his suit. “Thank you.”
“You know what you have to do to fix the timelines,” the other Five firmly instructs him. “Just promise me you’ll do by right by my wife. She deserves a safe timeline to live in, one where she can grow old and be happy.”
Rising from his seat at the booth, Five takes one last longing look at the portrait on the wall before returning his gaze to the boy in front of him.
“You have my word.”
#request#the umbrella academy#number five#five hargreeves#five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves imagine#number five x reader#number five imagine#tua#tua x reader#tua imagine#tua spoilers
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The Villains Daughter
So! Years ago, back when the Justice League was only just starting out, only a year or two after their initial team-up, they had one of their biggest battles to date. A group of Extra-Dimensional Beings had burst into their reality, hellbent on destroying a Government Facility and the nearby small town in Illinois.
They barely managed to beat the Invading Army back, although the Government Facility and a part of the nearby Town had been destroyed in the battle.
Later, they would learn about what had happened. Apparently the Government Base, called a GIW Facility, had managed to finally Crack the secret to Interdimensional Travel a few days earlier. Unfortunately, they had opened a Portal into a Dimension known as the Ghost Zone, ruled over by a Tyrant King who wanted to enslaved all world under him. Their Breaching of the GZ had alerted the Tyrant King to the existence of their Dimension, and he had launched an immediate Invasion to try and take it over.
And the evidence supported this.
Wonder Woman shared Legends of her People, telling that their Founding Ancestor had fled the rule of a Tyrant King when she passed into the Afterlife.
Zatara shared his Magic Tomes, showing them passages detailing the horrific Rule of the Tyrant King of the Infinite Realms.
They even asked Boston Brand, the Deadman and resident Ghost about it. He hadn't been the the Ghost Zone in Years, but even he told them that he had personally fled the Tyrant King.
And they also learned that when the Tyrant King set his eyes on something, he did not falter on his Warpath to acquire it. The Tyrant King, Pariah Dark, would be back for their World, again and again.
And they needed to be prepared. This Battle was what kickstarted their true Commitment to the idea of a Team. They knew they could not defeat Pariah Dark alone, so they needed to remain as a Team.
But there was another thing that came about from the Battle.
While the JLA had been helping clean up, Wonder Woman came across a strange sight. A Baby had been left in the rubble of the GIW Building.
She asked around, investigated, and did all she could to find the babies parents. At first she thought that one of the GIW Agents had brought their kid to work that day, but their records indicated that none of the Agents had children of that Age. And Neither did any of the other workers who worked on the base, like the Janitors or the Kitchen Staff. And of they did, all of their children were accounted for.
She eventually came to the conclusion that the Baby must belong to somebody in the nearby Town, but that lead led nowhere either.
She finally came to the conclusion that the Baby's parents must have died in the Invasion, a very unfortunate but very real possibility. She was going to place her into the System, but over the course of her investigation she had grown fond of the Child.
She decided to Adopt the baby herself. She didn't know the child's name, so she had to come up with a new one.
"How do you like the name, Stella?"
The baby gurgled in delight.
...
Over the next decade of their Teams Existence, the Justice League had to fend off the Legions of the Ghost King's Army many more times. It seemed that Pariah had grown wise to the fact that they were the ones defending the Human Realm, as almost all of the later attacks were directed on them personally.
It made sense, they were the First Line of Defense against his Armies, if he managed to defeat them, their World would soon fall.
But they dealt with the attacks as they came. They had made it their mission to defend their Home from the Forced of Pariah Darks Army, and they would not falter now, or ever.
In the case of Wonder Woman, he Daughter had grown to be a fine little lady. Stella had eventually developed Powers similar to her mother, in that she could fly and had super strength, and had begged to be trained as a Hero.
And who was Diana to deny her Daughter her greatest wish? Over the next 5 years, Diana trained Stella in the ways of the Amazon's. Then, when Stella was 15, she had her join the newly formed Young Justice.
She made a great group of friends on that Team, and even started going by Ellie as a Nickname. Her best friend was by far Conner, though she didn't know why she felt such a strong connection to him? It felt like she could relate to him, but her situation was completely different?
Ah well, her Mom wouldn't mind having another kid, would she? She always wanted a Brother!
...
Meanwhile in the Ghost Zone, the Ghost King was getting anxious. After 15 years, his Agents in the Human Realm had finally managed to set up the Ritual needed to Summon Him into the Human Realm.
Who knew that accepting the Ghost King's Throne would bar him from entering the Human Realm through normal Means? He couldn't even use the Portal, he needed to be summoned or he simply wouldn't be able to leave his new home dimension.
But now, it was almost time. Just another year or two, and he would finally be able to enter the Human Realm. He would finally be able to Find Her. His Daugther.
Danny would finally be able to reunite with his daughter, Ellie.
#Dpxdc#Dp x dc#Dcxdp#Dc x dp#Danny Phantom#Dc#Dcu#Justice League#Wonder Woman#Diana adopts Ellie#Ellie was kidnapped by the GIW#Ellie was deaged so her Core would be able to grow alongside her Body#She doesn't know she even has powers aside from her flight and strength#They all just think that he is an unregistered classification of Metahuman and that's why her blood work didn't come back with a Meta Gene#Ellie Joins Young Justice#She is extremely uncomfortable when Superman rejects Connor but she doesn't know why#The Justice League thinks that Danny is a Villain#They think that he is Pariah Dark#Just under a new name#The whole world thinks that Danny is the greatest Supervillain to ever live#Including Ellie#She does not react well when she finds out that the World Greatest Evil is her Dad#Especially since she doesn't have the context#Danny attacked the JLA because she could sense that they had his daughter#He thought they were working with the GIW
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Ok hear me out.......... wlw Wilhuff Tarkin and Orson Krennic-
the dynamic very much is unhinged creative vs rigid control freak in a context of evil bureaucracy- and personally the context is why I love to read stories with imperials jdjdkd nothing is more crack cocaine literature for me than to make drama in a space office filled with awful people
More flavor text and me trying to sell you on why this ship of two truly terrible people is great below vvv
For Krennic, lean more into the evil genius artist. She's been up for 46 hours straight drawing schematics, she's rambling about incomprehensible shit, her only meals have been cigarettes and energy drinks, she's so full of herself she might one day think she's god, she's gonna die by 60. She doesn't care much about the politics of the empire, but they don't bother her either. She works for the imperials because they have a lot funds to give to engineers willing to build them a battle station the size of a moon capable of blowing up planets. Before that she worked on a lot a architectures on imperial center/Coruscant.
The imperial uniforms are a bit boring- so I'm taking full advantage of the fact Krennic is more of an engineer/architect to tweak her uniform a bit (and the cape was already not respecting regulations sooooo) For Tarkin I'm keeping it tho, this woman won't be caught dead without it.
For Tarkin, lean less into the whole buff survivalist aspect- she very much was in her youth, but she *is* a 65 year old woman based on *Peter Cushing*, and has been in a very high and prestigious position within the empire for the past 20 years. She still as an extensive knowledge on how to survive in nature, and fight with her bare hands or a knife, but that doesn't come up very often in her line of work anymore. She still killed a space bear unharmed when she was like 17 tho. She hates chaos and developed the main philosophy that drove the empire to this day : to govern with fear and impose order. She is a bloodthirsty woman in her sixties, with a never ending hunger for power, currently cheating on her wife with a coworker she hates.
They both love the death star more than they tolerate each other, but they did end up bonding over plotting the demise of one coworker they couldn't stand and digging out rebel spies. Make no mistake tho, this is very much a love triangle/trouple between two women and a giant battle station.
In the end, Tarkin killed Krennic by shooting her from orbit with the death star, the project was finally finished, she didn't need her anymore and she might have gotten in the way of her control of the station.
Tarkin dies a few days later during the battle of Yavin, along the death star, not willing to back down in her moments of glory.
PS : a lot of this is inspired by the fic "Propagating structure" by oneinspats ! it's what made me like and understand this pairing, and is truly a great work of fiction. I really think this fic is a masterful work when it comes to expending the character of Krennic, and extrapolating on existing things. Exploring his more creative side, his passion for his work, his truly abysmal lifestyle, giving him a hatred of nature and a background as an architect on Coruscant. While also keeping his horrific aspects, like reading his internal (or external) monologues sometimes makes my skin crawl with how disgusting his ideas are and how deep they run, but making him an interesting and compelling protag for the story. While all of it is surrounded by this delicious dramatic irony, because we know that no matter how hard they try to scheme (or fuck), the death star will blow up and it's incredible.
#just tasting the waters with sketches for now#btw you'll notice I made the choice to keep Tarkin's canonical wife :)#the adultery girly in every universe truly a woman to divorce#star wars sapphic au#wilhuff tarkin#grand moff tarkin#peter cushing#orson krennic#director krennic#tarkrennic#star wars original trilogy#star wars rogue one#star wars fanart#star wars#fanart#star wars imperials#toxic yuri#cw smoking#lesbian#art#my art#sketch
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2. The Unicorn | nanny!yn
Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.
Summary: The night has arrived and things are going really well for all three of you until suddenly they're not.
A/N: This will be 3 parts. Based on this and this.
Word Count: 10k+
Warning: 18+ only, smut, jealousy, angst, hurt feelings, daddy kink
The Unicorn Masterlist
When you left, Harry walked back inside his house feeling like a new man. He felt real. He felt strong and virile. He didn’t know what had come over him being so direct with you. So rapacious. But it felt natural. It was like something about you brought it out of him.
It wasn’t until he was sitting at the table with the boys eating dinner that any little inkling of guilt started to wash over him. It was then he realized he hadn’t even thought about Kit since he started making dinner. He was conjuring up images in his mind of what you would look like on Saturday in various positions. Imagined the way your eyes would widen and then squeeze close when you orgasmed. Wondered how many he could coax out of you. He’d completely blocked out that his wife would be participating.
He would need to tame himself. See how Kit responded to seeing you and him together. If she enjoyed it he could loosen up a little but he was concerned about the way you two clicked. Your dynamic was very good, Harry thought, that he would have a hard time sharing you. Plus, he wasn’t sure whether or not Kit would like to hear you calling him Daddy. And Harry really wanted to hear you call him Daddy again.
When his wife got home the twins were already in bed and Harry was in the master bedroom reading, “So how did it go?” She asked him as she plucked her heels off, placing her palm on their dresser to balance herself.
“It was good. Why don’t you get ready for bed and then we can talk about everything that happened?”
Harry had decided he’d play down what had happened between you two. He’d be honest but he wouldn’t divulge some of his innermost thoughts. The parts where he forgot all about his wife and how your soft and docile demeanor was refreshing and made him feel masculine and wide awake all of a sudden. No. He wouldn’t share that much with her.
Kit turned off the ceiling light and turned on her lamp before climbing into bed with Harry, “So, tell me how it went.”
“Yeah. It was good. She was very open. She said she wanted to join us on Saturday for sure.”
Kit nodded, “And? Did you two kiss or anything?”
Harry’s heart began to lob in his chest at the idea that he was going to tell his wife what he’d done with another woman. Kit seemed fine. She insisted she was but Harry still felt unease about how to handle this situation gracefully. Without anyone getting hurt.
“Yeah, we did. Brought her into the bedroom, here so the kids didn’t see. Kissed her and then got her clothes off, fingered her,” he inhaled softly and felt his cheeks glow and his chest burn. “That was it.”
Kit grinned and slid in close to Harry, smoothing her palm under his shirt, “Yeah? I wish I could have seen it. Did she come?”
Harry puffed out a laugh of disbelief. Maybe he was fretting for nothing. Perhaps his guilt had been needless. Maybe Kit was right. Maybe this would be really good for them.
“Yes.” He looked down at where his wife’s hand was traveling.
“And did you come?”
“No. I kept all my clothes on when I was with her and then when she left I had to get dinner for the boys and I was with them until I finally got into bed a bit ago.”
Kit palmed over his crotch, “You poor man. You did so good for me today, baby.” She kissed his lips, “You deserve a treat.”
Harry sighed as his wife put her hand into his night pants and began to pump his cock slowly. Closing his eyes with a smile he realized he probably had nothing to worry about.
. . .
You were a mess. You couldn’t sleep in the way that was necessary to function properly the next day. You kept going from squealing into your pillow like a 16-year-old after your crush admitted to liking you too, to feeling overwhelming anxiety about what was to come. Kit was an unknown in the equation. For many reasons.
The first was that you’d never been intimate with a woman even though you crushed on women for longer than you had men. The second was that you were worried that now that you’d called Harry Daddy and knew how much he liked it, even if Kit didn’t like that it would be hard for you to turn that off. The third thing was that you weren’t sure you’d want to see Harry kissing anyone else or watch him preferring his wife over you, because he would. Because Kit was so much prettier than you and she was his wife, the mother of his children. You were certain that you’d wind up kind of being the third wheel.
But maybe you had it all wrong. Maybe you’d love being with Kit and things would just be fun. But your rabbit hole Google search wound up landing you on a subreddit all about this kind of thing and did not leave you with confidence about what was to come. So many horror stories about “unicorn hunters” finding their “unicorn” and the ways threesomes can end a marriage.
But you said yes. And you intended to follow through. They both really seemed to want it. And you trusted them. Perhaps your experience would be among the rare ones that worked out for the better.
The rest of the week felt like you were slowly entering into a new realm of existence. Dramatic way to put it but that’s just how it felt. Things would change for you. Not only would you be having your first sexual encounter with a woman, but you’d also be having a threesome. You’d be in the middle of a married couple and that was not a situation you thought you’d ever get into.
But also, you were very aware that Harry was planning on fucking you. In front of his wife. And you couldn’t imagine that going well. Of course, you forced your fantasy to make it positive but there was something that was telling you that it wouldn’t be. You hoped you were just nervous for nothing.
On Friday before you left Mr. and Mrs. Styles’ home, William and Warren were told to get their suitcases ready for grandma and grandpa to pick them up the following morning.
Kit helped you put your bag on your shoulder, as she spoke, “We’re really excited about tomorrow. I hope you are too, Y/n.”
You smiled as you turned to look at her, “I am. A little nervous, I’ll admit.”
You were more than a little nervous.
“That’s okay. We are too. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow and go from there.”
Harry walked into the living room with you and Kit and there was just something different about him following that night he had you in his bed. It made you squirmy and intimidated. His eyes had always been intense but now they felt more severe. Daunting.
“So, tomorrow at 3 then?” He asked you as he raised his brows.
You nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be here.”
And from the moment you drove away from the Styles’ house until you knocked on their front door the following afternoon, you couldn’t get yourself to calm down or think about anything else.
You paced and talked out loud to yourself. You set up scenarios in your head and acted them all out, some of them turning you on quite a lot, you couldn’t lie. You practiced how you’d respond in certain situations. You took a long bath with salts and essential oils and got rid of as much hair as possible from your body so you’d be extra smooth.
You played your music loudly. You masturbated thinking about the way Harry fingered you. You picked the perfect outfit and panties. And you tried to sleep. But that was nearly impossible.
When you did finally wake up it was already noon. You’d slept in. Which shouldn’t have surprised you because you couldn’t get to sleep the night before. You jolted up from your bed and panicked as you ran into the bathroom to get the shower going. You couldn’t believe it was happening. You wondered what Harry and Kit were doing to prepare. Were they freaking out like you were? They both said they’d never done anything like this so they had to be at least a little nervous about everything.
Your soft pink lace bra and panties were your favorites. You didn’t wear them all the time but it felt like the appropriate affair to break them out.
At about 2 pm you received a text from Kit.
If you’d like, you can stay the night. We would be happy to have you all night.
That, you hadn’t expected. You had envisioned it being along the lines of you and the Styles getting finished up and then using their bathroom before an awkward goodbye and See you Monday (you really had thought of every scenario already).
But to stay the night? Would you sleep in their bed with them? Or would they offer you their guest room? Or the couch? You couldn’t imagine sleeping next to them all night. Of course, maybe that would be nice? You really didn’t know. It was hard to think with a clear brain when Harry was involved. The whole situation was wacky but the opportunity to be allowed to sleep with Harry and his pretty wife and have everything be just fine after (hypothetically) was simply not something you’d want to say no to.
. . .
Harry was nervous. He was trying to reign in his thoughts and his doubts. He didn’t want Kit to know how deep his worries ran. Because she seemed excited. She seemed far calmer than he felt.
He forced himself to eat breakfast and a light lunch so she didn’t question it. He didn’t know how things would play out once you arrived. And he tried not to imagine all the salacious things he’d been thinking about you in his private time.
When you’d finally arrived with your bag in hand and knots in your tummy Harry took deep breaths as Kit answered the door and hugged you in greeting.
“I hope you’re hungry! I’m making salmon and parmesan risotto.It’s my specialty and I think you’ll like it.” Kit led you to the kitchen where her husband stood and the moment he laid his eyes on you the smallest something ignited in him. It was only a spec of something but it was as if a layer of worry was wiped away instantly. Just seeing your pretty smile with your bag in hand had his mind swirling with thoughts of what might come. He realized part of him didn’t think you’d actually show up. But you did.
He tried leaning on Kit’s poise and mimicking her excited demeanor. On the way she seemed so calm but confident. That’s how it should have been for him. But the bigger parts of worry in him stemmed from the fact that his more dominant natural inclination was starting to peek through the cracks slowly. He’d even initiated something with Kit the night before, which she quickly shot down. He knew his wife was not one for being submissive. Or at least letting him take the reigns fully. But he knew Y/n would want it.
And worse yet, he hadn’t asked Kit if she’d mind if you called him Daddy. That was weighing heavy on him. He knew he should have talked to her about it days prior but there was part of him that worried she wouldn’t like that. He wasn’t sure how it would be brought up at that point but it would come out sooner or later he was positive. Especially with the way you seemed to love saying it.
“This looks so good, thank you, Mrs. Styles,” you smiled softly and looked from Harry to Kit and then back to the steaming pot ofrisotto. You weren’t sure you’d be able to eat much but you’d force something down. Your mind was jumbled and you felt tense.
But of course, this was something new for all of you. You’d all be going through this together and so you probably didn’t have much to worry about.
Harry took your little bag from your hand and his bright green eyes on you felt hot, “I’ll take this upstairs unless you need anything from it right now?”
You shook your head, “I don’t need it. Thank you, Mr. Styles.”
You had wanted to ask Harry what his wife thought about the whole Daddy thing but you hadn’t had the chance the rest of the week and even if you had you wouldn’t have been able to get the nerve up to ask.
“So, what are you thinking? What things are you into?” Kit asked as she handed you a glass of wine.
You leaned your hip into the counter and shrugged, “I don’t know. I think I like it when other people take the lead. I’m sort of, maybe a little submissive,” you laughed softly as you brought your glass up to your lips and looked at Kit. It was the first time you’d really taken her in since you’d arrived. She was wearing a pretty black lacey dress that fit her gorgeous body like it was made for her. Black heels, a smoothed back, high ponytail. Bright red lips, perfectly done eyeliner. Her cheekbones made you envious. You’d always noticed her cheekbones in the past. As well as Harry’s. Imagined they were made for one another. Two exquisitely stunning people.
Kit leaned against the counter next to you, her body turned toward yours, “That’s perfect for Harry and me. We’re both a bit dominant,” she sipped her glass and you watched her eyes trail down over your neck. You’d put on a pretty choker. Light pink small pearls to go with your sexy (you hoped) pink lacey underwear. Over it, you wore a lightweight cream sweater that was almost sheer with a short white skirt with a print of pink and yellow butterflies all over it. You felt underdressed compared to Kit. She looked like an adult and you looked like a child.
When Harry returned to the kitchen he poured himself a glass and looked at you and then to his wife, “What’d I miss?”
“Just asked Y/n what she likes. She’s going to let us take the lead. And look at his, H,” she gently put a slender finger under your pearl choker, “she’s perfect. I told you.”
Harry’s gaze felt so heavy on you. It felt like he was dissecting you with his eyes, “I think we’ll have a lot of fun together.”
A safe choice of words.
Dinner was quite delicious. Though you weren’t really that hungry, the wine you drank helped you feel a bit more comfortable, and sitting and chatting about normal things with Kit and Harry felt really good.
You helped clean up. Harry had put on some music and you were feeling loose from the wine so you were swaying the tiniest bit with the beat. When you felt hands at your hips you turned and it was Kit, swaying with you. She leaned her chin over your shoulder and spoke into your ear, “Leave the dishes. Those can wait. I think it’s time to get comfortable and talk. Come,” she pulled at you and you suddenly weren’t feeling as loose at the notion of talking.
Ground rules. Expectations. It was all necessary stuff.
You followed her into the living room where Harry was already sitting on the couch at one side. He gestured for you to sit next to him and Kit sat down on the opposite side, putting you in the middle.
The music was still playing as Kit turned toward you and put her arm up on the back of the couch, “Tell us your concerns. What things you absolutely do not like.”
You looked down at the coffee table where all three glasses of wine were sat and took a deep breath, “My concerns… I’m worried someone won’t like this after we start. Like,” you looked at Kit, “maybe you realize you don’t want anyone touching Harry. Or even if Harry doesn’t like to see you with anyone else? I just don’t want anyone to feel upset.”
Kit nodded, “A good point. I feel the same. I think we all do. We won’t know until we get into it but I think if there is anything anyone doesn’t like we need to be able to speak up about it. Agreed?”
You nodded, unsure if they wanted you to continue. That was the biggest concern of yours, sort of. You were worried about calling Harry Daddy when things got going. You were worried you would feel left out, which wasn’t fair of you to feel that way. Kit and Harry were married, after all. They’d certainly be paying the most attention to each other.
“Anything else? What things do you not like at all? What is a hard no for you?”
Harry had been quite silent since you all had sat down. But you were feeling heat pouring off of him. And you could tell he had his eyes on you.
“I mean… maybe if I think of some I’ll tell you? I haven’t done much, to be honest. Nothing stands out in my mind.”
“Do you like to be spanked? Or maybe restrained?” Kit raised her brows at you.
You shrugged, “I haven’t really been spanked before. Definitely not restrained.”
“You haven’t really been spanked?” Harry finally spoke up.
You turned to look at him but found you needed to look away quickly. He was too attractive.
“Well, once a guy sort of smacked at my bottom during… Like I was on top and…” you swallowed trying to calm yourself as you saw his hand move from his lap to the space between your thigh and his on the couch, “Like it was just really quick. Just once. So I wouldn’t say spanked but… yeah.”
“And did you like it?” He asked.
You looked at him and couldn’t help but feel yourself singe with warmth, “I didn’t mind it.”
“We’ll learn as we go,” Kit added.
Harry pulled his gaze away from you to his wife when she spoke and it was the first time you noticed it. His unease. It almost seemed like he’d forced himself to look away from you. Like the way you felt when you looked at him.
Kit reiterated that she agreed with you. That there would need to be open communication. She said that she liked to be dominant or at least to have most of the control.
“And I also like to be in control. To be dominant.” Harry said as he looked at Kit and then to you, “I also wanted to see if it was comfortable for you, Kit, if Y/n calls me Daddy.”
Kit looked to the coffee table quietly in thought and then looked at you, “Do you like that? To call your sexual partner Daddy?”
Your eyes widened at the question. You hadn’t expected that you’d answer this question. But you also assumed Harry had already spoken to Kit about it.
“Uh, well. Yeah, I think so.”
“Have you ever called anyone Daddy during a sexual encounter before? Are you comfortable with that?” Kit pressed.
You shot your sight to Harry and then back to Kit. How did you answer this? He obviously hadn’t told his wife that you were calling him Daddy that night and now you didn’t know if you should reveal that you already had. And Harry had been the only one you’d ever given that moniker to.
“I mean I’d like her to, but if she’s not comfortable with it we don’t have to do it, Y/n.” Harry quickly interrupted. You knew he was doing a bit of damage control. Perhaps that little thing would just be a secret between you and Harry. You were okay with that, you figured. You didn’t want him getting into trouble with Kit.
“Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t mind. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”
“Okay. Good. I’m okay with it, I think. We’ll feel it out and see if we like it,” Kit said, seemingly unbothered.
With the music playing you felt Harry’s pinky graze your bare thigh and Kit leaned forward to grab your glass of wine and hers, handing you yours.
“You smell so good, Y/n,” she said to you with a dreamy look on her face. “Doesn’t she, Harry?”
Sipping your wine you heard his deep voice from your right as he spoke, “She smells delicious.”
The change of the song and Harry’s pinky ghosting at your thigh and Kit’s closeness with her eyes on you had you feeling excited. Your heart began to lob in your chest, faster and faster.
Kit ran her finger up your neck, “You’re so shy. I really love it. Y/n, we’re going to make sure you have fun tonight.”
She got onto her knees and reached across you to pull at Harry’s hand and drew him in for a kiss. You watched them as they wound their mouths together right in front of you. You were smushed back into the couch with your eyes on their lips and watched their tongues meld and lick and heard Kit moaning.
When they parted Harry grabbed your empty glass of wine and placed it on the coffee table before he cradled the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. He wanted to feel your silky lips on his and he wanted to make sure you were included in the fun too. He would see to it you weren’t left out.
Kit watched her husband kissing you, their nanny with amazement. It was the first time she’d ever gotten to enjoy this sort of thing and she already loved it.
You felt Harry’s warm and wet mouth pull away from yours as Kit took over and pressed her lips to yours. The way it felt to have her mouth on yours versus Harry’s was night and day. Kit was soft and unmistakably feminine and you moaned as you reached up to pull your arms over her shoulders. With your body turned toward Kit you felt Harry’s big palm slide up your thigh and lift your skirt just a little before his chest was pressed into your back and his lips were on your neck.
“Can I mark your neck, sweet girl,” Harry groaned into your sensitive skin as Kit’s mouth moved with yours flawlessly.
“Yes, Daddy…” you breathed out the words and hadn’t even realized you said Daddy until the name hung in the air immediately after you’d said it. But no one seemed bothered. Kit only became more fervent and you felt her hand slip under your soft sweater.
“Can I touch you? Will you give us permission to touch your body and play with you now?” Kit panted her words before dotting kisses on your cheeks.
“Oh god. Yes, you can. Anything you want.” You meant it. If they wanted to touch your naked body or see it or tear your clothes off you were already so far gone you just wanted to please them. Everything was green for you so far.
You hissed softly and felt the pinch and sting of Harry’s lips at your neck as he marked you like he wanted.
Kit’s hand slid up your tummy to your pretty bra and she squeezed your plushy tit under her palm, “Just say if you don’t want something. Fuck you have such nice breasts, Y/n…” she leaned back and lifted your sweater before dipping down to kiss over the sheer lacy fabric over your nipples and you gasped.
Harry put his hand on your neck and turned your face toward him roughly, smearing his mouth against yours with a deep moan. You opened your mouth to let his tongue inside and you felt a drizzle of arousal pool into your panties. You loved the way it felt to have his big palm on your neck and his mouth ravaging yours while Kit’s lips and tongue worked over the flimsy fabric of your bra, wetting it and making your nipples hard underneath.
He could feel your delicate pearls under his palm as he used his thumb to squeeze you gently. But when he heard your tiny whimper his cock throbbed in his pants and he pulled at you, “We need to get her upstairs in bed.”
Kit grinned and the three of you awkwardly made your way upstairs. The moment you were in their bedroom Kit had her hands at your skirt, pulling at it, “Want this off of you. Okay? He’s had the chance to see your body but I haven’t yet. I’m dying to see you.”
Harry unbuttoned his shirt as he watched his wife remove your skirt and then peel off your little sweater. He walked up behind Kit and pulled at the bottom hem of her dress to pull it off, “Need you out of this too, Kitty.”
You’d never heard him call his wife Kitty before but it made sense now that you’d heard it.
The moment you saw Kit in her tiny black thong and her amazing tits out (she was sans bra) you dropped your mouth open. Her body was insane. She had a tattoo of a flowering tree on her ribcage and another at her hip with shooting stars. It fit her perfectly.
Harry put his hands on her shoulder as he stood behind her and kissed her neck, his eyes on yours.
“My tits need some love, Y/n. Come here,” she reached for you and it was easy to enjoy the way it felt to have a soft breast in your mouth. You sucked at her nipples and lapped your tongue over her skin with your hands cupping both sides, smushing your fingers in to really feel how soft and lovely it was. You couldn’t believe you’d never done anything with a girl before. You were certainly glad Harry and Kit were so forward.
Harry moved his position from behind his wife to behind you. You hadn’t expected to feel his hands at your bum, squeezing and pulling at your cheeks before giving you a soft smack.
You jolted slightly and looked up at Kit with a laugh.
Harry pressed his hips into your bottom against your pink lacy panties and groaned, “Beautiful ass.”
Kit grasped your jaw and pulled you in for another kiss. Soft and tranquil, wet and warm. There was an easy difference in the way a woman kissed than a man and you adored it.
You felt Harry’s hand at your bottom, pulling at your panties to slide into your crack to give him access to your full bottom. The sudden warmth and wetness against your bum cheek might have startled you more if he hadn’t given you a swat just moments prior. His mouth and tongue moved over your flesh slowly until he pasted a wet kiss right over where your panties were stuffed into your bottom.
He gripped your hips and pushed his face in further, soft lips kissing along where your panties were, “Gotta get these off, okay, Y/n? As pretty as they are,” he put his fingers into the band of your lacy panties and pulled them down your ass and legs and you continued kissing Kit with a wet, desperate tongue.
But you gasped and your eyes bounced open when Harry's mouth found your pussy from behind. He pulled your cheeks and put his mouth between them, licking over your labia. You couldn’t help but to turn to look behind you as best you could to watch his dark curls from behind you.
Kit’s hands slid to the back of your bra and unhooked your clasp to get you out of your bra, “Oh shit.” She took you in and delicately moved her hands over your tits, “Gorgeous.”
Harry stood up and pulled his shirt off his shoulders and then began to take his pants down and underwear. He was too hard in his pants to keep them on. He watched as Kit pulled you to the bed. Now that you were completely naked Kit wanted to see you spread out.
You were pushed to your back and she climbed between your legs, “Can I eat you out a little, Y/n? Missed eating pussy.”
You nodded quickly as Kit smirked at you and gave you one more soft kiss to your lips.
You saw Harry come up behind her and look down at you as his wife bent over to press her lips to your cunt. He looked from Kit’s ass to your face and pulled at her g-string to move it to the side as he pressed his fingers into Kit’s entrance, “So wet already, Kitty. You don’t get wet f’me like this.”
Harry’s strong and broad shoulders, the view of his dark tattoos scattered on his chest and arms made you wish Kit wasn’t in your way so you could see him unobstructed.
Kit moaned and lapped at your clit as she looked up at you, “I just love how she feels, H. I’m so horny looking at her body.”
Harry could agree with that assessment. He was already throbbing and he hadn’t even had his cock touched yet. Not that his wife couldn’t get him worked up but having you in the mix was exciting. New.
He fucked into his wife with his thick fingers from behind her slowly and loved the way you sounded when you moaned. He reached down to grip his cock and stroke himself as he looked at your pretty face. Moving his fingers from Kit’s pussy he slid his tip up and down her crease and she lifted and looked back at him, “Yes, H… fill me with that big dick.”
“Yeah? Want this big cock, baby?” He looked at you as he asked.
You moaned when Kit wrapped her lips around your clit again and you felt her fingers thrust into your soft, wet hole.
Harry felt good plunging into Kit as always. She was familiar and welcoming. He knew exactly what to expect and exactly what she needed to get off. But this time, as familiar as Kit felt, it was so different as he thrust in and pulled back to his tip with his eyes on yours.
He began to rock into his wife and each thud into her pushed Kit into your pussy harder. Kit was bent down with her mouth on your cunt, her ass in the air at the edge of the bed while Harry stood, feet on the floor, and fucked his wife from behind. But he had a great view of your face and your tits. It almost felt like he was already fucking you with the way your eyes were locked on his.
The delicious surge of Kit’s fingers digging into your pussy and her tongue on your bud had you spinning. But it was Harry’s eyes on yours as he grunted with each roll of his hips that had you nearly at your end already.
Kit lifted and looked at you. When you felt her lips move away you quickly shot your gaze back to hers. She continued fingering you, “You gonna come for me, Y/n? Fuck!” She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed herself back onto Harry as she used her free hand to rub her clit, “God, right there, H.”
When Harry began to go in sharper, Kit placed her mouth back on your pussy and moaned at the way her husband was pounding into her. His deep thrusts were making her press into you.
He grasped Kit’s hips harshly and moaned at the view of his cock stretching his wife out and then looked back at you with your lips parted and your hands squeezing your tits together. Your neck elongated.
The sharp spike of stimulation made you cry out and you couldn’t stop the spiral in your tummy from tensing and twisting as you came. Soft wet lips on your clit and slender fingers pumping through your walls felt amazing. But when you heard Harry groan loudly as he began to come inside of Kit you opened your eyes to find his fixed on yours, mouth dropped open with deep breaths heaving from his picturesque chest.
You felt the final deep thrust as the last of his come drained from his cock into his wife as her mouth smashed into you.
You were both breathless as you came down from your orgasms. The eye contact felt intimate. You loved the way it made you feel connected to Harry and to his wife.
Harry grinned and watched as he slowly slid his cock out of Kit, pinching his fingers into her hips, “Y/n, would you like to eat my come from my wife’s pussy? How does that sound to you, sweet girl?”
You nodded and Kit lifted her face from your pussy slowly. Her own chest was heaving as she was so close to her orgasm, “I love that idea. Want to taste Harry dripping out of me, Y/n?”
You pushed yourself up by your elbows, “Yeah, how should I…?”
Kit crawled over you and pushed you down. She brought her cunt to right over your face and let a bit of Harry’s come trickle out onto your chin and your lips, “We’ll do it like this. Now eat.”
With that, she settled her pussy down onto your mouth and you closed your eyes as you sucked and tried to use your tongue the best you could. You tasted the saltiness of his come and the sharpness of Kit’s arousal mixed as you swallowed and pulled at her folds with your lips. The idea that you were getting to drink Harry’s come made you shiver in delight. You never imagined that you’d be swallowing his come down your throat.
When you felt a big, hot mouth dot kisses along the inside of your thigh and felt the grip of a big hand lifting your leg you were spurred on to lick and suck at Kit harder. You were reminded that there were three people in the room.
You felt Harry’s shoulders push against the back of your thighs and felt a deep vibration of something he mumbled against your pussy before his wide flat tongue licked upward before gently rolling your clit in his mouth, his slick muscle pressing and swirling over it.
The sensation of Harry eating you out in comparison to how Kit did it was night and day. Kit was warm and soft, precise. Harry was like a caveman starved, masculine, and messy. You could already feel the way he was smearing your arousal all around your pussylips and the crease of your thigh.
Kit began to rub at her clit as she brushed her pussy over your lips. Her essence was getting all over your face and you really kind of liked the taste. It wasn’t that different from yours, the smell and taste of it.
“Oh my god, baby, those lips,” she moaned and pinched at her nipples as she began to come.
You could feel her shaking and the way her pussy hole fluttered over your mouth, her hips jerking as she rode into your lips and bumped into your nose.
Meanwhile, Harry was moaning into your pussy and lapping at you like ice cream melting. When you felt the addition of his fingers gently poking past your slippery muscle you let out a muffled groan into Kit’s pussy.
Harry lifted your hips up further and dug in deeper. With the new angle, it felt different and you were unable to gain any leverage with your legs at all. You were totally at his mercy with any movement below the waist.
Kit lifted off and sighed, “Such a good girl, Y/n. How was that?”
You gasped and tried your best to respond while your pussy was getting wrecked with Harry’s mouth and fingers, “I like… really liked it!”
Kit softly ran a finger up your neck and to your cheekbone, “Yeah? For a first time that was good. I think we’ll need more practice but that can be arranged. Can’t it, H?”
Harry grunted and smeared his mouth against your clit. You couldn’t hear it if he responded or not but then when Kit moved away you watched as she grasped Harry’s hair and pulled him off your pussy, “Right, Harry?”
He looked dazed as he darted his eyes from his wife to you, “What?”
“Is her pussy that good that you couldn’t hear me?” Kit laughed.
You saw Harry gulp as he stood up and it was the first time you noticed the big tiger tattoo on his left thigh and the laurels on his hips. He was a piece of art, “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I said we could arrange to do this again,” Kit sat back onto her haunches as she looked at her husband.
“Yeah. If Y/n wants.”
Kit looked at you and back to Harry, “So what do we think? Need a break? Are we ready to relax? We’ve all had our orgasms.”
Inwardly you pouted and wanted to throw a fit. You had come but you really really wanted to suck Harry off and have him fuck you. You wouldn’t mind eating Kit out again, but you felt you weren’t done with Harry. Needed a little more.
Harry laughed, “Ready to relax? Kitty, I’m just getting started. I kind of hoped I’d be able to have you choking on my cock or something,” his cocky grin beamed at his wife.
“Choke on your cock? Maybe I’ll let you choke on my dildo. You know I don’t do that. If Y/n wants to she’s welcome to it.”
You sat up and looked from Harry to his wife as they discussed what would come next. Harry looked you up and down like you were going to be an indulgent meal, “Want my dick in your mouth, sweet girl?” Harry gripped his shaft and slowly slid his hand up and down. He was only half-hard. He needed a minute to get back to full mast after his orgasm.
“Yes. I would really like that, Harry.” You looked from Harry to Kit to make sure everyone was on board.
“I think you mean Daddy. Right?” Harry’s stern voice had you sitting up straight.
“Yes, Daddy. I want it.”
Kit softly moaned, “She’s such a sweet girl, Harry. Enjoy your blowie. Mind if I get some water? I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Harry kept his eyes on you, “Go on. We’ll be fine. Right, Y/n?”
You nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”
Kit paused and looked from you to her husband but then shook off the tiny alarm going off in her head before leaving you two alone.
“Get down here. On your knees. I’ll take it easy on you.”
You climbed off the bed and got to your knees. Harry pumped his dick right over your face and reached down with his free hand to grasp your neck to pull at you, making you sit up further, “Your pearls are so sweet. Did you dress up just for, Daddy?”
“I did. Wanted to be cute for you.” You smiled at him with wide eyes.
“Cutest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/n. Now, get it all wet. Lick all around. I want to get nice and hard for your throat. And maybe if Kitty doesn’t mind, she’ll let me fuck you. Would you like that?”
Your heart pounded as you looked up at Harry and nodded, “Yes, Daddy. Really want to feel you.”
You began to tongue along Harry's long shaft. From the base where he had trimmed dark hair to his tip. You plopped your lips around his crown and gently sucked, making him hiss before you dragged your tongue down to his base and back up again to wet every inch of his girth. You were amazed at the sounds coming from him. Soft and whimpery. You lowered your mouth to his sack and smoothed your tongue and lips along the skin before opening wide and pulling half into your mouth.
“Fucking angel. Shit, I love that.”
You noted his reaction to your mouth on his balls. To save for another day.
When you drew your tongue upward again, along his length you felt him plump. His cock grew harder and harder until he was rigid and completely ready for fucking again.
“Now suck on it,” he pressed the back of your head to urge you down over him.
You wrapped your lips around his head, saliva pooling at your tongue and dripping down his cock as you slowly began to take him in your mouth. Deeper and deeper. He was thick, though and you were concerned your mouth wasn’t big enough or that your teeth would graze his skin. But you pressed on, doing your very best.
He kept his hand at the back of your head and helped gently guide you down, “Come on. You can get a little more in there, baby. Fucking so good with that mouth.”
You felt his tip nudging at the roof of your mouth and slip in close to your tonsils and you gurgled, swallowing around his tip and making him choke out a loud moan.
You did it again, loving the way he responded and you felt him slip in deeper, yet you still hadn’t gotten him all in. He was likely a bit too long for you to take him all. You’d need practice.
The sound of you gagging wetly and Harry groaning filled the room as your eyes watered.
“Jesus Christ, Y/n!” Harry watched your lips as they parted around his cock, drooling down your chin.
You could hear Kit when she came back. She’d said something but you were so fixated on Harry’s cock and making him feel good that your brain was fuzzy and out of focus. The only thing that mattered was making Harry feel good and you couldn’t care about anything else.
The grip he had on the back of your head and the way his hips were moving felt like he was enjoying you as you wetly spluttered on his cock as it grazed the back of your throat.
When Harry pulled you off you sat back and looked up at him expectantly. Harry kept his eyes on you. He looked like he was proud of you as he spoke, “Kitty? Can I fuck this sweet thing? Want to feel to her around my cock.”
You watched Harry as Kit answered, “Okay. I think that sounds hot. Just use a condom, though. Is that okay with you, Y/n?”
You nodded, still focused on Harry, “Yes.”
Kit led you to the bed to lie on your back and kissed you softly, “I’ll play with you a little and probably kiss Harry too while he’s fucking you. Is that okay?”
You finally looked at Kit, breaking the spell you were under with Harry, “That’s fine. Yeah.” You nodded.
“And if we do this again maybe I can wear a strap-on and fuck you too.” Kit raised her brows.
You nodded and smiled. Harry was busy putting a condom on as he listened to his wife talking to you. He hated to admit it to himself, but he loved it when Kit stepped out of the room for a bit. He felt freer to express himself with her gone. Was less worried about sounding like he was preferring Y/n to her.
But he wondered if once he got his cock inside of you how he’d feel. Would he be able to overcome the way he wanted to just dominate you and claim you for himself? It was a slippery slope what was happening but he was freefalling into his dominant persona with you and it felt odd having his wife watch it all. He hoped he didn’t get too into it and lose track of what was really happening.
Harry crawled onto the bed between your legs and thumbed at your clit as he watched Kit kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. Wanted to start off nicely with a warm kiss and push into you that way. So he waited while his wife groped your tits and licked into your mouth.
You reached down to Harry’s hand, where his thumb was at your bud and you bucked your hips upward. He had the most gorgeous view of your wet pussy, just waiting and ready to stretch open for his cock.
When Kit finally pulled her mouth away Harry leaned over you, “I’m gonna kiss her for a bit, Kit. If you don’t mind,” and then he pasted his mouth against yours and lined his cock up with your entrance.
When you felt him push past your tight muscle you could have cried. He was wide and long and you were so wet and he began to thrust in and slowly, his mouth devouring yours. He went in with long strokes, sinking in until he couldn’t push in any further. His muscles working into you, thighs and bottom and back flexing and indulging.
Harry lifted his face from yours to look down at you, cupping your jaw, “You doing okay?”
Your mouth was wide open as you nodded, “So good, Daddy.”
Harry cooed at you as he began to fuck into you harder, making your tits wobble with the force.
Kit leaned over you and began to kiss you again but you could hardly kiss back with the way your pussy was being pounded into and the sound of Harry’s groans were all you could focus on. He liked your pussy, you could tell. And that had your heart singing and your body buzzing.
He loved how your pussy looked wrapped around his cock, tight and juicy as he pushed in and brought himself back to the tip before ramming into you again. He wanted Kit out of the way so he could see your face but he knew he couldn’t ask her to move. She was going to be part of this.
But when he dipped in especially deep, the puffy head of his cock nudging into your cervix and hitting your g-spot with each stroke you gasped and moaned loudly, making Kit move back.
“Daddy!” You howled as Harry panted and repeated what he’d just done. You squealed and threw your head back. It felt so good. He was pushing into your guts and breathing heavily over you.
Harry was glad he’d already come so he could last a bit longer with you. He wanted to drag it out. Really get to fuck you properly and feel you. It was lush being inside of you and hearing your pretty voice respond to him.
“Like Daddy’s cock, baby?” He spoke between gritted teeth as he pushed your thighs into your chest and leaned over you, nearly folding you in half so Kit couldn’t interrupt again. He was getting hot and dizzy for you. Wanted you all to himself.
“It’s the best! Oh fuck!! I love it. I want it… oooh! Need you so bad, Daddy!” You weren’t really sure what words came from your mouth as he pushed into you at the new angle, but all you knew was that your entire world was Harry. Harry… Harry… Harry… He was on you and in and he liked it. You were making him feel good.
“Need me, baby? Need this cock inside your little pussy?”
Harry’s balls were aching as he nudged into you, his sac pressed into your bum each time he bottomed out.
“Yes…” your voice was shaky and breathy as he railed you into the mattress.
Harry let go of your legs to lean over you and press his mouth against yours once again. Wet and hard, teeth scraping and moans of debauchery.
“Need you too, baby. Needed this fucking pussy. You gonna let Daddy own this pussy, baby?”
“Oh god, yes Daddy! This pussy is yours!” You whined.
Kit was at the edge of the bed watching the spectacle and she was quite turned on by the scene. She gently rubbed her pussy as she watched her husband railing you but the words spoken between you and Harry had her feeling a bit weird. She knew she should call a time out but she wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. You were in throws of passion, she tried to reason.
“Holy shit, Y/n!” Harry moaned as he felt you begin to squeeze around him. His pelvis rubbed into your clit and the little sparkles of your orgasm started to grow and grow with each yummy thrust into your clenching walls. His cock spread you wide and his pelvis smeared into your bud as if his body was made for you. The angle was exquisite. Harry thought so too.
“Coming on Daddy’s cock, Y/n? Fucking creaming all over me baby.” He let his strokes go long and deep and languid as he hovered over you, his arms and back flexing as he rolled into you.
You were stunned and unable to speak for moments on end. Your vision went blank and your ears fuzzed out with a ringing white noise that blocked all sound.
Harry moaned a laugh at how hard you were coming, “Feels good doesn’t it baby? Cock is made for you…” his deep thick voice gave away that he was about to come. Kit recognized it.
“Don’t come inside of her. Even with a condom,” Kit sat up and watched closely as you finally gasped and cried out. For some reason the idea of her husband coming, even if inside a condom, while balls deep in another woman didn’t feel right.
Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He wished he would have known before but of course, Kit hadn’t even been sure that was something she didn’t want.
He kept working into you, letting you ride out your orgasm as you moaned and babbled Daddy, yes Daddy over and over again.
When your eyes finally peeled open Harry had slowed his thrusts and he dipped down to kiss you. It was messy and wet. He was on edge, his orgasm so close his balls were vibrating.
He looked down at you and thumbed over your cheek, “Flip over for Daddy. Gonna fuck you from behind and come on your back okay?”
You moaned and nodded as Harry pulled out and watched you lay on your tummy, ass nudged up.
Harry looked at Kit, “Not gonna come inside her. Don’t worry.”
He smoothed his hands over your ass and squeezed, parting your cheeks as he lifted your hips slightly to angle you up for his cock.
Harry pressed back into you, both of you sighing in relief, “Thank you, Daddy…” you mumbled into the comforter.
“Rub your pussy for, Daddy. Want you to feel good, baby.”
You did as he said, reaching your hand down between your body and the mattress as you fingered over your clit and Harry’s loud grunts were timed with each of his strokes into you.
His hips were slapping into your bottom and the tightness of your cunt around him and the view of your pretty anus was like fine art. It was slushy and wet.
You pushed back against him and felt saliva stream out of your mouth onto the bed below.
“Want your come, Daddy,” you quickly slicked your fingers back and forth along your clit as Harry’s masculine moans grew deeper and louder as he neared his end. “Please, Daddy!”
Harry watched his cock disappear into you over and over again, “Want my come, baby? Deep inside your cunt? Want to be stuffed with it?”
You nodded into the mattress, “Yes…” you whined.
“Sounds so fucking good,” Harry cooed as he began to tremble. His arms grew wobbly as his balls tightened. His cock twitched and pulsed and he quickly pulled out, ripping his condom off before spurts of his come started to pump from his dick. He wrapped his fist around himself and milked his shaft, pouring all over your back as he used his free hand to keep your cheeks spread apart. In a daring move, he released the last bit of himself over your ass and pussy as he loudly choked out a moan.
With his chest heaving and your ass swaying back toward him in hopes of him pushing his come inside of you the voice of Kit pulled you from your dreamy haze.
“Get up.” She did not sound as happy as she had been not long before.
Harry removed himself from your body and you pushed yourself up and turned to look at them.
“That’s not what I meant when I said don’t come in her. Coming on her back was okay but then on her pussy like that? You should have asked me first.”
Harry looked at you with his come all over you and back to his wife, “Sorry, Kit. It was all just in the moment. I shouldn’t have come on her like that.”
“I just… I don’t know. We need to talk about this more I think. But not with her here.” She gestured to you.
You were sort of stuck with your ass in the air, unable to move much because of Harry’s come on your back.
“Okay. That’s fine. We’ll talk. Let me clean her up,” Harry pointed at you.
“She can clean herself up. We don’t need to baby her, Harry.”
“Come on, Kit. She deserves to be treated nicely. And it’s on her back. She needs help.”
Kit suddenly walked away and Harry leaned onto the bed to look at you, “Are you okay?” He put his hand on the back of your thigh.
“Yeah. I’m okay. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”
Harry looked over his shoulder and back at you, “She’s not mad, sweetheart. This is all new for us so she just needs a minute. I’ll be right back with a towel okay?”
You felt a burning embarrassment slither down your spine at the idea that Kit didn’t like something you’d done. It was exactly that thing you had wanted to avoid. You loved being with Harry and Kit but you knew you let yourself get lost with Harry and you went too far. You’d fucked everything up and now you were surely going to lose your job and Kit would hate you forever.
Harry got back onto the bed with you and gently wiped at your back, “Don’t worry about anything. You did nothing wrong, Y/n. Okay?”
You nodded and kept your eyes cast down over the comforter in shame. Nothing felt good anymore. You were humiliated. And even though Harry said you’d done nothing wrong it didn’t feel that way.
You put your clothes on silently as Harry slid on his pants and Kit returned, “I want her to go home.”
Harry stood quietly as he looked at Kit in her robe. You let your sight flit between Harry and his wife and noticed the way Harry looked like he was fuming. Pissed.
“Absolutely not. We invited her to stay. She didn’t do anything wrong, Kit. What is wrong with you?”
“I want to talk and I don’t think I can do it with her anywhere near me.”
“Why are you talking about her like she’s not standing right here?” He gestured at you.
Kit sighed and looked down, “I don’t feel comfortable, Harry.”
A scoff fell from his lips, “Well geez. Just imagine how she feels.”
Kit looked at Harry with a scrunched brow, “Are her feelings somehow more important than your own wife’s right now?”
Harry shook his head and ran his hands over his face, “I’m not saying that. I’m saying hers are just as important as yours. She’s a human, Kit. Fuck.”
Kit left the room again, stomping as she walked into the hallway.
Harry turned and stepped in front of you, taking your hands in his, “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t know she would act this way. I’ll get the guest room set for you but you can’t drive after all that wine we drank and I’m not letting you take an Uber home alone at this hour.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ve never had any bad experiences with Uber drivers-“
“No fucking way I’m allowing it. You’re staying here and that’s final.”
Harry walked out of the bedroom and you plucked up your bra and panties that were lying on the floor and followed him to the guest room.
But you stopped before you went inside when you heard him and Kit arguing quietly.
“That was too intimate, Harry. Her asking for your come and you saying how good that sounded. Saying your cock is made for her? Fuck.”
“Kit, we were having sex. I can hardly remember what things were said to be honest. I was caught up in the moment.”
“I shouldn’t have let you fuck her.”
“Maybe not, but it’s done. Too late to take it back now. Jesus.”
“I don’t want her here. Now all I can think about is the way you two were just ignoring me and enjoying each other. I was completely left out there at the end.”
“I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”
Kit sighed, “Me too. I feel disgusted. You should sleep on the couch tonight.”
“Come on, Kit. Don’t be like this. You know we were all just having fun.”
Kit walked out of the bedroom and stopped when she saw you. The look she gave you told you to keep your mouth closed and move out of her way. It felt like a threat. A warning.
You stood silently in the hallway as Harry made up your bed and you felt tears stream down your face. Kit suddenly walked up to you and handed you your bag roughly before walking back to her bedroom and closing the door behind her.
Harry peeked out of the room and saw you standing with your bag in your arms and tears in your eyes.
His heart dropped as he pulled you into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head as he shushed you, “Don’t let her get to you, baby. Please don’t cry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
You gulped and the softness of Harry with his arms around you made you cry harder. You tried to stop your tears but everything had really just made you so overly emotional. You’d gone from ecstasy straight to shame and humiliation.
He rocked you gently back and forth and kissed the top of your head, “I didn’t even get to love on you after. I’m so sorry. I wanted to make it so special for you and it was ruined. Please don’t be upset. I’ll make sure Kit’s okay by the morning, okay sweetheart?” Harry held you out in. his arms and looked at you. He thumbed at the tears under your eye and you blinked up at him.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he leaned in and kissed your forehead.
Leading you to the bed he pulled the blankets down and patted at the mattress, “I’d help you change into your night clothes but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to do that right now. Are you gonna be okay in here? The bathroom is right there,” he pointed at the ensuite guest bathroom. “Towels are in the closet. I’m gonna go and talk to Kit and see if I can calm her down. Text me if you need anything. Okay?”
You nodded with a pout. You were doing your best to hold your stupid tears in as Harry hugged you again and then stopped at the doorway and turned to smile at you sheepishly before closing the door and leaving you cold and alone and shattered.
Part 3
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There being two movies now in the Benoit Blanc world, and both movies sharing some recognizable tropes and archetypes to build its flavor, there’s a specific type of character that I’m struck by, particularly as a white woman, in both Knives Out and Glass Onion:
The Sympathetic White Woman.
In KO it’s Meg. In GO it’s Whiskey. They both bond with the (WOC, very important to emphasize) protagonist by being less crappy to her than the rest of the cast, and both signal to the audience that they’re trustworthy as far as the protagonist goes. They tell the protagonist that they’re on her side. They try to be supportive. They’re sympathetic to the audience.
Then comes the moment when the Sympathetic White Woman’s security is threatened.
(Brief added interruption to just say: please dig through the notes and replies on this baby for some additional excellent thoughts from other people, including the very important distinction that Marta is a white Latina and not a woman of color (my mistake thank you for the corrections), and more thoughts on Whiskey’s actual/additional betrayal moments!)
For Meg, it’s her mom telling her she has to drop out of school if they don’t get the inheritance money. For Whiskey, it’s Duke dying. In both cases, the protagonist reaches out—Marta tells Meg she won’t let that happen, she’ll support Meg with whatever money she needs; Helen tries to soothe a hysteric Whiskey by telling her she doesn’t need Duke and he deserved what he got (not realizing Duke is dead, of course). It’s a slightly different moment in each movie, but the basic framework is the same: the woman of color protagonist reaches back to the Sympathetic White Woman, and notably, reaches DOWN, offering the support the Sympathetic White Woman offered earlier.
Only…the Sympathetic White Woman was never intending to be the one the protagonist had to reach down to. So she snaps. Meg tells her family about Marta’s mother and they use it to threaten her. Whiskey latches onto the belief that Helen killed Duke and tries to kill her with a spear gun in what she thinks is self-defense. The Sympathetic White Woman Heel-Turn.
Meg and Whiskey both also sort of try to make amends after their Heel-Turn moments, but…the trust is already broken. The protagonist knows better now. The Sympathetic White Woman is not to be trusted.
Why this sticks out to me personally is the very obvious callout that feminists of color have been making about white feminists for literal decades: that white feminism lacks any true support or compassion for non-white people, that it’s empty promises of support and when the chips are down, white feminism upholds whiteness over feminism in an act to protect itself. And whiteness…is a damn difficult thing to even see when you’re white and raised in an overwhelmingly white community, let alone begin to pick apart and unlearn. It’s reactionary, how Meg and Whiskey turn on Marta and Helen to protect themselves.
It would make Meg incredibly vulnerable to support Marta fully, the way she promised to back when she thought she had the resources for it, but Marta is that vulnerable every day just existing as a Latina woman in America. Whiskey’s Heel-Turn moment is a little more immediate trauma based, but when looking for someone to blame, she doesn’t hesitate to blame Andi (Helen), scrapping together the few pieces of information she has—Andi hates all of the Disruptors, Andi got screwed over by them, Andi fought with Duke just minutes before he died, Andi was in their shared room tearing it apart when Whiskey came in distraught. She’s looking for an outlet. There’s Helen red-handed and in view. Boom. Whiskey grabs the spear gun instead of talking it out with the person she admitted just hours ago to feeling sympathy for.
Growing up white and steeped in whiteness causes defensive reactions when that whiteness is brought up, or, god forbid, challenged. It’s a knee-jerk thing for people who haven’t begun to deconstruct it for themselves; even for people who have, to see just how far and deep in American society that reaches is troubling. Humbling. Enraging. The Sympathetic White Woman archetype is, to me, a warning to not let whiteness overrule sense and morals. To be smart about it. And, crucially, to check myself for condescension, especially when interacting with non-white folks in any capacity.
(Also why the presence of Benoit Blanc is so important. He is also sympathetic, he also offers his own support, but crucially, he just uses his whiteness to clear a path for the WOC protagonist to take her place and do what she needs to do. He doesn’t speak over her, he doesn’t turn on her, he just listens, and presents the truth for her to do with it what she will. Or, in one case, hands her highly volatile crystal hydrogen for when she’s really ready to tear the Murderer’s crap down.)
#knives out#glass onion#major spoilers for both obviously#and hoping I got this post right with what I was trying to say#listen I shotgunned both movies for the first time in a span of two days#I am VIBRATING with good brain juice
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ivy, l. howlett (2)
you try to get to know your mystery man a little better... but big brother is always watching.
CW: canon typical violence, gore, guns, mutation, profanity, innuendos, mature themes, mentions of sex, y/n is very poison ivy-esque, jean grey exists but is not present, etc.
"I think you'll be comfortable here," you assured, turning on the bedside light as you tossed a few spare blankets on the foot of Logan's bed.
"Where is your room?" he asked, innocently, his hands resting behind his back.
You raised a brow, but brushed off your slight surprise, turning on another lamp.
"Down the hall," you answered, honestly. "But I spend most of my time in the greenhouse."
He let out a soft chuckle, glancing at you out the corner of his eye as he opened the closet doors, inspecting it.
"Is that your gift? You got a green thumb?" he taunted, turning to face you.
"I'm a chlorokinetic," you corrected, unamused. "I can control plants."
"Really? What kinds of plants?" he gasped, falsely.
Instantly, the fern in the corner of the room extended and slammed the closet door shut, Logan watching with intrigue as it slowly receded back into the pot.
"I also have some communicative ability," you walked over to his bedside, sitting down on the edge and mindlessly adjusting the pillows. "It varies based on the species, but the professor is teaching me to develop it."
"I'm sure he is," he nodded, slowly stalking closer until he stood right before you, forcing you to look up at him.
God, your eyes...
The intensity of their warm brown sent a tender buzz through his chest.
"So say what that fern thinks about me."
"I'd rather not," you smirked, resting your hands on the bed as you leaned back. "He's not the nicest, and I'd hate for your feelings to be hurt."
"C'mon," he egged, his voice lowering to a deep whisper, sending shivers down your spine. "You afraid he might like me more than you?"
"I doubt it."
He raised a brow, silently asking again—and the look likely would've left you weak in the knees if you were standing.
With a playful sigh, you caved, turning to Ferdinand to hear what he had to say, letting out a quiet snicker at his colorful language before turning back to Logan.
"You look like dive-bar frequenting lumberjack, with a weird ass haircut and a shitty beard," you relayed, verbatim. "He's still going, of course, but I think you get the gist."
For the first time since you met him, Logan let out a genuine laugh, tickled by the gusto of the houseplant.
"That's—" "Ahem," a familiar voice cleared his throat, forcing you both to turn your attention to the door.
'Shit.'
"Scott," you greeted with a sigh, slowly standing up from the bed.
You didn't need telepathy to figure out he was a little more than pissed...
You'd gone against a direct order, and were caught in the act.
'Rookie mistake...'
Turning back to the lumberjack, you glanced at him with a knowing look, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder, "Good night, Logan," you wished, stepping past him and exiting the room.
Though not without giving Scott a sharp, sideways glare.
But he paid it no mind, instead focusing his attention on the stranger in the room.
"You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?" Logan cocked brow.
"My girl is away on business," Scott corrected, resting his arms behind his back.
"Hmm. Well, then, I guess you've got nothing to worry about, do ya, Cyclops?" Logan smirked, strolling toward the man.
"Yeah, it must just burn you up that a boy like me saved your life, huh?"
Logan's amusement died fast, along with his playful expression.
But Scott pressed right on, pleased to see he struck a nerve, and hoping to strike another.
"She is entirely out of your league," he stated, seriously. "So do yourself a favor and don't even bother."
And with that he shut the door, leaving Logan to steam on the other side.
'Don't even bother, my ass...'
Scott might've been right about you being out of his league—you were a gorgeous, intelligent woman with a sense of humor, who probably wouldn't give him the time of day in any other instance—but Logan liked a challenge.
And he'd be damned if he let some pretty boy tell him who he could and couldn't pursue.
"You went against a direct order—" "We were just talking, Scott," you rolled your eyes, watering Monique, your huge Monstera Deliciosa.
She was nestled nicely in the corner—perfect for indirect natural light—blending seamlessly with the countless array of other plants.
In fact, your room looked more akin to a forest than anything, green seeming to sprout from every nook and cranny, even the canopy of your bed covered in ivy and varying species of flowers.
"It looked a little more than that from where I was standing."
"Even if we weren't, that's none of your business," you scoffed, moving on to the palms. "You're not my keeper."
"But I am your leader," he corrected, firmly. "When I tell you something, I expect you to listen. Logan is bad news, and I'm not gonna let you get roped up in his mess."
"He's a chronic amnesiac with an attitude problem," you turned to him, incredulously, crossing your arms over your chest. "I assure you, I can handle him."
"It's not a matter of handling. I don't want him trying anything with you."
You and Scott, along with Ororo and Jean, had known each other since you were kids under the professor's tutelage, and with you as the youngest of the group—though not much younger than them—Scott assumed the role of an older brother.
And throughout your childhood, especially in your teens, he chased away any boy that seemed to take even the slightest liking to you.
A habit he held on to well into your twenties, and a habit that you appreciated just about as much as you did back then.
Which was not at all.
"Scott, with all due respect, I am a grown woman. And this beat the boys away routine you got going on is getting seriously old," you warned, seriously.
"I don't want to see you get hurt," he pressed on, not letting up, "And trust me, I know guys like Logan, and they only bring pain and heartbreak."
"That is exactly what you said about that boy from Louisiana," you pointed an accusatory finger at him. "I think his name was Rodney or Rudy or something..."
"'Cause he was exactly the same!" Scott scoffed, disbelieving of your inability to see the patterns. "I hate to break it to ya, (n/n), but you have terrible taste in men."
"Excuse me?!"
But before you could fire back with a retort, a roar suddenly echoed throughout the house, along with a scream of terror.
Instinctively, you reached out to all the plants in the house, finding its source almost instantly.
"Logan," you realized, eyes wide as you raced out of the room, Scott right behind you.
Running out into the hall, you looked both ways, freshly awakened kids sticking their heads out their rooms to see the commotion.
"Somebody help!" Logan shouted, voice laced with panic.
You didn't have time to worry about them.
Quickly, you sprinted down the hall, the two of you barging into his room, only to find Rogue standing there, touching his cheek and seemingly draining his life force.
It looked like he'd stabbed her with his claws, and she was taking his power to close the wound.
'Holy shit...'
Scott cut on the lights just as Ororo joined you, the girl finally letting Logan go, the poor man dropping to the ground like dead weight, seizing.
"It was an accident," Rogue turned to Ororo, guiltily, before running out the room.
You swiftly moved to Logan's side, dropping to your knees to help, "Scott, grab me a pillow," you ordered, leaving no room for argument.
He quickly moved to grab one, you using your powers to grow Ferdinand much larger and stronger, before wrapping his fronds around Logan's body to act as restraints.
'This should keep him front hurting himself.'
"Pillow," Scott nodded, handing it to you.
You took it gratefully, carefully lifting Logan's head and placing it down on top.
"He'll have to ride it out. But with his healing factor I'm not too worried," you assured, brushing a loose strand of hair out his face.
With that out the way, Ororo turned to the crowd of children gathered at the door, scolding.
"Off to bed. All of you. There's nothing to see here," she ushered them away, exiting the room.
Now just you and Scott, you let out a sigh, standing up and running a hand through your hair.
You could practically feel Scott's I told you so look burning through his glasses.
"Shut up."
"I told you... bad news."
#wolverine x reader#wolverine#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#james howlett#james howlett x reader#mcu#mcu x reader#x men x reader#x men
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For some reason my comments don't come through on your posts, but I want to first say I absolutely love your writing and I'm so happy your requests are open!! 🥰😭 So I've had this idea of a fluff mixed with spencer angst where reader is maybe interning at Diana's facility (not a dr yet, studying) and becomes close with Diana by reading, chatting, etc and Spencer over hears it from time to time and the dialogue between spencer and reader gets too close for Spencers comfort, but Diana wants her around more. Thank you again for your hard work okay bye!
A/N: I've never written a fic with Diana in it before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, bit I enjoyed writing it a lot! Hopefully, this is somewhat like what you wanted!! ❤️
Warnings: Spencer is a bit dense (real) and puts his foot in his mouth (metaphorically, of course).
Diana Reid's son was exactly the way she described him, down to the tiny curls at the base of his neck and the glimmer of intelligence in his eye.
After four weeks interning at the care facility while working on your medical degree, you'd spent a considerable amount of time with your favorite patient, and her stories about her son were legendary.
At first, you weren't sure whether to believe the woman when she said her son was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs, and a job in the FBI. She wouldn't be the first schizophrenic patient to muddle up her facts, but she certainly was the sweetest.
So when you recalled your conversation with the head nurse later that day, she laughed and confirmed every story about Doctor Spencer Reid. Your mouth hung open in shock because surely nobody that incredible could just be out walking the streets.
Another month of conversations about the man, and you were half in love with him. He wrote his mother letters every day - hand wrote them, even - and she's shown you a few. He'd talked about his friends, his team, his jobs, and how he was saving lives. And when one of the latest ones dropped in the news that he'd be free for a visit soon, you found yourself overflowing with anticipation.
Of course, you felt like you already knew the man. You knew what his first words were, what his favorite toy was growing up, and even about the exploits of his first date, as pitiful as it was. What you didn't know was if Diana was passing along similar information about you.
The day Spencer Reid finally showed up, he took your breath away. You were mostly in awe of Diana's ability to describe her son perfectly, though you'd grown fond of her perfectly professional English Lecturer tone of speaking over the last few weeks. She was practically lyrical when talking her son into existence.
“His hair curls beautifully. He's my little adonis. He keeps it too long though, I'm always telling him he needs to cut it because it hides too much of his face,” she'd told you one day before picking her book up and ignoring you for the next half hour.
“My Spencer is delightfully tall. He's a little bit spindly like a spider. He's not the most grateful, that's for sure, we used to call him crash because he was always bumping into things. Poetic, right?”
You knew from the second he walked through the door that this man was him.
Tall, slightly hunched, clutching his satchel strap in his hand, terrifyingly handsome and making your hand jump into your throat. Definitely him, and definitely a problem. You'd have to check the code of conduct about falling hopelessly for a patient's beautiful son.
If you had any doubts, this was Spencer in front of you though, when he bumped into a chair just as he was about to reach his mother, it was confirmed.
“Diana, I believe your Crash is here,” you smiled and giggled, watching her turn quickly to greet her son.
You, too, gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little hesitant to return it, instead greeting his mother softly and sitting with her while you retreated slightly to give them some privacy.
You hovered in the space, as Diana had been talking about introducing the two of you all week, and you didn't want to distress her if she couldn't find you close by.
But though Spencer was closely attentive and soft with his mother, he took brief pauses to stare almost frustratedly at you. You weren't sure what it was, but something about you was setting Spencer on edge, and that in itself was unsettling you as well.
“Oh, Spencer, you must meet our Y/N. Y/N, come here, this is my son, Spencer.”
Slightly more apprehensive now, you held out your hand to shake his, “I've heard so much about you it's nice to finally be seeing you in person, Doctor Reid.”
He didn't shake your hand, though, but awkwardly waved it off quickly, leaving you to awkwardly replace it by your side.
“Nice to meet you. Are you a new attendant? I asked all updates about my mother's companions to be confirmed and passed on to me, patient and carers included.”
His tone was business-like and clipped, and you could see a gentle annoyance settling on his features.
“I'm sorry, Doctor Reid, I thought Diana would have told you in a letter, or the administration would've passed it on. I'm a medical student on an internship.” You felt like you'd been chastised by an irate parent though he'd at no point raised his voice or indicated in his words any sense of anger at all. His eyes burned across your skin, though, and you felt a flame heat your skin under the weight of his stare.
“You're mother has told me a lot about you though, she reads me your letters sometimes, between our discussions of Marjorie Kempe.”
“My letters? Mom, we've talked about this. Those are private.” You looked at the quiet disappointment on Diana's face and felt protective over the woman all of a sudden.
“Please, I'm sorry for overstepping, but your mother is just very proud of you. She talks about you a lot actually, and your job-”
“With all due respect, Y/N, the last time my mother talked to a new friend about me, he traveled to Virginia and shot one of my friends, so this really is a conversation I'd rather not be having.”
Your heart dropped into your stomach as he turned back to his mother and started talking to her gently again about personal security, effectively dismissing you from the conversation.
You'd had stupid hopes for Spencer Reid, and that's all they would ever be.
Reid talked on, and you left him alone with his mother, though she seemed distracted by your departure.
“Spencer, that wasn't nice. Look at that poor girl. She's close to tears.”
“What? Mom, are you even listening to me?”
“No, and I likely won't until you go and apologize to Y/N. She's a pretty girl, Spencer, and she was very excited to meet you.”
“Pretty…. Mom, please.”
“What, do you disagree? You think I don't know you well enough to know when a girl would suit you well? Or do you think I'm blind to the fact that you were stealing glances at her before she introduced herself.”
Spencer went quiet at having been caught, and he hated to accept that maybe his mother was right.
It was true as well that the care facility had informed him of medical interns coming and going in the next few months, and really, she wasn't to blame for his mother being fond of him.
He was glad, though, that neither of them had noticed the ten minutes he'd spent just outside the large sitting area watching them talk. He'd been obviously taken aback to see someone new so close to his mom and his mom similarly comfortable. He felt even worse for the fact that for a solid minute and a half, he'd stared at the girl with no other thought in his head than the sound of his heart skipping a questioning beat.
He'd pulled himself out of it eventually, but only when another nurse had come along to ask him if he'd actually be visiting his mother today or just dropping in to check on her.
And then he'd bumped into that infernal chair when he was so fixated on getting to them, and she'd opened her mouth and called him crash, and his heart had sank.
He reminded himself it was neither of their faults and inwardly cursed himself for being so unfriendly with someone who'd taken such good care of his mother recently.
He promised himself that he'd talk with his mom and then go and find the woman, and apologising for being such a brute.
“Spencer, are you listening to me, or are you busy daydreaming about my nurse?”
“Mom!”
“You're plain as day, kiddo, you'll never get anything past me. Now please, leave me be, I'm reading. Come back later if you must, but for now, take this to Y/N for me, please. She left it with me to read this morning, but I'm not in the mood for Medieval Romance right now.”
It was a blatant lie, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Spencer quietly took his chance to search for you in the halls.
The head nurse humorously pointed him in the right direction without him asking, much to his annoyance, but he persisted and lightly tapped on your shoulder to greet you.
“Oh, Doctor Reid, hello again.” You smiled a little smaller this time, still polite, but he watched the way it didn't reach your eyes and felt like a jackass all over again.
“My mom told me to come return this book to you.” He held out the book, and you quietly took it, folding it into your arms and hugging it tightly against your chest as you both stood there silently after the exchange.
“I'm sorry, as well. I wasn't exactly very friendly back there, because-”
“It's okay, Doctor Reid, you really don't have to explain. I overstepped, it's my fault and it won't happen again.”
“Are you kidding? My mom hasn't looked that relaxed in years. Please keep overstepping.”
Your smile widened slightly at the compliment, and Spencer's tongue kicked into hyper drive immediately at the sight, even as his brain powered off.
“You're pretty,” he blurted out, stopping only as his brain caught up with his tongue before firing off again. “My mom said you're pretty. I agree as well, though, you have a nice smile, and it's better when you don't force it. Not that I'm telling you how to smile, though. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but my mom made me come over here and talk to you, even though I'm pretty sure that's her book and not one you loaned her.”
He took a moment to catch his breath as you blinked at him in confusion, heart beating rapidly even as you heard the blood rushing through your ears.
“If you're free now, would you want to grab a coffee? Unless you have a boyfriend. Or husband. Or girlfriend or wife, I guess, I don't mean to presume. But if you're free, as in time, and free as in, like, relationship wise, I'd like to buy you a coffee to thank you for listening to my mom.”
He finally stopped, and you stared wondrously at the reddened skin of his cheeks as he held his breath, waiting for your reply.
“You want to take me out for coffee to thank me?”
“Yes.”
“And on a separate note, I'm pretty, and you want to know if I'm in a relationship?”
“I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I'll just see myself out. It was a stupid idea anyway-”
“No, wait, Spencer! Let me… let me grab my coat. My lunch break is in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll be okay to take it early.” You held his arm for a second, stepping slightly too close for comfort before realising yourself and taking a tiny step back.
He stood and blinked in your direction, as though wondering seriously for a moment what your lunch break had to do with him.
“Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to go out?”
“You're serious?”
“I guess…. I guess I am.”
“And you're… you're single.”
Your mouth went dry as his skin finally completed its transformation from vampiric to tomato red. You desperately hoped your own embarrassment wasn't equally as readable on your face.
“Quite single. Medical students don't have that much time to date.”
“Neither do FBI agents.”
“Perhaps a subject we could talk more about later?”
“Definitely.”
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