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orionchildofhades · 1 year ago

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BNHA ff rec

Guidance, or to Help Those In Need - orionchildofhades

ao3 link

rating: Mature | warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence

tags : traitor Izuku, villain Izuku, Support Department Izuku, Protective League of Villain,

statue: finished | part of a series

Summary :

"Meeting your idols is always a disappointment. Understanding that the people we look up to the most don’t wish for our happiness, chose to turn a blind eye on our situation. Must be painful. I’m sorry you had to go through all of this. But you see… I wouldn’t say you’re worthless. This is far from worthless if you ask me. I’d like you to think about some things. You say you’re invisible, rejected. And I wouldn’t put it past society to actually make you feel like that. But you’re not. This is a golden mine, a diamond in the rough. People just won’t recognize your talent because of who you are. Or what you’re not." — The tale of how Midoriya Izuku, whose only dream was to be a hero, ended up a villain. Who said that a 'villain' couldn't help? Most people usually forget who requires help. And Izuku will be a hero to them, because no one else will.

chapter one: it goes bad

The day started pretty normally, as anything could when you were quirkless in a world where everybody had some sort of power.

Izuku went to school. He knew what he was getting into. The stares, the name calling. Having Kacchan telling he should jump off the roof was a new addition that the teen had been trying out for a few days now and he got really creative about it. Ending up in the pound with his notebook by his side was not very nice but all he did was stand and keep on with his day. What else was there to do?

So Izuku walked home. He took the long road, just to be sure he didn’t meet any of the bullies. From time to time they would actively seek him out to punch and kick the energy out. What could Izuku do anyway ? Once he was alone with them, he didn’t have the strength to stand up on his own.

Standing up for others though, that was nice. When he faced Kacchan, his body like a wall between the explosive boy and his new found victim, some form of pride shone in his chest, warming him up a little bit, a different kind of warmth that the hands of the boy he called a friend for a long time.

Izuku liked to help others. It was his one true goal. Everytime he looked at his computer, at his hero, his idol, and saw All Might’s smile to the camera, he felt some sort of envy. He, too, wanted to make people happy, to bring them safety, hope. So even if he had to face Kacchan’s wrath, and the punches, the burns, the hits and kicks, he would do it. Because the other kid was safe, because it was better him than someone else. Maybe, one day, someone would see him the same way he saw All Might. Okay, that was a little far fetched, he wasn’t anything like All Might. But maybe someone would be reassured he suddenly put himself between them and harm, maybe he would bring someone a flicker of hope.

That’s what he thought while he walked in some alley, alone and fidgeting with his notebook. He looked over what he wrote in the morning, about the fight and the new heroes.

Mt. Lady and her growing quirk, Kamui Wood and, well, his wood quirk. He added some notes in the margin about a detail. The new heroes seemed very keen to the media, a little bit too focused on their image. And was Kamui Wood capable of creating any kind of wood? Any density? Could he make ebony wood? It would be far more heavy and perhaps harder to break, more efficient against villains. Or not, if he couldn’t, Izuku wondered what kind of wood he could make, was it a special kind, since it was a quirk? Maybe a weird human-wood kind of thing since he seemed to be made of it. A unique form of wood, known and created only by the power of the hero. How flammable was it? How would the hero react if he encountered…

Completely unaware of his surroundings, Izuku was knocked over by someone. He immediately scrambled up, trying to fetch his notebook and pencil while bowing to apologies.

Instead, his eyes met with some creature, a mutant type very likely, and immediately after his mouth was filled.

His eyes watered, he tasted sewage water and trash and throwing up sounded like a great idea all of the sudden but his mouth was full and he started choking as the thing, person, something filled his airway little by little.

He was barely aware of hearing a voice, a muted “Thank you, you’re my hero, I didn’t know he was in town.”

Panic clouded his mind. After everything he went through on an everyday basis, after all the pain and insults, all the loneliness and disgust, he would die like this. He couldn’t even breathe. His head hurt, and his vision darkened.

And maybe that was really it.

Then he vaguely felt knocked over once again. He breathed. Or he thought he did. He hoped he still remembered how to. He wanted to cough, to spit out everything, to have his throat to himself again. Was it still there?

A voice was talking.

It became clearer and clearer, the black spots stopped dancing in front of him.

He was on the floor, lying on the street he didn’t remember exactly where, his bag was somewhere on his left, his notebook near him with the pencil inside. His throat hurt and he was a little out of breath.

And All Might was staring at him from his incredible high, wearing his famous costume and…

All Might.

Staring at him.

Izuku jumped up, almost falling right back down and somehow managing to stay on his feet.

“Oh my god, All Might, I’m such-”

“Ah, yes. Glad to know you’re alright. I thought I lost you here for a second. I must go.”

Wait- no. Izuku had to ask him. He needed to know. It was All Might, he would tell him the truth. If anyone would believe in him, it would be the Number One hero, the symbol of peace. If anyone knew the hardships of hero life, but what made a true hero, it would be him.

“Wait, please, All Might, sir.” He took his notebook off the ground, not caring a second about the pages still wet from earlier before shoving it as high as he could need the hero. “I need to know sir…”

“Ah, yes,” he took the notebook and the pencil, signing it with practiced motions before closing it and giving it back to Izuku. “Now I must leave, young boy. Stay careful and fear not, for I Am Here.”

The hero turned to leave. Izuku’s eyes darted between his idol and his bag. A plastic bottle was dangling from the pocket of the hero, murderous eyes moving inside it. But Izuku didn’t pay it any attention and went for his bag, grabbing it as quickly as he could. He then literally jumped on his idol, holding on for dear life on his leg as the floor went from right beneath his feet, to hundreds of meters under him. The wind was slapping his face, his eyes painful. He heard All Might complain, asking him to let go of him. He vaguely answered that it wouldn’t be a good idea while his mind circled around one thought. Or perhaps two.

The floor was way too far from him and he would very much like to feel its safety very very soon.

And he needed to know.

Could he be a hero?

His one and only dream filled his head, his desire to prove himself, to help, to see people’s eyes clouded by hope instead of fear, of pain. Sure, Kacchan, (and also the rest of the world), told him he couldn’t do it. It was a stupid dream, a useless deku like him couldn’t do much to anything, so being a hero was nothing but laughable. Or pitiful. He could still see it in his mother’s eyes whenever he rambled about it. But if anyone would know, it would be All Might.

Because he was a hero. The hero. He should know better than Kacchan, than Mom, than Ito, or his teachers, than the other students. If Izuku had the slightest chance of ever being a hero, All Might would know.

They landed on a rooftop. Izuku felt so weak he almost fell right on his knee. He still kind of wanted to throw up from whatever slime person slash villain tried to make a house in his lungs. And this impromptu flight surely did not help.

Instead of that, he bowed. He stamered an apology, realizing how stupid his decision had been.

But he had to know.

“I’m- I don’t have a quirk, but I always wanted to help… People keep telling me to give up and… Do you think I can be a hero?” He finally screamed, eyes screwed shut and heart beating in his chest like it wanted to leave.

He stood up straight again, his question right on his lips. Instead, he screamed.

Here was a man, an actual skeleton, his eyes hollowed and a far too large shirt hanging from bony shoulders. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth. It was honestly quite concerning.

“Where is All Might? And who are you?” Izuku asked. A cold sensation washed over him. His idol didn’t even bother listening to him.

And who was this man? Was it his quirk that made him look so sickly? Was he okay? Perhaps Izuku should call an ambulance, maybe it was some sort of cancer or the effect of a quirk. Dehydration…

“That would be me.” Izuku’s thoughts shut down. “I know this is quite confusing. I’m All Might, symbol of peace and justice, number one hero and, well this.”

“What happened to you?” This was very much not what he saw of All Might everyday. Maybe this was just some sort of joke. Kacchan really outdid himself if it was the case, what a cruel joke, to meet your idol, or a fake, to just end up with… this?

“Five years ago, I fought a villain.” The man lifted his shirt and Izuku saw a painful looking scar cover the left side of the chest.

“Was it Venomous Chainsaw?” Izuku wondered out loud. Dread filled his entire body. Who, no scratch that, what could be strong enough to do that to All Might?

“No, hum, I managed to keep the media out of it, and out of the injury until now. But it became more and more serious and I slowly turned into this.” He vaguely gestured to all of himself. “I can only stay in my muscle form, and do my hero work, around three hours a day anymore.” The silence was heavy, All Might gently touched his wound as Izuku was panicking in his head. Why would the hero even say that to him, did he put him in danger, was it…

“Without a quirk… Being a hero is hard, you put the lives of others on your shoulders. You have to fight off evils of all kinds, you put yourself between others and harm-ways. Without a quirk… No, I cannot tell you you’d have a chance of being a hero,” His voice rang in Izuku’s ears.

He vaguely saw the hero stand up, listing a few other possibilities for a person such as him.

But all he could hear were the words ‘No, you can’t be a hero’

All Might didn’t think he could be a hero. Even with the best intention, Izuku’s quirklessness was too much to overcome. He was weak and couldn’t help anyone.

It was just like Kacchan said, like the other said. He couldn’t do anything. There was no way civilians could rely on him. He couldn’t help them.

At some point, All Might left.

Why would he stay, he already did more than his job. He saved Izuku, poor little Izuku who couldn’t even save himself. He brought him here, answered his questions. He might have shattered his dreams but hey, that was just life wasn’t it. It had never been quite on his side since the beginning. Being born quirkless was not fun. Being born quirkless in a world where everyone had powers was even less so. So if All Might, The Hero, thought he couldn’t be a hero, then it must mean he didn’t.

Tears fell down his face. He felt rather hollow. He had been filled his entire life by this dream. What was he without it? He wasn’t strong, he didn’t have a power to use to balance his weakness. People did not like him. Not even his mother believed in his dream. What could he possibly do now?

Sitting lamely on the roof, his backpack abandoned by his side, Izuku emptied his tears, all the water in his body coming out in heavy salty streaks down his cheeks.

When he felt like he did not have one single tear left in his body, he decided to stand up. Going home. Yes. What else could he do?

As he walked to the door, his vision darkened and he felt himself fall.

#mha #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfic recs #ff recs #bnha fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #traitor deku #villain deku #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfic rec #izuku midoriya #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #izuku fanfic #izuku ff #ao3

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quietwings-fics · 6 months ago

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Don't Wait Up

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Doctor Who Ship: Gen (+MickeyRose) Additional Tags: POV Mickey Smith, Backstory, Canonical Character Death, Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study Wordcount: 1,371 Summary:

Mickey Smith has known how to wait his entire life.

He waited for his dad. Maybe his whole life, he's waited for him, like there was ever a chance of him walking back in through the door again after he finally walked out. Spain wasn't that far away, and there were phone calls, ones he never got to listen in on, where his gran went on with such a fervor yelling and stomping about that he was afraid she'd tear the cord right off the wall. He'd thought he was quiet enough to get away with eavesdropping, since she never berated him for it like she did the muddy heels of his shoes on her coffee table or dirty dishes he was supposed to do the night before. The moments after those phone calls scared him more than any yelling could have, the shaky breaths, the curses under her breath that he'd have gotten soap in his mouth for repeating.

People loved his gran. They never saw her cry. She never let anyone see that.

It wasn't until he was older, moving around her space with the same tip-toes and held breath he did at eight and always, always, getting caught despite that, that he realized she'd known he was listening in. That she'd let him.

That's the last bit of his father he ever got, the barely audible crackle on the other end of a phone. A year on, and not even that anymore.

It feels cruel to say he never waited for his mom. That her death was simply a fact his life revolved around ever after. He mourned her, he missed her, but not for one second did he ever have to wonder if she might come back. There was horrible comfort in the certainty. No one ever really understood that until Rose.

And Rose was-

Rose was everything. Is everything.

Mickey Smith, the idiot who fell in love at sixteen and thought he'd had it all figured out.

He put all his lessons in waiting to good use for her, long before the Doctor dropped out of the sky and snatched her away. First came the allure of Jimmy Stone and all the trouble he brought. Rose dumped Mickey ("But we, I mean, we were never that serious, were we?" while he kept his mouth shut tight.) and ran off, and Mickey took up the spot in the band he left behind. Thank god they never got anyone to tape them, or there'd be evidence out there of him, broken-hearted and wailing on his guitar, jumping to dedicate songs to a special girl he knew would come back one day.

He remembers vividly, one of the last conversations he had with his gran, right after Rose broke it off. He felt like a kid again, all tears and snot, like when he'd hide bad scores or the time he broke his bike. Gran would always stand over him, shake her head, and then pull him to his feet. (He should have noticed how much harder it was getting for her, but no matter how her hands had started to shake or her balance to go, he'd thought her invincible. That she was right when she bragged, "The world's tried to off me too many times. It hasn't won yet.")

"You stupid boy," she'd said. "On your feet, now." Her hands on his shoulders, squeezing tight. "The world doesn't end just because your heart's broken, no matter how much it might feel like it is."

"It's because I'm not good enough," he'd said, and almost regretted it when he watched her face break open the same way it had those nights she hung up on his father. "That's why she left."

"I never said that. No one ever said that." She shook her head again. "I don't know what game Rose is playing at with that boy, but I know this: you're measuring yourself up against a standard you can't meet, because no one could." He'd nodded, and sniffed, and when she hugged him, he broke away promising to do some chores for her to make up for getting her favorite blouse messy.

He wasn't the one to find her body. Her friend did, while he was out with his friends.

That death didn't feel real. That death left him waiting. It took until the funeral for it to sink in that she couldn't come back.

He lost count of how many people came to the funeral. They loved her. In some ways, they loved him.

(Jackie Tyler came to the funeral. It wasn't her sort of crowd, not at all, and she hadn't known Mickey's gran that well besides. Friend of a friend, enough to invite to a wedding, but not enough to visit too often. She came anyway. She told him he'd done alright setting it up, better than alright. Neither of them talked about Rose. There was a hole that she left behind, one they'd both become so familiar with in the years to come, but next to the one his gran had left, for one night, he'd barely noticed it.)

Rose did come back, for whatever that was worth. Five months later and hundreds in debt, her mom throwing fits between hugging her like she'd returned from the dead, and with Mickey on her doorstep, a late Christmas present clutched in his hands. Like the universe had finally decided to start giving instead of taking.

He loved her. Loves her.

And she... He thinks she loves him. Or loved him. That's the worst part.

Because she will always be the first girl he ever loved, his first kiss and first broken heart, and he is always going to be sitting patiently on her doorstep, waiting for her to come back and let him in, never saying a word.

It turned out there was someone who could measure up to that impossible standard. A man in a blue box, with all of time and space at his fingertips.

And who was Mickey to that?

A murder suspect, or kidnapping, depending on how kind the rumors were.

Five months. A whole year. And still, he was waiting.

An alien invasion, or two, or three, or four, and he was still waiting.

Rose was right about him lying about seeing another girl. He did try. But she was out there, and she might come back, any day, any minute, and what if. What if.

He should have gone with her.

And when he finally corrects that mistake, he's not sure what drives it. Too many times left behind? Or is it seeing Sarah Jane Smith, another woman who looks at the Doctor with stars in her eyes, like he is all there is in the world? (Is it seeing her left behind, again? Is it the way he asks and asks, what happened to Jack, wasn't he traveling with you, didn't he look at you the same way she did, Doctor, the same way Rose does, only he was always a little scared of you, too, and God, but I wish sometimes that Rose had even half that glimmer of fear around you.)

If the TARDIS needs a Smith aboard, than he fails to provide, miserably. Third wheel doesn't even begin to cover it. How is he left waiting for a girl who's right in front of him?

And so, finally, in a universe so far from their own, there comes a crossroads, and the thing is, Mickey isn't even the one standing at it. He's fine with that. He's done.

"Go on, then," he says. "There's no choice, is there? You can only chase after one of us. It's never going to be me, is it?"

He knows, because the Doctor will go after her, forever and ever, the same way Mickey would have waited. If that means he wins, so be it. If that means Rose never comes back...

If he waits, and the Doctor fixes everything, and they all go home, then he's never going to get this chance again. And for once, he's going to be the one running.

He knocks on his gran's door, and hopes, and hopes, and hopes.

It opens.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

#fanfiction #1001-5000 #general audiences #doctor who #genfic #mickeyrose #mickey smith #rose tyler #rita-anne smith #jackie tyler #the doctor #canon compliant #angst #character death

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caguaydreams · 2 years ago

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JOTAHAN FANWORKS IS A03???

I DONT KNOW HOW TO USE THE WEBSITE SO LIKEE-

CAN U LINK SOME OF THEM

A fellow Jotahan enjoyer is DESPERATE for the crumbs. The time has come, I shall unveil my true nature in order to lend you a hand. We'll survive this together, Anon!

Ohhh boy, where to even begin. I know the bewildering absolute lack of fanart out there and my comment about crumbs might sound discouraging, and could make it seem like a worse situation than it actually is. But do not fret! AO3 got ur back! (I must apologise in advance for rambling, but honestly many of these fics are amazing and I owe their writers my life. Feel free to scroll down to the bit where I put the links to fics, lists, and authors that sometimes carry this ship on their backs).

I'm gonna list a bunch that I've recently been bookmarking in the website, as part of my months long personal crusade to read every single Jotahan work up there, and I'm kinda halfway through now I think, so I've got the stuff. Currently, there's a total of 393 Jotahan fics on the Archive, not all of them are the best quality, naturally, but that's okay, because the good fics are— and I'm gonna stress this out— The. Shit. Some Jotahan writers are wonderful masters of their craft, to the point you'll most likely eventually forget that, canonically, Rohan and Jotaro barely even exhange a few words in the first place! There is utterly delightful, suuuch delectable material here; fics that made the ship for me and elevated it from lol funny crackship to one of my top tier favorite romances/relationships of all time, in all of media, period.

You'd think, initially, that authors have to do some crazy acrobatics to settle on how they'd go about fulfilling the task of feeding dying starving suckers like me; how they'd go about making a relationship between these characters believable and feasible. But! surprisingly, there have come to be actual tropes in Jotahan narratives, stemming from how oddly natural their dynamic flows when you just give it some thought. My brain decided to conclude one day, that this is sorta like stepping into different possibilities of how Rohan and Jotaro would hit it up, because some fics can be quite similar in their approaches, but nonetheless distinctive and remarkable all the same. These characters can work SO well together, for better or worse, that there's no questioning it anymore for me. You'll understand, or maybe not (maybe you already do) but regardless I think you'll have fun checking these out!

So without further ado, and before I go on an errand of an essay about how this ship deserves more love and attention than it gets, I'm gonna drop the links. I know AO3 can look messy or be intimidating for people who are not familiar with the interface, but the first thing that will come in handy is knowing about pairing tags: your typical character/character tag that is often the first one you see following the title of a fic. If its got the characters of your preference, click on it, and you'll be sent to all the works in the Archive that feature that tag . You can start browsing for goodies from there! here's the tag to the huge assortment of fics starring the couple of mildly disfunctional adults that we want to see together.

And here is a lil bit of my latest (on-going) effort to build up a personal list of favorites and must-reads:

Underneath Perfection by Shorktooth ; I'm gonna be biased, because this one right here is my absolute. favorite. Nothing comes close. I'm even getting a little emotional by barely thinking about it. Actually, not entirely sure, but it was the fic that first sold me on this pairing when I wanted to give it a chance. Get-together fic, fairly long but definitely worth it. Not tedious, very fun, lots of variety, lots of incredibly sweet moments, it's a good deal all around. Of course there are little details here and there that keep it from being perfect, but they're minor and insignificant when viewing the whole picture. Much respect for how the author handles these characters, the progression of events, the story's pacing, and overall how organic everything feels; how natural. There are a bunch of scenes that have been embedded in my mind for months, and bits of dialogue I even reference and feel are strongly akin to what Jotaro or Rohan would actually say, even if this is fanwork. Okay, okay, I'll stop here because I'm saving my final thoughts for when I finish reading this story; Stone Ocean's animated adaptation must reach its end first. This fic follows Rohan and Jotaro across parts 4 to 6 of JJBA, so if anyone's avoiding spoilers they might have to be wary of those, skip this fic, or put it on hold like I did. Can't wait for part 6 to be over so I can get back to this work lmao. Its ending will probably crush me and be painful as hell but I don't care

How Soon Is Now? by Morioh-Cho-Radio (crimsonherbarium) ; Listen, one cannot talk about Jotahan fanfiction without mentioning "How Soon Is Now?". Underneath Perfection is my personal favorite no questions asked, but this series??? this is a must-read. Mandatory almost. Fuck, I haven't even gotten past the first three or four works in this collection but I tell you it's amazing (forever saving the rest for when I have the time to sit down and immerse myself into it because it is that special). It's got 10 single chapter stories in total, varying in lenght. Crimsonherbarium is one of those authors that manage to rightfully appropiate these characters and what they're about; nothing feels out of place, and the writing is just *chef kiss* it is thoroughly polished and hooks me in instantly, every single time. This fanfic even has its own playlist! and the songs selection, both for it and the fic titles, I think is fitting as hell for Jotahan, what else can I say?? read this series. go go go!!! have a feast!!

oh i know (it goes on, it gets old) by theultimateburrito ; Oh man... this one is something else. Is its own thing, I believe. Single chapter, kind of a long read, but you'll be enthralled. Feels like a novel, and it's not ncesarily out there, romantically speaking. The words I'm looking for to describe it are subtlety, and patience. It's a very unique short story that features comfortable company, familiarity, introspection, Rohan being his insatiably curious self, and one intriguing mystery that sounds straight out of Araki's work. I won't spoil it, but there's a particular place that I didn't even know existed irl until I read this fic and that on itself is maddeningly funny to me.

Now, some improvised picks of mine, done in speedreading fashion, because I've read too many works by now and can't actually think of what to put in here (keeping this list relatively brief and simple was more difficult than I thought). A list consisting of short stories to pick up on the go, separated by the general feeling I get from them:

Short and sweet:

Art Kids by anarchaick ; mild parallels made between Rohan and Noriaki, as well as Jotakak mentions are quite common. How these affect the mood of the story or the nature of Rohan and Jotaro's relationship is up to the fic, but in this one that is simply heartwarming

old recipe, new need by bishounen_curious ; this one's a sickfic, and it encapsulates some aspects of their dynamic SO well. I love this ficlet. It's all in the details, and the Domesticity

Ecotone by kujo (curricle) ; please read this one. That's it just read it. It is plain, bitesized perfection

the loneliest whale by pinkdarkboy ; wholesome, cute, and works as a comfort story

Short and steamy (not necesarily explicit):

Falling In Love by Kinda sad this one's by an orphan account :') regardless, it is a great read

Short and angsty/bittersweet:

It Is What It Is by illmoure ; .... sigh. Conflicting feelings about this one, but because it is an incredible work expertly written to achieve that purpose. Also, last Jotahan fic (yet...?) by one of the BEST writers for this ship. I'll later just drop a link to them directly

Save the speeches, flowers are for funerals by Morioh-Cho-Radio (crimsonherbarium) ; Hanahaki disease, I eat that shit up. It is the perfect combination of angst and romantic yearning, and as it is to be expected from this fic's writer here, this is another banger.

Short and funny:

useless questions by bishounen_curious ; weed shenanigans. It's pretty humorous, but that isn't mutually exclusive with tenderness, or physical intimacy. Therefore, I was torn between putting this one under the Short And Steamy category, but the first half is fairly hilarious on its own right so, yeah.

the death of kishibe rohan (1999, colorized) by oredatte ; Rohan being ridiculous, give it a read if you're looking for pure absurdity. Just satire here, and a bit of second-hand embarrasment

Short AU ficlets that are really nice:

A Sort of Homecoming by Morioh-Cho-Radio (crimsonherbarium) ; Japanese folklore inspired, in which Rohan is a yokai inhabiting a long abandoned place that belongs to Jotaro's family. I JUST noticed the fic was temporarily removed, but I read it long ago and still remember how beautiful it was. Actually, anything written by Morioh-Cho-Radio is absolute gold. ... pssst, you can still find this story via the Wayback Machine, but you didn't hear it from me—

Beyond the Sea by illmoure ; Mermay fic :) Marine Biologist Kujo Jotaro has a fascinating encounter. This one's just straight up lovely and refreshing

tears of heliades by pinkdarkboy ; inspired by the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea from Greek mythology

I was planning on listing authors who deserve way more than a honorable mention, but the post was getting too long, and I simply find it hard to rush a selection like that. Maybe some other time? Although, definitely do check out some of the writers whose work has already been featured above!

Oof.... Being honest, there are many more titles I wish I could just gather in one place but I haven't had the time yet. This pairing has provided me with an endless amount of comfort, besides being mostly a what-if scenario, but it quickly turned just as important to me as the source material it came from. Fanfiction can feel just as valid and impactful as media published by conventional means, and I'll think about these stories from here on out, long after I found them. I'll think of these characters, and the silly little made up reality in my head where they're genuinely happy, finding comfort and a safe space with each other, growing and developing with time, and it'll make me smile like a total fool. I really don't mind that in the slightest 🎶

#jotahan #lmao why can't I be normal about anything ever #should put up an additional warning that makes it known what one faces against when they ask me anything remotely related to my interests #Welcome to rarepair hell my dudes #should also be technical about the matter at hand and say that Jotahan is more of a crackship than a rarepair #although honestly at this point I consider them canon.... Listen—#—there's nothing in there that contradicts this pairing so I'm choosing to die on this silly hill of my own concoction #sigh... there were a couple of truly amazing fics I couldn't find nor their creators so I'm assuming they're lost media now. Ah well #at least I got to enjoy them at some point <3 #shutupcaguay #I feel the need to make actual fanart for this ship but something is holding me back. That something being my own anxious self dammit #must figure out how to manage my time better #longpost #just in case

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

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waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s): this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

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writing--whore · 2 years ago

Text

Opportunity of a Lifetime - Final Chapter

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo sugar daddy wish fulfilment smut ✨ (this is set one year after the rest of the series and so it can be read as a standalone smut fic if you don't wanna read the series)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut, d/s dynamics, collar play?, choking, biting, fingering, PIV, praise kink

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

A/N: I am sooooooooo sorry it took me so long to finish this fic. 😅 TMI warning, please feel free to skip this. My mental health has plummeted. I managed to graduate from my postgraduate degree. I'm currently living with my abusive family, trying to save up enough money to move out of here. Things have been p difficult but I'm so happy I finally finished this fic adfdfdfd.

One year later

Bright sunlight poured through your large penthouse windows, perfectly illuminating your easel. As your paint brush danced across the canvas, you thought about how much Billy had done for you and a warm smile graced your lips. Your life had become a fantasy.

It had taken you a while to grow comfortable with all this luxury at first. When Billy had first helped you buy this place, you found yourself wandering around the rooms, not sure what to do with all this space, and not quite believing that it was all yours.

Day by day, the place felt more like home and ideas on how to decorate entered your mind. You bought a grand piano, something you were getting quite good at playing. You had a walk-in wardrobe fitted into your bedroom and filled it with the most amazing clothes. And, of course, you bought an easel.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had both the free time and the energy to indulge in your passions. Not to mention the doubt that would hold you back. But now you had plenty of everything you needed and it freed up space in your brain for more positivity.

You found yourself feeling lighter. Not only was your life a dream but you were also becoming much more like the person you had always wanted to be.

You were too lost in your thoughts to hear Billy come into the apartment using the spare key you’d given him. He was about to say ‘hello’ and make his presence known but he saw how deep in concentration you were and decided to sneak up behind you. His arms quickly curled around your waist as he pulled your back tight against his chest.

You yelped in surprise but started giggling when you realised who it was.

“Hello, my love.” He said, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

His eyes landed on the art piece beyond your shoulder. “You’re really getting the hang of this. You’re a natural artist.”

“Thank you.” You replied - still beaming - as you put down your brush and art palette.

You swivelled to face Billy and he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. You closed your eyes and sighed contentedly as his familiar musky scent filled your nose, making you feel all fuzzy.

“How was your day?” He asked, chest vibrating against you.

“Wonderful. Relaxing. Everything I could ever hope for.” It must have sounded like hyperbole, but not a single word was a lie.

He let out a small laugh of joy. “As it should be. My girl deserves only the best of days.”

If he hadn’t been holding you, you might have swooned.

You had to regain your composure when he finally pulled away from you.

“I got something for you today.” He said as he rifled in a bag by his feet.

He got you something almost every day. He showed no sign of stopping and you hoped he never would.

He handed you a large box and you opened it to find a beautiful diamond necklace, with additional diamonds trailing down your neck.

“Billy, it’s gorgeous. Can you put it on for me?”

"Of course."

With gentle care, he brought the necklace around the front of your neck. The metal was chilling, which made the warmth of his fingers even more alluring. He clasped it tightly, restricting your breathing ever so slightly. You couldn’t help from drawing a comparison between this necklace and a collar.

"Go take a look in the mirror." He spoke, snapping you from a world that had been just his fingers and your neck.

You nodded and bounded to the full-length mirror in your bedroom that had the best lighting. You came to a dull stop.

"Hmmm it's beautiful." You said to Billy, who was reflected a few paces behind you. "But I don't really think it goes with what I'm wearing. Just a sec."

You unzipped your clothes and the material fell to a pool at your feet.

“Much better.” You mused with a coy smile.

Billy’s eyes widened like a man seeing a God in the flesh.

He staggered towards you; hands hesitant to mar such a beautiful body. Desire was quick to overcome piety and his wide palms traced the contours of your hips and waist, sneaking around to gently cup your breasts.

He came to stand flush against your back, his arms encircling your body as his fingers continued to worship your skin.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said with a conviction strong enough to banish your negative self-talk.

You saw yourself through his eyes and you saw art.

Art that was about to be defiled.

He pressed a warm kiss to your shoulder blade, to the nape of your neck, and then he pushed your necklace up slightly so he could reach that sweet spot he’d found a few months ago that had you absolutely melting.

You let out a shaky moan as he sucked on that murderous spot. He held tightly onto your waist, and you tilted your neck to allow him easier access.

You don’t know how it happened, but you ended up with your back against the plush mattress. His lips never left your neck for a second, licking and biting your skin until he was certain bright bruises would bloom in his wake. He was obsessed with how you looked wearing his marks.

“I love you.” He breathed out against your neck, causing you to shiver.

You groaned before returning, “I love you too.”

His assault on your neck continued, trailing lower to your collarbone. His hands were back palming your breasts, unable to get enough of you.

“Billy, please.” You whimpered.

“You want more, baby?”

You nodded with a slight pout.

One of his hands roamed greedily up your leg, taking his sweet time until his hand reached your crotch. He applied the tiniest amount of pressure against you with the palm of his hand. Moaning, you writhed beneath him, grinding yourself against his hand.

“That’s my good girl.” He praised.

He knew exactly how to get you riled, how to get every inch of you absolutely burning for him.

His mouth reclaimed yours, lips so perfectly plush, tongue devilishly expert. At the same time, he slipped a finger into you, making you moan into the kiss. You felt like you were levitating as you strained yourself to press harder against him, as if he would disappear if you were not kissing him as searingly as possible.

The one finger was not enough. It was slowly driving you insane with how sensitive you felt and yet so entirely un-full. You pressed your legs together tightly, hoping to feel more friction but it did little to bring you the pleasure you were looking for.

“Please, it's not enough.” You whined, fisting your hand in Billy’s shirt.

“So inpatient.” He replied.

Effortlessly, he gathered your wrists in one hand and pinned them against the space above your head.

His finger continued its slow assault as he delved down to carry on kissing you.

You whined in protest, wriggling beneath him to try and free yourself. But you didn’t really want him to stop. You loved how he managed to drive you to the point of insanity with how needy he made you.

He pulled away slightly to take in your flushed face. “Oh, my poor baby can hardly handle not getting what she wants, can she?”

You could feel yourself get noticeably wetter at that remark. From the smirk on his face, he clearly noticed also.

“Fuck you, Russo.” You replied.

“You’re going to regret saying that.”

The smirk faded and a darkness appeared in his eyes as his finger slowed down to almost a standstill, driving all the way into you at an excruciating pace and then pulling all the way back out again just to repeat the process.

Your eyes clenched shut as your whole body thrummed and twitched with burning need.

“Billy please, pleaseeee.” You begged.

His finger delved all the way inside of you and curled upwards, pressing hard against your spongy core.

“Please!” You shouted a lot louder than you’d been expecting to. “Please, I’ll be a good girl.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded enthusiastically.

“Well in that case…” He finished his sentence by slipping a second finger into you.

With each thrust, he sped up the pace until he was pounding his fingers into you, curling them up to find your sweet spot each time.

The intense pleasure you’d been feeling suddenly dialled up to an extent that managed to surprise you every single time you lay down with Billy Russo.

Your hands struggled in his grasp, unconsciously needing to touch every inch of his body. Your hips also struggled, convulsing and jittering into the air, meeting his fingers.

“Billy, I’m close.” You moaned.

A few more careful thrusts of his fingers and… He pulled them out.

“No, please.” You whined as you plummeted down from your pleasure, head spinning with the intensity of it all.

His heart melted at the look on your face. He released your wrists and kissed you on the forehead.

“This is a lesson in patience, my love.”

You whined as he drew away although the noise died in your throat as he started to undress himself, starting with his shirt and moving on to his trousers and underwear until he was naked and standing to attention before you.

You were quick to crawl over to him and roam your hands across his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin as if for the very first time. Your hands trailed downwards, and you made eye contact with him as you gave his dick a few tortuous strokes, giving him a small taste of his own medicine.

His gaze was so steady and confident, knowing he could easily take control of the situation if he desired to. You could never have guessed Billy would be like this. He was the sweetest man you’d ever met who’d shown you nothing but undying kindness. It was shocking to discover that in intimate settings he could be so cruel. How easily he switched his demeanour chilled you to the bone. But you were never scared. Not with Billy, this man who would do absolutely anything for you. He was a dream. A dark but beautiful dream.

His hand rose to possessively cup the side of your face, holding you in place as he continued to hold your gaze. Slowly, his hand snaked down your neck and then to your shoulder, which is where he shoved you down onto the bed. You yelped and then yelped again when he grabbed your ankles and yanked you down until you were perfectly positioned on the pillows.

He shoved your legs apart and prowled between them. Your body tensed in anticipation, hands pre-emptively finding purchase in the pillow either side of your head. He grabbed your hips, and you bit your lip as he slowly lined himself up with your entrance and slid in even slower. You let out a strained moan as he bottomed out.

His fingers curled around your thighs and held your legs open as far as your hips would allow. A devilish smirk sparked on his lips at the sight of you spread so vulnerable for him. The smirk remained as he began to hammer into you.

You let out a moan of surprise, hands returning to fists in the pillows. You hadn’t expected him to go straight from 0 to 100 and you had no idea what to do with yourself as waves of pleasure convulsed through you like a demon was trying to possess you.

He showed absolutely no sign of letting up as his powerful hips continued to thrust into you fast and hard, again and again. Electric sparks filled your groin. You felt like a ball of light, too hot. This was too much pleasure to contain in a human body such as your own.

“You’re doing so good, baby. You’re taking me so well.” He praised.

His words relaxed you and a long moan left your throat that you hadn’t realised you’d been keeping in.

For him, you would find a way to handle all the light bursting inside of you.

Your fingers curled so tight you wondered if your nails had pierced the pillows.

“That’s my good girl.” He spoke as his broad hands snaked up your body, fondling your waist and then your breasts.

Your back arched up into his touch. Your body felt completely haywire with the overstimulation but still you craved it.

His hands roamed higher, and you knew exactly where they were going. They reached around you to unclasp the beautiful diamond necklace from you. And then his hands cruelly curled around your neck. You bit your lip as a pang of fear bolted through you. The pleasure from choking made you absolutely insane and you legitimately didn’t know if you could handle that. But at the same time, the fear of being pushed to your absolute breaking point also turned you on. You have never trusted anyone before like you’ve come to trust Billy. If anyone knew how to push you to an extent you never thought you would be able to go without getting you hurt, it was him.

His fingers tightened, cutting off your oxygen supply. It was ecstasy. Your eyes rolled up into the back of your head.

He continued pummelling into you, managing to reach even deeper at this angle, perfectly bashing your g-spot with each thrust.

Your eyes widened and a very strained moan was involuntarily forced up your throat with every savage thrust.

His face was close to yours, his eyes boring into your own. You could feel his warmth radiating onto your skin. The moment felt so intimate. His eyes were filled with such an overbrimming mixture of love and lust. You were sure yours reflected the same. You’d never experienced anything as intense as this before.

His gaze made you let go, it made you melt and mould to fit all the pleasure, to allow it to pulse through your veins.

That was when you realised you were going to cum. You trusted him implicitly that he would be able to look after you throughout your high. And so you rode it. You let your eyes shutter closed as his hips rolled into you unrelentingly, pounding into you again and again at a mind-blowing pace.

Somehow, the pleasure wound deep within you to an impossible extent at the same time as your vision started to blur. That man knew exactly what he was doing. A few more perfect thrusts and an explosion went off within you. You practically screamed, muscles clenching as your vision was filled with pure white.

You felt like you were floating. You were only acutely aware of the fact that Billy was still thrusting, chasing his own high.

You only came back to yourself again when Billy’s arms were wrapped tightly around you and he was blanketing the top of your head with kisses.

He crooned. “You did so well for me, my beautiful love.”

You replied with a happy sigh as you wrapped your own arms around him and buried your face as deep into his chest as humanly possible. You sighed harder, flooded with absolute bliss, as you breathed in his musky scent.

Life with Billy was better than you imagined Heaven to be. A small tear of joy slipped from your eye at how true that sentence was. Never could you have imagined you would be with a man as perfect as Billy. He knew exactly how to treat you like a princess and when to not.

You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life making your fantasies come true.

Tag list: @slut4benbarnes @mizelophsun11 @adriennebarnes @rafaelakelley @sergeantbuckybarnes @maddieinnit0 @kekeimarch @insssanemind @callmelovely @wheresthesunshinesblog @fictional-hooman

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo fanfic #billy russo smut #billy russo imagine

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zoeykallus · 3 years ago

Text

Fives – Soldier Boy 8 – Hot Tub

Fives x fem!Reader FF

Warnings: SMUT 18 + NSFW

PiV Sex/ Oral recieving / Some Fingerplay/ A little Fluff/bathtub sex

__________

That tub get's even hotter with Fives in it.

Not proof read __________

What Happened Before:

Soldier Boy

Part 2 - Caught In The Act

Part 3 - Tender Affection

Part 4 - Worries And Secrets

Part 5 - Welcome Back, Soldier Boy

Part 6 - I Should Have Known

Part 7 - Doing Something Stupid

Part 8 - Hot Tub

Fives had not entered the hotel through the back entrance, but had climbed over the outside wall over the balcony and had scared you half to death when he suddenly stood in the room. He grinned cheekily at you.

"I'm resourceful," he said lightly as you were just recovering from the fright.

He wrapped one arm around you while the hand of the other arm gripped your face.

„So pretty“, he cooed „Ans smart and kind... and most improtantly all mine“

You grinned at him happy and confident, so glad to have him alone for yourself again, no one would barge in, no one would disturb and he would actually stay the night for once. A happy squeek came over your lips and he chuckled.

„What's going on with you, cyare?“, he asked amused.

„Super happy!“, you said simply with a grin.

Fives chuckled again: „Me too“

"They have a Jacuzzi in the bathroom here," you said with a smile.

His smile widened as he said, "We should definitely try that out right away".

With a knowing smirk you said, "I've already put water in it."

Fives swept you off your feet with a sweeping hug and laughed, "That's my girl.“

You led Fives into the bathroom where the whirlpool was already filled, steam rising from the bubbling water and the bath additive you had put in spreading the smell of fruits and spices, a surprisingly sensual scent.

With nimble fingers you helped him out of his armor and he opened your dress to let it slide off your shoulders and, spreading sweet little kisses on your bare skin, slipped off your bra and panties.

For your panties he took special time, his finger slipped slowly and gently behind the waistband of your panties and very slowly slipped down the garment. His lips followed the bare skin he exposed, kissing his way over your mons veneris and finally pressing his tongue firmly against your pearl and moving it, teasingly, achingly slowly, making your thighs quiver and let out a hoarse moan.

When he had pulled your panties off your ankles and tossed them to the rest of your clothes, he eased off your pearl, straightened up, and grinned at you.

Your gaze traveled up and down his body. He was so beautiful, hard muscles under tanned skin, a few scars here and there, but that didn't detract from his appearance. Everything about him was beautiful. From the shape of his body, to his black hair, the cheeky smile on his lips, the golden brown of his eyes and that unique sparkle that was in them when he looked at you.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked with a smirk when he noticed your hungry gaze.

"You're beautiful," you said dreamily, to which Fives raised his brows in surprise.

"Heh, Cya'rika, me and a few million other clones," he chuckled.

You shook your head.

"No, don't get me wrong, I'm sure your brothers are good looking men, but they're nothing like you. You're special, I knew that from the first time we met."

Fives blinked, scratched the back of his head nervously, finally laughed softly and said teasingly, "You're just buttering me up."

You returned the laugh and assured him, "I most certainly am not, my dear"

He kissed you softly, slowly, intimately. His hands moved to your back and gently pressed your naked body against his. You felt his manhood pressed against your body, slowly growing hard, and felt your own juices begin to flow.

You climbed into the hot water together and settled into the tub. Immediately Fives pulled you onto his lap, your wet breasts pressed against the hard muscles of his chest, you began to roll your hips, rubbing your swollen pearl over his hard length.

His big strong hands, grasped your hips and helped your every move while his eyes looked into yours with dilated pupils. He spun you around, leaned you against the edge of the tub, grabbed your hips and with ease lifted you far enough out of the water to bury his face between your thighs.

His lips traced up your inner thighs with wet kisses as you slid against the porcelain edge of the hotel bathroom tub. The water was hot and steaming as it laped against your skin, softly, sensualy, filling the air with a haze of lust.

You looked down from the bright ceiling lights, colorfull reflections ghosting through your line of vision, to where he rested between your thighs, on his lips a smile to die for. He felt you shudder despite the heat of the water and steam around you and his eyes looked up to see your face, his lips pulling into a smirk against your wet skin.

“Does it feel good. mesh'la?” he asked, his voice low. Water driped as he raised a hot hand from beneath the surface of the water, to push your legs apart, to touch you, firm but slow. His grip on your thighs was strong and firm, just the way you liked it.

His tounge danced skillfully through your folds, making you moan and as he lapped at your pearl, your thighs trembled in his grip.

“Uh-huh… inded it does” you breathe, a ripple of pleasure tickled and buzzed your wet body, feeling his touge play with your pussy. It was so hot, how he held you, so firm, yet gentle, while his tounge played his wild game with you pearl and folds, every now and then teasing your entrance, dipping in to tickle your sensitiv slit. Soft whimpers and whines came over your lips, your hands clawed at the edge of the tub.

Something in the way you looked and sounded in that moment had him pulling you down by your knees, until your head was resting on the rim of the tub and the backs of your thighs were pushing against the front of his. Fives rose half out of the water, raining hot droplets down onto your body, moving forward to slowly push his already hard erection deep inside you.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, feeling so full as he slid inside you inch by inch, making you reach out to grab his shoulders and dig your nails deep into his skin. His breath left his chest in a moan, his head tilting back in pleasure as he fucked you slow, rolling his hips to bring you closer to that peak he knows you love, that he knows you crave.

“Faster, please Fives,” you whimpered. He obliged immediately, ever the gentleman. Shifting his position to change angles, his thrusts sped up, now hitting deeper than before. This new position and pace combined, rendered you a panting mess, gripping onto his arms for support. His strong body, felt so perfect, how he held you, how he took you, the way he made you his.

You started to moan his name shakily, your legs wrap around him, the pleasure was beginning to get too much. He wraped one arm around your waist and leaned down, supporting himself with one hand on the edge of the tub, to take your lips into his, swallowing your moans and mixing them with his. He was so close, so wunderfully close, pressed against you, while your body was about to catch fire, his hard length moving in your wet hole.

You took your hand out of the water and reached down to rub your clit. He noticed right away, “No, Cyare, let me,” he said as his long, strong fingers took over, rubbing your clit in perfect sync with his thrusts. As your orgasm shook you and made you tremble, he moaned deeply, almost like a growl, his thrusts became erratic and you felt his throbing cock, spilling his seed into you.

To be Continued...

PS: Don't try it, the water actually ruins the friction or better said, the natural lubricant of the female sex, it's kinda like diving in without preparation- ouch. And as you can guess, most waterbased lubricants don't work under water. Just a heads up, for those who might not know and feel like they'd like to try. It reads pretty sweet, sounds pretty hot but needs certain preparation, keep your butt outside the water, that works, but slippery as hell, another heads up about that.

@clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi

@mybigfatspoonielife

@revan-posting

@misogirl828

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

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twiceasfrustrating · 4 years ago

Text

For Honesty's Sake

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationship: Main Character/Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Main Character/Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader,

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: fluff, truth spells, Poly!MC

Summary: Mammon messed up a hex in class and now you can only tell the truth. The brothers take the opportunity to tease you, but end up getting some answers that make them blush instead.

Word Count: 1083

"Lucifer!" You whine as you burst into the student council room, throwing your arms around the waist of the eldest brother, your head nestled into his chest, "I need your help!"

He looks down at you with bright crimson eyes, wondering what could be so important that you would seek him out in the middle of the day when he knows you should be in class. His question is all but answered when he sees Mammon and Asmodeus run into the room after you, soon followed by Satan who appears to have kept his normal walking pace.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself before he asks the question he knows he is soon going to regret, "What did you three do?"

Asmo is the first to look offended by the accusation, "I didn't do anything besides worry." Of course, he would follow you out of class with how distressed you looked.

Satan nodded in agreement, "Blame this one on Mammon."

The already gross and dark feeling inside of Lucifer's stomach grew the moment he heard Mammon's name. Of course, it would be the second eldest's fault. It was always something he did. Good thing Diavolo wasn't currently in the room to see just how angry the avatar of pride could get with his younger sibling.

"What. Did. You. Do?" Lucifer's voice was low and menacing and the aura around him become oppressive. Each word was punctuated with malice at some crime he didn't yet know. Of course, it would be when you practically looked like you were in tears.

"I didn't do nothin'." Mammon protested, even as his eyes wouldn't make contact with Lucifer's.

All he had to do was motion to you, still holding onto his tightly, to show how much of a lie that was. Obviously, something had happened.

You look up at him, "We were practicing hexes in class and Mammon was my partner-"

That was all he needed to hear before he put his finger against your lips to stop you from speaking.

"We kept telling her not to pick him as her partner." Satan sighed.

"No one else was going to!" You clarify. It wasn't like you didn't know he was infamously bad at hexes, but he was also usually the one that got stuck on the receiving end. How could you have known he would actually manage to hex you?

Mammon almost wanted to be offended, but he knew that he had messed up this time so he stayed quiet.

Lucifer brushed a gloved hand against your cheek, trying to soothe your nerves and calm your very upset voice, "So why come here?"

"I need you to lift it..." How embarrassing was it that you couldn't unhex yourself?

At the one, he raised a single eyebrow, "Why didn't you ask Satan?" His brother was equally capable to lift a hex and he would have been the more readily available option; much easier than running around across campus to get to him.

At that question, all three of the brothers' expressions changed. Mammon braced himself for another punishment, Asmodeus looked like he was trying to find an escape route, and Satan had relaxed amusement plastered on his face.

You, on the other hand, look very upset with everyone but him, "He won't do it."

Now that was truly unusual. The only time the brothers would refuse to help you is if they couldn't, either because of lack of ability or time. It certainly wasn't either of those factors stopping Satan, so it had to be something else. The avatar of wrath was actually the most likely to go out of his way to help you before you could ask, so to hear that he had just refused...

Lucifer looked at him skeptically.

Satan just stared back at his brother with bemusement. The blonde already knew how amusing his older brother would find the entire situation, especially given they had the same proclivities in a lot of ways, "Ask her a question."

Your eyes widen in panic, "Please don't!"

Okay. Now his interest was piqued. What could this hex do that made you so obviously nervous?

Lucifer's eyes glance down at you again, seeing the plea in your eyes not to do what he is about to. He almost feels bad, but he also is curious about what could cause such a scene, "Why are you so nervous?"

You grumble before feeling your lips part against your will and being forced to answer, "I can't lie."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Correction," Satan interrupts, "the spell was supposed to make it so the subject couldn't lie. Mammon somehow messed up the words enough that its effect is slightly different."

"And it's absolutely adorable!" Asmo finally contributes to the conversation.

Lucifer was still waiting for an explanation. What exactly did the spell do that had you so upset and them so excited?

The fourth-born smiled, "She has to tell the truth."

Now that was amusing. So much so that Lucifer couldn't help but find himself smiling as well, a reaction that his brothers definitely didn't miss. Even Mammon could tell he wasn't going to be punished today, if only because this situation was too interesting. In fact, you were the only one that didn't find it amusing.

The three of them had already been asking questions for so long and you just wanted to have the freedom not to have to answer if you didn't want to, "You're not going to pick on me too are you, Lucifer?"

Of course, he was. Much to your chagrin, you were going to become the subject of a flurry of teasing questions from the brothers. Some would ask you harmless things, others would use the opportunity to ask you naughty things you wouldn't normally admit to, and still more would ask nonsensical questions that even you didn't know the answer to.

By the time they were finally satisfied and they bothered to break the hex on you, murder was in your eyes. They were dead to you. With puffed-up cheeks, you would leave them alone and refuse to forgive them. They just shrugged and laughed it off. They hadn't asked anything they knew was completely off-limits.

Knowing you, you had memorized the hex and we're planning to use it on them in retaliation. They would just have to wait for that moment and hope you weren't so peeved that you asked them their deep dark secrets in exchange.

Of course, you would.

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty Please

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader hears something surprising from her next door neighbor, and it throws her off. Category: Smut 18+ (masturbation, thigh riding, penetrative sex, oral sex-male and female receiving, semi-rough sex, dom!Spencer) Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: Nothing except the smut listed above and strong language. As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in the warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!

PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE

***

There's no way she heard that right.

In fact, she was pretty sure she'd made it up. She was tired, delirious, and she'd only imagined hearing what she heard.

Right?

Just to be sure, Y/N sat up in bed, put her ear against the wall just above the headboard, and listened, concentrating as hard as she could to confirm or deny.

And sure enough, the next thing she heard was, "Fuck, yes!"

It was muffled, definitely not as loud as it could have been, but if things continued the way she thought they would, it was going to get louder. Unless, of course, her neighbor was mindful, knowing that someone could probably hear what was going on. Though, for some reason Y/N doubted that.

Just to be extra sure what was happening, she stayed glued to the wall, listening carefully.

There was some muffled movement, but it could have been just about anything. Nonetheless, her heart was beating so fast, and it beat even faster when she heard what came next.

A loud female moan, unmistakable and utterly pornographic, made Y/N close her eyes immediately, her heart practically jumping out of her chest. Her first thought was Okay, he's watching porn. Everyone does that. Not without headphones, but it's completely normal and I should stop eavesdropping and go about my own life because this is an invasion of privacy.

Her second thought was ...Oh.

Because she was dead wrong.

The next thing that sounded through the walls was, "Yes, Spencer, just like that!"

Y/N's eyes shot open and she almost had a heart attack.

Her next thought was Good for him...

She and her neighbor hadn't really gotten to know each other that well. All she knew was that he had a job that kept him away from home quite a bit, either from travel or just late nights. He was shy and rarely talked to her when they met in the halls or in the parking garage, or even in the laundry room. Which is why it was so surprising to Y/N that he was having sex—and decent sex at that, from what she could hear—right next door.

Not that it would have been impossible for him to get it, of course. He was hot as hell, and it shouldn't have surprised Y/N as much as it did that she was hearing what she was hearing. It had just never happened before.

She was about to let it be, glad that her neighbor seemed to be having some fun, and it truly wasn't any of her business what he decided to do in his spare time. Though, the next thing she heard sent her into a tailspin.

"You like that, baby? You like when I hold you down and fuck you?"

Y/N almost hit her head against the wall. Instinctually her legs crossed, as if it would prevent her from being turned on. Which was stupid, considering every nerve in her body was on fire hearing those words come from Spencer Reid's mouth.

No fucking way, Y/N thought, slowly shifting her position on the bed.

It was a stupid idea. Probably one of the dumbest things she's ever done. But she closed her eyes, and as the woman's moans became louder through the walls, every slap of skin on skin getting louder with them, Y/N's right hand drifted under the waistband of her panties and got to work.

She couldn't help imagining what was going on. And it was rare that she could get off on just imagination alone, but this time she had the helpful addition of sound to aid her. Every time the woman moaned Spencer's name, she moved her fingers faster, alternating between rubbing her clit and completely fingering herself. And sometimes Y/N would make inevitable tiny whimpers of her own, careful not to give herself away.

She was almost to her climax when she heard it. The thing that pushed her over the edge.

"Fuck, you take it so well, pretty girl."

That one sentence, added to the impending orgasm Y/N was experiencing and the fact that she was picturing Spencer's face so clearly in her head, caused her to let out a loud moan and throw her head back against the wall with a loud thud.

So many feelings happened at once. Pain, because fuck, hitting her head on the wall without expecting it hurt like hell. Pleasure immediately after, because despite everything, her fingers stayed working, instinctively nursing herself through her orgasm. And finally embarrassment, because she definitely shouldn't have been eavesdropping on her neighbor's sexual encounters and she's positive they'd heard her intrusion.

All noises ceased for a total of two seconds before Y/N came down from her high and the sex next door resumed like nothing had happened.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck, no, Y/N thought as she scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Her head still hurt from hitting it against the wall, but that was the least of her concerns. More than anything she wanted to crawl in a hole and never return. And sure, maybe there was a small chance Spencer and his.. friend hadn't heard you, but it was practically impossible. There was no way they hadn't heard it.

Y/N peed and washed her hands, tapping her foot nervously against the cool tile the whole time. Eventually she calmed her breathing and decided that she'd just have to live with it. I mean, it's not like I'm friends with him anyway, she thought. I barely see him enough as it is, and I can ignore him like there's no tomorrow and nothing will change. Right?

And so she washed her face and got ready for bed, trying desperately not to think about how badly she'd embarrassed herself.

And then as she curled under the covers (with earbuds in just in case) she thought, Maybe I'll make him some muffins tomorrow and say I'm sorry.

The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was Spencer's face.

***

"What's wrong? Can't take it?"

She practically burned with pleasure, every inch of her body overly sensitive and completely fucked out. But she'd let him have whatever he wanted.

She cried. She tried to tell him that yes, she could take it. But tears and strangled moans were all she could manage as he continued to fuck her into the mattress.

"You gonna cum?" He asked, like she could form words.

She cried out again in answer.

He leaned forward, wiping tears from her face, and whispered, "Go ahead, pretty girl."

That was the last thing Y/N heard before she woke up, eyes shooting open and hands clutching the sheets so tightly her fingers ached. She let them go and tried to wiggle them back to life, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath.

"Oh, dear Lord," she muttered, stretching out and realizing that the past 10 hours of her life were going to haunt her for a long time.

I'm gonna have to move, aren't I, she thought sarcastically, sitting up slowly and rubbing her eyes. Though, right now it sounded like a good idea.

Y/N gathered some clothes and went to the shower, refusing to think about last night or the dream she'd woken up from. Instead she lasered all her attention to thoroughly washing her hair, body, and face. By the time the water was running cold, she stepped out, dried off and got dressed, brushing her teeth and then leaving the bathroom to turn on the coffee pot.

Before she could, there was a knock on the door.

Oh no, was her first thought, because naturally the first thing you do at any minor event after severely embarrassing yourself is panic. What if that's him? He's going to get mad at me for eavesdropping. The first thing I'm going to do when I see him is blush and panic. Fuck.

Y/N thought about ignoring it for a second. For all Spencer knew, she could still be sleeping. She could have fled the country immediately after giving herself away. She could have died from a heart attack, literally embarrassing herself to death. She could ha—

Knock knock knock.

"Shit," Y/N muttered to herself, adjusting her freshly-washed hair and praying she looked okay. If it really was Spencer at her door, she wanted to at least look like she was moving on with her life and not thinking about last night every waking second.

She ran to the door, took a deep breath and opened it, sure enough revealing Spencer Reid in her doorway, wearing a kind smile and holding a small something in his hand.

"Oh... Spencer, hi," Y/N said, pretending to be happy. Not that she wasn't ever happy to see him, but today of all days was most definitely not a good time. She only prayed he wouldn't get mad at her for eavesdropping.

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry for being here so early, but I, uh... thought you might need this."

He handed her what was in his hand, and it rattled, confusing her. She took it and flipped it over in her hands, studying the bottle.

"Advil?"

"Yeah. Seems like you hit your head on the wall pretty hard last night, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Her stomach dropped. "No."

"No... You're not okay, or no, you don't need it?"

Heat rushed to Y/N's cheeks and all she could manage was another, "No."

She only sounded slightly terrified.

But before Spencer could say anything else, Y/N looked up at him and almost started to cry. "I'm so so so sorry, Spencer, I didn't mean to hear, it just happened, and I couldn't help it, and I tried to be quiet, I really did, but it just slipped, and I feel really bad, I'm so sorry, I—"

"Whoa, whoa, Y/N, slow down. It's okay, really," he laughed. "I'm not upset or anything, I just... Truthfully I feel kind of bad for not thinking of anyone hearing. I didn't realize the walls were so thin, and had I known I probably would have... Gone about things differently. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Y/N's heart raced, but she was even more shocked by the fact that he was apologizing. "Spencer, don't be sorry. I embarrassed myself, really. I shouldn't have been listening anyway— what you do in your apartment isn't any of my business, and I messed up."

He smiled and shuffled on his feet, trying to avoid looking at you but failing. In the end he shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. "Well, in any case, I really do hope your head doesn't hurt too bad. That was a loud thump."

Y/N laughed nervously, turning the bottle over in her hands while looking at the floor. "It doesn't hurt anymore. Feels better now that I've slept it off... Thank you, though. I... I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

She looked up at him and almost started crying again, still completely embarrassed over the whole ordeal. In an attempt to not cry, she cleared her throat. "Um, I was just going put on some coffee if you... wanted to come in? I can make some eggs or something too, if you're hungry. Y'know, to say I'm sorry?"

Spencer looked like he was about to tell her not to be sorry again, but she gave him a look that said don't you dare, and he settled on nodding instead. "Sure, I'd like that."

***

"Wow. These are great."

Y/N smiled, watching Spencer eat a bite of the eggs she'd made him. "Thank you. It's a family recipe. Nothing too special, but my mom always made them for my brother and I before our first day of school every year."

He smiled. "That's nice. Really, they're great. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem... Look, again, I really am so—"

"Y/N, stop. It's okay, really. It... happens. You don't have to be sorry."

She nodded before taking a sip of her coffee. Spencer ate some more of his eggs and the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, before it got completely unbearable.

She didn't want to keep bringing it up, but something forced the words out of her mouth. "So, your... guest... Is she your girlfriend?"

It took Spencer a minute to realize what she said, but eventually he cleared his throat, some color forming on his cheeks. "Oh, uh... no. No, I'm single. She and I had just met at a bar downtown. I don't usually do that. Go to bars, I mean. Though I suppose I don't really have one night stands all that often, either, but my co-workers and I were out last night after a... pretty rough day at work, and... before I left we met at the bar and it just kind of went on from there."

"Oh... Well, I... I'm sorry work was rough. Seems like you... handled it, though. Got over it... I mean, like, you knew how to take your mind off of it, or make it better or whatever."

Y/N froze after she said it. Immediately after, she shook her head. "God, I'm sorry. That was dumb. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, I get what you mean, it's okay, really," Spencer said quickly, seemingly amused. "It, uh... It really did help. You know, sex is a good stress reliever. The endorphins it releases puts you in a better mood and calms you down, and studies show that regular sexual activity can aid in decreasing high blood pressure during stressful situations."

"I... didn't know that. Sounds helpful. Especially with your job, I imagine."

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "What about you? Is your job stressful?"

Y/N shrugged, kind of glad that the conversation moved away from sexual nature. Though, she supposed the reason it was there in the first place was kind of her fault. In any case, she told Spencer about her job. "It's not as stressful as other jobs can be, but I just got a promotion so all the responsibility is a little daunting, I guess."

"I'm sure you're fine," he complimented, setting his mug down. "Though... If you do ever find yourself beginning to buckle under the stress of your job, sex is a good way to keep your spirits up."

It was a joke. A reference to their conversation, the whole reason they were in this moment in the first place. So why did Y/N respond with, "What, is that your way of offering?"

I'm just full of stupid shit lately, aren't I, she thought, immediately hating herself for saying it. Things were going well, and Spencer didn't seem mad or annoyed after the whole incident, and now she was positive she'd made everything worse.

But nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth next.

"Maybe it is."

She looked up at him and saw that he was completely serious. His eyes bore into her, staring her down like he was trying to compel her to say something, to do something, to put her under his spell. Y/N swallowed, trying to speak, but nothing would come out.

Oh, now you have nothing to say? Good going, Y/N...

Nevertheless, he waited. His eyes remained glued on her, tilting his head to the side and raising his eyebrows as if to ask her, well?

Eventually, she settled on, "You mean it?"

Spencer nodded slowly, staring at her with an intensity she hadn't experienced in forever. "Only if you want to."

Immediately Y/N thought back to last night. His nasty words replayed in her ears over and over again, repeating themselves like a mantra— You like that, baby? You like when I hold you down and fuck you?

And under his burning gaze, Y/N felt like she was on fire. Her lower stomach bubbled over with desire and she imagined him fucking her like he had in her dream.

It's almost like he knew what she was thinking about. Because right before she could tell him she wanted him, he laughed softly to himself. "What are you thinking about, Y/N?"

Her name on his lips sent shivers down her spine. "W... What?"

"Tell me. You're thinking about having sex with me right now, aren't you?"

She could barely breathe. But she managed to get out a strangled, "Yes."

Spencer smirked and stood up, walking around the table but never taking his eyes off Y/N. She swallowed and stood up too, meeting his eyes and tilting her head up to look at him— really look at him. His pupils were full-blown, his lips formed into an amused smile as he reached out to touch her face. She fluttered her eyes closed and leaned into his touch, a small sigh involuntarily escaping her lips.

"How long have you been thinking about me?" Spencer asked quietly, yet the tone in his voice rather demanded an answer more than asked for one.

Y/N opened her eyes to meet his, and almost crumbled under the weight of their intensity. "S-since last night."

He hummed in response, running his thumb over her chin and up to her lips, just barely touching them. "Have you ever thought about it before then?"

She couldn't lie to him. "A few times."

That got a full smile out of him, but it disappeared rather quickly as he stepped even closer and gripped the side of Y/N's face in his right hand, his fingers barely weaving through the hair behind her ear. She gasped and looked up at him, silently begging for him to kiss her. To push her onto the table, or choke her, or something.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, keeping that even, soft tone. It sent another chill through Y/N's body.

She could hardly breathe. Could hardly form words.

Spencer slipped his hand behind her head and gripped the underside of her damp hair, tugging slightly as she whimpered. "What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me," Y/N gasped out, completely and utterly entranced by his looming presence.

"Now?" he asked, his own way of really making sure she wanted to go through with this.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, please, fuck me. Please."

The look he gave her after she said it was purely dirty and unlike any thing she'd ever experienced. She decided then and there that if that was the reaction she'd get from him for begging, she would beg him for anything any time.

Not to mention, the way he kissed her was enough to make any man or woman fly into the sun. Both of his hands found themselves lost in her hair, pulling her head to his and practically massaging her scalp as he glided his lips across hers with a slow burning fever that made Y/N's body completely succumb to him. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, reaching up to twist her fingers through the ends of his hair, admiring how soft and perfect it felt on her skin. Once Spencer's tongue swiped over her bottom lip and softly pushed into her mouth, it was well and truly over. Y/N was done for. He could do anything he wanted and she wouldn't turn him away.

He pulled away for a moment, taking her bottom lip between his teeth before moving back in and angling his head in the other direction, kissing her deeper and causing a groan to slip from her throat.

Y/N desperately clung to his neck, wishing he could do this to her forever, but then he took one of his hands away from her head and brought it to her lower back. He completely pulled her against him, one of his legs slipping between hers and putting the slightest bit of pressure to her crotch.

She whimpered, causing Spencer to push himself against her harder, the two of them completely attached. He brought his knee up just a little, and Y/N instinctively ground against it, desperately wanting to feel any type of friction she could manage. It warmed her whole body to the core, being completely embraced by him, and in a matter of seconds she was more desperate than she'd ever been.

She pulled her face away from his reluctantly, breathing heavily and still grinding against his leg. "Please," was all the could think to say.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" Spencer whispered, peppering her neck with wet kisses as he brought his leg up higher, giving her more access. He leaned his butt against the table for support, until eventually he gave in and sat down on it, bringing her down to sit on his thigh.

Y/N hesitated, halting her movements for a second before he gripped her hips and moved them forward. "Go ahead, pretty girl. Ride my thigh."

She groaned at the nickname and obliged happily, grinding down and rocking her hips against him. He continued to kiss her neck, occasionally biting down and sucking at different spots, sure to leave marks.

He hadn't even really touched her yet, and Y/N was absolutely dizzy, high on kisses and his hands burning into her hips. She felt her stomach start to coil as an orgasm came to the surface, her legs clenching tighter around him.

"You close, baby?" Spencer muttered against her neck, right under her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth for just a moment before rocking her hips faster, bringing his leg up just a bit higher to aid her. She shoved her head into his neck and cried out his name, somewhere between a whine and a moan.

Within a matter of seconds Y/N was shaking around him, panting his name over and over while he brought his leg just a tad higher, bringing her over the edge. Her mind raced, coming to terms with what just happened and what was about to happen, and it made her tremble again, sending one more shockwave through her lower body before her hips slowed to a stop.

Spencer slid his hands back up to her head, bringing her face to his once more and kissing her. As if she wasn't already so out of breath. But it didn't matter. She only cared about his mouth and the way it captured hers like it belonged there, like it knew she was his for the taking. And she really believed that was true.

Y/N still straddled his leg, but she wanted to give him the same release he'd given her, so she attempted to climb away and moved one of her hands down to his belt.

Spencer stopped her hand and pulled his face away from hers. For a moment she thought she'd done something wrong, and she was about to apologize, but he pulled her close and stroked her hair with his hand, tilting his head to meet her gaze. "Not yet, pretty girl. I want to taste you first."

And without another second passing by, he moved the hand that grabbed her wrist between them and snuck it into her shorts and panties. Y/N jumped a little, but only because it felt too good for her own good. Her eyes fluttered shut when his middle finger grazed her clit, but his other hand gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. "No. I want you to look at me, okay?"

She nodded, and then whimpered when he slipped a finger inside of her. She lifted herself up just a little so he had more access, and sure enough his finger slipped in and out with ease.

She wanted more, but he took his hand away, and the glimmer in his eye when she pouted, visibly frustrated, sent her into another small fit of tremors.

"So antsy, pretty girl," Spencer laughed, slightly amused. Y/N would have said something, but all words escaped her when he brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue poked out to taste-test before he completely took them in, holding eye contact with her the whole time. As he sucked his fingers clean, Y/N felt herself growing desperate again, and she ground against his leg once more.

Spencer laughed and brought his fingers out of his mouth, resting them on her hips. "You're being awfully quiet, Y/N."

"I... I don't... Is that a bad thing?"

"Not necessarily. But you didn't have a problem being loud last night."

It brought color to her cheeks. Her first instinct was to apologize but she knew he'd chastise her for it, so she didn't. Rather, she embraced the opportunity and pulled herself closer to him. "Is that what you want, Spencer? You want me to be loud for you?" Her voice was soft, somewhat contradicting what she was saying, but she looked at him through her eyelashes, biting her lip as if asking for permission.

And now it seemed like it was his turn to groan, though it came out as more of a growl as he pushed her away from him, grabbing her arm and leading her through the apartment. All the rooms were built the same so he knew where to go. He didn't take the time to scan her room, though if he did it was fast. Y/N barely had any time to react before he pulled her to him again and kissed her roughly.

As his fingers weaved through her hair again, Y/N decided to take a chance, snaking her hands down to his belt. This time he didn't stop her, his lips opening and granting her access to his tongue as she unbuckled the belt. She unzipped his pants and pushed them down his hips, but they only got about an inch down before he pulled away from her completely, leaving her empty again.

She whined, and he smirked.

"What is it, Y/N?" he asked. "What do you want?" His tone was almost condescending, like he knew exactly what she wanted.

She didn't like being teased. "I just want you," she stated, whining a bit to prove her point.

He seemed to contemplate his words for a moment before he spoke. "And... you think I should just give you what you want? After I caught you eavesdropping on me last night?"

He was only saying it to see her flushed. To embarrass her and make her shy so he could make it better in the end. She knew that, knew better, and yet it still worked. "I'm sorry," she pleaded, getting down on her knees in front of him and looking up at him with just as much desperation as she could manage. "You know I feel really really bad about it, just please let me make it up to you. Please, Spencer."

When all he did was look down at her, amused and still, Y/N batted her eyelashes and grabbed the waistband of his pants and underwear. She waited to pull them down until he did or said something, but all he did was stare. She couldn't tell if he was making her wait or if he was waiting for her, and she was afraid of making the wrong decision. But, deciding that she'd been in enough trouble in the past 10 hours to last a lifetime, Y/N took a chance yet again and pulled Spencer's pants all the way down.

Still unsure of what would happen if she continued, Y/N scooted closer, but kept her eyes locked on his. She batted her eyelashes and ran her hands up his thighs, eventually wrapping around to his ass. She brought them up his lower back and around to feel his stomach before sliding down to the front of his hips. She stopped them there, gliding her thumbs over his skin in small circles as she pleaded once more for good measure.

"Pretty please."

Spencer gave in, bringing his hands to her hair and pulling her close. "It's all yours, baby."

The words sent heat straight to her lower half as she flicked her tongue out to taste the head of his cock. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, and Y/N took that as her opening. She looked down and marveled at him as she took him completely in her mouth, slowly but surely, getting herself acquainted with his size.

Once she set a steady pace, she looked up at him and found that he was absolutely wonderstruck. His eyes practically sparkled as they fixed on her, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth in pure adoration and fascination. Y/N took this as encouragement, bobbing her head faster and slacking her jaw as she let him hit the back of her throat with each thrust forward. She gagged once and pulled herself off, bringing her hand up to jerk him for a few seconds before using her mouth again. This was a cycle that continued until tears were streaming down her cheeks and spit was leaking down her chin, and every time she looked up at him, Spencer would groan and tighten his grip in her hair.

Eventually he stopped her, pulling her off of him and panting. "Come here," he whispered, and Y/N got up off her knees, standing up and wiping some of the spit from her face. It didn't feel all that sexy as she was doing it, though the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing in the entire world that could bring him joy.

He reached forward and wiped some of the tears from her cheek before kissing her, groaning into her mouth as he did so. His still hard cock pressed against her leg, and she groaned, too, before he pulled away.

That dark glimmer returned in his eye when he spoke. "Take your clothes off."

Y/N didn't have to be told twice. Immediately she threw her shirt off over her head and tossed it to the ground as Spencer stepped out of his pants. His eyes travelled down to her breasts and she noticed him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing a few times before he looked back up at her face. Keeping eye contact and softly biting her lip, Y/N hooked her fingers around her shorts and underwear and slid them down her legs until they reached the other clothes on the floor. She kicked them to the side and tilted her head up.

She thought he might kiss her again, but instead he nodded his head towards her bed. "Lay down on your back."

As Y/N had learned pretty early on, she was quick and eager to obey, and so she did as she was told, laying down in the middle of the bed, her head resting on her pillows and the rest of her body laying flat, eagerly awaiting Spencer's next move.

She watched him as he took his shirt off, leaving him completely bare, and before she had time to admire him, he bent down and grabbed something from his pants.

A condom, Y/N realized as he made his way to her.

"You really came over with the intent to fuck me, didn't you?" she mused, unable to stop herself.

He laughed at her words, climbing over her and leaning down to press his lips to her neck in a soft kiss. "Wasn't it obvious?"

No, she thought to herself, but she didn't say anything. Though even if she wanted to, she couldn't have, because Spencer's mouth moved down her neck and to her chest. He licked a small circle over her right nipple before enclosing it entirely in his mouth, and Y/N arched her back off the bed, running her fingers through his hair.

He laughed again, taking her nipple in between his teeth before releasing it and saying, "I love how fucking responsive you are, pretty girl."

Everything about what he was saying and doing to her sent Y/N into a tailspin. Before she had time to respond, he moved his mouth to her other breast and got right to work, repeating the process.

One of his hands trailed down her body, just light enough to leave goosebumps it its wake, until it reached where she really wanted him. As if to prove his last statement, Y/N's hips bucked upwards to feel more of him, and Spencer laughed against her chest, removing his mouth from her and using both of his hands to steady her hips, pushing them into the mattress. "Can you be still for me? Use your words."

Y/N sighs and bites her lip before answering. "Yes. I can be still."

"Louder, Y/N. You promised you'd be loud for me, remember?"

If she wasn't wet before, she definitely was now. And she thought about just repeating her words louder, like she was expected to, but then something in that stupid part of her brain said to push her luck. And so she laughed back at him.

"No, I didn't."

Spencer seemed shocked. This was the first time she'd blatantly disagreed with something he said. "What?"

He seemed a little mad, but Y/N acted innocent. "Well, I asked you if you'd like me to be loud for you, and you just pulled me in here. You didn't answer me, and I didn't promise anything."

She was scared of what he would do or say, but that turned her on even more.

And without warning, Spencer jammed two of his fingers into her mouth, forcing it open and pressing them down on her tongue. "Well, sweetheart, this is me telling you. You're gonna scream my name until the whole city can hear how needy you are for me."

She almost choked on his fingers, but he took them out and slid them down her chin and neck, leaving her completely breathless. He waited a beat before laughing to himself. "Aw, see? Look what I do to you, pretty girl," he mused. "You're so submissive."

Y/N wanted to argue, but she wanted him more, so she whined and tried to move him closer, to which he laughed again and caressed her face. "That's what I thought. Now be a good girl and wait a second while I put this on, okay?"

For fear of disappointing him, Y/N replied with, "Okay," loud and clear.

He smirked, unwrapping the condom and starting to slide it over himself. "Fast learner."

And in an attempt to patch things over even more, she batted her eyes like she knew he liked, acting patient and innocent though she was pretty sure they both knew she was the exact opposite.

It paid off in the end though, because Spencer rewarded her with a sweet kiss as he ran the tip of his cock over her pussy, just barely entering. He teased her like that for about a minute before she started to get antsy, and yet he didn't let up. He raised an eyebrow at her, and catching on she reached up, grabbing the sides of his face and blinking once before talking. "Please, Spencer. Fuck me."

"Atta girl," he praised before moving forward and entering her. Immediately Y/N moaned, her mouth open and eyes just about rolling to the back of her head. Her hands slid up his face and through his hair, weaving her fingers through the soft waves as he set a steady pace, letting themselves get used to the feeling of being wrapped up in each other like this. For a moment it seemed like he forgot his promise to fuck her so hard the whole city would hear her screaming his name, but after a while, he apparently decided that she wasn't being loud enough.

"Come on, Y/N. You can do better than that."

She wanted more than anything to tell him that if he fucked her harder then maybe she would be louder, but infinitely realized that A) that was a surefire way to get chastised, and B) if she was louder, he would fuck her harder. He was going to make her work for it, and in the end she didn't mind that at all.

So she told the truth. "Fuck, Spencer, you feel so goo— ahh!"

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, he quickly adjusted and fucked her faster, and aside from the overstimulation, it was starting to feel reminiscent of the dream she'd had last night. She wasn't crying but she felt like she could, every fiber of her being burning alive with pleasure. She felt her orgasm rising to the surface, but she didn't want this to end yet. Maybe if she was lucky Spencer would keep going after she'd finished, though at this point she was just happy to let him fuck her for any period of time.

That being said, he slowed his movements, making each stroke harder and more deliberate, and Y/N yelled out his name, hoping to get more.

"You close, pretty girl? Hmm? You wanna cum?"

The strain in his voice sent another wave of pleasure coursing through her body. He was close too, she just knew it.

"Yes," she breathed, before repeating it louder and louder. "Yes, yes, yes!"

She was just about to fall over the edge when Spencer laughed and pulled out of her, leaving her unsatisfied, empty, and confused.

"What?" she breathed, looking up at him.

He slid the condom off and tossed it aside before jerking himself off over her stomach. "Only good girls get to cum. You should have thought of that before you eavesdropped on me."

And then he came all over her stomach and chest. She would have been more angry, but the whole sight in front of her was hot as hell. Who was she to complain? She watched as his face scrunched up in pleasure, his mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut. His hair faintly stuck to his face, and his hips jerked into his hand until eventually he was spent.

Y/N whined at the sight, completely turned on feeling his warm cum coating her skin and also utterly frustrated for not getting off.

Spencer opened his eyes to look at her, and she thought in that moment it looked like he would burst into flames. As his gaze raked over her body, covered in his cum and so obviously desperate for release, he licked his lips and got down, spreading her legs wider and opening her up to him.

"Wha—"

Y/N didn't get to finish her thought, because Spencer was immediately eating her out like a man starved, running his tongue through her pussy, occasionally flicking it over her clit. As expected, the louder she got the more he gave her, and at one point he started fingering her at a relentless pace, curling his fingers up against her g-spot while circling her clit with his tongue.

He brought his head up and looked at her through his eyelashes as best as he could, barely catching a glimpse of her face, completely contorted in pleasure.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl?" he teased, slowing his fingers torturously.

She whined and then threw her head back, pleading. "Spencer, please!"

He only got a little faster and then gently flicked his tongue over her clit again, to which she yelped and fisted the sheets.

In turn he moved faster. And she got louder. Faster and louder, faster and louder, until finally he gave her what she wanted.

"That's it, pretty girl. Cum for me."

Right after he said it, Y/N arched her back off the bed and fisted the sheets even harder, actually screaming his name until it came out as incoherent sobs, eventually dwindling down to whimpering and panting as he aided her down from her high.

Spencer's movements slowed to a stop, pulling his fingers out of her and pressing one final kiss to her clit before removing himself from her completely and coming up to lay down beside her.

She stayed there on her back, arms clutched at her sides, breathing deep and eyes almost heavy like she was about to fall asleep. He brushed her hair away from her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on him, and it excited her. When he pulled away, she turned her head to look at him and smiled.

"I'm definitely going to have to invade your privacy more often if this is what the end result is."

Spencer laughed, his hand brushing lightly through her hair. "So that was okay? I'm sorry if I was kind of mean, I—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. If I was really truly mad about anything you did, I would have screamed at you, not for you. Trust me. You're just fine. That was... perfect."

"Good... And you know I was just teasing you about eavesdropping, right? I'm not actually upset about it."

"No, I know. I still feel kinda bad about it though."

"Well, you shouldn't. If anything... something good came out of it, right?"

Y/N laughed, scrunching her nose as he looked at her. "Right."

After a moment, Spencer sat up and looked down at her stomach, a smirk on his face. "I'm gonna go get you a washcloth."

"Good thinking. And while you're at it could you also grab the Advil?"

He was on his way out the bedroom door, slipping on his underwear before stopping in his tracks. "Oh no... I- I didn't hurt you did I?"

"Oh! No, you didn't. I just know that I'm going to be sore, and walking will most definitely be a problem. And I am not getting out of this bed for the rest of the day, so Advil will definitely help. Thank you for that, by the way."

Spencer laughed, leaving Y/N to admire him as he walked away.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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antimonarchy · 4 years ago

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How to Create Image Descriptions

So I’ve been creating image descriptions on tumblr for about a month, and I wanted to share some helpful guides I’ve found on how to create them as well as my own tips that I’ve picked up. Video descriptions and transcripts are also necessary, but since I mostly focus on image descriptions that’s what this guide is about. This might get a bit long, so fair warning.

What are image descriptions?

Image descriptions are a textual depiction of what is going on in an image, as shown with the image below.

[Image ID: A picture of a person with short black hair working on a computer. They are sitting at a wooden table with a large blue pot of pink flowers in front of a grey brick wall. A guitar is propped up against the wall in the background, and there is a string of lights near the ceiling. /.End ID]

Why create image descriptions?

The primary reason for creating image descriptions is to allow people who are blind/have limited vision to experience visual content. Many people who are blind/have low vision use screenreaders, which read text out loud when it is clicked or hovered over with a mouse. A large amount of online content, such as pictures, graphics, or drawings, is visual and so possibly cannot be experienced by someone with vision problems. As a general rule of thumb, anything that can be dragged or dropped most probably requires a description. In addition, if someone has partial vision and attempts to zoom in on an image, sometimes it can become pixelated and impossible to understand.

Some neurodivergent people might need a description to understand the tone of an image, such as the meaning of facial expressions of a person to understand what emotion the artist is trying to depict

Some people might not have high speed internet or have low computer memory, meaning that they turn off images in order to save space. This means that they as well might require descriptions of visual content

Are image descriptions the same as alt text?

no, alt text and image descriptions serve the same purpose, but they are different in how they are presented. Alt text, short for alternative text, is included in the html of an image and can be read by a screen reader. However, there are many reasons why many prefer image descriptions over alt text.

There is a limit of 200 words in alt text on tumblr specifically (and not in other contexts, which makes this information only applicable here), which means that detailed images or graphics are unable to be described fully without possibly cutting out important information.

People who require descriptions, but who do not use a screenreader, must right-click and search through the html of an image in order to find alt text, but with an image description they are saved that work.

Who should create image descriptions?

Everyone who is able to should create image descriptions. A content creator is best able to communicate the message of their work through text, as they are the one who created it and thus understand its message the best. While of course it takes practice when starting out, over time image descriptions become second nature when posting visual content. Always check the notes of a tumblr post for an ID rather than reblogging without one.

What should be included in image descriptions?

There is no simple answer to this question, there are a variety of resources and guides on how to create one, and you should not accept my advice as the ultimate authority, as I am by no means a professional, and only create descriptions in my spare time as part of the effort to make Tumblr more accessible. However, here is my information for those starting out.

First, consider what type of visual content it is. Is it fanart of a tv show, a screenshot of a tweet, or an informational graphic meant to educate people on a particular issue?

Then, consider what information is most important in the image. If the visual content is an image of a famous building, then in writing the description the focus should be on the building, rather than describing for instance the color of the sky, surrounding buildings, or the clothing of the people walking by, as they are not the information that is being presented.

Perkins ELearning has an excellent list of things that should generally be included, which I will include here. In my experience, these are the most important elements to describe

The people and animals in an image

The background or setting of an image

Elements that relate to the context specifically, so if it was an image of a congested highway on a news website, the description would mention the packed cars

The colors of an image (don’t overdo it however, a simple ‘light blue’ will suffice, no need to say something like ‘a color blue that is similar to the color of a robin’s egg’ unless it is crucial to the viewer’s comprehension of an image)

Context for an image. For instance, imagine if someone had drawn a version of the Bernie Sanders ‘I am once again asking’ meme, with Eleanor Shellstrop from the Good Place saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place.” Rather than provide a description to the example such as: [Image ID: A drawing of Eleanor Shellstrop saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place.” /.End ID] you would instead say �� [Image ID: A redraw of the Bernie Sanders ‘I am once again asking’ meme with Eleanor Shellstrop from The Good Place saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place. /.End ID]

If the image is of a social media post, include the username/handle of the creator as well as the reactions (likes/reblogs) if they are visible in the image, as they may be cut off by the original screenshotter.

If it is a drawing or piece of art, always look for the artist’s signature when writing a description

How do I write an image description?

To start off, here is an example description written for a piece of art I made myself.

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Suki from Avatar: The Last Airbender over a gold background. She is shown from the shoulders up facing the viewer, and has a neutral expression. She is wearing metal armor over a light green tunic, and is wearing her Kyoshi Warriors facepaint and headdress. The artist’s signature ‘Astra’ is written in the lower right of the image. /.End ID]

In this description:

I made clear where the description begins and ends, so that someone with a screenreader is not confused. I usually use brackets ([ ]), write the words ‘Image ID’ (or video/gif/other) and finish with a slash, period, and the words End ID. (/.End ID)

I emphasized the type of image, in this case a digital drawing

I said the character’s name (obviously this may not be known if describing a photo or something you are not familiar with)

I described the background and the character’s clothing

I described her expression

I included the description of my signature.

This is my basic process for writing a description

I first say what the content is, such as a drawing, photo, or screenshot of a tweet.

I then use what is called Object-Action-Context for the most part, which UXDesign has a long article on https://uxdesign.cc/how-to-write-an-image-description-2f30d3bf5546. For example, [Image ID: A photo of a person standing in a crowd waving to someone out of view in front of a river. /.End ID] While obviously I would usually provide more information than that, Person = object, standing + waving to someone out of view = action, and ‘in a crowd’ = context.

I describe the clothing that might be worn

I talk about the position that people in an image might be in, such as leaning against one another on a couch, or standing with their fingers intertwined

I talk about the expressions on their faces, if shown

I talk about their general appearance (if important to the description) such as hair color/length

As said before, I talk about the context of an image if necessary

If the background is a simple color, I usually include it in the first sentence of the description. However if it is more complicated, such as a river winding through a dense forest, I include that at the end of the description after describing the important elements.

Typically if I am reblogging an image, I do not add on any commentary after creating an image description, as this allows others to reblog my description without my personal reaction. If I want to add on to an image, I usually reblog my description post.

In general, it is best to remain objective when writing a description, meaning not including your opinion of the content. However especially in an informal setting, say for instance you were describing an adorable cow, I would see it as fine to say [Image ID: A small drawing of an adorable cow. /.End ID] because the emphasis is on the appearance. There isn’t a clearcut answer, and it really depends on the context.

What are some tips for writing descriptions/common pitfalls?

If there is an element of an image like a line that represents an emotion, or a sound effect like ‘clang’ if something falls, include that in the description. For instance, [Image ID: ...beside the mug that has fallen on the floor, there are the words ‘sploosh’ indicating the sound of the water that has spilled out. /.End ID]

Put image descriptions first. Don’t hide them under readmores or any other text. If you have something with multiple images and you are the creator, place the description under each image in succession rather than all at the end. Readmores are ableist, as they require someone who has vision problems/one of the conditions described above to do more work to access the message of visual content.

If you are mentioning the skin color and/or race of someone in an image, make sure you describe it for anyone else who might be in an image. Don’t just describe the race of someone who appears to not be white. This doesn’t mean that you have to describe race, such as if the character is one whose race is commonly known, just that if you do, make sure you do it for all characters/people in an image.

In order to write IDs effectively, I’ve found it useful to download a screen reader. I use NVDA, which is entirely free and easy to use and can be downloaded here: https://www.nvaccess.org/download/.

Insert + Q turns it off

While my guide has focused mostly on image descriptions, video descriptions are also necessary. However they are not my area of expertise, and differ slightly, so I would recommend anyone interested in them to check out this website https://www.washington.edu/accessibility/videos/

Transcripts, for those who are d/Deaf/Hard of Hearing, are also necessary for making content accessible, and might be required for content that also has a visual format, such as a Tiktok. I would recommend this website https://www.w3.org/WAI/media/av/transcripts/ for anyone interested in writing transcripts

What are some more resources I can check out?

Here are a series of websites that I have found while researching how to write descriptions

UX Design - I mentioned UX Design earlier when talking about Object - Action - Context, this article is very useful and examines how to structure a description and provides very useful examples for beginners

Perkins E-Learning - This article is very useful in helping someone what to include in a description, such as clothing or background information, as well as providing some additional information on alt text if you are interested

Meloukhianet - This blog post by s. e. smith goes into detail on the elements of an image to emphasize depending on its context, using the example of a picture of their cat sunning himself.

SOAP - This article by the Stanford Online Accessibility Program (SOAP) provides a large amount of information on the purpose of image descriptions and what content requires them

HubPages - This article by SOTD and Zera discusses the difference between sparse, lush, and overdone descriptions, which is the amount of information included, and if/when each should be used.

I hope you found this information helpful, I encourage everyone to check out these websites, and my inbox is always open for questions!

#has id #please feel free to send me any questions you might have!#while I am not a professional by any definition of the term #accessibility is a large interest of mine and so I am more than happy to help #image descriptions #accessibility

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annemagus · 4 years ago

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natural love potion; h.p.

Pairing: harry potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader Timeline: HBP / 6th year Warning(s): cussing, mentions of dying and blood, submission, reader pining Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever post. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Harry and Y/N are friends. Just friends. Much like Harry and Hermione, there is nothing out of it that is going on between them. Not until that day in potions.

—

“Are you done with my potion?“

“You mean, will Professor Slughorn call you by your name? Then yes, Wallenby.“

It was the first week of another year at Hogwarts. New faces, new prefects and even new professors are introduced, as usual. Professor Slughorn is the newest addition to the faculty and to have a good first impression with the students, he's given the 6th years Amortentia, the love potion, as their first Potions homework.

They were supposed to put it in their selected food or drink and it had to be unnoticeable. Why would the Potions Teacher assign this kind of homework to the students? No one knows. But this certainly gave him a good first impression to a large number of students.

“Blimey Harry, we've been rotten at Potions ever since. Now look at you, it's as if you've taken private lessons with Snape the whole summer. You’re the bloody Potions Master in our year now!“

The two Gryffindors are making their way out of their dorm room towards the Common Room with Harry holding a small basket of cookies to bring it in the dungeons where the potions classroom is at. Y/N is patiently waiting for them near the Portrait as several students greet her along the way.

"G'morning."

“Where’s ‘Mione?“ Ron exclaimed without even acknowledging the girl’s presence.

“Uhm, shouldn't you know that, Mr Prefect?"

The male prefect then realized the time and his supposed agenda to escort first years to the Great Hall. Harry scolded him of how much he and others would kill to be in his position and yet he’s never given it any importance.

“Godric, have mercy on me. Hermione’s gonna kill me!” the redhead exclaimed after getting a playful slap behind his head from the Chosen One before rushing away from the two.

“Much worse than that, she’s gonna make him expelled,“ she jokes with a mouthful of cookie from the small basket Harry was holding. "Mhm, you have no idea how badly I've been craving cookies since last week! This is good, Har. Where’d ya buy it?“

Harry, before realizing what happens, freezes. He was too busy lecturing his best friend that he didn't notice a hand sneaking into his potion, the cookie. His hand slowly snakes its way to the contents of the basket that has supposedly four cookies but now has only three. “Y/N!“

"What?" she chuckles dreamily.

"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."

“What for? You put poison in it, didn't you?“ Y/N continues to chuckle dreamily.

Harry stares at his friend as if she was some peculiar experiment. “How are you feeling, Y/N?“

“I feel like . . .“ she sighs dramatically as she gazes far away, mesmerized. The effects are plainly obvious. “I feel like falling.“

“Falling?“ Harry's stomach twisted. This is what makes Potions classes bothersome, the uncertainty of knowing whether the potion you brew is right or wrong. You can only know it if you’re a professional or by testing the potion done, which in Harry’s case, Y/N would do for him.

"I'm falling in love, Harry. I'm falling in love with you."

And boy was he really the Potions Master.

The raven-haired boy's cheeks got warm the second those words escaped his friend's lips. The two are only friends and have never acted more than that. Seeing this new side of Y/N for Harry is too foreign for him.

Sure, Harry has seen her date two boys from different houses, but being the recipient of her romantic antics has never crossed his path. His last romantical relationship, if you can call it that, was last year with the senior Ravenclaw Cho Chang. Even that didn't go well. He went on a single date with her just to make her believe he's in love with both Hermione and Y/N. Ever since then, he never thought about committing to any romantic relationship.

"Harry . . ." Y/N's hand reached out for his arm, grazing down slowly towards his hand with too much delicacy. Their hands are now intertwined. The both of them have never reached this close proximity, having learned now that one of his best friend's palms are soft but slightly calloused in the fingertips from playing muggle instruments and Harry fears that when Ron finds out about this act, he will tease them nonstop which isn't fair for Y/N. ". . . I know this may sound all too sudden, but, I have loved you ever since."

He didn't respond. He tries to block all of this sudden affection out of his mind knowing these are all artificial.

"Don't you love me back?"

"Of course I do. You're my best frie-"

If his cheeks were warm, now, his ears as well are on fire. Y/N has thrown herself to the flustered boy, locking his neck and face in her arms, squealing in happiness like a kid. Holding hands is a new thing for The Boy Who Lived but hugging him as if to let the world know he's someone's is another thing.

Very few people have ever hugged him in all the history of his 16 years of existence, knowing the story of his parents and the lack thereof. His godfather, Mrs Weasley and Hermione are the only ones — as far as he knows — written in a tiny piece of parchment of the list of people who have hugged him. Yet none of them could compare to this hug as those mentioned acted parental towards him.

Students are now starting to pass them out of the Common Room towards the Great Hall. One of those shouted, "get a room!" They're still standing just beside the Portrait Hole where Ron has left them both to deal with his own romance.

"Uhm, Y/N, why don't we go get ourselves some breakfast first, yes?"

"Yes! Let's tell 'Mione and Ron that we're finally together!"

—

Breakfast was agonizingly slow, to Harry's opinion. Y/N can't stop giggling beside him and feeding him like an infant earning them attention from the others.

"Oi, Potter! Didn't know that you two are . . ."" Seamus makes a kissing face earning a few cackles and sniggers from their other friends at the table.

The boy just ignored them with an eye roll, amusing the two friends in front of him.

"Leave them be, Harry. Besides, when was the time Y/N acted on you this way, huh?" They all diverted their gaze to the dazed girl. Eyebrows knitted in concentration as she feeds him but at the same time doing her best to get as close to Harry as the universe could possibly give her the opportunity to. They've never seen her this in love and affectionate. And the two thought that Harry just deserves it even just for a while. "Never, right? You better make it worthwhile."

"Thanks, Ron. Really helpful." He answered with his famous eye-roll.

"Always here for you, mate "

"I just don't get why we couldn't tell Professor Slughorn immediately. I mean, I'm sure he has something for Y/N. Or Madam Pomfrey-"

"Yeah? In which I'm sure is also your easiest ticket to detention."

The boy grunts some incoherent words of profanities under his breath. Not only was he getting embarrassed by the fact that one of his close friends is acting like his girlfriend but dragging Y/N along with his catastrophic life is just too unfair on her side. She didn't ask for this. Plus, detention in the second week of a new school year doesn't sound good.

The Brightest Witch reminded them not to take Potions lightly. It may sound like not the most helpful subject in a wizarding war, but can get you expelled once meddled with students. In short, what happened to Y/N is very illegal. You should not use or test your Potions project with another student. Plus, Filch will go nuts if he gets the news that a student gave another student a love potion.

“Well, at least, now we know that your Potion worked well.”

"Come on, we're going to be late for DADA."

On their way towards Snape's classroom — a fact Harry still can't accept — Y/N's fingers are interlaced with Harry's as they walk. She's given him her bag as that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do. In the classroom, Y/N didn't sit in her usual spot but literally kicked Ron out of his chair to sit beside Harry, the boy just mouths a sorry.

Her usual focus from the class was now inclined to Harry himself alone the whole class. Out of all their major subjects, Harry is known to have the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on top of it all. Y/N knows it, having been a member of Dumbledore's Army. Everybody knows it. But with Snape being the teacher and Y/N constantly caressing his left cheek every time Snape's back faces them, the said subject is somehow kicked out of its place on top.

"Y/N, do you mind?" He tried but obviously failed to ask her to stop in the nicest way he can utter. "I mean, it'll be really hard for us to pass DADA, and eventually NEWTs, if we're both distracted." His voice is hoarse and soft, one way or another. Afraid to hurt the girl beside him and cause a scene. Letting his former Potions Professor know his mischief doing is the least of his priorities for the day. Merlin, at least, let this day finish without anyone knowing.

"Harry, my love, it's not my fault your eyes are distracting. They're the most beautiful green not even the most beautiful forest in the world could compare to."

Once again, his cheeks and ears are on fire for the 37th time this morning. Most of the reasons are from the nonstop compliments he's receiving from the girl. It didn't take much energy from him to not believe all of it. He grew up with the Dursleys, they didn't fail to engrave in his mind his place and worth.

"Care to share in class what you're chattering about, Mr Potter?" The elder snarled in the middle of his discussion, letters extending out of his tongue as per usual. He finally notices, as always, Harry making another noise across the room.

"Nothing, Professor."

The said Professor narrowed his eyes to the duo. He knows, of course, he knows, he was a bloody Potions Professor ever since he accepted the job offered to him at Hogwarts.

"I'm saying this once and only once," he positioned himself in front of the two, now leaning to the Gryffindor boy to let just the two hear what he'll say. "Fix this, or you will face more vile punishment than getting expelled."

The class was dismissed with 50 points taken from Gryffindor. Harry is used to it, even his other fellow Gryffindors weren't surprised anymore. As a matter of fact, as long as he is breathing, infinite points will be deducted from their house.

As they were heading out of the classroom, Hermione gently peels the zonked out Y/N away from her grasp on the poor boy. "Harry, you can't let the other teachers know about this."

"Well, what do you suggest then?"

The next words that came out of her lips are like caffeine to the sleepy heads of Harry and Ron. They could not believe she could say such things. Even Y/N would have been gobsmacked if she just wasn't in a daze.

"Don't go to classes?" Her tone was laced with uncertainty. But she couldn't think of any other option, she'd rather let them take a day off classes than have Harry nor Y/N expelled.

"Can I come with them?"

—

Harry Potter's Monday was bizarrely different from his usual ones. He has spent the whole day with Y/N trailing behind him like a baby duck. His hand used to be sweaty the whole time with her's but now, it felt more comforting than awkward interlocked with his.

The castle was quiet, with all the students in class, it gave him privacy and away from the prying eyes of malicious gossipers. They couldn’t get inside the Common Room as some 7th years are hanging there knowing they have fewer classes and more time for reviewing for their NEWTs, library; some teachers roam around there, Hagrid’s Hut; knowing Hagrid, as much as they love the guy, couldn’t keep his mouth shut from secrets.

As much as he dreads going to class all the time, it was strange to see the castle this quiet without Ron’s company.

He was throwing pebbles by the lake to pass time as Y/N sat on the ground behind him, making them their Charms essay homework.

The boy studies her features. Y/N wasn’t so bad. Her hair’s tidier than Hermione’s. She was actually beautiful. He would’ve taken her to the Yule Ball when Ravenclaw Cho Chang declined his invitation and if it wasn’t for that Slytherin bloke asking her out instantly - her first ex-boyfriend who Y/N dated a few months back. Her hair tucked in her ear as she focuses on what to write next in her essay. Harry feels bad for making her write his homework but the girl insisted. Guess you’d do anything for the people you love.

He looks back on the lake. Thinking of the people who have loved him did everything they could to protect him, even dying. First, his parents, then Sirius even Jesus, what did he do to deserve this fate. What good will it be if the people he loves are gone?

Two arms wrapped around his chest from behind startled him.

“You’re tense.” Y/N’s hand unwrapped his bloodied hand. He didn’t even notice he was gripping the stone tightly, his scarlet blood staining the object.

“It’s nothing.“ He cranes his neck to stare at the girl on his right shoulder. Her eyes are full of concern and love. Love that he created out of a goddamn potion for a goddamn homework. A love that could never be compared to the love of his parents and Sirius. A goddamn false love. His brows knitted before jumping out of Y/N’s embrace with panic.

“I think we can go inside now.“

The rest of the day consists of Harry, trying to ignore all of Y/N’s pining over him. He tries to remember that all of these are not her fault, there’s nothing to get mad at her about. Running away from her is also impossible as she committed herself to cling to Harry’s arm as if her life depends on it.

Finally, classes are over and dinner is approaching. The two are reunited with Hermione and Ron in a secluded area of a random hallway, as Harry was hoping to get less attention from other students as they got earlier at breakfast.

“How are the love birds?“ Ron teases, seeing their hands locked still.

“Oh, it was majestic, Ron! Harry took me to the Black Lake even though today was a school day. I feel a little rebellious, to be honest.“

“Good hiding spot.“ Hermione commented.

“I’m not going to the Great Hall for dinner. So you two can bring Y/N instead.“

“No! I’m coming with you!“

“Y/N aren’t you tired of my company yet?“

“I could never! I love you.“

Ron snickered pretty loudly in front of them, even Hermione couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Aren't you two just adorable?” the redhead continues to tease.

“Don’t worry Harry, Ron and I will bring you supper instead.“

The day has finally ended and the effects of the Amortentia, as what the favourite book of Harry says, wears off after 24 hours. It was past Y/N’s get up time but fortunately for them, she took her time sleeping exactly until the effects wore off.

She moans with pain as she tries to sit up from her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"'Mione?"

"It's me."

"I feel like a full construction site is inside my head . . . and I feel awful. Like, waking up on the wrong side of the wrong bed."

"Do you feel anything . . . unusual? Like, something or particularly someone you want to obsess about?"

The girl looks at her strangely and then at the time. "Bloody heck Hermione, aren't we late for breakfast?"

Clearly, Y/N remembers none from the incident.

Meanwhile, at the Great Hall, Harry is tapping his leg out of anxiousness. If his Amortentia was too strong and didn’t ease away, he might as well pack his belongings and leave Hogwarts voluntarily. His precious book from the Half-Blood Prince has mentioned the cure for a love potion but the ingredients are only held by the Potions Teacher. The horrors there will be once he mentions this to a teacher is unimaginable, he’d rather spend the day with a dazed Y/N than get lectures from a teacher.

“Don’t worry about your girlfriend, mate,“ Ron’s words are muffled from a chicken leg in between his teeth from across him. “They’re here.“

Across the Hall, the two girls are striding towards their place.

“Why are you at my seat?”

“Uhhh . . .” stammering, Ron glances at Harry for help. They were normally sitting beside each other but after the incident yesterday, they thought Y/N would love to sit next to the Golden Boy. “I-I don’t know either,“ just sliding to his side to make room for the two.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?“ Harry asks the dishevelled looking girl in front of him. Both Hermione and Ron - who are sitting side by side - are listening to the exchange intently.

“Honestly, I feel bad. Like, subconsciously, I know this day would be so bad,” Y/N sighs depressingly. “Why, are you alright?“

“Yeah,” deep inside the boy, a strong wave of relief passed him. His body was cold from the nerves, but knowing his Amortentia had finally worn off, those nerves were showered off of him with a warm relieving feeling. “Actually, I’ve never been better.”

“Well, at least one of us has woken up on the right side of the bed.“ she chuckles half-heartedly. Harry felt guilty hastily after hearing those words. It’s all your fault dipshit.

As Y/N is back to sitting beside Hermione, she is also back to her normal self. Talking to her alone about their Charms homework that she never remembers making and some other random stuff that the boys could not give a care about. She was back to not paying any attention to the Golden Boy at the front who she absentmindedly know is staring at her.

Morning supper was finished and the quartet is now in Snape’s classroom. Y/N was back to sitting beside the cute Hufflepuff guy she's been crushing on and Harry is back stuck with his blabbering best friend.

As Snape discusses some more non-verbal spells and the techniques, he takes time to stop rounding the class in front of Y/N who was again, back to her normal self, her focus never leaving the Teacher. He stares at her, looking past her eyes and seeing that his student’s consciousness is back before trudging towards Harry and Ron.

“10 points from Gryffindor,” he grunted under his breath, which actually is the first compliment Harry has ever received from the elder man.

Classes ended and dinner came, Harry finds himself staring at the girl in front of him. She was talking to Seamus, one of their good friends, chatting and laughing with him as if he'd said the funniest joke ever told. The food on his plate has long been forgotten.

"Quit staring, you creep."

Harry looks back at his best friend beside him with a mixture of confusion. "Don't tell me you think I wouldn't notice."

What the boy was talking about, he has no idea.

"When will you tell Y/N?" Again, he replied with a look. "About the incident, of course."

Harry wasn't planning on ending his friendship with Y/N because of his carelessness. He could've just sealed the cookies in a jar or box so no one could see it, but no. He had to display it for the world to see. Hermione disagrees with his plan, of course.

The three of them found the perfect time to be alone in the common room, students are still chatting and scampering about their day anywhere but their dorms. So they decided then, to tell Y/N what happened.

"So that's why I felt bad. Isn't that the after-effects of Amortentia?"

Three heads nodded in front of her, studying her features.

"Well, I'm glad it was you, Harry. Could you imagine if it was Ron?" Y/N visibly grimacing at the thought. "But to be honest, it was all my fault. I should've asked you first before eating it. Thank you for being honest with me, Harry."

It wasn’t really what the boy was expecting as a response. He was anticipating more anger or embarrassment from the girl.

Their usual cycle is back. Y/N was completely Y/N Y/L/N again it's as if nothing happened. The four of them never mentioned the incident again and Harry catches himself being disturbed with that. It made him feel some things like shouldn’t Y/N be shy around me? Or shouldn’t Ron tease us still about what happened? Or shouldn’t Hermione lecture us and watch over us more to not repeat the incident again? These thoughts run through his head as every day passes.

He also catches himself getting extra angrier at the Hufflepuff boy, Y/N’s crushing about, every time they have a Quidditch tournament. Especially that time when she barges in the Common Room pretty loudly yelling at everyone that she got a date with the cute Hufflepuff.

“Y/N can you help me find a good present for Mrs Weasley’s birthday on our next Hogsmeade trip?” He tried, one Friday morning, to get in between them.

“Of course, Harry! But, can we do it after my date?“

“Right . . . you have a date.” Sounding a tad bit more disappointed than he really is.

“But,” Y/N responded with the syllable dragging along “I could tell him to go on the next visit instead and spend the day with my best friend?”

“Oh no, I don’t want you to cancel your date because of me.”

“Harry, I could even cancel my Charms class, Godric knows how much I love that class but, that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is that I’m here for you. Also, we’ve barely hung out anymore ever since you’ve been the, what does Ron call it, ah, the Potions master!”

“Not you too!” he playfully grunted all too loudly earning a laugh from the girl.

"Seriously, I would love to come with you.”

He never thought he'd say this but he misses Y/N. His Y/N, who cannot keep her hands to herself but Harry’s.

And before he could stop himself from getting deeper into his thoughts, he was left astounded. To his knowledge, all feelings he has for his best friend are only platonic but here he is, couldn't stop himself from the thoughts of Y/N. The way she used to have her focus engraved to the boy alone and him alone. It gives him so much angst every time Y/N hasn't given him enough attention for the day.

If this stupid Amortentia incident leads him into any feelings he'd be in deep shit.

Because Harry should not be bothered to get distracted. Quidditch season is starting, he's got new people relying upon his captainship. Besides Y/N has her eyes on someone else and he cannot risk losing their friendship knowing his feelings aren't being reciprocated.

Well there it is, he's already in deep shit.

So when their first game arrived playing against Slytherin, he is rather surprised to see Ron winning them a high rank.

He knows he deserved the glory that's why as the captain of the team, he let them have the post quidditch game party in their common room. The parties were usually lead by the twins, but knowing they're already gone, he didn't know that his fellow housemates apprehended their festivities.

"Weasley! Weasley!"

They watch as Ron finally gets recognition for his own efforts alone. Y/N was nowhere to be found, probably with her new boyfriend, and Hermione was shattered when Lavender Brown smothered Ron with kisses.

The two are in a random staircase trying to comfort one another. He doesn't know who needs more comforting, Hermione or him. Knowing he already lost someone who's never his also shattered his heart.

"How does it feel, Harry? When you see Y/N with another guy?"

To say that he's dumbfounded was an understatement. He couldn't be that careless with his so-called feelings now, is he?

"I know. I see the way you look at her. You two are my best friend."

He dreaded this conversation happening. The Golden Boy has never intended on developing feelings toward his friend. Unlike Hermione and Ron, the two have been having this romantical tension ever since their first year. His feelings toward Y/N is purely conjured by an incident they never dared to speak about. The boy believes that these stupid feelings of him will only break their friendship and Harry's not risking that.

"Why don't you try something?" Hermione is always the one they go to whenever they need help and whenever they're clueless about the next step. But this, this advice of hers is definitely one Harry's scared to listen to. "Hufflepuff boy is still not making any moves yet. You know, you're valid to think about yourself too. You've always thought about the others, you always prioritize us before yourself. You deserve to live too, Harry."

So Harry did listen.

In the Great Hall, he confided himself to sit beside Y/N all the time. Hermione doesn't mind the changes in their seating arrangement as she gets to sit with Ron anyway, so candidly speaking, it is a win-win situation for everybody.

He starts small, playfully feeding her (the way she used to), talking and listening to her talk about life in general. When they were walking towards their class, he would always offer to carry her bag, in which he never really waits for her response. Intermittently inviting her to do homework by the lake alone together. And every time they have Hogsmeade visits, he would buy her sweets at Honeydukes.

And Y/N notices. It didn't really take her long before she sees. She has convinced Hermione one night to tell her of her doings that day she was under Amortentia. Harry's new behaviour towards her has perfectly mirrored the story Hermione has told her.

Little did Harry know, the feelings eventually have been mutuals.

So when the Golden Boy was informed of this Christmas Party Professor Slughorn has assembled, he didn't hesitate to ask Y/N in an instant, too afraid that Yule Ball night might happen again. He was, for once, too grateful to be part of the Slug Club as Hufflepuff Boy was not part of it. Now that just minimizes his crush problem.

He has seen her in a ball gown back in their fourth year for their Yule Ball. But he never got the chance to be the one standing beside her throughout the night but now, tonight, he feels like the luckiest man.

Standing on the top of the stairway from the girls' dorm room was his best friend he never had feelings before until this year. She wasn't wearing the grandest of gown there is but this simple dress enhanced her features. She was walking down the stairs with a smile that gave a huge impact on how she looks. She was literally glowing.

"Hi."

"Y/N," he breathed, completely in awe of what feelings do to people.

He always sees Y/N every day, talks to her and laughs with her. She sees her perfectly like what normal best friends do. But after developing feelings for her, his mind is persuaded that she was the most beautiful person that walked on the planet.

Harry is infatuated. He felt as if he was under some spell. Is this how Y/N sees him, all those times she was under the love potion?

But Harry was sure, a hundred per cent, that this is not artificial feelings. He really likes her.

So after a very successful Christmas date, with Hermione being their third wheel, the two were back from being hip to hip. Harry was glad his Y/N is back. He's been wearing the pride of not having to use a love potion to get her back beside him. Because this time, Harry did not create an artificial love to make the girl he likes, like him back. This time, he did it right. He just needed to wait for the right time and place to ask her.

Christmas has passed and Harry's time is also running fast. Of course, his special assignment with Dumbledore has never left his mind. He would do the subtle talks with Professor Slughorn here and there. He felt as if he's running out of ideas to get what he needed and to make things worse, the Potions Master is already growing annoyed with him.

"Still no luck with Slughorn, then, I take it?"

"Luck . . . That's it. All I need's a bit of luck."

That evening, Harry was away the whole time. He missed dinner but Y/N waited on him in the common room. She knows that the Felix Felicis potion has no limits. Whatever the user's deepest desires, it will help give it to them. Y/N knows that at this very moment, Harry succeeded. She makes sure that there will be someone waiting on him to celebrate it with him.

Harry came back from the Headmaster's office bearing a report about Slughorn's memory with Tom Riddle. There, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he sees her sleeping in one of the tables far back. It was not hard to see her, with the time obviously past bedtime, she was all alone.

With the liquid luck still pumping in his veins, he rushed to her. Kneeling in front of her, the Golden Boy then gently wakes the girl up.

"Harry?"

"Y/N . . . I think I'm falling"

"Falling? What falling? Are you experiencing vertigo right now? Anxiety?"

"Worse than those."

And Y/N, moving on from her sleeping state, was now fully aware of where the conversation was going. She holds his inviting hand. "What is it, Harry?"

"Love . . . I'm falling in love."

Y/N smiles at how adorable the boy is looking right now. His hair is ever so dishevelled and his lips as red as cherry. He was the most oblivious boy she knows. Has only dated one yet here he is, kneeling in front of her. Confessing.

She knows that Felix is helping him with some luck because knowing the sober Harry, he would never be bold enough to say such things. Little did Harry know, he need not some luck as she was all too blessed to have him in her life. Because to Y/N's honest opinion, in this room, she was the luckiest.

"I'm falling in love with you, Y/N."

—

(Shamefully) tagging these amazing ppl: @harryjamespotterxreader @harrypotterxx @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

658 notes · View notes

realmofimagines · 3 years ago

Text

The Bartender || Octavio ‘Octane’ Silva || Part 2

Pairing: Octane x f! Reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: SMUT THIS IS JUST SMUT

PART ONE HERE

When Octavio had left the Lounge with the bartender, a few people turned their heads. Ajay offered her friend a thumbs up when she knew the woman wasn’t looking, proud that he had managed to get a word in with her before things with Elliott escalated too quickly.

The two had barely made it through the front door of her apartment (which was closer) before Octavio had her pinned against the door and lips ferociously on hers with a hungry kiss. Butterflies pooled in her lower abdomen, tingling through to her groin with each touch his wandering hands made up and down her body.

Her eventful evening had long been forgotten now that she was consumed in lust, she had almost forgotten about the past several weeks, merely being stuck in the moment with Octavio right now.

“Do you know how hard it was to watch you give Witt all that attention,” his voice was low, almost a growl as some words became muffled by his incessant kissing on her neck. One hand was pressed against the door above her head, and the other had dipped into her pants, stroking her through the thin fabric of her underwear.

A soft whimper tumbled from her lips, the friction sending chills throughout her body and intensifying the feeling that pooled in her stomach. She didn’t regret the kiss she had shared with Elliott earlier in the evening, but she was most definitely glad that Octavio made his intentions finally known.

“If this is how you act when you're jealous, maybe I should flirt with everyone,” her voice was exasperated, a high pitched gasp sounded when his fingers dipped past her underwear and into her slick core.

He made an inaudible comment against her collarbone, but no doubt it was a curse word of some degree in reaction to her carefully picked out words.

“After tonight everyone will know who you belong to.” His muffled voice was still heard crystal clear.

She leaned her head back against the door, a smile tugged the corners of her lips at his apparent jealousy. Her hand slowly trailed down his chest, taking the time to lift up and take his shirt off so she could admire his body, running her fingers up and down each ridge and divit of his torso.

With her own slick lubricating his fingers, he circled meticulously around her clit causing her to shudder at the change in sensation and instinctively clench her fist, which scratched the surface of Octavios abs.

A moan rumbled from his chest, he never imagined her to be this physical in an intimate moment like this, but it made the whole interaction much more exciting. “Careful mi amor,” his low grumble of warning was lost on her, unsure if she had accidentally hurt him in the heat of the moment or if it was a warning that indicated the state of how well she’d be walking come tomorrow.

That thought was immediately lost on her the second she could feel her climax bubbling, her hands gripped on tightly to Octavio’s shoulders to help keep her upright as her pelvic thrusts followed a similar movement to his fingers. “Fuck.” She breathed out, her grip was monstrous and it crossed her mind that she might bruise him if she wasn’t careful.

Her mouth fell open as the feelings coalesced to one, hitting its peak in her climax. A strangled moan came from her as her walls clenched upon release. It felt like she could breathe, after feeling like she was holding in a long breath.

He pulled his hand from her pants, never breaking eye contact with her dishevelled figure as he sucked on his pointer and middle finger, “you taste good, Chica.”

Everything that man seemed to do was incredibly attractive and sent a fluster of feelings inside her, making her wonder what exactly she did to garner his attention in the first place.

“My turn,” she smirked, putting a hand on his chest and walking him back to the couch a few feet away from the door. She gave him the smallest of shoves, forcing him to stumble into the couch and land with a meagre ‘oof’.

By the time he had processed what was happening, she was already undoing his shorts, having taken a seat beside him. He lifted his hips up to help aid in the process of her pulling down his shorts and boxers, his erection was obvious even on the ride home from their steamy make out section in the storage room.

She threw one of her legs over to straddle him, putting a hand on his shoulder and the other straight onto his erect cock. He stifled a moan at the abrupt contact, but never moved his gaze from her face.

Her thumb grazed slightly over his sensitive tip, circling the precum over the head which prompted a breathy groan from her partner. “Y’know it was really fucking rude of you to interrupt my night — you want all of my attention, huh?” Her voice was only slightly gruff, enjoying the position of power she was in and how much of a vulnerable position Octavio was in currently.

“No one except me should get to enjoy you.” He grunted back, definitely not regretting stopping whatever was about to happen between the woman and Elliott. It may have been selfish of him, but he was in pure bliss knowing he had won this over Elliott Witt.

Leaning down, she brought her lips right up to his ear with a knowing smile, “jealousy is not an attractive trait Octavio,” she nibbled ever so slightly on the lobe of his ear before she moved back over to her towering position.

“Why not do something about it then, Chica.” He smirked, eager to see where their interactions would lead them.

Without so much as a reaction, she got off his lap and repositioned in a manner where her lips were much more aligned with his tip. Her eyes were dark with lust, giving him a final look before taking as much of him into her mouth.

The immediate warmth and feeling of her mouth prompted him to throw his head back, biting his lip hard and it almost drew blood. Oh how he fantasised about this very moment and it was better than he ever anticipated.

Her tongue flourished his tip when her head bopped to provide a better experience for him. She couldn’t help but chuckle when he swore breathlessly in both his native language and English. The vibrations added an additional sensation to his already throbbing cock.

As time quickly went on, she took more and more of him in, getting braver with his length hitting the back of her throat. Her eyes watered with a sting as she resisted the urge to gag when it went just that little bit too far, pressing on as much as she could to elicit the reaction she wanted from Octavio.

The pressure had been building up for a while, since their interaction in the bar's storage room. But he had long exceeded his efforts to hold out, letting the climax come to its crescendo, stunting his breath for a moment as he choked out a faint, “I’m gonna cum, Chica.”

With that, he released into the back of her throat, his warm seed coating her mouth as she very carefully slid her mouth from over his now semi-erect cock. She swallowed with a particularly gratuitous gulp, giving her partner a wink as he leaned airily on the couch.

His hair was an absolute mess (more than usual) as it stuck up in any direction, indicating to her that he was running his hands through his hair during that ordeal.

“So…” She started, the effects of lust wearing itself off both parties as they finally had time to process the debacle they were both in.

“So…” He mimicked her, his eyes looking at her lips and how swollen they appeared, her clothes were askew and she had a flustered look on her which he couldn’t help but find endearing.

“You’re not gonna leave… are you?” The hesitancy in her voice alone made Octavio’s heart ache, finally coming to terms with the consequences of his prior actions and how much they had impacted her.

He shook his head, reaching out and gripping her hand in his, “I’m not going anywhere mi amor.”

#apex legends x reader #octane x reader #octavio silva #one shots #apex legends #apex legends one shot #reader insert #smut #octane smut #apex smut

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sunkissedpages · 3 years ago

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instead of you [part sixteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist

smut warnings: female masturbation, porn, mentions of choking

“‘We’? Like, you and me?” you clarified, hoping you had misunderstood.

“Yeah, it’ll only take a second,” Tom assured you.

You looked to Sam for help, but he looked just as lost as you were. “I’ll go try and find a microwave to heat up your leftovers,” he offered and took the container back from you. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

“Okay...”

You watched him shrug past both you and Tom and then disappear into the hallway with a sinking feeling in your chest, knowing he trusted you completely. He had no reason not to, and that’s what consumed you.

“What do you want?” you muttered, reluctantly stepping to the side to let Tom in.

He didn’t answer right away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. His eyes followed you around the room as you found your pants and tugged them on. He averted his gaze when he realized you were getting dressed mumbling a “sorry” as he trained his eyes on the carpet.

You sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain why he was there.

“You weren’t there today,” was all he said.

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Was it because of me?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

Tom’s tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”

“I had a lot to drink last night,” you reminded him.

“So you don’t remember anything?”

“I never said that.”

“So it was because of me?”

“I never said that either.” You sighed. “If you’re here to ask me if I told him you kissed me, I didn’t. And you could’ve just texted me to ask.”

“No that’s not why- I don’t have your number anyway.”

“I’m in the trip group chat with your family.”

“Oh, right. I’ll save it to my contacts.”

The tension in the room was palpable. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out and replaced with thick, suffocating silence. Arbitrarily, you wondered who the most famous person in his phone was. He was a Marvel actor, he probably had Simu Liu’s number, right? Who would your contact information be sitting in between? Maybe if you ever forgave him for what he did you could ask him.

“Is something funny?” The firmness of Tom’s voice cut through your train of thought and brought you back to the present. “Why are you smiling?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said despondently. “Sam’s gonna be back soon. What did you want?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. Sam said you were sick.”

“Oh, so you wanted to see if I was lying?”

“No! God, why is it so hard to believe that I’m genuinely concerned about you?”

“Because last night you only seemed concerned about yourself.”

Tom pursed his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, expelling a breath harshly. “Okay, I deserved that.”

You hummed in agreement, and let your eyes trail down the veins of his arms to where they disappeared into his pockets. It looked like he was fiddling with a coin or something small, but you couldn’t tell.

“Are you feeling better?” he said the last part through gritted teeth.

“Yes, thank you. This chat has helped considerably.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Well, lucky for you I’m not your problem to deal with. I'm Sam’s.”

He flexed his hand in his pocket and sighed. “Okay, well, I also wanted to apologize again for...” the word kiss seemed to die on his lips, poetic irony at its finest. “Being a dick.” Less poetic.

He finally fished his hand out of his pocket, holding a delicate piece of paper between his pointer and index fingers. He shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning against the dresser. “We went to the Academic Gallery today. I saw this in the gift shop and thought of you.” He presented you with what turned out to be a postcard, creased down the middle unevenly and smudged with pen ink.

You turned it over to look at the front first, admiring the artwork printed on it. It was a picture of Michelangelo’s David drawn in swoopy black lines and filled in with watercolor paint. Instead of a museum, the statue was in the middle of a garden, the centerpiece among dozens upon dozens of flowers.

“Sorry it’s folded,” he mumbled. “It wouldn’t fit in my pocket.”

You flipped it over to read the back only to see iou scribbled in his handwriting and nothing else. You turned it over again to see if you had missed something on the front, but there was nothing.

You looked up at him in confusion. “Iou?”

“Yeah, you know... I feel really bad about last night, and I don’t really know how to make it up to you so I’m letting you decide.”

“That’s not really how it works.”

“I think that this counts as an exception, since we’re kind of in uncharted territory.”

“Maybe for you. My boyfriend’s brothers make out with me all the time.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t make out with you- it was barely a peck.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It was more than a peck.”

His cheeks were beginning to grow pink with what you couldn’t tell was either embarrassment or frustration. He cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject. “Anyway, if you ever need a favor or anything, just let me know. Think of it as me owing you one.”

“And do I have to give back the postcard when I cash in this ‘favor’?” you asked.

“No, you can keep it.”

“Good, because I was going to keep it anyway.”

He chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head. “Knew you’d like it.”

You flattened the card on your lap, smiling as you tried to iron out the little crease with your fingers.

“It’s pretty, thank you.”

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and straightened his posture. “I should get going. I just wanted to give you that, and see how you were doing since tomorrow’s a travel day and I know you get a little motion sick sometimes. I didn’t want... whatever you’d come down with to make it worse.”

How did he know that? Had Sam told him? You didn’t have time to ask because he was already walking towards the door. He paused when he reached it and turned his head towards you, hand already on the knob.

“Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Tom.”

He opened the door and let himself out into the hallway, catching it suddenly on his foot as he saw Sam coming off the elevator. Tom held the door for Sam, since his hands were full, and then said goodnight to his brother as he finally left.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find the microwave,” he explained. “I had to ask the night manager and they heated it up in the break room for me.”

“Oh, Sam, you didn’t have to do that! I would’ve eaten it cold.”

“I know you would have, and that’s why I’m not letting you.” You gave him a look, which he ignored and handed you the container of food. “It’s carbonara, it’s one of the things Rome is known for. I couldn’t have you eating it lukewarm.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, pulling the ottoman closer to use it as a makeshift table. He watched as you tried the first bite, gauging your reaction. It was something he did whenever he cooked for you, especially if he was trying out a new recipe. He always needed your approval, and valued it above anybody else’s. But he hadn’t even made this, and as his eyes searched your face you found yourself wondering if they were looking for something else.

“Do you like it?”

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Your paranoia was starting to get the better of you. “It’s delicious,” you assured him. “I’m sad I missed dinner.”

“I’m sad you missed the whole day. Spending time with my family without you was hell.”

“Oh come on, it’s probably good that you got some real family time.”

“It’s real family time when you’re there. It felt like something was missing.”

You let a small smile slip past your lips despite the guilt that bubbled under the surface. You pushed it down and took another bite of the carbonara.

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? It can’t have all been bad. Tell me about the good stuff. I wanna hear that.”

Sam nodded and pushed his curls back again, grinning like he’d been caught. “Fine, maybe there were some okay moments.”

“And what were they?”

“We went to the Accademia Gallery today. I think you would have really liked it. They had a whole wing of instruments from some of the most famous inventors and musicians from history. They even had pianos from Bartolomeo Cristorfori, the inventor of the piano.”

“Wow,” you said, impressed. “I bet it was beautiful.”

“Of course if it was played, it wouldn’t sound anything like the piano we’re used to hearing today, but I’m sure it would still sound incredible.”

“Even if it hasn’t been tuned in a few hundred years?”

It was his turn to give you a look. “Yes, of course.”

“Sorry.”

“And they had a Strativerius, I don’t even want to know how valuable that thing is. It must cost millions. I took some pictures for you, but I know they won’t compare to the real thing. The lighting in museums never does the art justice.”

He handed his phone to you to scroll through. You swiped the photos, smiling whenever you came across a selfie he’d taken with a statue or painting. You reached the pictures of David and couldn’t help but zoom in on-

“Hey!” Sam yelped and grabbed his phone back from your hands.

“What!”

“Michelangelo would be so ashamed of you! I bet he’s rolling in his grave right now.”

“No way! If anyone appreciated good dick, it was Michelangelo.”

“Unbelievable.”

“If you don’t want me to judge these statue’s penises, don’t take pictures of them.”

“I didn’t take pictures of their penises! I took pictures of the whole statue- you’re zooming in on- you know what, nevermind. Arguing with you about this is pointless.”

“Smart boy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at you and put his phone in his back pocket. “Oh yeah, did Tom give you that postcard?”

“He told you about that?” you asked, suddenly panicking. Sam hadn’t said anything about last night so far, but maybe Tom had-

“Yeah, said he wanted to give you an iou for the limoncello last night.”

“What?”

“He said you paid the tab for it since he left his wallet in the room and that he wanted to pay you back for it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Another lie. You had very much not paid for the drinks last night. Tom had. And you knew he had to make an excuse for why he was buying his brother’s girlfriend something from the gift shop, but to add another lie to the ever-growing list made your throat burn with regret. You wouldn’t be able to keep the secret forever, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down around you.

In the morning you took the train from Rome to Naples, and then took a taxi to Sorrento to spend the last bit of your week in Italy by the sea. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than it had been in the busy cities of Rome and Florence. Even though there were still hordes of tourists, they were far more dispersed and less overbearing than you expected. The whole town seemed slowed down, like it had escaped the chokehold of time.

Sam’s parents took everyone out to lunch by the water and went over the schedule for the next day and a half.

“So, you’re on your own after dinner tonight, and then tomorrow morning we’re going to take the ferry to Capri for the day before our flight that night,” Nikki explained as she read through the spreadsheet on her phone.

“There’s an Irish pub down the street from our hotel,” Harry said. “Do you guys want to go after we eat tonight?”

“I’m down,” Sam agreed.

“Sounds good,” Tom chimed in.

The boys all looked at you for your answer, but you hesitated. Thinking about what happened the last time you drank didn’t make you eager to do it again, and you were already exhausted from travelling.

“I’ll pass.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m tired, and I’d rather go somewhere Italian... since we’re in Italy.”

Harry shrugged. “Your loss.”

“We’ll have a shot in your honor, babe,” Sam said and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Please don’t. Something tells me you’ll have plenty to drink without an extra shot for me.”

“You know us so well.”

After dinner, you walked back to the hotel with the Hollands and said good night to Sam’s parents before parting ways to your separate rooms. Sam went with you to change into clothes for going out while you changed into pajamas.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

You nodded from where you were on the bed and yawned. Sam didn’t push any further, instead resolving to finish getting ready in silence. He paired his black jeans with a pair of converse and a dark green button up over a black t-shirt.

He turned to you for approval.

“Fake girlfriend approved?”

“Fake girlfriend approved,” you repeated and gave him a thumbs up.

“Okay, well I’m headed out,” he announced.

“Have fun! Don’t kiss any cute girls without me!”

It was something you always said to each other, but it sounded strange since it was supposed to be coming from his girlfriend. Sam just chuckled and blew you a kiss as he let himself out.

You heard him greet his brothers outside and then listened to their footsteps fade into the distance before pulling up an incognito window on your phone. It had been weeks since you’d been able to get off and it was killing you. The amount of stress this trip had given you only made it worse. You were wound so tight that you were sure you’d snap soon if you didn’t get some relief.

And you thought that maybe if you rubbed one out it might help you forget about... the confusing feelings you had for your best friend’s brother.

Seeing as you had the night to yourself, you figured you might as well take advantage of it. You copied a link from your notes app and pasted the url into the address bar. You didn’t feel like digging through your luggage to find your earbuds so you set the volume low enough for only you to hear.

The video started playing and you let your hand wander from your side up to your neck, brushing your hand lightly across your collarbone. You traced the curve of your breasts with a finger before squeezing one of them gently, feeling your nipple harden under your palm. You only had one hand to use since the other was holding your phone, but you made do.

The video was one of your favorites, one you found yourself watching at least once a week. It was one of the few videos of hetero couples you had favorited, and it started with the guy going down on the girl before fucking her...

You admired the muscles on the man’s back, watching intently as they flexed whenever he moved his head. The woman moaned, struggling to keep her legs open while he brought her closer and closer to orgasm.

You let your hand travel down further until it was sitting at the waistband of your pajama shorts. You knew you had a while before Sam would be back, but you were too impatient to wait. You propped your phone up on a pillow next to you to free your other hand as you started to play with your clit.

You pictured someone’s head in between your thighs, imagining them moaning against your pussy as they tasted you for the first time.

The man was taking his pants off now and lining himself up with his partner’s pussy. You tried to follow along, putting yourself in the moment with the couple. You gathered your own wetness on two of your fingers to lubricate them and slid them inside yourself, sighing in relief. Your entire body tensed as it accommodated to the stretch and you gave yourself a few beats before moving your fingers.

When you finally did, you felt yourself relax and sped up your pace so that it matched the actors on screen.

The angle the video was shot at hid the man’s face and you found yourself wondering what he looked like. If you squinted you could almost picture Tom- no. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, but it was already there.

Closing your eyes didn’t help either. You just imagined Tom’s fingers sliding in and out of you instead of your own, imagined the veins on his arms becoming more pronounced as he tightened his grip on your thigh.

“Fuck,” you cursed, knowing you should stop.

You were too close to stop now, and the pleasure was clouding your judgement. Suddenly the man brought his hand up to the girl’s throat and began to choke her, sending her hurtling into her own orgasm. You moaned accidentally, thinking about Tom’s hand around your throat. You curled your fingers up so that you were hitting your g-spot and whimpered pathetically.

This was wrong. This was bad. Not only were you fantasizing about your best friend’s brother, but you were confusing yourself even further.

You tried to fight it, at least that’s what you told yourself, but all you could hear were Tom’s moans echoing through the speaker. You pictured the way he’d look on top of you. His eyes would be so dark and he’d be smirking like the cocky asshole he was, chain hanging down in your face- just inviting you to take it into your mouth. It didn’t take long before you felt your orgasm begin to build. The video was still playing in the background, the man still chasing his own high and bringing his partner to her second orgasm, but you’d tuned it out by now. You came around your fingers thinking about Tom’s hips snapping into yours.

You were fucked.

lmk what you think!! i always appreciate feedback

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x bi!reader #tom holland series #tom holland smut

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fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 · 3 years ago

Text

Sunsets and Sweet Kisses

This was requested by @therakshawolf, and it’s honestly so freaking cute! I’ve wanted to write something for Kurt for a very long time, and I think that this request will be perfect! As always gif and characters are not mine, and I hope you enjoy! It’s also a little short, but I can make a part two at some point if need be!

Summary: Kurt helps his significant other when they are having a block regarding their latest masterpiece

Warnings: cursing, hinting at smut but no actual smut takes place, otherwise none

Kurt returned from the X-Con Security Consultants office he shared with Luis and Dave, sometimes Scott when he wasn’t out saving the world. Of course Kurt always made it a point that without his and the others help, Scott would have been in deep trouble on several occasions. Still, Kurt refused to focus on work at the moment. He set down the grocery bags that weighed down his arms and called down the hall of the apartment.

“Y/N, I am home! I have bought your favorite ice cream!” Nothing. Kurt was surprised that his partner hadn’t run into the kitchen at the temptation of ice cream. Kurt put away the delicious treat in the freezer before making his way down the hall. In the bedroom that him and Y/N shared, Y/N was hunched over a canvas propped up by an easel.

Y/N’s face was covered in tangerine and white paint, their brush held between their teeth as they glared at the painting. Kurt was familiar with this action, for every time Y/N was stuck on a painting, this was how they normally looked. Kurt had known about Y/N’s love for painting ever since they met, and it was one of many things that drew him in. Some of the paintings were hung throughout their apartment, while others rested against one of their bedroom walls, eagerly waiting to be finished.

Kurt walked over to Y/N and removed the brush from their mouth. “You should not put brush in your mouth. It will hurt your teeth.” Kurt’s Russian accent caught Y/N’s attention as they let out a frustrated sigh.

“I know it’s just, I don’t know what to do about this damn painting! It’s not like I haven’t drawn a sunset before, but with this ocean mixed in everything looks like shit!” Y/N crossed their arms and slipped down in their seat. Kurt plopped himself on their bed and patted the spot beside him. Y/N hurried over and Kurt wrapped them in his arms as he pulled them onto his lap.

Kurt rested his chin on Y/N’s head. “Painting is not bad. Perhaps add a few mermaids or water spirits. Like Baba Yaga.”

Y/N giggled at the comment. Kurt was fascinated with the supernatural, especially Baba Yaga. Y/N thought it was adorable. They scanned over their partially completed landscape. Y/N had never painted any supernatural creatures before, but they concluded that it was just what the painting needed.

“That’s a brilliant idea! I can paint some rocks there on the left side and have the mermaids resting on top, or maybe some impressionist water nymphs hidden in the waves! Thank you, babe!” Y/N kissed Kurt’s cheek before darting back into their seat.

Kurt laughed as he watched Y/N quickly sketch out the mythical beings for their painting. He had no idea how it was possible for them to be even cuter. Kurt stood up from the bed and studied Y/N’s additions a few seconds longer. Kurt placed his hand under Y/N’s chin, and they looked up into his oak eyes. “You have lot of paint on you, moya lyubov.”

Y/N blushed as Kurt smoothed over a paint blotch that had dried long ago on their skin. “I guess I should probably take a shower, huh,” Y/N asked as they laid their paint brush down on the easel.

Kurt’s eyes widened with lust as an idea popped into his head. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Y/N hungrily. “I could use shower. I’ll start the water, and you join me in few minutes.” Kurt kissed Y/N for a second time, this one more controlled and filled with all the love that Kurt had for his most favorite painter. He waltzed out of the room, but not before sending a wink Y/N’s way. That evening was the fastest that Y/N had ever cleaned their workspace, and they decided that this shower might provide inspiration for a new kind of art.

#kurt goreshter #kurt goreshter x reader #kurt goreshter ant-man #kurt goreshter ant man #ant man #ant man and the wasp #marvel #fanfic #x reader #david dastmalchian

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critrolesideblog · 3 years ago

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Caleb Widogast pushed his hair out of his face for the ei--nineteenth time in about as many minutes. Caleb and Essek were reading for pleasure this evening, with the aid of Comprehend Languages: Caleb the collected poems of Erdan Niemi, a famous Drow bard, and Essek, Die Waldhexe und andere Zemnische Volksmärchen. They were seated at opposite ends of one of the sofas in the tower salon, their legs in the middle not quite touching. But some time into Essek's reading, the repeated scrape of sweater against paper edge and rustle of hand in hair became too much for him to ignore.

It was a long time coming really. Essek recalled that it had been Veth who had braided back Caleb's hair for him, when they were in Aeor last. Since there was no Veth to braid it this time around, Caleb had fallen into the habit of roughly tying it back in a ponytail or bun, with varying degrees of success, depending on the amount of effort he put into it, which, lately, was middling, and tonight, none at all. There were times when the mess was charming: when Caleb shuffled into the dining room in the morning, stray locks framing his face; when he ran his hand through his hair in excitement at a new discovery; when some friendly wind caused wayward strands to brush just so against his lips. At the moment, though... Essek took a large sip of his wine and set the glass gently back on the table. "Caleb?"

"Hmm?"

Despite the response, Essek knew better than to continue right away. Caleb's head tilted up toward him slowly, but his eyes lingered on the page a moment longer. When blue finally met lilac, Essek took a deep breath breath. "May I... braid your hair for you?"

Caleb blinked once, twice, three times, before his eyebrow and lips quirked up with a humor that was a little too insightful. "Well, if it’s bothering you..."

Essek gave a huff of laughter at being caught, before pressing his hands together in front of his lips, arranging his features into a semblance of solemnity. "It is driving me insane." Caleb laughed, as Essek hoped he would.

"I apologize if I have driven you to distraction," he replied, in a voice that sounded not remotely contrite. Essek averted his eyes and took another small sip of wine to provide an alibi for the warmth in his cheeks. "Please, by all means." Caleb pulled free the tie holding his hair in place, and with a small shake of his head, the copper strands fell down around his face and shoulders.

Essek gathered his composure, clearing his throat slightly. "Excellent -- ah, Liesl?" He said quickly, turning to the tortoiseshell cat relaxing in front of the fireplace. She opened one amber eye in response.

Liesl was Essek's right-hand cat. She had been standoffish at first, it was true, but it seemed Essek's years in politics were not wasted in the ruins of Aeor. "Liesl, would you please have Jaakko fetch me some additional hair ties and a comb?" Liesl, without raising her head from her paws, turned her gaze to the cat in question, all black and slender, whose interpretation of cleaning apparently included batting a piece of crumpled paper around the legs of a desk with incredible enthusiasm. At some unseen signal, he turned his attention to Liesl, and after a series of tail twitches, trotted off into a nearby cat door. She turned her gaze back to Essek. "Thank you, Liesl. That will be all." She chirped at him in response and returned to her nap.

Caleb's eyes were back on his book now, but Essek did not recall anything in Niemi's works amusing enough to justify the grin on Caleb's face, which Essek now had an excuse to give due consideration. He did not think the braids that Verin favored in their youth would suite him particularly well, and they were a bit elaborate for a night in, besides. Perhaps just a variation on the Gwardanian-style braid Veth employed.

Jaakko returned in no time, the items required laid out neatly on a tray held aloft by his long tail, and, with one last small sip of wine, Essek rose from the sofa and moved to stand behind Caleb. He took a deep breath as he picked up the amber comb from the tray. There was no cause, he told himself sternly, for his heart to be racing as it was, which was, of course, a lie. He raised the comb above the copper strands. "I am going to begin now?"

"Ja, danke."

Whether the thanks was for the impending braid or the warning, Essek was not sure, but he drew the edge of the comb gently back along the scalp, carefully delineating a section of hair at the top of Caleb's head. He tied the sides and back out of the way, and if his face warmed at the brush of fingertips on neck, there was no one able to see it. He gathered up the hair closest to Caleb's face and divided it in thirds, before weaving the right third over the center and then left over center. He repeated the process, carefully gathering more strands in on the sides as he went. He was about halfway through with the braid, when Caleb leaned to the left without warning, nearly pulling the locks from his grasp.

"Pysy paikallasi!" Essek hissed, decades-old habit causing the words to spill from his lips in Undercommon, but it did not matter. Comprehend Languages was still in effect. "Mitä sinä teet?"

"I want some wine," Caleb explained, extending his arm to the side to demonstrate that the glass was just out reach.

"Did Veth allow you to move around when she braided your hair?"

"She never complained."

"Then she spoiled you terribly."

"Will you hand me the wine?"

"No," he replied sternly, gathering the strands into one hand, careful not to mix them up, and then leaning over and passing the goblet to its owner.

"You are a riot, Herr Thelyss," Caleb said dryly, but Essek caught a glimpse of a grin as he straightened.

"I am glad you think so. I have been thinking of taking my comedy show on the road when we are done here."

"You should ask Veth if she has any material you can use. Will there be a Mighty Nein discount on tickets?"

"Please, if anything, I should charge you all extra for the honor of heckling me."

Caleb gave a mock gasp. "The Nein? Heckle you? We would never."

"Ha! Tell me another one!"

Caleb's shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

Essek stopped gathering new hair into the top braid, braiding the remaining length of the locks together, and tying them off. He then shifted to the left and began the process again with a section starting at Caleb's left temple. From this vantage point, he could spy the gilded edges and precise black script of the book in Caleb hands (and what hands they were! Capable, as he knew, of both great destruction and healing. And, perhaps, from this vantage, he could also glimpse the stately sweep of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose, the strength of his jaw, but who was to say.).

"How are you enjoying the poetry so far?" He asked, affixing his eyes firmly to the task in front of him. He had not known whether Caleb enjoyed poetry, when he gifted it to him. He had doubted, though, that Caleb had much opportunity to avail himself of Kryn literature during his time in Rosohna, and Caleb had seemed delighted, even touched, by the gift. He did not seem to be making quick progress through the text, however.

"Very much so," Caleb replied after taking a sip of wine. "I imagine I am sometimes missing some nuance or cultural context -- Comprehend Languages is a bit of a blunt instrument -- but I am enjoying it even more than I thought I would. You almost made it sound dry in your description, when you gave it to me."

"Ah, no, not dry. Only, all young Drow are forced to read his works as part of our schooling, and it colors our enjoyment of it somewhat."

"I see."

"Do you have a favorite passage so far?"

Caleb did not respond right away. "Yes..." He admitted, at last, and added, "It is from the Courtship of Lael."

Essek nearly lost his grip on the braid as he fumbled the strands mid-crossing. He had forgotten the Courtship was so early in the text. "Oh?" He asked, hoping it came across as polite interest.

"Would you like to hear it?" Caleb's voice had a softer, deeper hue than usual.

"If you like."

There was quiet for a moment.

Caleb did not turn to the page -- he did not need to. He merely cleared his throat lightly, and began:

"My lover's skin is a field of stars. What bliss to wander among the heavens! Let me approach as a pilgrim from the dark. Let me worship on my knees before the holy light. Let no beacon go without a prayer from my lips."

Every opalescent freckle on Essek's skin was now a flame. He swallowed hard. "That--that was, ah ... evocative."

"Ja, I thought so too." Caleb chuckled.

Essek tied off the left braid and moved around to the opposite side. They passed the time in quiet, as Essek's dexterous hands, having found their rhythm, made quick work on the braid on the right. And if he had a new awareness of the freckles that made fiery constellations along the slope of Caleb's neck, he gave no indication.

"You know it is a good thing you are braiding my hair up, with us going deeper into the Genesis Ward tomorrow." Caleb said at last, as Essek gathered the braids and the loose strands left over in the back up into a neat ponytail, tying it off with Caleb's original tie. There was more than a little mischief in his voice. "I should hate for Devexian to see me for the first time in months with my hair a mess."

"You are a riot, Caleb Widogast," Essek drawled.

"I'm glad you think so."

----

Notes: Pysy paikallasi! Mitä sinä teet? - Stay still! What are you doing?

#some fluff for your Sunday evening #this was originally going to involve more reflections on Essek's childhood #but Caleb had other ideas #Caleb: I'm gonna read him my actual favorite passage from this book. Me: you don't have to. Caleb: No I'm gonna #Shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #shoutout to neverlain for fixing my Finnish!#my writing tag

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emerald-chaos · 4 years ago

Text

Insomnia

*gif not made by me, credit goes to the owner*

Hi Everyone! So it's been probably like...10 years since I wrote my last fic lol. Watching TFATWS has rekindled my undying love for Bucky Barnes and I just couldn't help but start writing again. I had to get my feelings out! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been considering writing some more parts...so tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! I appreciate any and all constructive feedback or just feedback in general! Much love.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2533 (lowkey popped off...oops)

Warnings: Just in case...vague allusions to a dark past, struggles with mental illness, explicit language, and some suggestive conversation. Oh and some really bad jokes lol. Fluffy and angsty.

No matter how much you tossed and turned, how many sheep you counted, or how much you prayed and pleaded to any higher power that would listen – the release of sleep just wasn’t going to happen. You’re not sure why you were surprised, it’s not like this was the first time. You let out a heavy sigh and toss off the covers. This has been a nightly occurrence for as long as you can remember. When you were trying to rest, when there was no noise to block out the images in your head, it was a battle. A battle which you have always lost.

You flip on the bright florescent lights of the bathroom as you trudge in, dragging your feet in exhaustion. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harshness of the light as you place your hands onto the countertop. The cool marble feels good against your palms as you close your eyes and lean your head back, another sigh leaving your lips. You twist your neck from side to side, trying to release some tension and maybe get a satisfying pop. No such luck. As you open your eyes and gaze upon the person staring back at you a small laugh tumbles from your chest.

Jesus, she looks awful.

The dark circles that permanently reside below your eyes appear more pronounced than usual. The corners of your mouth hang low and you just look…tired. Like you were rode hard and put away wet.

The bottle of melatonin tucked away on your counter catches your eye. You pick it up and twirl it as you inspect the writing. “Sleep Support” you read, “may help promote restful sleep”. What a load of shit. You place the bottle back down and inspect the orange one next to it. The pills inside were about as useful as the melatonin. Nothing seemed to quiet the voices or stop the scenarios that plagued your mind. You splash some cold water on your face and grab for a towel to pat it dry. Your eyes drift to the mirror again, as if though the water was going to wash away the dead look in your eyes.

Yeah, fat chance.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you through the compound. The only sounds present are the whirring of various appliances and the soft patter of your feet against the tile floors. The moonlight casts shadows over the various pieces of furniture and lights your path. Your fingers curl around the handle as you pull the sliding glass door open. The crisp outside air kisses your skin as you step out and close the door behind you. You find yourself settling down in your usual spot on the balcony and you sink into the comfort of the chair.

Many a sleepless night has been spent out here, admiring the way the moonlight gleams off of a nearby pond. Before the compound and the balcony, it was a fire escape and a bottle of bourbon. You kind of missed that coping mechanism a little bit. You were thankful, of course, to call this place your home. Thankful to feel safe for once. Thankful to be a part of a team that felt like more of a family than any sorry piece of shit who had been in your life before. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. A little baggage builds character. However, life hasn’t always been kind to you and your stupid brain had a cruel way of constantly reminding you of that fact.

In all honesty, Tony rescued you. You absolutely hated to allow him to relish in that fact, but it was true. He took a chance on a royally fucked up kid out of college who managed to skate by and earn a mechanical engineering degree. If you were to ask him, he would say it was because the first words you said to him were fuck off. Apparently, something about that translated to, “hey, I would be a great addition to your tech and development team”. Although, you were pretty sure you just really meant that he should fuck off. I mean, the guy’s reputation does have a bit of moral gray area to it. Somehow, some way, your tenacity made an impression on the billionaire. Now here you were - living at the Avenger’s compound, sitting on a balcony at 3:30 in the morning because you couldn’t turn your brain off long enough to find some peace and sleep. What a life.

Even as you were sitting here in your special spot, reminiscing about some actual good memories – your brain still tried to drift into the darkness. Glass breaking; voices, thick with hate, engaged in a screaming match, and the cold nights spent trying to find a safe space to eat and lay your head. Your fingers gripped into the arms of the chair as you felt the heaviness in your chest increase.

“God damn it,” you cursed through gritted teeth.

The panic attacks were a second nature at this point, but you still really hated when you lost control. Your eyes closed tight as you tried to rack your brain to remember the bullshit your therapist had told you earlier in the week. Something about 5 things you can see?

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doll”

The voice ripped you from inside your mind and back to reality. Your eyes opened and were met with a beautiful pair of cerulean ones. You blamed the skip in your heartbeat on your fading panic attack - although, you knew better than that.

“Well, it seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you’re stalking me, Barnes” you quipped as a grin spread across your face.

“Could say the same about you,” Bucky retorted as he sank into the chair beside you, “besides, been doin’ this a lot longer than you’ve been around”.

You rolled your eyes, but the super soldier had a point. Almost each and every time, aside from the ones that happened when the team was away, you two would meet like this – here on the balcony, both searching for something to replace the sleep that neither of you could find.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re old” a laugh fell from your lips as Bucky snorted at your remark, a grin remaining ever present on his lips.

The familiar silence took over as he leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, yours were hungrily taking him in - tracing over the stubble on his chin, the soft pinkness of his parted lips. Recently he’d gotten his hair cut and even though you much preferred the long hair, you would rather die than actually admit that to him. Your crush on the 106 year old grumpy ass was one of your best kept secrets. At least, you thought you’d kept it from being painfully obvious.

The man sitting before you, he had a tough exterior and a horrific history, but you knew him better than that. You knew about the way his nose scrunched up when you made him laugh and the way his eyes looked as he listened intently to every story you ever told him. You knew the sweet melody of his laugh and the far off stare that meant he was also held captive by his own thoughts. This late-night rendezvous had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite part of the day.

The first time it was a short nod and typical white person, thin-lipped smile as you left to find a different spot to suffer alone. Shortly after, it developed into cohabiting the balcony – staying on your own separate sides of course, only occasionally sharing words. Then, before you knew it, the two of you would be sitting beside each other, shooting the shit like you’d known each other for years. Just two, incredibly fucked up individuals, trying to make each other feel a little more human.

Bucky had always given off the quiet, brooding energy. Typically he kept to himself, other than with close friends like Steve, choosing to stand in the corner and listen to the conversation rather than be a part of it. Occasionally he would give a quip during a meeting that would catch people off guard, but mostly he just sat there and stared. The Bucky you had come to know was nothing like the person that others wanted to make him out to be. Sure, at one point he was a masterful assassin who killed like he got pleasure from it – but that wasn’t him. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were not synonymous.

If only the world could meet Bucky at 3am.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours over there?” Bucky’s voice once again brought you back to reality as you laid your eyes on the familiar grin plastered across his face.

“Please,” you huffed, cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at the thought of him catching you staring, “which one of us has a college degree again?”

His laugh was a symphony to your ears. Your smile mirrored his when he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“So, what is it tonight? That nightmare again?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as his facial features softened in a way you really hoped only you got to see.

“Mm, not quite” you responded, your voice a broken whisper.

Bucky wasn’t the type to pry, but with you he wouldn’t even have to. Talking to him, sharing your deepest secrets and fears, telling him about the nightmares that kept you awake at night – it all came easily. Too easily.

“This week it’s...it’s that image of my stupid mother. Standing there with her black eyes and busted lip, telling me that it was me that was the problem. That it was me who...” you swallowed hard, the heaviness creeping back into your chest and tears fighting to wet your eyes. God you hated that you let this get the best of you.

Just as your mind started to bring you back to that dark place it was interrupted by the feeling of warmth spreading over your body. You looked down to see Bucky’s large hand resting right above your knee. When your eyes met again, he gave you a soft look that made your heart scream.

“I’m sorry,” you could tell he meant it as he gave your knee a soft squeeze.

A small smile flashed over your face and you had to resist the urge to reach out and cup his soft, stubbled cheek in your hand.

“Hey, we’re all a little fucked up, right?” you joked.

“Some more than others,” he replied, those beautiful wrinkles appearing around his nose as he scrunched it up with another laugh.

“Thanks, Buck... I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than listening to my sob story,” you reluctantly broke eye contact and looked down at the hem of your shirt as you fiddled with it in your fingers.

You were all too aware at the loss of contact as Bucky drew his hand back and leaned back into his chair.

“Doll,” he started as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again - you could swear you almost saw a grin on his lips, “there are very few things I’d rather do than sit with you on the balcony at 3am”.

At that moment it felt as though time stood still. Sure, you had flirtatious banter back and forth occasionally and made a habit out of spilling your deepest regrets to each other during the wee hours of the morning, but this felt different. This felt like a confession.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to convince yourself, or anyone else for that matter, that you didn’t have a thing for him. I mean - who wouldn’t? The guy was a gentleman; he was soft spoken and caring, he was a dork who loved to crack jokes at the most inappropriate times, the type of person who would give you the shirt off of his own back if it meant you were taken care of.

He....well, he was Bucky.

And god damn it if you didn’t love him.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but one minute you’re sitting on your chair, chewing your lip and droning on about the man in front of you in your head. The next minute you found yourself on his lap, knees seated on either side of his waist as your legs straddle him and your hands connect with the skin they so desperately craved to feel. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and met yours as you let the pad of your thumb gently run along the curve of his bottom lip. The uneven breaths leaving your chest hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips softly. Refusing to break eye contact, Bucky gently pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb. You dragged his lower lip down briefly.

“Well,” he began. His voice was barely above a whisper but it’s thick, lustful tone made you shiver from head to...well, you know, “are you gonna kiss me, Doll? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”

He barely finished his sentence before your lips captured his. It was messy, almost all teeth and tongue. It was needy, as if it was the last time either of you would ever kiss anyone again. It was fucking incredible.

Bucky’s metal arm snaked up your back and found its way into your hair, curling his fingers gently around the strands at the back of your head, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his form. He was intoxicating. This whole situation was something you had briefly imagined months ago, but ultimately pushed out of your mind. There was no way that he would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, here he was, tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth.

You aren’t quite sure who pulled away first. Both of you were gasping for air, chests heaving up and down as you both stared into each other's lust-blown pupils.

“You kiss pretty well for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since 1940,” you teased, laughing as he rolls his eyes at the comment.

“You just don’t know when to shut that mouth of yours, do ya?” he practically growled, ever so slightly tightening his grip on your waist, and you almost lost it from just the sound of his voice alone.

“Why don’t you make me, Barnes?” you leaned in close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.

A yelp escaped your throat as you were suddenly jerked up to a standing position, locking your ankles behind his back as he effortlessly held you up by your thighs.

“Oh Doll,” he chuckled darkly into your neck, almost making you pass out from the sensation, “I thought you’d never ask”.

#eeek #i hope you all like this #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan character #sebastian stan #James Buchanan Barnes #James Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst

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