#but it'd be much funnier if they didn't and actually ended up really fucking hating each other lol
Note
Since we're both as unwell about him as we are I consider you to be someone who knows a fair amount and what do you genuinely think the real James Fitzjames would feel if he saw the Terror's depiction of him? (As in watching the whole show)
HUH good question. first of all i think he'd be a little discombobulated by the very experience of watching a tv show but personally i choose to believe he'd at least be happy he was made into one of the main characters?? and that so many cool and sexy insane people are obsessed with him now <3
having said that. as much as i love show!fitzjames they did nerf him down A LOT. they robbed him of the joyous whimsy that was such a characteristic trait of the real jokester supreme fitzjames (show!fitzjames also has little to no relationship with his irl lieutenant buddies which. sad.)
we also know now that. most probably. he was actually fully english so i can only imagine he'd be Not Pleased about the cairn scene to say it lightly lmao imagine you and your adoptive family making significant efforts throughout your whole life to disguise the fact of your illegitimate birth and then 150 years later some people make a high rating show where they babygirlify you not only spill your secret to the millions of people watching (or secrets, plural, and make you call yourself a fake as a cherry on top lol) but they also get it wrong and make it Even Worse (from a victorian englishman's perspective) like stop guys he's already dead lmfao
having said that. he would have loved the britannia costume and the your nails are a terror line. i know he would.
#look. i personally think it'd be SO funny#like. look. listen. we reblog pictures and memes of him and say how hot and funny he was and it is all true.#dude was incredible and funny as shit and he did do drag and kick ceilings and id give anything to fuck him woah who said that#but he was ALSO an early 19th century white englishboy colonialist lol#(so is show!fitzjames like please my beautiful racist wife is so much more than just her gender issues and stigmata guys....)#and we dont really know much of his actual feelings on crozier (sick owl... i think of that one a lot) so who knows#maybe they did end up in a fucked up yet heartfelt and deeply intimate homoerotic relationship in the end#but it'd be much funnier if they didn't and actually ended up really fucking hating each other lol#id love to lock them both in a room with nothing but a tv screen playing a compilation of their scenes together on a loop#(the 'are we brothers' scene itself is looped three times for maximum awkwardness damage)#ANYWAY#obv we know francis crozier said rpf is fine but we dont know what's fitzjames's stance on that one....#it doesnt matter anyway. get gendered yaoid and portuguesed idiot#the terror#james fitzjames#og jfj#i wish they'd given tobias the signature forehead curl that makes me lose my mind on the real fiztjimbles#but i want to believe he'd enjoy being portrayed as god's most beautiful specialest little princess in a james ross wig
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𓆩🖤𓆪 Screw Your Bike! 𓆩🖤𓆪
❥ prompt: You hated to admit it but, you were jealous of a damn motorcycle. How was it possible to feel second place to a vrooming object with two-wheels? What did it have that you didn't? A leather seat and a holo-graphic chrome wrap, really? Well, if Kayn wanted to take a ride, he'd have to go through you. Literally and figuratively.
❥ content/warnings: nsfw 18+, dom!kayn, dirty talk, bratty behavior, profanity
❥ characters/pairings: Heartsteel!kayn x f!reader
You were going to be in so much trouble. Good. That's where you wanted to be. After being blown off recently, you weren't trying to be nice. If Kayn wanted to keep having fun with his new toy, then he'd have to go through you.
"Where the hell are my keys?" He growled out loud. Frustration igniting that irresistible scowl across his features. "I swear, if Ezreal thought It'd be funny to hide them, then it's going to be funnier when I murder him."
Oh. Poor Ezreal. You hated if he ever took the blame for your misdeed. But your secret wouldn't be kept for long. It was only a matter of time before you were found it. Which, you wanted to be. Very badly.
Kayn asked for your help in looking for the missing keys. You played your part well; sifting through cluttered drawers and couch cushions. After searching the house, it was time to search around the garage.
"Probably left it in the ignition or something," Kayn mumbled to himself, scanning the body of his motorcycle.
You stood a few feet away. Smiling. Watching him wrack his brain about where exactly were those damned keys. It was time to be found out. You bounced on your toes. Jingle Jingle.
That definitely caught someone's attention. Kayn looked up, narrowing his green eye against you. "Did you just...jingle?"
"I don't know. Did I?" You posed with fake innocence. You bounced again. Jingle Jingle. "Mm, maybe I did. I can't really tell. Would you mind finding out for me?”
Kayn’s look spat fire, but his smirk crossed with intrigue. He sauntered over with a sway, and sucked against his teeth. “Clever hiding spot. But kinda uninspiring, don’t you think?”
You merely shrugged. Allowing him to bask in whatever verbal triumph he wanted to display. You had to keep your cool. Especially when he plunged a hand between your cleavage. You held in a shudder. The rough of his knuckles brushed against your nipples during his careless search.
That all-too confident smirk faltered at the ends. But where his ended, your grin began. Nothing was there.
"You were right. That spot was uninspiring." You shook your lower half. Jingle Jingle. "Wonder where else they could be."
Kayn's jaw tightened. You saw the clench of teeth. He didn't liked to be fooled with. The fire that blazed just behind his eyes told you the punishment he wanted to reign. All according to plan.
"You're a damned brat." He said with a bite, tempting to snake a hand up your black mini-skirt.
He almost barked when you gripped his wrist, pinning his hand against your inner thigh. You narrowed your mascaraed lashes against him. "And you're an ass-head. Think I'd be happy with you blowing me off over your supped-up tricycle?"
Kayn glanced from his motorcycle back to you. So, this is what this was all about. You wanted to pick a fight with him over his new toy. Fine, have it your way—but it wasn't going to be the verbal kind. Words were all pointless, meaningless, a waste of time. Fucking things out always worked better.
Kayn slammed his mouth down on yours. You yelped, gripping his wrist tighter. You wouldn't relent, not so easily. When he sucked and nipped at your lower lip, you wrapped your free hand around his neck, grasping for some semblance of control.
Kayn groaned from the slight pressure and claimed your mouth fully. He returned that pressure by gripping tighter against your thigh fat. You were going to let his hand go. Unless you wanted bruises. He wasn't afraid to leave a mark or two on your body. Actually, he preferred it. A reminder of him anytime you undressed.
You whined a moan. The digging of his fingers sending shocks between your legs. You gasped for air, your strength siphoned.
Kayn breathed a shit-winning smirk into your ear. You bit your bottom lip. He thrusted his fingers inside your panty line. Sliding the keys out, the metal jostled and glided against your folds. Wet slicked and coated.
"You're going to pay for almost tarnishing the metal. I don't think you know exactly how much I'd have to cough up to replace them. Nothing you could afford with cash, anyway." Kayn's features darkened, licking the keys clean of your taste.
Oh God. He was such a dick. This is exactly what you wanted. "You're such an ass—"
You cried out when frim hands smacked against your back side, gripping the now tender flesh. Yanking you off your feet, Kayn practically tossed you onto his motorcycle. With your back pressed against the control panel, Kayn settled between your straddled legs. He was going to fuck on you his motorcycle to make a point? Before you could protest, Kayn possessed your lips with a snarl and bite. Goose-bumps rose when you heard the undoing of his jean button and the down slide of his zipper.
"I hope I ruin the leather on this stupid thing," you said, gripping his hot dick in your hand.
Kayn growled and shoved your mini-skirt up to your stomach, snapping your panties to the side. "Ruin it and you're going to be licking your mess off the seat, while I fuck you from behind."
Shit. That sounded so hot. "Screw your fucking bike," you said with a shudder. His fingers swiped against your pussy. Completely drenched for him.
"Don't tempt me with the idea." Kayn took himself from you in his hand, circling your clit with the head of his cock. Slicking it up and down. You writhed, legs shaking against his sides.
Kayn shifted his hips. With his glazed tip, he dragged the length of his cock through your entrance. Your throbbing folds parted, spreading around his shaft. Pushing up to your cervix, he dragged up and back, coating himself with your fluids.
Your hands snatched his shoulders, finding your nails leaving desperate trails for him to take you, over and over and over again. Pleading for him to never stop.
Kayn bent forward, gripping the motorcyle handles. He dipped his head, pressing his teeth against the helix of your ear. "Think you're more exciting than my bike? Then you better purr louder." Bastard!
Kayn slammed inside of you, delivering all of his frustration, hunger and revenge. Taking you like the demon that he inevitably was. You cried out, tightening your legs around him, holding him closer. As if he was your savior and not your actual reaper.
Fuck. You were so hot, tight, and wet. Your walls pulsed and squeezed, making him swell and throb. Kayn gritted his teeth. He almost let himself reach his threshold before you—he was never going to let you fucking win.
Kayn lapped a long tongue across your neck, before diving and sinking a pair of canines into your skin. An apparent mark of his victory. You whole body jolted with pleasure. Your pussy clamped down so hard around his shaft, for a moment, Kayn's vision went black.
You screamed his name. Bucked against him. Coming all around him. Kayn went with you, catching his vulgar groans in his throat as he filled up your insides.
You got exactly what you wanted. Kayne think's he's won, and that's fine. But you were the real winner. He rode you before the damn bike. You smiled to yourself. All according to plan.
#heartsteel#heartsteel x reader#kayn x reader#reader insert#sheida kayn#league of legends#LoL#this is like only my second time writing smut#sorry if its not the best#need to practice so that's what im gonna do haha#ever since i saw the motocycle sex had to happen on it#pls dont judge my fatherless behavior
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𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 || (very dark) 70s!Bucky x reader
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: he tried to be sympathetic to your cause, he really did, but he couldn’t just let you get away with disrespecting him like that.
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.4k
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (noncon, plus breeding kink and tons of degradation, like very heavy degradation, and multiple orgasms/overstimulation), misogyny, a bit of dumbification, housewife kink, ‘sir’ kink (brief), choking, implied anal, spitting (not on the reader, unfortunately lmao), quite a bit more than period-typical sexism, awful awful awful this fic is absolutely awful
Brooklyn, 1970.
Bucky’s mornings were sacred. He had his rituals: showering, cooking breakfast, reading the paper and having his first drink and cigarette of the day, all before he left for work.
But throughout this entire week, his mornings had been ruined by the stupid fucking protest in the park just outside his window. And to think he’d actually paid more for an apartment with a view of the park— he hadn’t realized then that the “view” was gonna be a bunch of hippies creating awful music and an unbearable smell that left his whole apartment reeking of reefer if he dared to open his window.
Attempting to ignore it for a week only made him more resentful with each passing day. Each time he figured the crowd would surely leave soon or at least be quiet for the night, they seemed to somehow get louder just to spite him.
He probably should've waited until he was a bit less agitated to go down and try to bargain with you, but he stormed down there instead and tapped you on the shoulder when his presence alone wasn't enough to distract you from your incessant chanting.
“Would you consider being quiet?" he asked firmly. "I have to work in the morning and—”
“We won’t be quiet until women have equal treatment under the eyes of society and the law,” you interrupted to explain condescendingly, shocking him with your icy tone. He could hardly believe your attitude, in fact he couldn’t remember any woman speaking to him that way in his life: so far, he wasn’t enjoying it.
“I just thought you could be a little more respectful,” Bucky shot back, even more stern. “You’re not making anyone wanna support your movement by acting entitled and inconveniencing everyone.”
“I’m sorry the revolution is inconvenient for you,” you replied, but it didn’t sound much like an apology.
He wanted to say more but you blew him off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him confused and irritated and livid. Up until now he had been quietly skeptical about all this talk of liberation but now he saw it for the poison it really was. A girl like you— who could've been a real looker with some willingness to try and a better attitude— talking to a man like him with so much hate and over what, a polite request?
This could not be tolerated; he couldn't let you get away with acting like that. And lucky for you, he was exactly the guy you needed to teach you your lesson.
The good thing about hippies high on shrooms is they aren’t the most observant. When he returned to the demonstration area the next night, he was able to grab you roughly and pull you back from the crowd with almost no trouble at all, dragging you into an empty alley and clamping his hand down over your mouth as your eyes went wide and your throat vibrated with silent screams.
“Shh, shh,” he soothed against your ear, “whatcha fightin’ for?”
He liked the way it felt to have you squirming against his grasp, using all your strength and not even getting close to escaping.
“How does it feel to know I can do anything I want to you?” he growled against your ear. “C’mon, sweetheart, can’t you put up a better fight than that? I thought you believed in equality… you should be able to get away if you’re as strong as I am.”
He felt your warm tears trailing down around his fingers which held your face tightly, the struggle of your limbs slowing and weakening slightly. His cock was already getting hard as he imagined the moment you would finally give in.
“You remember me, don’t you? You didn’t need to be so rude, darlin’. You could’ve just been nice and none of this would be happening.”
Your elbow shot back into his ribs and he exhaled sharply but didn't let go, grabbing your wrists and holding your arms to your chest as he pinned you to the wall.
"Oh, that's not gonna work, babydoll. I'm so much stronger and bigger than you, all you're gonna do is make me angrier. Is that what you want, sweetheart? To make me angry?" he asked mockingly, leaning in to lick the shell of your ear as you tried to turn away. “Pretty girl like you would make a great wife, why would you want anything else?”
Ignoring your struggle, he reached into your shirt and purred as he groped your chest, your nipples hardening when he pinched them. “Maybe I can get behind this bra-burning thing if it means having easier access to your tits all the time,” he grinned. “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when I can see them through your shirt? Shouldn’t be showing ‘em off if you don’t want any attention.”
As fun as it was to play with your tits, he had bigger plans, so he reached lower to start tugging down your jeans, your legs uselessly kicking as he exposed your ass and thighs.
His cock was already rock hard as he hastily opened his fly and pulled it out with one hand, leaning back to spit on it quickly. He spread the fluid with a few strokes over his length, figuring it would be enough to get inside you even if he didn’t really care if he hurt you.
Your eyes went wide and your head bucked wildly as he poked the head of it against your opening, your body fighting a little harder once again. The irony of that, though, was that you were already plenty wet in spite of what he had expected; it was so much funnier to watch you struggle now that he knew you were not-so-secretly enjoying it.
“Don’t be so dramatic," he chuckled darkly, "I bet you can take a cock real easy since you believe in all this ‘free love’ bullshit.”
He groaned as he pushed into you, impressed by how tight you were— so tight that it made his cock throb right away, your walls pulsing and rippling around him as he filled you to the brim.
“Oh fuck, there you go…” he hissed, smiling as you sobbed harder and struggled a bit more before finally relaxing into his tight embrace. "You're gonna take it all, baby, every fuckin' inch of me."
A hard sob choked out of you every time he slammed himself to the end of you; he could feel the hatred radiating from you, the way you would kill him in a moment if only you weren't so weak. But he could feel your reluctant acceptance, too, and the way it was slowly turning into euphoria— you were finally starting to like how it felt to be helpless to him, it was obvious with the way your pussy gave him such a warm and willing welcome while your pretty tits got even harder.
You clearly wanted to hate him, but your body knew better.
"You think I'm a sexist pig, I'm sure," he chuckled, "but I'm really not— I love women! And you know what I love most? Huh?"
He felt you nervously shake your head behind his hand and he laughed.
"I love the way you get so dumb when you get a cock in you. All those useless little thoughts leaving your head when you're finally getting fucked right."
Your cries got louder even though they were still muffled by his hand, your sweet little pussy giving him a squeeze of encouragement.
"It's okay to like it, babydoll, it's what you were meant for. Made to be my brainless fucktoy… born to serve me," he growled. “You really should learn to appreciate," he grunted between brutal thrusts, "that your only purpose is to keep my dinner hot and my cock warm.”
Your eyes rolled back in your head and he felt your walls bear down on him tightly, wetness seeping down around him.
"Oh fuck, are you coming? Shit," he moaned. "Looks like you really needed to be put in your place, just needed to be used... god, you made a fuckin' mess, too, you soaked my cock…"
Your little hands tightened into fists, pushing against where his arm held them back, but he stayed steady as he pumped into you, letting himself get a bit lost in the feeling of you while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
It felt so damn good to have a cunt coming around him, but it was even better knowing that you were fighting it and still couldn’t stop it, completely helpless to how good he was making you feel.
You almost screamed under his hand when he reached down to quickly rub your clit, your back arching to try to run away from his touch; poor thing, you were so sensitive it probably hurt you, but he was having too much fun watching you realize you were going to come again.
"Yeah, gimme another one, slut," he grinned, your legs quivering as waves of slick coated him and started to even drip down your legs. "Can't stop coming like the dirty whore you are, huh? Bet nobody's made you come like this before— cause nobody's given it to you right. Nobody's shown ya what it's supposed to be like when a man takes you and makes you his."
From the way you moaned softly, teary eyes fluttering shut, he knew you liked the sound of that.
"Yeah, wanna be mine, baby? Wanna be my little slut? Or do you want me to pump this pussy full and leave you here on the ground for any other man that comes by to use you if he needs?"
You groaned softly, a weak little noise, and he felt his cock flex; as much as he wanted this to last as long as possible, he couldn’t hold back anymore.
“M’close, honey,” he breathed. “I’m gonna come.”
He laughed breathlessly when you shut your eyes, like you were trying to go somewhere else in your mind, trying to pretend this wasn’t real. But it was real, and he wasn’t going to let you forget that. He was elated to make your nightmares come true.
"I sure wouldn't mind pulling out and covering that pretty face you've got,” he hissed. “It'd be funny to see you go back to your little march and show them how owned you are. But not today, babydoll, I think there's only one way you're gonna learn your lesson."
Another muffled gurgle from you, and this time it didn’t even sound like protest. Maybe you were just too tired for that at this point, but it gave him hope that you could finally behave.
"I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth and you're gonna beg me to come inside you, is that clear?" he grunted, feeling you nod vigorously. "You're not gonna scream are you?"
You shook your head, and he slowly pulled his hand from your mouth as you gasped for air. "Please— come in me," you panted.
"Address me as 'sir'," he instructed.
"Please, sir, I— I want you to come," you whined.
He chuckled right against your ear, feeling you shiver in his grasp. "Honey, I don't give a fuck what you want."
To think you ever resisted your natural desire for submission was absurd now, considering the way that statement made you openly moan, your walls fluttering around him.
“Gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll never get it outta you, sweetheart.”
One more orgasm washed over you, making him laugh darkly while he watched you bite your lip to attempt to stay quiet; but that was impossible once he fucked you harder just to spite you, having to hold you tight to make sure he got as deep in you as possible. Your whole body shook as he slammed into you, and he laughed at how dumb and helpless you looked.
"Bet you're on those new birth control pills," he grimaced. They really weren’t that new, but he still hadn’t gotten used to them. "Makes me sick to think you're letting a perfectly good womb go to waste. Betcha want me to breed you nice and deep, yeah? Wanna get knocked up? You don't even care that I'm a stranger, you wanna get your pussy filled by any random man's come so you can have any random man's baby, ain't that right?"
At first he had worried that you would scream or cry for help, but now his concern was more that your moans would be too loud and somebody would catch the two of you in this alley. Even if it was obvious now that you wanted it, public indecency was still a crime.
Good thing he had a new way to shut you up: his hand tight around your throat, silencing your sobs to blessed silence. It was so hot to have you entirely at his mercy like that, to feel your pulse beneath his fingers, that he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up his thrusts suddenly.
"Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped, “fuck, y-you… little whore…”
He had a habit of running his mouth when he was right on the edge, and the way your pussy was milking him for all he was worth made him spit out whatever filth he could think of.
“Stupid fuckin' bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he fucked you as fast and rough as he could, chasing his high with no regard for your pleasure or your pain. "Dumb whore, fuck, you stupid— ah, shit— stupid fucking cunt!"
He cried out as he filled you, groaning loudly with every pump of his seed into your waiting body. Only when he was sure every drop was inside you did he release his grip on your neck, a loud gasp coming first before a few coughs and chokes that only made his cock harder despite having just filled you.
You started to struggle again, and he couldn’t believe it— after everything, did you still not know your place?
There wasn’t much time to relax and enjoy the afterglow when you were already trying to get away, and so he had to hold you tight again while he smiled exhaustedly.
“N-no,” you stammered, and he covered your mouth again as he pulled your head back to rest on his shoulder. Clearly he hadn’t done enough yet to fuck that word out of you.
“Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” he panted against your ear, still catching his breath, his chest covered in a thin layer of sweat where it was exposed by his shirt. “You’ve still got another hole to fill.”
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