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chocsra · 2 months

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✧ "Salvation; Devotion"

16! stormbringer! Chuuya x fem! reader

✧ summary: being targeted by paul verlaine after being chuuyas friend, though when he comes to talk to you with a european detective, it seems to be more than friendship. ✧ content: small oneshot, fluff, angst (kinda), adam + angsty teenagers ✧ w/c: 1.4k

Chuuya - meaning "loyalty, devotion"

Nakahara - meaning "central plain"

His devotion was not only his strongest attribute, but his most tender weakness.

You knew a boy. He was young and short, but fiery and strong. He was mysterious, born with unknown origins, and walked the wrong path, that's why he's not only humanity's most destructive weapon but a lowly, pitiful, criminal.

It was something you weren't, though you didn't mind much.

But under the guise of celestial imperfections, Chuuya was a constellation falling into place. He was beautiful. Sunkissed with the kind of foreign beauty you’d see in actors that would play some sort of prince. Your first examination of him was his wealthy and neatly ironed clothing—the kind of blazers and shoes that you’d find in a modelling campaign. Even the accented cuffs of his clothing were underlined with emerald or other precious stones. Then, his silky russet hair, one thrown into a low ponytail—the hairstyle itself still retained a strong masculinity despite the length. Or maybe that came from the musky cologne he constantly wore. A hint of cigarettes, strawberries and that strong scent of virile.

The soft glow from his copper locks then shifted to the fitted collar around his neck—an odd fashion choice, but it really accentuated the ivory of his skin. Soft, sun-kissed skin that’d make its way to his face. A beautiful face, really. Delicate and angelic features with a permanent scowl tugging on his lips—soft pink lips. Chuuya's eyes reflected a fine smoky quartz. His cheeks and nose kissed with a few scattered freckles.

You wondered why a boy so sublime had the status of an onerous beast. Even he took the words that held the weight of a blade and cut himself until he was reduced to the slit of a knife.

You met that same boy, a masterpiece ripped at every edge, not in the dangers of the mafia, but where a silver line stretches to the sea. Where the sun meets the sky, where the light shines.

But even then, you treated him differently. You didn't treat him like he was something fragile. Neither did you treat him like the monstrosity he was sought out to be. You didn't worship him, nor did you greatly depend on him. Instead, you found his humanity and treated him as such. Once a stranger, then a friend, then..

Nevermind.

"Chuuya?!"

You heard the calamity of each step he took to reach you, the boy stopping to pant. "[Y/N].. we need to talk." next to the redhead, was a tall European man with short brown hair, he didn't look tired at all compared to Chuuya. "Greetings, my name is Adam Frankenstein." You cocked a brow at his monotonous voice, the way his mouth moved didn't seem in sync with his words either. "You're rather special, Master Chuuya spent almost 7 hours looking for yo-" Adam explained briefly, causing the redhead to grimace and cut him off, "Shut it, will ya?!"

...

You heaved a bothersome sigh, elbows planted on a cafe table as the two men sat in front of you. "So.. why do you need me, Chuuya?" you question, fiddling with your fingers, "And who's he?.." your gaze uplifts to the brunette foreigner, which the man carefully takes a pack of gum and begins to unfold it, popping a piece in his mouth, before swallowing it. Your eyebrows furrow in a moment of youthful distaste.

Chuuya clutches the cup of tea between his gloved fingers and murmurs something intangible, "Adam's a detective from Europole, investigating Verlaine. He wants to know more about him, which is why he's been following me around.." he finally explains, taking a calculated and almost frustrated sip of his tea.

"Verlaine. Who's Verlaine?" You ask momentarily, causing the redhead to part his lips to answer, but you quickly halt as the detective swallows another piece of gum down his throat. "And why is he chewing gum like that?"

"That's what I'm sayin'!" the teenager half-seriously slams the cup of tea on the table, "He swallows it like a nutjob. You need help, tin man." Chuuya scoffs, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat almost nervously.

"You need help. You spent 6 hours and 47 minutes looking for h-" the brunette explains with a hint of sass in his voice, the redhead's eyes widening in shock, "I said shut up!"

You shuffle in your seat awkwardly as the two men argue. Scratching the back of your neck before Chuuya finally settles down, patting down the cashmere of his suit.

"So here's the thing about Verlaine.. he's this batshit crazy assassin, and uh.. here's the real kicker.." the mafioso mutters, fiddling with his gloved fingers uneasily. "You're gonna be the bait."

Your jaw immediately drops, a hand clasping over your chest in the offence. "Excuse me?! For what?.. to get killed?!" Chuuya looks distressed at your response, seeking Adam's gaze for at least a little help in his later response.

"Your safety is ensured. We just need to lure Verlaine out, so Master Chuuya can eliminate him." the detective explains rather calmly, fishing for something in the pocket of his suit before handing a chocolate bar to you. "Here, sugar helps with stress." the redhead smiles awkwardly at Adam's response, giving a nervous thumbs up.

You snatch the chocolate bar with a bit of attitude, eyes narrowing to Chuuya as the boy inhales sharply, "I thought I wouldn't get involved in your mafia affairs, now I have to die?" you ask with furrowed brows, anger cracking in your voice. Causing the teenager to gulp in slight fear, a rare sight to Adam, as he's never sensed fear from Master Chuuya. Especially to a young girl like you.

"Well, you won't die... More like, almost die." The detective explains, hoping he'd ease your nerves at least a bit. "Doesn't matter! M'not doing it!" You shout in vexation, hopping up from your seat as you pick up your school bag. "Plus, I couldn't if I wanted to, anyway," you murmur,

"Wait.. why?" Chuuya asks with conviction.

your gaze adverts to the different sights in the area: the park bench, passersby, and the cafe's menu. Anything but Chuuya's confused face.

"Uhm.. I have a project that's due tomorrow, and I didn't start yet."

"You can't be serious!"

The teenager runs up to you in frustration, you clutch your bag as you turn to him. "Oh, but I am!" you remark, walking faster as the brunette detective catches up. "I'm very serious! After all, this is a serious project!"

The redhead pants and wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead, "You're really gonna prioritise a school project over your own life?!" he cries out, still trying to catch up to you.

"Anything is better than being bait for the Port Mafia!" You yell out, settling your argument atop a bridge, ignoring how the sun was starting to set in an arrangement of oranges and pinks. "Shit- Don't say that so loud!"

"I'd rather finish a school project than become bait for the Port Mafia!!"

You repeat again, louder this time. Chuuya pinches his nose bridge in frustration, tilting his head up towards the setting sun. And upon you halting your swift steps, the redhead finally catches up to you, and to your surprise, he grabs your hand to spin you around.

"Look, I had a shitty week too!" the boy lets go of your hand, making you huff a little bit. But instead of letting you go, he cups both of your cheeks and pulls you close, his gaze never averting from yours. "People that mattered to me died, so many of them," the teenager explains, a melancholic glint lingering in his pretty eyes, you could see it all from the close proximity of his face. "and I'd do anything for you to not be one of those people."

You gulp hard as your eyes scan over the glass of his eyes, the once stormy grey now welling holding back tears.

Silence.

Adam clears his throat, standing beside you and the mafioso awkwardly, "Apologies for interrupting. But this whole exchange is very childish. Master Chuuya, don't you think there are better words to articulate your romantic feelings towards [Y/N]?.. Perhaps after this all over, you can solve this by getting into a relationship-" you and the boy both retort at the detective in unison:

"Shut up, Adam!"

...

"Okay, I'll help you." you frown with conviction, "You owe me a school project, though."

The redhead presses two fingers to his glabella, "I'll send someone to complete it for you."

✧ chocsra™

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tadpolesonalgae · 7 months

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Rhysand x reader: Knocked up[*]

A/N: This 🤝 Rhys just makes me so happy

Warnings: smut, breeding kink😋, slight praise kink I guess?

Word count: 1,163

“Come on…darling…a little deeper…”

He’s pushing the very air from your lungs, cock pressing so deliciously against your walls, filling you from the inside up. A whimper spills from your lips, the pads of your fingers digging into the firmness of his abdomen. Thighs spreading a little wider, muscles spasming as your head lowers, pants puffing heavily from your mouth.

“Rhys…” you breathe, heavenly heat turning you dim. “Rhys…!”

His hand cups your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, star-flecked violet dancing and gleaming. “There you are…a little more for me…yeah…?” His tan skin is flushed, breathing as uneven as your own, equally near the edge. “Think you can sink down…a bit more…?”

You watch through half-lidded eyes as his stomach rises and falls with the depth of his breaths. How fluid he is, blessed with feline grace.

Biting your lip, you slide down the final inch. Pleasure crests over you, resting your entire weight on his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you—

“Woah there…”

His hands firmly grip your hip and shoulder, keeping you upright as euphoria knocks you clean from your feet. “Hey…hey, darling…look at me,” Rhys breathes, murmuring to you as you’re pulled from your stupor. “That’s it…there you go…so good, aren’t you…?”

You whimper, rolling your hips over his, both of you hissing at the concentration of pleasure. Hands go slightly limp, steadying yourself as you lean forward, spine curving. “Mmm…Rhysand…” You drag over him, eyes fluttering closed in quiet bliss. His grip tightens, one hand leaving from your shoulder, grasping the soft swell of your breast, thumbing your sensitive nipple. Flicking over its tip, grazing the crest.

“Feeling good…? Like riding me…darling?” He pants, eyes glued to your joining point, obscene squelching sounds tingling his pointed ears, like lovely silver bells. “That’s it…take it nice and deep…nice and deep…to fill you up…”

A high-pitched moan spills from your lips, gentle and needful, pawing at the soft skin of his stomach, underlined with muscle. “Deeper…take you deeper…” you pant, opening your eyes long enough to search for his hands. You swirl your hips with fervour, small bucks as you pleasurably squirm, having him hit all the good spots.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, fingers linking tightly with your smaller ones, allowing you to cling onto him as you ride his hips. “Such a good girl…aren’t you, darling?” He squeezes your knuckles and a quiet whine bursts from your lungs, spilling into the world, adding to the intimate eroticism.

“Rhys…” you whine, “Rhys…I need you…” A rough moan pulls from his chest, urgent and lustful. “How do you need me?” He breathes, “tell me what you want…” Your hips buck faster, and you flinch, air knocked from your lungs at the wave of pleasure. Lips part as your eyes flutter shut, head tipping upward as you bask in him. “Breed me…” you pant, softly. Quietly. Hardly a whimper.

He grips your hands, a reassuring heat to your nerves, rolling his hips up into you. The world turns foggy, and your body is heated butter, melting beneath the hot press of his fingertips, coating his scar-flecked skin like a protective seal. Like hot wax spilling from a candle, dripping and burning.

“Yeah? Want me to breed you?” He murmurs, watching you with wonder, head resting in the plush pillows of your bed. Teeth find your lower lip, rocking your hips faster, winding over his cock. You nod lethargically, almost drowsily, bucking onto him.

Rhysand groans, raising to meet you, touching deeper, hidden spots that have you tightening around him. Eyes squeeze shut, brow furrowing in concentration. Following the pathway that will lead you both to that wonderful dissipation of tension, pleasure flooding your bodies.

Your lips part in quiet surprise as he targets those spots with heartwarming familiarity. “Rhys…” you pant, “Rhys…!” Breathing becomes shallower, and he drags your hips over his, helping guide you, giving you the strength to move. “Come on…you can do it…give it to me.” The whispered murmurs graze your mind, basking in the swell of his cock as it presses up inside of you. Like you belong together. Perfectly fitted to slot together.

“Do it…give it to me…then I can fill you up…yeah? That’s what you want… For me to spill into you…and stuff you full of my cum…” The filthy words make you tighten around him, and you’ve tipped over the edge. Enjoy the few seconds as you soar to the peak, having taken off on sun-kissed wings. “So good at taking me…” he purrs, violet eyes latching onto yours, dark talons grazing your wobbly shields, tender and sensitive from stimulation. You hit the stars, colliding, sending galaxies spraying, nebulas bursting across your skin. His cock glides against your sensitive walls, dragging so deliciously as you reach your peak.

The moan you release sends him spilling over the edge, spurting into you as he groans, gripping you back as your fingers tighten together.

“So good…so good, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “take everything…every drop…drink it all up. So good.” The pleasure doubles…triples with every caress of him inside of you, feeling the hot, milky liquid spill into you, latch onto you, nestling deep. “That’s it…take all of it…make sure it sticks…” he groans, colour tinting his glistening skin. “Gonna fill you up so good…make sure you carry it…tucked away, to nestle inside that lovely cunt.”

You flutter around him, sporadically bucking your hips in gentle surges, moving whenever your muscles allow you to. “So perfect…doing so well…so good to me, aren’t you?” His fingers squeeze yours through the aftershocks, letting you ride out your pleasure as he grits his teeth. He wants to be gentle with you tonight, so he pushes away that urge to flip you onto your back, to worship your pretty pussy with rough, hard strokes of his cock.

Rhysand moans with you as the waves fade to gentle tingles beneath your skin, settling down on his hips, panting heavily. You move to shift off of him, but he holds you a little firmer. “Can’t have it leaking out, can we?” He breathes, rolling his hips against you. A whimper spills from your lips at the action, squeezing his knuckles as he keeps your hands preoccupied. Thighs too weak to lift off him, you’re unable to move by yourself, remaining sat on top of him, cock pressing deep inside.

“Thought you wanted it to stick, huh?” He purrs softly, thumb stroking over the bone of your wrist. “Wanted to get knocked up…to let it take root?”

Teeth push into your lip, biting it as you wind your hips over his.

You can feel it as he stiffens inside of you, turned on by the slightest stimulation.

Ready for round two.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Rhys Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#Rhysand #Rhysand x reader #Rhysand smut #Rhys #High Lord #high lord rhysand #Acotar #acotar smut #Rhysand x reader smut #October

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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The Farmer's Daughter 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your dad sits in the worn-out recliner, silent as the radio buzzes on an AM station. Your mother places a glass of water next to him but he doesn't acknowledge her. You've never seen him like this. Your dad's always been lively, often talking back to the radio. But now, he's like a shell, just staring.

"The rehab nurse will come tomorrow," your mom nears, "he just needs some rest for now."

You nod and back out of the room, a grim coldness in the air despite the warmth of spring flowing in from open windows. You enter the kitchen as your mother trails after you. Without a word, she flips on the burner beneath the blackened silver kettle. You lean on the square island and trace a finger around a ring in the wood.

"Do they know how it happened?" You ask.

"A clot. They say... things like that are hard to catch," she sniffs, "but it doesn't matter now. All that matters is he's home and alive and... he's going to get better."

"I'm sorry, ma," you frown.

You cup your chin and glance over at the door. When you looked in your father's eyes, it was as if he didn't know you. He just smiled weakly then went back to staring. What happened to man who used to jump down from his tractor to the dismay of his wife?

"We'll have to figure out what to do about the planting," your mother hums and chews her thumb. She pulls her hand away and stretches out her fingers, "Timothy's done a lot but... we'll never catch up at this pace."

"I can help," you offer, "ma, we'll make it work."

"No, I need you in here," she counters, "I'll be taking care of your dad. The hospital gave me all these pamphlets; exercises and all that..." she blows out a heavy breath and flattens her palm to her forehead, "how am I going to do all this?"

"Ma, we'll all help," you offer, "it's okay. We'll be okay. Dad will be okay."

You come around the counter and offer a hug. She latches onto you and rocks you in place. As she holds you, a rumble underlines the chatter on the radio humming from the front room.

You part and look over at the open archway to the hallway. You glance at your mother and give a nod. Visitors already.

You go down to the entry way, wondering where Timothy went. He was just out on the porch fiddling with some car part or another. You open the door and lean back on a heel as Walter greets you with a nod.

"Hey, hope I'm not... imposing."

"Um, dad just got home. He's..." you peek over at the front room, "resting."

"Of course, I figured, I just wanted to drop this off," he holds up the basket in his right hand, "had some extra stuff in my pantry."

"Oh, Mr. Marshall," you accept the basket, "thank you. You didn't have to--"

"Walt," he corrects.

"Walter," your mother's voice carries through the hall as she pads up softly, "oh, Walter, how kind."

She looks at the basket as you grasp the handle and Walter lets it go, the weight nearly bowling you over. You do your best to keep it above ground level.

"Heavy," he warns too late.

"Please, come in," your mother beckons.

"I wouldn't want to disturb him," Walter puts his head down, almost meekly. "Just wanted to bring some stuff."

"No, no, please, I just put the kettle on."

"Uh, alright," he accepts reticently. "Thanks, Maddie."

"Not at all," she assures and turns to sweep back down the hall.

He steps in and bends to untie his stained tan boots. He leaves them on the mat and faces you. You give an awkward smile and take stunted steps with the weighty basket.

"Here," he swipes it back as he catches up to you, "don't hurt yourself."

You let him have it. Your arm hurts. He follows you into the kitchen and places the basket on the island as you round to the other side.

"Black tea?" Your mother offers.

"Sure," he stands sternly, arms straight, stance wide.

She takes down three cups as you languish in radio's buzz. You never said much more than a few words to Walter. Walt. He never says too much either, he was always just a sounding board for your father's yammering.

"God!" The back door swings open and hits the wall, causing you and your mother to yelp as Walter merely looks over dully. Your brother clamours in and skids to a halt.

"Timmy, the floor," your mother reproaches.

"Dang it, sorry ma," he huffs, "I just... the tractor's smoking."

"What?" You and your mother stammer in unison.

"Yeah, black shit all out the exhaust."

"I'll have a look," Walter offers.

"Oh, hey, Walter," Timothy grins dumbly.

"You're so kind, Walter, but we can get Vol down here--"Don't bother with the bill," Walter shrugs off, "I'll get my boots."

Your mother sighs and you shake your head at Timothy. She might just be right. There's no way the three of you can get the spring planting done, especially if he's going to treat the tractor like one of his dinky cars he played with as a kid.

#series #au #backwoods au #walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #the farmer's daughter #night hunter #drabble

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literary-illuminati · 4 months

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Book Review 68 - Babel by R. F. Kuang

Overview

I came to Babel with extremely little knowledge about the actual contents of the book but a deep sense of all the vibes swirling around its reception – that it was robbed of a Hugo nomination (if the author didn’t outright refuse it), that it’s probably the single buzziest and most Important sf/f release of 2022, that it was stridently political, and plenty more besides. I also went in having mostly enjoyed The Poppy War series and being absolutely enamoured by the elevator pitch of an alternate history Industrial Revolution where translation is literally magic. And, well-

It is wrong to say I hated this book, but only because keeping track of my complaints and starting organize this review in my head was entertaining enough to keep me invested in the reading experience.

The story is set in an alternate 1830s, where the rise of the British Empire relies upon the dominance of its translators, as it is the mixture of translation and silverworking, the inscription of match-pairs in different languages on bars of worked silver and the leveraging of the ambiguity and loss of meaning between them that fuels the world’s magic. The protagonist is pluckted from his childhood home in Canton after his family dies in a cholera outbreak and whisked away to the estate of Professor Lowell, an Oxford translator he quickly realized is his unacknowledged father. He’s made to choose an English name (Robin Swift) and raised and tutored as a future translator in service to the Empire.

The meat of the story is focused on Robin’s education in Oxford, his relationship with the rest of his cohort, and his growing radicalization and entanglement with the revolutionary Hermes Society. Things come to a head when in his fourth year the cohort is sent back to Canton to, well, help provoke the first Opium War, though none of them aware of that. The final act follows the fallout of that, by which I mean it lives up to the full title of “Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution”.

To be clear, this was technically a very accomplished book. The writing never dragged and the prose was, if not exactly lyrical, always clear and often evocative. Despite the breadth of space and time the story covers, I never had any complaints about the pacing – and honestly, the ending was, dramatically speaking, one of the more natural and well-executed ones I’ve read recently. It’s very well-constructed.

All that being said – allow me to apologize for how the rest of this is mostly just going to be a litany of complaints. But the book clearly believes itself to be an important and meaningful work of political art, which means I don’t feel particularly bad about holding it to high standards.

Narrative Voice

To start with, just, dear god the tone. This is a book with absolutely zero faith in its audience’s ability to reach their own conclusions, or even follow the symbolism and implication it lays down. Every important point is stated outright, repeated, and all but bolded and underlined. In this book set in 1830s England there are footnotes fact-checking the imperialists talking heads to, I guess, make sure we don’t accidentally become convinced by their apologia for the slave trade? Everything is just relentlessly didactic, in a way that ended up feeling rather insulting even when I agreed with the points Kuang was making.

More than that, and this is perhaps a more subjective complaint but – for an ostensible period piece, the narrative voice and perspective just felt intensely modern? This was theoretically an omniscient third person book, with the narrative voice being pretty distinct from any of the actual characters – with the result that the implicit narrator was instead the sort of person of spends six hours a day getting into arguments on twitter and for this effort calls themselves a progressive activist. The identities of all the characters – as delivered by the objective narration – were all very neat and legible from the perspective of someone at a 2022 HR department listing how diverse their team was, which was somewhere between a tragic lost opportunity to show how messy and historical racial/ethnic/national identities are and outright anachronistic, depending. (This was honestly one of the bigger disappointments, coming from Kuang’s earlier work. Say what you will of The Poppy War series, the narration is with Rin all the way down, and it trusts the reader enough not to blink.) More than that it was just distracting – the narration ended up feeling like an annoying obstacle between me and the story, and not in any fun postmodern way either.

Characters

Speaking of the cast – they simply do not sound or feel like they actually grew up in the 19th century. Now, some modernization of speech patterns and vocabulary and moral commensense is just the price of doing business with mass market period pieces, granted, but still – no 19th century Anglo-Indian revolutionary is going use the phrase ‘Narco-military state’ (if for no other reason than we’re something like a century early for ‘narco-state’ to be coined as a term at all). An even beyond feeling out of time most of the characters feel kind of thinly sketched?

Or no, it’s not that the characters are thinly sketched so much as their relationships are. We’re repeatedly, insistently told that these four students are fast friends and closer than family and would happily die for each other, but we’re very rarely actually shown it. This is partly just a causality of trying to skim over a four-year university education in the middle third of one book, I think, but still – the good times and happy moments are almost always sort of skimmed over, summarized in the course of a paragraph or two that usually talk in terms of memories and consequences more than the relationships themselves. The points of friction and the arguments, meanwhile, are usually played out entirely on the page, or at least described in much more detail. In the end you kind of have to just take it as read that any of these people actually love each other, given that at least two of them seem to be feuding at any given point for the entire time they know each other.

Letty deserves some special attention. She’s the only white member of Robin’s cohort at Babel and she honestly feels like less of acharacter and more a collection of tropes about white women in progressive spaces? Even more than the rest, it’s hard to believe the rest of the class views her as beloved ride-or-die found family when essentially every time she’s on screen it’s so she can do a microagression or a white fragility or something. Also, just – you know how relatively common it is to see just, blatantly misogynistic memes repackaged as anti-racist because it specifies ‘white women’? There’s a line in this that almost literally says ‘Letty wasn’t doing anything to disprove the stereotype of woman as uselessly emotional and hysteric’.

Also, she’s the one who ends up betraying the other three and trying to turn them in when they turn revolutionary. Which is probably inevitable given the book’s politics, but as it happened felt like less of the shocking betrayal that it was supposed to be and more just, checking off a box for a dramatic reverse. Of course she turned on them, none of them ever really seemed to even like each other.

As a Period Piece

So, the book is set in the 1830s, in the midst of the industrial revolution and its social fallout, and the leadup to the First Opium War (which is, through the magic of, well, magic ,but also mercantilist economics, make into a synecdoche for British global dominion more broadly). On the one hand, the setting is impeccably researched, recent and relevant historical events are referenced whenever they would come up, and the footnotes are full to bursting with quotes and explanations of texts or cultural ephemera that’s brought up in the narration.

On the other, the setting doesn’t feel authentic in the slightest, the portrayal of the British Empire is bizarrely inconsistent, and all that richly researched historical grounding ends up feeling less like a living world and more like a particularly well-down set for a Doctor Who episode.

The story is incredibly focused around Oxford as a city and a university. There’s a whole author’s note about the research and slight changes made into its geography and I absolutely believe its portrayal as a physical location and the laws about how women were treated and how the different colleges were organized and all that is exactly as accurate as Kuang wanted them to be. The issue is really the people. With the exception of a few cartoonish villains who barely get more than a couple pages apiece, no one feels, sounds like, or acts like they actually belong in the 19th century. The racism the protagonists struggle with all feels much more 21st century than Victorian, and the frame of mind everyone inhabits still comes across more as ‘unusually blatantly racist Englishman’ than 19th century scholars and polymaths.

This is especially blatant as far as religion goes. It’s occasionally mentioned, sure enough, but to the extent anyone actually believes in Christianity it’s of a very modern and disenchanted sort – this is a society that sends out missionaries as a conscious tool of colonial expansion, not because of anything as silly or absurd as actually wanting to spread their gospel. Also like, it’s Oxford, in the nineteenth century. For all the racism the protagonists have to deal with, they should be getting so much more shit from ‘well-meaning’ locals and students trying to save their (one Muslim, one atheist, one probably Christian but black and protective of Haitian Vodou on a cultural level which would be more than enough) souls.

Or, and this is more minor, it is a central conceit of the whole finale that if a few (like, two) determined revolutionaries can infiltrate Babel they’ll be able to take the entire place hostage with barely any trouble. This is because the students and professors there are, basically, whimpy bookworms who’ll faint at the sight of blood and have no stomach for the sort of violence their work actually supports and drives. Which – look, I really don’t want to defend the ruling class of Victorian Britain here, but I’m not sure physical cowardice is really one of their failings, as a group? I mean, there’s an entire system of institutionalized child abuse in the boarding schools they went to to get them used to taking and dealing out violence and abuse. Basically every upper-class sport is thinly disguised military drill or ritual combat (okay, or rowing). Half of them would graduate to immediately running off and invading places for the glory of the queen. I’m not sure two sleep-deprived nerds with knives would actually have been able to cow the crowd here, is what I’m saying. (This would stick out less if the text wasn’t so dripping with contempt for them on precisely these grounds.)

Much less minor are our heroic revolutionaries themselves. And okay, this is more a matter of taste than anything but like – the Hermes Society is an illegal conspiracy of renegade current and former Babel scholars dedicated to using their knowledge of magic and access to university resources to oppose and undermine the British Empire in general and the work of the school in particular. Think Metternich’s worse nightmare, but in Oxford instead of Paris and focused on colonial liberation (continental Europe barely exists for the purposes of the book, Britain is Empire.) So! A secret society of professional revolutionaries in the heydey of just that, with a name that just has to be Hermetic symbolism, who concern themselves with both high politics and metaphysics.

They are just so very, very boring. This is the age of the Conspiracy of the Equals, the Carbonari, the Seasons! The literal Illumanti are still within living memory! Where’s the pageantry, the ritual, the grandiosity? The elaborate initiation rituals and oaths of undying loyalty? They’re so pragmatic, so humble, so (and I know I keep coming back to this) modern. It’s just such an utter wasted opportunity. Even beyond the level of aesthetics, these are revolutionaries with remarkably little positive ideology – the oppose colonialism and racism for reasons they take as self-evident and so don’t feel the need to theorize about it (and talk about them with the vocabulary of a modern activist, because of course they do), but they’re pretty much consciously agnostic as to what world should look like instead. They vaguely end up supporting a sort of petty-bourgeois socialism (in the Marxist sense), but the alliance with Luddites is essentially political convenience – they really don’t seem to have any vision of the future at all, either in England or the various places they claim as homelands.

On Empire and Industrialization

The story is set during the early nineteenth century, so of course the Industrial Revolution is a pretty core part of the background. The Silver Industrial Revolution, technically, since the Babellers translation magic is in this world a key and load-bearing part of it. Despite the addition of miracle-working enhancers and supports to its fundamental technology, the industrial revolution plays out pretty identically to history – right down to the same cities becoming hubs of industry, despite steam engines using enchanted silver instead of coal and thus, presumably, the entire economic and logistical system that brought this particular cities to prominence being totally unrecognizable. This is not a book that’s in any way actually about tracing how something would change history – which isn’t a complaint, to be clear, that’s a perfectly valid creative choice.

It does, however, make it rather galling that the single actually significant difference to history is that the introduction of magic turns the industrial revolution into a Legend of Zelda boss with a giant glowing weak point you can hit to destroy the whole enterprise.

On a narrative level, I get it – it simplifies things and allows for a far happier and more dramatic ending if destroying Babel is not just a symbolic act but also literally sends London Bridge falling down and scuttles the entire royal navy and every mill and factory in Britain. It’s just that I think that by doing so it trades away any chance for actually making interesting commentary on anti-colonial and -capitalist resistance. A world where a single act of spectacular terrorism really can destroy a modern empire is frankly so detached from our world that it ceases to be able to really materially comment upon it.

Like, the principle reason to not take the Luddites as your role models is not that they were morally vicious but that they were doomed – capitalism’s ability to repair damage to infrastructure and fixed goods is legitimately very impressive! Trying to force an entire ruling class not to adopt a technology that makes whoever commits to it tremendous amounts of money (thus, power) is a herculean task even when you have a state apparatus and standing army – adding an ‘off’ button to the lot of it just trades all sense of relevance for a satisfyingly cathartic ending.

(This is leaving untouched how the book just takes it as a given that the industrial revolution was a strictly immiserating force that did nothing but redistribute money from artisans to capitalists. Which certainly tracks as something people at the time would have thought but given how resolutely modern all the other politics in the work are rings really weirdly.)

All of which is only my second biggest issue with how the book presents its successful resistance movement. It all pales in comparison to making the Empire a squeamish paper tiger.

Like, the book hates colonialism in general and the British Empire in particular, the narrative and footnotes are filled with little asides about various atrocities and injustices and just ways it was racist or complicit in some particular atrocity. But more than that it is contemptuous of it, it views the empire as (as the cliche goes) a perpetually rotting edifice that just needs one good kick; that it persists only through the myth of its own invincibility, and has no stomach for violent resistance from within. Which is absolutely absurd, and the book does seem to know it on occasion when it off-handedly mentions e.g. the Peterloo Massacre – but a character whose supposed to be the grizzled cynical pragmatic revolutionary still spouts off about how slave rebellions succeed because their masters aren’t willing to massacre their own property. Which is just so spectacularly wrong on every axis its actually almost offensive.

More importantly, the entire final act of the story relies upon the fact that the British Empire would allow a handful of foreign students seize control of a vital piece of infrastructure for weeks on end and do nothing but try to wait them out as the national physically falls apart around them. Like, c’mon, there would be siege artillery set up and taking shots by the end of week two. As with the Oxford students, the Victorian elite had all manner of flaws – take your pick, really – but squeamishness wasn’t really one of them.

On Magic

So the magical system underlying the whole story is – you know how Machinaries of Empire makes imperial ideology and metaphysics literally magical, giving expert technicians the ability to create superweapons and destroy worlds provided that the Hexarchate’s subjects observe the imperial calendar of rites and celebrate its triumphs/participate in rituals glorying in the torture of its ‘heretics’? It’s not exactly a subtle metaphor, but it works.

Babel does something similar, except the foundational atrocity fueling the engine of empire on a metaphysical level is, like, cultural appropriation. As an organizing metaphor, I find this less compelling.

Leaving that aside, the story makes translation literally capable of miracle-working – which of necessity requires making ‘languages’ distinct natural categories with observable metaphysical boundaries. It then sets the story in the 19th century – the era of newborn nation states and education systems and national literatures, where the concept of the national-linguistic community was the obsession of the entire European intelligentsia. Now this is not a book concerned with how the presence of magic would actually have changed history, in the slightest, but like – given how fascinated it is by translation and linguistics you’d think the whole ‘a language is a dialect with a navy’ cliché would at least get a light mention (but then the book doesn’t really treat language as any more inherent or natural than it does any other modern identity category, I suppose.)

As an Allegory

Okay, so having now spent an embarrassing number of words establishing to my own satisfaction that the book really doesn’t work at all as a period piece, let us consider; what if it wasn’t trying to be?

A great many things about the book just fit much better if you take it as a commentary on the modern university with Victorian window-dressing. Certainly the driving resentment of Oxford as an institution that sustains itself and grows rich off the exploitation of international students it considers second-class seems far more apt applied to contemporary elite western schools than 19th century ones. Likewise the racism the heroes face all seems like the kind you’d expect in a modern English town rather than a Victorian one. I’m not well-versed enough on the economics of the city to know for sure, but I would wager that the gleeful characterization of Oxford as a city that literally starts falling to ruin without the university to support it was also less accurate in the 1830s than it is today.

Read like this, everything coheres much better – but the most striking thing becomes the incredible vanity of the book. This is a morality tale where the natural revolutionary vanguard with the power to bring global hegemony to its knees through nothing but witholding their labour are..students at elite western universities (not, I must say, a class I’d consider in dire need of having their egos boosted). The emotions underlying everything make much more sense, but the plot itself becomes positively myopic.

Beyond that – if this is a story about international students at elite universities, it does a terrible job of actually portraying them. Or, properly, it only shows a certain type; just about every foreign-born student or professor we meet is some level of revolutionary, deeply opposed in principle to the empire they work within. No one is actually convinced by the carrot of a life as an exploited but exceedingly comfortable and well-compensated technician in the imperial core, and there’s not really acknowledgement at all of just how much of the apparatus of international institutions and governments in the global south – including positions with quite a bit of real power – end up being staffed by exactly that demographic who just sincerely agree with the various ideological projects employing them. Kuang makes it far too easy on herself by making just about every person of colour in the books one of the good guys, and totally undersells how convincing hegemonic ideology can be, basically.

The Necessity of Violence

This is a pet peeve and it’s a very minor thing that I really wouldn’t bring it up if that wasn’t literally part of the title. But it is, so – it’s a plot point that’s given a decent amount of attention that Griffin (Robin’s secret older brother, grizzled professional revolutionary, his introduction to anti-colonialism) is blamed for murdering one of his classmates who had the bad luck to be studying while he was sneaking in to steal some silver – a student that was quite well-loved by the faculty and her very successful classmates, who have never forgiven him. Later on, it’s revealed that this is an utter rewriting of history, and she’d been a double agent pretending to let herself be recruited into the Hermes Society who’d been luring Griffin into an ambush when he killed her and escaped.

This is – well, the most predictable not-even-a-twist imaginable, for one, but also – just rank cowardice. You titled the book ‘the necessity of violence’, the least you can do is actually own it and show that violent resistance means people (with faces, and names, not just abstractions only ever talked about in general terms) who are essentially personally innocent are going to end up collateral damage, and people are going to hold grudges about it. Have some courage in your convictions!

Translation

Okay, all of that said, this isn’t a book that’s wholly bad, or anything. In particular, you can really tell how much of a passion Kuang has for the art and science of translation. The depth of knowledge and eagerness to share just about overflows from the page whenever the book finds an excuse to talk about it at length, and it’s really very endearing. The philosophizing about translation was also as a rule much more interesting and nuanced then whenever the book tried to opine about high politics or revolutionary tactics.

Anyways, I really can’t recommend the book in any real way, but it did stick in my head for long enough that I’ve now written 4,000 words about it. So at the very least it’s the interesting sort of bad book, y’know?

#book review #babel #r. f. kuang #sff #lesbian space atrocities #-ish #hatermode

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twstgarden · 3 months

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❀ ❝ 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿'𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵 ❞

━ malleus draconia x gn! reader (reader can be yuu and/or your oc) ━ it was malleus' birthday and you planned to surprise him with a gift you've made with your own hands. (f/n means first name)

this work may contain spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

it was another hectic day for malleus. though he was not in the briar valley palace being overwhelmed with plans for his birthday, he was still busy in night raven college. lilia was in the room with him, smiling at the fae as he greeted, “happy birthday, malleus! come, the guests await.”

the diasomnia dormitory head followed his guardian’s request, trailing behind him as they both went to the lounge. the celebration was splendid, to say the least. he received gifts and was greeted by students he never personally interacted with before – though they were steps away from him while delivering their greetings.

the platinum outfit he wore for this year’s birthday theme made him stand out – quite so, as he is the birthday boy. the interview was something he enjoyed as well; having deuce as his interviewer made it even more pleasant.

the celebration was nearing its end, and while he was grateful, he cannot help but feel as if something is missing. his eyes wandered around the lounge, looking for a certain person but to no avail. lilia, who stood beside him, intuitively knew who he was looking for, merely smiling, and not saying anything.

once the celebration ended, the rest of the guests returned to their respective rooms and dorms, leaving only lilia, silver, and sebek in the lounge with malleus, sorting through the gifts. while doing so, the young fae’s gaze landed on a green envelope, opening the letter as he did not recall who handed it to him.

‘to my dearest,

pleasant salutations, my love. today marks the day of your birth, and i am more than happy to wish you a happy birthday. thank you for the beautiful memories you have made with me, and i hope we can continue to make more memories together.

you might wonder about my whereabouts throughout the whole party. in all honesty, i was preparing your gift. once you have received this letter, it is time for you to take a moment to indulge in my present made for you and only you.

let us put you to a test. search for an item that fits the description i underlined. good luck!

amongst the thorny bushes, i remain bright and romantic.

forever yours, f/n l/n’

a smile ghosted over malleus’ lips, chuckling to himself as he was intrigued by your behaviour. you would go as far as putting him to a test and sending him out on a scavenger hunt, searching for objects with nothing but riddles as a clue.

“how amusing,” spoke malleus with that amused smile on his face, “quite creative, however.” lilia peeked at the letter before chuckling and gently patting his shoulder, “what are you waiting for? time is ticking!”

and with that, malleus went around the dormitory in search of something that stayed bright and romantic amongst the thorny bushes. he has gotten his first clue. thorny bushes must mean the location is in the garden of diasomnia, no? however, they do have flower bushes and whatnot, so what exactly is he supposed to find?

still, he went to the dormitory garden, eyeing all the colourful bushes before his eyes landed on the thorn bushes nearby. nothing seemed out of place, but as he stepped closer, a glowing red rose hid within the bush.

“ah, is this the item i’m supposed to find?” mumbled malleus as he quickly grabbed the rose, the thorns not pricking him as he used his magic to avoid damage. upon contact, the rose glowed even more before disappearing into thin air, and what came in replacement was a quick reveal of the words, ‘turn around.’

and so, he did. the young fae turned around with a puzzled expression before his eyes landed on you standing there with a smile. how did he not notice you? surely, he could have heard your footsteps, no? his puzzled expression morphed into a shocked one before he smiled at you, noticing your arms tucked behind you as if you were hiding something.

“and what are you hiding, dearest?” asked the male with a smug smile.

“oh, nothing~” you replied, “close your eyes.”

malleus raised a brow, eyeing you for a moment before complying with your request, closing his eyes without another word as he waited for your action. he heard a soft twinkle as you spoke, “okay, you can open them…”

once he opened his eyes, you stood with your arms out, a snow globe rested on your palm as the miniature scenery had two dragons that look identical, but one seemed to be a baby dragon holding an ice cream cone. his eyes widened as you held it out to him with a shy smile, “i made this for you…”

made?

“made?” asked malleus. you nodded as you avoided his gaze, thinking he might not like it as you mumbled a response, “yes, i don’t have much to offer, but i am skilled with arts and crafts…” you eyed the snow globe again, shaking it a little to make it snow with a soft twinkle.

malleus smiled softly as he watched you shake the globe before gently grabbing it from you, looking at it closely as he realised the dragon looks like him. “a personalised snow globe… thank you, f/n…”

“happy birthday, malleus,” you greeted with a smile, the same smile that he had always loved, the same smile that brightened his lonely days, the same smile that greets him every morning. his eyes stayed on you as he looked at you like a lovestruck puppy, wishing for this moment to never end.

an eternity with you and those he holds dear is all that he asks for.

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sanjoongie · 1 year

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Sex and Embers and Frost

A ~Cotton Tails and Simmering Fires~ Series

ღAuthor's Note: this is an idea that was cooked up between @starlitmark and me. I was very excited to breath life into the opening of this world with these alt/emo/goth/punk hybrid dragon boyos. Hopefully you love them just as much as mia and i do😭

ღPairing: Dragon hybrid! Hwa x Bunny Hybrid! reader (f) x Dragon hybrid! San ღGenre: smut with no plot ღAu: hybrid au, strangers to lovers ღWord Count: 3,921 ღWarnings: oral (f receiving), temperature play, hair pulling, biting, hints to predator/prey play, breast play, squirting, cum eating, size kink, penetrative sex without barrier, double penetration, anal sex (f receiving), dacryphilia, hints towards mxm, degradation kink, creampie, overstimulation, mfm orgasm(s) ღRated: 18+ MDNI ღSummary: when your bunny friends drag you to an Gothic club and didn't tell you, so you dressed up in your typical preppy fit, not expecting to catch the eyes of two hybrid dragons ღMasterlist ღNext Chapter ღDedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland, @flurrys-creativity &@songmingisthighs thank you for all beta-ing.

When they first meet~

Your blue eyes scanned the beauty that was the club that your friends had dragged you to. The Gothic arches were gorgeous and the cross-eyed gargoyles added to the aesthetic but… you picked at your skirt and winced. You were dressed in your typical pink and white, that offset your white ears and blue eyes, being a bunny hybrid, but it was making you stick out like a sore thumb in this goth club.

Unfortunately, because you had taken the time to observe your surroundings, you had wound up separated from your friends. This gave the perfect opportunity, however, for two very interested dragon hybrids to, for lack of a better term, to pounce on you.

A hand descended on your shoulder and you jumped in the air in surprise. You had been so hyper focused on the architecture that your sense of your surroundings had been dulled and you had been caught unaware.

A low, male chuckle sounded from behind you. “You look a little lost there, Hops. This isn’t your typical crowd is it?”

Your eyes widened at the man who had turned you around. His jelly-pink lips had a ring piercing, and it was safe to say, that wasn’t the only thing that stood out about the man. There were scales along his hairline, near his temple and scattered along his cheekbones, that were a shiny, deep purple. And his eyes were silver and slit like a lizard--your brain screamed to you that he was a dragon hybrid and most certainly a predator animal.

You shook your head and attempted to stand a little straighter. "I'm actually here with my fluffle--"

"Fluffle," he echoed you, "Cute."

You teetered on your heels uncertainly. "I think I'll--"

"Oh, you're not leaving us, are you, Hops?" Another man came to lean over the first dragon hybrid’s shoulder, hand hooked on the other’s broad shoulder. His long hair was tied up halfway, with strands framing his face and the lower half still left hanging. His scaling was black but iridescent and his slitted eyes were an electric blue. “I just got here.”

The purple hybrid’s chin set stubbornly at the black hybrid joining. “I got this, Seonghwa,” He said flatly.

Seonghwa put the hand that was on the purple hybrid’s shoulder on his head and ruffled his hair. “What’s wrong, San? Don’t feel like sharing tonight?”

Your eyes darted from one man to the other, trying to keep an eye on the predators in front of you. Your heart was beating out of your chest. But when your tongue came out to nervously lick your lips, both dragon hybrids narrowed their eyes on the motion. Your tongue froze at the corner of your mouth, an instinct to remain still when such a moment occurred.

San went back to frowning, “Hwa!”

Seonghwa smirked confidently. “Why don’t we leave it up to her, hmm?” Seonghwa circumvented San and was now standing in front of you. His size was underlined by the fact that he had to tip your chin to get you to make eye contact with him. You could feel your ears going flat. “How about it, Hops? Let’s go back to our lair and you can decide who you prefer the most.”

You were trembling and your stomach was curling and before your better judgment could kick in--you slowly nodded your head. “Please,” You whimpered.

Both dragon hybrids smirked and you shuddered in Seonghwa’s grasp. “Perfect,” He said happily, “Let’s go.”

Your mind was a whirl and the traveling between the club to their apartment was inconsequential compared to the position you were in right now. Your tiny body was sat between San’s legs. He was currently peppering kisses from the slope of your shoulder up your neck and back again. He had discovered it was an erogenous area for you and wouldn’t leave it alone once he did. His ringed hands were holding your thighs apart, firmly so, because Seonghwa was kneeling between both your legs.

“Stop squirming, Hops,” San growled, “Or I’m going to fuck you before Seonghwa can prep you fully.”

Seonghwa made eye contact with San from below, “That’s hot.”

“Shut up, Hwa,” San snapped with no real heat behind it.

“Be a good bunny for me, hmm?” Seonghwa said while his eyes were on your core where your panties still covered it, “I want all your cute noises. Don’t deny me them, okay?”

You were nodding. You had no idea what Seonghwa had in store for you but you did know that you loved the way San’s hands felt holding your thighs apart and those plush lips on your skin.

Seonghwa’s hands almost held your leg reverently as his eyes rolled up to meet yours and his lips touched your skin. One minute he was leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there and the next you watched a curl of mist leave his mouth. You frowned, because you could have sworn it was similar to a breath you would exhale in the dead of winter and then you were distracted by a flash of silver--was that a ball from a tongue piercing? You squealed as cold metal touched your skin.

San's fingers dug into your thighs, holding you even wider. "Something wrong, little bunny?" The next time his lips touched your neck, his lip ring felt abnormally warm, almost hot and you yelped.

"Wh-what's going on?" You couldn't help but stutter.

"We're dragons," San said simply, "You're okay with a little magic in your foreplay, right?"

"Yes," You said in a tiny voice that was completely full of anticipation for what this night would give you.

Seonghwa's tongue is out in full force, as he uses one long lick to go from the inside of your knee to your hip bone. The cold gives you goosebumps, but much to your embarrassment, it also made your tail begin to twitch, waiting for that coldness to meet your throbbing, hot mess of a cunt.

San chuckled lowly in your ear. "Hops, your tail is twitching. Is he making you feel that good?" You whimpered in response, your tail only moving more frequently. San moaned into your ear, gripping your earlobe between his teeth before letting go. "He hasn't even kissed your tiny pussy yet. You're such an easy bun, huh Hops?"

Seonghwa's shoulders quake in silent laughter but still he moved his head to hover over your mound. Those slitted eyes narrowed to near slivers, the electric blue iris being more prominent and terrifying you. That was the same look a predator gives its prey before striking the final blow. Your heart beat out of your chest again but you also felt some wetness leak further onto your underwear. Your body didn't know what it wanted: flight or fuck.

The cold ball of Seonghwa's tongue piercing played with your clit through your underwear and your back bowed in response. Your hands descended onto Seonghwa's head and one of your hands became a fist to grab Seonghwa's ponytail. You yanked on it hard, almost as if you wanted to pull his tongue away from you. In contrast, your body rolled into his licks. You could feel the cold breath of Seonghwa's coming to life between your thighs and you shivered at the threat.

San bit into your shoulder and you could feel his sharp canines making indents into the soft skin there. "You're driving me wild, Hops. You smell so fucking good, like a damn sugar cookie."

"D-don't eat me," You pleaded from the animal side of your brain, only aware that a dragon hybrid had put his meat-ripping teeth into you.

Seonghwa's dry chuckles could be heard from in between your legs, no longer silent this time. "The irony," he said with a crooked smile on his face before he pushed aside your panties so he could have full access to your dripping cunt. "Wonder if she tastes like a sugar cookie too?"

You yelped and gasped at the same time because simultaneously as Seonghwa thrusted his long tongue inside of your hole, San let his lip ring turn momentarily burning hot. "Careful, Hops, or I might find that more appealing than our current activities."

"S-san," You mumbled his name, even though your eyes were on Seonghwa with his eyes closed, tongue fucking your cunt.

"This is what I'm talking about," San growled. "You stutter my name like that and I'm going to want to play Chase the Bunny."

His tongue swiped at your skin and finally let go of your legs. Seonghwa's leather jacket fell to the crook of his elbows as he braced your legs open instead. He took on your weight like it was nothing. San's previous occupied hands began to massage your breasts through your tight shirt. "Been wanting to play with these nipples all night."

Seonghwa's tongue had begun to curl inside of you, reaching a spot that was dangerous. Your eyebrows furrowed. "No wait, don't--I'll--"

Your body began to shake and you cried out as you squirted all over Seonghwa's face. It was pure good luck that Seonghwa already had his eyes closed but that didn't stop him from opening his mouth, accepting your wetness.

San's hand became slack against your breasts as his mouth dropped and he laughed in disbelief. "Did you just make her squirt?"

Your body was like a ragdoll against San's body when Seonghwa finally opened his eyes. He wiped his face with his hand, looking quite pleased with himself. "Fuck, Hops, that was hot."

You are whining in embarrassment but you still can't move. "I'm sorry."

San's light laughter peppered the air. "She's sorry, Hwa."

Seonghwa stood up, tweaking the end of your ear. "Don't be embarrassed, little bun, you just gave me the highest honor."

San unceremoniously shoved your body off him and you collapsed into Seonghwa's arms. San quickly began to unbutton his pants, the chains that connected from belt loop to back pocket twinkling merrily. "I'm so fucking hard, I thought I was going to come in my pants with her fucking tail playing with me."

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at San. "New kink unlocked?"

San mockingly sneered at Seonghwa, showing another peek of his sharp canines. "Shut up."

Your skirt was already high up on your hips and your panties pulled out of the way but that wasn't enough for San. He easily ripped your underwear from your body with an impatient snarl. "This tiny puss is mine."

The air is filled with the smell of sex and faintly of embers and frost. "Right, Hops?" San asked.

You looked up to Seonghwa, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. Unless you're saying your cunt belongs to me already. Then I won before San even got to prove himself. Kinda sad, don't you think?"

You gulped and swallowed but there was no moisture there. Your voice sounded tiny even to yourself but you somehow managed to say, "My tiny puss is yours… Sannie."

"Well, that's it, I'm fucked," San announced.

With that, San pushed into your pussy, firmly and without pause until he was fully seated inside you. He was panting behind you. "Bet I'm so fucking huge inside of you, the way your cunt is clenching me, Jesus, you're tight." San slithered a hand from your hip to your stomach and pressed down, causing you to moan. "Fuck, I can feel my dick imprint, jesus, Hops."

Seonghwa petted your hair and ears. "You are a tiny thing. We could spit roast you right now and you would have no issues, would you?"

"B-both of you?" You squeaked. "At the same time?"

Seonghwa tipped his head to the side. "You can do it, right? You're a sweet little bunny that would give her all to us, right? A sweet little slutty bun who would take everything she got given, even if it drove her to tears. You'd cry big fat tears to be stuffed by both of us, wouldn't you, Hops?"

"You're not talking about my mouth anymore, are you?" You whimpered in realization.

Seonghwa smiled so sweetly even though he was thinking the filthiest thoughts. "Such a smart girl, Hops."

He tipped your head and rewarded you with a deep kiss, his lips still wet from when you had squirted all over his face. His lips and tongue took over your senses until it was all you could focus on. You didn't realize you were whimpering into his mouth until he started to chuckle and released you. "Forgot San was inside of you, didn't you."

You gasped. "S-san, I--"

San simply chuckled evilly behind you. You did not get to see the dirty look San sent Seonghwa. San had not, not truely, realized what he was getting into, letting Seonghwa challenge him. "I'm going to fuck you so good, that's the only name that's going to be falling from your lips."

"Unless," Seonghwa stared down San, "Hops agrees to being double stuffed."

"You can get her cute little mouth, I get this!" San snarled as he pulled back and then thrusted harshly into you. Your breath caught in the back of your throat at the pressure.

Seonghwa's gentle hands pulled at your sensitive ear, pinching the bottom and making you yelp. His other hand quickly chucked your chin and his thumb slipped against your bottom lip. "And as lovely as that would be," Seonghwa agreed, on the surface at least, "I think that Hops would be better equipped to take us both at the same time. Then she can truly decide who she will choose at the end of the night."

San mercilessly pounded into you, making you grab fistfuls of Seonghwa’s sleeveless shirt, your tongue swirling around Seonghwa’s thumb that was still in your mouth. "This tiny bunny pussy is mine," San snarled.

Your head bobbed, humming in agreement. Seonghwa, however, was unsatisfied with the current predicament. "San," he growled.

San let out a loud, frustrated noise but halted the slapping of skin on skin. You breathed heavily and whined at the loss of the pleasure between your legs. San patted your hip, in an attempt to reassure you. "Don't worry, Hops, I'll fill you up, we just have to do a quick position change."

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. "Let me slip inside of her. I bet she's so fucking wet, her slickness alone could prep her for me to fuck her puckered hole."

"Am I your fucking fluffer?" San snarled, "Should I put my mouth around you instead and make sure you're ready for her?"

A shiver traveled from the soles of your feet, throughout your body, making your tail flutter and your ears flip-flop. A slow, sure smile pulled at Seonghwa's lips. "Oh, does our bunny like the idea of my cock slipping between San’s plush lips?"

You could feel your face heating up. "You're both really hot."

"Oh, Hops," San sighed, "Fine. Slip inside of her. You won't have a hard time, she's probably loose now from taking my thick cock. Just hurry up!"

San pulled out of you and Seonghwa turned you to face San. He smoothed an appreciative hand down your spine and then pushed inside of you. "Oh fuck this bunny pussy!" Seonghwa exclaimed.

San chucked your chin and guided your head to his pelvis. You licked your lips at the sight of more scaling along San's hips and what amounted to a true treasure trail from his belly button to his cock. "Pretty," You couldn't help but coo, reaching out to trace the purple scales.

"Am I pretty to you, Hops?" San said in a low, soft voice. "Wanna touch? Wanna lick? Go on. I'll give you a tip. The skin along our scales is very sensitive."

You held San’s twitching cock out of the way so that your rough tongue could glide along the soft scales and skin. San watched with hooded eyes and his muscles jerked as it made its way along the treasure trail, to meet at the base of his cock. Just as you were about to lick your way up San’s shaft when Seonghwa grabbed a handful of your tail, making you yelp and cry out. "Okay, I take back my teasing from before. Her tail twitching against your cock is hot."

"Are you done yet?" San growled, once again no longer being the center of your world.

"My dick is drenching, Hops," Seonghwa observed as he pulled out of you. "Gonna fuck you full of dragon cock, huh? You ready to be double stuffed? You better give us those big fat tears you promised."

"I'm ready," you said in a shaky voice.

San held you in a reverse of the position you three had started in. His hands were under your knees as he sunk into you, face to face, and feet off the ground. He bit into his lower lip, tongue playing with his lip ring as he bottomed out again. Then Seonghwa approached from behind, nails digging into your hip bones as he pushed into your other hole. You were whimpering and moaning the entire time, taking both of their thick, long cocks. Once they were both bottomed out inside of you, you tossed your head back to rest against Seonghwa's shoulder.

"How do you feel, Hops?" Seonghwa asked.

"I'm so full," You whined.

"You like it though," San teased, a smirk playing with his lips, "I can feel you clenching down on me so hard. I'm surprised you didn't come from both of us entering you. You're such an easy lay."

"M-move?" You managed to ask, one ear flicking backward to listen to Seonghwa, while the other focused on San.

They did so without further ado, and you could only let out pitiful cries as they fucked you in both holes. You swore you were going to burst but also the pleasure was immeasurable, coursing along every damn nerve you possessed. When one pulled out, the other one pushed in, and it was a never-ending roller-coaster of rapture between your legs. The only thing your animal brain could focus on was the smell of strawberry jam coming from behind you and a sea breeze from behind you. Were those Seonghwa and San’s personal scents? They smelled heavenly.

"Poor Hops," San laughed, "You look so fucked out right now? Is your tiny little brain full of white noise right now? Getting fucked so good by a couple a dragon dicks, huh? I can barely understand how a tiny puss and ass like yours is taking us but I guess that just speaks volumes on how greedy you are for us. Taking us so fucking well, aren’t you Hops?”

That’s when the tears began. They welled up in your eyes and then started to slowly run down your cheek and dripped from your jaw to your bosom, only to make a trail down the valley of your breasts. You just felt a lot of things. You felt safe, you felt adored, you felt full and you felt sexy. It was just a lot and so the tears came easily. Your bottom lip trembled and you pouted as you said, “I’m taking you so well.”

“Aw, Hops, you look so fucking cute, crying for us,” San cooed mockingly.

“I can’t believe how well she’s taking my cock in her ass,” Seonghwa said in reverence again, “Damn, Hops, you really were built to be a little toy for a couple of dragon hybrids, huh?”

You can barely reply between the alternate thrusting, unsure if you’re getting better pleasure from the thick cock in your pussy or the long cock in your ass. “So. Fucking. Good.”

“Oh shit, I’m gonna come,” San cried out, his thrusts starting to become erratic but somehow hitting deeper inside of you.

“M-me t-t-too,” You whimpered, feeling the curl in your stomach ready to snap.

“Gonna take all of me, Hops? Gonne let me fill you up with dragon cum, right? I bet you get a little bump from all the fucking cum I’m going to unload on you, oh fuck--!” San thrusted deep inside of you, holding himself there and grunted as his cock shot his load into you. He throbbed and twitched and continued to unload and even when he pulled his heavy cock out of you, there was still more shooting out.

You would have been fascinated yourself if not for the fact that you were twitching and whining and convulsing from your own orgasm. Your pussy wouldn’t stop fluttering around him and it was like echoes of your pleasure continued to radiate from your lower half. It was both pleasing and exhausting and you were pretty sure you had never come harder in your entire life than in that moment. However, you still had another hole and dick to worry about.

“Now for the real show to start,” Seonghaa said, tucking his tongue between his lips.

“Are you kidding me?” San said with disbelief. “Like you could out do that performance.” He promptly dropped his head to your shoulder to relax.

You started to whimper, feeling a bit overstimulated. You shook your head desperately, your ears softly hitting your cheeks. “No. It’s too much. Too much!”

“Oh, come on, Hops,” Seonghwa grunted, “You can come for us again, can’t you? Gonna fill this ass with my cum. You want to be filled with both of us right? Come for me again, sweet bun.”

“Hhhhnnnnn,” You started to cry out as you felt another climax burst over you, this from Seonghwa fucking you up the ass.

You started to cry again, the pleasure being above and beyond everything you had experienced. With San out of you now, you had no choice but to focus on how your ass was taking every thrust of Seonghwa’s, pushing into it like you couldn't get enough of his cock.

“See, I knew you could do it, Hops. You’re such a sweet little slutty bunny, just for us, right?”

“Just for you,” You repeated tiredly.

Seonghwa let out a desperate cry himself, fucking your ass as his climax tore through him. He unloaded into you too, and you whimpered at how fucking dirty this entire endeavor was. But it felt so fucking good, you didn’t have any regrets.

But the original question still floated in your mind: who would you choose after this?

"I chose you both," You said with a hoarse voice, sounding barely alive.

"Sorry, Hops, I can't hear you with my cum leaking out of your tiny hole, you wanna repeat that?" San muttered, his head still against your shoulder, words muffled but still just as mean.

"I choose you both!" You shout with a rough voice. "I can't pick. I want you both."

You bounce against Seonghwa's chest as he laughed behind you. "Bet you didn't see that coming, huh, San?"

"I hate you, Seonghwa," San grumbled. He raised his head and kissed your quaking nose. "Fine, Hops. You get to have the both of us."

"Just like that?" You wondered.

"Well, hardly," Seonghwa corrected you. "Your body is ours now. Don't you know how dragons are with treasure? We're greedy sonsabitches. Once you're a part of our hoard, you never leave."

"What he means is, your sweet little body is ours now, Hops. To do with what we want, when we want. And you know the best part?" San leaned forward to push aside your hair so he could directly speak into your flickering ear. "There's more of us."

This time it's Seonghwa's turn to finally narrow his eyes at San. "Really, you're going to bring the rest of them into this?"

San shrugged. "You started it."

"I'll end it, you hatchling," Seonghwa threatened.

San stuck his tongue out childishly at Seonghwa and you giggled when the purple hybrid called the black dragon Grandpa.

ღNext Chapter

Tagging: @hijirikaww @toxicccred @starillusion13 @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @a-soft-hornytiny

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #thekpopuniverse #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #park seonghwa smut #choi san smut #park seonghwa scenarios #choi san scenarios #hybrid!ateez #topaz's work #ღatz #ctasf series #cotton tails and simmering fires #jasper🌼

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tumblingxelian · 6 months

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You know, I think complaints about RWBY not fixing bigotry and class inequality show less respect for these ideas than CRWBY ever did at their worst.

Cos like, CRWBY acknowledge that these issues are vast, intergenerational and systemic. A recurring element of Blake's specific struggle is about how immense the task before her is but the vast challenges of these issues are underline everything .

They cannot be fixed by four teenagers who kind of have a lot on their plate right now already. What's more a "Very special episode" addressing it or "Fixing" it. Be it by unrealistically speedy activism or by killing "the right people" would only come off as disrespectful to the task at hand.

A decent comparison might be how how Reed Richards cannot cure cancer in the comics. On a purely technical level he may be able to but this would do nothing to magically fix cancer in the real world. Thus it would just end up feeling disrespectful to the subject matter.

The same logic applies here, maybe Ruby's silver eyes could erase evil, maybe Robyn Hill could kill all the elitist Atlesians or Blake magically inspire total peace and reparations by doing some activism. But none of these issues would b fixed by such things in the real world, not even close.

So again, we are left with either CRWBY being realistic or embracing childish power fantasy that disrespect the very topics they are grappling with.

#RWBY #CRWBY #Meta #Anlysis

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theroguequeen · 4 months

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The brothel scene

okay we all know I have a soft spot for younger rhaenyra and daemon and sometimes I still think about the brothel scene (just kidding maybe I think about this like every day lol) and what can I say I rewatched it today and my mind is running wild so here we are

Starting with the moment daemon shows up and is just standing there with his silly little hood over his head, not saying a word just looking at her and the way her face lights up full of pure excitement and joy and him casually grabbing her hand and there's not a moment of hesitation.

I know some people will be like that this whole city trip was just manipulation and so on and I personally think of course he had a plan for that night, but there's a change in the dynamic slowly and god it all goes over board later

When they are strolling through the streets daemon puts his hood a little more over his face and rhaenyra mimics him, doing the same while her laugh is ringing in his ears, seeing her so careless as some man is bumping into them

Daemon does not push him away but you know he is ready to it and than you have rhaenyra saying almost proudly "he called me boy"

The whole time you hear the loud crowd, people talking, even moaning and you can see how rhaenyra comes to life again, the excitement being outside, people not nociting her or at least not saying anything and acting so differently than at court, this is not about the throne, not about being the heir, this is her still young and thirsty for knowledge and new experience

And as we know this is the night where she loses her virginity, leaving something behind and entering a new chapter of womenhood

Daemon is handing here something to drink and there is fire and the mummer asking her "do you wish to know your death, child?" we as viewers know the tragedy behind this, but she does not, even laughs at it and her eyes are always wandering to daemon who till know did not say a word and just let her be, let her see, feel, smell

Now we are at the mummers play and daemon is watching it with her but is although looking at her, noticing every little motion on her face, seeing how her smile fades for a moment as Rhaenyra is hearing the people talking so casually about one of the most painful events in her life and there is the question "but would she be a strong and powerful queen" and the people booing and rhaenyra shouting against them and daemon saying to her that many of the people do want a male heir, the ongoing burden that lays on her shoulders and her turning away saying "there wants have no consequences" and daemon laughing but not taking his eyes of her, reminding her that after all it has consequences still not looking away, as he knows how that makes her feel for sure.

And for me it's clear that at the end of the night he realized that she will be a strong and powerful queen.

You can see that rhaenyra is upset and a little bit angry, her voice gets a little harsh as she replys "for one night I wish to be free of my inheritance" as she takes something to eat and running away even so daemon reminds her that common people get punished for stealing.

To me this underlines how desperate she is to just feel free, that she knows she is safe with daemon, provoking him, teasing him by running away so he has to follow her and knowing that he will.

And here we are - at the brothel, moaning all around, rhaenyra wandering around not knowing where to look at but not as shocked as some might expected her to be. This is new, yes, but she is not scared. She is ready to explore something new as she was the whole night.

On the other hand there is daemon, this is a place he knows by heart, spending endless nights there, fucking but never really feeling fully pleasured because the women may be beautiful and only there for his own pleasure but none of them are the one on his mind, hunting him in his sleep. There hair is not silver, their eyes are not hers, their moans are not hers. Not yet.

He is confident, the way he walks towards rhaenyra and once again she follows him. And she is not asking to leave this place, not once even if the moans are getting even louder and he brings her into a room full of people. There's nudity. Pleasure. And you know what? Even now she does not turn away. She stays. Looking at him. Following him. She does not shy away. She knows she is safe. And daemon feels that too. He sees it in her eyes. Some part of him maybe thought she would want to leave but on the other hand he was sure she wouldn't. He is is aware of what he is doing.

"fucking is a pleasure"

There it is. The four words. And she is still looking at him, not moving. Remember their conversation from earlier, about her having to marry someone, about her not feeling free. About finding no pleasure in the thought of having to marry just to produce heirs.

But there is is. Pleasure. True pleasure. Rhaenyra does not hesitate when he kisses her, she is leaning into the kiss, grabbing him, pulling him closer. Again, no fear, just the desperate need to feel his touch, to be seen as a women, not as the child she was. She wants this. She wants him. And I think this is what makes daemon stunned. The soft touch of her lips, not knowing exactly what will happen but ready to go all in here and now.

"fucking who we want."

She wants him. And him realizing he feels the same, this is not about manipulation anymore, this is not a game, she is in his arms, her body pressing against his. The longing. Yearning. Aching for his touch. She is so much more than he could even imagine.

The whole time they are not taking their eyes of each other. In this moment it's only them, the world stands still.

It are her moans who are filling the room now and as he is behind her she turns around just to grab him again, wanting feel him, but although wanting to see his face, not wanting him to stop but to go on while being seen by him.

And as looks in her eyes he realizes that she would sleep with him. That she will not stop this on her own. That she wants this. With him. Now.

She tries to kiss him again, there's even a little smile. Daemon gets almost paralyzed you can see how he stops himself, because this is not a whore, not some random women, this is rhaenyra and you even if his look almost gets cold, it's not because he does not want her, it is because of how much he wants her, his head turning into a whole mess as he realizes that what ever plan he might have had is gone, worthless, because all those feelings are just so intense and he has to force himself to let go of her.

And again this is because it's rhaenyra. Because he will not take her virginity in this damn brothel. He knows this is precious. This is meaningful. That this is not about his own pleasure but about her and that she deserves so much more.

"Wed her to me. I want Rhaenyra."

#daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #hotd #I don't know what this is but there was so much inside of my head while rewatching #like this whole episode was something else #help me lol #this felt like a fever dream #but a good one #daemon trying to drown himself in alcohol after this like whopsi why am I feeling things help make it go away #“I WANT RHAENYRA. WED HER TO ME.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Wherever You Are

Sequel to Come Out, Come Out

Warnings: noncon and violent elements. Warnings are not exhaustive. Please curate your reading accordingly.

Summary: Steve comes home.

As always, please, please, please, send me your thoughts and feedback, horny and otherwise! Love you all so much 💗

A sudden vertigo overcomes you, sweeping you out of your static sleep. You blink away the shroud of drowsiness and greet the man above you with a vacant stare. Your breath hitches as you turn fully onto your back to face Steve.

“We doing this again?” He stands straight and crosses his thick arms over his bulging chest, “the hiding?”

“Sorry, Captain,” you push yourself up, bending your legs in front of you as you keep your heels on the blanket below you, half of it trailing behind you under the bed.

“I don’t like you sleeping under there. You know that.”

“I do, sir, but…” You bat your lashes and pout. You can’t tell him who you are truly hiding from. “I don’t like sleeping alone in the bed.”

He tilts his head and the stony edge leaves his jaw. He nods and bends over you, gripping you around your sides as he lifts you to your feet. He steadies you before him before he lets you go, fingertips brushing up your nightgown.

There’s a cut above his cheek and smear of dry blood down his stubbled throat that trails onto his dark collar. There’s a rent in the fabric across his chest, another deep along his torso, that one reddened and tattered. He cradles your chin as you eyes drift down to his wounds and he forces you to look at him.

“Starshine, I’m alright,” he assures you as his thumb caresses your cheek, “go get the kit.”

“Yes, Captain,” you touch his hand gently, angling your head up as he leans in. You give him a kiss, breathing in the scent of blood and sweat. You part and give a meek smile before you spin on your heel.

You flit off to find the silver chest stored under the bathroom counter. You hear him just through the doorway as he starts to strip away his layers. The clink of buckles and rustle of fabric underlines the silence.

As you return to the bedroom, he sits on the bench of your vanity. The one he proudly reminds you he built himself. He still wears his grimy boots and stained pants, the dark blue fabric dusted with some unknown soot.

He sighs as he pushes his head back and stretches his neck. He winces as you see how it tugs at the shallow slice along his abdomen. His firm muscles draw taut and his broad chest rises and falls. Along his left peck, a purpled welt stretches up to his shoulder but the skin remains unbroken.

He sets his head straight and watches your approach. You lay out the kit and flip the top open. You flick away the last of your fatigue with a flutter of your eyelashes. You take out the alcohol first and set to cleaning the cut along his stomach first.

“It’s going to sting,” you warn, just as you do every time, even though you know he barely feels it.

“Worth it,” he purrs as he brushes your hip, welcoming you closer as you set to work.

When you finish with the bloody slice, placing a bandage neatly over it, you move on to his hands. You only just notice his split knuckles. He gives you each in turn, letting you clean them and wrap a few fingers.

You finish with a dab of witch hazel over his bruises. He watches you intently. You’re overly aware of his attention as his hands wander along the silky fabric of your nightgown. As you tidy up, he lifts the hem and leans around to get a glimpse of your ass. He gives a tiny spank before he sits back, resting his elbows on the edge of your vanity as he looks you up and down.

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing his legs wide.

“Captain,” you eke out as you close up the kit and dump the peel wrappers and cotton balls in the small bin beside the vanity.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, starshine,” he says, “as much for myself as you, you know?”

“I know, Captain,” you face him again.

He nods curtly, wordless order. You walk around his knee and stand before him, just in the vee of his legs. He pats his thigh, his eyes slipping down to the gesture and back up again. You sit obediently on his leg as he brings an arm forward, setting his hand against the small of your back.

“You missed me,” he slides his other elbow off the vanity and sits straight, reaching to your hand and dragging it up over your lap.

“Yes, Captain.”

He lifts your hand and places it against his jaw, guiding it along the thick trim of his beard. He leans into your touch and lets you go reluctantly. You keep your fingers moving, petting him as he hums in delight.

“Give Captain a kiss,” his voice grinds like gravel.

You lean in and press your lips to his. It’s easier now. Before, everything you did was so mechanical but you know better now. It only makes him mad when he sees your reluctance.

His tongue pokes out, gliding along your lips. You let him in, angling your head as he invades your mouth. His hand creeps up your back and he braces the back of your head. He locks you in a hungry kiss, snarling as if he might devour you whole.

When he pulls away, you’re breathless and dizzy. His eyes are dark pits you could fall into. His hand falls to the back of your neck as his other dances along the edge of your nightgown. He gives a small tug as his eyes drift down your body.

“Stand up,” he orders.

You stand.

He leads you without a word. Turning you to face him and knocking apart your feet with his boot. He draws you closer until you stand over his leg. He slips his hands beneath your nightgown, raising it above your pelvis as he frames your hips. He forces you down to straddle his thick thigh, a small gasp escaping you as you wince. You’re still tender…

“I missed you, baby girl,” he lets a hand fall down to your ass, the other keeping a firm hold on your hip, “I want to feel how much you missed me.”

He rocks you once. Pull your pelvis forward then urging it back. The friction of your cunt on his thigh sparks a thrill that ripples down your thighs. You nearly squeal as the sensation reminds you of the rawness nestled between your legs. You repeat the motion. Mimic how he moved you. You tilt against his thigh, another babble trickling from your lips.

You trail your other hand up his arm, watching how the tendons in his arm react, bicep rounding as you grasp his shoulder.

His hand clamps around your hips as the other brushes down to knead the tender flesh of your thigh. You let out a willowy breath as he leans in and hovers his lips before yours. You kiss him, heeding another mute order. You have to know how to read his body as much as his words.

You roll your hips, grinding against him as your fingers graze along his beard. You push your hand back to twine into the tails of his hair. His need melts into you as the pressure blooms beneath you. You squeak and moan, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

You ride him without restraint. The bench creaks below his weight and yours. He groans into your mouth as your tongues meet in desperation. Your legs quiver and burn as you chase your release. It’s close yet so far away.

Gasp and pull your mouth from his, puffing wildly as lifts his chin and lets out a gritty growl. You dip your head down and kiss his neck, nipping at him as you clutch the strands of his hair and dig your nails into the firm muscles of his shoulder.

“That’s it, I can almost feel it, baby girl, hmm, you gonna cum for your captain?”

“Mmhmm,” you purr as you ply frantic pecks along his throat, “yes… cap… tain.”

You rut spastically as the swell of fire roars through you. You quake as the slickness between your leg smears along your cunt and onto his pant leg. Your pleasure spills over as it spreads to the creases of your thighs.

You slow, little by little, shame coursing anew in your veins as your orgasm recedes. You still and lift your head, wavering just slightly as you look Steve in the eyes. You drag your hand down to his chest.

“You came, didn’t you, starshine?” He asks with a taunting smirk.

“Yes, Captain, I did,” you answer and turn your face down in embarrassment.

His fingertips tickle along your thigh and up to your ass. He feels along your nightgown, almost curiously and follows the curve of your chest up to the base of the strap. He glides the thin string down your shoulder, then the other.

He pulls down the top of your nightie and fondles your chest with his large hand. Your nipple react at once and goosebumps rise across your skin. You tremble and look down to watch him grope you.

“You’re… sensitive.”

“Captain,” you breathe cluelessly.

“Were you a good girl?”

“Good?”

“You didn’t touch yourself, did you?” He pinches your nipple and you yelp.

“No, Captain, never,” you whimper.

“No?” He tweaks the other and you squeeze his arm, “so why are you so… tender?”

“Captain?” Your eyes round, “I swear, I didn’t–”

“Hmmm,” his hum undercuts your protest and he clucks and he smirks, “Buck did say you were a good girl. Maybe he was a bad boy, huh?”

You gape at him. He’s mocking you. He knows why. He knows everything. You look up to the corner where the lens is. He sees it all.

“He won’t have to be bad if you don’t hide from him,” he bounces your tit in his hand, “you know he likes to play games.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And you know I don’t like it when you make me look bad,” he flicks your nipple with his fingernail and you yelp as you cover it with your hand, “when you act like you have no discipline.”

“I didn’t– I was scared, Steve– Captain,” you panic and pull your hand away from your chest to press to his, “please, Captain, I was only afraid.”

He growls as his throat bobs. Thoughts storm in his eyes as they bore into you. He grasps the bunched fabric of your nightgown and rips it all the way to your waist.

“You will behave this time,” he sneers, “won’t you, starshine?”

“Yes, Captain.” This time?

“Go put something pretty on,” he grips your hips and slides you down his thigh, “he’ll be here soon.”

You don’t argue. You stand and let the nightgown fall to your feet. His eyes rove up and down and he gives a noise of approval.

“Or maybe, you should stay like that, baby girl,” he taunts, “you’ve never look more delicious than you do right now.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #sequel #mcu #marvel #captain america

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tojisun · 4 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/tojisun/739286806700376064/as-a-strange-little-dude-who-collects-bones-im or hear me out…Soap with a little true crime/ conspiracy theory gf! He’d totally get behind the deep dives trying to find the truth!

AHHHHHH YEA I SEE IT I SEE THE VISION!!

shes a goth girl into true crimes/conspiracies!! (esp after how he and bimbo!reader have this conspiracy talk sesh happening?? he’s definitely falling for a true crime/conspiracy theory gf!!)

giggling imagining johnny and his gf (you) hiding from each other their… interest (borderline obsession tbh) because they’re both afraid of being judged. so you know, they’d watch these movies that kinda deal with conspiracies or the main character is being targeted by a serial killer and they’re vibrating on their seats, both holding back from exploding in jittered excitement because they wanna be the chill partner, ykyk?

well, one day, johnny forgot to wheel away his whiteboard of conspiracies (currently, he’s trying to prove that pigeons are govt spies) and you come home to see this board with detailed analyses and accounts; dates are underlined with a red marker, while a blue marker was used to write the names of people who have been “silenced” after “exposing” the “truth” about pigeons. it’s lacking a red string that connects one case to another, but that’s only because johnny was using washytape — the designs are, ironically, birds.

johnny’s in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when he remembers what he forgot; he skids to the living room, hoping to salvage a piece of his dignity, only to see you standing in front of the board, your mouth agape.

“i can explain,” he starts, cringing to himself at hearing just how more suspicious that sounded. “i-”

“oh my god, jock,” you say, breathless in your own excitement. “oh. my. god. jock!”

“what?” johnny asks, confusion now triumphing over his mortification because if you’re still using his nickname, then that must mean things are okay, right?

“wait here!” you scream before turning to run to your room. you flung your bag to the carpet where it sags like a sad potato sack. johnny picks it up and hides it in the closet.

he waits like promised, fiddling with his thumbs while shooting looks between where you’ve ran off to and the board. he rereads some anecdotes, his mind running on overdrive, before snapping his head up at hearing the sound of your feet padding back towards him.

you have about three leather-bound notebooks clutched in your embrace, two of which look worn, while the other it still quite crisp. his nose wrinkles in confusion but johnny decides to wait it out, trusting you to take over.

you fall to the carpet, crowding the coffee table, before urging him to sit beside you. johnny does, his legs knocking against each other as he crouches down and shuffles to move closer to you. he watches as you lay out your notebooks, hands gentle as you begin to flip through the pages.

johnny still feels so lost as to what’s going on.

“mo luaidh?” he asks.

you hum in question, still focused on finding a specific page, he guesses.

“what’re you lookin’ for?”

“oh, just- ah! here!” then you’re thrusting your notebook to him.

johnny takes it with care, his eyes flitting through the pages — “to what end is it satirical? what if, amidst the jokes, the government began to use it in actuality? what if they began to capitalize on it? what if we had given them an excuse to hide behind? had we served them a cover on a silver platter? how do we trust that they’re not conniving enough to truly take advantage of this? ‘birds aren’t real’ but to what extent?”

“what-” johnny’s voice peters. “holy shit?”

he whirls to look up at you. “is this-”

“yes!” you say, giggling. “i thought it was just me!”

johnny drops your notebook back on the table to pluck you from where you sat and plop you on his lap. you laugh when he begins to pepper kisses across your face, exaggerated smooching-noises ringing between you two.

(his office gains another whiteboard.)

—

i went fuckin bonkers again aeojdajef forgive me!!!

ikik the pigeon conspiracy is mostly a parody atp but its just. funny hehaeejr

#live-love-be-unique #ask #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #weird gf!reader #suns

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Text

Jungkook

𝓜𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 : By your side

You don't want this dream to end- but you can't stay asleep forever.

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt & Comfort, Idol!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Cat Hybrid!Reader, it's a bit heavy sorry, mentions of neglect, slow burn, panic attack, mentions of regression, fluff, dead dove do not eat

Dead Dove do not eat: warning for potentially triggering content that can't be tagged without spoiling the story.

Length: 2.6k

-> Masterlist

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It's quiet.

There's warmth against your ears, and you can feel the cold zipper of Jungkook's jacket against your cheek- probably leaving a mark there, but you don't care. Everything around you smells like him, like soap and fabric softener and that distinctive hint of just him, and you don't want to move anywhere but here. You don't care about your knees starting to hurt from the gravel digging into your skin. You don't care if when your eyes open, there will be nothing- as long as you can stay in this moment, you'll be happy.

There's a humming sound, vibrating against the side of your head.

It gives you an idea of where your head might be resting, how he might be holding you, without forcing you to open your eyes and check. It makes you feel sleepy, like a kitten in it's mother's nest, safe and warm and protected from anything around you potentially dangerous. He's humming to you, a song you don't recall, but you don't mind it in the slightest. You could listen to it for the rest of whatever dream this is, and you'd never grow bored of it.

He's saying something- but it's dull, hard to make out, sound blurred as if you're underwater.

His hands leave your ears, and every sound becomes sharp and clear, hitting your eardrums a bit too harshly for a moment, forcing your cat ears to fold over in protection. But you slowly grow used to it, especially when you're able to hear him clearly now, voice careful, but not scared. "Hm?" He asks it seems like. "Can you look at me for a second?" He asks, and you immediately shake your head, dig it deeper into his chest, refusing. You can't look at him. "No?" He chuckles softly, and you shake your head to underline your statement. Once you look at him, it'll all be over.

The dream will end, and you want to stay here.

"But I wanna make sure you're okay.." He explains, hands moving from your shoulders to your cheeks, thumbs moving over the top of your cheekbones. They're warm. He's always warm. And he makes you feel warm, even though ghosts can't feel warm, can they?

You move your head, nuzzle into the palm of his hand instead. He chuckles again, and you're happy he's happy, a purr beginning to grow in your chest. "I love you so much, you know that, right?" He softly confesses, and your ears instinctively move forwards to catch every syllable of those words. You want to hear it as clear as day, forever, no matter how long forever might be. If you're reborn, will you meet someone like him again?

There's a kiss placed onto the tip of your nose. He giggles to himself. "It's cold." He comments. "They say if a cat's nose is cold, they're well, right?" He asks, and you nod, unsure why he's asking that.

You carefully open your eyes once he's quiet, and the first thing you see is black. The black fabric of his jacket, his shirt underneath a slightly different shade of black, his black trousers, black shoes. A silver zipper holding both sides of his jacket together. A label of a brand you're not familiar with. "There we go." He praises, and your eyes move upwards, just a little.

He's wearing a silver chain- simple, but fitting, the same roundness as the collar of his shirt. There are multiple beauty marks on the skin of his neck, all of them you've kissed in the past- like a game, in a way. He'd always smile when you did that. Would he let you do it right now, too?

His chin comes into view. Its soft and round, but masculine- he's changed a little, has become a man in every way. There's another beauty mark right in the middle beneath his lower lip- the same that's decorated with a silver ring, hole of the piercing a little red. You've seen him play around with it a lot during interviews. Maybe it's a habit he's formed. You wonder what habit it might be. Does he do it when he's nervous? Anxious? Sad?

You want to know. Even if it's just an imagined version of him.

"Can you tell me where we are?" He asks you, and you shake your head. You don't know.

"Dream?" You wonder, quietly, voice raspy, never pretty, not even in your own imagination. It's upsetting, really.

"Dream?" He repeats, a bit of amusement in his voice. "Is that what you're so scared of?" He asks, and you nod. Of course he'd understand all your troubles from a single word you'd utter. He's a master at reading your thoughts, after all, always has been. "Baby, you're not dreaming." He says, and only now do you dare to let your eyes move past his nose, and find his gaze.

His hair is halfway tied in the back, ends a little curly from the rain and humidity, and he's only wearing simple silver earrings. His eyes have a hint of worry in them- but they otherwise sparkle just as brightly as you remember. But most of all, he's not angry. He's the same you remember that night when he'd found you- just not as sad, his eyes no longer red and puffy from being upset so much.

"well hello there." He jokes, moves his thumb over your cheek. "I'm sorry- you've been regressing quite badly after I took you from the hospital- I should've waited before going outside with you like this."

"Not.. a ghost?" You ask, pointing at yourself. He laughs.

"No, baby." He shakes his head, eyes a bit glossy now as he moves closer to kiss your forehead. "You're not a ghost."

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"I'm sorry if it hurts." He mumbles, carefully removing the layers of white bandages covering your arm.

You don't remember the flight at all- but he's told you you'd flown out all the way to europe, to spend some time together after all that happened. You'd regressed quite badly from the moment you'd woken up at the hospital. You refused to talk, refused to acknowledge Hanako, only clung to him and no one else.

The wound on your arm looks worse than it feels.

The skin is angry red, the strings from the surgeon sewing it all shut still clearly visible, scar not yet formed as Jungkook carefully brings the plastic bowl filled with warm water closer. He's opening package after package of medical supplies, hands gentle as they hold your arm for you.

"They showed me how it's done every time they did it for you, you know?" He explains, recalls it. "Or, they more or less had to, since you wouldn't let them do anything if I wasn't there to hold you." He jokes, eyes glancing up at you for just a second, before he pours some slightly stinging liquid over the spots, cleaning it just the way he's seen the nurses do. "I was worried, you know?" He confesses with a low tone. "I really was. I thought you were going to die." He admits, and you just silently listen to him.

"What.." You start, but he nods, already aware of what you want to ask.

"Hanako didn't take you to your doctors anymore, right?" He asks you, and you shrug your shoulders, before nodding. "She should have." He shakes his head. "She.." He starts, before he sighs, drying the skin carefully. "I'm sorry. I really am- and I'm not yet sure how to properly make it all up to you." The singer admits in shame. "Or if I even can."

You're not sure what he's talking about.

"Hanako?" You wonder, and he looks at you. "Me?" You add, and he shakes his head almost immediately.

"No, I'm done." He denies, placing something like a tissue on your soon-to-be scar, before he begins wrapping it up. "I don't care if we have to.. move to the end of the world, or hire all the security on the planet." He explains. "I've sacrificed enough. My childhood, my family, my personal life-" His fingers slide underneath the edges of the bandages, making sure he's not wrapping it too tightly. "-I'm not sacrificing my future too."

"But.." You start, and he shakes his head again, glasses on his nose slipping a little, though he pushes them up with a pinch of his fingers to the side of them, before he secures everything on your arm. He doesn't say anything for a good while, occupies himself instead with dumping the soiled water in the hotel sink, and rinsing all the towels before throwing the trash away.

Is he mad now?

But you're not dreaming, so it won't end, right?

When he returns with washed hands, he squats in front of you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze looking up at you almost pleadingly. You don't like being in a position like that. It looks like he wants you to decide something. And you hate making big decisions.

"Do you.." He starts, visibly intimidated by his own question. "..still like me?" He wonders.

You nod. Of course you like him. He's always been very likeable. You couldn't really not like him.

"Enough to.. stay with me?" He asks, and you nod again.

"Love." You tell him, and he clenches his jaw, throat closing as he tears up.

And this time it's him hiding in your embrace, just for a moment. Just until he catches himself again, because right now, he just wants to hide. From the world, from his responsibilities, from himself and his potential future.

He just wants to hide, because your confession of love makes him both happy-

And ashamed, because he feels like he doesn't deserve it at all.

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You've never been outside with Jungkook all that much.

He's naturally trying hard to both blend in but also hide himself the best he can- and it's working for now it seems, no one having really noticed the world-famous singer it seems like, while he holds your hand as you redeem your tickets. And the moment you're in the huge tunnel at the aquarium, you can't help but stare with side eyes.

Everything's blue around you, fake corals as decoration all around while above you, there's fish of all sizes it seems passing by. And while you're busy looking all around, Jungkook makes sure to keep a secure hold on your hand to make sure you don't accidentally trip. And, to be honest- he's more mesmerized by your reactions and sparkling eyes than he could ever be by the sight of the tropical fish.

An elderly couple chuckles from the sidelines when they spot you reaching out to the big shark passing by above, your height however not even in the slightest tall enough to reach the ceiling. Jungkook himself can't help but smile beneath his facemask as well- sneakily pulling out his phone to snap a picture of the moment for himself, before he continues to walk around with you.

"Look, there's seahorses there." He motions towards the glass where a few are swimming around, and you follow his hand's direction, watching them with interest and your tail high up. He was a bit mad when he realized that Hanako had never bought you any clothes fitted for a hybrid- all of your dresses, skirts and pants having no designated spot for your tail- but it wasn't a huge problem, considering his rather big collection of clothes he'd still kept at his own home. For a long time, even after you weren't living with him anymore, he'd still absentmindedly bought you clothes he'd spot on his trips around the world or online- only to painfully be reminded that you're not with him any longer.

Looking at you now, your hand in his, he can't help but be unable to imagine how he thought he could ever live without you at his side.

"Kook!" You hiss quietly, careful not to alert anyone but him, and he's right at your side, attention full on you. He's missed you say his name.

After the aquarium visit, you're back at the hotel, rolling around on the bed, stretching your legs after he slips your shoes off your feet for you. It makes you laugh, before you tuck your legs back- instincts reminding you of all the times he'd try and tickle you just for his own amusement.

Would he still do it if you gave him the chance? After all, some years can change people. Has he changed?

Visually, a bit. And his heart has changed a little as well, you've noticed. He's a lot less carefree than he used to be- he seems more deep in thought, more mature, a little less free.

"Kook!" You call out, and he emerges from the bathroom, having washed his hands, eyes on you in an instant to receive whatever you've got to say. But you don't say anything; you just roll over on the bed and smile at him, tail slapping onto the covers every now and then. It makes him smile.

He's happy if you're happy.

"Hm-" You start, moving around so your legs dangle off the sides, as he sits down close to you. "-when, home?" You ask him, and he shrugs.

"The company gave me three weeks." He tells you, brushing his thumb over your cat ear. "And after that, we'll go back home." He nods.

"Me?" You wonder, and he looks at you in question.

"You're coming home too?" He isn't sure what you're asking him. You know you're not going with Hanako anymore- so why are you asking him if you go home with him too?

You seem to think about how to phrase it for a moment, before you talk again. "Work." You say, before pointing at yourself. "Okay?" You ask, and now he understands.

"They know- and sure, they're not excited about it, they weren't when Jin-hyung got engaged either." He shrugs more to himself than anyone else. "But-" He stretches his arms in front of him, before he tugs his shirt off- a habit of his that shows you he's tired. He doesn't like sleeping with his clothes on- only really wears underwear to bed. "-we'll tackle that when it happens. They're already working on a way to break the news to the public."

"Me?" You ask immediately, sitting up, hissing a bit when you twist your arm a bit oddly, immediately making him reach out to you.

"Careful, baby." He chuckles, before he nods. "And yeah. I'm sick of hiding- and I think it's best to break the news myself in a controlled way, than for people to 'leak' it." He tells you. "But, changing topics-" He grins, leaning closer to you, head tilted a bit as he looks both at your lips and your eyes. "How about we go camping together when we're back in korea?" He asks. "I could rent out a private spot, just you and me. We've never gone camping together." He asks, and you nod.

"Together." You nod, and he smiles at that, fingers brushing some of your hair out of your face-

but you're quicker, pecking his lips, making him whine in complaint.

"Baby no, it was so romantic for a second!" He scolds with his thick busan accent, and you can't help but fall onto your back next to him on the bed, laughing. "You're such a brat!" He jokes, before he leans over you, and play-bites at your neck, fingers attacking your sides.

And for once, he's not scared about what's to come.

Not as long as he's got you.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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