#which let me make it clear there is absolutely no shame in s*x work. the issue is that Tory is seventeen years old. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairytsuk1 · 1 year

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bachata baby | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: shigaraki tomura x reader

words: 8.7k

prompt: "getting paired up at a dance class"

warnings: enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, dom!shigaraki, sensual dancing, tit play, fingering, hand kink, doggystyle, protected sex, alcohol, frat party, complicated relationship

You’d absolutely lost the class registration lottery. After days, even weeks of agonizing over what classes filled which requirements and yet still gave you enough wiggle room to have your off days, you were exhausted. Everything was planned to a tee, and your dismayed face was evident as you told your roommate the dreadful news.

“I have to take a dance class! A partner dancing class! I might as well drop out,” you cry forlornly, looking at Nejire’s baby blue rug in frustration.

“It can’t be that bad! I mean, at least the professor’s good, right? Nemuri Kayama, I think. She’s one of the best; you’re in good hands,” your friend pets your head softly before leaping onto her plush bed, “maybe you’ll even dance with someone cute! You should keep your head high.”

“...Well, I guess. If I’m with a creep, I’m gonna be so annoyed! How are you so positive?”

Nejire seems to think over her answer before giving you a teasing grin, “because I got the schedule I wanted.”

“Nejire!”

She’d reassured you she was just joking, but it was true. If you were in her position, you’re sure you’d be glad to have everything work out how you want it to. Sucking it up, you were determined not to let a stupid class ruin your well-earned GPA. You don your best comfy clothes and arrive ten minutes early at the studio.

A couple of people are hanging out in the studio, and there’s a pleasant buzz of chatter while you sit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. People continued trickling in, and before you could realize it, your professor clapped her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!”

Your face burns a bit hot, was she supposed to wear such tight (and revealing!) clothing? She quickly introduces herself even with all the muttering, “I hope today goes as well for you as it does for me, and I want you to all know that this class will excite you, will make you feel, and most importantly is a lot of fun!”

Everyone around you seems to be either drinking in your professor’s appearance or wondering if they should drop the class; you’re thinking the latter, too, until she drops a bomb on the students.

“You’re all too uptight! You know what? Partner up!”

It feels like you’re about to faint. Looking left, people are making eyes and nodding at each other. Looking right, it’s the same thing, and your heart stops at the realization that you don’t have a partner. There’s so much chatter and commotion as people enter the room to find a clear spot for this cruel icebreaker.

“Does anyone not have a partner?”

You almost don’t raise your hand, but you have to. Red-hot shame is coursing through your veins. Could this get any worse?

Thankfully, a lanky and pale arm shoots into the sky alongside yours. Before you know it, Nemuri pushes you two toward each other and moves on to the assignment.

“First, say hello. These will be your partners for the rest of the semester, so make sure you like them! I know some of you are gonna date outside of class, and don’t get handsy over there!”

He’s very tall. You have to actually look up at his grumpy face to see him. His hair falls flat, looks damaged, and your cheek twitches. He’s not ugly! If he cared for his hair and maybe got more sleep… dare you say it, he could be cute.

Shigaraki towers over you easily, eyes raking your form (noting that he can see your perky tits in your bra from this advantage.) You look alright, but he’s getting the feeling that you think he’s weird, “you can stop looking at me like an animal.”

“I wasn’t! I really wasn’t,” you offer your hand and introduce yourself, “I really like your skull necklace!”

It feels like a ruse, and Shigaraki reluctantly takes your hand with a bored face, “I’m Shigaraki. Thanks.”

While others seemed to be faring better with their partners, it feels off-putting that he won’t even try to converse with you. If he’s going to have his hands on you, how could he act so cold!?

“Well, jeez. Don’t try to say it all at once,” you mumble sourly, to which your partner scoffs.

“It’s just a class. It’s not even important.”

“It’s important to me,” and you don’t like this guy.

“Then maybe you should find a different partner.”

You look like a kicked puppy when he says that, but he doesn’t take it back and mentally stews in his harshness. Maybe he should make a better effort… you were cute, he supposed. You had great tits, and you complimented his necklace.

Turning back to Nemuri, you can’t think of anything to say to that. Even though you don’t know him, it still stings a bit and your confidence leaks. Were you really that down on your luck?

Nemuri begins, telling each duo to get in a typical slow-dance pose for fun and to “get to know each other more.” It’s starting to get a little creepy, but you wind your arms around Shigaraki’s shoulders anyways. He rests his hands casually on your waist but doesn’t hold you like others.

“Aren’t you supposed to hold my waist?”

He snickers, “do you want me to?”

Trying to talk to this man is pointless, but you almost smile at his response anyway.

“Just don’t be weird!”

“No promises,” and he’s glad to see you smile at his pervertedness.

Shigaraki decides to be nicer right then and there, in his own way.

Nemuri instructs you to casually slow dance and continue conversing; she even adds music to jazz up the class, which surprisingly works. Your nerves are melting away like butter, and Shigaraki seems to have mildly warmed up to you.

“So… Do you like to dance?”

“Fuck no.”

His bluntness makes you giggle, “yeah, me either. Except at, like, parties. But I wouldn’t really call it dancing!”

“You go to parties?”

“Sometimes! I have a lot of friends who go, so it’s like an outing every time! Do you go to parties?”

It feels kind of dumb to ask that question. No offense to him, but you’re already suspecting his answer before he gives it. He twirls you, and you feel a rush of butterflies.

“Not really. People don’t want a zombie dude at their parties,” his voice is gravelly but smooth, “but I’ve been to a few.”

“They’re fun!”

Before you can continue finding common ground, Nemuri is hollering about reading the syllabus and upcoming material you’ll cover. Shigaraki quickly gets his hands off you, and your heart aches.

“Hey, do you want to exchange social media?”

He’s already got his bag halfway on your shoulder, giving you an unimpressed look.

“I don’t use social media,” and he shuffles even closer to the parade of students exiting the lecture hall.

“Oh. Well, your number?”

You feel yourself grow hot when all he does is smirk and input your digits into his phone.

“There, do you need anything else?”

What happened to the Shigaraki from a few minutes ago? He seems to be in a rush, but you can’t help but feel hurt by his mood swings. Was he always going to be this irritable? Was he going to be someone you could count on in this class?

“...I guess not. Bye.”

He’s out of the room before you realize it, gingerly grabbing your stuff and worrying your lip. This class would be a piece of work, and you couldn’t find your footing so far. Maybe you should just drop it? But you really need that humanities credit and…

“It’s Nejire! Pick up the phone!”

Nejire’s self-imposed ringtone is heard through your AirPods. The stress is already leaking out of your body just hearing her voice. If you had a girlfriend, she’d be it. You answer cheerily, “hey!”

“Hey! Are you coming back from class right now?”

“Yeah, I just got out. You have to hear about this; my partner sucks!”

Well… you’re embellishing. He doesn’t suck, but he’s not great.

“Aw man, really? I can’t believe it! I thought for sure it was gonna go okay….”

“It’s whatever! I’m over it,” you weren’t. “Why’d you call?”

“Oh! If you’re up for it, Phi Psi is having a party tonight! Do you wanna go?”

Hmm, ironic since you were just talking about parties. Maybe it’d be nice, and perhaps it’d be good to let loose for a couple of hours. The memory of Shigaraki telling you that he goes to some parties replays in your mind, but you try to ignore it.

“Sure! We can go. What’s the theme?”

Pajamas, she’d said. You know that your silk sleep set is more lingerie than anything else, but your nerves are buzzing with pre-gamed shots of vodka and the promise of attractive people buttering you up. Looking around, it’s a typical college party, and you’re already feeling warm from how guys eye you like you’re the hottest thing there.

Shigaraki thinks so and turns the corner, missing your flushed wandering eyes.

“We needa dance!”

Nejire babbles excitedly, Mirio accompanying her while she clutches your bicep.

“Mhm, mhm! Let me get another drink first!”

Mirio keeps Nejire’s legs from buckling and smiles, “we’ll be right here!”

You weave in and out of people, vision getting hazier and every touch feeling electric. A man starts pouring your drink, giving you a dazzling smile. He opens his mouth to talk, but you’re suddenly caged against the fence and face to face with Shigaraki’s chest.

“Wha?”

“Hey.”

He watches you search his eyes for a minute, teetering slightly as you sip the mix of alcohol and punch. Then, there’s remembrance, and you’re leaping joyfully into his chest. It feels… nice, and he gingerly pats your back before steadying you on the balls of your feet.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here. My friends are over there,” you point past his shoulder, and he sees a guy chasing a girl around, “hiii, Nejire!”

You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk, elongating words and joy coming out of you like a waterfall. A dainty hand grabs a bony one, and you’re about to drag Shigaraki toward your friends to “meet them!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” harsher than he meant to, he rips his hand away, “how drunk are you?”

You give an offended huff, “I’m not drunk! I only had a c-oop! A couple of shots! And this drink! It’s not even a lot….”

Shigaraki feels tempted to be childish and poke fun at you. Boop your nose and pull your hair, but you’re suddenly lost in thought and fascinated with your slippers.

“You look drunk.”

“Well, ’m not. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now,” and you’re suddenly invigorated and wanting to seek out your friends, but the first step sends you wobbling right into Shigaraki.

The boy yelps, hands gripping your shoulders and steadying you, “watch it!”

“Let go of me!”

Some onlookers look on, peering eyes, and boys puffing their chests out in case they need to step in. Shigaraki’s mind goes blank, and all he can think of is that you’re so fucking annoying, and why does he still want to help you?

Why did he think of you while fucking his fist in bed last night? He shushes you and crosses his arms.

“Do you want to walk home by yourself?”

You look like a child, happily saying” yes” and nodding proudly. Unfortunately, Shigaraki’s plan failed; you were too happy to wander off alone. He’s reminded of a time when people used to call him creepy when he was smaller and more bug-eyed.

“Oh, okay. Sure, get murdered. See if I care.”

This makes you react like you’re actually thinking about the consequences now. Mulling it over, you chew the inside of your lip and let your head roll back against the fence.

“...Well, I don’t wanna be murdered….”

“Then let me take you home.”

“Since when are you nice?!”

It may sting a bit, but he shows no emotion. He takes a calm breath and blows the air out through his nostrils. There are no words at first, and you’re looking at him with a glint in your eye, and he wonders what you look like when you laugh. When you cry or when you get really excited.

“You don’t even care about me.”

“... You’re my dance partner.”

He’s sure his heart overrode his brain. There’s no way he could say something so cheesy. It makes your heart pound; what did he mean by that? Your drunk brain couldn’t decipher how he presented his feelings, but then he was offering you a hand like a prince.

You never thought you’d call Shigaraki prince-like, and you’re worried that this might spiral out of control soon. Letting him lead you away, you figure that that’s definitely what will happen.

“Who’s room is…?”

Shigaraki has no idea and frankly can’t be bothered to care that he’s stumbling into a random frat guy’s room, “don’t know. Don’t really care?”

He tries to take your shoes off at least, but you’re unceremoniously dropping yourself onto the bed like a fish out of water. Shigaraki feels his cheek twitch in annoyance, and then you’re turning your head with a jutted lip.

“Are you gonna lie?”

“Am I going to what?”

He assures himself you’re too drunk to understand what you’re saying. There’s no reason for you to ask that other than the need to not be alone. You’d never ask that because you genuinely wanted, no, trusted Shigaraki to stay with you. He’d never believe it, but his feet carried him to the edge of the bed, and then he sank into the soft mattress.

It’s quiet, maybe too quiet. The music’s bass thrums through the floors, but all Shigaraki can hear is your soft breath. He doesn’t even realize you’re looking at him in the dimness of his room until he turns his head. His breath catches in his throat. Have you always been so pretty?

The alcohol makes you too sleepy too fast, and it feels like this moment is slipping away from you like you’re trying to cup water in your hands. It’s leaking out of you, and then his red eyes lock onto yours.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“What do you mean,” and it comes out almost wounded.

“I-hic. I mean, like, when you suddenly act so… mean.”

For the first time in a long time, Shigaraki feels rendered speechless. He wants to jump up and run out of the room like the child he once was, but he can’t find the strength to pull away from your gaze.

“...I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t,” and he finally breaks eye contact to look through the window behind you, “you don’t have to pity me, then.”

“I don’t!”

The end of your words slurs, and you know you’ll lose yourself to the intoxicating feelings of sleep soon.

“I just… I want to like you.”

“Like me?”

You smile widely before you lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. He even goes cross-eyed to try and follow your movements.

“You’re kinda… cute. But, you’re mean. So just be nice! Okay?”

He’s not even sure why he goes along with it.

“Okay.”

Your eyes close, and for a second, he thinks he’s finally free from this impromptu analysis of… well, him. But, you beat him to the chase and whisper quietly.

“I meant it.”

“What?”

“That you’re cute.”

One eye peeks open when he doesn’t respond, and the embarrassment that should be there is only replaced with pure elatedness. His eyes sparkled a bit more. It makes you think that you should compliment him more. You shut your eyes.

“You’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow.”

Maybe he waited too long, but all he knows is that your soft snores escape you quickly, and his heart warms at the sound. It shouldn’t, but it does. He falls asleep shortly after and dreams of a faceless girl who dances with him all night. The girl always keeps smiling at him no matter how stiff he is.

It’s a beautiful dream.

Shigaraki’s kind enough to shake you awake just past dawn, and the splitting headache doesn’t make the visual of him leaning over you with a gentle hand easier to see.

“Hey. Wake up. Some frat dude is gonna yell at you.”

The idea of someone barging in makes you move to sit up and groan, “do you have any water?”

“No. Get up, hurry,” and he’s tugging you off the bed.

It was a bad idea, your sleep-addled brain lagging and causing you to flop directly into a firm chest, “watch out!”

“I’m sorry! I’m barely awake,” and it comes out like a whine, “can we get water?”

You almost think he’ll say no, tell you to fuck off and get water yourself. But, he makes a move you would’ve never expected, calmly lacing his hand with yours and steadying you on your feet.

“Fine, let’s just get going already.”

Was this the Shigaraki you’d met? Had he been replaced by a clone that happened to be identical to the tone of voice? The feeling of a bony hand in yours is unreal. You can hardly take your eyes off the entanglement while Shigaraki urges you to come down the stairs faster than you are.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Did I say something weird last night?”

It comes out in a whisper, and Shigaraki feels like going to college was a huge mistake when he pulls his hand away and holds it close to himself like you’re injured. Like he injured you.

So, be nice! Okay?

“Shigaraki?”

“You said I was cute.”

He’s blushing as he blurts it out like it’s a defense mechanism to keep you from getting closer. You rack your brain for the precise wording, but you can only remember bits and pieces of lying down to look at each other.

Did you really call him cute? You gnaw on your lip and look away, but as you glance at him again, you know you definitely did say that. Your lips turn upwards, the hilarity of you having to double-check while sober if you meant what you’d said...

Shigaraki was even hot now that you really looked at him, even with the tsundere thing going on.

“Well… well! I was drunk! Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t like hearing it.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re mistaken.”

“What’s that, huh? Why do you look like a tomato, hm?”

He wants to throttle you, wagging your finger in his face and poking his cheek like he’s a zoo animal.

“I should’ve just left you up there, let you get eaten by wolves.”

“But you didn’t.”

You’re right. Somehow in the mix of pushing you away and being pulled closer, he still stayed there the whole night to keep you safe. He still woke you early enough to escape the wolves lurking in the nearly destroyed frat house. He could’ve let you be eaten by wolves, but he didn’t.

“...Well, whatever. Let’s go.”

“Mkay.”

It’s surprising how you decide to drop the subject. This strange attraction thrummed in your bones, urging you to do something about this little… crush. You let him guide you out the door and towards his car, a beat-up little Toyota. It’s red, too, like his eyes. Maybe it was on purpose.

“You’re okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Shigaraki drives recklessly, you note. The way his hands grip the wheel, tires screeching as he swerves out into the abandoned street and takes off. It should make you scared, want to yell, and demand he let you out. Only he gives you a quick glance and smirks.

You really should talk to Nejire before you decide to fuck him. His music taste blares out of old speakers, a mix of rock and metal that wakes you like a good cup of coffee. You’re about to lose yourself to the Foo Fighters song, but then he snaps the knob down to zero and clears his throat.

“You owe me.”

“I owe you what? I don’t owe you,” you even cross your arms for effect.

How cute.

“For taking care of you, ruined my night,” he’s lying, and he knows he’s lying, but he can’t help but take a chance.

Take a chance and see if you really mean it, if he’s not just making things up because you want to be nice. The part that runs deep in his blood tells him it can’t be true, and he hopes that, for once, he’s wrong.

“Psh, ruined. You love being around me. That’s why you get like that,” you push it even further, “you just don’t know how to tell me you want me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, and you’re carelessly whistling a tune while picking at your nails.

“We have to practice our dance for class,” smooth, peaceful transition.

“Right! Tomorrow evening, in one of the practice rooms, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for walking me home.”

Shigaraki repeats his reply, and you note that he seems distracted. You wonder if you also seem distracted; you had a lot to think about!...

And all Shigaraki could think about was holding your waist in his hands. It made his heart thump in his chest. God.

The walk to the practice room was cold, and you were thankful for your quick thinking of wearing leg warmers like a ballerina. You’re unsure if Shigaraki is already there, but you’re shaking off the cold as quickly as possible while storming into the building.

He is there! His phone’s hooked up to a small speaker, and the pale blue walls make him shine even in dark clothing. His hair shakes when he gives you a blithe wave, “hey. Took you long enough.”

“Hey! I came as fast as I could. Is that your speaker?”

“Mm, no. My roommate’s, uh… Dabi? You don’t know him.”

Oh, you’ve heard of him. Frankly, this should be an even bigger red flag, but you pay it no mind and shrug, “I might’ve heard of him.”

He chuckles at that. So you have heard of him.

“Well, anyway. He never uses it, so I took it.”

“Wow, evil.”

You drop your bag next to his, a frumpy black backpack with suspicious stains. You sidle close to him, peering at his Spotify while he scrolls for the correct song.

“You should show me your Spotify account!”

“God no, you’ll never see it. C’mon, we need to get this over with.”

“Whaaaat? You don’t want to hang out and stall practicing with me?”

He’s gotten warmer since your first meeting, lips quirked up as he drops his phone and crosses his lazy arms, “nope.”

“Fine! We can practice, and maybe later, I can steal your phone for your Spotify.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his voice dips a bit lower, “c’mere.”

Something inside of you ignites, but you force yourself to ignore it while wrapping your arms around his shoulders; he slumps a bit to accommodate you, making the fire even hotter. You melt like butter into him. The two of you fit perfectly. You could feel it.

The melody is something from an old movie, gentle and sweet with a romantic vibe. It’s causing tension between you and Shigaraki.

It’s making you want to kiss him.

“You stepped on my foot,” he whispers while twirling you in a half-circle.

Squeaking a quiet apology, he rolls his eyes and dips you a tad, “you seem distracted.”

You can hardly hear him over “Easy Lovers” playing in the background. It’s consuming you whole like you might not ever breathe again.

“Do I?”

“Maybe I just don’t know you that well enough,” and you twirl again.

It’s just practicing for class, for a dumb class that wouldn’t even matter in four years. But you didn’t think of anything at that moment, just that you were pressing soft lips against chapped ones with a feeling of passion behind it. Even if he lacked lip balm, the sensation of him gripping your shirt made everything seem so much hotter. Sweeter.

He even has the gall to swipe his tongue over your lip like he’s the one who took the leap and kissed you first. You know that Shigaraki was too shy to kiss you first.

“...”

It’s dead silent, his Spotify queue echoing automatically and filling the room with music you don’t think you’ve ever heard. Shigaraki nearly shivers at the confused gleam in your eyes.

“It’s called shoegaze.”

“Shoegaze?”

“Yeah,” and he’s barely finishing the word before taking your cheek in hand and bringing you back to him.

Your breath hitches and you want to get so close the two of you nearly fuse together. Dainty hands tangled in his hair, all raggedy and muted like his skin or clothes. Something about how his bony fingers dig into the curve of your waist keeps your head spinning, and you don’t even realize he owns you by pressing you against the wall and licking the inside of your mouth.

“Sh-aah.”

The moan wasn’t too loud, but it echoed in his head. Shigaraki has never been the type to be so openly carnal and animalistic, and yet it was coming out with every kiss he dotted on the skin of your neck. He could fuck you here if he was so pleased, and briefly, he worried when he felt his cock stir in his pants.

You bring him back to you, grasping like a lifeline and laving over the slickness of his mouth and how he was strong enough to carry you just off the ground. It was stupidly hot; when did he get all this power? It’s like it overtook him, and the two of you part; neither of you wanted to.

“We need to stop.”

“But can’t we–”

“No. Not here,” he mulls over his following words with an annoyed look, “and I don’t have a condom.”

You nearly burst out laughing in his face, dry heaving and keeling over. But it’ll upset him, and that’s the last thing you want. “Oh, well, I’m on birth control?”

“Stop.”

He seems firm in his decision, but you can’t help but wiggle your hips toward him enticingly. Maybe he’ll cave, let you give him a handjob or something. I mean, that’s not that bad, right?

“Please?”

Shigaraki would usually feel irritation rise quickly and overwhelm him, but his eyes flicker down to your wandering hands and wiggling hips. Well, he was serious about not wanting to fuck here, but…

“I’m only doing this so you’ll be quiet!”

He sinks to his knees. You salivate at sight, brimming with joy and confidence. His thumbs hook in your belt loops, and he tenderly runs his hands over your thighs, “grab onto the ballet bar.”

You don’t think you’ll collapse to your knees, but you’re shaking in anticipation because he looks like he knows what he’s doing. The way he swiftly tugs your leggings and panties down in one go, you can feel your arousal smearing your thighs; you were already horny just from kissing him.

Finally, he looks relaxed, parting your puffy lips and admiring your dripping hole.

“It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” you’re breathless already with how you can feel his breath right where you need him.

Then, he’s licking from your clenching hole to the nub of your clit, the glide slick with spit as he gets to work.

“Shigaraki!”

You nearly scream, legs angling in too close, but his surprisingly firm grip keeps you how he wants you. Your hands wrench around the ballet bar as he licks every fold so he can taste as much of you as possible.

It’s wonderful, and you know now that he does in fact, know what he’s doing, especially with how his nose and cheeks are beginning to shine with arousal. He’s eating you like a man starved like he can’t get enough from fucking you on his tongue; he needs more and more. He licks into your hole, savoring every drop with a clench on your ass that’ll leave bruises for days.

He sucks your clit between his lips before pulling away with a pop, “you’re such a fucking brat.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry! Just keep,” and you tilt your hips towards his shiny lips again, “please? Feels so good….”

It’s rewarding how he flattens his tongue to grind up your slit, devouring you like he had too much time to practice. The way he toys with your pussy; makes your legs shake and your back arch off the mirror displaying your debauchedness.

Shigaraki mumbles something, but you’re too busy tilting your hips into his face and making him nearly unable to breathe as you tremble on his tongue. He tonguefucks you, digging deep with obscene slurping noises echoing around you, “oh, fuuuuck.”

Your hands entangle in his white strands, grounding you while you speed towards your orgasm like a rocket setting into space. Shigaraki seems to sense your quickened breaths and gyrating hips; his hands grip your ass cheeks to pull you closer as he makes you creamy. He holds you in place, forcing you to feel his tongue grinding flat circles over your clit before dipping down to lap over your pussy. He acts as if it’s a dessert. Like it’s a real treat to eat you out.

He pulls away, mildly huffing out of breath, “stop moving.”

Soft pecks are placed on your inner thighs as he lets you grow needier and needier through pussy neglect, “Shigaraki, please.”

“Please, what? You’re so selfish,” and he gives a hard suck to your clit, “I should just leave you here.”

“No! No, don’t!”

His rough treatment of you makes you jump, but he doesn’t leave you like he threatened. Instead, he kissed the mound of soft curls in the apex of your thighs, nose curving down the slope of your thigh as his breath barely ghosted over your slick lips.

“I want you to be the one that makes me feel good,” maybe if you lay it on thick, he’ll be forced to listen to you!

Instead, all he rewards you with is an unreadable look, but then he’s diving back in between your legs, and you can’t focus on what that look means because Shigaraki will make you cum.

“Yes, yes! Keep going, hah… your tongue’s so deep!”

The wet sounds make you flush, and his intensity makes you jump to your tip-toes and tilt away from the warm, wet mouth that chases you no matter how you tilt your hips.

Your legs are shaking, threatening to close, and the stretched coil snap could happen anytime you’re barely saying, “feel like I’m gonna, gonna c-ungh. Gonna cum…!”

He keeps going. Determined and sloppy with how he’s not even taking a second to breathe. You’re nearly there, humping his face with moans of his name that turn his ears pink. A hand snakes up your leg, and there’s a wet squelch as he easily slips two fingers inside. The stretch is delicious torture, and you cum while crying out.

“Shigaraki!”

His fingers help you ride out your orgasm, the remnants glistening on his fingers as your cream sticks to them lewdly before he sucks the essence off. He stands once you’ve regained yourself.

“Pretty good,” and he gives his hand one last lick; he can’t even stop the snark from appearing.

“Shut up! You’re so embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah, didn’t I just make you cum? All whiny, ‘ah, ah! Shigaraki mmph!’ right?”

“No! Not even right at all,” and he casually leans over you with his hands on the ballet bar as if you two were dating as if he was actually your boyfriend, “...but thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Well, well, I mean! Thank you for… indulging me.”

You had trailed off, not even realizing how close he was to your ear until he whispered a gravelly, “you’re so very welcome for making you cum, if that’s what you mean.”

Neither of you speaks. You can’t help but look down and notice the bulge in his pants. He seems unbothered, but leaving him high and dry feels unfair.

“Do you want me to…?”

He gives a quick glance down but shakes his head, “Nah. We should just wrap all of this up, though.”

“Right,” and yet you don’t stop thinking about it while both of you make the practice room look neat again.

Even while walking you back home, his second time, Shigaraki knows that there’s something secretive on your mind.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing! Just tired.”

“...Right.”

He stares at you for too long before you head into your dorm. You know what’s coming but don’t make the first move. He’s quick about it, but he does kiss you. It’s so fast, sweet, and low stakes that you smile warmly at him.

“Goodnight, Shigaraki.”

The boy nods, pulling up his hoodie, “night.”

You can’t wait to tell Nejire all about it.

“You what?! You had sex with Shigaraki?!”

Nejire’s in disbelief, nearly falling off her bed as she bolts towards your side of the room, “you really did?”

“Other people can probably hear you! But, well, yeah. It wasn’t like we went all the way or anything! He just went down on me,” the pink in your cheeks is evident while you begin to unravel the story.

“Wait, where was this again?”

“Oh. The, well, the practice room?”

“The practice room?!.”

She suddenly bursts into laughter, and you feel your cheeks twitching as you squeeze her hands, “c’mon, it’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not. I didn’t think Shigaraki would eat pussy in the practice room!”

Sometimes you regret telling your roommate anything, but it took the edge off thinking about how he hadn’t texted you. Should you expect a text? You figured it would be something lighthearted, but he just went radio-silent. Just like that, it hurt, you had to admit. But, you weren’t gonna let him get away with it. You’ll get your payback soon, finally get him to realize what he’s really feeling.

You hope it’s the same as what you’re really feeling.

Then, the day of your presentation is like the sunrise. Knowing everyone would be watching you didn’t ease your nerves. Considering Shigaraki had been ignoring your texts since the last time you met, it felt like he was contributing to your anxiety just as much as the actual dance! You could hardly get dressed, shrugging on your comfiest yet presentable clothes.

Maybe he thought it was a mistake, and your fingers were itching to send a text. Nejire had advised you to send something short and sweet before leaving for the day, and you finally cave while brushing your teeth.

[Dance Partner]: Do you want to meet up before class?

Shigaraki lay in bed, still in pajamas and debating whether to drop out. His heartbeat spikes at the message, and it feels so dumb to get excited over a mere text. He’d been practicing, unbeknownst to you, spending so much time in the bathroom with the door locked to practice his footwork that he’d gotten an angry text from his roommate.

[Shigaraki]: I think it’s fine

Part of you wonders if he’ll show up at all.

[Dance Partner]: I’m nervous.

He doesn’t reply, but he feels the same. Eventually, he meandered his way to his closet to pick his outfit. Yeah, he was nervous too.

You spot him first, and part of you wants to wave him over but he seems to hardly look up. This was all fruitless. You should’ve never done anything in that practice room. Tears prickle your vision at the sudden emotion of it, a test, and knowing a guy wants nothing to do with you? It sucks much more than you thought it would.

“Hey.”

He’s calm, voice smooth and honeyed as he sits next to you. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice your glassy eyes.

“Hey.”

The silence passes between you as more people file in, and Nemuri sets up the class materials.

“I don’t think you should be nervous,” he pauses to side-eye you, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to give you a bad grade, and I need to pass.”

He put you first, and maybe it’s dumb to analyze his order of priorities, but it makes you feel special, “I think we’ll do well.”

You finally turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you.

“Stop acting weird.”

“I-I’m not! I’m just nervous!”

“Yeah, right,” and a gentle hand settles on your knee, “I know what you’re thinking. About the practice room.”

“You’re the one that didn’t text me back.”

He doesn’t reply right away, but you know he feels terrible. The way he swallows and clenches his free fist, the regret is a bit palpable.

“...I know, and I’m sorry.”

He squeezes your knee for emphasis, “genuinely.”

You suppose it’s okay, mumbling that you forgive him and relishing in the burn that his hand leaves on your leg. Nejire clears her throat, and you listen to her instructions. His hand doesn’t leave your knee.

She calls your names about halfway into class, and suddenly the lights seem too bright once you’re on stage. You can feel your leg shaking as you stand interlocked with Shigaraki. He looks calm and collected. If anything, he seems to be more worried about you.

Indeed he can feel your anxiety shakes, and then his thumb rubs the space between your collarbones. It suddenly feels like everything will be alright.

“Are you two ready?”

You squeak out a “yes!” and Shigaraki merely nods; the music follows, and you retreat into your mind to remember every step.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers softly, and you feel like you could do anything.

The two of you dance to the same song in the practice room while you swim across the floor with grace, the type of grace that’s only there because you have a connection. It comes effortlessly, Shigaraki leading with you following as he steadily guides you by your waist.

You remember to make eye contact, and your breath is stolen because your biggest fears have been confirmed. You like Shigaraki. You want him carnally. More than anything in the world, you move like two souls on the same plane. Everything about it is perfect.

He stops the momentum, your upper half steadily supported by a hand that shows so much tenderness between your shoulder blades. The two of you were breathing softly, near exhaustion with the way your bodies swirled together into one.

“Excellent! Very nice. Any critiques?”

The spell is broken, and you’re collecting your breath while smoothing your clothes. Whew, that was something. Your eyes track toward Shigaraki’s, and he’s looking at you again.

“I thought you guys looked very clean,” said a meek girl desperate to escape the room’s silence.

You offer a “thanks” and note the critique of better posture, among other surface criticism. Nemuri writes on her clipboard, smiling and nodding, “excellent, thank you, you two.”

“I have to go, excuse me.”

He leaves you alone on the stage to race up the stairs to collect his backpack. You’re knocked out of a trance and thrown into deep waters, and Nemuri begins to call the next names.

“Hiroshi, is your partner not here? Oh, and,” she turns back to you, “you can take a seat now.”

You do.

It’s time to settle this, Shigaraki decides. There’s a three-day break coming up, and his mind has been looping back to it every passing class. He couldn’t keep running away from you anymore after you were assigned different partners for the next dance. If he doesn’t act, he’ll completely lose you.

And for the record, Nemuri was a liar. Could she not see the connection between you two? Even he could see it, and he wished he couldn’t.

It felt like you were slipping away, partnered with someone else, and Shigaraki had been conversing with you sparsely. It was torture, Hell on Earth if he had to imagine it. You’re getting lost in the waves, and he’s losing his grip.

Meanwhile, you’ve been getting on top of your classwork and contacting your new dance partner, Eijirou. It doesn’t feel the same of course, not when you can feel Shigaraki’s eyes on you every time you’re in the arms of the redhead.

You don’t expect anything from him anymore; you pretend not to. The ding sounds from your phone, and you just know.

[Shigaraki]: hey

It makes your heart race, and you can feel your pulse thrumming in your neck.

[Her]: Hey

[Shigaraki]: wyd

[Her]: I’m not doing this

[Shigaraki]: come over

[Her]: No

[Shigaraki]: i wanna see you

You want to slap yourself. Tell him there’s no way you can deal with his hot and cold nature. That even if you like him, he’s not good for you. You can’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, won’t.

[Her]: Come to my dorm and walk with me, it’s too dark and cold

[Shigaraki]: omw

Waiting feels painful. You spend a minute making sure you are moisturized and smelling good, and then eventually, he’s at the sliding door of the dorm. You’re wearing a simple long-sleeve, and you’re keen to pick up on the fact that he really brought you a coat.

“Hey,” you smile and eagerly embrace him the tiniest bit.

“Hey, take it. ‘M tired of holding it,” and your hands are brushing when you take the black hoodie to slip over your head.

The walk is quiet, and you can feel anticipation climbing up your spine as the two of you grow closer and closer. The cold is nonexistent, not with the warmth you feel because of the boy beside you.

“Is your roommate home?”

He shakes his head, hand steady as he slips the key into the lock and brings you into his space. The lights flicker on, and you’re smiling at his side of the room. Dark, a bit punk, and he’s totally unashamed of it. He drops the keys in the bowl, turning his head first before fully facing you.

“So–”

You’re rushing to jump into his arms, connecting your lips effortlessly in a kiss that soothes all aches you’d ever had about him. You knew he would catch you, and you fit like the sun and moon. The connection makes you heave into the kisses, leaning into the slickness of saliva coating your lips while he pushes you against the nearest wall.

It feels like dancing, the way your tongues slide against each other with a fierceness while he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already wet, impossibly wet, and the mewls come out despite you trying to swallow them. The need for him is so strong you’re dropping your legs to move things along.

“You’re so fucking hot,” pressing his forehead against yours, “holy shit.”

“You wanna see more?”

Peeling off the sweatshirt to catch your curves worn under the fitted long-sleeve. His hand circles your lower back, eyes locked onto how your tits nearly spill out of its v-neck. They’re so easy to hold; his hand is already sliding up your side to the underside of your breasts.

“Can I?”

“Of course,” you whisper while tugging his hand to squeeze your tits, sighing at the contact.

“No bra?”

“What, you, ah! You want it to get in the way?”

“God, no,” His other hand meets your other tit, fully groping you, and his eyes nearly crimson with need.

His hardness is apparent, the bulge nudging against your thigh while his knee applies delicious pressure to your aching clit; you can’t stop your hips from grinding up against his leg.

“Kiss me,” and he’s quick to shut you up, hands raking under your shirt to feel skin on skin.

“Shigaraki!”

He could listen to you say that all day, but he can’t stand how the two of you are still so tightly clothed. Your shirt comes up, and you’re quick to immediately tug it off and grind on his leg again. It’s sticky, hot, and heady as the two of you dry-hump against the only space on the wall.

“Wait, we should…we should move to the bed,” and he doesn’t seem to hear you with how he lurches forward to lick into your mouth, “Sh-Shigaraki.”

The kisses only stop for a moment, but then he’s pushing away from the wall and guiding you by the hands to the bed. He slips off his sweatpants, leaving his boxers on, and you mirror him. It almost feels too intimate when he stares at you once settled on top of you, and you can’t take it.

His hand circles your nipple slowly, making you arch at the feeling of him toying with your chest, “mm!”

Resting on his left hand, you watch as the bony hand travels downwards, swooping under your tit to glide past your belly button and reach the black band of your panties, “may I?”

You’ve never been so turned on, and you’re sure it’ll be smeared all over your thighs by the end of this tryst. Lifting your hips, he tosses the panties onto the floor, and your face burns with how your wetness immediately soaks his fingers when he runs them through your slit.

“You’re so wet, you’re that needy?”

“I just need you to touch me…!”

He gives a low hum, digits circling your clit so slowly that your legs jump closed, “keep them open.”

You’re getting desperate, eager to feel him slip his fingers inside and crook them up, but he’s so calm and attentive. Taking his time, he looks at every inch of your pussy with fire in his eyes. You’re dripping, and the slick sounds when he just barely slips his middle finger into your hole nearly echo.

Finally, he indulges you by slipping it in deep and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can hardly breathe, toes curling as you hold his wrist to keep fingering you, “fuck, feels so good!”

He can only chuckle, curling his fingers and hitting that gooey spongy spot that arches your back and leaves muffled cries spilling through your fingers. It feels so good, too good, and you’re soaring as he finally starts to thrust his hand.

“Come on, let me hear what you have to say. Do you like it? Do you want more?”

“I wan, I want…!”

He forces his hand, adjusting to a steady rhythm that you can practically hear yourself getting close from the stimulation of being finger-fucked. Looking down at you, he’s keyed into every movement. Every noise and body twitch. It’s like he’s been possessed to make you cum, and you’re nearly there.

“Gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grappled for your tit like a lifeline, and it was like a show with how he watched you tug at your chest.

It’s so desperate, and it feels perfect to finally be connected and feel the heat of his breath while he makes you cream on his hand. You’re at his mercy, and he knows it, “go on and cum. Wanna fuck you.”

You nearly black out, the tension snapping like a rubber band as you gyrate your hips. It’s debauched, but you hardly care when Shigaraki rubs a tight circle on your clit, “heh.”

“You’re,” you’re still panting, and he grins.

“I’m what?”

He’s shrugging his boxers off while you recover, and your clit throbs once he exposes his cock, lean and long like his fingers.

“Nothing!”

“Cat got your tongue?”

You circle closer to him, watching eagerly as he slips the condom on with ease. Your mouth’s watering and you want to go down on him badly, but he has other plans.

“Wanna do doggy?”

“Yeah,” and it’s the hottest sight he’s ever seen when you bend over, exposing your clenching hole waiting to be filled. Your ass is up in the air, and you look perfectly spread out for him.

The slap on your ass makes you jump, but Shigaraki seems happy with the way he kneads the fat of your ass. His cock bumps into your pussy as he maneuvers himself, and the slickness of it sliding between your folds and bumping your clit makes you shake.

“God, I could fuckin’ tease you forever,” and he grips the base of his cock with a groan, “I don’t know why I waited so long.”

“I know! Why don’t you–”

He slides home, he’s not too girthy, but the length makes your arms shake while supporting your body, “oh god.”

“Yeah, fuckkk, yeah.”

It’s a slow rhythm, clearly reveling in the wet warmth and tightness of your hole; he’s got a death grip on your hip as he shallowly thrusts into you, “amazing pussy.”

You can only moan a “thanks” as he moves a bit more, cockhead dragging against your walls and then filling you back up till you feel like you can’t breathe. The bed creaks, and he starts pounding you so hard it cries. Jolting you forward, you can’t even lean away from how he plows himself into you, balls slapping against your clit, giving you aftershocks.

It’s messy, and he’s barely holding his rhythm because you’re squeezing around him so tight and he feels like he might shoot his load any second. He slows down for a mere second to rub your clit, lean body resting on yours as he moves his hips in tandem with yours.

He’s panting and is too stuck on your eyes rolling back to notice he’s inching closer and closer to his orgasm. The coil is hot in his tummy as he ravages you and makes you take all of him. The connection drives you wild, and soon you’re pushed face-first into the pillows as he fucks you like a fleshlight.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god,” and he fucking whimpers inside of you.

It sends your head spinning as he reaches his peak, a hand slapping your ass as the two of you move together. Your ass smacks against his lower abs, and the slick that coats the top of the hair around his base makes him heave, “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, gonna milk this sweet pussy.”

You barely crane your head to catch a view, and he looks heavenly, and his eyes draw shut. He’s barely even thrusting, just mashing into you deeper and harder. He opens his eyes, and the red in them turns nearly burgundy as he grunts.

“Shiga-Shigaraki…!”

One, two, and then he’s pinning you down with his body weight as his hips jerk up into you. You know he’s wearing a condom, but part of you wants to imagine the heat filling your insides and breeding you. The thought of it makes you squeeze around him, and his fingers leave bruises on tender parts of your flesh.

It takes a minute for your breath to calm. The feeling of satiation with Shigaraki still buried to the hilt in you feels so comforting that you could fall asleep. You’re barely there, thoroughly fucked and floating in space. He has enough strength to interlock your hands on top of you, and the two of you bask in the post-coital glow.

“You gonna get off me any time soon?”

He offers a steady deep breath before replying.

“Nope. It’s my reward for looking after you at that party.”

“Really? You’re still on that?”

Sidelining you again, you remember why he frustrates you so much once again. But it doesn’t hurt this time; it just feels good.

“Go on a date with me.”

“You can’t just change the subject like that!”

“Then go on a date with me, and I won’t have to.”

Your mouth flattens into a straight line, “you’re lame.”

Small kisses dot the curve of your neck as he finally pulls himself out of you. You leave in a flash to use the bathroom and return to the covers being pulled up just for you.

The two of you settle on meeting up next Monday.

[Shigaraki]: See you at the ice skating rink

You never knew Shigaraki would be one to skate between you two? He didn’t, either. He supposed you just bring out that side of him.

The side that likes dancing, ice skating, and you.

#shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #boku no hero academia smut #my hero academia smut #tomura x reader #tomura imagine #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura x reader

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vypcr · 2 years

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idk what to tag this post with but we need to talk about Tory’s new job for a moment and how they framed it in the show

The hardest scene for me to watch when I go back to comb through season 4 without competition is Tory getting ready for her new job. You can see in her eyes how much she hates it there, how soul crushing it is for her, and how she feels like she has no other options. And the fact that they made very direct allusions to s*x work before revealing what she’s actually doing?? When she’s 17?? My heart dropped into my stomach.

#seasons 4 spoilers tw #s4 spoilers tw #spoilers tw #do I need to censor the word s*x? probably. tumblr is dumb.#but this is the most horrible thing for me to watch BY FAR because I can't help but notice the comparison's they're trying to draw #sitting there doing makeup in a bikini top #the other women in the room preening and one of them specifically trying to push her chest out #the manager comes in and says 'take their tips but be discreet about it'#tells tory 'more red lip' despite the fact she's already got plenty on but he wants her to oversell it #and then a brief montage of all the women walking out showing only their faces before they cut back for the reveal #they know EXACTLY what they were implying with this scene. they know what they were trying to make us think for a moment.#which let me make it clear there is absolutely no shame in s*x work. the issue is that Tory is seventeen years old.#and it's not something I think she would want to pursue. not something I think she would be okay with.#they made us draw those parallels because they wanted us to equate her situation to that. I don't know how to feel about it tbh #I get that they're trying to show how she feels stripped of agency of choice. how she doesn't even have control of her own body anymore.#and that they wanted to show her in a situation that's full of despair yet is something she has to do because she has no options #but part of me feels like this went too far???#I'm still processing but like. you can show that without making those *very specific* allusions.#I don't even know how to word this just know it made me feel so weird and made my heart hurt for tory in the worst way possible

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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years

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[AU, SMUT] What Are You? | Bucky x Steve x Reader

Category: AU, Smut (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Mafia themes, derogatory language, intercourse Ship: Steve x Bucky x Reader Summary: Steve and Bucky Are Planning Some Work With a Client, But What Happens When That Client Doesn't Respect Their Girl? Request: N/A Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2.6k

—

Almost everyone knew - there was no doubt about that. Everyone should’ve known, at least, but those who didn’t pay enough attention… sorry for them.

Everyone who heard the sound of the heels clacking against the marble flooring would straighten themselves up as if the sound was coming from the men themselves.

Which men? Oh, which men indeed.

That’s not to say that the woman couldn’t have any kind of friendships with any of the men in the building - she does need a little bit of platonic fun here and there.

“Slow down, Aphrodite, you might chip the flooring.” A mocking voice calls from behind her. Despite it being from a familiar face, the other men still stiffen as if they were the ones doing wrong.

“You might shatter the mirrors if you look in them for any longer.” The woman retorts as she attempts to hide the grin that forms at her own comeback.

The man, however, doesn’t even try to hide his smile as he turns his strides into a jog to catch up with her.

“How do you even know how often I stare in the mirror? You spying on me?” Sam asks, the pair glancing at each other and both now smiling.

“So you admit that you stare at the mirror, and not just look at it?” The woman tactically avoids his question with her own retort.

Sam’s laugh echoes through the corridor they’re walking through. It’s quite spectacular really - some would mistake it for being a palace. A place where only the good-willed people reside. Almost a shame that it’s full of the likes of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes and Steve Rogers - the two men who own just about all the power there is in New York, let alone Manhattan.

“You know they’re not done yet, right?” The man quizzes, a content smile still on his lips as his hands rest in the front pockets of his black trousers.

The woman doesn’t respond, simply nods.

Sam catches it out the corner of his eye and simply shakes his head.

“You have a habit of interrupting their meetings.”

“And you have a habit of saying things that might get you killed one day.” (Y/N) answers, but her gentle smile admits that that’s not entirely true.

Her attire consists of a loose but very fitting crimson dress that sits mid-thigh, along with the matching red heels that are buckled around her ankles. A simple silver chain around her neck that has two small, but very expensive, black and red diamonds resting in the centre of her collarbone.

“Tell Steve that his car’s being valeted if he needs it anytime soon.” The man comments as he turns off down another corridor, different to (Y/N)’s route.

She simply nods again.

Why is it that she’s heading toward her husbands’ meeting? Because she’s interested in seeing how it will end. The man who has been persisting to speak with Steve and Bucky for the last sixteen months is desperate, to say the least. He wants investment in their three hotels that are situated across NYC, in Queens, Brooklyn and Manhattan.

She was the one who decided on where those hotels would be built, so she wants to see the man, John Walker, crumble as her partners’ pretend they care, only to tell him no.

It might seem like a waste of time but in reality, it’s to see how the man deals with hearing the word no, and whether Bucky and Steve need to deal with him.

“Ma’am.” Christopher greets as (Y/N) approaches the door of the conference room that her men are in.

“Chris.” She responds, nodding her head as he opens the door for her. “How’s it going, gentlemen?” The woman adds as she casually struts into the room, grabbing everyone's attention.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone turns to look at the woman who’s interrupted their meeting. Steve and Bucky simply smile as they take a moment to admire their wife.

“Excuse me?” John is the first to speak up and everyone’s attention turns to him, including (Y/N), who doesn’t seem phased by his evident frustration.

“You’re excused.” Her response is simple but ignites a spark inside of the man.

“Do you usually let whores just stroll around and cause inconvenience in their wake, gentlemen?” He asks, but his eyes remain on (Y/N).

The woman’s eyebrows raise, and a surprised but impressed smile etches its way onto her face. She says nothing. John stares at her with a quirked brow, waiting for a response from the two men his question was directed to, so obliviously aware of the fearful stares he’s now getting from everyone else in the room.

Bucky and Steve’s heads turned very slowly, in sync, back toward their guest, their smiles now distorted into that of pure fury.

“Would you like to say that again?” Steve speaks up first, John now turning his head toward the boss in curiosity of his sudden change of voice.

That’s when the man notices all the stares on him. His eyebrows furrow as he acknowledges everyone’s expression. His eyes flick from the other men in the room to Bucky and Steve, to (Y/N), and back to the two leaders.

He gulps.

“I said: Say. It. Again.” Steve enunciates.

“Come here, doll,” Bucky speaks up also, his eyes flicking from John to (Y/N) for a brief moment, his arm opening up and inviting the woman to situate herself on his knee.

The woman obliges, striding over to her husbands and letting the brunet’s arm wrap around her as she sits.

John’s eyes haven’t left Steve’s, too mortified to even blink, but he catches the action of Bucky and (Y/N).

Steve’s eyebrow quirks, reminding his guest that he’s waiting. And Steve hates waiting.

“I didn’t mean- I didn’t know she was- gentlemen, please, look, this is all a big misunderstanding, I just-”

“Called our woman a whore and an inconvenience.” Bucky finishes his sentence, his expression just as murderous as Steve’s, despite the soothing actions of his hand stroking his wife’s waist.

“I didn’t know she was your-”

“And you think that excuses it?” Steve interrogates. “You think calling any woman a whore is acceptable? An inconvenience?”

John gulps and the sound echoes in the room. His eyes flicker away from Steve’s for a moment to the woman herself, intentionally or not, but his eyes drop to the prominent cleavage on display.

Bucky smirks at the action that most definitely didn’t go unnoticed by himself.

“Sweetheart,” Steve begins, John’s attention darting straight back to the blond’s once more. (Y/N) hums in response. “Who do you belong to?”

(Y/N) bites her lip, core throbbing at the obvious dominance and possession of the two men.

“You and James.” She whispers, Bucky’s hand gripping her waist tightly at the use of his birth name.

The sweat glistening on John’s forehead is clear as day.

Knowing what’ll get everyone in the room riled up even moreso, (Y/N) turns herself around so she’s facing Bucky, sat on his lap, legs on either side of his body. Everyone else in the room keeps their eyes firmly locked on the glass table or the white ceiling.

A pleasant hum resonates from the brunet’s throat, his hands naturally adjusting to rest on her hips.

The moment John’s eyes flicker to (Y/N) once more and then drift down her back, a gun is cocked and metal is pressed firmly against the back of the man’s head.

The woman goes to turn her head around to see what’s happened but Bucky’s lips locking with hers prevents that from happening. She whimpers against his mouth and he absolutely adores it.

“Bend over this table for me, doll.” The man murmurs. “Let’s show Mister Walker what a proper whore looks like.”

The excitement that sparkles in his wife’s eyes makes his cock throb between his legs.

“Yes, sir.”

The pet name makes both men throb.

The woman stands up and turns herself around, making sure every sway of her hips is a show to be watched. Her eyes lock with none other than their security lead, Tony Stark, who’s holding the gun up to Walker’s head, as she bends herself over the table, dress drooping at the front to display her cleavage.

Tony’s eyes don’t even flicker away from her own. The staff in this building know better than to try and indulge in what is rightfully Bucky and Steve’s. John, however, sees this as a prime opportunity to stare at what he believes he’s being offered, his trousers getting tighter.

(Y/N) sees it. She finds is humorous.

Bucky’s hands slide their way up the backs of his wife’s bare thighs, pushing up the crimson material as he reaches it.

Her eyes flutter shut and lips part in satisfaction at the feeling.

“Tell us what you want, doll.” Bucky mumbles, sitting the bottom of her dress at the base of her back, grinning at her lack of underwear.

“Touch me.”

The explicit word that escapes John’s lips are heard clear as day and he knows it, face once again panicking as he looks back at Steve, whose expression still hasn’t changed.

“Where do you want me to touch you, princess?” James continues, not paying an ounce of attention to anyone else in the room right now besides his missus.

His fingers stroke the top of her inner thighs, seeing her soaking wet core already dripping down them.

“Want you to touch my pussy.” (Y/N) breathes, eyes flitting open barely a millimetre.

James presses soft kisses on his wife’s ass before sliding his middle and ring finger lightly over her slit. The action gets a mewl out of her.

Fifteen men in this room in total, only two of them can touch this woman yet all fifteen are dreaming about it.

“Move.” Steve states, prompting John to widen his eyes once more, but this time the words aren’t directed at him.

Bucky grins and obliges, removing his hands from his girl and stands up.

(Y/N)’s eyes open fully this time as she whines in complaint at the loss of contact, but a large smack on her ass distorts her whine into a large gasp.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, sweetheart.” Steve states, manoeuvring himself so he’s stood directly behind his wife, Bucky casually pulling his own gun out of his inner blazer pocket and wiping it down with his hands.

John’s face stays facing Steve, but his eyes follow Bucky as the brunet moves behind him and out of his sight.

Tony takes the sign to back away and let his boss take over from here.

Steve has no shame as he unbuckles his belt, undoes his trousers and pulls out his rock-hard cock, stroking it with his hand a few times while his other hand returns to Bucky’s previous actions.

“You see that?” Bucky whispers in John’s ears, prompting the man to gasp and jump in his seat. He gulps again but remains silent. “I asked you a question.”

The man frantically nods, fearful for his life, and absolutely humiliated.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Steve murmurs, leaning down and moving her hair aside, kissing the back of her neck.

Before the woman can even respond, her husband thrusts himself inside of her in one go, (Y/N)’s back arching and moaning so loud that Christopher can probably hear outside the door, and Steve’s head being thrown back, his own moan equally loud.

Bucky almost loses his composure if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew not to falter when making sure a man like John Walker was wanting his woman.

“Fuck…” Walker whispers, lips parted as he stares at the woman in front of him being railed by none other than Steven Rogers.

“Keep watching because this is your death wish.” Bucky whispers, John’s eyes widening. “Does she look good?”

John nods his head almost desperately.

Her moans only get faster and louder as Steve fucks her.

“Remind him what you are, sweetheart?” The blond groans, grabbing the woman’s hair and pulling her head back so she’s more or less face-to-face with Walker alongside her other husband.

“A whore.” (Y/N) practically begs.

“Louder.” Steve demands.

“A whore!”

“I said: fucking louder!”

“A WHORE! I’m your whore, sir!” She screams, John losing it and standing up to lean forwards but a gunshot firing beside his head makes him stumble back down to his seat.

(Y/N) flinches are the known noise but settles quickly as Bucky strokes her face with the hand that’s not holding the freshly-fired weapon.

“Don’t you fucking dare move an inch toward our wife.” Bucky threatens to the man he’s leaning over.

John gulps but nods, not taking his eyes off (Y/N).

“Is she inconvenient now, Walker?” Steve asks, glaring daggers at the man. He only shakes his head, eyes only meeting Steve’s for a split second. “No?” He breathes. “Then what is she?”

The guest falls speechless, shaking his head as his eyes flicker between Steve and (Y/N).

“Hot as fuck.” He whispers, Bucky growling in his ear.

“Fuck!” (Y/N) cries out, desperate eyes staring at Bucky’s, who smirks at her state.

“Think our girl wants to cum, Steve.” He comments, John panting in his seat.

“Yeah? You wanna show this scum what a good girl you are for us, baby girl?” Steve grunts, not slowing down but rather speeding up as he too reaches his peak.

The woman’s head nods in desperation, face flushed as her eyes flicker across all men in the room, including Tony’s, who simply winks at her before removing his stare.

“Say it, doll.” Bucky demands.

“I wanna cum.” (Y/N) gasps, watching her brunet lover shake his head.

“Gonna have to do better than that, doll.”

“Please,” She begs. “Please, daddy. Sir. Please, let me cum!” Her voice screams, Steve grunting in response to the feeling of her squeezing his cock, milking him for all his worth.

“Cum, baby girl.” He permits. “Cum like the whore you are.”

And how she does.

Her scream could shatter glass, Christopher would be concerned if he hadn’t already established the differences between the woman’s fearful screams and her pleasure-filled ones.

Taking full advantage of Bucky’s distraction, John leaps forward to get a taste of the woman who’s almost passing out from the pleasure, but that’s the last move he makes as a bullet is shot through his back, knocking him down onto the table.

Tony doesn’t seem phased as he shakes the smoke from his gun, settling it back into his pocket.

Making sure the woman doesn’t collapse atop the, now dead, man on the table, Bucky holds her up while Steve sorts himself out before pulling her back across the table and into his lap.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The blond whispers, smoothing the hair out of her face.

(Y/N) nods but keeps her eyes shut as she rests against her husband’s chest.

“Words, baby.” He requests.

“M’okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

Two of the security men alongside Tony head over and remove the body from the room, Bucky asking for someone to clean up the mess whilst walking over to his two lovers.

“We okay?” The brunet murmurs, Steve smirking and nodding before both paying attention to their girl who’s still half unconscious.

“Does anyone else in the room have anything to say before we carry on?” Steve asks, everyone shaking their heads frantically. “Good, now leave.” And they do.

“You okay, baby doll?” Bucky whispers, cocooning her cheek with his hand.

The woman nods and manages to open her eyes.

“Yeah.”

“That’s our girl.”

Tag List

Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: @polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

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yanderecandystore · 3 years

Note

Could you please do a fanfic for a male version of Yandere! Lady Dimitrescu (from Resident Evil Village game) with the reader.

I really like the Resident Evil franchise but I'm too lazy to know what the hell is happening in the older games XD I'm so sorry about that-

I loved watching playthroughs of Resident Evil Village (can't buy the game ;-;), but I felt like it was a bit empty, idk- I felt like the lords weren't really explored enough.

Also the Duke is the best husbando in the whole game- Fight me! >:3

TW/Tags: GN = Gender Neutral, I normally forget to properly name it when it's gender neutral, most of the time I just say "reader" // maybe ooc // lazy genderbent, I'm terrible with names // size difference // servant reader // mentions of gore/cuts/bruises/blood and deaths (and torture- I'm so sorry-) // reader gets hurt // mentions of vomiting

It's Dinner Already [Yandere!M!Dimitrescu x GN!Reader - Short Fanfiction]

It's dinner time already, unfortunately for you, of course.

It feels almost like a routine at this point- Which in a way, it is! You always take care of your tasks during the day, while dreading the inevitable time for dinner to arrive again.

Everyday, at this exact same hour, you and the other servants would prepare a meal for Lord Dimitrescu and his lovely… Sons…

As someone who has started "working" for their family only a month ago, you can positively say: Starving in the cold woods next to your village would have probably been a more merciful death than the ones you have witnessed at this place. You weren't as accustomed to such brutal executions at your village, actually you hardly even witnessed so much death, at least not so up close.

When you came here, you didn't expect to be instantly comforted and treated with respect- You were a commoner looking for an possibility to thrive in a noble's house, you were basically an easy target for any entitled selfish lord to easily belittle you and make you work for them until your hands would turn to dust. Yet nothing could have prepared you for such an odd situation.

Vampires. Monsters. Fiends if you were bold enough to insult them. You weren't exactly welcomed as much as you were snatched in and now forever trapped inside this castle. You can still hear their laughter… Their insane expressions of pure glee, the way they have bursted into maliciously laughing at your pain as you screamed for help trying to open up their door again and be free from that nightmare.

The chase didn't last even a second, they stabbed your legs with their scythes and brought you deeper inside this hellhole, as you cried your eyeballs out. The sons had brought you back inside so their father could take a look at the "intruder".

An absolute titan amongst the mortals. His height was only a sick reminder of how much power he had over the castle, over his sons, and now- Over you.

He may not have been as massive as he was threatening as you remind him to be, but at the time you were just in awe of his height considering you have never seen someone as tall and as mighty.

Then again- You have never seen vampires as well. Were they the same vampires as the books you've read as a kid? You weren't so sure of it…

You were hoping that if you begged for life and for forgiveness for having disturbed their peace, that they could spare you and let you go back to your village. Sadly enough, you commented on how you were only trying to look for a job as a servant.

You probably shouldn't have given them ideas, but it's too late to think about your mistakes now, however.

The sons begged to see your blood spilled, yet Lord Dimitrescu was merciful enough to grant you your "wish", as he said.

It has been a month ever since you were trapped inside and forced to work as a miserable little servant, and even if you didn't suffer the worst forms of punishments that they had in-store for you, you couldn't help but fantasize about just running away and never turning back.

You're so tired of this castle, of the smell of carnage, of the undeserved and over the top punishments, and especially of the people who would subjugate you to such things.

But at last, it's dinner time already, and you can't keep them waiting.

You feel your hands shaking as you walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room where the masters of the castle were so graciously waiting for you. You know what they're waiting for- But you can't let them distract you, for those that commit accidents are faced with fates worse than death.

Although you would rather do this process quickly, you can't afford mistakes to happen, so you take your time to set not only their meal in front of each one but to also pour "wine" into their glasses. You do all of this without looking directly into their eyes, only bowing down to each one and saying "excuse me"s in what they would call a "decent tone", as the smell of their disgusting beverage starts to irritate your nostrils. If you didn't know the main ingredient to Sanguis Virgins is, you probably wouldn't have this immense disgust over it, but right now just the thought of it makes you want to gag.

Only villains could so easily drink blood, and still make a living out of it.

Your internal thoughts of pure hatred against this whole situation almost completely blinded you to the fact that they were eerily, very quiet.

….

On most nights they would be talking with each other while occasionally making comments about you or your presence. Obviously they were all pretty nasty comments that they somehow expected you to back it up in some way or another, it's when they try to insert you into their conversation that makes you hate this occasion so badly, but it normally ends as quickly as it begins.

But as you are pouring wine to Lord's Dimitrescu, you notice that they haven't said a single thing while you were there. You stop what you're doing as you realize that they were silently observing you this whole time, and as you look into their expressions you come to think that maybe you have messed up-

Somehow, in some way or form, you may have messed up- And the fact this mistake could cost your head only agitates your already very worried mind.

….

A small moment of silence continues before the middle son, Cassandro, starts to chuckle in an almost innocent way- As if he was a kid who just said a bad word for the first time- And as he bursts into sudden laughter, Daniel leans towards Bello and loudly whispers:

"- I told you, they do this every time." To which Bello only replied with:

"- It's almost like hypnosis in a way."

The three sons were mesmerized by your ability to trap yourself in your own mind. They're probably aware that you do this as a defensive mechanism but they still find it comical in a weird way. You feel yourself get more tense as you look up at Lord Dimitrescu and see him staring back at you, with an unreadable expression across his face.

Before you could come up with an excuse to whatever you may have caused to disturb their dinner, the Lord himself spoke.

"- How inappropriate. As my sons, you three should know better than to laugh at our servant's airheaded mind-"

And as he said that, their smiles begin to disappear and be replaced with frowns and a bit of shame as they become stiff at their father's words.

"- And how inappropriate of you, too. To be so distracted in the presence of your masters, that's quite rude don't you think?"

But as he continued their bodies begin to relax once again as they realize he wasn't focusing on them- He was focusing on you.

Words have completely disappeared from your vocabulary as you start to think that maybe you won't be able to see another day after their meal is over. You try to mumble some possible responses before getting interrupted by him once again.

"- It's very rude, so very rude in fact that I think we deserve some answers. What were you so distracted about? What were you thinking that could have possibly taken over your small little head?"

Right now, he was sounding a bit condescending, thankfully not as angry as he would have been with the other servants right about now. Every little mistake was used as excuses for punishments- And if you were walking on thin ice before, right now you are one-step closer to breaking this entire lake and getting yourself killed by the freezing temperatures of the water below you.

Thanks to your luck (or maybe lack thereof, depending on how you see this) Daniel came to "your rescue" by coming up with an excuse for you.

"- Maybe they were hungry." He said without any indications of it being a joke or a lie- As the youngest yet craziest of the bunch, he always had that weird "naive yet dangerous" energy coming from him. He was naive enough to make that statement when it's very clear that you actually despise being near them, but he still was a son of Dimitrescu.

You know better than to underestimate any of these people.

The Lord didn't seem completely convinced as he side eyed Daniel who was blissfully eating his meal without acknowledging his dad's glance or his brother's looks of disapproval.

Without a warning you were pulled closer by your wrist and forced into sitting next to the Lord, who made a sign for another servant to bring you your food. This… Doesn't feel right at all, you're waiting for the worst to come yet you don't feel like you can ever prepare yourself enough for what they have in store.

"- M-My Lord- This isn't needed, I'm fine. I'll just continue my duties, if you can excuse me-" You plead, while trying to get up from your chair.

"- Oh but what host would I be if I didn't take better care of my guests? Poor thing, you must be starving if you can barely serve us wine-" And as his tone gets progressively more sarcastic and a bit louder, you can hear his sons snickering from the other side of the table, but you can't see them since you can't take your eyes away from him.

You're worried that if you look away for just one second, that you may not be able to see ever again.

"- It's so sad when one of our guests feels hungry- What's worse is when we are also very, very hungry."

"- Thirsty, even!"

"- Oh, I can feel my throat drying just at the thought of such misery!- Our dinner seems to be ruined."

You hear their whispers, you hear how they are clearly joking about this- How overly dramatic they're being over something so miniscule as you just- Ignoring them.

Let me remind you this is all because you refuse to look them in the eyes, that you refuse to give them any satisfaction for the heinous things they have done! You've seen so many people get hurt inside this castle only for their sick and twisted thirst and entertainment.

"- Indeed, my boys. My appetite is ruined, though dinner is not over yet-" Lord Dimitrescu spoke as he looked at his sons clearly enjoying your inevitable pain, but before he could continue he turns himself to you again, putting a hand on your arm and saying:

"- Wouldn't you agree?" Loud enough so that his sons could hear it, but soft enough to send the tiniest shivers down your spine.

"- …!"

"- No, no- Please, not again!-" He wouldn't dare do this, would he??

But before you could react he had already done it, you barely noticed how fast he had grabbed that knife to slice your wrist- His hand firmly gripping your arm as he made a deep enough cut so that your blood could be easier to access.

It somehow hurts just as badly as the first time his sons have stabbed your ankles and dragged you across the floor- At least you're not bumping into things like before, and even if it's a deep cut it's not as big as it could be if he used his claws to actually do this.

Oh, oh those claws- You almost thought he would use them on you… Those were something else. You can't remember exactly what happened, and why it happened, but you remember seeing him use those on another servant who may have crossed the line at some point.

Well "crossed the line"- More like "casually inconvenienced him". Lord Alcino may act like an incredibly high noble but he acts so childishly and in such an egotistical manner that you are surprised he can even have a castle like this in the first place! You don't remember what the servant has done to be so cruelly dismantled, but you don't doubt that it was for a stupid reason!

You miss that servant actually- Probably the only person who you actually talked with, and the first one to actually taught you how to do your job… You two could have been friends if he didn't intervene.

You briefly remember those moments before getting to experience the most weird sensation of all- Having your bloody cut be licked and sucked on. It hurts and it stings in a way that not only makes you want to cry but to also gag at the thought of you feeding this monster.

You refuse to look at him even in this scenario, you refuse to see him feeding off your blood… Sometimes you wish you were just as poisonous as some species of frogs, poisonous enough to make his mouth burn so he can experience a fraction of the pain he causes to others.

You tried fleeting away, you tried getting up and moving away but his grip on your arm only helped you in getting closer to him- You have your eyes closed as your only option is to cry and muffle your agony.

But as always, he is not satisfied with you just ignoring him. This was supposed to be a lesson, yet you're clearly avoiding your teacher as best as you can- But not today, little flower, you're not getting out of this so easily.

This is the first time he ever got to really taste your blood, as normally you would be behind the other servants while trying to learn how to please him, the only moments where he gets to see you is when it's dinner time, but oh- You're just so cruel!

Escaping inside your own little head while he has to content himself with just your image. Your presence is very much appreciated around this hour, little one-

He has noticed this before, of course, but it was only when he noticed his son's curiosity over the way you behave around them that made him organize this little trap. He didn't have everything planned actually, his plan only involved getting to this moment no matter what- And oh boy, has luck been on his side!

Your blood tastes better than expected of a commoner, your delicate and fearful whines of pain are just as delightful but what really gets him is this tough persona you try to convince everyone you have- You despise him, and it's clear to see why- But he knows his charms will probably work on you one way or the other.

He gripped your face trying to make sure you'll get to him in the eyes as he has a taste of you. Absolutely delicious, especially after you so gracefully "ruined" their dinner.

His sons were just watching as they continued to drink from their crimson glasses. They were just enjoying the show, as everything seems to easily amuse them- Their father was just showcasing how they were so much better than the common folk, and they have no other option but to take notes and to remember what they have to do if they ever feel ignored by the servants in the castle: Show who are the true masters of this place.

None of them were really interested in drinking from you, considering how all three seemed to recognize how their father has taken a liking towards you. No one would dare mess with their father's prey.

If you had enough strength in you, you would start vomiting as soon as this has started, but the more he takes from you the more you feel like you can barely stay conscious.

He wasn't supposed to take so much, at least not so soon- He wanted to just take a sip but he can't deny the fact he would rather drown himself in your blood than to let go.

He sighs, as he notices that you're slowly getting less and less aggressive, getting more and more tired as he drains you from this cut.

You're not unconscious yet, just barely stable enough to understand what's going on.

"- Sigh… Now that was a decent enough meal." He can't praise you for being tasty, can't have you being cocky around him.

"- Here, since I'm done here I'll take you to the servant's living quarters- And because I'm so kind I'll make sure that wound is safely secured and cleaned, so here- Come along now."

And as he stood up he offered you his hand so you could get up yourself, but you don't have enough energy to walk yourself to your room, thankfully you're already ready to go to bed and wish to never wake up again.

And as the nightmare never ends, he decides that if you are going to be difficult then you leave him no choice but to carry you there. How much has he taken from you?? Jesus, he should learn some self-control before doing this again- The absolute brute that he is.

Your vision may be a little screwed over because of the lack of red cells running through your body at the moment- But you have a weird feeling that you two aren't heading towards the servant's living quarters, as you feel like you two are quite literally going in the opposite direction.

Oh but it's fine- Right?

It'll be fine. Surely. After all, he already took what he wanted from you, and he doesn't seem to need more so- You probably won't have to worry about anything right now, dinner time is already over, you can finally relax now….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

So I'm sick again- Sorry y'all, I just have a horrible immune system and I really don't understand what is wrong with me-

I'm sorry if you didn't like this boo :(

#sheep's stuff #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere vampire x reader #yandere lady dimitrescu #yandere lord dimitrescu #yandere lord dimitrescu x reader #gn!reader #yandere fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere short fanfiction #special delivery request #special delivery short fanfiction #m!lady dimitrescu #male lady dimitrescu

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dolcezzasfantasy · 3 years

Text

a good kind of fire

prompt | Character A runs a flower shop downtown. Character B is terribly allergic to flowers. ~ for @wkemeup's writing challenge for 9k

pairing | bucky barnes x reader, modern!au

word count | 2.5k (i am now emotionally invested in these characters)

warnings | bucky and reader being awkward as hell, chaotic texting, innuendoes (blink and you'll miss it)

notes | i didn't know i could still submit entries to the challenge haha, i was rlly upset i'd missed the train on it

you'll find out why this is the gif i picked when you read it 😭💀

it was a peaceful spring morning. you heard the chirping of the birds from almost every window in your apartment. sunlight was also seeping in through every window. it was a good start to the day.

today was the day you went into work late. when you had quit your job at an office as a receptionist to pursue your dream of being a florist, you thought you would be working on your own terms. while that was still true for the decorating and choosing flowers part of your job, it certainly wasn’t for the timings. if anything, the timings were more strenuous now that you had to manage shop all by yourself.

you would have to go in at 6 in the morning and leave at 10 in the night with a total time of 17 minutes free throughout for an entire year, before you realised how unhealthy it was for you. you had quickly drawn up a schedule for yourself. once a month you would come in late, and one more time that month you would leave early. it worked well for you.

you would look forward to these two days in a month: the first tuesday of the month being the one you left early and the third wednesday of the month being the one you came in late.

usually, on the days you came in late, you’d sleep in. but today, you wanted to change it up. the morning was a beautiful one, it would be a shame to spend it all inside.

you decided to go to a cafe that your friends had recommended on more than one occasion. good coffee, delicious snacks and cute baristas. you shook your head disapprovingly at how dirtily their minds worked. sometimes, you couldn’t believe you were friends with them of all the 2.6 million people in brooklyn.

you stepped out of your apartment. as you walked out, you waved to your elderly neighbours. back when you had first opened shop, they were your regulars. they’d keep buying even if they didn’t need flowers. you didn’t know where you’d be without their help.

after fifteen minutes of walking and checking the directions on your phone to see if you were going on the right path, you found it. the howling brasserie.

the moment you entered the shop, you realised your friends were right. not about the coffee or the snacks — not yet, anyway — but about the bartenders. holy shit, you thought.

there was a tall blonde man with a smile that could kill, another tall black man who you just knew was incredibly charming and a beautiful red haired woman who looked like she had a flirtatious demeanour. but one man in particular caught your attention.

he was a tall man — six feet tall, at least — with broad shoulders, messy brown hair and crystal blue eyes. you gulped. pull yourself together.

you took a seat at the table furthest away from the baristas. you did not need to come into work flushed and distracted.

you hadn’t been sitting at your table for one minute when you heard a voice above you.

‘ma’am, your order?’

you looked up. oh, my god. it was the same blue eyed man. calm down. he looked even prettier up close. your eyes fell to his chest — you tried your best to stop that from happening, you really did — and you noticed how the t-shirt he was wearing was doing absolutely nothing to conceal his muscular form.

‘ma’am?’ he repeated, a small smile on his face. maybe he noticed that you were staring. he was probably used to it.

‘uh, right, sorry,’ you cleared your throat. you wanted to jump off the golden gate bridge. ‘um, what would you recommend?’ oh, my god, stop embarrassing yourself! you yelled mentally.

‘uh,’ he looked behind to the board with all the products the cafe offered, ‘are you more of a coffee or a tea person?’

‘coffee, absolutely.’

he laughed. you felt your cheeks burn. his laugh was just as pretty as him. dear lord, y/n, what the hell is wrong with you?

‘aren’t we all?’ he joked. ‘anyway, the cold coffee here is splendid. and i’m not just saying that because i work here.’

you had never really fancied iced coffee much. maybe it was time to change that. ‘oh, okay! yeah, i love iced coffee! i’ll take that.’ your voice sounded a lot higher than it normally was.

‘alright, i’ll be right back.’

he left to go behind the counter and make your coffee. sweet mother of everything that is pure, you thought as your gaze fell upon his muscular arms. you tried to push all the unwelcome thoughts in your head that followed.

you were just regaining your composure when he showed up again, this time with your coffee in his hands.

‘here ya go,’ he said, placing the cup in front of you. ‘enjoy,’ he smiled.

if you were standing, you were a hundred percent sure your knees would have buckled under you and made you fall.

you smiled back. ‘thank you.’

the moment he walked away, you picked up your phone and frantically texted your best friend, wanda.

| cUTE GUY ALERT

| what?

| i’m at that coffee shop you recommended

| howling brasserie?

| YES OMG THE BARISTA HERE IS SO CUTE IM GONNA DIE

| lmaoooo calm down bestie

| HOW

| describe him pls

| he’s like six feet tall, messy brown hair, pretty blue eyes and he is so muscular i-

| omg go for it

| r u out of ur mind

| why

| he is sO OUT of my league

| ugh you’re no fun

| :/

you downed the last of your coffee and walked up to the counter to pay for it. thanks to your luck, the cute barista was also handling the cash register.

‘hello again,’ he grinned.

‘hi, um, how much do i pay?’

‘this your first time here?’

‘yep.’

‘on the house.’

‘what?’

‘yep. don’t worry about it.’

‘that’s too kind, i can’t!’

‘you absolutely can,’ he smiled.

‘let me leave a tip at least.’

‘don’t worry about it, doll.’ the nickname, oh, my god, the nickname. ‘you can pay the next time you visit.’

‘right, of course.’ maybe you should make visiting this coffee shop your ritual. and take more breaks, like your regulars insisted.

he waved you goodbye.

as you walked to your shop, you realised you hadn’t caught his name. you had been too enamoured to check for a name tag. damn it.

the next wednesday morning, you went again. you had wanda take care of the shop. you let her take 10% of the proceeds when she was working as compensation.

when you entered the coffee shop, your gaze traveled all over the place. you couldn’t find him. maybe he had a different shift. you considered walking out, but that would be rude. so you sat down in the corner you had last time.

you saw the red haired woman walk towards your table, but when she was less than three metres away, the door swung open. it was him. he was carrying a box. his gaze landed on you, then the woman, and he rushed to drop the box.

you saw him approach the woman and tell her something. she handed him her notepad, and walked to the kitchen. he then came to your table.

‘i’ve been waiting all week for your money,’ he teased.

you laughed. ‘and you shall get it soon.’

‘the same?’

‘yep.’

his gaze lingered at you for a few more seconds before he walked back to the kitchen to grab your coffee.

that day, when you were about to leave after you paid for your coffee, just as you were about to walk away, he rushed up to you.

‘hey,’ he said, in between laboured breaths.

‘hi,’ you said. what? ‘you okay?’

‘yep. absolutely.’

‘gotta get that morning jog in, i suppose,’ you joked.

‘right,’ he laughed. ‘i just, um, for some reason, thought you should know my name.’

‘oh?’ you squealed mentally.

‘yep. it’s bucky, by the way.’

‘bucky,’ you said. ‘right, i’m y/n.’ you stretched your hand out.

‘pleasure to meet you, y/n.’ your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say your name.

‘the pleasure is all mine,’ you managed to say without stuttering.

it became a tradition for you to come every week. wanda was more than happy to let you shoot your shot. you may or may not have led her to believe you planned on asking him out soon. which you didn’t. it was a ridiculous idea.

you stopped leaving early each month to make up for the lost time. it was worth it, because soon meeting bucky had become the best part of your day, week and morning.

it was your fourth trip to the cafe when you and bucky had a full conversation.

he had just brought you your coffee, when you noticed he stood around for longer than usual.

‘i’m sorry, do i pay now?’ you asked.

‘no, no. i just, um, i have a break right about now.’

‘oh, good for you,’ you smiled.

‘yeah. would you, um, mind if i sat down here?’

‘with me?’

‘yeah.’ he ran his hands through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

‘yeah,’ you felt your face heat up, ‘yeah, absolutely.’

‘great.’ he sat down in front of you.

you felt him look at you as you sipped your coffee. ‘do you want to talk?’

‘god, i’m sorry, i have a bit of a staring problem, or at least i’ve been told.’

you laughed. ‘it’s okay.’

‘so, um, tell me about yourself.’

‘what do you wanna know?’

‘what do you do for a living?’

‘i own a shop downtown.’

‘really?’

‘yep.’

‘what do you sell?’

‘maybe you should come find out.’

‘mysterious. i like that,’ he chuckled. ‘text me the address and i’ll stop by someday.’

‘alright.’

he stared at you for a second.

‘staring problem,’ you reminded him with a smile.

‘right, sorry,’ he laughed. ‘just, uh, how are you gonna text me?’

of course. ‘um, i don’t know.’

‘maybe i should give you my number.’

‘maybe.’

he wrote down something in a messy scrawl on his notepad, tore the page, folded it up and slid it across the table to you. checking his watch, he said, ‘as much as i hate to leave you here, my break has ended. until next week,’ he smiled.

‘until next week,’ you nodded. you unfolded the paper.

his number was there. below it, messy handwriting read, you can call me if you want too <3

you were almost completely certain you were grinning like an idiot.

he came to visit the next day. you were helping an elderly woman pick out what to get for her grandson’s wedding when your phone rang.

‘go on, take it,’ the woman told you.

‘i’m so sorry, i won’t be long.’

you headed behind your counter. it was bucky.

‘hey. isn’t there a rule for this in the bro code or something?’

‘not to my knowledge, no.’

‘the rule where you’re not supposed to call someone if it’s been less than three days?’

he laughed. ‘how do you know that?’

‘i have a few guy friends.’

‘anyone i should be worried about?’

you chuckled. ‘nope.’

‘the rule doesn’t apply to special people.’

‘you flatter me.’

‘i'm glad.’ you just knew he was flashing his thousand megawatt smile at the other end. ‘anyway, what’s your shop’s name? i’m here but i don’t know where your shop is.’

‘oh, it’s the one called blooming shield.’

‘interesting name.’

‘i came up with it when i was drunk,’ you laughed.

‘it’s still pretty good.’

you spotted him out the window of your shop. his back was turned to you.

you rushed out of your door, still on the phone with him. you tapped him on the shoulder.

‘oh, god,’ he practically yelped. you winced and cut the call immediately.

‘sorry about that.’

‘it’s alright.’ his features softened into a smile.

‘do you wanna head inside?’

‘yeah, sure.’ he had an uneasy kind of look on his face, but you brushed it off.

you took him inside.

‘so, why’d you decide to become a florist?’

‘um, i just really like flowers, i suppose. nothing too profound,’ you laughed.

‘interesting.’

‘yeah.’ you led him through the aisles.

‘hibiscus is my favourite flower,’ you told him. you saw him breathing deeper than usual, and his nose was turning slightly red.

‘hey, are you alright?’ you asked him.

‘yeah,’ he almost wheezed, ‘i’m great.’ then he sneezed. ‘oh, my god, i am so sorry.’

‘bucky, are you allergic to pollen?’ you asked him, the worry prevalent in your voice.

‘no,’ his gaze landed on the floor. ‘maybe.’

‘dear lord,’ you said as you practically dragged him out of your store. ‘why didn’t you tell me?’

‘i’m sorry.’ it sounded more like i'm sowwy.

‘bucky, i’m gonna take you to my apartment. is that okay? i have a bunch of antihistamines and decongestants there.’

he nodded.

you put your arm around him. it must have been a strange sight, to see someone of your stature almost carry a man that broad shouldered and taller than most through the streets.

when you reached the apartment, you opted for the elevator for the first time in your life.

‘bucky, why didn’t you tell me?’ you said in the elevator.

‘i didn’t want to let you down,’ you barely heard his murmur.

you took his face into your hand. ‘you would’ve been okay with me almost killing you, though?’

‘you didn’t almost kill me,’ he smiled.

‘i could’ve.’

‘maybe.’

you laughed.

when the elevator reached your floor, you pushed him out — with great struggle — and almost threw him onto the couch when you opened the door.

‘god, i am so sorry,’ you said, frantically, as you looked in your cabinets for the medicine.

‘it’s okay, i deserve it.’

you almost tripped over yourself as you ran to where he was sitting.

‘okay,’ you handed him a glass of water, one yellow pill and one white pill, ‘take these.’

he downed them quickly.

‘are you better?’

‘a little.’

‘that’s good.’

‘you really should have told me.’

‘i know, i just didn’t want to ruin it.’

‘i think you dying would’ve ruined it.’

he laughed. ‘you really are never gonna let this go, are you?

‘nope.’

‘i’m sorry i almost died on our first date.’

you looked at him with wide eyes. ‘was this?’

‘what?’

‘our first date?’

‘was it not? jesus, i misinterpreted it, argh, i’m sorry—’

‘no, i, uh, like the sound of that,’ you smiled.

‘well, now i’ve just ruined it beyond repair.’

‘maybe you can swing by for dinner and we can watch a movie afterwards,’ you suggested.

‘really?’

‘yep.’

‘that’d be great. what movie?’

you thought for a second. then, with a smile, you said, ’mean girls is good.’

‘right, i’ve heard quite a lot about that one. haven’t seen it, though.’

‘oh, my god. you haven’t seen mean girls?’

‘nope.’

‘where were you in high school?’

he laughed.

‘we have to watch this movie.’

‘alright.’ he grinned wide at you. your face was on fire. but a good kind of fire.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

thank you so much for reading! feedback is so, so appreciated! <3 please do not repost my work on any platform. reblogs are fine!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

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fangirl-writes · 3 years

Text

Kiss and Tell

5sos x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): swearing probably

Notes: the quarantine chats are dangerous. I could have made this fic so much longer than I did and I really wasn’t sure how to end it tbh 😅

Summary: You've kissed all the boys at some point or another so they call upon you to settle an argument.

“What.” You deadpanned when your face popped up on the screen.

“Y/N!”

You narrowed your eyes. They were all smiling at you a little too sweetly.

“What.”

“Why do you assume we want something from you?” Calum asked.

“Because you never fucking let me into these things unless you want me to do something,” You replied and they laughed. “So what do you want?”

“We need you to settle an argument,” Ashton said.

“About what?” You asked, taking a drink from your water bottle.

“Well, you know how you’ve kissed all of us at one point or another?”

You choked on your water and they burst into laughter again.

“Great, yeah, I could be dying over here and you fuckers are laughing. I feel the love.” You said, face heating up.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Luke said through his laughter.

“Who’s the better kisser, Y/N?” Michael asked, swaying back and forth in his seat.

“I’m not answering that!”

“Come on, Y/N!” Ashton encouraged. “The fans want to know!”

You groaned, burying your face into your sweater covered hands. “Couldn’t you have asked someone else?”

“All the other girls we know are biased! Plus you’re the only one who has kissed us all.”

“Oh,” Michael interjected, looking at the chat. “Speaking of, the fans would like to know the story for each of these kisses.”

You let out another loud groan that set them into another fit of laughter. “None of you fuckers told me this was live.”

“I can vouch for some scenarios,” Ashton said. “One of us was obviously present for each kiss, um” - he cleared his throat - “she kissed me...actually, some of you probably saw when she kissed me during a- aaah, what’re they called?”

“Keeks,” you said, coming out of your hiding.

“Shit, yeah, that’s right. It was a joke to a one direction song or something.” he replied. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, chat’s right. It was in a car and ‘kiss you’ by 1D was playing. So I puckered my lips towards her, as you do,”

The other boys and you laughed.

“And, uh, she let me kiss her. Like the song says.”

“And I regret that decision every day.” You said.

“Oh!”

“Ooh.”

“Harsh.”

“Ouch,” Ashton said, smiling. “That- that was only a peck though, you didn’t even get the full Ashton experience.”

You wrinkled your nose and stuck your tongue out at him. He stuck out his right back.

“She kissed me in a game of spin the bottle,” Michael piped up.

“When we were fifteen,” You said. “And I remember you used way too much tongue.”

Michael blushed a little bit. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining,”

“You were fifteen, bro, she was just happy to be kissed,” Calum said, making the group laugh.

“Yeah, imagine having to watch that,” Luke said. “It was pretty gross but Y/N seemed to enjoy it at the time.”

You laughed. “Like Cal said, I was just happy to be kissed,” you said, winking at Michael.

He rolled his eyes with a grin. “Ouch,”

“I think you kissed me during one of the old music videos, right Y/N?” Luke asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, but I think it got cut from the final thing. I don’t remember which one it was.”

“Was it She Looks So Perfect?” Calum asked.

“No, I don’t think so,”

“Oh my gosh!” Michael exclaimed. “Remember when we tried to get Y/N to run into the shot in her bra and a pair of American Apparel underwear?”

The group erupted into laughter.

“Oh my god, yeah!”

“And she would jump into Luke’s arms at the end?”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“I couldn’t believe you guys even had the guts to ask me that.” You said. “I told them no, of course, but they didn’t drop the subject the entire time they were filming.”

“So it definitely wasn’t She Looks So Perfect.”

“No,”

“Was it Don’t Stop?”

"Nah, she kissed Calum on the cheek in that one,”

Calum giggled, a small blush spreading across his face.

“Wasn’t one of the recent ones was it? Not No Shame or Easier?”

“No, definitely not, we’d have remembered that.”

“Fuck was it something from Youngblood?”

“Not Girls Talk Boys was it?”

“No, no, no,”

“Jesus, how many music videos am I in?”

“I think you’re in them all.”

“I’m in all of them?” You said, shocked.

“You didn’t know that?” Ashton replied.

“No, I didn’t know that. I mean I knew I was in a lot but I didn’t think it was them all.”

“Yeah, you always have some sort of cameo,” Luke said. “Even in Try Hard though you refused to ride the Rollercoaster.”

“Fuckin’ hate those things,”

“Oh, found it!” Michael exclaimed, a video playing in the reflection of his glasses. “It was in Good Girls, but it was cut.”

“Thought so,” You replied.

“It was during that slowed down, echo-y part.” Michael continued, dragging the video back a little bit.

“Oh, yeah, they had you jump up on stage and just, like, aggressively kiss Luke,” Ashton said.

You all laughed.

“Yeah. I remember that now. They wanted me to be one of the bad girls which I am absolutely not-”

“What do you mean? That song was about you.”

“I think the fuck not Mr. Irwin.”

That brought on more laughing.

“Yeah, don’t go looking that up,” You said. “Let’s just say there’s a reason it was cut.”

“It’s really not that bad,” Michael defended.

“I disagree, I’ve seen it.”

“I’m not sure how to feel about your strong emotions about this, Y/N,” Luke said with a laugh.

You laughed in return. “Trust me, Luke-ster, you were not the problem.”

“We’re getting off topic here,” Ashton interrupted. “How was the kiss, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes, a small blush creeping across your cheeks. “It...wasn’t that bad... Better than Michael’s anyway.”

“Hey!”

You laughed and Luke shot you a wink through the camera.

“From the video it looks like you were enjoying it, Y/N,” Michael said with a smirk, getting you back for the comment.

“Fuck off Michael it was acting,”

"Mm hm, whatever you say,”

Your face was hot as you remembered it. The director had wanted it to be hot and intense. Wanted you to act like the girl from the song, which was hard for you on its own but you also had to full on kiss Luke in front of a whole bunch of people.

You were glad it got cut.

“The chat says it was hot,” Ashton read with a laugh.

You groaned. “After that behind the scenes video was released fucking (You + Luke’s Ship Name) was all over the place.”

Luke laughed. “I got tagged in a shit ton of Tweets, too.”

You nodded in agreement. “Not that I haven’t been shipped with all of you at one point or another,”

“I bet there’s still some fanfiction out there,” Michael said.

You laughed. “You would know,”

“When’d you kiss Calum?” Ashton asked.

“Drunk at a party,” Calum answered for you, sheepishly.

You gave him a lopsided grin. “That’s super dumb, Cal, I’m sorry.”

He laughed. “It’s okay,”

“You’re apologizing for kissing him?” Luke asked, grinning.

You blushed, laughing. “I guess?”

“That doesn’t totally count, you were drunk!” Ashton said.

“What you want me to kiss him again?”

“Maybe!”

You were all sent into a fit of laughter.

“See? Why do you guys even need me here? You know the stories.” You said, wiping your eyes from laughing so much.

“Because we can’t say who the best kisser is! And neither can any of our girlfriends. You are our unbiased party.”

“How do you know I’m unbiased?” You teased, putting them into a talking-over-each-other frenzy. You laughed. “Seriously, guys, all of those kisses were so long ago. I can’t give a good answer.”

“We just all need to kiss you again,” Luke joked.

“No way!” You protested.

“Why not?” Ashton asked.

“Because you have girlfriends! And that’d be weird...”

“I gotta agree with her,” Michael said. “She’s our sister from another mister, it’d be weird.”

“Sister from another mister?”

“Shut up, Luke,”

“Okay, well, now that I’ve slacked off you with guys for a while I should get back to work,” You said.

“You work for us, what could you possibly have to be doing right now?”

“Unlike you boys, I actually do work.”

They laughed.

“This is our work! We’re catering to our audience.” Michael said.

“Whatever you say,” You replied with a smile. “See you, guys.”

“Bye Y/N!”

You left the meeting and opened your twitter.

‘I’m not kissing them so don’t ask’

#5sos x reader #5sos x you #5sos x y/n #5sos imagine #calum hood x reader #ashton irwin x reader #luke hemmings x reader #michael clifford x reader #5 seconds of summer #5sos

744 notes · View notes

apixrl · 3 years

Text

DROWSY.

levi ackerman x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 3.4k

song: before i close my eyes // xxxtentacion

note(s): soft levi lives in my head rent free and that's perfectly okay he can stay for as long as he wants to

Your hand pressed against your back as you stretched, stifling a yawn that echoed through the hallway. You swore you could hear your joints wailing out in distress, every step feeling as though you were dragging a weight behind you that was five times your size. Your bed was calling out to you in more ways than you could count, the idea of snuggling under the covers absolutely heavenly.

It had been a long and tiresome day, to say the least. After waking up early and in bright spirits, you made the decision to go on a long morning jog. To ready yourself for a presumably easy day. But those words came back to bite you when Captain Levi dropped you and your comrades into an intense training segment that lasted all morning. Then proceeded a heavy clean of headquarters in the afternoon. Ordered to rid the underside of the tables of dust and to clear those sneaky corners of muck that had festered far too long. To put a long story short; you were about ready to drop dead on the floor by the time evening rolled on by.

You loved Levi with all your heart, but unfortunately, your relationship with him didn't come with any bonuses. Yes, you saw a softer side on occasion, but the man never allowed bias to take over during work hours. You were treated the same as the others; a soldier in the ranks. A member of Levi's squad. When you did right you were praised and when you did wrong you served the consequences. Levi would set you on a thirty lap run around the camp perimeter if he saw fit, and there was no getting out of it. As much as you could complain, you knew it was for the best. When it came down to it, Levi was your superior as well as his partner and there had to be some line between the two.

Plodding along the hallway, your bedroom door up ahead was your saviour. You could practically taste the sweet rest waiting for you on the other side. Though just before you could reach your salvation, a voice from the neighbouring room stopped you in your step and tore you away from it.

"Y/N,"

Levi.

It would be lying to say you didn't whimper, so close to a good night's sleep yet so far all in one go. But you weren't so selfish that you'd ignore your lover's call because you were simply exhausted. Yes, you considered it... but resisting the urge gave you credibility, right?

Regardless, you exhaled a sigh knowing it would be wrong not to respond. That man you called your partner had ears like a cat anyway. He probably heard you make your way down the hall or noticed your shadow under the door and had sensed your halt upon his call. So dragging your eyes away from the vision of your wonderfully made bed (Levi having been the one to tuck the sheets in that morning since he was the last one up. So no wonder you were fantasizing at the idea of collapsing on there) behind the door of your room, you set your gaze on the door to Levi's office instead.

You realised it was open just a tad, explaining Levi sensing your approach so easily. Pressing your hands against the wooden frame, you pushed it open and popped your head around the door, forcing your eyes open no matter how much they pleaded to close against the candlelight.

As expected, Levi was seated at the chair of his desk. Neck-deep in papers that he'd been working on most of the night. One shorter pile to the left and a taller one to the right - one pile waiting to be looked at whilst the other sat completed. You wondered which one that was... and prayed for Levi's sake it was the tallest pile to allow him a good night's sleep.

His greyed eyes didn't look up upon your entry, something you just managed to notice through the strands of wispy black locks atop Levi's head. That seemed to indicate he was focused on the task at hand, especially from the way his hand efficiently worked at the pieces of paper like it was on autopilot.

"Yes, love?" You asked, resting against the door for a brief moment as your tiredness caught up with you. If you had reacted to it a second later you believed you would have tipped over from loss of balance, and you were relieved when Levi spoke up once more - his voice jolting you upright.

"I need you to take some papers down to the Commander for me," Levi stated, a certain tone in his voice indicating his own form of tiredness. But you knew that rarely stopped him and his work, the man willing to stay up until the early hours of the morning just to get it finished.

His words made your body panic, unsure if it could muster a journey all the way to Erwin's whereabouts. You had barely walked up the stairs of headquarters well, let alone travelling back down them and then all the way back up again.

"It can't wait until tomorrow?" You tried, chewing the inside of your cheek gingerly. From the way Levi glanced over his wad of papers, grey eyes filled with doubt, you knew it was a longshot. "It's just late, that's all. You need to rest,"

"No," Levi ceased all action, slouching down in his seat briefly as his fingertips held the bridge of his nose. His version of a short break and a way to bury his annoyance down. It appeared to be one of those nights, where he was swamped with work and didn't have the opportunity to simply 'head to bed'. "I'm still nowhere near done, and I don't have the time to take the ones I've already looked at to Erwin because of that," It was there his hand propped up, elbow resting on his other which has splayed over his chest. He motioned you over, eyes skipping between you and the seat opposite him until you got the message.

You were delayed in realising, feeling guilty at your inability to proceed Levi's words. You heard them, but fatigue seemed to seize hold and throw them out the window before your brain could comprehend the meaning. You hoisted yourself off of the doorframe, letting the hinges squeak the door shut behind you as you made your way to Levi's desk. You then sat yourself down, hands pressed to the chair arms as your attention steered to your partner.

"Okay... so which pile am I taking?" Was your question, forcing a small smile to at least seem interested. The black-haired man straightened up, eyes skimming over the papers on his desk and seemingly on the floor too. That made your brow raise, head tilting to the side ever so slightly in wonder. What was behind the desk?

Levi proceeded to push his chair back with his feet, his head quickly disappearing under the table as if to grab something. You rested your cheek in your palm as you waited, a hint of a frown as you waited. Your assumptions were correct as, after a few seconds of scuffling around, Levi reappeared from under the desk - standing up to place yet another pile of paper wherever his desk had the space to hold it.

"This one," He addressed, exhaling heavily once he was comfortable in his seat again. Just when you thought that was it, Levi pushed the taller pile of papers forward as well, and it would be wrong to say you were joyful of the sight. In fact, you were very much dismayed, the sight of the multiple piles of papers meaning more than one trip.

Suddenly you wished the shorter pile was the finished one.

"And this one," Levi spoke with little character as per usual, gazing upon the piles of papers like they were nothing more than a pile of dirt. Clearly, he had experienced little joy going through them, but work never got done whilst complaining. The only words ringing in his mind to convince Levi to get his head down and focus. "You'll probably need to take two trips,"

"You don't say," You commented and sighed to yourself. For hours you had awaited your mattress and now look at you, even further away from reaching it as before. It was a big shame you woke up in such an energetic mood and was ending the day feeling like you couldn't lift a finger. "And if I cant find Commander Erwin?"

"He should be in his office," Levi returned. "But if not, place the right pile on his desk," He then gestured to the left, hand pressing on top for emphasis. "This one will need sorting, however. Just separate the tags in the stack and the drawer they belong in is on there. It shouldn't take you too long, just make sure the files are in the right place or Erwin won't be pleased. Oh, and try not to drop them, please? I'd rather not lose four hours worth of work because of your two left feet -," Levi was cut short by a sound he was not at all expecting. A snorting noise caught him off guard, but when he looked up at you in question the answers quickly came pouring in.

It appeared in Levi's ramble you had grown bored. As there you were, head lolling forwards as your arm tried to prop it up, eyes closed and snoring away to your heart's content. Levi quirked a brow at your behaviour, then scoffed lightly. The man couldn't say he was surprised, of course you would nod off to sleep exactly when he needed your help. At a time where he was swamped with things to do and an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt.

"Y/N," He tried after a minute or so passed, Levi frowning at the lack of response. If anything, the snoring grew louder. It was there he tried again, a little more firmly and loudly but still, nothing.

Typical.

Levi sat there in silence and disbelief, watching your frame rise and fall with each intake of breath. Meanwhile, you simply slept on without a care in the world, but it's not like he could leave you there. Leaving you sleeping in such a way was bound to cause a nasty neck and backache the following morning. So with a sigh, Levi hoisted himself out of his chair and walked around his desk to your side. Then he knelt down to your level, hand landing on your shoulder to give you a gentle but firm shake.

"Y/N," Levi spoke, a little softer this time, all whilst trying to nudge you awake. It appeared you had only lightly nodded off, as, after three or four shakes, you stirred out of your little nap. Your eyes shot open to meet Levi's observing you closely, a hint of a frown to his face as he did. In your state you barely noticed though, too busy trying to shake off your drowsiness but failing miserably as your eyes merely drooped more.

"Levi?" You mumbled tiredly, lifting your gaze towards your lover, puzzled over why he was so close to you. "What is it?"

"You fell asleep," Levi said with hesitancy, glancing away from you for a second before he continued. "Is everything alright?"

"Hm? Yes... everything's fine," You reassured, sending him a reassuring smile. Levi narrowed his gaze, prompting you to keep going. "It's just been a long day, that's all,"

"I see," Levi nodded, noticing your lack of attentiveness and sleepy demeanour. All of which you tried to force back through your smile. But Levi knew you better than that. He could see straight through the façade just how you could see straight through his, acting as though you were fine when it was truly quite the opposite. That was enough for Levi to suspect something was up, and that little switch in his head that differed between his role as Captain and partner flipped in an instant.

"Sorry... y-you were saying something before I dropped off weren't you?" You asked and pointed to the papers on the table. "Something about them?"

Levi turned to look at where you gestured, seeing the papers that still needed taking to Erwin. He contemplated still asking for your help, but it was obvious from just the way you looked alone that you were long desperate for rest. So exhaling a small sigh, Levi reluctantly cast his gaze back onto you and shook his head.

"No, don't worry about it," He allowed his hand to leave your shoulder and moved it to your face. Where he tucked a few loose strands of your H/C hair behind your ear, continuing. "It can wait until tomorrow,"

"Are you sure?" You asked through a yawn, leaning into the hand that Levi proceeded to support your cheek with. The subtle graze of his thumb over your cheekbone relaxing you to the point sleep nearly stole you from him once more.

As much as he disliked tampering with his organised routine, Levi knew sending you on errands whilst so tired would do you no good the next day. Perhaps he had pushed you a little far without realising, the thought running through his mind later on in the morning. You'd been lagging behind your comrades more than usual. Much opposing to you typically being at the front of the group and urging them on over the other way around. Whilst it wasn't as obvious in the afternoon, the strain in your expression as you scrubbed the floors and countertops had peeked its way through to him. Levi knew you in and out, and the frustration displayed ran much deeper than that of germs and bacteria. That was blatant now more than ever, so the least you deserved was a good night's rest. Just because he could run on little hours of sleep didn't mean you could.

"Yeah," Levi admired you under the dim light of his office after he spoke. Your inattentive gaze somehow continued to hold such focus as you looked back at him. The way you smiled with such love and yearn. How your cheek felt warm in his palm like he was holding the entire world. Which he was really. He was holding his entire world.

"Oh... okay," You said and your eyes drooped shut, not reopening. That brought Levi to act, blinking out of his daze and pulling himself to his feet with a sharp inhale.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," He said and slipped his arms around you, lifting you into their secure hold. You didn't protest, too tired to make a sound as you adjusted to the new position. A comfier position that ensured security and safety. One hand supported your back as Levi's bicep acted as your pillow and his spare arm hooked under your legs. You could feel the ever so gentle thump of Levi's heartbeat close to your ear, much opposing to his regular temperament - curt and firm and even quite harsh at the most.

Levi carried you out of his office, using his foot to open the door as he proceeded to venture down the hall to your shared bedroom. The place you had been going to before you were called to his aid. You kept your eyes closed the entire time but didn't nod off just yet, the bobbing motion of Levi's walk both drifting and stirring you from sleep. It wasn't long before Levi was pulling back the sheets whilst he only just managed to hold you with one arm. You made it easier by wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, giggling lightly to yourself when you almost slipped. Somewhere in Levi's silence, he found it amusing. Perhaps not verbally placed, but you sensed it nonetheless. Still, he downplayed it with concern, his hand pressing against your back to hold you closely against his frame.

He placed you down with care, hand only leaving your back once it rested on the mattress. Sliding it out, it returned to the sheets as he placed them back over you. Meanwhile, you watched through half-lidded eyes, following where Levi's gaze trailed. Mainly sticking to the sheets he tucked in for you out of the goodness of his heart, though flickered back to you on occasion. His eyes contained a warmth that opposed their normal grey colour. A warmth that he usually failed to place into the spoken word and resorted to showing it rather than saying it.

Eventually, Levi finished, his hands stopping their skilful movement and pressing into the pillow on either side of your head. He was silent for a moment, observing your tiresome state and realising just how fatigued he was too. He battled the urge to collapse on the bed beside you, pull you into his arms and fall fast asleep. To ignore his duties for just one night. Give himself a treat and spend the night snoozing away like the everyday citizen. But Levi knew that was irresponsible. He had been irresponsible enough leaving the paperwork so late. It also wasn't the life he had been fated to lead, regardless of how pleasant the idea may be in the subconscious of his mind.

"I still have a lot of work to do," He uttered no louder than a whisper, exhaling deeply in an apologetic sigh and hating the idea of traipsing back to his office to work. "I'll have to join you later but I'm guessing you'll be asleep,"

"It's okay," You hummed, head tilting to the side as an innocent smile formed on your face. "Do I get a kiss good night, at least?"

Levi couldn't fight the small chuckle that escaped him, head proceeding to hang forwards and shake too and fro at your words. He truly felt he didn't deserve you and the love you gave him. Always so understanding, never complaining about his packed work schedule. How you made him feel steady and kept him sane. Perhaps it was because you were a soldier too and knew how time-consuming the job was, but Levi was grateful for all of it. The man met your eyes, a certain radiance in them that he'd refrain from showing to anyone else other than you.

"You're twenty-nine years old and you act like a child," He remarked with no ill intent, the laugh that elicited from you music to his ears.

"Yeah, and you chose to -," You were cut off, Levi leaning forwards to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss. You hummed in approval, forgetting the words you planned to say and instead enjoyed the display of affection. Levi lingered longer than usual, an indirect apology for the fact he had to leave you with the bed half cold. You didn't question it, knowing Levi's work never truly stopped and granted him a break. The fact he'd even paused just to tuck you in comfortably was enough to satisfy your needs, whether Levi would believe that or not was up to him. But your eyes fell closed, both from bliss and sleep catching up to claim control.

Gradually your lips loosened on Levi's, indicating you had nodded off. He opened his eyes and pulled back in question, watching your head tilt faintly to the side as your pillow held its weight. Levi exhaled deeply, leaning down to plant one final kiss on your forehead. Then he hoisted himself off of the bed and walked to the door.

"Good night, Y/N," He said once there, glancing back at you one final time. From where he stood, you appeared merrily at peace. Finally grateful for the embrace of your bedsheets after a dragging day of nonstop training. Levi did feel somewhat bad for being a cause for your tiredness, knowing that he could sometimes be cruel when playing his 'Captain' role. But he couldn't favour you just because of his feelings, and the fact you rarely made that an issue provided him relief like no other. Still, Levi's guilt asserted as he closed the bedroom door quietly behind him.

Why... it wouldn't be terrible if he let you sleep in a little bit past the wake-up call, would it?

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman fluff #fluff #x reader #anime x reader

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thevalleyisjolly · 3 years

Note

Hi there! If you feel up to it, would you be willing to expand a bit more on the idea of white creators creating poc characters who are ‘internally white’, especially in a post-racialized or racism-free setting & how to avoid it? It’s something I’m very concerned about but I haven’t encountered a lot of info about it outside of stories set in real world settings. Thanks & have a good day!

Hey, thanks for asking, anon! It’s a pretty nuanced topic, and different people will have different takes on it. I’ll share my thoughts on it, but do keep in mind that other people of colour may have different thoughts on the matter, and this is by no means definitive! These are things I’ve observed through research, trial and error, my own experiences, or just learning from other writers.

The first thing I guess I want to clarify is that I personally am not opposed to a society without racism in fiction. It’s exhausting and frankly boring when the only stories that characters of colour get are about racism! So it’s a relief sometimes to just get to see characters of colour exist in a story without dealing with racism. That being said, I feel like a lot of the time when creators establish their settings as “post-racial,” they avoid racism but they also avoid race altogether. Not aesthetically -they may have a few or even many characters with dark skin- but the way the characters act and talk and relate to the world are “race-less” (which tends to end up as default white American/British or whatever place the creator comes from). Which I have complicated thoughts on, but the most obvious thing that springs to mind is how such an approach implies (deliberately or not) that racism is all there is to the way POC navigate the world. It’s definitely a significant factor, particularly for POC in Western countries, but it’s not the only thing! There’s so much more to our experiences than just racial discrimination, and it’s a shame that a lot of “post-racial” or “racism-free” settings seem to overlook that in their eagerness to not have racism (or race) in their stories.

A quick go-to question I ask when I look at characters of colour written/played by white creators is: if this was a story or transcript I was reading, with no art or actors or what have you, would I be able to tell that this character is a character of colour? How does the creator signal to the audience that this is a character of colour? A lot of the time, this signal stops after the physical description - “X has dark skin” and then that’s all! (We will not discuss the issue of racial stereotypes in depth, but it should be clear that those are absolutely the wrong way to indicate a character of colour).

This expands to a wider issue of using dark skin as a be-all-end-all indication of diversity, which is what I mean by “aesthetic” characters of colour (I used the term “internally white” originally but upon further reflection, it has some very loaded implications, many of which I’m personally familiar with, so I apologize for the usage). Yes, the character may not “look” white, but how do they interact with the world? Where do they come from? What is their background, their family? A note: this can be challenging with diaspora stories in the real world and people being disconnected (forcibly or otherwise) from their heritage (in which case, those are definitely stories that outsiders should not tell). So let’s look at fantasy. Even the most original writer in the world bases their world building off existing things in the real world. So what cultures are you basing your races off of? If you have a dark skinned character in your fantasy story, what are the real world inspirations and equivalents that you drew from, and how do you acknowledge that in a respectful, non-stereotyped way?

(Gonna quickly digress here and say that there are already so many stories about characters of colour disconnected from their heritage because ‘They didn’t grow up around other people from that culture’ or ‘They moved somewhere else and grew up in that dominant culture’ or ‘It just wasn’t important to them growing up’ and so on. These are valid stories, and important to many people! But when told by (usually) white creators, they’re also used, intentionally or not, as a sort of cop-out to avoid having to research or think about the character’s ethnicity and how that influences who they are. So another point of advice: avoid always situating characters outside of their heritage. Once or twice explored with enough nuance and it can be an interesting narrative, all the time and it starts being a problem)

Another thing I want to clarify at this point is that it’s a contentious issue about whether creators should tell stories that aren’t theirs, and different people will have different opinions. For me personally, I definitely don’t think it’s inherently bad for creators to have diverse characters in their work, and no creator can live every experience there is. That being said, there are caveats for how such characters are handled. For me personally, I follow a few rules of thumb which are:

Is this story one that is appropriate for this creator to tell? Some experiences are unique and lived with a meaningful or complex history and context behind them and the people to whom those experiences belong do not want outsiders to tell those stories.

To what extent is the creator telling this story? Is it something mentioned as part of the narrative but not significantly explored or developed upon? Does it form a core part of the story or character? There are some stories that translate across cultures and it’s (tentatively) ok to explore more in depth, like immigration or intergenerational differences. There are some stories that don’t, and shouldn’t be explored in detail (or even at all) by people outside those cultures.

How is the creator approaching this story and the people who live it? To what extent have they done their research? What discussions have they had with sensitivity consultants/readers? What kind of respect are they bringing to their work? Do they default to stereotypes and folk knowledge when they reach the limits of their research? How do they respond to feedback or criticism when audiences point things that they will inevitably get wrong?

Going back to the “race-less” point, I think that creators need to be careful that they’re (respectfully) portraying characters of colour as obvious persons of colour. With a very definite ‘no’ on stereotyping, of course, so that’s where the research comes in (which should comprise of more than a ten minute Google search). If your setting is in the real world, what is the background your character comes from and how might that influence the way they act or talk or see the world? If your setting is in a fantasy world, same question! Obviously, avoid depicting things which are closed/exclusive to that culture (such as religious beliefs, practices, etc) and again, avoid stereotyping (which I cannot stress enough), but think about how characters might live their lives and experience the world differently based on the culture or the background they come from.

As an example of a POC character written/played well by a white person, I personally like Jackson Wei and Cindy Wong from Dimension 20’s The Unsleeping City, an urban fantasy D&D campaign. Jackson and Cindy are NPCs played by the DM, Brennan Lee Mulligan, who did a good job acknowledging their ethnicity without resorting to stereotypes and while giving them their own unique characters and personalities. The first time he acted as Cindy, I leapt up from my chair because she was exactly like so many old Chinese aunties and grandmothers I’ve met. The way Jackson and Cindy speak and act and think is very Chinese (without being stereotyped), but at the same time, there’s more to their characters than being Chinese, they have unique and important roles in the story that have nothing to do with their ethnicity. So it’s obvious that they’re people of colour, that they’re Chinese, but at the same time, the DM isn’t overstepping and trying to tell stories that aren’t his to tell. All while not having the characters face any racism, as so many “post-racialized” settings aim for, because there are quite enough stories about that!

There a couple factors that contribute to the positive example I gave above. The DM is particularly conscientious about representation and doing his research (not to say that he never messes up, but he puts in a lot more effort than the average creator), and the show also works with a lot of sensitivity consultants. Which takes me to the next point - the best way to portray characters of colour in your story is to interact with people from that community. Make some new friends, reach out to people! Consume media by creators of colour! In my experience so far, the most authentic Chinese characters have almost universally been created/written/played by Chinese creators. Read books, listen to podcasts, watch shows created by people of colour. Apart from supporting marginalized creators, you also start to pick up how people from that culture or heritage see themselves and the world, what kind of stories they have to tell, and just as importantly, what kind of stories they want being told or shared. In other words, the best way to portray an authentic character of colour that is more than just the colour of their skin is to learn from actual people of colour (without, of course, treating them just as a resource and, of course, with proper credit and acknowledgement).

Most importantly, this isn’t easy, and you will absolutely make mistakes. I think the most important thing to keep in mind is that you will mess up. No matter how well researched you are, how much respect you have for other cultures, how earnestly you want to do this right, you will at some point do something that makes your POC audience uncomfortable or even offends them. Then, your responsibility comes with your response. Yes, you’ve done something wrong. How do you respond to the people who are hurt or disappointed? Do you ignore them, or double down on your words, or try to defend yourself? Just as importantly, what are you planning to do about it in the future? If you have a second chance, what are you going to do differently? You will make mistakes at some point. So what are you going to do about them? That, I think, is an even more important question than “How can I do this right?” You may or may not portray something accurately, but when you get something wrong, how are you going to respond?

Essentially, it all comes down to your responsibility as a creator. As a creator, you have a responsibility to do your due diligence in research, to remain respectful to your work and to your audience, and to be careful and conscientious about how you choose to create things. It’s not about getting things absolutely perfect or being the most socially conscious creator out there, it’s about recognizing your responsibilities as a creator with a platform, no matter how big or small, and taking responsibility for your work.

In summary:

Research, research, research

Avoid the obvious no-no’s (stereotypes, tokenization, fetishization, straight up stealing from other cultures, etc) and think critically about what creative choices you’re making and why

Do what you’re doing now, and reach out to people (who have put themselves out there as a resource). There are tons of resources out there by people of colour, reach out when you’re not sure about something or would like some advice!

Responsibility, responsibility, responsibility

Thank you for reaching out! Good luck with your work!

#the valley is posting #thanks anon!#writing advice #hope this helps! if another POC has something to add - please go ahead!

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

You’re Wet, You’re Naked

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: Here’s Part 3 of Charlie spending a hot smutty night with his biggest fan Y/N! This fic is also my next entry for @band–psycho’s Bingo Challenge! In this Part 3, now that Charlie has read some of the smut that you’ve written about him... you’ll get to reenact those filthy fantasies with him 😜

Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, teasing, punishment, spanking, dom!Charlie Request: This anon request + separate request from @rayslittlekitten (Charlie reading smutty fanfics) Bingo Square Filled: Losing a bet

Word Count: 2.9k

… Continued from Part 2 [Read Here]

Charlie Hunnam is having entirely too much fun scrolling through your whole collection of sin.

And he’s still convinced that he’s going to win. He’s determined. Thinks that if he digs deep enough, into some of the dirtiest stuff, he’ll find some kind of content that will make you die of embarrassment.

“Hmm, apparently this Miss ‘Y/N’ is a glutton for punishment...” he remarks, noting that it’s a theme in a lot of your works. Pronouncing ‘Y/N’ like ‘Wyenne’ as if she’s a real woman.

“Well, Miss ‘Y/N’ won’t tolerate that tone of judgment, Mr. Hunnam. She loves getting spanked and has no fucking shame,” you huff, acting all confident and tough. “And you do know that those letters stand for ‘your name’?”

“Yeah, I’m getting a sense of the whole reader-insert thing. But who ever said I was judging?”

“That smirk on your stupidly beautiful face, for one thing.”

“Hey, listen—if I’m gonna judge Miss ‘Y/N’ for anything...” he taunts, as he skims through the first piece of fiction that you’d ever written about his character from The Gentlemen, Raymond, “...it’s the fact that she’s apparently obsessed with being called a filthy little cunt.”

... Oh no. You suddenly feel like a damn tomato, which is exactly what Sir Hunnam wants.

He’s basically just won; you should’ve known to never doubt him. Your desire for this man to call you ‘cunt’ is really not even the kinkiest of kinks you have about him—no, not even close—but somehow it just feels embarrassing as fuck and he just knows.

“What’s the matter darling? Thought you’re proud of all your kinks.”

“I am, but—”

“Mmm, but what?” he sneers, pulling you near, lips brushing up against your ear. “You’re getting all bothered and hot. Did I just hit the fucking jackpot? Tell me, slut.”

“You’ll never get me to admit embarrassment, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, but I always get what I want,” he goads you on, as all your walls start crumbling down. He’s won, without a doubt. “So stop fucking around. ‘Cause if I can’t win a confession from this pretty little mouth... guess I’ll just have to win it from your naughty little cunt.”

***************

Conveniently, the limousine ride is now done, and Charlie Fucking Hunnam takes you up to his hotel room for a night of filthy fun. There’s a special private entrance for celebrities to make sure that you won’t be seen by anyone. He literally sweeps you off your feet, like it’s your damn wedding or something as he whisks you to his swanky penthouse suite.

Apparently he’s feeling quite inspired and has a raging erection, from the smut that he just read from your collection, which was straight up pornographic. It’s clear that he intends to bring those fantasies to life and work his magic.

By the time you stumble through the door, you’re moaning like a whore, and ready to go at it. “But Charlie, we—we can’t reenact that fic...”

“Why the hell not, you little slut? I thought it’s what you’d want...” he grunts, as you both tumble down onto the mattress. Your skin and his are separated only by a few layers of fabric. He’s planning to act out the fic about Raymond dishing out smutty punishment, now that he knows just what a slut you are for spanking and for being called a cunt. His dirty talk is such a drug and you’re an addict.

“Because in that fic ‘Y/N’ never gets to suck on her man’s dick.”

Charlie’s suit-clad physique is pressed against your dress so that you can feel every perfect inch of him. “...And that’s a problem?”

It’s no secret how badly you want him. “I’ve only been dreaming about your big cock in my mouth every night of my life, Mr. Hunnam.”

Those words off your lips fucking fire him up, as the dominant side of him starts to erupt. With a growl he lifts off of your body and stands at the foot of the bed, removing his suit jacket. Looking down at your body as if it’s an object for him to corrupt. Made for him to attack it.

“Why don’t you get down on the floor, you dirty little whore,” he says, watching as you eagerly obey. Your butt is burning up with the need for this sex god to smack it. “That’s it, on all fours. Hands and knees. With that pretty ass facing towards me.”

This is so much like the setup for your fic with Raymond Smith and you have never been so horny. Pussy soaking so intensely as you relive what you wrote in your own stories. Charlie’s hardly gotten started, and already you are probably dripping through your panties all across the carpet, sorry you’re not even sorry.

Of course he loves to see you following his orders in a hurry. Pours on praise that has your senses going blurry. “Such a perfect little slut for me...”

You whimper in submission, as you get into position. You are in literal heaven—except for the fact that from this angle you can’t witness his perfection. Of course you try to turn your head in his direction; thankfully he makes it easier by moving now to stand in front of you so you can look up at his magnificent face and his massive fucking erection.

He then begins unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his pants, and you are filled with the most all-consuming need you’ve ever felt, utterly hypnotized with every move of his masterful hands. The thought of laying eyes on his cock has you in a trance. And maybe more than just your loving gaze—maybe you’ll get a fucking taste, if he commands...

This isn’t how your Raymond fic began, the fic that led Charlie to win your little bet. He’ll get back into it again. But just for now he’d rather go off-script instead. He’s focused on that thing you said, when you were spread beneath him on the bed. How you’ve been wanting for so long to give him head.

“So you’ve been dreaming of this big cock in that slutty mouth of yours?” he teases, as his right hand reaches in his pants and squeezes. “Just how badly do you want it, whore?”

“Sir, there is nothing I want more...” you breathlessly implore.

“It’s everything you live for? Everything you’ve ever dreamed?”

All you can do is nod, submitting to this god, desperately kneeling. By now you’re thirsting to the absolute extreme and bursting at the seams. Your mind is reeling. Here you are at the mercy of Sir Charlie Hunnam, and damn, there is no better feeling.

“Mmm, well maybe it’s time to stop dreaming...” he declares, destroying you with his stare, blue eyes gleaming, promising you hell and heaven and taking you there, “...‘cause baby, you’re about to get the real thing.”

And so you are. When Charlie finally whips out his perfect cock, so long and thick and pink and hard as a damn rock... you die of shock. You’re seeing stars. The piece of meat throbbing in front of you is beautiful as fuck. This is hands down the greatest moment of your life so far. You can’t believe your luck.

“What’re you waiting for, you filthy whore?” he quips, wrapping his fist around his shaft and slowly guiding it toward your thirsty lips. “Now open up that pretty mouth of yours and suck.”

Never have you obeyed an order any faster. You could seriously spend your whole life servicing your master. Swirling your tongue around the tip, eyes rolling back into your skull, in pleasure as you savor the flavor of his arousal, wrapping your lips around his thick girth in an act of total worship, taking him deeper down your throat than you’d have thought physically possible.

Admiring the view, Charlie smirks devilishly down at you, the evil fucking bastard. You both groan in satisfaction, getting off on your reactions. He knows that he is your whole world. That you’d do anything to serve him as his dirty little girl.

“Mmm yeah, right there...” he snarls, twining his fingers in your hair, the husky rumble of his voice making your toes curl. On the next upstroke you pull back to tease your tongue around the pink tip with a playful little twirl, then quickly seal your lips around his length again to take him deeper than you’ve ever fucking dared. Gorging yourself on his enormous, gorgeous cock. And all the while your eyes are locked. “Ughh holy fuck—right fucking there...”

At this rate his gigantic dick will probably break your jaw and you don’t even fucking care.

Reading your mind, he swiftly strips out of his shirt, so you can look upon his sculpted upper body which is honestly divine, so goddamn beautiful it hurts. The sight of Charlie Fucking Hunnam’s chiseled muscles just intensifies your thirst. You love him so much you could die, expressing that as passionately as you can with every movement of your mouth as you kneel down between his thighs, gaze up at him with wide unblinking eyes. Completely motherfucking mesmerized.

“My God, you’re perfect...” Charlie moans as you continue with your service. Clearly loves the way you’re worshiping his dick just like a good little slut should. “So good... so fucking good...”

He’s buried deep inside your throat, and from the luscious way he pulsates on your tongue you know he’s ready to explode. Reaching around to grab his ass, taking those firm muscular globes within your grasp, you make sure that he stays in place and wordlessly beg him to feed you with his load.

“Mmm...” he hums, smiling suggestively as he caresses your cheek with a smooth sweep of his thumb, “...does my perfect little cockslut want some cum?”

Even if you could talk, even if your mouth weren’t so stuffed full of his cock, you’d be struck dumb.

“Wait just a few more seconds,” Charlie taunts, “and let me fuck this pretty face of yours, you dirty fucking whore. Why don’t you reach down and play with your cunt. Touch yourself till that sweet pussy squirts out all over the floor.”

Oh holy fuck—before you can even process what he just said, he grabs a firm hold of your head, and starts to ferociously hammer your mouth with his huge rock hard cock. He’s thrusting so fast you can’t even keep the pace to slurp and suck. You didn’t think your throat could take him any further, but he shows you just how wrong you were.

And it’s all that you can do to follow orders, reaching up your dress and into your panties to rub your pussy while he furiously face-fucks you like bloody fucking murder.

Given what this man is doing to your face, pounding you into a submissive haze... all it takes is a few flicks of your fingers on your clit to cause you to start cumming all over the place. In all your days, until today you didn’t know you were a squirter.

“That’s a good little cunt,” he grunts, taking such pleasure in what he just witnessed, that suddenly he himself reaches his finish. Shoots his sweet creamy load down your throat as you swallow down every drop of it like nobody’s business. So fucking delicious. “Mmm, is this what you want? Yeah, know it is. Take that cum while you sit there all soaked in your juices.”

His dirty talk is fucking ruthless. Gets off on the fact that he just made you do this. Once he finally slips out of your mouth you attempt to thank him for the privilege, of serving as his little cock-sucking bitch, but your cum-slathered tongue has become absolutely useless.

That mind-blowing session of sucking his dick... you can’t believe that that just happened. It was so far beyond anything that you’d ever imagined, ever written in your fics.

Speaking of which—you know that he still plans to finish what he’d started with that fic about the punishment, and calling you a cunt. Even though you just came the thought of that already makes your pussy twitch. It’s everything you want.

He doesn’t waste a second, getting you into position for another round of wrecking. Lifting you up off of the floor to throw you down onto the sumptuous king bed. Recalling those words he had said, during his talk show interview—wet and naked—two words that had inevitably made him think of you.

Now that he has you in his bed, he can do literally anything he wants to do. “So you’re already plenty wet... I think it’s time we get you naked.”

Charlie is handling you like a goddamn rag doll and you cannot fucking take it. Somehow every move he makes is carefully steady and soft, even when he’s terribly rough. You don’t know how he manages to make you feel like your whole body is a precious treasure even as he breaks it. Makes you feel more alive than ever and yet... super fucking dead.

“How much do you fancy this pretty little dress, princess?” he asks, reaching beneath the cloth to grope your ass, as he hovers above you on the bed. “Would it be alright if I just... rip it to shreds?”

“God, yes...” you gasp, melting into the mattress, as he takes a fistful of the fabric in his grasp. And does exactly as he said he would. The sensation of your dress getting savagely torn to pieces feels ridiculously good.

Your bra and panties follow afterwards. Leaving you naked like a whore, exposing your glistening core. Charlie looks down at it with such insatiable thirst. “You know I’m gonna spend the whole damn night eating this sweet pussy of yours...” he purrs, which sounds like such a blessing and a curse—you can already tell that he’ll be edging you to death and telling you to keep yourself from cumming till you fucking burst. “But first—”

He suddenly flips you over, grabbing hold of your shoulders, and repositioning your body on all fours.

It’s finally time to reenact that fic of course.

“First I’m gonna have to punish you for being such a filthy fucking cunt,” he sneers, sinful lips pressed against your ear. “For writing all that smutty fiction, all those pornographic words. These kinky fantasies about me that made you cringe in embarrassment. I’m gonna have to spank this naughty little ass until it hurts.”

“Yes, sir...” you yelp, your inner slut unable to be helped, trembling in pleasure.

He’s leaning over you now from behind, blowing your mind. “Now is that what you want? Are you done fucking around, cunt?”

“Yes, sir...!” again you answer, powerless to say anything else before your master.

“That’s a good slut,” he mutters as he slides his palm across the bare skin of your butt. “You gonna be my perfect little whore? Take everything I have in store, and beg for more?”

Before you can even say ‘yes sir’ yet again... the punishment begins.

Sir Charlie Hunnam doesn’t need you to respond, to know that this shit is exactly what you want. You scream in ecstasy, fulfilling all your fantasies, each time his hand comes down. Don’t even bother keeping count. You lose all sense of your sanity, and your whole fucking identity, here in the presence of someone so unimaginably dominant.

“That’s it, cunt. Take your punishment,” he taunts, his words and actions straight out of the smut that you had written about Raymond. Spanks you raw until your skin is fucking flaming. Every second of this experience with him is even better than the fiction. You could never have imagined such a heavenly sensation of submission.

It goes without saying that you don’t get to have another orgasm till Charlie gives permission. Thankfully he himself is near the edge as well; from his heated breathing and the feeling of his throbbing cock when it brushes against your skin you can just tell. And he wants both of you to come undone at the same time again. So he gets into position...

But in the moment just before he plunges in and splits you open, as you have always been hoping... he leans in to whisper words into your ear, which are for sure the hottest thing that you will ever fucking hear: “Now Miss Y/N—I’m gonna fuck you better than any damn thing you’ve ever written.”

That is a promise and you both know it. And you can’t fucking wait for him to show it. Fuck you in ways that take you someplace far beyond the filthy fantasies of fanfiction.

And that is how your love affair with Charlie Hunnam began—how you lost a bet, ended up in his bed, wet and naked, just as he had said. It’s a night you won’t ever forget... one that you hope will happen again...

You may not know it yet, but Charlie hopes that too. Already knows he’ll never get enough of you. This is the first but hopefully not the last night you’ll get to spend. Lucky for you two—unlike any piece of fanfiction that finishes once Miss Y/N is done playing pretend—this real-life romance that you’ve started... never has to end.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

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204 notes · View notes

echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Number 47 with tech? Nsfw if your up for it

Jealousy for the Senator

I wasn't sure what gender to do, but I looked at your account and saw it said "male" so I'm doing he/him pronouns. Hope that's okay, if not lemme know and I can change it 😎 with that being said I do apologize I’m not really up for bxb nsfw. No hate, just as a cis female I don’t wanna do something wrong or offend anyone, if that makes any sense? I hope you understand bromeo 👊😔

S/N = Senators Name. I wasn't sure what other Senator to use.

Tech x Reader: “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” “I’m not jealous!”

Warnings: angstish? Tech doubting himself, and you doubting yourself if you squint

Tech wasn't even sure how he landed you. A handsome, kind hearted senator. That he and his brothers saved from a separatist attack. Something you were so grateful for. You didn't care if they were defective. Anytime they were near your home world out in the outer rim. You always made it a point on letting them know they could visit and even stay at your home if it was easier.

They were reluctant at first. They assumed you were doing it out of pity. To be nice, but Tech couldn't get over how absolutely devine you were. He spent most of his free time looking you up on the holo and learning all he could about you. It didn't take long for his Ori'vods to catch on. Hunter deciding maybe a visit wouldn't hurt. Especially if it meant they all got to see Techs happy-go-lucky attitudewhen around you.

That was a mistake on Hunters behalf. Not only did Tech get the pleasure of seeing, and even being able to hang around you, but he and his other brothers. They got special treatment as well, and they all loved it. Hunter especially loved his bed he was given. Each had their seperate rooms. Meaning no bunking together. The walls were sound proof keeping Hunter isolated and able to sleep without waking up to whispers or even the light steps of his brothers. Besides Wrecker, he tried, but he was clumsy at times.

Crosshair found himself a shooting gallery with movable targets. Along with the ability to buy accessories for his gun. He didn't, even though you offered to pay for some if he wanted. He just liked browsing, and even the offer. The fact you wanted to spend your money on him. It made his view on you shift. Maybe not all Senators were stuck up snobs?

Wrecker found himself entranced by one of your gardeners. They would go on short walks around the long halls. Or out in the garden where they would explain to him the different flowers, and even let him pick some of the fruit. Which then the two would sit under a tree and eat them with one another. Eventually they found a stray Hoth Kitten. They begged for you to let them keep it, and you finally agreed.

Not only were you thankful for taking up your offer, but you were thankful for them being so nice and polite. Giving your home that special type of spice. Even if they did all have their.. well- moments.

Last but not least, there was Tech. He followed you anywhere you offered to take him. Which was about anywhere. He could be biased by the amount of love he had hidden away for you. But he swore you were the prettiest, most charming senator in the whole kriffing galaxy! Not only were you nice to him, but you were just as nice to his brothers. That in itself meant the world to the goggled clone.

The two of you, after about 8 visits and keeping in contact in between the visits. Decided to scavenge the courage to ironically ask one another out at the same time. You started, nervous, clammy palms. Darting eyes, and he finished. "You were gunna ask me out?" He spoke and you froze a bit. "You don't, yes, no, I mean, yeah I guess." You spoke, coughing into your sleeve as if it would hide the waver in your voice. "I was actually gunna see if you would let me take you out, my treat." His words were just as nervous, but he was more sure about himself than you seemed. He felt more confident knowing you felt the same. You both did.

He decided on taking you to a restaurant. It wasn't too fancy, nothing you needed to dress up for. But it wasn't 79's either. He had never been there, but apparently you had before. He had to borrow a fancier outfit. Due to the fact the fanciest thing he owned was his blacks. Or even his armor, since he got a new paint job, and you weren't about to let him humiliate himself on a first date.

He found you waiting outside. Dressed up just as evenly as he was. You smiling softly as you extended a hand for him, which he happily took. "Ready?" You questioned and he nodded. "Yeah."

The trip there wasn't too long, but it didn't keep the clone from fidgeting and rambling. "You know, that star over there is a planet. They say it's one of the most beautiful in the galaxy." He informed, looking out the window of the cab. Making you smile. Scooting closer while leaning against him a bit to catch a glimpse of the star. "Really?" His breath hitched a bit when he noticed how close to him you were. Making you smile.

He nodded as he looked over to you. Eyes staring into yours. "Yeah, but I beg to differ." You tilted your head a bit in question. Shifting so you were now just sitting next to him in the middle seat. A shoulder pressed to his. "How come?" You asked, and he smiled. "Because you're probably the most beautiful star I've ever seen," he spoke lowly. It wasn't like him to flirt, and even from the short time you have known him. You knew this.

Your smile was sheepish, and you looked down to your lap. "Tech, you're too kind." He smiled back in accomplishment. "Least I can do for how kind you are to us."

When the cab stopped the two of you exited. You didn't leave any time for him to even circle around the cab to help you out. You didn't really care for being enabled. Even if he was doing it out of the kindness of his heart.

That didn't stop him from holding your hand into the building and clear to the table, though. You leaning against his side. It had him screaming internally. He'd never felt so thrilled and happy over such a simple experience.

You followed beside him to the table. Only letting go of his hand when the waiter told you where you would be seated. The two of you sitting across from one another. Tips of you shoes pressed up against one anothers. Another simple act that had Tech practically howling.

You ordered, and then he did. After asking you what was good, of course. The two of you getting some dessert to share for after you finished your food. While waiting for food, though. You decided to strike up a conversation. "So, how was your last mission?" You asked, prepared for a ramble and a half. That was something you enjoyed about him. How passionate he was about nearly everything.

"It was alright, had a near scare there with some of the droids." Your furrowed your brows. "Did you get hurt?" He paused, and then nodded. Noticing the concern written on your face. "Don't worry Cyar'ika. It isn’t anything severe, just a cut on my abdomen and a few bruises. Wrecker got it worse, but you know him. He was too happy to see his Sarad." You watched him with a small smile. "What's a Sarad?" You didn't speak Mando'a, and he knew this. But he was happy to tell. "It means flower, that's what he calls the gardener. His Ner Sarad." You smiled at that, you were happy he had made a friend, or what may even be more than a friend. You weren't about to judge.

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what Cyar'ika meant, but you were interrupted by a hand on your shoulder. Making you flinch just a bit as it caught you off guard. "Woah, woah, Senator Y/L/N, Calm down. Just a friend here to say hello." Anither Senator was there to your surprise. "Oh, S/N! Funny seeing you here." You spoke, looking up to him with a grin. Standing to meet them and catch them in a quick hug. Then seating yourself once more.

They looked to you, and nodded. "Yeah, I figured I'd stop by and see you. I didn't expect to see you here, honestly." They told you. Then looked over to Tech. Who was staring at them with a glint of displeasure in his eyes. He wasn't sure who they were, but they were taking away from the short time he had with you, and he didn't like it one bit. "Who's this?" Tech asked, and you nearly cursed yourself for being so informal. "Tech, this is Senator S/N, we worked together before I became Senator." S/N smirked at that, "you were always the most handsome there, too. He gives the best hugs as well. Has he given you a hug?" S/N asked Tech, and Tech shook his head, muttering a quick 'no.' "Shame," they added, and you interrupted with a quick and nervous chuckle. "Haha, anyways, S/N, this is Tech. He's a good friend of mine, part of Clone Force 99, he saved me from that attempted assassination on me a while back." You added, looking to the clone with a loving smile.

That reassured Tech a bit, but what chased that aways was when S/N leaned down and whispered something in your ear. 'A clone? You date clones now, hm? You always know where to find me if this doesn't work out,' is what he thought he heard. He wasn't 100% sure though. That bugged him, out his on edge. Especially when he saw your face turn pink with embarrassment.

He was thankful when they left. Watching the Senator drift off while glaring dagger at him. "Tech," he didn't hear you. Too lost in thought. Was this a mistake? Should he have listened to the little voice in his head. Reminding him he was a defective clone that didn't deserve nor could attain the love of a senator like you? "Tech!" You raised your voice again, and he came back to. Looking at you with a bit of shock in his eyes. As if he didn't realize he zoned out.

You reached over to place a hand on his. Frowning a bit when he flinched. "You alright?" "They seemed.. Judgeful." He spoke. Making you sigh. "They're like that, it's fine though, don't let them get to you," but how could he when he saw the way they looked at you? The way you two already knew each other. How much closer you two seemed. It had his brain turning for answers that would go unsaid.

The whole night was practically ruined for Tech, but he tried to keep up his positive attitude for you. So he wouldn't ruin yours, but you could see past his mask. The glint of uneasiness in his eyes. The way his eyes darted everywhere but to yours. Or even just the way he picked at his food and his hands trembled ever so lightly. You couldn't help but wonder if this was a mistake on your behalf. You didn't feel you were good enough for the man now.

When the two of you left the building. S/N stopped you to give you a quick kiss on the cheek and a lingering goodbye. Tech began walking off before you even noticed. Though when you did you cut the conversation short and ran after the taller male. "Tech, wait! What's wrong, please talk to me!" You spoke. Reaching out to grab his wrist, but he snatched it away. Turning to face you with a hurt expression, but it softened a bit. "Does everyone greet you like that? Like they want to jump you the moment they see you?" He asked, and you were a bit taken back. Picking at the palm of your hand. Looking down then back up to the other. "No, not everyone, Tech. Why?" You asked with a bit of a frown and he shook his head. "Nothing," "you're jealous, aren’t you?" You blurted. Catching the man off guard. "What? No! I'm not jealous!" His voice raising an octave and you sighed. Walking up to him.

Watching as his eyes scanned your face, then looked away. "I'm not jealous, I'm just.. I don't like how he talked to you, he acted like he owned you, and he doesn't. No one does, or- or they should.. shouldn't" He rambled. Beginning to stammer and stumble on his words when you reached up to cup his face with your hands. "Tech," he watched you for a moment before answering. "Yes?" "I like you, more than a friend wise, I'm not about to run off with some arrogant ass when I have you right here." You reassured. Feeling him relax under your touch.

His eyes softened, bringing a hand up to hold the back of one of your hands. His other hand holding at your waist. The two of you stood like this for what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute or two. "So, how about you take me home.." you trailed off, looking down. Bringing your hands down to play with the cuff of his shirt. "And I'll show you there's nothing to be jealous over, hm?"

#tech x male!reader #tech x reader #tech bad batch #bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #clone x reader #clone x male!reader #the clone wars x reader #clone force 99 #star wars the clone wars #the bad batch tech x reader #tech the bad batch #bad batch tech

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kdjamlabel · 3 years

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Tendencies

Pairing: Hawks x GN!Y/N

Summary: Hawks with bird tendencies, but he’s faking it because he thinks you’ll like him more.

Hawks fluff for the soul~

~~~~~~

Everyone assumes because of his animal quirk, Hawks should have animal tendencies. It would make sense since people with animal type quirks often share habits with their animal counterparts. These “bird hero headcanons” stem from the various theories his [rabid] fans have of what the hero is like behind his cocky, charming exterior. Unfortunately for them, the most bird-like qualities he has are his wings, which is why he gets a little confused when some fans ask him to coo when he signs things for them.

Being in a relationship with the bird boy is a whole ‘nother ball game. When you gave him a cracker and some trail mix as a joke, he nibbled at it while making chirping sounds and doing a little happy dance. You thought it was absolutely adorable and started to pull out your phone when he noticed and immediately stopped, desperate to convince you that it had to be a secret because it was too embarrassing for the public to know about.

Opening the door into your shared living space after work one day, you found him sitting on the couch surrounded by an assortment of pillows, blankets, some of his feathers strewn about. When you asked what all this was for, he got up and gently pulled you to come sit in his “nest” for cuddle time. Needless to say, you two were nice and cozy for the rest of that night.

You don’t know when, but one day he started bringing you things. Shiny things. Rocks, shells, the occasional piece of overpriced jewelry, you name it. You had asked him why he, and he simply answered “Because I thought you would like it!” with the sweetest, most innocent loving smile. You now had a box in the closet labeled “Y/N’s shiny things” written on the side messily in glitter glue. Looking at it every morning before you got dressed never failed to give you the warm and fuzzies.

One night he came home from a mission covered in some weird sludge and you had offered to help him clean up. You had him sit on a stool in your-unreasonably large-bathroom while you ran a warm damp towel through his feathers. He spent the whole time giving little hums of approval as you worked your way through. When you reached the base of them however, he shuddered and gasped, causing his wings to fluff up and push you away. He had his hands covering his face in shame while you were rolling on the floor laughing like crazy. In your fit, you didn’t notice him peeking through his hands, smiling softly down at you.

He had made it his mission to learn how to do your hair. It didn’t matter what type it was, or if he had no previous experience, he was going to do it. You had told him it was fine and he didn’t need to, but he insisted. It was supposed to be payback for how well you had been taking care of his wings. He’s gotten really good at it now, confident enough to let you show up to work in a “Keigo original” with only the smuggest of grins when your coworkers compliment your hair.

It happened one afternoon when the two of you were just chilling and listening to the radio. He started bobbing his head to the music ever so slightly, then started doing it harder as the song got to his favorite part. You carefully and sneakily pulled out your phone to take a small video. You weren't going to show anyone, you just wanted to keep it as a little secret for yourself. He was fully aware of what you were doing, but he let it slide, only because he loves you.

The truth finally came out one day at the beginning of spring. You had been pulling away from him and he couldn’t figure out why. You had cut cuddle time shorter and shorter, only stayed in the house to eat and grab spare clothes, you had even started staying over at a friend’s house instead of with him. He was starting to go cuckoo not having you there. He needed to confront you about your recent behavior, so he made a plan.

When he called you to meet on the roof of the penthouse, you were a bit skeptical of his intentions, but thought to humor him as the guilt of leaving him alone was eating you alive. What you weren’t expecting was to see him standing there, smartly dressed and roses in hand. The nerve ridden man in front of you was a stark contrast from his usual laid back and carefree persona, but a strangely welcome sight all the same.

Before you could speak, he handed you the flowers and basically begged to know what he could have possibly done wrong. You try to calm him as he frantically apologizes for things he hasn’t even done. Finally, you grab him by the shoulders and yell that he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” He asks in such a sad and broken tone that you feel your heart ache.

“Babe,” You sigh, embarrassed that you didn’t think of talking this out with him earlier and had to do it here and now of all places. “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s spring.”

“What does the weather have to do with anything! You can’t just randomly pull away because winter’s over!” He was still visibly confused by your actions. You couldn’t believe you had to be the one to say it like this.

“It’s SPRING, Keigo! I know it was mean of me to do that without telling you first, and I’m sorry. I’m just not sure if I can handle…” You trail off, not wanting to finish, cringing.

Hawks was a smart man. The Commission had made sure of that. The moment you hesitated, he finally understood what this was all about. He processed it for a bit, then the chuckling started, which evolved into full-blown hysterics. You were taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor. First, completely frantic, now this? Was this a side effect of-

“I’m not-I-I don’t really act like a bird y’know.” He said, finally calming down and wiping small tears from his eyes. “I’m just a guy with wings, nothing more, nothing less.” He looked at your wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression.

“Wh-bu-I thought you-”

“Acted like a bird because I have a bird quirk? Sorry dove, but no, I don’t.”

“Then why have you-”

“If I’m being honest, the only reason I did was because I thought you would like me more. The fans think that’s who I am and I thought you did too. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have lied about it, but what else was I supposed to do? The thought of ‘“What if they leave you because you aren’t what they thought you were?’” kept creeping in and I just couldn’t tell you the truth. If I had known you would avoid me because of it, I would have said something sooner. I’m sorry” His eyes were downcast as he finished. He really didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand. If he had just told you, then maybe things would be better. Now you probably hated him. You gently grasped his face and brought it up to meet yours.

“Oh featherbrain-” You touched his forehead with your own, caressing his cheeks as you do ”I love you, quirks-yes pun fully intended-or not. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re the same Keigo Takami I fell in love with. It was cute, but I think I can live with just-normal-man-with-wings Hawks.” you say squishing his cheeks and giving him a little peck on his nose.

“I don’t know about that. Some of those things have turned into habits that I’m not sure will break so easily.” he smirks as he snakes his arms around your waist.

“I guess we’ll just have to live with that then. But to be perfectly clear, your not-”

“No, I’m not.”

“Thank god. I wasn’t sure how long I could stand being at (y/f/n)’s house. I think they’re just about ready to kick me out.”

“Then It’s your lucky day. There’s a penthouse lease with your name on it and some very empty bed space just your size. Think you can fix that for me, love?” He arches his brow, teasingly.

“I think I can fix that.”

#hawks x reader #bnha hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks fluff #hawks x y/n #keigo takami #hawks headcanons #the funniest part of this is that my computer died in the middle of writing it #bnha headcanons #headcanons #my soul left my body when this thing ran out of battery #i was so happy it auto saved right before it turned off #writing #fluff #comedy #bird things #x reader #x y/n

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years

Text

You Better, You Better, You Bet - Chapter 8

She Makes Me

Ron Speirs x Juliet Fletcher

Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @iilovemusic12us @hesbuckcompton-baby @tvserie-s-world @whovian45810 @50svibes @cagzzz107 If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this update!

Warning(s): None :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

AO3 link

Chapter 8 let’s go!!!

LONDON HEIR WEDS UP AND COMING LADY

Arthur William Burns, 33, of London has married Miss Elaine Spencer, 20, of Birmingham. The couple celebrated their union on February 14, 1944 at the chapel on his uncle Edward’s estate in Suffolk. The intimate ceremony was followed by a small reception of the couple’s closest friends and family. The new Mrs. Burns was thoughtful about her war-time wedding, taking extra steps to avoid unnecessary costs or supplies. She updated her mother’s wedding dress instead of buying new, and after the wedding, generously donated the gown to the Army. Her engagement ring was an heirloom of Mr. Burns’ family, but it didn’t stop there -

The article didn’t stop there, but Juliet did. She couldn’t read another word about Arthur’s wedding. In fact, she slammed the paper down on her desk. It rattled the teacup in its saucer to the side, but miraculously, nothing spilled. Huffing, and her article forgotten, Juliet folded her arms across her chest and stewed.

She couldn’t really say why it bothered her so much. She had moved on the same as him, but getting married? It hadn’t been that long. What could Arthur possibly know about this girl? For a girl she was at the tender age of twenty. Was that what irked her? That the girl was so young? No, it was fairly normal for an age gap like that, especially among their class.

Perhaps it was the class issue that was grating on her. Elaine Spencer was - to the Burns family - everything Juliet was not. Young, rich, well-behaved, and (though only Arthur knew this difference) able to bear children. Seeing their announcement, and the kind of wedding they could afford, was a rather harsh reminder of all that. But even that should not have been this upsetting.

Deep down, Juliet knew what was bothering her was that she was bothered at all. She was happy with Ron. So why did she care about her ex? Why did this feel like such a blow to her pride? Why did she feel as if Arthur had just terminated their engagement all over again? Wasn’t it enough to have Ron in her life, a man she truly respected and cared about?

That was something else to consider. Juliet realized she had wasted far too much time on someone who wasn’t half the man Ron was. And yet, Arthur had rejected her. If what she thought about him was true - that he was a coward and totally undeserving of her - shouldn’t it have been the other way around? She knew she felt shame for how much she had loved Arthur when she didn’t receive that love in return. Was that what got on her nerves about this?

She certainly was not jealous of the girl. Elaine. Juliet knew she absolutely did not want to be married to Arthur. In the long run, they could never make each other happy. Especially now that Juliet had experienced Ron, who truly appreciated what she had to give. She had to keep reminding herself of him or Arthur’s dumb face next to Elaine’s stunning smile would drive her crazy. And yet, she couldn’t stop looking at that picture. They looked so perfect.

Her door opened and she jumped a little bit out of her seat with a gasp. It was Ron, but that oddly made her more nervous. She perked up.

“Hi, honey!” she greeted brightly.

His brown knit together over his eyes. “Honey?”

“Yes, dear?” she returned.

“Seriously,” he frowned. “Why are you calling me that?”

“I haven’t before?”

“Obviously not.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Obviously not,” he repeated. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” she insisted. Then it was her turn to frown. “What endearments am I allowed?”

“Why do you need them, when my name works just fine?” he replied.

“Oh come on,” she said. “Not even darling?”

“Darling is meaningless here, you people call everyone darling,” he said.

She considered that. “Alright. ‘Love’, then?”

“No, thanks.”

“Baby?”

“No.”

“Dear?”

“No.”

“Sugar?”

“No.”

“Sweetheart?”

“No.”

She bit back a giggle for the last one. “Daddy?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“My heart belongs to Daddy,” she began to sing as she got to her feet and approached him. “So I simply couldn’t be bad -”

“That’s a little bit sick, coming from you,” he cut across her as he shrugged off his jacket.

She ignored him. “Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy! Da da da da -”

This time, he interrupted with a kiss. Juliet giggled into his mouth, but he was successful in stopping the song entirely. When they parted, she had a goofy grin on her lips.

“Are you absolutely certain we should disregard the genius of Cole Porter?” she teased.

“Let it go,” he returned.

“What are you gonna do?” she challenged, making her voice dramatically husky. “Spank me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

She blinked, taken aback by his casual reaction to such a suggestion, but she was also a little curious, so she decided to push the envelope. “You wouldn’t.”

“What’s the matter?” he questioned. “Afraid you’ll like it?”

Her mouth fell slightly agape. How had he managed to so drastically turn the tables on her? She was supposed to be teasing him and somehow, she ended up being the one flustered and red-faced. She cleared her throat and shook her head to remove the rather graphic images that had popped up inside it. All thoughts of Arthur were certainly out the window.

“I did not anticipate this backfiring,” she admitted.

“And yet, here you are,” he said.

“How tired are you from training?” she asked.

“Not too tired to make love to you, if that’s what you’re asking,” he answered.

“That’s the perfect amount,” she said.

With that, she tugged off her cardigan and pulled him in for another kiss, deep and deliberate, with a nip at his bottom lip to get him riled up. He lifted her into his arms and they fell on the bed together - her pinned beneath him as their lips remained locked.

Afterwards, as they dressed to get some dinner and Juliet was in the bathroom fixing her hair, Ron spotted the article. Suddenly, her behavior when he first walked in made sense. She’d distracted him with the endearments conversation, and he hoped he had distracted her from what she’d read. But his gut told him there was something more. He’d walked through that door every day without surprising her. There was a reason she had started and panicked this time. He picked up the newspaper, and looked hard at the photo - at the man who had humiliated Juliet, but ultimately paved the way for Ron’s own happiness with her.

Arthur was not much to look at, which was both surprising and expected. Surprising because well, Ron found Juliet to be very beautiful, and he knew she could do better. Expected because Juliet was not the sort of person to base a relationship on looks alone. Although she had certainly noticed Ron’s. But for the first time, that made him doubt. She told him once she was more upset by the indignity of what Arthur had done, but she must have really seen something in him to have agreed to marry him. And she talked so much about Ron’s looks, he started to wonder if that was all she saw in him.

He quickly dismissed that thought. She had been incredibly vulnerable with him and shared parts of her life he was certain she had shared with few others, perhaps not anyone. But something was holding her back from addressing this with him, and he wanted to know what.

“I reckon we can just pop downstairs and have something quick,” she said as she emerged from the bathroom and picked up her cardigan. “That way we won’t get too cold before we - y’know - warm back up again.”

He faced her, and caught the surprised look in her eye at his expression. Her smile drooped and faded as she realized what he held in his hand.

“Jules,” he said, voice heavy. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Sure,” she looked nervously between the paper and his face. “Anything, Ron, just -”

“Without one fucking joke, I want you tell me why you’re upset about this,” he said, indicating the paper, though she understood perfectly well what he meant.

She sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Yes,” he said.

She waited for him to explain, but he didn’t. But he was not sacrificing his control of the conversation, he was solidifying it. She was going to explain herself to him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m annoyed at myself for letting it upset me at all,” she said. She met his gaze, searching his face for a reaction, but he didn’t give one. “I mean, yes, it’s a wound to my ego that by all rights that announcement should be about me and him. Although, I never would have gotten married on Valentine’s Day. Seriously, of all the cheesy -”

“No jokes,” he cut across her.

“That wasn’t a joke, it was a disparaging remark,” she returned.

“Juliet.”

“Sorry.”

She bit her lip, carefully forming how she wanted to say what was on her mind. But, it turned out he wasn’t giving her that either.

“Don’t think, just talk,” he instructed.

“I care about you so much,” she blurted out. “You make me happy in a way I hardly thought possible until I knew you. But seeing that announcement made me ache. It’s difficult to pin down why exactly since there are a number of things that bother me about it, but mostly it’s that it shouldn’t matter. I’ve moved on, haven’t I? But if that still hurts me, I’m worried that perhaps I haven’t, and that’s not fair to you or to me. And if that’s the case then perhaps I should let you go, but the thought of that makes me want to hurl myself out of a window. Then that makes me worried that no one will ever be enough for me. Which is ridiculous because you’re more than enough. You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met in your own weird way. So, that means there’s something terribly, terribly wrong with me.”

She stopped to take a deep breath and paused. She considered saying more, that was really the sum of her feelings. Ron stood there calmly.

“Can you talk now please?” she requested.

A hint of smirk tugged at one side of his mouth, but he stopped it.

“It’d bother me more if you didn’t care about this,” he replied, which made her brow wrinkle. “It’s okay to have feelings about someone you were involved with. Doesn’t mean you still have feelings for them.”

“You don’t think it’s a reflection of my feelings for you?” she asked hesitantly.

“No,” he said with a shrug.

She bit her lip. “I just...I just don’t think it would get to him if he saw my wedding announcement in the paper.”

“It would,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t know that, you didn’t know him.”

“I know you,” he said. “That’s enough to understand that there’s no way you didn’t have an impact on him.”

“That’s -” she began to argue but stopped herself as she absorbed it fully. “Well...that’s actually a lovely thing to say, thank you.”

He set the paper down and walked over to her, gathering her up in his arms so he could kiss her forehead.

“Don’t hide behind distractions when there’s something serious,” he said gently. “And don’t hurl yourself out a window, I had enough trouble with you on the bridge.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “You’ve lifted your moratorium on jokes, I see.”

He pecked her on the lips. “Nope, just for me.”

She repaid him with a light jab to his ribs with her pointer and middle fingers. “Shut up.”

On that note, they headed down to the bar for dinner and drinks. Though Juliet had mentioned wanting to return to her room quickly, they ended up lingering. Talking like they had when they first met. Juliet talked a little more about Arthur, and Ron gave her the space to do so. It didn’t last long. Slowly, he faded from the conversation and they moved on. Ron challenged her to a darts game, and Juliet readily accepted.

“I’ve never played before,” she confessed. “Well, actually, I almost did when I was seven or so. Dad took Billy and I to the pub with him and left us to our own devices.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Ron said.

She pressed on anyway. “We weren’t tall enough to reach the board, so Billy drew one on the wall we could use. The owner got upset and started shouting at him.”

“I really don’t like where this is going,” he said again.

“So, I stabbed him in the thigh with the dart,” she finished.

“Billy?”

“The pub guy.”

“Just checking.”

“Anyway, he starts screaming -”

“Billy?”

“Nope, still the pub guy,” she said. “He grabs me by my hair and starts dragging me out. That didn’t sit right with Billy, so he leaps onto the man’s back and starts punching him. Mind you, Billy was only about nine at the time, so he wasn’t the most effective.”

“I imagine not.”

“But of course Billy doesn’t care, he’s just looking out for me,” she continued. “So the guy lets go of me, and I grab him round the legs and trip him. Then Billy and I ran out of there as fast as we could, terrified about what Dad would do to us if he realized we’d caused the commotion. Luckily, he never found out.”

He blinked at her. “Honestly, I’m just impressed you stabbed a guy.”

“He yelled at my brother!” she returned. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Stab him, of course,” he said.

“That!” she cried. “Right there! That’s why we work so well together!”

She giggled into his mouth as he kissed her in agreement.

“C’mon, let’s play,” he said.

He showed her where to stand, how to hold the dart, and some tricks he used to get better aim. She was attentive to his coaching, and it certainly paid off. Each throw got her closer and closer to the bullseye. So much so, he considered tripping her on her last turn. He didn’t, since that would put her dart in rather close proximity to his thigh, and he was in no mood to get stabbed himself.

She took her shot, and to the surprise of Ron and a few onlookers, she hit the center of the dartboard. She punched the air with excitement and let out an enthusiastic scream before turning to face him, beaming with triumph.

“That’s right!” she bragged to anyone listening. “Juliet Fletcher is the darts champion!”

For a moment, Ron genuinely feared she was going to try and chest bump him, and he wasn’t sure there could be romance after that. To his relief, she did not. She did something far more embarrassing. In movements that could only be described as lost and awkward, she...danced. If one could even call it that. Her limbs jerked, her hips lacked any semblance of rhythm, and her feet sort of scraped across the floor. He watched in disbelief as she went about her celebration, completely unabashed.

“What’s the matter, Speirs?” she taunted. “Upset you lost to a girl?”

He wanted to laugh, but he was so disturbed it came out more of a grimace. “What...what are you doing?”

“Victory dance,” she returned simply. “Like footballers do.”

“No one has ever done anything like what you’re doing,” he said.

She came to a slow stop, a smirk on her face. “I told you I can’t dance.”

“I thought you meant the foxtrot.”

“Well, I can’t do that either.”

“I’d expect not.”

“Are you embarrassed?” she wondered.

“Aren’t you?” he shot back, though judging by her expression, she wasn’t.

“Nope,” she shook her head.

“Should be,” he said under his breath.

She ignored that little remark. “Life’s too short to stifle the joy of kicking your boyfriend’s ass in a game of darts.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly call that an ass kicking.”

“You wanna go again?” she dared him.

“God, no,” he replied quickly. “If you win, you’ll start dancing again.”

“So you admit it?”

“What?”

“You’re afraid I’ll win.”

“Yeah, but not for the reason you want.”

“Whatever,” she giggled. “I’m gonna get another drink, d’you want one?”

“Sure,” he said.

With a nod, she headed for the bar. She established fairly early on in their relationship that she was not the sort who wanted to be doted on. She had no problem sharing the responsibility of buying drinks or fetching said drinks. Ron rarely even pulled out her chair for her. Opening doors was different, as Juliet usually had a bag or something, but she never so much as suggested that Ron carry it for her. He once offered, but she told him she’d only allow it if she could tip him, which promptly ended the conversation.

“Hi, Juliet,” Emily, the bartender, said as she approached. “‘Nother round of whiskeys for you and Lieutenant Speirs?”

“Yes, please,” Juliet replied.

“Just a moment, I’ve got to bring some beers to the lads back there,” Emily said, pointing to the other end of the pub. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Juliet assured her.

While she waited for Emily, a man approached the bar. A dark haired, tall, but mousy looking man Juliet had seen at the Blue Boar only a handful of times. He was usually alone and stayed for only one drink before leaving. She got the impression he was not solitary by choice - he was clearly unpopular. The other officers always gave the table a wide berth.

“Hi,” he said timidly.

It took her a moment to register he was speaking to her. “Oh! Hello, there.” She stole a glance at his rank and then his name. Sobel. She decided against trying to say it to avoid the risk of mispronouncing. Plus, she didn’t want him to think she was interested.

“My name’s Herbert,” he said. “Herbert Sobel.”

She studied his face for a moment. “Herbert, huh?”

He blinked, surprised. “Um. Yes.”

“Oh, yeah, Herbert absolutely suits you,” she said.

He was taken aback again. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Never mind,” she shook her head. “How can I help you, Herbert?”

“You could start with your name,” he replied.

She wrinkled her nose. “Eh. No, thanks.”

“What?”

“I’d rather not give you my name,” she said. “Because I’m afraid the follow up is going to be your asking for my phone number or offering to buy me a drink. So I reckon we’re better off if I get the ‘no’ out of the way now. Save us all some time.”

He sputtered for a moment before she went on.

“I know this must seem like contempt prior to investigation,” she said. “But even if I wanted to - which I don’t, mind you - I am involved with someone.”

“Wha - who?” he wondered.

“Lieutenant Speirs,” she said, and pointed him out for good measure.

Sobel glanced over just as Emily returned and began pouring the whiskeys.

“Well, isn’t Speirs lucky,” Sobel murmured.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Juliet said, taking their drinks. “I really am a horrid bitch, you wouldn’t like me anyway.” She held back a laugh as his eyes went wide. Emily covered her mouth to stifle her own giggle. “Cheers, Herb. And thanks, Emily.”

Emily asked a stricken Sobel what he wanted to drink while Juliet left. She returned to her seat next to Ron and delivered his whiskey. He wore a deep frown which told her he’d been watching her interaction with Sobel.

“What’d Captain Sobel want?” he asked, just a hint of bitterness to his voice.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I shot him down,” she replied.

“He hit on you?” he questioned, but his shoulders relaxed a little. “Must not have seen you dance.”

“Shut up!” she laughed, elbowing him.

He didn’t say anything in return, he only put his hand on her thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Something about it thrilled Juliet. It was...intensely macho. Possessive even. Normally things like that disgusted her, but Ron made it sexy. Only, she had to question it.

“Are you serious?” she said.

“About what?” he returned.

“You’re not bothered by my talking about my ex-fiancé, but a strange man offering to buy me a drink has you marking your territory?” she asked.

“I can’t help who you were with before we met,” he said. “I can do something about anyone getting ideas now.”

“What would you have done then?” she questioned playfully.

“Stab him with a dart,” he replied, without missing a beat.

She giggled before she sipped her drink. “You’re ridiculous.”

She wasn’t able to remain in Ron’s grasp long. Emily approached and told her there was a phone call for her. Juliet excused herself, but not before kissing Ron deeply.

“So the other girls don’t get any ideas either,” she teased.

“Fine by me,” he said.

With one more peck, she followed Emily behind the bar. She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

“Juliet Fletcher,” she said.

“Juliet, it’s Otis,” said the voice on the other end of the line.

“Oh, hello, Otis, how are you?” she replied politely. She got along with the investigator most out of all the people involved in Peggy Lee’s case.

“Quite well, thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but I’ve just gotten the news that Meredith Fisher’s trial has been moved up. We begin on the fifteenth of March.”

“Crikey, that’s quick,” Juliet said.

“I know, but the prosecution is confident enough,” he told her.

Juliet was tempted to let him know they were absolutely right in their confidence with the way Meredith Fisher’s lawyer was going about things, but she held her tongue.

“That’s good,” she said. “I’ll be sure I’m there for the trial.”

“I’ll see you then,” he returned. “Good night, Juliet.”

“Good night,” she replied before hanging up.

She returned to Ron, who shot her a curious look.

“A trial date has been set for Meredith Fisher,” she said. “In just a couple weeks.”

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Damn right I am,” she said.

“That’s my girl.”

#band of brothers #ron speirs #juliet fletcher #roliet #hbo war #ron speirs x ofc #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war fanfiction #you better you better you bet series

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mhathotfic · 4 years

Text

As early said, here’s three sets of head canons from the old blog for my babies that I so lovingly edited together for you all to enjoy

Warnings: swearing, sexual activity, omegaverse

Pairings: Shouto Todoroki x reader, Izuku Midoriya x reader, Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Todoroki

- Let’s be honest here poor baby wouldn’t be allowed to behave like an Omega at home

- Endeavor would probably see it as shameful for his ‘perfect creation’ to be an Omega rather than an Alpha

- He would absolutely attempt to gain his Alpha’s attention as soon as realized he liked her

- Both as an act of defiance and genuine interest

- He wouldn’t really know how to get her to court him at first

- Just kinda leaves his stuff where she’ll find them in hopes that she’ll get the hint and scent the item(s) for him

- “Oh hey! Todoroki-kun! You left your sweater behind when we were studying, sorry about the smell I kinda got my scent on it by accident” “That’s alright, I like your scent” “I, ahem… I could um s-scent more things for you if you want?”

- When it comes to nesting, he’s kinda lost

- He wasn’t allowed to make nests at home so even though the instinct and desire to build them is there he has no clue how to act on it

- When he starts feeling more comfortable in their relationship, he’d ask her for help

- He knows Alphas don’t nest like Omegas, but he figures that if he’s going to ask someone it should be the other person who’ll spend time in it

- Her advice is to find a place that makes him feel safe and secure and just let his instincts do the rest

- And that’s how she ended up with her Omega’s nest inside of her closet

- “(Yn)? Have you seen- why are you in the closet?” “My Omega demanded I take a nap with him and I’m in capable of telling him no” “But, why yo-?” “His nest is in here” “Wh-” “I’d like to repeat, I am incapable of telling Shouto no”

-Despite her obvious claim over her Omega, there’s still gonna be other’s who disrespect their relationship, which brings us to jealousy and of course it goes both ways

- He thinks it’s really cute when she gets jealous

- She doesn’t usually get possessive just agitated that someone would even think they had a shot at him

- When she does get possessive though, oh boy

- There’s a part of him that gets really excited

- She’s shorter than he is so she’ll tug on him until his face is buried in her neck and start scenting him

- Normally he isn’t into PDA but something about his Alpha making sure everyone around had no doubts about who’s Omega he is just so hot to him

- “He’s mine and I have no problem kicking in your teeth if that’s what gets it into your thick skull"

- When an Omega starts trying to flirt with her, he doesn’t usually care

- She’s really good at shutting them down quickly so he just lets her handle it

- On the off chance that the other Omega is still being pushy is when he gets mad

- He’ll stand behind her and stare them down until they get the hint and leave

- If that doesn’t work, he’ll get aggressively affectionate and demand to go back to his nest and be scented

- He doesn’t feel like getting into a physical fight, so his goal is to make them as uncomfortable as possible

- If it still doesn’t work well rip to the poor fool who that it was a good idea to still try to take his Alpha away after he literally begged to be scented

- “Alpha let’s go, if we stay any longer, I might hurt someone”

Midoriya

- One of the most sought-after Omega in Yuuei

- It’s rare for an Omega to get into the hero course and even rare for them to actually become a hero

- But there’s Baby boy doing his damnedest to become a great hero and that’s interesting to most Alphas

- He didn’t need to pursue an Alpha they just flocked to him much to his frustration

- Started being interested in his Alpha because she didn’t make such a big deal of him being an Omega

- “Why are you guys so weird about him? Yeah, he’s an Omega and that’s cool and all, but he came here for the same reason the rest of us did and shouldn’t be treated like some trophy to be won” “But you’re trying to court him to” “That’s because he’s already mine, fuck off”

- He didn’t realize she was trying to court him

- He just kind assumed she was just being nice to him

- He’s not going to complain

- Is just kinda like ‘I guess I have an Alpha now, that’s cool!’

- He’s constantly asking her to scent stuff for him

- His nest has so many scented items that it barely even smells like him and he loves it

- Has been caught rolling around in it because he missed her, and this was easier then seeking her out to ask to be scented

- “What are you doing Omega?” “O-oh, I uh I missed you and my nest smells like you so…” “Izuku Baby, I’m going to need you to stop being so cute, it makes me really want to give you some pups and we’re still too young for that” “H-huh?!”

-Jealousy isn’t the hugest problem, but it definitely happens more often than either cares for

-Like I said earlier he’s a really sought-after Omega, so he has someone trying to take him away from her every other day

- Nothing less than bonding him proper will get them to completely stop

- It’s annoying for both of them

- Like he’s practically smothered in her scent, but he’ll still has to tell others to back off because she’s his Alpha

- When she gets fed up with his so-called suitors, she’ll get really possessive

- She’ll wrap her arms around his waist from behind and bite down on his scent gland

- Not hard enough to bond him but enough to make a very clear point

- "He already told you to stop, you should listen to him because I’ve got no problem with showing you he’s mine”

- When he gets jealous it’s really cute

- It doesn’t happen often since he has that reputation of being a prized Omega

- Most don’t bother with trying to tempt his Alpha but when they do, he gets huffy

- She’d never stray from him but since she thinks it’s cute when he pouts, she won’t stop the other Omega right away

- She won’t flirt back of course, she’s just ignoring them really but that never seems to be enough of a hint

- He’ll literally just drag her off without a word until they get to his nest

- “You’re so mean, you should have told them to stop (Yn)!”

Bakugou

- She didn’t court him he courted her

- As soon as he noticed her that was it

- That was his Alpha and any other Omega who was interested could fuck right off

- Was genuinely worried that he might be too aggressive of an Omega for her

- Tried to tone it down and act more like a traditional Omega in hopes that she’d pay more attention to him

- Turns out she was into the whole feisty ‘Fuck you, you’re my Alpha now’ attitude he had

- “Why are you being so weird? You’re acting like-” “Like an Omega shou-” “Not my Omega! Mine’s a little shit who keeps stealing all my good hoodies because he thinks I don’t notice and that’s exactly the way I want him! How I want you!” “I- wait what do you mean I’m a little shit?!” “That’swhat you choose to focus on?!”

- Ok he’s obviously not your average Omega but he has the strongest nesting urges out of these three

- Tries to claim he doesn’t nest though

- That clearly carefully constructed pile of soft things tucked away in the corner of his room is just a pile of shit he hasn’t put away

- So, what if he likes to put things, he’s gotten from her in that pile?

- It’s also a coincidence that it just happens to be big enough for both of them to comfortably lay in it together

- He just happens to like cuddling her in it, but doesn’t make it a nest, damnit!

- “You know it natural for you to make a nest, right? You don’t have to be so embarrassed by it” “Fuck off, it’s not a nest” “Katsu, we’re literally laying in it right now, do you really expect me to believe that this is just a random pile of stuff?” “It’s not a nest! One more word and I’ll kick you out of it!” “If it’s not a nest and just a pile then how are you gonna kick me out?” “I swear to- oh fuck off!”

-Jealousy is very surprisingly not a problem here at all and it amazes everyone around them

- She never gets jealous over him

- She doesn’t have to because he handles it himself when others try anything

- He gets genuinely offended by other Alphas trying to court him

- They tend to be interested in trying to ‘tame’ him and he ain’t putting up with that

- Not when his Alpha already treats him so well and loves him the way he is

- when he gets tiered of a particularly stubborn Alpha, he’ll stomp over to her and cling to her side

- “You fucking see this?! This is my Alpha! I don’t fucking need your shitty ass when I already have the best damn Alpha, shithead!”

- She also handles it herself when Omegas come onto her

- He would get jealous if it wasn’t for how she handles it

- She gets mad and disgusted that they even attempted to approach her

- Tells them off right away

- He thinks it’s really hot that she gets so defensive on his behalf and so mean about it too

- One of the only times he’ll call her Alpha in public

- It’s also something that makes him really consider giving her a few pups like right that moment

- “You, annoying little bitch! You have some nerve thinking you could take my Omega’s place! Look at him, why would you think I would want you over him?”

-Ok, so I didn’t really know how to include the head canons about their heats in a cohesive way so I decided to stick them right at the end because I want them with the other head canons

Todoroki

- Baby boy is a bit clingy even when he’s not in heat so once he is?

- Oh boy

- He’s so needy and it’s really cute ok?

- He pretty much needs to be in constant physical contact or he starts to panic a little

- He hates that he clings to her like that because he thinks it’s embarrassing

- He really can’t help it though

- He’s been on strong suppressants pretty much since he first presented

- As a result the heats he did experience were intense and lonely until he was with her

- She’s the first and only Alpha he’s ever trusted enough to be around him and take care of him during his heat and he can’t stand the idea of her not being right there within his reach

- He eventually decides to stop taking suppressants

- He trusts her to take care of him and wants to experience everything he can with her and this was no exception in his eyes

Midoriya

- She might as well permanently move into his nest because she’s not leaving it anytime soon

- He has stupidly high stamina and an even higher sex drive

- Baby has always had heats intense enough to throw any interested Alpha into a rut when they get a whiff of him

- So she’s understandably possessive and protective during the days leading up to and during his heat

- He loves it

- Loves that she’s protective and won’t let anyone to get close to him

- It makes him feel spoiled and like she puts him on a pedestal

- Though it is little troublesome when she starts picking fights because some Alphas can’t respect that they’re mates

- He gets it, but he’d rather have her fucking him instead of having to stop her from fucking others up

Bakugou

- The neediest fucking brat oh my God

- Will drag her off to his nest and then act like he isn’t in the middle of his heat and doesn’t need to be fucked

- Will try to deny that he’s in heat and gets huffy when she presses the matter

- Really, he just wants her to be more assertive

- Just really wants his Alpha to put some effort into trying to take care of him

- It makes him feel desirable and like he has her wrapped around his fingers

- We all know it’s the other way around but just let him have this, it means a lot to him

- Once he gives into his heat, he’s so whiny

- Begs for her to lavish him in attention

- Doesn’t matter what type of attention she gives him as long as she’s catering to his every whim and desire

- He’s so loud to, no one has any doubt about what they’re doing

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an-annyeoing-writer · 3 years

Text

Chanyeol x Reader: mistrust. [+18]

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: s*xual content, verbal degradation, low-key exh*bitionism, power play.

Author’s note: The story is, mostly, PwP, however I hope you enjoy it~!

Knock, knock, knock.

Three knocks of a perfect volume and an interval in between, followed by silence. The sequence ends with a quiet “come in” – quiet only because you’re on the other side of the door; the voice itself is confident, almost harsh.

You take a deep breath and open the door. You don’t feel too nervous – only to an extent to which you know you should be; only to an extent to which he expects you to fear him, whether in these particular circumstances or on a daily basis.

You close the door behind yourself and stand in the entry, eyes downcast. You briefly spotted him sitting at the desk in the center of the room, before you acknowledged that, just as his own gaze is down in his own documents that he’s analyzing right now, you also ought not to stare without his approval.

However, you can’t help stealing small glances at the way he looks with his glasses on. You rarely see him wear these; he wears them when working and it’s a rare thing for him to allow anyone to intrude when he’s on the job.

Whether it’s as his employee or as his lover – no matter how ethical or not it would be, for it’s a family business, and no one can tell him what to do – you always do your best to not disappoint him. The company is big, but the highest floor is reserved only for his closest circle, including his friends who have co-owned and managed the company for years, and you. Outside of the building, you may allow yourself to take a break, drink, and do all the things that friends usually do. Here, on the other hand, you ought to obey the other’s decisions and stay moderately distanced, and although he’s a compassionate leader, you know that your employment greatly depends on your actual performance, not your relationship. He made it clear when he hired you; he wants you as his lover, but as his worker – you need to prove your worth.

So you end up standing there, at the door, with your hands folded neatly in front of yourself, waiting with feigned patience for the other to finally acknowledge your presence, as any employee would when called over by their superior.

And eventually, he does notice you. His eyes lift up, piercing through you, before you even register that shuffling of paper has finally ceased and you feel consequently brave enough to check the reason. The stare intimidates you and you quickly look back down.

“Why did I call you over?” He beckons.

It sounds like a silly question, and you really wish it was. You wish for your answer to be simple and oblivious, you wish that “I don’t know” was an option. You open your mouth, but the reply just won’t come – all you feel is shame, and you wish to erase the probable issue at hand from your existence; you know what he summoned you here for, even if neither of you say it. You really failed. Not at work, at least. But it didn’t seem to be an issue for him to use his power to call you out.

“Well?”

“I-I…” you start.

“Look at me when you talk to me.”

You wish it was the case that you had enough strength to actually speak. You look up nonetheless, your hair barely hiding you from his gaze. His face is stern, no emotion written there, only a small scowl at your apparent misdemeanor.

“You’ve got nothing to say now, do you?” His tone raises a bit higher, a bit louder, not startling you but sending an unpleasant tingle down your spine. He doesn’t wait for you to answer this time. “No, you don’t. The frisky bitch had a whole lot to say when she talked to my friends behind my back, and now suddenly she’s all but wordy. That’s rich.”

Once he finally says it out loud, the whole heaviness on your shoulders falls to the ground. It’s as if there were figurative thick chains that were previously wrapped around you, dangling heavily around your neck, which finally lift, and even though you don’t need to carry them anymore, you still feel pulled down and prevented from moving on. But it’s true. He knows what happened: you showed your weakness. A bit drunk, a bit emotional, a few thoughtless comments spilled out.

“Get on the couch. Undress.”

You neither question nor hesitate; you know you’re in absolutely no place to do that. You take the pants off before sitting down and folding them nicely on the floor, and then off goes your shirt. Your movements begin to slow down, but only for a short moment. You glance up – he’s not concerned with you anymore, but you know that he won’t take it well if you don’t hurry. The underwear goes off as well, then. Everything is folded, by your hand, nicely by the couch which you sit on naked, covering your intimate parts with your hands, eyes downcast to stop yourself from looking at him every few seconds to check his reaction. Because there’s no reaction to check.

“Lay down. Back.”

He doesn’t say too much, only what’s absolutely necessary, short commands reminiscent of what would be said to a dog – and you do feel like one. You lay on your back on the couch as told to. The piece of furniture is at the side of the room and he didn’t specify if you should lay in the direction of the door or face him. Manners tell you to arrange yourself so that when you raise your head, you’ll see him more easily – although you’re not so sure if it’s truly due to manners or just a practical choice.

“Masturbate.”

The word sounds emotionless, rolling off his tongue. It’s not a “touch yourself”, it’s not a “please yourself”, there’s no frills to it. The command is simple, the word – embarrassing without any sexual overtone to it. You feel awkward. But you know you’re to comply. It’s nothing out of the ordinary; only a bit more unusual and shameful, but nothing that he wouldn’t have asked of you earlier after all. It’s a command you can comply with easily.

And that’s exactly why you’re worried. The command is too easy for it to be all.

You can’t get yourself to relax, or to feel nice. Nerves nipping at you prevent you from indulging in the sensation that would have been so nice otherwise. You become frustrated; what’s wrong? He’s there, and he’s your biggest turn-on. But you just can’t get wet when you’re this stressed. Your fingers rub the dry surface, trying to get it to release at least a bit of moisture to ease the discomfort, but you can’t even count on that. At least, after a few minutes, the sensation itself becomes bearable and you can focus on it, totally aware that the man is ignoring your efforts regardless. He’s back to his documents, reports and forecasts that have little to do with your person. How is he managing to focus on them when you’re naked a few meters away? – you’ve got no clue.

Knock, knock, knock.

You panic and sit up. Your gaze goes straight to the man sitting there, not your lover in this setting, but he doesn’t reciprocate the glance, although he does look up – in the door’s direction.

“Come in.” He states simply.

You feel a pang of jealousy at the gentle, friendly tone that he uses, nothing like how he spoke to you earlier. But the thought rapidly disappears when a more urgent issue arises.

The door opens and you quickly sit up to cover yourself – but no command is spoken. You might expect him to tell you to lay back down and continue; you know just how twisted he is. But he doesn’t, nor does he tell you to leave; the permission to do so is not granted and you’re stuck in between all these circumstances, without a single idea as to what to do.

A familiar silhouette appears in the doorway, a man in a suit smiling softly.

“I’ve got your documents, you got mine?”

“Ah, Myeon, sure.”

He comes in. Whether he doesn’t notice you or it doesn’t even phase him to see such a thing at this point – you have honestly no clue. But he passes by the couch, not even sparing you a glance, although you can tell he’s careful not to step on your clothes. He delivers the documents to Chanyeol, who stands up to receive them out of courtesy. They exchange a few polite comments, a few smiles, signs of respect that you know you’re not about to experience anytime soon.

Your nerves slowly settle down, but you’re still just as confused as earlier. None of this makes any sense – was it planned ahead? Was it a scheme to embarrass you? Unbelievable.

Junmyeon leaves, but you’re, in turn, left unable to go back to your previous act. You stare at the man sitting at the desk, expecting an explanation that never comes.

“Chanyeol-ssi…?”

The title sounds foreign on your tongue – it always does – but you say it nonetheless.

He finally spares you a glance. His eyebrows raise in contempt, a quiet disdain at your foolishness. He waits for you to speak, to form a question.

“Chanyeol-ssi, what should I do…?”

He rests chin on his palm, staring at you with an almost bored expression.

“That must be so confusing to you, right?” You hesitate, but nod. He licks his lips, not hurrying the words that are about to come. “To not know what other people are up to. Confusing. Maybe even saddening.” You feel even more shame now, realizing how much you underestimated your own wrongdoings. “Communication is the key after all.”

“I’m sorry…” you whimper. You want it to sound sincere, but it turns out to be nothing but pathetic, even to your own ears. What can you do? – it’s too late to take that back. You never meant any harm, but it doesn’t mean you didn’t cause any. “I’m really sorry…”

“I started doubting you, you know?” He doesn’t let you speak now, and you try to be grateful, because it means you don’t need to take the responsibility for the conversation upon yourself. “How can I trust someone who acts disrespectfully as soon as I’m not around?”

“It wasn’t like this, I swear…”

“I know how it was. I saw it. But you’re lucky.”

He stands up from his seat. You cower under his gaze as he approaches you and stares you down, but his tone of voice now seems as though things won’t end badly after all. You feel a simple need to endure whatever is to come.

“You’re lucky because I know that, with how stupid you are, you wouldn’t survive a day without my guidance. Look at you now. It was enough that I didn’t look at you for a minute and you’ve already made a fool out of yourself.”

He grabs your face and pushes you back down onto the couch, kicking your legs so you get the cue to get back into your previous position.

“I never told you to stop. Keep going,” he barks.

Your hands tremble as you reach down again; maybe the trembling will help you accomplish the task, you think bitterly.

He crouches down at your side, one hand reaching behind your head and holding the couch’s armrest there, ensnaring you in. He watches your movements with unreadable expressions, even as you glance up and stare at him intensely, granted a perfect perspective to view his jaw and the close proximity allowing you to see the texture of his skin and hair, and, God – the smell of his perfume. He’s close. You missed him so close. You don’t dare to reach to him, though you crave him hopelessly. But it’s enough – it starts to feel good. Fuck, just having him so close feels good. What else could you want?

“You’re so fucking horny. Are you seriously getting off because I scolded you? You perv.” You hear his breathy laugh. You want to argue, which seems so immoral, but the way his words turn you on even more make you realize he’s nothing but right and that he knows you just too well at this point. It’s not like he didn’t know such a reaction would come from you, but calling you out on it just stirs your mind further, messes with your emotions, rids you off any defense you ever had against him. It’s not like you needed such defense anyway. “Whore.”

You nod fast in response, agreeing to every single thing; you don’t dare to do anything but what he tells you to, but you still want to let him know that you’re active and fervent, and that you hear his words and take them in with gratitude.

“Say that. Say what you are.”

His lips twist into a grin as you moan out loud before you manage to say a single word. You fight to catch your breath as your wrist starts to ache and your fingers begin to lock.

“I-I… W-whore…”

The hand holding the armrest grabs your hair instead, pulling your head up roughly and forcing you to look at him, his eyes on fire as if he were a madman now. The other hand, before you can see it happening, presses into yours, maneuvers your fingers around your clit harder and faster than you alone are capable of.

With a loud scream, your pleasure unravels and your back arches off the couch, hands flying around and grasping onto whatever there is, yet – head held tightly in place, scalp burning, eyes not leaving his even for a second until slowly, slowly, everything comes back down and stills.

He spits in your face.

You accept it with gratitude.

“Know your place.”

Your hair is released, your emotions fall down. His hand rests upon your forehead, stroking it gently as you lie there, breathing heavily. A gentle kiss to your lips follows, however short, but it’s enough to set you at peace, and you just know that there’s no better place for you than the one you’re in right now.

#exo chanyeol #exo smut #chanyeol smut #chanyeol x reader #exo #park chanyeol #exo x reader #exo lemon #chanyeol lemon #chanyeol fanfiction #exo imagine #exo drabble #vg: chanyeol #vg: exo #vg: fanfiction

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hazelcephalopod · 2 years

Text

The Eye of the World Ch 43-45

Plans are laid and enter: The Ways.

It’s very long. Also, see: horror tag.

Disclaimer: this is my first read thru but I’ve watched all of the show this far and been spoiled on some book things. So… I’m going to lean into that. Enjoy figuring out what I know, and what I think I know, and what I just don’t. Also s/x I add commentary when I edit.

Spoilers for the first book and up to the most recent episode under the cut. Potential spoilers for latter books.

Ch 43

The Dragon’s Fang

Loial POV?

Mm no… Rand it seems. Aw well

I’m going to guess most of the rest of the book will be Rand POV as the band is back together

Lore begins

… in summarized so much skip to lore end.

Loretime- Ogier offered male channelers sanctuary during the breaking. B/c the Ogier stedding is disconnected from the True Source enough that it could protect male channelers from the taint but also enough that they couldn’t stand being cut off from it. For their help the Ogier were gifted the Ways. Which are, well, wormholes transverse-able by foot. Also they are somehow alive… fun. (Wtf?) the Ogier put some Waygates in cities they built, many of those cities are gone but the Waygates are difficult -almost impossible- to destroy. Stedding gates are right outside the border of the stedding, b/c the Power doesn’t work inside. Also, they are now absolutely corrupted b/c saidin is, in my words, cursed as fuck. And therefor practically unusable presently; b/c again, in my words, they are also now cursed as fuck. (I later learn calling them cursed is extremely apt)

Also on Ogier: most experienced Exile from the steddings, and then the Long Wandering leading to “the Longing” -unclear what the consequences of that are, but it can only be fixed by returning to a stedding, seems bad.

Modern perspective: the sanctuary, helped prevent the Breaking from being worse vs prolonged it and made it worse. Blue Ajah holds the former, Red the latter.

Lore end

Tl;dr on Waygates- they are wormholes, but you can walk along a path to other gates. Channeling men gifted them to Ogiers during the Breaking for helping them. They are now very fucking cursed -see above for why. Like people disappear or go mad using them cursed. So, horrible option honestly. (I later learn. I am a right and so is Loial. They really bad)

“…some who had came out had gone mad, raving about *Machin Shin*, the Black Wind…” -Loial, on the present state of Waygates. And even when magically healed “…it was as if the darkness had sunken into their bones. They never laughed again, and they feared the sound of the wind.”

So… hope that’s clear enough. But if not there’s more being watched and shadow imagery in those things. (I later learn, no description is not clear from any who’ve not experienced it)

Moiraine is also coming across as high key tired of this bs and ready to just make /choices/

Mat understandably, freaking out

“Moiraine did not raise her voice, but it filled the room, compelling. Her chair by the fire suddenly seemed like a throne. Suddenly even Morgase would have paled in her presence.” -teotw, Moiraine before giving her rousing speech on going to stop the end of the world. It’s basically ‘your ta’veren and the eye keeps coming up. That’s a sign as far as I’m concerned. Let’s go! We can do it!’

“Perhaps not ta’veren—perhaps…” -Moiraine on Nynaeve and Egwene. Sounds like wiggle room to me!

We’ve got Moiraines magic, Lan’s sword, Nynaeve’s, er, herbs. Loial’s, knowledge? The boys t-ta’veren… stuff and uh, decent sling/bow skills? Egwene’s… determination. Also a cursed knife and reluctant wolf powers? (Editor me- also an axe)

… and Rand and Egwene are budding channelers. Which… might help. And Nynaeves reluctant channeling. Soo…

“Long into the night they planned…” -teotw. Well. There’s that. What are the plans?

Rand… no. She’s coming.

Lol

“We’ll leave them watching an empty box Aes Sedai.” -Gill to Moiraine.

Gotta describe bathing time i guess

That fucking dagger

… also something about shame and two beds

And dreamtime! With creepy water sounds and doors…

“He could almost make out his own features. If he imagined he was squinting, he could nearly tell who it was.” -(Rand) looking into the blurry dream mirror

It’s ol’ Balzo

You really keep saying ‘each time’ and I have to wonder, why so much resentment all the same? Huh Balzo? Compensating for something?

Oh no I guess Balzo is the Dark One… /s. (Sure. Please.)

“No Aes Sedai serve you.” -Rand to Balzo. Man, he’s going to just out dumb him isn’t he?

Honestly he’s been clear what he wants dude. You to go over to the dark side and serve him.

Ok this is just Vader and Luke in ep5. It’s hilarious. There’s a long shouting of noooo!

…With just a twist of horror at the end. Eternal void. Hate that! (Editor me- hahaha. That’s nothing)

… kinda hope Mat is just having the same dream. B/c that’s funny

LMAO! He absolutely did. Amazing!

…to start anyway. Mm. Not good.

Yup. The Dark one. I mean, maybe. Could be… /skeptical

Wth now objects are appearing from the dreamworld? No! Go back to the funny part

Is it even real? Is he just loosing it?

I don’t like that phrasing. No. Don’t use that phrasing.

Ok so wound was real?

Dunno. Chapter end!

Ch 44: The Dark Along the Ways

A vine.

Rand POV

I love Loial. He is much needed here

Oh the horses are coming with! Yay. And Loial does have a horse. A large one.

The fact that Rand’s new horse is called Red feels important somehow. Idk why. But it does

Bela!

Idk. It’s probably some part the dagger

Stable hand of TQB: Ramey.

… is Gill like secretly a spymaster or something?

“In the Ways, Loial said, it was darker than the darkest night.“ -teotw (Rand)

So, so descriptive. S/x I want to know just a little less

Moiraine ‘ok by the rules of ta’veren there must be an easy way in’ (is she right? I RAFO I guess?) this time she is!

Aw yes. Dancing lights

Very, but Lan- do we have to? Moiraine- yes. Into the scary madness gate now! I’ll go last

Wait… did Stargate steal from TEOTW? …

Oh great more unending darkness

Darkness resistant to being lit

Well that’s a mind bending mind fuck.

“You could walk all the way around it, and you would not see a thing from the other side. I would not advise it, though. The books aren’t very clear about what lies behind the Waygates. I think you could become lost there, and never find your way out.” -Loial trying to explain the portals to the world in the Ways; b/c its like a set window in the middle of a floor. A scary shadow abyss floor.

Ok the wheel turns faster in the Ways but… so time seems slower in relation to outside them. Meaning it looks like people are moving in slomo looking from the Ways out into the world.

“I fear what I don’t know about the Ways, Rand.” -Loial. Not inspiring any confidence thee bud. (I later learn he is right to, incredibly right to)

“It was bad enough just being there without giving the darkness a will of its own.” -teotw

Well… that last little normal will soon be gone

They are the only light left in your world bro. They are. It’s terrifying. Just darkness. Forever. That is half why people go mad. I assume (inlarer learn, nah. Maybe a quarter at most)

I don’t like human contact but I agree here.

The horses are more terrified! They must be!

This is like that dark room In Antechamber game or whatever. (I’m very bad at that game)

Dark cave vibes. Hate it

No I take it back. Underground maze vibes. Worse

“Something about all of it seemed almost familiar to Rand…”

Don’t

Lan Keen Mind feat confirmed

You want to fucking sleep here? Fuck no!

Rand agrees with me. He’s right! No!

Oh boring now? Fuck off.

The plot agrees. Terrifying.

Ch 45: What Follows in the Shadow

Fuck that chapter name! No!

(Remember, Machin Shin)

The Flame of Tar Valon. <header

POV Rand

Don’t think there’s a bottom. Hate

I know I keep saying ‘hate’ but honestly… that’s impressive. Like. Yes. This is the proper response. This is just a horror short story in a fantasy adventure novel

No! Back!

Yea. There’s no rules of physics or whatever here! There is darkness, timelessness(?), and insanity! Expanse to expanse.

Is someone gonna have a panic attack? I would have a panic attack

Oh. No! Not Loial. No! He just wants to go home now.

Oh Rand. You are so sweet. I am so sry. Loial is right tho.

Two days? Really? Here?

I guess settling into boredom is easier yea

“Even the wind would have been welcome.” -(Rand). Machin shin…

… sleep time. Aaaaaa

That little stove thing is cool tho

“Once things grew on the Islands…” -Loial. It was like grass and stuff but still. Mmm. No

But… So the feywild. Cool

Why? Is not it all bad? Would wards help?

Oh no. No it’s all too cursed to use the One Power unless absolutely necessary. Imo even then sound alike a bad idea

Thom! Alive! I mean that’s some decent news. Yay!

…yea I don’t need death. There’s plenty of other risks that seem worse than death in this story (I later learn even more how right I am)

Ok kids. Do. That. (Ok it’s a little funny)

Blanket fort! In the eldritch horror shadow place

“When he turned one way he found Mat looking at him; looking through him, really… He rolled the other way, and Perrin had his eyes open, too.” -(Rand). I don’t like that. More watching… mnm

Lol. I’m with Rand’s first thought. ‘K thnx for that Moiraine. >.>.’

“Someone is following us. Or something.” -Lan.

Oh they are all loosing it. Oh no (I later consider, or are they. Perspective is important)

I mean Loial the most. But…

“…whoever it is, or what ever, he’s not trying to catch us. He almost caught up at the last Island and scampered back across the bridge so as not to.” -Lan.

But… just gonna, let that happen b/c uh. Can’t split up, or you’ll be lost forever apparently. Ok -that’s not an argument against btw.

There are fucking Trollocs in here now? No!

Menetheren had a fucking Waygate?! And so does the Blight?! Why the Blight?

Also yea that does explain a lot about the Trolloc movements. Yup.

…oh that’s not good! They could like… invade with that

Well if they don’t know all the gates. Small mercy that.

“Rand shivered. Walking through the Waygate to find Trollocs waiting in the dark… half-animal faces snarling as they leaped forward in the blackness to kill. Or worse.” -(Rand) or that. Awesome

So yup. Back to full horror

“At the foot of one of the bridges the frozen shapes of Trollocs… Gray and pitted like the stone, the huge bodies were half sunken in the swollen, bubbled surface. Some of the bubbles had burst, revealing more snouted faces, forever snarling with fear.” -teotw

Good news. Trollocs have a bad fucking time in here. Bad news… reread the quote!

Someone is vomiting. Yea! Fair. (I hope Rand joins in the show actually. If they do that. Understandable if they do not.) (editor me: also it was May so extra, whose it gonna be?)

Full agreement with this: “Even for Trollocs it had been a horrible way to die.”

Is… is this stone going to eat them? Or try to? Hey… what did they?

Nope. Maybe? “…the men, the Aes Sedai, who made the Ways protected them, building in traps for creatures of the Dark One.” -Moiraine, postulating as to wtf the horrid stone bubbles were. To that I say: where those men not slowly going insane. No offense to them. Just saying tho

Tbf… having everyone panic would be bad so… yea I’d say that too

But then she’s like ‘everything is real fucking cursed no matter what we do here. So lets go!”

Yup. Moiraine is very aware, it could just be bad here. Just bad. For everyone

I mean yea. Dark one creatures could be following them. Yup.

“…there was a distant wind, too, off in the black somewhere. He could not say in which direction. At first he thought it was his imagination, but with time he became sure.” -(Rand). Machin Shin…

Listen, that’s not even a thing i known; I just remember the evil wind was Machin Shin. And it is somewhere in there! And it will drive someone mad. (I very quickly learn I’m right. And I hate it this time… but is also love it)

Rand! No! “It’ll be good to feel the wind again, even if it’s cold.” -Rand’s thoughts to himself.

Well that’s not good

Oh yup. Right after-

“Loial, didn’t you say there isn’t any wind in the Ways?” -Rand. &: “Loial… cocked his head to listen. Slowly his face paled… ‘*Machin Shin*,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘The Black Wind…’”

Yea that’s the English! Black Wind.

I hate being right s/x

Loial shut up! Not helping!

Time to run!

You find that fucking leaf!

“He felt it. Back toward the Guiding, the wind howled. He almost thought he could hear voices in it, voices screaming vileness that, even half understood, brought bile up in his throat.” -(Rand)

Now Moiraine is melting the gate? To open it?

The wind is on them. Is not good. That gate is still. VERY CLOSED!

It’s blocked by like two stones at least 1000 lbs each? So… uh. Help?

Go Mandarb I guess?

Mmm… I… I have doubts the horse alone did that ya know?

Honestly the description of Moirianses atack is great but I have to include the result-

“The wind shrieked in agony; it screamed in rage. The thousand murmurs that hid in the wind roared like thunder, roars of madness, half-heard voices crackling and howling promises that twisted Rand’s stomach as much by the pleasure in them as by what he almost understood them to say.” -teotw (Rand). Ok. What the fuck Rand? I… are we going to start playing ‘how mad has Rand gone?’ already?

… I mean idk, 5% by now? Is this inappropriate?

… wait was the inability to laugh important? Suddenly I suspect it may be…

Oh sweet winter air!

Uhh did they just break that Waygate? I thought they couldn’t break? (I later learn technically no. But it is no longer usable)

“Slowly the murky surface bulged like some strange, long bubble rising to the surface of a pond. Moiraine’s back broke through the bubble. Inchmeal, the Aes Sedai and her dim reflection backed out of each other.” -teotw. What it looks exiting or at least being thrown thru a gate. O-Kay then.

Um, no seriously. What the actual fuck?

Just go read pg. 633. Rand’s hearing the black wind and it is homicidal to say the least.

That wind is really fucked up!

Hey anyone, who wasnt Rand, hear that? The words? Which apparently reach out of the gate???

“The Black Wind that steals souls.” Wtf Loial I don’t remember the stealing souls part. (Maybe that’s on me.)

It’s just insanity Nynaeve. What more is there to know? Like… bad. It’s bad

… that said if you can ever figure out Wtf it is you… you win. Everything

Is the ‘Time of Madness’ the Breaking?

“…the Ways are living things, and all living things have parasites.” -Moiraine trying to explain what Machin Shin might be.

Ok. Well that’s firmly some cosmic horror. I am horrified and elated.

Worse?! How? No.

… does it get worse?

So… not “broken” but firmly unusable.

And on that horrifying note-

A map! Yay!

Also why do I know Ingtar?

#many thoughts on twot teotw #< block or filter to stop seeing these posts #the wheel of time #wheel of time #wot #wot book spoilers #twot book spoilers #twot book #eotw spoilers #the eye of the world #eye of the world #horror

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