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rashomonss · 11 months

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The brothers and the Human Realm

a/n: so ik ‘jealous much’ won the poll but it’s still not done yet so have this instead!

context: a part of me still finds lessons 40-43 funny because the brothers have never really been to the human world that much, and they don’t really know how certain things work. Take the slow cooker and ice cream truck for example. So these are little headcanons I have for when all of y’all are together in the beginning of their stay in the human realm.

enjoy <3 , also these are in no specific order

you all are hopeless…

Solomon and MC would so fuck with the brothers while being in the human realm.

For example they’d take Lucifer to the shadiest mexican restaurant possible then after they finished eating they would tell the waiters it was Lucifer’s birthday and watch the Avatar of Pride sit there with a big ass sombrero on his head as they sang happy birthday to him.

MC later took a picture and sent it to Diavolo who then made it his lock screen.

Satan and Belphie tried to electrocute Lucifer by throwing a toaster in the bathroom while he was in the middle of a shower. This happened after the fact you told them not to put water on the toaster because it could electrocute someone.

Beel ate an entire bottle of ibuprofen liquid gels because he thought they were hard gummies.

Beel also ate the food and cake shaped wax candle melts you had bought for Asmo as a gift

Beel lastly ate your whole brand new container of melatonin and it knocked him out for 15 hours straight. Needless to say Lucifer was very concerned for his wellbeing, and Belphie soon questioned if you had anymore.

Belphie and his brothers were never taught stranger danger, because who in their right mind would be a danger to them in the Devildom?

So after you had explained to him what an ice cream truck was he vowed to go to one with you.

However when a creepy old man in a white van offers him candy he believes it to be the same as the ice cream truck so he gets in the van.

When the brothers relay this information to you, you begin to lose your shit explaining how that was not in fact an ice cream truck he got into but instead a kidnapper van.

The brothers don’t know how to eat certain human world foods.

Such as a banana, watermelon, mango, pineapple, kiwi, avocado, cherry, dragon fruit, papaya, onion, etc.

So when you first buy one from the grocery store and leave it out before cutting it they automatically think it’s some weird shaped human food and bite into it eating the skin or seeds and all.

After they tell you about the weird but delicious taste of it you ask if they cut it or spit out the seeds before eating it, and when they reply with a puzzled look and a no your heart drops.

Thank god they’re demons. You then proceed to buy the same thing again this time cutting it up in front of them so they know what parts to eat of certain things.

Expanding on the cherry part, did y’all’s parents ever tell you not to swallow watermelon or cherry seeds because if you did a cherry tree or whole watermelon would then grow in your stomach??

I know mine and some of my friends parents would tell us that when I was younger to make sure we didn’t swallow any seeds.

If they didn’t then oh well, anyway…

Continuing with Solomon being an ass, he would so tell something like that to the brothers. If he happened to see Beel swallow a cherry whole he would then proceeded to tell Lucifer not to let him do that.

And when the oldest asks why Solomon would then go onto explain that if he swallows cherry pit then a cherry tree will then grow inside his stomach.

Of course this freaked out Lucifer so for the next hour he tried getting Beel to spit out all the cherries he ate.

You would have to organize their fridge and pantry in the new house because they don’t know which human world foods need to be refrigerated or not.

After you arrive at the house you spent a good three hours explaining to them not everything can go in the pantry because some of it will spoil after you open it.

Then you proceed to gag when you pulled out an expired chunky milk container from the pantry.

They find the concept of drive thru or fast food places astonishing. The fact that you can just order wait in a line for a few minutes in your car then get your food is crazy. They do however all panic though when you get to the front and they don’t know what to order off the menu.

Car washes are also something they found themselves favoring. You would turn up the music as you slowly pulled in and joked by telling the brothers you were going on a ride of sorts.

Which in turn shocked you when they did believed you as the car wash stared. Each of them were staring out the windows with starry eyes as different colors of soap were thrown on your car.

You laughed to yourself as they all admired the way the soap blended together, Asmo and Mammon found themselves taking pictures of the whole thing. While Belphie was telling Beel how this looked like a starry sky.

And Levi went on to tell Satan how this reminded him of an anime scene. Lucifer also found himself sitting quietly in the passenger seat enjoying it too. (Lucifer is a certified passenger princess, fight me on that)

Each brother questioned you on how this was possible and you replied with smile. After the car wash was over and you drove through the dryers they all asked if you could do that again, to which you replied smiling “maybe some other time”.

Lucifer watered the fake succulents and plants you put around the house for two weeks straight until you said something.

They love watching true crime documentary’s to the point you’d have to physically pull them away from the tv.

It happened one afternoon while a few of them were relaxing in the living room and you were looking for a channel to watch.

Deciding there was nothing interesting on you put on an old true crime documentary and began watching it. As the brothers heard the story of the crime from the tv they each became immersed in it.

Telling you things such as “how could humans do that to each other?” or “wow humans are more brutal than we thought” or even adding in their own comments on how they could have made the crime worse.

It became a guessing game between all of them to figure out who killed who during each episode you watched.

Much to everyone dismayed Satan was the one who won every time.

Meanwhile while they were all immersed in the tv you noticed Lucifer standing behind you, arms crossed also watching tv. You told him to sit down and watch with all of you but he denied, claiming he wasn’t really interested in stuff like this anyway.

Yet he never moved from that same spot each episode.

Each of the brothers have made something explode in the microwave.

Lucifer stained it red when he went to reheat pasta, but he put it in for to long and it exploded. Mammon overfilled his ramen thus causing it to leak then explode.

Satan and Levi also happened to be reheating takeout at the same time, but both of the containers were styrofoam and exploded. Levi got annoyed and Satan threw the microwave at Lucifer.

Asmo put some skincare product in there because he found something online about a certain hack, and it exploded causing the microwave to smell like burnt strawberries.

Beel put too much food in the microwave causing it to all melt together then explode.

Belphie put a coffee in there to reheat and it exploded, but he was too lazy to clean it up so he just left it. Lucifer was then next to use the microwave and got coffee all over him.

You made all seven of them watch the entire twilight series as a joke but ironically they all actually enjoyed it.

Satan even went out and bought the books, and finished all of them in about 2 hours

Bonus

Solomon distracted Diavolo for 3 hours straight by making him watch 5 minute craft videos.

Diavolo then proceeded to break things to try these said crafts which caused Barbatos to have a meltdown.

Barbatos destroyed an entire sidewalk because he saw two rats run across it into the sewer.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #omswd headcanons #demon brothers #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me headcanons #obey me human realm

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littleredwing89 · 1 year

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PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 1

PRINCE OF GOTHAM

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut.

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Some other characters are changed too, hopefully you’ll enjoy the cameos etc. I’ve tweaked parts of the story here and there so it suits better. I hope you all enjoy xoxo much love. Let me know if you want a tag list / to be on the tag list.

***

Roy lounged back in his leather office chair and smirked as Jason sauntered in without knocking. “And what do I owe this displeasure?”.

“Just wanted to see how things were going, you know, it is my company after all”, Jason glanced around the office. Roy liked to keep things minimal, although the addition of the little cactus was new. An almost feminine touch. He made a note to question him about that later. He’d never known Harper to take an interest in plants before.

As the office door closed behind him, arguing erupted outside, barely concealed by the walls. He raised his eyebrow and looked through the window seeing a short, stumpy man in a suit become red and blotchy in the face.

“I don’t know why we still pay that moron”, Roy grunted and waved his hand to the disagreement outside. The stubby man, Eric, was tugging at his tie as a more feminine voice dressed him down confidently.

“I can have HR carry out a performance review if you’d like”.

Jason glanced out between the blinds and saw you storm around one of the desks, straight into his vision, hands flying violently as you spoke. He swallowed as his eyes followed you; a tight fitting grey pencil skirt paired with a wine silk blouse. He raised an eyebrow in interest. Your hair was pinned up in a messy bun, strands falling down to frame your petite face. Lips painted a deep shape of rouge. You laughed venomously before pointing to one of the free standing boards, a colourful diagram adorning it. Eric shook his head and turned away, only infuriating you more. Jason smirked, enjoying the little show.

“She’s been here 5 minutes…down boy”, Roy chuckled and grabbed something from his printer. Scrawling his signature across the bottom.

“You say that like you'd wait even 30 seconds”, Jason scoffed, a little embarrassed and slightly impressed at how well Roy could read him.

Roy looked up from the papers and grinned, “I give at least 3 to 5 working days as a courtesy before I pounce”.

Jason felt his stomach churn at the thought. He spun around quicker than he would have liked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh...so you’ve tried then?”.

“What’s it to you if I have?”, Roy grinned, noticing Jason’s reaction.

“I want to see if she has taste”, Jason quipped and turned his attention back to the escalating discussion outside. Hoping to hide the pink tinting his cheeks. You’d now dragged the whiteboard across to Eric, jabbing at one of the PowerPoint slides before rubbing your temples in frustration.

Roy scoffed to hide the laughter before getting out of his seat strolling across to Jason to hand him the signed papers, “You know, she’s the woman that saved you 500 grand last week”.

Jason frowned upon taking the paperwork from Roy, “I don't remember hearing about it”.

The white haired man shrugged to the shouting, “Take a wild guess why, Todd”.

“He played it as his own victory?”, Jason’s gaze fell back to you. Eric was crossing over your work on the board with an ugly red marker, sneering at you. Jason felt his temper surge at the blatant disregard for your hard work and effort. His brow creased at the unfamiliar emotions swimming in the back of his mind.

Roy slapped him on the shoulder suddenly, a dark grin on his lips, “Oh! So you do have a brain”.

Jason rolled his eyes, rolling his broad shoulders, “Contrary to popular belief, yes I do”.

Roy laughed deeply as he watched you with Jason through the window, your irritation bubbling over as you repeatedly jabbed your pen to the graphs on the board, voice becoming louder with every word, “She’s a real pistol”.

“I can see”, Jason hummed appreciatively as you stalked off towards the coffee room, the skirt pulling tight against you, highlighting the curve of your ass perfectly.

Eric looked flustered as the rest of the staff in the room stared at him following the heated exchange. He shouted something to them, causing them all to bow their heads behind their computer screens. Roy grumbled something under his breath Jason couldn’t make out. Eric turned towards Roy’s office and stiffened when he saw both men watching him. Jason smirked at him, giving a subtle wave before turning to Roy, “You know what, I will send HR down this week to investigate”.

***

You checked yourself in the mirror of the elevator again, nerves making your stomach somersault. The dress had been an extravagant splurge but the moment you laid your eyes on it, you knew you had to have it. It was a floor length, backless crimson dress with a daring thigh split. You ran your hands down the front of the fabric, the satin soothing your clammy palms.

Your hair was curled loosely and draped down your bare shoulders, lips a dark red to match your dress. Briefly, you hoped, you hadn’t gone overboard with your outfit. The invitation had said ‘formal wear’. The elevator dinged and before you could think too much, the doors slid open revealing you to the party. You heard someone gasp in the distance and that’s when the entire room turned to your direction.

You were used to people staring at you in the office because of your fiery attitude but this was different. You felt your skin prickle. An odd sensation driving through your nerves. Everyone had paused to stare at you as you stepped into the room. The music faded in the back of your mind, replaced by the hammering of your heart. You straightened yourself and strode into the room with all the false confidence you could muster.

His eyes. Jason. You could feel them burning more than anyone else’s. He’d stopped mid sentence when you entered the room, cigarette left smoking in his hand. He was surrounded by his executive team, including your area manager, Mr Harper. Whilst you felt heat spreading across your cheeks, you felt somewhat pleased you’d stunned your loud mouthed CEO into silence. Roy had slapped Jason on the back, a dark smirk on his face drawing his attention away from you. He glared at Roy before taking a long drag from his cigarette, continuing with his conversation as though nothing had happened. The group of suited men dissolved into barks of laughter.

You needed a large drink. Preferably a strong one too if you wanted to last the night. You headed straight towards the bar, as fast as your towering heels would allow.

———

Jason patted one of the executives on the shoulder, making his excuses before striding across to you as you leaned against the bar, your bare back on full display. He swallowed thickly, you looked majestic under the glittering fairy lights draped around the room.

He settled next to you at the bar, clearing his throat before speaking, the deep timber of his voice rattled your core, “I think...I've seen your face before”.

You rolled your eyes at the terrible opening line before turning to face him. The black suit fitted him perfectly, showcasing his broad shoulders, his blood red tie knotted tightly against the collar of his crisp white shirt.

“Probably during one of your lonely nights over a bottle of chardonnay”, you lazily waved your hand at him.

Jason smirked at your attitude and laughed, “You think I’m chatting you up princess?”.

You pursed your lips together, nodding, “It certainly sounded that way to me and I really don’t know what else you would do after swaggering away from that crowd just to talk to lil’ old me”.

“I simply had to talk to the woman who stunned the room into silence”, his smooth voice sent shivers over your skin, oozing charm. You imagined it worked on every woman he encountered. It almost worked on you.

“Very smooth Mr Todd”, you teased and tried to wave the bartender down with no luck. You sighed and cursed under your breath.

Jason clicked his fingers, drawing the attention of the waiter immediately, “Two large glasses of Malbec please”, he winked at you when the bartender reached to the top shelf of liquor, “I know who you are”, Jason gave you a devilish smile, “You’re the 500 grand woman”.

“Y/N”, you winked and wiggled your finger at him in a joking fashion. The grin on your face widened when the wine was set down in front of you both. The rich, spicy smell drifted up your nose.

You dug your hand into your purse but Jason shook his head, “It’s on me”.

“Oh”, you clicked your tongue playfully, “You’re too kind”, you smirked at him.

Jason wouldn’t admit it, but he knew exactly who you were. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since he laid his eyes on you last month. Your spitfire attitude had spread through the office and you’d made quite a name for yourself. Cutting impressive deals and smart talking anyone who tried to shoot you down. The only thing Jason had lacked was an opportunity to talk to you.

He held up his glass of whiskey and looked down at you, his dark eyes sweeping over your face, “A toast”, he leaned down towards you, his hot breath fanned across your cheek, “To Y/N”, his voice dipped lower, a gravelly rasp, “The most beautiful, enticing woman in the room”.

“You forgot to add smart”, your voice sounded more breathy than you intended, giving Jason an idea of the effect he was having over you.

He winked, “The most beautiful, enticing, smart mouthed woman in the room”.

“To me”.

You clinked your glass with his before bringing it to your lips, taking a long sip. The alcohol burnt your throat in the best way, the deep red of your lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Jason couldn’t help but stare at the smudge, wondering if it would stain as nicely on his skin.

Downing the drink in one, Jason placed the glass on the bar, the bartender rushed over quickly, leaving the bottle of red wine next to Jason before scurrying off. Your tongue darting across your lips, savouring the taste of the luxurious drink.

Jason watched you closely, you felt alive under his burning stare, “I hope you’re enjoying working for The Iceberg Lounge”.

“Of course, Sir”.

He swallowed the growl threatening to escape his lips. The way you said it. The way your lips wrapped around the word Sir, how easily it rolled off your tongue. He took a deep breath. You riled him up with little to no effort.

You glanced around the gala, almost everyone from The Iceberg had turned up. Hundreds of people were braying in the room. Dancing, drinking, laughing and screeching. The music thudded in the background, the bass thrumming through your body. You had to hand it to Jason, he certainly knew how to host a company party. Well a man in charge of a chain of bars should really.

Jason gripped the bottle of wine swiftly, “It's getting rather lively in here princess, fancy a drink and a smoke on the balcony?”.

You nodded, grabbing your clutch from the bar. You sashayed through the crowd easily, Jason following close behind you. Slinking through the throes of people, you smirked to yourself. You were playing with fire but, you had to admit, you liked the heat that came with it.

———

When you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night breeze whipped around your body, nipping the bare skin on show. You shuddered slightly, looking up at the night sky. You were high enough that you could finally see the stars. They twinkled innocently, making you smile to yourself.

Jason placed the bottle of red on a nearby table, looking across at you. You looked even more stunning under the midnight stars. He coughed deeply, working his way across to the railing you were leaning against, “I’m surprised that you came alone, I find it hard to believe you struggled to get a date”.

You turned to him, your chandelier earrings dangling in the breeze, they captured the starlight and flickered elegantly, “I like coming to these things alone”, you mused, a coy smirk on your painted lips, “I like to see who else has come alone”.

“Oh”, he inched closer, the soft brush of his suit jacket against your bare arm made you flush, “So you’re on the lookout?”.

“Maybe”, your fingers wrapped around the metal bar and you looked over the edge. The bustle of Gotham City never ceased to amaze you, even at this height. And there you were, gazing at it with its unofficial Prince standing next to you.

Jason grinned, letting a cool finger stroke down your upper arm, “I might be able to help with that”.

You smirked, looking up catching his heated stare, “Are you going to introduce me to one of your rich friends?”.

“Trust me princess, they’re not your type”, he scoffed, his eyes tracing down the neckline of your dress, mapping every inch of your tantalising skin. He noticed a faint sparkle of glitter on your skin, along with a subtle scent of vanilla invading his senses.

Moving away from the balcony edge, you stepped into his space, fingers grasping the end of his tie, playing with it gently, “And what is my type?”.

Jason felt an unmatched desire burning in his gut when your hands toyed with his tie. He took a deep breath before cornering you into the balcony railing. His eyes were hooded with lust, “I know exactly what it is”.

The bitter metal pressed into your lower back and you bit back the moan creeping up your throat, desperate to escape. You snaked your hand up his solid chest and straightened out his shirt collar, “Well don't keep me in suspense, Sir”.

It was taking all of his self restraint not to bend you over the balcony and rail you from behind, especially when you kept calling him Sir. His hands gripped the balcony bar behind you, knuckles white from the force. Jason smirked, his voice dropping several octaves, “I can show you instead princess”.

The heat from his body was addictive and you leaned into it without thinking, breath catching in your throat. His aftershave was intoxicating and you felt your mind spinning. Jason pulled back suddenly and offered you his hand.

You slipped your hand into his and bit your plump bottom lip, “People are going to see us leaving together”.

“So?”, Jason shrugged, “Then they know we're going to have some fun, aren't we princess?”.

You shivered, letting his words drip over you. Oh the night was yet to begin and your heart was thrumming with excitement. You secured your fingers through his and started to pull him back inside so you could both leave.

“Of course Sir”.

The second you were back inside, Jason’s free hand wound around your waist, guiding you towards the elevators. He leaned down, hot breath fanning down your sensitive neck, “Yours or mine?”.

You pressed the down button on the lift pad a little more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You felt him smirk behind you, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Mine”, you whispered before slipping into the cart when the doors sprung open.

———

The taxi ride back to your apartment was filled with subtle touches and increasing tension. You’d expected Jason to pounce on you the second you slid into the backseat but he didn’t, simply keeping one arm around your shoulder, the other resting on your exposed knee drawing feather light circles.

“Keep the change”, Jason muttered, shoving a wad of cash through the divider before helping you out of the car.

His hand pressed into your lower back, rough fingers scraping against your soft skin. You shuddered, excited to feel his touch exploring the rest of your body. You led him through the marble floored lobby and up a flight of stairs, stopping outside of your door to retrieve your keys from your clutch.

His lips pressed into the junction of your neck, tongue lapping over your skin which flushed rapidly under his touch, “Hurry up princess”. You felt Jason’s hand stroke up the front of your dress, palming your breast greedily before pinching your nipple.

You gasped at the rush of sensations, almost dropping your keys. The overload of his touches made you shudder and your eyes close, head dipping forward.

“Unless you want me to fuck you out here for everyone to see, I suggest you get that door open”, he growled, lips teasing the shell of your ear. His cock was straining against his suit trousers as he brushed it against your ass, groaning quietly.

Steadying your hands and your frayed mind, you slotted the key into your door, opening it as quickly as possible. Before you had any time to think, Jason crushed you against it, slamming it shut, his lips plastered to yours in a frenzied heat.

You moaned, the noise swallowed by his mouth as his tongue glided along yours. He could still taste the wine on your lips, mingling with your own sweet flavour. You dropped your bag and ran your hands up his chest, reaching his tie. Tugging it hard, you loosened it, enough to free him of it and start unbuttoning his shirt.

Jason smirked and sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, enjoying the gasp of pleasure you released. You looked into his darkened gaze, giving him a sweet innocent smile before pushing him back against the hallway wall. His eyebrows lifted in surprise but he allowed you control, stroking the pads of his fingers up and down your spine.

With the last button popped open, your nails dragged down to his belt, unfastening it slowly, licking your lips.

“I bet this is what you thought about didn’t you?”, you teased, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down, slowly, “Me on my knees for you, swallowing your thick cock”.

You palmed him through his boxers, watching his face twist with held back desire. Your lips curved and you dropped to your knees, eye level with his hard shaft.

Jason groaned quietly, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tighter when your lips ghosted over the outline of his throbbing cock.

“Princess”, he warned huskily, voice laced heavy with lust.

The stings of pain as he pulled your hair shot down to your core, lighting up all of your nerves. You mewled and mouthed his tip, “I thought about it too…Sir”.

His hips rutted towards your face at your words and you grinned. You pulled his boxers down slowly, watching as his cock sprung free, slapping against his rippled abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, aching for him to sink into both your throat and pussy.

You nipped along his thick, muscled thighs, your lipstick smearing as you neared his pulsing length. He tensed with each bite and growled loudly, cock twitching with excitement.

“Princess if you keep-”, the words died in his throat when the wet heat of your mouth encased his cock in one swift motion. His head flung back, eyes scrunched shut at the feeling.

You purred around his shaft, tongue fluttering along the underside, tracing the vein there. Your hands stroked up and down his thighs as you worked your lips around him. Bobbing your head back and forth.

Each time you whined around him, the vibrations buzzed up his spine, sending his mind into a delirious haze of pleasure.

“Fuck!”, he grunted and fisted his hands into your hair, thrusting forward into your hot mouth.

The head of his cock nudged the back of your throat and you gagged around his cock, whimpering with desire. He caught his breath and looked down at you, eyes black with passion.

“Your lips look perfect wrapped around my big cock”, he smirked and thrust harder into your mouth, the wet, sinful sounds echoing in the hallway of your apartment.

Your pussy was soaked and each time you shuffled, the lace of your thong rubbed against your clit. The sensation made your skin flush but it wasn’t enough. You needed him.

Jason sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you swallow his cock. Your once perfect lipstick was smudged all over your mouth. Some stained his length. He groaned as you pulled back, tracing your tongue over the slit of his tip, hands kneading his inner thighs perfectly.

“Sir-please…”, your voice was raw as you spoke, wide eyes searching his, “I want you”.

He let his thumb run over your bottom lip, enjoying the way your lips wrapped around it without second thought, sucking softly. Jason dipped it down your chin before hooking it underneath, “Come here”.

You stood slowly, adjusting the strap of your dress which had fallen down your arm. Jason bracketed your hips and lifted you easily, letting your toned legs wrap around his waist. His lips moulded to yours, kissing you deeply. He could faintly taste himself on your tongue, the bitter arousal sparking through his body.

———

He carried you with ease through your apartment, occasionally banging into things along the way.

“Second d-door”, you moaned loudly when he bit your shoulder, “on the-the right”.

When you finally made it into your bedroom, after several stops along the way with Jason shoving you into the nearest wall, he dropped you down onto the bed.

You inched up the bedding slowly, watching him with hooded eyes as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. You made no show of hiding how much you admired his finely sculpted body. You licked your lips as his muscles flexed when he knelt onto the bed, grabbing one of your ankles.

“You’re wearing too many clothes”, he complained as his fingers travelled up your bare leg before finally reaching the hem of the dress.

“What are you going to do-”, the tear of fabric was loud in the room, Jason’s face was knitted with desire.

“Jason!!”, you scolded loudly as he continued to rip the flimsy material off your body, leaving you bare beneath him in a skimpy lace thong. You watched as he threw the offending material to the floor, his predatory gaze turning back to you.

“Get on your knees”, he commanded, ignoring your protests about your once beautiful dress, “Now”.

You wanted to argue, but the twisting coil in the pit of your stomach made you comply readily. You saw his pleased smirk before you rested your head against your forearms, pressing your ass and core to him.

He whistled appreciatively, slapping his hand over one of your cheeks. You moaned wantonly, muffling your cries into the flesh of your arm.

“Don’t you dare”, he growled and spanked you harder, your skin becoming hot and prickly, “I want to hear every sound you make”.

The thong you had on framed your ass perfectly, barely covering your glistening pussy. He smoothed two fingers through your silken core, sinking them into you slowly. Jason grunted when your walls tried to pull him further.

He removed his hand and spread your wetness along the back of your thigh, pushing your thong to the side. You whined in protest at the loss of sensation and pushed back. Jason gripped your hips tightly, halting your movement, “Tell me what you want princess”.

Heat crept over your flushed skin as he teased you, the tip of his cock sweeping through your sopping folds. You ignored his question and circled your hips, mewling his name.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back forcefully, teeth grazing the sensitive spot on your neck, “I said, tell me what you want”.

“Your cock”, your moans were depraved as you felt the overload of euphoria thrumming through your veins, “I want you to fuck me”.

Jason kissed the spot behind your ear, sucking a mark there before muttering, “Where are your manners princess?”.

You dug your nails into the sheets below in frustration before panting desperately, “Please Sir, please fuck me”.

He chuckled darkly behind you, tugging your hair again, before sinking his cock into your pussy fully. You cried out at the delicious sting as he stretched your walls with his thick girth.

Jason gave you no time to adjust before slamming his hips back into yours harshly, keeping your hair wound around his fist as he thrust into you.

The air was filled with the sounds of your debauched moans and his skin slapping into yours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your first orgasm hit you without any warning.

Jason cursed behind you as your velvet walls spasmed around his cock, pulling him deeper. His thrusts became shallow as he drove harder into you, working you through your climax.

Changing the angle of his thrusts, the head of his shaft slammed against your g spot repeatedly as he ploughed faster into your pussy. You sobbed his name into the bed sheets, gripping them tightly. You were certain your nails were going to rip through the fabric.

“That’s it princess”, he coaxed, tugging your hair back, “I know you’ve got another one for me”. He snaked his hand around your front, rubbing over your clit furiously.

“Jason!”, you cried his name loudly, vision going blank as he fucked you into another powerful climax. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as he fell into his own release, emptying himself in your tight core.

“Fuck!”, he rasped, releasing your hair and holding onto your hips as his thrusts slowed down to a complete still.

Pulling out of you, he groaned under his breath as he saw some of his seed drip down your folds. You collapsed down onto the bed, flat on your front, fighting to catch your breath. Jason dropped down next to you, relaxing on his back, his own chest heaving with deep pants.

You hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time. If ever. With the last of your energy, you rolled onto your side, a sly grin on your face, “Got time for another?”. Your fingers stroked down the grooves of his abs, following the dark trail of hair.

Jason grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, nipping at the pulse on your wrist, “Definitely”.

He pulled you on top of him, his hands moving up to cup your breasts as your lips danced together again, drinking in each other. You knew he would only be here for the night but, you’d be damned if you weren’t going to make the most of it.

***

#jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #ceo!jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader insert

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aeithalian · 11 months

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On Apollo and fatal flaws

Vague question for my fellow apollogists out there: what do we think Apollo's fatal flaw is? I write this realizing that, in all five books of the series, all told from Apollo's point of view, we never actually have it explicitly stated, either from Apollo's knowledge and refusal to share (which, strangely, seems to me like something he would tell us), or from him not actually knowing, either.

Simply stated, a fatal flaw is any kind of weakness of a hero, god or mortal, that can be exploited and can cause the downfall of that character. That being said, we already know some that generally scope out the larger range of what they can be:

Percy: excessive personal loyalty

Annabeth: hubris/pride

Nico: holding grudges

Thalia: ambition

Leo: feeling inferior

Piper: low self-esteem

Luke: wrath

Jason: hesitation and excessive deliberation

And we are certain that immortals have flaws like these, too. Although it isn't explicitly stated in canon what Zeus' fatal flaw is, it's exceedingly obvious that it's paranoia and hunger for power, as well as his sexual infidelity.

I feel like we can easily knock some flaws off the list already:

Holding grudges is off the list for the main reason that, if there's one thing Apollo oozes, it's forgiveness, and the fact that he is always ready to give second chances to people who have wronged him and the world (Lityerses, Luguselwa, Meg, etc.)

For the same reason, I'm going to knock off wrath. Yes, he has moments of rage, but so does everybody else! It's human nature, and, as stated before, it's usually overshadowed by Apollo's choice to let go of that anger and choose forgiveness instead.

Ambition is an interesting one, but it's not at all something that really comes up in the series to the point where it ends up being powerful enough to be his fatal flaw. He rarely seeks power he didn't already have before, especially when you consider he is Zeus' most powerful son, and one of the most powerful gods period. Why would he need more power? Unless, of course, you choose to point out that one time he tried to overthrow Zeus, but I'd argue he was acting more out of a place of 'hey please be better at your job' than 'I want your title and position', which actually falls more under Poseidon's motivations in that myth.

Interestingly, there's a certain aspect of Apollo's character in the myths that totally screws the pooch in terms of this discussion, and that's the fact that Apollo, throughout the stories of Ancient Greece, is a typical example of perfection. Literally, he's written to be virtually flawless, the paragon of young men, and (in the context of Ancient Greek culture) doesn't have many moments of rage, selfishness, or paranoia, or at least, not as many as other gods (looking at you, Artemis).

HOWEVER, as much as the myths seemingly act like he doesn't have a glaringly obvious flaw, we as a part of Apollo's inner circle/audience know he's got one - I mean, look at him! It's in there somewhere, nobody's perfect, and I don't think anybody's pretending as such for Apollo. What irks me is that we know Apollo is not lacking in general character flaws, but there is one, beyond a doubt, that shapes his inner core irreversibly. And we don't know it.

Thankfully, though, we've got five books of content that might help us come to a conclusion.

The Hidden Oracle, being the beginning of the story and the beginning of Apollo's character development, is where we would get an inkling of what Apollo wants us to think his fatal flaw is. To us, Apollo appears vain, self-centered, and, frankly annoying. And he does these things on purpose. Or at least, he tells us these things.

That's the thing: if you look past all the fluff Apollo spits out to the audience throughout the first majority of the book, before his children are taken into the forest, you'd find that his dialogue, aka how the other characters of the story hear and see him, doesn't really reflect that. Most of the annoying, self-centered brattiness is only on the page, and not as obvious in his personal interactions (not saying they're not there, but it's so much worse in his internal monologue). So, what does this tell us?

That those aren't his fatal flaws. He's very good at pretending that they are, probably because, as I've read several other metas very cleverly explain, that this is what gods are supposed to be, and, Apollo, in his desperation be his father's golden child again (or, also to avoid his wrath, take that how you will) has built up a very elaborate mask for thousands of years, because that is what he is not. He's trying to be glossed over in the vast sea that is the gods, and it's not really working because, well, he got turned into a mortal. Again.

As we pass through books 2 and 3, we're still not quite past the whole "pretending to be petty and self-serving because this is what I am supposed to be as dictated by the laws of my immortal people and my father". That, almost certainly, doesn't come until the latter half of The Burning Maze. So it's further safe to assume that our best guess as to his fatal flaw probably coincides with his more honest moments with the audience, eg. books 4 and 5.

Now, I know a popular common answer to this whole question is that it's his ego and his pride. But here's the thing: as we move on to the second half of the series, we get an interesting revealing of Apollo's perception of himself. To put it plainly: Apollo is not a narcissist, as much as he pretends to be (see the above points). Honestly, he might actually hate himself and what he's become as he learns to take a more critical view of himself as the series goes on. Drawn in direct antithesis to his moments in the first two books, when he tells us that he assumes that anybody he meets is willing to help him, after the peak of his development (marked by his promise and Jason's subsequent death), this isn't the case. That's why I'm pretty okay with putting pride and ego towards the bottom of my list of possible fatal flaws for him.

Honestly, if I didn't know any better as we reach the end of the series, I'd say Apollo's fatal flaw might fall somewhere closer to poor self-esteem, insecurity and self-doubt, but for some reason, that doesn't quite fit. I'd argue that a lot of those feelings probably stem from being stuck in the inadequate body of a mortal with a tiny fraction of his usual power - of course he's going to feel like that. That, and it's almost the direct opposite of what his flaw is perceived to be by other sources, so it feels like too large a leap to me.

I'm deliberating from my point, which is this: I still have no clue what his fatal flaw is.

It's not:

narcissism

pride

OR on the other side of the spectrum:

low-self esteem

self-doubt

OR the list of things we knocked off earlier:

holding grudges

wrath

ambition

And when you compare to other characters he might also be like, I would argue he's a totally different animal. The only character I could see a similarity with is Percy. But, again, it's just not the same. Percy's flaw, excessive personal loyalty, still doesn't really fit because, while I'd argue that Apollo's never really put in a situation where he's had to choose to save the life a mortal friend over his task of restoring the Oracles, I do believe he has a strong sense of duty. No, I don't think he would sacrifice Meg's life to do that job, but it's not something we see him forced to pick between (that I can think of, at least). I like to think that, on one hand, Percy would flat-out refuse to do his duty to save the life of a friend out of principle, whereas Apollo might find a clever loophole to save the friend, do the duty, and end up doing harm to himself. If anything, while Percy would be ready to burn the world to save a friend, Apollo would be ready to burn himself first.

That, I think, is our biggest indicator. Apollo loves his friends and the world. He wears his heart on his sleeve, this is something the Triumvirate exploits to no end.

Athena tells Percy something in the PJO series (the Titan's Curse, I think?) and says that the most dangerous fatal flaws are the ones that are good in moderation. And, of course, Apollo is a main character, so naturally his fatal flaw will fall under this category.

I think Apollo's fatal flaw is of the same breed as Percy's, but isn't really the same creature. I'm sure there's a more eloquent way to put this, but it seems to me that his fatal flaw has something to do with his tendency to be self-sacrificing, easily forgiving, and empathetic. He's been stabbed in the back several times and every time chooses instead to show trust and camaraderie, to see the best in people, and give them another chance to prove themselves: with Meg, Crest, Lityerses, Luguselwa, Meg's adoptive siblings, and many, many more. That seems very dangerous in the wrong situation, yes? Especially someone in Apollo's position - there are plenty of bad people who would be ready to take advantage of this.

And what is a story if not the hero learning to overcome their fatal flaw? And, really what is the Trials of Apollo all about? How do we end? What choices does Apollo make for the future at the conclusion of the Tower of Nero that directly contradict his overwhelming urge to choose forgiveness and let others try again?

The Tower of Nero, Chapter 36

At the end of any good epic story, the hero learns to overcome their weaknesses and flaws and do the right thing regardless. For Apollo, this comes when he refuses to forgive one person: Zeus. Apollo ends his pentalogy with coming to an understanding of himself and his relationship with his father, learning to overcome that tendency see the best in everyone, and realize that not everyone can choose to change for the better like Apollo has.

EDIT: a masterlist of my other metas

#thank u for coming to my ted talk #trials of apollo #toa #apollogists #riordanverse

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testingthewatersss · 4 months

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Questions Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 4800 words fluff, angst, comfort & kissing. 18+ MDNI Bucky has questions. Questions he's sure she can answer. But she wont, and he thinks he knows why.

“Bucky” Y/N says, “Why are you askin’ me that?”

“Because” he replies, “I can’t ask anyone else.”

The look on his face is sad. She maintains eye contact for a minute before breaking it, averting her gaze to her desk, where she pointedly focuses on a bit of paper that is near enough blank.

“Please, doll?” he presses, “Please, just-”

“What do you want me to say?” she almost snaps, “James, I-”

“Please” he says again, softer this time, “Don’t call me that… Y’know I- I only get James when I’m in trouble.”

When she brings her eyes back to his, she can’t help but sigh, temper retreating like a wave.

“It’s a pretty nice name, y’know” she murmurs, “I don’t know why-”

“-Are you tryin’ to change the subject, darlin’?”

At least his smiling now, even if it’s tight lipped and forced.

She doesn’t deny his statement, just shrugs.

“My point stands” he hears her say, “It’s hardly a mouthful, I don’t know why you hate it so much-”

“I don’t hate it” Bucky counters, “It just reminds me of bein’ yelled at.”

“Have I ever yelled at you?” she quips quickly,

He shakes his head, letting out a slow breath.

“I just want to know” he says quietly, “I can’t just let it go”

“You really want me to tell you wether or not I think you could have gotten away sooner?” she clarifies, “You want me to stand here and tell you if you put up ‘enough of a fight’ in the beginning and then after all that you want me to-”

“make sure the words they put in my head don’t still work” he confirms, “Please, doll, I…I don’t have anyone else I can go to about this kind of stuff, can you imagine Steve’s face if I even tried to bring this up with him?”

For a second, she says nothing. She just stares, trying to read wether or not even considering his line of questioning is a step too far, and then, he reaches out to take hold of her hand and she feels her heart breaking.

“Please…” he whispers thickly, “…I want to know-”

“They’re not easy answers to give” she replies, imploring him to understand, “Bucky, that first question alone isn’t a simple yes or no, there are so many variables, I-”

“You” he mumbles, bringing her knuckles to his lips, “won’t lie to me, darlin’… I trust you, I love you and-”

“I love you to” she counters, “That, is exactly why you comin’ to me like this isn’t fair.”

He’s kissing across her fingers, and all she can do is grumble as she leans back against her desk;

“Do I think you could have gotten away sooner?” she echos, surrounding to his puppy dog eyes, “Physically? probably— They let you carry loaded guns, you were never in particularly bad shape, even if you’d been knocked around a bit— You probably could’ve bolted from a job, or fought your way out if you’d have timed it right, y’know?” he does know, so he nods, gut tightening uneasily, “but-” Y/N says, “just because you might’ve been able to get away, that doesn’t mean you ever stood a chance.”

Bucky feels his face dropping as she lets go of his palm, choosing to tuck her hair behind her ears instead-

“There was a reason they didn’t care about you carrying weapons” she continues, “they knew full well that you weren’t going to try anything, even when given the opportunity.”

He opens his mouth to speak, to ask her to be more decisive in her judgement, but she gets there first, crossing her arms across her chest as she carries on,

“and the reason they trusted that so much” she says, “is because, yes, Bucky, you put up a hell of a fight in the beginning— It wasn’t a one and done where they wiped you and that was that, it took months of them pullin’ you in and out of storage, of them messin’ with the tech, messin’ with you, before they decided that it was just about good enough to move on to any further training, and that, that was just the tip of the iceberg— I mean jesus, weird, torture bullshit, aside, you had at least 3 different trackers active on you— If you’d managed to run they’d have found you eventually. You cut that one out of your neck in Budapest—”

The old scar that’s hidden by his hair aches as she mentions it, and then, as she nods at his arm, he finds himself feeling awfully small,

“—I broke the unit they had in there, that thing was more than just a bug, it was hooked into your nervous system, and-”

“There was always one in the guns”

She nods, in agreement before falling silent again.

It’s a difficult topic to talk about. Y/N hates discussing anything about her own time with HYDRA, but, she still thinks she’d prefer that, to this.

Talking about the horrible things that have happened to the man she loves, seems unfathomably worse, somehow. It’s probably because even though she’d been there in person for the last five years of his time there, she knows that he was there for so long before that.

And then, she’d found herself having to paw through the book he’d brought back with them, having to read, and dissect every insidious detail of his history so that she could make sure that he was okay, now, that he wasn’t in danger—

and that had been bad enough, but, he’d asked her to do it, so she had, but now- now he’s starting to ask questions, and she can’t even be angry at him, because if anyone deserves answers he does.

“I don’t think I remember” he tells her, voice thick, “The beginning it… it’s real hazy—”

“I know” she agrees, smiling a little, “That’s probably a blessin-”

“—But, I think it’s comin’ back” he admits, forcing the words out before he can chicken out, “I- I think it… it might be- some, some of the dreams I’m havin’… It- it’s either not real or it’s just from real early on-”

That silences her. Her lack of interruption only highlights the way that Bucky’s words have drifted off into nothing.

He gulps, and finds himself shifting anxiously on his feet as he awaits her judgment.

She firmly decides to stay quiet. To let him digest what has already been said for a little while longer and to see if he’s going to expand on his own.

“Do you think you could tell me?” he asks eventually, “If… If things really happened or not?”

Again, she lets his question sit for a beat before she offers him a “Maybe” that he doesn’t know how to take.

“Maybe?” he echos, “Wha-”

“I don’t know everything” she tells him carefully, “I probably know enough to make a good guess on the things I’m not certain of, but wether I’d do that would depend on why you’re askin’ in the first place.”

Why I’m asking in the first place? he thinks, confused,

“I mean” she chuckles falsely, “honestly, I still don’t know why you’ve been asking me the questions you’ve already come up with”

“I just” he begins, “I… I want to know-”

“Why?” she presses, “Why, Buck? What does knowing wether or not you could’ve— maybe— in another reality gotten away sooner change? What does me telling you that you definitely fought back when they first started torturing you do? Does it make you feel better? Worse?—”

“No” he admits, “It… it’s not about that… how I feel, I mean”

“No?” Y/N says, “then what is it about, Buck? I get you wantin’ to check about the words— I know I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m sure— but, you wanting to check, to be a million percent certain? That, I can understand, but the rest of it? You’ve gotta help me out-”

“—I’m scared, doll—”

Bucky’s voice, and the blatant sincerity behind it makes her breath catch in her throat.

“—god,” he sighs, “—I’m terrified, I’m terrified that if I don’t ask you, then one day, one day soon you’re gonna start askin’ yourself and you’ll wonder if I, if I don’t care, and then, then I won’t be able to do anythin’ but watch as you realise that I could’ve done better and, you’ll— you’ll hate me, and I- I’ll lose you too, and I won’t be able to say a damn thing because it’ll be exactly what I deserve and, I—”

“-Stop.”

The natural authority in her tone makes his jaw snap shut. Anxiety driven rambling turning into silence;

Silence that Y/N allows to settle for a second as she tries to rationalise everything he’s just said—

“I’m sorry” Bucky offers nervously, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, I- I’ll go— I’ll see you later, or, I, I can just… I can just go-”

“C’mere-” she counters, tone softening when she realises that he really is distraught, “What am I goin’ to do with you, huh?”

Her arms are open in invitation, and despite the way he’d been ready to turn and flee just a moment before, Bucky finds himself hiding against her a front in what feels like no time at all.

“Whatever you want” is the answer he gives to her question, though his words are muffled by the crook of her neck, “you can do whatever you want with me”

She chuckles at that, soft and light as she strokes a large circle across the back of his ribs.

They’re straining, he’s panting, and trying so hard to steady his breathing that she feels guilty about not approaching this in a more tactful way;

“How about we make a deal?” she suggests calmly, “How about, I’ll answer your questions, if you answer a few for me?”

“Okay” he agrees, not pulling away, “I… I can do that”

Y/N smiles, feeling his arms tightening around her waist in a silent display of attachment.

“When did you last sleep for more than fifteen minutes in a row?”

“1935” he grumbles, smiling a little when she laughs, “… probably last week, doll… usually… usually when I pass out I, I see things and I- I come round and I can’t settle again after that”

He’s being so blatantly honest that all Y/N can do is press a kiss against his brow, and wait for him to take his turn;

“.I… I don’t know what to ask”

That makes her chuckle again, eyes rolling even though he can’t see,

“and you had so many questions earlier” she teases gently, “Now I’m offerin’ to answer you can’t think of one?”

“I can think of plenty” he says, “Just don’t know where to start”

“How about” Y/N sighs, “you start with what’s botherin’ you most?”

“That ain’t a question…” he grumbles, “…Do… Do you think I could’ve done more? to, y’know… stop everythin’ that happened?”

“No” she says honestly, “No, Bucky, I don’t think there was anything you could’ve done to stop any part of what happened.”

“But, I-”

“You wanted an answer” she cuts in, “Not a debate, now it’s my turn.”

She’s right, so he nods, settling back into an unhappy silence,

“Do you really think that I’m going to suddenly wake up one morning and realise something that makes me ‘hate’ you?”

“Yes” he gulps anxiously, “Yeah”

She doesn’t say anything else. His reply just sits in her chest like a lead weight, as he continues to hide himself against her front,

“Do you?” he asks after a pause, “Do- Do you think that you might… do, do that?”

“No” she says, “Of course not—I could never hate you, Bucky”

“but-”

This time, she barely has to tut before he catches himself and swallows his objection,

“Do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?”

“…Yeah…” he says honestly, “…yeah I do, I- I just don’t understand how you could… or, or why you ever would…”

“Isn’t that up to me?”

“It’s not your turn, doll”

She scoffs at that, but doesn’t argue.

“Why do you?” Bucky asks next, “Why do you love me? after… after everything”

That’s a sad question really, but still Y/N feels a smile blooming across her face as she starts to consider every single reason she has; and then, it falters when she realises that putting them into words might be a problem,

“Christ, Buck, you’re not makin’ this easy on me…” she murmurs, “There are so many reasons… You’re kind, and sweet— you’re so, so sweet, and you make me laugh, you’ve always made me laugh, and, I- I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as brave, or gentle as you are…”

It’s so clear that he needs to hear her kind words that she suddenly can’t bare the thought of stopping,

“You’re thoughtful” she says next, “You’re smart— brilliant, really, without even havin’ to try— you’re… you’re just so good, y’know?… You’re a truly good person, down to your core, and I know that you always try and do the right thing, and see that goodness in other people, even when it’s not there—”

“But the things I-”

“You” she cuts in, not wanting to even hear his argument, “didn’t do a damn thing wrong. This whole thing was always bigger than you, but it's fair that you miss that sometimes.”

He does. He misses it all the time;

“But everything that happened” he mumbles, “all those people are dead because of me”

Y/N shakes her head, chest aching.

“No” she says, “those people are dead because HYDRA decided they needed to die— You just happened to be the weapon they liked using most at the time.”

He doesn’t reply, he just nuzzles in impossibly closer to her front as she lets her chin rest against the top of his bowed head.

“My turn again, huh?” she murmurs, “…How long have you spent worryin’ about all this?”

“all this?” he echos, uncertain of her meaning, “I… I’ve always been worried ‘bout you realisin’ that you deserve better than me, doll, that- that’s not new.”

“It’s ridiculous” she counters, “You deserve the world— but I mean this, specifically— How long have you been worrin’ about talkin’ to me about things you’re remembering just incase it makes me realise that you’re actually some evil monster and-"

“Ever since you wouldn’t answer me the first time” he confesses, “when I asked you about… about if you thought I could’ve done more to get away, and you wouldn’t tell me I… I figured it was because you knew deep down that I… I should’ve done better and I… I tried to stop thinkin’ about it like you said but it… it kept eatin’ at me, and the more I asked—”

“The more I didn’t want to answer, and the more likely the whole thing seemed.”

He nods against her shoulder, and she can’t help but press a kiss into his hair,

“I didn’t mean to annoy ya’, darlin’…” he says, “I, I really didn’t but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop thinking about it, when you, when you wouldn’t tell me what you thought I was sure there had to be a reason…”

“I’m sorry” she says honestly, “I didn’t think you’d take it that way, I should’ve been clearer about why I didn’t want to talk about it”

“Why didn’t you?” he asks, “Answer, I mean? I… I’ve asked you things before and you… you’ve always answered me”

“Because” Y/N sighs, “I know you, and I know how easy it is for you to blame yourself for situations you had no control over… You do it all the time, and I love you, Buck… I love you and seeing you be so hard on yourself is bad enough without me piling on hypothetical situations that could only ever make it worse”

For a few seconds, there’s silence. Bucky’s arms are still tight around her waist and if she tries, she can feel his pulse rushing anxiously through his body,

“I know you forget that nothing that happened was down to you” she allows, “and I don’t mind reminding you— I really don’t, but, I really don't want to start goin’ into all the different ‘what if scenarios’ that you’re mind can cook up, because that… that’s a hell of a box to open”

“It feels like it was…” he tells her weakly, “It feels like it was all my fault, doll, all of it, it… it’s like I should’ve stopped it somehow, like— like I… like I could’ve just woken up and, and made myself not-”

“But you couldn’t” she inserts, “Sweetheart, you couldn’t just wake up, and even if you had? If by some, bizarre twist of fate you’d have been able to snap out of it and fight back? They’d have just started from scratch, either with you, if they could bring you back in, or with someone else, if they’d have just decided to kill you instead.”

“Do you think I could’ve made them do that?” he wonders, “Kill me, I mean?”

“Is it your turn?” Y/N asks, trying to lighten the atmosphere, “I’ve lost count”

“I don’t know” he mumbles, “I hope so”

She chuckles at that, shaking her head,

“No” she says, “I don’t think there is anything you could’ve done that would’ve made them kill you— not when finding you in the first place was like striking gold in a coal mine.”

“Can I ask what you mean by that, or do I have to wait?”

Y/N laughs again, soft and airy as she pulls back a little so that he can finally pull back and reveal his face.

“You are a good person” she tells him, reaching up to cup his cheek, “Really, Buck— You’re good, all the way through— It’s why they had to keep you, because that kind of genuine goodness isn’t somethin’ that you find often. The serum proved that there wasn’t a bad bone in your body, it magnifies everything it touches, you know about ‘Red Skull’— you know what putting that stuff into someone who’s not decent can do, so… you landing right in their laps, already dosed up and ready to go? that was something that was never going to happen again”

He’s starring at her, hanging on every word she’s saying, so, instead of waiting for him to ask her to expand, she just sighs, brushing her thumb under his eyes.

“You can’t torture evil out of somebody” she says, “no amount of pain or electricity can make a person better, so, even if they had managed to get a never ending supply of the serum, it never would’ve worked out because they’d have still needed subjects who didn’t have an ounce of malice in them, who didn’t want to be powerful, or dangerous, or anything other than decent and I think even they knew that wasn’t going to happen, and that… that’s why they spent so long making sure they kept you how they wanted, and that's why all of those other Winter Solider's never got more than a few hours out of tank at a time. They had no idea what might start to happen.”

“So if I… if I had made them kill me, then they… they wouldn’t have been able to-”

He sounds so genuinely guilty that all Y/N can do is continue stroking his face as she shakes her head, again;

“I don’t think they would’ve ever just killed you, and if they had? or if something had happened out of their control? Then they wouldn’t have given up— They’d have gone through thousands of people trying to find one that worked to replace you.”

Bucky’s brow is furrowed, both his hands still around the back of her waist. He doesn’t want to let go, he wants to stay close, and despite the way he’s trying to not be so obvious about his need for skin on skin, he knows that he’s pressing his cheek into her palm;

“I know it didn’t feel like it” she murmurs, “but they were real careful with you, sweetheart— They spent so much time in the beginning making sure that their tech worked- tailoring it to you, y’know? and makin’ sure that everything from the fall was patched up so that even when they hurt you your heart was never going to give out or anything like that”

“In the beginning…” he parrots, “…later on, when… when I’d been there a while, did… did the tech stop workin’? is, is that why I, why I…”

“No” she whispers softly, “The tech worked how it always did, they just didn’t factor in the fact that you were going to be off ice so much”

He blinks, confused and she can’t help but smile,

“They called them wipes” he hears Y/N explain, “but that’s not what they were, you can’t just erase somebodies personality, not with all the electricity and torture in the world… all you can do, is make someone obedient, you can make good men do bad things, and sometimes if you’re trying really hard you can alter the conscious mind— you can make it so someone can’t fathom fighting back, or questioning what you’ve convinced them is reality, but even that doesn’t last indefinitely— it needs maintenance, y’know? upkeep, because human minds aren’t hard drives that can be reset whenever someone feels like it.”

“They’d… they’d say I was unstable…” he recalls, “..Like when… when I saw Steve on the bridge I- I didn’t understand but I- I knew, that… that I he knew me and they… they wiped me straight away-”

“Well yeah” she chuckles grimly, “They couldn’t let something that major slide”

“and when I’d was bein’ brought out of storage they’d.. they’d usually bring me right to the chair?”

That’s definitely a question, Y/N can tell by the unsure quirk in his voice.

“Yeah, baby” she confirms, “that’s right”

“I… I hated that chair, I- I still… god, I- I still dream about it sometimes… even, even just the door to the room it was in, I, I see myself walking towards it, I- I feel the way my heart is racing…”

“Nobody” she whispers, “Nobody is ever, ever, going to hurt you like that again, you know that, right?”

The nod he gives her is a reflex. He’s so used to agreeing to statements like that, that it’s automatic, and it’s only when he meets Y/N’s gaze that he takes a second to consider wether or not it’s truthful;

“I forget, sometimes” he allows, “but, I trust you, and I know it’s safe here”

She seems to like that, she smiles and brings her fingers back across his cheek, stroking his face like he’s precious,

“It’s very safe…” she agrees, “…You, are very safe.”

“I’m sorry, doll”

That takes her by surprise. She’s not sure where his apology has come from, and she’s already shaking her head to refute it when he starts speaking again,

“I didn’t mean to force you to talk about all of this, I- I know you didn’t want to answer me and I, I should’ve just respected—”

“You can always talk to me” she counters, “about anything— anything at all, Bucky- I just want to make sure that we’re not makin’ you feel worse, not if we can help it.”

He nods, and presses a kiss against the pad of her thumb.

“What would you like to do now, huh?” Y/N asks gently, “we can do whatever you feel like.”

Bucky stays quiet for a beat, working up the courage to make his suggestion,

He already knows what he wants to do, he just don’t know if asking her to do it is pushing his luck, considering how she’s indulged him so much already;

“Could… could you try the… the words?” he asks eventually, “Please? just so, so I know…”

Her instinct is to refuse. To delay for right now, if not forever, but then she sees his face, she sees the need, and longing and, and then she finds herself nodding, even though she’s not sure quite when she decided to say yes.

“C’mere” she murmurs, “Close your eyes for me— FRIDAY, lock us in for right now.”

Bucky does as he’s told, slipping his hands into her back pockets as the room dissolves into blackness.

“Ready?” she checks- he nods, nervously, so she leans in and presses a kiss against his brow, “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop.”

He knows what kind of pain she means, so he nods, bracing himself to feel his head burning, to feel incredible, pulsing pressure building inside his skull—

“Semnadtsat’… Rzhavyye…. Dozhd’…” her soft voice begins, slow and stable as ever, “…Pustyye…. Nad…. Vnevremennyye….”

He’s tense, and shaking.

He’s honestly, totally ready for something terrible to happen, for his whole brain to collapse inwards as he loses his grip on… on everything other than pain and whatever instructions he’s given— He finds himself thinking about how even if that did happen, at least it’s Y/N he’s with, at least she won’t make him do anything terrible— He’s about to tell her how grateful he is, that she’s always been so good to him, but then, he realises it’s over, she’s not talking anymore, and all he can hear is the violent, panicked thrash of his pulse in his ears.

“See?” Y/N says, almost smugly, “I told you…Nothin’…”

“Ready to comply” Bucky says, aiming for an impression of his former self, "gotov podchinit’sya”

“Oh yeah?” she laughs, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, “You gonna do what I tell ya’ for once?”

“Maybe” he mumbles, trying earnestly to coax another kiss from her, “depends on if I'd wind up regretting it later”

“You are full of shit, Barnes—” she chuckles, teasing him with the promise of more affection by letting her nose bump against his, “Have I ever asked you to do anythin’ you’d regret?”

“No” he promises quickly, “No, doll I- I’m just teasin’…”

“Good” she purrs, pecking at his cheek before pulling him closer, so their fronts are touching, “Do you feel better now that’s cleared up?”

He nods, feeling himself blushing.

“Yeah, I- I do, doll”

“Good” she says again, “I’m glad, sweetheart— Did you feel anythin’?”

Her hands are on his cheeks, now— both of them, cupping his jaw as her thumbs brush across his temples.

“No” he whispers, feeling incredible vulnerable under her consideration, “I was… I was nervous, but- but it didn’t feel like I thought it might…”

“It’s been awhile” she says, “If we’d have tried it a couple of weeks ago you might’ve ended up with a migraine, but, I think you’re so far out now that anxiety is the worst you’ll come away with.”

She doesn’t want to downplay that, anxiety is still more than he deserves, but given the situation, it’s definitely better than the alternatives.

“Thank you” he mumbles, head lolling over to the side as she starts to card his hair back, “Doll, for… for humourin’ me with all if this…”

“I think I'm indulging more than humouring” she corrects lightly, “but it's fine, next time you feel like playin' 20 questions just give me a heads up, this version made it impossible to cheat”

Masterlist

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier x you #Oneshot #fluff #x reader #drabble #bucky barnes oneshot

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candycandy00 · 19 days

Text

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 6

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

Vartan nearly knocked you over as he stumbled inside, holding onto the wall as he made his way through your kitchen and to the living room, where he fell onto the couch.

You closed and locked the door behind him, then hurried over to the couch.

"What are you doing here?"

He looked up at you, and for first time you could see a hint of annoyance on his face. It was both frightening and comical. "They asked me to leave the base. So I came here."

"They threw you out?"

He laid back on the couch, making himself a bit more comfortable, though every move still seemed painful. "Yes, that is basically true."

You were holding your forehead. This was ridiculous. If the neighbors happened to see Vartan on his way in, the whole building would be in a state of panic.

He glanced to the side. "You do not have a television?"

You frowned. "No, I'm not that rich. And besides, I don't even like watching movies. Wait, why did you come to my apartment? For that matter how did you know where I live?"

"I followed you home. And you are the only human I know."

You couldn't help but feel a little bit special upon hearing that. How many girls in the city could say a half-breed knew them well enough to crash at their place? But you tossed the thought out of your mind. "You know Terrian too. He has a really big house."

"But you are the one I followed," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

You sighed. "Alright, you can stay as long as you need to, but please don't go walking around in the hallway or anything. The other people in the building might have heart attacks if they spot you."

Vartan nodded.

"And," you said carefully, "there's one more condition to staying here."

He looked you in the eyes again. "What is it?"

You felt a little scared. You just couldn't get beyond the fact that you were talking to a half-breed. You took a deep breath. "You can't punish anyone while you're staying with me. No matter what."

He raised his eyebrows, and you flinched, as if expecting him to jump up and decapitate you. "And what will you do if I punish anyone?"

You hesitated for a moment, then built up your courage and said "I'll throw you out!"

Vartan stared at you in response, and you could've sworn an extremely faint smile had tugged at his lips for an instant. "Very well," he said, "I will abide by your rules."

You blinked. A half-breed was agreeing to your rules? It was beyond bizarre. You shook your head and walked into the bedroom, where you pulled out an extra blanket and took one of the pillows from your own bed. You brought them to him, and he politely thanked you.

Once he was comfortable again, you waved to him and told him goodnight, going into your room to change into pajamas. You opened your door a crack and peeked into the living room, but it was too dark to make out anything more than a vague shape on the couch.

It was a very restless night, as you had trouble sleeping while knowing that a half-breed was lying in the next room. Your mind was going crazy, telling you that he was different, that he was kind to you and had gotten himself into trouble for your sake, but at the same time reminding you of how callously he had murdered Miranda's parents only a few days before. You couldn't decide whether he was a gentle boy or a barbaric monster.

In the end, you fell asleep just a few hours before sunrise, and so overslept terribly the next morning. What little sleep you got was plagued by nightmares, of your parents screaming, of following a tall, black-clad stranger in the snow. You don’t even remember what snow feels like, but in your dreams it was bitterly cold.

You climbed out of bed and staggered into the kitchen. Vartan was at the table peeling an orange. His jacket was gone and, to your embarrassment, so were his pants. He wore boxer shorts, plain black cotton. He looked up when you entered the room. "Is it alright that I took an orange?"

You nodded, still a little disoriented. You were wearing a tank top and a pair of knit shorts. It was nothing scandalous, but you felt a little self-conscious so you held your arms over yourself and stepped toward the door.

"There is no need to be embarrassed," he said, biting into the peeled orange, "I have seen you in less."

You remembered your first time meeting him, in the clinic while you were in your underwear, and cringed. You had almost forgotten it. You turned around to face him. "Right, about that, I have another rule. You can't... um... do anything... to me."

He looked highly confused. "Do anything?"

"You know, what you half-breeds do to humans all the time. Um, how did that girl put it yesterday... 'enjoy'?"

Vartan obviously understood now, and you were more than a little embarrassed.

He took another bite of the orange. "I will do nothing to harm you."

You sighed in relief. "Great, I'm glad we cleared that up." You sat down at the table and grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit, biting into it without peeling it. "By the way, I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday. You really saved us, Anna and I."

Vartan nodded without a word.

You watched him for a moment while chewing the apple. "I'm curious though, why did you do it?"

"I already explained. You saved me, I wanted to save you in return."

"But when you spared Miranda, I mean, the little girl a few nights ago, you said your debt had been repaid."

He was looking at the half-eaten orange in his hand. "I am... not on the best of terms with those three."

"Oh. I see. So going up against them wasn't exactly new?"

"Correct," he answered. "I have fought with them many times."

"Why?" you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you thought.

"I believe Celeste, the girl you met, harbors feelings for me that one half-breed should not have for another."

Your jaw dropped. "You mean she has a crush on you?!"

"Yes, I believe so. And the others, Aden and Marcel, harbor those feelings for her. As such, they despise me."

You laid the apple on the table, too intrigued to eat. "Wow, so they're jealous of you! But why would she attack you the way she did? Why would she allow them to?"

Vartan looked at you, surprised. "Why would she not?"

"Because she's in love with you, isn't she? You don't hurt people you love!"

"We do not understand the feelings of humans," he said. "If we somehow come to experience them, we do not know how to react to them."

You looked back down. "Oh," you said, then looked at him sharply. "But why don't the half-breeds get together? Why don't they ever date each other or get married or anything?”

Vartan looked positively shocked by your question, his expression even going beyond mere raised eyebrows to include wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "That is forbidden! We can never touch each other in that way!"

You were quite surprised yourself. "Why not?"

Vartan settled back into his usual expression. "I'm not sure. We've been told from the time we were children that we must never, ever mate with fellow half-breeds. Doing so would be punishable by death."

"Wow, that's a really harsh rule. But I guess that explains why you guys fool around with humans so much."

"Yes," he replied, eating his orange again and seeming strangely uncomfortable, "We were told to satisfy our physical desires with humans."

You placed your elbow on the table and leaned over, supporting your head with your arm. "But don't you guys ever want something more? More than just a physical thing? How do you get any pleasure from it when the human obviously doesn't want it?"

Vartan was focused intently on the orange, as if purposely avoiding your eyes. "We were told that humans are hormonal creatures who always desire physical pleasure. We were told that the humans wouldn't mind, that they would be happy to satisfy us, because we are pleasing to their eyes."

You wee positively amazed to be hearing all of this. Finally things were starting to make a little more sense. "But couldn't you figure out that humans didn't want to be used?"

Vartan suddenly stood up from the table. "Do you mind if I use your shower?"

You blinked, caught off-guard. "Oh, sure. There are some towels in the closet in the hall."

He stood up and pushed his chair in, then cleared the table of the small mess he had made with the orange. It really struck you that he was unbelievably polite. You wondered if half-breeds were raised to be that way, or if this was simply a personality trait for him.

You heard him open and then close the closet door, then listened as he walked a little further down the hall and into the bathroom. Then the water came on. You resumed eating while you waited, and he eventually emerged from the hall again, but this time he was without the boxers. You nearly choked on the apple, but stood up and quickly backed away, covering your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Please put your clothes on!" you cried.

"Why? You have seen me nude before. Why are humans so bothered by such things?"

You slowly removed your hands from your eyes, but looked straight at his face. He looked genuinely curious. "Because things like this should be reserved for couples."

"Why?"

You thought for a moment, trying to come up with the best way to word it. "Well, it should be special, when two people who are in love see each other naked for the first time. Exposing yourself like that is like revealing your deepest secret."

Vartan's puzzled expression made you realize that you had indeed worded it wrong. "Wait, that didn't come out right. I mean, even with people who are not in love, you want to save that 'secret' for when you decide to become intimate."

"So, humans do not allow anyone to see them nude unless they are intimate?"

You rubbed your forehead again. "No, that's not exactly it. I mean, doctors see you naked, but that's for medical reasons. It's different. And when you're a kid and your parents see you naked, like when you're taking a bath. Or if you're spending the night with your best friend and you change clothes in the same bedroom, it's not a big deal. But, when it comes to someone you're attracted to, it makes you shy about it, so you only want to show yourself to them when you trust them to not be judgmental and..."

You trailed off, noticing that Vartan's look of confusion was gone and he was instead staring at you intently. "I see," he said, stepping into the living room. He returned a few seconds later, buttoning his pants. "I suppose I no longer have a secret to reveal."

"What?"

Again that faint smile seemed to flash across his face for the briefest of moments, but it disappeared just as quickly. "You're not going to the clinic today. Are you going anywhere else?"

"Terrian's house. He gave me a new job."

"What kind?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you really interested or are you making conversation?"

"I am interested."

"He wants Anna and I to be his new maids. I know he just wants to give us a reason to take money from him and come to his house, so we won't feel like we're robbing him, you know? But I hope he doesn't make us wear uniforms again."

"The white outfit you were wearing at the clinic, that was a uniform?" he asked.

"Yeah. Terrian picks them out. I think he has a costume fetish or something."

"Does he not make you feel uncomfortable?"

You laughed. "We know he's just joking around. Yeah, he likes to see us in cute clothes, but he would never do anything inappropriate. In fact he's ridiculously protective of us."

"Yes, I saw that," Vartan replied. "He was quick to attack me when he thought I was doing you harm."

You laughed again, and in the back of your mind you wondered when you had reached the point that you could laugh with a half-breed. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the kitchen wall. "Oh crap, I'm really running late now. I better get ready."

You hurried to the hall, grabbed some towels, and took a quick shower. You dressed in the bathroom, having no desire to go prancing into your bedroom with nothing but a towel on while Vartan was there. He promised he wouldn't do anything, but you decided it wouldn't be a good idea to tempt a half-breed, despite the circumstances.

You fixed your hair and even dabbled on a little makeup and perfume, things you normally never bothered with. When finished, you looked in the mirror and asked yourself why you were trying so hard to look good. Was it because you wanted Vartan to find you attractive? But you had gone to such lengths to avoid attracting that sort of attention from him.

But what was wrong with it if you liked him?

You took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom. You grabbed your bag from the counter in the kitchen and stepped into a pair of shoes by the door. You glanced into the living room, where Vartan was sitting quietly on the couch.

"Um, I'm leaving now. If you decide to go out, lock the door behind you. There's an extra key on the table by my bed so you can get back in. Remember not to let anyone see you in the building, okay?"

He looked up at you and nodded, then waved as you left.

You arrived several minutes later at Terrian's house. You usually visited in the evenings, after they closed the clinic, so seeing it in the daylight, under the red-tinged sun, made the huge house look a little scary. Now you understood why he often asked you and Anna to come live with him.

You walked up on the porch and rang the door bell. A few minutes later, you heard footsteps and the door suddenly flung open. There stood Anna, positively fuming, in a frilly french maid costume that was obviously bought for Halloween many years ago. You wanted to laugh, but then it occurred to you that you would probably be wearing that horrendous getup too. You grimaced.

"He's gone too far this time!" Anna said loudly, stomping her foot as she talked as if to emphasize every word. "Look at this! I look ridiculous!"

"It's not that bad. I mean, it's kinda cute."

"It's awful!" Anna cried.

You opened your mouth to respond, but heard Terrian's voice ring out from within the house. "Is she here? Send her on up to get her uniform!"

You paled. "Well, at least you won't look awful by yourself." You stepped inside and began climbing up the stairs, dreading what you would see when you reached the top.

Tag List:

@scrumptiouslampwobblercop

#alien x reader #alien x human #x reader #x reader stories #original x reader #original fiction #scifi x reader

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t-hornapple · 8 months

Note

Have you ever talked about your art process with a focus on composition and how you block out shape+values? I really admire how you do that in your work, and it’s something I find particularly difficult to do myself, so if you’ve ever posted about it (incl. on your patreon?) I’d love to read it. Thank you!

I haven’t, no one’s ever asked before!

Short answer is that tones can be a lot of trial and error (I don’t always know what will be black vs white vs filled in with stripes to knock it back a bit), and composition is just second nature these days. But I can illustrate my thought process and show you how compositions work with a few examples:

The Knight of the Tapestry has a really busy cloak pattern and, arguably, the details of the armor read quite busy as well. And since the knight and these patterns are the focus, it needs to be surrounded by things that will 1) balance it out and let the eye rest; 2) provide form contrast so we can see the subject clearly.

The cloak is balanced out a lot by the black shadow and the black lining. The white window panes to the left also help give some balance to it all. You could also use the word “contrast” instead of balance—I am contrasting Highly Patterned with no pattern, just black or white. This is what b&w art really makes you good at—instead of balancing color, you really balance the heaviness of an area, and focus on balancing out levels of detail to help guide the eye to the subject.

Compositionally, all the lines around the subject guide to the subject. This is one reason why I like putting so many windows in my work, they’re a really really easy way to get the background to do a lot of heavy lifting for you.

The rule of thirds is… sort of at work here with the window / knight / screen filling up (roughly) thirds of the piece. This breaks below his feet, though, where the composition is split into two, and the horizontal line of the floor is also at the half-way point (though the knight’s feet are slightly closer to a 1/3rd mark horizontally.) Just goes to show, rule of thirds has some wiggle room. If you do struggle with compositions, though, try the rule of thirds. Or try my favorite guy, the Van de Graaff layout. (I will talk about this later if anyone’s interested, though I don’t use it TOO much in my illustration work, but only for book layouts, etc)

This one I struggled a lot with figuring out what should be black or white, and how many tiles to give a pattern. Medieval tiles could be very elaborate, and a lot of extant medieval floors show a multitude of different patterned tiles being used all together in a mad sort of mashup. I tried that—and it was overwhelming. I had to really pick and choose 1) what pattern I was going to use; 2) how many tiles were going to have a pattern. I ended up with this triangle one because the geometric pattern balances out the organic patterns of the cloak. It lets them breathe and be, really, the only very organic pattern in the piece (the quatrefoil cut outs of the screen are arguably organic, but also geometric…). So this was a lot of trail and error. For me, still, tones and black fill are very much a “fuck around and find out” sort of exercise. There’s one I did more recently that was a HUGE trial to figure, and I’d talk about that one, but despite everyone being clothed in it, tumblr keeps banning it when I try to post it. (It is very suggestive, I won’t lie.)

Okay, let’s look at the Martyr’s Cross Club, one with (at first glance) quite odd composition. You “should” put the subject in the middle, right? Or maybe not have him so far out on the left there…? Except he’s not the subject. This is a piece looking at the men enjoying him, so they get more emphasis.

For tone and balancing, the very busy damask (which is based on a real damask by the way from the Met), is the background to the two figures on the right. The right-most one is just in his shirtsleeves, and his hair is just filled with flat black. This balances out/gives contrast to the patterned curtain, and lets the eye rest. The guy next to him, for contrast, gets to have some fun pattern on his coat. The rest of the room is black and white, and the heaviest use of black is on the cross, which is up against a wall without much detail so that I get the maximum contrast possible. It really sticks out, despite there being an insane damask on the right side of the piece.

I think this one is really good for showing how to use patterns/tones/high detail without overwhelming the composition or making it hard for the eye to read. Left to right, it goes: white / black / white / pattern / white / pattern. There’s white buffer between everything, well, not white, and that lets the eye rest, and makes everyone stand out clearly from each other.

As for the composition, this is an interesting one because we have invisible composition lines. The curtain and the cross are the strongest composition lines, but the gazes of the men take us across the piece to the guy on the cross. There’s no line, just the gazes of the subjects. We want to see what they’re seeing. It’s really cool. There aren’t many (or any) compositional lines really leading up to the mirror above the cross, which is why a lot of people miss it the first time they see the piece. It’s a little treat for those who linger.

For me, my eye always rests on the guy at the far right (but maybe just because I think he’s the hottest one in the piece.)

Lastly, we’ll look at The Vase, since this one gets the most comments about its composition (and I cherish them all).

This one follows the same rules as always: pattern and high detail is balanced out by white and black. A geometric pattern (stripes on that ottoman or whatever it is) is right behind an organic pattern, which is also up against a black window. The molding on the mantle is next to rough brick texture. The laurel frame is against a white wall. It breathes. You can wander from pattern to pattern, detail to detail. They all take the center stage—the subject is, after all, the vase itself. The people in the art piece are little bonuses to be discovered as you wander around.

Some of the lines go to the vase. Some of them don’t. This is a piece where the eye wanders a lot, but it never leaves the frame much. You keep getting pulled back in and around by all the weird shapes. I think the invisible striking arc of the crop could also be a composition line that people follow—I don’t, but it’s conceivable. (And of note: the crop is not in the act of striking, but it's being flexed in the guy's hands. That does not probably come across tho)

This sort of composition, where you deliberately fuck with the viewer and pull their gaze to something that usually isn’t the subject, is really fun to do. I don’t think the composition itself is anything weird—but what it highlights is unexpected, which makes it feel weird. I would highly highly suggest people start playing around with stuff like this since it can create a lot of different emotions & really surprise viewers. I don’t think it’s particularly hard, you just have to start fucking around and seeing what works. And when it comes to backgrounds, don’t be afraid of them! They’re your friend & you can use them to do a lot of work for you.

I hope that helps! If anyone has questions feel free to ask, I’m always happy to explain something.

#ask #i might not always be able to answer something quickly but i do love sharing what i know

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sugawhaaa · 10 months

Text

JUNGSU X READER

Karma tastes so sweet

🍫PAIRING:: switch!Jungsu x switch!fem!reader (other members are present but are only around for a few seconds)

🍬WARNINGS:: smut (I think this is officially my nastiest fanfic 😭)

🌸GENRE:: smut, blow job, oral, (Face sitting???) Lots of cum idk

💫WORD COUNT:: 2,323 (so satisfying sjsjsj)

A/N:: so tomorrow is my birthday and as I was writing this I was like I need there to be reason for Jungsu to stay home and my totally big brain went "let's pretend tomorrow is your birthday in this." And boom there u have it folks. Fanfic tip 101

SONGS TO LISTEN TO WHILE READING

Gunil POV

"Why am I doing this again?" Gunil groaned to himself as he found the perfect chocolate. He had been looking for a chocolate laced with an aphrodisiac. Why did he want it? No one really knows except for the fact he has a girlfriend that he's been getting comfortable with lately but he had never thought his worst fear would become a reality.

He ordered a box of 6 aphrodisiac chocolates from a rather sketchy website and it said that they'd arrive in a week. He relaxed knowing that it was going to arrive on a Saturday so he'd be home all day to make sure no one else got a hold of his precious chocolate.

Your POV

There was a knock on the door and Jungsu got up to answer it. Jungsu requested that he take the next two days off of work and the company had no reason to say no. Today is your dating anniversary and tomorrow was your birthday so you had an excuse. Today the two of you were simply hanging out and cuddling, watching movies, baking etc

You were going to the door before Jungsu stopped you.

"It might be a surprise for your birthday!" He said cheekily so you waited for him in the kitchen. Jungsu returned with a cardboard box in his hand. It was the average size but whatever was in it was small because any slight movement in the box made a loud clunk noise. "I have no idea what this is," he shrugged as he set it on the table in front of the couch you were sitting on. "But it is addressed to us." Jungsu said, sitting next to you.

"None of the members said anything about ordering anything?" You shrugged your shoulders as Jungsu set the box on his lap. You looked up at him with a smirk "you gonna open it?" You said as nudged his arm.

"You know me too well. Even if it's a gift for you tomorrow is your birthday anyway," he said as he tore the cardboard open to reveal a small red and pink box. On it there was a label that said "velvet pleasure" with fancy cursive writing. Based on the box itself it was something sexy. Maybe a sex toy? But it was so small…

Jungsu's face started heating up and you could see it as clear as day. "This yours?" You teased him.

"No!" He freaked out before picking the box up to examine it.

"Then why is your face so red?" You said leaning closer to him.

"Because this is most likely one of the members' packages and we just opened it! And I mean look at it," he blushed and looked away from you. You took the box from his hands to read it.

"Damn it, it's written in Chinese…" there were directions on it but it was all in Chinese.

"Maybe there's a paper inside that has other languages?" Jungsu said as he leaned in to look at the box in your hands. You opened it up and found chocolate. "Oh." You said in unison at the harmless product. Jungsu picked one up to examine it. It was brown with milk chocolate stripes around it. He popped it in his mouth and critiqued it as he ate it before shrugging. "Tastes fine to me," with that Jungsu grabbed a heart shaped one and took a bite. Pink jell dripped out of it. His eyes lit up as he held up for you to see. You gave him a surprised look before he ate the second half.

You gave him a questioning look before he shrugged again. "I'm not dead, I don't know why you're so worried."

"I just think it might be something else…" You mumbled before he stood up. He put the chocolate in the cupboard before going back to the couch with you. You observed him closely but half an hour passed and he had no side effects. You decided to relax a bit and continue to enjoy your time alone with Jungsu. After about an hour since he took the chocolate he started moving around a lot. Like he couldn't get comfortable? You asked if he was alright and he insisted that he was perfectly all right. You were suspicious but you decided to let him be.

His face was all red, he was coughing and clearing his throat constantly, he shifted positions 24/7 so you finally spoke up again. You paused the movie you were watching and turned to face him. "What is up with you, your acting so weird." You exclaimed.

"You were that chocolate is fucked up!" He whined as he dramatically flopped his head onto your thighs.

"W-what?" You said slightly scared at his strange behavior.

"Ever since I ate those chocolates I've been so hard," he whined into your lap as you placed your hand on his back. You shook your head with a sigh.

"I knew it was an aphrodisiac…"

"A what?"

"Aphrodisiac. It's essentially a type of food that makes you horny and extenuates pleasure and sensitivity." You explained as he whined quietly. "If we don't do anything about this you're going to feel horrible," you explained as you propped him up against the couch. He looked up at you with doe eyes just begging for your touch and it melted your heart. You sighed and shook your head again "what am I going to do with you?"

"Hopefully fuck me." Jungsu said with a smirk.

"Horny and still cocky," you said as you spread his legs for you to sit on like your throne. Just the feeling of your weight and warmth on his legs made him shiver. You took off your cardigan "What should I do first?" You thought to yourself aloud like he was your fuck doll. Jungsu just whimpered as he clawed at your hips.

"Touch me please." He whined aimlessly trying to get you to sit on his dick.

"Fine since you said please," you smirked as you instantly stripped him. Taking a moment to look at his body that was just begging for your touch. You then went down on your knees and licked all up his length. Make him moan deep and loud before he covers his mouth. You hardly even touched him and he's already a mess. This aphrodisiac really works…

He teased his tip, small little cat licks, and he was just a mess. Rocking his head back and forth on the cushions of the couch as his back arched. It was quite the sight. You decided to wrap your mouth around him but only going so far up.

"Fuck. Please~" he mumbled as he messed with his dark hair. Grasping it like his life depends on it. You slowly moved your mouth all the way up his cock and you alright felt his orgasm building in your mouth. He distortedly moaned out your name, curse words and words of desire.

"I wanna cum, please, please," he'd whine out repeatedly and you didn't plan on stopping him. As you felt his high coming closer you used one of your hands to play with his base, his entire cock couldn't fit in your mouth so you resulted in your hands and he definitely liked it. Loud moans came from his throat. Loud, raspy, deep, long, slow everything. He was a wreck for you and to no one's surprise he came all down your throat. A lot.

This aphrodisiac had a powerful effect on him not only mentally but clearly physically.

Despite him filling your mouth to the brim you kept bobbing your head up and down him. You then slipped your lips off his soaked dick to swallow his cum. As you felt the warm liquid go down your throat, Jungsu whined for your mouth around him again.

So you did just as he asked. Shoving his entire length in your mouth making you choke lightly. Before you started moving. Jungsu was a mess of words. He couldn't get two words out without praising you.

"So good-fuck, fuck!" He moaned out as used your free hand to rub his thigh. "More, more, more, more please~" he said faster than you could process but after registering his pleads you picked up the pace. Your mouth moving at a rapid pace as your tongue swirled around him. Surprisingly he came again, and perhaps even more than the last time.

You thought it was impossible but there was more arousal in your mouth than ever before. You choked on it and it dripped out of your mouth. You took his cock out of your mouth and he watched as strings of cum connected your mouth to his cock.

Long raspy groans escaped his lips as you attempted to swallow everything but mid way through you coughed and spat it out.

"You okay?" He said with a breathy voice as he knelt down to you. You nodded your head as you whipped some of the arousal off your lips and chin but it only spread it to your hands. "Are you sure?" He said putting his hand up to your cheek trying to wipe off more of his arousal.

"I'm positive. I never knew you could cum so much and moan so loud," you chuckled as you teased him. Jungsu stammered as his face turned more red. "It was hot." You said as you climbed up to sit on his lap.

"You were too…" he said as he turned his head away from your gaze.

"Awe are you shy because of how good I make you feel?" You teased while you held his chin, moving it to face you. You then kissed him as you pushed him down, his bare back against the couch. Your body's motions synchronized perfectly as you sloppily kissed him with passion. Your hands in his hair and on his chest, moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room.

"I shouldn't have eaten that chocolate," he whined as you moved to his neck. Sucking on his soft, tender skin. Soft little mewls came out of Jungsu's mouth as he rested his hands comfortably on your body while you put one hand around his neck, the other at his bare chest. His eyes shut tight as you licked him like a damn dog.

"Why do you regret it?" You uttered between licks, your hot breath sending shivers down his spine.

"I want you…" He whined, desperation in his voice.

"Well I'm right here, you do whatever you want to me." You said as you rocked your hips against his while your hands played with his hair. Low curses escaped his lips as his body tensed again. The sensation and friction made your stomach flip but this wasn't about you, your goal was to make Jungsu cum as much as possible.

"Sit on my face." He demanded out of nowhere.

"W-What?" You said clearly flustered at his request but the look in his eyes made you consider it. "I've never done that before…" you said as you shyly looked away while he stared up at you with admiration.

"Just sit, I'll do the rest," he said before grabbing your hips. You nodded and mumbled out an "okay" so you did just as he had said. You followed his hands and sat right on his lips. You kept some of your weight off him so he doesn't freaking suffocate but his hands kept pushing you down. Jungsu instantly started using his tongue to work miracles on you.

Your moans hitching as he circled your entrance, his stern hands massaging your hips. The vibration of his groans made you see stars, how is he so good at making you feel surreal pleasure? You started subconsciously grinding against his face as his tongue pressed against your clit. You covered your mouth with the palm of your hand as he sucked on your bud.

You then started to feel a knot forming in your lower stomach and you grabbed Jungsu's head to ground yourself. You blabbered out "I'm gonna cum," repeatedly to warn him so he picked up the pace. You tugged his hair to basically brace yourself before you came and started to relax. You realized that after he started sucking on you, all of your body weight was on his face. You got up off of him and immediately asked if he was okay.

"I'm more than okay now," he smirked with a little chuckle. You laughed a little as you laid on top of him.

"Did you really enjoy that?" You said as you examined his face that was covered in your liquid.

"Hell yeah," he said as he shut his eyes and laid his head back. While he was distracted you moved down his body slowly before stuffing his length into your mouth. It caught Jungsu off guard and he immediately moaned in a high pitched voice. He squabled around at the feeling on your tongue swirling around him and your hands on his hips. You started bobbing your head and the fast distorted whimpers from Jungsu made you go faster in hope of being rewarded with more blissful sounds. His response to your actions was to arch his back and moan. Loud. It probably echoed throughout the dorms.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck~" he moaned out as he grabbed the cushions harshly. "Oh my God, oh my-fuck- I'm gonna cum~"

To none of your surprise he came again, all over your face and on the couch. As you were cleaning up his mess with your tongue you saw Jungsu open his eyes and his jaw drop. Pure terror on his face. You sat up and turned around to see Jooyeon, Gaon and Junhan. Just as petrified as Jungsu. Junhan just walked right back out of the room while Gaon and Jooyeon just flipped out saying "What the HELL-"

The end :D

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silvabacca · 10 months

Text

(This one is a continuation to my previous short story, but you can read it without the first one) (anyway enjoy)

It was a really memorable evening for Miles. Altought he spend it like any other, listening to music, sketching in his sketchbook and singing some questionable words that were suppose to be lyrics.

He was in his dorm with his roommate Ganke, who played video games on his computer. It was really peacful, warm, sunset behind the window also a person behind said window-

Miles’ spider sens tingled and immedietly jumped out of his bed just to see that said person is his friend. A very handsome and cool friend.

Hobie knocked on the glass and waved to Miles who sighed with reliefe. He opened a window for a guest and gestured to come in. Hobie basically crawled like a spider and gave Ganke a near heart attack.

It wasn’t a first time for Hobie to check up on his friend. At first he occasionally visited Miles in his dimention, but now he does it very often, in fact Hobie is in his friend’s room twice a week.

And how does Miles feel about all of this? Well it would be a lie, if he said that he didn’t like this. He’s always in a better mood when his friend is around, just his presence is enough for him to feel good. Also when Hobie is around they always hang out and have a great time.

- So what are we doin’ today sunshine?

Hobie always gives Miles weird nicknames. At first Miles was a little shocked at it (because nobody and I mean NOBODY would normaly call him „sunshine”, „love”, etc…okay maybe his mami but still). But now he just smiles at it and just treats it like another „British Thing”.

- I’ve got some ideas - replies Miles while smirking and gesturing at spray paint and a spidey suit.

Hobie smirks and nods in agreement. After younger one has changed and garabbed a backpack full of paint they both swing out of the window.

They land together at some abandoned factory and search for a good spot. After a couple of minutes Hobie whistles and shows Miles a big and not so ruined wall. Boy smiles at it and starts to unpack his stuff while the other sets up music (Yes they made together a playlist with their favorite hip hop and punk rock songs). They both grab spray paint in their hands and start painting together.

It’s always the most fun part of their meetups, when they both are just free and do whatever they want. Like it’s not so often when Miles can just be himself. Especially now with being a part of a team, his duties in HQ, college, parents. He constantly needs to be focused, because he’s bussy with everything. That’s why he appreciates his time with Hobie, a time when he can be himself with a company of his friend.

Some time passed and the wall, which was originally blank, now was full of colors, shapes and abstraction. Boys looked at their work and admired it for a while.

- It’s been a while since we did this - said Hobie still looking at their graffity

- Yeah…I missed it - Miles replied with a smile.

In this moment Hobie looked at Miles, the same way as on their masterpice, but more softer. He also smiled and put his hand on his friend’ shoulder. Which made Miles jump a little, but after a while he relaxed and accepted the touch.

Hobie looked at him the whole time and saw how expressions change on his face. From a smile to a littel bit sadder one. He noticed it and whispered:

- What’s wrong, love?

Miles didn’t look at him, he just put his mask on and started walking. Hobie didn’t understand what was going on. He reached to grab him, but then Miles stopped, not looking even once.

- Follow me - he whispered.

Hobie hesitated for a second, still confused about the whole situation. But then he put his mask on to signal he’s ready. They left the building in complete silence.

It was the most awkward travel that they ever had. No words were spoken which made Hobie even more nervouse. Something like this never happened to him before with Miles. He was thinking about the worst and the silence didn’t help him.

After a while they landed in front of a metro station in Brooklyn. They run together there, Miles on the front, still not talking and Hobie following him, overthinking too much. They went trought a dark and abondoned tunnel and entered blocked area. For a while it was too dark to see anything, but then a little light started appearing. They came closer and closer and entered a big room.

Hobie completly didn’t know where they were, because Miles never took him here and to this part of town in general. He started looking around and studied every wall. He just stood there looking everywhere, then his eyes went to Miles again.

The boy stood in front of a beautiful graffity. In fact it kinda looked like one of designs he saw in Miles’ room some time ago. The big, colorfull, chaotic „No Expectations” with one black, small person in the middle”.

He watched as Miles gently touches painting, standing in front of this small figure. One hand on the wall and the other slowly removing mask of his head. That’s when he turned back to Hobie and finally looked him in the eyes. His face had a slight and sad smile, he laugh a little and calmly started talking.

- Sorry for worring you, it kind didn’t go as I planned originaly, but…

He paused for a moment, nervously touching his hands. He let out a big sigh and continued.

- You know it’s been a while since I’ve been here. Heck it could be 6 years now…but anyway I just wanted to show it to you.

He gestured at the graffity and said

- I created this when I didn’t know my place, my place in my own life. I struggled then with a lot of emotions, but I had help from my..my uncle - he smiled at the last word - he was a good guy.

Then he looked at Hobie with big smile.

- He was kinda like you. I mean you are a lot cooler than him and you are handsome and you are- Oh shit

He got a little embarrased which made Hobie laught, this made Miles calmer. Finally Hobie decided to move, not much, but just a little closer. As he stopped the othe decided to continue.

- Yeah this deffinitely doesn’t go as planned, well I just wanted to say that I trust, that I respect you, that you are…you are

Miles couldn’t breath for a moment, his emotions got to him and he couldn’t speak what was on his mind. Hobie saw that and immedietly decided to hug him. It wasn’t that type of hug they usually sheared, it wasn’t another joke, wasn’t just a hug. It was a sign that Hobie was there for Miles, that it’s okay, he gets it. Miles opened a heart, a part of his soul, story, whatever you could call it, it was special.

(Just like him…he’s special…or even more) tought Miles while beeing in his friend’ arms.

(Friend…oh. Oh…It’s more than that)

The moment Miles realised his feelings for Hobie tears fell down his cheeks. He blinked a couple times in surprise, it’s been a really long time.

- Oh shit, why are they…- Miles said to himself and started to let go of Hobie, but then the other hugged him tighter.

- No no no shhhh ’is okay love - said taller guy and gently patted Miles’ shoulder - ’is alright.

Miles laughted a little and said

- I wanted to be cool in front of you, now look at me, a total mess.

- You were, are and will always be amazing to me, sunshine.

- Yeah?

Miles whispered and continued hugging Hobie. They lasted like this a moment longer, until Miles calmed down completly.

Then they decided to go back to dorm where they parted ways. Hobie went trought his portal and Miles collapsed on his bed still procesing what happened. While thinking about that evening he fell asleep and dreamed about the hug the whole night.

After this it was a little awekward for Miles to look Hobie in the eyes, but it didn’t last long. They went back to normal, but with a little diference this time. Now Miles knew the name of the feeling he felt

(Aaaand that’s it, this turned a little angsty, but I think it’s good. I hope you enjoyed this and let me know if you want another part, but this time with confesion)

#atsv #punkflower #hobie brown #miles morales #hobie x miles #across the spiderverse

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ken-dala · 1 year

Text

Room neighbours

A/N: don't think that i didn't watch avatar 1, i watched it and yeah i just watched the second part and i can say for sure that it was an awesome part!! I liked everything especially Lyle and Quaritch.

You and Lyle used to be good friends and are still good friends now but not like before, before when you were human you could do anything together have fun singing etc and now there is almost no former Lyle. Now only blue huge Lyle. But this does not bother you, you still communicate, but because of the mission, you rarely see each other, maybe only at night. You can discuss anything with Lyle, he can always keep up the conversation and you are never bored with him.

After the mission, as usual, they came tired and sweaty, and you are Lyle's personal doctor, he always comes with a problem. Well, here again he knocks and asks if you are in the room.

- Hey dollface, not busy? I have a request for you as usual..

Today his tone is somehow not so always his tone was serious and now he seems to be upset or something like that.

-Lyle come in-

As soon as you opened the door, his body almost fell on you, he could barely hold on, leaning against the doorway. -You know, doc, you should hurry up

My God, he's covered in blood, his face is tired, but he keeps his hand where his shoulder is, it is his shoulder that is very badly injured and bleeding. You immediately took the things you needed and put Lyle on your bed, he could not sit and he immediately lay down.

-Lyle, what did I tell you to be careful, I need you alive after all

He began to hiss and growl in pain when you were doing medical work. Finally, you you put a tourniquet on his shoulder and you were done with it. -Lyle? Are you okay?

-Yes, I'm fine, thanks dollface.

-You can stay here overnight if you find it difficult to move around.

-Thank you.

He felt somewhat awkward, usually after each procedure he goes to his place or to the team, but now he can finally be with you. He was still lying in your bed and you thought where to lie down, because the floor is not very comfortable. He raised his head and saw that you were sitting on the floor and thought.

-What's wrong dollface?

-I don't know where I should go to sleep

As soon as he heard your words, he began to smile slyly and from time to time looked at you and the same look at the bed, hinting to sleep next to him. You noticed his smirk and decided to ask what caused him this smirk

-Lyle, why are you so happy??

-I decided that you will sleep with me, the problem is solved

Your cheeks lit up from his words, I hope he did not notice your blush that appeared on your cheeks. He was right, there was no other solution. You quickly changed in bathroom and when you left you lay down next to him.

-Shit i'm so uncomfortable in this form, to be honest, I better take off my uniform don't peek, you're a good girl, aren't you, doc?

You just melt from his words, sometimes he is so kind and sweet and sometimes cocky.You quickly turned around and you tried not to look at Lyle lest he think you were some kind of pervert. Finally he changed his clothes and you can tell he was in good shape his arms were bulging and you were sure his biceps were hard. He noticed your gaze and looked at you, will you notice his look and his reaction as you look at his body.

-Is there something wrong with my body doc?

You so wanted to touch his powerful hands and body, and without hesitation you began to slowly touch his hands. "Lyle.." As soon as you looked at him, he changed his position, from your touches, he began to somehow purr and growl from such gentle and soft hands as you have, and also your touches are so careful, as if Lyle glass and you were afraid to break it.

-Don't stop honey, you're so tender and beautiful mmh

You carried out his wish and continued to touch his body, still so carefully and gently, Lyle was enjoying it.

-Buttercup, damn your touches are the best, my god, I love you so much

His words are so nice, but he's breathing so hard just because of my fingers.

I can't believe this huge, massive man is getting weaker at the fingers of the girl he loves.

-Lyle, calm down, you have a mission tomorrow, remember?

-I remember, but you know that I will stay with you tonight

- How nice of you, but I won't be able to touch you that long, plus we're both tired and sleepy, so why don't we just try to sleep?

-You care so much about me, buttercup

With these words, he fidgeted a bit, then simply pulled you to his body and hugged you. Before you fell asleep, he muttered something and kissed you on the cheek. You really missed this man.

#lyle wainfleet #avatar: the way of water #x reader

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fayes-fics · 2 years

Text

Transitions

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU, friends to lovers, it’s very distracting when a Bridgerton becomes a triathlete…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, exhibitionism, masturbation, oral sex (m to f), smidge of intercrural sex, vaginal sex. Lots of Benedict skin in a tiny towel, yes that needs a warning label.

Word Count: 6.3k (oops)

Authors note: This is a birthday request fill for @chaoticcalzoneranchsports. Request in essence is a Modern AU Benedict entering a triathlon and becoming a total menace to reader’s hormones lol. I hope you enjoy this wonderful human, sorry it’s a little late <3. FYI, this might be the most teasing modern Ben ever invented and all responsibility for this fall squarely on them not me hahah. This could be the first in a TRI-logy of triathlon Ben fics. Oh and there is a recurring theme of 3s (and multiples of) in this fic, TRIathlon etc., cos I think I’m so clever. (I’m not.). Thanks as always to my beta @makaylan :)

“A triathlon?” Your laugh is interrupted by a hiccup, “are you serious?”

“Yes,” he throws his hands up to emphasise his point and knocks over his beer, “…whoops.” The delayed, muted reaction to the spill all over his jeans tells you everything about how inebriated he also is.

“Gonna need better coordination than that, especially on the bike part,” you quip, patting his shoulder, part in sympathy, part to steady yourself before wandering to get a towel from the barman. Luckily this is your local; they’ll take pity on you and your drunken friend.

-30 minutes later-

“Ssss fa charityyy,” he slurs as you wander down the street half an hour later.

“What is?” You’re currently staring at a weird-looking patch on your coat. What is that? Beer? Dammit Ben

“Triathlon,” he says emphatically, looking at you, disbelieving that you aren’t following his apparent internal monologue.

“Lovely,” you answer, distracted.

“Be more supportive,” he whines and grabs your shoulders shaking you gently, “I’ve only got six months to get into shape,” he says, miming pumping some iron.

“Fine. I’ll sponsor you, hmm, three hundred million pounds,” you reply, kicking a stray kebab shop chip into the gutter.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he challenges, “better empty all those offshore accounts.”

“Naaah, I keep that kind of chump change in my knickers drawer,” you counter with a giggle.

“Well, I know where I’m looking next time we need money for pizza,” he cackles triumphantly.

“Keep your hands out of my knickers,” you protest, only realising how it sounds after it’s been spoken.

He raises an eyebrow at that, but in his drunken state, it’s more Donkey from Shrek than James Bond.

You just shrug. What does he want with your knickers anyway?

-6 weeks later-

“What are you doing?”

“Shopping online,” he says idly, looking up from his phone as you hand him the carton of popcorn and take your seat next to him, “need new clothes.”

“I haven’t seen you in a new item of clothing in more than two years, Ben. Why change the habit of a lifetime?”

“They don’t fit anymore,” he shrugs, “need some new t-shirts.”

You just frown; it doesn’t look like he’s put on weight lately. Difficult to tell in winter, with all the layers. If anything, his jawline is even more defined recently than before, definitely growing into his looks.

“Switch that off,” you grouse, waving at his phone, “the film is starting.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Luckily, I can have this on my eating regime,” he happily stuffs a large handful into his mouth, shooting you a goofy popcorn-filled grin.

Eating regime?

-3 weeks later-

“What is that noise?” You frown into your phone, putting down your buttering knife.

“Oh, it’s the music, I guess,” he responds, sounding a little winded.

“Wait… where are you?”

“The gym.”

You snort. “C'mon, seriously, it’s Saturday morning. Don’t lie; you just haven’t made it home yet from a night out, right?” You take a bite of your breakfast.

“No,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child, “I’m at the gym.”

“Wait… really?” You have to brush away the toast crumbs you spit out onto your pyjamas at that one.

“Yeah,” you can hear the confusion in his voice, “did you forget? Triathlon? You’re sponsoring me the GDP of a small nation, remember?”

“Hah,” you exhale, “really didn’t think that would stick.”

“Well, it is, I mean, I hate it here, but it is,” you can hear his breathing is a little heavy, making your stomach feel funny, being right in your ear like that. “So what did you want?”

“Hmmm,” you respond, distracted by his low voice.

“…You called me?” He prompts.

“Ohhh… was just curious if you want to hang out later. Pizza and a movie?”

“Yes, to a movie. Sadly, no to pizza. Despite the promise of raiding your knickers.” He gusts a laugh.

Your gasp is audible. “What?”

“You…. You, joked that night? Remember? Keeping your money in your knickers drawer?” He sounds embarrassed.

“Oh yeah, sorry… too early for me,” you attempt to laugh it off. “I’m sorry, but what are you actually doing? Cos, you sound in pain, frankly.”

“Bike. I’m on kilometre 33” he sounds proud; bless him. To be fair, that’s quite an achievement for 9 am.

“Wow,” you look at your cup of tea and plate of toast and feel very lazy, “Well, see you later? 6ish?”

“I’ll be there,” he pants.

You have to hang up. That breathing and his slightly gravelly voice when he kept saying knickers is a bit too much.

-3 weeks later-

You’re out at a Thai restaurant, and he’s eating the spiciest soup ever, based on the sweat beading on his brow, at least.

“Why the hell did you order it at level 3?” you question, “you know that’s crazy hot.”

“Spice is good,” he counters, “revs up the metabolism.”

“You look like you’re suffering.”

“All for a good cause,” he shrugs, “but might need to take off the woolly jumper.”

You curl some pad Thai noodles onto your fork and idly watch him fight off his thick fuzzy top.

Oh.

Underneath, he’s wearing a white t-shirt. You are taken aback by how filled it looks. And his arms? Why is there so much definition? You find yourself staring without even realising it. He wasn’t kidding about those gym visits—clearly.

A noodle unceremoniously plops back into your plate, splattering tamarind sauce onto your jumper and hand.

“Shit!” you busy yourself attempting to remove the stain with your paper napkin but glance up to see him looking at you with a smirk on his face. “What?” Your voice is a touch defensive.

“Nothing,” he singsongs, “just didn’t think you that type, you know?”

“What type?” You’re not looking at him again, pawing at the sweater, hoping it won’t stain.

“A perv,” he breezes

“Excuse me?!?” Your head shoots up.

“You heard me,” he answers, “you have no leg to stand on. You literally dropped your dinner staring at my body.”

You squirm in discomfort, “I was simply taken aback, that's all,” again too defensive. “Gym seems to be paying off,” you add, aiming for nonchalant.

“Based on your reaction? Yes, I’d say so,” he chuckles.

“Eat your bloody fire soup, Popeye,” you grouse, knowing your cheeks are blushing; he just laughs louder.

-6 weeks later-

You walk down his street peeling off your jacket; so glad Spring weather is finally here. He said to come over at 7 pm for film time. You’re a little early; the bus was on time for once. It’s only 6:30 pm, but you figure he won’t mind, especially as you’re clutching a bottle of his favourite wine.

His building door is wedged open by someone moving their stuff out, so you just skip in and take the lift to his floor. He won’t mind you just knocking on his front door; you’ve been friends for so long and visit each other so much that you really should just exchange keys.

You knock casually on the door, checking your hair quickly in the gleaming ‘603’ of his door plate.

There’s a longish delay, then a “Who is it?” His voice sounds far from the door.

“Who do you think, Sherlock?” you laugh back.

“You’re early.” He says, a little harried-sounding.

“Let me in,” you grumble.

“Fine, but beware.” That sounds like a strangely ominous warning.

Then the door sweeps open. And you forget quite how to breathe.

The first thing you notice—acres of toned skin. Dripping wet. You've obviously interrupted his shower. A towel is slung low on his hips, a little trail of glistening hair from his belly button (god, it was made for a tongue) down into the towel. Otherwise not much body hair, just lean muscles everywhere. A quiet ridiculous iliac furrow and flat washboard stomach sweeping up to a surprisingly well-toned chest. Not huge pecs but lean, toned. Broad, muscular shoulders. Exactly how a triathlete would look. As your eyes sweep down again, there’s an outline of something against the towel you definitely shouldn’t be looking at.

“Why not just take a photo? It will last longer,” he teases quietly, with a raised eyebrow.

“Bloody hell Ben,” is all you can say, finally looking at his face.

“Better come inside. Can’t have you glitching in the corridor.”

He steps aside with a smirk and gestures you in. You walk almost on autopilot, silently handing him the wine as you pass and catching a whiff of delightful woodsy clean shower gel as he closes the door behind you.

“I can’t be drinking at the moment, but thank you,” he says quietly, placing the wine on the hallway table.

“I’m sorry I’m early,” you find your voice, “I should have buzzed, but the door was wedged open downstairs, so I just came up.” You know you are rambling slightly, not quite wanting to look at him again.

He smirks as you go to sit in his living room still on autopilot, and he follows, leaning in the doorway to his spare room opposite you, a pull-up bar above his head.

“Please, go finish your shower, get dressed,” you encourage, taking off your shoes as you usually do when you get comfy on his sofa.

“Oh, I’m done,” he assures. “Just didn’t get around to drying yet, but that’s ok. I can air dry, always nice after I get back from the gym,” he says drolly and reaches up to loop an arm around the pull-up bar, the other hip dropping slightly. He’s deliberately showing off now, goading, teasing you. “Sometimes I don’t even bother to get dressed again, just go to bed naked; feels good after a workout.”

Well, that's a thought your traitorous brain didn't need. Your mind is a jumble of inappropriate thoughts of him naked as you watch his torso as he gestures, fascinated by the movements, the play of supple damp skin over lean muscle. Wondering what it would feel like under your fingertips, your lips, or your skin as he presses you into the mattress. The last lingering thoughts seem to coalesce into the strange question of contemplating what he might do if you walked over and ran your tongue over him right now.

“...Y/n?…” he’s looking at you expectantly.

It’s patently obvious he has asked you a question, and you have utterly zoned out, your focus purely on his body and what you want to do to it, to him.

“Did you hear a word I said?” He asks teasingly.

“Sorry, I…” you feel embarrassed.

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long since you last had sex?” he smirks.

You inhale sharply. “That’s none of your business.”

“One, you are my friend; you can tell me.” A finger around the pull-up bar extends out as he counts the reasons with his fingers. “Two, you are looking at me like a hungry man looks at a triple-stacked burger.” Another finger. “And three, I can help with that,” he shrugs as the third finger unfurls.

Your eyes fly to his face, lips parting in shock. Did he just… proposition you?

“So I ask again… how long?” His voice is pitched low, the feel of it almost buzzing around your ribcage even at a distance.

“Six months,” you exhale, looking down at the ground, your mind flashing back to your last drunken awful one-night stand.

“My god,” he sounds genuinely shocked.

“I know,” you lament, still staring at the wooden floor, “I swore off one-night stands after one too many disappointments, and I haven’t met anyone since, so…” it’s your turn to shrug as your sentence trails off.

“Stand up.” His voice takes on a tone you’ve never heard before, and you’re on your feet before you quite register what’s happened.

Feeling nervous, you start rambling, “I suppose I should be more active in the dating apps, maybe? But I just find them so artificial, and honestly, I’d prefer a random bar meeting than this weird swipe-right culture. I feel like a dating dinosaur for saying that, but….”

“Y/n,” his timbre is velvety.

“Yes,” your response is soft, almost silent.

“Shut up.”

He prowls over to you with a look in his eye you have never seen before; it’s dangerous. Is this what Ben is like to all the people he sleeps with, you wonder? It’s very different from the friend you know and, yes, love. Platonically. Or at least you think it’s just that. Right now, you are honestly not sure.

He stops in front of you, his eyes glittering. “I’ve thought about you,” his voice is silky, pitched low. “What it might be like to cross that invisible line, to give in to temptation.”

Your breath is uneven now, your pulse speeding up as your good friend messes with every sense in your body. His smell is intoxicating; you can feel the shower warmth radiating off him. You daren't meet his gaze; he is too close. You keep your eyes cast down slightly, staring at the constellation of tempting freckles smattered across his breastbone.

“Look at me,” he orders quietly, two fingers curling under your chin and pushing your face up to look at his. Fuck, he is devastatingly handsome, so close-up. All cheekbones and hazy eyes. Rivulets of water from his freshly washed curls running down his neck, pooling above his clavicle and in his suprasternal notch. Your tongue almost feels heavy. Desperate to track the journey of those droplets.

“I can’t even see the colour of your eyes anymore,” he rumbles, “your pupils are blown so wide.” He moves the fingers from your chin, trailing them up to run over your lips. “Your lips look almost wine-stained, so flushed. God y/n, you look devastating when you’re aroused.”

You are shocked you are still standing. Who does this? Many men would just have stuck their tongue into your mouth by now. Not this tease; he is determined to ruin you. Slowly. He drops the hand from your face, but your knees feel strangely jelly-like as he leans his whole body closer, ghosting a breath over your cheek.

“No perfume today, hmm,” he murmurs, “just you and your tempting smell. You have no idea how good you smell without it, just a touch of body wash and a lot of,” he takes a deep inhale, “...you.”

How can one syllable be so devastating?

“Ben,” a single word escapes your lips.

“What?” The ‘t’ is a staccato against the shell of your ear.

“What’s happening here?” Your whisper is a little desperate.

“Whatever you want to happen,” he replies, his voice right against your cheek, “six months is too long for anyone, but especially someone as special as you.” He opines, and a single finger draws a line down the skin of your sternum to the first button of your shirt. “I’m counting to three; then I’m undoing this button,” he murmurs. “You have until then to get away from me, and we can just pretend this never happened.”

“One….” You inhale and stay very still.

“Two…” The tension is palpable as you pull back slightly and meet his molten gaze.

“Three…” His deft fingers flick open the button as his lips hover over yours but never touch.

This is the Benedict Bridgerton you’ve heard rumours about, the one you’ve listened to women whispering about in the bathroom at parties that you could never quite fathom or reconcile to the goofy friend you’ve always known. It’s like he’s hidden a part of himself from you and only now is revealing it—this devilish, devastating seducer.

“Ben,” you stutter, feeling the warmth of his fingertips trace gently over your skin to the following button, feeling his breath on your lips.

“Yes?” you feel the word as much as you hear it.

“Kiss me,” he has you begging.

His lips finally capture yours, but it is still just a tease. Surging forward, then pulling back, goading you with just a glimpse of opened lips, a peek of what his tongue is offering. He wants you to take from him; you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As his fingers find the next shirt button, you throw your arms around his neck and dive in. Trapping his hand between your bodies. The dewy, dampness of his showered skin seeps into your cotton shirt as you press against him and run your tongue into his mouth, grabbing a fist full of his hair and growling slightly into him.

“Oh, there it is,” he teases into your open mouth, “the wild thing hiding under this witty, intelligent exterior. I just knew it.”

His touch of arrogance should be off-putting, but he’s being so complimentary with it, it’s just plain hot. You make a desperate noise in the back of your throat and smash his lips back to yours, this time goading him to plunder your mouth. Another button pops undone under his fingers as you surge against him, feeling something hot and insistent pressing through the thin towel and the waistband of your jeans.

He is down to the last button now. He flicks it loose and then tugs the shirt down over your shoulders but doesn’t pull it off completely, just leaves it there, trapping your arms in the sleeves taunt, slightly behind you.

He moves to run his nose over your cheek, “I know all your secrets. I’ve watched you so closely over the years. What makes you bite your lip, squirm in your seat.” His lips tease against your jaw as he keeps talking. “I’ve seen your gaze linger on people making out. You couldn’t look away from that couple fucking in the Barbican stairwell.” His mouth is on your neck now, a hot slide of kisses. “I’ll never forget the look on your face. I could tell how much you craved it. It took all my strength not to throw you against the wall and take you right then. But no, I chose to remember it. So that one day I could tell you what I know for certain. You love to watch and be watched, don’t you?” His voice should be illegal.

You breathe heavily, slightly ashamed he can read you like a book, as he holds you steady, arms still ensnared.

“I’ll fuck you against the window,” his tone sinful against your ear, “that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? To have the whole neighbourhood watch you.”

You don’t have to say anything; he knows the answer from your reaction. Your body quivers as he yanks the shirt off, tosses it away, and then takes a step back. The obvious tent under his towel makes you bite your lip hard. He looks like the definition of sin.

“Come with me.” He pulls you by the hands, walking backwards, and you follow, your eyes on him the entire time. Nipples pebbled hard, and underwear flooded. He stops before his floor-to-ceiling window and whirls around, crowding into your back.

“Take. It. Off.” Each word is a sentence.

“What?” You don’t even hide the panting in your voice.

“Everything,” he exhales, “every last stitch you are wearing. Strip right here.”

Your hands move to your jeans as you shakily exhale and unzip. You are so relieved you wore matching lingerie today. Perhaps subconsciously, you did so on the off chance of this outcome. Large hands land on your hips and assist the push of denim until it hits the floor, and you flick it away with your foot. You are just in underwear now.

His hands sweep over your torso, the slight callouses he has developed from the bike snagging on your skin as he nuzzles your cheek. His lips find yours in another heady, passionate kiss. As your tongues dance, his hands cup both breasts. He teases your nipples with swipes of his thumb over your bra.

Longing to feel those fingers on your flesh, you push each bra strap down until they hang loose.

“Unhook me,” you whisper and a hand trails around and plucks open the clasp effortlessly.

You peel away the bra and throw it aside, feeling his heated gaze slide down your skin over your shoulder.

“So perfect,” he whispers; his fingertips are so warm and teasing on your nipples.

You moan and curve your chest out, chasing his touch, causing your bum to push back against his cock.

“Look at you,” he growls, “look at yourself in the window.”

You gaze forward, and in the reflection, you see a wanton tableau of your breasts trapped in his large hands, his body pressed against yours from behind.

“Fuck, Ben,” you whisper and stare, hypnotised as you slowly undulate your hips. Watching your body move sinfully against his as he groans.

“Yesss,” he hisses in encouragement, pushing against you, just his towel and your underwear separating your bodies as you move slowly in unison.

“I believe I told you to take everything off,” he rasps, grabbing your hips and running fingers over your underwear.

“You do it,” you murmur back challengingly.

“Oh, that's how you want to play, is it?” His voice is low and dangerous. “Fine”. He walks you forward. “Put your hands on the window,” he commands.

You do so; the cold of the glass contrasts with the heat of his hands on your body. A thrill runs down your spine at the thought of someone in the surrounding windows, maybe a few people, watching this happen.

Ben’s hands hook into the fabric at your hips, and he inches the material lower as he leans over your back. Warm lips press against your upper spine between your shoulder blades, and you groan as he runs his tongue down your back as his hands push the underwear down your legs. He’s crouching behind you now as he kisses the swell of your bottom, his hands throwing aside your underwear.

“Open your legs wider,” he orders softly, and you stutter a breath, feeling one of his hands sweep up your inside leg and quests against your mound. You gasp his name. He chuckles richly and finds your clit, nudging it lightly with a fingertip, making you cry out and clench down.

“You have no idea how much you’ve driven me crazy over the years, do you?” he groans, his mouth open against your butt cheek, lightly grazing your skin with his teeth, fingers teasing in little circles. “Being my wonderful sweet friend when all I’ve ever felt is guilt about what I truly wanted. To bury myself between your legs,” he inhales lewdly. “Your bewitching smell drives me insane. Jesus Christ, y/n, you have no idea how many times I've taken myself in hand after spending time with you, desperate for you. How long I’ve waited for you to see me the way I see you.”

You crest a moan, unbidden, incapable of words, as he soliloquises his adoration for you in filthy precise detail. You had no idea this is how he feels; the thought he has come multiple times fantasising about you is something you can't comprehend, but you want to hear about it. You want him to tell you in precise detail about every time he has fucked his hand and thought about you.

“Tell me about it,” you blurt out before you can censor it.

“What?” he teases, his fingers circling your clit slowly, his lips kissing across to your other cheek.

“Touching yourself,” you squeak timidly, knowing you are blushing.

He stands up suddenly and spins you around to face him, the glass cool against your shoulder blades as he shoots you a molten look.

“Why don't I show you?” he whispers, and your eyes fall to the towel as it drops away under a flick of his hand.

Oh, Ben.

Nestled in a neat patch of trimmed hair is the nicest cock you've seen in a long time. Not so big as to be scary, but just delicious looking, more than a handful, and you are suddenly so utterly mindless for him to fuck you. Instead, he takes his cock in hand and leans close to you, not touching but millimetres apart. He makes a noise in the back of his throat that makes your breath hitch as his hand begins to move up and down, squeezing his shaft; a little bead appears at the head that your tongue longs to taste.

“Y/n,” he moans, his voice so resonant it vibrates through your very being, settling into a pulse between your legs as you feel a trickle of moisture escape and run down your skin.

“Ben,” you stutter.

“Y/n,” he repeats, moving his hand faster, his gaze piercing yours.

You rub your slick thighs together and bite your lip, hands flexing against the glass, nervous to touch him and break this heady spell.

“Please…” you plead quietly, “please fuck me.”

“God, I love it when you beg,” he groans and releases his cock, grabbing your hands and pulling them above your head, your watch tinking against the glass as his fingers sink between yours and he leans his whole body against you. The head of his cock slides hot against your belly button.

“Please,” you repeat as he thrusts slowly against your body.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, “I want you so mindless for me that you are shaking.”

No one has ever teased you like this. It's maddening.

“Now, where was I, hmm?” his voice a light teasing thing as he sinks to his knees right in front of you, still holding your hands, placing them on his head before pulling your left leg over his shoulder. “I think I was just about to…” he stops mid-sentence and buries his face between your legs, the stubble on his jaw rasps against your inner thighs as his tongue delves into you, his nose bumping your clit.

He growls right into your cunt as you cry out, and your hands flex on instinct, pulling on his hair, nails scraping his scalp.

“Watch me,” he orders, and you make searing eye contact as he moves to suck hard against your clit, tongue rolling in surging waves, making your knees want to buckle. He senses it and grabs your hips, pushing you back against the glass.

You keep your eyes on him, but your thoughts flit to whether someone is out there amongst all those other windows watching this. Him on his knees, face embedded between your legs, as you lean your back against the glass but thrust your hips forward, gyrating and riding his tongue. Making the neediest sounds, chasing your high with no thought to anything but this and now and oh god, yes. He is relentless, thorough and certainly the most enthusiastic you've had in ages, possibly ever. Talking filth right against your sodden flesh - about how good you taste, how much he has dreamed about this, how he can’t get enough and pleading with you to give him more noises and cries and everything. Lashing you with his tongue. But it’s when he moves a hand, slides two fingers inside you, and instantly finds your weak spot that you scream his name.

“There it is,” he grunts and pushes you quickly towards the edge; no one has been quite this dedicated to ensuring you come intensely. Your legs start to shake, and he has to bear some of your weight on his shoulder as you lose coordination, the invisible string holding your body tight snapping, your nerve endings on fire, your vision whiting out, yelling and crying and convulsing against him. You breathe in heavy, sharp inhales as he gently kisses your folds and holds you up. The cooling glass is a wonderful balm against your heated flesh.

“Holy fuck Ben,” you exhale shakily as you finally find your voice.

“How do you feel?” he gloats quietly, tenderly placing your foot back on the ground with a quick squeeze of your ankle and a kiss on your knee.

“Shaky and amazing,” you answer honestly, closing your eyes and swallowing hard.

“Good,” is the silky reply as he gets to his feet in one swift motion and leans into you again, his cock searing against the dewy skin of your belly, and he grabs your face. “Now, where would you like me to fuck you? I can do it anywhere you want. You want right here? The table? The couch? The bed?” As he lists each spot, he softly kisses your cheeks, ears, forehead, and even lightly on your eyelids.

“All of them,” you exhale.

“I’m not sure I have quite that much stamina,” he chuckles “you are so very…” he presses hard against you, his cock trailing moisture onto your skin as you gasp “...intoxicating.”

“I don't mean tonight, Ben,” then you get a sudden swooping feeling in your gut at your assumptions. “Wait, is this just a one-night thing?” your voice wavering, failing at the neutrality you hoped for.

“I just told you I have come fantasising about you for five years, and you think I'm letting you go after one night?” he gusts a laugh, fingers tracing delicately over your lips and cheeks.

“Five years?” you twist your mouth into a little playful pout, your confidence surging at his reply.

“Yes, you little tease,” he smiles, that crooked smile that always gives you butterflies. “Now answer the damn question before I go get a damn condom.”

You make a show of looking over his shoulder as if assessing your options, and he chuckles again, stooping his hips a little and sliding his cock between your thighs instead.

“Ohhhh,” you stutter, eyes fluttering closed and hands flexing against his back.

He thrusts lightly between your thighs, and on instinct, you close your legs a little, giving him more friction, the movement easy from your skin still soaked from the orgasm he gave you.

“You don't need to get a condom Ben,” you say quietly, “I trust you are clean, and I'm protected.”

He stills his movement and cups your face tenderly, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you nod, then smile with a flirtatious edge and move to whisper against his ear, “I want to feel all of you.” He makes a noise that has you buck against him, sliding his cock between your thighs again. The motion glances again at your clit, and you raggedly inhale. Oh god, you could just do this all night.

“C'mon y/n,” he teases, rocking gently, “pick somewhere before I just slide right into you here.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he mirrors the expression.

“Oh, you asked for this,” he gloats and stuns you by picking you up, wrapping your legs over his slim waist and sliding right into you, pulling you down onto his cock in one visceral, swift, plunging motion.

“Fuckkkkkkkkkkkk…..” you cry out, breath stolen, feeling so very invaded in the best possible sense. His cock holding you open, a sold hot weight deep inside.

Oh, god, yes. This.

He holds still for so long that you pull his face from its spot, buried in your neck and nudge him to meet your gaze.

“Ben, are you ok?”

“More than ok,” his voice is rough. “You feel amazing; I… I need a moment before I can move; it’s been a long time since I was skin on skin, and well, it's you….” he admits, his tone is reverential.

You smile and kiss him on the forehead, tasting the tangy salt of his sweat.

He pulls back slightly, his lips find yours as he surges back in, and he swallows the noise you make. Slowly he builds a pace, and you close your eyes, tilting your head towards the ceiling, concentrating on the sensation of him dragging against your walls, pushing you open with each move, the stretch so enthralling.

Oh god, we should have been doing THIS for the last five years, you think indulgently to yourself.

“I agree,” he murmurs, his mouth hooked over your chin.

“Shit, I didn't realise I said that out loud,” you admit sheepishly, tipping down to meet his gaze.

He gusts a laugh and spears into you a little rougher than before, your soft cry catching against his stubbly cheek.

“I think I see someone watching us,” his voice suddenly dangerous and velvet, hot against your ear.

You inhale sharply and clench around him at the illicit, electric thrill that runs through your body.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Tell me about what you see?” your voice is thready, somehow the thrill heightened by knowing you are totally at his mercy, legs around him, back against the glass.

“I think it's a couple,” his voice is gravelly. “At first, it was just a woman I saw a glance of; now there’s a man too.”

You moan and bear down onto him harder the thought you have an audience of this debauched tableau. You move an arm to wrap around his shoulder and pitch forward to bite his neck.

“Fuck y/n,” he exclaims, pulsing deep inside you.

“Tell me more, Ben, please,” you take his earlobe between your teeth, pulling it taut as he thrusts into you.

“Oh god, they are…. they are kissing,” he moans, his breathing becoming a little more ragged.

You clench hard again, and he growls long and low, pulling his face back to rest his forehead against yours.

“We did that,” he sounds feral. “We fuck so good we make others want to do it too.”

“Yessss,” you writhe on him, “fuck me hard, Ben, make them jealous, make them all watch as you ruin me.”

“Keep talking to me,” he pleads and hitches your legs onto his arms, pressing you higher on the glass, pounding into you now, his pubic bone surging against your clit with every stroke.

“Yes, Ben, make me come again, please; I want them to see me impaled on your cock, screaming your name,” the filth tumbling from your lips unfiltered as he spirals you higher.

“Oh god, yes,” his voice stutters as he thrusts hard. “Please do it; I've come so many times wanting to hear you scream my name, fingernails scratching my back, your cunt convulsing hard around me; god, please come for me again, please.”

His words and pleading and harsh movements is just the cocktail you need to push you over the precipice. Body going completely stiff, legs battling against his hold, so you scramble against the glass, smearing sweat and fluids as you fight the convulsions. Screaming his name, uncaring of his ears, the neighbours, anything but the feel of the snapping, blinding sensation and waves of bliss pulsing out of your core across your whole body. A static hum in the base of your skull at the release of every fibre of your being. You barely register the words and noises he makes as you feel his whole body stiffen, his mouth hooked on your shoulder, curled against you, as he holds you speared deep as you feel him coming powerfully inside you, a blooming warmth coating your insides.

“Fuck,” you pant in unison. Which makes you both giggle, faces pressed together, a light and intangible moment shared, as he lowers you slowly to your feet, his lips finding yours in a chaste kiss.

You keep your arms snaked around his neck and lean your head on his shoulder, listening to his thundering heartbeat, the shaking in your legs subsiding slightly.

“I can’t believe you held me up for that long,” you smile.

“Made every hellish gym visit worth it,” he returns, laughing gently,

“Oh yes, the triathlon. When is it?” You sway gently in his arms, enjoying the easy intimacy you have.

“In about six more weeks,” he calculates, kissing your temple and slowly turning you both around, so his back is to the glass.

“Can I help with any training? I’m not a bad swimmer, you know,” you offer with a shrug.

His eyes glitter as he leans his forehead against yours, walking you back towards his bedroom. “I have to be in the pool first thing tomorrow; I would be delighted to have you join me.”

“I don't have a swimming costume with me,” you pout.

“I’d be happy for you to skinny dip,” his eyebrow shooting up in a way that makes your stomach somersault.

“I’ll do it if you do it,” you tease.

“Hmm, tempting y/n, but I doubt we would get any actual training done,” he says pointedly.

“Fair,” you concur, squinting comedically, and he chuckles as he backs you into his bedroom.

“Are we going for round two already, Mr Bridgerton?” Your tone is coquettish.

“Hmmm, I’m not Superman,” he replies playfully. “But I am now in need of another shower, so I thought perhaps we could do that together and then let’s see, it's still early after all.”

He spins you around and walks you forward into his ensuite bathroom, wrapping his arms around you tight from behind and kissing a line down your neck. He only breaks away to flick on the shower, then leans back against his sink cabinet, pulling you into his arms as you await the warm water.

You glance over, and you spy a pair of tiny black Speedos on a towel rail.

“Is this what you wear in the pool?” You ask, snagging them between your fingers and twirling them around.

“Of course. Why?” his voice laced with intrigue.

“Fuck it; I’ll borrow a costume if I have to. You in these? That I have to see.”

He laughs.

“It’s an early start. 6 am.” His lips warm on your shoulder. “I was just going to leave you sleeping in my bed then return to ravish you at a more decent hour, perhaps with some coffee and a croissant for you?”

“I changed my mind. Fuck yes, that please,” you declare. “But I will need you to model the Speedos for me at some point, Ben,” you warn with mock sincerity.

“Duly noted,” he chuckles and pulls you under the warm spray of water.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton

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svfttachi · 1 year

Note

can i get a genma x f reader where genma loves reader but reader doesn’t think she’s gemma’s type at all since he pulls a lot of females who are just different from reader (ex: body, height, style, etc) but he wants to make it clear to her that he loves her for herself and wants to be with reader 👉🏽👈🏽

we need more of genma plz😩

TYPE: Fem!reader, Fluff

WARNING(S): Insecurity Talk

WC: 1071

NOTES: This was a good idea and very easy to accomplish, but I hope everybody reading this understands that nothing anybody says to you should bring you down. We are all pretty and beautiful in our own ways, and nobody should be able to let you forget that. With that in mind, hope you enjoy reading this!

INSECURITIES occur in every shape, way, and form in almost everybody walking on the planet. Relationships are one of the ways that insecurities come up and prevail the most. At least, that was the case for you. It has been a year since the night that Shiranui Genma confessed to you with a bouquet of flowers, a candlelit picnic, and a shiny night sky. That night was the most romantic night you have ever experienced, but it also began the string of hatred that has followed behind you ever since.

Day by day, just walking in the village was enough to trigger your emotions because of the looks you get. Women younger and older than you judged you for being with the one and only Shiranui Genma, who was notorious for going out with half of the village’s population. When it comes to looks, he takes the gold star, and when it comes to romantic gestures, he takes the whole cake. You, on the other hand, did not feel like you could step up to the level of every girl he has ever gone out with, especially since people continued to look at you differently.

Frankly, you wondered what kept you in the spotlight in Genma’s eyes. When you were walking in the village gaining those staring eyes, you couldn’t understand what exactly Genma saw in you. You were just an average girl in your own eyes, and to some of those other girls, you were a little less.

“Hey, hon, are you ready for—”

Currently, you are sitting in front of the big floor mirror in your shared bedroom, staring at your reflection. As you prodded at your lips, eyes, nose, and cheeks, you were completely oblivious to the gentle and calming tone of Genma’s voice entering the room and cutting himself off halfway through his sentence. He stood at the door frame, watching as you viewed yourself in the mirror. “Y/N?” Genma called out to you, knocking lightly on the wall.

You snapped out of the craze you were in and turned your torso to look at the source of the knocking. His hazel eyes bore into your own E/C orbs, and it was clear that he knew something was wrong. “Is… there a reason why you’re sitting on the cold, hardwood floor, staring at the mirror?” Genma questioned with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Um… I—I was making sure there was no lint in my hair,” you muttered, immediately getting off of the floor, “It must have blown right off by the fan.”

A nervous giggle escaped your mouth as you began to avoid eyeing Genma. The highly experienced jonin wasn’t pleased with the answer you gave him, so he walked up to you. The toothpick stuck in between his lips shot out of his mouth and directly into the trashcan next to the mirror. You were caught off guard by the sudden action, but the hands that pressed onto your shoulders were enough to bring your focus back on Genma. Now, the eye contact was inevitable, and you can clearly see the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Y/N, you can tell me anything, you know?” Genma whispered quietly, waiting for a response from you.

No verbal or physical response was given to the man, yet there was a small signal that showed you were suffering on the inside. A tear escaped from the corner of your eye and began to roll down the side of your nose. It wasn’t long before you were comfortably in the strong arms of Genma with a hand placed on the back of your head. You brought your own arms up to wrap around his torso as the tears began to fall faster thanks to gravity.

“Why do you like me so much, Gen?” you asked, words somewhat muffled against the soft material of his t-shirt. Genma furrowed his brows at your peculiar question and started to pull away so he could get a good look at your face. He could see the seriousness displayed on your face, but he didn’t know why you would ask such a question. “What do you mean, Y/N? Are people looking at you weirdly in the village again? If so, I’m going to have a word with anyone who looks at you differently than I do,” Genma spoke with tenderness in his tone.

“It’s gotten worse, Gen… sometimes I would just be getting the groceries, and someone would whisper about you and why you chose me out of all the pretty girls around here. And I keep thinking that it has to be my physical appearance that sets me away from everyone else in the village… and it hurts to look at myself in the mirror looking for the reason behind the gossip,” you said, mumbling some of your words through your sad tone.

Genma sighed and brought the hem of his shirt up to rub away the tears still protruding from your face, taking in the appearance of your red eyes. He was aware of the talks that go around, especially when he walks around the village as well. It always centered around Genma’s type and who he finds attractive, and everytime he overheard someone talking about it, he could only wish to talk some sense into those people either physically or verbally. But your face comes into his mind whenever he does hear these people talking about his relationship with you, and it would be enough for him to calm down. He just didn’t think it would get to you this badly, and it never has been this bad for you.

“Y/N, you’re the only girl I would ever want to be with. You’re the prettiest, beautiful, and sparkling ray of sunshine that has ever made its way in my path, and I am so grateful that we went official one year ago. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t get to wake up next to you every morning or eat lunch and dinner together everyday. Honestly… I’d probably go insane because there is this amazing girl that I could never imagine with anyone but me. And anyone who has anything to say about that can come say it to my face directly,” Genma said, beginning to caress your cheeks, “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.”

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plainemmanem · 2 years

Text

✧･ﾟ:*If Only You Felt The Same *:･ﾟ✧

main masterlist

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader - i imagine this taking place later on when you are both in college / out of school, but it’s really up to your imagination:)

warnings: mention of injuries, slight angst if you squint

summary: For the past few months, Peter’s been visiting your apartment for some late night help with his injuries. After all this time, how can you not notice how completely head-over- heels in love with you he is?

word count: 2,724

A/N: hi lovely! thank you so much for checking out my work, it means so much to me <3 just real quick, this is actually a repost from my first few days on dumblr when my tags didn’t work, janky editing, etc etc🙄 so sorry if you've seen this twice ;) plus i spruced this one up a bit with a cute banner and graphics and GAH i love how it looks… ANYWAY, this is basically two idiots in love with mutual pining… i hope you enjoy:) feel free to send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to my taglist!!

also available here :)

“Shit.” Peter tumbles down onto the metal balcony, gripping onto the handrail. The last thing he needs is to plummet 15 stories to the damp concrete - that would just really make his night complete. He gently wipes the condensation off the window in front of him to peek inside, making sure he was at the right apartment. Still in his mask, his eyes struggle to focus on any shapes within the dark room. He’s feeling rather woozy and tired. His eyes begin to lull closed and his breaths start becoming ragged - wait, why was he feeling so woozy? Shouldn’t he have an adrenaline rush after barely walking away from eight thugs not twenty minutes ago? Peter looks down at his left side.

Ah, that explains it, he thinks to himself. Blood is gently seeping through his suit, most likely from a knife wound gifted to him by one of his assailants - how nice of him. Peter looks through the window one last time to make sure he’s got the right place.

I guess this is it. He grabs the edge of the window and tugs with as much strength he can muster. It doesn’t budge. He tries again… with no success. At this point, Peter’s eyes begin closing of their own volition and he doesn’t have many options. He looks down to the metal flooring of the balcony.

Looks comfy enough…it’s fine, I’ll just sit down for a minute and wait until she finds me out here, he thinks, obviously not thinking rationally.

As he drifts off, he thinks of all the times you’ve tended to his cuts and bruises late into the night and into the early morning. He thinks of your hands, meticulous and gentle. He imagines the soft touch you give him when you inspect his cuts, or the way you place a bandage on his skin, gently rubbing over it with the pads of your fingers. He imagines your careful gaze and the concern in your eyes after he knocks on your apartment window. He pictures the concentration on your face when you are focused on stitching a particularly gnarly cut. He thinks about the first time he saw you and when he told you the secret he thought he would never utter aloud: “I’m - uh - well, I’m actually Spider man, so…”

He’s always loved your reaction to his confession - “Yeah, Pete. You didn’t actually think I believed you were washing the American flag with your darks and lights.”

He loved that you accepted him blindly. After revealing his secret identity, it was an unspoken agreement that if he ever needed help, you would patch him up and put him back together. It became a sort of ritual between the two of you - Peter would go out for the night, hunting down criminals and keeping civilians safe, then he would swing to your apartment. There, you would patch him up or just chat - some days were better than others. Peter loves to tell you about some of his funnier incarcerations and you would tell him all about your day. It was one of the few times you really got to spend time with one another. Eventually, you were even given the “extreme privilege” - as Peter liked to call it - to house a spare suit and back-up web shooters in your apartment closet, just in case duty called.

His mind swims and he is thrusted back into his current predicament. Thunder claps above him as small droplets pitter and patter onto his thoroughly soaked suit.

It’s rather refreshing, he thinks, to sit in the rain as you bleed out on the floor of a metal balcony. But Peter knows you will find him eventually. He knows you love to get up every night at 1 a.m. to grab yourself your “Midnight OJ” as you liked to call it.

He loves your weird quirks. He loves when you tell him all the small, insignificant details of your life. He loves discovering all the little pieces of your complex puzzle and fitting them together. He loves you. He thinks about you when he wakes up every morning and right before he goes to sleep every night. Every time he does anything, he wonders what you were doing at that very second. Everything reminds him of you - when he walks to class, he imagines you by his side, holding his hand. When he gets his coffee, he thinks about the sound of your voice as you order your “Venti chai latte, please” with a kind smile. When he reads a book, he wonders if you would enjoy a particular line; he imagines your soft breaths in his head as you read along with him. He loves you so much, it actually baffles him that you haven’t seemed to notice how totally taken he is with you.

In all your time together, you two had only remained “best friends.” Of course, Peter’s thought about it - asking you properly, asking if you loved him as well and if you wanted to be with him as more than friends; countless times he’s envisioned himself saying the words, how the conversation would go, whether you would say yes or no. But, it always sounds so cheesy in his head and every time he musters up the courage, the words evaporate on his lips. He tells himself that your friendship is far too valuable to put it in jeopardy by adding romance in the mix. But, he notices you, too. The lingering stares you give him, the playful teasing, the prolonged touches. He hopes he’s not imagining things.

He wishes he didn’t have to worry you so much. He longs to just be the normal “Peter Parker” that didn’t have to put on the mask. He wishes he didn’t have to look into the eyes of the men he is forced to fight, to beat down. His muscles tense as he pictures the eight men he had to fight tonight. He wishes he didn’t have to bloody his knuckles and mar his skin with scattered bruises and scars. He wishes he didn’t have to be on high alert all the time; his senses picking out every indiscernible crime and danger within his city. Even now, he can sense risks from miles away - tires screeching… dogs barking… police sirens… a scream ten blocks out…

“Peter,” you whisper, reaching out to jostle him.

He snaps awake with a start, sending a web zipping inches away from your face. “Shit!”

He throws his hands up, as if to stop you from running off. “Oh jesus, I’m sorry,” he reaches up and tugs off his mask, running a hand through his now tousled locks. “Shit, I… sorry, I guess I’m still in fight mode. The adrenaline and… all that,” he mumbles feebly, more to himself than anyone else.

“Well,” you start, “you look like shit.” He looks up and you give him a soft smile, which he returns.

“You always know just what I want to hear.”

“It’s a gift.”

For a moment you both just look at each other, a look of understanding on both of your faces. Relief floods Peter’s body; after a long night, he’s always happy to see you, still in your pajamas, cup of orange juice in hand. You just gaze back at him, deep in thought.

What could she be thinking?

“Well,” you snap out of your trance, “haul yourself in here.” You take a step back and Peter pushes himself off the cold metal balcony to grip onto your window sill. You see him stumbling, so you reach out your hand to stabilize him and help him swing his leg into your room. Peter never asks for your help, but he always accepts your wordless gestures all the same. You begin to guide him towards your bed, eyeing up his body for any particularly nasty wounds.

“Wait, wait,” Peter stops when he sees you heading towards your bed, “Don’t wanna get blood on your sheets.”

You silently nod, knowing you could never convince him otherwise, and direct him to the chair you have pushed under your desk. You pull out the seat and Peter plops down into it. He watches your methodical hands as you reach to turn on your desk lamp and grab the first aid kit you keep handy under your bed frame. He watches your hair wisp around your face as you kneel down in front of him and gather some of the basic supplies.

“Take off your suit,” you say, still studying the contents of your first aid kit.

“You know, I’m not really in the mood tonight,” Peter teases. You give him a sarcastic look as you unwrap the gauze. He starts to lightly chuckle, but he quickly grimaces and clutches his left side. Peter always tries to play off his injuries as not to worry you. He teases and jokes in order to keep you at ease; he never likes to see those brows knitting together from the worry on your face. Whenever he sees that concerned face he always has to fight the urge to reach out and smooth the crinkled lines between your brows. He likes your face without worry; he likes when you smile

“Off,” you repeat, pointing to his suit as you look around for your cup of orange juice. Peter begins to peel off his suit down to the waist, and, for the first time, he can see the extent of his injuries - a few small slashes on his biceps, some bruising beginning to form on this chest and forearms, and a significant laceration on his left side.

Could be better, could be worse, he thought. Still hurts like a bitch, though.

Quickly, you get to work on the large cut on his side, first.

“You’ll need a stitch or two,” you warn him, looking up into his eyes.

“I’m ready, doc,” he says, winking down at you. You smirk and look back to the wound on his side. You grab some alcohol, gauze, bandages, and tape and start to work. Peter loves to watch you as you work; it distracts him from the pain. He loves seeing your eyes squint and focus on the task at hand, and, if you’re really focused, your tongue will poke out, typically when you have to do some stitches.

Peter’s mind swims again and he starts to think of all the emotions he’s seen on your face. He thinks of all the times he’s had to scare you half to death by this bloodied body at your window; the stress and worry he forces onto you when he’s out all night.

He thinks of what a normal relationship with you would look like - spending the night together, having dinner and watching a movie, hearing your soft breaths as you fall asleep, watching your chest rise and fall as he holds you tight to his side. He wishes he didn’t have so much responsibility, so much pressure constantly on his shoulders. He loves keeping his city safe and protecting those in need, but he’s tired. Going out every night has become less and less fulfilling than when he first went out all those years ago.

Again, his senses begin to go into overdrive, picking up a fight happening twenty minutes away.

I could make it if I left now. The rain may slow me down, but if I just take a few back streets and went as fast as I could…

“You have nice arms,” you mumble absentmindedly, cutting through his train of thought. You stifle a small yawn. “They’re very toned. Not too big, but, who likes a show off?” You look up to him again, pausing from your mending to take a sip of your juice. Peter chuckles to himself; you always know when he’s getting too far into his own head.

“It’s all the push ups I do,” he jokes dryly. With a smirk, you roll your eyes and look down to his knuckles. You grab a warm washcloth and begin to wipe off the blood that had dried on his hands. He’s always aware when you’re trying to distract him and lighten the mood. He loves that you are always looking out for him and worrying about him, even subconsciously. But, sometimes he wishes you didn’t care so much. He wishes he never had to worry you. He loves your doting, but he’ll always feel guilty for it.

You grab some antiseptic and spray it on his knuckles, pulling a hiss from Peter’s lips. He tilts his head up in slight pain - the hands are always the worst part for him. You briefly glance up and notice his wrinkled brows and parted lips.

“Listen, I know you’re in pain and everything… but that was seriously hot.”

“I hate you.” Peter smiles down at you. Yet again, you always know exactly what to say to make him feel infinitely better. Peter constantly wonders if you can read his mind; how else could you always know what he’s feeling.

“Ok… my work here is done,” you say softly, as you rub along the edge of his bandages with the tips of your fingers. You look up at him and you two sit in the silence for a while, both of you searching each other’s eyes. You’re looking so intently at him, obviously teetering on the edge of saying some of your thoughts out loud. Peter just looks at you softly, loving the color of your eyes. He never really thought anything of people’s eyes, at least not own, but something about yours sucked him in and enveloped him with warmth.

You look back down at your hands suddenly, deciding to keep your thoughts to yourself. He knows he looks too wrecked to swing home, but he doesn’t want to intrude on you to stay the night.

“You should stay here tonight,” you say in his direction as you start packing up your kit, standing up, and walking over to your bed to place your supplies back to their rightful home. Peter no longer has the strength to argue, so he just drowsily nods his head and begins to stand. You lead him over to your bed and he lays down on the cool, white sheets. You climb in behind him and pull the covers up over the both of you. The sickly sweet scent of your perfume envelops him with the cool comfort of your blankets. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your forehead on the back of his neck. Gradually, the emotions of the last few months set into Peter’s mind. For so long he’s kept his feelings at an arm’s length - pushing down his emotions - in order to keep himself going, but, being here with you - so safe and comfortable and himself - makes the dam finally break. Large, hot tears fall down Peter’s face as he crumbles in your embrace. You may be the only person in the world he can fully let his guard down with. You just hold him close, reminding him with your touch that you are there for him.

He just loves you - like crazy. If only you felt the same way.

You guide him to bed and crawl in behind him, holding him tight. Slowly you start to feel his body shake slightly and you can hear his faint sniffles. You don’t say anything, knowing that asking would only reopen the wounds you’ve been spending all these nights trying to heal. You may never fully understand what he is going through. Truthfully, you could never understand, so the least you can do is be here for him and give him a place to let down his walls. You hate the amount of pressure he puts on his shoulders. Even if you can only relieve a minuscule amount of his pain, you will do whatever it takes to make him happy. He deserves to be happy.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you,” you whisper into his skin. You clutch him tighter, never knowing if this could be the last time you see him climb through your window.

You just love him - like crazy. If only he felt the same.

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