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usedpidemo · 8 months

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Voguish (Itzy Ryujin)

(Thank you for the commission! I hope its to your liking.)

—————

If you had any other choice, you’d rather be stuck at where you were previously: earning a modest income, just enough to get by from job to job, performing straightforward work, and most importantly, friendly clientele to attend to. It wasn’t surprising; you knew this industry was built on the backs of some of the most snobbish, arrogant people you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, but—

“You’re late. Again.”

Shin Ryujin was probably among the absolute worst.

If you’re going to make an honest assessment, Ryujin isn’t that bad. Serving as her head stylist for the better part of a year, she’s by far the client you’ve spent the most time with. She doesn’t talk a big deal about the money she’s making or prattle into a conversation intricately designed to inflate her ego to the moon, unlike some of the other A-listers you’ve had the ‘privilege’ of working under.

However, her attitude is definitely up there.

It’s not even a little over a minute. In fact, you’ve been standing at her entrance door two minutes before the clock hits ten. Doesn’t matter if you’re in the right; her style, her rules. She doesn’t care that you're sweating buckets rushing her newly minted outfit from across the street up to the 27th floor. Any moment where she doesn’t look like a million dollars is a moment wasted.

“My apologies, Ryu—”

Ryujin’s glare puts the fear of God into your soul. “What did I say about using my name?”

You pause. Gulp your throat. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Shin.”

“Hmph.” Grimacing with disgust, she hastily snatches the dress from your possession, proceeds to slam the door on you, tone bordering on shouting, “Come inside. You’re late.”

Entering the door shortly after, you’re welcomed by a film crew in the process of recording her as she struts around the living room suite holding your dress in her hands. If there’s anything you’ve learned from attending to her, she’s as effortless of an actress as she is as a model. The moment her eyes face the camera, she instantly transforms into the picture perfect icon that has all of social media buzzing.

Moving out of the way has become muscle memory at this point. When she’s in front of the cameras, you’re merely an onlooker.

“So this is my outfit for tonight,” she says enthusiastically into the camera, proudly flaunting the outfit—a convincing facade to the untrained eye. For the press, she’s this likable, larger than life figure living her best life, attending all these invitation-only parties and wearing the most stylish dresses.

“It was a risque design, and I wanted to try something bold for once. It was love at first sight when I saw it,” she comments, and you know very well this wasn’t her first choice. They won’t know that this was the 12th option, handpicked just last night after weeks of trial and error, only to be thrown away right after. At her request, you had it ordered on incredibly short notice, and the plan almost fell through. It was hard to deny Ryujin’s wants, no matter how impractical or unfeasible they were.

In a way, this was to be expected. Ryujin emanates this young, it girl energy. Like any aspiring icon, she usually wants to stand out from a usually safe crowd. Not that it hasn’t stopped you from interfering a handful of times, much to her annoyance. After all, you’d assume she was going to a casual party or some red carpet event, not a prestigious gala with some of the biggest people in the world in attendance. You name it: politicians, CEOs of tech giants, industry titans who make the cover of Forbes and Time every other month. There are high standards that must be kept, and she’s doing anything but uphold those standards.

The camera pans away from her, and she immediately tosses the clothing aside with zero regard whatsoever. You manage to save it before it becomes near valueless. No matter how bothersome she acts, you can’t bring yourself to call her out on her antics; not just because there are several careers at stake, including yours, but you know what she’s capable of doing when her patience exceeds breaking point. It’s a firsthand experience to catch Ryujin in a state that isn’t picture perfect.

“Where are you?” Ryujin shouts from the other room, irate. “Slow as ever, my goodness.”

When you approach her, she’s on her phone, seated in front of the mirror with her legs crossed, having commanded the camera crew to vacate the room, leaving you alone with her. It’s only when you are together that she’s her true self, and it’s not far from what you usually experience even with other people around. They understand it’s in their best interest not to interfere.

Turning her eyes, she catches you idling with her sharp stare. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there and look at me all day? You already do that on the regular.”

Her behavior’s something neither cameras nor testimonies will ever publicly reveal: that Ryujin’s practically a spoiled brat behind closed doors. Any attempts to expose her have been silenced by huge settlements, NDAs, and every legal bind in the book. And when those don’t work out, there’s the strangely coincidental disappearance of potential witnesses that read like every tin-foil hat post written by some gullible conspiracy theorist on the internet.

In retrospect, perhaps there’s some merit to the rumor that her father is supposedly the head of some mafia organization, but you digress. She has never brought her personal history up in interviews, other than she’s been adopted by the founder of a relatively unknown investment firm. An elaborate lie.

She’s engrossed on her phone, unable to keep herself still while you struggle to apply makeup on her face. Time’s of the essence, she usually says, but she’s purposeful with how much time is wasted, with the primary objective of finding an excuse to lay on you. It was never going to be fair from the start. All the moments where you were late, in her eyes, were intentionally done to put you in the wrong.

To be fair, the numerous stylists who’ve taken care of her warned you in advance. You couldn’t deny the opportunity for a huge paycheck.

“Miss Shin, please stay still,” you say, carefully stringing your words together, delivered in the least offensive tone possible.

To your surprise, she complies. It’s a miracle. She never obliges with your requests, let alone direct commands.

Applying the rest of her makeup takes only minutes. Usually, you’d be going back and forth, and you’d be in front of the mirror for hours. See how easier everyone’s job is when all parties cooperate and collaborate effectively? You’re doing your part like it’s second nature; you only wish Ryujin was this accommodating more often, and not whether her brain flips a coin to determine her attitude for the day.

“You look amazing, Miss Shin,” you comment, staring at the mirror, her face radiating with the glow of a million bucks.

Taking her attention off the phone, even if it’s only for a second, proves to be a chore, as proven by her particularly grumpy expression. She scans herself, peers through every little detail in the mirror—showing more interest in herself during this brief moment than her dozens of photoshoots over the last month—and gives the smallest of nods. You even see the tiniest of grins escaping her lips, too.

Her steely attitude unwavering, she commands you, sternly, “Bring me the dress. Now.”

A clap of hands and the door opens like magic. Your co-stylist briskly walks toward you, outfit in hand, promptly handing it over before immediately leaving the room. No words are necessary; she makes it clear who’s allowed to touch her, let alone dress her, and it’s only you. Handling Ryujin was as meticulous and methodical as preserving a historical treasure.

She finally gets off her chair, hands prepared to loosen her robe before something catches her attention. “Door.”

It’s common sense. You hurry over to the opened door, slam it shut. Then the magic happens.

Ryujin nonchalantly slips her bathrobe off her shoulders, letting it freely fall to the floor. She’s draped in nothing but the thinnest of underwear, her asscheeks openly poking through the fabric. It’s amazing how she’s allowing you to see her like this, her barest, when most of her shoots and red carpet dresses have been nothing but conservative. Sometimes seductive, but mostly safe. There’s nothing left for your imagination. On the other hand, you’re so used to this vivid sight, it’s almost part of your daily routine. You shouldn’t be fazed, but her perfect figure has you staring, shamelessly, like it’s your very first time seeing nudity.

At times, it leaves you vulnerable. Like now.

“You were doing quite well too,” she comments, snarkily, gazing at your blank expression through the reflection, snapping you from your daze.

Gulping your throat, you find yourself embarrassed, ears flushed red. Even while you go through the methodical process of measuring and dressing her, the shame lingers. You find yourself unable to glance at the mirror. The very few flashes and glints that meet you when you turn you face your reflection, you find her suppressing a tiny giggle.

As you put on the finishing touches on her outfit, she brings the point home, “We’re already late by an hour.”

A quick look at your watch tells you it’s almost eleven. Ten minutes before the next hour. At first glance, it’s still early, but it can be deceiving. Parisian traffic is notoriously unforgiving, event or no event, showing no partiality. Getting from one place to another is a whole day’s work.

Then you remember the fans and paparazzi congregated at the hotel’s entrance. This crowd that you had to brute force through just to get her dress on time. The hotel security can barely hold them back, and you can hear several sirens screaming miles away, most likely police presence. Many persons of interest will be gathered in one setting, after all.

“How do you feel, Miss Shin?” you ask, taking a step back to let her soak in her meticulously curated appearance.

She blinks rapidly. Then she takes a deep breath.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

—————

Everywhere you look lies nothing but chaos. Chaos and cameras.

Barricade is filled with an indistinguishable mix of both paparazzi and media from all over the world. Lights, whether from above or from cameras, flash in every direction that it’s almost blinding. Deafening shouts pierce through your ears that whispering is impossible. You’ve been to as many red carpet events as these journalists and photographers, but you’ve never attended an event of this magnitude until now.

Left and right, there’s a random celebrity being interviewed by a news junket. The women you spot are dressed to the nines, adorned in colorful and graceful garb, while the men are decked as if they're attending Sunday service. You can see it now: another round of fashion bloggers berating and cursing the men for their simplicity and lack of creativity, but that’s to be expected.

Your phone vibrates from within your shirt pocket. It’s Ryujin, having disappeared somewhere in the crowd.

> Where u at? 😤

You immediately reply back. Your conversations have been practice for your future relationship:

> Can’t find you in this crowd

> Taylor Swift is just across me XD

> Scarlett Johannson too

> And I think I saw Zendaya and Yuna talking with each other, can’t confirm though, they’re far away

To which she answers:

> Stop playing around.

> Get over here NOW

> Do you style any of them?

> You don’t.

> Come here. NOW.

It’s a simple but strong warning. Aside from the fact that you’re there to attend to Ryujin’s needs and not larp as a celebrity, there's a change in her attitude during these events. She becomes strangely more attached. It’s become a byword for you to mention other women around her, yet she interacts with them in a friendly light for the cameras to see.

Ryujin’s preoccupied with what’s presumably the umpteenth interview of many when you finally reunite with her. She takes another moment to pose for the next wave of cameras, picture perfect as always, then after, she finally turns her gaze, meeting yours. It has been ten minutes since her last text, and you have many reasons to say why you’ve vanished.

None of which truly matters.

“There you are.” She says, glaring angrily at you, tone laced with contempt, sounding like you were gone for days.

“I can explain, Miss Shin,” you try to say, but it has no effect as she approaches you, careful as ever to keep a picturesque facade in front of the media. You can see her holding herself back from popping a vein. “Apparently President Biden and his wife are in attendance and we were told to make way for his entire security team—”

The way Ryujin pulls you by the ear while you both retreat from the chaotic crowd is comical. In a sea of cameras and eyewitnesses, some tabloid’s bound to catch you, take the unfolding scene out of context, and write a rushed article that spreads like wildfire, but no, it doesn’t draw an ounce of attention. She's a small fry in a pond of bigger fish, after all. Over your corner, you see a dozen Secret Service slowly guide the president along the carpet, parting everyone around old Joe. In a way, watching him brings you to a strange realization: that you can empathize with the poor geezer. You’re both in the same predicament, being strung along to places you have no zero interest in.

It’s an effective distraction. An air of tense, awkward silence falls upon you both as you stare at each other, your personal conflict hidden away from the public eye. You open your mouth, about to say a word, and—

Whack!

Ryujin hits you with the hardest of palms, all her pent-up frustration released with a single, powerful smack of your cheek. The force echoes throughout the enclosed space like thunder. Your lips draw a little blood. A quick rub of your face reinforces the consequence for your actions. Rough. Still, to say she looks unhappy after enforcing her will upon you is an understatement.

And just when you try to open your mouth (without the intention to complain; you’ve given up at this point), she follows it up with a second slap, with about half the impact of the first. This time, the other cheek. Her gaze is scathing, lethal, hypnotic—as if challenging you to try her already short patience. Say something, motherfucker, is subtly etched on her expressive lips without the need to verbalize them.

Another tense moment of silence. She makes sure your eyes never leave her contact. When it finally breaks, her judgment echoes in your head like the toll of a death bell—a lingering reminder that you’ve truly fucked up.

“You’ll be seeing me after tonight,” she says, each word delivered like an arrow straight to your heart. Before facing the world again, she adds another devastating blow, “My hotel room. Midnight. Sharp.”

—————

For the most part, in the eyes of the public, you seem to have done a fantastic job styling Ryujin for tonight’s gala. Within hours of the event, numerous articles published of the event list her among the best dressed stars, praising the bold nature of her outfit, as she intended in that vlog-style video from earlier. It’s all smiles as you watch her from afar, casually mingling with every celebrity in attendance. In case she needs to remain fresh, have new makeup applied, or change into a new dress for afterparty purposes—sometimes all of the above—you’re closely on standby. Ultimately, she doesn’t; not a single time she has called or texted for assistance. In a way, it’s alarming.

Her reminder sticks firmly on the back of your mind. Every word she says, she means it—no matter how small or big they are. It lingers even as her personal driver and bodyguard messages you with the instruction to return to the car, where she’s mysteriously absent, having been commanded by Ryujin herself to send you and the rest of her personnel home. It’s uncharacteristically strange; either she’s changed her mind and is having a good time at the event, or she’s probably drunk out of her mind, and the latter is typically the norm.

When you retreat to your room, you nervously watch as the clock slowly ticks towards the inevitable. It’s like witnessing your death. You know you can’t stop it, and you can’t look away, either. With the understanding that you’ll likely see the sun rise when it’s all said and done, you don’t even bother to slip into your sleepwear.

The clock turns midnight. Seconds later, you receive a text on your phone. The message. It immediately disproves any theory or hope of meeting her good graces:

> Meet me in my room. Don’t even think about hiding or running, cause I will know

Of course you comply; you really have no other choice.

Five minutes later, you’re at her door again, with nothing but your suit, ready to face her judgment. It swings open of its own accord. Without any formalities, you step inside the familiar living room, now tidied up and cloaked in near darkness—a stark contrast to the mess it looked earlier in the day. Not a sign of her presence can be seen or felt. If you’ve been feeling uneasy before, now you’re straight up anxious, and the terror leaves you pale.

The door slams shut. Now you’re completely in the dark, with nothing to latch or cling to but your own resolve, which is slowly fading too. You want to speak her name, but you know you’ll be trying fate again, and fate has dealt you a cruel hand already. You didn’t want to fall even further.

Your slow breaths are the only sign of life.

And the faint voice in your ear.

Wait—

Before you know it, you feel your throat tense up and your body tremble frantically. Faint shadows coil around your waist and neck, and in that moment, your fate has been sealed.

“At least you’re not late this time.” Ryujin whispers into your ear. Then your eyes snap wide open.

“Agh!”

A powerful surge of pain overwhelms your entire body, renders you weak in the knees. You fall to the ground, barely keeping yourself from completely melting onto the carpet with your hands. Still, the pangs remain too much. You can barely hold up on all fours, let alone move your arms and legs.

It’s not enough. A soft hand hovers across your arched back, brushes through your hair, before it’s immediately followed by a direct blow to your nape. Your shout of agony reverberates throughout the dark room while you’re forced further down on your knees. Nearly forced into a prostrate position, you’re barely holding on. Another hit of this force could knock you unconscious, maybe worse.

“You’re going to learn your lesson today,” says Ryujin, strutting from behind you, cloaked in what appears to be a white gown. She’s holding something that you can’t identify, but you can tell she’s not in the mood to play games. Sparks of electricity flash and fade close to her hand. It was a taser all along. You probably would have guessed that from the intense shocking pain you’re currently feeling.

“Bedroom, slowpoke,” she sternly commands you as she saunters toward the room first, leaving you alone to pick yourself up. You’re still reeling from the two shocks of electricity applied to your waist and neck; it stings. Your body struggles, aches, cries out in despair, but you ultimately muster up enough power to follow her minutes later.

What greets you in the bedroom is a dimly lit bed, with Ryujin as its centerpiece, and both ends of her figure bathed in a faint wave of orange lamp light. She’s draped in nothing but the same hotel-issued bathrobe from earlier, her legs crossed, gazing at you from behind designer shades, smirking with malicious intent. It’s regal, seductive, inviting, intimidating. You honestly could stare at this sight all day long.

Before you entertain the thought, she cuts it off. “Strip.”

Her gaze lingers as you quickly bare yourself in front of her. She grins, giggles, adjusts her glasses with each piece of clothing removed. It flashes at her widest when you’ve divested your shirt and your pants, revealing your chest and your evident bulge, unknowingly growing hard behind the elastic fabric. It seems to spark a new idea within her, even though she’s the type of woman who follows through with her plans after they’ve been organized and premeditated.

She hops off the bed, slowly saunters toward you with trained, modellike fashion, using you as a makeshift catwalk. Turning the corner, she retreats behind your back, gripping a hand on your neck, craning the other down your bare chest. Her tongue tickles the back of your ear, which morphs into the smallest of smooches while she drags you to the bed like a hostage. As she hauls you over the mattress, she continues to feel your skin and body, your ears titillated by the gentle moans and whimpers from her sultry lips.

Your bump knees with the bed before she sends you flying over the edge. Temptation comes knocking at the door of your suppressed lips; you’re itching to cry out in pain, pleading for a bit more consideration. You know it’s a futile effort. When it comes to sex, Ryujin was anything but gentle.

“Don’t look. Stay still.”

Following her command is second nature to you; even when your positions were interchanged, it was merely an illusion—you were never in control. Ryujin plants a palm around your throat, forcing your stare against the bedrest. The clanging sound of something resembling a belt or a buckle keeps you curious. Tense, breaths keep you calm. Deep down, you know what’s about to happen; there’s no stopping it, you can only brace for impact.

In the gap between the point of no return, she tells you her mindstate, how her frustration and apparent jealousy never receded. “I hated every minute I spent there. You have no idea how difficult it was to keep a face in front of everyone, especially after seeing Yuna. Fucking. Yuna.”

Your reaction comes out, not through coherent words, but through a labored groan. You feel her finger circle rings around your ass, sticky and wet. Of course she was there, social media couldn’t stop buzzing about her appearance—and she rarely shows up to these galas. Now it’s all making sense. After all, you were Yuna’s stylist before Ryujin snatched you away.

Ryujin continues to apply lube around your sensitive hole, occasionally fingering you. Holding in the groans from the discomfort proves to be impossible, but she prefers to hear you whine, especially when her name is spoken. It’s the perfect reprieve from the evening’s frustrations, keeping her from raising her voice to the ceiling. “She pisses me off so fucking much. First stealing my thunder at every fashion week, now this? I thought she hated art galas?”

It’s evident that she doesn’t like Yuna in any shape whatsoever. If not for the cameras and all the famous people in the building, she’d already be trading blows with her. If there was any one person she wanted dead, it would have to be Shin Yuna. Of course, knowing this, you never included your time with her on your job application, let alone mention the fact you briefly spoke at the event behind her back. She was in an already spiraling mood, and you didn’t need to make it even worse.

“I was thinking of using dildos for tonight, maybe just my fingers even, but I don’t think it’ll be enough. I really hope you understand.” That last sentence—she sounds apologetic, remorseful, but the warning is ultimately shallow; she’ll rough you up, wreck you, ruin you, and enjoy every moment of it. You’re merely a blank canvas to her twisted fantasies.

“Oh, oh–fuck!” She cries out, joining your deep scream in harmony as she plunges the dildo into your warm, wet hole. This isn’t your first experience on the receiving end of Ryujin’s strap, yet every plunge feels as destructive and spine breaking as the first. No pleasantries or formalities, just apply the lube then hit. The idea of teasing you goes against her very blunt, assertive nature.

“Shit—oh fucking shit, you’re so goddamn tight,” she says, snaking a hand around your waist as her plastic dick slowly penetrates your hole, little by little. She has you grasping at pillows, staring at the ceiling then down to the sheets, until you find the twisted image of her hips slowly pounding against your ass, letting the pleasure of pegging overwhelm her. It should be excruciatingly painful, an agonizing reminder to never get on her wrong side, but no, there’s something hot about getting dicked by a tough woman like her that arouses you.

Eventually, she comes to her senses, finds her footing, and remembers that she’s meant to punish you, not reward you. She knows how good you make her feel, even if your cock is meant to be inside hers, not the other way around. You can’t help speaking your mind, and it boosts Ryujin’s ego to the moon. “Please. Fucking use me, Miss Shin. Fucking ruin my hole like how I ruin yours, miss.”

Even upside down, you can see how visibly delighted she is to hear those words every single time. Can’t hide that wide smirk plastered on her lips, no matter how upset she is. It’s intoxicating. No matter how hard you’re huffing, the pleasure she derives from using you keeps you going.

Slamming your eyes shut, Ryujin does what you both want. Fucks you with her dildo hard, clenches and quelches with each careful, intricate stroke. Sometimes you’re in that position, taking her ass and ravaging her body as your own. Now it’s her turn, and she’s been taking after you. Between thrusts, she slaps your cheek, pulls on your neck and hair. You’ve built this alarmingly toxic work relationship, but the sex has never felt this invigorating, so cathartic. The perfect use of frustration to be channeled into something pleasurable and rapturous.

You’ve never seen Ryujin this focused, this committed to wrecking you. She’s using your hole with such ferocity you think she’ll make you bleed out. Behind those glazed, pleasure-filled eyes, she sees nothing but red. Difficult as it is, you follow a string of moans from her lips hidden beneath a continuous echo of groans from your end. It doesn’t help that these walls are thin and everyone on this floor can hear your escapades.

Neither of you care. There’s a good reason as to why she booked the whole floor to begin with.

The bed quakes, and quakes, and quakes—until it doesn’t.

A puzzlingly calm fills the room after countless minutes pass. Ryujin’s frantic breaths close the silent gap, having pulled the dildo from your hole. It’s slick. You realize the change of pace.

“Miss Shin, why did you stop?”

She doesn’t reply immediately. When she does, she’s still catching her breath between spoken words. “I told you—it wasn’t going to be enough. Lay down for me, will you?”

Without a second thought, you comply. This gives you an opportunity to truly see her in the flesh for the first time tonight. She’s wearing a combination of corset and lingerie, her juicy thighs layered with lace garter. Hopping off the bed, she unbuckles the strap around her waist, tossing it aside to the floor. You then focus on her plump ass, accentuated by her slim thong.

Damn, she looks better now than she does naked. You feel proud that she’s wearing your tailor-made lingerie.

Before you entertain the thought of undressing the very underclothes you’ve prepared for her, she slips the boxers off your ankles. She climbs onto the bed, stands atop you. Even with her short stature, in this position, she’s larger than life, a dominating presence that only desires complete control.

“Hmm, I don’t know what I should do. I could let you fuck me, but that doesn’t sound right for a punishment,” she comments, playfully placing a finger on her chin, jokingly thinking. For a brief moment, it does appear that she’s stumped.

When the idea hits her, her eyes widen, and she has this self-conceited look, as if she’s got it all planned out.

She reaches a hand down to her knee, slowly peels one of the stockings down to her ankles. Then she does the same for the other half. The way she positions both legwear on your cock is intentional; it’s to stir the idea of pounding into her cunt a real possibility. Your gaze remains fixated on Ryujin’s face, ever flawless in her scantily-clad figure, being her model self atop you.

As she tugs on the lace of her panties, you start reacquainting your mind with the image of her tight cunt. She lowers it, barely down her thighs, enough space to tease, enough to make your heart race. Her attention is nowhere close to you; she has other priorities, and fingering herself is one of them. She rubs a digit around her heat, moans out in ecstasy with the same energy as getting fucked. The trembles of her body send aftershocks that reverberate all over the bed.

It’s already hot enough to get fucked by Ryujin’s strap, but this—the sight of Ryujin pleasuring herself, mouth gaped wide open—is a hundred times better. This is the same reaction she has shown throughout the numerous times you’ve railed her, even though you’ve seen that face during sex. Against the mirror, against the water’s reflection, against the tinted windows of her cars—her face serves as motivation that keeps you hard whenever she demands it. Your hands begin to move on their own, reach down to the groin unknowingly, unsure of whether she’d want you to masturbate or not.

You feel your hard cock, already partially soaked with precum, dripping on her garter. As much as you want to keep them on, you can’t go against the deep seated urge to masturbate with her. Her foot begins to lean against your waist, right as you begin to stroke your shaft with your fingers. Moaning alongside her, you thrust your hips upward, passionately murmuring her name, with nothing but a singular thought: her pussy.

It’s etched on your needy lips. “You’re so sexy, Miss Shin. Please let me fuck you, God—”

She whines as though your hot breath is against her neck, growling a tone higher than normal. Her left foot is slowly clenching around your balls, the other at the bridge between your thigh and your crotch, gently nudging your free hand to move aside. She’s beginning to apply pressure on you, perhaps a subtle gesture to make you stop and give way for her feet to take over, but you’re engrossed in the moment to fully realize. Then again, subtlety isn’t her speciality.

It’s only when her foot presses down on your active hand that you slow to a complete halt. You gently rest her soles on your shaft, slowly wrap her soft toes around your tip. For the most part, their grip is shaky, but when they stick, they feel so slick, so warm, and significantly better than whatever effort your fingers can muster. She can’t wear heels without a few kisses placed on them, you recall; something about being Cinderella growing up, how she prefers to be treated, to receive nothing but showers of praise and attention, and you’re doing just that.

Her digits seemingly acknowledge what they’re stepping on, and soon enough it becomes the perfect makeshift ring to stimulate your cock. Her toes just feel the best, most direct spots around your sensitive shaft, gradually building momentum for when you eventually paint her pretty feet. At least, that’s the goal. You’re both drowning in pleasure, chasing separate highs, but using each other’s bodies as conduit for your own personal gain.

And it’s not that she doesn’t know; she knows. You’ve caught a glimpse of her half-lidded eye peeking down. She sees it, merely chuckles at the notion, and continues to finger herself atop your helpless body. Mutual trust brings you together; she won’t stop you as long as you won’t do the same to her.

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard,” you say, breaths hurried, and it isn’t a matter of if, but when. “Every part of you feels so good, Ryu.”

You’re past formalities at this point. She’s too far gone to care that you've called her by her casual name. Her fingers, both slick and warm at once, are catching fire from the frenzied pace she’s rubbing her clit, certain her dripping juices will find solace on your splayed figure. Racing with her orgasm, her underwear is halfway down her meaty legs, her very foundations shaking. Inadvertently pressing her foot tightly on your cock, she’s holding on for dear life, and it threatens to steal your soul before you reach that immaculate high.

With friction at an all-time high, one rough, slippery slip between her toes, all while your loins burn , moving as if you’re burying yourself deep in her cunt, eager to fill her with seed. The thin thread snaps. Sends you careening over the edge.

Your fall is accompanied by the endless scream of her name. To have your cock be graciously drained by her feet, it would be disrespectful not to. She’s still going, chasing that high even as your cum geysers all over her feet, spills over your knees, your belly, on the sheets, as if her own slick didn’t already make an utter mess of this five-star bed. You’re mentally cheering her on, distracting yourself from the endless cascade of seed gushing beneath you.

This disastrous mess finds you again, this time in the form of Ryujin’s orgasm. She orgasms, cries her loudest cry, her features at their most corrupted. Her pussy gushes like a rushing waterfall, completely soiling her legs and panties with her slick juices. Your groin manages to salvage whatever her thighs haven’t absorbed, and it’s a sticky pool that latches onto her dainty feet. When she steps off your cock, the squelch of wet seed splatters on the sheets until she touches the ground.

You both take some time apart, let the aftermath of your orgasms fizzle out. Ryujin assesses the damage to her body; she’s still a model, after all. She hastily rids of the soiled underwear, treating it like some kind of contaminated object that can only be cleansed by fire. From the looks of it, she’s committed something dangerous, and you’ve done something scandalous.

“Shit. We got carried away,” you say, lifting your head from the bed, panicked.

“No. You got carried away,” she replies, facing you with that familiar icy gaze. The honeymoon period is over. “Did I allow you to plant my feet on your cock? Huh?”

Swallowing your throat, you understand that she’s technically right, but also, she most certainly enjoyed the feeling of stepping on you—something you can use against her. Still, Ryujin’s word overrides all reasoning, no matter how logical they are.

You see her facade fall apart when she approaches you again. She climbs onto the bed like a cat, arches her back, and sends you back down to the mattress when she pounces on you. On her lips is the widest smirk you’ve ever seen on her.

She wants more.

Rising to her feet, she plants her toes directly on your chin, oozing with the remains of your cum mixed with hers. “You did this, now you’ll clean it up.”

As your tongue laps it up, she occasionally disrupts your rhythm by kicking you several times. Not that you’re hurting her (you couldn’t even if you tried) but for the delight of bringing you misfortune. It’s completely in line with the typical abuse and inhumane treatment you face from her during work hours. You won’t complain, but that was never in the cards, anyway.

“I can’t believe my stylist is a complete freak. Fucking hell,” she comments, glaring you down as you give her toe the occasional kiss. She’s visibly disgusted by the realization sinking in, but deep down, she knows you’re the exact stylist she’s been looking for.

—————

And as if that’s not enough, she’s found a punishment perfectly suited for you.

“Just so you know, you’re not getting paid after the stunt you pulled on me today,” says Ryujin, in reference to your accidental disappearance during the red carpet. You’re laid out on the floor, prone, your groans stifled by the living room carpet. Meanwhile, her feet tread all over your bare back at a steady tempo, leaving what could have easily been hickeys red marks and footprints on your skin.

“How long do I have left, Miss Shin?” you ask, voice almost indiscernible.

“About ten minutes,” she replies, looking out the hotel room window, watching dawn slowly break over the Parisian sky. “Don’t ever disappoint me again, do you understand? Freak.”

——————

(A/N: First commissioned work complete! Definitely exploring elements out of my specialty, did you expect her to peg OC? Fun dynamic to write, thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can send me a commission :D)

#smut #kpop smut #itzy #ryujin

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ariseur · 23 days

Note

hiii can i req a sephiroth fic where he's a new dad who doesn't really know how to hold his daughter but he wants to while reader mama is asleep hehe thanks

soft shushes left sephiroth’s lips as he held a finger up to them, trying his hardest to calm his little baby before she woke you up. her wails filled the room, bouncing off the walls as he cautiously extended his hand out inside her crib. the white wooden material of the cradle brushed against his hand as sephiroth grazed his daughter’s cheek, her soft skin smooth against his knuckle. she squirmed in her onesie, her head flopping against her small pillow while she sobbed.

“shhh— it’s alright.. your father’s here.” how foreign it felt for him to call himself a father in the third person, he still wasn’t used to it yet after four months of officially being a parent although he referred to himself so formally. it was almost comical to you.

he didn’t mind getting up and soothing the baby sometimes, but by the way you were stirring in your sleep when he woke up told him that this would be more diffficult than the previous times; especially considering how his daughter wouldn’t stop crying no matter what tricks he used this time. soft rattles, her pacifier, even her favorite bunny toy didn’t calm her down, instead smacking the plush away when greeted with it. such attitude, he thought. wonder where she got that from.

he cooed at her and rubbed at her cheeks, even going so far as to awkwardly jingle a toy in front of her— instead being met with her iron baby grip. until he finally realized, she wasnt calming down anytime soon. he dreaded having to pick his daughter up, having no experience with babies whatsoever made his fear even worse. he wasn’t built for being a father, and he certainly didn’t know how to handle children with baby talk, but he’d try his damndest to soothe his baby. even hearing her whines made his heart ache.

his rough hands slipped under her tiny body and lifted her head up first, trying to carefully pick her up without letting her wiggle herself out of his grip. his callouses caught on the soft fabric of her pajamas, and although he could pick her up with one hand so easily, he couldn’t take any chances on hurting his own baby. he’d never let himself live it down if he did.

she peeked one eye open at her father, the color similar to yours— and he couldn’t help but watch in awe as she stopped wailing for a split second, looking up at him with wonder. until she finally scrunched her eyes again; frown deepening before it opened again to release a cry.

he adjusted his hold on her, his mind thinking back to the times where he’s watched you hold her, the time where you had gotten back from the hospital and taken her home. sephiroth snaked a hand up behind her neck to support her head, his daughter’s sniffles and sobs gradually getting softer. he brought her to his chest, rocking her a little bit as he replicated your motions. usually, with enough time, she’d fall right back to sleep once she was held enough. looking down at her, she peered up at his mako green eyes in curiosity, watching as they curved with the small smile he gave her.

sephiroth brought her up to his upper chest, having her lean on his shoulder instead as he held her neck and placed his other hand under her bottom for support, rocking her as he hummed a soft lullaby he used to hear in his training days, more like a shanty if anything. although it certainly did the trick— the only thing left in his ear were soft noises and sniffles by the time he had already recited the song twice.

he let his eyes trail across her room, memories flooding back to him in an instant. with all the childproofing around the house, the small loosely colored drawings pinned on the wall, the overhead stars set up above the crib, everything reminded him of you. even looking at his baby girl, she had your eyes. he remembered a few years earlier, having a conversation with you of how you both craved domesticity, a nice life, something better than the one you already had. and now look at him, cradling his baby in his arms and singing sweet lullabies to lull her to a slumber. he never imagined this far into the future, but god, did it make him feel so warm.

sephiroth eyed the tiny couch in the nursery, littered with toys and cartons of formula. through the window behind it, he could see the lightening sky through the sliver of curtains beyond the sofa, signaling that it was probably time for you to wake up soon. he walked back over to the crib, his baby now calm and serene as her head kept lolling downwards when he put her back in his arms.

setting her back down in the cushioned crib, he slid down on the side of it and brought his knees to his chest, hugging them to himself. he listened to her sleepy coos and slight shuffling, waiting a while to ensure she truly fell asleep. when sephiroth looked back at her, his eyes lit up to see she had finally gone back to sleep.

breathing a sigh of relief, he let the back of his head rest against the cradle, closing his eyes with a breath of victory before letting himself fall asleep on his own, occasionally waking up and checking on her sleeping form— making sure that her chest is rising and falling the way it’s supposed to.

and when you woke up, rushing to your baby’s room as it had been way too quiet, you found sephiroth snug against the cradle with your daughter asleep inside, the soft twinkling of a lullaby playing from the overhead rotating mobile hanging above the crib. your mouth dropped into a silent ‘o’ as you took the sight in with awe, a hand flying up to cover your mouth.

sephiroth may not have known how to become a father, but nobody knows. all he knows is that he’d do anything for his baby, he’d do anything for you. your baby was a part of the both of you, a piece of evidence that proved that the both of you existed. below his glare is adoration, and he’ll do anything to protect the ones who have known him before anyone else has; for he is not a war hero, he is a father. he is a lover. he is merely, sephiroth.

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missblissy · 7 months

Text

Bitter

Summary: A little drabble that takes place after the events of the game. In an intimate moment, Astarion has feelings of disgust within himself, and can't help but break down, talking to you about how he feels in his own skin. You stay supportive and help him through it.

Warnings: mentions of sex/domestic trauma, and panic attacks, but no actual smut. :) Only angst. Just angst. :)))

A/N: Hey hey! This is my first Astarion X Reader! I have been sucked in and now I'm just another one of his girlies :') I used a GN!Tav with no mentions of race/class/gender whatsoever. I really wanted to explore Astarion's sexual trauma, how he deals with it, and how he feels about it. I like to think Astarion desperately wants to be whatever he thinks "normal" is, and that he has a lot of shame and pained feelings towards not being able to be whatever this "normal" is. So I wanted to give him some angsty love/hurt and comfort. Enjoy!

Bitter. Like sour brandy. A perpetuating ick that crawled with insect-hooked feet into his skin. The itchy pain of ghostly memories was hot on his flesh. The crawling and coiling were unconditional. The buzzing of past words, actions, and regrets all flooded his mind. His body moved with a mind of its own in a sheer thought of panic. Moving. Repulsed. Unwanted even. But it still happened. Bittering the moment, souring the taste in his mouth, clutching at his undead heart with a rage he didn’t know he had, so soft and subtle that it built like a breeze over the ocean, hitting him like a typhoon.

But no sign foretold that in the sudden jerk and pull back of his own hand from yours. No longer interlocked. The recoil of his body from instincts rather than thought or sound mind. How he fell away from you, not into you. Both surprised him, his internal rage, and his body betraying him. A breath hitched in his throat as he was pulled back to the dimly lit room of reality.

Where was he again...? His mind was foggy, far way, but yet still brim and bright with paranoia. Flush and festering with one too many distant memories.

“Star-bite?” Your voice was always soothing… Enough to pull him from his mind. The fog far from leaving his eyes traveled with ease across his face in the dark room. No light was needed for you to see that.

The honey worry in your words where enough for his eyes to meet yours despite his shame to look away. It pained him even more with the love welling in those sweet pearls and staring up at him with nothing but patience. Seemingly something he didn’t have. A tender hand lifted to his head, “Are you okay?” You asked. He flinched away. Again. Not even twice now in five minutes. You didn't pull back, however, but rather left your palm open with patience.

Astarion closed his eyes and leaned his cheek into your hand for only a second as he tried to ground himself. Self-hatred bubbled in him. Embarrassment. Shame. It was all the same feeling at this point and it was unbearable.

He sat up and back on his legs, no longer looming over you as the moonlight bathed him in a glow. Glossy with an otherworldly shine you stared up at him, skin exposed to the night. And watched as his shoulders fell with a deep sigh of frustration as he threw his hands to his face as if to hide while shaking his head, “I’m sorry-” He started. You slowly sat up as well, a blanket bathing over your own equally nude body in a half attempt to cover up.

“I’m sorry.” He said it again, “I.. I Don’t know what came over me,” He tried to laugh it off, the fact he blanked out, flinched from your very touch, and found himself disgusted even with the person he loved most. You understood… This was hard for him. Sex. Intimacy. Anything that related to his body. So you so desperately wanted to comfort him.

Which could be a hard thing to do sometimes. Despite that, you tried to reassure him. This wasn't the first time this has happened, “You don’t have to do this, It’s fine-”

“It’s not fine!” Astarion snipped with a whisper that could have been a scream, “I’m… not fine.”

Bitter. It was always bitter on his tongue even when he laughed like it was as sweet as syrup before it turned into wine, “I don’t want to be… like this,” His voice carried on as he gestured to his entire being, “Every time. Every single time it doesn’t matter how much you love me I still feel disgusted in my own skin and that’s not fine!” He finally snapped out with a subtle sob, “I want to be able to do more than look and love you from an arm’s reach without wanting to burn my bones and erase the memory of everything I’ve ever been through every time I’m simply just touched by another!”

There wasn’t an easy way to hide the pain on your face. The bitter truth. Even you knew it and it still stung fresher than a wasp’s stinger on a knuckle. No amount of love you gave Astarion could fix the damage done to him over two centuries of torment. No kind words, no simple nothings, or gestures could undo any of it. Nor erase it. Even dead, Cazador would always be with him.

Astarion’s voice picked up, another twisted, sad, and painful laugh, “It sickens me… It kills me,” He sighed, “That even no matter how much I love you, adore you, want you, and need you…” Silver-flowing tears trickled along his cheeks, flicking with faints of pink, betraying his true nature. A vampire’s bloody tears never lied. A sour sniffle sucked back up into his nose as he spoke again, “No matter how much I care I can’t be fixed. I’ll always fucking be like this!”

He felt so trapped in his own skin. Disgusted with his own body. Hateful towards the person he was forced to become and betrayed by the thought of the person he could have been. It was a bitter cycle. And to think… This all started as a lovely night. But Astarion could just add this to the long list of many other things he’s ruined.

You sat on your knees, scooting just an inch ever so closer, “Astarion?” You held out your hand for him, palm up, open and there for him to take if he wanted. And of course, he did, “You will always be broken.” His eyes shot open and he stared at you, surprised by your honest take, “But you will also always be loved and cared for even if you are broken,” You squeezed his hand lightly and gave a soft smile, “And I don’t mind that you’re broken,”

Something told him you were lying but Astarion knew better than to believe that. It didn’t stop his little scoff as he averted his red gaze, “Even if I can’t fuck you?” Bitter. It was in his voice, the way he spat the words and laughed by adding, “I know I’m supposed to be this amazing, beautiful, and skilled piece of work but I’m no-”

“You’re not supposed to be anything,” You softly interrupted him, knowing exactly where he was about to go with this tangent, “You’re only supposed to be whatever you want to be. Not what others have made you out to be.”

He still couldn’t meet your gaze, but you could see the doubt in his eyes and the subtle pout of frustration on his lips, “Even if I don’t know what I want to be?” He spoke more softly this time, like it was mostly to himself so he could finally speak it out loud, “... Or who I am?”

“Absolutely,” You promised him. It broke your heart every time he had these moments, how hurt and torn he must feel inside you could only imagine. You leaned a little closer, enough to still give him his space, “I’m not with you for the sex, Astarion, it was never about the sex. So I could go the rest of my life waiting, or not waiting, or simply just being there,” You reached up and cupped his cheek again and pulled ever so gently to get him to meet your gaze, “You… Do. Not… have to have sex with me to keep me to stay with you,” A little glimmer in your eye sparked with affection, "I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it, you are enough just as yourself. And I'll say it forever, I love you for you, and that includes even when stuff like this happens."

That got the littlest smile out of him. He brushed his cheek deeper into your palm and found himself even leaning into your embrace, “You know I want to,” He huffed, “I just don’t think… I can… not without this feeling being there, that is," It was still bitter. He closed his eyes, head resting by your shoulder, nearly hiding in the crook of your neck, “I don’t want to be this way. It’s like I'm not even free. Like my time in the sun was worth nothing in the long wrong,” He quickly looked up at you and corrected himself, “I know that’s not true,” A bitter smile, “It just feels that way, sometimes,”

Your smile, bitter too, but sweet, with a sad nuzzle of your nose against his in a loving and comforting gesture, “I know, Star-bite,” Then a little kiss to his nose for reassurance, “But this,” And a tight squeeze of his hand, referring to just this simple act alone as you spoke, “You can do. And this is more than enough,”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #angst #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #pale elf #bg3 astarion #haha not me writing my first fic in YEARS #hahaaaa #aaaa #:)#no body look at me im in my feels #I just need some astarion angst to heal me its fine

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yandere-writer-momo · 7 months

Text

I’m finally done with the bird men story. Took forever and I also added a lot of bird facts if you squint.

Yandere Baki Short Stories: Birds of a Feather

Hanayama Kaoru x Afab Reader x Katsumi Orochi

Harpy AU

Obsidian. That was the color (your name) would use to describe the eyes of the large harpy that pinned her down in the snow. His white wings freckled with black spots and his talons were sharp but she couldn’t help but find him beautiful… beautiful like an angel of death.

He tilted his head to the side, the scars on his face were prominent. This snow owl harpy was a seasoned hunter and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. Yet she couldn’t find it in her nature to be upset with him.

The male harpy was just about to strike this small mortal down until he saw the white feathers under her cloak. She was a harpy too? Impossible… she should be in the skies if that were the case and not scurrying the snow fields like a rodent.

“State your business.” His voice was cold like the snow that seeped through her clothes and yet she was not afraid.

“I fled from my owners.” (Your name) replied in a soft tone. She didn’t want to upset this large harpy anymore than she already had.

The male harpy immediately moved off of her, his obsidian eyes studied her face to see if she told the truth. But the shackle around her dainty talons and her big, innocent eyes told him everything. She was a domesticated harpy… just like his mother.

“Species?” His voice was soft, his obsidian eye held pity in them.

“I’m a dove.” (Your name) replied, a bit of her feathers now ruffled once she sat up. Now he could see her white wings better. She wouldn’t last out here…

“Until the snow melts, you can stay with me.”

“My name is (your name). What’s yours?”

The male harpy turns around and gives her a nod. “Hanayama Kaoru. You may call me Hanayama.”

He begins to trudge through the snow but not before he cast her another look. “Hurry along now. I don’t have much patience.”

(Your name) eagerly followed behind him, being sure not to lose sight of him. Her heart drummed in her chest in happiness.

She finally made her first friend.

Kaoru woke up in the middle of the night when he felt something warm beside him. What was that?

He slowly turned his head around and saw (your name) cuddled into his side. He frowned when her body shivered in her sleep. She wasn’t built for the cold… despite how soft and fluffy her feathers were.

Kaoru glanced out of his burrow in thought. He daintiness reminded him of his mother so he was merely doing her this favor as a homage of his mother’s memory. Nothing more.

Tomorrow he would go to find her some pelts and some berries. Lest he wanted a puffy corpse beside him.

Once spring rolled around, he’d kick her out to fend for herself… or so he told himself.

Kaoru had to lightly kick her away from him here and there whenever she’d get too close to him. Her affection irritated him.

“Just stay on your side of the burrow. It’s cold where I’m positioned.” Kaoru told her in a firm tone. “Remember, you’re only here until spring.”

“I’m sorry.” Doves were social birds, it was her natural instinct to want to be near him. Yet she couldn’t find the words to tell him that. “You’re just very warm.”

Kaoru sighed and handed her some pelts off his side. “Here. You can stay warm with these.”

(Your name) frowned but accepted the gift. She had only wanted to be near him so they could be warm together… but it seemed he had no interest in her whatsoever.

“I’m sorry.” Kaoru didn’t respond to her apology. He simply curled back up into his spot to sleep.

Maybe she could reorganize the burrow so they could be warm together without being near each other? Maybe that would work!

The young woman snuggled into her numerous pelts with a smile.

Kaoru was surprised to find his burrow cozier than normal. The snow owl harpy was shocked to see her evenly laying out the pelts.

“Oh! I decided to make it a little comfier since we have a few more months together.” (Your name) beamed at him, her fluffy feathers puffed out a bit in her excitement.

Kaoru frowns and began to gather the pelts up, much to (your name)’s shock. The snow owl harpy handed her the pelts.

“These are only for you. I don’t need them to stay warm.”

(Your name) put her head down and frowned. She had spent hours on the pelts’ placement to make it comfortable for two but it seemed her efforts only irritated him.

An awkward silence enveloped the burrow. One that Kaoru was confused by but ultimately he settled in to his usual corner by the entrance. The large harpy paid no mind to the disappointed (your name).

(Your name) curled up in the pelts with a small frown. She hadn’t meant to annoy him… maybe she could try helping him with something else?

(Your name) glanced at the red raspberries that were collected on one of the shelves in Kaoru’s burrow. Maybe she could collect berries like those?

She just wanted to help him was all… a shame it would land her into trouble.

(Your name) snuck out during the day. She wrapped a pelt around her cloak as her small feet padded against the cold snow.

This was the first time she’s been out of the burrow since she’s arrived a month ago. And she could tell spring would be near soon.

(Your name) made sure to keep track of where she was going. Her head would glance behind her every once and while to make sure her foot prints were still there. She didn’t want to get lost… or at least inconvenience Kaoru even more.

The dove harpy craved to preen his pretty feathers and to sit beside him but he didn’t like her all that much. It honestly broke her heart. She just wanted to be his friend.

Maybe this misadventure would help her find a home of her own? If she found a decent spot with food, maybe she’d find a nice burrow of her own?

(Your name) continued on her journey, her heart now set ablaze with determination. She could do it. Even though she was a dove, she could survive the wild.

About ten more minutes of walking and she stumbled across a bush full of red raspberries. It was a success!

(Your name) quickly made her way over the the bush, her white feathers ruffled in excitement. She couldn’t wait to pick a couple and take them back to Kaoru…

“What do you think you’re doing?!” (Your name) froze right in front of the bush when she heard a masculine voice. Her head whipped around to see a large harpy with snow white wings at the edge of the pond. His dark brows furrowed and his muscular arms crossed. He looked upset. “This is swan harpy territory.”

“O-oh I didn’t know.” (Your name) bowed her head, the hood of her cloak fell off from the quick motion. “I-I can keep looking- eep!”

The swan harpy now stood right in front of her, his cheeks now a rosy shade of pink.

“I didn’t know you were also a swan…” The young harpy whispered, his tone filled with hope.

“Oh I’m not a swan, I’m a dove!” (Your name) giggles as she shows off her wings to the other harpy.

The harpy held up his white wings as well. The male harpy bounced a bit with each step toward her.

“Still… we’re so similar. I haven’t seen a female harpy except for my adopted mom.” The harpy shared, his expression soft. “You can collect berries, I just thought you were a predator.”

“I don’t think a predator would eat berries.” (Your name) giggled which made the male harpy blush.

“My name is Katsumi Orochi.” He introduced himself with a bow. “I’m a trumpeter swan harpy.”

“My name is (your name) and I’m a white dove harpy.” (Your name) smiled at Katsumi who seemed so happy.

“I could help you pick some berries.” Katsumi offered with a soft smile. “I feel bad being a little mean to you earlier…”

(Your name) felt her heart flutter at his genuineness. Katsumi was really sweet unlike Kaoru…

“I’d love that.”

Katsumi began to pick raspberries with her. The swan harpy cast a few glances at her, his cheeks aflame the entire time.

“So what brings you to this cold terrain? I didn’t think doves live in the snow.” Katsumi asked with interest. He wanted to know more about her… as much as she’d tell him.

“I ran away from my owners and I started living here.” (Your name) smiled at Katsumi who had a sympathetic expression on his face. “I currently live with another harpy but I’ll have to find my own home come spring.”

“Well… you could live with my flock and I.” Katsumi blushed, his heart hammered in his chest. This might be his chance to find a mate… she seemed sweet.

“I’d have to get to know you better then.” (Your name) laughed which made Katsumi blush more.

“Then you can come here to see me whenever you’d like.” Katsumi told her with a grin. “I can show you around!”

She should pursue a friendship with this sociable harpy instead. He seemed thrilled to meet her so maybe she should take him up on his offer?

“I’d love that.” (Your name) smiled warmly at Katsumi. The other harpy gave her a smile as bright as the sun.

“Great!” Katsumi handed her the last handful of raspberries he picked. “I’ll show you where all the best spots to eat are!”

And so began their friendship! Or at least that’s what (your name) thought it was. She hadn’t realized that the swan harpy was actively courting her.

Kaoru was surprised at the berries presented to him from (your name). Her white wings puffed out in pride from all the berries she found.

Kaoru popped a few in his mouth with a stern look in his eye.

“Did you leave from the burrow for these?” Kaoru asked her the obvious, his body trembled a bit. She had wandered out into the snow with no protection… what if something had happened to her? What if a predator caught her? Didn’t she know of the danger outside?

“I did. I found a nice bush a few minutes from here.” (Your name) smiled warmly at Kaoru. “I thought I’d get you some berries since you always bring me things.”

Kaoru felt his heart clench at her words. Was she courting him? Kaoru felt his feathers ruffle at the thought. He had never thought about the possibility of her holding a torch for him but it would make sense. She must want to stay after spring with him since he took such good care of her.

Kaoru ate the berries she offered him with a ghost of a smile on his face. (Your name) was so sweet with all of her courting rituals. How could he be so blind not to see it all before?

“Thank you.” Kaoru told her, his eyes studied her soft expression. Tonight and from now on, he’d allow her to lay beside him for warmth.

Kaoru had decided to accept her as his lifelong mate.

Kaoru placed a pelt next to (your name) while she slept. The owl harpy careful not to disturb her too much.

She looked so warm and comfortable under all those pelts… perhaps he should make a nest of them since she liked them so much?

He should start to look for a bigger home. Kaoru didn’t want to be a bad mate after all. Once spring rolled around, they could have their first brood.

(Your name) often snuck out of the burrow to go see Katsumi. She really wanted to be friends with the kind swan harpy. He seemed so sweet compared to the stoic Kaoru. And she liked how easy he was to talk to.

Katsumi smiled brightly when he spotted (your name). The swan harpy was quick to take her hands in his larger ones. His white wings spread a bit to lightly touch hers.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come back!”

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” (Your name) told Katsumi with a grin. The swan nodded.

“And I told you I’d show you all the best spots to eat!” Katsumi blushed, his hands held hers tightly. “And if you’d like… I can show you my home.”

“Your home?” (Your name) asked with a head tilt. Katsumi eagerly nodded.

“Yes! I built my own home by the pond.” Katsumi puffed out his chest with pride. “It’s big too. I could probably fit a whole family in there.”

Katsumi lead (your name) toward the pond, the swan harpy pointed out various spots for her to admire.

“We have various berry bushes around here and we even have some wild vegetables that grow over there by the willow trees.” Katsumi babbled with a bright smile on his face. He seemed to really love his home. “The flock and I come back here every year just a bit before spring starts so no one else takes our spot.”

(Your name) giggled at how happy Katsumi seemed about being home. He was cute.

The pair stopped in front of a large, sturdy home made of sticks and mud. The sticks were wrapped firmly together with vines. It was impressive.

“And this is my home!” Katsumi ushered her inside the cozy home. She was in awe of how well constructed it was. This must have taken him years to build not to mention the large nest in the center of the home. It looked comfortable with the blankets and pillows… he must have carefully curated each item to impress a mate. “Do you like it? I tried to make it as comfortable as possible.”

“It’s lovely, Katsumi.” (Your name) told him as she admired the shelves that lined the walls full of nuts and dried fruits. She couldn’t believe how stocked his home was with food. He could probably feed a whole family! “How long did this all take you?”

Katsumi hummed in thought. “The home itself took me a few years but I’ve been working on the nest over the last few days. I’m still adding to it until spring.”

“I’m sure it’ll be impressive by then.” (Your name) smiled at Katsumi who blushed a bright red. “It already looks quite comfortable.”

“Y-you can sit in it if you’d like.” Katsumi told her with a shy smile, his cheeks still a bright shade of cherry. “Test it out.”

(Your name) slowly went towards the nest and nestled into it. It was nearly a perfect fit for two with how spacious it was. It could be a little softer though.

“What do you think?”

“It just needs to be a little softer but other than that, it’s a comfortable size for two.” (Your name) told him with a smile. The swan quickly leapt onto the nest and nestled beside her in thought. His larger body didn’t fit as comfortably as her smaller one did.

“Hmm… I’ll have to make it bigger and softer then!” Katsumi beamed with a grin. He held out his hand to help her up. “That way there’s no room for a refusal.”

(Your name) smiled at Katsumi who seemed more determined to make a better nest. The swan took her hands in his with a bright smile.

“I can’t wait for spring time!” Katsumi smiled at her. “I’ll make sure you feel welcomed into the flock.”

Kaoru flew around the land in search for a new home for him and his lovely dove. He needed to prepare for spring and their burrow was not safe from ground predators or from other harpies. Plus they’d need a place where they could find plenty of food, the area near the pond was starting to run scarce since the swans have returned early from migration.

A cave on a cliff caught his eye. Maybe this was it?

Kaoru flew into the cave to inspect it. His wings folded behind him while he explored. It seemed abandoned… and it was spacious.

Kaoru marveled at the shelves that lined the walls and the build in beds. Whoever used to live here must have spent awhile building this… he was happy to have stumbled across it.

Kaoru decided that this would be their future home and he was sure she’d love it.

Katsumi constantly brought her various vegetation and berries to eat with the biggest smile on his face over the last few weeks. They’d share small talk and laugh together every single time. She really liked him.

Just like today, the two sat by the pond and shared stories. This time, (your name) shared more about her past with him. She trusted Katsumi and felt the need to vent to him.

“You can’t fly?” Katsumi asked (your name) with a frown, the swan harpy glanced at her clipped wings. “I can’t believe your owners did that to you…”

The two harpies sat by the large pond where Katsumi resided. The swan harpy was shirtless, his muscles on proud display while (your name) wore her cloak and a dress. Their white wings touched tips.

“It’s so I couldn’t fly away but I think my flight feathers are starting to come in.” (Your name) flexed her wing out to him with a smile. Katsumi pulled her into a hug.

“Well I’ll teach you how to fly once they come in!” Katsumi smiled brightly at her. “Do you want to try to swim?”

“I don’t know if I’d be any good.” (Your name) squealed when Katsumi scooped her into his bare arms. “Hey!”

“Then you can just sit on my chest and I’ll take us around the pond.” Katsumi gave her a big smile and a kiss on her cheeks. “Just hold onto me!”

The swan harpy then went into the water, but he didn’t allow her to get wet. A big smile on his face.

(Your name) was in awe at how pretty the water was. She count believe how different everything was when one was in the pond itself…

“Once it’s spring time, you’ll see more plants and life.” Katsumi told her, his eyes studied her awestruck expression. He was happy he brought her out into the pond. “I’ll personally take you on as many swims as you’d like.”

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

“You seem happier.” Kaoru told her with a nod. The snow owl harpy handed her some berries and nuts he had found. He had noticed a change in her. She used to be such an awkward thing but now she’s grown on him. Kaoru had come to like her company.

“I’m just excited for spring.” (Your name) gave Kaoru a big smile. She was excited to spend more time with Katsumi by the pond. He promised to teach her how to fly… as well as rides on the pond and to show her his completed house. He was such an amazing friend.

Kaoru felt his feathers ruffle at her words. She was excited to mate with him? He was too… he had recently found the perfect cliff to take her to. It was much larger and safer than this burrow so it’d be perfect for young.

Kaoru observed her hum while she organized her new pelts with the others. Yes… he was sure she’d be happy in their new home.

The young woman would sneak out of her and Kaoru’s burrow l to spend time with her friend. Kaoru was none the wiser since he’d be out flying all day doing whatever owls do. He wasn’t the best company anyways.

The star of today’s show was a baby blue blanket Katsumi had in his hands. There was a little swan family embroidered into the soft cotton… but one of the swans looked eerily similar to a dove. Perhaps it was an error?

“My adopted mom taught me how to embroider but I’m not the greatest at it… I’m sorry they’re kind of ugly.” Katsumi flushed a bright cherry red as he handed her the blanket. “I just thought you always looked cold so I wanted to gift you something.”

“I think you did a really great job.” (Your name) took the blanket from him with a smile. This was so cute… he was so thoughtful.

If she looked into it more, she’d realize that his ‘friendship’ was courting. How was she to know that the swan harpy was determined to be her mate for the rest of his life?

If only she knew the little embroidered family on the baby blue blanket was a premonition.

There was a sudden change in Kaoru. One that wasn’t entirely unwelcome but one that was strange. Kaoru now would lay beside her at night and during the early hours of the day. He still didn’t speak much but his actions were loud.

He would bring her more berries and pelts. She felt like the burrow was a large nest at this point from all the things he was bringing. He was always so silent and his eyes always watched her. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was a hawk.

(Your name) laid in her pelts, the blanket Katsumi gifted her was underneath her for more warmth. Soon it would be spring and soon she’d be spending more time with the swan… she couldn’t wait to see Katsumi!

She eventually fell asleep while Kaoru laid beside her. His large wing covered her like a blanket. He was happy to see she was happy by his side. He never thought he’d find a mate and here she was… his cute, sweet mate. He was so happy she loved his pelts… what was that blue thing?

And that’s when he saw the baby blueunder her. His obsidian eyes widened in shock and surprise. Where did she find this?

Kaoru held the corner of the blanket up, his brows furrowed together at the small swans embroidered into the fabric. Had she been associating with a swan?

Kaoru felt an anger rise in him when he saw the dove beside a swan on the blanket. Was someone trying to steal her away from him? Didn’t they know she already had a mate?

Kaoru glanced at the peacefully slumbering form of (your name). Spring would be here in two weeks… did she think he was still going to kick her out? He wouldn’t do what he originally told her he would…

Kaoru burrowed into the pelts with her. His speckled wings tangled with her fluffy white ones. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist in a vice like grip.

He wouldn’t let her go… Kaoru would never let her go. She was his.

Katsumi eagerly sat by the pond for (your name). The swan harpy had preened his feathers for hours and slicked back his black hair to look his best for his darling dove.

Next week was spring, the week he’d take her to their nest. Their home to raise cygnets together.

Katsumi smiled when he saw something white out of his peripheral. He turned with a smile but was met with a fist to the face. The swan harpy fell into the grass with a smack. What on earth was that?

“Stay the hell away from my dove.” Kaoru hissed, he flashed his sharp talons at Katsumi in warning.

His dove? Did he mean (your name)? No… she had accepted his gifts. (Your name) had accepted him!

Katsumi was quick to leap up, his wings spread out menacingly. He wasn’t going to back down. (Your name) must be held captor by this owl and that’s why she wasn’t here… he’d defeat him and save her.

Kaoru was shocked at the quick blows dealt to him by the swan. A fist collided with his face and his large wings slapped against Kaoru’s own.

An all out brawl broke out between the two men. Feathers and blood splattered all over the grass since neither one wanted to give up.

“Stop! Stop!” The two men hissed at each other before they separated when (your name) came running over. Her white wings flapped futilely behind her. “What are you doing?!”

“He attacked me!” Katsumi screeched. His once white feathers now painted with red specks. “Are you okay, (your name)? Did this owl try to kidnap you?”

“Kidnap her? (Your name) is my mate, you loon.” Kaoru hissed, the owl flapped his large wings up and down. “Stay away from her-“

“Mate?” (Your name) asked softly with a confused expression. Where on earth did Kaoru get that idea from? “I thought we were merely roommates until spring-“

“You’re much more than a roommate.” Kaoru tried to get closer to her but Katsumi stood in the way. “You courted me and I accepted-“

“I just wanted to pay back your hospitality with berries.” (Your name) replied with a flustered expression. Why on earth would he think she wanted him? He pushed her attempts at friendship away…

“You can’t leave. I have a new home picked out for us.” Kaoru told her, had the swan influenced her? Had he tempted her with his romance? Kaoru could be romantic too… he’d spend more time with her if that’s what she wanted. “We’re leaving-“

Kaoru made a move to grab (your name) but Katsumi smacked his hand away. The swan glared at the owl.

“She accepted me. So you should go.” Katsumi hissed, his white feathers all ruffled. “Back off.”

(Your name) perked up at this in shock. Katsumi…. Katsumi wanted to be her mate too? Was that why he was so nice to her- oh god. She sat in the nest. She accepted the swan blanket with the dove on it. Oh no… no, no, no.

She was a domesticated dove who knew nothing of the wild. How was she to know these two men wanted her as their mate.

(Your name) could do nothing but sit there shell shocked while the two males squared off against one another.

She knew only one could have her but who would it be? The cold Kaoru or the kind Katsumi? Either way she’d have no option but to give one of them a brood.

The dove harpy ultimately came to the obvious decision of Katsumi. The smaller harpy wrapped her arms around the swan with a smile that broke Kaoru’s heart.

“This isn’t over… I will come back for you.” Kaoru told her with a frown before he took off into the sky. He’d scoop her up the moment Katsumi turned his head away and take her to the cliff where she’d never escape…

Katsumi wrapped his arms around her with a big smile. The swan pressed kisses all over her cheeks. He knew she’d choose him… he was so happy.

“I’m so happy… I’m so happy you chose me.” Katsumi was so happy he could cry. “I swear you won’t regret it.

Their wings tangled together while they held each other in a warm embrace. Yes, this was right. This was where she was meant to be… in the sun with Katsumi.

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tehloserprince · 8 months

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Some folks asked me to post/share this here because they found it useful, so ...

I was a little surprised by the amount of people who thought Gabriel and Beelzebub literally met only three times before deciding they were in love and running off together. It's true that we see three pivotal moments in Gabriel's memories, and I think @neil-gaiman and co. showed the audience these specific moments for a reason, but the writing and visual cues in each of the scenes seemed to be done in a way that would emphasize the passage of time between meetings and the development of the relationship between Gabriel and Beelzebub to the audience.

First Meeting: I believe this one happened not too long after Armageddon failed to materialize. We're given an immediate visual cue from Gabriel, whose outfit is closer to what he wore in S1; he's wearing the same scarf and jacket that he wore throughout that season, and also when he met Beelzebub on the Tadfield airbase. Could be appropriate attire for the season, since we do see Gabriel wearing the coat again a bit later (sans scarf).

At their meeting, Gabriel is seated on the left and Beelzebub is on the right. Their meeting place seems to be somewhere in Russia (away from their home territories). The table is rather large, creating some distance between the two of them. Their body language is also a lot more guarded: legs and arms crossed at times, and they tend to lean away from each other more throughout the conversation. This meeting is short, but there are some sparks between the two of them: the gentle teasing ("well, you lost"/"so did you"), Beelzebub crossing their arms and trying not to smile at Gabriel's "Arma-bloody-geddon" moment, and the shared understanding over the burdens of being the respective Commanders-in-Chief of Heaven and Hell.

It ends with Gabriel leaving quickly after saying it's a pity they'll never speak again, but ...

Second Meeting: ... obviously, they do end up speaking again. When Gabriel enters this particular meeting, he's wearing an outfit closer to what we see him wearing in S2 prior to him losing his memory. Again, possibly a seasonal cue as well. At the beginning of the Second Meeting, Gabriel sits down across from Beelzebub and immediately proposes the idea of "no Armageddon." He would have no reason to do that unless there had been other meetings that deepened their initial connection and made him realize that hey, a victory for Heaven would mean NO Beelzebub, which would kind of suck because he's grown to enjoy their company and their little "work meetings."

While they've built a sort of rapport over their work lives, there seems to be something else simmering beneath the surface. This is reflected in more visual cues: their body language seems more comfortable/relaxed - they lean towards one another as opposed to leaning back and maintaining distance; the table itself is much smaller (meaning they're seated closer together/with less distance between them); and they've also switched sides - Beelzebub is now seated on the left and Gabriel is on the right. Their meeting place seems to be a bar in America, which might mean they've still been avoiding any meetings in their home territories.

Beelzebub is open to Gabriel's suggestion and agrees to it almost immediately. Instead of rushing off like he did after their first meeting, Gabriel remains seated and Beelzebub seems to get a bit flustered by his gaze. They discuss the music playing on the jukebox, and Beelzebub is so much more patient with Gabriel's lack of knowledge than they would have been with anyone else. There are multiple layers to Gabriel's line, "Then ... I also like it." The little subtleties from Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn add a wonderful depth to these short scenes tbh.

At the end of the meeting, Beelzebub straightens up, fixes their gaze on Gabriel, and very pointedly states that there's "no NEED for them to ever meet again," smiling slightly as they wait for his response ("none whatsoever"). The wording there is important because ...

Third Meeting: ... there IS no "need" for them to ever meet again. From here on out, they're meeting solely because they WANT to be in each other's company. They're no longer pretending that their meetings are strictly business, and they're also not limiting themselves to locations outside their home territories. I get the feeling that the Third Meeting the audience gets to see was more like their "first date." Instead of meeting directly at a public location to discuss "business," Gabriel takes Beelzebub to see something important to him. Of course, this is Gabriel we're talking about, and he's taken Beelzebub to see the statue of him in a local cemetery in Edinburgh. But still! The statue is meaningful to him, and he wanted to share that with Beelzebub. They're even standing right next to each other as the scene begins, with Beelzebub's head cocked to listen as Gabriel speaks. Shelley Conn gives us this awesome moment of Beelzebub looking at Gabriel almost wistfully, and mmm do I have Some Thoughts about that entire scene. I've shared them elsewhere, maybe I'll eventually post them over here, but the TLDR is that yeah, I feel like they're wishing Gabriel would look at them Like That. I also think maybe there was some larger doubt re: whether or not the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, God's Messenger, would ever love a demon over their heavenly duty/station. But I digress.

Following their excursion to see the statue, Beelzebub and Gabriel wind up at The Resurrectionist. Gabriel's been wearing that coat again, which could show another shift in the seasons. Instead of sitting across from each other, Gabriel and Beelzebub are now seated next to each other in a cozy booth. The candles and dim lighting give it a romantic feel. Adding to that clumsy sort of romantic feeling, we see Gabriel and Beelzebub each doing something nice for the other just to see them happy. Gabriel performs a small miracle on the jukebox to have it play what has essentially become "their" song, and Beelzebub gifts a fly in return - essentially, a small piece of themselves, as they are the Lord of the Flies after all. It also happens to be the first thing anyone's ever given to Gabriel, a fact that has quite an impact on Beelzebub.

When Aziraphale is talking to the owner of The Resurrectionist, he learns that the jukebox miracle occurred "last year." So we can deduce (detective word!) that Gabriel and Beelzebub had been "dating" for about a year prior to his "disappearance." A year is a long time for them to develop much deeper feelings and intimacy. Not necessarily talking about sex there either, because folks can imagine whatever they want to in that regard. I mean intimacy in the sense of knowing and feeling comfortable with each other. The way they hold hands and have their arms around each other in the S2 finale indicates that they'd gotten pretty cozy with all of that. I mean, come on, look at how happy Gabriel was to see them once his memories were returned and how immediately his entire demeanor changed.

In the brief moments we see Gabriel prior to his memory loss, he's behaving differently from his S1 counterpart, who was a lot more rigid and laser-focused on Armageddon. Even Beelzebub seems a bit changed; that scene with Demon Josh is a great example. Granted, Beelzebub was more subdued/worried about Gabriel in that moment, but it seems like they'd grown a longer fuse and/or were less quick to anger/annoyance. Daydreaming can do that to a demon, I suppose.

I love this pairing; they're such a great example of how loving someone and being loved in return can bring out the "real"/best version of yourself. I'd totally read an entire novel about them. And can I just add once again that the visual cues were so well done? Not just the acting from Shelley Conn and Jon Hamm, who really brought a lot to the table (see what I did there) with their facial expressions and mannerisms, but the actual visual cues in each of these scenes: the way the two of them were gradually seen to be sitting closer until they were seated right next to each other; the shift in body language between meetings; the way they switched sides during each of the meetings we got to see, as opposed to Aziraphale and Crowley having dominant "sides" that we tend to see them on; etc. I could write an essay on this (more than I already have) so I'll have to stop myself now.

Anyway. Screenplays are neat, and it's fun to see how words and imagery combine to tell a much larger story. Of course, you need great actors to really bring it all home, and thankfully we've been blessed with many in Good Omens. Much love to Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn for their work here.

#good omens #good omens 2 #gomens #ineffable bureaucracy #boxfly #beelzebub x gabriel #gabriel x beelzebub #lord beelzebub #archangel gabriel #s2 ep6 #shut up j #listen i just enjoy analyzing media sometimes #especially when it brings me serotonin

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pinnithin · 8 months

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enver gortash fascinates me from the perspective of his relationship with the dark urge because like, as far as i know his alliance with them is one of the very few he didn’t actively despise. the guy was sold into slavery by his own parents (who tried to justify it by saying their child was a hateful monster and anyone would have done the same) and spent his formative years employed by a devil who gets off on gratuitous levels of suffering and manipulation. and then once he's escaped that and built himself up so he can never be used and enslaved again he meets this bhaalspawn who also had to adapt and survive a violent and manipulative environment for years by becoming the monsters who raised them.

gortash sees how the dark urge has risen to command armies and slaughter hundreds in the same way he outfoxed raphael and ruthlessly controls the people in his employ, and after earning and owning his reputation as a tyrant heres another person who might actually have like, a shared lived experience. not exactly a friend, because people like them can't afford to have friends, but someone who at least understands. and he willingly works with them on this plan to enslave the sword coast and agrees to share power with them.

and then orin lobotomizes them, puts a tadpole in their head, and leaves them for dead at moonrise.

like, can you imagine. youre working with the first person you see eye to eye with and prooooobably arent plotting to actively sabotage (or, at least would hesitate to do so) and the rug just gets yanked out from under them by their own sister, and now you're stuck with her because the plan still has to move along. and as the days go by a group of adventurers start to screw up your plot right when baldur's gate is within your grasp, and you learn that among them is your old almost-friend who you actually liked and respected - and they have no memory of you whatsoever. oh, and on top of that they're rolling with people you've actively fucked over and want to kick your ass.

did it hurt for him to learn this? did he ever think about how things could have been different? did he think, you were supposed to be my ally, my friend, someone who actually understands that becoming a monster is the only way to keep yourself safe and in control. we were going to rule together. and now you're ride or die with this squad of people you've only known for a few weeks at best, and you want me dead. you don't even remember me. you don't even remember yourself.

#thinking about it from my durge's perspective hurts kinda #because losing their memory is the only thing that freed them enough to trust the people around them #and after meeting gortash and learning their history - and how they used to be friends #they probably thought a lot about how things could have been different if there wasnt a literal elder brain under his enslavement #like man if you werent actively in the way of saving the literal world maybe we could have talked about this #if i can overcome a lifetime of senseless slaughter and learn to love i wonder if you can too #but we'll never know #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #the dark urge #enver gortash #im sure someone has talked about this already but ive just been thinking about it a lot ig #the what-if-ness of it all #long post #pin talks #bg3 gortash

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟

To rule the underworld took an iron fist, and it was easy to make your will known, but just this once, a soft touch — a gentle word, would get you what you wanted.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ֎ Artist!Bucky Barnes x Mafia!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ֎ 2.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ֎ Fluff, Shy!Bucky ჻჻჻ TROPES: Meet Cute

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ֎ Oh, this was some of the most fun I have had writing. ֎ If you recognise the Goddess on the right in the moodboard, you know my plans already. ֎ Thank you to all who hyped me up on this, and I am not sorry for how self-indulgent this is. I hope you enjoy.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ֎ She Wolf by Shakira ֎ Confident by Demi Lovato

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ֎ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟭 — Sculptor AU — Masterlist ֎ @mcukinkbingo 𝗚𝟰 — Meet Cute — Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“That will be all, gentlemen.”

Men scurried from the table at your dismissal, leaving the conference room empty and bare, aside from slips of paper and empty glasses left in their wake. It was a relief – after the past four hours, your patience had been tested almost beyond what you could endure. “Fucking men,” you spat, a snarl on your lips.

A heavy exhale whistled past your lips, and you swirled the last of your drink in your glass, and then slammed it back with a wince. Three knocks sounded on the heavy doors, and you rolled your eyes. “I said it’s over–get ou- Oh.”

“I figured you’d appreciate seeing a friendly face.”

You stared at the intruder for a moment, taking in the pressed suit and slicked back blond hair, neat beard, and bright, calculating blue eyes. “You’re right,” you sighed, pinching your brow. “How are you, Steve? Or should I call you Nomad–is this business?”

“Nah,” Steve said, smiling. You watched him take the seat to your right, his hands clasping together and resting on the table. “Here on pleasure actually.”

A snort of laughter escaped before you could compose yourself, and you raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Steve grinned and shook his head, pulling his phone out of his suit pocket. “My best friend, you remember him–Bucky?”

You casted back for a moment, the memory of the built and muscled artist that Steve gushed about to no end filled your mind’s eye – long hair, handsome features, and the sweetest and most shy disposition, one that made you want him more than anything else. Bucky had been in your sights for the longest time. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

“His latest exhibition has been a hit, and I was wondering if you’d come?” Steve asked, handing you his phone that was open to a webpage of the high end gallery down the block. “He’s asked about you, actually.”

Surprise gripped you in its claws, and it must have shown on your face if Steve’s smirk was anything to go by. “Why would your best friend be asking about lil’ ol’ me, Rogers?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Steve groused, taking his phone back. “You know why.”

“Enlighten me.”

The eye roll you received in return made you laugh, but Steve opened his mouth to continue, “Bucky saw you at the last gala, or something. You captured his attention.”

“And you’re telling me he’s asked about me because–?”

“Because I want you to get out of your damn office and out there,” Steve said, shrugging. “There’s no ulterior motive here, whatsoever.”

“I’ll believe that the day hell freezes over.” The glass in your hand thudded against the surface of the table, and you rose from your chair, your pant suit falling neatly into place and concealing your shoulder holster – not before Steve saw it, however.

“You’re still carrying?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” you snorted, stretching to the ceiling. “You expect the head of the Mafia to walk around unarmed just because she’s a woman?”

“No,” Steve cut in, his hands raised slightly. “I just thought since you have two hunks at the door, you would embrace your… feminine side.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you laughed, shoving Steve on the shoulder as he sniggered. “Let me get ready, and you can take me as your plus one.”

Steve saluted and strode out of the conference room, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You lingered at the head of the table, your hand running over the back of your chair, stuck in a vicious spiral.

For months now, you had wondered and thought about the shy artist, and, given the fact that the Adonis of a man was so damn shy, you’d kept your distance out of respect for Steve and their friendship. But here Steve was, strolling into your office – one of the very, very few people who could even make it to your floor without interception from any of your men (and women) – asking you to attend an evening at said artist’s gallery.

It made no damn sense. And for a woman quick on your feet, it drove you mad – there was an ulterior motive, Steve was crafty like that, but what exactly was it?

“Madness, it is,” you muttered aloud. “Fucking madness.”

What was wrong with playing the role of the she-wolf intent on hunting the lamb?

Nightfall had approached quickly in your anticipation, and you waited in the back of your car while your guards drove to the venue. Forgoing tradition, you wore a different suit, dark in colour with a slight shimmer in the fabric – big enough to hide your concealed sidearms, and warm enough to make sure you didn’t freeze in the chilled Brooklyn night air.

You shuffled up in your seat, and rested a hand on the driver and your head guard’s shoulder. “Jamie, darling, drop me and park the car. I’ll be fine with Ari.”

“Ponyatoy,” James replied, nodding once. “I will find you in the main hall.”

“Sounds good,” you affirmed, squeezing the muscle of his shoulder once, before turning to Ari. “Hear that, handsome? You’re up.”

Ari chuckled. “You betcha.”

The car came to a stop and Ari swung out of his seat, the blinding flashes of bulbs and cameras and spotlights of his open door not a surprise. “Good luck,” James said quietly, looking at you through grey, watchful eyes. “Do not let them ruffle you.”

“‘Course not,” you replied, smiling. “I’m the Queen of an Empire, darling.” The door opened and the roar of the crowd deafened you for just a second.

James huffed a laugh and faced forward once more, and you slid out of your seat to face the awaiting vultures. The car sped away behind you, and you stood tall, allowing Ari to take the lead and direct you through the doors and away from the press.

The sprawling gallery was swarming with rich guests – designer gowns and CEOs far as the eyes could see, while statues and sculptures and paintings lined the walls and set patterns over the floor, interspaced with waiters carrying champagne trays. “My God,” you breathed, taking it in with Ari standing at your shoulder. “It’s the lion’s den.”

“And you’re the Queen. Remember that, love,” Ari mumbled, his gaze darting around and watching the crowd.

“Always my saviour,” you whispered, leaning up on your heels to kiss him on the cheek. “Now, let’s find Nomad before-”

“You called?” Steve said suddenly, his voice over your other shoulder.

Ari laughed and shook Steve’s hand, breaking character just for a second before resuming his usual stance; brooding, and menacing.

“We’re fine to use names here,” Steve said lowly, leaning in slightly. “No one here knows what I am, they don't know shit. Well, except for Buck–kind of.”

“It astounds me that he is cool with it,” you mused, smirking. It gave you hope for your plans. Lowering your voice, you continued, “Being my best hitman comes with its own fame, after all, darling.”

Steve laughed and rubbed the back of his neck – the movement made your stomach flip. “Wait, he doesn’t know that part?”

“No, but he knows I work… in the underground?” Steve offered sheepishly, his eyes narrowing. “But it doesn’t matter, he knows I work for big names–it’s how he knows of you specifically.”

“Oh my god, Rogers,” you sighed. Ari raised a brow and made no comment. “Alright, at least he knows I’m not exactly innocent–Queen of the underworld, you know, such a prestigious title.” The words came out in a sarcastic huff, and you turned to look at the front doors where James was just striding in. “Ah, here he is.”

James came to stand next to Ari, offering Steve a subtle nod and a heated, lingering glance, of which Steve returned. “Enough heart eyes, you two,” you cut in, and the both of them stared at you sharply – you just shrugged. “Care to give me a tour, Stevie?”

“Yes, your highness,” Steve sighed, bowing and offering his hand. “Right this way, m’lady.”

You laughed and took his hand, walking arm in arm from sculpture to painting, mingling with the rich folk seamlessly. James and Ari tailed you both, just within reach and shadowing every move.

“This one,” Steve started, pointing at an intricately made sculpture against the wall and lit up by three spotlights – a centrepiece if you ever saw one. “It’s one of Buck’s favourites, he worked on it for months.”

“It is stunning,” you said, voice awestruck as you took in the angular planes of the medium. “I would love to have it in my office.”

“Who knows,” Steve ventured, looking at you with a playful smirk on his lips. “You could commission him.” His gaze ventured back to the room at large, and you watched his eyes light up when he fixed onto something in the crowd. “And talk of the devil. Buck!”

Your eyes darted towards the approaching figure – a dark blue button up hugging his chest, and black slacks that hugged his thighs, dress shoes gleaming and his hair, longer than when you saw him last, was tucked behind his ears.

The she-wolf in your chest perked and eyed the lamb with interest, her gaze heated and possessive. Bright eyes met yours, and you smirked, tilting your head back only slightly to appraise him, and the move caused a light flush to dust his cheekbones.

“Buck, it’s good to see you, punk,” Steve greeted, pulling Bucky into a hug. You sidestepped and flicked your fingers subtly – the sign for your guards to step closer. The overwhelming urge to be framed between them and show the lamb you were a powerful Queen took hold.

Amidst the show of power, Steve turned to you and grinned, offering your name.

You met Bucky’s gaze and smiled, showing your teeth. “It’s good to meet you, Bucky, officially,” you purred, offering your hand to shake. To your utter surprise, in his silence, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Oh, and chivalrous too–Steve, darling, he’s mine now.”

Bucky spluttered and took a step back, his hand flying to the back of his neck with a nervous smile on his lips, his focus flickering between you and the gleaming floor at his feet. “It’s good to meet you finally, too,” he said quietly. “Thank you for coming–I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, Pup,” you cooed, and Bucky blushed furiously red. Ari snorted quietly behind you, covering it with a cough. “Of course I’m here, Steve speaks highly of your skills and mastery, and I can see why.”

The look Bucky shot Steve could have melted gold with its heat, and you chuckled. “Never mind, darling,” you said soothingly, but it only made Bucky blush even redder. Poor thing, you thought. “Come, give me a tour.”

Without waiting for a response, you hooked your arm through his, and pulled him along, ignorant of his stumbling footsteps. The two of you did a few laps of the gallery, still arm in arm, while Ari and James trailed behind – their presence not seeming to bother Bucky in the slightest.

“Pup,” you said slowly, staring at the side of his face. “Tell me about yourself, darling.”

Bucky blanched slightly, a small hesitant falter in his step as he navigated the crowds with ease. “I, uh- Well, I grew up in Brooklyn-”

“Oh, no, not that, Pup,” you cut in, shaking his arm slightly, and he glanced at you, eyes narrowed slightly and brow furrowed. “Tell me about your art–why do you make these masterpieces?”

A rosy blush bloomed up from under the collar of his shirt, and you filed that information away for later – a weakness for praise, interesting, you thought victoriously.

“Because I’m using my hands to create something beautiful–bringing to life something new, unique, and it makes me happy, I guess,” Bucky rambled, his hand pointing at various works.

“I love it,” you marvelled, smiling at him – eyes glinting with the intent to consume; leave nothing in your wake. Bucky returned your smile, his gaze innocent and sweet.

The night wound down with plenty of champagne. When it came time to leave, you smiled at Bucky and pulled him into your side, your heels giving you an advantage. Leaning close, you kissed his cheek. “Such a handsome boy,” you cooed, revelling in the way Bucky’s eyes widened and stared at his feet, but he didn’t push you away. “I will see you again soon, Pup. Keep up the beautiful work.”

“Bye,” Bucky whispered hoarsely, eyes flicking up to meet your heated stare only briefly. You made your way down the stairs, blowing a kiss to Bucky over your shoulder.

A looming presence to your side caught your attention, and you looked over to see James stalking towards you, having sent Ari to fetch the car earlier. “You seem to have an eye for the artist,” James muttered, bringing you to the curb and standing closer to lend you his body heat in the chilly night. “It was interesting watching you make the poor boy flustered.”

“Wasn’t he sweet,” you whispered, leaning into James’ side. “I like him.”

“Ni khrena,” James retorted, and you slapped him on the shoulder.

The car pulled up in front of you, and James opened the back door for you, ushering you in. Silence fell as Ari pulled away from the curb and into the night, the streets twisting and turning as he drove you home.

The plush comfort of the back seat enveloped you as you leant back, reclining in thought of bright eyes and perfect, nimble hands – it was then you decided that you would pull out all the stops.

You wanted Bucky, more than you could have realised, and dammit all, you would have him. The hunt had begun.

ponyatoy = understood ni khrena = no shit

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #alternate juneiverse 2023 #rookthorne's works #She Wolf

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creature-wizard · 1 year

Text

So, a pretty damn concerning thing is going on with starseeds, and I think we need to all be aware of this - not just as a problem with starseeds, but as a thing that can potentially happen in any context, and without critical thinking and discernment, lead to some... pretty worrying outcomes, let's put it that way.

There's a number of people who basically start learning about starseeds from stuff like YouTube videos. They start feeling resonance with the concept (which of course they do; the concept of starseeds is built to prey on certain vulnerabilities); and then a short while later, they start having everything from dreams to visions as they spontaneously "remember" their past life on another planet.

Now just in case anyone reading this isn't aware, the thing about starseeds is, this is a concept that developed over the 19th and 20th centuries, and is fundamentally rooted in colonialism, eugenics, pseudohistory, pseudoscience, and conspiracy theories that are often as not just thinly-veiled antisemitism. It rides on fabricated and distorted evidence that there was no possible way ancient people (mostly POC) could have constructed sophisticated architecture, and claims that they were constructed by aliens. They have no evidence of these alien visitors, mind. What they try to pass off as "evidence" is largely cherry picked and misrepresented mythology, sacred texts, etc. Occasionally these texts are modern forgeries or channeled literature, such as The Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean - not to be confused with The Emerald Tablet. Oh, and one piece of influential literature in the starseed movement - Other Tongues, Other Flesh - claims that the swastika is a holy symbol among the "good" aliens. Meanwhile, the "bad" aliens are pretty obviously antisemitic stereotypes in space. The book's author, George Hunt Williamson, used to be buddies with an actual fascist/Nazi sympathizer, William Dudley Pelley.

In short, it's not just bullshit; it's incredibly obvious bullshit if you actually take the time to look into it properly. And we have a bunch of people who are spontaneously "remembering" past lives that fit into this bullshit narrative. Based on their own reports, these people aren't even being hypnotized or anything; they'll just spontaneously have "memories" come to them in the middle of the day or something.

So yeah, it's very important for people in witchy and occult communities, or any kind of fringe interest communities whatsoever, to understand that these kinds of experiences can happen, and that they don't necessarily have any bearing on reality whatsoever. Because we can see right here that acceptance of these experiences as absolutely valid is leading people down dangerous roads - including the New Age to Alt Right pipeline.

#starseeds #starseed #new age #spirituality #critical thinking #discernment #pseudohistory #witchblr #conspiracy theories #conspiracism #conspirituality

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forkloverr · 7 months

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Hi! <3

I saw your Jim headcanons in time of crisis, and boy i’m glad! They were very nice and i loved them. I’m kinda having a bit of a bad day, the usual, so…

I wanted to kinda request some headcanons (or one-shot, whatever works for you) of Jim Hawkins with a sad gn! (or fem if you’d prefer that) reader. Just they’re very emotional, crying some, watching sad childhood movie scenes (cough Married Life from Up cough) and just needing some comfort and reassurance.

So sorry to bother, i wasn’t totally sure if your requests are open so i wanted to give it a shot, no pressure to write this whatsoever! You could literally just write something soft for Jim and i would be over the moon. Remember to take care of yourself first! <3

hello love! thank you so much, i'm so sorry you're having a bad day :( and don't worry! i love getting requests <3 i hope this is alright, i adore this idea, thank you 🤍 (take care as well!!)

What. A. Disaster. Not only are the skies filled with an unpleasant and dreary forecast, but you totally failed today's test at the Academy. Everything this past week--no- month has gone wrong. Unbearable sadness and stress have been building up inside you- with no outlet to escape. You can barely think a coherent thought. All that occupies your mind is the burning question: "when will it get better?" As you trudge through the squishy, muddy, path home, an idea strikes you. If you had one wish in the world, it would be to go back to being a kid. No responsibilities, besides chores of course. No anxiety, no sadness, just glee and bliss. (or so your mind believes) One way to live that dream is to re-watch your favorite childhood classics. Yes- that's it! That'll cheer you up for sure, who doesn't love those movies? Maybe this day would take a turn for the better. You enter your shared apartment, making sure not to bring in mud on the fresh floor. Tossing your bag on the floor, you make your way to the shower. The LAST thing you want is to catch a cold. The warm water wraps around you like a big toasty hug, giving you at least a couple minutes of serenity. But as soon as you step out, the only warmth is the steam on your mirror. And the sadness returns. After drying your hair, you slip into your precious comfy pajamas and make your way to your bedroom. Your covers greet your body, and you're ready to relax and reopen memories that haven't resurfaced in years. You decide to put on "Upward," (wink wink) you remember watching this movie every night as a kid. A perfect pick. Everything was fine, your body was melted into the mattress, the lights were off, soft pillows surrounding you, until that scene came on. Oh. What you didn't remember is just how heartbreaking this movie actually is. Your sugarcoated nostalgia charmed you to pick a movie you thought would make you feel better, which in turn, made you feel worse. So. So. So much worse. The screen became blurry, blocked out by the tears swelling in your eyes. That was your breaking point. All of the sorrow and pain built up comes rushing out, a neverending collection of tears stroking your face. Hiccups, sobs, and whimpers escape your lips, and the sadness completely swallows you up. That is, until your loving boyfriend, Jim, opens your door. "Hey star, just wanted to let you know I'm home." He gently speaks, peering through the small crack in the door. All he hears is the soft hum of a movie, and... sobs? "Star?? Are you alright?" His voice now has a tone of concern. He enters the dim room, eyes trailing up to your crying figure. "oh..." Jim rushes to your side, slipping under the covers with you. You lean your head on him, only wanting to be held by him. He holds your body like you're porcelain, caressing you as you cry into his arms. "Do you... want to talk about it?" He softly whispers into your ear. The only response he gets is a choked-back sob. "I'm guessing not. That's ok, you don't have to talk." He pauses. "I'm here for you, I always will be. I know what abandonment feels like, and I want you to know whatever you're going through, I'll always be by your side." Your dry yet also tear-stained eyes look up and meet his loving eyes, then you cry even harder because he's just amazing, more than you could ever ask for. You cling to his shirt, afraid if you let go he'll fade away, like a dream gone too soon. Jim rubs his hand along your back, tracing shapes and patterns in an attempt to soothe you. (spoiler alert: it's working) You swallow dryly as the sobs finally stop, finally feeling that sleepy sensation you get after a good cry. The calm after the storm. You snuggle your head into his chest, collecting the warmth radiating from him. Before you can thank Jim, or even actually say a word, your eyes heavily close, and your breaths mirror the beginning of sleep. Jim notices this shift, and chuckles softly. "Even stuffy and red, you're still my beautiful star.." --☆--☆--☆--☆--☆--☆--☆--☆--☆--☆--☆--

#jim hawkins #jim hawkins x reader #treasure planet #disney movies #disney #fanfic #im rlly paranoid that none of this makes sense LOL #thats just me being a perfectionist i guess #also thank you to the lovely person who requested this <3 #hurt/comfort

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itsmealaiah · 5 months

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so okay this might seem rlly weird but if u do fanfics then can u make like a tom kaulitz fanfic where tom has been really cold to "the reader" n then the reader wants to break up n then tom gets like rlly mad and upset and they have like rlly angry sx 🤗😭 if this is too weird or smt then its totally fine and sorry i didnt get into detail too much im not good with writing 😭😭 also love you 🤞

oh my goodness yes a million times yes

You're not leaving me (tom kaulitz x fem reader)

2022 Tom x Fem Reader

Tags/ warnings: yelling, shattering of objects, threatening, slight blood/ cuts, unprotected intercourse, all the regular smut features, I'll try to cover every base bc I love this request 😘 🫶 😍

In this story, I'm absolutely not saying Tom Kaulitz is a bad person. This fanfiction is all my imagination and has nothing to do with how he actually acts and is in real life. Thank you, and enjoy.

also MDNI

Your POV:

It's been three weeks since Tom returned from tour, and he hasn't said but a couple words to me. I was growing more and more distant from him by the day, and I knew he was too. He was always working, rehearsing, or on tour. Truth was, I missed him. I missed him so much it hurt.

I tried talking to him so many times, to which he just blew me off, giving me no acknowledgment whatsoever, as if I'm invisible. And seeing him with all those girls at interviews made me feel even worse. I was growing tired of no affection, and was planning to end the relationship.

We've been together for two years, and I hated wasting what we had, but I needed someone who cared for my needs, who gave me love and all of them. I had been avoiding this, trying to find good in him but it became too much to bear at this point.

I gathered my confidence, and walked to his office where he sat, clearly tensed as he worked on music for the album. "Tom?" I asked, trying not to startle or annoy him. I shouldn't even have to do that, my reason for this attempt.

"What?" He shouted, getting up and walking over to where I stood, leaning on the door frame. Fear began to build up, and I felt helpless as his tall body was against me, angered already. "What could you possibly need?" He hissed.

He pushed me out of the office roughly, nearly throwing me into the living room. I stood my ground, firm. "I want to break up" I finally said, getting my worst fear of what could happen out of my system. I'm not going to be pushed around anymore. He neared me, huffing lowly.

"What?" He said, and I immediately regretted my decision, but it needed to be said. "I want to break up" I repeated, still holding my ground. "I heard you the first time" He yelled, and began to smash every memory we had built together, the picture frames, the little trinkets we had collected, shattered onto the ground within mere seconds.

I let him continue his rage, too afraid to move. I let him destroy everything, every solid core memory we had together because I was too fucking scared. "Weak" My head told me over, and over, and over, replaying like some sickness, corrupting my thoughts. He paused, and stopped, looking straight at me.

I didn't recognize this man at first, this man with hate, anger, pure, unfiltered anger in his deep brown eyes. I hadn't recognized him at all for the past three weeks, to be truthful to myself. I missed that man he was before tour, before all of this. I didn't know what happened, or if anything even happened at all.

Maybe he was just sick of me, sick of my constant bullshit. He picked up a vase and threw it straight at me, causing my skin to break and blood to slowly seep out. I felt it but didn't do anything, fear in my feeble, small body too strong to comprehend anything.

He looked at my arm, the red liquid making its way down the skin. He stopped in his mission of destruction and approached me again. I was too scared to form simple words, let alone full sentences.

"Go upstairs, now." He demanded. "I'll give you a few minutes to clean your wound but be ready. I want you stripped, bare." He pushed me in the direction of the stairs. I was paralyzed. "Move bitch! Now!" His hands were placed on my back, making me nearly fall over. I stumbled, but quickly regained my balance.

I walked up the stairs, the blood seeping out so much it made my head go fuzzy as I trudged up the final step. I made it to our bedroom, more likely his bedroom, and opened the door to the bathroom adjoined to the room.

I grabbed bandaids, and some cream for the cut, rubbing it in deep. "What did he say?" I tried my best to remember the words he roared at me before forcing me up here. "Something..bare?" I couldn't quite form proper thoughts, I had lost a good amount of blood.

"Stripped bare" My brain corrected, finally beginning to work again. I sighed and then my eyes widened in understanding. "Great" I muttered, cleaning the rest of the liquid off of my sore arm. I stepped into the dim-lit bedroom and began to undress.

I laid back on the bed, the cold air making its way to my skin. I heard the subtle sound of footsteps outside the room and the door clicking. I was looking up at the ceiling, trying with all of my might to not look at Tom. "You actually listened" His deep voice echoed throughout the room, seeming to bounce around.

He stepped onto the bed, hovering above my still-lying body. I was too afraid to move. His lips began to work on my neck, leaving marks. He was still fully clothed. His hands traveled down my skin, pulling me against him. A moan was beginning to build itself inside my throat, soon begging to be let out.

His lips were still at my neck, but his head rose slowly, lips hovering over mine. His breath was hot and ragged as he attacked my mouth, tongue fighting my own for dominance. His hands groped the sides of my head, and I was squirming underneath him. I moaned into his mouth, and I felt his lips curve into a smile.

"Good girl" He told me, pulling his shirt above his head. He again attacked my lips, tugging at them so hard they might've split and bled.

I whimpered loudly as his lips wrapped around my nipple. My back began to arch off the bed but his hands pushed me down roughly, and I gasped. "Stay still schlampe" He commanded as his tongue lapped around the bud. I nearly screamed, trying to hold my groans in.

He slipped his pants off, revealing his boxers. I whined and reached for him, trying to hold him close. "Be patient" He demanded, finally stripping out of the underwear. He held me down, hot breath fanning against my earlobe.

"Be good for me, and I'll let you come" He said, breath ragged. I gasped, and his head lifted from my ear. "Ready?" He asked, his length teasing my entrance. "Don- don't do that" I huffed, whimpering. "Do what? This?" He plunged into me and began pounding in and out, tears beginning to cloud my eyes.

I screamed in pleasure. His pace was frantic, the brutal thrusting making my back arch up off the bed. His hand began to rub between my folds, and my hips jerked up. "Such a good fucking toy" His voice was husky as he made me moan so loud the neighbors were probably going to complain.

He was looking up at me the entire time, sweat dripping down his forehead. I was panting, choked sobs left my throat, escaping through my parted lips."Please please stop" I cried out, as his pace was ruthless.

"You really think -fuck- I'm going to stop after what you did?" He groans, rocking me back and forth, the headboard slamming into the wall. My moans were getting more quiet, sobs overtaking them. I was too busy having my body drunk in pleasure to fully compute what the hell was actually happening.

He groaned and began to twitch inside me. "You almost there love?" He asked through a whimper. I nodded and began to feel the familiar knot build up. He released in me, juices coating my inner walls. I moaned and scratched his back as I came, thighs shaking after I did. "I'm not done yet" He grinned.

His fingers were pushing the liquids back in, making me sob. I was beginning to get overstimulated, which is what I could only guess he wanted. He rubbed my slick harshly, and I began to cry. The pain was quickly melting into pleasure as I shook. He looked up at my teary eyes, thrusting his fingers into me roughly.

"Tom!" I screeched, my second release coming hard and fast. He didn't stop, knowing I was close again. He never left me edged, always wanted me to reach the peak of pleasure, which was troubling me now.

"Stop!" I screamed again, his eyes widened and he pulled his fingers out. I was sobbing, my whole body shaking. "Oh love" He sighed, hugging me tightly. "Why did you ignore me before" I cried out, squeezing him. "I missed you" I sniffled into his chest. "I'm sorry schatzi, I just thought you didn't want to be with me anymore, which was kind of true"

He rubbed the back of my head calmingly. I soon fell asleep, wrapped up in his embrace. "Goodnight sweet girl" He tucked me in and nestled against me, eyes shutting and sleep taking over his body

a/n: i'm gonna try and two 2 writings a day now. next week i might only do one per day depending on schedules xx alaiah

also THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST LOVE YOUU ❤️ 😍 🫶 😘

#tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x you #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #itsmealaiah

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