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enthusiasticharry · 3 years

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Lonely this Christmas

summary: you and Harry broke up earlier in the year, but at Columbia’s Christmas party you see each other again, and you both realise just how much you miss each other

author's note: ahhhh i don’t think i've ever been so excited to post one of my works as i am this one and i hope you all enjoy my baby. the reader in this is musician!yn and i have so many other ideas for the little story line, so if you'd like to hear them, please let me know!

word count: 11k of baso angst, really fluffy fluff and some of the best smut I think i’ve ever written. there’s deepthroating... face-sitting... really just the whole shebang.

masterlist | please speak to me about LTC here!

You truly believed that Christmas was the best time of the year.

You loved everything about the festive time of year. From decorating the house, to listening to the music. From spending time with your family, to cosying up on the sofa and watching Christmas films. It was a special time of year, where everyone seemed to relax and walk around with joyous looks on their faces because no matter the year they’d have, it was nearly over and it’s finally time to celebrate the best aspects of the time that had passed.

You found yourself thankful for the year, but also thankful that it was over. This year had been one of the best, but also one of the worst years of your life. The thing that caused the year to not be the best that it could was the split you had with your long-term boyfriend. It was messy, and absolutely heartbreaking on your side and because it was such a big part of the year, it became one of the memories that you wished to ignore but you found yourself struggling too. On a brighter side, you had won your first Brit award this year for Best New Artist. It was a turning point in your career, for certain.

One thing that you’ve never enjoyed about Christmas is parties. You would much rather stay within the walls of your own house and spend your evenings alone, but being in the industry that you are it becomes a little harder. The Columbia Christmas Party happen’s every year, but this was you first year signed to the Record Label, so the first year you had been invited. You were shocked to be invited, but found yourself to be excited and dreading the experience all at once.

The thing that you found yourself thinking and worrying about the most was what you were going to wear. You wanted to impress everyone there, since you had found this new stardom for yourself and you had created this name for yourself which you hadn’t had before. After consulting with your stylist, you settled on a custom Gucci dress that was made for you to wear specifically to this event. The dress itself was a Christmas-green velvet material, which landed to about your mid-thigh with a square neckline. Attached to the square straps of the neckline, were tulle sleeves of the same colour that bunched at your wrists. It hugged your curves perfectly and once you’d added your black scrappy heels you really felt beautiful. Your natural features are accentuated, and you, for the first time in a long time, feel beautiful within your own skin.

That all changed the second you walked into the party.

You felt as though all eyes were on you, as though everyone was watching every step that you took to see what you’d do. It made you feel uncomfortable and immediately feel as though the dress you are wearing wasn’t right, it was too short and you needed to cover up. You were maybe 98% certain that they weren’t thinking about what you were wearing, but more so who you’ve just clocked eyes with.

You knew he was going to be here, and you had prepared yourself for the inevitable, but seeing him stood there completely changed everything that you had prepared for. You both were signed to the same record label, years after the two of you had met though, so it was no surprise that he was sat at one of the tables with a group of people around him as he spoke and laughed at what they were all taking about.

You tried to ignore the pinch within your heart, but it was hard. You weren’t the one who broke it off, and if things had gone according to your plan, you would still be together right now.

You had met Harry a few years ago, when you had first moved to London and you were bar and pub hopping, singing and hoping that you’d somehow stumble upon someone who could help you start your career. It was completely by accident that you both had met, and looking back at it quite embarrassing on your part. You were in the middle of your set when he walked in, as well as Mitch and Sarah, but you hadn’t seen them at that point. You had recently learnt how to play Sign of the Times on the piano and you had purposely brought your small keyboard out with you so you could play the song. Looking back on it, you probably wouldn’t have sung the song if you did know that he was there, but you didn’t know so you sung it. It was a little shaky at the start due to your nerves about playing the song for the first time out of the comfort of your room but you quickly found your groove, and you finished strong. Harry had later told you that, after a little bit of teasing from Mitch and Sarah, he knew that from how in awe he was of you he just had to speak to you. He walked up to you whilst you were in the middle of throwing your celebratory shot back that you always take after finishing your set and the first thing you ever said to him was, “Fuck!”

You always thought that would be a story you’d be able to tell your grandchildren, and you both had even spoken about it, but it just hadn’t worked out.

He seemed okay, which you were happy about. His new album had just come out, and you don’t think you’ve ever cried at a record as you did at that one. You knew it was about you, it was hard not to. All of the little hints that he left throughout his songs would blow over anyone else head, but you knew the true meaning of them and you think that’s one of the reasons you found it so emotional. He was smiling as he spoke to the people, briefly taking sips of his drink every now and then, which was only water so you wondered whether he’d drove there. You both would be flying home soon, but this would be the first time in three years that you’d be flying home alone.

To stop yourself from crying, you quickly make you way over to the bar. After running your eyes over the cocktail menu, your eyes immediately pricked at the sight of one, and you could stop the words as they left your lips: “A cherry bomb fizz please.”

You watched as the bartender added a cherry and some maraschino liqueur, before topping the drink off with Champagne. The drink was quite sour, but you quite liked it. It caused your lips to purse and eyebrows to widen, in a good way you must add.

“Could never handle your alcohol, could you?”

You could feel him before you heard him, but you didn’t want to turn around. Why he felt it okay to come up and talk to you were unsure about, but at the same time you had been hoping that he would. Why you were hoping that he would you were also unsure about, but you’re certain it had something to do with the fact that you weren’t quite over him.

“I think you’re mistaken.” You say, taking another sip of your drink, “You were the one who could never handle your alcohol. And this is just sour.”

He hums, as though he isn’t believing a word that you say, “If you say so, love.”

“Love?” You say, raising your eyebrow at him whilst throwing back the rest of your drink, “Thought those days were well over.”

“Force of habit, ‘suppose.” He shrugs, “I have a few of them when it comes to you.”

“You grew out of them.” I shrug, “Can’t remember the last time you called me love whilst we were together.”

He drops his eyes to the counter, and you know you’ve done what you’re supposed to. This is the first time you’ve spoken to since you broke up, and you can’t believe that it’s at a Christmas party of all places. He also had the audacity to call you love, something that you couldn’t believe he had the balls to do. The last few months of your relationship you were lucky if he even looked at you, and here he now was calling you love as though it’s totally okay to do so.

“I’ll always call you love.” He says, lifting his eyes up from the counter to look at you once more, “I’ll always care about you.”

“Where was this five months ago?” You ask, unable to stop yourself.

Your break up, in your opinion, came out of nowhere. You knew something had changed in your relationship, since he hardy had the time for you at the end of your time together. He’d get up in the morning and wouldn’t touch, or even kiss you. Then, when he’d come home it would be the exact same thing, he’d slip into bed and to stop yourself from feeling as though you were going to cry, you’d pretend you were asleep and hope that you’d actually fall asleep. He never told you a reason for breaking up with you, apart from that he needed space and that he couldn’t be with you. That was probably the thing that hurt you the most. He broke up with you, but you never really had a real reason why.

“I just needed to leave.” He says, “That was my main focus.”

You try to ignore your heart breaking all over again but it’s hard to, when it’s the only thing you can think about.

“Why now?” You say, “Why are you doing this now?”

“YN—”

You shake your head, “I don’t think I want to hear it. I’m going to go.”

“Don’t—”

“—YN!” You feel an arm thrown around your shoulder, one that you immediately realise is Jeff once you register his voice and his face once you turn to him, “I haven’t seen you in months! How are you?”

You can immediately tell that he’s drunk. From the slight slurring of his words, to the smell of alcohol on his breath as he speaks. You’re just as shocked to see him as he is to see you.

“I’m good, Jeff, thanks.” You smile, at him, trying to push the conversation you’ve just had with his friend out of your mind, “How are you?”

“I’m drunk.” He laughs, squeezing your shoulder slightly, “But! I’s nice to see you two together again!”

The whole ignoring the situation doesn’t quite go to plan. Once he’s said those words you immediately draw your eyes towards Harry. You’ve never wanted to leave a conversation as much as you did this one. You look at Harry, but he isn’t looking at you.

He gasps, “You should come over to the table! We’re all here and it’ll just be like old times.”

“I couldn’t possibly. . .” You shake your head.

“You can!” He says, “Come on, I won’t take no for an answer! And H, hurry up with those drinks.”

Jeff walks you away from the bar and towards the table that you noticed earlier when you noticed Harry for the first time this evening. Glenne, Mitch and Sarah are there, as well as Kid and a few other producers that you recognise from working on Harry’s album, as well as a few songs from yours also. You knew that just because you and Harry broke up you couldn’t expect the friendships that had formed because of you two to just stop altogether.

“YN!” There’s a course of cheers and Sarah’s the first to stand up and wrap her arms around you. Out of everyone, Sarah was the person who you were closest with out of Harry’s band. She had joined Harry’s band after you and Harry had been dating for a year or so when Sarah joined the band, and you two instantly clicked and became the closest of friends. You had spoken a few times with her since you had broke up, but nothing compared to what you used to. You weren’t surprised though, she was Harry’s drummer first and your friend after — or that’s what you told yourself to make you feel slightly better.

“Hi.” You smile, dropping down into the spare seat next to Sarah. Words are thrown around the table of glee that you’re there, as well as questions as to why you haven’t been in contact. You know they’re drunk, and you suspect that is why they’re saying all of the things they are. You were quick to fall out of the conversation as it moved onto the show that they did the day prior to celebrate the release of Harry’s album. You suppose the reason your feelings were so heightened today was due to your hearing the album for the first time yesterday and then replaying it today.

It was completely different to Harry Styles but still so Harry. You hated how his music made your feel, the sad and the happy ones, as well as all in between. Harry returned to the table shorty after clutching drinks in his hands, and under his arms. Why he didn’t just make two trips, you would never know, but it’s lucky that all the drinks made it without any spillages.

“We were just talking about yesterday.” Glenne says, taking a sip of her drink as she does before turning towards you, “Have you heard the album, YN?”

“You don’t have too—” Harry turns to your briefly.

“I have.” You nod, “It’s good, a masterpiece even. You should be proud of it, H.”

You can see his shoulder tense, and from knowing him as well as you do, you wouldn’t be surprised if his heart just sunk to the bottom of his stomach. If you’ve listened to the album, it means that you’ve heard the song that Harry hoped you hadn’t.

“What would you say is your favourite?”

You look directly at him as you say the next words, and you hope he listens to them, “Probably Cherry.”

The other’s carry on talking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, but Harry doesn’t open his mouth again. He doesn’t stop looking at you though, and the way you look gorgeously defeated. A part of him wondered whether he was the one who caused you to be this way. About a month ago he asked some producers he knew that were working on your album with you how you are, and they said that you just seemed sad. It broke him to hear those words, just the words he had said to you all those months ago had broken you. Out of the blue, probably not but due to you not paying any attention, the group all move in, including you and Harry to have a reminiscent group photo.

He does open his mouth again when the group disperse to the dance floor, leaving the two of you all alone at the table.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t lift your eyes up from the end of the table cloth you’re messing with, an exasperated laugh leaving your lips, “What for? Breaking up with me? Taking everything from me? Or, I don’t know, using that in your song?”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“You thought I wouldn’t mind.” You shake your head, completely baffled at his words, “Why would you think that? I trusted you with that, and now it’s on the end of one of your songs.”

“I’m sorry about everything, but especially that.” He says, and you can tell he’s being genuine with the look in his eyes. He looks as though he’s about to cry.

“Why did you do it?” I asks, “You could’ve asked me. I would’ve said yes, I swear to you.”

“I was nervous.” He says, “We didn’t leave on the best of terms, and I felt as though asking would’ve have been the best.”

“So you decided to do it anyway?”

“Will you forgive me, please?” He asks, and you can tell his voice is about to break, “Please.”

“That’s it, Harry.” You say, “I don’t think I can.”

The next morning you awake with a slight hangover, which wasn’t surprising because once you’d left quickly after saying your last words to Harry, and opened a bottle of vodka that you had in your cupboard. That bottle now sits on your bedside table, three-quarters of it drunk and the cause of your hangover. You were thankful that you hadn’t gotten too drunk before you left the party, due to the wraths of paparazzi that were there as you left. You remember leaving with your head down, ignoring their calls and questions, as well as their their cameras flashed at you. You had gotten into your car, your driver had smiled at you and the second the car started moving away from the club you found yourself unable to stop the tears that streamed down your face.

This wasn’t the first time that you’d done this since you’ve broken up with Harry, but this was certainly the worse you’ve felt since you’ve done so. Your head had its own heartbeat, and you felt as though your were stable on your feet as you trudged towards the kitchen to have some orange juice, your remedy for your hangovers to say the least. It was always something that Harry thought ahead about when you were together. If he knew that the two of you were going out he’d always stock up the fridge. The amounts of time since that you’ve gotten drunk and not had any orange juice within the house is quite atrocious and he knew from experience that they never ended well.

You drink your first glass of the drink quickly, and pour your second one before making you way back into your bedroom. Due to the amount of time you spent in LA, you had purchased your second apartment here, your first being in London. It wasn’t the nicest ever, but it was good enough for you when you were here, and something that you were thankful to have when you woke up from nights like these.

You fall back down upon your bed and the first you think you pick up is your phone, shocked at the thousands of notifications your found on it. You’re still slightly asleep so you rub your eyes a few times before clicking upon the instagram app. The thousands of notifications are dm’s and comments upon your photos. After clicking through the notifications, you find the culprit sat with a lovely love heart emoji on Glenne’s story.

At some point that morning, probably whilst you were growing your sorrows away with vodka, she had posted the photo of you all on her story with the caption ‘the band’s back together,’ a heart emoji and tagged you in it. All the messages were asking whether you and Harry were back together again, not because you’d ever gone public with your relationship, but Harry had gone public with your breakup in his interview with the Rolling Stones and with Zane Lowe. He was very respectful in the way that he spoke about it, which was all you ask for. You hadn’t actively gone out to watch and read what he was saying, but your manager had warned you about them before you had done some interviews and you were curious to say the least what they were about.

In the photo you could tell that you and Harry were the only ones who were sober. Everyone else had drunken grins on their faces whilst you and Harry, to say the least, had very uncomfortable smiles across both of your lips. It annoyed you slightly that the two of you couldn’t even be in the same place anymore without having messages upon messages about whether or not you’re back together. Anyone with a brain could see that you certainly weren’t just by the expression on both of your faces.

You weren’t annoyed, or angry that the photo had been posted because you wouldn’t have taken the photo if you didn’t want it to be posted, but you did take the photo. You were always taking photos together before the breakup, and photo booths were you speciality. It’s another thing that you had hardly done since the breakup, so it was nice to see the photo but deep down a part of you wished that it hadn’t have been taken.

It’s all over all of the social media’s, and you decide that it’s probably best if you just put your phone down. You’re about place it on your bedside table when a notification pops up on the top of your screen, and without thinking, you tap on it, sending you straight to the messages app and to who had sent you the message.

Harry: YN?

Why he was sending you a message in the first place, you had no idea. Why he was messaging your so early in the morning was also something that confused you even more.

Harry: I know you’re reading this.

Harry: Your read receipts are on.

You curse yourself for being so click-happy when you see a notification, and more so for having your read receipts on because you know you can remove them but you don’t quite know how to. You contemplate for a few seconds what to say in your drunken, tired haze, before typing out the message:

YN: Can I help you?

His reply comes in a few seconds later.

Harry: Are you free?

YN: Why?

Harry: Meet me at Beachwood. Usual time.

YN: Why should I?

Harry: Just be there. Please.

YN: I will.

When you walk down the pavement towards the Beachwood Cafe, its as though you’re doing so without actually thinking about it. When you and Harry were together — this was your place. You can’t even remember the amount of dates the two of you have had here, tucked away in the corner whilst the music played, chatting away endlessly about things that popped into each of your minds. It got to the point that when you two were free, and managed to get to go, you had been that much that the waitresses knew your order by memory. The first time they had done it, you remember the way you both smiled sheepishly at each other and back at the waitress.

It was decorated for Christmas. You could see a tree in the corner of the cafe, as well as lights and tinsel across the windows. If you weren’t so nervous you probably would have smiled at the sight of it.

You push the door open and hear the familiar ding of a bell that rings whenever someone walks through, and you’re catapulted back to last year when you did the exact same thing but with a smile on your face from your excitement of seeing your boyfriend, one who you cared and loved very much.

The low hum of Mud’s Lonely this Christmas fills the room, very apt for the current situation and you’re guessing the mood of the conversation you’re about to have. It was late, close to closing time but you and Harry found that to be the best time to come, because hardly anybody else did.

He’s already sat at your usual table, the one in the corner because the two of you often liked to people watch. It had started off a silly game once when you were both tired and didn’t really want to talk about your lives, so you started brainstorming what other people’s were like. As much as you hated to admit it, Harry’s stories were always the better of the two of you but you didn’t mind, because you could little to the words he spoke to you for every minute for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t mind.

He’s already gotten your drinks, you can see the two glasses upon the table in front of him. You pull out the chair, making him look up from his phone at you. You can see his features immediately soften at the sight of you stood there.

They always used to do that.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You don’t reply, “I got you a peppermint hot chocolate. I know It’s one of your favourites.”

It was one of your favourites, and you haven’t been able to have one in a while because, surprise surprise, they remind you of Harry, and the time you used to spend together.

“Thank you.” You say, picking up the drink and taking a sip of the hot liquid, dropping it back down and looking at him directly in the eyes, “Why did you invite me here?”

He clears his throat, and the movements of his elbows suggest he’s wiping his hands upon his trousers.

“I want to apologise. For everything, this time.” He says, and you watch as he places his hands back upon the table, messing with the rings on his hand. He still wore the one you got him for your anniversary a year ago, “For how I acted yesterday, the day we broke up and the months before hand. I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for it, but I just hope that you accept my apology.”

“I do.” You say, after a couple of seconds of contemplation, knowing that there was no point to having this dragged out for any longer than it already was, “I just want to know why, that’s all I want.”

“I.” He stops and lets out a shaky breath, “I don’t know, if I’m honest with you. I was just so investing into getting the album finished, and for some reason in my mind I thought that it would be best if I was single to do that.”

“Why would you think that?” You ask, the tears brimming on your waterline.

“I don’t know. The second I watched you walk out of the door, and when you didn’t turn around to look again but just drove away, I knew I’d messed up.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You choke back a sob, trying to be quiet to not draw attention to the two of you, “You should’ve stopped me. Explained. I love you Harry, I would have done anything to help you. You needed space, I would’ve given it to you. You needed me, I would’ve been there.”

He drops his head, “I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You suck in a breath and bite your head to stop anymore sounds from escaping, “You let me leave. You watched me leave. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I felt guilty. I’d just broken up with you, love, do you really think that it would’ve been a good idea for me to all of a sudden say I wanted you back?”

Silent tears stream down your face, “You had months to, Harry. Months. You did nothing.”

“And it’ll be the biggest regret of my life, YN, I promise you.” He says, and you can tell that he’s trying to stop himself from crying, “It will be. I’ve been a mess without you.”

You still love Harry, and you know that you do, and you hate seeing him so upset. You believe that’s why you reach forward to take his hand in yours.

“I have too.”

Somehow, you and Harry had been booked on the same flight home, and you managed to get seats next to each other. Spending that time next to each other was good, you believed. It gave you the opportunity to properly speak and catch each other up on everything that had happened. Harry had apologised, yet again, for everything that had happened and you had too. You gushed over his album once you had done, and that was when he invited you to the Secret London Show he was holding at the Electric Ballroom.

That takes you to now, stood in front of your mirror looking over your outfit to make sure that it was presentable enough. You knew you had to look presentable, but it wasn’t as fancy as the Christmas party. You dressed yourself in a long sleeved black lace top, and paired it with some black jean flares and your docs. Simple, yet quite effective in the grand scheme of things.

You were nervous to say the least about what what the evening was going to hold, especially since Gemma and other people who you hadn’t seen since the two of you broke up were going to be there. You weren’t exactly prepared, and if they asked you any questions you’d have no idea about what to say, but once you had brought that up with Harry, he said to just answer with the truth, which you were going to.

The entire way to the electric ballroom you were nervous, your heart was beating out of you chest and you felt as though you shouldn’t have been going. You thought that up until you arrived, when you walked backstage to see Harry and Gemma stood talking whilst Harry was getting ready. Once he saw you, his features rose into a smile and yours did too, and you walked over to press a kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“YN!” You could hear the shock in Gemma’s voice as she noticed that it was you and she immediately stood up and wrapped her arms around you, “I haven’t seen you in so long. How are you?”

“I’m okay, thanks Gem.” You smiled, pulling away and tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “How are you?”

“I’m amazing.” She says, “I certainly didn’t expect you to be here. Are you two back together? Please tell me that you are.”

Instead of answering straight away, you turn to look at Harry briefly. You both knew exactly what was running through your brains, and the way you both smiled at each other made that completely obvious. He nodded, and then you knew exactly what to say.

You grin and turn back to Gemma, “Trying to.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She wraps you in another hug, “He was a mess without you, and I know you were a mess without him. You’re soulmates. I can’t believe he even did it in the first place.”

“I think we all couldn’t.” You laugh.

“Hey!” Harry whines from the chair beside the two of you, “I made a mistake, we all get it.”

You and Gemma laugh and from then it’s like the past six months hadn’t happened and you were still the best of friends. That was one thing about being with Harry, you loved his family just as much as you loved him. Gemma was like a sister to you, and she was even when you broke up but you just hadn’t seen her. Anne, well she was like a second mother to you. She always made sure to make you feel included at family gatherings, and she even came to stay with you sometimes when Harry went away for a while and you couldn’t go with him. You had missed Harry the most during this time, but Anne and Gemma were two people that you had also missed more than anything.

The majority of people make their way to where they’re watching the show soon after, but you tell Gemma that you’ll meet her on the balcony later because you wanted to have a quick word with Harry. He was in the middle of shrugging his jacket upon his shoulders when you walked through the door, and he immediately stopped his movements and turned to look at you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Everything okay?”

You shrug and bite your lip, stepping for arms a few steps towards him, “Just wanted to see you.”

You find your eyes flicking up and down his body, taking in the monochrome yellow suit he had on with a black tie. You always loved and supported Harry’s wardrobe choices, and you had missed in the time you hadn’t been with him picking them out with him. You felt as though this was an excellent choice.

“You look amazing.” He says, taking a few steps forward so that you’re directly in front of each other. You watch as he lifts his hands up, about to place them on your waist but he stops himself and drops his arms back down. Without hesitation you grab his wrists and place them upon your waist. His eyes widen, but the second he feels your skin underneath his hand, just separated by the thin material of your lace top.

“Thank you.” You bite your lip and wrap your fingers around his tie, lightly picking up the material, “You look so handsome, H.”

He almost lets out a sob at your words, but he quickly stops himself and smiles at you. Without thinking, you lean forward and press your lips upon his. They feel so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. You want to cry. You’ve dreamt of this for months, the feeling of having him this closer to you again, and from the way he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you even closer to him, so that your body is fully flushed against his. You pull away with a smile and immediately drop your head to his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist under his jacket and hugging him close to you. You finally feel a tear escape from your eye.

“I’ve missed you so much, H.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

He sings the entire Fine Line album from start to finish, and from how much you’ve listened to the album you actually know the majority of the words. You sing and dance away with Gemma, posting instagram stories of the two of you, and then one of how proud you are of Harry. You don’t need to explain yourself, there certainly isn’t a need to so you do so without any hesitation. You realise you’ve missed watching him perform, the way he can entertain a crowd with his talents has always been something you’d been jealous of. You’ve done shows here and there but because your album isn’t due to be out until the start of next year, when you plan to do your first world tour, and even though you try your hardest, you don’t feel as though you’ll ever be able to work a crowd the way he does. Where Stormzy came from, you still have no idea, since you hadn’t seen him downstairs but all of a sudden he’s singing Vossi Bop with Harry and your watching with your mouth dropped open in shock as he does so.

You and Harry make the executive decision to go to Harry’s house after the concert. It’s how you both found yourselves sat on Harry’s sofa, a glass of wine in each of your hands. You head is leant against the back of the sofa, whilst Harry’s hand leans upon the back of it, running his fingers through your hair. It’s comforting, and the smile hasn’t left your face since he started to do it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, moving his hand from your hair to run his finger along your cheekbone, then down until he’s running it across your lips, “I can’t believe I ever pushed you away. You were my girl. I was going to marry you, I needed to marry you, still do.”

“I’m back now.” You whisper back, lifting your hand to place on his cheek, “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter how hard you try and push me away, I’m not leaving.”

“I don’t want you too.” He shakes his head, “I’ll never want you too again.”

Without really thinking, you take the glass out of Harry’s hand and place both of yours upon the table in front of you, listening to the sound as glass meets glass. He leans back on the sofa with a puzzled look, immediately realising what is happening when you move to straddle his hips, placing your hands upon his shoulders to steady yourself. His hands fall upon the small of your back, his hands dragging up and down to tease your skin.

You lean forward, moving so that your faces are inches apart. You knock his nose slightly with yours, causing his cheeks to curl upwards with a smile before you capture it with your lips. immediately responds by kissing your back, pushing his body so that it’s placed even closer to yours if it’s physically possible.

Without a warning you pull away from him, slipping off his lap so that you’re on your knees in front of him. His eyes never leave yours as you so, and he immediately opens his legs so that you can slip in between them, his finger running over his bottom lip as he watches you.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Want to feel you.” You reply, resting your hands upon his thighs, “Want to feel you in my mouth. Can I?”

“Go ahead, baby.”

You feel excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and with shaky hands you move to unfasten his belt, and unbutton and unzip his trousers without much struggle. He lifts his hips up so that you can manoeuvre his trousers down and off his legs, leaving him in his black boxers. You bite your lip at the sight of the tent within the flimsy material, already growing and ready for you. You feel slightly overwhelmed that after so long of waiting, and wanting him to be in front of you again, he actually is.

“Already so hard for me, H.” You say, running your hand over the fuzz upon his bare thighs, “Have you thought about this as much as I have.”

“I thought about it everyday.” He replies, quickly at that, “It’s etched in my brain, the sight of you on your knees for me.”

You bite your lip as your grin, leaning to press a kiss to his stomach, just above the happy little trial that slips underneath the hem of his boxers. You feel his stomach tense underneath your lips, especially when you hook your fingers into the hem of his boxers, wiggling the material down until you can completely take it off once he’d lifted his hips again. He’s fully hard for you, and you can feel your stomach doing little flips in excitement for what is going to happen.

Sex, as it is in most relationships, was a big part of yours and Harry’s. It’s important that couples are comfortable with each other when revealing such intimate parts of themselves, and you and Harry were. If any of of you wanted to try anything, you could do so because of how comfortable you felt with each other. Whenever the other wanted to try anything, you’d do so without any hesitation and in such a way that you both enjoyed it. You both had your kinks, and your shared ones, and over the courser of your relationship you both explored those feelings. You were just happy that even though you had spent such time away from each other, you could still feel that confidence bubbling between the two of you, and those feelings bubbling between each other. Harry made you feel a way no other human being has ever been able to, and you were thankful because you felt as though you’d never be able to find that with anyone else, and now you didn’t have to worry because you were back together.

“You ready to take me in your mouth baby.” He says, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Ready to take me the way you used to.”

“Always, baby.”

Your tongue slips from between your lips and you lick a stripe up his throbbing cock, causing a low groan to escape through Harry’s lips. You can’t help but smile at the sound, knowing that you had caused that. Another groan escapes his lips once you wrap your lips around his tip completely, taking it into your mouth and you can help but giggle slightly. He smiles down at you and pulls your hair up so that it’s off of your face, making a makeshift ponytail to help move you up and down his cock.

“Look so good with my cock in your mouth.” His tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips, “Always could take me so well. Show me, baby, show me how deep you can go.”

You comply, taking him as deep as you can until you can feel him in the back of your throat. You eyes start to water, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. You hold for as long as possibly can before he lightens his touch and allows you to pull away. A string of saliva connects you two together as you and you wipe your lips with the back of your hand to remove it.

“Can you do it again?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, flicking your eyes between his throbbing member and him a few times before wrapping your lips back around him, “Fuck, baby, no one can do this like you can. No one.”

His words spur you on and you deep throat him as far as you possibly can before you need to gasp for air, taking a few seconds before starting to bob your head again, taking a few seconds at each time to run your tongue over his throbbing tip, collecting some of the salty pre-come that had started to bubble there.

“So good to me.” He lets you stop for a minute, and you place your head upon his thigh so that you can catch you breath. It was almost as though he knew that you needed to take a breather. You had the slight problem of always trying to do more than you’re able too and you almost always end up loosing too much of your breath, “Even though I’m an absolute twat. You’re always so good to me.”

“You deserve it.” You say, your throat a little coarse from your actions before.

“I don’t.” He shakes his head, “I broke your heart.”

You hesitate for a few seconds, “But you’re fixing it.”

“I shouldn’t have broken it in the first place.”

You move so that your higher up and able to place a kiss to his lips, whispering against them, “You’re fixing it.”

He kisses you back with more passion than before, moving his hand to grip under your thighs so that he can pick you up and place your on his. His fingers tug at the hem of your lace shirt, so you detach your lips so that you can pull it over your head. He groans at the sight of your bare chest to him, your nipples hardening into stiff buds at the feeling of the cold air immediately on your skin.

“No bra?” He presses a few open mouthed kisses to your neck, “You’ve been with me all evening, and I never even fucking noticed that you didn’t have a bra on.”

“You used to have a special talent for noticing when I didn’t have a bra on.” You giggle, sighing slightly at the feeling of his lips on his neck, and then the subtle feeling of his teeth grazing your skin.

“I must’ve lost my touch. But don’t worry.” He pulls away and looks you directly in the eye, “I’ll soon get it back.”

“Of course you will.” You laugh, but he stops it with his lips. The first time you and Harry kissed, you were so nervous. You felt as though you were going to mess up and he’d never want to kiss you again. You were completely wrong, and he actually ended up saying that it was one of the best kisses of you life. You couldn’t believe his words, and since then you completely found yourself wanting his lips to be on yours. Just as they were now, his tongue slipping between your lips and the feeling always transporting the two of you to where it’s just you, and you have the time in the world to kiss as much as you want to.

He moves his kisses down your neck, leaving sloppy ones against your skin until he was at the curve of your breast. Harry was a boob man, you knew that for a fact. As much as he loved to hold onto your ass every now and then, you always noticed that he spent the majority of his time focusing on your boobs. Whether it be sucking blemishes into the plushly skin whilst you fucked, or laying his head on them as you both calmed down from your activities, he always, without fail, focused on your boobs.

He knew that if he attacked your nipples skilfully with his tongue, he could have your dampening your panties and clenching your thighs together so much that he couldn’t resist it. He starts by wrapping his lips around your right nipple, tugging on the flesh slightly with his lips before letting it go with a pop.

“Fucking love your tits, love.” He sighs and you giggles slightly before gasping at the feeling of his pinching your other nipple with his fingers, “Fit in my hands, and in my mouth, so nicely.”

You moan in response to his words and throw your head back as he wraps his lips around your other one, sucking and sending flutters all the way down to your core. You wanted him, yearned for him, and you were beginning to grown inpatient.

“Can we go to your bedroom?” You run your fingers through his hair and pull his head back so that he’s looking at you, “Bedroom.”

“Is that where you want it?”

“Want it in your bed.” You say, placing your hand upon his cheek, “Our bed.”

He stands up with you still on him, your legs wrapped around him as he carries your upstairs. You rest your head upon his shoulder so he can look over yours and direct you safely to the comforts of his bedroom.

This place didn’t hold the best of memories from the last few months of your relationship but if you ignored that and focused on the positives, you had some of your best times in this room. It was a place where the two of you could completely be yourselves, and have a place to call yours. The pillow talk that occurred in this room was out of this world, and it was where you planned your future. One that was put on hold briefly but now seemed to be ready for the two of you again.

“Will you strip for me?” He asks as he places your down in the room, “I want to watch you slip out of those jeans, baby.”

You nod but at first undress him. You slip the jacket from his shoulders, skilfully loosen his tie and pull it over his head. Next is his shirt which you start to unbutton, but Harry grows impatient and rips it off, the buttons flying in all sorts of directions.

“Harry!”

“Oops?” He laughs, sitting down on the bed.

You had given Harry one strip tease before, for his birthday a year ago and it had gone down a treat. You had dressed up in your fanciest lingerie, which happened to be a black set that he had bought specifically for you for your birthday with ‘Styles’ embroidered on the inside. There was something, for the both of you, that you loved about seeing his name all over your the undergarments you wore. Whenever you wore them out in public, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, as though you were hiding a naughty secret that you didn’t want anyone to know about.

“Are you going to?” He urged, not taking his eyes off you’re, “I’m waiting.”

“Might make you wait a little longer.” You smile, running your fingers along the hem of your jeans, “Seeing as though you left me waiting for how long?”

“Don’t tease.”

“Why?” You shrug, “That was your speciality, wasn’t it?”

He had a love for teasing you, always had done. From the first time the two of you had sex, you knew he liked to tease. He liked to tease you all over, having your body withering under his touch until you couldn’t help but beg for him to touch you. You had a slight suspicion that he enjoyed hearing you beg for him, whimpering under his touch until you were crying for him to touch you. You remember that once, he had been teasing you all day whilst you had been out and about, but once you had gotten home he was teasing you so badly, overstimulating you over and over until you were crying for him to make your come.

“Just strip, my love.” You laugh and his words and unfasten the button to your jeans, turning around so that your ass is facing him, pulling your jeans down to reveal your black lace panties to him. You’re not surprised when he smacks his hand to the flesh of your ass, causing you to turn around with a gasp.

“That wasn’t nice.” You move so that you’re straddling him again.

“When have I ever been nice?” He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t think you want me to start now.”

He leans forward and places his lips to yours again, his body falling back upon the bed so that you’re hovering above him. His fingers run down from the small of his back, to her ass again until he’s gripping the flesh between his fingers, quite harshly you must say so which goes straight to your core. You know that the front of your panties are ruined by your wetness, and you know for certain that Harry does also.

“Sit on my face.” He mumbles against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back.

“Sit on my face.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Wanna eat that pretty cunt, want to have you trembling above me.”

You would squeeze your thighs together, but you can’t because of his body between yours. You nod your head and clamber off him, pulling your underwear down your legs quickly. You move up the bed until you’re next to his head, spreading your legs and placing your knees on either side of his head. His hands grip your thighs, dancing his fingers along your thighs.

“Please, H.” You say, pushing his hair off of his forehead as you look down at him.

“Didn’t think you’d be begging so soon, baby.” He chuckles, pressing a few kisses upon your cheeks.

“I’m doing no such thing.” You shake your head, “You’re just being slow.”

He certainly isn’t being slow when he leans his head forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue. You have to quickly lean forward also and grab the headboard to steady yourself, a moan escaping your lips as he does so. He attacks your clit quickly, and you can’t help but grind your hips forward at the feeling. He curls his hands around your thighs, stopping you from moving anymore. You cry out as he doesn’t slow down, and you pull his hair slightly. It emits a moan from him which vibrates against your clit, creeping your closer and closer to your peak.

It becomes a cycle. As you pull on his hair, more moans and groans tumble from his lips again sty your clit. He knew the more that he focused upon your clit, the closer you’d find yourself to your orgasm. He had learnt this, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten it.

You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, rocking your hips back and forth against his tongue. He knows your close, due to your thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t slow down, but instead he flicks his tongue even quicker.

“Fucking hell.” You moan, your body starting to shake as you feel your orgasm wash over you. He continues to attack your clit, coaxing you through your orgasm until you’ve finished and catching your breath.

“You taste so fucking good.” He says, dancing his fingers upon your thigh, “Missed your taste.”

“Fuck me, H.” You say, breathlessly.

He doesn’t hesitate. You manoeuvre yourself off of his head and lay so that you’re head is rested upon his pillow. He leans to open his bedside drawer but you stop him, grabbing his arm and pulling his back to you.

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” You ask, knowing that this could make or break whether you were going to be fucked or not at this moment.

“No.” He says, immediately shaking his head, “I didn’t. Did you?”

You also shake your head, “I wanna feel you, H. Want you to come in me.”

He groans without even touching you yet, or you touching him. He immediately drops his lips to yours, and you can’t help but giggle and smile into the kiss. You wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer to you. He pulls away slightly, just to grip his cock, running his thumb over his tip a few times.

“Are you sure?” He says and you nod, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Please, H.” You nod, hips bucking towards his, “I need you.”

“Need you too.” He kisses you again, “Always need you.”

He leans forward, looking down between the two of you to line his cock up with your entrance. He runs the tip over your clit for a second before pushing into you. Your walls immediately envelope him, tightening around him with every inch that he moves in. You sigh against his lips, wrapping your arms around his back. He starts to move in and out of you, your walls clenching around him as he tries to find his rhythm.

“Fuck.” You can’t help but moan that into his ear.

“Taking me so well.” You drop your hands to rest on your pillows next to him, to which he takes your hand in his as he starts to quicken his pace, “Missed your pussy so much. Never leaving again.”

Instead of replying, you place your lips upon his again. From the way his eyes are screwed closed, you can tell that he’s close. If it’s possible, he starts to thrust his hips harder towards you, hitting a point so deep into you that causes a whine to fall from your mouth.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” He says against your neck, moving in and out until your thighs are shaking beneath him, “Can feel you, fuck, can feel you clenching around me. Milking my cock, aren’t you?”

You hum, “Feel so good, H. I’m so close.”

When you do come, you see stars. You clench around him, and profanities escape your lips. The feeling is completely how you remember it. You hadn’t been completely celibate since breaking up with Harry, since you do own a little bullet vibrator that had been your friend. You had it for years before you met Harry, and you used it whenever he was away or if the two of you fancied spicing it up every now and then.

You come down from your high just as Harry is catapulted into his, coating your walls with his as does so. His body collapses on top of yours, his head rested at the side of yours. He’s still inside of you, and both of your chests are rising up at down at a quick pace.

“Fucking hell.” He laughs, and you turn your head to look at him. He has a grin upon his face and you lean forward to kiss his dimple, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

“I know.” You smiled, “You’ve told me multiple times. I’ve missed you to.”

He finally pulls out, and you immediately felt empty. You whined slightly and he moved off of you, dropping down upon the bed next to you. You take this as the opportunity to slip from your bed. Due to not having sex in a long time, you flip your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare yourself for having to take a few steps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up and waddle your way towards Harry’s bathroom, scooping up Harry’s shirt on the way.

You know the way like the back of your hand, and it’s oddly comforting to you. Once you’re in the bathroom, you clean yourself and do your business. Once you’re satisfied, you shrug Harry’s shirt on and do up a few buttons so that you’re covering at least a bit of yourself as you do so.

Harry’s underneath the covers as you return to his room, smiling at you with dimples and all as you walk back through the door. He’s on his side of the bed, and you clamber into yours. The feeling of having someone in bed next to you makes you happy inside. You lay upon your side, with one of your hands beneath you head and Harry copies your movement. Your faces are close, and he leans forward to place a kiss to your nose.

You smile, “Hi.”

“Hi, love.”

“Are you okay?” You ask and he nods, “Do you think we’ve rushed this?”

“No.” He’s quick to say, “I don’t think we have. We needed this. I’ve never felt closer to someone as I do to you right now.”

“Me neither.” You smile, moving to grab his hand that was rested upon his side, “And I don’t think I will again.”

“Darling.” Harry says, pointing his finger in the air as he does so.

Chloe hesitates for a second before letting out a, “Ding!” to say that he was right.

It was Boxing Day, and after spending Christmas Eve and the majority of Christmas Day with your family, you had driven from your family house up to Cheshire to spend the rest of Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Harry’s family. You were all sat in the living room playing a game, sporting glasses of wine and basking in the Christmassy feeling of being together again.

After Harry’s show on the nineteenth, and the acts that happened afterwards, you and Harry had many conversations. There was a few tears from the two of you, and the conversation got heated in some aspects but you were together again, and that was the main thing. Originally, you had decided to spend Christmas separate, without each other’s company just because it was such a sudden change and you wanted to make sure that you fully weren’t rushing into things. Then, whilst sat on the sofa after devouring your Christmas dinner, with Mud’s Lonely this Christmas playing through your speakers that you realised that you missed Harry, and a Christmas without seeing him now was a Christmas that you didn’t want in your life.

You had contemplated surprising him and just turning up, but you felt as though that wasn’t fair on the rest of his family, and that’s why you messaged and asked him. He replied asking whether you were certain that you wanted to do this, and you said yes and he said that he’d have a cup of tea ready for you whenever you arrived.

He did have one ready for you, and it was everything you needed to warm yourself up after the long journey.

Anne, Gemma and Michal asked no questions to you, but you had no doubt that they had asked Harry some on your journey. Anne had welcomed you with a hug, and so did Gemma and once their prying eyes were away, Harry kissed you as though his life depended on it, pressed against the staircase of his mother’s house whilst fairy lights twinkled around them.

Anne’s next to go, hoping that her answer of, “Sweetheart,” was at the top of the list.

Chloe replies with, “Uh huh,” to which everyone “Ooo’s” in response at.

You’re rested upon the back of the sofa, with a flute of Champagne in your hand. Harry, in his flat-cap almost breaking your hear with how handsome he looked, turned around and pointed his finger at you.

“Come on, now.” He says, “Be smart with this. It’s sticky stuff.”

“Babe.” You immediately reply, knowing that was one of pet names that Harry called you the most.

People around the room laugh at Harry’s phrase of ‘sticky-stuff’ but that doesn’t mask Chloe’s exclamation of, “Ding!” followed by, “Top answer.”

You smile at the knowledge and Harry turns to you also, holding his fist up for you to fist bump which you both laugh at. He holds his hand out and you pass him your drink, which he takes a sip of quickly before returning it to you so you can carry on playing the game.

Michal is next, and for some bizarre reason to all of you he says, “Cutie-pie,” which certainly isn’t on the list. The room chuckles around you, and Harry says something about him “returning to the mines’’ which you all laugh at, but you specifically roll your eyes at.

The game soon wraps up, and you have your meal. Harry sits next to you, and had his hand upon your thigh the entire way through. The table around the two of you chatted about all sorts, many of the questions being about when your music was coming out which you certainly didn’t expect. You started to feel as though your album, when it came out, wouldn’t be very complimentary of your relationship with Harry, and you were starting to regret it slightly, but you loved all of your songs and you hoped that when you showed Harry, and the world for that matter, that they would too.

You and Harry, after the meal had finished, had offered to be on washing up duty. You had been given the task of washing up, whilst Harry dried because he felt as though his skills were better there. You let him believe that and carry on with drying all of the special Christmas cutlery that didn’t go in the dish-washer.

Once you had finished, and you were drying your hand upon the towel, you felt hands upon your waist, more specifically, Harry’s. He place a kiss to your neck and you giggled, turning around so that upon were facing him. He immediately captures your lips with his, and you wrap your arms around your neck to steady yourself from the attack of his lips. His hands immediately again go to your waist, slipping his hand underneath the material of your jumper to rest upon your skin. Once you pull away, you look at him with a smile upon your face.

“What was that for?”

“What?” He shrugs, “Can’t I kiss my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” You ask, unable to hide your smile.

“Girlfriend.” He nods, “That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

You nod your head and place another kiss to his lips, the feeling running through the two of you without really knowing how significant he really was.

“If you want me to be. I want to be.”

He lifts one of his hands and places it upon your cheek, running his thumb ever so delicately along your skin.

“I love you.” He says, with no hesitation in his voice, “I know I’ve been shitty, and I probably shouldn’t be saying this to you, especially not in the way that I am, but I do love you and I never stopped. I swear to you, that from now on my love for you will be the most important thing, and I won’t ever, ever make you second best again.”

“That’s all I want.” You reply, leaning forward to place a kiss upon his lips, “I love you too.”

With the year that you had, and the feeling as though you’d never be with this man again, you couldn’t believe that here you were with him. He was with you, and he was yours and there was no doubt in your mind that what happened earlier this year will never happen again. It was almost as though this was something that your relationship needed to grow stronger in itself, and it surely was now.

He wraps an arm around your neck and pulls you onto his chest, “I’m never letting you go again. I probably won’t let you out of my sight again.”

“I can’t say that I’d ever complain.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles writing

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ktinastrikesback · 3 years

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Alright, here it is: The meta post about Eddie Diaz and mother figures and how it all leads to Buddie (I think). Thanks to @yramesoruniverse for your help with this, and @kitkatpancakestack and @evanbucklies for inspiring it! I really have been thinking about this nonstop and had to get it all down. This got quite long, so I'll include a cut in order to spare everyone who doesn't want to continue reading!

We first get an idea of Eddie's complicated thoughts surrounding mother figures throughout his whole storyline with Shannon in season 2 when he romantically reconnects with her for Christopher's benefit. I do want to keep the focus here trained on Eddie in season 4, but I want to point out a season 2 line that is pretty fitting. As much as I don't want to use a Shannon quote as a starting point for a meta, I think this one is actually pretty useful: "...Eddie always knows what's best for everyone...God forbid you stop for a second and actually ask them what they need." While it's harsh and spoken out of spite, Shannon does make a point here which becomes relevant at the end of season 4.

We don't know a whole lot about season 4 Eddie (thanks writers) aside from the fact that he's working on being a single father (he tells Marjan in the crossover that he's "doing the whole single dad thing") and being a support system for Buck and the rest of the 118. Eddie's "arc" this season is moving on from Shannon and beginning to date again (a very small and limited arc, which hopefully season 5 will remedy). Of course, because it's Eddie, the core of this arc is him wanting what is best for Christopher. And it seems pretty clear that what Eddie thinks Chris needs is a complete family with a mother figure (note how he asks Bobby if he's "happy now, with Athena and the kids" and just assumes that Bobby is talking about Ana Flores), but the universe pushes against this idea throughout the whole season. There are a lot of examples in season 4 of unreliable mother figures (for example, the alcoholic mother who causes the wreck in Blindsided), but in order to save some space here, I'll list and discuss those in another post. The main thing I want to point out is that we've seen that mother figures aren't always perfect, and they aren't the end all be all that Eddie thinks. And canonically, the show suggests several times throughout the season that the partner that Eddie needs/wants and who is best for Chris is actually Buck.

In Breaking Point, while Eddie is on his date, it's Buck who is at home taking care of Christopher and getting him through his nighttime routine (which establishes that he knows the routine and has gotten Chris ready for bed before, hence the reference to his "cautionary tale"). On the date, when Ana says that no one has been in his life since Shannon passed away, Eddie noticeably looks uncomfortable (the will reveal makes this scene and that particular comment and Eddie's subsequent reaction so rich. Eddie knows that what Ana is saying is completely untrue, because the person he trusts most with his son is with him at that exact moment). Later, when Eddie tells Christopher about his new 'friend', he says "it's a woman." And...to be honest, what the hell was that? He could have said, "I'm dating someone" or "I have a girlfriend." But he says it like this? And it's weird...right? Christopher is the one who has to say "girlfriend." Also his tone of voice when he says it...it's suspicious to me. Anyways...Eddie talks with Ana about Christopher's reaction and her first instinct is to take a break and wait for Christopher to warm up to the idea so as to not cause him more pain. Meanwhile, Chris is out the door, in an Uber, and on his way to Buck, the person who actually gets Chris to talk about his feelings and who fixes the whole mess. So while Eddie is talking with Ana, Buck is playing a parental role AND promising Chris he isn't going anywhere, completely juxtaposing everything Ana has said and done in this episode (throwback to Fools, anyone?). Just like we see in 4x14, the perfect partner that Eddie is looking for is already putting in the work, no questions asked (and this is all before Buck knows about the will!). Yet Eddie is still trying to force it with Ana.

We see this again very briefly in Parenthood. Eddie and Buck are seen agreeing on parenting ideals on a call, similar to how we saw them work together in Future Tense to talk Chris out of playing video games. At the end of the episode however, when Chris asks to join the movie, Ana just jumps ahead and lets him in, not consulting with Eddie. Of course, this isn't a serious issue and Eddie is happy to have Chris join them, but it still carries on with juxtaposing Ana with Buck. It's also a bit interesting that Chris sits between them, parallel to the video game scene from season 3. But again, it's a very brief scene, so I don't know how much value it has overall.

We see all of this come to a head in 4x13 when Eddie becomes invested in the single mother and her son from the balcony call. Interestingly, this call happens after Eddie's conversation with Carla ("make sure you're following your heart"). On the call, Eddie flirts with the mom. This is interesting because we've seen many times in the past that Eddie...doesn't like flirting, especially on the job. Eddie openly flirting with the mom here may be his way of fighting against what his instincts are telling him Carla's comment was about (him liking Buck/a man). Eddie quickly becomes invested in Charlie (the son) and takes a liking to his mother because he relates to her. You can kind of see the gears working in Eddie's head when he's at their apartment...he's admiring her and perhaps maybe fantasizing about having a partner who gets it. And he sees a mother taking care of her son...reinforcing his love for the mother figure. But of course, we all learn by the end of the episode that this mother figure is extremely warped and not at all what her child needs.

The best part about this plot is the way it plays into the shooting scene at the end of the episode. Just before he gets shot, we see Eddie in an interesting framing choice (I am genuinely serious when I say that I want to sit down with Brenna Malloy and ask her about her directing choices for this whole scene):

The mother and son are placed into separate ambulances, and Eddie stands between the two vehicles. Visually, Eddie is literally placed between the mother figure and the son, and Buck is standing in front of him (at a slight distance). As (thank you to @kitkatpancakestack for pointing this out!) the ambulance with the mother drives away, Eddie says "shoulda gotten here sooner" to Buck (who replies, "That kid is just lucky he met you." He knows how to reassure Eddie and recognizes what is good for the child). Then of course, Eddie gets shot. But let's focus instead on why this framing before the shooting is important: the universe does scream, and it sure as hell was screaming at Eddie this whole episode. Carla calls him out for not following his heart, he idolizes this mother only for her to end up being horrid, then he gets shot with his partner standing right in front of him (you know, the same person who takes care of his son for the entirety of the next episode).

This can be read so plainly: Eddie has been fighting hard for what he thinks is best for his son, and he's stuck in this relationship with Ana because he thinks she is what will make Christopher happy. Meanwhile, Buck is in front of him and has been there the entire time putting in the work with Chris and making him feel heard, loved, and important. This ties right back to that Shannon line: if Eddie had simply asked Christopher what he needs/wants, it's very possible that his answer would be "Buck." Eddie doesn't need to be stuck in the middle of this relationship he doesn't care about because Chris' happiness is not dependent on having a mother figure.

Of course, we didn't see very much of Eddie in 4x14 so we don't really know what is going through his head regarding the shooting or Carla's comment just yet, but I'm hoping we see a lot of him working through all of the events that took place in 4x13/14 throughout next season. Because of the way the mother/son storyline ended up and the way they framed Eddie in the shooting scene, I'm willing to bet that he's going to be reevaluating just what Christopher needs and what he already has (with his Buck).

(Also side note--the welcome home party scene...when Buck is watching Eddie greet Christopher, notice the framing there too. The photo of Chris and Shannon is on the right side of the frame, Eddie and Chris in the middle, and Buck to the left. You already know what I'm going to say, so I'll leave it at that...)

Anyways. Edmundo Diaz is confused about what he and Christopher need, and it's actually a brilliant way to dive into a storyline about his sexuality and his feelings for Buck. Remember that post-finale interview with Tim where he said Eddie is always concerned with what's best for Christopher? That there will be a lot to explore with Eddie? I take everything Tim says with a grain of salt, but looking at all of this, there's quite a bit here pointing in the direction of pining Eddie. It's not wishful thinking, it's in the text.

I'm literally just applying basic film analysis to these scenes...and everything is adding up to a larger picture. I'm really excited to see what Eddie's arc in season 5 will be because there's so much set in place for it to be really great.

#buddie #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #meta #mother figures #part one?#I have more to say but will save for another post #buddie canon s5 idc

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kthstrawberryshortcake · 3 years

Text

BTS Reactions: Their S/O is Inexperienced Yet in Their Mid 20s

A/N: Here it is, my first post after my long-ass hiatus :) I hope you guys enjoy it! Requests are OPEN, please send some over! <3

PREMISE: OT7 reacting to finding out that their s/o is physically inexperienced relationship-wise / that this is their s/o’s first relationship despite them being in their mid 20s

A/N: I think a lot of people won't understand why this is a reaction in the first place (lol) but it can be super uncomfortable / awkward to have not dated / had any experience at that age, and a lot of people react badly to finding that out about someone. It's definitely an insecurity for a lot of people (myself included).

warning: mostly unedited due to my status as a trash gremlin

Jin:

Jin was completely shocked when he found out that you had never dated before him. Without thinking, he let this incredulity show on his face, total surprise evident and eyebrows raised. He was briefly silent in disbelief. You took that to mean that he thought you were weird now. You certainly felt that way.

Involuntarily, tears welled up in your eyes and Jin finally registered your distress. “What’s wrong?” he asked in concern, gently brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. You stared down at your feet, murmuring “You probably think I’m super strange now.” in explanation. Jin shook his head insistently, imploring that he didn’t find it weird at all.

“Honestly I was just shocked because I don’t know how you didn’t have people practically lining down the block to date you.” He explained, bringing a small smile back to your face. He pulled you into a hug, assuring you that he was in no hurry as long as he got to spend time with you.

Yoongi:

You and Yoongi were having a cozy night in and catching up on dramas. In the show you were presently watching, there was a character who was in her mid 20s that had never dated or even kissed anyone. Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes at this. “This is so unrealistic. Like come on, seriously? How do you get to be that age having never dated, having never even kissed somebody? It’s a completely absurd concept.”

You started to curl in on yourself, looking down with a tortured expression on your face. You were scared to explain the truth, fearful that if he knew he wouldn’t want you anymore. After a few minutes like that, Yoongi finally noticed your body language. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He inquired gently. How were you going to explain this to him?

“I, um… I guess I kind of freaked out when you were talking about the plot being unrealistic… You were so sure it couldn’t happen that you were annoyed by it. And then I really didn’t know how to tell you that the plot line we were discussing is literally the same as me. I’ve never dated before, you’re the first… And when you kissed me for the first time, that was my first kiss.” You took a deep breath, having exerted a lot of energy to force out your words.

Yoongi’s eyes lit up in recognition, then guilt crept onto his features. “Baby no, I’m so sorry, I completely overreacted about the show. I shouldn’t have said all that. I never wanted to hurt your feelings.” Yoongi admitted sincerely. He could tell that you felt a little bit better after that reassurance.

"It’s not a bad thing to do things on a different timeline. Plus, I got the honor of being your first boyfriend because of it. Maybe I’ll be your last.” He said the last part quietly, smirking softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Hoseok:

One of your favorite things about Hobi was his open and energetic attitude. He was truly one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and it had felt easy to become close with him. You hadn’t been dating long at all, but the ease of conversation made it feel like you’d known each other for years.

On one particular day, the two of you were chatting over a dinner of your favorite delivery food. Hoseok was in the middle of a funny story about one of his exes, never one for unnecessary social boundaries or conventions, which was fine because you were laughing like crazy at the ridiculous tale he told. Then he continued, though, to tell (admittedly hilarious and absurd) stories about some of his other exes. You were entertained, certainly, though the number of people he seemed to have dated was a bit intimidating to you.

When he finally finished, he asked about *your* exes, and that was where the issue really started. You deflected, not wanting to directly bring attention to the fact that you had never dated before him. He became oddly persistent, seeming frustrated that you didn’t want to share. Not wanting him to misunderstand why you weren’t telling him what he wanted to know, you sucked it up and told him that he was your first boyfriend.

He was extremely surprised, but seemed to understand now why you had been reluctant to answer his questioning. He apologized for going on about exes for so long, and for inadvertently making you nervous. You assured him that it wasn’t a big deal, especially since the only important thing was your relationship moving forward, not either of your pasts.

Namjoon:

When you and Namjoon had only been together a few weeks (after a much longer friendship prior to your romantic relationship beginning), you were spending a nice chill evening at home, eating takeout and chatting. The two of you seemingly never ran out of things to talk about, one of the things you loved about being with him.

You don’t even remember what had led to it, but partway through the evening, he made some dumb joke about virgins and you visibly froze. You had yet to tell him about your lack of experience, and now you were terrified to. Was that really something he’d be bothered by? You hadn’t thought so, but his joking around about it made you doubt that. You did your best not to show your panic, paying unusually close attention to the glass of water you were drinking.

Unfortunately for you, your discomfort was completely apparent, and Namjoon asked you if you were okay. You nodded with a forced smile, making him frown, easily able to tell that you weren’t. You were afraid to tell him now because if it really bothered him that much, maybe it would disappoint him. Maybe it’d be a dealbreaker and he would lose interest in you. Unsure what to do, you stared at your hands, tense and worried. Namjoon lightly rested his hand on your shoulder, staring at you in concern. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” He implored gently.

At that moment you could no longer hold in your emotion, your fear, and tears began to leak from your eyes as you sniffled, starting to shake a bit as you cried. You let him pull you into his arms, holding you close as you tried to stop crying. After a few minutes of you trying to calm down, aided by Joon’s sweet behavior, he asked again what was wrong, insisting that you could tell him anything. Your chest felt tight, but you didn’t see a way out of sharing what had upset you.

When you explained what had happened, Namjoon felt horrible, cursing himself for having said something so dumb. He told you that it was just a stupid joke, not something he actually cared about, apologizing for upsetting you with his thoughtlessness. He made sure to assure you that it wasn’t a problem for him in the least, and that he was in no rush. Afterwards the whole situation seemed a little silly, though you remembered how genuinely panicked you had been only minutes before and shuddered. But things were immediately made better, the two of you snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie.

Jimin:

Your blossoming relationship with Jimin made you feel like you were walking on a cloud. He was incredibly sweet and so much fun to spend time with, you felt very lucky to be dating him now. Just to be sweet, you had picked up food from his favorite lunch place and were bringing it to him at the BigHit building, where he was currently busy at work in a practice room.

When you arrived, the door to the room was open, but you heard voices coming from inside. You only paused when you heard Jimin say your name. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, and you were about to announce your presence until you realized what he was saying. “You know I really like her, man, I just feel so unsure right now. There has been like, zero physical affection up to this point, nothing beyond hugs and holding hands.” Jimin grumbled, sounding irritated.

Tae hummed in acknowledgement, pausing before inquiring “So obviously you’re frustrated, but what are you thinking about it?” Jimin sighed. “Maybe she just doesn’t like me as much as I like her. I don’t want to think anything bad about her, but what if she’s playing me? Like, she doesn’t have actual feelings for me.” He sounded very down, clearly hurt by the mere possibility. At that moment you were so shocked by what you were hearing, you accidentally dropped the bag of takeout, hurrying to pick it up, but you’d already drawn attention to yourself.

Jimin and Taehyung looked beyond shocked to see you, and you realized you were crying. Taehyung excused himself to let the two of you talk. You walked farther into the room, approaching the boys. “I thought we could have lunch… I know you don’t take enough breaks, and I really wanted to see you…” You admitted quietly, unable to actually make eye contact.

“I just feel so horrible, it’s all my fault that you don’t even know how crazy I am about you. I can’t believe…. I let you be unsure of how much I care about you. It’s my fault, I’m so sorry Jimin.” By the end of what you were saying, you were holding back full sobs. Seeing how distressed you were, Jimin wasted no time in rushing to you and pulling you into his arms, hugging you close.

When you’d finally calmed down and stopped crying, you thought you owed him an explanation. “The lack of physical affection isn’t because I don’t like you. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anybody. I’ve just… never done anything. I haven’t even been in a relationship before now, it’s all new to me.” You admitted, feeling Jimin stiffen in your hug.

When you pulled back to look at him, tears were welling up in his eyes. “Oh, I’m the worst…” He muttered, feeling so guilty. “I was just frustrated, I was feeling insecure. Now that I know, I don’t mind one bit waiting for anything until you’re ready.” He assured you, planting a quick kiss on your forehead as you nodded understanding.

Tae:

It had only been a few weeks since Tae had confessed his feelings to you and the pair of you had started dating. Long before that, you’d been close friends, so you had spent a lot of time together over time. During one of your first few movie nights as a couple, things slowly began to escalate between you. You were sitting close together, seemingly focused on the film, when Tae moved to put an arm around you, pulling you closer so you were snuggled up beside him.

His eyes never left the screen, but there was a telltale little smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes a little, but you certainly didn’t mind. Despite it being such a small thing, at this stage in your relationship, this was a little bit thrilling. Soon you could feel him staring at you, and you turned your head to look back at him. His face had gotten much closer to yours than you’d expected. “…Tae?” you whispered, seeing both affection and mischief in his eyes. “Yes love?” He replied quietly in his gorgeous low voice, making you shiver just slightly.

You shook your head almost imperceptibly, and before you knew it his lips were on yours. You froze, all of this being completely new and foreign for you. Feeling you stiffen and fail to reciprocate the kiss, Tae pulled back to look at your face, wearing an expression of concern. “Um, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have just… assumed you felt the same way…” He muttered nervously, not making eye contact. “No!” You exclaimed a little louder than you meant to, quieting your voice to a near-whisper before speaking again.

“No, Tae, I do feel the same way! I really, really do. I love you. I have since we were just friends. I… I want you too. Just, um, I don’t know what to do…. That was my first kiss just now and I kind of just panicked and froze.” You confessed, watching the surprise and then recognition cover his face. That was all it took to take his unsure expression back to a smug smirk. Knowing the power his voice held over you, he leaned in close to you to speak in your ear when he said “in that case, I think we need some practice, don’t you?” Oh boy.

Jungkook:

You had been seeing Jungkook for a couple of months now and it was more than apparent that he was smitten with you (and vice versa). He complimented you frequently, his heart eyes for you always clearly on display. The only problem was the way you practically jumped away from him any time he got close to you. He had definitely noticed your weird behavior, and though you didn’t know what to do about it, you knew it was only a matter of time until he brought it up in conversation.

When that moment came, you had just clammed up and pulled back from him when he tried to put his arm around you while watching a movie. When you saw his expression in reaction, you felt immensely guilty, seeing the hurt on his face. After a moment it shifted to extreme irritation, him clenching his jaw in annoyance. “What’s your problem? I can’t get anywhere near you without you freaking out and moving away in a hurry.” You couldn’t make eye contact anymore at that point, feeling the tears well up in your eyes as you were filled with the fear that you had ruined things with him.

“I… I don’t really know why I keep doing that, it’s just all new to me. I’ve never dated anyone before you so I kind of don’t know what to do with myself most of the time.” You confessed, trying to mask the sniffle that you gave as the first tear rolled down your cheek. Now it was Jungkook’s turn to feel guilty. He approached you slowly, asking you to look at him in a gentle voice. When you did, you saw that the irritation was completely gone, replaced with remorse and fondness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, I could have just asked like an actual adult rather than how I behaved. I guess I was just insecure, afraid that you don’t like me in the same way I like you.” He explained, and you nodded slightly in understanding.

“That’s not it at all! I really *really* like you. A relationship is just totally uncharted territory for me and I handled it wrong. I should’ve just told you.” You sighed, the heaviness leaving your heart as an adorable bunny smile grew on his face. “Uncharted territory, huh? Well let me be your travel guide. We can be explorers together.” You rolled your eyes at his dumb joke, but smiled in spite of how silly his words were. You felt like now, with it all out in the open, things could be good with the two of you.

a/n: Feedback please! <3 I love to hear from y'all!

#bts reaction #bts reactions #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts drabble #bts drabbles #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts ot7

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yamalegacy · 3 years

Note

prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water.

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind.

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

#mirko x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha smut #🐇 usagiyama rumi ( mirko )#⚠️ mdni ⚠️#🍌 drabbles & oneshots #i need to cleanse my soul and wash off my sins #at least i didn't write mommy!mirko #which is nothing short of a miracle tbh

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potteresque-ire · 3 years

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Can you talk more about the usage of the word "wife" to talk about men in the BL context? I've noticed it in BJYX (particularly with GG), in the (English translations) of MDZS, and then it came up in your recent posts about Danmei-101 (which were super helpful btw) with articles connecting the "little fresh meat" type to fans calling an actor "wife." My initial reaction as a westerner is like "this is very problematic," but I think I'm missing a lot of language/cultural context. Any thoughts?

Hello! First of all, for those who’re interested, here’s a link to the referred posts. Under the cut is arguably the 4th post of the series. As usual, I apologise for the length!

(Topics: seme and uke; more about “leftover women”; roster of feminisation terms; Daji, Bao Si & the origin of BJYX; roster of beautiful, ancient Chinese men; Chairman Mao (not part of the roster) ...)

[TW: feminisation of men]

In the traditional BL characterisation, the M/M (double male) lead pairing is essentially a cis-het relationship in disguise, in which one of the M leads is viewed as the “wife” by the creator and audience. This lead often possesses some of the features of the traditional, stereotypical female, but retaining his male appearance.

In BL terms, the “wife” is the “uke”. “Seme” and “uke” are the respective roles taken by the two male leads, and designated by the creator of the material. Literally, “seme” (攻め) means the dominant, the attacking / aggressive partner in the relationship and “uke” (受け), the passive / recipient (of actions) partner who tends to follow the seme’s lead. The terms themselves do not have any sexual / gender context. However, as male and female are viewed as aggressive and passive by their traditional social roles, and the attacker and recipient by their traditional sexual roles respectively, BL fandoms have long assigned uke, the passive, sexual “bottom”, as the “woman”, the “wife”.

Danmei has kept this “semi” and uke” tradition from BL, taking the kanji of the Japanese terms for designation ~ 攻 (”attack” is therefore the “husband”, and 受 (”receive”), the “wife”. The designations are often specified in the introduction / summary of Danmei works as warning / enticement. For MDZS, for example, MXTX wrote:

高貴冷豔悶騷攻 × 邪魅狂狷風騷受

高貴冷豔悶騷攻 = noble, coolly beautiful and boring seme (referring to LWJ) 邪魅狂狷風騷受 = devilishly charming, wild, and flirty uke (referring to WWX)

The traditional, stereotypical female traits given to the “uke”, the “wife” in Danmei and their associated fanworks range from their personality to behaviour to even biological functions. Those who have read the sex scenes in MDZS may be aware of their lack of mention of lube, while WWX was written as getting (very) wet from fluids from his colon (腸道) ~ implying that his colon, much like a vagina, was supplying the necessarily lubrication for sex. This is obviously biologically inaccurate; however, Danmei is exempt from having to be realistic by its original Tanbi definition. The genre’s primary audience is cishet females, and sex scenes such as this one aren’t aiming for realism. Rather, the primary goal of these sex scenes is to generate fantasy, and the purpose of the biologically female functions in one of the leads (WWX) is to ease the readers into imagining themselves as the one engaging in the sex.

Indeed, these practices of assigning as males and female the M/M sexual top and bottom, of emphasising of who is the top and who is the bottom, have been falling out of favour in Western slash fandoms ~ I joined fandom about 15 years ago, and top and bottom designations in slash pairings (and fights about them) were much more common than it is now. The generally more open, more progressive environments in which Western fandomers are immersed in probably have something to do with it: they transfer their RL knowledge, their views on biology, on different social into their fandom works and discourses.

I’d venture to say this: in the English-speaking fandoms, fandom values and mainstream values are converging. “Cancel culture” reflects an attempt to enforce RL values in the fictional worlds in fandom. Fandom culture is slowly, but surely, leaving its subculture status and becoming part of mainstream culture.

I’d hesitate to call c-Danmei fandoms backward compared to Western slash for this reason. There’s little hope for Danmei to converge with China’s mainstream culture in the short term ~ the necessity of replacing Danmei with Dangai in visual media already reflects that. Danmei is and will likely remain subculture in the foreseeable future, and subcultures, at heart, are protests against the mainstream. Unless China and the West define “mainstream” very similarly (and they don’t), it is difficult to compare the “progressiveness”—and its dark side, the “problematic-ness”—of the protests, which are shaped by what they’re protesting against. The “shaper” in this scenario, the mainstream values and culture, are also far more forceful under China’s authoritarian government than they are in the free(-er) world.

Danmei, therefore, necessarily takes on a different form in China than BL or slash outside China. As a creative pursuit, it serves to fulfil psychological needs that are reflective of its surrounding culture and sociopolitical environment. The genre’s “problematic” / out of place aspects in the eyes of Western fandoms are therefore, like all other aspects of the genre, tailor-made by its millions of fans to be comforting / cathartic for the unique culture and sociopolitical background it and they find themselves in.

I briefly detoured to talk about the Chinese government’s campaign to pressure young, educated Chinese women into matrimony and motherhood in the post for this reason, as it is an example of how, despite Western fandoms’ progressiveness, they may be inadequate, distant for c-Danmei fans. Again, this article is a short and a ... morbidly-entertaining read on what has been said about China’s “leftover women” (剩女) — women who are unmarried and over 27-years-old). I talked about it, because “Women should enter marriage and parenthood in their late 20s” may no longer a mainstream value in many Western societies, but where it still is, it exerts a strong influence on how women view romance, and by extension, how they interact with romantic fiction, including Danmei.

In China, this influence is made even stronger by the fact that Chinese tradition places a strong emphasis on education and holds a conservative attitude towards romance and sex. Dating while studying therefore remains discouraged in many Chinese families. University-educated Chinese women therefore have an extremely short time frame — between graduation (~23 years old) and their 27th birthday — to find “the right one” and get married, before they are labelled as “leftovers” and deemed undesirable. (Saving) face being an important aspect in Chinese culture introduces yet another layer of pressure: traditionally, women who don’t get married by the age agreed by social norms have been viewed as failures of upbringing, in that the unmarried women’s parents not having taught/trained their daughters well. Filial, unmarried women therefore try to get married “on time” just to avoid bringing shame to their family.

The outcome is this: despite the strong women characters we may see in Chinese visual media, many young Chinese women nowadays do not expect themselves to be able to marry for love. Below, I offer a “book jacket summary” of a popular internet novel in China, which shows how the associated despair also affects cis-het fictional romance. Book reviews praise this novel for being “boring”: the man and woman leads are both common working class people, the “you-and-I”’s; the mundaneness of them trying build their careers and their love life is lit by one shining light: he loves her and she loves him.

Written in her POV, this summary reflects, perhaps, the disquiet felt by many contemporary Chinese women university graduates:

曾經以為，自己這輩子都等��到了—— 世界這麼大，我又走得這麼慢，要是遇不到良人要怎麼辦？早過了「全球三十幾億男人，中國七億男人，天涯何處無芳草」的猖狂歲月，越來越清楚，循規蹈矩的生活中，我們能熟悉進而深交的異性實在太有限了，有限到我都做好了「接受他人的牽線，找個適合的男人慢慢煨熟，再平淡無奇地進入婚姻」的準備，卻在生命意外的拐彎處迎來自己的另一半。

I once thought, my wait will never come to fruition for the rest of my life — the world is so big, I’m so slow in treading it, what if I’ll never meet the one? I’ve long passed the wild days of thinking “3 billion men exist on Earth, 0.7 of which are Chinese. There is plenty more fish in the sea.” I’m seeing, with increasing clarity, that in our disciplined lives, the number of opposite-sex we can get to know, and get to know well, is so limited. It’s so limited that I’m prepared to accept someone’s matchmaking, find a suitable man and slowly, slowly, warm up to him, and then, to enter marriage with without excitement, without wonder. But then, an accidental turn in my life welcomes in my other half.

— Oath of Love (餘生，請多指教) (Yes, this is the novel Gg’d upcoming drama is based on.)

Heteronormativity is, of course, very real in China. However, that hasn’t exempted Chinese women, even its large cis-het population, from having their freedom to pursue their true love taken away from them. Even for cis-het relationships, being able to marry for love has become a fantasy —a fantasy scorned by the state. Remember this quote from Article O3 in the original post?

耽改故事大多远离现实，有些年轻受众却将其与生活混为一谈，产生不以结婚和繁衍为目的才是真爱之类的偏颇认知。

Most Dangai stories are far removed from reality; some young audience nonetheless mix them up with real life, develop biased understanding such as “only love that doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations is true love”.

I didn’t focus on it in the previous posts, in an effort to keep the discussion on topic. But why did the op-ed piece pick this as an example of fantasy-that-shouldn’t-be-mixed-up-with-real-life, in the middle of a discussion about perceived femininity of men that actually has little to do with matrimony and reproduction?

Because the whole point behind the state’s “leftover women” campaign is precisely to get women to treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations, not beautiful sceneries that happen along the way. And they’re the state’s destination as more children = higher birth rate that leads to higher future productivity. The article is therefore calling out Danmei for challenging this “mainstream value”.

Therefore, while the statement True love doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations may be trite for many of us while it may be a point few, if any, English-speaking fandoms may pay attention to, to the mainstream culture Danmei lives in, to the mainstream values dictated by the state, it is borderline subversive.

As much as Danmei may appear “tame” for its emphasis on beauty and romance, for it to have stood for so long, so firmly against China’s (very) forceful mainstream culture, the genre is also fundamentally rebellious. Remember: Danmei has little hope of converging with China’s mainstream unless it “sells its soul” and removes its homoerotic elements.

With rebelliousness, too, comes a bit of tongue-in-cheek.

And so, when c-Danmei fans, most of whom being cishet women who interact with the genre by its traditional BL definition, call one of the leads 老婆 (wife), it can and often take on a different flavour. As said before, it can be less about feminizing the lead than about identifying with the lead. The nickname 老婆 (wife) can be less about being disrespectful and more about humorously expressing an aspiration—the aspiration to have a husband who truly loves them, who they do want to get married and have babies with but out of freedom and not obligation.

Admittedly, I had been confused, and bothered by these “can-be”s myself. Just because there are alternate reasons for the feminisation to happen doesn’t mean the feminisation itself is excusable. But why the feminisation of M/M leads doesn’t sound as awful to me in Chinese as in English? How can calling a self-identified man 老婆 (wife) get away with not sounding being predominantly disrespectful to my ears, when I would’ve frowned at the same thing said in my vicinity in English?

I had an old hypothesis: when I was little, it was common to hear people calling acquaintances in Chinese by their unflattering traits: “Deaf-Eared Chan” (Mr Chan, who’s deaf), “Fat Old Woman Lan” (Ah-Lan, who’s an overweight woman) etc—and the acquaintances were perfectly at ease with such identifications, even introducing themselves to strangers that way. Comparatively speaking then, 老婆 (wife) is harmless, even endearing.

老婆, which literally means “old old-lady” (implying wife = the woman one gets old with), first became popularised as a colloquial, casual way of calling “wife” in Hong Kong and its Cantonese dialect, despite the term itself being about 1,500 years old. As older generations of Chinese were usually very shy about talking about their love lives, those who couldn’t help themselves and regularly spoke of their 老婆 tended to be those who loved their wives in my memory. 老婆, as a term, probably became endearing to me that way.

Maybe this is why the feminisation of M/M leads didn’t sound so bad to me?

This hypothesis was inadequate, however. This custom of identifying people by their (unflattering) traits has been diminishing in Hong Kong and China, for similar reasons it has been considered inappropriate in the West.

Also, 老婆 (wife) is not the only term used for / associated with feminisation. I’ve tried to limit the discussion to Danmei, the fictional genre; now, I’ll jump to its associated RPS genre, and specifically, the YiZhan fandoms. The purpose of this jump: with real people involved, feminisation’s effect is potentially more harmful, more acute. Easier to feel.

YiZhan fans predominantly entered the fandoms through The Untamed, and they’ve also transferred Danmei’s “seme”/“uke” customs into YiZhan. There are, therefore, three c-YiZhan fandoms:

博君一肖 (BJYX): seme Dd, uke Gg 戰山為王 (ZSWW): seme Gg, uke Dd 連瑣反應 (LSFY): riba Gg and Dd. Riba = “reversible”, and unlike “seme” and “uke”, is a frequently-used term in the Japanese gay community.

BJYX is by far the largest of the three, likely due to Gg having played WWX, the “uke” in MDZS / TU. I’ll therefore focus on this fandom, ie. Gg is the “uke”, the “wife”.

For Gg alone, I’ve seen him being also referred to by YiZhan fans as (and this is far from a complete list):

* 姐姐 (sister) * 嫂子 (wife of elder brother; Dd being the elder brother implied) * 妃妃 (based on the very first YiZhan CP name, 太妃糖 Toffee Candy, a portmanteau of sorts from Dd being the 太子 “prince” of his management company and Gg being the prince’s wife, 太子妃. 糖 = “candy”. 太妃 sounds like toffee in English and has been used as the latter’s Chinese translation.) * 美人 (beauty, as in 肖美人 “Beauty Xiao”) * Daji 妲己 (as in 肖妲己, “Daji Xiao”).

The last one needs historical context, which will also become important for explaining the new hypothesis I have.

Daji was a consort who lived three thousand years ago, whose beauty was blamed for the fall of the Shang dynasty. Gg (and men sharing similar traits, who are exceptionally rare) has been compared to Daji 妲己 for his alternatively innocent, alternatively seductive beauty ~ the kind of beauty that, in Chinese historical texts and folk lores, lead to the fall of kingdoms when possessed by the king’s beloved woman. This kind of “I-get-to-ruin-her-virginity”, “she’s a slut in MY bedroom” beauty is, of course, a stereotypical fantasy for many (cis-het) men, which included the authors of these historical texts and folklores. However, it also contained some truth: the purity / innocence, the image of a virgin, was required for an ancient woman to be chosen as a consort; the seduction, meanwhile, helped her to become the top consort, and monopolise the attention of kings and emperors who often had hundreds of wives ~ wives who often put each other in danger to eliminate competition.

Nowadays, women of tremendous beauty are still referred to by the Chinese idiom 傾國傾城, literally, ”falling countries, falling cities”. The beauty is also implied to be natural, expressed in a can’t-help-itself way, perhaps reflecting the fact that the ancient beauties on which this idiom has been used couldn’t possibly have plastic surgeries, and most of them didn’t meet a good end ~ that they had to pay a price for their beauty, and often, with their lowly status as women, as consorts, they didn’t get to choose whether they wanted to pay this price or not. This adjective is considered to be very flattering. Gg’s famous smile from the Thailand Fanmeet has been described, praised as 傾城一笑: “a smile that topples a city”.

I’m explaining Daji and 傾國傾城 because the Chinese idiom 博君一笑 “doing anything to get a smile from you”, from which the ship’s name BJYX 博君一肖 was derived (笑 and 肖 are both pronounced “xiao”), is connected to yet another of such dynasty-falling beauty, Bao Si 褒姒. Like Daji before her, Bao Si was blamed for the end of the Zhou Dynasty in 771 BC.

The legend went like this: Bao Si was melancholic, and to get her to smile, her king lit warning beacons and got his nobles to rush in from the nearby vassal states with their armies to come and rescue him, despite not being in actual danger. The nobles, in their haste, looked so frantic and dishevelled that Bao Si found it funny and smiled. Longing to see more of the smile of his favourite woman, the king would fool his nobles again and again, until his nobles no longer heeded the warning beacons when an actual rebellion came.

What the king did has been described as 博紅顏一笑, with 紅顏 (”red/flushed face”) meaning a beautiful woman, referring to Bao Si. Replace 紅顏 with the respectful “you”, 君, we get 博君一笑. If one searches the origin of the phrase 博 [fill_in_the_blank]一笑 online, Bao Si’s story shows up.

The “anything” in ”doing anything to get a smile from you” in 博君一笑, therefore, is not any favour, but something as momentous as giving away one’s own kingdom. c-turtles have remarked, to their amusement and admittedly mine, that “king”, in Chinese, is written as 王, which is Dd’s surname, and very occasionally, they jokingly compare him to the hopeless kings who’d give away everything for their love. Much like 傾國傾城 has become a flattering idiom despite the negative reputations of Daji and Bao Si for their “men-ruining ways”, 博君一笑 has become a flattering phrase, emphasising on the devotion and love rather than the ... stupidity behind the smile-inducing acts.

(Bao Si’s story, BTW, was a lie made up by historians who also lived later but also thousands of years ago, to absolve the uselessness of the king. Warning beacons didn’t exist at her time.)

Gg is arguably feminized even in his CP’s name. Gg’s feminisation is everywhere.

And here comes my confession time ~ I’ve been amused by most of the feminisation terms above. 肖妲己 (”Daji Xiao”) captures my imagination, and I remain quite partial to the CP name BJYX. Somehow, there’s something ... somewhat forgivable when the feminisation is based on Gg’s beauty, especially in the context of the historical Danmei / Dangai setting of MDZS/TU ~ something that, while doesn’t cancel, dampens the “problematic-ness” of the gender mis-identification.

What, exactly, is this something?

Here’s my new hypothesis, and hopefully I’ll manage to explain it well ~

The hypothesis is this: the unisex beauty standard for historical Chinese men and women, which is also breathtakingly similar to the modern beauty standard for Chinese women, makes feminisation in the context of Danmei (especially historical Danmei) flattering, and easier to accept.

What defined beauty in historical Chinese men? If I am to create a classically beautiful Chinese man for my new historical Danmei, how would I describe him based on what I’ve read, my cultural knowledge?

Here’s a list:

* Skin fair and smooth as white jade * Thin, even frail; narrow/slanted shoulders; tall * Dark irises and bright, starry eyes * Not too dense, neat eyebrows that are shaped like swords ~ pointed slightly upwards from the center towards the sides of the face * Depending on the dynasty, nice makeup.

Imagine these traits. How “macho” are they? How much do they fit the ideal Chinese masculine beauty advertised by Chinese government, which looks like below?

Propaganda poster, 1969. The caption says “Defeat Imperialist US! Defeat Social Imperialism!” The book’s name is “Quotations from Mao Zedong”. (Source)

Where did that list of traits I’ve written com from? Fair like jade, frail ... why are they so far from the ... “macho”ness of the men in the poster?

What has Chinese history said about its beautiful men?

Wei Jie (衛玠 286-312 BCE), one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men (古代四大美男) recorded in Chinese history famously passed away when fans of his beauty gathered and formed a wall around him, blocking his way. History recorded Wei as being frail with chronic illness, and was only 27 years old when he died. Arguably the first historical account of “crazy fans killing their idol”, this incident left the idiom 看殺衛玠 ~ “Wei Jie being watched to death.” ~ a not very “macho” way to die at all.

潘安 (Pan An; 247-300 BCE), another one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men, also had hoards of fangirls, who threw fruits and flowers at him whenever he ventured outside. The Chinese idiom 擲果盈車 “thrown fruit filling a cart” was based on Pan and ... his fandom, and denotes such scenarios of men being so beautiful that women openly displayed their affections for them.

Meanwhile, when Pan went out with his equally beautiful male friend, 夏侯湛 Xiahou Zhan, folks around them called them 連璧 ~ two connected pieces of perfect jade. Chinese Jade is white, smooth, faintly glowing in light, so delicate that it gives the impression of being somewhat transparent.

Aren’t Wei Jie and Pan An reminiscent of modern day Chinese idols, the “effeminate” “Little Fresh Meat”s (小鲜肉) so panned by Article O3? Their stories, BTW, also elucidated the historical reference in LWJ’s description of being jade-like in MDZS, and in WWX and LWJ being thrown pippas along the Gusu river bank.

Danmei, therefore, didn’t create a trend of androgynous beauty in men as much as it has borrowed the ancient, traditional definition of masculine Chinese beauty ~ the beauty that was more feminine than masculine by modern standards.

[Perhaps, CPs should be renamed 連璧 (”two connected pieces of perfect jade”) as a reminder of the aesthetics’ historical roots.]

Someone may exclaim now: But. But!! Yet another one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men, 高長恭 (Gao Changgong, 541-573 BCE), far better known by his title, 蘭陵王 (”the Prince of Lanling”), was a famous general. He had to be “macho”, right?

... As it turns out, not at all. Historical texts have described Gao as “貌柔心壮，音容兼美” (”soft in looks and strong at heart, beautiful face and voice”), “白美類婦人” (”fair and beautiful as a woman”), “貌若婦人” (”face like a woman”). Legends have it that The Prince of Lanling’s beauty was so soft, so lacking in authority that he had to wear a savage mask to get his soldiers to listen to his command (and win) on the battlefield (《樂府雜錄》: 以其顏貌無威，每入陣即著面具，後乃百戰百勝).

This should be emphasised: Gao’s explicitly feminine descriptions were recorded in historical texts as arguments *for* his beauty. Authors of these texts, therefore, didn’t view the feminisation as insult. In fact, they used the feminisation to drive the point home, to convince their readers that men like the Prince of Lanling were truly, absolutely good looking.

Being beautiful like a women was therefore high praise for men in, at least, significant periods in Chinese history ~ periods long and important enough for these records to survive until today. Beauty, and so it goes, had once been largely free of distinctions between the masculine and feminine.

One more example of an image of an ancient Chinese male beauty being similar to its female counterpart, because the history nerd in me finds this fun.

何晏 (He Yan, ?-249 BCE) lived in the Wei Jin era (between 2nd to 4th century), during which makeup was really en vogue. Known for his beauty, he was also famous for his love of grooming himself. The emperor, convinced that He Yan’s very fair skin was from the powder he was wearing, gave He Yan some very hot foods to eat in the middle of the summer. He Yan began to sweat, had to wipe himself with his sleeves and in the process, revealed to the emperor that his fair beauty was 100% natural ~ his skin glowed even more with the cosmetics removed (《世說新語·容止第十四》: 何平叔美姿儀，面至白。魏明帝疑其傅粉，正夏月，與熱湯餅。既啖，大汗出，以朱衣自拭，色轉皎然). His kick-cosmetics’-ass fairness won him the nickname 傅粉何郎 (”powder-wearing Mr He”).

Not only would He Yan very likely be mistaken as a woman if this scene is transferred to a modern setting, but this scene can very well fit inside a Danmei story of the 21st century and is very, very likely to get axed by the Chinese censorship board for its visualisation.

[Important observation from this anecdote: the emperor was totally into this trend too.]

The adjectives and phrases used above to describe these beautiful ancient Chinese men ~ 貌柔, 音容兼美, 白美, 美姿儀, 皎然 ~ have all become pretty much reserved for describing beauty in women nowadays. Beauty standards in ancient China were, as mentioned before, had gone through significantly long periods in which they were largely genderless. The character for beauty 美 (also in Danmei, 耽美) used to have little to no gender association. Free of gender associations as well were the names of many flowers. The characters for orchid (蘭) and lotus (蓮), for example, were commonly found in men’s names as late as the Republican era (early 20th century), but are now almost exclusively found in women’s names. Both orchid and lotus have historically been used to indicate 君子 (junzi, roughly, “gentlemen”), which have always been men. MDZS also has an example of a man named after a flower: Jin Ling’s courtesy name, given to him by WWX, was 如蘭 (”like an orchid”).

A related question may be this: why does ancient China associate beauty with fairness, with softness, with frailty? Likely, because Confucianist philosophy and customs put a heavy emphasis on scholarship ~ and scholars have mostly consisted of soft-spoken, not muscular, not working-under-the-sun type of men. More importantly, Confucianist scholars also occupied powerful government positions. Being, and looking like a Confucianist scholar was therefore associated with status. Indeed, it’s very difficult to look like jade when one was a farmer or a soldier, for example, who constantly had to toil under the sun, whose skin was constantly being dried and roughened by the elements. Having what are viewed as “macho” beauty traits as in the poster above ~ tanned skin, bulging muscles, bony structures (which also take away the jade’s smoothness) ~ were associated with hard labour, poverty and famine.

Along that line, 手無縛雞之力 (“hands without the strength to restrain a chicken”) has long been a phrase used to describe ancient scholars and students, and without scorn or derision. Love stories of old, which often centred around scholars were, accordingly, largely devoid of the plot lines of husbands physically protecting the wives, performing the equivalent of climbing up castle walls and fighting dragons etc. Instead, the faithful husbands wrote poems, combed their wife’s hair, traced their wife’s eyebrows with cosmetics (畫眉)...all activities that didn’t require much physical strength, and many of which are considered “feminine” nowadays.

Were there periods in Chinese history in which more ... sporty men and women were appreciated? Yes. the Tang dynasty, for example, and the Yuan and Qing dynasties. The Tang dynasty, as a very powerful, very open era in Chinese history, was known for its relations to the West (via the Silk Road). The Yuan and Qing dynasties, meanwhile, were established by Mongolians and Manchus respectively, who, as non-Han people, had not been under the influence of Confucian culture and grew up on horsebacks, rather than in schools.

The idea that beautiful Chinese men should have “macho” attributes was, therefore, largely a consequence of non-Han-Chinese influence, especially after early 20th century. That was when the characters for beauty (美), orchid (蘭), lotus (蓮) etc began their ... feminisation. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP), which started its reign of the country starting 1949, also has foreign roots, being a derivative of the Soviets, and its portrayal of ideal men has been based on the party’s ideology, painting them as members of the People’s Liberation Army (Chinese army) and its two major proletariat classes, farmers and industrial workers ~ all occupations that are “macho” in their aesthetics, but held at very poor esteem in ancient Chinese societies. All occupations that, to this day, may be hailed as noble by Chinese women, but not really deemed attractive by them.

Beauty, being an instinct, is perhaps much more resistant to propaganda.

If anything, the three terms Article O3 used to describe “effeminate” men ~ 奶油小生 “cream young men” (popularised in 1980s) , 花美男 “flowery beautiful men” (early 2000s), 小鲜肉 “little fresh meat” (coined in 2014 and still popular now) ~ only informs me how incredibly consistent the modern Chinese women’s view of ideal male beauty has been. It’s the same beauty the Chinese Communist Party has called feminine. It’s the same beauty found in Danmei. It’s the same beauty that, when witnessed in men in ancient China, was so revered that historians recorded it for their descendants to remember. It doesn’t mean there aren’t any women who appreciate the "macho” type ~ it’s just that, the appreciation for the non-macho type has never really gone out of fashion, never really changed. The only thing that is really changing is the name of the type, the name’s positive or negative connotations.

(Personally, I’m far more uncomfortable with the name “Little fresh meat” (小鲜肉) than 老婆 (wife). I find it much more insulting.)

Anyway, what I’d like to say is this: feminisation in Danmei ~ a genre that, by definition, is hyper-focused on aesthetics ~ may not be as "problematic” in Chinese as it is in English, because the Chinese tradition didn’t make that much of a differentiation between masculine and feminine beauty. Once again, this isn’t to say such mis-gendering isn’t disrespectful; it’s just that, perhaps, it is less disrespectful because Chinese still retains a cultural memory in which equating a beautiful man to a beautiful woman was the utmost flattery.

I must put a disclaimer here: I cannot vouch for this being true for the general Chinese population. This is something that is buried deep enough inside me that it took a lot of thought for me to tease out, to articulate. More importantly, while I grow up in a Chinese-speaking environment, I’ve never lived inside China. My history knowledge, while isn’t shabby, hasn’t been filtered through the state education system.

I’d also like to point out as well, along this line of thought, that in *certain* (definitely not all) aspects, Chinese society isn’t as sexist as the West. While historically, China has periods of extreme sexism against women, with the final dynasties of Ming and Qing being examples, I must (reluctantly) acknowledge Chairman Mao for significantly lifting the status of women during his rule. Here’s a famous quote of his from 1955:

婦女能頂半邊天 Women can lift half the skies

The first marriage code, passed in 1950, outlawed forced marriages, polygamy, and ensured equal rights between husband and wife. For the first time in centuries, women were encouraged to go outside of their homes and work. Men resisted at first, wanting to keep their wives at home; women who did work were judged poorly for their performance and given less than 50% of men’s wage, which further fuelled the men’s resistance. Mao said the above quote after a commune in Guizhou introduced the “same-work-same-wage” system to increase its productivity, and he asked for the same system to to be replicated across the country. (Source)

When Chairman Mao wanted something, it happened. Today, Chinese women’s contribution to the country’s GDP remains among the highest in the world. They make up more than half of the country’s top-scoring students. They’re the dominant gender in universities, in the ranks of local employees of international corporations in the Shanghai and Beijing central business districts—among the most sought after jobs in the country. While the inequality between men and women in the workplace is no where near wiped out — stories about women having to sleep with higher-ups to climb the career ladder, or even get their PhDs are not unheard of, and the central rulership of the Chinese Communist Party has been famously short of women — the leap in women’s rights has been significant over the past century, perhaps because of how little rights there had been before ~ at the start of the 20th century, most Chinese women from relatively well-to-do families still practised foot-binding, in which their feet were literally crushed during childhood in the name of beauty, of status symbol. They couldn’t even walk properly.

Perhaps, the contemporary Chinese women’s economic contribution makes the sexism they encounter in their lives, from the lack of reproductive rights to the “leftover women” label, even harder to swallow. It makes their fantasies fly to even higher, more defiant heights. The popularity of Dangai right now is pretty much driven by women, as acknowledged by Article O3. Young women, especially, female fans who people have dismissed as “immature”, “crazy”, are responsible for the threat the Chinese government is feeling now by the genre.

This is no small feat. While the Chinese government complains about the “effeminate” men from Danmei / Dangai, its propaganda has been heavily reliant on stars who have risen to popularity to these genres. The film Dd is currently shooting, Chinese Peacekeeping Force (維和部隊), also stars Huang Jingyu (黄景瑜), and Zhang Zhehan (張哲瀚) ~ the three actors having shot to fame from The Untamed (Dangai), Addicted (Danmei), and Word of Honour (Dangai) respectively. Zhang, in particular, played the “uke” role in Word of Honour and has also been called 老婆 (wife) by his fans. The quote in Article O3, “Ten years as a tough man known by none; one day as a beauty known by all” was also implicitly referring to him.

Perhaps, the government will eventually realise that millennia-old standards of beauty are difficult to bend, and by extension, what is considered appropriate gender expression of Chinese men and women.

In the metas I’ve posted, therefore, I’ve hesitated in using terms such as homophobia, sexism, and ageism etc, opting instead to make long-winded explanations that essentially amount to these terms (thank you everyone who’s reading for your patience!). Because while the consequence is similar—certain fraction of the populations are subjected to systemic discrimination, abuse, given less rights, treated as inferior etc—these words, in English, also come with their own context, their own assumptions that may not apply to the situation. It reminds me of what Leo Tolstoy wrote in Anna Karenina,

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

Discrimination in each country, each culture is humiliating, unhappy in its own way. Both sexism and homophobia are rampant in China, but as their roots are different from those of the West, the ways they manifest are different, and so must the paths to their dissolution. I’ve also hesitated on calling out individual behaviours or confronting individuals for this reason. i-Danmei fandoms are where i-fans and c-fans meet, where English-speaking doesn’t guarantee a non-Chinese sociopolitical background (there may be students from China, for example; I’m also ... not entirely Western), and I find it difficult to articulate appropriate, convincing arguments without knowing individual backgrounds.

Frankly, I’m not sure if I’ve done the right thing. Because I do hope feminisation will soon fade into extinction, especially in i-Danmei fandoms that, if they continue to prosper on international platforms, may eventually split from c-Danmei fandoms along the cultural (not language) line due to the vast differences in environmental constraints. My hope is especially true when real people are involved, and c-fandoms, I’d like to note, are not unaware of the issues surrounding feminisation ~ it has already been explicitly forbidden in BJYX’s supertopic on Weibo.

At the same time, I’ve spent so many words above to try to explain why beauty can *sometimes* lurk behind such feminisations. Please allow me to end this post with one example of feminisation that I deeply dislike—and I’ve seen it used by fans on Gg as well—is 綠茶 (”green tea”), from 綠茶婊 (”green tea whore”) that means women who look pure / innocent but are, deep down, promiscuous / lustful. In some ways, its meaning isn’t so different from Daji 妲己, the consort blamed for the fall of the Shang dynasty. However, to me at least, the flattery in the feminisation is gone, perhaps because of the character “whore” (婊), because the term originated in 2013 from a notorious sex party rather than from a legendary beauty so maligned that The Investiture of the Gods (封神演義), the seminal Chinese fiction written ~2,600 years after Daji’s death, re-imagined her as a malevolent fox spirit (狐狸精) that many still remembers her as today.

Ah, to be caught between two cultures. :)

#tell-me-everything #pie metas #yizhan #bjyx

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bitimdrake · 3 years

Note

The tension between Bruce and Duck after War Games so never talked about. I want to see how they over came that and eventually lead to their relationship after OYL, where they consider each other father and son.

Usually I assume Duck is a typo on Dick, but from context this is about darling duckboy Drake. And YEAH. Mood!!

Like, there is so much in the context here that is never quite spoken about. Tim's dad forced him to quit Robin, and Bruce just...stopped talking to Tim entirely. Steph ghosted him too, and Tim found out from the paper that Bruce made her Robin. And then Tim and Bruce have about 2.5 seconds to talk when Tim returns in the middle of War Games, before Steph AND his dad die within like a week and?? It's a lot.

And even though Tim moves to Bludhaven at this point, it's SO interesting to me that he and Bruce are talking regularly and working together and acting like their relationship is fine. And yet. YET. Reading the issues between War Games and Infinite Crisis, I cannot shake the sense of massive tension just under the surface.

It's probably most obvious at Stephanie's funeral:

[Robin #132. Bruce tries to comfort a standoffish, brooding Tim. "If there's anything I can do son--" / "Don't call me that, Bruce. Not today. Not after-- You don't have the right to act like you're my father."]

And yet two issues later Tim is awed and honored by the adoption offer! (And not pretending, considering it's his own narration.)

But the way the fake uncle plotline was written leads to less clarity in Tim's motives--We the readers see Tim "startled" to learn of this new uncle (R#134), "meet" him for the first time (R#136-137), and only later learn that he made it up himself (R#138-139). So the connective tissue from this:

[Robin #134. Wow! Wow! I was like--I could speak! I was totally speechless! It never occured to me that Bruce would want to-- He wants me to be his son? Real and legal? I mean--wow! Of course, eventually, when I got my voice back, I had to tell him I needed time to think about it.]

...to faking an uncle to avoid being adopted is minuscule. We know Tim puts off actually answering Bruce for a week leading up to his father's will reading, and in narration he admits he should have handled it better (in hindsight, referring to the ruse).

But as for why? We just have little bits to go on. Tim briefly in this issue that it hurt to find out he was replaceable (re Steph as Robin), but doesn't linger. He still doesn't want to become like Batman and cut himself off emotionally. We see the independence Tim can sneak into with his "guardian" as a paid actor in R#137 particularly. Over in Nightwing #110, Tim says he didn't want to overshadow Dick's semi-recent adoption, since Dick is really Bruce's son. And, of course, per those panels I posted from Batman Allies Secret Files, Tim...kind of does blame Bruce for Stephanie's death. And Bruce knows it:

[Robin #136. Bruce and Alfred in the cave. "Surely he can't blame you for his father's death--or Miss Stephanie?" "He can, and he should. It's part of the cost of command. Anyone with even a smattering of military training understands that much. As soon as Tim remembers that, he'll shift some of the weight my way, rather than trying to carry it all himself. Then he'll be able to stand being in the same room with me again."]

...though of course, this being Bruce, he does nothing whatsoever to address it, and acts like taking the blame is some kind of martyr's duty. Great job, Bruce.

But still none of these things are really clarified as Tim's reasoning! And absolutely none of them are openly discussed by Tim and Bruce. When Bruce finds out, he just says that Tim wanted to essentially live as an emancipated minor.

And I...can't really imagine them talking about the rest of it. That's not their personalities nor their relationship--I recall the previous time Bruce seriously hurt Tim, with the paranoia-inducing time travel box on his birthday, and Tim got upset, took a little time away from Bruce to process, and then returned knowing he wouldn't get an apology and not asking for one. And that was it! They Do Not talk about their problems!

Of course, the cruise around the world over the One Year Later time skip was a nice reset for the both of them, helping Bruce and Tim individually heal from their recent respective personal issues. But there's nothing to address how they healed their relationship with each other, outside of some general comments about Bruce turning over a new leaf (for the four thousandth time) and spending time with his boys on the trip. (Y'know, minus the time he spent locked in a cave.)

[Infinite Crisis #7. Bruce explains he'll be spending the next year rebuilding Batman, "but this time it's going to be different." Tim and Dick stand on the deck of a passenger ship, waiting for him. Bruce: "I'm not going to be alone."]

Honestly? My best guess is that Tim did a lot of healing from his grief, Dick was welcoming, and Tim just...moved on from his anger without expecting anything from Bruce (an unfortunate pattern in Bruce's relationships with his kids). And with more time and distance from the grief and sources of anger, he could lean into his joy and delight.

Maybe that sounds cynical, especially when the scene where Bruce offers again is so sweet. A very lovely moment! But they just aren't people who talk about their problems, and it's what makes the most sense to me for how they go from post-War Games tension to this:

[Batman #654, just after Bruce has offered to adopt Tim again. They hug as Tim cries.]

#i was just jotting down my thoughts!! and then suddenly it was very long!#tim drake #bruce wayne #batman #robin #red robin #batfam #*#*dc #dc #dc meta #dc ref #ask #anon #maybe this should also get #batman's c+ parenting #bruce & tim

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itsthemoofacewriting · 3 years

Text

It’s heaven in your arms

Well, this is just a clusterfuck of emotions. Let me lead you down the path of grief and mourning only for it to end with a bed sharing trope.

I have no idea if there are even people that like the original trio together romantically, but I was really vibing, so hopefully I can convince some of my regular readers to take the plunge.

If any of my ZoNami readers are here, I’m doing the requests you all sent in – I swear!

I’m not sure what to expect from posting this, so I’ll say this once pre-emptively: if this isn’t your cup of tea, you know where the door is, please leave quietly.

Summary: It may have been two years since Ace’s death but, for Luffy, sometimes it still felt like just yesterday. Or, sometimes, something beautiful can blossom from a place of hurt. Rating: T

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN.

Nami awoke, eyes burning from lack of sleep and mouth dry. It was still dark outside, and she grumbled to herself at waking up so early, but it was no use. She wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until she had a glass of water. She swung her feet off the bed, clumsily trying to find her slippers before getting up. It was warm outside, so she didn’t bother with anything other than her pyjama top and shorts.

As annoying as it was to be awake so early, it was peaceful. It was a quick shuffle across the deck and into the kitchen, where she filled her glass hastily, already thinking about getting back into bed.

That last thing she expected when leaving the kitchen was the sight of Luffy sitting on the railing, facing the ocean with his feet kicking over the edge. Reckless as always it seemed.

“If you fell, no one would be around to save you,” She lectured.

His shoulders hunched; she’d surprised him it seemed, but he didn’t react as she’d expected. There was no carefree laughter or beaming grin as he told her not to be a worry wart. Instead, she received a muffled, “You’re up.”

Without looking at his face she didn’t know how to take that but his whole attitude was off, and it had alarm bells going off in her head. The comfort of her bed a distant memory now as she walked over to the railing to join him and settled her glass of water beside herself.

The words on the tip of her tongue vanished into the night air when she finally caught sight of his face. His eyes were red and puffy, his face pale despite his constant tan and drawn. It was an expression she’d never seen on his face. He looked defeated.

He looked tired.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, just as she’d expected him too and uttered out a quiet, “No.”

“That’s okay, but I’m going to sit here,” she told him. He could sit in silence if that was what he wanted, but she wouldn’t leave him, that wasn’t an option.

She took his hand in hers because whilst he may not want to speak, he’d always been a tactile person and she couldn’t just sit here and not do anything when there were tears still running down his face.

They sat in silence, only the sound of the waves hitting the ship could be heard with their thighs pressed snuggly against the others and his hand clasped in hers, a thumb absently roaming over the skin of his wrist. His tears had resided for the time being, only the stray one falling every now.

She felt like she was sitting with a deer, trying not to spook it because it felt like any wrong move would have him scampering away.

Well, that was until he pried his hand from hers and she was going to say something until his head feel heavily against her shoulder and an arm wrapped around her body. That was all she needed to let herself relax, no longer worried about scaring him away as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer.

It was another long moment of them sitting like that until he whispered in her shoulder, “It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He was silent but the tears were back as she felt them soaking into her pyjama top.

“I had a bad dream.”

“Yeah? What about?” She encouraged softly.

“About him.” His voice cracked as he said it and his shoulders shook.

There was only one him she knew of.

“It played in a loop, and I couldn’t do anything.”

Although she was being fed the information in dribs and drabs, it wasn’t hard to piece it together. She waited for him to continue but the long pause told her he wasn’t going to.

She thought about what she’d want in that moment, if their roles were reversed, what she’d want from the other person sat with her, so she settled on, “I only met him briefly, tell me more about him. What was it like growing up with him?”

He was quiet and for a moment she didn’t think he was going to respond, that maybe that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

“He hated me when we were younger,” he said wetly, fighting through tears to talk. “I caused trouble, couldn’t fight and cried a lot. He called me cry baby all the time.”

“He didn’t when we met him in Alabasta though.” She remembered how he’d looked at Luffy, eyes full of adoration and voice warm as he asked the crew to look after Luffy for him.

He huffed out a laugh at her words, such a stark contrast to his normal boisterous laugh.

He told her everything. How Ace had gone from despising him to accepting him as a brother along with his other brother, Sabo, how they’d caused trouble together and had the best times together. How he’d made Luffy’s childhood a happy one.

It made her ache. Because as he talked, selfishly she thought about her own sister. How devasted she’d be to lose her, someone that felt like her other half since before she could remember, knew her better than anyone else, who she could talk to about anything. It was hard to explain a sibling relationship to someone without one, there was a different feeling to, you felt it in your core.

Mostly, she thought about how hollow she’d feel.

It felt like an unspoken rule that siblings were for life. You knew that parents were older and that they’d pass at some point in your life, but not your sibling. It felt like they were meant to be with you for life, that you’d grow old together and have each other’s backs no matter what to the very end.

She supposed that was part of the grief.

Although she didn’t know the ins and outs, even now Luffy was edging around his dream and what’d happened back then, she knew the key details - how Ace had jumped in front of him to save him. How Ace had died before his eyes. Even if she suspected there was more to that moment than what she knew, it was traumatic enough.

Another tangled chain to unwrap from the knotted ball of necklaces that was grief.

Ultimately, she didn’t need to know what the dream was about or what’d happened back then, because the picture she had in her mind was vivid enough and she knew how he felt. Watching someone slip away before your eyes, helpless as you watched them go and wishing you’d done something different.

Her heart bled for him as he spoke, words blurring into his tears, she could feel her own eyes prickling as sadness overflowed.

Hands clumsily wiped at her face and belatedly she realised Luffy had stopped talking. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said.

Without thinking, she wiped his face in return. “It’s okay, I’m glad I get to share this with you.”

She cupped his face and she meant it as a soothing gesture, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. Watching his face crumple before her eyes was so much worse than how she’d imagined it when his face had been buried in her shoulder. He was so expressive all the time that she shouldn’t really be surprised, his lips quivered and those big eyes scrunched as he tried to hold back his tears.

“I know I still have so much, and I should focus on that…”

“But that doesn’t make that little part feel any better?”

“Yeah.”

“I know. It’s not going to either.” He nodded glumly at her words, staying silent and she suspected it was because he couldn’t form words. “You love him. That’s not going to disappear no matter what happens.”

She continued because she needed to say it, to let him know this was okay before she the moment passed, and he locked this all away to deal with another night. “You’re allowed to mourn him, you’re allowed to feel sad without feeling guilty, but when it overwhelms you, tell one of us, okay?” She paused, thinking over her words, before adding, “And even when it doesn’t overwhelm you and you just want company, come find us.”

“Okay.” He sounded choked up, more so than before.

She brought him back into a firm hug, running her hands up and down his back, letting her words sink in and giving him a chance to speak or cry more if he wanted to.

His next words told her they were done for the time being.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he said.

She didn’t have to ask why. She still woke up sometimes in the middle of the night, tears in her eyes as she relived all different versions of Bell-mère’s death, each worse than the last. She knew that he feared having to relive his worst nightmare over again or catching even a whisp of his brother behind closed eyelids, taunting him over the fact that that would be the only way he’d ever be able to see him again.

“I don’t either,” she lied smoothly, “We could raid the fridge-” Sanji would understand- “or I could show you a new card trick or we could go draw on Zoro’s face. He’s probably up in the crow’s nest and he sleeps like a log.”

Luffy grinned, it didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did but that was okay, it was an improvement on the solemn expression from before. “Usopp just bought new markers!”

They both turned at the sound of heavy footsteps and the very person they’d been planning to mess with was stood only a few steps away.

“Why do you two look guilty?” He looked suspiciously at them both.

Neither of them answered, but she saw the moment Zoro noticed Luffy’s face and took in his red, puffy eyes and worn expression. His demeanour changed instantly, he looked serious, and he didn’t say anything more as he joined them on the railing, pressing up to Luffy’s vacant side and taking his other free hand into his- he could probably feel that it was wet from Luffy’s tears.

The ocean lapped silently against the ship and whatever plans her and Luffy had made seemed to be put on hold as he stayed sat on the railing, but that was fine with her, she was happy to sit there with him in silent support.

“It should’ve been me,” Luffy finally spoke, voice sure but only a whisper.

Those were heavy words, she imagined how often that thought circled around in his head and how hard it must have been to finally say it out loud.

“That’s stupid,” Zoro said.

“Zoro,” she hissed. For his blunt words and because Luffy looked on the verge of tears, it made her heart crumble all over again.

“Ace loved you a lot and he didn’t do it for you to think that; he wouldn’t want that. It was his choice and he made it and he’d do it a hundred times over.”

He made a good point, she knew that, but a tough love speech felt too soon.

“Zoro’s not stupid all the time,” Luffy defended weakly, smile wobbly.

Maybe not.

“Oi.”

Nami shook her head, smiling slightly at their antics. “Unfortunately, I have to agree with you. Shall we agree it’s a 10% smart and 90% stupid?”

Zoro tried to look miffed, although it was betrayed by the smirk tugging at his lips. He knew what she was doing, trying to lighten Luffy’s spirits, so he let it slide.

“Well, we can’t draw on Zoro’s face now-” Zoro glowered at her- “but if you want an extra challenge, we could get Usopp or Sanji.” They were light sleepers; she knew he’d be up for the challenge.

Luffy smiled, nodding tiredly and stifled a yawn that had her and Zoro sharing a quick look between them.

“You can sleep with me if you want,” Zoro offered nonchalantly and Luffy perked up at that.

She should leave them to get on with it. They’d made their arrangements already and in the back of her mind, she knew she should, but Luffy’d told her so much, it felt callous to just palm him off. And maybe, somewhere deep down she didn’t like the thought of being left out. Maybe.

The words were out before she’d properly thought them through.

“You can both sleep in my bed.”

“Like a sleepover!” Luffy said and his eyes brightened, a shimmer of what normally resided there returning.

“It’s a one-time offer and no one tells Sanji!” Nami warned even though Luffy looked considerably lighter and Zoro was smirking at her. She didn’t doubt Zoro would store that away to use against Sanji later, but she’d deal with that then. And if he decided to blab, she’d then have the perfect opportunity to charge him, and he wouldn’t be able to say a thing.

The walk to her room was quiet, only the sounds of their shoes thumping against the deck with every step, getting louder and louder as they got closer to her room. She wondered if she’d regret this. What if she’d made it awkward? She should’ve just let Zoro and Luffy bunk together.

Opening the door felt heavy, like something awful would be waiting for her on the other side. Instead, there was just a dark, muted room to greet her and the awkwardness she felt doubled to the point she wondered if the other two felt it too. She wasn’t sure if she was thankful or not that Robin was still asleep, facing away from them.

All those thoughts were put to rest as Zoro and Luffy moved past her, seemingly more than comfortable with this arrangement than her. Zoro shucked off his boots and settled against the far side of the bed so his back faced the wall and Luffy kicked off his flip flops, his hat already sat safely on her bedside unit.

“Absolutely not,” Nami whispered fiercely, hands on hips and they both peered up at her quizzically. “I’m not sleeping on the edge only to wake up on the floor. Zoro, swap.”

“What, so I can wake up on the floor instead?”

“You can sleep anywhere!”

Luffy had snickered at their bickering, watching them go back and forth until he seemingly grew bored of that and stretched his arm out to wrap around her waist. As his arm snapped back, he dragged her with it, she collided with the both of them in her bed. Like a true rubber man, Luffy looked unbothered although she was fairly sure she’d kicked him, but Zoro wheezed behind her as she’d winded him with her elbow.

“That hurt!” Nami moaned.

“Think before you do that!” Zoro grouchily whispered.

“There we go, now we’re all cosy.” He ignored them both, nestling down into the bed as his arm reached across Nami to rest over onto Zoro.

“Luffy!” She squawked, rosy faced. “Move over! You have all that space!”

This was not what she’d had in mind when she’d invited them… into her bed. Although she didn’t have a massive bed, she’d thought they’d at least try to keep their distance, she hadn’t expected this. Luffy was so close she could feel his breath on her face and his hair brushed against her forehead, no doubt mingling in with her own strands. She could feel Zoro spooned behind her, his own arm outstretched across them both and she was only now just considering how appropriate her pyjama shorts were. Which was ridiculous, it was only those two.

All of this didn’t feel right, they were there for Luffy, he should be the one in the middle not her. He should be the one squashed between them, safe and warm and feeling supported, not her. Yet one look at his face put all of that to rest. You could still tell he’d been crying; the puffiness would take a few hours to go down, but he looked relaxed, the tormented and weight in his expression gone.

He looked content.

And that was enough right now for her brain to shut off, thoughts pushed to the back for another day, and have her burying into the warmth from the two bodies next to her with the knowledge that everything would be okay for now.

----------------------------------

This was meant to be a one-shot, but it’s now a two parter at no one’s request. I’m writing/editing the second chapter right now; it’s on its way.

I used to ship LuNami hard when I was younger, but I think I’ve lost my ability to write them romantically nowadays… unless you throw in Zoro and then it’s back on apparently.

I write and edit all my pieces by myself, so if there’s any errors, please excuse them.

Thanks for reading.

#zoluna #Luffy/Zoro/Nami #LuffyxZoroxNami #LuNami #ZoNami #zolu #opwriting #opfanfic #One Piece #Luffy #Zoro #Nami

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quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

the mission ; syverson x stucky x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 4,350 words

warnings — SMUT, double penetration, triple penetration??? oral sex (giving and receiving), foursome, unprotected sex(dont do this), swear words, competition(ish)

pairing — syverson x stucky x fem!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18,, pretty self-indulgent so what about it,, wanted to post this as my first fic for 2021 so we can start the year with a bang but hey the year is still new so hope this counts,, feedback is appreciated

masterlist

“Tell me again, why are we meeting up with this person?” If you told people that there were times that Steve — Captain America as most of them are most familiar with — was egotistical enough to the point that he believed that intel from outsiders weren’t needed, they wouldn’t believe you unless they saw how he was currently. When the military told them that some of their men have discovered remnants of HYDRA, Steve was fine with that vague lead since he thought that they could take it from there. However, his pride took a hit when the military insisted that one of their men be sent over to the compound to assist them.

Y/N then scheduled for Captain Syverson to meet with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes so they could discuss what the special operations captain saw. Sighing irritatedly, the assistant of the Avengers paused in the middle of the hallway so she could look the super soldier in the eye, “Look Captain, I know you think you can do this alone — you’ve proven to me and your fellow Avengers that you can — but the military and government believes that you need more hands on deck, okay?”

Crossing his arms, Steve opened his mouth to argue but opted not to, “Good, now behave okay? Bucky’s almost done training the recruits; so he’ll be joining us shortly.” As she walked away from where they stood, the captain bit his lip as he watched her ass and legs strut away in the green and white plaid dress that she was donning. Hearing her fingers snap together brought him back to reality and made him follow her steps.

“Captain Rogers, meet Captain Syverson from the military’s special operations,” Y/N introduced the two men to each other, who were visibly appalled at the thought of having to shake hands, but a stern look from the girl standing between them prompted the Texan captain to hold out his hand to which the Brooklyn captain shook briefly but with a tight grip before letting go. “We appreciate you coming here, Captain Syverson.”

His response surprised Y/N, but in a good way, and she smiled brightly at the simple interaction the two had. “You can call me Sy; only prefer being called Captain by those who are under me.” The wink he sent the only girl present in the room gave her the implication that there was a double entendre in his statement; whereas the enhanced super soldier caught on and was displeased with how he was hitting on Y/N.

Puffing out his chest and rested his hands on his belt buckle, “Well Sy, why don’t you share with us what it is you saw.” Nodding, Sy grabbed the folder he brought with him and handed it over to the Captain; Y/N was setting up the laptop and projector that was in the conference room. Steve skimmed through the files as Y/N displayed some of the satellite images that were taken. “Have you or any of your team members been inside the facility?”

Shaking his head no Sy explained, “We didn’t dare to. Though I had some soldiers stake out and in their week of monitoring they didn’t notice anyone come in or out.” Placing the folder on the desk, Steve instructed Y/N to show more of the pictures and she complied, “How come you didn’t get in and check it out? Isn’t that what a captain does?”

“Steve,” Y/N scolded him as she looked at him with a warning look but despite her piercing gaze he remained unfazed as he gave a challenging stare to the other captain — one which Sy wasn’t afraid of. “A captain’s duty is to lead his soldiers and make the right calls; it wasn’t our mission to look for the abandoned facility but we found it anyway. We just ensured that there wouldn’t be any criminals that we could possibly encounter that would interfere with our mission.”

The tension was thick in the air when Steve gulped down — not wanting to admit that Sy made a valid point. Striving to cut the tension in the room, Y/N stood up as she spoke, “Okay, great points. Should you plan to check the place out,” She was talking to Steve who was intently looking at her with a look he’s never given her before; she struggled to continue with her point with how intense his stare was, “Secretary Ross decided that it might be better for you to tag along,” Sy nodded as he was being talked to.

“Just me? Or would my men be included?” Sitting back down on her chair she browsed through some of the files she had prepared for their meeting as the two men watched her like a hawk, “They want you out on the field along with Steve and Bucky; but your other men can help behind the scenes.”

Displeased with the new information, Steve crossed his arms from where he was seated, “No, he is not joining us on the field,” He was now standing up, as if he was trying to assert his dominance and authority over the other captain who seemed undaunted as he stood tall. “Why the hell not?”

“Jesus Christ, stop it, the two of you!” Y/N held out her hands to create space between the two charging bodies, her hands landed on their pecs and she had to stop herself from enjoying the feel of their skin against her fingertips, “You both need to calm your asses down! I don't know what it is about each other that ticked you off but you guys are gonna have to work together. Now, why don’t we calm down and try to get along?”

Running a hand through his buzz cut hair, Sy was the first one to speak since he wanted to charm Y/N, “I’m really sorry about my behavior, love,” His larger hand reached for hers and placed a kiss on the back of her palm; Steve sharply looked at how affectionately the other captain gazed at the assistant who had been responsible for his orgams without her even knowing it, “I’m gonna be on my best from now on; especially when I work with the former soldiers.”

Having enough of what he said Steve made his way to the two of them, breaking off their clasped hands so he could hold Y/N’s, planting himself between the two he gruffly said, “You know what bothers me? Is the way you’re hitting on Y/N.” Sy could not hold back the smirk as he somewhat felt a sick pride rush over him seeing the infamous hero getting riled up because of him, “Don’t recall you being her boyfriend; so really I can flirt with her as much as I want.”

She doesn’t know why, but Y/N was extremely aroused with the way they discussed her as if she weren’t there. Ultimately it was the way they both battled for her really made her panties dampen. “Who would you rather fuck?” The blunt question had her jaw dropping in shock and disbelief; she always knew how Steve was direct to the point, but never expected him to be straightforward in a sexual context.

“I don’t know,” Her eyes darted back and forth from the two captains, “You’re both very attractive; but I never imagined both of you being attracted to me.” It was difficult for her to hide the faint traces of her insecurities which the two men were quick to pick up. Steve caressed her hand that he held as he sincerely cooed at her, “How can I not want you? And I’m not just talking about your divine body. Your patience in handling us is unlike any other. You’re extremely compassionate and kind. When I look at you I see a woman whose beauty on the outside matches the beauty within.”

The other hand that Sy held was being placed with a kiss that despite being gentle was contradicted with the rough sensations of his beard, “I’ve only known you for a while but I have to second the motion; you are a force to be reckoned with. While there are parts of you that clearly cannot be tamed and that your fire was meant to remained ablaze,” He hoped that she got his reference of her dangerous line of work and with the small nod she gave him affirmed so, “But you also have the tranquility that a mother possesses.”

A small smile broke out of Y/N’s face after their speeches; but the serene moment quickly faded when the super soldier brought her hand to his crotch, letting the wide-eyed girl feel the hard on that he frequently spotted around her. “This is just one of the other pieces of evidence I have about how great you are.” Walking up to stand beside Steve, Sy grabbed her other hand and pressed against his own staring erection as he smugly boasted, “But this is a bigger evidence of how much I appreciate you, sunshine.”

“I’m flattered,” Y/N nervously began as her eyes darted back and forth from the two large men, pulling away her hands from their hardened cock as she felt incredibly shy about the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t an answer that pleased either of them or answered Steve’s earlier question. “But the question is still left unanswered Y/N,” The blonde man to her right reminded her, “Who would you rather fuck?”

Gulping down her nervousness before answering, “Honestly? I want you both.” Even though she shyly confessed that, it was all the fuel both captains needed for their ego as they silently just had established a competition between themselves — get her to feel confident about herself as they both intend on making her so cum hard the only thing she’ll remember is their name. Steve brought a finger underneath her chin, lifting her gaze up to match his hooded eyes, “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” He affirmed to her before bringing their lips to touch gently. Eyes closing as the super soldier savored the feeling of her lips that he's been dreaming for so long; and his dreams couldn’t even compare to the feel and taste of her lips.

As their lips pulled away from the steamy kiss, Sy tore away her lips and planted his own lips against hers, “Absolutely stunning, one of a kind,” Were the words he spoke as their lips locked and tongues danced. Feeling his beard tickle her neck as his lips trailed down her jaw and neck, she giggled lightly and opened her eyes to view Steve whose eyes darkened — though she didn’t know that it was due to his lust and longing for her, as well as the jealousy due to the scene unfolding in front of him. Pulling away from the kiss, Sy then lifted her up to the table and sat her down. Without even speaking, he made his move to undress her — grabbing the cloth by her cleavage, ripping the dress in two to expose how she chose to forego a bra and was only wearing a poor excuse of panties; the Texas raised captain could only smirk as he went down on his knees while he slid her lace undergarment down her legs.

“What a devious little thing you are,” Her attention was shifted to the Brooklyn-raised captain as he spoke; she instinctively spread her legs which didn’t go unnoticed by Sy who smirked in appreciation before lunging forward to lick her through her panties — causing her to gasp out loud, rolling her eyes at the pleasure. Annoyed with how he was being undermined, Steve grabbed for Y/N’s cheeks and kissed her fervently, making him moan in bliss as the kiss exceeded his dreams and expectations. “This what you want? Want two men proving to you how goddamn beautiful you are?”

The question was rhetorical, but somehow she found herself whining as she nodded against his lips where their lips met for a heated kiss. Grinning at her state, Steve ended their kiss as his lips trailed down her chin and to her neck, searching for her sweet spot. Just as he sucked on the skin below her jaw, she tried to squeeze her legs together to alleviate the arousal she was feeling — but it only made Sy smirk and encourage him to push aside her panty and directly get a taste of her.

“I’m gonna taste this pretty pussy okay? Why don’t you show Steve over here what that pretty mouth can do besides ending tension okay?” With a shaky sigh, she nodded as her eyes watched as Steve got on the table, kneeling beside her, all while he undid his belt and pulled the zipper down to free his cock. “I’ve been fantasizing about what that mouth would feel like ever since you joined,” His filthy confession made her bring her thighs together again to relieve her of the ache she felt; but all it did was make her feel again the trimmed hair of Sy who was placing gentle kitten licks on her pussy, “And now I’ll find out if you’re as any good like I thought you would be,” Served as his final warning before kneeling on the table by her head and feeding his cock to her waiting mouth.

Groans were heard from the two captains but for similarly different reasons; Steve loved how his cock slid down her throat easily without gagging, and her hollowed cheeks and expert tongue providing him pleasure but it was also the way her one hand was sliding from his balls to the base of his cock that almost made him cum. Whereas Sy couldn’t get enough of how sweet her juices were; he was sliding two fingers in and out of her, and everytime he pushed them right back it became harder for him to do so with how her walls were resisting them — it made him think about how her walls would resist his cock. “You like this don’t you? Like being used for our pleasure?”

A pathetic whine was all that she could let out seeing as her mouth was preoccupied with Steve’s cock was prohibiting her from speaking clearly. “You’re too invested that you can’t even remove my cock from your mouth to answer properly,” Feeling her nod against his cock just added to the bliss he felt. Shaking his head as he licked her cunt and fingered her pussy, Sy loved it when her thighs were rubbing hard against his beard and some of her juices were sticking to his facial hair.

Y/N was surprised when Steve pulled his cock of her mouth, “Not yet baby, I’m not cumming in your mouth just yet.” With his lips still pressed tightly against her pussy lips, Sy smirked at him, “Or maybe you just can’t cum at all.” That statement reminded both men that even though they intended to make her feel how beautiful she was, they were still competing for her. Sitting up with the support of her elbows, Y/N watched closely as Steve grabbed Sy by the shirt, dragging him away from her pussy, resulting in him sitting up on the floor on his bum. He planted himself on one of the conference chairs and once settled, grabbed Y/N’s hips so she was straddling hovering his cock, “It’s because I’d rather cum inside her pussy.”

With one hand on her hip, the other one guided his cock in her tight canal easily. “Oh fuck, you’re so big,” She moaned as she rested her hands on his shoulders as she rode him slowly, getting used to his size. Calloused hands were on her ass as Steve guided the pace in which they were fucking. His lips were pressing firmly against her breasts, leaving his traes of desire on them. As her eyes were closed in pleasure, she didn’t see how Sy was freeing himself from the restrains of his pants; after doing so he stood up from the floor and sat down on the conference table.

“You’re gonna suck my cock while you ride his dick; so turn around,” It took a while before she did so, but Y/N had to push Steve’s face gently from where his mouth had been enveloping her nipple. She turned around to face Sy who was stroking his cock with hunger on his eyes; moving her hair from her face, she rested her hands on the knees of the man in front of her before lowering her lips to wrap it around the tip of his cock. “That’s a good girl,” He sighed out in pleasure, one hand finding purchase on her hair.

Jealous at the thought of having to share her or her attention, Steve kicked off the chair he was sitting on and stood on his feet and helped Y/N to do the same. With her bent over, the super soldier grabbed for her hips and rammed in and out of her pussy with short and rapid thrusts. Sy allowed her to take control of how she wanted to suck him, but he couldn’t help himself as he thrusted his cock in her mouth a few times, relishing in the moans she let out when he did so. “See what you do to us?” Steve asked as he felt his tip graze her sensitive spot, feeling her thighs shiver leaving him to hold both thighs in his hands.

“You make us feral,” Sy continued his train of thought as his hand added pressure on the nape of your neck, making you take him deeper, “You’re so goddamn beautiful that you make us lose all logic.” It was amazing to him how her tiny throat could accommodate all of him, and the way her nails dug into his thighs only added to his pleasure.

Bucky had just finished his training session with the recruits and was dying to get to his room to shower off the filth and sweat. Before getting to do that he first had to meet with a captain that was said to have intel about HYDRA; so imagine his surprise when he enters the conference room and sees three people fucking and not discussing mission details.

A man with a buzz cut — he inferred that was Sy — was sitting on the desk with his head thrown back in bliss as he was being given a blowjob by Y/N — the Avengers’ secretary whom he had been fantasizing about — while she in turn was being fucked in the pussy by Steve. “Well if I knew the meeting would look like this I would’ve ended the training session.”

Steve just smirked at his best friend who was leaning against the wall, “This is Sy,” He nodded to the man sitting at the desk who waved with his free hand from Y/N’s hair. Approaching the three of them Bucky inquired, “She any good at sucking cock?”

“The best; gag reflex is practically non-existent,” Steve recalled as he was now rubbing her clit, loving the way she was squirming against his body. Her hands were settled on Sy’s thighs, anchoring herself and leaving nail marks on his skin. “Her throat is tight but I doubt it’s tighter than her pussy.”

Bucky grabbed her hair to stop her from sucking on Sy’s cock, “Never pegged you to be a willing cumdump; you just needed a lot of cocks to fulfill you huh?” Despite her face having a mixture of saliva and the precum of both captains, she bashfully smiled at the sergeant. Stroking her cheek gently, the Texan captain demanded a verbal answer, “If he asks you a question you are expected to answer, beautiful.” Feeling the force of Steve’s harsh thrust, she managed to let out a choked out response, “Yes! I need a lot of cocks to satisfy me.”

Halting his assault on her pussy, Steve slid his cock out of her, “I’m gonna fuck her ass, Sy you get her pussy, Buck you start with her mouth first.” When Sy pulled her off his cock, Y/N was able to gulp nervously at the thought of taking all them at once; however she wasn’t given enough time to react to it as Sy was dragging her to ride him as he sat at a chair. Carefully, he helped her descent on his cock as the man groaned against her neck when he felt how her warm and wet she was, “Did the captain really fuck you, beautiful? You’re still so fucking tight.”

“I did, and I fucked her good,” Steve asserted as he lined his cock up behind her other hole, “That’s just another reason why you’re beautiful, doll. You’re just so fucking tight no matter how fucked you are,” And to emphasize his point, he slide his tip inside her ass and stilled upon feeling her walls constricting around him. “Goddamn, doll,” Steve breathed out as he shoved more of his cock inside her, his whole cock now shoved deep in her ass.

Her mouth hung agape as she felt two cocks having a go in her — loving the way she was never fully empty since when one thrust out, another slammed right back in. Taking advantage of her opened mouth, Bucky stood by the side of the chair and presented his cock to her, “Take it all in princess.” Like an obedient girl, she did wrap her lips around the ridge of his cock and began sucking on it as best she could.

“See what you do, doll? You make us go ravenous for you,” Steve emphasized his point as he mercilessly thrusts in and out of her ass despite her walls clinging to him, begging him to ease down. Agreeing with the captain, Sy sucked on her nipple harder as he thrusted sharply on her pussy, “Make us want to shower you with cum to prove how divine you are.”

Stroking her face gently contradicted how ruthless Bucky treated her mouth as his balls were slapping her chin repeatedly — allowing some of her drool and his precum to fall graceless from her mouth — before adding, “Only a pretty girl like you can make three soldiers fall apart.”

And fall apart was exactly what was bound to happen as Steve planted his hands on her hips so he could gain enough leverage to fuck her ass relentlessly, until his balls slammed against the rim of her opening, until he felt himself come undone with one final thrust all the way inside her. “Fucking hell,” He panted out against her back as he felt himself unload almost a year of desire inside her.

With much reluctance, Steve pulled out of her ass and rested against the conference table to catch his breath and recover. This then allowed Sy to knead his hands into the skin of her ass so he could move her up and down his cock, chasing his own impending orgasm. “Cum with me, beautiful,” He harshly demanded against her skin as moved her in time with his thrusts, “Let me feel you fall apart and come on my cock.” And to prove how badly he wanted — no, needed — to feel her hug his cock even tighter as she spasmed in pleasure — her to cum, he slid in and out of her at a rapid pace until she was clawing at his chest and he felt her body tense up then relax as she coated his cock with cum.

Moaning out at the relief of her release, Bucky enjoyed the added vibrations on his cock — adding to the pleasure as her tongue licked and swirled around the underside of his cock — while watching her ride out her orgasm. It wasn’t long before Sy too stilled his movements so he could release his seed in her. “Fuck so good!” He yelled out as he stayed inside her, relishing the feel of their combined juices. Seeing how her mouth went slack and her lips weren’t sucking on his cock anymore, the sergeant pulled out and stroked his cock as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her nipple. Shivering at the sensation, she stared at him with doe eyes as her dainty hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his balls, “Cum for me, Bucky.” It was the way she sultrily whispered it that made him throw his head back and moan as he covered her gorgeous tits with his cum.

Loving the way her breasts were marked with his cum, she tried to milk more out of the super soldier by rubbing the tip of his cock with her thumb as the other hand fondled his balls gently. “You’re one special girl,” Steve spoke as he watched intently the scene in front of him. Smiling at the praise, Y/N stopped stroking Bucky’s cock when she milked him already. After leaning down to press a chaste, sweet kiss on Sy’s lips, she removed his cock from where it was deeply planted on her — with a moan falling from her lips — before standing up and heading to where Steve was in order to do the same.

“Thank you for proving how beautiful I am,” She sweetly thanked them once she pulled away from the kiss. “Now hold on,” Bucky spoke as he made his way to stand beside Y/N, “I think you’re gonna need more proof of how beautiful you are.”

Catching his drift, Sy sat up straighter in the chair before agreeing, “Exactly, and we might need to give you individually are our own reasons.” She held her breath once more as she felt Steve pepper kisses on her shoulder, “Think you can handle us individually, doll?”

Desperately, she nodded as she enjoyed the feel of his lips kissing her skin. With two fingers grabbing onto her chin, Bucky made her face him, “Good, ‘cause I haven’t been inside that lovely pussy and ass of yours. Oh, and I got a long list of what makes you fucking beautiful.”

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