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it's kind of sad to say but sometimes I think I'm not cut out for fandom. I've always been more of a lurker than a contributor anyway, but even then I feel like I might just be too much of a canon purist to really be part of them. so much of being on the internet is about curating your own experience, but fanon (mis)interpretations/characterizations are so rampant in some spaces, treated as canon to such an extent that some people literally believe they ARE, that they're often hard to avoid completely.
the point of fandom isn't supposed to be nitpicking every little thing for accuracy, obviously. I like talking with people about my favorite things, and seeing how my thoughts and interpretations match up with theirs. I don't expect everyone's experience with whatever media to be the same. but I think a lot of people view canon as something separate, as something they get to play around with and take the parts they like and change what they don't. and that's fine, but I don't really get it, not entirely. I like playing around with hypotheticals and what-ifs and stuff, but to me canon is always going to be superior/unchangeable. and it's even worse when people will try to use canon to explain that their blatantly fanon-based interpretations are, in fact, canon somehow. and it gets even WORSE when it turns into actual discourse, and suddenly people are claiming that not following their fanon interpretation means something about your real-life values.
it's just kind of exhausting sometimes. I love a lot of y'all on here and it can be so fun to be a part of things, even mostly from the sidelines. but sometimes all I want is to close social media forever and reread my novels in peace
#this is something I've had a hard time with for a while tbh#I'm never quite sure how to put it into words but I was v annoyed earlier so here this is#and you may be thinking#'vi it's not that deep just close the app if you want to leave'#which yes. but also can't a person complain a bit!!#I think curating your fandom experience is also kind of hard if you're more of a part-time lurker#than if you have a bunch of mutuals who you regularly talk to outside of post interactions lol#which could definitely be part of my problem. unless it's just a ME problem#I want to know if this is a me problem or if others experience this#but I also don't really want my shitty vent post to be reblogged lmao
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:/
#that vaginismus post got me feeling all fucked up tbh#and this is nothing against op. i have no issues with op here and i don't think they did anything wrong.#they were just sharing their own experience#but it's hard when you kinda feel like a freak of nature a little bit#like I've had people straight-up not believe me when I've told them nothing can go in my vagina (and it's almost like I don't have one)#so it was nice to read a post from someone with a similar experience in that regard#but like...again. nothing against op at all.#but it got me really triggered. just thinking at all about 'treatments' for it#like thinking about the idea that I'm supposedly not having sex 'correctly' because I can't have anything inside my vagina#(even though I have a lot of sex that I and my partners really enjoy)#and thinking about doctors and just...any framing of it as something that's not normal and would need to be 'treated'#while also at the same time knowing my inability to get a pap smear might be a genuine medical issue#but it just gets me so triggered to think about it#I'm sure all my weird gender stuff isn't helping either#though my vaginismus has been present long before I had any *idea* that I might not be cis#I'm sorry I'm venting. It's just hard I guess#like it doesn't feel like anything is wrong with me but it's hard to live in a world that assumes there must be#or that assumes people like me just don't exist and everyone with a pussy wants to and can be penetrated#personal#vaginismus
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How did you know you were gay?
ah, couple reasons i guess. some that only became obvious with like 15 years of hindsight, and only after pulling myself out of the deep dark pit of compulsory heterosexuality.
like. classic symptoms of lesbianism include shamefully staring at the floor when you pass the women's underwear racks in the department store, even though you're not quite sure why you're uncomfortable. that sort of thing.
i have memories from early elementary school of accidentally glimpsing down a girl's shirt at recess and then bottling up that feeling and refusing to think about it. any time i had a crush on a boy, it was from an extremely idealized and safely non-actionable distance. the one time i did have a boyfriend, it was just my guy best friend from middle school, we dated for barely a school year before i ended it and the most physical intimacy i was ever comfortable with was holding his hand when we walked to class. i went to a different school's prom because a guy i was kind-of friends with asked me, and spent the whole night uncomfortably avoiding eye contact.
basically i started questioning my sexuality towards the end of high school, when i noticed myself getting like. jealous about my guy best friend's girlfriends?? like. i wanted to date them. i wanted to steal them from him lmao. i thought girls were pretty and soft and nice and cute and i was too afraid of being a predatory creep to do anything about it besides have far-fetched daydreams, but there was no heterosexual explanation. like, i hugged a girl i thought was pretty one time and it did things to my brain. that memory got locked in for life.
i identified as ace/pan early on, but again- compulsory heterosexuality. the idea of being with a guy romantically or sexually was never actually appealing. i had just been told that was what i was supposed to want my entire life, and the movies do a great job of selling that fantasy. but really i was just a lonely depressed helpless romantic teenager that wanted to be loved lol.
a large part of why i identified as asexual was because i was so sex-repulsed by the idea of penetration, honestly? (which i have since gotten over, but specifically Only with girls. the idea of having sex with a man still icks me out, and my preference is definitely femme-presenting ppl) a bit of it was probably also because i hadn't unpacked gender yet either. it made it very difficult to actually imagine myself having sex with anyone ever lol. this is gonna sound so cringe to say, but reading gay smut did awaken things in me.
in conclusion, tldr, i just like to think about tits and kissing women sometimes, idk. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.
#my paranoia is making me think anon is my mom or smth lmao#say something my mom would never fucking say. *gun.png* prove ur not my mom!!!! prove it motherfucker!!!!#if ur questioning ur sexuality my advice is just to explore#look at lots of different porn. try to figure out what attracts you and why#a lot of my kinks are actually divorced from gender tbh#at the height of my teenage repression i was actually reading gay voltron smut nightly#and in total denial like 'this doesn't mean anything about me. im so cis. i would know if i was trans.'#as if i didn't think the exact same shit about being gay. 'i would totally know if i was gay. i don't think about having sex with women'#because i didn't *let* myself think about having sex with women lmao#because i didn't *let* myself think about being trans- because it wasn't *safe* to be trans at the time#and figuring out the difference between 'do i want to look like this person or am i attracted to the way they look' is very tricky#and figuring out that you don't actually genuinely feel any of these implanted emotions about the opposite sex is hard too#sometimes it takes a while its okay#like looking back on my childhood fictional character crushes- it was always the women! i liked the way women looked!!#but i had been TOLD that i was a girl and so thought i HAD to be that and fall in love with a man#idk does any of this make sense lol#im a little sleep-deprived atm#i've been up a solid 24 hours#anonymous#ask#god the way i broke up with that boyfriend was so bad too oughhhhh#i've wondered a few times if i should shoot him a facebook message like 'hey sorry i dumped u like that and then we never talked again.'#'it turned out that i was neither a girl nor heterosexual. so. hope ur doin good!'
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jJudas
There is a strange duality in the guilt that comes from religion
It compounds on itself.
It is going to confession for the crime of loving another
feeling like a traitor.
Not just to yourself... your God... but to the other
You are judas.
The love you shared is like that forsaken kiss in the garden.
In that confessional, you realize that your lover is Jesus
and You are Judas
It shatters me: to know you is sin but to renounce you is hell.
#MyLife#Yeah#love#CreativEndeavors#written wordss#this is a rework of a draft that I had sitting in my notes app#I thought of many of the lines to this while crying and driving my car LMAO#I think it was after something to do with that one church group i won't shut up about#in the rework here I tried to be intentional with the formatting but I'm no poet#every so often i'll just drop a beyond shitty poem and then reblog a gazillion things to try and cover it from my feed#like this poem is started a couple months old and i was feeling just melancholy enough today to finish it#i've never been in love nor have i had a lover but I have been Judas all the same#Been Judas acted as a judas#tbh i think my melancholy today may have started earlier than i thought#two connected things#i thought it was the later thing that caused it but tbh i think the later thing was just the match on the kindling of the earlier thing#not that deep but for the first time in Several Months I actively pretended to be straight#i volunteer with the elderly so when i'm talking with the lady and she asks if im married i reply a lot but in it i say#no ma'am i haven't found the right man yet#like even though i interact with people who i'm closeted around regularly enough i don't usually ever deflect so hard#makes me feel fake; phony; not me#but c'est la vie baby#like by deflect so hard i usually am slick with changing convo directions or any number of things i don't ever say im attracted to men
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Dark Cherry [3] | Aemond Targaryen
Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.
Word Count: 6.9k
Warnings: MDNI 18+!! smut, angst!!!!!!, unedited, infidelity, revenge cheating, oral (m receiving), kinda slightttt dub con if you squint w/ Aegon x reader, Aemond is frustrating, so is reader tbh, slight deviation from canon? again, if you squint, soft!aemond if you also squint. But also---angry Aemond (rahhhhhh), tell me if I've missed any warnings!
Author's note: my APOLOGIES on the wait, y'all. Hopefully this scratches an itch!! it's 11PM here, which is the earliest I've ever posted a fic funnily enough. I also reallyyyyy appreciate the love on this series so far!!! Love you all. As always, please don't hesitate to comment or to interact or hmu in my inbox w/ me bc I LOVE yapping with you guys. Send in feedback or criticism (but like I'll cry if it's super mean) or some headcannons!! or even your best dad joke. Anyways, xoxo kisses!!! <3
Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen was an intelligent man. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been acting as the realm’s largest imbecile.
Time and time again, Aemond had let his ego and his pride run ahead of his brain, and had failed to think of the effect that his actions had on people other than himself. Sure, he cared for those who were important to him. His sister, his mother, his grandfather, Ser Cole, Aegon (although Aemond may not have realised it) and even to some extent his wife.
He realised, perhaps too late, that you may as well be a stranger to him. And at one point, Aemond had truly believed that keeping whatever unlucky woman he was to wed at arms length would be for the best.
The first time he met you was insignificant. It was as per tradition and formality. Aemond’s interactions up until the wedding was mainly with your family, despite the efforts you made to acquaint yourself with him properly. You were much more timid then, shyer than Aemond had expected from the to-be wife of a weaponised prince. But then again, he had only assumed that a Lady like his mother would have been chosen for him; confident, cunning and strong-headed.
At the time he had begun to understand you better, Aemond had lost track of himself. A sort of descent into darkness where he went from a young prince to a man, eager to prove himself at whatever cost. Satisfied by the control he gained through fear, strength and reputation. Now that he had stopped to think about his marriage, after you had left him hard and desperate in his own bed, Aemond came to realise a few things.
You were a purity among the wickedness and politics of the Red Keep. An inherently good person and a woman of grace, kindness and compassion. He had already noticed the dwindling of those traits brought on by your new life, confined to the walls of a fortress that was littered with deceit, distrust and gore. Aemond was a far darker entity than you–he had accepted this fact after the first true conversation you shared.
Corrupting you was both tempting and terrifying. Aemond had always been loveless–deprived of the affection he craved and deserved but also clueless about how to give that affection. And while he wished he could learn how to right himself and how to quell the carelessness of his temperament and the destruction that was left in its wake, Aemond didn’t know how to.
Perhaps it would come naturally. He was a lot more open to that notion now, despite the fact that most of him was convinced he was incapable of such change.
Aemond regretted–something he didn’t feel often–how he had pushed you away. Even if he had not intended to.
Because now, he was starting to see you as you were. A woman who had far more of an influence over his emotions than he realised–a woman who he had begun to crave the affections of in such an intensity that it only served to scare him away from you. At one stage, you had been another stranger among the walls of his home bound to him in nothing but title but, at some point throughout this ridiculous game that he had stupidly encouraged, Aemond had started to see you as his wife.
The whore that he had let into his bed was not actually a whore. It was a woman Aemond had known–a witch whom he had shared the pleasures of his body with before the two of you had wed. Alys was always eager for him and once, he would have returned it with his own enthusiasm. Not anymore. She was simply an easier option. A whore would never sully the sanctity of his chambers. It wouldn’t have made a difference if he had been honest and told you that Alys was not from the Street of Silk.
To anyone who came asking, including you, Aemond would first admit to taking a whore into his bed than a lowly witch.
He cursed himself for letting his honour fall so short that this is what it took for him to wake up. For him to have tainted his loyalty to you, to have let a woman whom he could barely get it up for shatter the confines of his marriage, for him to have been left unwound with a hard cock, his hand and only the scent of you on his thigh to release the tension that was driving him mad.
Aemond wished he hadn’t been so short sighted. He would subject himself to whatever punishment he deserved should it be the burn of a whip against his back or the sickening ache of starvation if you were to demand it.
All of a sudden, in the days that had passed since your encounter on his bed, Aemond found himself looking for you throughout his day. He hoped you’d cross each other in the halls, cursed the world for keeping him too busy to spend an afternoon with you in the gardens, sworn at the war that was raging for binding him to his duties and keeping you apart.
So at the first opportunity he had to take time for himself and for the first time in your short marriage, Aemond had called upon you to join him for afternoon tea.You stared at the young servant who had been sent to retrieve you, half wondering if you had heard the boy incorrectly. Had he called you simply one moon ago, you would have dropped everything you were doing to meet your husband for tea with a grin and a skip in your step at the prospect of finally spending time with him on his own accord.
But now? It both excited you and infuriated you.
You gave the boy a soft smile, holding your reserve together when his face dropped at your refusal. “You may tell my husband that I am otherwise attended to for my tea.”
It wasn’t a lie. You had important plans for the afternoon with the other Targaryen son.
The servant stood still for a moment. “Yes, my Lady.”
“The rest of my afternoon is already engaged with the King,” you purposefully added, a mixture of adrenaline and excitement beginning to simmer in your belly. “Tell him I will take tea with him another time.”
You were walking away from your chambers before the servant had turned to leave. A part of you felt bad for him. Anyone would be wary of delivering rejection to a prince. It felt as if you were sending him to his death in a way, knowing that the seemingly innocent excuse was balancing on a wire that was already frayed. If the young servant had known of your sly plan for revenge, he would have spoiled his breeches.
There was a chance Aemond would catch on straight away. There was a chance that he would take a little longer.
Either way, so long as he caught on, everything would unfold in your favor.
Aegon had been waiting for you, a mischievous smile on his lips at the sight of you eagerly rushing towards him. He was an immature and distracted King, and he was definitely not without his flaws, but he had never been bad to you. Sometimes, you even appreciated Aegon’s efforts to involve you in conversation or to pull a smile out of you when you had clearly been distressed. Nonetheless, he was still an infuriating cad and you had often considered giving in to violent urges at the way he treated Helaena.
Helaena.
A stab of guilt in your gut at the thought of her. Sure, she had confided in you on numerous occasions and you knew she felt little care for Aegon’s outwards ventures with women but you knew she was saddened by the state of her marriage. And here you were, as wretched as the whore that Aemond had bedded. It was no different; you were doing the same thing as her. Only it wasn’t your job; you weren’t doing it for the money.
The satisfaction of bringing Aemond down to the same level he had brought you to was all the motivation you needed. It would be treading a thin line but it would be worth it.
“I had wondered how long it would take you to find yourself in my chambers, Princess,” Aegon’s voice held that boyish shrill he had never grown out of. The way he had stepped aside to let you pass, eyes holding yours through his lashes as he dipped his head with a grin. “For a cup of tea, of course.”
Comparing Aegon’s chambers to Aemond’s was instinctual. It was brighter here, messier and there was an unkempt feel to the furniture despite the servant’s having kept things relatively put together. A King’s chambers, it was; grand and large and adorned with all sorts of artistry. Aemond’s chambers had held a darker tone; presumably because Aemond was sensitive to light on his blind eye and somehow even the glow of light from the lamps were deeper and warmer.
You liked Aemond’s chambers better.
“It has been overdue, Your Grace,” you weren’t sure of that. “Thank you for indulging me this afternoon. I wager a King such as yourself is no short of duties to tend to.”
Aegon scoffed, pouring himself a cup of wine as he watched you take a seat at the small settee from the corner of his eye. “My family seems to be taking care of my duties on my behalf. I am a king in nought but title, you see.”
There was nothing you could say at his unbridled honesty. Aegon was different to most of the people who presided here in that way. He cared little to hide behind a facade of false indifference and stoicism.
He fell to the cushion beside you, close enough so you could smell the drink he balanced in his hand. Aegon laid back lazily, resting on his elbows and watching you as you sat pin-straight and brought the piping tea to your lips. “‘Tis not a concern. I would much prefer to have more comely company than those clueless cunts who sit on my counsel.”
“I do not doubt that, Your Grace,” you coughed lightly, growing alarmingly aware of the fact that you hadn’t thought about how this was going to play out. There was absolutely nothing that you knew about seducing a king. No less, a king with Aegon’s track record. “I beli-”
“You have been different,” He cut you off. Swiftly pushing himself up so that his face was beside yours, breath tickling the strands of your hair that had fallen loose across your cheek. Aegon’s lips were gently turned up as his eyes traced every curve of your face.
Swallowing thickly, you will yourself to meet his eye with confidence. The curiosity in his familiar violet eyes was paired with an immature lust and you wondered if he had any idea how easy it could be to use his forward thinking cock against him were you a woman of cunning ambitions. You didn’t miss how his gaze flickered across your throat and towards the curve of your chest.
But something in the way that Aegon looked at you in that moment, like you were a woman of such beauty that he would risk whatever consequences were sent his way just to feel your touch sent a slither of saddened longing across your chest. Not even your husband had made you feel as if you were so captivating.
It made the knowledge of how ever long you’d be alone with him far easier to stomach.
“I do not know of what you mean, Your Grace.”
Aegon laughed, bringing his face so close to yours that the point of his nose touched against your cheek. His hand fell to rest flat just above your belly, brazenly close to where your dress tucked underneath the curve of your breasts.
“I know well when a Lady is not…” he dragged his nose across your soft skin, eyes carefully watching your reaction. “Sufficiently satisfied by her husband.”
Your breath hitched at how quickly Aegon had set his target. “If you mean to-”
“Does my dear brother forego his duties for the comfort of whores, perhaps?”
Pursing your lips, you gently turned your face so that your lips were centimetres away from his, Aegon’s fringe brushing across your forehead. There was a ringing in your ears, a nervousness about how you were so close to betraying your husband and how you were unsure that you could handle the fallout of what was definitely about to happen. Things are much different for women; infidelity and adultery would be grounds for far worse than simply an annulment. This world was not so kind to a lady who partakes in the same treachery as a lord.
Above all, you were conflicted.
“It seems my husband is no different to any other man who does not hunger for his wife.”
“I hunger for his wife,” Aegon all but moaned at the way your lips nudged closer to his. He cocked his head to the side and pressed his fingers into your flesh. “But I am no fool, my Lady. Aemond has always been the sole object of your gaze. You are here for more sinister reasons, I suspect.”
You blinked. Why did these Targaryen princes so often seem to be one step ahead?
It was a relief that he had not moved away from your closeness. In fact, Aegon leaned further into it. His smile never faltered and he waited patiently for you, watching as you thought of your next moves. There was a flush of embarrassment that prettied your skin and it was clear that your facade was close to crumbling. Aegon was not a man you desired in such a way. Merely a means to an end.
So you sighed, resigning to the fact that being honest with Aegon would be best.
“You are right,” you muttered. He shook with a silent laugh at your bravery and the way your chin remained turned up. “I-I believe you are aware of my intentions, Your Grace. Will you have me dragged back to Prince Aemond’s feet or will you allow my scheme?”
Aegon was in front of you in a matter of seconds, bending down so that he met your height as you stayed seated. “I would risk meeting the wrath of a man whose temperament and pride are unchained.”
“Teach me how to make it worth it then, my King,” you held strong in forcing the tremble out of your voice. You didn’t want to bed him entirely–absolutely not. Just what you had seen through the gap in Aemond’s door would be more than enough and there was a bubbling gratification in your stomach knowing that Aemond would not be able handle what he had so easily served out.
His hand held the back of your neck and he jerked forward to catch your lips, grunting when you turned your head from him. You couldn’t kiss him. You weren’t interested in kissing him–only fulfilling the steady thrum of excitement at the need to both experience what you had been teased with and show your husband that he should be sorry.
In fact, and you were loathsome to even rationalise it, you felt sick at the thought of kissing him. And you felt a little drop in your gut at the thought of taking him in any kind of way but it was different. Less frightening than kissing a man you were trying so hard to convince yourself was sexy enough.
There was no man for your body’s desires aside from Aemond Targaryen-–
A deep breath and you looked at Aegon through your lashes, bringing your fingers to feel the softness of his lips. “I do not want you to fuck me, Your Grace. But show me how I may give you pleasure with my mouth. And how a man can satisfy me with his.”
Aegon became excited at your use of such foul language, his hand remaining behind your neck as he straightened and guided you roughly to his hips, groaning as your hands instinctively found his thighs and moved upwards. He was painfully hard in his breeches–he had been since the first moment you looked at him with that stubborn intent and purpose.
There was a strong urge to push him away but you fought through it.
“I am sure your husband is already searching for his brazen little vixen,” Aegon watched as you breathed heavily, your chest heaving and your soft breasts pressing against the tightly laced corset of your dress. “And I am sure you wish for him to find us. Very cunning of you, I must say.”
His touch didn’t pull that feeling from you. The feeling of Aemond’s touch that had made you feel as if you were floating in lava and drowning in a molten heat that could only be quelled by him. But it made your blood rush down, growing sensitive between your thighs at the prospect of pleasuring a man who openly lusted for you and had no care for hiding it.
Aegon didn’t care for games that shattered your self-worth. He didn’t care to make you feel lesser than a whore for your curiosity of how it felt to have a man tremble from your mouth. All he wanted was to feed his appetite for you–the beautiful Lady who he had envied his brother for having to himself.
“I want to learn how to do it,” you whispered, melting into Aegon’s guidance as he hastily fiddled with the embellishments on his tunic to undo half of it and push the velvet fabric out of the way. The laced belt at his waist was discarded in seconds and you took little time to pull him out of the confines of his breeches. “So I can–so I can show him.”
There was a certain light headed nervousness that you felt when you realised that you don’t actually know how to do what you wished to. It seemed easy enough when you watched how that woman had given Aemond her mouth but now that you were faced with trying it out yourself, you worried how you would fare. Aegon triggered a natural response from you, one that you had learned was instinctual of human bodies, but you just could not find him desirable.
Momentarily, you doubted you could find it in you to disregard your aversion to the King. An aversion that suddenly became more pressing an issue than it was merely seconds ago.
Aegon must have noticed your apprehension because he guided you forward, the hardened length of his cock brushing against your face. He was breathing heavily when he spoke. “Lick it. Use your tongue first and then-fuck, that’s right-” you hesitantly followed his instructions, dragging the tip of your tongue across the sides of him, gentle flicks down to the base and then a long stripe up to the top. It was an invigorating thrill when you felt him throb against your mouth. His hips jerked when you hesitantly wrapped your lips around him.
It was slightly uncomfortable but it was not a bad feeling. Aegon tasted musky and salty, and a little bit sweaty. You took a moment to find the best way to stop your teeth from grazing against him and started to move along him, watching as he threw his head back, eyes shut tightly.
The image of your husband stayed ingrained in your head. Would Aemond taste the same? Would he feel the same on your tongue? Would his cock react to you in such a way? Would you enjoy taking him in your mouth more than whatever this was?
Shamefully or not, you let yourself pretend that Aegon was not the man standing above you. That it was Aemond instead, enjoying what you were keen to give him and praising you for being so eager to taste him.
You wished so hard that it was Aemond instead, that for a moment, when you gazed upwards it was him looking down at you with his hair falling perfectly and his eyepatch discarded. Alas, it was King Aegon, who revelled in staring at you with an amusement coupled with bliss that only felt belittling.
It did set your body into a light rush of arousal but you couldn’t stop the doubts that flooded your mind. Were you dishonouring the sanctity of your body out of spite? Were you betraying the man you almost loved just to have a jab at him? Guilty tickles grew in your ribcage but you distracted yourself from it, focusing on the way that Aegon steered your movements.
“Shit,” he hissed. Aegon’s hand found the back of your head and he adjusted your pace how he preferred. “Use your hand. What doesn’t fit–hold it.”
It became slightly easier once you found your rhythm, following each instruction that Aegon gave, drinking in the way his thigh trembled under your hand that rested against it, holding yourself stable as you hollowed your cheeks. Whatever you did, it almost came naturally and Aegon seemed to be enjoying it far more than you had expected.
But it quickly became too much–Aegon started thrusting in a way that didn’t match your movements and you gagged, eyes burning at the ache of him hitting the top of your throat. You made a noise, pulling off and gasping for air, whining as he tugged your mouth back to him and chuckling. Lungs burning, you tried to meet whatever pace Aegon was moving at in an attempt to make things more comfortable.
You reminded yourself of why you were here. The image of Aemond, head thrown back and groans slipping past his lips as he let that woman take him in his mouth. The image of Aemond, head buried between her legs, the skin on his chin glistening as he smirked at you while pleasure another woman.
The feeling when your courtly acquaintances who you once thought of as friends would slyly belittle you for failing to give your husband an heir, belittling you because word of his infidelity had reached their gossiping mouths, belittling you because the Prince who they loathed you for having was hardly yours after all. The looks that they had given you, the way that they snickered and sneered at your failures as his wife. Whispers you had overheard from Lords alike; that for such a pretty thing, you must have been dreadfully dull in the ways of pleasure if Prince Aemond of all men had resorted to whores.
That was how they all saw you; a failure. Because it was never a man’s fault but always his wife’s.
You loathe to think that Aemond harboured the same thoughts. But you would show him how mistaken he was and make him feel what you had felt so that he would regret it all.
“Fuck-” Aegon let out a drawn out groan as he pushed your head down, pushing himself as far down your throat as he could. You struggled to breath and you gagged twice but let him move you as he pleased, a satisfactory moan vibrating against his sensitive skin when he threw his head back and grumbled about spilling himself down your throat.
It was a chaotic moment.
The protest of the kingsguard through the wall and the bang of the door slamming open and you didn’t even need to turn and look. Aemond was seething, barely given the chance to put the pieces together before Aegon simultaneously groaned and laughed, the salty taste of his seed gliding past a sensitive part of your throat and pulling another gag from you as you yanked yourself away from Aegon.
Everything seemed to pause for a moment. And despite the obnoxious laughter coming from the King as he tucked himself back into his breeches, the heavy breathing of your husband and your gasps for air, everything felt silent.
Your blood ran hot at the way Aemond looked between you and Aegon. Nonetheless you met his eye, holding your chin up and wiping a bead of Aegon’s peak from your lip.
It felt good. Watching as Aemond forced himself back into his stoic resolve; only bothering to subdue the way his eye filled with the same betrayal you still felt in your gut at the thought of the whore who had been on her knees for him in an almost identical way.
Stoicism and slow, simmering, silent rage.
The air around you turned hot enough to light a candle. Aemond’s presence alone had proven to be enough to send you spiralling from the heat he encased you in whenever he was in the same room but this? You were choking, sick to your stomach and doing your best to keep your knees from buckling at his intensity.
Aemond heard Aegon ramble out some hideous insult, watched how you frowned at him and heard the echoes of his cackle. But the ringing in his ears overwhelmed it all and he had no clue what his brother had taunted him with before his fist met Aegon’s cheek with a loud crack.
He didn’t bother sparing his brother a second glance. Aemond was stood in front of you and despite his obvious anger, he pulled you up from where you were seated with a gentleness which had your mind reeling.
There was a threat hidden in his voice. “Come with me. Now.”
Perhaps you had made a mistake. The gentle fury in Aemond was terrifying and even though you knew he would never raise a hand at you the way he thoughtlessly did at Aegon, there were so many ways that a Prince could ruin you.
You felt a pit of regret now that it was over and the curtain of lust had lifted. It was easy to see how simple it is to get lost in the touch of another but it was easier to see how simple it is to avoid it.
There was satisfaction. And you felt it simultaneously with the adrenaline of being caught and the doubts of your actions. Princes and Princesses and Kings and Queens were so unaware of their hypocrisy until it was spat back into their faces.
Aemond would never in a million years have understood what he was doing to you if you had just been a submissive little wife and forgiven him. But now? Now he would know. And now things would be balanced and your desire to hurt him as he had done you has been fulfilled. And now you could see how this marriage would really stand against such tests.
And now, you may finally know whether Aemond truly did not care for you. Because if Aemond did not care for you–or even in part; love you–then he would not be hurt and he would not be feeling such betrayal.
Right now, as Aemond silently walked you towards his chambers, hands fisted, jaw clenched tightly and his gaze fixed ahead, you were fearful of how things would fare. As strong as you wished for your resolve to stay, Aemond’s disappointment was showing you a new weakness. And his words, you knew, if they were used as weapons then you would stand little chance against them. There was a heavy weight against your lower back where his hand sat, pushing you gently so that you glided through the halls faster.
It wasn’t a long journey back to Aemond’s quarters. But it felt like hours to the Prince, the nausea in his gut silencing him the entire way. He felt like a child again, presented with a pig instead of a dragon, the shrill laughs of his cousins and his brother striking him with flashes of humiliation.
Again and again and again, Aegon would do whatever he could to see Aemond crumble. Aegon would always take Aemond’s dignity, his honour, his crown. And now he just had to take his wife?
Aemond shut the doors to his chambers roughly and you were quick to put some distance between the two of you. There was a hollow ball of guilt and fear that caught in your throat but you couldn’t deny the elation at the mixture of emotions in Aemond’s eye as he turned to face you.
It was a reflection of how you had felt upon finding Aemond in bed with another. He would finally understand.
Only Aemond was worlds away from the damned arousal you had felt and instead it was replaced with a youthful dread, a panic that you had never seen from him before now.
There was hardly a moment for you to register the harshness of Aemond’s grip on your bicep as he pulled you toward the bowl that was kept by his bath, filled with clean water and accompanied by a tray of freshening oils. He lightly shoved you toward it as he let you go, unfazed by the sound of shock that you could not hold back.
“Wash your mouth,” he spat. Although your back was to him, you could feel how he suppressed the extent of his rage as he was ever so good at doing. “And then we will talk.”
You bit your tongue and did as he said, wincing at the ice in his words and the angry strain of his voice. There was a lot that you wanted to say, to scream at him. He was angry–and to some extent he had every right to be–but how could Aemond have expected you to be okay with something that he clearly could not take on the chin?
But the way he had held you, the tone of his voice and the harshness in his glare had you wondering if revenge was worth whatever comes next. Because, amongst the whirlwind of fear and guilt and regret was gratification and fulfilment.
The prickle of Aemond’s glare had disappeared before you were ready to dry your mouth with a towel. Quiet as ever, he had snuck away and by the time you had realised, the sound of the door shutting and the click of the lock had notified you of his absence.
Aemond had locked you in. When you had swiftly tried to push the doors open, unaware of where you would go and truthfully not intending to leave in the first place, it didn’t budge. And when you called for the kingsguard who stood at the other side of the door, you went unanswered aside from a curt reply that he had been ordered not to let you leave.
So you had resigned yourself to sitting atop Aemond’s bed rather than the seating arrangements scattered around the rest of the quarters. It smelled strongly of lavender, leather and Aemond’s very own scent–the one that always had you on the verge of drooling. But it only sent your nerves into overdrive, afraid that the consequences of your vengefulness, no matter how satisfying it was initially, may be too dire to recover from.
The thought of whatever Aemond had planned for Aegon was not nice. You were correct in assuming that your tryst with Aegon would only cut your husband deeper because it was Aegon. The depth of whatever issues these brothers shared was far beyond you but you had only assumed that all second born princes would be affected in such a way. And Targaryen’s were full of complexities, each believing that they were better than everyone. Even their own siblings.
Aegon had known that his younger brother would become nothing short of murderous. But he had never been a man to avoid even the slightest of temptations. Both the idea of indulging in you and inflaming the ever unresponsive Aemond were far more than slightly tempting. It would be worth the bloodied nose, the split lip and the sick that he’d spewed over his shoes when Aemond had returned to grace him with an inhumanly strong hit to his balls. Somehow, Aemond had made that act of violence seem like child’s play with the threats that he had rained down upon Aegon.
King Aegon, who simply did not know when to keep his mouth shut and had all but asked for it with the way he taunted Aemond with a sentence he never had the chance to complete. “Seeing as you cannot satisfy even your own wife-”
He wasn’t there long. Aemond’s angry mind was racing and he couldn’t think past the red of his rage. But Aemond still knew better than to stay where he would surely commit a treason he would regret.
Whatever fury Aemond had unleashed upon Aegon in the short time he was away had seemed to calm him down. He was still clearly angry when he stepped back into his quarters but there was a far less frightening storm brewing in his eye.
At his return, you had stood from the bed. The air was sucked right out of the room when Aemond stood right in front of you, so close that you could count the creases in the leather of his eyepatch. There was a tense silence in which he stared at you, waiting for you to fold but you only held your head high and met his gaze stubbornly.
Minutes had passed before Aemond spoke. His voice was far softer than you had expected and he seemed to have settled down a bit as he dragged his knuckles across your cheek, only to grip your chin so that you could not look away from him. Aemond held you tightly but not tight enough that it hurt.
“Enough of this,” It was an order, stern and unrelenting. “No more. This was a step too far-”
You scoffed in his face. “A step too far? Had you not done the same thing?”
Aemond had never in his life apologised for anything. He never felt sorry. And he never wished to admit to his mistakes. But here he was, face to face with the effects of one of the biggest mistakes he had made. If there were anything he could have done aside from apologise, he would have done it. But it was the only thing that would ease the mess of guilt that had arisen inside of him. For what he had done with the whore and for everything he hadn’t done for your marriage.
“It was a mistake. If I could undo it, I would,” I’m sorry. “This was childish of you. Vengefulness is unbecoming.”
There was a beastly disgust that Aemond felt when he thought of another man even looking at you. The image of Aegon’s cock in your mouth, his seed leaking from your lips made him want to burn the entire realm to ashes. Aemond’s eye trailed along your jaw, to your neck and then down past your stomach. Did Aegon touch you where only he was to touch you?
Fuck treason. Aemond would feed Aegon to Vhagar if he had indulged in your body.
“It is more than vengeance. You would not have understood what I felt. How I suffered because of you and your whore,” you tried your best to keep your voice stable. The lump in your throat and the tears that blurred your vision forced you to pull out of Aemond’s grip and turn your back to him. “You promised me you would never do that. You dishonoured me. You insulted me. You hurt me–Aemond, do you have any idea the things that they say about me?”
Aemond frowned and you could not see how he reached for you, only to drop his hand back to his side. “I–”
“That I am a failure. That I am-that I am so repulsive and so dull that you cannot even lay with me to produce an heir,” you couldn’t help the sob that escaped you. “And I saw what she was doing to you, what you were doing to her. I could never even have imagined the existence of such an act that had given you so much pleasure-”
“There was no true pleasure with her.” Aemond mumbled. Pathetically.
Pathetic was exactly the word. Aemond may have been good with a sword, in a fight, with his dragon and when strategizing wars. But he was a pathetic husband–a pathetic partner, a pathetic lover. And he had the urge to take out his good eye for being so mindless and so ignorant.
Hindsight was his worst enemy, it seemed. Because in hindsight, Aemond would have done everything differently, right from the moment you were introduced to him.
“Lie. It was clear, Aemond. They are all right, are they not?” You felt him step into you, his warm chest against your back. Leather and lavender and him. “I have failed. My womb is still empty. The last time you visited my bed was moons ago. I know you do not love me, my Prince, but I have love for you. Men are not the only ones who need intimacies of the body–I needed that and you have never given me anything. Yet you gave it to her. I wished to hurt you as you had hurt me.”
There were no words that Aemond could find. So he settled for shaking his head and watching you as you sat yourself down on the edge of his bed, staring down at your hands on your lap. You were so wrong in your perception of him but he couldn’t find the words to explain that. But Aemond decided in that moment that he would show you, one way or another. He hesitated before sitting beside you.
You couldn’t meet his eye if you tried. It was as if your body was telling you to stop talking, that these thoughts were too painful to share, feelings too abstract and tender to put into words.
“It is wretched, I know–to have turned to Aegon,” you felt him tense beside you and against your better judgement, you placed a hand on his thigh in an attempt to give him some comfort. “I wished to hurt you but I also wished to learn. I thought maybe if I knew how to-how to do things that would make you feel good so that maybe you would feel for me as I have for you. Aegon said he could show me. It is ridiculous, I understand that now.”
Aemond took your hand in his, the heat of your skin against his was fierce for such an insignificant action. He hated that it was easier for you to turn to Aegon than it was to turn to him. “I could have shown you. I can show you so much more. If only we had been honest with each other from the beginning.”
“I thought you do not want me.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. It would be less painful to drive his own dagger through his heart. “I crave for you, my love. I was just too stubborn to admit it and too afraid of what it means. And I did not know how to show you how badly I burn for you.”
The sight of tears had never fazed him until they were yours. Aemond was not particularly pious, he prayed simply because his mother had raised him to pray, but he would be on his knees every hour of every day if it meant that he could take these feelings away from you. If it meant that he could take it all back and start over.
“I am sorry. No more of this,” you said. “No more seeking out the touch of anyone else in place of each other.”
“I will be a better husband,” Aemond stated, as if he were telling it to himself as much as he was to you. “I will try for our marriage and our duty. And for you.”
“Your promises haven’t proven to mean much to me. All is not forgiven just because we have talked,” You sighed, but gave him a weak smile, turning to look at him.
He gazed down at you with determination, his jaw tight and his eye glistening with tears that wouldn’t fall. There was no attempt to push you away when you reached up to take off the leather that covered his bad eye. You wanted to see him as he was, even if only for a moment.
Gods, he was beautiful.
As you stood you forced your smile to turn lighthearted as you teased him through your heavy hearts. “Jealousy motivates you well, my Prince. I shall remember that.”
Aemond hummed, mostly serious as his hands tightly grabbed your hips. “Do not jest like that. I will not be able to look at Aegon without dreaming of murdering him for defiling you how only I should. I cannot afford such treasonous fantasies.”
There was a silent threat in his words. Nonetheless, you leaned down to his ear, gasping gently at the harshness of his fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips. Just his hands on your body alone set you alight.
“Perhaps my husband should leave the door to his bedchambers open tonight,” you let out a small laugh at the way that he pulled you to straddle his lap so suddenly, gently nipping the skin of his earlobe. You weren’t quite done messing with him.
“Is that so?” He smiled and you thought that it made him all the more beautiful.
“Yes,” you smirked, when he groaned frustratedly at your next words, softly throwing you onto the bed. “I may wish to show you exactly what I have learned.”
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— ✧ mr. nice guy
pairing. hong joshua x reader
description. you thought your next-door neighbor was just being polite when he offered to help you carry in your boxes the first time you saw him, but as you adjust to your new home, you start to notice that joshua’s nice in other ways too: nice eyes, nice smile, nice arms, nice fingers, probably nice di—okay you get the point. but just how long can you go with lusting after your neighbor before giving in to your very much not-nice desires? well, lucky for you, joshua also isn’t nearly as much of a gentleman as he likes to let on.
✘ tags. smut (18+), neighbor!joshua, joshua's muscles deserve their own tag tbh, oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption (NOT drunk sex), petnames (sweetheart mostly :pp), biting, spit kink, unedited as always ✘ w/c. 5.3k ✘ a/n. i have had this idea in me for a WHILE so it's good to finally get it out! honestly i feel like the story is a little rushed but whatever
there's a gentle voice coming from in front of you, but with the way you’re holding the large box up right in front of your face, you can’t see who’s speaking. “do you need help with that?”
muscles straining and sweat beading down your skin, you manage to squeak out a quick, “yes please!” a wave of relief washing over your body as you feel the box grow infinitely lighter as this man’s arms wrap around the side. “thank you so much,” you say, still gripping onto the box as you slowly walk over and lead it to the front of your apartment door a few feet away. setting it down carefully, you look up so you can finally see the face of the angel who saved you so much trouble.
“no problem," he replies politely, and as your eyes flicker up, you're taken aback by his kind smile. "you new here?"
"did the moving boxes give it away?" you joke and the man cracks a hearty laugh.
"you got me there. i'm joshua," he tells you, and you think to yourself that there can't be a name for fitting for the man. he points over to the door across from yours. "i live right there, so i guess we'll be seeing each other a lot. what's your name?"
your name falls from your lips in a haze, internally thanking your lucky stars for finding yourself an apartment that was not only close to your work but also in close proximity someone as nice as joshua. "i guess so," you reply looking down the hallway where the movers had left the rest of your boxes. "i don't suppose you'd be down for another few boxes?" you ask hopefully, wincing at the way you're so shamelessly asking for help.
joshua chuckles at your expression and you feel that the ground might as well swallow you up whole. "it'd be my pleasure. it's not often i get new neighbors who are under the age of 50."
"i've noticed that...is there a reason the average age of the residents of place is like 60?" you ask curiously as you walk down to the end of the hallway to the boxes.
"not sure," joshua says. "i guess this place is just popular with them. not that i'm complaining. noisy neighbors are never a problem for me." he gives you an awry look, and you're a bit confused before he's jokes, "unless you plan on making that something i have to worry about now."
"no!" you reply a little too quickly, flustered by the way joshua is so easily coming up with conversation. it seems as if he's so smooth with everything, and with the way you have a million thoughts racing through your head—it's a it hard to keep up. "i mean, i don't do much or anything really," you clarify, reaching down to pick up one box while joshua goes to grab the other side.
"good to know," joshua tells you with a smile, and you try not to focus too much on the way that he grunts slightly when lifting up his end. "you're always welcome to come over to my place for a drink or something," he suggests as you begin walking over to your apartment.
smiling as you set down the box, you adjust your shirt and look up at him. "i'll think about it."
you, in fact, do think about joshua's offer. you think about it a lot.
you think about it that night when you carefully unpack your boxes. joshua's a nice guy, you think to yourself, because it's not often you come across such a person who's willing to give you an hour of their day to help carry heavy ass boxes for someone they barely know.
you think about it two mornings later when you're walking down the hallway with your groceries for the week only to find joshua about to enter his own apartment, clad in a tight fit t-shirt and gym shorts. his skin glows with layer of sheen sweat, his light brown hair pressing against his forehead in an oddly fitting mess. his breath is slightly labored when you call out his name instinctively, turning to look at you with bright eyes.
"hey, how's it going?" he's polite. joshua is polite, and a gentleman. you almost feel guilty when your eyes dart to the arms when the muscles flex as he brings up a hand to grab one of your grocery bags, insisting that it was his pleasure to help you out. something along the lines of, "i just got back from my work out and i can't help a pretty lady with her bags?"
pretty lady. you hope he can attribute your burning cheeks to the hot sun and not his words, because holy shit does he have your stomach doing tumbles. after all, joshua's just being polite right? right?
you think about his offer again three evenings later. you're just leaving your apartment to go on a walk, and joshua seems to have some people over, five boys knocking on his front door, where there seems to be more boys on the other side. you quickly glance at each other as you slip out of your apartment, hoping to hobble off quickly before things get more awkward, but then there's that door opening and you hear joshua's voice and you falter in your tracks for a moment at the way he calls you name so smoothly.
you turn around to face him as his friends slowly shuffle into his apartment, joshua leaning against the doorframe with a bottle of beer. he holds it up and raises a brow and fuck—if you don't stare at the way the bottle is perched between his perfect, thick fingers—fuck. "you wanna join?"
you want to. fuck, you really want to. so why do the words, the simple phrase of, "yeah sure," fall flat on your tongue? maybe it comes from the embarrassment of lusting over a man you hardly know. from the humiliation of letting your eyes dart towards his arms, his hands, his fingers, joshua's collarbone and the little adam's apple that bobs up when he takes a sip of his beer.
"i, uh, i was just going on a walk right now," you tell him, your voice sounding meek and you want to cringe at the poorly planned response. joshua chuckles, and you aren't sure why.
"you don't wanna come? aw, you're hurting my feelings," he coos.
"no! that's not what i meant," you say quickly, averting your gaze from joshua because the way he's peering down at you right now—god, you don't know if you want to go up to him and fall straight to your knees and suck him off or turn around and run away out of pure humiliation. "i just—you know—walks. go on them every day," you try to explain haphazardly.
"no it's okay, i get it," he replies before looking into his apartment when one of his friends yells out his name, "it's bit rowdy in here anyways, so i don't blame you." there's an awkward sort of silence that settles between you and the air is thick as you debate if you should turn around and leave right about now. "i don't suppose you'd want to stop by after your walk?" he asks hopefully, and you figure this is his way of giving you a second chance.
this time, you look up at him and smile. "i'll think about it."
except this time you actually think about, not just sit and wonder of the possibilities. as you pace down the street, your one hour walk that usually make time fly now seems to feel like the longest sixty minutes of your life. you come down to two possibilities at the end of it:
1. you don't show up and joshua thinks you're an indecisive bitch
2. you do show up, have a good time, and things are left at that
of course, putting it like that only really leaves you with one choice to choose, that being the latter. knowing that your own conscience won't let you live it down if you don't end up choosing the latter, you march up to joshua's apartment with a slowly diminishing confidence. yeah, you're eager to see where this night will take you, but you're also not necessarily confident that you're anxiousness won't betray you.
it's just that joshua is so nice and so kind and he has you thinking so many thoughts that your words always seem to jumble up into an incoherent mess whenever he speaks to you. all you can really ever think about when you see him is—well—all of him, which includes his nice smile, his nice muscles, his nice—okay, shit, you really need to control yourself.
doing what little mind-clearing exercises you can cram into the time it takes you to get up to your floor, you're pretty sure your breath is labored from how hard you're thinking alone. before you have any time to let yourself back out of this, you're rushing up to joshua's door, knocking maybe a little too desperately.
in the next moment, you have time to listen in on the other side, the room being quieter than you remember it being an hour ago. all that can be heard is some soft shuffling that can only be identified as joshua's footsteps, and before you know the door is opening, the one and only standing in front of you.
"there she is," joshua greets with a smile, "low and behold!"
the tips of your ears burn at his welcoming, stepping back a little. "h-hi," you murmur quickly, the responses that you planned in your head earlier seemingly fading away in your mind. "is that offer for a drink still on the table?" you ask hopefully, chewing on your bottom lip as you wait for an answer.
"'course it is," he replies. "i was waiting for you to come to your senses," he continues, stepping to the side so you can slip off your shoes and step in, realizing now that all his friends have left leaving only you two. you follow in after him, your eyes glazing over his apartment. it's got the same layout as yours, as expected, only it's mirrored. it's slightly messy, presumably from the mess his friends left from before, but the set up is neat and you can tell joshua has a good eye for color.
"i like those paintings up on the wall," you comment, pointing at a set of wall art hung above his sofa. joshua looks up at it before smiling softly and nodding, walking to the kitchen as you trail behind him.
"thank you, one of my friends that was here earlier got it for me. he's great at interior design, if you're ever looking for someone," he tells you, reaching for the fridge and pulling out a cool bottle of beer. "here," he says, handing it to you before grabbing a bottle opener and popping off the cap for you. holding it out in front of you, you're able to watch his hands up close—they're big and veiny and fuck, you'd be lying if you said you didn't press your thighs together slightly.
you aren't sure joshua notices, and if he does, he doesn't make it obvious. "thank you," you murmur softly, letting him step back and put the opener away before he leads you to the living room. you settle down on one end of the couch, and instead of opting to sit on the arm chair, joshua just sits on the opposite end. throwing his hands back so they lean on the arm rest and the back of the couch, his biceps are stretched out and on display thanks to his short sleeve t-shirt.
"so," joshua begins as he grabs his own beer and brings it up to his lips, "how do you like it here?"
you take your own sip of the cool liquid before responding, "it's hardly been a week...but i like it. it's peaceful, and i like the neighborhood."
"yeah, the people are nice," joshua agrees. you're nice, you think. "how was moving in?"
"i'm still honestly unpacking," you chuckle to yourself, feeling more comfortable now that there's casual conversation being initiated. "i have a bunch of clothes at my friend's place that i still need to pick up," you explain, leaning back into the plush cushions.
"you need help bringing them in? i can lend a hand if you need."
your stomach tumbles at his generosity, but you shake your head. "ah, you've already helped me so much, i don't think that's fair."
"oh c'mon," joshua counters, "you can pay me back with something if that'll make you feel better."
you raise a brow. "now how would i do that? you got venmo?" you tease.
"i was thinking of something a little less materialistic," joshua replies with a roll of his eyes, and you think you might just combust on the spot.
you aren't exactly sure what he means by that until you bring your eyes to meet his and that's when you see it. how his eyes darken, how he gulps even though he hasn't taken a sip of his drink, how he shifts in his seat. suddenly, you're dawned with the realization that on your walk, you left out the option for a third possibility, a.k.a. you do show up, have a good time, and then have joshua rail you into the next dimension.
gaining confidence, you cross your legs over each other and turn to face him better, deciding to go along. "huh..." your voice trails off. "i'm not quite sure what you mean by that joshua," and you swear you hear his breath hitch when you say his name.
he regains composure so quickly it's hard to tell you even threw him off guard in the first place. "i'm not really sure actually. you have anything to offer?"
you shrug as you set down your beer at the coffee table by your feet. "i make a mean maple cake, if you're into sweet stuff." joshua perks up at that.
"i do have a sweet tooth," he mumbles to himself, pretending to be in thought as he follows your movements, pushing his bottle to the side. "that's gonna take a while though," he says solemnly, "you're gonna have to get the ingredients...make the cake...bring it to me...sounds like a lot of work for you..." his voice trails off, and then he's tossing you that look again.
joshua figures you're both definitely on the same page by now and there's no point leaving the tension between his go unrelieved for any longer than he has to, and before you know it he's reaching one strong arm over to grab your wrist, pulling you into his hold so he can kiss you fiercely.
his lips are soft, but the way he's pushing against you, sucking, nipping, running his tongue along you is all but gentle. with joshua's arms leaving your hands and instead running up the sides of your waist, pulling you in roughly, you gasp into his mouth, allowing him the chance to slip his tongue against yours, tasting you, feeling you, being one with you.
one hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head slightly so he can push his lips against yours harder, his tongue sinking deeper to explore the caverns of your mouth. when he pulls away, you both share heaving breaths of air, mouths connected with a string of saliva before he's leaning back in and capturing you once more.
his other hand on your waist gently nudges you and you're falling back onto the cushions, head hitting one of the pillows as he crawls into the space between your legs. inching up his knee until his thick thigh is pressing up against your pounding core, easing the tension that he's been so carefully building up.
joshua noticed it. the way your eyes lingered on his arms, his fingers—noticed the sparkle in your eyes followed by the immediate embarrassment of your own thoughts. he's not sure if you're just easy to read or if he's just good at reading you but whatever it is, you're an open book to him and fuck it's so cute it has him going crazy.
you whine against his lips, rocking into him to the best of you abilities while you're pinned beneath him. there isn't much space to move around in the little corner of this couch, but you hardly pay mind to the inconvenience when joshua peels his lips and thigh away from you. "ha—no," you gasp out, hips chasing the relief the hard muscle provided. joshua chuckles, shaking his head as you pout.
"relax baby," he coos, and the pet name has you shivering under his touch as he inches his body down the length of the couch until his upper body rests between your thighs, face dangerously close to your gaping cunt. "be patient, okay?" he orders, and you nod your head quickly in agreement. joshua traces his fingers from your knees achingly slow up to the hem of your denim shorts, slipping under the cloth only slightly, leaving you nearly begging for more.
"josh—shua—fuck, more, please?" you choke out, voice broken from pure desperation. joshua clicks his tongue at you, flashing a warning look which shuts your lips real tight as he reaches up to unbutton the shorts. you quickly reach down, helping him out, but he swats your hands away.
"can you keep your hands up for me sweetheart?" he asks so fucking sweetly you almost forget about the mischievous glint that flashes in his eyes.
"uh-huh," you mumble, slowly lifting your hands above your head, gripping onto the armrest of the couch to brace yourself. in the meantime, joshua unzips and yanks your shorts off, tossing them to the side so they fall somewhere in the room. staring down at your now exposed and soiled panties, you hear joshua suck in a breath.
"all this for me sweetheart?" he murmurs, bring two fingers up to lightly pinch your clit, causing you to jerk against his hold.
"all for you," you affirm nearly immediately, squirming when he takes one finger and tuns it down the midline of the fabric. joshua's eyes are gaping down at your core, nearly in the shape of hearts as his mind races with the idea of how you're already so undone, so desperate, so far gone for him. slowly but surely, he hooks one finger on each side of the waist band, peeling your panties off and exposing your dripping folds.
joshua nearly groans at the site of you clenching around nothing, saying, "fuck baby, you're gonna soak my couch."
"s-sorry," you stutter out, averting your gaze so you don't have the chance to look at the mess you've made.
"don't apologize...it's hot as hell." he pauses, then looks up at you. "you mind if i get a taste?"
"god, fuck yes—i mean no—wait," you babble, "i mean—shit—i don't mind, not at all."
joshua's heart swells at your response, waisting no time dipping his head between your thighs and pressing his tongue flat against your folds. you cry out at the warmth and friction, instinctively shooting one hand down to grab at his hair. within seconds, he's pulling his head back and giving you a stern look. "what'd i say sweetheart?"
"hands, sorry." you quickly pull your fingers back and return them to their hold on the couch.
"there you go sweetheart," joshua mumbles before diving back in, wrapping his arms under and around your thighs to hold you in your place. you can nearly feel his muscles bulge against your leg and you twitch against his mouth at the thought. meanwhile, joshua runs his tongue up and down, going and back and forth between hardening at and circling it around your hole before moving up and wrapping his lips around your clit and flicking his tongue over it.
the erratic, unpredictable movements have your back arching off the couch within minutes, moaning out words like, "feels so good joshua," along with quite curses as you attempt to keep your voice down. it hardly takes a few minutes before you're writhing under him, joshua pulling back with his lips and chin coated in a sticky wetness with a grin.
"you look so pretty baby," he compliments, using one hand to continue to rub between your folds and circle around your clit, never halting the shoots of pleasure through your spine. his eyes are flickering between yours and core, and then holy shit, his lips contort for a moment and then he's spitting on your already soaked pussy and the act is so demeaning and dirty and hot that you hardly comprehend the next words that come out of joshua's mouth. "so do you wanna cum now, or on my cock?" he offers, and you figure there's a right answer and a wrong one, but you don't have the brain capacity right now to think about which is which.
pouting, you respond, "c-can't i have both?"
that must be the right answer, because it has joshua beaming at you, smiling against your pussy as he slips two fingers into you and presses his mouth on your clit. jerking your hips up, joshua follows the swivel of your lower half, matching the thrusts and flicks of his wrist to your own movements so his fingers are hitting deeper and deeper every time. you think you're close, but when he's curling his digits inside of you and sucking hard on your nub you know it's coming.
you don't have time to warn joshua about your impending orgasm but the way your walls hug his fingers so fucking tight is warning enough, and he speeds up both his fingers and the flicking of his tongue to the point where you're on the brink of tears as he finger fucks you through your high. humming in appreciation at the way you call out his name as you do, he releases your clit with a filthy 'pop' sound, fingers taking a moment to gently slip out of you as you come down from your high.
"you did so good angel," joshua praises, pressing kisses along your inner thigh, smearing your skin in the mixture of your own cum and his saliva. your breaths are far too erratic for you to respond, but the way you look up at him with heavy eyelids through thick, glossy lashes tells joshua all he needs to know. unraveling his arms around you, he bring himself up and guides your legs to wrap around his bare torso—shit, wait, when did he take his shirt off.
gaping at this man who could quite literally be god, you can't even comprehend what's going on until you're being carried into a whole new room, joshua throwing you onto his bed, the messy covers bunching up around you. he stands at the edge, unbuckling his belt at a painfully slow rate. quickly scrambling up from your laying back position, you crawl to the spot in front of him and help unbutton his jeans. "already wanting more, huh?" he teases, but doesn't push you away, rather putting his hands to his side to watch you do the work yourself. you don't respond, taking this chance to grab both his jeans and boxers, pulling them down in one go.
joshua's cock springs out, thick and beaming with a bead of precum that dribbles off the tip, lightly hitting your face in the process. your mind is foggy and you look up at him with dreamy eyes as you absentmindedly open your mouth and close your lips around his bulbous tip, lapping at the precum. joshua doesn't hesitate to grab at your hair and pull you off of him, and for a moment you're scared you've done something wrong, getting pulled out of your haze.
but then you catch the way his voice drops an octave when he says, "slow down," and your worries are put at ease. "we can do that another time. wanna feel your cunt." another time. those words ring in your head. there's going to be another time. you ponder on that thought for a moment and then you recall the next of what he says and you look up at him with these doe eyes that joshua finds so fucking adorable, he'd be surprised if you don't see his dick twitching.
crawling onto the mattress, your limbs intertwine in a hot mess so that one of your legs is hooked around his torso while the other rests between his knees under him. it's a slightly awkward position, but the thought hardly crosses either of your minds once his fat tip his sliding between your drooling folds teasingly, before you're begging, "c'mon joshie, stick it in, please—need it now."
now joshua isn't one to usually give in—he's good at maintaining his patience. yet, the way you mumble out his nickname as if there isn't a single thought in your pretty head has his mind going numb, losing all semblance of self control until he can't help but sink his full length into you.
and joshua knows he's big, and looking down at how you nearly shake beneath him, it's confirmed that this is a lot for you. he almost feels bad at the way tears stream down your cheek, considering pulling out and pressing kisses along your face until you're ready to try again but then you're saying his name like that—"joshie, joshie, joshie"—and he just knows that neither of you would be satisfied until he's balls deep inside of you.
"takin'—god, fuck—takin' me like a pro, huh sweetheart?" joshua finally finds it in him to grunt out with out his voice wavering from the way you hug him so well.
"yeah-huh," you nod along, holding up your hand in a grabbing motion, joshua not hesitating to hold your hand in his so you can squeeze it tight while you work through the initial stretch. "you're so big, joshie."
"yeah," he breaths out a laugh. "you like it?" he groans, slipping out around halfway, giving you a chance to breathe, before he's shallowly thrusting back into you. "like me stretching out this pretty fucking pussy?" you nod dumbly, and your jaw gyrates as you try to form a response but no words come out, strangled syllables morphing into pornographic moans as joshua begins to drag his cock out further each time, plunging it deeper and deeper as he goes on.
"oh my god," you're finally able to babble, tits bouncing back and forth as joshua begins jamming his hips into yours with increasing force. the sounds of your wet pussy colliding with his cock bounce off the walls and if it isn't the filthiest thing you've ever heard, you don't know what is.
joshua latches one arm to your hip, the other continuing to hold yours as he pins it by your neck and shifting his body over you so his head hovers above yours. this new angle his his cock ramming hard down onto a spot that has you biting down onto your lips and crying out, "fuck, joshie!"
"you're squeezing me so tight," joshua moans as you rake one hand down his back. "suckin' me in, god i can't get enough, sweetheart," he grunts out, dropping his head down to bury it in the crook of your neck as he continues to pound into you. your body feels as if it's on fire in the best way possible, and with the way joshua is pressing open mouthed kisses onto your sticky skin has your hips lifting to meet his sharp strokes.
you feel as if things can't get any better and then you feel his teeth bite down into your flesh and your eyes roll to the fucking back of your head as the pain quickly shoots to pleasure when he sucks on the spot, the patch of skin throbbing—pulsing. "'m so close, joshie," you moan as he pullings away, looking down at your fucked out face. your eyes are droopy and shutting tight every time he fucks into you, mouth slightly agape and never fully closing.
he isn't sure what urges him to do it but then he's shoving three fingers into your mouth and joshua thinks that this might just be true love at the way you don't even hesitate a second to circle your lips against them and run your tongue against them. drool dribbles down your lips as you suck on his fingers and joshua's mind is consumed with the thought of your mouth doing that to his dick and then you moan around his fingers at the way he twitches inside of you and—fuck—he's getting close too, but he just can't allow himself to cum until you have.
slipping his fingers out, he uses the same, slick hand to toy at your clit as you clench around him tighter. "you said you're close?" he groans. "fuckin' cum then, cum around my cock how you wanted to, sweetheart."
it's the way he's gazing down at you endearingly. it's his fat cock pushing itself deeper inside of you, forcing you and your gummy walls to make room for me. it's the filthy words that spill from his lips, laced with his sweet words of praise. it's all of it that comes crashing down on you, the waves of pleasure hitting you over and over and over again until you're reduced to nothing but a thrashing, crying, whining mess with the words, "joshie, fuck," falling from your lips.
you're so lost in pleasure of your second orgasm of the day that you hardly notice it when joshua slips out of you himself, fervently jerking himself off until he moans out your name and there's thick white ropes of cum painting your stomach and clit 'til he's practically milked himself dry.
all the echos through the room now is the sound of your hiccups and joshua's gasps for air until he's finally falling on top of you, head resting on your chest.
"you are so not a gentleman," you gasp out between breaths as he slowly lifts himself off of you, rolling to your side once you unwind your leg from around his hips. he furrows his eyebrows at you with a frown.
"what do you mean?" he whines. "that's literally like my trademark."
"well change it," you grumble, running your fingers over the mark on your neck from where joshua bit you.
"i'm sorry," he murmurs, turning over to you to look at the bruise against your skin. "did i hurt you?" he asks, eyes wide with worry. you want to kick your feet at the way his concern has butterflies coursing through your veins as if this man didn't just rearrange your guts.
you push his face away when he leans down to pepper your neck with kisses, shuffling back onto you. you aren't sure how much longer your poor heart can handle this. "it's too late to be a gentleman now..."
"is it though?" joshua asks with a smirk, looking down at you.
"dunno...guess you just have to prove to me that you're worth the title."
"does this mean i get more chances?" joshua grins.
you roll your eyes. "maybe...it depends on what you have planned."
"well," joshua drawls out. "i'm thinking a nice date...then maybe you, me, my bed and—"
i guess you can tell where it goes from here.
a/n. half the time i think i dont know how to end fics without some stupid dialouge bc wtf.... anyways if u enjoyed pls like and reblog!
#joshua x reader#joshua smut#joshua svt#joshua seventeen#hong jisoo x reader#hong jisoo#seventeen joshua#joshua x you#svt smut#seventeen imagines#svt scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fanfic#📝 writing
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G'day, I hope you are doing well.
Ever since I finished the story of Dungeon Meshi (all supplementary material included) I've been writing down bullet points on characters in addition to in-depth synopses as a way to tidy up my rather busy mind. To this end I've also greatly enjoyed reading other folks' interpretations of particular characters, as it gives me further insight into aspects of that character I may have glossed over.
However, there's one character I'm struggling to write a cohesive synopsis about, that being none other than 'miss enigma' herself, Falin Touden. I get that her whole shtick is that she's kind of a mystery, but I find myself drawing a lot of blanks when it comes to her as a character, and while I have nailed down some important bullet points, there are a lot of different interpretations on her, all of which starkly contrast one another. Though perhaps it's just the wording. Hard to say.
It could very well be that I'm being too dense i.e. perceiving "Falin is willing to risk killing others to save her friends." and "Falin, in the heat of the moment, when faced with certain death, was willing to face the prospect of harming potential passersby in a final Hail Mary to get her friends to safety." as entirely different observations. I have a hard time with those kinds of things.
With this being a hub for all sorts of observations, interpretations and cool trivia, I was wondering if you'd perhaps be willing to share how you yourself perceive Falin as a character, so I can compare notes and perhaps gain a more proper understanding of her as a character as a result. I know this question is very broad and kind of vague, but if you could spare the time I'd be most grateful.
Other than that, I wish you an excellent day.
Hello!!! I love Falin!!!!!
She *is* a mystery, we mostly know Falin through the perception other characters have of her instead of a direct deep look onto who she is, which I find very interesting. I think the best post I've seen about her (which as usual I can't remember where edit: someone linked it thank uu) I think called her perceived altruism/love "selfish" and I've been thinking about that ever since.
In that sense the way she cares so much about the comfort of people around her might be a way to keep *her own* comfort because she doesn't want to see other people suffer.
This girly died and came back to life from bones and the first thoughts she has is that she caused trouble for her loved ones
She probably has felt this way since she was a child, "because of her" that her family was torn apart "because of her" that Laios left, her mom was sick, her father had to send her away. (wasn't actually her fault but she might think it is)
I imagine ever since then Falin has done her best to not cause trouble and to make the people she loves happy, everything we know about her and the things she was doing was always for the people she loved, that's why I enjoy the post canon comic where Toshiro asks her hand in marriage again so much. The first time she considers accepting just because "might as well" while for the second time she finally wants to live for herself.
I think Falin herself has lost who she "really is" by trying to accommodate everyone around her and that's probably part of why we ourselves don't really know her, so much so that the most cynical character is uncomfortable around her (probably cause he notices Falin is "hiding" something)
I think Falin is quite the melancholic character to be honest, someone who has lost herself in self sacrifice and who is only now learning how to live for herself doing what she wants.
Both the teleportation scene and the bit about healing show "cracks" in the selfless front she puts out tbh. By context I don't think what she did was only due to "desperation of the moment" she says out loud "Even if I end up hurting others I want you and my brother to live on". She weighted out how much suffering she might cause and decided she wanted to save them anyway, and I'm sure in that calculation she knew that they would suffer because of her sacrifice too.
Falin is saving them for herself, I'm not great with words so this is all over the place and maybe sounds a little negative about Falin but the thing is, you cannot live your life for other people, you can't sacrifice yourself for other people's happiness, you shouldn't erase your own presence so others are happier and I think Falin is starting to learn that by the end.
I'd probably keep rambling without getting anywhere and missing a lot of more meaningful moments but I'll stop here, if anyone has recs for Falin analysis please share!
#Dungeon Meshi spoilers#I think the way Toshiro speaks about the moment he fell in love with Falin to be telling too#He had to see her in the dead of the night finally just doing her thing instead of putting on what others expect of her#to finally notice how wonderful she is#But Falin cannot reciprocate those feelings because as opposed to Laios#She is putting up a front to these other people so she can't engage with them in a meaningful manner#Nobody (besides Laios and Marcille) got past the wall Falin put up so they couldn't reach her#I think in the conversation she has with Toshiro in that extra she's finally letting him thru that wall#instead of avoiding it like she did before#she caused discomfort by saying what she really feels and that's okay#Anyway#dunmeshi thoughts#ask#Falin Touden
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omg ur taking requests!
can you do some angst to fluff with Atsumu, Iwaizumi, Suna, Kuroo, Ushijima, and Sakusa (I’m sorry if they’re too many you can choose whoever you want to write about from these characters, I luv all of them soooo much)
Can you make it like really really Angsty in the start. Like the characters doing something they’ll regret a lot and then they spend a lot of efforts making up for it? Please make it fluffy in the end, I can’t handle sad endings 😭
Also please don’t include anything with infidelity or mentions of it. My boyfriend of 3 years cheated on me last month and I’m having such a hard time.
Thank you for considering my request. And there’s no pressure to accept, I don’t mind at all.
Hi! yes I am taking requests right now. 😇 First of all, I'm so sorry that you had such a negative experience. But tbh, you're better off this way. Nobody needs such an ass cheating on them! 😔😤 My ex did that too, with my ex-best friend btw. I also had a hard time but quickly felt better because I realised that it's a waste of time to cry over such a dick. I hope you don't lose hope in a healthy relationship based on trust. There really are good people out there and I hope you find someone who can appreciate you. Sending you a lot of hugs and kisses. 🤗💚❤️🩹
And for your request. I've written three stories for Tsumu, Iwa and Suna. Unfortunately they got a bit tooo long for my taste, so I only made these 3. I hope that's okay. I really had problems making it super angsty (urg, I need more practice for angsty stuff 😵💫). As you wished, I didn't include anything with cheating (even though I had a few ideas haha.) and I also added a trigger warning before each story. I think Iwa's and Suna's in particular might be a bit darker... so you can decide on your own if you want to continue reading it or not. Anyway, I hope you still like it, and thanks for your request. Stay healthy! 🥰💚
Regretting their actions
Pairing: Atsumu x, Iwaizumi x, Suna x reader
Warning: angst to fluff, break-up (Atsumu, Suna), mention of abuse/anger issues, mention of blood (Iwaizumi), mention of abortion, mention of drugs/pills (Suna)
Part 1 | Part 2 (End)
tw: mention of break-up
You met Atsumu when he came to his brother’s onigiri store for the housewarming.
The two of you got along well quickly. And it wasn’t long before he kissed you at a party, looked at you with his cheeky grin and said, “Tastes better than a victory.”
More things happened that night. Not just simple kisses and when you woke up next to him in bed, he asked you, still sleepy: “You’re my girlfriend now, aren’t you?”
You’ve been together for several years now and were thinking about moving in together soon when Atsumu’s career suddenly took off. He was traveling abroad more often and had less time for you or looking for an apartment.
And then it happened…
You scroll through the apartment search app for something suitable for the two of you, lying on the bed while missing him terribly. You close the app to go to your messenger, only to realize that you were the one who last texted Atsumu... two days ago… Two blue check marks indicate that he has read your messages but has not replied. Your fingers hover over the keypad of your phone and you think about writing to him. Maybe he read your message during training and didn’t have time to reply. Maybe he just forgot about it afterwards... maybe...
“Hey Tsumu... I know you’re busy but, I hope you’re doing well. Love you.” you type into your phone and send the message with a strange feeling in your stomach. It doesn’t take long before you see under his name that he is online. The gray check marks next to your message turn blue, but instead of replying, you see that he went offline again. You swallow a big lump down your throat, your heart feels heavy. Maybe he can’t answer you right now... you try to convince yourself again.
Several hours pass as you sink your head into your pillow and try to stifle your tears. Atsumu’s sports t-shirt is in your arms, which he had given you before his trip abroad. Time passes and suddenly you hear the ringtone of your phone as a message arrives. Your heart hits loud against your chest as you reach for your phone and see your boyfriend’s name. But your joy quickly disappears, the lump in your throat gets bigger and you can’t breathe.
>> Hey... listen, I think it’s better if we end the relationship… break up. I don’t know, but I just don’t have time for it. I’ll see you around. <<
It feels like a slap in the face. As if this is a poor joke. You want to write to him, ask him what this is all about, but your tears blur your vision. The only thing you send is a “really?” but the message is no longer read. It remains on one gray check mark.
Two days go by and you still think it was all a bad joke, but every time you read his message, you feel like throwing up. Has he really dumped the whole relationship? By a shitty text message? You open your Instagram account and enter his name almost as if on autopilot.
Another slap in the face as your tears run down your cheeks again. His bio no longer says “Best setter and proud boyfriend” but simply “Setter MSBY Black Jackal”. All the pictures he had with you on his account have been deleted. Instead, you can only see advertising photos or private photos of him. The last eight pictures are of him, Hinata and Bokuto dancing and having fun with fans in different bars. Atsumu grins at the camera as if he doesn’t care about you at all. As if your relationship meant nothing to him.
You text him some more times, leave him voicemails because he never answers your calls. But after a few days, you let it go. It only frustrates you even more to see how little this relationship actually meant to him. For days, you cry yourself to sleep, what doesn’t go unnoticed by Osamu. After all, he sees you three times a week when you help him out in his store. When you tell him what has happened, he is also speechless, because Atsumu has really pissed him off with all his raving about you. So why would he break-up with you out of the blue? Osamu can’t see you as devastated as a heap of misery. So he also tries to find out the reason for the break-up between you and his silly brother. But when he calls him, Atsumu only faces him coldly on the phone. “Did she tell you to ask me? Leave it okay? I think I just realized that I don’t want a relationship.”
Two months go by and somehow you still can’t believe that your relationship just fell apart. Osamu tries to distract you somehow, but it doesn’t help because he reminds you too much of your idiot ex-boyfriend.
Nevertheless, you are grateful to Osamu for swapping your shift with his coworker’s shift so that you can open the store with him in the morning. That way, you avoid running into Atsumu, who is more likely to be in the restaurant in the evening as soon as he returns from his stay abroad. You’re not ready to face him at the moment.
Just as you’re about to finish work, you remember that you wanted to show Osamu a video on your phone. “Look, the new trailer for the second season of this soccer series is out. Shall we watch the first episode together on Saturday after work?” you ask Osamu as he approaches you and looks over your shoulder. He rests his hand on the counter next to you, his chest almost touching your back, but he keeps his distance from you respectfully. You are both focused on the trailer, not hearing the doorbell from the store.
Atsumu is tired. The flight was delayed, and he hasn’t been able to sleep properly for weeks. How could he sleep well with all the partying and Hinata as his roommate, who spent the night in the hotel calling his friends from Karasuno. At least that’s what he tells himself… that this is the reason for his sleepless nights. But this thought vanishes when he steps into his brother’s store hungry, actually only wanting to eat a few onigiris and then go home. Into his apartment. His empty, dreary apartment. But as he walks through the door of the store, it feels as if someone has hit his chest with full force, knocking the air out of him.
He sees Osamu leaning towards you with a sense of familiarity. What’s going on there? And why does it bother him so much that you giggle and look at Osamu, who returns your gaze with a nod and a smile before turning to the door? His brother winces when he sees Atsumu. As you turn around as well, your smile disappears.
You look at Atsumu as if you’ve just seen a corpse, before packing your bag and saying goodbye to Osamu with a “See you tomorrow.”, only to walk past Atsumu with quick steps. You don’t even give him a glance, knowing that if you locked eyes with him, your tears would run. You would want to ask him questions upon questions. Why did you break up with me? Why am I not enough for you? Why did you lie to me for so long? Why...
As you walk through the door, you accidentally bump into him. This nudge, which was actually rather gentle, felt so painful. Why does it bother Atsumu to see you standing so close to his brother? Why does it hurt him that you stared at him with those empty eyes, as if he were a stranger? No. Worse, as if he were someone who had hurt you. Why does he have the feeling that he couldn’t make a sound if he opened his mouth now? The answer is simple, and even Atsumu seems to understand it by now as he looks from the now closed door over to Osamu, who stares at him with an indifferent expression crossing his arms in front of his chest. “So this is what someone who has realized that he doesn’t want a relationship looks like? Ya look like shit.”
Oh, how Atsumu would love to punch Osamu in the face. “Why are ya touchin’ my girl?” is bitter on his tongue, but he has no right to say it out loud. After all, he was the one who turned you down. The blonde Miya suddenly realizes how incredibly stupid his action was.
Back then, Atsumu had not expected to be traveling abroad so often. At first, it was only temporary stays. Nothing that would damage a relationship.
But the last few times in particular, he was sometimes away for several months. You kept telling him on the phone that everything was okay, but every time he called Osamu, he said that your eyes were sometimes red when you came to work and that you looked tired and sad.
Atsumu knew he was the reason. That you’d probably be better off without him. After all, you’re a great woman, someone who would find a new partner quickly.
You didn’t deserve to be sad all the time when he was gone. You should be happy. After all, a smile suits you so much better than a sad expression.
Atsumu would concentrate on his career. It would be difficult for him at first, but he would manage without you. He had to… for your sake.
So his mind was made up when he read your unanswered, concerned messages. If he texts you now to say that it’s over, being an ass to you, you’ll be able to forget him quickly… That was what he thought.
But it wasn’t that easy. Your puzzled messages, your crying voice on his voicemail, broke his heart. Yet he tried to cover it all up with parties and his dear fans. He convinced himself that he was fine. Only to arrive home, see you and realize what an idiot he was, how much he missed you.
And now it’s Atsumu who reaches for his phone and texts you message after message.
Atsumu 8:02 PM: Hey babe, no.. hey Y/n. I know I have no right to text you. But please… let’s talk. I fucked up. Damn, I fucked up so hard that I don’t even know how to start… shit…
Atsumu 8:12 PM: Please… please answer your phone, babe…
Atsumu 8:44 PM: I know I’ve fucked up. I know I hurt and disappointed you. Fuck, I know I was an ass. Yk, I thought I was doing the right thing.
Atsumu 9:34 PM: Fuck… please answer me… I still… damnit.
That was the last message you received from Atsumu before you put your phone away and tried to forget him. Why is he doing this to you? Why is he stirring up your feelings again?
But Atsumu doesn’t think about stopping now. He runs to your house, to the apartment building and rings your doorbell. Once, twice, he rings so often that you can’t ignore it. You are about to tell him to leave through the loudspeaker system, but he interrupts you.
“Fuck baby, please open the door. I’m… I still love ya, okay? I always loved ya. I - shit, can ya even hear me? Fuck…” he curses agitatedly and presses the bell next to your nameplate again several times.
But instead of letting him in, you go down to the entrance of the apartment building and open the door with an expression on your face that Atsumu has never seen before. What is it? Anger, sadness, despair? Everything somehow.
“Say... are you kidding me? Do you think that’s funny?” you ask him, bewildered, still standing in the open doorway. Of course, you wouldn’t just believe him. Atsumu could have guessed. Your reaction was completely understandable. But he has to do something to show you that he’s serious.
“No, no, I don’t. I’m dead serious. Please let me explain,” he says, and starts to tell you that he thought a break-up would be best for you because he’s not good enough for you. Since you were obviously so sad about him leaving so often and he didn’t want to be the reason. He tells you that he thought he could get over you, but that he had to realize that you are the most important thing to him. Something… someone he doesn’t want to lose. With shaky hands and a still agitated voice, Atsumu takes out his phone.
“I wanted ya to hate me so that it would be easier for ya. But believe me, I... I couldn’t forget ya. Look, you’re still my wallpaper. All the photos of the two of us are still on my phone, all the memories-“ he is about to unlock his screen when his phone falls out of his hand and drops to the floor. Atsumu seems to be completely overwhelmed right now, as if he doesn’t know what to do. Should he bend down, pick up the phone, should he keep talking to you or hug you? He doesn’t know.
”Baby, please, please, I’ll do anything. Please gimme a chance. I’ll talk to my agent about not takin’ so many jobs abroad. I will be with ya more often. Always write to ya and call ya in the evening when I’m not at home. Let’s look for an apartment so we can move in together. Please, please, I would do anything. Please believe me that I love ya. Please..." he begs in a voice that becomes more and more brittle with every word. His eyes are full of emotion and his hands, which have unconsciously reached for yours, are trembling terribly.
“Two months... two months you ignored me, treated me like a piece of trash.” You say in a low voice as you search for eye contact. Atsumu has never felt so scared. Only now does he realize that the love of his life is standing in front of him, and that this might be the last time he’ll see her again, the last time he’ll touch her skin. But then again… Atsumu was an ass, so why should you forgive him? No, he can’t think like that. After all, you loved him. And if you love him as much as he loves you, then maybe there’s still hope.
“I know, and I know I can never make it up to ya. I know it’s not done with an ‘I’m sorry’. I’m the dumbest, most idiotic ex-boyfriend you’ve ever had. But... I’m stubborn too. And if that means chasin’ after ya for 10 years, drivin’ to yer apartment every day to ring the doorbell and tell ya I still love ya, wishin’ ya a good night every day, nice dreams and telling ya how important you are to me... I’ll do it. Every damn day, if it means there’s still a little hope for us.” He answers you hoarsely, keeping eye contact, hoping that you see how honest his words are.
You sigh, bend down, and pick up his phone before handing it to him. Atsumu doesn’t know what to do with all this. His face grimaces as if he’s expecting the worst. “Then... you shouldn’t lose your phone... if you want to write to me every day,” you answer him, a weak smile on your lips. Atsumu’s sorrowful expression suddenly changes and you see him looking at you with hope.
“Does that mean ya...” the blonde Miya can no longer contain his emotions as he leaps forward and pulls you into his arms. His embrace is so tight that you can barely breathe, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip out of his hands. Firm, but quivering. His whole body is shaking and you’re sure you’ve just felt something wet on your skin. Tears? Is Atsumu crying? “I promise to be a pain in yer ass every day. To text ya, to call ya, to be there for ya. Even in yer sleep. Okay? I love ya... I love ya so much...”
tw: abuse, anger issues, mention of blood
You’ve been with Iwaizumi since your school days. Back then, as a little flirt at school, Oikawa and Matsukawa mainly teased Iwaizumi for having a crush on you.
But in the end, many were jealous of the perfect couple who waltzed together on the dance floor at the prom with loving looks on their faces.
You were inseparable. Even Iwaizumi’s stay in America for his university didn’t affect your relationship. So it was no wonder that you got married after his return and were the perfect happy couple.
At least for the first few years.
The stress of being a coach for the Japanese national team is weighing on Iwaizumi’s mind. He normally handles stressful situations well, but he is under pressure.
If the team fails to perform in the next few games, he will lose many sponsors and possibly even his job.
Iwaizumi is constantly on edge and you feel like you have to walk on eggshells around him so you don’t provoke him.
More often, he has sudden temper tantrums, shouting at you about things that aren’t worth mentioning. “Damn it, I told you I need this one shirt for today. Why isn’t it clean?”
And once, when you stumbled with your words and asked him whether it might not be better to take a break as a coach, he was so angry that he almost hit you. But he managed to hold back and just sighed before going out for a beer in a nearby bar.
You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but right now, you’re really scared of your own husband.
Today was another training match between the Japanese national team and the Indonesian team. The team’s performance was better, but nowhere near good enough to shine. You watched the game on TV and run through your imaginary list in your head already, of potential trigger points for Iwaizumi. You don’t want him to get upset. The laundry is done; the house is clean; the food is also ready and in the fridge. Did you take out the trash? You chew nervously on your lower lip as you walk to the kitchen and let out a relieved sigh. That’s done too.
You are just closing the lid of the garbage can when you hear the key in the lock of your front door and Iwaizumi comes home with a surprisingly normal, “I’m home, my love, smells good in here”. Your shoulders relax immediately, a smile is back on your lips as you walk cheerfully into the hallway to greet Iwaizumi.
“Hello darling! How was your day?” Iwaizumi hugs you and leans down so you can kiss his cheek. “Let me eat something first. My day has been really exhausting,” he sighs, watching you nod and turn around to warm up the food for him. Your husband hangs up his jacket, puts down his bag and is about to turn around to follow you when he stumbles against a nearby vase that you had placed as a decoration for the fall changeover. The vase swings, loses its balance and falls to the floor in pieces.
“Shit!” You hear Iwaizumi curse and immediately run to him, anxiously hoping that nothing has happened to him. But luckily, he is unharmed. “Wait, I’ll clean up the broken pieces, you eat-“ you’re about to say, but Iwaizumi interrupts you loudly. “Always this stupid bullshit you put up. Shit, I could have hurt myself. If I miss now, that’s it for my career!” he shouts and stomps past you. You turn around hastily and apologize. “That wasn’t my intention, really,” you say, before realizing that it was a mistake to talk back. Iwaizumi turns around, his eyes ferocious and angry like a wild animal as he takes a step towards you. Your heart is beating restlessly and you are suddenly afraid.
“Not your intention? Admit it, you’d be happy if I got rid of the job!” he shouts, noticing how you start to tremble and shake your head. But Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to be in his right mind as he takes another step towards you. “Go clean up the mess! Make yourself useful!” he says through gritted teeth as he looks at your anxious and puzzled face. You know you should move, but your body doesn’t seem to listen, too scared to move a finger. And then it happens.
Iwaizumi grabs you by the hair and pulls you towards him. You cry out, weeping bitterly as you hear his voice again. “Are you deaf?! Get going!” he shouts, before pushing you away with more force than necessary. You lose your balance, stumble over your own feet as you fall and hit your head on the edge of the stairs in the hallway next to the broken vase. Your head hurts terribly, something warm flows down your face, sticking to your hair and making your vision suddenly completely different. It gets smaller and smaller before everything goes black in front of your eyes and the sounds around you stop completely.
Iwaizumi is abruptly perfectly sober and only now understands what has just happened. What he has just done to you, the woman he loves more than anything.
His eyes are big as he stares at his hands, which start to tremble in front of him.
Panic spreads through him as he looks at you. At your motionless body, at all the blood under your head.
He doesn’t know how he did it. His memories are hazy, but he can still remember trying to wake you up, in vain.
He had taken off his shirt, pressed it on your head injury to stop the bleeding and somehow managed to call an ambulance. Iwaizumi can’t remember anything else, just the one question from the paramedic who put you on the ambulance stretcher and took you to the hospital. Since Iwaizumi was your husband, he was allowed to drive with you.
“How did this happen?” the paramedic asked, as Iwaizumi answered quietly, “I don’t know... I really don’t know.”
It’s now been some hours after the accident and your head had been stitched up. Thank God it wasn’t as bad as it looked at first.
You’re still in the recovery room, Iwaizumi next to your bed on a chair, his hands folded in his lap as he hangs his head in bewilderment, looking at his wedding ring shining on his ring finger.
What happened? What has become of him? He still can’t believe what he has done.
He looks at his hands again, opens them, starts to tremble, clenches them into fists and realises how he lets out a frustrated sigh, which he had been holding back, as warm tears roll down his cheeks, soaking the fabric of his trousers.
In his mind, there’s only your shaking body, that frightened look, your screaming, and then this unbearable silence.
When you open your eyes, your head throbs a little and you have to squint through the bright, clinical light. “Where... where am I?” you say quietly, looking around the room and noticing that you’re lying in a hospital room. Next to your bed is none other than Iwaizumi. But he looks different. Broken… He shrinks at your words and looks up at you. You see his red eyes and how he hesitates whether it’s okay to take your hand in his. Iwaizumi gets up from his chair, wants to close the distance to your bed but his legs collapse and he falls to his knees when he suddenly starts to... cry?
“Haji- me...” you say, still feeling exhausted. “I’m... god I...” Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to look you in the eye. He takes a deep breath, regains his courage before peering at you. Carefully, he grasps your hand, checking if you are afraid, but you don’t seem to pull it away. Maybe because you’re still too tired. Awkwardly, he strokes the back of your hand before resting his forehead on it and closing his eyes briefly.
“I’m a terrible husband. I’ve done everything I shouldn’t have done. Instead of carrying you on my hands, bringing a smile to your face and protecting you from everything that would harm you, I’ve done the exact opposite. Instead of being happy to see me, you’re just scared of me, aren’t you?” he says in a shaky voice and looks up at you again. You are calm. Just stare at him with a hurt look.
“I.... I can understand if you want a divorce. If you don’t want to be with a monster like me anymore. I really can’t even blame you. But... please let me tell you one thing. When I saw you lying on the floor like that, the world collapsed inside me. I was afraid of losing the most important thing in my life. And the most important thing is not my job, no, it’s you. And I’m ashamed that I’ve forgotten that. I am disgusted with myself and I know that is no excuse. What I have done is unforgivable. But please... if there is still a bit of hope, then I will try to do everything I can to be the man you fell in love with again. I want to be your Haji-bear again. Your place of peace, and your favorite person. I will go to anger issues therapy, behavioral therapy. If it’s better for our relationship, I’ll step down as a coach and see if I can find a job as a volleyball coach at a school. No matter what, I would do anything.” Your hand becomes wet as his tears land on it. His words move something inside you. You want to believe him, you don’t want the relationship to end either, but everything that has happened so far will not pass by without damage.
“I need time, Hajime... If you really mean it, please grant me the time...” you answer him and notice how your words seem to tear him apart. But at the same time he seems to want to make the best of the situation. He lets go of your hand and stands up just to sit back down on the chair next to your bed, looking at you determinedly, his eyes still red and swollen. “As much time as you need. If it means we still have a chance...”
A few months pass. Iwaizumi has passed on the house to you and moved into his parents’ house to give you the space you need. He goes to therapy three times a week and tells you about his progress. He is still coaching the national team, but his assistant coach is taking a lot of the work off his hands and the volleyball team seems to be playing better again.
Just like when you were at school, you’ll find a letter in your letterbox once a week. Back then, Iwaizumi always told you a bit about his week and wrote it down because, funnily enough, he was too shy to talk to you in person. Only that in his current letters he writes that he misses you, but hopes that you are doing well at the moment.
He meets you in public places, goes out with you, so that you gradually feel more comfortable with him again, that you can see his progress in therapy and don’t just think it’s empty words.
Six months have passed since the incident. You are standing in the bedroom, changing the sheets, when Iwaizumi comes through the front door of the house. “My love, I’m home,” you hear Iwaizumi’s calm voice. Coming home from his therapy session, he hangs up his jacket in the hallway as your voice lets him know where you are.
Iwaizumi puts the flowers he bought for you on the kitchen table before he sneaks into the bedroom and sees you trying to unfold the sheets to put them on the blankets. With silent steps, he reaches around your waist to throw you onto the bed with him, wrapped in the covers that were in your hands earlier. Screaming, you laugh in unison with his chuckle as you look into each other’s eyes. “Hajime! Don’t scare me like that.” you laugh softly, while his hand gently tucks your hair behind your ear. Iwaizumi looks at your forehead, at the small scar that is left from your injury, before leaning forward and giving you a kiss on that spot.
“I’m sorry, but that was just so tempting,” he says, closing his eyes as he pulls you closer and just relaxes in bed with you. He strokes your back and kisses your forehead once more. “Hajime... what’s going on? Why are you so clingy suddenly?” you laugh, but Iwaizumi doesn’t join in the laughter, instead answering you seriously.
“Today, six months ago, I almost lost you. I’m just grateful that nothing happened to you. Thankful that you gave me another chance, even though I showed my worst side.” You can’t think of the right words to answer him, so you just smile, snuggle closer to him, and close your eyes. Safe in his arms, with his pulsating heart at your ear, you fall asleep.
tw: mention of abortion, mention of drugs/pills (without consent)
Suna and you were just friends for a long time. Even if the others saw you more like a couple.
You were the only one Suna didn’t mind when you sat next to him and pulled out one of his earphones to listen to music with him.
You always had the same route to school and if one of you came to school alone, you knew immediately that the other one must be sick.
With graduation, you mentioned that you might want to study abroad. That time, Suna had a weird feeling in his stomach for the first time. As if he was afraid of losing you.
That was the day he realised that he felt more for you than just friendship.
The same evening, he asked you to come over and watch a movie when he yawned in a very clichéd way to put his arm over your shoulder and pull you closer to him. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he just was.
A number of things went through his mind. What if you don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you? Will you still want to study abroad? Would you end your friendship with him if you didn’t feel the same way?
He tried to block out the questions and then, with his usual calmness, asked you if you could imagine anything more than a friendship. Luckily for him, you said yes.
From that moment on, everything was perfect. You had created your own little world over several years. You studied, and luckily not abroad. Suna was successful in volleyball, so you were both able to buy an apartment together quickly.
Just the two of you. Your friends were there from time to time, but in the evenings you were always alone at home, arm in arm, in the quiet flat without any noise or other people to disturb you.
Until one morning where you look at the little piece of plastic in the bathroom, stunned, when the two red stripes tell you that you are pregnant.
You hadn’t spoken to Suna about having children yet, but you’ve been together for so long now and everything is going well that you assume he would be just as happy as you are.
You thought…
When Suna comes home, you’ve already prepared a little surprise. There are a pair of baby shoes on the table in the living room, the pregnancy test in front of them and a little balloon with “Best Dad” written on it. You can’t help smiling as you see Suna walk into the room when you call out “surprise”, looking a little shy in his direction. But Suna’s reaction differed from what you expected.
Almost disgusted, he looks in your direction. “This better be one of those stupid TikTok pranks, right?” he says, and your smile disappears abruptly. Your stomach turns and you feel sick. And not because of the pregnancy. You stand there irritated, only able to utter a quiet “No... it’s not a joke”, confused by his negative reaction. “No? What week are you in? Tell me you can still have an abortion...” he says, annoyed, as he walks towards the table to see if there is any information about the week of pregnancy on the pregnancy test.
“What?” you say in bewilderment, still looking at Suna, who throws the test on the table in frustration before starting to massage his temples. “We’ll go to the gynecologist tomorrow, okay? Get rid of it. A child means responsibility. You have to look after this thing all the time, you’re no longer flexible and it’s noisy too... I just don’t want that.”
His words feel like a thousand stabs. Never have you seen Suna act like this before. You anticipated that he might be a bit taken by surprise and perhaps not be able to deal with the situation at first, but Suna seems to have a very clear opinion on the subject. He doesn’t even seem to be willing to talk. But abort a child? Let Suna’s and your baby die just like that? You can’t do that. You don’t want that.
The two of argue. Suna’s look gets progressively angrier. Yours sadder until he decides to leave the house with a “Do what you want, maybe it’ll die anyway”. Now you’re home alone with his painful words. You stand rooted to the spot in the room for several more minutes until the strength in your legs finally gives way and you slump to the floor, crying bitterly. The night, you spend alone in your bed, without Suna. He doesn’t answer his phone and doesn’t reply to your messages. You don’t hear from him the next day either, and he hasn’t come home. Thank God you get a message from Osamu, who texts you that Suna is with him and that you have nothing to worry about. But how are you supposed to stay at home without worrying if your boyfriend doesn’t get in touch with you and you’ve been arguing for days? You are scared. Afraid for the baby, afraid for the relationship and everything you two have built up.
Another day passes. You lie in bed, tired and lacking in energy. Nevertheless, you pull yourself together and get up, go to the bathroom to get ready for the day and don’t notice when the front door opens and Suna walks in. “Baby doll, I’m at home... and... I’m sorry...” you hear Suna’s voice and walk out of the bathroom. Even though you had a fight, you are still happy to see the man you love so much again. With a somewhat sad smile, he stands there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he approaches you.
“I’m really sorry. I behaved like an ass. You took me by surprise with the news and somehow... I don’t know. What do you say you sit down now? I’ll make us a drink and we can talk about all this. About the baby, and what happens next?” You can hardly believe his words. What has Osamu done in the last few days to make Suna suddenly do a full turnaround and be willing to talk to you openly, without shouting about becoming a parent? You make a mental note to thank Osamu later, before nodding with a smile and sitting down on the sofa in the living room.
But what you don’t know is that Suna went to a friend, a doctor, who gave him two pills before he came home. Pills for an induction of abortion. You have to take one now and the other two to three days later.
Suna knows that you wouldn’t take these pills voluntarily.
So he makes sure that you are indeed sitting in the living room before he takes out a small bag containing a pill, puts it in the grinder and turns it into a fine powder before mixing it into your iced tea.
He takes a deep breath, putting his smile back on as he walks towards you in the living room, where you are already waiting for him with happy eyes.
Without saying much, he hands you the glass, sits down next to you and watches you.
“I know it’s all so sudden and I could have said it differently. I really took you completely by surprise with the news,” you say quietly, looking at the iced tea in your hand, unaware that an abortion pill is floating there.
Suna listens attentively as you talk about how you first had to understand what a pregnancy means, but that your overwhelm quickly turned into joy because you are looking forward to holding a mini version of the two of you in your arms in less than 9 months. You talk about all the beautiful things that are going through your head, while Suna continues to listen to you, his eyes constantly focus on the tea in your hands and you.
He keeps looking at you as you raise the glass and press it to your lips, ready to drink the poison cocktail, when he realizes what he was doing. What he’s trying to do here.
Panic strikes him. His green eyes widen as he literally knocks the cup out of your hand. It falls to the floor with a loud thud. “Don’t drink that!” he says in an unsteady voice and looks at you in horror.
But you don’t understand anything, only shake your head.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I... I think I just made the worst mistake of my life,” Suna says, looking back from you to the broken cup. You don’t understand what’s going on and tilt your head, asking him if everything is all right. But when Suna continues talking and tells you what was in your tea, your world collapses. You are shocked that your own boyfriend wanted to do this to you. “I was overwhelmed. I... I know that’s no excuse. But when I heard you talking, I realized that -“ Suna wanted to continue, but your voice cut him off, your words silenced him.
“Let’s break up,” you say, and unlike before, unlike when you argued a week ago, your voice is determined now, your eyes full of pain and betrayal. Those green eyes that used to mesmerize you are now looking at you desperately. “What?” Suna whispers softly, followed by a “No, wait”. But you interrupt him again.
“You just wanted to give me some drugs without my consent so I’d lose the baby?! No, Rintarou… I’m breaking up with you. That... no, I can’t do that.” Abruptly, you get up from the sofa, ignoring the hand that tries to grab you before quickly slipping into a jacket and a pair of shoes just to leave the apartment. Suna wants to run after you, but his legs won’t move. His mind and heart are screaming to run after you, to stop you and tell you he’s sorry, but his body just won’t obey him. When he finally manages to get up, you’re already gone.
Still wearing his slippers and without putting on a jacket, he eventually runs out to check out all the places you love, all your friends, to see if he can find you somewhere. But no matter where he looks, he can’t find you. You don’t reply to messages or phone calls. The mechanical voice of your voice mail greets him directly. “Shit, shit, shit!” he yells as he stands in the park where you two had your first official date. The surrounding people look at him. Some with an irritated look, some as if they were pitying him.
Without really knowing where to go, your legs automatically led you to the bus that goes to Kita’s home.
Kita was one of your best friends back then. And you knew that if you went to Kita and told him not to tell Suna that you were there, he wouldn’t tell his friend either. And that’s exactly what Kita did.
You were in Kita’s guest room when you heard Suna’s voice in the hallway.
He sounded shattered, broken, as he begged Kita to tell him where you were.
This went on for several weeks, until one evening Suna rang the doorbell again, trying to talk to Kita in a voice you had never heard before.
His voice was so thin, so fragile, as if a heap of misery was speaking out of him.
Kita tells him once again that he doesn’t know where you are when you hesitantly open the door, thinking about going downstairs and listening to what Suna has to say. But for now, you just listen to the conversation.
“Please, Shinsuke, I know you know her location. Please, just give her this. Please...” Kita sighs, followed by a soft “ok...” before the front door closes. Your best friend’s footsteps creak beneath the floor as he walks up the stairs, looks at you a little twisted and hands you a large package.
You know that you demand a lot from Kita. It’s not easy for him to lie to his friend either. Eventually you have to talk to Suna.
Alone in your guest room, you spend almost half an hour looking at the unopened package at the other end of the bed until you finally decide to open it. When you see what’s inside, surprise catches you. Multiple emotions flow through your body without you even noticing how your eyes suddenly turn glassy. Small letters and several items are in the box. You take out the letter that is on top of all the other items.
“My love, I don’t even know where to start. I can’t apologize for what I did. Nevertheless, I want to tell you that I’m sorry. I was confused and scared. Our relationship has always been perfect so far and I thought it was great that it was just the two of us and that no one else disturbed our privacy. I was afraid that when we had a child, we would argue, have no more time for each other, and grow apart. I was selfish and didn’t think about how you would feel. I wasn’t thinking about our baby. The thought that we were both going to be parents hadn’t crossed my mind at all. But every time I walked past those little shoes you had placed in the living room, I couldn’t think of anything else but seeing our child standing in them. How it tries to move around in it, sometimes falls down because it loses its balance and seeks shelter with its beloved mom. I regret every second of what I’ve done, every word I’ve said. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do, and yet I did it. I am sorry. I am so terribly sorry.
I did some research. Did you know that it is currently very difficult to find midwives? You should probably start looking very early on. My team colleague gave me the number of the midwife he and his wife had at the birth of their two children. I also have three other numbers. You might want to give them a call. There are also birth preparation classes in our town. I have also put a brochure in the package for you. You don’t necessarily have to go there with your partner. With me… So... if you want, you could also go there with Kita, even if I would be happy if we both did it together. But I can understand if you don’t want to.
Are you eating enough? You should pay particular attention to your diet during pregnancy. A lot of women suffer from a vitamin deficiency during pregnancy. But you have probably already discussed this with your gynecologist. Anyway, I’ve written down a few recipes for you that are rich in vitamins. I admit that Osamu helped me a little with this. Oh, and on the back are some things you shouldn’t eat during pregnancy. Raw eggs and products containing them such as ice cream, mayonnaise and so on... you should not eat them, because the risk of salmonella infection is high. Peanuts can contain aflatoxins, which can also harm the fetus... but as I said, I’ve put together a list for you. In case you didn’t already know all this already. There are a few other things in the box. Maybe you’d like to take a look.
I hope you are doing well. I hope the baby is doing well too. Have you thought of a name yet? Do you know whether it will be a boy or a girl? I’m sure there’s already a little bump on your belly. I... would really like to be with you right now. Would love to hold you in my arms and stroke your tummy. I know I made a mistake that can never be fixed. But if you’re willing, if that’s what you want, I’d really like to be by your side again. And if not as your boyfriend, then as the father of our baby. I would like to do couples’ therapy with you so that we can find our way back to each other… So that you can trust me again. Because in all of this, I was the problem and never you. But only if you want it too, of course. I know it may be hard to believe, but I love you. So much that a life without you scares me. I am sorry…”
You’re crying bitterly by now as your tears blur the ink on the letter before you put it aside and look in the box. Next to a small onesie for babies, there is a note with the telephone numbers of midwives, a small book with recipes, the brochure he had mentioned and another box containing photos and memories. Pictures that Suna had always secretly taken of you at times when he thought you looked extra pretty. You always found the photos embarrassing, but for him they were beautiful to look at. Because they were moments when you were just being you, not smiling for the camera or doing anything else to disguise yourself.
There was also a necklace with shells on it in the box. You made it for Suna when you were on vacation in Croatia. It turned out incredibly ugly, yet Suna wore it proudly during the whole vacation. You’re touched that he still has this ugly necklace. Little notes that you wrote to each other at school are also in there. So many more memories from the past. Where had Suna hidden this little box in your apartment so that you never noticed it?
You hastily get up, open the door and run down to the hallway as Kita comes out of the living room and looks at you questioningly. “Is everything all right? Do you need to see a doctor?” He asks concerned, but you just shake your head, wanting nothing more than to see Suna, talk to him again. He asks you if you are absolutely sure, but your determined nod is enough for an answer. So he grabs his jacket and car keys, driving you straight to your ex boyfriend, to your apartment. He doesn’t want you to take the bus in your current state.
Suna is sitting in the living room. In front of him on the coffee table are various reports on pregnancy, parenting and more. His head is leaning on his hands as he takes a deep breath. Have you opened his package yet? He wonders, unable to think clearly, when he hears the key in the door lock and runs into the hallway as if stung by a tarantula. His eyes are wide as he looks at you, standing rooted to the spot in the doorway, not knowing how to react.
“Shinsuke... Drove me here...” you say. “I opened your package.” You continue, watching Suna swallow hard, still not moving an inch from the doorframe. “How are you, the baby?” he asks quietly, almost absent-mindedly, as if he can’t believe you’re really standing in front of him. “Good... can... can we talk?” you ask and watch him nod, having trouble sorting out his feelings. You take a step towards him, clearly seeing the dark circles, the red eyes, the slightly thinner face, as if he has lost weight. And on closer look, you can see his whole body trembling.
“Is everything you wrote in your letter true?” you ask him, trying to keep your voice as calm as possible, even though you’re at your wits’ end. “Yes, yes all of it. I’m sorry for everything... I want nothing more than to see you happy. To see our baby happy. And if you want another partner by your side to be happy, if you don’t want me in your life, then I will accept that.” Suna whispers, knowing that if he were to speak even a little louder, his voice would fail and he would cry. You take another step towards him. “What if I want you? Want to give it another try?” You have barely spoken your sentence before you hear a bitter shuffle from Suna, which he seems to have been suppressing the whole time. His shaky hands carefully reach for your face before he presses his forehead against yours and says softly, “I would wish for nothing more than that.”
Although you hesitate for a second, you finally put your hands around his back and stand with him in the doorway for a while. Neither of you says a word. Both of you let your tears run until Suna releases you at some point and gives you a kiss on the forehead. “You shouldn’t stand for so long. You’d better get some rest,” he says in a somewhat steady voice before helping you out of your jacket and leading you into the bedroom, where he pushes the sheets aside so you can lie down.
“Rin, but I’m not tired at all...” you say, even though you are exhausted, but Suna lies down right next to you, pulling you close while his free hand moves to your stomach. “I know... But... let’s just lie here like this for a moment, regain our strength before we talk... Talk about everything, our future, how I can make it up to you, our little baby… Agree, baby doll?” He whispers tiredly. Yet you also notice how all the crying is slowly making you a little tired. “Agree, Rin.” you smile weakly, snuggling closer to him as you both fall asleep arm in arm, his hand protectively on your baby bump, your hand on his.
#haikyu x#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x reader#atsumu x reader#suna x reader#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi haijime x reader#atsumu miya x reader#suna rintarou x reader
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Hi! so far I've loved everything you've written about Kurt, Logan and Remy. 🧎🏻♀️
Could you write something about Kurt? where together with reader they are in the kitchen of the mansion because they can't sleep, and she finally tells him her concerns about the magnitude of her powers and Kurt with his heart of gold tells her beautiful things to calm her down and make her laugh, the rest to your imagination, I would appreciate it, you write great! Thanks 💙✨
SFW! Nightcrawler/Fem!Reader
Ok so I will admit that I made this a leeetle self indulgent. I was trying to think of a power someone could really struggle with and a fun one that I thought of was having necromancy, but having such respect for life and death that it feels wrong. I thought it would fit well with a Kurt fic because it's something that almost feels sacrilegious, and it's good to have a fuzzy blue elf assure you that you aren't a monster :) I know its def not power ambiguous, but I hope this is okay :)
Also, I know my writing style is a little different in this one, And thats because the first few paragraphs set the tone for my writing when I start and tbh I think this one just flowed from my soul to they keyboard.
TWs: nightmares, necromancy, gross descriptions of rotting flesh. Extreme self-doubt and self-consciousness. Basically angst with a happy ending.
You’ve been having nightmares again. They hardly seem to stop, but after a break in between the terror, you'd become too relaxed. Too comfortable. You felt defenseless when they started to begin again.
It’s always the same dream, different font. Bones cracking, flesh ripping as it’s forced into place, natural or not. Skin rotting off of once human bodies, sockets where eyes used to be. It was horrifying. You’d see your family, friends, acquaintances, everyone. Dead. Brought back to life by your power, the power you were still so afraid of. You were always afraid of zombie movies as a kid. Anything rising from the dead, anything breathed back to life in some sick and twisted fantasy. It was ironic that your very own strength was the thing you had always been the most afraid of.
Of course, as you aged and the professor took you in, the fear began to wear off. Mostly, it did. The professor not only taught you how to control your powers but also how to work around your fear. You can remember the confusion you felt when he had set a box of ancient bones in front of you. Fragments of titans, dinosaurs who had long since passed. Bones that would never be matched to an accurate set, parts of them being crushed to dust by the cruelty of time. Bones that only you could breathe to life, to bring them together as a whole again. It was convenient, the professor had told you, that you only needed a fragment to do so. He spoke as if it were a service to them. Most importantly, he brought you a box of bones that weren’t, and never had been, human.
He had taken the fear out of your power. Given you an option you had never considered before. Bones without flesh, without living family. Fossils that would serve you as you were serving them. You were… happy, with that. You were content. You could handle bones. You could revive these ancient skeletons without fear, and fight with them without worry. That didn’t change the horror of knowing the capacity your powers had.
So the nightmares remained, and your sleep had become sparse.
This particular night you were restless. Unable to sleep despite how tired you have been, but it’s hard to rest when there is only terror waiting behind your eyelids. After a while, you decide to give up trying.
The path to the kitchen is one you have memorized, even in the dark. You’ve always been told never to eat sugar before bed, but the only thing you want to comfort you at this moment is hot chocolate- so screw it.
You try your best to be quiet while fishing out a pot out of the cabinets. The stove makes a click as you flick it on, filling the pot with milk before stirring it as it warms. The automatic task is comforting, falling into a routine you enjoy. You’ve just added the coco mix when the sound of a *Bamph* greets you.
“Guten abend.” Kurt whispers, walking over to stand beside you. You give him a tired smile that he returns with a yawn.
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” You say, face returning to a frown Kurt thinks you wear far too often. Maybe it’s good that he’s here because you realize you made far too much of the sweet drink than you had meant to. You get a mug for him, heart fluttering as his hand brushes your own when he takes it from you, thanking you quietly.
“You did not wake me, Schatz. I promise.” Kurt says, pulling out a chair for you with his tail as he sits at the table. You nod silently, placing the pot in the sink and filling it with water before you join him, leaning against his shoulder.
“Did you have another nightmare?” Kurt asks after a moment. His brows are furrowed in concern, and you fail to stop him before he takes a sip from the scalding coco, burning his tongue. He scrunches his nose as he sticks out his tongue, making you giggle for a moment. He thinks your laugh suits you much more than your frown, even if it happens to be at his expense. Your face falls slightly anyway, and he wonders if he could get you to laugh if he did it all over again.
“...No. Not tonight.” The words come out as less than a whisper, and you doubt he might hear it if it weren’t the middle of the night. Little did you know he’d block the world out if he had to, just to hear you speak a little clearer. He hums in response, and you feel his tail slowly wrap snugly around your waist, the very tip idly stroking you in a comforting manner.
“...Do you wish to speak about them?” Kurt asks after a moment. You huff slightly, feeling the hot steam from your mug warm your face as you do so. Still too hot, you think to yourself. Flashes of those horrid nightmares come to mind, and no matter how quickly you try to shake them off, they remain. You choose to think of Kurt instead. Sweet, kind, comforting Kurt. You want to bury yourself in his arms, sink into the feeling of his skin, and never let go, if only he would let you. He would without a second thought, if only you had known. You think carefully about your next words, and the visions of flesh and corpses hardly leave you.
“Am I a monster, Kurt?” You hear a quiet, cut-off gasp from Kurt, and he turns to you. His face is pained, and he sets his mug down to place his hand around your own, still clasped around the hot cocoa.
“Of course not. Only a fool would think so.” His words, although comforting, only leave you with a worse sting in your heart. You can’t hold eye contact with him, staring at the reflection in your mug instead. Only a fool would think so. You halfway wonder if you count as a fool, then.
“I, just… My powers, what I do. What I am capable of doing. It’s not right.” You take a shaky breath in, desperately trying not to break down here and now. “It’s disgusting. It’s horrible. Every time I find myself comfortable with myself I am reminded of what is possible and I spiral. I don’t want it. I don’t-”
“Liebling.” You let out a sob at the sound of his voice. Kurt is hunched over, pressing his forehead against your own as he desperately tries to catch your gaze- but you can’t. You can't bear it, and you close your eyes tightly. Kurt takes the mug from your hands. He cups your face as he wipes your tears, and you feel like even more of a monster as he does so. Sobbing as a man with a heart of gold wipes your tears away with love and care.
“Please, look at me,” Kurt whispers. You try to stop the tears, embarrassed as you fall apart in front of the man you hold so dearly, but it’s hard. It’s so hard. Your chest stings, your throat is sore, you’re sure your nose is running, and yet he still holds you so gently. When your breathing evens out just a bit, you convince yourself to open your eyes again.
Kurt’s gaze is simply concerned. There is no horror, no disgust, nothing but worry for you. Nothing but kindness. You wonder if you could be even half as good as he is.
“You are good. You are kind. You are strong enough to stand by your morals despite the nature of your powers telling you otherwise- and you have the strength to continue to use them and fight your fears anyway. You are one of the most incredible people I have ever met. Do not let your nightmares tell you otherwise.” Kurt’s hold is steady against your cheeks, and your own shaky hands reach up to hold onto his wrists. You sob again as he speaks. You know. You know this. Others have told you, but these words all felt like lies. All but the ones you’re hearing from his mouth. Your tears are slowing, and Kurt leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, leaving the skin tingling. You whisper quiet apologies for crying, and he shushes each one, gently wiping your face with the soft sleeve of his pajama shirt.
“I would not be here if I didn’t want to care for you, my love,” Kurt says softly. Your eyes widen, taken aback by his words. He called you many things. Liebling. Schatz. Love. But never my love. The words waken butterflies in your belly, and Kurt takes a moment to realize what he’s said. He swallows nervously, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The two of you are treading a line that you both desperately want to cross.
Kurt is the first to lean in. He does so slowly, toeing the line between you. His gaze remains on your own as he closes the space, nose nuzzling against your own as he gives you the time to back out if you wish. But you don’t. You want nothing more than to have what he is so freely giving.
Kurt kisses you softly, lovingly, and for once the horrors have quieted and are cleared from your mind. All there is now is Kurt, and his soft love. He kisses you a second time before he pulls away, still as close to you as he can be without falling out of his chair. You wonder how he can see beauty where all you see is terror. He wonders if you have any clue just how much of a good person you continue to be.
He knows he would gladly spend the rest of his life showing you.
#x men 97#x men#x men comics#x men 97 x reader#x men headcannons#kurt wagner#kurt wagner x reader#kurt wagner headcannons#nightcrawler headcannons#nightcrawler x reader#xmen nightcrawler#nightcrawler
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Older! Boyfriend Toji x Fem Reader pt. 2
MDNI! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD
CW: weapon play
18+ Headcanons:
Older! Toji, who was definitely a fuck-friend, before he was a boyfriend. At first, it was a once a week occasion, almost like an appointment. Slowly it became twice a week, then four times a week, then almost every night. It became an addiction like no other. He began craving you whenever you weren't with him.
"You free tonight baby? Need to fuck you so bad... haven't seen you in three days, fuck."
Older! Toji who fell first... and swears it was some work of black magic.
"Don't know what you're doing to me, Mama." Toji groans fucking you from behind, watching as a ring of white cream forms at the base of his cock. His hips speed up by the second, realizing that he isn't just feeling lust.
"Tightest, prettiest little pussy I've ever fucked. Sweetest, prettiest girl I've ever met. Put a fucking spell on me."
Older! Toji who is not loud in bed. Sorry to my girls that love the moaners and the whimpering sluts 😔. You'll get groans, grunts, and tons of dirty talk but THAT'S IT.
When you're having make-up sex or when he's angry, he won't make a sound. Just heavy breathing and hard fucking. Kinda scary tbh.
Older! Toji who loves it fucking disgusting. Sloppy, wet, hot, you name it. His favorite thing is to lay down and watch you choke and slobber all over his dick. Chokes you just to have drool spill out of your mouth. Cums all over you, having his seed collect on your shaking body. He's absolutely dead set on making you squirt, training your body as regularly as possible.
Older! Toji who loves experimenting with his knives and handguns in the bedroom. Whether it be pressing his Glock 19 to your forehead while fucking you against the wall, or pressing a blade to your neck while marking you up, he loves the way the danger always makes your breath hitch. Don't worry though, he always takes the bullets out, always uses the dull side of the knife... he'd never be able to forgive himself if something actually happened to you. (When he has basic human empathy 😍🤤)
Older! Toji who first confessed after fucking you raw, going three rounds. He was struck with jealousy after you invited him out to a bar, instead of your apartment like you have been doing routinely for about 5 months. He was having a good time, joking with you, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time your face lit up and your laugh rang out.
Everything was just jolly until some fucking guy walked up to you, introducing himself as Satoru. He began practically begging to buy you a drink, claiming that he's only seen a beauty like yours in a dream about a wild forest goddess he had when he got high for the first time in 9th grade.
Toji rolled his eyes, scoffing at the man who was currently making a fool out of himself. You, on the other hand, found the man's antics amusing, giggling while you allowed him to carry on about his dream, detailing the way the goddess walked towards him, blessing him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he informed you that the scene was an exact replica of you walking into the bar.
By the time you got back to your apartment, Toji was less than pleased.
"Oh, C'mon Toji! It was funny. I mean, you really didn't get a kick out of him?" You pest as he walks in, taking off his size 13 boots.
"Tsk, no. He was a drunken idiot. Goddess my ass, he wouldn't know how to worship you."
That night, Toji fucked you sweeter than he ever did before. You expected to have your insides rearranged the second you walked through the door. Something was different. The air around you felt and smelled different as your breathless moans occupied the room. More tender, more purposeful, more...intimate. He worshipped you head to toe.
Once he pulled out, he uttered three sentences that changed your relationship forever...
"You're mine, I'm yours. I want you, I need you. I love you."
He reminds you of this moment from time to time, repeating the same three sentences. Not after you fuck, but after you make love.
Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo
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ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ
Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jonathan Crane (NSFW)
When you notice Dr. Jonathan Crane watching you and your husband at a fundraising party, you get a little curious. When Dr. Crane angers you, he presses you to explore that anger. Will he regret it?
warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (both vaginal and anal), oral sex, cock warming, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, porn without much plot, masturbation, forced masturbation, threesome, male x male, male x female, male x male x female, cum swallowing, spitting, face sitting, face fucking, crying, sub/dom tones, dom!reader, sub!jonathan, kinda sub!bruce but not really, ya know, just pure filth
word count: 5254
author’s note: welcome to our one-way ticket to hell besties <3 I didn't proofread this because it just poured out of me and I was truly possessed by the writing demon today. I had an idea and literally ran with it. I don't think I've ever written something so filthy before lol please enjoy and give feedback!! READ THE WARNINGS this fic isn't for everyone tbh.
main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here
MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC
ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
One thing about being married to the Bruce Wayne was he had a thing for throwing parties and fundraisers at your mansion. This meant you had to dress up quite a bit, and you had to look really good as you were Bruce’s wife, of course. He always ensured you had the newest and most gorgeous gowns to show off at the gatherings. You’d spend the whole day getting your hair, makeup, and nails done, only to be at the parties for a few hours. And that was usually because Bruce had other duties in the city, he got too distracted by what you were wearing and needed you right then, or he simply let his antisocial side creep up on him. Tonight at the fundraiser he’s throwing, he seems content and has been by your side most of the night. Nothing drastic was going on in the city that demanded his action. But something was bothering him, you could tell. He’s slightly off, and you catch him staring at someone in the crowd a few times. You’re never able to pick them out, though.
You and Bruce are by the champagne table, and you notice Bruce is gazing out into the crowd of partygoers again.
“Bruce?” you ask softly, putting a hand on his bicep, “You alright?”
Bruce blinks hard a few times before turning to you, “I’m fine, darling.”
“You sure? You seem distracted by something this evening,” you scan the room, but to no avail for whomever Bruce is focused on.
“I just thought I recognized someone,” Bruce says, sipping his drink.
“Hmm. Alright, then.”
“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Bruce smiles, letting a hand slide across the small of your back.
“Only about a thousand times,” you giggle, leaning into your husband.
You happen to look up, and that’s when you see him staring at the two of you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. He quickly averts his eyes away, but you have already caught him.
“Is it Dr. Crane that you recognize?” you ask Bruce, motioning to where he’s standing with some other rich psychologists.
“Yeah,” Bruce exhales, shrugging, “I thought he had left the city a while ago.”
“After the asylum got turned loose? I figured so, too. Oh well,” you say, looking up at Bruce, “If he’s here, then he’s donating, so maybe it’s not so bad.”
“You have a point,” Bruce raises his eyebrows, “I’m still keeping an eye on him, though.”
You knew of a few of the villains Bruce has come in contact with, including Jonathan. He had almost killed your best friend and sent the whole city insane. Who knows what would have happened to Gotham if it weren't for Bruce. But a part of you is curious about Jonathan- a deep, intellectual part of you. Why is he still here? Is he still a doctor? Your brain becomes dizzy with all the questions. If Jonathan is here acting casually on his own accord, you could, too. You tear away from Bruce without a word, drink in hand. Bruce calls after you, panic surging through him when he realizes where you’re headed.
“Dr. Crane,” you smile upon arriving in front of him and another psychologist, “Wonderful to see you here.”
“Ah, Mrs. Wayne. I wouldn’t miss a marvelous party for a good cause. Have you met Dr. Robin here?” Jonathan smiles back, not missing a single beat.
“I have not,” you look over to the tall woman in front of Jonathan, clad in a pantsuit. You reach out a hand for her to shake, “Y/N Wayne.”
“I know who you are, Mrs. Wayne,” Dr. Robin says politely, her Australian accent strong, “Your dress is quite lovely, I must say.”
“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, willing her to leave so you could speak with Jonathan alone.
“Well, I’ll be off. Seems you two have something to discuss,” Dr. Robin announces her departure, much to your relief.
“It was nice meeting you,” you say sweetly as she walks away.
“You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”
You turn to Jonathan, who clears his throat as he looks you up and down. You’re nearly the same height as him, if not slightly taller, in your heels.
“It’s really brave of you to be here, Dr. Crane,” you turn your head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile.
“Please, call me Jonathan,” Jonathan responds, “And what would you mean by that?”
You take a step closer to him, leaning into his ear, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jonathan. Or should I say, Mr. Scarecrow.”
Jonathan doesn’t flinch. In fact, he grins at you as he exhales a laugh, “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid.”
“Uh-huh,” you cross your arms, “And why should I believe you?”
Jonathan glances behind you to look at Bruce, who is on edge and watching the entire conversation to ensure nothing is tried. A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw twitches, “You don’t have to. But if I were up to no good, why would I be in the presence of the Batman and his lover? Quite unintelligent, wouldn’t you think?”
“And why are you here, exactly?”
“Trying to get myself back into the Gotham scene,” Jonathan looks at you matter-of-factly, “I’ve missed a lot being gone, you know.”
“Oh, I do know. And maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” you try not to snarl at him.
“Now, now, Mrs. Wayne. That is no way to speak to a donor,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping like honey with malice.
“You better be glad there are people around or-”
“Or what?” Jonathan asks, raising his eyebrows, a smirk itching at his lips.
“I’d fucking break you right here.”
“Sounds like a fun time. However, I’m not sure your husband would appreciate that in many, many ways.”
You scoff, “Don’t be crass. I’m not flirting with you. If I were, you’d know it.”
“There’s a fine line between desire and hatred, my dear,” Jonathan whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, “It’s a fun line to walk.”
Annoyance swells in your chest. You desperately wanted him to shut his bratty mouth. You also wanted to enjoy the rest of the party, but now that Jonathan had you riled up in anger, you wanted nothing more than to slam him against the wall and-
“Everything okay over here?” Bruce approaches suddenly, taking you by surprise.
“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” you place your hand on Bruce’s chest as a warning, “Nothing to worry about.”
“Dr. Crane isn’t bothering you, is he?” Bruce’s nostrils flare.
“Not at all,” you defend the doctor, “In fact, I’m probably annoying him.”
Bruce laughs humorlessly, “Oh, is that so?”
You cock your head at him, “Did you need something, dear?”
“Just want to speak with you privately,” Bruce says.
You go to say something, but Bruce interrupts you, “Both of you.”
If Jonathan is just as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it.
“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce walks briskly to one of the guest rooms down the hall from the ballroom, making sure no one is following or watching the three of you. He ushers you and Jonathan inside, following suit before closing the door behind him.
“You know,” Jonathan says, breaking the silence, “I never pegged Mrs. Wayne for the threatening type out of the two of you.”
You bite your tongue, and Bruce looks over at you.
“Say what you want to say. I brought the two of you in here so you could solve your conversation away from those nosy fuckers outside,” Bruce rolls his eyes, fixing his cuff links.
“We aren’t children, Bruce,” you scowl.
“Then act like it,” Bruce sasses back.
“I do not need two men on my bad side right now. Remember what happens when you’re on my bad side, Bruce?”
Bruce looks between you and Jonathan, a hint of nervousness in his eye, “Don’t bring him into this, darling.”
“No, no. I’m curious now,” Jonathan grins deviously, stepping closer to you, “What happens when someone is on your bad side, Mrs. Wayne?”
Now realizing how your words and threats may have sounded all night to Jonathan, you backpedal.
“Not what you think, Dr. Crane,” you cross your arms, taking a step back from the doctor.
“Oh really? So your antagonizing and threats don’t mean anything?”
“What do you think they mean?”
“As I said earlier, desire and hatred are very close to one another,” Jonathan says suavely, “And I honestly can’t tell which you feel toward me.”
You make a disgusted sound despite the growing need to pin this man down and give him what for. Not even sexually, but simply because you’re tired of him speaking. However, Jonathan wasn’t bad-looking by any means- and sometimes, you and Bruce liked to try new things. But you don’t think Bruce would want to fuck with a murderer and criminal, especially one he’s had close encounters within the city. Jonathan almost burned him alive once, so you aren’t sure about whatever he’s insinuating going very far with your husband.
“Hatred,” you spit, “It’s hatred. Plus,” you look over at Bruce, “I don’t think my lover would appreciate me having anything to do with you anyway.”
Jonathan snorts, his eyes flickering between you and your husband, “Are you so sure about that?”
You furrow your brow, laughing incredulously at him, “I’m certain.”
“I don’t know,” Bruce says suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the fucker squirm on your account, Y/N.”
You nearly gasped, suddenly very aware of the animosity you were aiming at Dr. Jonathan Crane, now becoming sexual in nature. Not that you meant for it to, but now that it was insinuated out loud by someone other than Jonathan, you pondered your true feelings. As you’ve said, Jonathan was a looker. If you weren’t married to Bruce and the man wasn’t psychotic, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. But you are married, and he is psychotic.
Jonathan has his hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his face as he studies you, “You want this. Don’t deny it, Mrs. Wayne. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”
You purse your lips together, “What I want is for you to shut up and behave. All you do is act high and mighty when you’re nothing but a little rat.”
Bruce tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, “I’ll let everyone know it’s time to leave. When I come back, you two better be taking care of things.”
You look at Bruce, who gives you a slight nod in approval to do as you wish before he steps out of the room. No one is in charge in the bedroom permanently between the two of you. The dominant role is shared or is back and forth, depending on the day. To your shock, Bruce gives you the complete reins in this situation. But Bruce knew how much you despised Dr. Crane for what he’s done, even if a part of you is desperately curious about him. Desperate enough to demean him sexually, even. You want to humiliate him. Make him cry and make him regret having even come here. You want him to think of you whenever he feels shame or embarrassment for the rest of his life.
“A little rat, huh?” Jonathan chuckles, undoing his cufflinks.
“Yes,” you blink, forcing him to walk backward to the bed as he struggles to remove his blazer.
You shove him roughly onto the bed, watching him bounce from the mattress with a look of disorientation. Jonathan eventually gets his blazer off, discarding it onto the floor. You can’t properly climb on the bed with your gown on, so you reach behind your back, undoing the clasps that hold the silver dress together. You kick off your glittery heels, letting the gown slip to the floor in a pile. Underneath your dress, you decided a black lingerie set would do nicely. You’re glad you picked well, considering such a doting man was now staring at you like you were a piece of meat and he was starving. You try to ignore the logical side of your brain telling you this man is dangerous and crazy. But the other side of your brain is telling you that his cock is definitely dangerous and crazy, too. And you wanted to find out for sure.
“Now,” you begin to crawl to where Jonathan wordlessly lays, watching you carefully, “Are you going to be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boy?”
“No promises,” Jonathan flashes a toothy grin, and you angrily rip his button-up open, buttons flying everywhere across the room.
Jonathan’s mouth hangs open, “That was an expensive shirt.”
“Nothing you can’t replace,” you shrug, running your hands along Jonathan’s handsome chest before letting your nails graze his nipples.
Jonathan shudders at the feeling, and you remove your hands from him, sitting back on your heels, “Lay on the pillows.”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Jonathan purrs, doing as told, surprisingly.
You hear the door open behind you, and you turn around quickly to see Bruce.
“Everyone is cleared out. Brought some fun stuff, too,” he places a box on the floor, kicking it to the end of the bed for you to grab it.
You lean down over the edge of the bed and retrieve the box, crawling on your knees to where Jonathan lies. You open the box and hum in satisfaction at Bruce’s choice of toys and trinkets. You fiddle with one toy, dragging your gaze to Jonathan with a wicked smile on your face. But before you reveal the toy, you snatch some rope out of the box.
“Now you have no choice but to be good, Dr. Crane,” you snicker, offering Bruce some of the rope to tie Jonathan’s left wrist to the bedpost with.
You tie Jonathan’s right wrist tight enough for him not to move too much but not enough to where blood flow is cut off. Jonathan tugs at the rope, looking at you and Bruce with a nervous yet exhilarating smile.
“I’m privileged to be living such a fantasy,” Jonathan sighs.
“You’ll be wishing you had never stepped foot in this house when she’s done with you,” Bruce smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up.
“Ah,” Jonathan laughs.
Before he can comment any further, you shove a ball gag into his mouth, strapping it behind his head securely. A deep feeling of satisfaction to him finally being quiet fills you. But the joy of seeing such an evil man at your mercy is more intense.
“You better be glad I chose the ball gag instead of having Bruce have his way with that pretty mouth of yours, Crane,” you say, and Bruce shakes his head from where he stands beside the bed.
Drool begins seeping out of the sides of Jonathan’s mouth, and you can’t help but coo at the sight of his tightening pants and his reddening cheeks. You grab his face between your fingers, squishing his flesh. You hum in satisfaction before letting go of his face and focusing on his slacks. You all but tear his belt off his hips, hurrying to unbutton his pants before ripping them down his thighs. Bruce removes the pants the rest of the way as you climb onto Jonathan’s lap, your clothed core atop his throbbing, leaking bulge.
You kiss Jonathan’s jaw, leaving harsh bites along the column of his throat as you travel down, continuing your assault on the skin of his chest and torso. You reach the band of his underwear, which you tease with your hands, snapping the band against Jonathan’s skin. He tries his best to laugh from underneath the ball gag, spit sputtering from the gaps of his mouth. You slowly peel his underwear down his legs, watching as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. You let Bruce pull the underwear off completely, and he tosses it somewhere in the room to be found later. You lean down to lick the bead of precum off Jonathan's tip before pulling away completely, allowing Bruce the room to tie up the doctor’s ankles to the bottom bedposts. You stand at the foot of the bed, chuckling darkly as Jonathan struggles against the restraints.
“Not so powerful now, are you, Dr. Crane?” you laugh, knowing he didn’t like you calling him by his professional name, “You look so pathetic, lying there with your poor cock out for us to see. Bet you wish one of us would touch it for you, hmm?”
Jonathan stays silent, his eyes boring into yours as he yanks his arms, testing the rope’s strength. He realizes he truly can’t move or speak and that he’s entirely at you and Bruce’s mercy. Not the worst position to be in, Jonathan thinks.
“Which of us should do the honors?” you ask Bruce, a playful smile on your face.
It isn’t often Bruce gets to mess with the other man during your experimental sexual encounters. Still, you figure this is personal enough for him to want to be involved.
“You can take this one. I’ve got other plans,” Bruce says, smirking deviously.
“Oh really?” you grin, “I’m excited to see those.”
You climb back on the bed, moving toward Jonathan’s lap, where his weeping cock is getting redder by the second. Grabbing the base of it, you move it forward enough for it to meet your lips. You lap your tongue on Jonathan’s tip, smearing the precum around before licking a stripe up his entire length. You pull away, letting his cock slap painfully against his stomach again. You harshly grip Jonathan’s balls, causing him to cry out muffled. You massage them as you take his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as you continue to take him in entirely. You press your breasts into the bed, letting your ass be exposed for Bruce to take advantage of as you suck off Jonathan. Bruce wastes no time walking over to you, letting his hands run over your asscheeks before he pulls your pretty black underwear off. Bruce dips his head down to flatten his tongue against your wet slit, gathering your arousal as he swirls it around your cunt. You moan around Jonathan’s cock, causing him to twitch.
“God, I love this pussy,” Bruce pants against you, “Too bad you can’t get a taste, Crane.”
You peer your eyes up to Jonathan’s, his icy blue eyes now dark from his blown pupils. He’s glaring at Bruce, trying to regulate his breathing as his tip hits the back of your throat. Jonathan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you fuck him with your mouth, letting his cock slam into your throat. Jonathan tries to thrust into your mouth, but you push his hips down against the mattress. You’re slobbering, and tears are streaming down your face as you take his length as much as you can, wanting him to get as close to cumming as possible. Bruce sucks your clit harshly, letting two fingers slip into your wet pussy. You groan, the vibrations sending Jonathan batty. You feel him getting close, and you blindly fumble around for the box of toys that still remains on the bed somewhere. You find it, pulling off Jonthan’s cock as it twitches uncontrollably. He growls as you find the toy you were looking for. You give Jonathan a few pumps, gripping his length as tight as you can, watching as the precum helplessly spills from him. Before Jonathan can react or cum, you slip a cock ring onto him, sliding it down to his base. He cries out from behind the ball gag, his chest heaving. You lay your head on his thigh, watching as his cock turns bright red. Bruce continues to eat you out, his teeth brushing against your clit occasionally, causing you to moan. Your breath hits Jonathan’s angry length, making him shiver. You look him in the eyes as Bruce adds a third finger, fucking into your g spot harshly as he bites at your bundle of nerves. You maintain eye contact with Jonathan as you cum, letting your nails dig into the soft flesh on his thighs.
“Lucky for me,” you trace Jonathan’s tip teasingly with your finger, catching your breath, “I get to cum as much as I want.”
Jonathan stares at you without making a sound, focusing on his breathing so he doesn’t explode into a fine mist from the overstimulation.
“Now it’s your turn since you’ve been a good boy,” you remove the ball gag from Jonathan’s mouth, licking up his spit from his lips before he can lick it off himself.
“Open your mouth,” you demand, and Jonathan does as told.
You gather his and your saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto his tongue.
“Now show me how good you are at eating pussy, Dr. Crane.”
You flip yourself around, hovering over Jonathan’s face as you slowly remove the cock ring. Bruce removes his button-up, laying down between Jonathan’s spread legs. Jonathan lets out a strangled cry at the feeling of Bruce’s hot mouth on his sensitive cock. You push your pulsing cunt onto Jonathan’s face, to which he happily starts lapping hungrily. You watch as Bruce hollows his cheeks around Jonathan, and the sight alone makes you even wetter than before.
“Fuck,” you mutter, Bruce’s eyes meeting yours.
You rock your hips against Jonathan’s tongue, urging him to continue. Jonathan wishes he could bury his fingers in your cunt, but he settles for his tongue instead. Twisting and pushing it inside you, he uses his nose to press against your clit, shaking his head. You grip Jonathan’s hair, cursing at the feeling of his tongue dragging in your walls and his nose flicking your bundle of nerves. You grasp your barely clothed breasts, letting your thumbs play with your nipples through the thin lace. Bruce moans around Jonathan while watching you, letting Jonathan fuck into his throat.
“Wanna cum, you piece of shit?” Bruce pulls off Jonathan, who gasps a ‘yes,’ “Be careful what you ask for,” Bruce chuckles.
You plan on milking the doctor for all he’s got all night. You want him spent and begging for mercy. Anything to make him miserable.
Bruce takes Jonathan back into his mouth, bobbing up and down quickly and stroking what he won’t take into his mouth. Bruce allows Jonathan to buck his hips into his face. Jonathan lets out a pitiful cry as he cums in your husband’s mouth, white-hot spurts of seed shooting down Bruce’s throat. You feel Jonathan roll your clit between his teeth before sucking it between his lips as he rides his high. You growl, letting your self-control go out the window. You chase your own high, letting Jonathan torture and tease your bundle of nerves with his tongue and teeth until you finally release in his mouth. Jonathan slurps and suckles every drop of your arousal from your cunt, licking until you pull off him.
“Lucky for you,” you pant, beginning to untie the rope bound to Jonathan’s wrists, “This next part requires your cooperation. Promise you’ll behave?”
“Yes, Mrs. Wayne,” Jonathan nods.
You let Bruce finish untying the doctor as you discard your bra. You instruct Jonathan to move to the side, allowing you to lie down in his place. You demand that Jonathan climb on top of you. he does as told, and Bruce roughly pushes Jonthan’s face into your chest. You laugh at Bruce’s typical roughness, especially when it makes Jonathan look flustered. His ass is now in the air, revealed to Bruce.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass like a good boy?” you ask Jonathan, your fingers in his hair.
He doesn’t look at you or respond.
“I’m asking you a question, Jonathaaan,” you say threateningly, your fingers now gripping his hair harshly as you lift his head for him to look at you.
“No,” Jonathan says breathlessly.
“Well, that’s about to change,” you say, “Any regrets about being smart-mouthed to me yet, Dr. Crane?”
Jonathan glares at you, panting as Bruce spreads his ass apart, “Not yet.”
“Good,” you smile, letting his head drop abc to your chest, “Now obey me and show me how much you’re enjoying this.”
You move Jonathan’s face, maneuvering his mouth to your hardened and sensitive nipple. Bruce takes some lube from the box he brought, smearing it against his fingers before teasing Jonathan’s asshole with the tip of his index finger. Jonathan keens around you, his body beginning to shake as Bruce slowly pushes a finger inside him. Jonathan sucks harshly on your nipple, gasping as your husband wiggles his finger inside his tight ass. He laps at your bud, focusing on trying to please you and taking Bruce’s long finger simultaneously. A second finger is added, stretching Jonathan further. The doctor lets out a sharp groan at the delectable burn. He attacks your other breast, letting his finger circle around the one he was just attached to. Bruce prods a third finger into Jonathan, and he lurches forward from the feeling of fullness.
“If you think you’re full now, just wait for Bruce’s fat cock, baby boy,” you taunt.
Bruce twists and curls his fingers inside Jonathan, doing his best to prep him for his unforgiving length. When he pulls his hand away, Jonathan gasps from the sudden emptiness. Bruce spreads his ass apart again, his slacks and underwear now discarded as his hardened cock pressed against Joanthan’s gaping hole. Jonathan whimpers around your nipple, pausing momentarily as Bruce slides himself into Jonathan.
“Fuck,” Jonathan shudders.
“You can stop now. I need you elsewhere,” you pull Jonathan’s head off your breasts, sneaking your hand between the two of you to his newly hardened cock, stroking it in your hand in time for Bruce to bottom out.
Jonathan whines, collapsing on your torso as the air leaves him.
“Tapped out already?” you pout, sticking your bottom lip out at Jonathan when you lift his head by his hair again, “Too fucking bad.”
Bruce then pulls out of Jonathan almost all the way before slamming back into him, his tip brushing against Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan screams as you guide his cock between your slick folds, his body overstimulated. You let Jonathan weakly push his length inside your soaking cunt, your walls enveloping him immediately. Bruce wraps an arm around Jonathan’s chest, anchoring himself to the doctor. His other hand grips Jonathan’s hip with intensity. The feeling of Bruce pounding into Jonathan’s tight little ass affects you directly as Jonathan pushes deeper inside you every time Bruce thrusts into him. Soon, a rhythm is established, and you’re nearly in tears from pleasure as you watch Jonathan become a withering, crying mess underneath Bruce.
“Doing so good taking Bruce’s huge cock,” you praise Jonathan, bucking your hips with his every time he involuntarily moves forward, “You could at least try a little harder to fuck me like you want to, though.”
Jonathan’s forehead is teeming with sweat as he struggles to actually thrust into you while Bruce fucks into his prostate. You give him the benefit of the doubt- the first time getting fucked in the ass is intense. So you rock and swivel your hips on Jonathan’s cock roughly, letting him reach up to grab your breasts for leverage. He pinches your nipples, twisting them hard, sending electricity to your cunt. You pulse around Jonathan’s length, causing him to grunt miserably. Bruce’s hips are slapping onto Jonathan’s asscheeks loudly, and Jonathan’s cock twitches pitifully inside you.
“Cum, sweet thing,” you coax Jonathan, whose hair has long since lost its gel hold and has begun flopping into his face, “Cum inside me.”
Jonathan starts fucking into you the best he can, tears streaming down his face as he cums, a hoarse scream leaving his throat. Bruce is still fucking him without mercy, and you let Jonathan’s soft cock remain inside you as he whimpers helplessly, his hands gripping your sides.
“That’s it,” you praise him gently, “Let Batman fuck you silly like you deserve.”
Jonathan peers up at you, giving you the dirtiest look he can muster as you cackle, Bruce grunting as he cums inside Jonthan’s ass and on his back.
“Christ,” Bruce sighs, pushing his hair from his face as he winces, pulling out of Jonathan’s quivering asshole.
Jonathan collapses on top of you in a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. You let him catch his breath before sliding out from under him.
“One last thing, sweetie,” you say, your tone sugary, “Sit up on the bed for us.”
Jonathan weakly pushes himself up, flipping onto his back and laying his head on the pillows.
“Touch yourself,” you demand, sitting on your knees at the end of the bed beside Bruce, “I want you to cum until you can’t cum anymore.”
Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but you motion for him to shush, to which he tiredly gives in. You dip your hand to your slick clit, swiping at it as Jonathan strokes his sensitive cock for you. Bruce watches you and Jonathan touch yourselves, unable to really get himself up again. He instead sits behind you, playing with your tits and rubbing his large hands on your hot, sticky skin. Bruce relishes in watching Jonathan fall apart as he looks away in embarrassment.
“Keep your eyes on me, Crane,” Bruce’s voice booms, making Jonathan jump.
Jonathan gulps, reluctantly keeping eye contact with Bruce as he bucks into his hand, moaning hoarsely as he gets close. He can’t help but think about how he was between the two of you, getting fucked by you and Bruce at the same time. With that, cum shoots from his overused cock onto his stomach, and he cries out in embarrassment when you demand he get off again.
You stay like that, letting Bruce replace your hand as you spread your legs further open to allow him to fuck you with his fingers. You bounce on them, moaning quietly as Jonathan fights to keep his eyes open, his wrist flicking to the best of his ability. The night goes on, and Jonathan eventually taps out, sobbing almost uncontrollably as he runs out of cum. You and Bruce give him time alone before slowly moving him to the shower, where you help him wash off. You and your husband also washed yourselves off, assisting Jonathan out of the shower when you were all done. He’s wrapped in a towel, wincing as he walks back to the bed and curls up under the covers. You follow suit, wrapping your arms around Jonathan and soothing him as he finally falls asleep. Bruce holds you from behind, sighing contently.
“Too bad it takes doing this to humble a villain,” Bruce jokes.
“And the fact I could help was exciting,” you chuckle, “I never get to fight criminals like you do.”
“Maybe you should. You’ve got the mouth for it. Your sass is unmatched,” Bruce buries his nose in your hair.
“Mmm, I think I’m good,” you say, stroking Jonathan’s hair out of his face, “One villain is enough for me, I think.”
You and Bruce quietly watch the evil, despicable fucker sleep soundly.
“Can we keep him?” you ask Bruce, to which he tries not to burst out laughing.
“So you can torture him more? Absolutely.”
“Awesome.”
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#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader smut#jonathan crane#jonathan crane smut#jonathan crane x reader#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne smut#bruce wayne x reader smut#christian bale#christian bale x reader#christian bale x reader smut#christian bale smut#bruce wayne x reader x jonathan crane#bruce wayne x reader x jonathan crane smut#batman#batman begins#floralcyanide writes
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"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me." + "has anybody else ever made you feel like this?" with mob!bucky
oh, mob!bucky, how I've missed you <3 this turned out pretty um. fucked up tbh
warnings: smut (18+ only!!), oral m receiving and creampie, daddy kink, public sex/exhibitionism, hair pulling, established (sugar daddy) relationship
100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!
"And what do you say when I buy you something pretty, baby?" he purred as he ran his hands over your exposed back-- funny how the dresses he bought you always showed so much skin...
"Thank you, daddy," you cooed in return, bending down to kiss him on the cheek, and he smirked as he spread his legs a bit wider in his chair.
"Doesn't she look great, boys?" he prompted the men around him, who nodded and hollered in agreement. Sometimes it could be hard to get Bucky alone, with all the guards and 'employees' of various ranking always around him. Of course, you had him to yourself every night as long as you were willing to wait for those late night drinking and poker sessions to end-- which you were, you were used to the way he lived. And you were used to the attention of his colleagues, as well, because he loved to show you off to anyone he could.
What you weren't used to was him reaching down to pet your legs suggestively like this, in front of everyone.
"You know, if you wanna thank me," he continued with a raised eyebrow, "I can think of a much more fun way."
You cleared your throat nervously, glancing at the men around you. "O-of course, daddy-- when you come to the penthouse tonight, I'll thank you all night long."
The men snickered, but Bucky wasn't satisfied. "You can thank me here," he decided. "I don't have anything to hide from them."
Your heart raced, but fuck, it turned you on, too. Especially that look in his eyes, you would've done anything he wanted right then. But you wanted to be sure you weren't misunderstanding his intentions. Leaning in, you mumbled quietly: "Do you really want me to... in front of them?"
"Yes," he answered, looking up at you expectantly; and so you kissed him as you started to sink down onto your knees in front of the chair.
Already there were some strong reactions from the men watching you: cheers, laughs, even clapping. It made you feel... several emotions. It made you fucking wet.
You broke the kiss when you were fully on the ground, running your hands up his legs until he moved his hips forward for you to open his belt. "Can I take it out for you, daddy?" you asked sweetly, and he laughed as he nodded.
"Of course, baby," he hummed.
You didn't waste any time-- you freed his cock from his suit trousers, and dove in to lick a long stripe from the base of it to his tip. He got a bit harder in your grasp, putting a hand on the back of your head to guide you to swallow him down.
"Fuck," he groaned, "she's got such a sweet little mouth..."
Your hips shifted, something sexy and filthy about the way he was talking to them instead of you. But, he did address you next.
"Show them how you can take it all, sweetheart," he encouraged, "show them what daddy taught you."
You bobbed your head lower until your lips were at his base, and his tip was pressing into your throat. They made sounds of awe and amusement, watching him hold your head down and fuck up into your mouth until you gagged loudly. He held you down for one more moment before letting you breathe again-- you pulled back and looked up at him as you sucked in air sharply. "Is that good, daddy?"
"Yes, babydoll," he assured, "you can keep going."
You got back to it, though he gave you a little more control this time, and you used it to bring your hand around him and stroke the rest of his cock while you sucked him. You still deepthroated him when you could, just with breaks in between; all while he bragged about you to his men.
"See how obedient she is?" he announced smugly. "She'll do anything for me. Such a good little girl for daddy."
They certainly seemed to agree: you heard someone say "I bet she is" and someone else notice "she really knows how to suck a cock, huh?"
Just when you thought you were doing well, Bucky grabbed you by your hair and pulled you off of him; before you could ask what he was doing or if you'd done something wrong, he stood up and bent you over the table roughly, slamming you down hard enough to make the poker chips and cards bounce. "Sorry, baby," he growled as you whined, "you can't get daddy all worked up like that and not expect any consequences."
He was still pinning you down by your neck with one hand while the other pulled up the bottom of your dress to expose your ass-- no panties, just like he'd told you when you left to try on the new dress. He slammed his cock inside you, making you cry and arch your back as he fucked you brutally against the table. Some of the men were still seated around it, and you shut your eyes tight so you wouldn't have to make eye contact with any of them.
"She's such a good girl for me," he praised again, "always ready to take my cock. Isn't that right, dollface? You let daddy fuck you whenever he wants?"
You nodded as you whimpered, and the men laughed. "She's so cute," one of them noticed, "no wonder he can't keep his hands off her."
"And she likes it when daddy gets rough," Bucky added with a low laugh, and you moaned louder. "Uh huh, I know, babydoll-- you love being mine so much..."
"Daddy!" you yelped as he started to pump even faster-- he certainly wasn't pulling any punches. Probably because he knew what it did to you. "Daddy, m'gonna come!"
"See how easy she is?" he smiled. "Fuck, she can't help it, she just loves getting used so much. You can come, baby, nice and loud so everybody can hear you."
"Fuck, daddy, fuck!" you moaned, legs shaking as the feeling hit you hard and sudden. You hadn't expected at all how easily you would come from this-- if anything you thought it would be harder with all these eyes on you.
You would've collapsed if you weren't being held against that table by his painfully-tight grip on your hair. "Fuck, she squeezes me so good when she comes," Bucky growled, "this cunt really knows how to treat a cock."
He seemed to be going even deeper inside of you, if that was possible, and you felt your own wetness starting to run down your legs.
"I'm close, baby, I'm fuckin' close," he warned with another tug on your hair. "You want daddy to come?"
"Yes," you whimpered.
"You want daddy's come deep inside you?"
"Yes!"
"Fuck, fuck," he groaned, and all at once he stopped, grunting through his teeth as he filled you as deep as he could go. "Fuck, babydoll... god, look how pretty you looking getting filled with come... doesn't she look pretty, boys?"
He slowly pulled out of you, but put both his hands on your ass to spread it out and get a better view of your hole.
"Damn, look't that," he praised, "can't hardly tell daddy just beat you up, you're still so tight. Push it out, honey, I want them to see how good daddy filled you."
Your face was so hot now you honestly thought you might melt-- and you kept your eyes shut tight to hide from the embarrassment-- but you heard the men leaning and looking around you to get a glimpse as you flexed your muscles to push his come out of you.
You felt a thick drop run down from your opening, and they all reacted aloud. "Good, sweetie, keep going," Bucky praised, and you whimpered as you pushed more and an even bigger wave oozed out of you.
The men couldn't keep their mouths shut now. "Damn, that's a lot of come." "She really does whatever he says." "Look at it running down her legs, what a whore." "You can tell she likes it too, look-- fucking slut."
Bucky guided you to stand up straight again, pulling your dress down to cover your ass. You blinked your eyes open, though you couldn't be too surprised as the lascivious stares of all the men in front of you. "You did so good, baby," Bucky praised softly in your ear, holding you close from behind. "They all want you so fucking bad, hm? But whose are you, doll?"
"Yours, daddy," you answered weakly.
"That's right, sweetheart," he cooed as he kissed you on the cheek, "you belong to me."
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i think he knows - s.w
Paring; sam x reader
Prompt; 'He got that boyish look that i like in a man'
Requested; anonymous
Notes; Im not entirely happy with this one tbh and ill probs rewrite it when I've cleard my inbox tbh requests are open!
Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist
You’d never been someone who jumped into relationships. You preferred to take things slow and get to know the person before jumping into a relationship with them. You’d dealt with your fair share of heartbreak over your life and had learnt a long time ago that jumping into a relationship was never a good idea.
Yet all that had been thrown away the moment Sam Winchester had walked into your life. You’d been taken immediately by the man and found yourself falling fast and hard. Lucky for you he’d seemed to share the same sentiments you had and your relationship had quickly evolved.
A small groan pulled your attention away from your thoughts and back to the man lying beside you. You turned your head smiling slightly as you noticed his tousled hair from sleep. “Morning.” You leaned down to gently press a kiss to his lips.
Sam smiled. “Morning.”
He was quiet for a moment before a small smirk grew on his lips. You narrowed your eyes. “What are you planning?” You knew him well enough to know that grin meant he was plotting something. “Oh, nothing.” He shook his head, staring innocently at you. You hummed slightly sitting up in the bed, stretching your arms out in front of you.
Just as you were about to move your legs off the bed you felt an arm snake around your waist. A yelp escaped you as Sam pulled you back against his chest. “Sam!” You turned your head to face him. He laughed, grinning down at you before loosening his grip enough for you to turn to face him.
One of the things that first attracted you to the youngest Winchester was the way he seemed to be able to still have his boyish charm while also being mature enough to handle a proper relationship.
His hand moved to push a piece of hair from your face before he cupped your cheek. “I love you.” His other hand rubbed circles against your waist as he smiled softly at you. “I love you too.”
Sam stared down at you as if you were the most important thing in the world. Ever since the moment he’d met you, he’d been absolutely taken by you. He’d become obsessed with the idea of you and the idea of being able to love you.
And it seemed like for once the world was on his side. As he lay beside you he felt as if he was the luckiest man in the world. And you felt the exact same.
You frowned feeling one of his hands slowly creep up the side of your chest slowly. You watched his hand for a moment before opening your mouth to ask him what he was doing. Just as you opened your mouth he quickly turned his touches from feather light. You squealed pushing at his hand.
“Sam. Stah-stop.” You kicked out your legs slightly feeling his grip only tighten on you. He smiled shaking his head. “I’m good.” His hand moved slightly higher to your arms which only made you thrash more.
Your breaths came out in pants as he finally let up. You lay back against the pillow as you caught your breath, after a moment you turned your head back to look at the man beside you.
You’d both hit the jackpot and you both knew it.
#supernatural#spn#sam winchester#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester imagine#sam winchester drabble#dean winchester#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x reader#spn fanfic#spn x reader#spn x y/n#supernatural x reader#supernatural imagine#jared padalecki x reader#.mine#.spn#.samwinchester
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Hello Riri! :]
I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!
Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.
And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.
(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)
Fatui harbingers with a child god
── ୨୧:fatui harbingers & reader
୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing
୨୧﹑genre :: fluff
୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread
୨୧﹑words :: 3k
this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER
I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh
There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.
Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.
It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.
You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.
She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.
It is as you are.
Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.
His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.
"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"
"May I?"
And with that, you take his offering.
Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.
Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat.
"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."
"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"
Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.
Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.
Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.
"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."
"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."
Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.
She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.
"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"
"Isn't that what was offered to you?"
"Well...yes, thank you."
Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.
He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.
"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."
"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."
Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.
Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.
"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."
"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."
"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."
Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.
Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.
Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.
Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.
"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."
"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."
Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.
Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.
"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"
"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."
Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it.
You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.
Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.
It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.
You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.
#♡ — anon visit.#✦ — headcanons.#✦ — fluff.#tartaglia#tartaglia x reader#childe#childe x reader#pantalone#pantalone x reader#signora#signora x reader#sandrone#sandrone x reader#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#pulcinella#pulcinella x reader#arlecchino#arlecchino x reader#columbina#columbina x reader#dottore#dottore x reader#capitano#capitano x reader#pierro#pierro x reader#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact x reader
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Toronto and Ireland (Part 1)
I observed a shift in L/N's behavior and non-verbal cues by the time they got to Toronto. Their non-verbal cues signaled to me that there was a since of ease and confidence with them BTS. However, I think that looked very different in both locations. Refer to my timeline theories here on my thoughts on what was going on between L/N before Toronto. Below are my thoughts.
Toronto
Let's first address the fact that there was a break between Brazil and Toronto. It was ~2 weeks from what I remember. During the break the following happened:
L went back and liked all of A's posts back to July 2023. Previously, he had only liked her posts up to October/November 2023.
A chopped her hair off
I believe the DM likes from A's mom occurred around this point as well (or during Brazil)
There were some SoHo Farmhouse pics posted by A (I believe?), but no one could confirm if those were current or old photos (as A has a history of posting old photos to insinuate she is with L in real time when she isn't)
There was nothing else though to publicly link L/A during this break (from my understanding, correct me if I am wrong?)
This break is also when the rumored Spain trip between L/N occurred (but there is no evidence this actually occurred)
N was publicly seen at the Mighty Hoopla music festival with her friends the weekend before Toronto
N and L appear to fly into Toronto on separate flights
Alright I am going to throw out something that is purely a theory, regarding A, at that point in time, and now. I've kind of avoided directly talking about my theories on A because I just don't have enough information to confidently analyze what is going on. But with everything that has come out recently, and especially this week, I feel more and more confident on this theory (but again, it's just a theory):
As I mentioned, I firmly believe L/N physically acted on their feelings at points on the tour, and by Brazil, A was FLIPPING OUT because I think she sensed L pulling away. A had been around for a while, and I don't believe there were any firm boundaries/labels set on their relationship, but A had her sights set on riding his coattails and trying to get fame/attention from being in his orbit. She is also DEEPLY insecure and envious of N. Lastly, she is a WILD CARD and had been publicly known about in the fandom for a while. I think there was some overlap between N and A, and L did not want A leaking that s**t. Whyy... because he LOVES N. This is also his bed he made, and he needed to lie in it and clean up his mess. The optics of all of this do not look good for L & N if all of this information got released to the public. I also think that's why the DM comments got scrubbed on the site (which doesn't just happen out of thin air). He needed to start cleaning s**t up if he and N ever want to go public someday.
Therefore, he went back during the break to make up with A and reassure A he wasn't just going to drop her from his orbit (hence things like liking more of her posts so people took notice, and it made it seem they were more serious than previously thought). Tbh, I don't think it was very hard for him to keep her appeased because I honestly don't think this relationship goes any deeper than casual and transactional.
Then L/N became even more obvious about their feelings during Toronto and Ireland imo, and then all hell broke loose at the premiere (because a certain 🐜 was PISSED and getting revenge).
My whole point with all this is this. L was NEVER going to be able to unravel from A during the PR tour because it had already become public that she was connected to L (even if he was already checked out at this point). He was always going to have to officially acknowledge A to the public, let people get use to them as a "unit", and then slowly unravel over a couple of months in a way that satisfied A and didn't encourage her to go rogue (because I think we are getting more and more proof that she DOES go rogue). This included what we have seen between them since the premiere. I firmly believe that A has some information that would eff up L&N being able to confidently go public at some point if they want to without this really messy public narrative (because if L/N ARE indeed working on their relationship, it is probably going to be a little messy no matter what when/if they go public). L is letting A therefore get the attention she wants rn, and trying to stay as publicly unconnected to N as possible. I think he severely underestimated the impact this was all going to have on his career though (at least in the short-term). Do I think this also probably put somewhat of a strain on his relationship with N? Most likely, yes. However, they have known each other for many years, and have gone through a lot together. I don't think N sees A as a threat to her and L in any way, and I think L/N are figuring things out in private. And do I think just because A is still in L's orbit that that means they are super happy and madly in love? Absolutely not. The optics of everything we have seen around L/A since the premiere speak VOLUMES, and that is all I will say on that.
I was fired up about all of this because of the events this week, so I needed to get this off my chest 😅 I think though that everything we have seen between L/A since after Brazil is just another indicator that L/N are serious about each other (if that makes sense). THIS IS JUST A THEORY THOUGH.
And does this all seem messy? Yes. Because the short answer is that it is. Human beings though are messy, and I think unfortunately a lot of this played out on a very public stage, so everyone is trying to figure out what to do now.
Alright, back to Toronto. A lot of people thought the vibes seemed off between L/N, but I disagree. This was the part of the tour where I started coming to the conclusion that there was something BIG going on between L/N BTS (in a good way), that went deeper than just wild sexual chemistry/attraction. Here are my thoughts:
I personally think L/N took time during the break to have some big conversations in private about their future together, in a "normal" setting outside of the tour. I think they came to a conclusion that their feelings were larger than just the show and tour, and that this was going to be one of those BIG relationships for both of them. I think they also had conversations about how A was going to tie into the public narrative after the tour (but I think A hijacked that narrative). But I think L/N were very much on the same page going into Toronto.
I also get this sense that by this point in Toronto, it was getting harder for them to hide what was going on because things were getting more serious, and they were ALL LOVEY DOVEY AND HAPPY BTS. Although I am going to be honest, I don't think they ever hid their feelings for each other very well on the tour (especially L). And this was all kind of new as well. Therefore, I think that's where some of the "awkward" vibes were coming from, but their nonverbal cues didn't read as disconnect to me (like the beginning of Italy did).
I also have a feeling they were EXHAUSTED by this point, and probably so tired of answering the same questions (I swear, I bet they never want to talk about the carriage scene again 😂). I also heard that they might have been sick in Toronto, so all of this might have also played into the shift in energy.
However, a lot of key things happened in Toronto that signaled to me there had been a positive emotional shift between them. I really started to notice the "couple" eyes between them, and N's walls really dropped and the heart eyes were in full force. Toronto had my favorite interview of them during the tour, which I posted here. We got the the thigh rub from N, the beginning of the Ryan Gosling jealousy from L (I believe), L beginning to get more comfortable and silly on interviews (he seemed VERY happy, and a lot more confident by this point, which I found very interesting 🤔), a few instances where L/N would get lost in a moment with each other and forget they were on an interview, N reassuring L that he was her "favorite", and photos and video of L meeting some of N's extended family (and he looked very happy in the video). Also N didn't end up posting a "bf" pic of L (even though she did for Italy, Brazil, and Ireland). Now it could mean nothing (and it's probably just a coincidence), but I just find it interesting (in a good way 🤔). Yes, a lot of this could be chalked up to PR, and some of it probably was. However, most of this just DID NOT read as professional PR to me. It just wasn't.
Lastly, we got THIS pic of them below in Toronto 👀:
I am going to post an article below about body language between couples in photos. I don't agree with all of the article, but it does have some interesting facts/comments. I would highly recommend looking over the article a little, and looking back at the video that had the compilation of them posing at the different tour stops. I know that this was 100% cutesy PR (and I am not trying to imply they were necessarily an "official couple"), but I found it very telling about HOW they chose to pose at each stop. I feel like it spoke VOLUMES about what was going on between them at each stop. I do want to say that we can't 100% know what was going on for them emotionally BTS at each stop, but I do think it gives us a glimpse. Which is why I found this picture PARTICULARLY interesting. It just screams comfort and security (even with the weird lighting lol).
My point with all this is that I think we caught L/N at a big turning point in their relationship at Toronto, which led to some of the awkward energy at times, but not because they were beefing. I think BTS they were really happy, but they knew they had to not let the WHOLE cat out of the bag, so they were trying to kind of put up a little distance. However, they slipped up constantly, and then everything came to a peak, and that's why we got the magic that was the Ireland stops. I'll talk about my thoughts on Ireland in my Part 2 post, because there is a LOT to talk about. 😅
#lukola#body language#non verbal cues#toronto#these two crazy kids#ARE NOT SUBTLE 😂#timelines#lukola theories
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okay okay rapid fire spider-verse thots fresh out of the theater, trying to minimize spoilers but jesus
da Vinci-looking Vulture... very cool
the art on Gwen's earth in general is SO cool
in general the animators were just SHAMELESSLY showing off with this one and it rules so hard
Rio Morales animated milf of all time
truly do not understand what all of you see in Miguel tbh that man suuuuuucks!! kill!!
Peter B is also on my shit list tbh. Gwen going along with this is understandable, she's literally a homeless teenager in a bad position to fight against adult spiders making decisions, but Peter... come on dude...
truly they HAD to leave Pav out of the middle of the movie because he would have sided with Miles (you think he would want Inspector Singh to die!! fuck no!!) and he's perfect so he would have just effortlessly swept the floor with every other spider-person
Gwen is flirtatiously trans coded and responds to Spider-Man at least once, congrats to her on the fun gender
Jessica's design is so cool but they made her such a cop... god I hope she's coming around in the next movie
cannot wait to see gifs of this movie slowing down every frame to point out every individual background spider-person
the fucking. the family of it all. Miles' parents afraid to let him grow up and Gwen's dad unable to accept the truth about his daughter and Miguel trying to raise a daughter who wasn't supposed to be his and Peter B's baby girl and Jessica Drew's visible baby bump and the spiders' collective miserable certainty that they are DEFINED by the trauma of losing someone they love.
something something Miles' parents and the spider society have the same problem - being afraid of change from what they thought was The Right Way To Do Things - but Miles' parents love and trust him to make the right choices beyond their understanding while Miguel and the other spiders are too hurt by their own traumas to imagine someone else thriving without it
also fuck all of them the boy's uncle died in front of him after trying to kill him HAS HE NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH
Hobie's soooo annoying (affectionate) but also right about, like, literally everything AND good with babies to boot
the whole ending is so ‼️‼️‼️‼️
the thing with Miles and Uncle Aaron at the end... you know the thing... DELICIOUS au right there tell me everything about that shit
the fucking end man
I've NEVER been in a theater where everyone collectively screamed @ the end of a movie fuck fuck fuck. there's cliffhangers and then there's THIS
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