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cheeseceli · 4 days

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When you struggle to eat

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, reactions

Request: reader thinking she eats "too much" and decides to eat way less for her body image, and how the skz boys would react to that.

Warnings: eating struggles will be discussed; reader has body image issues; mentions of food multiple times; use of petnames in Chan and Changbin's

Disclaimer: this was made with the purpose to comfort anyone who's going through a similar situation. If I made a mistake and made someone uncomfortable/aggravated the situation, please do tell me and I'll correct or delete this post immediately, whatever is preferred. Topics related to eating disorders will be discussed here, please don't read if that's something that triggers you.

Bang Chan - is ready to listen to all your worries

‌We all remember Chan's Room right?

‌He's ready to spend hours if needed just to understand what you're going through ‌and where your insecurities are coming from

‌At the same time, he will never judge you

‌So you know he's your safe place

Constantly checks up on you even if he's far away through texts and calls

And if there's someone who's aggravating the situation or making you insecure, you can bet he's gonna solve the situation himself

"Talk to me baby. What's going on in that mind of yours, hm?"

Lee Know - eats with you

Probably the first to realise something's off, considering food is almost his love language atp

Likes to have as many meals with you as possible

‌He usually makes a mountain of food in his plate, so you don't worry about the amount of food in yours

‌And he also runs errands with you

‌Especially those like buying food

‌You don't even gotta ask, he would be volunteering on the first opportunity

‌Also cooks for you, whatever you want

"Do you want to eat anything? I can cook"

Changbin - Hype man

‌Your personal hype man fr

‌Is ready to compliment you in absolutely everything

‌The best part is that you know that his compliments are always genuine

‌What do you mean you didn't like that trousers?? You looked fantastic in it! That shirt made you look even more gorgeous

‌He has known you for so long and still, he always finds something new to compliment you on

But even if after all the reassurance you want to change the way you look, he will be by your side to help you do it in a safe and healthy way

"You look perfect, baby. I promise. Actually, I still don't believe I managed to pull someone so beautiful like that"

Hyunjin - has all meals with you

‌And with that, I really mean all meals

‌Breakfast, lunch, dinner, you name it

‌Even if you can't really get out of your work place or your university, he's going there then

‌He just doesn't want you to be by yourself

‌He also always has something to say during those meals

‌News about their comeback, gossip at jyp, stories from his childhood...

He never fails to admire you a lot in those moments as well, never letting you forget how much he loves and appreciates you

‌He does that hoping it will distract you from the food, so you can be more at ease

"Have I ever told you about the time Kkami bit my ankle? I think I still have the scar."

Han - makes you feel beautiful

‌He truly doesn't understand how you don't think you're the most beautiful human being to ever set foot on this earth

‌In his eyes, you were born perfect

‌So, naturally, he makes it his mission to make you see yourself in his point of view

‌Compliments and adores you

‌Will make you feel beautiful, pretty, sexy, cute... Whatever you wanna be

‌Above all, he'll make you feel loved

"No matter what size, you'll always be my love. Don't forget that."

Felix - distracts you

‌With that, I mean that he tries to take your attention off food and body image related subjects

‌Before and after eating, he will always bring you along to activities where your mind can be turned off

‌So many fun dates!!

‌Even during the meals he'll have a similar idea to hyunjin and simply won't shut up

‌Most of his compliments don't involve around your body, so you really don't think about it

"I love this hairstyle of yours. It looks wonderful"

Seungmin - protects you

‌In a sense that no one even dares to comment on your looks/habits

Even if he isn't there with you

‌That because he made it very clear that everyone should watch their mouths around you

‌For as long as he's around you, he will do his best and more to protect you from harmful comment

Also tries to experiment a lot of different foods with you all the time, so you never feel like that's a burden or a bad thing

"Hey, have you heard about the new restaurant close to home? The food is peruvian. We could have dinner there tonight."

I.N - physically reassures you

‌He loves you and every single part of you, including your looks

I believe he was a bit lost in the beginning, not exactly sure on how to help you

‌But even if his words aren't exactly his biggest strength, he still wants to reassure you as much as he can

‌So he does that with his touch

‌Holding you on his lap, kissing all of your "imperfections" and tracing patterns in your skin

‌Anything that can ground, reassure and give you comfort at the same time

"Have I ever told you how perfect you are? I should tell you that more."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when you're overworked (ateez comfort)

Thank you for reading<3 I hope this was able to help someone

» I won't put the taglist on this one as I don't want to tag anyone in something that can possibly trigger them «

Dividers by @/cafekitsune, images 1 2 3

Thank you so much for the beta readers: @duhgurl @beebee18 @applekiwi3202 @elqivxstxr @mrsunshine999 @msauthor

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violet-eng · 6 months

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You teach Neuvillette what sex between humans is like. | Sub!Neuvillette x dom!fem!reader | NSFW🔞

someone asked for sub!Neuvillette so here I am.

Summary: You have a sort of crush on Neuvillette, and you've discovered that he's actually the Hydro Dragon. So one casual evening at his house, you slowly tempt him, and end up showing him that his horny human physiology isn't just used during mating season like dragons do.

Warnings: +18, reader!dom! Fingering, riding/cowgirl, piv, nipple sucking, unprotected sex.

MDNI

Average of 3k words ig.

🎨: hamusutaaa_ on Instagram

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Fontaine's Iudex had kept his true identity hidden with arduous caution for long enough... so the revelation of his true form had come as quite a shock to you. Neuvillette was the true face of the Hydro Dragon you had heard so much about as a child ... Now it all made sense, the pieces found their place and fit together perfectly. You had never met such a man before, with a cold gaze and unwavering mettle, fierce convictions and indelible fidelity.

That sense of justice that so tormented the Iudex, that detached perception he possessed about humans -as he called them-, his perspicacity and stubbornness, the truthfulness of his actions... all those attitudes and virtues were indeed incapable of coexisting in an entirely human body.

"It must be exhausting for you to have to coexist with creatures you don't know in their entirety" you say looking out the window of his house.

"On the contrary, I find it very enriching. I did not know such complex beings, or at least not with such closeness" he answers from his armchair, while crossing his arms.

"To that curiosity I owe then the constant storm of questions you ask me when you go to my library?" you ask walking towards him, with a slow step and the gaze fixed on his eyes.

While the revelation of Iudex Neuvillette's true form had shocked you, it had not stripped you of your feelings for him, after all, in your eyes he still looked like a human.

Neuvillette swallows saliva, failing to hide his growing anxiety beneath his stoic facade. He drops his gaze on your figure, which is advancing towards him, he runs his gaze over your face, your shoulders, the curve of your waist and hips... and your legs... he imagines them spread apart for him... he would know how to treat you if given the opportunity to...?

"It seems that Chief Justice is undergoing an inner trial" you whisper resting your hands on your hips, tilting them to the side and smiling.

"This human form is very different from my original form y/n" says the Iudex, voice subtly losing the firmness that always accompanies it, "It comes with sensations I am unaware of... and reactions I cannot control."

Having mentioned that, you notice the growing bulge in Neuvillette's pants, along with his flushed cheeks. Is he humiliated?

You can't help but laugh at the image of Fontaine's unyielding Iudex in front of you, erect and ashamed of his new physiology. Neuvillette rests his elbow on the chair and covers his cheeks with a gentle wave of his hand.

"I guess that doesn't happen to dragons often" you say, shortening the distance between the two of you, "you have nothing to be ashamed of, dear Iudex" you add leaning down, taking his hand and kissing the back of it.

He looks away pressing his lips together, turning only his gaze to observe your cleavage, where he can appreciate the shape of your breasts. He immediately regrets it, and berates himself for behaving like a pervert.

"I have to admit," you continue, moving closer to his ear, warm breath brushing against his earlobe, "that I've always wanted to cross certain boundaries of decency when I see you in my library.

"Y/n~," he lets out, stifling a groan, resting his hand against his length, just short of destroying his pants.

"Allow me to show you, Monsieur Neuvillette, that we humans do not only have sex when we are in heat... that we have sex when we want it and with whom we want it," you drop your hand to his, pressing against his throbbing member.

Neuvillette does not know how, in what way you have acted and why he is in his own bed, naked, completely exposed to you, who admire his figure from your position.

You are standing in front of his bed, observing the Iudex's gifted physiology, his elbows resting on the silk sheets, his hair on his scarred shoulders, his member raised, almost suggesting that you are coming to him.

You undress slowly, without taking your eyes off him, first your blouse, your stockings, then your pants and your shoes, remaining in your underwear. You watch Neuvillette, who can't control his breathing and seems to drip a little when he sees the thin fabric covering your breasts and your sex.

He wants you, fuck, he wants you as much as you want him....

"Since when do you have these feelings for me, Monsieur?" you ask as you remove the clasp of your bra.

"I... ah~" the Iudex can't find the words.

"Don't rush..." you reassure him as you undo your panties, which are sliding down your legs to the floor, you push them aside with your foot.

And when you are completely naked in front of him, you notice how he clasps his hands and puckered his lips, he's as instinctive as you thought.

"My dear Neuvillette..." you whisper as you crawl over and sit astride his form, "so pitiful... poor thing, you have nothing to be ashamed of," you say as you stroke his cheek.

You brush aside the strands of silver hair and tuck them behind his ears, admiring the soft fall of his hair, like a waterfall cascading down a mountain.

With your thumb, you caress his cheek, feeling the warmth of his pink, sweaty, smooth skin. His lips, they are thick and wet, begging you to take them and devour them without hesitation. And his eyes... fuck... you've never seen that pleading look in the Iudex, so fervent and devoted, so eager for you to use him at your whim.

How strange to see him in this state, when he is the one who is often in the position of power in court....

"Y/n..." he whispers, his voice cracking and his eyes watering.

"No Monsieur, don't cry... at least not yet, we don't want it to rain," you say, laughing.

You take Neuvillette's hands, much larger than yours, and place them on your thighs, letting him caress the warm skin under his palms. The Iudex lets out a choked moan, arching his back at the shock as his nipples harden.

You guide his hands over your waist and to the base of your breasts, causing him to squeeze the soft flesh and let out a distinct moan. His grip is precise, and the heat of his fingers makes a flame grow in your center.

"May I?" he asks, wetting his lips with his tongue as he stares at your breasts. You nod at his request, surprised at how quickly he catches one of your nipples in his mouth.

He sucks on your nipple like a hungry infant and bites your skin while making guttural and very embarrassing sounds if anyone else could hear. His hands anchor behind your back, shaping your waist under his nails, which dig gently into your skin in ecstasy.

You throw your head back as you guide his head to your other nipple, which also seeks the attention of his desperate tongue.

"Fuck, Iudex," you moan, clutching at his hair, the skill of his mouth was something you did not expect at all, the way his tongue ran along the tip of your nipple and traveled to its base, leaving soft nibbles on the underside of your breast.

Growing ecstasy makes you guide one of his hands to your center, his soft digits brushing the skin of your lower abdomen, the crease between your thighs and your womanhood.

You slide one of his digits between your folds, parting the wet, glistening vestibule. Neuvillette allows himself to feel the elixir flowing from your pussy, bathing his fingers and yours, the sound of the goo flooding his ears, his lobe reddening at the musical he encourages with the rubbing of his fingers against your center.

He is inexperienced, you know, so you help him find your clit, throbbing anxiously for contact, thirsty to be rubbed without propriety.

"Right there, Monsieur~" you whimper, throwing your head back. The pressure of his fingertips on your nub of nerves makes you roll your eyes and bite your lip, the sensation rising in your belly and your pussy aching to feel more of him.

Neuvillette's fingers are clumsy at first, clouded by the sweet song of your muffled moans, and eventually he loses himself in his own pleasure. He regains his composure and becomes quite apprehensive, sliding his fingers from side to side, in circles, at a steady pace, applying light pressure to your clit.

"Am I doing it right?" he whispers, his face pressed to your chest, the heat of his breath hitting your breasts, coated with his saliva.

"You are a... good apprentice, Monsieur~" you hold back the cry caught in your throat, the fruit of his good skill.

You move your hips slowly, back and forth, increasing the contact of his skin against yours, at the same time he accelerates the movement of his fingers, the fluid of your pussy drowning his digits that are about to bring you to your climax.

"Like that, just like that~" you almost shout, clinging to his back, your hips suddenly bucking over his hand, rather vulgarly, like a dog rubbing.

The heat grows in your belly and between your legs, flooding all your femininity, sending electric waves through your legs, fluttering unashamedly around the Iudex's hips.

"Ah! Neuvillette!" you scream as you feel the flame burst out, your nails digging into his shoulders, marking his pale skin, your core contracting and your substance leaving your insides.

Fuck... Did he make you cum just by rubbing your clit?

"It can't be," you whisper. It's the first time something like this has ever happened to you, and you sense confusion on Neuvillette's face.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks, frightened and ready to apologize.

"You have done nothing wrong, my dear Iudex," you say, caressing his cheek, brushing his lower lip with your thumb, circling the softness of that lovely fleshy feature of his that begs for a kiss.

You join your lips to his, it's a wet, passionate kiss, and between each nibble he moans for air. His shy tongue can't resist any longer and intertwines with yours, an erotic dance that reveals the animal side of the oh so subtle Judge.

"You've been a good boy, Neuvillette," you whisper against his lips, "let me show you how good boys like you should be rewarded," you say, pushing his shoulders so that his back slams against the sheets, feeling him almost swallowed by the silk of the sheets.

You lift Neuvillette's arms above his head, trying to grab his wrists with only one hand.

You tilt your head at the image, his muscles tense, sweat running down them, his shoulders defined, with the marks of your nails, and his hands, fingers glistening from the orgasm he just tore from you.

You look down at his length and...what?...you'd swear he wasn't this big a few minutes ago.

"It won't fit," you say to yourself...you've been with big guys before, but this was definitely beyond you. Maybe it's a characteristic of dragons...

"Please...it has to fit," whispers Neuvillette, whose heightened senses have allowed him to hear you, his voice, an almost muffled whimper, choked by his own ecstasy that has crossed his boundaries, completely taking over his human side and showing only his instinctive side.

"I'm going to ride you, Neuvillette, like you'll never be ridden again in your life," you interject abruptly, the words leaving your lips in a frenzy of anguish whipped by desire, the thought of having his thick cock inside you was eating away at your mind.

Your hand is not enough to cradle the base of his member, the fingers remaining spread even as you raise and lower your hand up and down its length. You align his throbbing manhood with your entrance, your pussy contracting against the nothingness in anticipation of what awaits you, your juices rewetting your center.

His cock slides in slowly, parting you completely, with inordinate amplitude. Your walls contract at the colossal invasion, and a moan falls from your lips, almost like a sob.

"So~" Neuvillette moans, his chest rising and falling in desperation, the sensation of his cock being devoured by your hungry pussy driving him wild. "So tight."

This provokes nothing more in you but your lust takes over completely, ignoring the pain, you let yourself fall all over Neuvillette's hips, his cock penetrating your depths, hitting that spot on your cervix that feels oh so fucking good.

You continue to squeeze him and he can only let out a grunt of pleasure, feeling that little pussy all to himself, gripping his length completely, you had been brave to take that risk.

Fuck. What a good time the Iudex was having.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, eyes closed and lips parted, lost in the pleasure you were provoking in him, the way you were using him to your advantage, he had never been in a position like this before, he was always the one....

"Fuck, y/n!" his thoughts were shot down by the circular movement of your hips, the friction of his member against your walls, the oil bathing you both, the sweat falling on your breasts, you are a goddess to him and you ride him like one.

The Judge was vocal, fucking vocal, the jerky movements of your hips, the way you jump on his member, tearing loud moans from his lips, hoarse howls, deep, raspy moans. Your name, overflowing from his bruised throat, makes you move with greater speed, resting your hands on his pecs, nails marking his skin again, making him yours and yours alone.

"Tell me you like the way I ride you," you command, your movements relentless, merciless.

"I~" he babbles, "I like the way you ride me y/n~" he flatters.

Neuvillette becomes a storm of praise as you bend further over him, giving him as much access to your loins as possible. He clings to the sheets, hiding his face in his shoulder.

"Say you're mine," you whisper, your hand around his throat, forcing him to look into your eyes.

"But..." he hesitates. The Hydro dragon cannot belong to anyone, especially a human, it disturbs the free and wild nature of its kind... that means shame and...

"Why do you stop moving?" he asks, almost like a small child, terribly worried.

"I won't let you cum until you tell me..." you say flatly, almost coldly, your gaze hard, almost unrecognizable.

"Please," Neuvillette pleads, grabbing your hips and trying to move them in a pathetic attempt at self-pleasure. "Y/n!," he begs fervently.

Neuvillette is not humiliated by the situation as he thought, damn it... this attitude of yours does nothing but turn him on beyond measure, drowning his insides in flames of desire, of desire to belong to you, to ignore his nature and abandon everything just for you, for your pussy that takes him so well.

"I belong to you, completely, for eternity. My being does not deserve a lover as fervent as you, I refuse to disappoint you in the future, to disappoint or deny you. My fidelity is totally pervaded by you, by your wishes and commands. My dearest y/n, you are my lover, the only one on this earth who can have control over me," he pauses, waiting for you to respond in some way to his plea.

Hours have passed and Neuvillette continues to cum in your insides. His eyes are rolled back, completely empty, tearful, he has come out of himself, your movements have brought him to paradise.

Outside, Fontaine is inundated by torrential rain, the inhabitants unaware that the rain is not due to the season, but to the fact that their respectable judge is getting the fuck of his life.

It's almost inhuman what you've endured on his cock, but the way his seed overflows inside you has proven to be addictive. He is addictive.

"Neuvillette~" you moan, resting your hands on his knees, his tip abusing your G-spot, your pussy inflamed from the abuse of the last few hours.

"I think I'm going to... Ah!~" your last moan is almost a cry of desperation, your I don't know how many orgasms of the night have overtaken you, and this time it is indeed your last.

You let yourself fall onto your lover, who wraps you in a warm, trembling, restless embrace, stroking your hair and your back. You hear the raindrops on the roof of the house, and you lean on your hands to look into Neuvillette's eyes.

You gently wipe away his tears, kissing his cheeks and the remnants of the sobs that the pleasure you gave him caused him.

"Why didn't you do this before?" the judge asks.

"I didn't have the courage," you answer, falling back to rest on his chest, exhausted as he is.

Your heart beats slowly, your muscles succumb to the abuse and your eyes close, lulled by the soft fall of the rain.

"We should do it again tomorrow," the Iudex says.

"Judge's orders?" you ask teasing.

"Tomorrow I'll show you how the hydrodragon fucks that little pussy of yours, " he decrees, his voice firm, the one he uses to deliver the verdict during trials, "you won't be able to walk for days".

#neuvilette smut #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette #neuvilette fanart #neuvilette genshin #genshin smut #genshin impact

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mypoisonedvine · 5 months

Note

Prompt 18 with Angus Tully it’s giving best friend’s creepy brother or something lol

i knew it was only a matter of time before i wrote something a little darker with angus >:)

18: "it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

warnings: dubcon (technically) sexual content 18+ ONLY!!!, male masturbation, perv!angus, degradation kink (but not what you're thinking hehe), sliiiiiightly dom!reader??

"Oh shit," you realized as you padded your pockets, "I forgot my lighter at home. Can I borrow yours?"

"Sure," Amelia offered, "but I think my brother had it last."

You sighed, not really wanting to deal with him-- he was always... looming, which you didn't appreciate-- but figured it would be quick enough to run upstairs and snatch it out of his room. "I'll go get it," you decided, "you go ahead and I'll catch up with you."

"Okay, see you there!" she agreed, slipping out the front door as you bounded up the stairs and hung your purse over the top banister quickly.

Honestly, you didn't even think about knocking before you barged in. You figured he was reading, if he was even in there-- you hadn't seen him since you first got here and he disappeared. But, it turns out he was pretty busy...

You caught him with his cock in his hand, hunched over a polaroid in his bed; he looked up at you with wide eyes as you burst in, falling back into the sheets, trying desperately to cover himself as he gasped and coughed. "Wh-what the fuck?!" he blurted out.

Before you could decide if you should laugh, or apologize, or just run away, your gaze fell down to the polaroid-- his dramatic physical reaction and pulling the sheet up quickly over himself had launched it right in front of your feet. Your eyes wide when you saw it, and you quickly snatched it off the ground as he jumped up; he looked like he might get up to take it from you, until he seemed to remember that would leave him exposed and so he sank back into the bed helplessly.

"It's not what it looks like!" he tried hastily to explain as you looked at the image in your hand.

"Is this a picture of me?!" you realized-- it wasn't a question, you knew. It was obviously you... even if it was taken from behind. You'd recognize your own swimsuit anywhere.

"Fuck, I-- um--" he stammered, "that's-- I-I just found that--"

"You took this!" you accused. "This was at Amelia's pool party!"

"I-- um--" he choked.

"Oh my god, you're such a creep!" you spat. "You took this picture and you get off to it?! I didn't even know you took this-- I didn't know you-- you're a fucking pervert!"

"Don't talk like that," he whined-- at first you assumed it was because his feelings were hurt, but you could see his face getting redder, and your stomach twisted as you realized...

"Jesus," you groaned, "is this turning you on?"

"U-uh," he grumbled, but even that sounded a bit like a low moan, and you smirked a little as you stepped further into the room.

"You're actually disgusting," you informed him, though the tone of your voice changed a bit. "I knew you were weird, but this? Taking stalker pictures from the bushes... that's where you were, right? Or maybe behind the fence? Were you jerking off then, too?"

"N-no," he denied nervously, watching you come closer, "I... I waited until I got back to my room, at least..."

"And what did you think about?" you wondered with a smirk. "You thought about getting your jizz all over my bikini, right? That's so gross."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth-- you thought he looked pretty cute like this: turned on, but a little terrified.

"And just now, looking at your little picture," you cooed, crossing your arms, "were you gonna come all over it? Or try to save it so you can use it whenever you want?"

"Stop," he pleaded, "I-- I might-- I was so close--"

"You wanted to get caught," you decided, seeing his eyes get even wider as you looked down at him tangled up in those sheets (which didn't do a whole lot to hide his throbbing erection, by the way). "You wanted me to come in here and see you, you wanted me to know what a sick little freak you are--"

"God, I'm--" he warned with a whine, but you kept going.

"You wanted me to tell you how dirty and bad you are," you scolded with a purr, "'cause you're a pathetic, desperate perv!"

"Fuck!" he whimpered, shuddering under the thin sheet, and you watched with sick delight as a wet patch began to form on the fabric, growing with each sudden flex of his hips.

"Wow," you grinned, "you came just from that--"

"I-I was really close already!" he defended, as if that were enough of an excuse: as if being nearly finished jerking off to a picture of you was something to be proud of.

"I'll keep this," you decided as you slipped the polaroid in your back pocket, seeing him open his mouth in protest only to shut it. "You're just gonna have to stick to your imagination next time, Angus... I'm sure it's plenty creative."

You turned and were nearly out the door when he spoke up: "W-wait!"

You looked over your shoulder back at him, noticing the way his eyes drifted over you.

"You could... stay longer," he offered-- like you were leaving because you thought he wanted you out. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

"I told your sister I'd meet her at the record store," you explained. "You think I wanna sit around with you and, what, blow you or something?"

His throat caught and he looked beautifully flustered. "W-well, I dunno, I just--"

"Whatever, loser," you scoffed, about to leave again.

"Y-you should give me something," he decided, surprising you with his confidence, "since you're taking my picture."

"This is a picture of me," you reminded him, "I should have it."

"But still--"

You interrupted him with an annoyed groan, and he shut up quick when you started to unbutton your shirt. "Okay," you relented, "I'll give you five seconds. Is that enough?"

He didn't answer, just watched your hands intently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You opened your shirt enough to expose your bra, and quickly pulled it down to give him a good look at your tits. He sighed, hand wrapping around his cock under the sheets again, and you frowned as you realized he was going to get himself off again so soon after coming. Was he really that insatiable?

You counted to five in your head before pulling your bra back up and starting to re-button your shirt. "Was that long enough for you to remember?" you asked, annoyed.

"Yeah," he breathed, "don't think I could forget if I tried."

"Great," you announced sarcastically before you finally left, grabbing your purse again and quickly getting downstairs and out the door again.

It didn't take you all that long to catch up with Amelia, even though you were already breathless before you started jogging. She was only a few blocks down, and she smiled when she saw you.

"Did you get the lighter?" she asked as you walked side-by-side with her.

"No, he lost it," you shrugged, making her groan in frustration.

"Oh my god, why does my brother have to be such a dweeb?" she wondered.

"I don't know," you laughed, "I think he's kind of entertaining."

#angus tully x reader #angus tully smut

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solar-wing · 2 months

Text

⚣ 5+1: TikTok Trends 🤳🏽

⚣🤳🏽 A/N → I kept seeing all these couple trends on TikTok and it made me think of how Jason would react to these very same trends with his boyfriend...so I wrote it. tee hee WARNINGS: established relationship | social media trends | relationship goals | fluff/comfort | jason's had enough |

⚣🤳🏽 Summary → Five times Y/N did a social media trend/prank on Jason and the one time the vigilante finally got his boyfriend back.

⚣🤳🏽 Words → 3.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🤳🏽

Social media is an interesting thing with a variety of uses. You could use it to connect with old friends from high school and college, remembering the good ole days. It could be a place to connect with other people in specific communities so individuals could find those they related to and shared similar views and interests with. More than ever, it could be used to spread activism and political messages.

For Y/N L/N, it was a place for him to display his loving and chaotic relationship with his boyfriend Jason Todd.

They both had very different relationships with social media.

Y/N was a whirlwind of hashtags and filters, a living embodiment of the digital age. His phone was an extension of his hand, scrolling through endless videos and GRWMs where they were always running late for whatever they were getting ready for.

The boy took his college studies seriously, but the thought never not crossed his mind that he could become a full-time content creator if he wanted to. Ask any of his friends or especially his boyfriend, the dude was a walking meme who kept hundreds to thousands of reaction pictures and videos on his phone which is something he successfully managed to get his boyfriend addicted to as well.

No seriously, it had gotten so bad that Bruce had to reach out to Y/N to see if he could get Jason to stop or at least delete the photos from his phone. Apparently, in their family group chat, his boyfriend had taken to sending some very targeted and specific images.

It was fine until Bruce said something about Jason being reckless or something and risking lives, and his boyfriend responded with some interesting images and a very petty caption.

Jason: this u?

It was safe to say Bruce was less than amused, though apparently everyone else found it hilarious. But, sadly Y/N had to inform the billionaire that he wouldn’t be able to get his boyfriend to stop even if he tried and that he was also a victim of this new ordeal.

Bruce was confused until Y/N showed him a picture Jason sent him after Y/N refused to come cuddle him because he was studying for a midterm.

Jason: get ur ass in here now or else...respectfully

This was the exact fun and chaotic energy Y/N wanted to share with the world on social media and TikTok. But, Jason had a different relationship with it than his boyfriend.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Jason was a firm believer in a simpler existence, preferring face-to-face conversations over likes and retweets. He possessed a refreshing aversion to the constant buzz of notifications and the pressure to document every meal or outing.

His only exception was Twitter, where he could voice his unhinged and questionable thoughts freely without raising suspicion or judgment because it was…well, it was Twitter.

However, that did not stop Y/N from using his poor and innocent lover in his little TikTok exploits when he wanted to.

The first one was something innocent, at least in his eyes. He and Jason were in their shared apartment near Y/N’s campus. They were lying together on the couch, with Y/N parallel to the piece of furniture while Jason sat up properly with his boyfriend’s legs over him.

He was silently reading a book while Y/N pretended to scroll through social media, fidgeting now and then when Jason would accidentally tickle his feet while unconsciously rubbing his feet. Then, the sneaky little man would pull up an audio from TikTok of a man’s voice, talking as if they were on a Facetime call.

At first, Jason didn’t think anything of it when he heard the ring from his boyfriend’s phone and he knows that he frequently calls his parents or friends. Besides, Jason knows almost everyone that Y/N knows so it definitely wasn’t out of the ordinary.

So why the fuck did he not recognize that voice that was speaking on the other end of Y/N’s phone? More than ever, why was it male?!

The second he heard the random male voice ask his boyfriend why he was smiling like that, the phone was snatched out of his hand and Jason was prepared to threaten extreme bodily harm to whoever was on the other side of that phone.

So imagine his confusion when was looking back at himself.

When he noticed the recording button at the bottom, he looked toward his boyfriend who was trying his best to hold in his laughs and was doing a terrible job. Y/N made sure to snatch his phone back though so Jason couldn’t delete the footage.

Jason allowed it though despite his annoyance, seeing Y/N happy and laughing always trumped over any negative feelings he was experiencing. However, he did give his boyfriend a nice gentle lesson about what happens when he plays with the vigilante’s jealous side.

It ‘twas not gentle though, not one bit.

And Y/N was a little fucker who never learned his lesson. Proud of it too.

The second time wasn’t even a week later after he’d seen a new trend going around the clock app that he just knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Might be a little bit controversial but get ready with me while I give you my reasons on why cheating on your significant other is okay in certain scenarios.”

In under 5 seconds, the bathroom door shot open after the apartment sounded like a large predator had come running through it. Judging by the very unamused look Y/N was receiving, it may have been just that.

Y/N had to do his best not to laugh (or moan) at the image on his phone’s screen of a hulking, pissed-off Jason standing over him as he watched his skincare in silence. He knew his followers were going to get a kick out of this, probably detailing the filthiest things their horny little minds could cook up in his comment section like the little horny bastards they were.

Though, Y/N would be no better.

Jason still didn’t say anything, continuing to stare down at him like an angry parent who’d just been embarrassed in church by their child.

“Um, can I help you?” Y/N asked, desperately holding back the smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Jason’s dark hair fell over his forehead, his white streak hanging lazily between as his eyes narrowed down at his smaller boyfriend, his large, intimidating arms crossed over his chest. Y/N had to take a large breath to calm down the fluttering in his stomach.

Why did his boyfriend have to be so hot? The world was not fair.

When Jason continued to not say anything, just staring silently at his lover, Y/N decided to finish his skincare in silence while checking to make sure his video was still recording.

When about five minutes passed and neither of the boys said anything, the taller and larger male started to become slightly confused. Why wasn’t Y/N saying anything? He wasn’t crazy, knowing exactly what he heard until a lightbulb went over his head and he realized what was going on.

Once Y/N finished patting his face with sunscreen, he looked up to his boyfriend to see him with a now slightly less peeved expression and more of a smug, amused look.

“What?”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I think I’m quite hilarious actually.”

Jason didn’t say another word before turning on his heel, slowly walking out of the bathroom back towards the kitchen with that damn slutty walk of his. Seriously, why was the universe so unfair to Y/N? Then again, he definitely wasn’t complaining.

But, just because Jason realized what was going on didn’t mean he was going to just let the harmless prank go so easily. Y/N would be reminded once again how petty his boyfriend could be in the worst ways possible.

There really should be a hotline or emergency number for guys whose boyfriends decide to tease and edge them for over an hour. These crimes should not go unchecked!

Anyways…Y/N still didn’t learn his lesson. Third time’s a charm.

By this time, Jason had become well aware that Y/N would not stop using him in his little videos and pranks, so he figured if you can’t beat em, join em. He got his own TikTok account and only followed his boyfriend while also doing his best to keep up with whatever trends were going around, especially with couples so he could stay one step ahead.

This proved very useful, as when the ‘Water’ song by Tyla became a trend all over TikTok, Jason was more than aware of what his boyfriend was trying to do when he noticed from the corner of his eyes him recording him, pretending like he was just watching the videos.

Ah ah ah, gonna have to try harder than that, babe. Jason didn’t even budge like he was going to look, not like he would’ve either way.

But, he was NOT prepared to come home one day to find his boyfriend with his tripod set up, starting the countdown timer to record a video. The second the video started recording and Jason realized what song was playing, he didn’t waste a second before running and tackling Y/N out of the camera view before he could even hit the first beat.

He didn’t care if he fell for that one, those moves were for Jason’s eyes only. Something else the vigilante was going to have to remind his boyfriend about.

But, at least when Y/N looked at the footage, he realized he finally had something to post for that trend where people ran and tackled their significant others to that Barbie Girl remix. He’d always wanted to do that trend but hadn’t met Jason yet, so he was a bit too single to do it.

The fourth time was something also a little bit simple, less of a prank and more of Y/N just being a little shit that went looking for trouble.

When Jason was once again in the kitchen cooking, with his usual tank-top and jogger combo, Y/N thought it a perfect opportunity for him to get some revenge on his boyfriend since the gargantuan male always found it funny to slap Y/N on his butt hard as shit. Vengeance was needed.

So, when Jason wasn’t looking, Y/N walked into the kitchen positioning his phone in another spot so it could see the entire action, knowing if he tried to be sneaky, the vigilante would still catch on to him and turn around. He walked up behind him and gave his boyfriend a little hug as usual and a kiss on his back, something the towering male pretended not to be giddy at.

However, his sweet, tender moment was interrupted when he felt a medium-palm land on his ass with a precision aim, leaving a tingling sting behind.

“Payback!” Y/N decreed, already turning around and running for their shared room.

When he went back and looked at the footage later, he had to admit, the view of Jason turning around slowly as Y/N scurried away was very amusing. Especially considering he layered the video with the Wii Sports fencing music as his mammoth-sized man stalked after him like a predator cornering its prey.

His vengeance did not last long.

By this time, Jason had become somewhat of a regular presence on Y/N’s TikTok account, and all of his followers wanted more content with the two of them together.

So, after a long time coming, Y/N had managed to successfully convince Jason to do a video with him on camera. They decided to do the Alphabet challenge, something Y/N thought he’d have an easy win at.

He was not prepared for his boyfriend's extensive vocabulary. “Are you ready to start, honey?” Y/N started sneakily, thinking his boyfriend wouldn’t catch it.

“Bet you thought you were slick, huh?” Jason replied with his usual smug look.

“Can you be any less smug?” Y/N said with a playful eye roll.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

At that point, it was almost like they weren’t even doing a challenge, but rather doing their usual relationship banter back and forth that just happened to be getting recorded. The longer it went on, the more chaotic it became, both boyfriends pulling the absolute wildest sentences they could think of out of their mouths to throw the other ones off.

“Suck my ass.”

“Turn around”

He’d also underestimated Jason’s lack of shame and vulgarness.

“Explain how you get a body like that?”

“From fucking whiny little pretty boys like you.”

Oh.

Yeah, he should’ve thought this one through a little more.

They’d managed to go through the whole alphabet at least three times, going from bantering back and forth to Y/N reciting lines from movies he could both think of, to Jason reciting lines from some of his favorite books. The smaller man at some point figured he could start using lines from pop culture and trends to throw his colossal boyfriend off. However, he was absolutely not prepared for him to quote the Rachel voicemail, word for word, knowing how much that whole message always made him weak.

“This is for Rachel you big, fat, white, nasty-smelling fat BITCH.”

Why did he have to put so much emphasis on the ‘bitch’ part? He threw in the towel there and let Jason have it, swearing victory on their next face-off.

Now, Y/N didn’t think it would go any farther than that. He figured he would keep making videos pranking Jason and that now and then, the vigilante would begrudgingly join in.

Oh, he was wrooong…

Frankly, Y/N should have known Jason was playing a prank on him the second he called him by his actual name instead of one of his pet names. The vigilante always got upset at him when he used Jason’s actual name instead of babe, baby, Jaybirdie, love, or even just simple Jay.

So, when Jason was not only calling him by his name but refusing to touch and or kiss him at all. Y/N absolutely should have figured something was up.

When Jason got over his initial awkwardness of physical touch in their relationship, that meant became a touch-clingy animal. Whether a hug, hand holding, cuddling, or even simple finger grazes, he needed them all. And kissing, if Y/N ever even dared leave their bedroom, let alone their apartment without giving his giant teddy bear of a boyfriend a kiss, he basically committed the ultimate sin.

So, imagine his surprise when he wakes up and leans over to give his Jaybirdie his kiss, and the big lug rolls over to the other side of the bed before his lips can even get close. Never mind the fact that he woke up and Jason was not cuddling him, hugging, or even just touching him for the matter.

But, he figured Jason was just out of it, discombobulated after waking up or something, and needed a moment. Then, when he was getting ready for his classes and making breakfast, Jason came out and Y/N plated his food for him while grabbing some juice from the fridge.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

Immediate strike two.

Y/N immediately turned around to his lover who was slowly eating his food, rather than inhaling it like he usually does which is why Y/N always has to make extra because the man is still hungry after the first plate. He gave him a weird look and just shrugged it off like he was hearing things, continuing to fill up the glass of juice before handing it over to the vigilante.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

There it was again. Okay, so he wasn’t imagining shit.

And, now that he was thinking about it, Jason was acting really weird. He didn’t come in and hug from behind like he does when Y/N is cooking. He hasn’t made one lewd sexual joke all morning. Heck, he’s barely looked towards the smaller male since this morning.

“You’re welcome. Is everything okay?”

Finally, Jason looked up at him, but it was with a straight face instead of his usual small smile or even the smirk that he always seemed to carry.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, you just seem like you’re upset about something. Did I do something to make you mad?” Y/N asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and uncomfortable. He was not used to this behavior from Jason. It was almost like the beginning of their relationship when the vigilante wouldn’t be very guarded against him because he didn’t trust him yet. A feeling he was very happy to forget.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Are you okay?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just worried about you, I guess. You seem quiet.”

“I’m good, Y/N. You don’t need to worry about me.” Jason said, going back to scrolling on his phone while eating.

“Oh, okay,” Y/N said softly, looking down at the ground and feeling very out of place all of a sudden.

On the other end, he didn’t realize how much it was KILLING Jason on the inside to keep up this ruse. He was just about ready to fold and call it quits this morning when he turned over and avoided his boyfriend’s kiss.

Now, he felt absolutely disgusted and horrible at how hurt Y/N looked. He planned to wait it out until he got back from his classes, but he knew right at that moment he wasn’t going to be able to make it that long. He underestimated how much seeing his boyfriend upset would affect him.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna head to my class now. Text me if you want to meet up for lunch.”

“Okay,” Jason said, not saying anything else which he could see was visibly confusing Y/N even more.

He knew that Y/N didn’t like to push because of Jason’s boundaries, always rather giving him space than crowding him and trying to force him to tell him what was going on. It did nothing to help alleviate the guilt he was feeling.

When Y/N came over to try and give Jason a hug and goodbye kiss and Jason visibly moved away, the vigilante wanted to kill himself right at that moment at the wounded expression all over the boy’s face, who just moved to grab his bag, keys, and phone and damn near ran for the door. That was a clear strike three for the college student.

Absolute shit Jason felt like.

When he heard the front door open and slam, he immediately jumped up, grabbed his phone, and ran after his boyfriend who was booking it towards the stairs.

“Y/N, wait.”

When he made no moves to slow down, Jason had to pull out the vigilante moves to catch him since he was nearly out the complex door.

“Baby, stop. I was just messing with you,” He said, grabbing his boyfriend and planting kisses all over his face.

“No, that’s not funny. Get off me you jerk,” Y/N said not making any move to push Jason off which the vigilante smiled at.

“I’m sorry, but now you know how it feels,” Jason showed Y/N his phone that had been recording the entire interaction, “Payback,” He declared, clearly mocking the smaller boy.

Y/N rolled his eyes before heading back inside with his boyfriend who showered him with love and kisses for his prank but made fun of him the entire time. And it didn’t stop there.

Jason did scare pranks, couples challenges where they had to answer questions (his favorites were the ones that came with punishments like dunking each other’s head in water or getting hit with a pillow), and more.

It was the reaction memes all over again.

But, there was still one challenge he hadn’t come across yet that Y/N did and was more than ready to do on his boyfriend.

They were currently sitting in the car, spending a day out together since Y/N's load from his classes was light and there weren’t any cases Jason was working on with himself or his family either. They were parked in a parking garage outside a shopping center, having just come back from shopping and grabbing some food inside when Y/N set up the camera.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Jason asked while stuffing his face with the freshly baked pretzel bites they got.

“Saw this new couple challenge on TikTok and wanted to do it,” He said, setting up the phone mount and adjusting it so it had him and Jason in full view.

“So, I saw this new challenge where couples are asking their partners random questions about each other and seeing who knows more about the other. So me and my husband are going to do the same thing and I’m going to start.” Y/N said into the camera.

The moment it came out his mouth, Y/N could see the initial surprise on his face turn into a small smile, but he didn’t say anything or question him, so he kept going. As he did his best to think up random questions to ask Jason, he kept referring to him as his husband, increasing the smile to a shit-eating grin the longer it went.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Y/N asked.

“I’m your husband now?” Jason asked, turning to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Y/N asked with his own raised eyebrow.

“Absolutely not,” Jason said, not saying another word as Y/N ended the video. He pulled out his phone as they finished their food and Y/N showed the original challenge that everyone was doing, agreeing with him when he called the guy from the original video a complete idiot.

But, he definitely noticed Jason not being as discreet as he thought he was, immediately noticing Jason’s browser on his phone being pulled up to engagement rings.

Oh boy.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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senualothbrok · 6 months

Text

Love and beauty

Summary: A few days after Astarion has taken you to his grave, you are lying in bed together. You decide it's time to make a confession.

Musings on beauty, love and death.

Word count: 1.3k

Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Non-ascended Astarion. References to bereavement.

AO3 link

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You are lying on your side, looking at Astarion. Here at the Elfsong Tavern, morning is rousing from its slumber. You are cocooned in the bed you have shared with him since the night he took you to his grave. The sheets are warm and soft beneath you, and in their burgundy shadows, his skin glows like porcelain. He lies on his back, his silver eyelashes fanning out below his closed eyes like silk. His crown is a white maze of waves. Just recently you have noticed the faint threads which form around his mouth and eyes when he laughs, slight indents where his eyebrows meet his nose when he is focused. And sometimes, barely perceptible dimples dance on his cheeks.

You never tire of looking at him. There is always something new to see, and you never know how long you have left to see it.

“I can feel you staring at me.” A lazy eye opens and fixes on you. “Has no one ever told you that it’s rude to stare?”

There is mischief in his smile, and you return it. You run your fingers over his collarbone. He shifts his chin closer to your hand.

“I can’t help it.”

He stretches, long and languid, a fang peeking out on his lower lip.

“I know, darling.” He turns onto his side to face you. “It’s why you’re here. You can’t get enough of my devastating beauty.”

The words carry no edge. He is still himself, not the masked imitation. He twirls his fingers around a strand of your hair as it caresses your shoulder.

“You are devastatingly beautiful, it’s true.” You play with a curl at his temple, tracing the edge of his ear. You consider for a moment. “But you know, all of that… it only goes so far.”

“Oh?” He regards you quizzically.

“Well…” You turn the thoughts over in your mind. “I’m human, Astarion. Even humans blessed with devasting, soul-crushing beauty, like yours – most of us don’t live that long. We get old and grey. We get wrinkles.”

He scrunches his nose. You laugh.

“I know, disgusting, those wrinkles. But when you have to contend with ageing, and with death… it’s different.”

You are not sure he understands what you are saying. You yourself are not entirely sure.

You nuzzle your nose into his. He slides his arm under your head, circling it around your shoulder. You curl into his chest. There is a silence, but it is so light, like being bathed in morning sun.

Maybe it is because every day draws you closer to the Netherbrain. Or maybe it is because he has shown you where he died, and has shared with you his rebirth. Now, you feel the last bastion inside you can come down. This last pearl you have hidden from him, you can now give, trusting he will not cast it away.

“I had a husband once,” you say.

You have not spoken about him for a long time. It surprises you that it does not hurt anymore to mention him. To remember.

“It was a lifetime ago now. He was beautiful too, when we met. Though nowhere near as beautiful as you.” You brush your lips across Astarion’s skin. “He was smart. He had a way with words. And he was kind.”

You are relieved that Astarion does not say anything. He does not tense in shock or anger. There is no judgment. He only listens, holding you.

“He actually looked a lot like Gale. Sometimes when he speaks, Gale even sounds like him.”

Astarion bristles at this. “So you’re telling me that one of our travelling companions, one of our closest allies and friends, is the spitting image of the love of your life? And you’re telling me this, why?”

You are not entirely surprised by his reaction. And maybe you find it endearing that Astarion could feel even a prickling of jealousy about a man you loved and lost so long ago. You chuckle, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the curve of his jaw. He eases with a huff.

“This isn’t the point of my story.”

“Well, you best get to it soon,” he shoots back, but he does not pull back his embrace.

There is a softness, a playfulness, to his irritation. You nibble his ear lobe gently and he sighs. He waits. You go on.

“He was a lot older than me. When he got sick, I took care of him. He died in his sleep. I laid him to rest. By that point, he was an old man. And he’d lived a good life.”

You remember your husband’s face through a haze. His papery skin, so thin you could tear it by mere touch. Frosted hazel eyes, and snaking veins on hands that you clasped so tightly against your wet face after he had breathed his last. The years of love that had filled the hole he left, buoying you through the grief.

“There’s something about that kind of love. Through age, and sickness, and everything in between. The long and boring days. The petty arguments. The stupid things we joked about. Everything we shared together.”

You heart fills as you speak of him. There is no more sorrow when you think of him now, only gratitude.

“I loved him till the end. That kind of love - it went well beyond his beauty.”

Astarion is quiet and still for a long time. When he moves back to look at you, you cannot read his gaze.

“But I won’t age,” he says. “I won’t die.”

You nod.

“I’ll be like this forever.”

“Forever beautiful, forever young.” You glance at the scars and ripples of your flesh, and you cannot help but feel a pang of envy.

He frowns. In the pause that follows, you wonder where he has gone. You wish he could take you with him.

“How will I know, then?” he asks suddenly.

“Know what?”

“How will I know…” He struggles, as though each word is a heavy load. He clears his throat. “How will I know what kind of love it is?”

There is an emptiness in his eyes now, like a kind of sadness. A loss. You reach out and press your palm to his heart.

“Are you asking me whether I would still love you-“

“If I wasn’t beautiful.” He grimaces. “If I was old and grey, or sick, or…” He trails off briefly. “If I had wrinkles. Like Gale.”

You laugh, and you see that it gives him comfort. Because Astarion still cannot help but mask a plea with a jibe.

“What do you think?” you ask.

He hesitates. His eyes caress your face, drinking in every detail, every line and curve, every shadow and blemish. A balm spreads through you as he sees you, just as you see him, since the very first time you promised to be his mirror. You know he can see your answer.

But he is uncertain, and he is still afraid.

“Without a doubt, Astarion,” you breathe.

He turns away. You wait. It no longer weighs on you when he withdraws. You know now that he will always return. You will give him time, now. You will give him space. He will come back when he is ready.

But then, so abruptly, he clasps you against him. You are enveloped in the coolness of his skin, the warm wetness of his mouth, the blanket of his body around you. The moment is a world in itself, swirling and gathering and expanding, holding you fast.

It ends as it began. You lie there, tracing circles in each other’s souls. Morning has broken, and muffled voices are bustling through the bedroom walls. Slowly, you edge to the side of the bed, and he rises to join you.

“I don’t think he was the love of my life, by the way.” You say it like an afterthought, but it is not.

“I damn well hope not,” he counters, sharp and fast.

But the gentleness in his gaze tells you all you need to know.

---

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion one shot

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tossawary · 4 months

Text

A quote and thoughts regarding Shen Yuan's opinions on Liu Mingyan and the "sexiness" of the Liu Mingyan versus Sha Hualing setup. He knows what he should be feeling in this situation as a "normal straight guy", but I don't think he's actually feeling it.

"Shen Qingqiu was very fond of this female lead, and it wasn't only because Liu Mingya's beauty points were the highest. It was also because she had great poise. She always understood the big picture and grasped the general situation, and her conduct was fair and honest. Even in Luo Binghe's gigantic harem, a wife with both intelligence and moral character was rare.

There was one more appeal factor. Liu Mingyan was the only female character for whom Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn't write detailed sex scenes. Many readers had been highly dissatisfied with this arrangement, to the point that they spammed the comments with their ranting, but this had given Liu Mingyan something no other female lead had: an image as clear as ice and pure as jade!

Can't be helped, the unobtainable ones are always the best.

[Sweatdropping shrug kaomoji that I can't type out.]

This was what made the second match worth watching. An evil demoness naturally demanded a righteous saintess as a rival. Every man dreamed of being caught between an angel and a devil. To watch them jealously vie with each other over him one moment, then risk life and limb for his sake in the next - that was the highest, most sacred, perverted fantasy of every male organism. He could drunk off the wild, untamed charm of the wicked seductress, and at the same time his heart would ache for the austere taste of the pure saintess who kept pulling him closer only to push him away!

One had to admit, "Great Master" Airplane was genuinely good at nailing what people found satisfying. Shen Qingqiu couldn't help giving Luo Binghe another glance.

Luo Binghe found it very hard to not care about that gaze. Why exactly did Shen Qingqiu keep looking at him? Was it possible that Shizun... really had an interest in him?"

Volume 1, Chapter 2, pages 111-112.

I'm not sure where to start with this! It's a lot! I'll just work backwards: it is very funny to have Shen Qingqiu repeatedly looking towards Luo Binghe, trying to see Binghe's reactions to Sha Hualing and Liu Mingyan, and Binghe's just like, "Shizun is looking at me???" I think "interest" in this case just means interest in Binghe as a disciple with potential, rather than anything else. Binghe is not paying any real attention to Sha Hualing or Liu Mingyan's attractiveness.

Oh! A rare compliment towards "Great Master" Airplane! Shen Yuan, don't strain those rarely used muscles!

I do find it amusing that Shen Yuan refers to Liu Mingyan as "moral" and "righteous" and "pure" here. The vibe I got with Liu Mingyan is that she sided with Luo Binghe to take down her brother's murderer, which I would agree is righteous and abides by a set of morals. But the first few pages of SVSSS inform us that PIDW Luo Binghe viciously destroyed the great cultivation sects, which means that PIDW wife Liu Mingyan either helped or stepped aside when a whole bunch of murder happened.

And the "my favorite wife is the one with no (or limited) sex scenes" is a classic Shen Yuan moment and one of the reasons he reads as being strongly on the asexuality spectrum to me. The way that he talks about heterosexual "male" desire gives me the same vibe. Like he's separated from it. Like he knows this is what he's "supposed" to feel and he just... doesn't... and it's possibly hard for him to recognize what sexual desire feels like (as opposed to, say, general sexual arousal that doesn't necessarily have a target) if he's never actually experienced it himself. He knows what he should be feeling if he was the "every man" reader of PIDW.

Even when he talks about Sha Hualing and Liu Mingyan's appeal, he says "wild, untamed charm" and "pulling him closer only to push him away" as the key components of the fantasy. Like, "being flirted with" and "being fought over and fought for" and "appreciating a distant beauty" are more important than "having sex". "The most appealing thing about Liu Mingyan is that she wouldn't actually go through with trying to have sex with me," says Shen Yuan.

He's like, "Oh, I can recognize that Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing are physically attractive, that probably means I'm an Ordinary Straight Man." Even though the way that he talked about Liu Qingge's looks in the Ling Xi Caves was... not very heterosexual... and here, he mostly seems excited just to see one of his favorite characters.

Admittedly, Sha Hualing appears 15-16 here and I think Liu Mingyan is around the same age (she doesn't have her spiritual sword yet), so Shen Yuan is probably also not attracted to them just because they're teenagers. (I do not interpret him as sexually or romantically interested in Binghe at all at this point in time.) I headcanon Shen Yuan being 20-ish at this point in time, so he's probably not that much older than SHL or LMY, but they're probably around his younger sister's age (Shen Yuan's younger sister was old enough to be reading non-con, gay, BDSM erotica.) Sha Hualing shows up half-naked and Shen Yuan is just like, "Where are your shoes? Did you walk here like this? Wasn't that painful?"

In my opinion, Shen Yuan seems a little... relieved... to think that no one could be sexually or romantically interested in the scum villain. He does lament that it's hard to get a girlfriend like this, sure. He does think that he's going to die and that he'd eventually lose any woman to Binghe, so there's no point in trying. But he really, really does not try. "Oh, I can't pursue anyone because they'd never be interested in me! How frustrating! ...Anyway! Moving on to enjoy the many other little pleasures of life! Like food and monsters!" I think the closest he comes to flirting with anyone is when speaking to Liu Qingge in the Ling Xi Caves, while Liu Qingge is coughing up blood, and that did not seem intentional.

I think if he had transmigrated into any other character, who wasn't an "unappealing" villain, Shen Yuan still wouldn't pursue women. I think he'd be like, "Well, I want a beautiful woman, because I have standards! But all beautiful women belong to the protagonist, and no one is better than Binghe, there's no way I'd win that competition, so there's no point in trying!" At which point, it's just like, "Shen Yuan, anyone becomes beautiful when you love or like them; I don't think you actually want to fuck women."

I think if Shen Yuan had transmigrated in as Luo Binghe, he still wouldn't try to pursue women. He'd be like, "I'm just raising my standards for the harem! Some of those wives were not very intelligent or in possession of good moral character! Nearly three-digits is disrespectful to the better wives! I'm only interested in especially beautiful and skilled women, like Liu Mingyan, who's perfect! (And also won't try to have sex with me.)"

Like, I am not against a bisexual Shen Yuan. I am willing to be persuaded to go along with many different interpretations! But he does read to me generally as a gay asexual / demisexual who hasn't yet realized that a desire to be fawned over and an ability to recognize beauty is not necessarily the same thing as sexual attraction. (I do think he is attracted to Binghe after Binghe gets back from the Endless Abyss, but his feelings there are tied up in his very real, reasonable fear of murder and mutilation.)

#tossawary svsss #tossawary rereads svsss #sha hualing #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #liu mingyan #luo binghe #bingqiu #liu qingge #spoilers #shen yuan versus asexuality fic

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mountainficss · 4 months

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HIHIHIII 🦈 HERE !!! having a wonwoo thoughts again .. (im crazy in love with that man.) but anyways thinking abt him making u wear his glasses while he fucks u cuz it just turns him on ..

or vice versa where he wears his glasses just cuz he likes to see every expression and reaction u have while he fucks u😭😭😭

anyways love u take ur time cuz poopoo bum school is a pain in the ass giving u all these assignments u got important things to do. like writing these fics (super important business!!!) LOVE U 💗

-🦈🦈🦈

HIHIHI ANON I MISSED YOU AND I LOVE YOU SM! 🩶🩶🩶 no and honestly i feel you wonwoo is so pretty…i have the fattest crush on him it’s unhealthy. and omg i know school is so lame 🙄 it’s never even hard work it’s just sooo time consuming. i’m telling you my professors want me to be bored out of my mind. but anyway!

ohhh the idea of wonwoo being turned on by you wearing his glasses is so…UGH i love that. you’d probably just snatch them off his face for fun, running away with them and sliding them on to see his reaction. you’d smile at him widely and you’d be met with an astounded look from wonwoo. he would know you took them just to mess around and had an innocent intent, but oh seeing you in his glasses would turn him ON. his brain would flash him an image of you underneath him wearing nothing but his glasses, and he would feel his cock immediately stiffen in his pants. he’d hastily make his way over to you and pick you up, practically throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to your shared bedroom. in seconds wonwoo would be tearing off your clothes, giving you needy kisses while you let out dreamy sighs. his glasses would still sit cutely on the end of your nose, and your eyes would meet his through the lenses with a dazed look. he felt like he was going insane seeing you looking so cute in his glasses. and your bare body would just make his cock throb harder. “keep them on,” he’d command breathlessly, tugging his shirt over his head and untying his sweats. “’m gonna fuck you while you wear those.” you’d smile devilishly at him as he fishes his cock out of his boxers, twisting his hand around it and throwing his head back in pleasure. “do i look cute in them?” you’d tease, reaching a hand up to adjust them playfully. wonwoo would groan as he peered down at you, fisting his cock faster at your actions. “you look so good,” he’d sigh, feeling you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer. “need to feel you.” he’d line his length up to your hole, pushing in slowly as both of you gasp at the stretch. he’d bottom out in one thrust, your tight heat making him feel dizzy. he’d study your face as he gives you time to adjust, admiring the soft blush on your cheeks and your cute expressions as he starts to rut into you. his cock always made you feel so full, and this time would be no different as he glides easily into you. he’d cup your cheek with one hand and you’d wrap both of your hands around his forearm, turning your head to teasingly kiss his palm. he mutters a small fuck and runs his thumb along the temple of his glasses, feeling you tighten around him. “can i take these back, baby?” he’d ask, his voice strained from trying to hold back his quickly-approaching orgasm. “need to see you. wanna see the faces you make.” you’d chuckle at him asking for permission as if they weren’t his glasses, releasing his arm to take them off. you’d slide them back on his face slowly, watching the moment he seems to really see you. his pupils would dilate at the sight of your lewd expressions, and he’d struggle to not roll his eyes back in ecstasy at the way you look at him. his hips would pound into you with quick thrusts, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot and bringing you closer to climax. “you’re so pretty,” he’d mumble mindlessly, leaning in to press a kiss onto your forehead. “really like when you wear my glasses.” you’d thread your fingers through his hair, gripping the strands as your orgasm washes over you in a powerful wave, threatening to send wonwoo over the edge too. he fucks you through your climax, feeling his cock pulsing inside of your heat and filling you full of his cum with a drawn-out moan. he’d hover over your weak form as you both try to catch your breath. “well,” you’d pant, releasing your grip on his hair and running your fingers through it to soothe the sting. “i like when you wear them too.” <3

taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag

#thoughts #seventeen #seventeen smut #smut #svt smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonu #mountainficss

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trans-axolotl · 2 months

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content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

#personal #suicide tw #suicide mention tw #psych abuse tw #psych ward tw #ok to reblog if u want #psych abolition #mad liberation #psych survivor #it's a lot of grief hours over here and will be for a while all week i think #lots of grief so many ways this year for so many people #but this week. his memory . my grief for him #is hitting especially hard. i think partially because of all the transitions in my life. i'm graduating college. he will never become an ad #adult.#i think i might ask my roommates if they will go do something to remember him with me. maybe making origami cranes and sending them off in #the river. or writing things down and burning them #idk. grief is hard #six years in grief is different. but hard

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l4long-winded · 5 months

Text

o.s. those sweet, sweet, effectual praises

summary: in which you talk an inexperienced carmen through it (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: i meant this as a blurb, so it turned into a really short one shot. forgive me, i overdo things and get lost in the details of very small, small interactions. i've been thinking of finally making some taglists as well, so if anyone is interested, let me know. and, of course, enjoy! feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: cursing, praise kink, pussydrunk!carmy, dirty talk, absolute filth, subby!carmy?, inexperienced!carmy (you can imagine him as a virgin in this if you'd like), sensory words, slight overstimulation, finger sucking, reference to oral (please let me know if there are other tags i need to add)

word count: 1,137

“Christ, stop… s-stop that,” Carmen hisses, his knuckles pigmented ivory as his fingers compress the fitted sheet’s extra fabric tighter into his grip. His other hand is occupied with holding his throbbing girth and, of course, he feels lightheaded as he pulses and sustains the heartbeat against his calloused digits. But the real issue isn’t how hard he is (he surmises he can carve a statue with himself at this point), the issue is the string of slick he focuses on connecting the tip of his cock to your glistening outer lips. It’s that damn wetness his mouth waters for, tongue envying his dick for a flash of a moment, poking out to lick his suddenly dry lips as he imagines it spread over his chin and jaw.

“I’ll hold still,” you relent, like a fucking saint, petting the muscles in his shoulders as your thighs relax into the mattress below.

Carmen leans down to kiss you in that moment, first your cheeks, your nose, then forehead, amply covering every centimeter of surface area to display his appreciation for your patience, because it’s really not your fault, it’s his lack of will power. Mere seconds ago, you chanced a shift of your hips upwards and struck gold on your first try, your dripping slit sliding the head of him right between your folds. It happened so abruptly and he was ill prepared for the surge of pleasure he’d undergo, retracting to just breathe and calm his excitement. He lingers when he finally kisses your mouth, relishing in the noise of approval you hum against him, a sign that he hasn’t completely fucked this up because of his inexperience and clumsy, innate reactions to this entire endeavor.

“Let me,” you mumble against his mouth, your hands tracing from his shoulders, to the back of his neck, and ultimately into his hair, fingers slipping his unruly curls right into the crevices. Your nails and fingertips lightly massage his scalp and fuck, he’ll let you do whatever the hell you want if you keep doing just that, nodding mindlessly despite that small voice inside advising him how he should be the one in control.

“You’ll do it next time,” you promise him, as if sensing his self-doubt, and that’s enough for him to ignore it, his eyelids heavy as you cease kissing him to reach down and grasp him. Your hand is smaller than his is, but your touch has him inhale shakily, slowly removing his own hand so that it can join the other on the mattress, right at the opposite side of your head where he cages you in. You give him a sweet smile, one he wants to kiss and bite at, but his arms flex as he watches your features and remains where he is, glancing down to see how you guide him.

“Breathe for me, Carmy,” you say, which is easier said than done, but he listens to you, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. It’s easier, he finds, feeling you brush his tip back and forth along your warmth, willing his eyes to stay open to view, his jaw hanging open at the sensation. He particularly enjoys the image of your slick coating your fingers in the process.

“You’re so hard,” you comment, your teeth biting on your lower lip. He forgets you’re also hanging on in anticipation just as he is. He’s glad he’s not the only one losing his mind here, managing a small grin at the lilt your voice adopts.

“Ready?” You ask next and he’s nodding his head again, perhaps a little too eagerly, but he’s past the point of looking desperate and depraved, he really is losing the amount of fucks he has left about how you could negatively perceive him. It’s a waste, anyhow, since you think the world of him.

With his willingness, you offer him a peck on the mouth before you’re fluttering your lashes at him in warning of what’s about to happen. He gulps, monitoring his breathing as you had told him to, and he stares at your face the entire time you align him and gently pull him forward, his hips shifting in accommodation naturally until the swollen head of him breaches your entrance. And shit, breathing is a lot harder to do once he’s halfway inside of you, faltering because he gasped while he was inhaling and almost choked on air.

“shitshitshitshitshit,” he mutters, groaning from deep in his chest when he accidentally makes the mistake of falling to his forearms, sinking himself deeper as a result, drawing collective cries from the both of you. He really didn’t mean to, noticing the tremble of your thighs from how physically close you both are now, your walls clenching him somehow even tighter, astonishing him because he’s never felt anything this enveloping, nothing this welcoming and yet so resisting, twitching and clamping away at him in a vise his hips chase with an additional, involuntary push forward. As he pants out and attempts to find the oxygen he’s lost, he can see the pleasure written on your features, your mouth falling open as he prods at the hilt, your whine infiltrating his eardrums as you clutch onto his shoulders at the stretch.

“Yes, that’s perfect, Carmy,” you say, cupping his cheeks into your hands as you kiss him. His hips stutter, you can’t say things like that to him, not when he’s buried this deep and aching.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he shudders, but you’re cooing at him, calming him down, placing kiss after kiss on his lips even though he believes he’s going to pop any second. His brain tells him to just fill you up and let go, but as always, you’re able to lure him out of that space and force him into the present moment.

“You feel incredible,” you tell him in between kisses, “doing so wonderful,” he moans as he softly thrusts, “fucking me just right.” It’s a miracle he doesn’t blow his load right then and there, beginning to return every one of your kisses slowly but surely. He shifts again and that impending, urgent need rears once more, especially from how you whine right into his mouth, but it fades away as he stills and focuses on your hands on his cheeks. The digits of your right hand feel rather slippery on his stubble and that’s when he remembers what had pooled out of your cunt onto them in the midst of sliding him in on home.

He turns his head, capturing your index finger into his mouth, sucking at the wetness still there while he simultaneously drives his hips into you. It’s instinctual from there, picking up his pace as he moans around your finger, and at your encouraging “yesyesyesyes, fuck, Carmy, yes!”

#l4l.writes #those sweet sweet effectual praises #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear hulu #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto imagine

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disregardcanon · 1 month

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this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

#anons #writing things #ao3 things #the case for commenting

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allysunny · 9 months

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Hi! I saw that your Miguel requests were open so I was wondering if it was possible to do a mig x f!reader where the reader is a civilian who's a photographer? She's always catching Miguel in action as Spiderman, not so much action shots but more movement inclined artwork. She goes to alchemax to take a professional portrait of their head biologist, Miguel, unaware that he's her not so friendly neighborhood spiderman and he's aware of her work.

Picture Perfect | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: None, i would say! Reader is a photographer and Miguel is kinda grumpy, but that's about it!

A/N: Aaaa my first request! I'm so excited! I actually finished a book about a photographer the other day, so it was super interesting to write this. Unfortunately, I don't know much about photography itself. I have a camera, but I'm no pro! Nevertheless, I tried to do my best! I hope this is to your liking!!

I'm also trying something new with my themes haha, goodbye to that big red header in between paragraphs! </3

To say Spiderman was majestic was an understatement.

The way he swinged around the city, effortlessly spinning and turning and moving as if he was one with the air – it was breathtaking. Not only did he seem amazing at what he did, he always seemed to look great doing it.

And it was a cold, hard truth that the camera loved him.

Particularly, yours.

Being Nueva York’s most famous photographer hadn’t been an easy feat to achieve. Your job had consisted of carrying cameras and tripods and objects for many years until you finally managed to publish your own work; work that had gotten you recognised and plastered in every big magazine’s cover.

Now, instead of begging and pleading for work, the work came to you. Your rep would text you and call you at the weirdest hours, claiming to have found your next great gig.

But no matter how amazing, how well-paying, how dynamic these gigs were, nothing truly compared to photographing Spiderman in action. You had some amazing shots of him – fighting villains, saving your city, and some of him just being.

Those were your most prized possessions, the shots of him overlooking the city, as if monitoring it from above. He was Nueva York’s guardian angel, and your photos captured it perfectly.

One day, you’d been photographing a famous singer who requested your services (and your services only) at the top of the highest building in Nueva York. Once you were done, the singer thanked you profusely, everyone packed, and you were left alone to overlook the place you called home.

And that’s when you saw him.

You weren’t sure if it was just a coincidence. But from all the buildings Spiderman could’ve landed on to watch Nueva York, he had landed on top of the one in front of you.

It felt almost rude to stare. He hadn’t noticed your presence yet, and as much as your conscience tried to bite at you, telling you it was rude to just take his picture without asking for permission, the other part of your brain that yelled This is your job! won, and you found yourself bringing your beloved camera to your face.

Right when you were about to snap a picture, he turned to you.

Shivers ran down your spine.

I’m screwed, you thought, repeatedly. I’m screwed. I’m screwed. I’m screwed.

You waited for any kind of reaction from his part but got none.

Surely, he must see me. He’s Spiderman. He has to know I’m here.

Oh.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he was doing it on purpose.

Was this his way of giving you consent?

You brought the camera to your face once again and waited. He kept staring at you, and then simply turned away from you, gazing at the city.

A wave of excitement rushed through your bones, lighting the tips of your fingers ablaze.

You smiled and took his picture.

And another.

Those shots had earned you the cover of the Bugle Diario’s newest edition, and even an interview on the news, where two smiling anchors questioned you about your passion for photography, and the amazing images of Spiderman.

Sometimes you wondered why no one else seemed to get pictures like yours. Other photographers had tried, but their shots were void of passion, were bland. The masked hero would be too blurry, or perhaps facing the other way. There were times when you even humoured the possibility of him doing it on purpose – turning his face away because he refused to be photographed by someone other than you.

It gave you butterflies, this silly little thought of yours. Needless to say, though, whenever you found yourself considering it, you’d chastise yourself over it immediately. Why would he even do that? He’s a super-hero. He has no time to pick a favourite photographer. I’m just lucky, is all. And yet, you wished it was something more than just luck.

“Have you opened them yet?” Your rep asked excitedly over the phone.

The new shots of Spiderman had just arrived. You’d taken them last week, and the prints had just arrived. Excited was an understatement. You were dying to see how these looked.

“’m doing it now, give me a sec,” You responded, voice laced in enthusiasm. With a pair of scissors, you were able to make quick work of the cardboard box and dug into the contents inside.

And what you saw took your breath away.

Your (quite possibly) best work so far.

The first shot was of Spiderman on his back, body completely bent as he threw a web at (seemingly) your camera’s direction. You could see it clearly – the shape of his body, twisted in the middle of the air, the light that illuminated his figure, even the material of his webs were easy to make out if you looked closely enough. It was dynamic, the way his body contorted easily to aid him in whatever task he did. To the average person, it might even be painful, but it seemed such a natural thing for him to do, a natural pose for him to be in. A remarkable pose for a remarkable superhero.

“Holy shit…” You mumbled, to what your rep could only laugh in amusement.

“Keep going!” She encouraged, “You haven’t even seen the best one yet!”

So you kept looking through the picture, each better than the last one.

There was one of him with his back turned to you, body contorted as he webbed a building. His broad back was visible, as well as his muscular arms. You particularly remember almost getting hit by a flying car when you tried to snap that picture – it had been very well worth it. The building behind him provided the best background, since it allowed the viewer to realise how far up he was.

“[Y/N], this is great stuff. Have you seen them all?”

“No, just give me a second!” Just like your rep, you were unable to contain your enthusiasm. Each picture had so much personality to it, so much care and effort. This was not only your job, but also your passion, and it clearly showed.

“You need to see the last one, it’s amazing. Remember that day when – “ The disembodied voice on the other line kept talking, but you weren’t listening anymore. You’d reached the very last picture, and your breath had been stolen.

Spiderman stood right in front of you, hanging upside down by a web. His legs were crossed, his figure somewhat relaxed as he looked down. It seemed almost… playful. It had been snowing that day – small clusters of snowflakes fell around his figure, its pale colour contrasting against the deep blue and violent red of his suit. The sun threatened to peek out from behind his arm, creating a magnificent scene.

The otherwise chaotic moment seemed to be frozen, as Spiderman elegantly crossed his legs at the ankles, balancing casually in mid-air. The details of his suit were easy to spot, thanks to the fantastic lighting and the proximity of the photo. With this shot, you had managed to capture the essence of a hero caught between earth and sky, somewhat relaxed, but also ready to jump into action at any given moment.

Your rep must’ve noticed your silence because her voice got, somehow, even higher.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you? It’s glorious, I tell you! Honey, this is your best work so far, congratulations. How you manage to get these sorts of pictures is beyond me, you have a gift.”

A gift. It wasn’t the first time you were told you had a natural talent, a gift for photography, but for the first time in ages, you were able to accept the compliment with no complaints.

“This… this is…” Words did not seem enough to express the wonder you felt towards the glorious work in front of you.

“Want some even better news?” You eagerly giggled a “uh-uh” and let the woman on the phone do the talking, “The Bugle Diario is doing a segment on Alchemax. You know, the company. They’re focusing specifically on the head biologist, a man called Miguel O’Hara. Apparently, he’s had some breakthrough discovery on DNA studies – you know me, I’m not very inclined towards science, but the point is, they want you to take his portrait!”

Alchemax was a big company. Hell, it was probably the biggest company in the city. You couldn’t quite figure out how this news were even better than the prints you’d just received, but were happy, nevertheless. A gig was a gig was a gig, and you liked portraits. Sure, this Miguel man might not be as interesting a subject as Spiderman, but it was Alchemax! It was still the opportunity of a lifetime, and there was no way you’d miss it.

“Count me in!”

Alchemax was huge.

Not only did the outside building appear enormous from the outside, but it also seemed to expand and grow once you walked inside.

All sorts of employees cover the building from head to toe – men clad in professional suits, women wearing white lab coats and safety glasses, teenagers carrying stacks of papers and boxes everywhere. You didn’t expect the megacorporation to be so… mega.

A kind receptionist took you to the floor where you were supposed to meet Miguel O’Hara, and while you two waited in the elevator, was sure to tell you how much she admired your work. You smiled and thanked her politely, before you arrived at your floor and waited.

The woman asked you to wait for a few seconds while she fetched the man you were supposed to photograph, and you did so, taking the space around you in.

It was… dark, to say the least.

Not to say that was a bad thing – you’d taken pictures at night, with barely any light other than the moon’s, but some indoor illumination would be nice. People in white coats ran around the floor, shouting words you understood, but couldn’t string in a sentence together. Talks about molecules, DNA, photosynthesis, splicing? filled the whole area, and you admired how focused every scientist seemed to be.

There were machines you could only imagine the purpose of everywhere, some large and scary, some so small, the workers carried them in their hands. Vials of strange, coloured liquids filled glass cabinets, which were occasionally opened and closed right away by working scientists. It smelled of sterilisation and focus. This was where the magic happened, you thought.

“Excuse me?” Suddenly, a rich, deep voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned around, and holy shit –

“Are you [Y/N]? I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

You stared at Miguel for what seemed like an eternity.

Were biologists supposed to be this handsome?

He was positively charming.

He could best be described as big. Very big. This man was tall – incredibly so – with large shoulders and muscular arms nearly hidden by the lab coat he has on, but you can’t help noticing. You could tell by his piercing gaze and sculpted frame that his presence commanded attention. In fact, everyone around you stopped to stare at man for a few seconds, before hurriedly returning to their tasks. He must be a strict boss.

He narrowed his eyes (were they red?) and crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyeing you up and down with a look you couldn’t decipher, but had your cheeks and ears heat up just by its intensity. And yet, you were unable to form a coherent sentence, still staring at this man, whose cheekbones were so sharp, you were afraid they’d cut you anything they touched. Upon a closer inspection, you realised that the planes of his face looked extremely tired. When was the last time he’d slept?

By the state of the floor and the workers in it, you figured long, long ago.

“Is that how you do it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Do what?” You managed to blurt out, holding onto your equipment tightly.

“Take pictures. Is that how you do it? With your eyes?”

If it was supposed to be a joke, you didn’t get it. From the way he said it, you figured it was more of a sarcastic statement. Of course. You were standing in the middle of his laboratory, shamelessly eyeing him up and down and wasting his time.

“N-No. My apologies, I…” You struggled to find the right words. They never came, so you shook your head and tried offering him your politest smile. “Yes, I’m [Y/N]. I’m here to take your portrait.”

Miguel eyed you up and down once again. You looked away, flustered. Could his gaze be any more intimidating?

“Is that all your equipment? Are you alone?” He asked you.

“Yeah, this is it.” You weren’t carrying much, just your usual stuff. A tripod, some lenses, a small reflector, and a light stand. Your beloved camera was inside it’s back, safely secured around your neck. Other photographers lectured you on not using nearly enough equipment as they would, but you prided yourself on your ability to use natural light and shadows to your advantage without a lot of instruments. “Are you busy? I mean, I was told to come now, but…”

“No, it’s fine. Where do you want me?”

Preferably on my bed, on top of me, while I hold onto those large shoulders and –

You chastised yourself for even having such thoughts. Not even the male models and actors that were photographed by you elicited such a response.

Control yourself.

“Oh, um… Do you have a lab of your own? I would like to take your picture in your element if you know what I mean.” Was the reply you gave him instead of the nasty thoughts you had conjured.

The scientist nodded and urged you to follow him.

You walked by his employees, all focused on experimenting with liquids, materials, concoctions you’d never seen before in your life.

With just a few words, Miguel had cleared what you assumed was the lab he worked on. Just like the rest of the floor, it was shrouded in in shadows. You wondered how anyone managed to work in here. Rows of instruments stood sentinel; their surfaces being bathed by the small amounts of natural flasks.

Things like vials and flasks decorated with labels of multiple colours stood on top of shelves, a reminder of the countless experiments this man and his team had conducted. He wasn’t Alchemax’s head biologist for no reason.

While you figured out the best place for him to sit, Miguel eyed you curiously.

You.

He knew you, of course.

You were the pretty photographer he’d seen capturing his fights and patrols and endeavours around Nueva York. He’d seen you risk your health countless of times, putting your own safety at risk just for a picture of him.

Miguel had to say he was flattered.

And not to mention your work always came out great. In fact, he had some of your best pictures safely tucked inside an envelop on his bedroom nightstand. A silent reminder that no matter where he went, you were sure to follow. And he liked it when you followed him.

That night when he was looking over his city and caught you staring, his enhanced vision had allowed him to get a proper look at you. At the natural sparkle of your eyes and how they widened when you two locked gazes. At the plush skin of your lips that parted when he looked at you. He could see you clearly, your gentle figure and graceful movements. So he looked away, allowing you to take his portrait.

It was the best thing he’d ever done.

“I think this would be a nice spot.” You told him, pointing to a nearby bench. “Would you please sit here?”

He happily obliged, sitting down and facing you. You looked even more beautiful up close, brows furrowing ever-so-softly in confusion as you worked your way around him, probably to figure how to best accommodate his hulking figure.

“Do you mind…?” You gave him a careful looking, pointing towards the vials and flasks and instruments cluttering the bench.

“Not at all. Just don’t break anything.”

He didn’t mean to sound as menacing he did – but Miguel was a professional, and he knew you would understand how to be careful around his objects. After all, your profession also demanded it.

You nodded and carefully got to work.

You took him in.

He was still massive, even when sitting down.

Careful as to not break anything, you sorted the objects around, arranging them in the best way possible as not to hide Miguel.

“So, tell me., Miguel,” Conversation was the easiest way to put your subjects at ease. Usually, conversation about their craft. “Did you always know you wanted to be a scientist?”

“Is this what you to do get your clients to relax?” Miguel inquired in a rather challenging tone.

“Yes.” You refused to look up, intent on making the ambient look as natural as possible without drawing the attention away from your subject. Once you were satisfied with the result, you removed your camera from its bag and pointed it at Miguel. “This is just a test shot.” And snapped a picture with the flash on.

He seemed to flinch at the bright light, and made a sound closest to a hiss, covering his face with his hands.

“Mierda – can’t you turn that off?” He grumbled.

“Sure. Can I turn on the light?”

“Absolutely not.”

You stared at him in confusion. So, he didn’t want you to turn the lights on, but you also weren’t allowed to use your camera’s flash? Who did this guy think he was?

“I’m sensitive to light – please, don’t point that at me.” This time when he spoke, his voice was softer, almost as if he regretted hissing at you – which in truth, he did.

“I can’t use my flash and I can’t turn on the lights. Am I supposed to photograph you in total darkness?

“You’re the photographer. Figure it out.”

There was a hint of what you thought was a smirk creeping up on his lips, and what you surely imagined to be a very long canine poking out, but you brushed it away as just the light (or the lack of thereof) playing tricks on you.

But he was right, you were the photographer.

You walked over to the window and closed the blinds until the natural light was almost gone.

You were a professional, and a damn good one at that, and you wouldn’t let something as basic as darkness ruin your shoot. Low light photography was a thing. You looked around, scanning your surroundings.

Miguel watched you as you walked around the lab, tinkering with vials, observing the light the windows provided, setting up the tripod in a billion different places. He had to say, he was impressed. You were every bit as competent as you appeared. The beauty was just a bonus.

“Am I giving you too much trouble?” He asked, somewhat concerned. He worried this whole shenanigan was going to give you too much work, but on the other hand, he’d seen you in action. Watched as you dodged stones and ran through cars to get the perfect photo, observed as you contorted yourself into the weirdest poses just to make your photos more dynamic. Miguel knew you could do this, he had witnessed it first hand over and over again.

“Not really, no. I like a challenge.” He grinned smugly at your response. You cross your arms, investigating the room once more. Surely a biologist’s lab had to be more interesting that that, right?

That’s when it came into view.

A huge machine, something straight out of a science fiction movie, as tall as the ceiling. You didn’t know how to describe it – there were cables all around it and a screen surrounded by keys. Definitely the kind of machine you would never approach, in fear of messing it up. Although it was turned off, the lights on its side were glowing bright red and blue, granting the lab a peculiar atmosphere.

What in the world could this possibly do?

“That’s a DNA splicing machine.” Miguel told you, almost as if reading your thoughts.

“Is this part of your research?” You were fascinated by the machine before you. How come you hadn’t noticed when you first walked in? It was creepy, surreal, but also mysterious and intriguing. All traits you could also assign to the man in the room with you.

He nodded and walked up to it, giving the structure a few pats.

“Unfortunately, I cannot tell you much about it. It’s Alchemax protocol. But it is part of my research, and I’m extremely proud of it.”

It was the first time Miguel had opened up about his job, and you decided to pry a bit more. You had an overall idea of what you wanted to do, now all you needed was a subject as ease, willing to relax.

“Don’t worry, I understand. It must be rewarding to know your work has helped so many people.” You smile and nudge him towards the machine. “Wait here.”

Miguel did as you were told, standing next to the enormous machine as you made your way to each window and closed the binders completely. What were you up to now? He decided to keep speaking anyway. This was your job, and you were doing your best. If he couldn’t talk to you as Spiderman, the least he could do was help you out right now. And the way to do that was to talk.

“Indeed. My research has advanced the realms of science and medicine in a truly remarkable way. I am quite proud of the progress I have made.” Miguel leaned into his machine absentmindedly, its red and blue glow illuminating his figure.

How ironic.

“And while I feel a great satisfaction in my work, I’ve also made some rather grave errors in the past.” Miguel doesn’t know why he’s telling you this. He doesn’t know you; he knows there’s a pretty woman who takes his pictures, but that’s about it. Should he be confiding in you? Would you even care?

“Errors?” You returned to his side, setting up your tripod a few feet away from him and toying with its angles. This man was huge – how were you going to fit him inside the frame of your camera?

“When I first started out at Alchemax, I was young and inexperienced. I graduated from Alchemax’s School for Gifted Youngsters and had big aspirations.” He took a big sigh, shaking his head. His dark locks fell in front of his forehead, and he was just about to adjust them, when you took a step towards him and caught his wrist just before he did.

“Don’t – just let me try something.” Miguel considered this, and mumbled a soft “alright” before you adjusted his hair slightly, tugging a rebellious strand right in front of his eyes. There wasn’t much light already, so hiding his face wasn’t ideal – but you had something in mind. “Surely, those aspirations paid out.” You decided to continue talking. It wasn’t even to get him to relax anymore, you were invested in his story, and wondered what could possibly haunt this mountain of a man.

“Only after a few years. Once I started working here, it wasn’t long before I found myself in over my head. I bit more than I could chew, and it caused me problems.” Miguel crossed his arms once more and stared into the distance. There was something laced in his gaze. Longing? Hurt? Regret?

“I’m sure you learned from them.” You angled your camera towards his face again. You’d been snapping pictures of him this whole time, though you weren’t quite sure if he had noticed it. Your camera was very silent, a feature that came in handy when you did not want to be disturbed or interrupted. Or when you did not want a scene to be ruined. “Look at me,” You mumbled, and he faced you again.

You snapped another picture.

“Still. It’s hard to live with the knowledge that you’ve done something so terrible.” You wondered what could possibly be so terrible for him to speak of it like this. One thing at the time.

“C’mere,” Miguel felt your hand on his arm, and he was suddenly being coaxed into a different position. You tilted his head towards the glass, his whole face now covered in red and blue light, forcing him to look away. It looked magnificent up close, beautiful yet harsh eyes looking at you, its irises of a colour you hadn’t figured out yet.

Your gaze trailed down over from his eyes to his strong nose and rested on his full lips. You wondered how they would feel on you – Focus! You came here to work, so work. Do not fantasize about your photo subject.

But it was so hard.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was having the exact same thoughts.

He wondered how you’d feel on his arms. Would you cling to him? He wondered how you’d look under him, caged under his arms and legs. Now that he wasn’t in imminent danger, Miguel allowed himself to look at you all he wanted.

Was it just you, or was the room hotter?

Quickly, you scurried away, returning to your camera.

“I’m sure all of the good things you’ve done in the name of science have made up for those past mistakes.” You tell him, snapping a few more shots. He looked majestic. The camera certainly loved him; no matter the angle, he always looked good.

“You think so?” Miguel fixated his gaze on yours once again, and precisely on that moment, you snapped a picture.

Oh.

You looked at your camera’s screen and smiled.

Now this was a photograph worthy of a cover.

You looked at the man in front of you, smile still gracing your lips.

“I do.”

You examined the pictures you’d taken. They all looked great – save for that very last photo.

That one looked incredible. Magnificent.

“I think we’re done here!” You chirped, turning it off and putting it away.

Miguel raised an eyebrow.

“Already?”

“Mhm! I got it. Believe me, these look incredible.” He kept staring at you while you packed your things, unsure of what to say. He was aware he might have come across as rude or cold, but that’s just who he was. And truth be told, he was enjoying this. The company. Your company. Being able to finally share his burdens – even if for a few seconds, and not entirely. It was nice.

He followed you, suddenly appearing nervous.

“So, I usually send my subjects a copy of their prints. I know the Bugle’s my client, but I think you’re entitled to a few copies, don’t you?” There was that dazzling smile once again. Fuck. Miguel ought to make you smile more often – you’re a vision.

“I do,” he said, before shrugging. “You know… You could give me those in person.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, his words eliciting a mix of shock, surprise, and eagerness within you.

“In person?”

“In person. Maybe over some coffee?” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. What if you said no? Miguel didn’t know you. What if you had a boyfriend? What if you weren’t interested in men? What if he had just made a big fool of himself?

He expected anything. For you to laugh, to walk away, to slap him.

He didn’t expect you to turn away from him, a flustered look adorning your features.

This was the part where you let him down slowly, where you told him you didn’t date your subjects, where –

“Coffee sounds great. I would love some coffee.” And then you quickly retrieved something from your bag – was that a piece of paper? Bending over a nearby bench, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on it before handing it to him. “That’s my number. Not my rep’s – mine. You can… You can call me if you want to.”

Miguel smiled for the first time in the entire afternoon. And if his chiselled, stoic face was gorgeous, you had no way to describe his smile. It looked so natural, like it suited him. Like he should be always smiling. “I will.” He spoke gently.

A few weeks later, Miguel opened the door to his house to find a big envelope box addressed to him.

After taking it inside and swiftly opening it with his talons, he was met with a pastel coloured post-it that read “Thought you deserved the first edition” and a doddle of a small heart for a signature.

Carefully placing the note on his table, he removed the contents from the envelope.

It was an edition of the Bugle Diario, with his photo plastered on the cover. Specifically, the last one you took, the one you’d gushed about over a cup of coffee and a small cake.

The Mind of the Master: In-depth Interview with Alchemax’s Head Biologist Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel smiled.

His favourite photographer had done it once again.

A/N: I hope you liked it! I really did try my best! :) I'm not quite sure how I feel about this layout, but I like experimenting!

Have an amazing day everyone! <3

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3658

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

3. Cream filled Sponge Cakes (with chemicals)

Bucky

They plan out what they’re going to do when they get to the hospital on the car ride over.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside at first,” Bucky says, glancing away from the road for a second to try and gauge Steve’s reaction to this. He looks neutral. “Just because she’s already pissed,” he adds. “And it’ll probably be overwhelming having one person telling her they’re taking custody, let alone two.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That makes sense.”

Bucky holds his hand out over the center console, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and Bucky grips his hand tight. “I’ll get the initial stuff out of the way. I’m sure there’s gonna be a ton of paperwork.”

“What if she refuses?” Steve worries. “She can, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t have any legal hold on her. Yet. I’ll just have to try and talk sense into her, get her to see that we’re better than the alternative.”

Steve gives his hand a squeeze back. “You can do it.”

Bucky sighs. “I hope so. I really do.” Inside though, he’s already not so sure.

They get to the hospital about forty-five minutes after Bucky’d hung up from the phone call with the police officer. He spots a cruiser parked outside when they approach the emergency room, and it rankles his nerves to think of Mary being forcibly shoved into the back seat of said car.

He goes to the check in desk with Steve and asks for Officer Santiago. “I got a call about an involuntary hold. My submissive,” he says.

The woman at the desk does a double take at that, looking up and down Bucky where he stands like she’s just realized he’s a different species. “Oh,” she says. “You're one of those?”

Bucky ignores it, but he can sense Steve tensing up by his side, indignant on his behalf. “Yes,” he says. “I am.” He’s not going to waste time getting on his spiel about mental illness and stigmatization. They’ve got bigger problems right now. “I’m going to need her records,” he says, injecting authority into his tone. “And any paperwork for transfer of custody. The cops brought her in. Name’s Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look self-assured while he waits, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the woman demands a last name.

It takes her several minutes to gather everything up for Bucky. She hands it all over to him and says, “That’s the paperwork for custody. The attending physician should be able to provide you with her medical workup.” She points to a set of double doors. “You go down that hallway and to the left. Bed number four.”

Bucky nods and thanks her, then turns to Steve.

“I know,” Steve says, putting on a brave smile. “I’ll wait here.”

“Baby.” Bucky steps close, pulling him into his arms. Steve’s physically just a little bigger than him, and Bucky has always liked the novelty of that. He kisses him gently and then rests their foreheads together for a moment, letting Steve feel their connection. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You’re the best thing I could ever hope for, you know that?”

Steve’s smile is more natural, now. “Yeah I know it.” He gives Bucky another kiss and stands back. “Hey, what about this?” He knocks on Bucky’s shoulder—the metal one. “She know about that?”

Bucky realizes that he’s not wearing his glove, and tries to remember if he’d had it on at the café. He frowns. “Oh well. I don’t think that’s going to be her main focus, not after I explain everything to her.”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a light push. “I Love you. Now on and get the hard part over with. I’ll be here when you need me.”

Bucky nods. He knows he will. He goes back to the check in desk, one last question on his mind. “Is there a food court or something around here?”

Mary

Mary’s taken a break from saying pissy things to the cop who’s guarding her. She’s been so angry, she’s felt like her skin’s boiling. But now she’s starting to get tired, too. She hadn’t slept last night, just stayed up and gabbed on the phone to that crisis counselor.

She grits her teeth as she fumes about that, feeling betrayed all over again. That bitch had called the cops on her!

“You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

Liar!

“I hope you know I don’t have insurance,” Mary snaps at the officer. He’s sitting in a chair in her little curtained off area. He regards her coolly, saying nothing, and she jerks her head to indicate the emergency room. “And I’m not paying a single red cent for any of this.” So far, they’ve taken her blood, her pulse, an EKG, and sent in nurses, a resident, and several shrinks. They’d tried to put an IV in her but she’d ripped it out as soon as nobody was looking. “I’m suing the hospital,” she adds. “And you. I’m suing the whole police department.”

“Okay,” Santiago says, annoyingly calm.

Mary growls, rattling her hand where it’s cuffed to the bed rail. “This is unconstitutional!”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and then the curtain to their area is being pulled aside. Mary’s eyes go wide when she sees who it is. “You?!”

Bucky smiles politely at her. “Me.” He steps into the curtained room, a little snack bag in his hand. He holds it up to show her, and she sees the Hostess logo. It’s a bag of little … sponge cake pastries. “Best I could do on such short notice. They’re for you, if you behave,” he says, talking to her like a pet being offered a treat.

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Pass. D’you even know all the chemicals they put in those things?”

Bucky shrugs and turns to offer them to officer Santiago, who more than happily accepts. Mary pouts as she watches him rip open the bag and stuff one in his mouth.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

She turns her attention to Bucky and scowls at the way he uses her name like he knows her. “Awful,” she says. She jerks her head at Santiago. “Officer Dickwad over here won’t let me have my phone.”

“Language,” Santiago says dispassionately, through a mouthful of cake.

“Shut up and eat your fucking donut, Rent’a’cop.”

Bucky

He puts his foot down once she starts flinging curses and insults at the officer. As a paramedic, Steve is always in and out of emergency rooms, often working in coordination with law enforcement to deal with uncooperative patients. So Bucky knows just how much drama and belligerence these guys have to deal with on the regular.

“Hey,” he says sternly. “Don’t disrespect him. He’s just doing his job.” He’s not mean about it, but it’s verging on what Steve likes to call his “Dom” voice, and Bucky can see how it affects Mary. She freezes up, all of her focus on him. For a few seconds, she even forgets to be angry. Bucky takes the opportunity to step close to the bed. He eyes where she’s cuffed to the rail. “Mary,” he says gently. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she growls. “They just showed up and threw me in a cop car! Didn’t even give me a choice!”

Bucky reaches out and places his hand atop her cuffed wrist. It’s his metal hand. Her eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn’t pull away. “I know,” Bucky says. “And I’m sorry it happened that way. But do you understand why people were concerned for your safety?”

Her face tenses up as she tries to hold back some emotion (something tells Bucky it isn’t anger, this time). “They called the cops,” she pouts. “They lied to me.”

“They did,” Bucky agrees, wanting to placate her. “But you were hurting yourself, honey. And you were talking about doing worse, weren’t you?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead staring at where he’s holding her wrist. “I … I talked about a lot of things,” she mumbles. “It was just talk. I don't even remember half of it. I didn’t … I wasn’t really gonna do anything.”

“Can you show me where you hurt yourself?” Bucky asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I want to see how bad it is.”

Mary shivers, shaking her head sadly. Her hair is loose and hanging messy around her face, so Bucky reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. He hears her give a quiet, shaky inhale. “Come on now,” he coaxes. “Let me see.”

For a long moment, it seems like she won’t obey, but then her shoulders sink down and she takes a deep breath and lets it out, whispering a tiny little. “... kay,” as her hands creep down to take hold of the tee shirt she’s wearing. It’s extra large, going all the way to her knees, and it’s all she’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t know if the police brought her in that way, or if it’s something the hospital gave her to put on after being examined, but either way, he schools his expression as she edges the tee shirt up her leg, higher and higher, until it becomes apparent that she is wearing underwear, and she’s bared her hip to him.

Cutting, then.

Bucky looks her over, not as upset by the fresh cuts so much as the old ones. They litter the skin of her upper thigh and hip—some so old they’re scars, some still in various stages of healing. Bucky forces himself not to touch, even though his brain is screaming at him to fix fix fix! There’s nothing here that can be fixed easily—certainly not with a bandaid. Bucky takes a moment to calm himself down before he asks, “How long have you been doing this, honey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. She shoves the tee shirt back down and meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Moment of truth, Bucky thinks. “The police called me. They got my number from your phone. They wanted to call your Dom to come get you.”

She frowns, looking confused. “But … you’re not—”

“Officer Santiago,” Bucky says quickly, cutting her off. “Could you give us a moment alone please?”

“Sure.” Santiago gets up and takes his bag of cakes with him. “Just a couple’a minutes,” he warns, then steps outside the curtain and pulls it shut. Bucky can see as his shoes walk away.

“You told them you were my Dom?!” Mary hisses.

Bucky looks at her sternly. “No. They assumed I was. You had me in your phone.”

“I … I did?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you did.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” she huffs. “I’m not even submissive.”

“I think you know that’s not true,” Bucky says. He reaches up and gathers her hair back in one fist and pulls—gently, just enough to put the barest of pressure on her scalp—forcing her to raise her chin. She visibly reacts to it, softening into his grip, eyes slipping closed and features going slack. “You like that,” Bucky says, making it a statement rather than a question, because it’s obvious she does.

Her eyes open slowly. “S’nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He releases her hair, cupping the back of her neck instead. He grips her firmly in his hand, and this time she nearly moans, lips parting and the sound coming out before she can fully stifle it. Bucky’s mouth curls and he hums. “And that? Is that ‘nothing’ too?”

“Please.” She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact, which is typical. There’s a little pinch between her eyebrows that’s so sweet and needy, Bucky wants to kiss it. It makes her look like she might cry, and that thrills him too. “Please,” she whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

“You’re not going home, Honey,” he tells her, keeping the grip on her neck steady and petting at her hair with his other hand. She’s going down a little, likely so easily because of the alcohol in her system, because of how deprived she’s been until now. She whines a little at his words and he shushes her. “They won’t let you. You’re either gonna have to let me take you, or else stay here in the hospital, in the psych ward.”

Mary whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I know. I don’t want that for you either, but you have to make the choice. If you want to leave here, then you have to sign the paperwork that gives me custody of you.” He tilts her chin up. “Look at me now, Honey.” She’s sluggish, so it takes a second, but her eyes come up as she obeys. They’re a little glossy, pupils blown wide, and Bucky gives her neck an encouraging squeeze. “Good girl,” he praises.

She practically melts at hearing that. “Please …” she says again.

Bucky would bet money that she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. He does, though. He knows down to the marrow of his bones what a ‘please’ like that means. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll take care of you. I will.” He bends and pecks a kiss to her forehead, then steps away. She makes a weak noise of protest and he shushes her.

“I’m just gonna go get officer Santiago back. … And my husband, Steve.”

She blinks at the word ‘husband’. “Steve?” she repeats, shoulders shrinking as she pulls into herself. “But—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky promises. “He’s a very nice man. You’ll like him.”

Mary looks unsure. Bucky’s glad she’s down, otherwise he’s fairly certain she’d be arguing by now, maybe even pitching a fit and cursing. Instead, what comes out of her mouth is a hesitant little, “... He’s like you?”

“No. No he’s not designated. He’s—”

“Normal.” She says it so sadly, sounds so demoralized. Bucky has to fight the urge to correct her, to give her a speech about how, ‘just because they’re designated, it doesn’t make them abnormal’. He bites his tongue. What’s more important right now is that she’s making progress in accepting the reality that she’s almost certainly submissive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s not like us. But I wanted him to come in here and meet you. Do you think you can do that for me, Sweetie?” The pet names come naturally, are a part of his dynamic as a Dom, and Bucky can tell that she responds favorably to them. “Hm? Answer me, Mary.”

(And of course, the use of her name gets instant attention and obedience.)

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

He smiles and gives her a heartfelt, “Good girl,” wanting to show her that he’s pleased, that she’s doing well. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve

Steve is equal parts excited and nervous to meet the woman Bucky has found, the woman they’re going to be taking care of. … Maybe more, if things work out.

He holds Bucky’s hand as he’s led back to where the emergency room beds are. Bucky draws back the curtain and Steve sees the cop sitting there, looking bored, … and her.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Hey.”

She’s pretty—which is saying a lot, because that’s Steve’s first thought, despite the state of her. She’s got goo gobs of dark eye makeup that it looks like she put on once she was already drunk, and by now it’s been smeared to kingdom come by tears and her own hands. Her hair sits messy and unbrushed around her shoulders, and her eyes are glazed and tired from a high that’s probably going to wear off soon and leave her looking even more exhausted than she already does.

“Hey,” Steve says, eyes flicking up and down her body where she’s sitting on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but a big tee shirt, and Steve allows himself one glance down at her shapely legs, then resolutely keeps his eyes trained upwards. She’s a disheveled mess, but even like that, Steve can see how she drew Bucky’s attention, that day in the café.

“Hi,” Mary says.

Steve smiles hopefully. By his side, Bucky squeezes his hand in encouragement, and offers, “Mary, this is Steve, my husband.”

Steve watches her face, curious to know what she thinks of Bucky being married. He’s expecting displeasure maybe, imagining that a submissive would feel jealous or upset, if their prospective Dom was already attached to someone else.

But she seems to stay calm, sitting there and taking Steve in with slow blinks, even looking a little bit shy herself. “... You’re big,” she eventually says. “I thought you’d be smaller than him.”

Steve grins and he hears Bucky’s scoffed, “Size has nothing to do with our dynamic.”

Steve knows he’s got half an inch on Bucky, more muscle mass too, but he’s never felt bigger than his husband. Bucky’s personality, his dominance, is larger than Steve.

Mary’s still staring at him, a thoughtful little pinch between her eyebrows. Steve waits in expectation of a question, but none comes. “What?” he asks. He pulls up the room’s extra plastic chair and sits close to the bed, offering her his hand. He’s surprised when she takes it. Steve stares thoughtfully at his hand as she drags her fingers over his fingers, his palm, still not saying anything. He looks over at Bucky, concerned. “Did they give her drugs?”

Thankfully, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s down,” he explains.

Oh. Okay. That’d explain her calm affect. Steve had come in here halfway expecting a screaming hellcat. He hadn’t expected this. He turns back to Mary, giving her a friendly look. “Did you have questions you wanted to ask me?”

She bites her lip, clearly working something out in her head. “Bucky said you two have a ‘dynamic’.”

“He did.”

“But he said you’re normal.”

Steve’s lips thin once he figures out what she means. “We’re all normal,” he scolds. “But no, I don’t have ‘Dominant or Submissive Personality Disorder’, if that’s what you mean.” He puts sarcastic quotes around words to clearly convey his distaste for the classification. He wants her to know how ridiculous he finds it.

“Babe,” Bucky warns quietly from behind. “We’re not getting political right now, okay? Just focus on her, on what we have to do.”

“Right, sorry.” He knows that Bucky’s right, so he tries again, telling Mary, “I’m ‘normal’, but Bucky and I still have a very intimate relationship together. We’re husbands. So yeah, we’ve developed our own dynamic. When I’m with him I tend to follow his lead, so to speak.” He smiles and shrugs. “It works for us.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking this new information over. There’s a slowness to her, a dreaminess in her expressions and her reactions.Steve figures it’s a combination of her being down, and not being sober. In fact, he can smell the vodka leaking out of her pores. It’s actually pretty horrible. “So does that make sense?” he prods her gently. “Mary?”

“… Yeah, I think so.” She eyes him up and down, looking back and forth between him and Bucky. “What will you do?” she asks Steve. She blushes a little from asking the question, so he deduces that she’s asking what he’ll do with her; what their dynamic together will be, outside of her and Bucky.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, because that’s all he knows for sure, and he wants her to feel safe. Steve knows that it’s absolutely crucial for this woman to feel safe right now, if they’re going to take her home with them. “Bucky and I both will.” He holds her hand—the one that isn’t cuffed to the bed—enveloping it between his. “It’ll be much better than staying here,” he promises. “You’ll be so safe. And much happier.”

Mary’s body draws in, seems to actually get smaller as she pulls back into herself. “I’m never happy,” she says mournfully. It hurts Steve’s heart to see it, so he knows it must be killing Bucky, given his overly protective instincts. Steve glances over at him. “Babe?”

Bucky has a clipboard full of papers, which Steve knows must be the custody orders. “Here, Honey,” he tells Mary, handing her the clipboard and the pen. “This is what you have to sign to be able to come home with us.”

It kind of bothers Steve that Bucky doesn’t encourage her to read through the documents more thoroughly, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows they have only the best intentions for her. She’ll be safe with them. He watches as she signs her signature in the places Bucky points out, trying to scan some of the fine print as she goes. Anxiety is written across her face and she starts to bite at the chapped skin on her bottom lip. “But, um … what if I’m not what you think?” she worried, not looking at either of them.

Bucky pets her hair and reassures her. “You are, sweetheart. Trust me. And we’re gonna take you to a therapist anyway, to get an official diagnosis.”

Normally Steve would be scoffing at the word “diagnosis,” but he’s too busy watching the two of them together. There’s a strange feeling in his gut, at seeing his husband touch Mary like that, at hearing him call her pet names and calmly take control of her. Steve’s never seen Bucky dom another person before, and he … he kind of doesn’t hate it. In fact, it’s actually making him feel all the more attracted to Bucky, and curious about Mary. Like he wants to help, wants to get to know her.

She signs the rest of the documents without making a fuss, so Steve figures he’ll be getting that chance.

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bitchiswild · 4 months

Text

Us Against The World

Rosé x F! Reader Word Count:887 Warnings:none A/n:i need more music from Blackpink Requested

You and Rosie have been in a relationship for over two years now. Both of you are former members of the immensely popular girl groups Blackpink and Twice. Lately, fans have started to piece things together and are slowly realizing the depth of your connection, wondering if you're more than just close friends but actual lovers.

The suspicions among fans began to arise due to the amount of time you and Rosie spent together. Whether it's days spent in each other's company or those instances when one of you goes live on social media, the other always seems to be present in the background, fueling conspiracies and speculations.

"Here we go again," you remarked to your girlfriend as you scrolled through Twitter, encountering numerous posts speculating about your relationship. Chaeyoung glanced over, leaning in closer to take a look. "Should we just tell them?" she pondered.

You shook your head. "Nah, I think it's kind of amusing. Let's see if they can piece it together. Besides, we're not exactly hiding our relationship; they just can't figure out if we're friends or lovers," you said with a chuckle.

Chaeyoung chuckled along with you. "You're right. Let's post another picture on Instagram, something similar, and use similar captions. That'll definitely stir up some commotion," she said with a mischievous smile, reaching for her phone to find the perfect photo.

After exchanging mischievous grins, you and Chaeyoung decided on the perfect photo and crafted matching captions for your Instagram posts. The images were almost identical, capturing a candid moment of the two of you laughing together, bathed in golden sunlight. The captions were cryptic yet playful, leaving fans guessing about the true nature of your relationship.

Within moments of posting, your notifications exploded with activity. Fans immediately began dissecting every detail of the photos and captions, drawing comparisons and analyzing potential hidden meanings. The comments section quickly filled with a mix of excitement, confusion, and wild speculation.

"OMG, are they hinting at something?!" one fan exclaimed, while another wrote, "They're definitely more than just friends, look at the way they're looking at each other!" The similarities between your posts only fueled the frenzy, with fans sharing screenshots side by side, pointing out every tiny similarity and difference.

As the posts gained traction, your Instagram feeds became flooded with reactions from fans across the globe. Some were convinced that you and Chaeyoung were indeed a couple, while others argued that you were simply close friends and nothing more. The debate raged on, intensifying with each new comment and share.

Through it all, you and Chaeyoung watched the chaos unfold with amusement, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle you had created. It was a testament to the power of social media and the fervent dedication of your fans, whose imaginations ran wild as they tried to unravel the mystery of your relationship.

The day your relationship was inadvertently exposed was one for the books, filled with unexpected twists and turns that left you and Rosie both amused and slightly stunned. It happened in the picturesque city of Paris, where you were attending a prestigious fashion show as ambassadors for YSL.

What started as a quiet, romantic date that Rosie had planned turned into a whirlwind of events when an eagle-eyed fan spotted the two of you together. They followed discreetly, capturing candid moments on camera, but things took a surprising turn when they caught you and Rosie stealing a sweet kiss amidst the Parisian charm.

The fan wasted no time in sharing the incriminating evidence on Twitter, setting off a chain reaction that sent shockwaves through social media and beyond. The photos and videos quickly went viral, sparking a frenzy of speculation and discussion among fans and even grabbing the attention of local news outlets.

In the midst of the swirling emotions and intense scrutiny that followed the exposure of your relationship, you and Rosie found solace in each other's presence. As you retreated to the privacy of your shared space, the weight of the world seemed to lift off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of calm and reassurance.

"I can't believe how crazy things have gotten," Rosie remarked, her voice tinged with disbelief as she scrolled through the endless stream of comments on her phone.

You nodded in agreement, wrapping your arms around her in a comforting embrace. "I know, it's overwhelming. But we'll get through this together," you reassured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Despite the mixed reactions from fans and the media, you and Rosie remained steadfast in your commitment to each other. As you navigated the tumultuous waters of public scrutiny, you found strength in each other's unwavering support and love.

"It's like a rollercoaster ride," Rosie mused, a hint of amusement in her voice as she leaned into your embrace.

You chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. "Yeah, but at least we're in it together," you replied, smiling warmly at her.

In the face of adversity, your bond with Rosie only grew stronger, a beacon of light guiding you through the darkest of times. And as you weathered the storm of mixed emotions together, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have each other's backs. It was the two of you against the world.

#bitchiswild #BIW.WRITES #park chaeyoung x reader #blackpink chaeyoung #chaeyoung x reader #park chaeyoung #roseanne park x reader #rosé x reader #blackpink rosé #roseanne park #blackpink imagines #blackpink fanfiction #blackpink #blackpink x fem reader #blackpink x reader

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