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hedgewitchh · 3 months

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growing pains are an interesting thing to consider, especially since i've always been a bit of a late bloomer. and i don't mean the literal kind necessarily, moreso the emotional and social sides. sure, the first puberty results in a ton of new physical sensations and shifts, but you can also see a grander sense of self arise as well. except middle schoolers don't quite have the practice at being a capital p Person yet that comes from years of having this social awareness under their belts. so they're bumbling, awkward, brash, shy, and so on.

i am going to do my best not to ramble too much. each time i go to start a new sentence i think of three things i want to say simultaneously and its resulted in a number of meandering paragraphs with no purpose (like this one ;p). i trust anyone who reads this (if anyone even does (not that it really matters)) to be able to do so without my millions upon millions of disclaimers and elaborations and vain efforts to contain the entire scope of my thoughts as well as their infinite addendums that strive to acknowledge the depth of discussion that i am not engaging with, because if i didn't allow myself to just fucking say the thing i would be here typing until the heat death of the universe. holy fucking shit dude that's all only three sentences. physically restraining myself from deleting that entire post-intro preamble and MOVING ON

so. i was a late bloomer. i've always struggled with this. the people around me seem to move through life at a pace i'm not quite capable of. i remember anxiously waiting for hair to finally start growing on my body years after my friends had fallen prey to voice cracks and gangly growth spurts. between this and my short and scrawny body i've always had a bit of a complex about my masculinity. it felt like something that others found very natural and yet i was constantly having to work to maintain mine. i once got very upset at a girlfriend who would not stop calling me cute. i wanted to be handsome, i wanted to be hot, i wanted to be desirable and respected as a Man. cuteness reeked of femininity and emasculation, of a debasement that felt awfully validating of my inkling that my grasp on manhood was tenuous at best. it's bad enough to think it, but now other people thought it too, and worse, they Liked it

as i got older i approached this issue by carving out a niche into masculinity that felt more comfortable for me, as opposed to trying to live up to an ideal that i didn't fit into. i began taking pride in looking bad. i grew out my facial hair despite being very aware that it was sparse and scraggly and unseemly, clad myself in garish, loud and clashing clothing, and played up my voice cracks for comedy. being me became a comedy performance, and it was around then that i think my fixation on finding social acceptance through humor really blossomed. i found that if i discarded my shame and made myself a spectacle purposefully, it became a kind of confidence that many people were attracted to.

this isn't to say that i didn't find genuine happiness in these things, whatever "genuine" means in this context. making people laugh made me very happy! it's satisfying, and almost nothing on this earth compares to a strong audience reaction to a piece that is honed as closely to perfection as possible. i took to theater like a fish to water because i think that i carried that infamous fourth wall with me anywhere i went. i was content to plop it down wherever and whenever i felt and make myself into a kind of show. behold!! an iconographic class clown, the ever-watched ADHD wonderboy! David himself is democratically constructed in the purest fashion! go ahead dear audience member, cast your vote with nothing but a laugh, and see as your pleasure becomes flesh manifest.

i'm getting pretentious. i'll back off it a little. the point is that i've spent a very long time struggling incredibly hard to figure out who the fuck i even am. i am obsessed no longer with an ideal of masculinity for my fixation is now one on an ideal of the self. as i say that i think that they are the same hunt, merely with different labels. it just so happens that i've found masculinity no longer essential to defining who i am as a person.

my egg cracking feels very similar to that middle school awkwardness. i can see in my younger brother, who is about that age now where he has begun to conceptualize the world in firmer terms than however the fuck a four year old does it. i watch him fumble about and play at a burgeoning sense of style (inspired by the perceived men around him, including me, funnily enough. i've lent him shirts and accessories of mine a number of times now) as well as dig deeper into what he wants out of life at large. his future career is no longer a mild dream but a goal to be worked towards, and with that comes both self-actualization and the growing need to define a goal to fulfill.

i also am going through the hell of puberty once again, even though the hormones haven't come yet (working on that though, fingers crossed on my HRT consultation going well and my anxiety not making me shit myself to death about it all). but even then, isn't that the norm for me? to experience that social awakening and then have to wait for my body to catch up? i'm a bit of an old hand at this song and dance, which one would hope means i'm more adept at it than otherwise. that doesn't really seem to be the case, however, hence the growing pains in question. i've become once more painfully conscious of my body and voice and self and expression and the way that the world interprets all of that and paints a picture of me in response.

it's.... harder now, even. maybe that thought is born of the distance between the me now and the me who yearned to be a proper Man, but in this case i am striving to break out of both that masculine box and the box that i've constructed myself independently to cope with it. there's a russian doll of eggs to crack here and they only become more intimate and raw and tender as i make more progress. instead of this threshold crossing becoming one in which discomfort is assuaged by the crafting of a persona, it is one in which i escape the comfort of falsehood and attempt to come down from my stage and be "me". how terrifying! what does that even mean!

there's a concern in the back of my mind now. one that wonders if chasing femininity now is not just another side step into a box. even now, on the eve of being twenty years old, i have not really figured out what it means to be content or happy with something. it's hard for me to conceptualize joy and to recognize it as it happens. or perhaps i can recognize it, but acknowledging it is what is hard. because it is true and real and things that are true and real are a little foreign to me. i'm making strides to remove the performative filter and in doing so exposing myself to a world of sensations, and well, it's overwhelming.

it would be easier to stop. it would be easier to sink back into this role and play the part of David the Man.

but just as much as i hope becoming Lily will be "good" for me, i must consider that remaining David will be "bad".

it's aggravating that there is no real way to quantify this, but that's just sort of how the cookie crumbles i guess.

but for now i am Lily. my name is Lily. my friends and family all call me Lily. i am a girl, even if i don't look the part yet, even if the painting that the world constructs based on the input i give it contradicts this idea. because that painting has always been wrong anyways. it's always been subject to my own manipulations and i am well within my power to separate my Self from it, because that's how it's always been anyways.

#lilys journal #who needs therapy when you've discovered the epic highs and lows of spilling your guts on tumblr dot com

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metize · 3 years

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Behave.

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Yagami Light/Reader Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, Praise Kink, Yagami Light is Kira, L is reader's brother, but no one's supposed to know, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Blackmail, Coercion, Sexual Coercion, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, 'good girl's, AFAB reader - Freeform, Misogyny, Workplace Sex, Desk Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, this is filthy, I'm so sorry, Manipulation, Top Yagami Light, Jealousy

A/N: Filth! Absolute dirt! I'm the Trash Man! I come out, I throw trash all over AO3, and then I start eating garbage! Enjoy.

"You seem to get along very well with L."

You could practically feel your heart stop when Light said that. You felt so stupid, of course, this guy would figure it out. You tried your best to look unfazed while you panicked on the inside. The black-haired detective and you were trying to keep it a secret from the task force that you were siblings. You cursed Ryuzaki internally, he had been acting kind of protective towards you and it was bound to raise suspicion.

“You think so? I’ve just been trying to be on good terms with everyone.” You deflected.

The investigation room was empty save for the two of you, there was a single monitor showing the news broadcast reporting on the most recent Kira murder. You focused back on the files you were sorting through. Your older brother never cared much for organizing and that drove you mad. You glanced in Light’s direction again, he was staring at you, his gaze sent shivers down your spine, you just forced an awkward smile.

"Did you let him fuck you yet?" He deadpanned.

"W-What the fuck? Of course not!" You answered abruptly. You were offended that Light would even ask something like that. The crude way he said it too, made you blush in embarrassment. You found it weird he'd say something like that, usually Light was nothing short of a gentleman when addressing you.

"Don't get coy all of a sudden. Just admit you two are fucking already." He sounded annoyed now. He got up and got closer to your desk, his eyes never leaving yours. You sometimes felt intimidated in his presence, now in the middle of the night, alone with him towering over you, this feeling increased tenfold.

"T-that's disgusting! Why are you even saying that? We're just… we're just friends, coworkers who get along, whatever!" You started to crack under the pressure.

Light brows furrowed for a second and then his eyes widened in revelation. A grin formed on his face and he burst into laughter like he had finally gotten the punchline to a joke. His laughter was scary, loud and almost maniacal. You didn't know how to react exactly so you looked at him nervously and confused.

Did he believe you? Did he find the misunderstanding funny? Was that it? You hoped that was it. You offered a weak smile as his laughter died down.

"I was so caught up in this… obsession… this feeling of jealousy… ah. It was obvious all along. You're siblings. Siblings!" He shook his head smiling "This is pathetic. You're becoming such a nuisance with your distraction."

He figured it out, of course it had only been a matter of time. But that realization took way too long for his liking. He was blinded by the rage of the idea of L having you and he didn't stop to consider any other possibilities.

"Excuse me? I didn't-" You got up and started to retort his rude comment.

"Shut the fuck up." And you did so out of shock. Light wasn't like this normally, he was relatively courteous and nice. Why was he so… brutish all of a sudden? He smiled at your obedience. "Good girl."

The praise felt so dirty, you frowned at him. Being infantilized was something you were used to dealing with in the workplace, being surrounded by older men. But Light was pretty much your age, what was he thinking?

You didn't have time to wonder because the man grabbed your collar and pulled you into a kiss.

You tried to push him away instinctively and ask what the fuck he was doing, but Light grabbed your wrists. He held them so tightly it almost marked your skin. Your lips were still closed so he bit them to make you part them. He kissed you aggressively as if he was punishing you for something. his tongue entered your mouth deepening the kiss and claiming your mouth for himself.

He tasted like coffee and sin.

"God, and I thought fucking L's girlfriend was a good idea, this is way better." He sounded extremely amused. "I wonder how is he going to react when he finds out I fucked his pretty little sister?"

Ryuzaki had always had a bad feeling about Light, he mentioned you should be careful around him, you knew all that and here you were. You thought he was being overprotective, to be fair Light wasn't the first guy L had a bad feeling about.

Light's hand was now caressing your hair, smiling content with your current predicament and very proud of himself.

"We… w-we can't." You tried to come up with an excuse. "We work together, so it would be-"

"I am Kira."

You heart stopped when you heard those words. Everything started connections in your head, every lead, every tip, every death. You still had many questions, some things didn't make sense, but as you stood there looking at that man's face it was clear that he wasn't joking.

"W-why are you… telling me this?" You tried to back away slowly. You could hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

"Because I feel like keeping you to myself." He smiled sinisterly, every step back you took he stepped forward to approach you again "I was contemplating killing you after pounding your cunt, but I told myself I deserved a little treat."

Hearing him talking about murdering you in cold blood activated your flight instinct immediately. You turned away and rushed towards the door, but as soon as you tried to twist the doorknob and open the door, it was locked. You twisted the knob again and again, desperately trying to unlock it with sheer willpower.

“Stop that, you’re smarter than this.” You heard his voice right against your ear, his hands now grabbing your waist and caressing you through the fabric of your blouse. “There’s only one way you leave this room” he placed a kiss on your neck and you shivered despite yourself “with my cum leaking down your thighs” he grabbed your throat suddenly “and invisibly leashed to me, like a good little pet.”

You were shaking, incredibly aware of Light's bulge pressing against your ass, one hand toying with the hem of your shirt and the other still holding your neck possessively.

"Are we clear, pet?"

You felt his grip tighten a bit so you just quickly nodded your head. It showed to be the wrong answer, because you were punished with a sharp swat to your ass.

"Use your damn words, there's a reason I chose not to gag you." He grabbed your face, forcing you to make eye contact with him. "Say 'Yes, master'."

He was a sick fuck. You wanted to scream at him and call him exactly that. You wanted to push him away and go home already. But god damn it, you wanted to survive this.

"Yes… m-master."

He smiled at your obedience and his grin made you sick to your stomach. He placed a kiss on your temple and pat your hair gently.

"There you go, good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He turned you around quickly and pushed your back against the door. His mouth was on yours again, his hands slipped under your shirt and you shivered feeling his cold touch on your skin. The fabric was restraining his hands so he grew frustrated and started to undress you at once.

"Y-you don't… have to do this, Light. I promise I won't tell anyone, just let me go and-"

"Don't waste your breath. You'll need it when I get to choke you properly…" he answered simply, amused by your perseverance, all the while looking forward to breaking it. "I want to fuck you, so I'm going to do it. I have the whole world in my hands and it's not a little pet that's going to deny me what I want. Understood?"

He tossed your shirt on the floor and started pulling your pencil skirt up. He glared at you for not answering and you promptly spoke up.

"Understood."

He smirked. You felt his fingers trace your slit over your panties, you shuddered and instinctively tried to move away.

"Don't fucking move." His other hand grabbed your waist holding you in place. His tone was harsh and you were so fucking scared.

"Sorry"

"I'm sure you are… Good girl, at least you have manners." He chuckled at that. "Not that your decency matters, look how wet you are for your master…"

He stroked the wet fabric to emphasize his point and you tried to hold back a moan, but it was useless. It felt good, of course it felt good. Light was a hot guy, he obviously knew his way around someone's body and you were only human. His lips captured yours again and he kept playing with your clothed sex as you made out. You could swear you were going insane, the pleasure of his hands on you was intoxicating and his mouth on yours had you gasping for air.

"Get on your knees. Now."

You needed to survive this, you needed to be useful to him. The way he ordered you around did excite you but you needed to stay focused. You were not supposed to feel good, you were supposed to find a way out of this situation.

For now that meant kneeling before Light as he pulled out his cock for you.

You gulped as you eyed him, of course Light Yagami had a big dick, you had to have suspected it. But now you had to give him head and you knew very well he wasn't going to go easy on you. He saw your hesitation and scoffed in amusement.

"Go ahead pet, you want to prove to me you're worth keeping around don't you?" He smiled devilishly at you.

"Yes, master." You murmured and licked your lips. You could do this. And, in a weird way, you kind of wanted to do this, you wanted him to praise you more, to call you a good girl again… you repressed the thought. This is disgusting, Light is disgusting and a murderer. You were strong you won’t fall for his games.

You grabbed his cock by its base and started to gently suck the tip. You looked up at him before taking the whole shaft into your mouth. You sucked him off to the best of your, limited, abilities, trying to get him deeper with each bob of your head. Maybe if he came in your mouth he wouldn’t touch you further, maybe he’d let you go.

Your hopeful thoughts are interrupted by the man’s hand grabbing your hair forcefully, you looked at him and he was grinning like the maniac he was.

“Sit still, let me use your throat a little bit.” His voice was unshaken. You felt a bit annoyed he didn’t seem phased by your efforts. You didn’t have time to dwindle on that feeling because Light was grabbing your face and fucking your mouth as soon as he finished his phrase.

His pace was unrelenting and you felt your spit dribbling down your chin, you tried to breathe in small intervals and you could see him laugh at your predicament. You felt rage but he slowed down his thrusts and started petting your head. Like a kid. Like a pet.

“That’s a good girl, such an obedient little pet…” he breathed and pulled out “Bend over your desk for me.”

Fuck. You were out of breath, you could only nod and do as he said. You didn’t even think of disobeying his order, he praised you again, you were doing a good job… You got up and rested your torso on the desk. He was going to fuck you. Light was Kira and he was blackmailing you into submission. This was an absolute nightmare. So why the fuck were you so turned on?

“You know where you belong, don’t you, pet?” You felt his presence behind you and he pulled down your panties. “Not above anyone, not next to your brother… Not even by my side.” He pulled your hair and you yelped despite yourself “You belong under me.”

He entered you forcefully and you couldn’t help but moan loudly at the intrusion, he didn’t prepare you with his fingers, he didn’t touch you properly at all, it hurt and he knew. But he didn’t give a fuck.

“You should be grateful to your master, whore.” His hand reached around your neck his grip making you gasp. “Tell me you can be obedient.”

“I can!” You cried and you felt his other hand reach between your legs to press your sensitive bud.

“You think you can be useful? Do you think you deserve to live to serve your master?” His thrusts were getting harsher and he groaned “Do you?!”

“Yes, master, please, master!” You begged. To cum, to live, anything. Light held your life in his hands and you were so scared, but so turned on.

“You better....” He grunted and kept on rubbing your clit “I fucking own you. I’m going to cum inside you, going to make you my breeding bitch.”

Oh no. That wasn’t good. That was a bad idea.

“N-no… please not inside” You heard him laugh at your resistance.

“Then tell me… tell me his name.” His name? Fuck. Ryuzaki.

You couldn’t tell him his name. Was he going to kill you if you didn’t? You couldn’t do it. You sobbed and grasped his arm in fear.

“No, I can’t, I can’t!” You cried out shaking your head. The pleasure was overwhelming and you came on his fingers screaming. “I can’t! Ah!”

You saw stars, Light never stopped pounding you as he laughed maniacally at your desperation.

“Know your fucking place… useless cunt.... Fuck-” His laughter died down and he pulled you closer as he came inside you.

You felt his spent dripping down your pussy, you trembled both from the orgasm and from fear of what came next. Light pulled out and turned you around, smiling amused at your scared face.

“Don’t worry, pet, of course I wasn’t counting on a dumb slut like you telling me this information…” He pat your head and you stood there with tears rolling down your face “You’re beneath me, I don’t need you, I don’t need your help. I’ll find out eventually.” He chuckled and wiped away your tears “But I do know your name. So you better behave.” He kissed your forehead. “Won’t you, pet?”

#smut fic #x reader #light yagami x reader #light yagami x y/n #light yagami x you #light yagami smut #light yagami imagine #light yagami headcanons

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dervampireprince · 2 years

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Waking up to this has been, uh, A Lot 😳 I may have had to reread it at least three times, I'm just, WOW.

Also, do whatever feels comfortable to you as a dom, darling prince. I am aware that I do not need that reassurance until the scene is over unless it's something especially taxing, but the Dom's comfort is as important as the Sub's, so, truly, whatever you need to feel at ease, it doesn't ruin the mood at all, it is incredibly sweet 💕

The relief I feel when I finish in your boot is infinite, my liege, I can feel it soaking into my underwear, my hips stuttering when my clit finally finds that spot in the curve that turns me into a trembling whimpering mess. When I look down and feel my spend, trickling down the sides, my first impulse is to hide my face, it'd feel so shameful to defile my lord's shoe like this, even if he asked for it.

Do I get to suck your cock after this, sir? Do I get to taste you before you make me lay down, or do you feel me grind against your boot when you're about to pull it out from under me? Do you see my blooming cheeks and my rosy hard nipples, crowning my breasts as I try not to think about it?

"Please, my lord, please," I'd try to babble, even if the words probably come wrong, and little hiccoughs would try to gag my way. "I just want to be good for you, sir. Your weapon, your shield, your cape, even, fuck, uh, even your knightly fucktoy for you to use however you please."

The moment you reached for my sword I'd immediately know what was to come, my hips stuttering under your watchful gaze, parting just enough for you to see my already wet and twitching cunt. Your words would make my blush deepen, sir, eyes fixed on the very familiar hilt I have held in my hands so very many times.

"Fuck, my lord, please. I implore you, whatever you feel necessary to make this knight worthy of you again. I, ah, fuck—make me cover my blade with that same devotion, sir! Make me become the sheath to my companion in battle, until, ah, until I,—oh, fuck, until I my only wish is to get fucked with it again, and again! For every time I hold it I'll be reminded of my rightful master!" 💙

"there's no hiding from me, my sweet knight," i speak softly and slide my fingers around your chin, pushing you back slightly so i can take a good peak down at the state of my boot. "perhaps i could let you suck my cock after you clean up the mess you've made."

would you willing to do that? are you that desperate to be able to get my cock in your mouth? such a precious thing. of course i'd let you suck my cock, i'd hardly be able to refuse. not even stripping off, just pulling my trousers and undergarments down my hips and thighs just enough for you to be able to get your mouth on me. keeping you there until i come or until i've had enough.

i pull my trousers pack up as you lay down on the bed. i must keep myself looking presentable and well dressed, mustn't i? lest you forget who's beneath who here.

hearing you beg for this, to have your own sword inside you, the stutter in my breath may betray how much i feel as though the one being taken apart just by looking at you like this. i do love when pretty things beg. i may not be able to resist fucking you with it until you come for a second time, gushing over your hilt.

if you're too out of it to help me clean up any further, no matter. let me wipe things down and run my hands through your hair, assuring you of how good you are to me, for me, how i couldn't wish for a more loyal and devoted knight.

and how i'm always up for giving you further training if you feel your devotion is slipping again. maybe next time i'll slip your sword back into you as i slip the cord of one of my toys around your hips, riding you, seeking my own pleasure, waiting to see if you beg me to fuck the sword into you, for me to touch you, for me to ride your face instead of this toy. maybe we'll have to restrain those pesky strong hands. who knows. does any of that sound good to you?

#im so awful i was grinning when i saw how long this ask was #so maybe i can feel proud of myself after all... or at least smug #great youve unlocked the smug emotion #the vampire answers #blue heart anon #royalty kink #regency kink #prince x knight #t4t nsft #nblm nsft #trans nsft #ftm nsft #nsft fantasy #nsft concept #the vampire writes

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ingravinoveritas · 2 years

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Haha so true it’s defo not Michael’s doing that their hasn’t been a good omens kiss yet. Fock that man would have done a lot more than just kiss David on screen if given half the chance. (Also love the cheeky tag ;p- I think the only person that likes being restrained more than Michael is David 😂) Still I recen a kiss scene in season 2 is very likely.

Sometimes I find myself daydreaming about what Michael would have done to/with David on screen if he had the chance. If Neil or Douglas just said, “Do what you feel is right” while filming any given scene in the first season of GO. The thing is, a kiss with Michael is never just a kiss...he conveys as much meaning and emotion with a kiss as he does with a look, or a specific line. And we already know Michael can’t control his feelings around David, so it probably also stands to reason that he wouldn’t be able to control his tongue, either.

Kissing David gently, at first, in the calm, measured way Aziraphale would, then more deeply, tongues meeting as Aziraphale’s feelings for Crowley rise to the surface, in time and beat to the rhythm of Michael’s own heart. Backing up slowly as he lets David press him up against the wall and take control of the kiss, uncertainly at first and then more confidently, the way Crowley would.

Threading one hand in the flaming red hair at the base of David’s neck, his ring-encased pinky finger caressing freckled skin, making David moan into his mouth, hips jerking softly against Michael’s. They go on kissing like that until everyone and everything on set fades away and it’s just them, Aziraphale and Crowley, Michael and David, forever entwined.

(And that’s just for a start, as I don’t think Michael would even come close to stopping there...)

In terms of a kiss being likely in season 2...God, I hope so, Anon. I’ve written previously on my blog about a kiss not being entirely necessary and how it should only happen if it’s right for the characters and that Aziraphale and Crowley can show affection in a myriad of ways while still giving us valid representation of a queer romantic relationship...

I especially want a kiss in season 2 now after seeing OFMD, and knowing how powerful an Aziraphale/Crowley kiss could be and what Michael and David could give us (as detailed above). The chemistry between them is just so strong and they have built such an incredible foundation for the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley that it would almost be a waste not to have a kiss, so I am definitely hoping for one. Fingers crossed...

#anonymous #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #i am also good with them not kissing on screen but kissing off screen instead #i'm just saying #i also agree that David likes to be restrained #how fortunate that these kinky bastards found each other #tell me again that they're not a couple #bless #ineffable lovers #discourse #gif by me

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

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shelter me from winter’s bite

Everyone’s doing a hypothermia fic so I figured I may as well contribute. It’s one of my favorite tropes.

title taken from Brian Czyzyk’s poem “Hoarfrost” (he’s my favorite young queer poet and you should check him out).

tw: hypothermia, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending

---

“Do you always have to be so damnably loud?” Geralt growls, glaring at Jaskier from across the small room.

“My apologies for existing,” the bard snaps back. He’d only been rearranging his pack, looking for something reasonably clean to sleep in while his clothes were laundered by the innkeeper’s lovely wife. “I’ll try to do so more quietly from now on, good sir.”

Geralt huffs out a breath in passive-aggressive annoyance and Jaskier bristles.

“Oh well, then. C’mon witcher, I know you want to say it!”

“Say what?” Geralt asks. His voice is low and threatening. He’s ready to play the game and by god he’s going to win this time.

“It’s practically your motto at this point,” the bard hisses through his teeth, angry and bitter and tired. Geralt sees victory. Sees some peace and quiet on the horizon. “Say it!”

Geralt does as he’s told, like any good witcher would: “Fuck off, bard.”

“There it is!” Jaskier laughs joylessly, throwing up his hands. He pulls on his doublet and boots and heads for the door. “If you want me gone so badly, Geralt, then I will go. I’ll get out of your lovely white hair and leave you to mope in peace.”

“Fucking finally,” the witcher snarls, turning away. He doesn’t see the genuine hurt in Jaskier’s blue eyes as the bard quietly closes the door rather than slamming it. He doesn’t hear the quiet sob that rips its way out of Jaskier’s throat as he stands very still, shocked and suddenly exhausted all the way to his bones. He doesn’t smell the salt of his bard’s tears as he slips silently down the hallway and out into the late autumn night. He doesn’t notice the snow starting to pile up on the windowsill ahead of season.

He’s too busy being a self-flagellating moron to notice any of that.

---

Geralt is woken in the middle of the night by a commotion downstairs. He can hear several loud, panicked heartbeats and one very quiet, very slow heartbeat beneath all of those; it’s achingly familiar but the half-asleep witcher can’t quite call its source to mind. Geralt listens as the innkeeper barks out a series of sharp orders: “Meredith, you get to the kitchen and make some strong black tea! Florence, fetch a pail of warm water and two or three towels from the laundry. Josiah you lazy lout, get into the attic and fetch some blankets! The poor lad has gone blue all over!”

The witcher peers into the hallway and catches the skinny stable hand, Josiah, racing for the attic staircase. “What’s going on?”

“A farmer from the next town over was on his way over to help a friend’s sow give calf and he found-” the lad pauses to suck in a great gulp of air and launches off again “-and he found that friend of yours lying in a snowbank, muttering nonsense and shivering like a leaf. The poor fool didn’t have a cloak on him or anything, just a doublet and walking boots! He’s near-dead!”

Geralt curses and makes for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches the main floor. There are voices coming from the kitchen and he follows them as if in a dream, his feet moving without aid of his conscious mind. “Jaskier? Is it the bard, Jaskier?”

“Are you the great brute what kicked him out?” the innkeeper’s wife asks, crossing her arms over her ample chest and narrowing her eyes. Geralt falters.

“No, he- he left on his own, in a huff.”

“Wonder who could have started the huff,” the woman rolls her eyes. This isn’t about his status as a witcher, Geralt knows; this eye roll was made by a woman who knows a lovers’ quarrel when she sees one. Except that this stupid little spat might have cost Jaskier his life.

“Where is he? May I see him, goodwife?”

The woman points to a table in the corner, which has been cleared of cooking implements and cushioned with a heavy bearskin. Jaskier lies atop the brown fur, his skin frighteningly pale, his lips and fingers tinted a slight blue. Geralt rushes to his side and takes one of the bard’s stiff hands in his own. He brushes a stray lock of brown hair from Jaskier’s forehead and nearly recoils in shock from the temperature of his skin. Even colder than his hands, which are already dangerously frigid. If Jaskier cannot play his lute-

Geralt doesn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. Instead he works on rubbing small, careful circles onto the back of the bard’s hands with his thumbs, warming the skin in tiny increments: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

The bard remains unmoving, heartbeat fluttering weakly, lungs barely drawing breath; Geralt fights back an overwhelming sense of panic, trying to recall whatever training he’d received at Kaer Morhen concerning freezing humans.

“Do you mind if I take him upstairs and tend to him myself?” the witcher asks.

“Can you take care of him?” the innkeeper’s wife replies.

Geralt bows his head, shame licking like flames up and down his bent spine, and nods. “Yes, Ma’am. I have dry clothes for him in our room and I was trained extensively for emergency situations such as this, all witchers are.”

“Alright,” she narrows her eyes. “But he’d best be alive come morning.”

“I’ll happily turn myself over to the village elders to be dealt with accordingly should the bard come to any harm,” he vows. Her eyes widen minutely and he can read the surprise in her body language, but she remains relatively calm.

“Any further harm, rather. Alright, then. I’ll have my husband and the girls bring those supplies up to your room for him. We’ll be glad to go back to sleep.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Geralt bows formally. She blushes despite her irritation with him and waves him away.

“Take your bard and go, witcher, before I change my mind and spend all night caring for him myself out of motherly pity. Go.”

Geralt hefts Jaskier into his arms, heavy bearskin blanket and all, and hurries up the stairs to his room. He will not let Jaskier come to any further harm. Not by his hand. Not by his word. Never again.

---

Back in their room, Geralt quickly undresses the shivering human, peeling away what few damp layers there are with growing disappointment. Jaskier hadn’t been prepared for a walk in the snow at all! Although, to be fair, it hadn’t seemed that cold earlier in the evening and the snow had been sudden and heavy.

He wipes Jaskier down with a warm cloth and slips one of his own clean shirts over the bard’s head. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the way Jaskier’s shoulders don’t quite fill out the dark material. Or on the way his dark, wiry chest hair peeks out through the open laces at his throat. The witcher quickly shuffles him into clean smallclothes and wraps him in a thick wool blanket.

They sit curled before the fire and Geralt holds Jaskier against his chest. He hums with his voice like gravel, grating out one note after the other in some attempt to soothe the bard’s aching body. Jaskier shivers and shakes violently in the witcher’s strong embrace, his eyes clenched shut with the cramps that wrack his frame as his muscles return to their normal temperature. Geralt feels like he’s holding a porcelain doll and keeps his grip deliberately loose, tight enough to comfort but not restrain.

“G-Geralt,” he groans. “Hold me, please.”

The witcher squeezes his arms more confidently around the bard’s middle, burying his face in Jaskier’s soft hair and breathing deeply. The warmth that usually emanates from his busy human body is gone and his chamomile-honey scent is buried beneath a layer of damp cold; it feels wrong. Terribly wrong. Geralt murmurs against his temple, begging the younger man’s forgiveness: “I’m so sorry, Jaskier. Gods, I’m so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me? I’m a fool, you know. I’m a fool witcher who never says anything important until it’s too late. I’m so incredibly sorry, my love.”

“This is a very good dream,” the bard sighs, smiling despite the pain. His eyes open, bleary and addled. “Like I was having in the woods, but better.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier seems to understand the unspoken question, even in his current sorry state.

“The real Geralt would never be so gentle with me, dear heart. You must be a dream, sent to me on my deathbed to ease my passage into the afterlife. There’s no other explanation for your sudden displays of tenderness.”

“It’s... It’s really me,” Geralt affirms. He runs his hand up and down the length of Jaskier’s spine, “I’m here, Jaskier. Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid?”

“I forgive you for being stupid ever other day, dear witcher. It is of no consequence to me.”

“It almost was,” Geralt frowns. “I nearly- I almost-”

Jaskier’s arm raises weakly and his too-chilly hand presses to Geralt’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like an idiot. I shouldn’t have kept picking the fight. We both fucked up, alright? What matters is our second chance. We got to have one, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“Am I wearing your shirt?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Yours were all being laundered and this one was clean and it had been in my pack near the fire so it was already warm and-”

“Did you take care of me all night?”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighs after his hum and glances away for a moment. “What did you mean about... about the dream in the woods?”

“Oh. Well, when I was very cold and things were hazy and slow, I dreamed that you were there with me. Everything got very fuzzy and warm for a little bit, and when it was warm you were holding me like this and giving me little kisses. It was... nice. Even though I knew I was dying because you were being so soft, so considerate; saying things to me you’d never say out loud in real life.”

“I love you, Jaskier. I will try my best not to lose my temper needlessly,” the witcher swears. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Can we still cuddle like this?” Jaskier asks, leaning his weigth against Geralt’s firm chest. “It’s so nice to be held.”

“Of course. Anything you want. I’m not going to waste my second chance by treating you poorly. Not for another second, my beloved bard.”

“B-beloved?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, well then I’m definitely still dreaming.”

Geralt lifts Jaskier into his arms and carries him over to the bed, which is piled high with their extra blankets. He tucks Jaskier into the nest against the wall and lays along the outside of the mattress. He presses his lips to the bard’s, reveling in Jaskier’s returning warmth, and smiles. “I’ll prove it’s not a dream. Every day.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaskier yawns, snuggling into the witcher’s arms and settling down to sleep.

“It will be.”

#geraskier #hypothermia #getting together #bouncey's endless getting together fics #geraskier fic #geraskier fluff #whump with a happy ending #fluff with a happy ending #geralt #jaskier #jaskier whump #jaskier gets hypothermia #caring geralt #soft geralt #winter fics #geraskier winter fics

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noxnthea · 3 years

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what are your top 5 favourite winterhawk tropes?

okay, so i don't believe in favorites, but i appreciate that you asked for more than one so I can just list a bunch of things i love about these two. idk that they're all tropes, per se, but at the very least they're themes and patterns that you'll know when you read them:

- Clint being a very breakable human and Bucky being a very grumpy fixer of bumps and bruises

- Clint finding Bucky's retreat-from-the-team/hiding spot early on because their similar traumas have led them to cope in the same way, i.e. fleeing to the roof

- Clint being better than Bucky at shooting/target practice and Bucky being super into it. Alternatively Bucky being the only one who can beat Clint at one (1) specific type of ranged attack, and Clint finding that he's not bothered by that for the first time ever.

- lucky and alpine. for obvious reasons. but also especially because they help soften Bucky and make Clint even more relatable than he already is.

- the fact that both Clint and Bucky are canon disabled and that even if they don't know immediately how the other wants their disability to be treated (don't touch the arm, revere the arm, pretend the arm is totally normal, etc) they do immediately recognize that the other is entitled to choose how other people interact with/treat their disability, so they give each other the space they deserve. Because tbh that's just how people should treat each other irl, so *shrug*

- Bucky knowing and/or learning ASL -- bonus points if he starts to learn before Clint realizes he's interested in him.

- the goddamn platonic side pairings, holy shit, no kidding, i think half of why i love winterhawk so much is because it often brings out the best in nat and clint's relationship as well as steve and bucky's. Maybe because winterhawk so frequently focuses on individual growth, so it fosters more authentic feeling friendships? The caring sibling vibes are strong here and I'm just *squeezes fists in frustrated joy* so in love with it.

- the growing trans, ace and nonbinary representation -- idk why or how this ship has managed to attract so many incredible authors who headcanon Clint (and sometimes Bucky) in these ways, but damn do they do a good job and shoooot, am I grateful for them.

- just how much freaking fun this pairing can be. Clint's such a funny character on his own, and he can be written as thirsty, self-deprecating, super dry, the team's class clown, or dangerously witty. i love all versions, especially when he startles humor out of Bucky.

- I wrote a line recently about how Clint brings out the best in Bucky, and I really believe that, and that it's a reciprocal street. I think that a lot of us write fic to bring our most bruised boys and damaged dudes the happiness they deserve and I genuinely feel that this pairing provides that. It pulls dumpster!Clint out of his depression as Bucky force feeds him affection and helps him find his own intrinsic value, and it juxtaposes the most human of all humans alongside Bucky as he struggles to find his own humanity, which invariably helps him realize that he never really lost that humanity to begin with, or at the very least, that Clint will be around to help him remember and redefine what that means for who he is now.

- omg and i almost forgot -- the found families that these two make. Obviously with nat and steve but holy shit, throw the Maximoffs in there??? OC kids??? accidental child acquisition??? honorary uncle duty??? a de-aged team and a bucky who remembers taking care of becca and so is surprisingly good with children?? GOD it's so good, especially Clint trying to do right by kids because his own experiences have shown him how not to parent/uncle/adult around kids.

oops almost none of these are actual answers to your ask, sorry, I just can't restrain myself, apparently.

#thank you for the ask!#sorry i wrote an essay instead #I JUST CAN'T HELP IT I LOVE THEM TOO MUCH TO RESTRAIN MYSELF TO A LIST OF FIVE THINGS #anon ask #winterhawk #clint barton #bucky barnes

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moronic-validity · 3 years

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The Vincent Sinclair’s Boot x Reader Fic

okay so a few notes!

1) Reader is a trans guy (like your’s truly)

2) This is smut for the sake of smut, plain and simple.

3) I finished this at 2:30am and I have to be at work at 8.

This Contains: dubcon/coerced consent, drugs, bdsm, dom vincent, a boot kink, typos, almost murder, masturbation, and car problems! Everything under the cut is 18+!!!

As the temperature gauge crept higher and higher, [y/n] had to kick himself. He had been told to check his oil periodically through the road trip, but more than that, he had always been told to keep an extra thing of 5-20 in his car. Both pieces of advice went in one ear and out the other.

Which left him here, in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, 30 miles shy of Baton Rouge.

The immediate reaction was to get out of his car and scream. Sure, it was near midnight, but there wasn’t anyone nearby, so what was the worst thing that could happen. The flash of headlights on him and his car answered his question.

Great. Fantastic. Cool.

“Hey, sorry about the yelling,” he called out in the general direction of the headlights. “Any chance you have some 5-20, I’ll be right out of here if you do!”

No response. [y/n] sighed and sat on the hood of his car and watched the car. It was the middle of the night and it was still hotter than hell and humid to match. Without giving it much thought, he pulled his t shirt over his head and sat it on the hood next to him. What did it matter, he had a binder on anyway. Not like anything was showing.

The mystery driver flashed his brights at [y/n], then threw it in reverse and went back to where he came from.

Well that’s fantastic. I’m in the middle of nowhere and someone knows I’m stranded here. Perfect.

Without giving any more thought to it, he got back into his car and went to sleep, his t shirt thrown over his eyes.

The sun didn’t wake him up, the tapping on his window did.

[y/n] scrambled into an acceptable position and pulled his still damp t shirt on. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to see the man standing near his window. The man wasn’t intimidating or anything, but the situation was odd and [y/n] was immediately warry.

“Sorry ‘bout that, didn mean to startle ya or nothin,” The man with the green hat said with a small laugh, “it just looked like ya might need some help, most people don like sleepin in their car this time a year.”

[y/n] squinted at the guy. It wasn’t due to the accent or the look of him, the sun just happened to be right in his eyes. The perfect start to another fantastic day.

“Uh yeah, I’ve definitely had better days. Any chance you know where to get a quart or two of oil?” He asked, ending it with a still tired yawn.

“I could give ya a lift into town, ‘m sure Bo will help you out at the station,” The green hatted man offered helpfully.

“Actually, that’d be wonderful, thank you…” [y/n] realized that he just accepted a ride from a man who’s name he didn’t even know. His mother would be so proud.

“Lester, Lester Sinclair,” Lester said with an extended hand.

“[y/n], [y/n] [l/n]” He took the other’s hand and gave a firm shake. [y/n] was acutely aware of the tacky reddish-brown smudge that was now on his hand.

The ride into town was quite, aside from the rumble of Lester’s truck and the sound of tires throwing rock.

“So where’re you headed?” Lester asked, glancing over at [y/n].

“Ah, no direction, wanted to go up, down, coast to coast. Want to see a little bit of everything, I guess,” [y/n] picked at the skin around his index finger, “I’ve only broken down once, so I figure I’m doing okay.”

“Welcome to Ambrose, I know it probably isn where ya wanted t’ go, but there are worse places.” Lester said cheerfully.

The ride went back to being quiet.

“Oh shit,” Lester whined, more to himself than anything else, as he threw the car in park and jumped out, “ya wouldn’ mind givin me a hand flipping the hubs, would ya?”

What the hell does that even mean? {y/n] thought to himself as he hopped out of the car to help Lester with the task anyway. Help was a bit of a strong word for what [y/n] did, it was more get in the way and offer moral support. Lester appreciated the gesture and the company. Most people jumped out of the car and fled into town by this point.

The two got back into the truck and drove right on into Ambrose and parked in front of the service station.

“Now, you wait here, Bo ‘ll be ‘round soon,” Lester dropped [y/n] off with a wave then drove off to wherever he worked. It occurred to [y/n] that he never thought to ask.

It also occurred to [y/n] that he’d have to walk back to his car or hope that someone in town would be willing to give him a ride. Just one more thing. He sighed and sat with his back against the wall of the station.

At least there’s shade. It’s already starting to feel like the devil’s armpit, but at least there is shade.

Time passed, could’ve been hours, could’ve been minutes.

No, it was definitely hours.

Around the point [y/n] was sure that this Bo guy would have to pry him off the cement with a spatula, Bo happened to come down the road and up to the door of the station, near where he was sitting. Bo stood within arm’s distance as [y/n] pushed himself up off the sidewalk.

“I take it you’re Bo? [Y/n] [l/n], Lester said you might have some oil?” [y/n] offered the man he assumed to be Bo his hand. Bo flashed [y/n] a smile that seemed to try to hard to be charming.

“Well, I’d introduce myself but you already know who I am,” Bo chuckled. He was in a suit and tie, didn’t seem like he was dressed for his line of work. “ Let’s see if we can’t get you back on the road, hm?” He hummed to himself as he unlocked the door to let the two men into the store.

There was no AC, and that was the first problem [y/n] had with the station. The second problem was that there appeared to be no oil. Anywhere.

What type of station doesn’t carry oil. Oil. OIL. Walmart carries oil, DG carries oil. Why does this man not have oil.

“Uh….Hey Bo, any chance you have some oil in the garage that you’re willing to part with?” [y/n] asked, while squatting and looking at another shelf devoid of oil.

“I’m sure I could check,” Bo said, his voice drifting further away. [y/n] kept looking.

“So I’ve got some bad news, I don’t have any oil down here;” ,” Bo said as he re-entered the store, wiping his hands down on a grease rag, “Good news though, I got my restock shipment in yesterday and just haven’t gotten around to bringing it down from the house. I’m more than willing to let you wait here while I go up to to get what you need, but you look like you need something to drink.”

[y/n] thought it over. This would mark the second time in less than 24 hours that he went somewhere with a random stranger, but at least this time he knew the guy’s name.

Well, the south is known for its hospitality, so I might as well go and get something to drink.

“I’d really appreciate something to drink and thank you so much for the help,” [y/n] said, suddenly aware that his mouth felt like it was full of glue.

The pair were about halfway to the house, when [y/n] finally felt the need to ask about the suit.

“Okay so, I know it’s absolutely none of my business, but why are you wearing a suit? Isn’t it a bit hot for that?” Bo stopped moving at [y/n]’s question and seemed to consider a few possible answers before he nodded to himself and kept walking.

“Well, it’s not the heat that gets you, it’s the humidity,” he chuckled to himself, “and uh,” he paused to clear his throat, “My mom passed on, was at her service.”

“Bo, I am so sorry. If you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to pay my respects before I leave town,” [y/n] couldn’t help but feel intense sympathy for Bo.

He left his mom’s funeral to help me get some oil so I can get back on the road. Holy shit.

They walked in silence for the rest of the day, [y/n] was unsure how to comfort this stranger, so he just followed the other man’s lead. Silence.

Bo unlocked the door when they got up on the step and lead [y/n] into the house.

“Washroom is down the hall if you need it, the door should be open,” Bo motioned towards the washroom, “Make yourself at home.”

With that, Bo was in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of sweet tea. [y/n] decided to take Bo up on his offer of a washroom. Once the door was shut, he fought with his binder for a minute, before finally getting it off his chest, letting it hang loosely around his neck. At this point, it just felt good to take a few deep breaths. After a few minutes passed, [y/n] pulled his binder back into place, swore he’d keep it off until he hit the next rest stop, then went back out into the house and met Bo in the kitchen.

Bo handed [y/n] the glass of sweet tea, condensation already beading on the sides. Nice and cold and incredibly sweet, it even tasted southern. And a bit salty. [y/n] had never had homemade sweet tea before, so he assumed that maybe that just happened sometimes with the tea when it cooled.

The room started to sway.

“Hey, [y/n] maybe you should sit down, looks like the heat is getting to you,” Bo said, worry in his voice, but a smile on his lips, “maybe you ought to lay down for a bit.”

Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.

That was weird, he tried to say it out loud, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Bo helped [y/n] to sit on the couch and as his vision started to darken, [y/n] swore he saw another person enter the room.

When [y/n] came to, he realized a few things in short order. It was much darker, he was not on the couch, and he was restrained to the metal table he way laying on. Ever the optimist, he was thankful for the fact that he still had his clothes on and also for the fact it was much cooler wherever he was.

A tall man with long dark hair entered his line of sight. [y/n] had a few ideas of things to yell at him, but instead, took a different approach.

“So, either I’ve been asleep for a really long time, or you’re not Bo,” [y/n] said, turning his head to get a better look at the man. The man’s shoulders shook, like he was laughing without the noise.

Okay so he can’t talk. Noted.

The man turned around to face the table and made sure his hands were in clear view as he signed, “Vincent.”

The motions were smooth and [y/n] caught it near immediately.

“Vincent is a nice name,” he mused, giving Vincent a charming smile of his own, “I’m [y/n]. Now, I do have a few questions, mainly, why am I tied up?”

Vincent turned his back on [y/n] and went back to preparing the paralytic, deciding to make it a bit stronger so the man on the table wouldn’t have to be awake for the worst of it. When he turned around and [y/n] saw the needle, the reality of the situation began to sink in and things snapped into focus.

“Hey Vincent, I don’t know what’s in that needle, but I promise you don’t have to do whatever it is you’re about to do,” [y/n] tried to keep his voice level as he squirmed and fought against the restraints, “I know we don’t know each other, but I swear you don’t need to do this.”

Vincent watched him writhe on the table and considered his options.

“Please, can we talk this out, please,” [y/n] continued to beg, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and bruises already forming at both his wrists and his ankles from the jerking around. Desperation in one hell of a drug, because in no other situation could [y/n] see himself saying, “I’ll do anything to convince you.”

Vincent set the syringe back down and walked up to the head of the table and gripped [y/n]’s jaw and turned his head to make sure he saw when he signed “Are you sure?” he drew it out to emphasize the importance of the question.

Was [y/n] sure? No. No he wasn’t, but he wasn’t in a place that allowed many options. Behind door one? Death! Behind door two? A questionable fate that could very well still end in death!

Yeah, I’ll go with door number two, please.

[y/n] nodded, Vincent’s hand still not leaving his jaw.

Vincent considered the situation for a moment. He considered the number of girls that Bo had brought to him after he had had his way with them at the station. Girls had never really been Vincent’s speed. There were plenty of attractive guys who had come through, but mostly they were either already dead or just spit curses at him. [y/n] was different. No threats, no insults, he was shockingly calm, all things considered. Vincent stroked up and down the side of [y/n]’s face, bringing his hand into the smaller man’s hair and pulling, eliciting a soft whimper.

“I want you to show me,” Vincent signed before undoing the restraints at [y/n]’s ankles. As for his hands? His hands were going to stay bound, but a change of position was still needed. Vincent kept eye contact with [y/n] as he undid his wrists.

[y/n] sat up on the table, moving slowly as to not startle Vincent. The last thing he wanted was to scare the guy who probably had a half dozen ways to kill him in arms reach. His wrists ached and were bleeding in some places. He rubbed at his sore joints before Vincent snapped his fingers, pointed directly at him, then down at the floor near his boot clad feet.

[y/n] had the opportunity to make a run for it, but instead knelt at Vincent’s feet. Vincent put his hand out and without thinking, [y/n] rested the side of his face against it. Vincent’s face burned beneath his mask, that was not what he needed the man to do. He pulled his hand away and gently slapped at the kneeling man’s face, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to know that that was not the desired action. The kneeling man was a quick learner and when Vincent put his hand out again, he reluctantly placed his wrists in the larger man’s hands.

[y/n] was not thrilled at this situation, but he was also a simple man, and for all the terror in the situation, Vincent was a large man with shockingly soft hands that were big enough to envelop both of his wrists, who had complete control over the situation. Should he be getting wet due to the situation? Absolutely not, but in the one psychology class he took in high school, it was mentioned that fear and arousal were close together in the brain.

Vincent saw the bruising and blood on the smaller man’s wrists and was careful when he rebound them. Sure, he was planning on killing the guy, but his plans had changed. He threaded a rope and carefully suspended his wrists so that his wrists would remain above his head.

[y/n]’s first thought was that Vincent wanted head. Most guys he had met enjoyed getting head, so it did make sense. He carefully pressed his cheek against the man’s crotch and nuzzled against it, then looked up and into Vincent’s eyes for any sign. Instead, Vincent just lifted his knee and pushed [y/n] off of him like he was a disobedient dog.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as to what he wanted, if not a blow job. He was further confused when Vincent lifted his boot clad foot and pressed it into the smaller man’s pelvic bone, hard.

Oh.

The pressure of it was enough to lift him up just a little bit more and it had him wetter than he thought he could be in a situation like this. He pressed down onto the shoe and began to grind against it, shamelessly chasing the friction it created.

Vincent groaned. His cock twitched as he watched the man’s lewd display. He didn’t want [y/n] to touch him, not yet. There was still the chance that could go horribly wrong, what Vincent wanted was to see exactly how desperate the man was. Vincent began to palm himself, stroking through the fabric of his pants while he watched.

The answer was very. [y/n] was very desperate. [y/n] was desperate not to die and now, now he was also desperate to cum. He pressed himself harder against the toe of Vincent’s boot and rutted against it, groaning loudly when it pressed up against that bundle of nerves. He began to fall into a rhythm that hit every sensitive spot he could reach.

Vincent’s hand was now in his pants as he stroked himself to the same rhythm [y/n] was fucking himself to. God, Vincent thought to himself, this man was making an absolute whore of himself. It might not be a bad idea to keep him around. Could make work slightly less taxing. Then the bound man made a sound that snapped Vincent out of his thoughts and almost made him cream his pants.

He was getting so close, he had thrown himself so into chasing his high that he almost forgot that the circumstances that brought him to this were less than desirable. He pressed began to rotate his hips so that bundle of nerves caught significantly more pressure and more friction. He let out a loud, needy whine.

“Please Vincent, please tell me I can cum, I’ve been such a good boy, please God, Vincent,” the words came tumbling out of his mouth, he was babbling and begging for a different release now. Vincent bucked into his own hand, listening to the whines and pleas.

Tears were starting to form in [y/n]’s eyes again, he was trying so hard to be good for Vincent, trying so hard to be his good boy. Sure, less than an hour ago, he wanted nothing more than to be as far from him as possible, but God, he was so close to cumming and he just needed Vincent to tell him he had been good. Hadn’t he been good enough to deserve release?

Vincent pressed his crotch against [y/n]’s face and continued to jack himself off. He didn’t want the man’s mouth, but he wanted the proximity. He was so close to his own release. So so close, all he needed was-

“Oh GOD, sir please, I’ve been so good for you, please sir. Tell me I’ve been a good boy for you, tell me I’m your good boy, please sir; oh my God, please, please,” [y/n] continued to babble, now crying for release against Vincent’s aching cock.

Yeah, that just about did it for him. Vincent’s orgasm took him hard and left a sizable stain that leaked into the front of his pants and against the begging man’s face. Vincent closed his eyes, lost in his own release. When things snapped back into focus, he realized the other man was still whining pitifully, still having not came.

Vincent had to admit, he was impressed at the man’s willpower, it was oddly attractive to him that the man refused to grant himself pleasure without permission. This could actually work out wonderfully, Vincent thought to himself.

He took the rope in his free hand and yanked on it hard enough to knock the [y/n] off balance. He looked up at Vincent as he tried to regain balance. Vincent let go of the rope and let him drop onto his knees, but his eyes were still locked on his masked face.

Vincent thought about it for a moment before signing “I want you to cum.”

That was all [y/n] needed to hear before going back to rutting against the shoe, quickly going over the edge and coating the toe of the boot in his fluids. He braced himself against Vincent’s leg, mumbling thank yous as he came back down. Vincent allowed this to go on for a short while, before cutting the rope and pressing [y/n]’s face down to the still wet boot.

Vincent used one hand to yank [y/n]’s hair to make the blissed out man look up at him, with the other hand, he calmly signed “Clean it up.”

#slasher fucker #vincent's boots #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent x reader #house of wax #nsft #I haven't written a fanfic in years #fanfic #theo writes #theo's thoughts #teddy talks #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #sinclair brothers

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ariana-winchester95 · 3 years

Text

The Hard Way (Smut)

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Warnings: sub!Jimin, ruined orgasm, begging, use of handcuffs, use of a vibrator, male chastity

Once inside the door to our shared apartment, I slammed Jimin against the wall. Sliding down the wall he spread his legs letting me stand between them, allowing us to be eye to eye. His hands gripped my waist as I started trailing wet kisses up and down his neck, leaving tiny bruises in my wake.

“You’re in trouble, baby boy.” I whispered in his ear, relishing in the way his body shuddered in anticipation.

I started sucking his sweet spot just under his ear, causing his body to roll against mine and the smallest of gasps to fall from him parted lips. His eyes fluttering shut as his head fell back against the wall. My hands wandered into Jimin’s hair, pulling on the soft strands as I trailed my lips along his jaw. I pushed my thigh right next to his caged cock, letting him feel only the slightest of sensations, causing a breathy gasp to tumble through the air. Acting quick, I pressed my lips firmly to his, not giving him any time to kiss back before I pulled away. Chuckling as I shook my head, hearing Jimin whine as he chased after my lips. Placing his arms around my neck, I moved my hands down to the backs of his thighs. Jimin only had to jump a fraction, before I carefully held him up in my arms, his legs locking behind my back.

“My strong noona.” Jimin beamed, taking his opportunity to run a hand over my arm, admiring the small back strong muscle on my bicep as I walked us towards our bedroom.

“Flattery is going to get you nowhere tonight, Minie,” I warned, placing a firm smack to his arse, causing his body to falter his head falling to my shoulder.

I placed Jimin down on to the floor, detangling his legs from my waist, his arms moving to circle me. My own hands moving to his cheeks, bringing his face down to meet my lips in a soft kiss.

“Strip for me,” I ordered softly, my lips brushing over his, before withdrawing myself from his grasp and sitting on the edge of the bed.

He started pulling off his shirt, slowly, his gaze never wavering from mine. His shirt now discarded somewhere behind him, he started on his belt buckle. He was taking his sweet time pulling the leather through the belt loops, I almost ordered him to move faster, if I wasn’t drinking in his naked torso. He then tugged the leather harshly pulling it straight out and out of sight, causing my jaw to drop slightly. I pulled my bottom lip watching him now make a show of this, running his down his chest to the top of his jeans, swaying his hips as he slowly undid the button and zipper.

Turning to his side, he started pushing the denim down his strong legs. Bending at the hips to push the fabric down to his ankles, showcasing his flexibility. Slowly rising to an upright position he kicked his jeans off his feet and kicking them elsewhere. Turning his back to me, he pushed his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, he turned back to look at me over his shoulder before doing the same thing as he did with the jeans. My eyes followed his every move, took in every bit of skin revealed to me. Standing back up, he turned around.

“Good boy. Come here and lay on the bed.” I instructed, patting the mattress. With a small smile at my praise, he followed my order situating himself comfortably on the mattress.

I got up from the bed and walked to the chest of drawers. Opening the bottom drawer, I pulled out his favourite bondage toy; fluffy, pink handcuffs. I could see the excitement flicker in his eyes when I turned around, the pink handcuffs dangling off my finger.

“Are you ready, baby boy?” I asked softly, dragging the handcuffs lightly over his skin as I walked towards the top of the bed, watching the goosebumps rise on his skin as he wriggled from the tickling sensation.

“Yes, noona.” His voice was breathless like he’d ran a marathon before falling on the bed to catch his breath. “I’m ready.”

“Arms up,” I spoke, and no sooner did he place his arms, stretched above his head. “Good boy.” I praised.

I secured a cuff around one wrist before lopping the other end around a bar and securing the last cuff onto the other wrist. He tugged firmly on them as a test before I could even ask the question.

“Such a good boy, baby.” I cooed, running a finger lightly over his jaw, leaning in close. “Now, be an extra good boy and rest here a bit.”

Not giving him a second glance, I left his side, hearing the frustrate whine fill the bedroom as I moved out of his eyesight. I took my time walking into the living room, tidying up our long-forgotten shoes before making my way into the kitchen. Having a glass of water and biscuit, I then opened a drawer and pulled out a candy cane. Closing the drawer, I slowly made my way back into the bedroom. Jimin’s whines got louder, seeing my body now ridden of everything but my panties and bra. I paid him no mind, grabbing my phone and then sitting on the bed next to him, close but not close enough to touch. I started scrolling through Facebook, looking but not paying attention to anything and chewing on the candy cane.

“Please, noona.” He soft, broken voice rasped, as he watched me suck on the now straight candy cane. Pulling on the handcuffs to steal my attention from the tiny screen. He let out a strangled groan when I didn’t give what he wanted. He’d been wanting attention the whole night and he wasn’t going to get it easily.

His whines and groans got progressively frequent, the rattling of the handcuffs annoyingly loud. His whole body writhed and wiggled, I can hear him turning his from side to side and every so often his leg would hit my foot.

“What’s wrong, Minie?” I asked, my voice muffled by the last bit of the candy cane completely in my mouth, and not bothering to look away from the tiny screen in my hand, only making him groan louder.

“Want you to touch me, noona,” he begged, pulling on the handcuffs in frustration. “Please.” He added, voice barely above a whisper.

“Give me a reason why.” I quipped, hearing a squeaky whine of defeat. Still not taking my eyes off the post I’ve read 4 times now.

“I’ve been a good boy.” He stated, catching my attention. I snapped my gaze to his and clicked my tongue.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I stated, turning my phone off and placing it on the bedside table, “If you were a good boy, you wouldn’t have gone looking for attention by strangers at the bar now would you?”

I rolled to my side, using my hand as support my eyes took in his already fucked out stated. Looking so pretty laying there, stripped down to nothing, hands restrained to the bed frame. His chest rising with quick, shallow breaths, small whines muffled by biting his plush bottom lip. His cock red and angry, within the cage he’s been in nearing 2 weeks, with plenty up frustrations of not being able to cum. My eyes followed the path of my fingertips, lightly tracing up and down the length of his torso.

“Please noona, I didn’t mean too.” Jimin pleads, trying to shift his body away from me, as I ran my nails over his soft skin. “I want you” he added softly, breathlessly.

“You want me?” I paused, letting him nod. His eyes full of desperation, plush lip caught between his teeth. “If you wanted me, you could have come straight to me and we wouldn’t have to go through this. Instead, you paraded yourself around the bar.” I continued, leaning in closer, taking my wandering hand to his cheek.

“I’m sorry, noona, I made a mistake.” He declared, his hooded eyes never wavering away from my stern gaze.

“You did, baby boy, and now you’re going to cum” Swinging a leg over his stomach, back facing him, I looked over my shoulder to his surprised gaze. “On my terms, as punishment.”

Running my fingertips lightly over his firm thighs, I watched as they quivered. He sucked in a breath as my fingers got closer to his aching dick, and then let out a helpless cry as my fingers moved further away.

“Please just touch me, noona!” He cried, pulling fiercely on the handcuffs. I was sure that if I was to look behind me, he would look so pretty; eyes screwed shut, whines and moans slipping from his plush lips and hair everywhere. I smoothed my hands over his thighs, massaging the muscles, the clammy skin pulling witty my movements.

“I am touching you baby.” I sang, bringing my hands incredibly close to his cock, but not giving him the satisfaction of being touched just yet.

“Touch me more. It hurts!” Jimin almost screamed, kicking his legs and trying to raise his hips but I held them down with my weight.

“What hurts, Minie?” I asked, running my hands down to his shins slowly.

“My dick, please noona.” His voice came out croaky, all the groaning gasps, now showing their mark on his throat.

“You have such a pretty cock, Minie.” I teased sweetly, tracing feather-light lines over him. He groaned trying to raise his hips, searching for more friction. “So red and angry, all caged up. Just begging to be touched. Begging for a release.”

“Do you want me to make it better, baby?” I asked softly, taking my hands off him and placing them back on his thighs.

“Yes, please!” He sobbed, kicking his legs again, making me giggle a bit. “Please, make it better, noona!”

“Such a pity it won’t happen soon.” I taunted, leaning over to open a drawer of a bedside table, pulling out a bullet vibrator. A small, strangled whine sounded behind me letting me know he saw what I had.

Putting the vibrator in my mouth, I swirled my younger around it a few times, coating it in my saliva. I turned it on once I released it from my mouth, and brought the small bullet to Jimin’s caged cock. Running it up and down over his length, and balls. Jimin’s cry’s came out loud and frequent, hips bobbing up and down. I brought the bullet to the head of his cock, staying there until his moans turned to screams. He let out a grunt as I took the vibrator away, letting him catch his breath before repeating the same action a few more times.

“Close, noona.” He whispered between small gasps, “Please, may I cum?”

“No.” Jimin squealed like he was a little boy, getting told to do their homework. His body thrashed, rattles of the handcuffs

“You just couldn’t wait a few more hours, could you. You would have been out of this cage and came by now.” I reminded, bringing the small bullet to the head of his cock again, “But you chose the wrong way out, baby boy.”

“I-I’m sorry, noona.” He gasped, his whole body seemed to then shut down, completely spent, yet nearing his release. “P-please can I cum, n-noona?” Jimin stuttered.

“How bad do you want it, baby boy?” I questioned, circling the bullet around his caged tip.

“So bad, noona. I’m your good boy, please let me cum.” Using what was left of his energy, his body started writhing again.

“You may cum, baby” I granted, taking the bullet away, turning it off, as soon as his orgasm hit. Jimin released a strangled cry, as his back arched up, I watched as he expelled ropes of cum onto his thighs.

I rolled off Jimin, placing the little vibrator back in its place, listening to his heavy breaths as he came down from his high. I got up from the bed, retreating the bathroom to grab a damp washcloth. Returning, I ran the cloth over his thighs ridding him of his cum before I placed myself on Jimin’s thighs, leaning over him to remove the handcuffs. I softly placed kisses upon his red-banded wrist and placed a soft kiss upon hips parted lips before sitting back up. I made quick but careful work of removing the cage from his cock, Jimin hissing every so often from the over-stimulation and then releasing a relieved sigh, once freed from the cage.

“Feel better?” I asked, putting the chastity cage away, Jimin could only nod, his energy drained.

“You did so well, Bub.” I praised, running a clean area of the cloth over Jimin’s forehead, as he smiled.

Discharging the cloth on the bedside table, I laid down next to Jimin, resting my head on his chest, and wrapping an arm around his waist. Jimin’s arm sluggishly wrapped itself around my waist, slowly rubbing up and down. We rested like that for what felt like minutes, but it was only second before Jimin’s voice filled our silence.

“Noona?”

“Yes, baby.” I replied, looking up at his concerned gaze.

“You didn’t cum.” He stated.

“I don’t need too.” I protested, shaking my head. “Save that for the morning, when you’re well rested, Minie.” I added sweetly.

“Okay, noona.” He agreed. “Goodnight.” Jimin added, voice muffled as he pressed his lips to my cheek.

“Night,” I whispered, cuddling into his chest, “love you baby.”

“Love you too, noona.”

Taglist: @alternateafterthought | @haven-raven012591 | @mitzwinchester

#bts #bts smut #bts jimin #park jimin #bts imagines #bts scenarios #sub!jimin

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bookstantrash · 3 years

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A/N: Shoutout to all of those beautiful, incredible supportive and awesome people who encouraged me to write this Emeriel (Azriel x Emerie) one shot. I really like this crackship, and I’m hoping we see more of Emerie in the next acotar books.

With this, I’m officially in ghost mode till acosf and for some time after its release (probably a month). My askbox and dm are open for prompts tho! So feel free to send me any writing requests!!

Falling in Shadows

Azriel was lost.

Not lost as in ‘I don’t know the Cauldron where I am’. Not in the physical way lost.

No, Azriel was lost in the emotional way. Lost as in ‘What the Cauldron I am feeling?’

If he was to be honest with himself, he had been feeling like that for quite some time now. Ever since Cassian had asked him to go to that wooden building and spied a certain female through the clothier’s window.

Azriel was usually uncomfortable around other Illyrians. He sometimes forgot he too was one, his hatred for his people in some occasions being so unbearable he found himself a youngling once again, locked in that dark cell, denied the skies.

How could he be an Illyrian, feel like one, when his own people had cast him aside? Had tried to strip him of his heritage?

That was one of the motives he avoided going to Windhaven. But after that day he visited Cassian and Nesta — he was surprised to see how their relationship was going, despite the circumstances that had made Nesta go to Illyria — Azriel found himself looking for reasons to be in Windhaven.

All because of her.

Because of Emerie, the fierce owner of that clothier.

Once he had gotten inside the shop, Azriel had willed his shadows to fade — few were the Illyrians and Fae not afraid of them, afraid of him and his job in the Night Court — and tucked his wings tight. He knew how the Illyrian females were treated. How they were supposed to look down and not talk back when in the presence of a male. He didn’t want any other reason to scary the shop owner.

To his surprise, however, he was met with a different scenario. An Illyrian female who didn’t look down, was not afraid to speak her mind and didn’t cower in his presence.

Emerie didn’t even bat an eyelash at him or his shadows, not even glancing at his scarred hands when he handed her the money — an act he was already used to.

Azriel was in and out of the shop in less then five minutes.

He met her again some time later, having tea with Nesta when came back to Windhaven. They exchanged a few words and he got even more curious about her.

And then, before he had even noticed how, they had become friends.

Azriel would pass by her shop whenever he went to visit Cassian and would chat with Emerie, sometimes joining her and Nesta for tea — Azriel dragged Cassian with him when that happened, a little scared to be beneath the sharpe of gaze of both females by himself.

Not that he told Cassian, or anyone else for that matter, the truth. He’d rather swim naked in one of Windhaven’s deathly cold lakes.

Azriel had female friends, so it was not like he was embarrassed around Emerie because of that. Feyre was his friend, as was Elain — although Feyre seemed to think there was something between him and her sister, they were only on friendly terms. Elain was still processing what had happened to her, being Made and losing everything she had, not to mention Graysen. The man was one of the finest pricks he’d ever met, but love was not rational.

Azriel and Elain understand each other in some level, her being a seer and him a shadowsinger. But nothing more.

And then there was Morrigan. He’d been in love with her. Once. And he knew she didn’t see him like that.

His feelings had faded over time, leaving only respect and brotherly affection towards her. Azriel knew he sometimes overreacted when it came to Eris, but it was not due to a lover’s anger. No, he felt guilty of what Mor had been through, years ago. He was her friend and couldn’t help her when she needed the most.

His love towards Mor may have changed, but it still hurt to see that she was keeping something from him and flirted so shameless in front of him as to keep him away. Whatever it was that she had to say, he’d understand. So he’d wait, until she was ready to talk to him.

When it came to Emerie, however, he felt something. Something different. Something he could not quite place.

Azriel also felt fear.

Fear of what that feeling may represent. Of what Emerie thought of him. He had to keep himself in check around her, least he loose control of his shadows, who always seemed to get agitated whenever they were together.

Sighing, he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts. He could feel an headache coming, and he had to wake up early to met Cassian and the Camp Lords for a meeting regarding the Blood Rite. He needed sleep.

His feet, on the other hand, had other ideais. Before he knew what he was doing, they had taken him on the way to the small craftsman center of the camp, where Emerie’ shop was.

Maybe he could say he had thought of saying a quick hello, see how the things were going with her sells.

“It’s not that late yet. And I didn’t come today to see her. So a late night tea won’t hurt, right?” Azriel thought, trying to calm himself down.

He sent one of his shadows ahead to see if there was any light on the clothier, just in case. If it was off, he’d take it was a sign to leave it alone and go rest.

But when it returned, Azriel felt his blood run cold, and he quickly moved through the shadows to get there faster. And the scene in front of him made his heart stop.

The shop windows were broken, as was the door, and he could see some of the clothes thrown on the floor by the door.

Azriel heard screams.

Heard Emerie screaming.

He entered the shop to find her being restrained by a male, while two others ransacked the place.

Azriel did not fail to notice how the male holding her looked pissed. Maybe due to his bloody nose and black eye.

Azriel smiled internally. His girl would not go down without a fight it seemed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing” he said, announcing his presence.

Four pairs of eyes looked in his direction, and he got smug satisfaction at the clear fear that shined in the males’ eyes.

Specially when they saw Azriel unsheathing Truth Teller and gave free rein to his shadows.

However, in Emerie’s dark brown eyes he only saw relief.

“Close your eyes Em” he said.

And then Azriel exploded.

He had the two males pinned down by his shadows in no time, bounding their wings and squeezing their throats strong enough to leave them breathless.

And a little purple.

But the one that held Emerie... that one he would take his sweet time.

Appearing behind the male — which quickly released Emerie in hope to attempt an escape — Azriel slammed him down in the polished counter.

“What should I do with you” he snarled, bringing Truth Teller dangerously close to the male’s throat, making a thin cut in his skin.

“P-please,” the male whimpered “have mercy”

“Did you show mercy to her? Did you?!” Azriel shouted, pressing the knife harder “I should Clip you. I should Clip all of you and take my sweet time doing it”

He heard the other two males struggling against his shadows, trying to get away again. Azriel only whiled them to tighten their grip, and he swore he heard one start to cry.

“You will never appear here again. You will not bother Emerie any longer” he leaned down to whisper in the male’s ear “You will tell that to your other friends. To anyone who has ever messed with her. And if I hear that you came back — and trust me, I will — I will hunt you down myself”

“Are we clear?” he added, letting his threat sink.

“Y—yes sir” the trembling male managed to gasp through Azriel’s hold on his neck.

“Go” he said, freeing all three, who quickly left the place, running for their lives.

Azriel then turned to find Emerie with her eyes open, staring at him.

He froze. She had seen him. Had seen him act as the High Lord’s spy master. Had seen him being territorial and scary and—

“I think I’ll have to redecorate” was all Emerie said, her voice trembling a little.

Azriel couldn’t believe it. She had been attacked, her shop destroyed and she had time to make a joke.

He shook his head in disbelief and stopped in front of her, holding himself back to not touch her to see if she was hurt anywhere.

“Are you—”

Her knees gave out before he could say anything else, and he quickly caught her in his arms.

“You put your arms around me and I literally felt my kneels buckle, this is so pathetic” she scoffed, looking at the floor.

“Em...”

“I usually can handle it on my own” she shook her head “Nesta taught me some self defense moves. I can’t leave the shop to go for the training ring and I have no desire to be a warrior”

“This...this was the first time that more than one came” she added in a soft whisper.

Azriel felt a calm rage settle in his bones.

“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” he wanted to shake her until she got some sense in that stubborn head of hers “and you didn’t tell anyone about it”

“As I said, I usually can handle it” she snapped back, finally meeting his eyes “I was closing the shop when they appeared. I tried to fight back, but I only managed to punch one before he restrained me. If you hadn’t appeared I—”

She didn’t finish that sentence, bitting her trembling lip to keep herself from crying.

“You are one headstrong and fearless female, you know that?” he said, daring to hold her closer.

“I was scared”

And to Azriel’s surprise she buried her head on his chest, gripping his leathers for her dear life, her body shaking with silent sobs.

“I know Em” he murmured, one hand caressing her hair in comfort.

His shadows closed the door and gathered the clothes on the floor, putting them on the counter.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, okay?” he asked softly, and Emerie just nodded her head.

Gathering her in his arms, Azriel climbed the stairs to the upper part of the shop, where Emerie lived.

He decided to place her on the sofa. He didn’t want to invade her personal space and walk into her bedroom.

He carefully sat on the sofa, adjusting Emerie in his arms so she’d be comfortable. By the looks of it, she wasn’t letting go of him soon.

Not that he was bothered by that.

“Em...it’s okay. You’re safe now” he tenderly raised her head, both hands cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears.

“Thank you. For arriving when you did” she sniffed, but then reality seemed to fall on her “Why where you around here at this hour?”

Azriel felt the tip of his ears getting hot, and he almost faded back in the shadows.

“I wanted to see you” he mumbled, so low he hoped she had not heard him.

“What was that?” she asked, and by the way she was trying to suppress a grin Azriel could tell she had heard him loud and clear.

“I’m not repeating it” he said, feeling his whole face getting hot

Emerie laughed, and the sound of her laugh was enough to put Azriel at ease.

“I wanted to see you too” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

Azriel could swear his heart skipped a beat at her words.

“You did?” he softly asked, afraid this was all a dream and he’d soon wake up.

“Yes” she said, and tenderly took one of his hands on hers, not flinching at the scars on them “I wanted to hear your voice”

She kissed his fingers.

“I wanted to see you trying to come up with topics to talk with me”

She kissed palm.

“I wanted to see your shadows acting all agitated and you trying so hard to control them thinking I’ll be bothered but,” Azriel took a sharp breath when she kissed his wrist “they’re not a bother. I’m not afraid of them. I like them”

Azriel was falling. He was spiralling down into himself, all the way to his shadowed heart.

“You like them?” he asked so quietly, fear lacing his every word.

“I do. They’re part of you Azriel” she interlaced their hands “What is there not to like?”

Azriel felt like crying. He felt like crying because for the first time someone outside of his family had looked at him and actually seen him.

Not a monster who killed and spied and tortured for his High Lord.

Not an Illyrian who was a traitor to his own race.

Not the quiet friend who was satisfied to be in the shadows.

Not a protector doing his duty.

Emerie saw him.

She saw all the good, the bad and the awkward Azriel so desperately tried to conceal.

And she was not afraid.

“Can I hope then?” he dared himself to ask, resting his forehead against hers “Can I hope you feel this? This feeling that I can’t quite place?”

“You can” she answered “Because I hoped you felt the same thing”

Azriel still did not know how to name this feeling between them yet. But he was sure of one thing.

He was dying to know what it was.

And Emerie would help him in every path of this discovery.

•

Emeriel Tags: @julemmaes @angrypotatofairy @illyrianwitchling @moe8 @thewayshedreamed @ko0mbayamylord @rosegoldannie @fourshizzle149 @arin1030 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @the-bookish-deer

Fixed Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan

{I ended up creating an Emeriel tag list, so please let me know if you want to be added in either the Emeriel or my Fixed Tag list}

#sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic #azriel #emerie #emeriel #azriel x emerie

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wanderlustinwonderland18 · 3 years

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Stepanova & Bukin: “Our Fans Really Want Us To Be Together”

How do you feel about being the new Russian National Champions?

Vanya: Wow! To be honest, we didn't get enough sleep. It was a busy time. We sat, talked with the team, discussed a lot. This was our first competition in a long time, so we were a little exhausted.

Sasha: So far, we don't really feel that something major has happened, but the assessment of our coaches is very important for us. They didn't know how we would perform. Yes, the coaches did everything to make us perform well. But from the very start, everything depended only on us... And we managed to perform well so many thanks to our team for this.

Vanya: In general, we liked everything very much. We missed the audience a lot and we hope to perform somewhere else soon. Yes, there are nerves, but they are very pleasant nerves. Competition is great.

Is this national title the main award of your career?

Sasha: No. We have silver and bronze medals from European Championships. We have also performed well at World Championships. The situation here is completely different in all aspects. We had a different task... But overall, we are very pleased with the title of Russian National Champions.

Vanya: Yes, indeed, this is the first time for us. The support was great. Even though the arena was only 35 percent capacity, we felt incredible warmth.

Is the lack of vivid emotions due to the fact your main competitors were not here?

Sasha: Yes, many skaters were missing in Chelyabinsk. It’s a pity that this is the case. We, ourselves, were not able to participate in early competitions such as the Grand Prix in Moscow.

Vanya: For instance, Dima Aliev did not compete here although we were expecting him. We are friends with him, and we communicate a lot. We hope to meet the entire Russian team after the New Year.

Did this situation personally blur the impression of the Russian Championships?

Sasha: Of course. In addition, the federation indicated that this is not the final selection for the World Championships. We simply perceived it as a certain stage where we need to show what we are capable of.

Vanya: On the other hand, the fact that it was our first competition in a long time added more importance to it.

Is it a shame that Europeans got cancelled, while everything goes well in other sports?

Vanya: Of course, it's upsetting.

Sasha: I don’t really follow what is happening in other sports, but the cancellation of our Europeans was not a surprise. Everything pointed towards this direction gradually. We were ready for this news. We understand that holding a competition in such conditions is difficult and unsafe.

How do you feel now?

Sasha: I’m good now, thanks.

Vanya: Yes, we have already recovered.

You guys joked at the press conference that you were unlucky, because you were ill with COVID at different times.

(Sasha and Vanya laugh)

Sasha: Well, yes, we were really out of luck.

How did this happen? You spend so much time together.

Sasha: At first, I just caught a cold. There was bronchitis or something like that. I got better and then fell ill again, but with COVID. I don't know why that happened, but after I got sick, the coaches and Vanya fell ill.

Vanya: Why this happened is still a mystery to us. It is very incomprehensible.

How did you handle the disease?

Vanya: It was not easy. I had palpable lung damage. The temperature was monitored for a very long time, and the dose of antibiotics was quite strong. The hardest part is not how I got sick, but how I went back to the ice. It was very strange and a little scary.

Sasha: You may be fine at home, but as soon as you go out on the ice, you immediately start coughing due to the cold air and the slightest exertion. Usually for us, skating in circles is nothing at all... But after the illness, the body perceives it as a serious threat and reacts instantly. It is scary. You start thinking: "How am I going to skate now?"

Did it come to hospitalizations?

Sasha and Vanya: No.

Vanya: Fortunately, it didn't come to that. I didn't have extreme temperatures (around 37.5 to 38 only). The only problem is that it lasted a long time. Sasha’s condition was different though. High temperatures in the beginning, but the illness quickly disappeared.

Sasha: In my case, it started with a common cold, then the whole body began to ache. I came back from training and it felt like someone was breaking all my bones from the inside. Then, body temperature began to rise. The maximum was over 39. I immediately took antibiotics. The state itself was unpleasant - you go to the kitchen, or to the bathroom and you are already very tired. You also hear how you breathe.

Sasha, I looked at your Instagram and came to the conclusion that you love black and white tones. Why is that?

Sasha: In black and white, there is...

Vanya: Magic.

Sasha: Yes, some kind of charm. Many photographs look better in black and white. I like the lines and shadows.

Do you hear from fans a lot?

Sasha: Very much! Just yesterday, one fan gave gifts through the coaches. She loves our group very much, follows us to all competitions. From my understanding, she is not alone. It is just her who communicates with us. I called for a photo session, but unfortunately, this has not yet happened because of the virus situation. But yes, they write a lot! They post stories, write long messages. Sometimes I read and tears come, people give a lot of themselves. You think how this is possible. Many are busy with family and work, but they take time for us.

Vanya: Most of the times, they post our reactions to performances. This has already become a meme! We have been compared to animals. Sasha recently reposted a picture where I am a dog who smiles, and she is a serious cat. In many shots, myself and Irina Vasilievna (Zhuk) are explosive, and Sasha and Alexander Vasilievich (Svinin) are more restrained. It’s cool and funny!

Does this reflect your nature?

Vanya: I’m probably more emotional after performances. I keep everything to myself so much that it just breaks at the end. Sasha, on the other hand, gives so much to the performances and at the end, she has nothing left.

Are you offended by any comments?

Vanya: Some comments are very interesting. There have certainly been times where I wanted to respond, but realized that it was pointless. It is nonsense.

Sasha: Because you will be invested in it.

Vanya: Now, I laugh at such comments. If a person doesn't like something and expresses their opinion, please, especially if it is really constructive criticism. When you see that this is not the first time a person has written, and really understands figure skating, you can listen to this... But there are some that just write for the sake of saying something.

Sasha: Yes, there are some who throw out unnecessary emotions based on nothing.

Has it ever happened that thanks to a person's comment, you changed something in your performance?

Vanya: A couple of times.

Sasha: It is not with regards to steps and technical issues though. Most comments are like “I want power, brightness.” At such moments, you can reconsider and decide that, indeed, something is missing somewhere.

It happens that unpleasant things are written by fans of other teams.

Vanya: I'm okay with this, but if you like another couple, why are you writing under our post? Go to your guys and write good things.

Sasha, you are sometimes compared to Victoria Sinitsina? Are you okay with this?

Sasha: Yes, absolutely! We sometimes laugh about our similarities. We also have common views on wardrobe sometimes.

What about the comments that you and Vanya would make a good pair in real life?

Sasha: It's fun too.

Vanya: On one hand, that is a compliment because it means that we can show real emotions on the ice. People believe in our story and think that we are also together behind the scenes... But we have already said many times that we are not a couple in real life, so it is quite strange when people ask about this.

Sasha: It's very cute though!

Vanya: Those who have been with us for a long time know that we are not together, but our fans really want us to be together.

Do you follow the situation regarding Russia's two-year sentence? You guys already had some bad experiences in the past with this decision.

Sasha: Yes, we heard this news. As far as I understand, the consequences could be much worse - all athletes from Russia could be expelled indiscriminately. They could say, "Russia, goodbye." But we are still allowed to compete. Let it be without the anthem at the World Championships and the Olympics, but on our form, the name of the country can still be written. This is already pleasant for us. I do not know all the little details, but in this situation, I want to find something positive.

Vanya: Of course, we are upset, because this is our country. We would very much like to perform with the flag and anthem. But the decision has been made, and nothing can be done. We will calmly prepare for all the major competitions. It remains to be seen how athletes will be admitted to the Olympics.

What would you change in ice dance to make it more popular?

Vanya: Ice Dance is a very creative sport. Everything should look simple, easy, and unpredictable with us. In my opinion, to make our sport more popular, teams must be given more freedom for creativity. Then, the couples will not be alike. We have many rules that do not allow us to go beyond.

Sasha: In general, the rules are made for judges. Previously, ice dance judging was based on "like it or not like it."

Do you have long-term career plans?

Vanya: This season has shown that it is difficult to plan the future. We have decided to live day by day, and prepare for specific events. There have been many times where we plan a lot, and in the end, the plan does not come true.

Do you think about life after sports?

Sasha: I do not have any serious thoughts. Maybe participate in shows, but there are no specific plans. However, I can definitely say that I want to stay in figure skating and take a new role in the sport. For now, we still have a lot to accomplish. We have just reached the top level. We have just started receiving recognition from the audience.

Vanya: And we are very grateful to our fans. When new broke out that we were sick, many wrote to us and supported us. It is really motivating!

Do you have plans for the New Year holidays?

Sasha: I would like to go to the skating rink in front of the Red Square. I have never been to massive street skating rinks, so I want to feel this atmosphere.

Vanya: Oh cool! Let's go and invite everyone!

A small wish to your fans at the end of the interview?

Sasha: Health and love. Be happy no matter what. Live everyday.

Vanya: To make all your dreams come true in the New Year.

#MY BABIES ❤️#Stepanova Bukin #Alexandra Stepanova #Ivan Bukin #Figure Skating #Ice Dance #Dance #Skating #Sports #Arts #Interview #Partnership #Love #Life

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imdreaminadream · 3 years

Text

The results pt 2 ~ what about it makes you cringe?” Category 3

( - prologue. - part 1 - category 1 - category 2 )

Okay so this is the results to the question in the quiz, What about it makes you cringe. In reference to the questionnaires core subject about smut fanfics.

Also quick psa there will be a part for the results for the other question - “In kpop fics, Korean words i.e. jagiya, seem to be a no no, would you like to elaborate why?”

Now note these particular results are going to be split into 3 posts because I decided to split the results into 3 categories. 1 - Writing Aspects. 2 - Personal Preferences. 3 - Genuine Problems. >This post is category 3<

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR MENTIONS OF - rape, minors engaging in sex, child pornography, childhood trauma, unsafe bdsm/kinky sex, misogyny?, toxic masculinity? anything else that needs to be tagged message me so I can add them.

DISCLAIMER BELOW. (please read that before continuing)

This is going to be a long post. The responses were very enlightening but please don’t take this as an attack. Consider this more as constructive cheat sheet to good smut writing or just ignore it if you don’t agree with it. Some of this did a bit deep apricate trigger warnings will be put on the appropriate posts but I’m not sorry it got deep fics can also affect real life as much as we wish it were something that didn’t mix in with real life, it does. I’m no official like sex guru or big-time writer, or what ever BUT I did add little advice underneath each answer, which are just a reflection of the people’s answers. Again if you don’t like the sounds of this don’t take it personal and click off.

Genuine problems

Rape territory - There was a common theme of people commenting about what is essentially edging into rape territory. This was talked about with both sexes, where one expresses, they’re not in the mood but the other just continues to make advances on them until they end up having sex. Everyone who spoke about it mentioned it comes across as coercive or forceful (which would be dubious consent, but I personally know how no one tags it as that because they don’t realize.) something that makes them immediately stop reading and knocks an author’s credit in their eyes. When a character is crying as though they’re not enjoying it, but the sex doesn’t stop and there is not safe word that is used.

No advice for this just use common sense.

Lack of tags which indicate trigger/content warnings - This only came up a handful of times but considering its importance I added it in here to talk about. The comments about it were straight forward as is the topic. Some authors aren’t tagging their work appropriately and it’s actually quite dangerous. You tag your work for a reason to let people know what is involved in it before they read, tagging everything is crucial. If something isn’t tagged you risk the reader, at the very least, the reading but then feeling discontent because it had something in they don’t like to read. Then at the worst you risk people’s mental health, you risk them having panic attacks, anxiety attacks because their trigger was in your fic but they didn’t know because it wasn’t tagged for them to see and know not to read because it could trigger them.

Advice for this is to bold things which you know for sure are sensitive topics, and make sure to tag everything in your damn fucking tag section. You risk people having panic attacks when you don’t tag your work right and they read your work only to find out it has their trigger included in it being blindsided because after reading your shitty tags they didn’t know but you put it in there. Also please don’t just tag smut, tag everything included in that smut because something works are tagged smut and then next thing you know person b is being choked, clothes cut by a knife, restrained with rope, told they’re a slut/whore.

They’re a minor - This also only came up a handful of times, not because people don’t care but probably because they don’t commonly come across it enough however this is incredibly important topic even outside of what about smut makes you cringe. This shouldn’t be a problem, as in it shouldn’t be happening as the people who commented, me and all of you know. They’re a minor, under 18, they’re technically still considered child in the law’s eyes anything sexual about them, like writing smut about them would be considered child pornography. “Things that persons under 18 are prohibited from doing - being depicted in pornographic materials.” No one even cares about “but I’m the same age as them uwu.” It still doesn’t make it right so don’t try and use excuses. Also, the minute a person turns 18 if your first thought is oh, I can write smut about them or request someone to write it for me please just leave that’s like preying on them as though you counted down till they were 18 and now the only value you see in them is for sex.

Mine and everyone else’s advice DON’T FUCKING DO IT.

Also, to note I don’t know what the official rules are for age swapping so like writing an adult person as a minor and depicting them in smut materials, to cope with your trauma, would anyone be open to talking to me about it, like educating me? There has just been this sudden wave more fics being, it’s okay to write adult that I made a child in my fic engaging in sexual content because it helps me cope with my trauma. It just seems everyone’s started saying that and I don’t know how many are being genuine or using it as an excuse or gone with the flow treated it like a trend. Not to be rude just genuinely how legit is this? How many people who write it have genuinely experienced that trauma? P.s if you have experienced that trauma, I am genuinely so sorry and know I am not disrespecting or invalidating your trauma I promise.

Female Characters/misogyny? - Now what this means is everyone expressed how they hate the constant portrayal that it only takes seconds for a female to reach an orgasm and she already wet to go like some kind of tap. They also highlighted a big problem with constantly painting the female as this innocent, dainty, dumb, naïve, shy, small, little girl. Women have brains too; women can give as good as they get and aren’t these shy naïve little playthings. All women have different personalities, the stereotypes about women in fics I’ve seen through the answers, and myself in fics, to my questionnaire is upsetting everyone. And you can see why, is it not bad enough we are subjected to misogyny and stereotyped in real life but now we have to see it in fics too. It genuinely does make people stop reading, it makes them cringe as the answers have suggested. One person mentioned this in their response, and I feel it should also be included, “y/n is absolutely okay with everything being done to her.” This isn’t something we should ever hear. This category feels like the right category to mention it so just consider their words, consider why that makes them cringe at smut writing that includes that.

To everyone the advice is a no brainer when you look at the responses. Make sure that the female character is actually getting turned on like into the mood before even thinking about mentioning that she is wet. And consider that a lot of statistics and personal experiences of other women stating it’s not all that easy to orgasm during sex, and not typical for her to come before the male, so make it sound like it’s worth the female characters while not that they do it for 3 minutes and suddenly she is coming.

Please also STOP with the constant bullshit of stereotyping of women as exampled above. If you like to feel small or submissive or whatever in the bedroom and you express that in your fics I get you but that does not mean you have to portray the female character as dumb, naïve, small, weak like for the love of god spice it up a bit, make her powerful, clever, with personality etc.… being in charge of her own body, knowing about her body, and what she wants and how to get it.

Btw no one is saying it’s not okay to be shy and that before you come in here like “why are you shaming shy, or small girls or dd/lg kink,” it’s not that I can assure you. We’re talking about the stereotype of it that is used to make the women seem more pliable for the man to control essentially not the genuine personalities/kinks people have.

Very passive sub female reader and overly dom male - Now many people spoke how an over macho dom male, and a passive - made out like they’re dumb, submissive female is a dynamic that is making them cringe now. It’s not a dynamic they care for anymore, and I agree with them especially considering the issues it brings about. “ Whenever the female reader is extremely passive and shy/flustered whereas the idol/character is extremely assertive/condescending/dominating/leading everything in comparison.” There is a personal preference to this yes# people acknowledged this, however when talking about this dynamic they further explained the issues with it. Overly passive female has already been touched on but to reiterate the replies insinuated they’re sick of seeing women in fics treated how they are in real life essentially – like some dumb little girl. One person said, “I like when the girl can give as good as she gets, though that’s just my preference.” So, like what has been discussed before this portrayal of females it absolute bullshit and needs to fucking stop being such a constant portrayal. (mind break is different so don’t start)

Then for the male side of things it’s enforcing the stereotype men are macho an alpha male, they don’t have feelings they just think with their dick and have all grr I’m super toxically manly do you ever lift bro, I’m so strong, I get all the bitches, fuck all the girls, the have control over the passive female and not in a consenting way, in an entitled way. Which no, they can have feelings, they can be softer more feminine all whilst still identifying as a man. They can be submissive just as much as a anyone else, they can be a switch or just a dom that isn’t this macho, macho, man. They can be needy, loving, caring, in touch with themselves, their feelings and everything the female character is made out to be, apart from dumb, naïve and weak of course, yano all those negative things any gender and non-gender people want to be associated with. If the guy wants to get railed by the female and be the sub in the dynamic of male x female, then fair enough let it happen there isn’t nothing wrong with it.

All in all, it’s okay for males to be more feminine than masculine and females more masculine than feminine. It’s okay to portray that in fics genuinely. I wouldn’t say I have any advice for this other than the obvious no more macho man and passive females.

Use of Korean words. - If you’re not a Korean person don’t think you’re in the right to argue about this. The Korean people have spoken up and you will listen and respect them. Know this is an important topic, however there will be a separate post for this, so I’ll keep this bit short to then expand on more in the separate post. Just wanted to make you the reader aware that this is an issue. It’s not okay to be treating noona, unnie and oppa like a kink if you are not Korean, or have Korean heritage. The people who are Korean so kindly explained, it was a normal word for them like just another part of their culture until bad egg kpop fans got their hands on it and they have now sexualized it to the point where some Korean people do not feel comfortable to even use it without thinking of the sexual connotation it has now been given.

Now like I said I will talk further about that and more, to do with the use of Korean words in fics, in another post, I don’t already have that post drafted so it might take a while to get out and post. However in that time I’m gladly open to hearing more people who are Korean and have Korean heritage, views on this. Or if you too have experience with a word from your language having been taken from being an innocent word to now having a sexual connotation as well because of people not from your country/culture having given it that sexual meaning. It could be helpful to further emphasis the point about the Korean words but also show overall no matter the language/country that it’s making the people of that country/culture uncomfortable.

Also I hope it doesn’t come across like I’m trying to speak over Koreans. If anything i want to be helpful more than a hinderance. This was something that was spoken about on the questionnaire so I’m just writing what the Korean people have expressed about it in the questionnaire. I want to be able to give their voices from the questionnaire a platform and shed light on this situation, with them.

Also can I ask if gender is a factor in this as well? I’ve seen on tiktok where some Korean guys like being called oppa but I’m not sure if that's in a respectful light or a sexual light, if they were being sarcastic for the Korea-boos or? but i have never seen women say they like being called noona in a way that comes across as a turn on? So can anyone comment on that? send me anons pls.

Too much degradation - Of course everyone who has mentioned this has said it is quite a personal preference thing, the acknowledge that it’s a kink not for everyone. Although on the flip side them relentlessly mentioning it give the feel that it’s becoming more of a problem and less of it’s okay it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. You see they exampled “bitch, slut, whore.” It’s so commonly used, and they even said how they’re finding it not tagged majority of the time, so seeing that surprisingly in the fics constantly it makes them cringe but it’s not a type of thing one can get over it’s apparent it’s becoming a slight problem. It begs the question how much degradation is too much, why is it constantly being used in fics? Does everyone love labeling the female y/n a bitch, whore, slut? Why is the male y/n never called a slut as much as female y/n? Do females have more of a degradation kink than men?

I can’t think of any advice to give based on the feedback, apart from obviously add it to your tags that there is a lot of degradation but it there is anything anyone else wants to add on this topic feel free to re-blog with your take or send me anons.

Describing features on a y/n fic - A few people have mentioned this, and I categorized it as a problem because well it is because not only does it make them cringe in smut fics but also in normal fics and poc feel oppressed in yet another way. When it’s written as y/n it’s supposed to allow the reader to insert themselves into the fic to imagine themselves in there, yet it’s not always done like that. As one of the responses said, it seems authors like that tend to project themselves or their ideal selves onto y/n physical feature wise. More often than not as the responses have indicated y/n is portrayed as cis female, white, blonde, blue eyes, other physical traits such as breast size, dick size body type, height and hair length are portrayed too, which pulls the readers out of imagining because they’re being told they have features they don’t. It’s especially bad for poc because their race never gets portrayed in fics, so it gives the message white race is the most favorable and we already know how racist the world is no need to bring it into fics either unknowingly or purposely.

Moral of the story, stop racism, end it. Go educate yourself.

Moral of the story, in regard to fics, well don’t describe y/n thoroughly. Instead leave it as vague as possible, I mean it’s not even needed to know what eye colour y/n has when they’re in the middle of getting railed.

Quick intermission to just say make sure you tag what gender and pronouns y/n has for your fic, so people are fully aware what y/n they’re getting in this fic.

Nor do we need to know what skin colour they have, it can easily be mentioned that a character is touching y/n’s body without saying they have milky skin indicating they’re white. It is very possible to not give y/n a race. Also, height, keep height out of it don’t describe it because not everyone is 5’2. (hello yes, I’m 5’10 so imagine me reading character a of height 5’8 towering over me, I mean maybe if they wear heels yes but otherwise no.) Similarly, don’t ever describe body types, you can say an outfit flatters a person’s figure without describing it, people can have sex without their body being specifically described i.e., slim figure, toned shapely legs. Please understand that by not describing y/n you’re helping to contribute to racism, and these wacky beauty standards that are already being forced onto us in the real world never mind the fictional world.

Lack of safe word - Following on from kinks not being portrayed correctly there is the issue of lack of safe word. Now this is something that again didn’t come up quite a lot but that doesn’t mean it’s not an issue. Some are writing fics where one of the people involved, are being railed to high hell and it’s kinky as fuck or you’re writing a BDSM specific fic. Which is okay we are not judging or shaming but it’s concerning how with all this type of sex being had there is no even slight mention of the pairing having a safe word which is has the name would imply really important. It is there to keep the people participating in this kinky sex safe, without that it’s really harmful. Now if you think oh but writing in the discussion of safe words is really unsexy, especially when I’m just trying to make the characters fuck really kinky, then please go educate yourself. Safe words are incredibly sexy when you know it means you get to have bomb ass kinky sex but know that you can also have boundaries that should and will be respected, and a word or system i.e. traffic light system, to pause or stop when ever you need to in order to keep the kinky sexy safe.

The obvious advice is to incorporate consent and knowledge of safe word in your fic. It can be as simple as writing that the characters stop a minute for person a saying to person b you know your safe word. And then writing a small mini paragraph of person b feeling even more in love and/or turned on because their boundaries are being respected. Then you just carry on with writing the smut. You can imply easily that they have a safe word, that it’s been discussed, therefore they’re gong to be safe, respected and made to feel good.

Also, I know there are some people out there who are, a bit unsure on writing a fic in which one person uses their safe word. This is your friendly supportive message to just do it, don’t be afraid of what others think, do it for you it’s something great to write. There are many different ways you can go with it, so you do it if you want to 😊.

Honorable mentions of things that make the people cringe.

(Not a problem just as we are at the end of this category I figured I’d put honorable mentions. disclaimer again, these are other people’s comments from the questionnaire. You are entitled not to agree with them however do not attack me as some have been doing.)

fetishize people’s gender or race/ethnicity

uneducated use of other cultures to make it look authentic

Use of the word plum when they mean plump. One’s a fruit/colour, the other means having a full rounded shape.

PICK ME Y/N (we all know the type)

Stereotypes of all kinds. Of people, phrases, troupes etc.….

Written in a way it sounds monotone. i.e., “He did this, he did that, I did this.”

When all y/n does during a smut scene is whine. There are other synonyms people.

infantilization of y/n. stop making me feel like the person who the fic is about, is a nonce.

y/n is constantly oh so innocent. Like they can be a virgin don’t get it wrong. BUT we all know 9 times out of 10 y/n reads fanfic so they ain’t innocent.·

no refractory period.

try hard humour in the middle of smut.

terrible euphemisms

proper unrealistic dick sizes

adding in smut into a plot where it doesn’t fit

try hard

more to come potentially?

END OF CATERGORY 3

(Feel free to discuss in comments, in my messages or send anons or anything like that if you want.)

@nctsworld @lauraneuuh @jooniyah

Tag list:

@ceoofxiaojun @lovemayble @myelle-n

(@smutwritingpolice) (@smutwhy)

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gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

You are my home💚💙

Happy Valentine’s Destiel Wedding Day everyone!

Part 2 of my Destiel wedding series.

Click here for the masterpost.

Thanks @bonchickabelle for your support

~2,8k words

“Are you nervous?” Sam teased Dean, who stood in front of the mirror, tugging his tie straight. He thought about it for a moment “Excited? Sure, can’t wait to see Cas again after you forced us to spend last night apart for some stupid tradition. Nervous? No. It’s Cas I’m marrying.” Sam smiled knowingly, already half out the door. “I’m very happy for you two!” Alone again, Dean’s eyes drifted back to the mirror and he placed his hand on his shoulder, right over Cas’ handprint. He meant what he had said to Sam. It had been the first night they had been apart since he got Cas back and he barely slept. He had just felt wrong without hearing Cas’ gentle breaths, without being able to wrap his arms around the former angel and without feeling the weight of Cas’ head on his chest. But was he nervous? Not at all. He was almost surprised at how calm he felt. He’d never been this sure about anything in his life. After today, he would never have to spend another night without Cas.

Everything was perfect. Everyone they knew had insisted on helping with the wedding in one way or another. Sam wanted to officiate them, he got his license as soon as he heard the happy news. Eileen had taken the grooms separately to shop for wedding suits, Jack had promised them a warm, sunny day and handmade the invitations with Claire. Jody and Donna had baked their wedding cake, Ellen and Jo contributed a dozen homemade pies, Bobby took care of the bar and the catering. Garth and Bess promised to capture the whole day on their cameras. Gabe offered to be their DJ and Ash took care of all the technical stuff. Rowena had promised them truly magical fireworks at night, while Crowley and Benny were in charge of the security, although that shouldn’t be necessary ever since Jack became god.

Charlie and Dorothy had not only offered their vast, beautiful property as their wedding venue, they had also taken care of the decorations. The ceremony was set to take place on the Southern side of their house. An aisle led through rows of white chairs up to a little lake in front of which they had placed a rectangular wooden arc, decorated with greenery and big white flowers that stood out brightly against the blue water in the background. The Western side of the house was already equipped with a big dance floor around which tables, a big buffet and a bar had been set up. To top it all off, Charly and Dorothy had hanged fairy lights in every single tree on their property, which would create a magical atmosphere at night.

Lost in thoughts, Dean adjusted the flower on his lapel and smiled at the mirror. He never thought that he – Dean fucking Winchester – would ever get married. And yet here he was. His phone buzzed and his smile became even wider as he saw who texted him.

[Cas 10:34] Dean?

[Dean 10:35] What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now😉

[Cas 10:37] No, my feet are perfectly fine, why would they be cold?

Dean rolled his eyes, amused at his fiancé’s confusion.

[Dean 10:37] Not literally, that’s an expression for someone who has second thoughts on their wedding day. What’s going on?

[Cas 10:38] Oh. I see. I’m nervous that I might act weird because I don’t know all wedding customs. So I wanted to ask if you could maybe help me out when I’m about to make a fool out of myself.

[Dean 10:39] Sure thing, sunshine, but don’t worry about acting right, it’s your wedding day, all you have to do is enjoy it. And everybody here knows you’re a little weird😉

Without a knock, Charlie barged in. “What’s up bitch, you ready? Cause your fiancé is and he’s smokin’ hot.” She winked as she noticed Dean’s blushing cheeks. “Yeah, I’m ready. Where’s Bobby?” “Already waiting downstairs for you. I have to go, see you in a few”. As quick as she had come, she disappeared again. Dean took another glance at the mirror to make sure everything was perfect before he left the room.

Downstairs Bobby and Ellen were laughing over a glass of scotch. When Bobby noticed Dean, he smiled and reached up to adjust his baseball cap, scoffing when he realized that he didn’t wear one today. “Lookin’ good” he grumbled. Ellen gave Bobby a quick peck on his cheek and winked at Dean as she went to take a seat. “I’m glad ya two idjits finally got the sticks out of your asses. Took ya long enough.” Dean chuckled nervously, his cheeks turning red again. “Thanks Bobby. Truth is I still don’t know how I got this lucky.” “Well, ya really deserve this, ya know? You’re a good man. He’s lucky to be with you. And I like him. Never seen you this happy.” After a pause he added “I’m very proud of you son.” Fumbling with the empty glass Ellen had left behind on the table in front of him, Dean replied “Bobby... Thank you. You’ve always been a father for me, unlike John, who... Anyways, thank you. For everything.” Dean swallowed, unable to put his love and gratitude for this man into words, but as he looked up at Bobby’s face, he caught him wiping over suspiciously wet eyes. “Idjit” he grunted, pulling Dean into a bone crushing hug. He nodded at the clock. “Ya ready? We gotta go.” “Ready” Dean replied, and he meant it. He was more than ready for this.

Or maybe he wasn’t. He was more than ready to marry Cas, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight of all his loved ones in one place, alive – thanks to Jack – gathered to celebrate with him. He always thought the only occasion where they’d all come together would be for his funeral, and he didn’t even expect that since most of them had been dead until a few months ago. Grateful and touched to see how many people where there because they loved him and Cas, Dean fought back some tears. While Garth’s kids waddled down the aisle, scattering white rose petals, Bobby squeezed Dean’s arm, as if he could sense all those thoughts whirling in his head. Dean nodded, linked their arms and let Bobby lead him down the aisle where Sammy already waited with a big grin and an even bigger stack of notes for his speech.

Back in the house, Charly gave Cas an encouraging smile and handed him a gorgeous bouquet of white and yellow flowers. “Thank you for leading me down the aisle, I was made aware that that would usually be the responsibility of one’s father...” “There’s nothing usual about this wedding..” Charly teased him. “Besides, you’ve been my bestie ever since we first met, of course I’m gonna walk you down the aisle!” She linked their arms. “Ready?” Cas nodded. “Ready...” Leaning in, he added with a proud smirk “...bestie”. The doors swung open and they stepped outside.

All heads turned around to see Cas, but he didn’t even notice. He was completely captivated by the sight of his fiancé, who let out a little gasp before breaking into a wide smile. His eyes made those cute crinkles that Cas loved so much and as he came closer, he could see a tear roll over Dean’s check. Usually, although Dean had become way more relaxed over the last months, Cas could always sense a lingering alertness in him. But now... he seemed completely at peace. Cas quickly blinked away some tears. He didn’t want anything to cloud his vision, he needed to preserve this image in his mind. His navy-blue suit combined with a simple black tie and a white flower on the lapel suited Dean incredibly well. He was beautiful and Cas’ heart skipped a beat at the thought that it was him who caused the pure adoration and happiness on Dean’s face.

Charlie led Cas towards him with excruciatingly slow steps. Dean could barely restrain himself from running towards them. Cas was indeed smoking hot in his black suit, the baby blue tie perfectly matching the color of his big, loving eyes. Their eyes locked and Cas smiled at him with his adorable alien head tilt. Dean took a deep breath in, smiling at his fiancé, whose eyes glistened suspiciously. Cas seemed completely awestruck, and Dean felt a little lightheaded like he always did when Cas looked at him like that... like he meant the world to him.

Charly placed Cas’ hand in Dean’s. “Hey handsome! Missed me last night?” Dean whispered with a wink. ��Hello Dean. I missed you very much indeed”. Murmuring “Me too”, Dean softly leaned his forehead against Cas’. The grooms stood there for a moment with closed eyes and fond smiles on their faces, the longing for each other almost unbearable. Cas finally pulled away and stated softly: “You are incredibly beautiful”. He turned towards Sam. Dean blushed at the seriousness in Cas’ voice and slowly turned to face his brother as well, not without glancing at Cas’ concentrated face once more and shooting him a loving smile from the side. While Sam held his unsurprisingly deep and thoughtful speech, Cas slipped his hand into Dean’s, who squeezed it lightly in response.

When it was time to say their vows, Dean took Cas’ hands in his and started shakily: “So, uhm, I’d like to start if that’s okay. Cas – you’re my best friend. And you’re the love of my life. I never thought I’d ever say something like that, I didn’t exactly think love was in the cards for me. I never let anyone close. But you...” His furrowed brows softened, and he broke into a fond smile, adopting Cas’ little head tilt. “You immediately got to me – well, right after I stabbed you... Sorry for that, buddy.” He winked and Cas chuckled softly. Dean continued, his voice overflowing with love: “I love your weird, quirky personality. I love that you’re such an openhearted, adorable little dude and at the same time you’re brave, strong and one hell of a badass. You never stop surprising me. You have the most loving, pure and beautiful soul.” Dean’s voice started to crack. “You know me better than anyone, heck, you probably even know me better than I know myself. You looked into my soul and you love me for exactly who I am, which is the best gift you could have ever given me.” Firmly holding Cas’ gaze, he added seriously: “I promise to always love and support you unconditionally, in our human life together and beyond. I’ve been yours ever since you first laid a hand on me. And I swear I will be yours for all of eternity. I love you Cas, so damn much.”

Cas looked at him completely lovestruck, tears glistening in his eyes. In a low, gravelly voice he declared: “I never truly belonged anywhere. I never... functioned the way I was supposed to. And you made me realize that that’s okay. That freedom and free will were more preferable than being a brainwashed soldier of heaven. You gave me your friendship, you made me part of your family. You taught me to love.” He cupped Dean’s face, gently brushing his thumb over Dean’s freckled cheeks. Squinting his eyes in adoration at the miracle before him, he added: “You are the most perfect, selfless and loving human being I have ever known.” Tears started rolling down Dean’s cheeks, he still had a hard time accepting that someone – especially Cas – would think so highly of him. Receiving this praise in front of such a big audience made him blush. “Dean, you are my home. I love you. Forever.” He pressed a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead and wiped away his tears. Dean almost drowned in his loving eyes, completely overwhelmed with affection.

Claire and Jack came up to give them their rings. Claire handed Cas a ring and whispered: “Congrats Ca... Dad”. Cas froze up for a second, tilting his head, squinting his eyes, trying to understand if she really just meant that or if it had just slipped out on accident. When she gave him a shy confirming smile, he pulled her into a strong hug. Jack handed Dean a ring with a “Hello Dad” and a short hug, before tugging on Claire’s hand to pull her back to their seats. The almost married couple shared a confused look after what just happened, Dean opening his mouth to ask “Did they just call us..?” “I believe they did”, Cas replied happily.

Sam moved on with the ceremony and let them repeat some more promises to each other before posing the final question: “Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester as your lawfully wedded husband?” Cas answered earnestly “I do.” Sam turned to Dean to repeat his question: “Do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel as your lawfully wedded husband?” Dean grinned widely, eyes crinkling around the edges: “Hell yeah, I do!” Sam asked them to exchange their rings to seal their bond and Cas took Dean’s hand gently in his. He slipped the ring on slowly, looking deeply into Dean’s beaming green eyes. Dean then slipped a ring onto Cas’ finger, his fingertips lingering longer than necessary. Sam finally pronounced them “...husband and husband. You may now kiss your groom!” Under the roaring cheers of their loved ones, Dean cupped Cas’ face while his husband pulled him close, arms wrapped around his waist. Their lips found each other easily, all of their adoration blooming into a chaste, soft kiss. Cas spontaneously bent Dean backwards, who gasped into his mouth in surprise, before letting himself fall into the strong embrace. Their kiss deepened, both too far gone to hear the excited cheers and whistles around them. It took them a while to gather the strength to break apart, foreheads resting against each other for one more moment before turning to the cheering crowd. Dean linked their hands and raised them up, as Sam exclaimed loudly: “I present to you Mr. and Mr. Winchester!”

The party afterwards was one for the books. Everyone had a blast and surprisingly enough, everyone got along perfectly, which wasn’t exactly a given on a party were hunters and supernatural beings came together. Donna’s and Jody’s wedding cake was mind-blowingly delicious. It was a white cake with three tiers and a figurine of the happy couple on top, wearing their trademark flannel and trenchcoat. When they cut the cake open, it revealed a colorful surprise. The top tier was colored like the bisexual pride flag. The second tier was chocolate-brown and the bottom tier looked like a rainbow flag. Dean insisted on feeding Cas with some cake and “accidentally” smeared frosting on Cas’ face. After he had kissed it away shamelessly, which earned them loud cheers and whistles from their guests, Dean pulled his husband onto the dance floor for their first dance.

They both didn’t exactly know how to dance, but it didn’t matter. They were just happy to feel the comforting warmth of their bodies against each other and melted into a tight embrace. As they were swaying gently, eyes closed and faces buried in each other’s necks, they didn’t realize that the first song had long blended into the next one. After a couple of songs, Dean opened his eyes for a moment, watching all the people he loved enjoy themselves. Jody and Donna slow-danced next to them and Eileen tried to teach Sam how to dance, hoping not to get her toes crushed. The brothers exchanged a big smile that said: “We’re so damn lucky”. Rowena stood at the DJ-table with Gabe, brushing a hand over his arm and whispering something in his ear. Crowley and Benny seemed to hit it off at the bar and Claire and Jack tried to teach Sonny some “tictoc-dance”, whatever that was, while Miracle excitedly jumped around their feet. Dean closed his eyes again and sank even deeper into the feeling of Cas’ arms wrapped around him.

The party carried on deep into the night, roaring rock classics long having replaced the quiet couple-dance music, everyone partying on the dance floor or sharing stories and laughs at the bar. As the newlyweds sat down to chat with Sam and Eileen over some drinks, Cas looked at his husband lovingly. He was overjoyed to see Dean beaming happily from being among all the people he loved, no danger in sight. As Dean caught Cas starring, he gave him a gentle peck and got up. He linked their hands as they strolled towards the lake, the party sounds fading into low background noises. They leaned up against each other, the reflections of stars and fairy lights glistening on the water as they held each other close in the cold night air. Dean nuzzled his nose into Cas’ hair and pressed a gentle kiss on his head. Cas turned to see Dean’s glowing eyes and pulled him into a long, achingly tender kiss. They were home.

#I've been working on this for 2 weeks now #destiel wedding #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #castiel winchester #destiel wedding fic #deancas wedding #supernatural wedding #spn #supernatural #supernatural family #happy destiel wedding day #spn wedding #saileen #destiel fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic

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feynavaley · 3 years

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Congrats on the 1000 followers!!! You deserve it :) Anyway, if you’re still taking requests, could I ask for fluff involving Canada being doted upon by another member in the FACE family? You can pick which/as many family members as your comfortable with and if it’s canonverse or au. Honestly, what matters more to me is that Canada is being loved and adored appropriately by his family haha~

Thank you so much!! 😍💖 For your kind words and for the request. 😊 I'm afraid I ended up straying a bit from the prompt, I hope it's all right!

———

The Best Reward

“...And this is how you’ll prevent them from fighting and actually have them listen, for a change. You don’t want to give them the occasion to bicker, you see? But the thing is, you also don’t want to make it overtly clear that’s what you’re trying to do. Most people don’t react well if they perceive something as an imposition and will do their best to go against it, at that point. Subtle manipulation, instead, works much better. If you set the right circumstance, most people will follow...”

There was something odd. The thought struck Matthew all of sudden, making his speech lose vigour.

Something’s missing.

A few heartbeats later, he registered it: Alfred wasn’t talking. In the unnatural silence, his brother was staring at him, his face frozen in shock.

Matthew’s breath itched, heat rose to his cheeks.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Was it too much?”

Actually, Matthew wasn’t even sure of what he had been saying... he knew the gist, but not the words he had used. Under the constant pounding, his head was too light, everything felt disconnected and a bit too far away.

I really need another coffee...

He couldn’t recall when he had drunk the last one. He had a vague feeling that it hadn’t been too long... but it hadn’t helped much. Clearly.

Matthew fidgeted on his feet, contracting and releasing his muscle in an effort to get back into focus and fighting the urge to press his fingers to his throbbing forehead. He almost missed Alfred slowly shaking his head, even though his brother was right in front of him.

“No, no, it’s all right!” Alfred reassured him with the genuine earnestness only he was capable of. “You’ve been a huge help, don’t apologize!”

He typed something on his laptop, then stopped in contemplation of the spreadsheet he had shown Matthew earlier. As he did so, he fished a cookie from the plate in front of him and nudged the same towards Matthew.

“Here, have a treat. You earned it!”

Matthew almost recoiled away, barely restraining a grimace. He should have been hungry, he hadn’t eaten in more than a day... but at that point, the slight, constant nausea lingering to the back of his senses sapped away any appetite.

Fortunately, Alfred didn’t seem to notice, too focused on his work.

“Man, I had never thought so much had to go into planning the seats at a conference... You’re so good at this, Mattie! And you don’t even really frequent most of these people at all, how have been able to pick up all of this?”

Matthew shrugged, uncomfortable under his brother’s bright eyes. Alfred’s praises were everything he had ever wanted. He wished so strongly he could accept them, but if he was honest with himself...

“It really isn’t so hard,” he muttered in an apologetic voice. “You just have to watch and listen. I’m sure you could do that too, if you wanted! I guess I just have more time for observing, since I generally have nothing important to contribute on.”

That had come out really wrong. Alfred’s forehead scrunched, a frown tugged at his lips.

“Mattie—”

God, where is that coffee?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I’m not trying to blame you or anything, it’s just that—”

His pathetic attempt at an apology wasn’t enough, for Alfred’s frown tightened even more.

“Mattie, this isn’t—”

In a stroke of luck, a notification lit Matthew’s laptop just at that moment. A skype call from Arthur.

“Sorry, I really have to take this!”

Without leaving Alfred time to protest, Matthew opened the call.

“Hi, Arthur! Sorry for getting back at you so late, I had some issues with some stuff Chris sent me so I had to call him and then his PM, but I think everything should be in order now!”

He strongly hoped so, at least. He had proofread everything five times, he was embarrassingly prone to typos and small mistakes when he was so tired... He couldn’t submit something like that to Arthur. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more anxiety clogged his throat with the suspicion what he had done wouldn’t be enough...

“I can give it another check though! You know, just to be sure.”

“Matthew...”

Arthur was frowning.

Oh crap, what did I do wrong?

Trying to hide the panic mounting in his chest, Matthew offered Arthur a fake, strained smile.

“Yeah, I’ll do that if you give me just a moment! The deadline is 12 am, isn’t it? Yes, I’ll—”

“Matthew, what are you doing?”

The note of concern in Arthur’s voice made him pause. A moment later, Matthew realized that in bracing himself against the table, he was slowly tilting towards the laptop.

“Oh, sorry!”

He offered Arthur a sheepish smile and straightened up, bringing his arms back to his sides. His head swam at the sudden movement, but he managed not to waver.

I need to get it together.

And a coffee. He also needed a coffee. Or two or three, most likely.

Confusion shone in Arthur’s eyes.

“Matthew, what are you apologizing for? I had asked you to give me a hand with the documentation, and you did everything by yourself instead. Do you know what a relief it was, when I saw everything was in order?”

Matthew could empathize with that feeling so strongly it almost hurt. It was why he had done so, after all.

“Don’t apologize. I am the one who needs to thank you, there isn’t any apology involved in this. And there’s no need for another check, either. I just did it myself, everything was perfect.”

A wave of relief washed over Matthew. A weight he hadn’t even been conscious of was lifted from his chest – but with that, the exhaustion loomed closer as well.

Matthew forced himself to stay stiff.

“Actually, it was even better than what I would have done myself,” Arthur went on from the screen, “I have no idea of how long it took you, but—”

“But you’ve also been helping me with this!” Alfred cut in, startling Matthew.

He hadn’t noticed his brother getting up – but Alfred was now next to him, peering at the camera.

“And it must have taken forever, too! When did you even find the time?”

Matthew shrugged.

“It really wasn’t that much.”

In fact, the more he thought he about it, the more he realized his help could have been much more substantial. Even if Alfred always approached everything with a quite... relaxed mindset, he had as much work as Arthur, after all – it came with being such an important personification. Matthew, instead... there wasn’t such a weight pressing down his shoulders. Not helping his brothers would have just been selfish. More and more ways he could have eased the burden crowded his minds in a dizzying rush, ideas, projects...

His confused thoughts scattered away when a strong hand landed on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“No, Mattie, it was! And you managed to do it for myself and Arthur as well.”

Alfred’s earnestness was almost painful. Matthew know he wasn’t good enough to appreciate such praises, yet, he couldn’t help the small seed of hope that blossomed in his chest.

“Seriously, Mattie, you’re really amazing!”

“I... am?” Was all Matthew could manage dumbly, as he stared at his brother’s bright eyes. Even when he blinked, the confidence they conveyed didn’t change.

“But... I didn’t do that much, I...”

“Matthew.”

This time, Arthur was the one talking. He was using the firm tone he employed to convey he truly meant what he was saying and would not tolerate being contradicted.

“You’ve been an incredible help. You saved me a lot of time and trouble, and from what I understand, you did the same for Alfred as well.”

“Yep! That’s right!”

“You need to accept the compliments, you deserve them.”

“I...”

If both his brothers agreed with that, it had to mean they were right. Matthew flushed in embarrassment – yet, the sudden spark of pride curling in his chest quite welcome.

Both Arthur and Alfred were smiling.

Did I really manage that?

Apparently, he had. The realization finally sank in along with a sudden wave of exhaustion that made Matthew waver.

Alfred’s hands grabbed his shoulders, steadying him.

“Whoa, Mattie!”

“Matthew, when was the last time you had some sleep?” Arthur asked from across the screen, his voice laced with alarm.

Matthew gave a dry, delirious chuckle.

Today marks the third all-nighter in a row.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Who cared about sleep? His brothers were proud of him. Nothing mattered more than that.

Alfred and Arthur exchanged a glance. Eyebrows raised, a slight frown. They seemed to agree on something with a small nod.

“All right then,” Alfred stated with a shake of his head, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I think you’ve earned some good, uninterrupted sleep.”

Matthew didn’t resist as his brother wrapped an arm around his shoulders and started leading him away from the desk. His head was pounding, but his smile didn’t waver.

“Good night, Arthur,” he yawned, even though he couldn’t recall what time it was in Europe so it might not have made sense.

It didn’t feel particularly important, at the moment. He had been useful. His brothers were happy. He was going to have a good rest.

(word count: 1,571)

#hetalia #aph canada #aph america #aph england #hetalia fanfiction #ficlet #na brothers #ace family #family #fluff #feyna's writing #request #sorry for the lame title haha #I'm tired and I can't come up with anything better atm

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