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goodgirlofglory · 11 months

Note

Hiya doll! 👋 Finals month is still in motion, so I’ve been pretty quiet on the asks. But today I was feeling some sort of way, and I wanted to know if you’re open to this request.

“Bucky with a reader who is insecure about her body”

Basically, I see a lot of representation for plus size girlies on tumblr ( and this is no hate to anyone) but I wish there was also more representation for midsize girlies. Also for girls who are on the taller side, I’m talking 5”7 and up. I’m 5”7 myself, and wearing any shoe that gives me extra inches makes me feel like I tower over my friends or others.

Another thing is, if you do write for this ask, I was thinking that even though reader does have a low self-esteem, she puts on a front and seems like she has a majorrrrrr ego or god complex. So maybe, Bucky see through that, gets her down from there, and fucks her in front of a mirror 🫣🥵

And I oop-

Anyways, regardless to everything, have a fantastic day/night and rest of your week! I appreciate you 💜💜💜

Bestie!!!!🦋

I hope your finals went well!🫶🫶🫶

I am soooo sorry this took so long! It needed to sit with me for a while before I felt I could do it justice, and then life happened in the meantime ya'know.

Anyways I so dearly hope you like this🙏🙏 I resonated a lot with your prompt as a midsize girlie myself and channeled some of my own experience into it (though I have sadly never been fucked in front of a mirror by Bucky Barnes)💖

Anyway, hope you're having a good day or night wherever you are, you are a true gem 🫶✨️🫶✨️🫶

(Also can’t wait to hear what you think of this so lmk😘)

Just perfect / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x secretlyinsecure!taller!midsize!reader

Word count: 7,8k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, SMUT, bathroom sex, fucking in front of a mirror, dom!Bucky, unprotected p in v (be safe my sweet darlings), a split second of oral (f receiving), reader is insecure and has some harmful thoughts about her own body.

Summary: A rather dreadful Christmas party at S.H.I.E.L.D takes a turn for the better (and frankly therapeutical) when Bucky Barnes shows you that your self-deprecating thoughts about your body might not be as objective as you thought.

“Mid,” you muttered to yourself as you looked over your outfit one more time in the mirror, fighting down the nagging notion of not feeling entirely satisfied with the reflection. The little, black dress fit you perfectly, hugging your upper body like a second skin before flaring out in the shimmering, silk fabric of the skirt that reached just below your knees. Appropriate for a work party, while the hidden slit in the side of the skirt was just a little something extra cheeky for those who’d pay attention. You doubted anyone would. It fit your persona as a ruthless man repeller perfectly too. No flashy colors, no risque shapes, no cutouts and not too short. No fun either, but that wasn’t important here. The cleavage even appeared modest with the average size of your breasts.

“Fucking mandatory Christmas party,” you muttered as you grabbed your bag and left your apartment to head to the Avengers compound for the second time that day. How is it even allowed to make an after hours social event mandatory, you wondered angrily as you got in the waiting cab. You kept adjusting your dress as the city slowly flashed by outside the cab window, second guessing everything about your outfit from the dress to the shoes to the bag to the red lipstick you’d dared yourself to put on, afraid it was too much and too basic at the same time.

You knew it was ridiculous to feel so self conscious about yourself and your body. For all intents and purposes, you were perfectly and quite uninterestingly average, neither plus size nor skinny. You knew your plus size girlies had a way harder time being judged and disrespected for their size, and you didn’t want to be too skinny either, like malnourished. You were perfectly midsize, eating healthy and exercising for your body's sake, eating chocolate and pasta and drinking beer for your mental health’s sake. You were perfectly. average. midsize.

It was just that, the lack of appreciation and attention over the years has slowly chipped away at your confidence, and then your self-image, and then your self-esteem, to a point that it was difficult to even rouse any positive thoughts about yourself that didn’t feel half-hearted or mandatory for the girlboss-affirmation of the day.

The one thing you had going for you, the one thing you felt unequivocally confident about, was your job. Working as one of the high level secretaries for Fury himself, you actually had quite the high seat in the house, with clearance, authority and trust from the big man on top himself. It also meant saying no to quite a lot of things and people on a daily basis, to stop people from charging into the director's office in anger, to be authoritative enough to make people listen and actually do whatever orders you delivered on the director’s behalf (and your own sometimes). The job, which you loved and had worked hard to get, was just a tad challenging to splice with a lack of self-image.

So you’ve built a ruthless, badass, girlboss, gatekeep, gaslight persona for yourself, known for being resistant to all flattery, all bribes, all flirting and all begging. Nothing got past you and everyone seemed just a little afraid of you. It was true, you’d garnered the nickname “the other she-hulk” among your peers. And though you embodied this persona like the most natural thing in the world, it was also a front really, for your honest to God lack of confidence in your everything average.

Oh yeah, except for your height, you realized as you got out of the cab at your destination and was hailed over by the other female colleagues in your department waiting outside the compound - the shoes you wore turned out to give you several inches of height on the other girls, even as they also wore stiletto-like heels. In the height department, you were just above average, which did not make you feel any better necessarily.

Fuck. You looked like their fucking body guard, looming behind them like a giraffe as you made your way inside, them smiling and laughing, you affecting your haughty mask, the one that protected you the best when you were feeling a bit off-kilter. Better to deem everyone here below your interest before they even had a chance to assess you, right?

The party was nice. They’d somehow managed to make the compound not feel like a concrete bunker, decorating almost every surface with some fabric or other, flashy reds and silvers and greens and blues, giant trees everywhere overloaded with decorations. Maximalism galore.

“It looks like Santa exploded in here,” you joked to your colleagues, receiving a bout of wild laughter in return. It hadn’t really been that funny, but hey, maybe you could be known as the “other deadpool” in the future if you worked hard enough on your comedy.

As usual, the lovelier girls of your department got swarmed pretty quickly by guys. Recruits, officers, cadets, other secretaries - they all flocked to your group. You didn’t blame them, your colleagues were beautiful, witty, smiling brightly and exuding a sort of light that could only be rivaled by the sun. They were nice to everyone too, unlike you.

You stayed and chatted for a bit. No one commented on your dress and certainly not the split at the side, and you tried not to let that get to you. This was a work event, after all, it would be inappropriate if they did come on to you or something. Your self-esteem whimpered quietly even so.

It didn’t take long for the rest to get tipsy, and someone started blasting music somewhere, effectively switching from corporate mingling-mode to drunken tomfoolery-mode. You easily resisted getting dragged to the dancefloor, effecting a disinterested, above-it-all mask as your work friends pouted and dragged your arm in a petulant, though surprisingly endearing way.

“I’m not debasing myself tonight, thank you very much,” you said, knowing it was harsh but only gaining a playfully scolding look before the whole gang bounced off to dance without you.

You made your way over to the bar instead. A half-hour or so more and then you could safely leave without breaking any social codes, you thought with relief as you ordered another glass of champagne.

Turning from the bar, glass in hand, you suddenly bumped into someone, champagne sloshing around the rim, a few drops spilling over your hand.

“Hey, watch where-” you started, words dying in your mouth as you looked up…and up a broad chest, a thick neck and then came face to face with Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier himself.

B-big, your brain supplemented eloquently as you stopped speaking all together.

How was he so tall? Okay, so you knew he was tall, you’d encountered him regularly over the years and had always felt dwarfed by the tree-trunk size of the man, but you were in four inch heels, god damnit, and you still had to crane your neck to look into his eyes. They glinted as he looked down on you, and for a moment you forgot who you were supposed to be and nearly shrank in on yourself, feeling uncharacteristically small.

“Sorry,” he simply said, giving you a once-over so quick you weren’t sure it’d happened at all, and then he leaned around you to grab a few napkins from the bar. He made quick work of taking the glass from your hand and wiping the stray drops of champagne from it, set it on the bar and then gently took your hand in his and wiped it as well.

You could only stare in astonishment at the size of his hands, rough and calloused, but with neatly trimmed nails, engulfing yours and being so exquisitely gentle. He put the glass back in your hand and looked down at you with a pleased smile.

You quickly amassed your indifferent mask, raising a haughty eyebrow at him, and stepped aside so he could order whatever he wanted. He’d at least apologized and cleaned up the mess he (and you together, admittedly) had caused. You supposed it was the best outcome, both for your pride and confidence. You didn’t step far from the bar, sure you would be back soon enough for another glass, and looked out on the burgeoning dance floor in front of you.

“Why don’t you join?” a deep voice asked from the side.

Looking over, Bucky had come up to stand at your side, looking out over the crowd as well, whiskey glass in hand. His strong profile was illuminated by the flashing lights of the dance floor, reflected in those baby blue eyes, and his hair was tucked back into a bun at the back of his head. His suit must have been tailored by sorcery or something, because it hugged him in all the right places, press neat and crisp, making him look both perfectly put together and indecently so.

Okay, so maybe you had a little something of a crush on the guy. He was fine as hell, and always put this old school New York charm on you whenever you met. He was the only one who still tried to charm and flirt with you whenever he came to Fury’s office, and though you put on your unimpressed and uninterested mask, thoroughly shutting him down each time, you secretly appreciated those moments more than you would ever admit out loud. It felt nice that he at least treated you the same as all the other secretaries - he was the only one who still did.

You raised your eyebrow, securing a bored look even as you wanted to ask with you?

“Not exactly my crowd,” you said instead, taking a swig at your drink.

“No? Didn’t think you cared about things like that,” he said, smoothly challenging you.

“Not exactly my music, then,” you said. Arrogance and low energy usually got people to leave you alone when you felt fragile. You turned to give him a fake, sarcastically apologetic smile.

“Ah, I see. Too bad, would’ve loved to see how wide that split goes while you twirl,” he said, leaning closer to you, and in your shock the mask you’d held on so tight cracked, and you whipped to look at him. He’d noticed it?

You saw the pleased victory shining in his eyes. Cheeky bastard was trying to break you, trying to make you drop the haughty exterior, like he knew you were only putting up a front. And you’d let your mask slip and showed him he was right. And like you suspected he knew, it was the exact sort of thing you deeply, secretly craved someone to do.

But it wouldn’t be that easy. Bucky could just be fucking with you, or making easy conversation. But he’d noticed the split in your dress, so he must’ve been looking, right? Just a little harder than everybody else. Still, it was out of the question to just drop every defense and wall you had now, in this room, just because of one comment from him. You quickly affected an unimpressed, almost fatigued mask, raising your glass to your lips.

“Too bad, Barnes, I’ve already had my high school prom,” you said, delivering the line with just the perfect amount of arrogance and judgment.

You felt his eyes lingering on your face for long moments as you stared into the crowd, refusing to meet his eyes and potentially let more slip. This shit was exhausting enough when people didn’t clock on to your farce. Still, a small part of you didn’t want him to stop looking, to stop showering you in this undivided attention that sizzled like carbonic bubbles on your skin.

You immediately shut down your disappointment when he left without another word, telling yourself to be proud you didn’t beg or flirt or plead for his attention like everyone else did. You didn’t need anyone but yourself, you needed to remember that.

The music shifted from some mainstream pop song to some very old jazz, and the sudden shift only had a second to register before Bucky appeared as from thin air, took your glass from you, downed the rest of your drink in one gulp (eyes shining with mischief as you gawked a little at him), ditched the glass on the nearby table and then promptly took you by the hands and hauled you out on the dance floor.

“W-wait, I -” your words cut off to a little squeal as the soldier wrapped a strong arm around your waist and twirled you so your feet lifted off the ground, the skirt of your dress flying out. Your arms clung around his neck and shoulders as the world spun in a flurry of bright, flickering lights, and your feet didn’t touch the ground for ten solid seconds as Bucky turned and turned.

When he eventually put you down, his arms didn’t let up much, keeping you firmly tucked to the hard planes of his stomach and chest with a hand that went around your back and held your waist on the other side.

You schooled your expression down even as nerves and excitement and a fair share of actual, fucking excitement filled you from the unexpected dancing. You actually did like to dance a lot. You looked up and found Bucky’s eyes on your face, glimmering in the bright lights as he easily led you in some old timey couple’s dance that he apparently knew perfectly.

“This music more to your liking?” he asked, challenging and genuine at the same time, and you couldn’t for the life of you understand his angle. Why was he doing this?

You knew people were watching, even as the dance floor was still full of other dancers making due with their modern dance moves to the old music. And though you did feel kinda nervous being so exposed, you couldn’t very well cut off this dance and leave - that would only make you look even more insecure than you felt.

So you soldiered through, putting on a mildly entertained, smug look and looking Bucky in the eyes.

“It’s certainly something else,” you said, and watched as his eyes flared over with a sort of playful frustration, shaking his head a little at you, but smiling despite himself.

“Drop the act, sweetheart,” he said then, low enough for no one else to hear, but it still made you bristle.

“What act?” you said, making it sound nonchalant and innocent at the same time. “Just because you remember one dance from 70 years ago, I’m supposed to swoon?” you challenged, knowing the words were harsh but goddamnit, he was getting too close.

A groan escaped him then, one you felt more than heard from the way your bodies were pressed together, and you flushed, not expecting that kind of response.

He leaned down and murmured in your ear.

“I like it when you’re mean, but I’d like it more if you were honest,” he said, and your breath caught, the physical sensation of his hot breath on your ear distracting you to the point of stumbling a bit on your heels. His arm around your waist didn’t let you so much as twist an ankle, which made you feel even more heated.

Before you could come up with a retort, Bucky flung you out in a twirl, making your skirt fly around you. He led you perfectly even as he almost threw you around like a ragdoll, and you had to admit you were amazed by how graceful you were even as every move and twist were orchestrated and led by Bucky. The crowd disappeared as you moved to the music, coming back to Bucky, being swung out again, your back to his front at one point, his breath hot on your neck, swinging out again and stepping past each other in swoops only connected by your hand in his.

You met his eyes and saw the flash over with an intensity that made your skin prickle, with a hunger you could scarcely believe was meant for you, eyes raking over your body, lingering on the leg peaking out through the split in your skirt, your chest heaving in the low cut neckline of your dress, your face flushed and no doubt looking as amazed as you felt on the inside.

The dance ended in a perfectly timed dip, Bucky holding you down and cradling your neck and the small of your back in capable arms, face so close you could feel his breath fan across your face, smelling of whiskey and spearmint.

You smiled, couldn’t help it, you hadn’t had this much fun at a work event in years. Bucky’s eyes flitted about your face as he echoed your smile with a brilliant flash of teeth himself. Your heart thudded in your chest, and your eyes flicked down to his lips, those luscious, plump lips and oh holy fuck did you want to kiss him at that moment. A desperation you couldn’t quell seized you by your fucking guts and you positively throbbed. Your smile faltered, and you saw his fall too. Daring to look up into his eyes, you saw the same hunger reflected there, nearly engulfing you in its heat.

Then the crowd returned, cheering, the music went back to some pop song from last year and reality dumped back in on your head so fast you almost made the mistake of scrambling out of Bucky’s hold.

No, no, no, way too exposed, this was not how you planned this night…

You were actually proud of the way you managed to slowly extract yourself from Bucky’s arms, give a slow, bored “thank you,” and then calmly leave the room all together to escape to the ladies room.

You had to admit, they hadn’t neglected the bathrooms in the compound, you thought as you occupied the space alone. They were kinda nice, big and spacious, marble and polished steel making the space comfortable and with an air of luxury compared to the practical, brutalist vibe of the rest of the building.

You touched up on your lipstick, hands shaking a little from the excursion of the dancing. Okay, you needed to leave, you thought to yourself as you felt your skin still sizzling faintly wherever Bucky’s hands had touched you. Your nerves seemed newly awakened as if from a deep slumber, and it would not do to develop an even deeper crush on him.

As if summoned, the door to the bathroom opened and Bucky stepped through, eyes finding yours in the mirror immediately.

“I think you’re supposed to be in the next room over Barnes,” you drawled even as your heart picked up speed.

He didn’t answer as he slowly crossed the room.

You couldn’t help shifting in your skin as your body thrummed with an exhausting amount of nervous excitement. His gaze was level,possessing your attention like an iron grip. It was like he saw right through every mask and facade you tried to put on, right in to the very center, the very truth inside you. It lulled you and provoked you at the same time.

“You’re in the wrong restroom, Barnes,” you said, even harsher, when he was about halfway across to you. He still didn’t answer.

You spun to face him, anger welling higher. Who did he think he was, coming in here and stripping away the only scraps of protection you had, looking at you like he could read the thoughts as they appeared in your mind?

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” he answered as you glared at him, coming to stop directly in front of you, only inches between you, and the air there sparked with energy you just couldn’t deny you were affected by.

You scoffed, fighting against the crumbling of your exterior. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you wanted him. Couldn’t deny it, couldn’t help yourself as your muscles ached to reach for him, to press yourself against him and let him wrap his strong, safe arms around you again. To tuck yourself away into him and shut your mind off and just feel taken care of - in any way - by someone other than yourself.

A desperate thought occurred to you; maybe you could do this without losing face. If you went on the offensive, you could still hold control over the situation while still letting whatever was sizzling between you and Bucky explode, you thought a bit desperately as you held his stare, his eyes darkening as the seconds ticked by. Maybe you didn’t have to bare your soul for him in order to get a taste of what you wanted. You could just make it out to be a hookup at a party, something carnal but detached. Give your body to him while still guarding your mind and soul.

Not giving yourself a moment more to stall, you surged forward, grabbed his neck and kissed him. He wasn’t as surprised as you’d liked by your sudden call to action. In fact, he seemed to come unleashed the moment your lips met his, a grunt sounding in his throat as he instantly wrapped one arm around your waist, his other going into your hair to keep your head firmly put where he wanted it.

Yes

The kiss was filthy, hot breaths and open mouths and tongue on tongue almost immediately, like a dam of pent up lust had just erupted at that first touch for the both of you. He pushed you back so the marble counter dug into your ass, and plastered himself against you, groaning as your hands moved to map out his back.

You fumbled to reach for the lapels on his jacket and he let up his hold just long enough for you to wrench his suit jacket off him before both pair of hands went on frantically groping and gripping and touching, and you couldn’t seem to draw breath into your aching lungs for all the burning desire that flooded your body.

Bucky broke out of your heady kiss, gasping as he leaned his forehead to yours, hands gripping your hip and the back of your neck so tight it almost pinched you, and you relished the feeling.

“Fuck,” he groaned between pants, and you liked the sound of that very much.

You gave him a sultry and cocky “mhm” as you kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip. When you opened your eyes again, he was still looking at you, his stare so fucking intense.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and that…was stepping into a territory you were not too keen on. You couldn’t have sentimentality at that moment. You couldn’t control your tiny wince either, trying to move on with another kiss, your hands dragging down the hard planes of his chest to entice him to move along.

Bucky didn’t grant you that mercy. He apparently saw your wince as well as he saw the split in your skirt, and scrutinized you with a piercing stare as he reiterated between kisses.

“So gorgeous,” he murmured and you tried your damndest to ignore it, kissing him more intently, hands moving a bit desperately to his belt, but an uncomfortable laughter escaped you either way.

Bucky stopped your hands, grabbing them and putting them on the counter at your side before cradling your face firmly in his hands.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is he doing, you lamented as you looked everywhere but his eyes.

“I mean it, you’re a gorgeous woman,” he said and you whined softly, not at all capable of hearing that. Whether out of a misguided sense of pity or because he wanted to get in your panties, you didn’t want him to tell you that shit just to placate you. You were already dying to get fucked, false flattery was of no need. You were practically soaking your panties already just from his kisses and his hands, one warm and one slightly colder, moving over your body like he couldn’t get to all of it quick enough.

“You don’t have to-” you started exasperated, squirming to get away from the intimacy of his proximity, the way he looked at you and the way he was cradling your face.

“You see, this is what I mean. I think you’re hiding, doll. You don’t realise how fucking amazing you are, and you hide it behind a bitchy face and even bitchier words,” he said.

Words failed you then. The fucking audacity of this man to call you out like that. You were not prepared to be laid out like that, and you didn’t know whether to fight back with teeth and claws or to flee in your humiliation.

Bucky must have seen your warring thoughts on your face, the simmering rage at being cornered and confronted like this, like an animal frantic with self preservation.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked, and you could see a fierce competitive glint light on fire in his eyes, pouncing on the challenge.

In a flash, he’d turned you around and you met your own expression in the mirror above the sink. Bucky stepped flush against you again, and nestled the hard bulge in his pants right against your ass. You squirmed and whined a little. You wanted that inside you already. But Bucky held you tightly pinned between himself and the counter, his metal hand coming around to splay on your stomach, shining metal against the black silk fabric, effectively giving you no room to move. His hand was so huge, it covered nearly the whole area between your belly button and the underside of your heaving breasts. He propped his chin on your shoulder and captured your eyes through the reflection in the mirror.

“You’re exquisite, doll” he whispered, his other hand landing lightly on your waist. This time you saw your own wince of disbelief in the mirror, instantly embarrassed at how revealing you were. Heat bloomed on your cheeks, both from his words and the way his eyes were just eating your body up in the mirror.

“I’m nothing special,” you heard yourself murmur.

“Oh, on the contrary, doll, you’re as rare as they come,” Bucky said, flesh hand moving to grab your hips appreciatively. “Swinging these hips all around the compound, your walk so sweet compared to that barking mouth you’ve got on ya,” he said, drawled a bit, his Brooklyn accent coming forth, kneading your hips and pulling you back to grind your ass on his hard bulge.

Your breath hitched on a gasp, and your heart fluttered in your chest. He’d been watching the way you walked? And he liked it?

His hands came up to cup one of your heaving breasts.

“Such elegant lines, perfect, round tits,” he murmured into the skin below your ears, and you trembled in his arms as his fingers teased a nipple through the thin fabric of your dress.

“A neck that’s just begging to be sucked on and marked,” he continued before his lips sealed itself to that sensitive spot right below the hinge of your jaw and you gasped raggedly as sparks flew through your body.

You were positively high on the novelty of his praise, but you just couldn’t quite believe it.

“I’ve…a-always just thought I was so average,” you admitted, voice timid, nothing short of a whisper, and you berated yourself for revealing your insecurity so openly, even as Bucky’s lips let go of your skin and he nuzzled the hair behind your ear.

“God, no,” he sighed, hand coming down to your hip again, guiding you to grind back on his bulge again, and fuck, he was hard, “I don’t get how you could even think that,” he said, and the genuine astonishment in his voice had to be real, or else he was a brilliant fucking actor.

Your hips had started moving on their own now, steadily grinding between his metal hand on your stomach and the hard cock at your ass, sizzling sparks of heat traveling your body from the friction. You could feel Bucky nodding into the crook of your neck, encouraging and praising at the same time.

“But I’m…kinda tall…surely y-you’d want someone shorter, m-more petite?” you heard yourself whisper, and you just had to ask him right out, to give voice to those incessant, nagging insecurities.

He actually laughed then, a breathy chuckle against the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“Are you kidding? You nearly gave me a heart attack in these heels tonight, baby,” he said easily, calm and honest and straightforward and it was like he wasn't even trying to convince you of anything, he was just speaking honestly. “And when you danced with me? How sexy and smooth and fucking alive you were as you let me spin you? Couldn’t take my fucking eyes of you, fuck, I haven’t been this hard in ages. Plus, you’re just perfect for me to fuck like this. Can’t you feel how perfectly your ass fits against my cock when you grind like that, huh? Can’t have that with a shorter girl, you were made for me, darling,” he said, breath growing puffy and you were almost shaking, both from his words and the blazing fucking heat they stoked.

A needy, whimpering sort of whine escaped you at that. It was perfect, your height to his. Perfect for you to nudge your ass against his pelvis and feel his hot lips and a sliver of tongue on the heated skin of your neck at the same time.

“Do you believe me, now, sweetheart? Or do you need me to fuck it into you?” he asked then, a teasing lilt to his voice even as it dropped a fucking octave, rumbling over you skin, making you ache.

You turned your head to graze your lips against his, recognising when he was posing a challenge by now, when his competitive side came out to play. You waited just a few seconds, letting your mingling, ragged breaths fill the silence, before answering, looking him straight in his eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” you whispered against his mouth.

His reaction was almost instant. His metal hand came up to cradle your throat, pinning you close to him as his flesh hand had the skirt of your dress bunched up around your hips in a split second. His hand was between your legs in the next second, brazen and possessive and you fucking loved it, knees nearly buckling in your stilettos as his warm flesh palm cupped you there. A filthy groan sounded in your ear.

“Fucking perfect pussy already soaked for me, huh?” he downright growled, fingers moving up and down your clothed slit, feeling just how wet you were through the flimsy fabric of your lace panties. “This pussy aching, huh? Hasn’t been fucked right in ages, I reckon? Some bastard left you feeling like less than just perfect?” he babbled as he began rubbing tight circles on your clit, making you keen at both his words and ministrations, mind floating up to the fucking skies on a cloud of endorphins and arousal. “You give me their names, honey, and I’ll make sure they never bother you again,” he said, dark intentions in an even darker, gruffer voice and you couldn’t stand still for the way you needed him.

“Fuuuck, please, Bucky,” you whined, grinding your pussy down on his hand, soaking his fingers.

“That’s right, baby, you take what you deserve, you take what this perfect body deserves,” he encouraged.

“I need…I need,” you breathed, eyes closing as you rode the sensation of being touched like this, so expertly, too much one second and not enough the next.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me,” he groaned into the skin of your neck.

“I need…your…please, your cock,” you whimpered.

His hands pulled back and gave your pussy a playful little slap, making you jolt and yelp in his arms, and the slight sting felt so fucking good.

“That’s right,” he said, giving you a few precious seconds to collect your frayed, jumbled, melting mind as he frantically undid his belt and fly, pulling his cock out and pulling your soiled panties to the side to notch his cock at your weeping hole.

He didn’t give you anymore time to beg before he pushed his hips forward and you both gasped raggedly as his cock slid in, perfectly to the hilt, your pussy sucking him in like it had a mind of its own. His whole frame, massive and rugged as it was, shuddered as he stood there with his cock buried inside you, and you opened your eyes to watch in astonished fascination through the reflection in the mirror as he took a moment to get a hold of himself. One hand flexed its grip around your throat, the other on your hip, grip so tight and you hoped it would leave bruises.

He didn’t wait long until he started thrusting, pulling out almost completely before thrusting in again, forgoing any buildup and going straight to the main fucking course and you were so ridiculously relieved he wasn’t teasing you anymore.

His hands let go of you and you fell forward, draping yourself over the counter so you could just feel the way his cock, thick and ridged and so fucking hard, dragged against your walls, yielding nothing as he speared you.

“Need to see you,” Bucky breathed between pants as he kept fucking you.

You felt the bodice of your dress loosen and realized he had undone the zipper at the back of your dress, peeling it off your arms and then hauling you the meat of your shoulder to straighten against him again, completely naked from the waist up.

His hands were on your exposed skin immediately, mapping out your ribcage, squeezing the pouch beneath your belly button and coming up to knead your breasts, pulling on your nipples. He was like a man starved, all the while his cock was steadily pumping into you, pushing you higher and higher, the sounds from where you were joined filtering in through your haze of lust and pleasure like a sinful symphony.

You opened your eyes to find his in your reflection, pools of incendiary desire following every minute twitch of your face. Your eyes flicked over your own face and saw the crimson flush, the sweat on your brow, hair ruffled, the scrunched up expression and heavy-lidded, drugged eyes. You looked a downright, embarrassing mess, your deepest pleasure so plainly written on your face, exposing you to the point of pain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to lean back to hide in the crook of his neck.

Bucky did not let you.

“Oh no, no, no, don’t hide from me now, sugar,” he said, one hand coming up to pull your face forward, “look at me,” he ordered and you opened your eyes to his again.

“See how exquisite you are?” he asked, hips slapping against your ass. “See how beautiful you look, taking my cock?” he asked, watching you watch him in the mirror. “Look at yourself,” he ordered, and you whimpered as you met your own gaze in the mirror again.

There was an almost lascivious tilt to his voice as he kissed your neck sloppily and murmured.

“Tell her she looks beautiful,” he said.

You thrashed as much as you could in your pinned position, the counter digging into your hips, high heeled shoes barely touching the floor.

“Bucky,” you whined petulantly. There was no way.

“Say it, darling,” he warned before his hips slowed down to an almost complete stop, and that only made you thrash harder. “Oh, you want to come baby? Then look at yourself in the mirror and say ‘I’m beautiful,” he said, and you gawked at him in disbelief, humiliation and mortification burning hot on your cheeks.

The hand not holding your face towards the mirror kept exploring your flesh as he waited, pinching and grabbing everywhere like he just couldn’t stop. You looked at yourself in the mirror, took in the simmering fire in your eyes, your lips with its bright red lipstick smeared all over.

“Come on, darling, don’t you want to come? Won’t you let me make you come?” Bucky asked, spreading kisses down your neck as his eyes burned into your face through the mirror.

You fought it for as long as you could, didn’t want to play these games, didn’t want to see your own vulnerability on your face as you said something you should believe but didn’t quite.

Bucky grinded his hips all the way inside you and then stilled completely and your need won.

“I’m beautiful,” you whispered, breath hitching as you saw the disbelief, the resistance in your own eyes, hating yourself both for saying it and not believing it.

Bucky groaned in a resolutely pleased manner and started moving his hips again, languidly stroking in and out of your sopping cunt.

“Again,” came his growled order from behind.

Your resilience was weaker this time, with the tip of his cock reaching so deep, adding rhythmic pressure to that elusive spot in the deepest nook of your body that had your knees going wobbly.

“I’m beautiful,” you said again, this time giving a low, timid voice to the words.

Bucky groaned behind you, hands gripping you tighter as his hips picked up speed.

“That’s right. Say ‘I’m gorgeous’.”

“I-I’m gorgeous.”

“Say ‘I deserve this’”

“I d-d - oh fuck - I deserve this - ah -”

“Say ‘I’m making Bucky Barnes crazy on a daily basis and I don’t even care enough to acknowledge it,” Bucky husked behind you.

That made you actually giggle, though it came out more like a stuttering whine.

“I-I didn’t know,” you moaned, breaking your own eye contact in the mirror to look at his face. You honestly didn’t. Sure, you’d established a playful banter over the years, frequently sparking conversation whenever he was at your desk for something concerning Fury or you met in the halls or right after department meetings. But you’d honestly never considered you, just being you, could be driving a man like him crazy.

Eyes dark as the ocean burned into yours from where his face was propped on your shoulder, mouth nibbling on the side of your neck and your earlobe as his hips kept up a punishing pace. It was becoming hard to string together coherent thoughts, your mind going hazy from the steady punch of his cock.

He smiled against your skin, nipping it so hard you squealed a little, head swimming from the mix of pain and pleasure.

“You’re killing me here, doll,” Bucky murmured playfully against your skin, hands moving again, skimming over your skin and kneading your flesh in such an appreciative way it had you blushing, even as you were steadily pounded by his cock, halfnaked in the bathroom at your workplace during a fucking Christmas party.

It was all a haze, the way you were hurtling towards the precipice of your orgasm, his cock in your pussy, his hot breath on your neck, his hands roaming your body like a starved beast. The smell of his rich, musky cedar cologne and the hint of fresh, male sweat. And his eyes, devouring everything his hands didn’t touch.

“I-I’m gonna…fuck, Bucky -” you stammered. You were so close.

“I got you,” Bucky answered breathlessly, his flesh hand moving down between your legs to stroke your clit in fast, tight circles.

You keened, vision blurring as your muscles seized, teetering on the edge. You faintly registered your own expression in the mirror in front of you, mouth falling open, eyebrows scrunching and a crimson flush high on your cheeks.

You heard Bucky groaning behind you and trembled at the sound.

“Fuck, there you go, baby, fuck you’re squeezing me so fucking - tight, god damn -”

And then Bucky was wrenching your face to the side and kissing you. And maybe it was the way his hips stuttered as you moaned into his mouth, or maybe it was the possessiveness with which he pushed his tongue into yours. Maybe it was the way his metal hand gripped you tighter as you started shaking, or maybe it was the sheer desperation in his kiss as he herded you over the edge that truly made you feel beautiful in that moment. Beautiful and blissed out as you spasmed on his cock, hearing his choked grunt as you pulled his orgasm right out of him.

You felt him throb in turn with you, his cum pooling hot deep inside you, the both of you nearly falling off your damn feet as you came together, the kiss disintegrating to a mere sloppy tangle of breaths and tongues.

As you slowly came down from your high, your mind started whirring. Halfway preparing for Bucky to pull out and leave swiftly. To maybe give you a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, to push the skirt of your dress down over your ass and then make his exit from this very public bathroom. It wasn’t that you thought Bucky was some kind of sleaze, but it would be okay if he left it at that. You were a big girl, you knew people got carried away during a rowdy fuck, and if he left it at this, you would be fine. You told yourself as much, at least…

But Bucky didn’t leave. He didn’t pull out right away, either. Once you could both catch your breath, he reiterated his kiss, slow and thorough and breathtaking all anew. His metal hand firmly secured your face to meet his and his flesh hand gave your clit a few more gentle swirls, and you could feel his smile, fascinated and playful against your mouth as you jolted at the sensation. Whimpering a little at the overstimulation but keeping yourself completely still for it anyway, you were astonished by how sensitive you were and how fucking good it felt to have Bucky teasingly play with you as you basked in the afterglow.

You squeezed around his cock still lodged inside you, and he gave a little grunt in response.

“Careful, sugar, or I might get hard again,” he murmured against our lips, rolling his hips gently into your ass.

“Is…is that supposed to deter me?” you asked, your snarky tone just a little undermined by the way you gasped.

He groaned at that, low and pleased.

“I suppose it should…at least until I can get you out of this fucking bathroom and into a bed,” he murmured, and a surge of adrenaline went through you. He wanted to do this again?

A small thought in the back of your mind wondered how it was possible that no one had come in and interrupted you by now, but it was quickly pushed away as Bucky gently pulled himself out of you. You tried to conceal the shiver of arousal that went through you as you felt his cum leak out of you and down the inside of your thighs.

“Stay like that,” he whispered, removing himself and the fucking furnace of warmth that had been plastered to your back. The cold air hitting your back made you realize just how naked and exposed you were, your dress a scrunched up tangle low on your waist.

You didn’t have time to become self-conscious though, before Bucky was back, kneeling behind you. Peaking over your shoulder, you were just in time to see him wipe a damp hand towel up your thigh and gently across the puffy, sensitive mess between your legs. You flushed for an entirely new reason now. It was just so…intimate, and sweet and generous and you struggled to handle the care and tenderness with which Bucky thoroughly cleaned both his mess and yours.

You watched him quietly as he cleaned you up, and then as he seemingly couldn’t help himself from bending forward and kissing your pussy, tongue darting out to swipe a small lick to your still sensitive clit. You yelped, hips bucking away.

He shushed you gently and kissed your ass cheek soothingly, fitting the admittedly soggy fabric of your panties back over your pussy before getting on his feet again. With gentle hands, he turned you around, and your eyes went wide as you looked down to see his cock still hanging out of his fly, already back to full hardness.

Bucky followed your shocked expression down and chuckled.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, hands still cradling your shoulders, moving up to knead the muscle between your shoulders and neck, and you hummed in pleasure, eyes falling close.

“Does that always happen?” you asked, feeling the soreness in the muscles ease up under Bucky’s dexterous fingers.

“No,” he answered simply, and you could tell by his tone that it meant something. That it lent itself to everything he’d said about you and the supposed attractiveness you held to him. You kept your eyes closed and bit your lips to keep from smiling too broadly at that.

Feeling emboldened, you reached for him, hands finding his clothed chest and stroking down until you reached his cock, wrapping a tentative fist around its stiff heat.

You heard Bucky suck in a breath, and then his hand wrapped around yours, holding it tight as he thrust his hips lightly a few times, pumping his cock gently through your fist. You were ready to go again by the time he gently pried your hand away and groaned like he was being gently tortured.

You couldn’t help your pout, opening your eyes to find him gazing at your face.

“I want to take care of you, too,” you complained, and the gentle whine of your tone sounded so small and decidedly submissive, certainly not fitting the badass work persona you’d built. It just suddenly felt so safe to be a bit whiny with him.

Bucky only stepped closer and cradled your face in his hands.

“I’ll let you take care of me later, sweet thing, to your heart’s content. For now, tuck me back in and we can get outta here,” he drawled, Brooklyn accent soothing his tone and lulling you to comply, pacified by his promise to let you take care of him soon.

You did as he said, tucking his hard cock back into his pants and doing up his fly and belt as he watched your face intently, no doubt seeing the way your eyes grew hazy, your breath labored and your face flushing all anew at the way he held you while you handled him. You let your hands linger over his bulge when you were done, dying to take him out again and just do whatever he wanted to make him feel good.

Soon, you told yourself, soon.

“Now, I would like to swing you one last time on that dance floor out there, let everyone see that gorgeous leg through that deadly split in your skirt. And then I want everyone to see you leave on my arm, before I take you back to mine and take care of you properly,” Bucky said, voice even and sure and smile so dashing, you couldn’t help but smile back and nod in enthusiastic agreement.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #dom!bucky barnes #dom!bucky barnes x reader

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andreafmn · 1 year

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Speak | Chapter 9

Word Count: 3.6K Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf. Chapter: 9/? A/N: one day I'll upload early, y'all. but I am truly trying to keep to the schedule I posted, as hard as it is. But thank you for bearing with me. You guys have no idea how much it means to me 🥰🤍 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Taglists for Twilight get filled quick and Tumblr only lets me tag up to a certain point. Notifications are your best bet.

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Chapter 9

The Swan sisters had been raised with a misconstrued idea that the new year meant a fresh start, a clean slate. That it could magically erase any and all afflictions the year before had caused. That it truly was the first page of a new chapter.

And maybe that’s all that (Y/N) was hoping for that New Year’s Eve. That the coming year would be the first page of her new chapter in Forks. That whatever was happening with Paul would die that December night. That Bella would finally turn over a new leaf and forget Edward. That she could move forward with her relationship with Jake.

Because that’s what she wanted.

That’s what she had always wanted.

The thing she most needed was to get over whatever fluke it was that had made its way into her life. Whatever breach into her timeline that had decided to make her heart flutter out the sound of someone else’s name. It had been too sudden and unexplainable to not be a mistake.

Paul Lahote had no business settling into her heart in the way he had, and she would stop at nothing to pluck him as quickly as he had attached himself. Even if she looked forward to seeing him in her dreams at night, even if her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of him, even if all she wanted was to get as close to him as possible.

(Y/N) wanted —at least she thought she wanted— to go back to being excited that Jacob had finally set his sights on her. She wanted the same thrill she got about Paul with Jake. He had been the crush that had withstood the trials of time. It could not be trampled over by a guy she barely knew.

Yet, she could not stop thinking how his favorite color was red, how he moved to La Push after his parent’s divorced when he was eight, how he didn’t remember much of his mother even though he had been old enough to, how he had never been in love but desperately wanted to know what it felt like. (Y/N) could not stop picturing the way his eyes would shine under the warm glow of the setting sun, how his smile would grow as he listened intently to every word she spoke. Nor could she shake off the feeling of his warm skin against hers, how soft his hands had felt where she believed they’d be rough and calloused. He was everything and nothing like she had thought, but she knew that was as far as she could go to know him.

“Well, don’t you look mighty nice?” Charlie’s voice broke his daughter out of thought. “I think you’ve been to more bonfires this month than I have been to in years. People might start forgetting the sheriff’s face around there.”

“I doubt that’s even possible, dad,” she chuckled, smoothing over a piece of hair that had been unruly for the better part of the day. “Really wish you could join us, though. Since Bella won’t be making it out there, I wanted a Swan there for moral support.”

“This about that Paul fella?”

The question took (Y/N) aback. She had thought no one but Jake knew about that whole fiasco, and she was certain he had not said anything to her dad. “How do you…?” she stammered.

“Bella muttered a thing or two about him. Said he was the one you had been with the other night,” her father said. “Something happen with you and Jake?”

“Nothing happened,” she muttered. “I’m just making new friends seeing as my stay in Forks might be longer than anticipated.”

“Well, that’s a good idea. Just be careful of the people you keep in your company.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Jake might have mentioned this Paul Lahote character is not the greatest influence,” Charlie added. “He thinks he might not have the purest of intentions with you, (Y/N). I just don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

“Well, I can tell you right now that you have nothing to worry about,” (Y/N) smiled comfortingly. The last thing she wanted was for her father to worry about her when his other daughter was still no more than a statue in their home. “I have only hung out with him that one time and I don’t think it’ll happen again. But thanks for checking in.”

“Just wanna make sure your transition back here is as smooth as possible, kiddo,” he responded warmly. “I know it’s gonna be hard to settle back here after being with your mom for so long. Forks might be a bit slow but it’s truly home.”

“I’m actually excited about staying. Even if it wasn’t the plan originally, there’s something about this town that’s just begging for me to stay,” she confessed. “Even if I came to help with Bella, I’m glad I decided to stay. It will also keep mom from taking us both back to Florida —at least for a while.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” The older Swan said before she nodded in response. “I’m just glad you two wanted to spend time with your old man. Even if I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing good, dad,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I will say you got the shortest end of the stick having to be the one dealing with this breakup but I know you’re doing the absolute best you can. Hopefully, this new year brings us all the fresh start we so desperately need.”

“I hope so too, kiddo,” he sighed in defeat. “But have fun tonight, (Y/N), and make good choices.”

“Have I ever done anything else?”

“Very funny, kid,” Charlie chuckled. “Well, I’m off to work. I’ll probably not be here yet when you get back, so happy new year, (Y/N). And have fun.”

“Happy New Year, dad.”

Everything in Forks seemed to move at a punishingly fast pace, even if at times it felt like the town was stuck in time. But (Y/N) had been there almost four weeks which had already felt like a lifetime.

In comparison to living with Phil and her mother, in the midst of travel and adventures that she had loved for a time, (Y/N) had forgotten the calmness of remaining stagnant, of going to sleep and waking in the same home. She had forgotten what walking the halls of a school felt like, of having a group of friends that lasted more than a year.

Forks would give her that opportunity, or at least she hoped it would. The town had already started to change her and given her more than she could’ve hoped for. And that night she truly believed would set everything in the correct motion. Everything she had wished for with no more flukes.

An hour later and from the street she heard the honk of a horn. She gave herself a once over, not feeling completely comfortable with the way she looked that night. In part, she felt it was merely the nerves of seeing Jacob after the altercation with Paul.

But there was another part, the bigger part, that knew it was because of Paul. There was a calming thrill to him that she couldn’t explain. Even the juxtaposition of the thought made no sense to her. As much as she wanted to stay away from him, she wanted to get closer. It scared and excited her all at once.

Yet, the person that was waiting for her was not him. It was Jake, waiting impatiently behind the wheel of his truck.

“What took you so long?” Jacob grumbled as (Y/N) got into the car. “We’re already late as it is.”

“Sorry, Jake. I couldn’t find my jacket.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N). It’s just that Quil came back from his trip, and I wanted to catch up with him before school starts,” he said. “I also haven’t seen Embry since last weekend since he was with his mom visiting some family.”

“Yeah, I get that,” (Y/N) responded meekly, sinking into her seat. “At least we have the rest of the night to hang out with them.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he smiled forcefully. “What about Bella? Is she not coming?”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “She wasn’t up to coming. Still bummed about this Edward guy.”

“What a shame,” Jake sighed. “Being around people would be good for her.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mumbled. “But I can’t really force her. This guy did a number on her and nothing dad and I are doing is working. I’ve even decided to…”

“Maybe you guys don’t know her as well as you thought,” he blurted. “I mean, no offense but she’s not the same girl that left Arizona. She’s not even the same girl that came to Forks.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t help her, Jake. And that’s what we have been doing this whole time. Still, we can’t help someone that doesn’t want to help themselves.”

“I’m not trying to start a fight, (Y/N),” he grumbled. “I’m just saying that maybe your efforts have not worked because she’s not the same Bella you knew.”

The girl remained quiet, anger filling her body instantly. Bella remained a sore subject in the new relationship, always being brought up by Jacob, reminding (Y/N) that he had liked her sister first –and, deep down, she knew he probably still did. Still, wanted to remain in the delusion that he had chosen her for as long as she could.

“It’s fine. Let’s just drop this, okay?” (Y/N) pleaded. “I just want to enjoy tonight. Please.”

“Alright, yeah. Whatever.”

The rest of the ride went by in silence, a heavy tension filling the air and suffocating her. At that moment, more than ever before in her life, she needed to believe that the new year was truly a fresh start. A new beginning for her sister, a new beginning for her relationship, and a new beginning for her life in Forks.

As soon as the truck rolled to a stop, Jake was out of the car and heading to the beach, mumbling something to (Y/N) that he was gonna see his friends and that he’d catch up to her soon enough. Then, he left her in between the small sea of cars that lined the border of the beach.

The younger Swan was left dumbfounded, completely perplexed at Jake’s reaction. His outburst had made her feel small and unwanted. And as she stood frozen at her spot, watching the community celebrate before her, she wondered if there was any reason for her to be there. Because maybe the best thing she could do, for everyone, was leave.

“I’m glad you came, (Y/N),” a voice startled her. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Paul, hi,” she blushed, looking down at the black jumpsuit she wore under a white coat. “Thank you. You look great too. Especially with my sweater.”

“Oh, it was cold tonight and it was the first thing I grabbed,” he chuckled. “I promise I was gonna bring it back to you, not use it like it was mine.”

“Honestly, it looks better on you than it does me. Sometimes I feel like I drown in it.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Your look great in a paper bag,” he grinned. “But I really am glad you came tonight.”

“And why is that, Paul Lahote?”

“Because I wanted to apologize for the other day. I never wanted things to end the way they did,” he said. His eyes searched hers in the darkness, wanting nothing more than for his hands to reach her, to feel her skin against his once more. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble between you and Jacob. The last thing I would have ever wanted was for you to be blamed for my actions. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thank you, Paul,” she smiled, her hand unconsciously reaching for his, giving it a comforting squeeze. “But it’s not your fault. I was the one that agreed to spend time with you knowing that Jake would blow off the handle. If anyone is to blame for what happened that night, it’s me.”

Paul couldn’t help himself as his free hand flew to rest on her cheek, cradling her face in a soothing manner. “Nothing that happened was your fault, (Y/N),” he said. “Jake simply showed you who he is. You never did anything wrong. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

In that split second, (Y/N) remembered Jake’s words. She broke away from his contact, as though his touch had burned her skin, turning away from the enchanting trance his eyes held over her.

“What’s wrong?”

“It's just that Jake said something about you and… your past,” she sighed. “He said I was just an attempt to make your body count higher.”

“I hope you know how untrue that is,” he said, seething on the inside but not daring to show it to her. “You are special, (Y/N), and I would never do anything that would make you feel otherwise.”

“But why, Paul? What is so special about me? To everyone, I’m just Bella’s little sister.”

“You have to know that that is the least interesting thing about you,” he said. He reached out to her, needing to look her in the eye again. “You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re smart and witty. And that’s merely the tip of the iceberg. I may not have known you for long but I know there’s so much more to you than you let on. And all I’ve wanted was to learn about those parts that you hide from everyone else.”

“I still don’t know why!” (Y/N) responded, frustration pooling beads of tears in the corners of her eyes. “How can I trust someone that somehow says everything I want to hear but won’t give me a straightforward answer? Why me, Paul? Out of all the people in the world, why do you want to know me?”

At that moment, he felt he would spill everything. He wanted her to know just why it was her, why the universe had decided that it had to be her. Paul wanted to confess what bonded them and would keep them for the rest of their lives.

And he would have, but the fear of putting her in any danger could not let him say the words. He could not bring himself to utter any of the words that would throw her life up in shambles. “Why not you, (Y/N)?” he asked her, biting his tongue to keep what he wanted to say from spilling. “Is it so hard to believe that I could have seen you and be intrigued by you?”

“You saw me for a split second, Paul. Someone you’ve never known of cannot be worth all this trouble.”

“You are worth it, (Y/N).”

“And you are frustratingly vague,” she finally cracked a smile. “Why can’t you just answer me? What is it that you’re hiding?”

“You’d never believe me if I told you,” he copied her smile. “And isn’t a little mystery fun?”

“It could be if it didn’t get me in trouble with my boyfriend.”

“That could be fixed by breaking up with him, you know,” Paul teased. “A lot of things could be fixed if Jake was gone.”

“Are you threatening my boyfriend, Paul Lahote?”

“I would never,” he laughed. “But I still believe that he doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N).”

“Will you ever let that go?”

“Don’t think I can.”

And maybe she knew he was right but it was too hard to admit it, to him or to herself. She had wanted Jake for the better part of her life and one night could not change that. She wouldn’t let it. “Then you’re gonna have to if there’s ever gonna be some sort of friendship between us,” she said. “Might be hard to spend time with someone that’s always trashing their boyfriend.”

“I mean, you’ve only got a couple more weeks before you have to go back to Florida, right? I think I can control myself in that time.”

“Actually, I decided to move to Forks with my dad,” she smiled. “Bella isn’t getting better and I’ve honestly gotten attached to this town. It might be that some people have made this place so enchanting.”

“Then I guess I’m gonna have to work harder on pretending that I like Jake,” he grinned. “But I am glad you’re staying. The town wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“I’ve only been here for three weeks, Paul,” she laughed.

“And nothing has been the same since.”

“You’re something else.”

“I could say the same about you,” Paul added before noticing Jared calling him over. “And on that note, I will have to leave you. I’ve got a couple of things I have to do. But not before you give me your phone number.”

“My number?”

“That way I’d we ever wanna see each other it doesn’t have to be by me showing up at your house or running into each other at a bonfire.”

“Right,” she chuckled, handing him her phone. “That’s smart.”

“I’ll see you around, (Y/N),” he smiled before kissing her on the cheek and disappearing down the beach.

As soon as he was out of sight, (Y/N) looked around, hoping that no one had witnessed what had just happened. As innocent as everything could have been, in such a small town, everything was known.

Once she had calmed down, she finally walked toward the commotion of the beach. Feeling as confused as she had been since meeting Paul, but at peace. Being around him made her feel serene, tranquility spreading through her veins. Though he made her heart race, he didn’t make her chest feel tight. It was a feeling that made her feel equal parts uneasy and calm.

“Where were you?” Jake asked as she joined him and his friends, a hint of annoyance dancing between his words.

“Just around,” she smiled. “I was actually planning to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?”

“We’re good,” Embry smiled kindly. “But thank you.”

“Just hurry,” Jake added before becoming more interested in the conversations he was having before she had gotten close. “And bring me back a water, thanks.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

(Y/N) left him quickly, needing to compose herself before heading back toward him. She could feel how annoyed he was at her. Ever since that afternoon with Paul, Jake had become distant and rather cold toward her but she could understand why. As much as it pained her, she knew why and that she had to do something to make it up to him while keeping what angered him a secret.

“It’s good to see you around, (Y/N),” Billy said as he joined the girl’s side at the refreshment table. “I was wondering when I would see you again.”

“Hi, uncle Billy,” she smiled. “I’ve been meaning to go by the house but I’ve been busy these couple of days.”

“And things have been heated between you and my son.”

“How did you…?”

“Small town,” he smiled softly. “But I’ve already had some words with my son about his behavior toward you. It was completely unacceptable.”

“It might have been an overreaction but it was warranted,” she said looking down. “I knew what I did would anger him but I still did it.”

“That doesn’t mean he can chastise you in the middle of town. My son is young and can be quick-tempered,” Billy sighed, taking one of (Y/N)’s hands in his. “He says and does things that he doesn’t know he will regret one day, and you don’t deserve to be in the receiving end of that.”

“Thank you, Billy,” (Y/N) smiled, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “But I’m sure he’s sorry for that night and we’ll work through it together.”

“You know, I love my son, but he can be quite stubborn when he wants to. Even at his own detriment. Still, I hope this new year brings you both clarity and growth. Both personally, and if the gods want it, in your relationship as well.”

“I hope so too, uncle Billy.”

“My son is lucky to have you by his side. Even if he doesn’t know it.”

(Y/N) felt a new surge of confidence as he joined Jake and his friends once more. Knowing Billy was watching her back made her feel stronger about her relationship with Jacob and that it was worth investing her heart and time into. She knew her heart yearned for Jake and all she felt toward Paul was a strong sense of friendship.

As the hours passed and the tension between her and Jake seemed to dissipate, her resolve simply solidified itself. She would do anything possible to fix her relationship with her boyfriend and keep her friendship with Paul separate from Jacob.

But there was the smallest part in her that replayed Paul’s voice. He kept telling her how she deserved better and that Jake was not the right person for her, even if that was who she had wanted for so long.

Still, when the clock struck twelve, Jake was the one she kissed, and wished things would work out between them. She wished for him to only see Bella as a friend and finally give his whole heart to her. Wrapped in his arms as they cheered the new year, she begged the universe to give her the chance to have everything she had wished for.

Yet as her eyes found Paul’s in the crowd, she doubted if it was what she truly wanted or if she was holding onto a silly childhood dream.

Next ->

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spaceycowboys · 2 years

Text

echoes of your name inside my mind

pairing: aemond targaryen x female!reader; aegon targaryen x female!reader (one sided)

summary: aegon has a constant reminder that you will never be his, no matter how badly he wishes you to be. or maybe you could be.

warnings: light smut, yandere!aegon, pining!aegon, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), NONCON/DUBCON SEX (female receiving but not reader and not heavily detailed), noncon voyeurism, violence, threats of bodily harm, unconsented kiss, aegon is a lil creepy, not edited, will return later to edit. open ended for possible part two if anyone wants it, please let me know if i missed anything!

notes: repost because i am convinced tumblr hates me. i am not 100% pleased with this if i am being honest :( but i am still wanting to post it! i think it turned out good, it just didn’t end up exactly like i had wanted it too. thank you everyone for all your patience while waiting for this fic, and thank you everyone for being so kind when i had to delay due to being ill, i appreciate each and every one of you. i imagine this ready being the same tyrell!reader from my fic starry eyes sparking up my darkest night but not necessarily a sequel to it! just could possibly be in the same universe. please interact and leave a comment or reblog and let me know your thoughts, feedback of any kind if always so appreciated! please heed warnings before you consume this content! i don’t want anyone reading anything that may make them uncomfortable. title credits: don’t blame me by taylor swift

word count: 4.1k

Aegon’s never felt this way before. The swelling in his chest so unfamiliar when you smile softly at him, a smile you typically reserve for your husband, directed towards him across the table at dinner.

Your hair is down this evening, something you’ve only started doing recently. Foregoing the braids and just letting it fall down your back, it looks better with the way it frames your face when it’s down, Aegon thinks to himself. By the looks of it, Aemond thinks so to.

Aemond loves you, his sweet and kindhearted lady wife, so very deeply. At one point it would’ve made Aegon sick to his stomach to witness, willing him to throw up whatever . The way he dotes on you, holds your hand while you walk through the Keep, brushes your hair back when it gets in the way of your reading, tenderly rubs your face with his thumbs when you get excited while talking.

It still does make him sick to his stomach, just not in the same way it used to. No. This sickness crawls at his chest, a feeling so cold yet so hot, and his stomach twists into tight knots, hands clamp up and throat swells in an unfamiliar way. It makes him feel like he’s dying.

Perhaps he is. Maybe not having a love like the love you hold for Aemond will ultimately be what kills him. He’s sure Helaena could love him if he could show her any kindness. He doesn’t want that kind of love from Helaena.

Aegon’s eyes watch as Aemond continues his conversation with Jason Lannister, but hand reaches for yours as you speak animatedly with Helaena about something.

His ears are ringing as he grabs the cup full of wine and downs it in two gulps. Aemond’s hand squeezes yours twice, you smile at Helaena as you squeeze his back. The servant girl refills his cup for him, tearing his eyes away from your joined hands he looks to her.

Her hair is the same color as yours. Though, her eyes aren’t the same color, eyebrows aren’t the same shape, lips are quiet a bit smaller than yours. Her hand looks about the same size as yours, even if it is rougher and has callouses.

She will do. He supposes.

“What is your name?” He looks away from her as he asks, and her hold on the pitcher tightens.

“I’m sorry?” Her voice is shaky, she’s already annoying him.

His head snaps back to hers, eyes boring deeply into her own as the girl feels her blood run cold, “I asked you for your name.”

She looks around the table. Her eyes lingering at the Queen, his mother, Helaena, and you for a moment.

“My name is Elaine, my Prince,” He hums a bored tone before nodding.

“I will require wine in my chambers after dinner, Elaine.” His voice isn’t soft, and he doesn’t hide what he plans on doing later.

His mother looks furious, Helaena just looks down at her plate. You, however, you look almost disappointed. As if you couldn’t believe he would do such a thing, let alone in front of his own wife.

Aemond pulls your eyes away from Aegon, a frown adorning his face when he notices the grimace on your own. His eyes looks at the shame on Helaena’s and the anger on his mothers as she looks at his older brother before he puts together what must’ve occurred.

He clears his throat and gives lord Lannister a tight smile, “I must apologize, my Lord. My wife is quite tired today and seems to be ready to retire,”

The words are a courtesy, not much else, everyone at the table except Jason Lannister seems aware of that, “Can your lady wife not see herself to bed, my Prince?”

Aemond’s hand twitches at the implied disrespect, but it’s Aegon who speaks up, “Are you implying that that my brother should allow my Good Sister, his lady wife, to head to bed alone?”

Jason Lannister looks uncomfortable at the attention of the table now being on him, “I meant nothing of it, my Prince. I just meant a Lady can typically see herself to bed while her husband continues his evening,” He ends the statement with an awkward escaping his mouth at the heated eyes of the two Princes as well as the distressed eye of the Queen at the impending argument.

You clear your throat, dainty hand reaching for you husbands nervously, “Ah, yes, Lord Lannister. I am sure I could find my rest alone, however; my husband has been very tired as of late, and I require him to have an appropriate amount of rest.”

Aegon watches Lord Lannister like a hawk, demanding him to imply any further sort of insult to you. When the Lord stays quiet, averting his gaze to the Hand of the King, Aegon allows his eyes to travel back to you and Aemond, watching distastefully as he places his hand on the small of your back to lead you to your private quarters.

εїз

The servant girl, Elaine, doesn’t struggle when he grabs her waist and pushes her face down on his bed when she walks in. She knows what she’s here for, but Aegon can’t help but feel irritated she didn’t even bother to actually bring any wine. The lack of drink will make the experience harder for him, the more sober he is the more he’ll be able to realize the woman beneath him isn’t you.

She doesn’t struggle when he grabs her hair tightly, groaning when he thinks of it being you beneath him, his cock stirring to life at the thought of you being beneath him as he lets his imagination run wild.

She does, however, cry when his cock enters her. She isn’t nearly as wet as Aegon would like for her to be, but he can make do. It’s not like he truly cares much for her pleasure anyway.

When she gets to loud, he presses her face harder into the mattress and thrusts into her a little faster. Her sobbing ruining his mood, but not enough for him to stop.

He thinks of you. Your soft smile that you sent him at dinner, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke with Helaena as she talked about the twins, the way the neckline of your dress dipped almost too low to be considered modest.

Fuck, he can’t stop wondering what your bare chest looks like, if you like it when your nipples are sucked on, if you prefer being on top.

The thoughts of you have him cumming after a few more thrusts. When he pulls out, the sobbing maid stands shakily and looks to him, silently begging to be dismissed. He waves his hand towards the door after telling her to expect a visit from his mother.

εїз

Aegon doesn’t spend much time in the library, he’s never been one to care for learning any histories or reading silly stories, but he knows you do, which is maybe why after hearing Aemond would be gone for the afternoon he heads towards the library. Silently hoping for a moment alone with you, just to be in your presence for a mere moment before leaving the Keep for the remainder of the day until he’s drug back to the castle and more than likely forced into bed with Helaena.

When he turns a corner around a large shelf housing books, his eyes nearly pop out of his skull in surprise.

His eyes must be deceiving him, there is no way Aemond would have you in such a position where people could see you.

But he does.

Aegon feels like he’s intruding on something, and honestly he knows he is. But he can’t tear his eyes away.

Aemond has you pressed up against a bookshelf, one hand pressed against your chest to hold you in place. He’s under the skirt of your dress, though Aegon can’t see what Aemond is doing, he has an inkling of what’s going on beneath your skirts.

He’s heard whispers of your husband’s insatiable appetite for you, how maids would often be searching for you only to find you in a semi-public area with your husband’s head between your legs or roughly fucking you from behind. He’d thought they were lying, honestly. There was no way Aemond would doing such a thing, his self-righteous brother wouldn’t dare do such a thing to his sweet wife.

Apparently he does.

You’re biting your lip to keep any noises from coming out, whatever Aemond’s doing with his mouth beneath your skirts, you’re very much enjoying.

It’s not really the first time Aegon has seen the two of you in such a position, but never in a public place. Not that anyone but the two of you really visit this particular library.

Usually when Aegon watches, he watches from a distance. There is a balcony on a tower that if he stands at the right angle he can see in your room is his go to spot. Or, when he’s feeling desperate, he’ll hide in the tunnels of the Keep, standing outside the one leading to your room with his cock in his hand as he listens to your moans and pleas as Aemond fucks you harshly.

“Aemond,” Your voice is a breathy moan, it sounds like heaven.

Your hands rest at your sides, clenched tightly as your husband eats you as if you’re the last meal he’ll be allowed to have. Which Aegon can’t ever say it out loud, but he would do the same. He’s never been one for giving oral, but if he could live and breath between your thighs, he mouth would rarely leave your cunt.

Your moans have Aegon’s cock stirring to life beneath his pants as he watches. He doesn’t know how long Aemond has been committing the taste of you to his memory, nor how close you are to cumming, but if he had to guess you’re close.

Your body is tensing, hands gripping the edge of the bookshelf so tightly he wonders if it will break, moans getting louder and nose scrunching up. Chants of his brother’s name, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond leave your mouth is desperate, pitchy whines. Whole body shaking as his brother’s hand moves from your chest to take one of your own and intertwine your fingers.

The loving gesture has Aegon’s cock softening as he bites back a scoff. It’s easier for him to watch when Aemond has had a rough day, more interested in taking in the moment rather than giving. When Aemond is soft, it’s not as easy for him to remember who you are to him, who he is to his brother.

Your breathing evens out but your hand stays intertwined with his brothers, eyes still closed in the afterglow of your orgasm. Aegon decides to take his leave when he notices his brother moving under your skirt. He doesn’t want his mother to think any less of him than she already does; for not only lusting for is good sister, but for watching as his brother pleasures her.

He can always find you later, he supposes.

εїз

Aegon does find you later.

He finds you sitting in the Godswood, praying to the Old Gods just as you pray to the Seven in the Sept with Helaena.

“You pray to the Old Gods often, sister?” His voice startles you, a laugh slipping past his lips as you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Prince Aegon, you frightened me,” Your voice is as soft as it always is, steady as if not to show how much he actually frightened you moments before.

“Apologies, sweet sister,” He hums out, as he makes his way over to sit next to you in front of the weirwood tree, “I did not know your family had the faith of the Old Gods,”

You hum softly before glancing over at him, “During my time in Winterfell I became quite fond of their faith,”

Aegon feels his stomach turn sour at the mention of your time in Winterfell, when Cregan Stark had been the one your father had been leaning most towards for your betrothal, up until his grandsire and mother sent a letter offering Aemond’s hand.

“You spent a lot of time there?” He know how long you spent there, how fond you became of the North and the people, of Cregan. His brother spoke about the distaste he held for the Starks often after you had been moved here permanently as his.

“Hm, a little over a year, it was very different than Highgarden, and very different than here,” You trail off, talking highly of the North.

Aegon stops listening to your words, opting to watch the way your mouth moves as you speak. He doesn’t know what comes over him, maybe it’s the close proximity, or perhaps it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve actually been alone with him, he isn’t sure.

But one minute, your speaking and smiling, then the next, Aegon’s mouth is on your own. A gasp of pure shock escapes you, eyes wide in horror.

Your mouth is as soft as he imagined it would be, but you rip yourself away from him before he can truly savor the taste of you.

You look like you’ve been struck, eyes wide with tears lining them and mouth open in shock. Aegon’s throat tightens up at the look of betrayal on your face, “What have you done?”

His hands shake as he reaches for your own shaky ones, bile rising in his throat as you stand quickly and move to leave the area, more than likely to find your husband and tell him what his brother has done.

“Wait,” He rushes to follow you, “Wait! I’m sorry, fuck! I don’t know what came over me?”

His hand grabs your wrist, squeezing tightly as he turns you towards him, “I’m sorry. I don’t- Please don’t tell Aemond,”

You struggle to pull yourself away from him, causing his grip to tighten even more as he shoves you up against a nearby. You can feel it bruising, “Of course I am telling him! He is my husband, and you have dishonored me!”

He winces, “No, no I haven’t. I would never, you don’t understand. It was a mistake. I did not mean to,”

“You did not mean to? What was your intention then, Aegon?”

He sighs, frustration rising in him as he looks at you and your stupid, beautiful face, “I love you,”

Horror bleeds into your features, “No!”

A halfhearted laugh escapes him, “Indeed, my Lady,” he nudges his nose against your own, causing you to jerk away from him.

“Aegon-“

“Don’t say anything,” He whispers softly, mouth ghosting against your own, “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Tears fall down your cheeks as you look at the man before you. He’s smaller than his brother, but still bigger than you. And his nails are now digging into your wrist painfully, blood seeps through his fingertips.

You’ve heard the whispers, your own handmaidens doing their best to keep you from the older prince due to them. The whispers of how when he travels to the streets of silk, he requests women who look similar to you, or enough like you from behind. How your husband never allows you to be alone with his brother. You didn’t want to believe them, refused even.

You cannot ignore the words as they whirl around in your head now.

His face is in your neck, nose nudging at the junction of where your shoulder and neck meet as he inhales your scent and sighs.

“When I’m King, I could take you from him. I’ll get rid of him, rid myself of Helaena. Just you and me, sweet girl,”

Your ears are ringing, fear rushing through your veins as you begin struggling against him as sobs escape you, “Please let me go, Aegon. Please don’t hurt me,”

The fear that bleeds through your words cause him to rip away from you, as if your touch burned him. He looks as if he’s actually seeing you for the first time since he kissed you.

Your face is wet with tears and snot, hair slightly disheveled from the struggle, wrist bruised and bleeding from where he was gripping you. It shames his to watch you struggle to catch your breath, you are obviously struggling heavily with what he’s done, and his veins are on fire looking at you. He’s disgusted with himself as he feel his cock harden at your appearance.

“I’m, fuck, I’m sorry,” He’s sorry he hurt you, but he’s not sorry about much else. He knows your going to tell Aemond, and he won’t be lying when his brother comes to confront him. He may be a pig, but he can’t bring himself to dishonor you or imply you a liar.

He watches as your wipe your face, watching him wearily as you slowly leave, surly rushing to find a handmaiden to help you clean yourself up.

He decides to go to his room and wait for Aemond to visit him, or his mother. He supposed it’ll be whichever you run into first.

εїз

Aemond feels his blood boiling as he marches from your room to Aegon’s. Fury flooding his veins as he grinds his teeth together.

The state he found you in was heartbreaking, blood on your wrist still flowing as you cried and sobbed out what had happened before getting on your knees and clinging to him like a child, begging him to not be angry with you.

Anger was never an emotion Aemond felt like he could possess towards you. After all, you’re his sweet, sweet wife. He loves you.

Aegon, on the other hand, is a different story. He knows that no matter how bad he wants to, he can’t kill his brother. He wishes he could, but his mother would be furious if he did so.

He dismisses the guards as he walks into his brother’s room. Aegon stands, preparing himself for a fight immediately, only to be caught slightly by surprise as his brother gives him a once over and then starts laughing.

Aemond laughs, an actual humor filled laugh, “I’m sorry, truly, this is just so fucking funny,”

Aegon flushes, a deep red covering his face, “What?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Aemond grits out through clenched teeth, “She is my fucking wife. My wife!”

Aegon loathes the tone in Aemond’s voice, the way he’s talking down to him as if he’s actually done something wrong, which he knows he has. But it’s not as if he raped you.

“I am painfully aware, brother-“

“No, you spoiled fucking cunt, I don’t think you are,” Aemond pushes him up against the wall harshly. “And, quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck if you are or not.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, “I know she is your fucking wife, Aemond.”

Aemond’s hand is on Aegon’s throat before the bitter sentence spits its way out of his mouth, squeezing in a threatening manner, but not tight enough to choke him fully. If Aegon hadn’t pissed him off, and if he couldn’t see the look in his brother’s eyes, Aegon could assume he was jesting.

“If I find you even breathing near her again, I’ll cut your fucking cock off and feed it to Vhagar. You dishonor our mother, you dishonor your wife, I will not allow you to even think about attempting to dishonor mine just because you’ve decided you want her,”

It’s not a time to pick at him, Aegon knows this, yet the words come out anyway, “And yet you fuck her anywhere you can get your hands on her, that is a bit dishonoring, do you not think? Hm, little brother?”

Aemond’s fingers squeeze at Aegon’s neck, “I will fuck my wife anywhere I please, brother, because I am her fucking husband.”

He rips his hand from Aegon’s neck when he starts turning slightly purple, “I pity you, Aegon.”

Aegon growls and considers lunging at him, “I don’t want your fucking pity,”

Aemond huffs out a laugh, “No, but you do want my fucking wife. And you cannot have her,”

A fit of rage fills Aegon as he watches his brother laugh at him, “When I become King, I could annule your marriage to her, and take her for myself,”

Aemond’s face is hard again, eye gleaming in a deep anger, “If you attempt to do anything of the sorts, you will be disappointed when I turn to our older sister and back her claim,”

Aegon knows it was a low blow, and he truly never would annule your marriage to his brother. He wouldn’t want to have you against your will, despite what people say about him.

His head falls slightly, “I wanted her, at one point.”

He’s never admitted it out loud to anyone of importance, when you’d come to court with your father all those years ago, been kind to everyone you’d met, Aegon had been taken with you. A small similarity the two brothers shared despite their many differences.

He’d heard his father speak to his sister about how you’d be a good match for her son, a true Queen you’d be one day. He silently hoped his mother would try to take you from Rhaenyra and give you to him, and he’d been partially right.

His mother did fight for a marriage for her son, Aemond. While Aegon was stuck marrying his unhinged sister, his crippled brother would be given your hand if your father agreed.

Sometimes he wonders if he would have turned out different if he would’ve spoken up, but he knows he’ll never know. Aemond would probably kill you if it meant saving you from the horrors that you would most likely live if Aegon took you. His sexual appetite alone would never be satiated, Aegon knows Aemond would see it as doing you a favor.

“I know,” Aemond’s words surprise Aegon. “You know?”

“I’m not stupid. I see how you look at her, how the whores and servants you tend to ask for look like her. I know you watch when I take her,”

Aemond’s words should bring Aegon shame, but they don’t, “I am not sorry,”

It’s clearly stated, the clearest thing he’s said to Aemond in years, if they had been closer Aemond may have cared.

“And I am not sorry, either.” His hurt tone hurts Aegon’s heart, but it doesn’t hurt it more than knowing that he’ll have to watch you be with Aemond for the rest of his life. “She is my wife. You have a wife. If for whatever reason you are still unsatisfied, you have plenty of whores at your disposal, find one that looks enough like my wife to state you,”

Aemond closes his eye takes a deep breath, a look in his eye that Aegon does not recognize when Aemond looks back at him, “If you touch her again, if you draw blood from her body again or tears from her eyes, I’ll take your fucking head and gift it to her. I won’t see you near her again. I may not be able to kill you right now for harming her, but do not take this as me letting this go. You are lucky our mother loves you, because if she didn’t I would not let you live for what you’ve done. If it happens again-“

Aemond cuts himself off and shakes his head, giving his brother one final bitter look before storming out of his chambers.

As he watches Aemond walk away, Aegon’s bitter feeling molts into something deeper. His brother is right, he does have whores satiate him, plenty of them can look like you. He can shove their faces into whatever surface is near and pretend it’s you under him.

Aemond will ruin this for himself, Aegon knows it deep down, feels it in his bones. He knows Aemond is only possessive because he knows how unworthy he is of you; he’ll slip up somewhere. And when he does, when he does somehow ruin things with the pretty little rose from Highgarden in an unmendable way, and only then; Aegon will step in and show you a new form of undoubtful devotion.

Aegon will be King, a fact everyone but his cunt of a sister knows. But you? He’ll worship your body and fill you with his son before Aemond even knows what hit him. You’ll be the Queen.

#aegon ii x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd smut #aemond smut

2K notes · View notes

lotusbxtch · 3 months

Text

don't ruin this on me

Pairing: f!Reader x post-outbreak Joel

Rating: Mature (mentions of smut)

Word count: 861

Warnings: Mentions of smut, mentions of heart attack symptoms, mentions of alcohol, aaaaaaangst so much angst, no use of y/n. Not beta'd.

a/n: for whatever reason, I am all up in my feelings tonight and felt the need to write an angsty little drabble about lonely Joel & lonely pining Reader. Consider this a stream of consciousness I needed to word vomit onto Tumblr since isn't that what this place is for?

It's 2 am, the trees outside casting long shadows on your walls in the full moon's light. You shift restlessly in your flannel sheets, not from the cold, but from your own thoughts. There's an ache in your chest, a little pinch that blossoms deeper and spreads slowly. If you didn't know any better, you'd think you were having a heart attack -- you'd always heard that women's symptoms were more subtle than men's; the feeling of an immense elephant slowly crushing the life from you. But you know exactly what this is, and your eyes seek it out through your bedroom window. Seek him.

Just outside the glass, you see the silhouette of the house. His house. At night, everything in shades of grey, devoid of the color of life that the daylight brings. You think that this must be what the world looks like to him.

Ever since you moved in next door to Joel Miller, something deep in you changed. It felt magnetic, like kismet. The moment your eyes met his, something clicked, cracked, slowly hairline fractured in your soul. Something said "oh, there you are," whispered it in the pit of your heart, and you desperately wished it wasn't so. Because you swore you could see that glimmer of recognition the second your hand touched his, shaking it after introducing yourselves. You knew he felt it too. Could see his breath quicken for a few moments, something softening in his gaze. And then the tiniest pinprick of fear flashing in his eyes, and you could almost see him physically shut it out. And then nothing. Cold detachment. The chill went bone-deep, and you could never seem to escape it.

Joel was alone. He was always alone. Try as you might, more often than not, so were you.

You rolled the sheets around your body, wrapping up your arms and legs, holding yourself, desperately willing the feeling away. Knowing that you were literally yards away from him, and yet never seeming to be able to bridge that gap.

You thought things might have been different for a second a few months ago. Tommy and Maria had dragged you and Joel out for drinks, and after Joel disappeared for a few minutes, you went looking for him. You found him around the corner, looking up at the sky, fat fluffy snowflakes beginning to cascade down.

"Joel..." you said softly. He turned, meeting your eyes with your name cascading off his lips. It was the sweetest your name had ever sounded to you. He just stared at you, neither of you saying a word, but your eyes locking and speaking volumes. You stepped up to him, stopping when your feet nearly touched. Slowly, you reached out and brushed your fingertips over his arms, across the soft leather of his jacket. His eyes followed the motion, his breath deepening and quickening. Your lips parted as you breathed in to say something, anything, but nothing could come out. Joel felt your inhale and shifted his eyes back to yours. The fire in his gaze seared you, sent shockwaves through your chest, your arms, your core. His fingers twitched at his sides as you kept looking at him, reaching up to touch his jawline, the little heart-shaped patch in his beard that you loved so much.

"Please," you breathed simply. Begging. Pleading. Saying so much in only one word. You wanted him to know you could give him so much, so many things he was missing. Warmth, laughter, passion, care, simple companionship, understanding. You wanted so desperately to kiss his plush lips, drag him back to your home, spend the next week slowly pulling his defenses apart in your bed, laying his heart out for yourself, soaking in him, letting the pain seep out of the cracks, replacing it with happiness. Wrapping your body around him, surrounding him in every way until he had no choice but to let you in, to let you see him, to drain away his sins and his anxieties and his regrets. To drown the demons out with your moans, your sighs, your hips, your flesh, your wetness, your pleasure, to give and receive as you well pleased. Whispering, shouting, screaming his name as he took and took and took. To love him and love him and love him. Until he forgot why he built up those walls, and gave himself wholly to you.

To love you.

But just as soon as you saw the fire, you saw him snuff it out. The embers barely burning, dying, he skimmed the side of your face with his rough hand. "Darlin', I can't. I can't. You don't need me, you don't want me, I'm bad for you. I can never be good for you."

And then he simply walked away, into the cold streets, back to his home. And those hairline fractures shifted and splintered until the entirety of you broke. And ever since then, you've felt hollow laying here at night. Alone.

A single tear slips down your face. A hurt that will never heal, when the man who could fix it is right there. And yet never close enough.

#I should be sleeping #instead i'm pining away for a fictional man #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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thorfemmes · 1 year

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Now in Technicolor

part i: "Color! What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams"

a/n: I've been thinking about the "seeing in black and white until you meet your soulmate" trope for a while now. I wanted to see if it would work with with two soulmates, giving us this steddie x reader au :). I hope you enjoy, and as always feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!<333

a/n 2: I'm sobbing because I've uploaded this THREE TIMES NOW and tumblr keeps glitching and fucking up my formatting. Let's see if this one works.

P.S. I did a stupid amount of research on tour dates, locations, and weather in 1990 LMAO please enjoy.

read part ii here

Rated 18+: fem!reader x steddie, eventual smut, an unfortunate usage of Y/N, gross humid Midwestern weather

Word Count: 2,113 words

May 24, 1990 was a grossly humid day. Illinois weather was always a bit spotty, but today especially was unforgiving. Y/N was in line outside of the Rosemont Horizon, waiting in line to see Madonna's Blond Ambition Tour. She had gotten there early, wanting to grab a good spot seeing as her ticket was for the standing room only section, but now that she was standing outside, alone, in the sun, she wished she would have prepared better. She maybe would've brought a book, definitely would have brought some water bottles. But alas, she was sandwiched between other hopeful concert-goers that were suffering the same fate as her.

She tried to subtly dab at the sweat accumulating around her hairline, accidentally making eye contact with the girl in front of her.

The girl raised her eyebrows at her. "Little bit warm today, huh?"

Y/N nodded and smiled, "Just a little bit yeah".

"Do you have any water or anything?" The girl asked.

She shook her head no.

"My girlfriend and I have a few extras if you'd like one?" The light haired girl started. "It's unopened, in case you were worried we did something to it. Not that you should be worried! I just know that some people would be worried -".

"Robin, it's okay," Robin's friend spoke up as she smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay, I appreciate the offer". Y/N took the bottle graciously and all but chugged it down. "I wasn't worried by the way. Not unless you're trying to weed out the competition for a good spot in the pit".

Robin and her partner laughed. "I'm Nancy, this is Robin, nice to meet you". The dark haired girl gestured between herself and Robin.

"I'm Y/N!"

The three of them got to talking, learning that Robin and Nancy had driven up from Hawkins, Indiana. The two were surprised to learn that she was in the process of moving to Hawkins.

"What made you want to move?" Nancy asked.

"I have a lot of family in the surrounding towns, and I'm planning on attending school out there. Hawkins lets me have a bit of independence while still being close to family".

The two girls nodded. "Do you have anyone moving with you?"

"No, unfortunately," She let out a small laugh. "No soulmate or anything yet". The two girls looked at her almost solemnly. "I'm assuming you two have met your soulmates already?"

The two grinned and linked hands. "Yeah," Robin spoke up. "We've been together for a few years now". Nancy cuddled up next to Robin and laid her head on Robin's shoulder.

"Well you're both adorable together".

"Thank you!" The two spoke in unison.

She turned slightly to take another gulp of water. It wasn't that her heart ached for a soulmate, it was that she had lost hope of meeting hers. Long ago had she accepted that black and gray scales would be her permanent point of view. High school, even middle school was filled with her peers' world blooming in color while she continued to see the dull shades around her.

They continued to make small talk until the line started moving.

"Hey in case we get separated, here's my phone number," Robin whipped out a sharpie and grabbed the girl's hand. "Call us when you get settled". And with that they parted ways, the couple heading towards the merch booth as she headed towards the barricade. When she got back to the hotel she quickly reached for the room's notepad and pen and scribbled the now smeared phone number.

Weeks had passed since the concert. Y/N had officially made the move to Hawkins. The few things she owned were shoved into a rented pickup truck and moved from her shared apartment in Chicago to a one bedroom all to herself.

The apartment was cozy; filled with fuzzy blankets and candles and warm art work. She hoped the colors at least complimented each other, but truly she was just thrilled to finally have her own space to decorate and make hers.

Her days were filled with exploring and familiarizing herself with the town. She visited every corner of Hawkins; wandering grocery stores, noting where the different shops were, even seeking out the record shop and video store for her future leisure.

It wasn't until her classes started that she started to feel the loneliness creep in. She glanced at her phone book every once in a while, debating on whether she should reach out to the girls from the concert. Surely it wouldn't be weird, right? Robin had given Y/N her number for a reason. Then on the first Saturday of July, when she was two glasses of wine deep, she used her liquid courage to reach out to Robin.

Double checking that it wasn't terribly late, she quickly pushed Robin's number into the phone and nervously squished the receiver against her ear. She picked up after the first ring.

"Hello?" Robin's raspy voice shouted over loud background music.

"Hey, Robin? It's Y/N from the Madonna concert". She winced, it had been so long ago, what if she didn't remember her?

"Y/N! Hey!" Robin must've covered the phone with her hand because she could hear a faint Would you guys turn the music down?

"Sorry, my friends are animals. How are you, are you in Hawkins?"

"Yeah, I'm finally settled. I was hoping that maybe you and Nancy would want to hang out sometime soon? I haven't really gone out with anyone since I moved".

"Yeah, that would be awesome! Are you free tomorrow morning? Some of my friends and I were planning on getting breakfast if you'd like to join us".

"I'd love to, you're sure I'm not intruding?"

"No intrusion at all! I'm sure everyone would love to meet you," Her voice called out a little bit louder. Voices in the background rang out in agreement.

Y/N giggled and set her plans in stone.

When the morning came, her stomach was in knots. Her nerves were slowly getting the better of her. Arriving at the restaurant 30 minutes early, she sat in her car and tried to hype herself up. You've got this, she thought. Robin and Nancy were friendly enough at the concert. This is you getting out of your comfort zone. And if you hate it, you can always leave!

Y/N watched as the restaurant slowly filled up. When she saw Robin and Nancy walk up hand in hand following a young man with long dark hair into the restaurant, she counted to thirty and took a deep breath before getting out of her car and making her way inside.

She met the girls by the host's stand, the man nowhere to be found. The girls greeted her with smiles and small side hugs.

"Hey! How are you doing?" Nancy said.

"I'm doing well! How have you guys been?"

"We've been okay! We're just waiting for a table to clear up. Steve couldn't make it this morning, but Eddie is here so you'll meet a part of the group! He's just in the bathroom, I think".

Y/N nodded and quickly fell into conversation with the two girls. The three were talking about the upcoming Fleetwood Mac tour when Nancy looked past Y/N's head.

"Eddie! Nice of you to finally join us," She smirked.

Eddie grinned at Nancy, letting her shove him with her shoulder. "Had to sneak out for a quick smoke. What did I miss?"

Y/N looked at the young man, his long curly hair framing the soft features of his face. His large button eyes were so expressive and full of mischief. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it felt like she knew him, he felt warm (which was crazy because she didn't know this boy from Adam). She was pulled from her staring by Robin's voice.

"So Eddie, this is Y/N. Y/N, Eddie".

Y/N snapped her eyes up and held out her hand, Eddie doing the same. When the two met eyes, Y/N took in a deep breath. The warmth she felt shot through their hands, sending small vibrations through her body. She held that breath as she looked at him, wisps of color blotting throughout her vision. Relief and joy and confusion flooded her system. She had met her soulmate! But why wasn't her vision completely flooding with color? Was he experiencing the same thing?

"Guys?" Robin's voice ripped them from their trance.

Eddie cleared his throat, "Sorry, um, nice to meet you".

She nodded in agreement, retracting her hand and looking at the ground. The tiles on the ground now boasted what could only be described as auras of color. Her vision still looked dull, but blobs of color distorted her normal palette of dark shades.

The four of them were then led to a round booth, Nancy and Robin scooting into the middle with Eddie and Y/N on each of their respective ends. They quickly fell into a comfortable conversation, Y/N looking and picking at her nails in favor of looking back at Eddie.

"So Y/N," Eddie's voice pulled her attention. "Nancy and Robin were telling us that you all met at the Madonna show".

"Yeah, um. It was ridiculously hot and Robin saved the day with a water bottle she swore wasn't poisoned".

Eddie laughed and leaned forward a little. "You've gotta be careful out there, you never know what Robin is trying to roofie you with".

"Oh fuck off, Munson," Robin laughed, throwing her straw wrapper at him.

The four of them stood outside of the diner and gathered around Y/N's car.

"This was so fun, we should do this again soon!" Nancy said.

Everyone smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Hopefully next time our resident dingus can join us," Robin added.

Eddie rolled his eyes at the name calling. He quickly took his keys out of his pockets. "Here ladies, go and start the a/c, I'll be right behind you".

Robin snatched the keys from him, quickly giving Y/N a hug and dragging Nancy away.

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his dirty Reeboks. He cleared his throat before starting: "Um, so -".

"Did you feel it too?" She cut in. "I'm really confused right now, and I just need to make sure I'm not hallucinating or something".

"No sweetheart, you're not hallucinating".

She couldn't tell if her face was warm due to the humid weather or Eddie's pet name.

"Can I ask why you're confused?"

"I... The colors didn't blossom like they were supposed to, I think. They didn't fully come through like I thought they were meant to. I'm only seeing little bits and pieces of color in between normal grays and whites".

Eddie nodded, recognition flooding his face. "I had the same thing happen when I met my partner, Steve".

"Steve, like dingus Steve?"

"Yeah, like dingus Steve," Eddie laughed. "Both of us actually experienced that. We were both really confused, but with a little research we learned that in rare occasions, some people can have multiple soulmates".

Her eyes widened. It makes sense in theory, but it was all overwhelming. Just yesterday she was sure she'd never run into her soulmate and now there's a possibility that she has more than one?

"When we made eye contact, color flooded the rest of my vision. All the black and white disappeared. I have never felt more comfortable meeting someone, not since I met Steve. I don't know what this means for any of us, but I know that you must be my missing soulmate".

She slowly took a step back, Eddie following with a step forward and his hands up, as if approaching a wounded animal.

"I just, please take some time. It's a lot to process. If you have any questions or want to talk, here's my number," He pulled out his breakfast receipt with his number scratched on it. "Steve and I have a lot to talk about too".

She nodded, looking down at the piece of paper in his hand. She plucked it with a shaking hand.

"Just give me a couple days to think everything over. I promise I'll call soon, I just need some time," She turned to unlock her car door.

Eddie nodded and opened the door for her. "Drive safely, and give me a call, yeah?"

She nodded and carefully pulled out of the parking lot. Eddie crossed his hands and cradled the back of his head as he watched her drive away.

Fuck, this changes everything.

Taglist/people who showed interest in this fic: @munsonology @alexxavicry @marvelous-musicals

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art · 7 months

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Creator Spotlight: GDBee Art (@prinnay)

Geneva Bowers is inspired by the wonders of the natural world around us, and enjoys manipulating colors to create art full of mood and feelings.

Check out our interview with Geneva below!

How did you get started with art? Did you originally have a background in art?

I’m going to say yes because that’s all I’ve known how to do. It started because I wanted to draw better horses than my sister, and it just spiraled from there. People started asking me to draw things because they saw me drawing horses. I was like, well, I can draw things that aren’t horses, and then it was just kind of all I did.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

I have one right now! Honestly, with time, and I also collect art books; I think I have a couple hundred. If I really want to draw something, then I just flip through those and try to steal some ideas.

Which three famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I mean, of course Van Gogh…I’m really inspired by Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, so I would invite Van Gogh, Monet, and Julie Dillon to a dinner party.

Have you ever wanted to dive into another medium before?

Yeah, actually, I currently am! I’m trying to do more traditional painting. I used to do a lot of acrylics, but I haven’t done it in years, and now I’m kind of bad at it. I’m trying to get into actual impressionistic art with oils and oil pastels. I’m like failing, but you know, you get there. Just fail until it looks presentable.

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I guess it’s more of a feeling. I create art because I’m inspired by things around me, like certain video games. For example, I have been inspired by a Japanese RPG called Chrono Cross on PlayStation 1. They make me feel a certain type of inspiration to create something, so that’s kind of like what I’m hoping to leave behind.

Have any of your projects surprised you with their outcome?

Yeah! I did this Weapon Faerie series where I took three prompts: a weapon, a winged insect, and an herb, which I combined to make different characters. So, a faerie with a spiked club or a butterfly faerie with a katana. I made 13 of those, and they kind of took off! I wasn’t expecting that at all.

What is the hardest part of your process?

My whole art style is coloring, like the way it’s colored… but I hate the coloring process, haha. I like doing the color combos, but I don’t like the blending and shading. That takes like one-trillion years. It’s the part where I’m most likely to give up. You know how art kind of looks ugly before it looks good? I’m trying to trust that process.

What do you wish you knew when you started creating art that you know now?

I guess one big thing would be knowing how to use lights and darks. When I do color, it is definitely colorful, but when you switch it to black and white, you see that everything’s the same tone of gray. I’ve learned that if you just use some brighter colors and some darker shades, you create a bigger impact in the end. So, now, when I paint something digital, I make it black and white for a moment to see where all the hues are, and if something is weirdly dark or not dark enough, I can change it.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

Oh, @feefal definitely inspires me. She does a lot of spooky art.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #gdbee art #prinnay #nycc 2023 #tumblr nycc #nycc

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brucebocchi · 5 months

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Ranking every new anime I watched in 2023, Pt. 4: #5-1

hey, i just started a ko-fi for my writing and possible other creative outlets. this post will also be available there, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i'm currently between jobs. the tumblr version of part 1 can be found here, part 2 here, and part 3 here.

The list is complete! This took a lot of work but I'm over the moon to get this out there. Please consider leaving a tip if you've enjoyed reading.

Here goes, my top five anime of 2023:

5. Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead

Zom 100’s debut hit like a freight train, especially coming from a brand new studio. It had everything: Visceral satire of Japanese work culture, incredible animation, vibrant colors in unexpected places, clever cinematography, wish fulfillment for everyone who’s ever wanted to Stone Cold their boss, and most importantly: Zombie titties.

The premise is magnetic: When your job makes you feel like a zombie, an actual zombie apocalypse means certain freedom from the grind. Akira Tendo realizes that he can finally use the vacation time he amassed while being exploited and overworked at a legally dodgy black company, so he writes a bucket list of everything he’s ever wanted to do, with all intention of checking off every single line item before succumbing to a zombie bite. He manages to rescue his hunky fuckboy bestie from college, and they embark on a road trip across Japan to finish out the list, along with a beautiful, risk-averse tsundere and a big-tiddy German weeb.

It's a perfectly fine elevator pitch, and a welcome break from the guns-and-grit quagmire the zombie genre has been stuck in for the past two decades, but what makes any good zombie-flecked media resonate is the human element, which Zom 100 delivers expertly. You’re quickly given reason to care for all the characters, their motivations are clear and relatable, and you want to see them survive and live out their dreams. But more importantly, you just want to hang out with them through their hijinks. It even delves into more serious matters, like what we owe our parents as adults, the ways isolation and bitterness can drive people to act out in their worst moments, and even the factors that push abuse victims to stay with and even return to their abusers.

Above all, though, it’s a powerful (if extreme) story of finding joy in the direst circumstances. Akira, Kencho, and Shizuka are all kindhearted, well-meaning people whose situations kept them from what they truly wanted to do with their lives, and there’s something kinda beautiful to be found in them finding a new opportunity during the possible end of the world (Beatrix is a sweetie too, but aside from the whole zombie thing, she’s already exactly where she wants to be). The final arc of the season, in particular, looks you dead in the eye and asks you: If you were suddenly faced with the ultimate freedom, would you use the opportunity to better yourself, improve the lives of others, or do whatever the fuck you want at everyone else’s expense? You may not like the answer at first if you’re honest with yourself, and that’s okay. The world isn’t over, and there’s still time for you to be your best self.

Zom 100, unfortunately, fell prey to a cruel irony in the form of production issues. Bug Films is a new studio made up of a former team from OLM that was responsible for similarly gorgeous projects such as Komi Can’t Communicate and Summer Time Rendering. They clearly saw so much of themselves in Akira's workplace exploitation that they had to swing for the fences here. The firm he works for is named “ZLM” in this adaptation, for fuck’s sake, and he fully destroys his zombie boss in the first episode. But new studio or old, the anime industry is a grind, and Bug had trouble keeping up; animation quality did take a bit of a dip after the stunning first episode, and episodes were frequently delayed as the summer broadcast season wore on and ended without the entire seasonal run making airwaves. Hell, it was impossible to watch the final three episodes until just a few days before I could write this sentence.

For what Bug were able to pull off, though, Zom 100 is outstanding. The paintball-colored blood splatters everywhere are an instantly-iconic look that strike the balance between horror and spectacle. Everything and everyone looks gorgeously faithful to Kotaro Takata’s art, and delivers an appropriately cinematic look that the manga always deserved. I almost don’t know what else to tell you but that this show is a fucking blast.

There’s also a zombie shark. What more could you want?

4. Oshi no Ko

I spent a good chunk of 2023 just assuming Oshi no Ko was going to be a layup for anime of the year. Shortly after moving on from Kaguya-sama, I rushed to binge Aka Akasaka's subsequent manga in time for the anime's feature-length debut. I was taken in by OnK's bonkers premise and sudden dark turn and quickly fell in love with the characters, and my anticipation only grew. I had high expectations for the screen adaptation, but nothing could have prepared me for just how lovingly it all came together. This is as close to a perfect adaptation as you can find, and the same can be said about both the preceding and following entries on this list.

Oshi no Ko is an audiovisual feast. Doga Kobo cleaned up Mengo Yokoyari’s character designs just a smidge, but put just the right flourishes on them to make every single cast member instantly iconic. One look at Kana Arima’s eyes will tell you everything you need to know about the level of care put into the visual design of this anime. The performances are on point as well; though many of the main cast members are relative newcomers to the world of seiyuu, you can tell they truly came to understand the characters before they even recorded one line. I’ve already gushed about Rie Takahashi in earlier entries, but her turn as Ai Hoshino is easily one of the best voice performances all year. Takahashi makes a meal out of every single second Ai spends on screen and gives you every reason to care about her as a character.

Showbiz manga in general is obviously missing an audio element, and when an adaptation can expand on that aspect well, it can help turn even middling source material into something transcendent (see also: Rock!, Bocchi the). Music is central to Oshi no Ko, and the OP/ED combination is already iconic; YOASOBI’s “Idol” has had the best worldwide chart performance of any Japanese song ever, and the prolonged intro to Queen Bee’s “Mephisto” became a meme in Japan in the same vein as JJBA’s iconic use of “Roundabout.” Rather than taking manga characters’ word for it that someone is a terrible actor, we actually get to cringe along to an amateur actor’s hammy emoting. We get to see and hear what turned a fictional idol group into a national phenomenon rather than just see cute girls posing on the page. All of this is to say that while Oshi no Ko is an excellent manga, it needed a screen adaptation, and especially one of this quality.

Oshi no Ko deserves every shred of its success. I've never seen an anime make a splash this enormous with just its debut episode, even if it’s kind of cheating to say so because the first episode is almost literally a movie, and if I were to give an award for the best single episode of anime this year, it would be that one, hands down. Adapting the entire first volume into a feature-length debut was the correct move (mostly because it’s a tonal rollercoaster, and the Big Event that defines the entire story wouldn’t have happened until the fourth episode otherwise), and the investment paid dividends. The hype naturally died down a bit as the season wore on and settled into a more consistent tone and rhythm, but it remains an essential anime to 2023.

You may have noticed that I have said very little of what this show is actually about, and that’s by design: If you still don’t know the plot of Oshi no Ko’s first episode by now, I refuse to tell you: you need to go in blind. All I will say is that it is an idol anime that glorifies nothing. If you've read this far and still trust what I have to say about anime, I beg you to just take my word for it. It's an incredibly rewarding experience.

3. Scott Pilgrim Takes Off

There's just something so wonderful about taking in an adaptation of a work you’re already familiar with and knowing, almost instantaneously, that every single person working on it genuinely loved the source material and relished the opportunity to bring it to life. Nearly every single member of the original cast is in the dub (including the ones who went on to be MCU mainstays), Edgar Wright is back on as executive producer, Anamanaguchi reprise their soundtracking duties from the video game, and even Bryan Lee O’Malley himself helped co-write everything.

That last detail is probably the most important thing about this entire production: It’s not exactly a secret that the original Scott Pilgrim comics are very imperfect portrayals of a very imperfect young man. I knew reading them at the time that the comic did not have a great grasp on relationships and the dynamics between men and women, and that was at a time in my life when I myself was pretty terrible with and to women. O'Malley has said that he would only revisit Scott Pilgrim if it was “the right thing” and that he was leery of a straight retelling of a work he has since outgrown.

So instead, we have the Rebuild of Scott Pilgrim, to put it simply. Takes Off is a completely new story that reexamines the Scott Pilgrim comics, movie, and even game without undermining what came before it. This series is not a repudiation of Scott Pilgrim (the character or the franchise)’s flaws, nor is it purely fanservice; it splits the difference perfectly. It’s both more mature and completely self-indulgent. This show so easily could’ve marched to the familiar discourse drumbeat of “Scott isn’t the hero here” or “he’s actually not a good dude,” but it instead focuses on what should always be the second half of that sentence: “But Ramona still sees something in him.”

Yes, Ramona Flowers is effectively the protagonist of a new work that doesn’t even have her name on it, and it tackles some surprisingly necessary questions: What was her responsibility in creating seven evil exes in the first place? What made them evil? Are they even that evil? This series opens up entire worlds of possibilities within the extended cast and gleefully dives into them. Though Takes Off may not flesh out every single character, it does take its time with several of the ones who really did need a little more meat on their narrative bones, and even gives some characters new roles just because it would be fun to see them in new situations.

I still cannot believe they got Science Saru to make this show. “They made a Scott Pilgrim anime” and “They brought back the movie cast” are already good enough fodder for that Vince McMahon meme, but “It’s produced by the motherfuckers who made Devilman Crybaby” had me falling out of my chair. The animation maintains O'Malley's chunky, cartoony character designs and works wonders with line weights and simulated camera effects to give everything a tactile, weighty feel, like it’s somehow (and very appropriately) splitting the difference between a comic, a film, and even a video game. There’s a wide array of visual effects that helps to place all of Scott Pilgrim’s influences further on its sleeve: Dynamic action scenes, camera depth and chromatic aberration, and our beloved pixel art inserts. It looks like every Scott Pilgrim, everywhere, all at once.

The live action film’s cast did a (mostly) great job reprising their roles for animation, and there are some wildly unexpected cameos in there. Voice acting is not quite the same as stage or film acting, but everyone pulls their weight, and dialogue feels far more naturalistic than your average anime dub. Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Ellen Wong and, surprisingly, Chris Evans are outstanding in their respective roles. I’m gonna have to watch this again in Japanese, though. Fairouz Ai as Ramona, Aoi Koga as Knives, and Yuichi Nakamura as Lucas Lee? Sign me the fuck up.

This is not an apology or revision of Scott Pilgrim the character or work, it is a celebration that still acknowledges and improves on the flaws. If you’re a Scott Pilgrim fan who’d been clamoring for a proper cartoon adaptation, Takes Off may not exactly be what you’ve wanted, but it may be what you needed. Chances are pretty good that you’ve grown since the first time since you read, watched, or even played something with Scott Pilgrim’s name on it, and it’s a blessing to say that while the character may not have grown, Scott Pilgrim the franchise finally has.

2. Jujutsu Kaisen, season 2

I’m so glad I picked up JJK this year, if only because I would’ve otherwise been caught in a mudslide of memes I didn’t understand.

Season 2 follows in lockstep with the manga from where season 1 left off, beginning in extended flashback with the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arc, covering Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto’s high school life and the events that would eventually create the rift between them that came to shape Jujutsu Kaisen’s story. We see very different versions of Gojo and Geto here, much younger and more naive, but only marginally less powerful as they’re sent on an escort mission with the future of the jujutsu world in the balance. Because this is Jujutsu Kaisen, and because Jujutsu Kaisen is for masochists, nothing happens as planned.

We unfortunately do not get the precious slice-of-life hijinks the OP suggests, but if you watched season 1, you should know better by now than to trust an OP. While the initial arc does have its quieter and goofier moments (and some delicious homoerotic subtext), it wastes little time in declaring that this is a new version of the Jujutsu Kaisen anime: Lines are thinner, character models are looser, and action is buckwild. Two of the best fakeouts in the series happen in the span of five minutes. Those unfamiliar with the source material may have wondered for a bit why there needed to be a five-episode prequel arc to start the season, but the pieces would soon fall into place.

And then came Shibuya.

The Shibuya Incident arc was what made Jujutsu Kaisen a must-read in every new issue of Shonen Jump. It reset the status quo for the story and shaped it into something far beyond another “teenagers with special powers go to a school for teenagers with special powers” battle shonen. Needless to say, the hype for its anime adaptation was astronomical.

The Shibuya arc sets the stakes early: Nobody is safe and there may be no happy ending. Triumph is short-lived, and every threat is existential. Everyone who has been in the series up to this point plays a role, and you’re not going to like a lot of what’s needed of them. This arc punches you in the gut, repeatedly, and in between each blow is some of the most intense and innovative action you’ve ever seen. It will hurt, and you will beg for more.

I liked this arc a good amount in the manga, but by the end I was ready for it to be over. I didn’t get the hype around Toji, thought the deaths were cheap, and was so. FUCKING. sick of Mahito. Seeing it in fluid motion onscreen, though, everything just clicked for me and I couldn’t get enough. I fully get now why the girlies have been wetting themselves over Toji; the character modelers were HORNY horny this season. I see now how even the most unceremonious deaths fit into the narrative, or at least one will make perfect sense to me once Gege Akutami and I have a little chat :). And holy hell do I understand now that Mahito is one of the best shonen villains in the history of the medium, that sick bastard. Season 2 was my Rosetta stone for Jujutsu Kaisen; I see it all now. My sixth eye has been opened. Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the literate one.

JJK’s second season has a markedly different feel from the first from a presentation standpoint, and I feel it’s for the better. Every aspect of the presentation is on point, and I want to call attention to the audio element: The production music, with a heavy focus on jazz piano, is wonderfully unique for the genre, and the voice acting remains top notch. These are banner performances from the likes of Yuichi Nakamura, Kenjiro Tsuda, Takahiro Sakurai, Asami Seto, and Nobunaga Shimazaki, but the performance that defines the Shibuya arc (and by extension the entire season) is Junya Enoki as Yuji Itadori.

Enoki’s been great this year in lead roles in goofy works like KamiKatsu and Girlfriend Girlfriend (not to mention minor roles in Skip and Loafer and the vending machine isekai), so it’s no surprise that he continues to crush it as JJK’s protagonist; Yuji Itadori is a goofy dude. But the Shibuya arc, for as much ground and as many characters as it covers, is ultimately Yuji’s story as he is forced, time and again, to endure the cycle of the “suffering builds character” meme. His peers and mentors in the first season told him repeatedly that the life of a jujutsu sorcerer is a short and unhappy one, and he now has to shoulder that burden for everyone. Enoki nails every single part of a wide spectrum of emotions Yuji is forced to endure over the course of the Shibuya arc, be it determination, naive confusion, or just pure unbridled trauma. If this isn’t the best voice performance of the year, it’s top five at worst.

Like every major battle shonen release in the age of social media, this season has had its detractors. Reviewers at Anime News Network kinda hated the story, but that’s something you take up with Gege Akutami (and get in line behind the manga readers). I've seen people complain about the animation. Which, like. If you don’t like the new visual style, sure, fine, that’s up to personal taste. But if you think this season isn’t well-animated, you just plain don’t know ball. It may not have a cohesive look, but that was the draw for me: Season 1 was good, but at times I felt like it looked a little too rigid, a little too shiny, a little too samey. Season 2, especially the Shibuya arc, looks like everything. Sometimes it looks like an action film, sometimes it looks like Mob Psycho 100, and at points it looks, most crucially, like Akutami’s most iconic panels brought to life, stroke for stroke.

The varying styles weren’t an accident: Nearly each episode had its own director, and those resumes cover top-tier animations like Mob Psycho, Devilman Crybaby, Kill la Kill, Heavenly Delusion, Oshi no Ko, FLCL, even Akira and goddamn Golden Boy. While the episodes don’t look entirely consistent from one to the next, the variance is less jarring and more “holy fuck, what am I going to see next?”. The looser style of animation is what Jujutsu Kaisen always needed; Akutami’s art is very loose and dynamic, and his action panels are borderline inscrutable at times. Season 2 nails the feel of JJK to a degree that its adaptation always needed and lets its directors, storyboarders, and animators run wild. At times, characters will look like they leapt right off the page; others, they will look like something you have never seen before in your life.

It is unfortunately impossible to talk about this season without also bringing up MAPPA’s working conditions, and how animators were frequently overworked against nigh-impossible deadlines. It was an open secret last year as Chainsaw Man aired that MAPPA’s animation schedule was a meat grinder, but that came bubbling to the surface quickly as JJK’s second season aired. Word got out midseason that MAPPA had its animators sign NDAs about their work conditions, but complaints still broke containment and several staffers took to social media to apologize for their work looking incomplete, and some even publicly announced that they are leaving the studio. It is stunning that the finished product looks the way it does under such conditions, and I respect the animators for putting in such incredible work, but something has to give. Several major series suffered from major delays this year, some of which I gave significant praise, but MAPPA is lucky that all of JJK came out on time. I wish I knew what could push them to treat their workers with the dignity and respect (and pay) they deserve, but that’s a conversation that covers much wider ground than just anime.

MAPPA has already announced that the series will continue through the next major arc. While there is quite a bit of it that I would love to see on screen, I can only hope that the animators get to rest. For now, though, we can be proud of what they made under duress, even if some will forever wonder what it would look like if the staff were treated like something a notch above cattle.

1. Frieren: Beyond Journey's End

Fucking hell. This is why I watch anime.

I was curious about this one because a couple major anitubers I watch had reviewed the manga and were effusive in their praise. I knew the anime adaptation was on the way, so I decided to hold off on reading and see what the anime would be like, and with Keiichiro Saito (director of Bocchi the Rock! and key animator for Oshi no Ko’s instantly-iconic OP) at the helm, my excitement was piqued. That guy turned a B-minus 4-koma into an innovative hit comedy, so what can he do with a beloved source material and the backing of a legacy studio like Madhouse?

I've had so much to say about Frieren since the premiere, and I still have so much to say now, but to talk about what I love about this show is to talk about everything about this show. When the first four episodes dropped, I described it as “Mushoku Tensei without the baggage,” and I stand by that. There were multiple points throughout Frieren’s first cour where I'd nearly forgotten that I wasn't watching Mushoku Tensei. Every single element is on point: The animation is fluid and expressive, backdrops are consistently gorgeous, voice performances are quickly memorable, and the music is evocative and instantly iconic. This is, plainly, one of the most beautiful pieces of television I have ever seen on nearly every level, be it visually, sonically, or thematically.

The initial four-episode debut was a masterclass in establishing the setting, building emotional investment into the characters, and slowly but deliberately laying out the premise of the season to come. The titular Frieren is an elf mage who, for a very brief decade of her millennium-long life, lent her skills to an adventuring party to slay the Demon King. Though she helped save the world, she was never one for stuff like adulation or socializing, so she breaks away from the group to continue her hobby of collecting various spells and arcana. She regroups with them after 50 years, having kept in contact with none of them, only to find them older and frailer. The party’s leader, the hero Himmel, passes away shortly thereafter, and Frieren breaks down at his funeral, having realized exactly too late how important he was to her and that she’d never really bothered to get to know him as a person.

Some time later, she’s called by the surviving human member of the party, Heiter, under the guise of translating an old text, but soon realizes that he duped her into helping train the young orphan girl he adopted, Fern, as a mage. Upon Heiter’s death, Frieren and Fern head out together, carrying out odd jobs and retracing Frieren’s steps from the journey that changed her more than she realized. They soon learn from the other surviving member of the party, Eisen, that (ooh) heaven is, in fact, a place on earth, and that Frieren may be able to properly pay Himmel his final respects in person. In order to do so, they must make a trip to the north, past the Demon King’s castle. The story of Beyond Journey’s End is, quite literally, a nostalgia trip.

Frieren's story is one of grief and regret, but also how we can use those emotions as a way of moving forward rather than looking backward. Her history is a long one and her memories seemingly everlasting, but she uses them to pave the road ahead of her rather than let them shackle her to the past. This is best exemplified by Fern herself, as well as the other companion they pick up the way in Eisen’s former trainee, Stark. Frieren can carry on the legacies of Heiter and Eisen by helping their young wards grow into the capable young adults they’re meant to be, while Himmel’s legacy lives on in the memories of the towns and villages he helped save along Frieren’s new path, and most importantly, in Frieren herself.

The degree to which Himmel truly mattered to Frieren becomes more apparent to her as the story goes on, and it becomes more evident in her actions. Himmel was a gentle, selfless (if self-aggrandizing) man who was every last bit the hero the modern world believes him to be. With every statue of him she cleans, every flower she plants in his name, every core memory that returns to her, we are watching Frieren become more and more like him in real time. You would expect a thousand-year-old woman to be pretty set in her ways, but we see her holding off on old, bad behaviors because of how Himmel would react to them back then. As Fern and Stark grow into young adults, we see her beginning to treat them the same way Himmel treated her. Frieren doesn’t realize it until later in the season, but it’s apparent to us early on that Himmel well and truly loved her, and I feel that it’s dawning on her that she loved him too and didn’t recognize it. That is tragic in and of itself (this show absolutely is a tearjerker at times and I will cop to getting misty-eyed as I write this), but there is something beautiful, well beyond my grasp, in being able to honor the memory and carry out the legacy of a loved one in how you treat those around you. I don’t think anything could have made Himmel prouder.

Frieren herself is a really goddamn good character too (and expertly voiced by Atsumi Tanezaki, best known for voicing Anya Forger in Spy x Family). Though she is portrayed as quiet and uncaring for the early part of the story, it’s been really delightful to watch her open up, and above all, inadvertently reveal that she’s actually just Really Fucking Weird. For as self-assured and put together as she always seems on the surface, it was great to learn that she’s just an enormous slob (she just like me fr), and any outward expressions of smugness or her offbeat sense of humor are always a joy. “Deeply weird person trying to act normal” is always fun, and there’s just something so consistently delightful about seeing someone so typically calm and intelligent get caught in a mimic chest every single time.

I still can’t get over how fucking good this show looks. Beyond Journey’s End features some of the most intricate, loving animation I’ve seen for stuff as simple as someone putting on a jacket. Action scenes are few and far between, but not a single frame is wasted when shit pops off. Not everyone is as detailed as possible at all times, and they don’t need to be, but everyone looks incredible when they need to be. It’s well above my pay grade to accurately say so, but this show could be a lesson in proper animation budgeting. I could go on and on and on, but I’ve written nearly eighteen thousand words about anime, so I’ll wrap it up.

The debut season of Frieren will continue into 2024, and if the quality remains a constant, it could very well be one of the best anime of next year too. It has remained as MyAnimeList’s top-rated anime ever for its entire run, warding off the legion of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood fans. Frieren deserves it. I say with no hyperbole that this is one of the most perfectly realized things I’ve ever seen on television. This is an essential watch for anyone who likes fantasy anime, anime in general, or fantasy in general.

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