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ichorai · 5 months

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button ; coriolanus snow. (m)

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; what did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. misshaped. odd. not matching the rest of your buttons. his gift to you. “you’re wearing it,” coriolanus whispered. his voice sounded strained.

words ; 3.4k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, smut

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex (not very explicit), possessiveness, themes of classism, we meet reader's rich parents !! and grandma'am and tigris appear, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a third part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Your home was the very definition of old money—wealth and grace and high status carved into the marble floors, hung up in the large oil paintings, found within the fibers of the expensive carpets leading into grand halls. Snow had to consciously remind himself to appear unphased. He had this sort of life, too, as far as you were concerned.

It was only expected, especially considering your parents’ high positions: with your father being the top admiral of the navy, and your mother a renowned physicist with several awards under her belt. Dozens of rows of medals and framed certifications from both your parents were more than enough for Snow to gauge the mass of their importance.

He shifted the weight of his feet in his too-tight shoes. Anxious. He wore his dress shirt again, though not before asking Tigris to try and rework the buttons. The buttons hewn from his bathroom tiles. Make them look the same, he had told her. They’re uneven. Snow turned away before he could see her mildly crestfallen expression.

It was a special occasion, hence his dressed-up attire. There was a rose pinned to his waistcoat, a deep shade of red, from his Grandma’am’s rooftop garden. Your father had come home today, after months of military work in the districts. And to celebrate such a momentous evening, you invited him to dinner.

To meet your parents. How utterly fraught.

Though, now that the two of you were officially together (albeit only recently—Sejanus asked if the two of you were a thing and Coryo replied with an instinctive, possessive yes, much to both of your surprise), Coriolanus supposed there was no use in delaying the inevitable.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told him, arm looped around his. The white rose he’d given you upon his arrival was tucked neatly behind your ear, a lovely contrast to your all-black garb. In a light-hearted tone, you added, “Father would be able to smell it on you. The fear.”

Coriolanus shot you an exasperated glance, to which you only smiled. You landed a soft, reassuring kiss onto his cheek, hand sliding down from his elbow to lace with his.

“You look… breathtaking,” he said, lifting your conjoined palms to brush his lips over your knuckles. Of the many lies that he told you, this certainly wasn’t one of them.

Your eyes gleamed with the light from the chandelier hanging above you.

“And you look handsome as ever.” A pause. You seemed bashful all of a sudden, averting your gaze to the gold patterns on the marble floors. “I know this is all very new, so I apologize in advance, if my father asks about our, uhm… our future… He’s a very forward man.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and he slotted his free hand beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly over the side of your throat, forcing you to look back at him. “I have no intention of letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You smiled again, all sunlight and warmth, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but steal it away with one last kiss.

“Ready?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the dining room.

Snow swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Dinner was quite a pleasant affair. The food was better than anything the academy ever served—Coriolanus wondered how you could willingly go from eating such delicacies at home to basic, run-of-the-mill meals the cafeteria provided. There were courses, tender peppered steaks (his very favorite), rich mushroom soups, iced lemon cakes, and several sorts of breads and butters were offered all throughout.

Your mother was a delight, enchanting him with stories of laboratory mishaps and her dangerous adventures with radioactive material. You looked a lot like her, he realized.

Your father, on the other hand, was pressing at first, grilling Coriolanus with dozens of personal questions. If you hadn’t warned him beforehand that he was a military leader, he most definitely would’ve worked it out for himself then. There were times where you politely but forcefully snapped at him, telling him to lay off the invasive interrogation and to let the poor man eat. But Coriolanus really didn’t mind—he’d spent hours upon hours preparing himself for this. He answered all of the questions with effortless ease.

By the third course, your father was satisfied. Reluctant, but satisfied. By the fourth, he was already asking about marriage, much to your mortification. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, and quietly listened to you lecture your father about privacy and civility.

Yes, dinner was quite enjoyable. Several containers of food from unseen servants were wrapped up for him to take home, at your request, despite his polite protests. It wasn’t a common thing to do in the capitol, but your parents hadn’t batted an eye.

He was safe. They didn’t know. It was an ongoing mantra the entire night.

He was shown out the door by your father, who clapped a large hand on his shoulder and told him to take care of you, especially while he was gone. Your mother kissed him once on each cheek as farewell, and you did the same, though your kisses strayed far closer to his lips. He caught the mischievous gleam in your eyes.

The door shut behind him once he strode into the expansive courtyard in front of your mansion of a home. He glanced down at the rose pinned to his coat, wondering if you were still wearing yours behind your ear. A minute later, he jumped out of his reverie when the entrance creaked open once more. You peeked your head back out, eyes alight, pleased to see that he was still there.

You slid out from the entryway and made your way to him with quick strides, wasting no time to rest your hands upon his chest. To his delight, you were still wearing the rose. “Father and mother left to watch television in the estate’s Northern wing. Didn’t want to kiss you in front of them.”

There were wings to your house? Coriolanus blinked at you, accidentally letting his indifferent mask slip for a few seconds. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly. It took him another moment to gather his wits, before winding his arms about your waist and deepening the kiss, nearly bending you backwards with his vigor.

He could never tire of this, he thought, fingers curling so his nails dug into the expensive black fabric of your top. Kissing you, touching you, entertaining the notion that you were his, and only his.

When you pulled away, your lips were wonderfully kiss-swollen and your pupils were blown wide, to his amusement. Were his eyes just the same?

“Thank you for being here today,” you mumbled, that smile-frown he was so fond of gracing your features once more. “I’m sorry if my parents were too—”

“They were wonderful. You’re wonderful,” he interrupted, tone soft. His hand lifted from your waist to cup your face. Cold fingers against flushed skin. “I’ll see you at the academy?”

A nod, a grin, and a relieved sigh. “Sleep well, Coryo.”

“You, too.” He pulled away, reluctant, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. “You look good with it, you know. The rose.” With a final nod, he turned on his heel and walked away from your estate, back to his own cold penthouse, where he had to burn newspaper scraps to keep warm.

The months drew by like a lazy stream of water, gliding over a bed of stones, languid and pleasant. Your time with Coriolanus was nothing short of utter bliss. He was a sweet lover, despite his possessive streaks, always making sure you were alright with what he was doing. The two of you went slow and steady, always asking, always gentle. He kissed you as if you were made of sugar glass, and you held onto him as if he was a fragile ceramic vase.

Exams were drawing nearer with each passing day, and the two of you found yourself studying and cramming more than anything. He would often tell you that there was no need for you to study so hard, especially when you were already at the very top, likely to claim the Plinth prize for yourself, but you always waved him away with a modest laugh. If the two of you weren’t at the library pouring over dozens upon dozens of books, you were finding ways to sneak him into your home: kissing behind stone statues in the gardens, hiding behind velvet curtains, pulling him onto your massive, four-poster bed.

It was only a matter of time until you asked.

His arm was draped over your bare midriff, drawing mindless shapes into your hip. Your head rested back against his chest, mildly sweaty from the lovemaking session the two of you were still dwindling down from. You stared out your window, watching the sun slowly bleed the sky a hazy clementine hue, teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip in thought.

“Why haven’t we ever studied at your home, Coryo?” you asked. “I’ve yet to meet your cousin. You talk about her a lot… she seems wonderful.”

You felt a cold breath billow over the back of your neck. It sent pleasant chills spider down your spinal column. And you could’ve imagined it, but his fingers seemed to flex over your bare flesh. Twitch. Almost antsy. Did your question make him uncomfortable?

Shifting in his grasp, you turned within his arms so you could face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you, or anything. I just… just know that I’d never judge you.”

His expression was near unreadable, the blue of his eyes even paler than usual with the sunset’s light casting a honey-glow over both of your sprawled-out forms. He kissed you again, hungrily, almost as if to distract you. You let him.

Kiss you, touch you, bruise you. Any of it, all of it.

A low groan barreled within his chest when you fisted a handful of his soft blonde waves at the base of his neck, gently tugging.

“Nothing you could show me would make me love you any less,” you muttered against his lips, nose nudging against his. “Nothing, Coryo.”

And he, in a moment of love-addled weakness, let himself believe you.

Come the next afternoon, you were at the door of the Snows’ penthouse, a basketed batch of warm cookies held in one hand, the other holding a heavy bag full of all your textbooks to study. If the two of you were going to study at all today. Your mother was aghast that you were about to visit his home without some sort of gift, and abruptly shoved the basket of goodies into your arms out of seemingly nowhere, as if materialized out of thin air.

“Coriolanus loves the chocolate chip ones,” she harrumphed whilst ushering you out the door. “Honestly, showing up to someone else’s home empty-handed? Who raised you?”

The irony was not lost on either of you, and you barked out a laugh before kissing her farewell and setting off to visit him.

You rang the rusted doorbell once—curiously regarding the little button once you realized that it was broken. Then, you knocked the door twice, then another two times for good measure. There was a muffled scuffling behind the door, a woman’s voice echoing from behind.

And when it swung open, you were met with an elderly woman, shrouded in a too-large, black tunic with embroidered flowers on the sleeves, the threads loose and pulled, the once-vibrant colors faded. She wore a turban, covering most of her white hair save for the few thin tendrils framing the sides of her face.

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus’ classmate,” you greeted, in an ever-so-capitol-esque manner. “You must be his… Grandma’am?”

She appeared confused for a moment, before slow sparks of recognition fired across her blue eyes. Coriolanus had the same eyes, you noted.

“Oh!” she crooned. “Oh, dear me! Coriolanus! It’s your lovely friend!”

There was a bit of commotion down the hall. The brief moment of pause allowed you to finally take in why Coriolanus hadn’t wanted you to come to his home all this time. The penthouse was still quite lavish, as the Snow estate was one of the most expensive properties in the capitol, but it was clear that the space was diminishing with the weight of its upkeep—flickering lights, dusty floors, tears in the wallpapers, mold on the countertops…

Your attention was drawn away from the view when Tigris and Coryo emerged from the same room, and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break across your features. His cousin was fretting over his lopsided curls, and he discreetly tried to duck out of her way to get to you.

“My, you are just as gorgeous as he said you were!” Grandma’am said in a pitching tone, wrangling your attention back to her. She lifted her hands to lightly pinch at your cheeks. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.” Her fingers fell away and she scuttled off, murmuring something about the Capitol’s First Partner—

Coriolanus breathed out your name and his hand was on your shoulder, apologizing once, twice, three times (what was he even apologizing for?), before Tigris popped up by his side, bumping him out of the way so she could shake your hand vigorously.

“Hi! I’m Tigris—it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You shook the blonde woman’s hand, smile seeming to grow impossibly wider. “It’s nice to meet you, too! I love your dress.”

Her mouth dropped open in a flustered manner and a lovely rose shade dusted over her cheekbones. “Oh, this old thing?” She absentmindedly smoothed a hand down the frills of her pink dress. “Yeah, I… oh, it’s nothing, really, I just made it myself.”

“That’s incredibly impressive! You must be a really talented seamstress.”

A sharp clear of his throat made your eyes snap back to Coriolanus.

“Coryo,” you greeted warmly. “I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip. Mother sends her regards.”

The two Snows in front of you eyed the basket with large eyes.

“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the basket from your extended hands and handing it over to his cousin. “Tigris, if you’d excuse us—we’ve got some studying to do.”

Coriolanus began to tug you down the hall, and you waved back to Tigris, telling her that you’d love to see any of her other dresses later. She’d already reached into the basket and had a cookie halfway to her mouth as she nodded at you with a toothy grin.

His room was in around the same state as the rest of the home. Furniture was old, torn, frayed, or simply broken. There were several boarded-up holes in his dresser. There was a box of rat poison below his desk, which was full with all sorts of papers and stacks of yellowing books. You skittered in and dropped your heavy bag down by his bed, allowing him to close the door behind you. You just barely registered the click of a lock.

“So?” he asked, voice sounding much louder in such a confined space. He seemed tense, as if bracing himself for the worst. “Are you disgusted yet?”

“What do you take me for?” you replied easily, having already gathered why he was so afraid of bringing you here in the first place. “I’m not a leech, nor am I vain, Coriolanus. I don’t want more money, and I’m not here to offer you charity to flaunt my wealth. I thought you’d know that by now.”

He stalked closer, observing you like a wolf would its prey. “What is it you want, then?”

When you took a step back closer to his small, rather wiry bed, he would take two longer strides, crowding you back against it. He dipped forward so that his lips were only a hair’s breadth from yours, but just barely not touching.

“You know, I’m sure.”

“I do.” Coriolanus knew that you wanted him just for him, and nothing gave him more pleasure than that simple fact. His nose brushed yours.

“Would it make me a fool to stay?” you asked, the question fanning over his mouth. Inviting, ever so tantalizing. “You’re not planning on chopping me up and selling my organs for some cash, are you?”

He didn’t laugh at your little joke. Instead, he dove forward, one hand yanking your hips to his, the other winding over to the back of your head. He kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue, hardened lips and his knee slotting between your thighs.

“No,” he susurrated thickly, as if he’d swallowed honey and soil, pressing you down until you were fully laid down over his rickety bed, back arched. “You’d be mine. All of you, just mine.”

He swallowed any sort of gasp and moan that fell from your mouth. Greedy, lustful, determined to make you pliable. His kisses didn’t slow down whatsoever when he tore himself away from your lips, freckling them down your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones.

What did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt.

Misshaped. Odd. Not matching the rest of your buttons. His gift to you.

“You’re wearing it,” Coriolanus whispered. His voice sounded strained.

“Mmh?” You glanced down at the button. “Oh. Of course, I am. I like how it looks.”

His face hovered above yours once more. His stare was so intense you began to shy away, staring at a moldy patch on the ceiling. The silence felt suffocating as you waited for him to do something. Anything.

“I love you,” he breathed out, finally. Upfront and abrupt. It wasn’t often that he said it. Maybe once or twice before, since you said it more than enough for the both of you.

You laughed then—your wonderful, wind-chime laughter. It was more out of shock than anything. He kissed you soft and sweet, momentarily quelling your chuckling. But as the afternoon of so-called ‘studying’ drew on, the laughter melded into sighs of pleasure when clothes were shed, shifting towards wanton moans of desperation when heated flesh slid against one another.

You nearly choked when his length breached your entrance, scratching faint red lines down the expanse of his back as he pushed in, pulled out. Rhythmic. Again and again and again—you couldn’t seem to get enough of him on top of you, inside of you, all around you. Your chest was pressed up against his; could he hear your heart beating through your ribs, yearning to feel his? The coil within your lower abdomen tightened. He read your every microexpression just perfectly.

He’d unbuttoned your entire shirt save for the oddly-shaped one, hands groping all over your bare skin, teeth biting down onto the patch of skin just above the button as he rocked himself into a climax, roping you down into the abyss with him. Ragged groans and broken sighs.

Coriolanus dragged his tongue up your chest and your neck, leaving a cold trail in his wake, and he sucked in a deep breath. When he pulled back to stare at you—flushed, hair mussed, sweat beaded along your hairline, his pearlescent spend between your thighs, your eyes half-lidded… chest only barely covered by his one button…

“Thank you,” he croaked, kissing the space beside your left eye. “For not running.”

“Don’t make me a fool for it,” you replied, looping your arms over Coriolanus’ neck so he could kiss you properly.

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loaksbitch · 1 year

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blame tumblr for deleting my draft and make me rework this with rush— now girlies, imagine jealous neteyam pull you to his side, claiming you as his yes? this is the long awaited update (pt 3) of the i trusted you series.

warnings - hard angst, vulgar language, jealous neteyam i repeat, JEALOUSY NETEYAM! ugh, cussing, neteyam is tired of hurting and trying, kiri is best girl for boosting up neteyam to make a step kinda? that’s it for now!

likes and reblogs are appreciated for the final part! i love each and every one of you babies mwah!! — 3.2k wc and poor-ish grammar

“i want to trust you.” — neteyam sully (★,꩜)

here’s part (one) – (two) — (four) of this series

neteyam’s state wasn’t good when he went back home.

you’re leaving the clan because of him, you’re leaving your home, your childhood, your everything because of him.

you’re leaving him because of him.

still not accepting the words you’ve said to him, he hadn’t noticed his younger sister waiting for him right when he got back to the village, hunting long forgotten.

kiri on other hand had enough, she’s tired of seeing her brother suffer for what he was trying to make right, especially after that night. the night she saw her perfect brother kneel in front of a female na’vi begging you not to go.

“neteyam,” his name being called, pulls him out from his thoughts and his tired eyes land on his sister who has her arms crossed against her chest. “what part of leave me alone don’t they understand?” neteyam silently says under his breath

“you know i can hear you right?” kiri scoffs

“what part of i want to be alone don’t you all understand?” this time he says it clearly and louder. neteyam doesn’t give her time before walking past her and if only if it wasn't for her next words? he wouldn’t have frozen at his spot.

“if you love her, go for her.”

there she goes again, now he needs to tell her he doesn’t want to hear anything about that future mate of his, that female na’vi he doesn’t even want.

“kiri.” he starts to turn and face her, his amber eyes swollen and puffy it makes her sad. “i’ll say this for the last time, i don’t want anyone to bring äy—“

“i’m not talking about äyea and you know it.”

his heart dropped, amber eyes slightly widening like he was caught. neteyam searches for more explanation from his sister, kiri softly smiles and he definitely knows who she’s talking about

“y/n, neteyam, i’m talking about y/n.” his skin itches at your name being called and he walks fast to his sister before grabbing her by her arms. nobody has to know, not like this and he won't risk to lose you like this

“look, you can’t tell no one, okay?” he’s shaking his sister so hard that her shoulders are hurting. “i can't lose her, if the clan knows they’ll take her away from me.” his body is trembling, neteyam’s mind was too occupied with the worst scenarios that would happen if they find out about you just like this.

kiri closes her eyes and calms herself before trying to do the same for her brother. “nete, calm down” she places her small hands on his cheek. “you’ve to calm down, for her?” she knew you’re his weakness and he would do anything with your name

“i won’t tell anyone.” kiri watches neteyam’s eyes blink, confused and processing her words, “but you must tell them, everyone, tell everyone neteyam.”

he’s slowly sliding his hands down her arms and letting her go, what is she saying?

“i saw everything, the night she knew about it and how you were.” kiri didn’t want to look like she sneaked into someone's business. “i’ve never seen you so weak like this brother, you’re giving up something that makes you happy.”

where is this going? why is she not yelling at him that he failed to be perfect?

“i know you’re soon to be mated but why when you’re not happy? not wanting it, not in love.” neteyam takes every word of hers carefully. “if this is the future you want with her then make a progress.”

“i’m tired of hearing you cry yourself to sleep, starve yourself and worry mom and dad.” he felt like a child. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs and kiri sighs, “you don’t have to apologize for everything.”

neteyam was feeling his heartbeats quickening at his younger sister's words but it’s also painful when he remembers he can’t do that cause you’re gonna be gone, soon… very soon.

“she’s le-leaving,” his words are cut when his voice quivers, kiri gasps at the news. “she said she feels like she doesn’t belong here.” he’s now looking down to avoid kiri’s eyes or he’ll cry

“she’s leaving me, kiri” his sister only pulls him close to hug him and he drops his body on her, head on her shoulder. “i love her and she’s leaving, i’m losing her.” he wants the pain to end, he’s tired of hurting

“oh brother.” kiri pats his head, even though neteyam was the smartest and perfect to hide his emotions, this was too much. he’s literally crumbling down. “it’ll be okay, everything will be okay.”

“it will be okay, everything will be okay.” your mother pats your hair when you lean on her shoulders and cry. all you do is cry, you feel bad.

you’re debating on leaving everything behind and running to your neteyam but then again there’s his future mate being a wall to your love. “it’ll be over soon when we leave.”

if not soulmates why bound to fall in love and hurt?

eywa was not fair, she’s not fair with her doings and you don’t want it. you want him, you want your man, you want neteyam, you miss him so bad.

the ritual is in two days and you’re not ready to watch them or give them your blessing as a part of a clan. once the ceremony is done you know they’ll go home, you don’t even want to think what they’ll do after that.

they’ll have a fruit of love, a baby in the future… what about you? supposed to move on? no, you can’t do that.

“we’ve got to get ready, my sweet child,” your mother says as she eyes the hammock that sheltered you for years. everything is packed, ready and done.

while you’re struggling to make the pain hurt less, neteyam is struggling to make his heart beat less.

it’s now an eclipse and everyone is ready for dinner, “mom! what’s for dinner?” tuk whines when netyiri brings the bowls and trays at the wooden table. “you’ll see baby” she kneels down to finally join her family.

it doesn’t fail to catch her by surprise when her first born is sat across the right side of the table. “neteyam?” her eyes start to whelm when her son smiles at her, oh how she missed having him around the table to eat with them.

“he’s here just like you want him.” jake says and neteyam nods.

neytiri only lets soft laugh out and places a bowl for him. “eat this, it’ll help you get strength for your training.” she motions him to take his food.

kiri silently watches everyone, a smile painting her lips as she sips on her soup.

“tastes good?” neteyam nervously nods, the only thing he’s thinking is a way to bring up his love topic to them. it wasn’t much late before he’s opening his mouth to speak and lo’ak suddenly interrupted

“dad, mom i ne–…”

“tuk stop doing that, you’ll choke.” lo’ak scolds at his sister and neteyam shuts his lips quick. maybe it’s the right thing not to say anything right now.

“tuk, listen to your brother honey” jake says and turns to neteyam, “what were you saying son?”

neteyam shakes his head, “never mind i’ll talk to you guys later.” he doesn’t ignore how kiri lightly groans when he backs out. “i’ll head inside now.” he rubs his sweaty hands on his thighs and gets back to his feet

��you didn’t even touch your food.” now that’s a lie, he actually scooped two times and ate.

“i ate mom, it’s delicious t-thanks.” he hates when the last word breaks. on eywa he’s so nervous.

kiri was quick to follow his steps when he left and luckily her parents didn't question. she was fast to catch up with her brother and yanks his arms to make him face her, “what was that?” she raises her eyebrows

“what was what?”

“don’t play dumb with me right now.” kiri warns and neteyam clears his throat

“i’m scared okay!” he hissed, “i’m so fucking nervous my skin is crawling to leave my bones.” his sister only rolls her eye, “seriously— we’ve talked about this! not being a little scared ass to be telling them.”

“what happened to that?” she crosses her arms.

“kiri,” he sighs and drops his head down, shoulders easing. “you don’t understand how dangerous this is, what if–“

“what if they hurt her?”

neteyam was awfully silent and that answers her question. “you know mom and dad, they don’t do anything about what you care and love…” kiri slowly stops when neteyam shakes his head

“not them,” it’s not them he’s scared of, it’s äyea’s parents he’s scared of, he knows they would do anything to make their little perfect daughter that matches with him, or whatever they say.

kiri presses her lips to a straight line before clicking her tongue.

this is gonna be a bad idea or the best idea she has ever made and decided to tell him aways. neteyam’s eyes widen when his sister pulls him away from their family, what she’s gonna tell him is the only chance to get you back and win your trust and she’s sure neteyam will do it,

do anything for you.

೫ time skip — mating ritual ceremony

your new outfit makes your curves more defined, way more defined than your usual loin clothes that you wear.

your skin shining smoothly, the leaves barely covering your breast, you looked ethereal with your hair not braided and freely displayed all over your shoulders

“honey, are you ready?”

your mother’s words make you gulp and suck a deep breath. “we must be there early to leave early!” she tells while being in the other room.

you finally check yourself and talk back, “yeah, i’m ready.” you whisper morley to yourself? swallowing the lump on your throat.

“yeah, i’m ready.” neteyam closes his eyes and breaths trying to focus on not messing up everything, he’s not even sure if you’ll show up and some part of him wishes you do show up

extra loincloths and decorations on his body makes him uncomfortable with its weight crushing him down.

netyiri proudly looks at her son’s figure while the kids are outside, “mother.” the sudden call of her name, netyiri answers quickly. “what is it? nervous?”

neteyam gulps down his fear and walks to her, “i love you” netyiri feels her eyes tear up and smile at him, “your mom loves you too, baby.” neteyam envelopes her with a hug and netyiri cries to his shoulder telling him how he’s grown up

“now don’t mess my face up with tears! let’s get you ready there.” it’s time to face reality and wait for his soon to be mate come

when he’s out of his hammock, he’s greeted with his family smiling at him and jake’s proud smile. even half of the clan was standing at his hammock.

“neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan” everyone chants and neteyam feels his inside clench in discomfort. he doesn’t want this if it’s not with you, everything makes him sick. “c’mon son, let’s get you to the trees of voice, your mate is waiting.”

what the fuck, that was what neteyam said inside his head. what does his father mean when he’s gonna meet his mate under the trees of voice? it was all about you and him, neteyam would never mate with some random girl he is set up with in a place with memories filled with yours

neteyam turns to his sister and kiri has the same expression because what is this bullshit?

“nete’ she’s waiting for you.” his mother placed her hand on his back. no, no, no— his own feet are betraying him when he realize he’s walking and the clan opens way for him straight long line created till where he’s supposed to see äyea

you on other hand stand in line with the people and pray under your breath for eywa to give you a strength not to cry or make a scene, especially when they will be bound where you thought you and neteyam would have been

it doesn’t take long when starts to cheer as the future Olo'eyktan starts to get closer and closer.

lo’ak was the first one you saw from the sully families while he’s holding tuk close to him so she won’t get lost in the crowed. “Aeyaeyaeyaeyaye!” the clan yells

neteyam’s eyes keep searching for specific someone which is you, eyes desperately looking for you and feeling more scared and anxious when he can’t figure out your face from the crowd he takes a deep breath

you finally take his figure to your sight and god he was so beautiful.

your breath hitches at his appearance, the dangling material on his forehead making him look more attractive than he already is, you realize it’s so hard to let go of him.

you suck a deep breath when his eyes lands at yours and neteyam halts his pace, confusing everyone for a second. your tears are fast to blur your vision and you blink before looking away from him

his heart cracks when you do look away, you don’t want to see him and he understands

once neteyam passed you, the crowd surrounds him and cheers when he stepped close to where äyea is found.

you hate how your mother looks at you sympathetically while her hands grip yours tighter, “it’ll be over soon” she whispers to you but you shrug her off, only watching things unfold in front of you as your heart breaks

“it will be over soon.” neteyam says to himself

it’s sickening how everyone can’t notice this is not supposedly to happen, kiri’s plan better work or he’ll seriously fuck this ritual up and run away with you.

“son.” äyea’s father greets him and neteyam, bringing his hand to his forehead. “ty’mar, i see you.” he then turns to his soon to be mate’s mother and repeat his actions.

the way äyea was smiling makes your throat hurt from desperately wanting to cry.

‘no, don’t tell her you see her neteyam. please. please.’

äyea softly giggles when neteyam stands in front of her and blush, “neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan” the way she tries to voice out his name makes neteyam feel sick.

“i see you.” she says but neteyam doesn’t bother to say it back making her smile slightly fall.

netyiri also notices how neteyam is acting, what would possibly be bothering him? definitely not everything.

after everyone was introduced to each other, the ceremony began. drinks were served, everyone clapping and dancing to the songs the na’vi’s are singing.

you’re a little far away from the crowd to breath clear air and dry your tears that constantly burn your eyes. your eyes are on neteyam who isn’t enjoy one bit of the ceremony while his soon to be mate squirms and waves her hands up

both of them are sitting on a throne-like wooden chair, both of their parents beside them just say like them.

this is so depressing how awkward and uncomfortable it looks and actually is. you think, brining the drink to your mouth

you didn’t notice the na’vi male sneaking behind you that actually has been staring at you since you joined the crowd in line. “enjoying the party from far doesn’t seem too boring after all.”

you’re now jumping in fear when a breath hits the back of your ear.

“mother eyaw! who the fu–” you scream and stumble in panic, but before you’re falling you feel strong arms hold you on your ground. “shit, I should've announced i came, i’m sorry.”

you’re about to tell him it’s okay and leave when he’s offering his hand for a shake.

“i’m no’xus, by the way.” great, now you’re stuck talking with someone.

“y/n.” you say and turn over to place your drink on the talk flat table looking object, it’s obvious you’re ignoring him and uninterested but he keeps talking

“why’re you not dancing?” the tall na’vi asks and you face him before speaking, “because i don’t want to?” you just want this over and privacy, how hard can it get to understand!?

“mhm,” the male hums, “wanna dance with me?” at his offer, you scoff mentally and realize you’re not getting him away from you soon– before you reject him, a strong glare radiating from far makes your body tingle

it was neteyam, sending glares to the male who was next to you while sitting far away.

you didn’t bother it at first but the way neteyam’s face twists makes your brow raise. why is he bothered? jealous? if no’xus had not cleared his throat, you would’ve forgotten about what he just said.

“look notoxo, i really don’t feel like…” you watch him awkwardly chuckle and correct you.

“it’s no’xus not notoxo.”

“you know what? fuck it, let’s dance.” you’re pulling him to the crowd, maybe it’s the drink or maybe it’s him, it’s neteyam making you do this.

your mother was long gone to where you don’t know, no’xus was just a bonus to get your frustration out and you’re now dancing with him. too occupied to bother, you haven’t noticed how neteyam’s nose are flaring in anger

neteyam watches how you’re dancing and it’s very obvious it’s targeted to get him out of his mind

he is not even listening to äeya and brought himself up from his throne-like seat. rage and anger is in him, this needs to fucking stop or he’ll rip the male’s hand that’s holding you by your waist and moving you sides to side

all of his fear gone when the na’vi’s eyes are on him when he’s stepping down from his seat and walking straight to you

neteyam ignores his father’s call, sight on you and you only. you didn’t notice how he’s dangerously close until no’xus stopped his moving. “what is it?” you’re annoyed when your distracted self is brought back to reality

“put your hands off of her.” it was an order and no’xus looked at him manically. “i’m not fucking repeating myself.” all the na’vi’s are confused, even his parents and äeya’s family.

your body is jerked away from the stranger you just met and you hiss when neteyam tugs you close to him. what is he thinking? in front of everyone? his last words makes the whole omatikaya village gasp and whisper.

“fucking let go of what’s mine and find your own mate.” neteyam scowl’s dangerously.

how’re we feeling, sweets? are we feeling anxious? excited? invested? spill in the comments cause i love reading your thoughts sjsjsj

also do you guys want a toe curling smut at the end or no? since neteyam is aged up!20 years old in this series, lmk in the comments if you want smut — tag list in the comments <3

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shepscapades · 1 month

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Souls in the Sand: Concept Art

As I’ve mentioned here and there, I’ve spent the last two years developing an original story inspired by a small Origins+Empires server a few friends and I started planning. The more I developed plans for my empire to be a sprawling overgrown cityscape of ruins and stone framework inspired by the nether, the more I built up this backstory for the character I wanted to play, a small deerfolk boy named Esra. From there, and over months of working and reworking the story and its characters, I’m proud to say I’m coming up on a 100 piece gallery for my Masters Exhibition to display this story in the form of a song-inspired comic, titled: Souls in the Sand.

Over the next month and beyond the date of my exhibition in April, I wanted to start sharing my work here! I thought it would be fitting to first share all of the concept work I did for the characters last semester as I took each character from their old lineup and reworked them from scratch to see if there were any designs I could make more unique or appropriate for the story. This process consisted of four stages: silhouettes, full-body mock-ups, face and head shapes/designs, and experimenting with the final characters’ designs with a set of unique expressions that best fit their personalities and narrative role.

Since each character was reworked separately, the “new” concept lineup is a little disjointed (and some of the characters’ faces actually ended up different from their full-body designs), but I thought it would be fun to line them up to compare the overall cast to their old designs. With each character(s) I post the concept process for, I may share little bits of the work I’m doing or talk a little about their narrative roles as I go, but for now, have Esra!

I know I don’t post original work here often, but I wanted to share parts of this journey with you guys because it’s been very meaningful to me! And I hope all of the work I’ve been doing may at the very least serve as a bit of inspiration or encouragement for us to keep making silly minecraft stories, to keep drawing the characters we love, and to keep being creative in whatever way is meaningful! <3

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voxsremotec0ck · 1 month

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𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞.ᐟ

ᝰ Blitzø x Fem!reader

ᝰ NSFW, oral (fem receiving), fingering, degrading names (slut), tail play??

wc - 1.4k

˗ˏˋ Blitzø does return the favor in the bedroom, and he’s going to prove it ˎˊ˗

Your lazy night in was interrupted by a loud banging on your door, making you jump and pause your TV. Checking your phone, you see that it's just after midnight, and you frown; who the fuck would be knocking on your door this late?

Whoever it was loudly knocked again before yelling through the door, “It’s Blitz open up!”

You sigh in frustration at the familiar name and voice of your frequent booty call. Of course, it was Blitzø. The man would never call or text; instead, he would just show up at random and expect you to rework your plans for him. You get up and drag yourself to the door, opening it and fully prepared to cuss him out, “Blitz, what-”

You barely got the door open before the imp was storming inside your apartment and slamming it shut behind him, “Listen, I’ve had a long and shitty night, and now I need to prove something to myself, so if you could get naked and in bed that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

Blitzø walked around you and made his way to your bedroom, taking his leather jacket off and tossing it on the couch in the process. You stood there dumbfounded for a moment before taking off after him, “What?”

“Oh my fucking Satan, can you just take your fucking pants off.” Blitzø snapped, standing at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed. You could tell something was wrong, even if he hadn’t told you he had a shitty night; it was obvious from his expression alone.

The two of you weren’t exactly the ‘talk about your feelings’ type, but you’ve never seen Blitzo this bothered before. Something really fucked up must’ve happened for him to be this visibly upset, “What happened?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you after I’m done with you.” Blitzø tried to flirt, and you only glared at him in response. He huffed in annoyance, “A lot of shit that I don’t want to talk about happened, okay? But one thing that did happen is that my ex said I don’t reciprocate in bed, and I know that shit is a lie.”

“So that’s what you need to prove to yourself? That you can please your bedmate?” you asked, rolling your eyes and leaning on the doorframe.

“Not just any bedmate!” Blitzø yelled, obviously getting worked up at the memory of whatever happened, “I need to prove that I can pleasure a pussy haver! That bitch made it seem like I don’t know where the clit is, and I cannot have that!”

Your eye twitched at the term ‘pussy haver,’ but still, you sighed and walked over towards the bed, “Yaknow, I don’t think you’ve ever eaten me out before.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve never sucked me off either. We’re more of the quick fuck type of booty call.” Blitzø rolled his eyes, “Now, am I gonna have to cut your stupid sleep shorts off or what?”

You stood silently in front of him for a moment, looking him up and down, trying to decide if you were really going to do this. The assassin seemed almost desperate for you to agree, and honestly, you did kind of want to see if he actually was good at eating pussy or not.

With a tired sigh, you slip out of your shorts and panties before climbing up onto your bed. Blitzø smirks at you before clapping his hands together and rubbing them, “You should also take your top off; I’m about to give you some real underboob sweat.”

“Literally, what the fuck?” You snap, glaring at him as he pushes your legs apart. The feeling of the cool air on your exposed core makes you shiver, and you quickly pull off your t-shirt.

Blitzø pulls your folds apart with his thumbs, exposing you even more, and spits on your pussy. You jump at the suddenness of his action and open your mouth to yell at him before he moves one of his thumbs, sliding it between your folds to spread his spit. You moan softly when he just barely brushes your clit, and you hear him mumble, “See, you fucking skank, I know exactly where the clit is.”

“Yep, you sure showed her. Now, why don’t you rub it or something.” You whined when his thumb only grazed the sensitive nub again.

“Oh no, I’m gonna do this right,” Blitzø said and began circling your entrance with his middle finger. “Which means I’m gonna draw it out as long as possible.”

You moan loudly when he slides his finger inside of you; your legs fall open impossibly wider as you glare down at him, “You’re an ass.”

“It’s your fault for thinking otherwise, sweetheart.” Blitzø meets your glare with a smirk before leaning down and flicking his forked tongue against your clit. Your hips buck up at the small bit of friction, pushing his finger deeper inside of you and making you grip the sheets tightly.

Using his free hand to hold your hips down against the bed, Blitzø started to pump his finger in and out of you slowly as he dragged his tongue between your folds. Every time the forked tip of his tongue cradled your clit, your hips jerked, and you moaned, no doubt alerting your neighbors to what you were up to.

After a few minutes of this slow torture, Blitzø finally pushed a second finger inside of you, making your back arch, “Oh fuck, Blitz.”

“Yeah, that's right,” Blitzø grunted against your mound, his fingers moving faster inside of you, “You better remember who’s making you feel this good.”

“Blitz your tongue-” You whine, missing the feeling of his mouth on you.

“What about it, sugar?” Blitzø asked, bringing this thumb up to rub agonizingly slow circles against your clit as his fingers continued to fuck into you, curling up just right and hitting your sweet spot. “Awe, does the dumb slut want my tongue on her clit? Are you gonna beg for it?”

You let out a frustrated groan, not wanting to give in to this stupid game but also needing his stupidly long tongue to cum, “Please, Blitz, fuck! Please use your tongue!”

“Well, when you ask so nicely.” You didn’t have to look at the imp to know he was smirking as he said that before he sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the small nub and making you all but scream.

You couldn’t help yourself anymore and reached down, grabbing Blitzø’s horns and pulling his face closer. You felt more than heard his muffled grunt of surprise, the noise vibrating against your sensitive skin and making your legs shake. That all-too-familiar heat began coiling in your abdomen, and you started rocking your hips against him as you moaned, “I’m so close!”

Something suddenly brushing against your left breast, pushing against your neglected nipple, and sending a shiver up your spine caught your attention. You pried your eyes open to see Blitzø had snaked his tail up your body, the flat end of it pressing against your tit until it lifted and came back down with a hard smack.

“Blitz fuck!” You cried out as you came, body overwhelmed with the amount of stimulation.

Blitzø continued his brutal pace as you soaked his face. His fingers still fucked against your g-spot, his tongue still circled your swollen clit, and his tail still smacked against your nipple until you were begging him to stop. He finally pulled away from you with a wet pop and leaned over you with a smirk while he licked his lips.

“So?” He asked, sounding out of breath but looking way more smug than when he showed up, “How was that?”

You panted, completely slumped against your bed, and getting pissed off at the sweaty feeling under your boobs, “That was-”

The sound of a high-pitched barking started blaring from Blitzø’s pocket, and you tilted your head to watch as he quickly pulled his phone out. You knew that was his daughter Loona’s ringtone, so when the imp’s eyes widened impossibly large before he scurried off the bed, you became nervous. “Blitz? Everything okay?”

“Yeah- shit!” Blitzø cursed as he fell off your bed, and you just rolled your eyes, “Yeah, Looney just needs me to pick her up!”

You just sat on your bed and listened as Blitzo ran out of your room and grabbed his jacket, “Okay, well-”

The sound of your front door opening and slamming shut cut you off, leaving you alone again. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you saw time as a little past one in the morning and sighed. If it weren’t for the wet feeling between your legs and the satisfied ach in your body, it would almost feel like he’d never been at all.

You flopped back down on your bed with a huff, “Asshole.”

I did it guys I finished the fic high me decided I was gonna write😌

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva blitzo #blitzo x reader #blitzo #blitzø x reader #blitz x reader #blitzø #helluva boss blitz #helluva boss oneshot #helluva boss fanfiction #blitzø smut #blitzo smut #blitz smut #helluva boss smut

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neil-gaiman · 10 months

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Hi Mr. Gaiman,

As an accomplished author with several books under his belt, how do you know that a story is a dud for lack of a better word? I have a million ideas bouncing around inside my head at all times, and while I consider them good ideas worth pursuing, how am I sure they will make a good story?

I ask this because I have been dwelling on something one of my professors said last semester. He held a seminar on poetry and got to the topic of fiction writing, where he stated that he had just recently finished a story he had rewritten several times over the course of multiple years. Now I myself write as a hobby with a faint imagining that someone might see it in the future, and I have written a dud or two, where the plot was poorly formed and the ideas behind it just had a flaw somewhere in the base concept. Perhaps this is my youth and amateurity speaking, but I was under the impression that given enough time and care, any story could recover from that stage so long as it had not been completed yet. Ideas would need to be reworked, concepts retooled, characters redrawn, but the very basic idea could still survive in a different format.

My professor disagreed, stating that he has destroyed 400-500 page novels that he has written before upon realizing said fatal flaw. He stated that the story was in a state that it could not recover from, and that many authors encounter ideas that seem good at the time, but stink later on to such a degree that the basic premise must be thrown out. This seems like a tremendous loss of work to me. As writing is an art form, it feels somewhat similar to destroying practice sketches and 'meh' oil paintings that showcase the artist's progress. An idea that stinks today might be able to work from a different angle later on in my opinion.

I suppose after rambling my question is now this: are some ideas and concepts just not worth pursuing? Are some story concepts flawed from the get-go and impossible to save, and is there a way to tell that before writing the whole thing? Is it even possible to waste that time as you're getting in practice for the next tale?This isn't something I ever really thought about before being told in sure tones that this is how things work by someone with a degree is this, so I figured I'd ask the professional author for a second opinion. Apologies for the length of the message, especially if this is one you've received before.

I have things that have stalled and a few stories that, when they were done, went to the box in the attic rather than to anyone who could publish them (there's a whole novel there I wrote when I was 21). But mostly because I was writing serial comics, failure was not an option, and if something did fail it had done it in public for everyone to see. And I learned that some things I thought were failures had actually worked really well.

Some people are afraid of failure. Some people are afraid of success, which can also be a good reason for junking books and never showing them to anyone. As long as you pronounce them irretrievably flawed and show them to nobody, you will never be judged for them or have to deal with either success or failure.

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

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I was re reading your pool fic bc it’s one of my favourite and I wanted to ask ab how Vil would go over giving you a make over when he finds out you’re a girl or how Vil, Rook and Epel would be involved?

Would Epel finally be happy to not be the only one being tortured by Vil with his 20084 step skin care routine?

Would Vil take you shopping and go full MUA?

Would Rook stalk you so Vil can find our about your current beauty regimen?

Also I love your writing so much

Aforementioned Makeover | Yandere Pomefiore

The thing about the pool party is that everyone knew you were a girl

You had told them straight up

But they either written it off or the time you casually mentioned it or it just wasn’t a priority

Rook most definitely already knew

More than willing to share one of his extensive photo albums on you when Vil finally decides you are indeed in need of a makeover

Whether it’s through Rook or forcefully making Epel ask or just interrogating you himself

He’ll go full steam ahead once he has an idea on your situation

But it gets tricky when he realizes Rook’s has a loooonggg list of things he notices and actively updates about your health and routine

It kind of makes him jealous

So he steps up his game a little and demands your presence in Pomefiore immediately

He might wait for exam season where everyone’s on edge

And far too anxious to debate whatever craziness he’s imposing on the Ramshackle Prefect

“This is just for the time being, no need to lose your head. Focus on your exams and I’ll focus on you. Got that?”

He’s reworking your entire life routine to fit around and with him in the center

Because Rook get’s to openly patrol and monitor you he’s not upset

He also expected it’d turn out this way but that’s a discussion for another time+

Epel though is at first willing to excuse himself

Leaving you to the proverbial wolves until he realizes what this means

“After the fitting, we’ll polish their elegance training, and then after that we’ll have to do a hearty meal otherwise they’d whine all day–” “I agree!”

“But they told me that tomorrow we’d go to the racing derby together…”

“Hm, well we’ll have to cancel that then. (Y/n)’s incredibly short energy and requirements for tomorrow can’t have them waking up too early to go to that. We only have time for what we’ve planned.”

“Yup sorry, monsieur crab-apple! Now please continue Roi du Poison!”

“...”

If he doesn’t actively include himself or remind Vil of his obsession with training him

He’s going to be left out

Lose more time to get close to you

Less chances for him to win you over

Not to mention the bonding and learning he gets from just aiding his upperclassmen in their endeavors

“Now this Epel is the perfect time to ask questions. In this condition their mental state is still intact, so any questions you ask isn’t immediately going to be met with mindless and incoherent blubbering.”

“But why would I want to ask questions? What good is talking to this piece’a crap gonna do?”

“Tsk Tsk pauvre malheureux you have so much to learn! Consider this prey the beginning of a larger scheme…a member of a conspiracy against notre chéri!”

“I see…”

Unbeknownst to him he’s prepared to use it all against them when the perfect time strikes

But it’s not wise to underestimate your teachers

Where do you think that urge came from?

“We at Pomefiore value beauty above most, consider it a privilege we want to highlight yours.”

“Though the urge to lock it away is palpable; for my Roi du Poison I’ll stiffle my urges just a tad longer!”

“Don’t expect to get too far from me I’m mo’ than set onya heart.”

“Epel!”

“I know I know, geez.”

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winksasleeplesseye · 1 year

Text

Late

A/N: I wrote this for my OC and Leon but decided to rework it to be reader fic (bc I’m nice like that but don’t be surprised if I end up posting that one as well at some point).

MINORS DNI!

Pairing: Post!RE4R!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon’s home resting from Spain, Jill invites you out but Leon wants you to stay in but you’re not budging, luckily for Leon, he’s always up for a challenge.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: straight up smut, oral (f receiving), Leon being hot

————————————————————————

You sat at the vanity, putting on the finishing touches of your makeup and your outfit. Jill had invited you out on the town since she was visiting, a momentary return to normalcy you both seriously needed.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Leon sprawled out on your shared bed.

If he wasn’t wearing his comfiest pair of sweats and an obscure band tee, you probably would’ve thought he was posing for a spread in Playgirl. Either way, you’d always want to climb all over him like a tree.

His eyes flitted back and forth between pages of a mission report, a pair of reading glasses perched at the tip of his nose, clearly not helping with reading.

“You know, it’s not too late for you to get dressed to come with me.” You offer, but you already know exactly what he’ll say.

“Or you can stay in with me,” You looked at him from the reflection in the mirror, he was making the cutest pout face in your direction.

Raccoon City and now Spain had changed you both in different ways fundamentally. Leon had become more of a homebody, while you didn’t mind going out into the world, had everything occurred differently, you imagined he’d come with. Yet, you couldn’t fault him for it, the hells and horrors you both endured certainly weren’t normal.

“That won’t work on me, Kennedy, I know your ways,” You laughed.

Papers shuffling and the springs of the mattress dipping sound behind you. “Oh, really?”

One thing you occasionally forget is that Leon Scott Kennedy is never one to back down from a challenge. And right now? His challenge is clear.

Leon is quick to wrap his arms around your middle, bringing you up to a standing position crushed against his front. He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, placing hot, open mouthed kisses against it.

The helpless sound that escapes your lips is equal parts pleasure and annoyance. “You evil man.”

He lets out the sexiest chuckle as his lips travel over all the exposed skin you have on display. The butterfly top you’d gotten only recently is now already disheveled as Leon works a hand underneath the cup of the fabric, rolling a nipple between his fingers.

You turned your head, pulling Leon into a frenzied kiss before pulling away for mere seconds only to face him fully in the kiss.

Your phone, a slim black Nokia was going off in your back pocket but quite frankly you were more lost in your fingers exploring underneath Leon’s clothes as he did the same to you. Jill would just have to wait.

Leon’s hands gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you with an ease that shouldn’t have been so sexy but it was.

Challenge? Oh, who were you kidding? You barely put up a fight. Leon knew exactly what would convince you every time.

“You really thought you could go out, looking like that?” he asked huskily, wrapping your legs around his slim waist.

Feeling particularly wicked, you answer with a smirk, “Yes.”

You felt victorious but that was going to be short-lived, Leon practically threw you down on the mattress, no care for the papers that now laid all over the floor.

You tried to contain your excitement as Leon undid the buttons to your black jeans, just barely ripping them off of you. Your underwear wasn’t so lucky, the flimsy material now laid on the floor alongside Leon’s papers.

For a moment, you shudder at the feeling of being bare.

You didn’t even have to wonder what Leon would do next; he was already sinking down to his knees, pausing long enough only to pull you to the edge of the bed. He didn’t give you any time to prepare yourself. His broad shoulders shoved your legs apart and his mouth was on your in an instant.

“Oh, shit, Leon,” You breathed. Your head fell back against the mattress as his mouth explored your folds. Your fingers found their way to his hair where they tangled themselves in his blonde locks with abandon.

Leon’s tongue licked kittenish and broad stripes up your pussy, earning him a tug that had him letting loose a small groan against your core. He’d always liked his hair pulled, but he seemed to like it even more now.

You couldn’t think of anything but Leon, focusing all your attention on looking at the man between your legs to find that his blue eyes already bore into you, watching for every single reaction, certainly feeling some gratification that he’s always able to do all of this to you.

His tongue alternated between licking between your folds and disappearing deep inside you. Occasionally his nose would brush your clit but he seemed to be ignoring it on purpose, driving you nearly mad with need.

“Leon, baby, please,” You pathetically whimper, eyes heavily lidded gazing needily at the man between your legs.

He gave you one last long, sinful lick before gazing up at you through lust-blown eyes. Clearly, you didn’t have to wonder if he enjoyed pleasuring you like this.

“You’re gonna have to tell me exactly what you want, sweetheart. Now, what do you want?” he asked.

You bit your lip, you really didn’t want to voice your thoughts out loud, considering Leon knows your body so well, but you both knew he wasn’t going to budge until you said it. So, you caved. “I need your mouth on my clit. Ple-“

His tongue darted out and swirled around the engorged bud, instantly drawing a loud moan from your lips. you clapped a hand over your mouth, not wanting the entire building to hear you. “Like that?” he asked salaciously, looking up at you with now nearly black eyes, pupils overtaking the blue color. Before you could answer his mouth found your clit again, giving it a gentle suck. A strangled cry left your mouth and he relented to lavish the rest of you with deft licks.

“You really are an evil man,” You murmured fondly. You could practically feel him grin. To hell with Jill, this way was more important. You knew she’d probably be a little mad to be blown off for a few hours but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care; it felt too damn good.

In mere minutes, Leon had reduced you to a pile of jello on the mattress, you were pretty sure that your hand was the only thing keeping you from screaming your euphoria to the high heavens. “L-Leon, baby, I’m so fucking close-Oh my-ah!”

“That’s it. Come on my tongue,” he whispered filthily. Your breathing became unstable, vocal cords shaky as Leon’s name spilled feebly from your mouth; your toes curled, your legs shook as your thighs clamped down on his head as your orgasm sent your body off the edge of the earth.

Your fingers tugged sharply on his hair and his resulting moan felt like it resonated throughout your whole body. He worked his tongue over your clit until the sensation was obviously overwhelming then switched to spearing you with it, moaning as though you were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

When you were spent he finally ceased, standing slowly and removing your shirt in one fluid motion. “You’d better call Jill and apologize now,” he wore a proud grin, hands pulling up his shirt.

God, you love this man.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy with reading glasses?#I think YES #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #this may have a part 2

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grapejuicestyless · 8 months

Text

The Grudge

Harry Styles x fem!reader

The second part to You’re The Winner.

ANGST

Summery: based off of the song The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo!!

Some nights I still wake up wet from my own cold sweat and salty tears. I rework the script I’ve perfected until my pen runs dry and the pages are crinkled. I scribble out each word and fix it until the cut is so deep it cuts more than just through the page, but to the reader.

I was never someone who believed in doing things so they were merely good enough. No, I always thought things through until they were at their very best points. Each sentence rephrased to make the viewer understand the concept of the conversation but to catch the deeper meanings and let it make more and more sense with each rewatch.

Now I lay awake, terrified of never being enough. Is my success nothing more than a false ego I have in my head? Do these awards that sit on my shelf hold any value if nobody could recognize them? If earning these doesn’t elevate me do they even count as a prestigious award?

I never had these issues, I displayed everything proudly. Aware of how lucky I was to be able to accept these awards so graciously. Body draped in the finest pearls and hair styles to perfection. I was excited to tell the stories when people would ask. Tell them about what I was working on, encourage them to follow their hearts. My insecurities were always just that, small thoughts littered in my head meant to make me doubt my self worth. Now they felt like more.

More than just metaphorical daggers stabbing into my body and mind. I wake up in distress from more than my own voices but his. I still hear Harry’s voice after all these months. It’s the sound of the insults I throw at myself, at everything I’ve done. It’s his voice I hear every time I think I am not enough. And what he had to say about my passions and how I execute them still lingers like a scar. I hold onto every detail of what he thought of me like my life depends on it and I break myself over and over again by finding deeper meanings in his playground insults.

The trust that he betrayed, confusion that still lingers. He took everything I loved, my confidence and my pride and crushed it in between his fingers. He could run circles around me with all his money and resources. He knows it too, be both knew it. I just never believed he would use it as a way to take stabs at me.

I still stay awake fantasizing about his little fucking sorry. How he was in tears when I finally pulled away. The shocked look on his face. I feel tough in the privacy of my room. Able to beat him up in my head and make him feel guilty but never to his face. I try to understand why he would do this all to me. I make up situations to lessen the blow. The fact it was unsolicited and simply something he chose to do for fun. Still, I can not let it go that easily. Not until every ounce of doubt is scrubbed from my mind and the voices in my head no longer belong to him.

……………………………………..…………………………………………

Sitting at the Oscar’s I find my place beside Greta Gerwig and Emma Stone. I feel out of place. I’m friends with them, I know them and their secrets. They’ve led me through the obstacles and the difficulties that come with trying to get into film making. They have been nothing but kind and reassuring over how great they think I am yet I can not push down the feeling that when the cameras flash to us I will be labeled the place holder to make the crowd look more full. No matter how lavish my gown is, no matter how nice my hair is I will never shine like the women who sit beside me. I will never stand out and make my name be known and it is something I can not come to terms with.

To rub salt in the wound I sit there and compare each category I am placed in to everyone else. I read out the nominees on the pamphlet they hand out like we are watching a youth theatre production of a marvelous broadway play. I barely make the cut for best assistant director. I read the names beside mine and I try not to get myself worked up.

I am not Greta Gerwig, I am no Christopher Nolan. I am Y/n Y/l/n. I am a woman who dreams bigger than she can possibly ever achieve. And I try not to get in over my head, but I always do. I strive to be the best and still I get trampled over.

I read the names over and over, flipping through the pages. I read the names under each category. Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift, Adele…I think about if I should’ve taken up music. I can’t sing very well but I have so much to write about. I have so many feelings and so many things to argue that I simply can not relay through film. Not at my level anyway. Joe releasing it must be to put a pen to paper and just write whatever you feel because the darkest emotions write the best songs.

It’s the sickest joke the way the names continue to go down the line. The eleven letter name in bold italics with an invisible circle around it and arrows pointed to make sure I see it. Harry Styles is up for best original song. Not only that, but I’d heard it too. Stayed up with him while we wrote it. He was so sure it wasn’t good enough and I sat there supporting him.

I stayed awake comforting him while he cried over his million dollar piano. Tears ruining the ivory and the clear shine. How idiotic I was to have been so kind to someone who so easily tore me down like I was nothing more than a pawn to remind him of his greatness. I knew the song was beautiful. His name was golden among the others competing for such an important award. One that would recognize his talent and secure his name in Hollywood. A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t believe him then, I did now. I wasn’t some prophecy. I didn’t have a title to my name to prove. I was someone who got lucky once. My work was nothing compared to his.

………………………………………………………………………………….

They called the nominees for each category, listing off the winners one by one. We grew closer and closer to the major categories that would have the TMZ headlines buzzing by the morning. When it was my turn to be called, I couldn’t help but feel jitters and anxiety pass through my veins.

I’d heard about everyone else. All of their movies staples in my Friday movie night routines I had continued even without Harry there to occupy a portion of the couch. I laughed, I cried, I thought deeply about each movie. I couldn’t help but feel nervous that I was up against people so much stronger than I was.

My picture on the screen showcased my much more recognizable friends shaking my shoulders. We were unprofessional and excited to see how I could be recognized. They made me feel that even if I didn’t win, it was well worth it because the academy, as rigged as we all secretly knew it was, had chosen me of all people to list along with a handful of others. It was an honor for me to be here, beside my best friends and my hero’s.

The name that rang through the microphone didn’t match mine. It wasn’t even close, yet I felt fine. The hands slipped from my shoulders to clap along with the crowd. My photo minimized to showcase the woman who had rightfully won over me. Still, my shoulders were heavy and my heart sunk. How nice it could’ve been to go home with that. Be able to hold it up to the sky and thank my brothers and sisters for helping me get there.

Greta and Emma tried to make me feel better. Nothing hurt worse than working up an excitement only to have it ripped away from you. It worked, for a minute. How blissfully unaware I was that the categories grew closer and closer to the one that involved the one man I couldn’t bare to think about now. I barely registered the way they prepared the stage to announce his category until the talking turned to whispers and the softest sniffles echoed.

He looked handsome on the big screen. His hair was darker than I remember it being, I assumed he dyed it for tonight. His shoulders were broad in his suit and his face was cleanly shaven. If his eyes could speak they would be a jumble of words that expresses different emotions. He bit his lip and toyed with his rings. I caught him picking the skin by his thumb. I wanted to yell at him to stop, it was a bad habit we tried so hard to break. But he wasn’t mine anymore. I no longer existed as a best friend to him, someone else could place their hand over his and silently relay their own thoughts to him.

The sour feeling in my heart curtailed like milk when his picture took up the entire screen. The way he stood and hugged the people around him. He was surrounded by friends and family alike that supported him in ways I used to. If it were a few years ago, that would’ve been me beside him. His plus one to an event I was already attending simply because he was everything to me.

Watching him accept that award was the final straw. How he walked up to the stage in no rush, fixing his coat on the way and running a hand through his hair. He had a lazy smirk on his face that would make anyone weak in the knees. He looked confident and yet so grateful for everything happening to me. I felt confused by his attitude. How cocky he was in private, he was so good at masking the real Harry when it came to keeping a good public image. It was some kind of pathological lier type of bullshit that made my throat close and heart pound.

In his speech he thanked his mom and his dad. He thanked his sister and his friends. His ex-Bandmates and his producers. A full list of names, he went on and on and yet my name never came up. He thanked people who didn’t even know him on the crinkled piece of paper shaking in his hands. They didn’t know his favorite color, how he preferred his eggs. He didn’t like celery but he loved peas. Mushed, soggy, fresh. He would spoon them onto his plate like a mad man. They didn’t know he slept with his socks on because he felt scared something might try to grab at him at the end of the bed even now. He was childish in a mature way. Fears he carried form childhood that he couldn’t shake, they didn’t know that and yet they got the credit I deserved. I couldn’t do it then.

I could sit there and pretend to be tough, but I wanted to scream. I could sit there and say I was fine to everyone, be my professional self but I couldn’t act like it was okay anymore. To tear me down, to rewrite your past to fit the people who chose you based off fame and not on who you are, to get rid of what we once cherished was too far. I could put aside his harsh words for the sake of the night but his blatant disregard for my feelings after he’d cried over my leaving said enough.

When he left the stage I made my exit, mumbling something short of having to use the bathroom. My dress was short enough to not have to gather it between my fingers. I could walk quickly down the aisle and look at my feet on the way. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, even though they didn’t know me I felt that the look on my face would reveal it all.

The door opened harshly but had stoppers on it to silence any amount of force pushed on it. It made any angry outburst look accidental. The only indication that the door had been opened was the sliver of light the slipped through the opening of the main lobby and the dimly lighted theatre that held the greatest minds of film alike.

My feet hit the expensive carpet hard, heals digging into each design I wondered if my aggression would permanently dent the fabric, ruin the art in it.

It was colder outside of the room that I sat idly in, more free. The only people out here at this time were the few paparazzi permitted and stray employees cleaning up for the night. Flashes took my vision and I could see the headlines now.

How I would be bashed for simply showing my emotions. How they would paint me as a bitter sore loser who couldn’t even keep it together and act fine. I couldn’t blame them really. How would the world even know of how their favorite pop star had taken a hold of my heart and ruined any perception of love I had for him in a few short months.

The air outside was chilling. My skin was bare and in a way, in my artistic side of my mind I could pretend it was the literal way the world was showing how I felt. Tiny stabbing wounds across my arms creating goosebumps running up and down each exposed part of my body.

My car wasn’t there. I was out so early without warning, I became stranded not only mentally but physically. I didn’t care then. If I had to walk the streets of Los Angeles in high heals and an expensive gown. If I got mugged of all my belongings on my way home I didn’t care. I couldn’t be near anyone anymore. I couldn’t hold it together and I certainly wouldn’t fall apart for everyone to see.

Footsteps slapped against the pavement so quickly, I didn’t process the splashing of puddles or the heavy breathing approaching me. With my luck, I would already become a victim to a robbery before even turning the corner.

The hand on my arm came next. It wasn’t rough but it was firm enough to catch my attention. More than that, it was so familiar, so warm.

I felt the roughness of fingertips brushing under my bicep and the contrasting softness of his palm resting on top. His rings were warmed from his skin already, smooth against my body. I knew who the hand belonged to immediately. It was one I had held, toyed with and admired for years. One attached to a body that I adored, looked up to like a hero.

Turning, his eyes met mine. They were a darker green. I couldn’t see if from how far I was before, but he looked more tired, more sad. His eyes were dark not from anger or all the drinks I had hoped he was downing so he would forget about me, but because something was bothering him. Something heavy. He carried a lot of regret and sadness in his eyes that were once so free and careless. He seemed more calculated in his choice of words, more precise than his usual mess of sentences that came straight from his mind to his mouth.

“You didn’t have to chase after me.” I broke the silence, he was still catching his breath. He shook his head, looking down to gather himself. His pants were wet at the bottom from the pavement and his hair was falling in front of his face. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, but it wasn’t my place. I didn’t have a place in his life anymore.

“I wanted to.” He confessed, searching my face. In my head I’d like to think my expression was stone cold. One that was heartless, expressionless. I didn’t care in my head, but in my heart I did. I felt my lip quiver, I felt my eyebrows furrow. I was an open book for Harry to read.

“Why? So you could fix things? Fix us?” I escalated things quickly. I didn’t want to play his mind games. He was brilliant, people didn’t give him enough credit for it. If I allowed him to sit here and apologize while I was already feeling vulnerable, it wouldn’t matter how sincere it was. I would accept it and cave and by the morning I would hate myself for letting my heart take over my brain.

“No, don’t do that. Y/n, you were the one who walked out on me. I tried to get you to stay, and I regret not trying harder and if I could go back I would’ve begged on my knees but that doesn’t change the fact that you still left. I care about you, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” His voice was sharp, desperate. It felt so real, everything he was saying. I trusted him completely. I understood what he was feeling. Some nights I wish I had stayed. I had just put up with it. It was all the talk of my undying love that I held for Harry. A friendship that may have turned into a small crush in my head without me realizing. My undying love, now, I hold it like a grudge. The reason that forgiving and forgetting is so hard.

“Do you think I deserved it all? Harry tell me, please. Is that what you really think of me? As someone who deserved to be built up just so you could watch me fall? Is that what I was for you?” I begged him to understand what I meant. What I endured was verbally abusive, toxic, venomous. It killed me to know that my best friend thought so low of me. So poorly of the girl he swore to protect with all his heart.

“You know I never meant to.” He tried to defend himself, his hand loosened on my skin, falling down to hold my hand. His fingers intertwining in mine felt like tiny flames bursting out across my hand. It was so soft yet so hard, my body started to shake from more than just the cold.

“You are so selfish.” I shook my head, breathing in to look at the same bewildered face that looked back at me all those weeks ago. I remembered all the arguments I had won in my head against him. In the shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I remember all the things I didn’t say that I wish I had, all the ways I could’ve made him hurt like I had. It would’ve made me the smaller person.

The fact he looked lost about where I was coming from made it so much more difficult to not spill my guts to him there on the sidewalk. He made it so hard to not want to rip him apart with his oblivion and gaslighting tendencies. I doubt he even though about all the damage that he did.

“I just-I can’t wrap my head around how anybody could do the things you did so easily? You have everything and you still want more! You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy! I know it more than anything, I’ve lived it. Harry, hurt people, hurt people. We both drew blood but man, those cuts were never equal!” I didn’t touch him but to both of us it felt like I had slapped him in the face. Acknowledging his actions and mine that led us here made it so much more real, the end was so much more destined for our story. I tried to be tough, I tried to be mean, but still standing there after pouring out my heart and feelings I couldn’t help but crumble. A single cry tumbled from my lip. I shook my head and looked to the sky. Harry made no movement.

It was pathetic to be so torn after so much time apart. He should’ve held no weight in my heart, but he always would. He was the most important opinion in my life, even when he wasn’t present. When reworking scripts and giving direction, in the back of my head it became a constant question of if Harry thought it was enough. If it was good enough.

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” My hand ripped from his viciously. It burned the way we separated so quickly. His eyes were stuttering over mine, his mouth tried to move, hand digging through his pocket.

I no longer had time for him, not then not ever. He could pick me apart, rip my heart out and stitch it back together, point daggers at my deepest hurts but he would no longer get these reactions out of me.

My escape was the same as the last. Quick and panicked. My feet hit the pavement harder than before and my arms swung with so much force, I was pushing myself forward with each step. Farther and farther, I couldn’t find the courage to look back like before. I couldn’t stand to think about him crying again. My hatred for his actions could never compare to the love I would always hold for Harry. If he didn’t deserve me, that would be okay. But I could not live with myself knowing I made him cry again. Not even after what he did.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” Her hand ripped from mine so quickly that it almost burnt my skin. It was like a fresh wound opening to feel her leaving not only mentally again, but physically. How her touch would never be in mine again. How she no longer belonged to me, I no longer belonged to her.

Her words set in after a hesitating moment. She meant my speech. God, how could I have been so stupid? To not realize how hurt she must’ve been to be erased so easily from the narrative. Like the nights spent together and the laughter and tears meant nothing. The piano ruined and her shirt soaked by my tears. The shirt that was really mine. I wondered if she still had it after all this time. It always did look better on her than me. I would give her everything if I could.

I dug through my pockets quickly to find it, the crinkled piece of paper with all the names on it. All the words I wanted to say but knew I would stumble over in my own nerves if I were to win. My hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t grasp it in time. She was gone.

Something about this time told me that she wasn’t coming back. She wouldn’t stop. Not even the most guttural cry could make her look back. I had hurt her over and over again. Still, I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was until the word held no meaning and sounded odd coming from my lips. Like it was no longer real. She owed me none of her time.

So I stood there by myself, in the light rain that fell over Los Angeles, wet and alone. My paper was wrinkled in my hands, creased and bent messily. I looked down at the handwriting that didn’t really look like mine. How even in my excitement to be nominated, the loss of Y/n was so heavy it was hard to do anything. The pen was too heavy. I couldn’t do anything I once loved without her support. I looked down at all the names. My mother, my sister. They weren’t even first on the list. The first name I had written down, Y/n Y/l/n. My best friend.

I hadn’t read it out because I thought she wouldn’t want me to. I didn’t want to take away from an important night for her. Steal the spotlight from her award I was certain she would win by placing her name onto mine.

I was so sure she would win. She would be happy and we could reconnect. I had watched the movie, I watched all of her movies. She was the best of us. Always a talented writer, always having a new idea to jot down. Her napkins were sketch pads and her notes app was a dictionary of her favorite books and inspirations for shots. I know nobody with a mind like hers, one as creative and brilliant. I’m not sure why I tore her down all those days. Made her feel worthless when she was one of the best things in my life.

Even after all of this, she was and would always be everything to me. I could try and try and try to forget her and erase her from my life but she would always carry a piece of me around with her. I would always have hints of her in my home, in my wardrobe. She was everywhere without even being there.

She was my best friend.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles #fine line harry styles #oscars #hslot harry #yn x harrystyles

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straylightdream · 1 year

Text

champagne & wax

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: bang chan x f.reader

establish relationship

↳ after two years together you decide to spice things up.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut warning below the cut.

𝐚𝐧: I decided to reworked one of my old stories on here that I wrote back in 2020.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: soft dom! bang chan, wax play, praising, dirty talk from Chan, begging, nickname such as baby and baby girl, unprotected intercourse, teasing

After two years together you had the wise idea to spice things up. You probably should have suggested something like role play or like new positions, but you had the wise idea to let him pick. You trusted Chan completely and you knew he would never do anything to hurt you. But you also knew that he had a dirty mind. That evident by the dirty words he would whisper in your ears during sex, and when you would be out while he’s trying to rile you up.

Sitting on the edge of your bed you are wearing a robe waiting for Chan to get back from the store. He said he wanted to get champagne. You weren’t going to argue with him. Especially since you weren’t sure what he has in store for you.

The sound of the door opening in the distance catches your attention. A few moments later he walks into your room with a bag in one hand and two glasses for champagne.

You bite back a smile as he walks over and sets the bag on the dresser. He seems slightly nervous which is very unlike him. He’s normally so smooth when it comes to you. The fact that he seemed nervous left you feeling a little anxious.

He pulls out the bottle of champagne and container of strawberries, and then a candle. You were unsure how those three things were gonna spice things up.

“Chan?”

He turns and looks at you biting his bottom lip, “yeah?”

“What did you want to do?” You stand up and walk towards him.

“You can totally say no. I don’t want to do anything that’s gonna make you uncomfortable,” he’s rambling so you can tell that he is definitely nervous.

“Chan you’re making me anxious just tell me what you want.”

He reaches on the dresser and grabs the candle. He holds it out and your direction. You take in your hand and read the label, “safe for skin, sensual candle.” Your eyes go wide realizing exactly what he wants to try. You knew it couldn’t hurt you, if it could there was no way he would ever even ask.

“Did you want to try it?” You ask, handing Chan the candle back to him.

Slowly he nods his head. You’ve never seen him this nervous when it comes to being in the bedroom.

“I trust you Chan.” A smile forms across his face, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours for a kiss.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he puts the candle back on the dresser. You trust him more than you have trusted any other person you had ever been with.

“Okay. Let’s have a glass of champagne before we try.”

He wasted no time popping the bottle open and handing you a glass. You sit together on the edge of your bed. His hand is resting on your thigh while the other hand holds his glass of champagne. His thumb slowly rubs gentle circles on your. He always does this when he knows you're nervous. You make small talk but it’s clear you're both still a little nervous about what you wanted to try.

He takes your empty glasses and sets them down on the dresser. You take your robe off showing him your lingerie you had bought just for today. It’s a black lace set with crotchless panties.

He’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He steps towards you rubbing his hands up and down your curvy sides. He licks his lips slowly.

“You look so stunning,” he groans. From the moment he met you, he’s always made you feel like you were beautiful. He never lets you doubt your self confidence.

Leaning forward he presses his lips to yours for a searing kiss. You feel dizzy as his tongue slides against yours. Never in your life has someone kissed you the way he kisses you. He makes your world feel like it’s turning sideways as his hands slowly drag up and down your skin while your lips move together. Pulling away from you he’s wearing a lopsided grin.

“I bought it for you,” you whisper as you push your fingers through his dark hair.

“What do I do first?” you ask.

“Lay down on the bed baby.”

Stepping away from him you silently follow his command. Laying on your fluffy bed you look over to see him stripping away his clothes. He’s left standing with only his overpriced supreme black boxer briefs. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to his excitement that is straining against his boxer briefs. He walks over and opens your nightstand pulling out a lighter. He lights the candle and sets it on the nightstand. He leans over and presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

A few moments pass before he grabs the candle and moves on to the bed so he’s sitting on his hunches next to you. Your heart races slightly with nerves as he stares at you. Leaning down he places a trail of kisses across your chest settling your nerves.

“Ready,” he asks.

Silently you nod. You can’t help the mixture of nervousness and excitement you’re experiencing.

Slowly he pours a small trail of warm wax above your belly button. It doesn’t hurt really there is just a slight sting.The feel of the warm wax on your skin leaves you wanting more. The wax dries on your skin and he watches you intently trying to read your reaction.

“Did it hurt?” He sounds nervous.

You shake your head, “no do it again please.”

The corners of his mouth curl up into a grin and he says, “my dirty girl likes it.”

Reach over he pours a trail of wax up your thigh and while it dries he drags his tongue across the bare skin on your other thigh. The feeling of the warm wax drying on your skin and the mix of tongue on your skin is overwhelming. You moan loudly as he continues to kiss your skin.

“Baby girl you look so good,” he growls.

“Chan, it feels so good,” you whimper.

“You want more?” he asks

“Yes,” you moan.

He pours another line next to the one he already placed on your stomach. He leans forward kissing your chest and works his way up to your jaw. His kisses are sloppy and wet and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

As the wax dries you can’t take it anymore. You need more from Chan. He has you so turned on from this.

“Baby sit up and remove your bra,” he says.

Without saying anything you follow his lead.

“Chan please take me,” you whine.

His lips are ghosting your skin as he whispers, “okay baby girl. Sit up for me.”

You do as he says and you look at him curious to see what he wants you to do.

“Can you please take those pretty panties off?” he asked you so politely. He was being so gentle with you.

Taking your underwear off you sit it on the bed and watch as Chan strips away his boxers. He’s left standing in front of you naked and proud. Crawling back onto the bed he spreads your legs and sits back on his hunches. His hands run down your soft sides as he moves closer to you. He runs the tip of his length through your fold. You gasp at the feeling.

“Not yet, baby girl.”

He takes the candle in his hands again and slowly pours a trail of warm wax across your tummy. You can’t help but gasp. He pours one line before sitting the candle on your nightstand.

“You did so good baby,” he runs his tip through your folds his board head nudges you sensitive clit instantly making you moan. He has you on edge just the way he loves to do it.

He pushes into you in one slow motion. He grabs your legs, putting them over his shoulders as he leans over to be closer to you. The moment he bottoms out he’s looking down at you with a sinful smile. “You’re doing such a good job.” Nothing turns you on quite like when Chan praises you. Your body burns as you blush at his words. “Can I move?”

Silently you nod, unable to think of anything to say.

Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of your moaning and panting. He rolls his hips into yours over and over each time receiving a moan from you.

“Baby, I need you closer,” you whine.

Sitting back he drops your legs and he hovers over you still connected. He kisses his way across your chest. Taking your nipple in his mouth he sucks gently. You claw at his back wanting him closer to you.

“Chan you feel so good,” you gasp.

He releases your skin and gives you a wicked grin. Leaning forward he licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “baby girl you’re taking my cock so well.”

“I was made for only you,” you whimper.

You weren’t really a fan of dirty talk before you got with Chan, but there’s something about his low voice whispering in your ear that just pushes you over the edge.

“Are you gonna come for me?” He growls.

“Yes,” you moan.

“Then come,” he follows his command by crashing his lips into yours for a searing kiss.

You quickly find your release, your high washing over you as you come. Your chest rises and falls as you try to steady your breathing. Your walls pull at his length as he remains steady thrusting into you. Running your fingers through his hair you tug on his dark hair receiving a groan. He picks up his pace and groans your name as he finishes inside you painting your walls white.

Laying on top of you he kisses your neck gently for a moment. Rolling off you he smiles at you.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you more,” he responds as he crawls off your bed. He remains naked as he walks off to your bathroom, he returns holding a warm washcloth.

“Let me take care of you,” he drags the warm cloth across your skin that is covered in wax. You can tell he might be slightly nervous if you're hurt.

“Chan,” you say, catching his attention.

“Yeah?”

“I really enjoyed that.”

A smile spreads across his face, “did you wanna take a bath together?”

“Yes please,” you smile.

He grabs the carton of strawberries and goes off to the bathroom with you. He draws a warm bath and fills it with lavender scented bubbles. You two spend the evening sitting in the bath eating strawberries together.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #my writing #skz #stray kids smut #stray kids insert reader #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan insert reader #bang chan x yn #bang chan x you #stray kids x you #Christopher bang smut #champagne and wax

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mundoperla · 1 year

Text

❝𝙒𝙚’𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚?❞

DBD Killers x Gender Neutral S/O

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

— yall are literally just fuckin in the basement ain’t nun else to say

idk about yall but im in love with the reworked basement 💃 Vittorio mains y’all give me mixed feelings.

·:*¨༺ ★ ༻¨*:·. ★ ༻¨*:·. ★ ༻¨*:·.

— killer(s) included;; frank morrison, albert wesker my babygirl, & evan macmillan

⚠️⚠️cws;; some very slight possessive behavior from all of them, general nsfw, the use of the word “whore” from frank, Frank does in fact nut in you, some dub-con for weskypoo😩, kind of rough sex???, established relationships⚠️⚠️

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Frank was already very spontaneous so having quickies in random spots isn’t below the two of you. He could care less about the other survivors, what’s important is trying to find a new spot the fuck you in.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The main building? thats been done before. Inside the asylum? also done. Even out in the open barely covered by the trees, he’s doing his best trying to think of a new spot to make this alot more special.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ❛How about the basement?❜ He thought, maybe you’d be down for that? Definitely wouldn’t be the strangest place you’d fuck in.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You were iffy at first to say the least, but you could tell he was eager to find a new spot for the two of you. So you followed him, through the shack and down the rustic stairs all the way down to the eerie basement.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The air was thick and the humidity wasn’t helping either, although it was eliciting you to take off your clothes alot quicker.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ There was so much space surrounding the four conjoined hooks in the center as well as walls that hid the lockers well. You could have chosen to go behind one in case someone came in but where was the fun in that?

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He wasn’t apposed to fucking you in front of other people, it was definitely something he had considered doing many times to show that you were his—but of course that would stay in his back pocket for another time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Frank is immediately tossing his jacket to the side with his shirt following after, pulling his mask to the side so he could properly kiss you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His movements were sporadic, trying to get you out of your own clothes while attempting to kiss you and remove his pants all at once. He just wants to feel your soft skin on his, he wants to see you unravel for him again like you have numerous times.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ It felt so dirty knowing that he was going to fuck you in a place where numerous people had met their horrible fate, no doubt a few that were strung on these very hooks by your boyfriend and his friends, yet it was also exiting in the sense of you being aware you would come out completely unharmed but fully fucked out.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s gripping your hips tight, visible indents lay where his fingers had been seconds prior. Frank had your back pushed up against one of the flat surfaces of the hook’s pillar, the two of you sat onto the blood coated floor as the last remaining articles of clothing were now discarded.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You were grinding against his now exposed cock, whimpering due to the friction and occasionally looking down where the two of you connected and then back up to his face. He knew what you were doing, and he wasn’t going to let you have control for long.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ❝ Do you see how wet you are for me ? I haven’t even put it in yet and you’re whining for it like a whore. ❞

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your legs are quickly tossed over his shoulders, Frank now aligning himself with your entrance. The initial stretch always stings for a moment but no longer than such, he was always careful in the beginning just for you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your insides are so warm. You don’t fully understand how he wishes to keep you to himself, away from everyone, just for it to be you and him together by yourselves. The idea of other killers and survivors being near you sets him off in a way that irritated him, he’d gone on multiple tangents to other killers and threatened other survivors to keep away from his partner; your fellow survivors sure did catch the hint…

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ None of the other killers paid you any mind however, only obligated to quickly dispose of you without any type of off track interaction so that Frank wouldn’t berate them afterwards. His yelling gets tiring after a while, who on earth wants to hear that???

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Anyways. His thrusts begin slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth whilst also providing a good amount of friction for the two of you. He’s ready to stop the second you ask, but instead he gets your signal to go a bit faster. Of course this smug motherfucker will bury himself all the way inside and get you to tell him what exactly you want him to do in detail just to further rile you up.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ❝ I need you to stop being such a bitch and fuck me until I can barely think straight. ❞

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your body is heating up with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, he’s seen you in more exposed positions anyways but it always feels so lewd when he’s got you on full display for him. Him scanning your entire body with his eyes wasn’t easing your embarrassment either.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His speed rapidly picks up though, a lot faster than what you had initially expected but then again it’s Frank, he’s not wasting any time to drill into you when given an opportunity.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The metal platform that held the hooks up in place rattled every time Frank rammed inside of you, his hands making their way back to your hips away from their original place from behind your knees.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What was supposed to be a horrific room where many feared to even step foot in outside of chases, where numerous lives were lost in, an extension of this realm of horrors was completely flipped in the span of 15 or so minutes. The air was filled with more humidity than before accompanied by the sound of skin slapping against skin rapidly. Do the two of you have no decorum ?!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The idea of going back up to the surface afterwards to leave with your team no longer felt ideal to you, the entity could impale you here because you were fuckin in her damn basement for all you cared, you just wanted to stay here with Frank so this feeling of bliss never ended.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your abdomen felt tight, sensitivity is at it’s highest than ever. Frank had the same tight coil in his belly, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was just as close as you by the way his pace picked up.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Inside, inside please. You silently begged, you wanted to feel that familiar warmth inside you again, thats what you wanted the most right now. Of course Frank wasn’t going to deny you the satisfaction of him filling you, he wanted to see it drip out anyways.

𝕬𝖑𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖙 𝖂𝖊𝖘𝖐𝖊𝖗—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Like Frank, he was not opposed to fucking you in front of your friends to assert dominance. But because he didn’t like the idea of others seeing you in a provocative position he had refrained from acting on that thought.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’d been gifted a new outfit by The Entity and Wesker was just as excited as you to see how it looked. Of course he wont show you that excitement on the surface but on the inside he’s in love with how you look in it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What if he just ripped it off of you. It’s a pretty outfit but what’s underneath is also very beautiful. However there’s survivors to be dealt with, he needs to remove unnecessary distractions before he even acts out. It wouldn’t take him long to do so anyways.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Jesus Christ. The game just started and your team is immediately wiped, you were aware that Wesker always let you leave when the two of you were put in matches together, but right now he intended to keep you here longer than usual.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s wasting no time by tossing you over his shoulder to drag you down to the rustic basement behind the saloon, tossing you back down onto the metal platform with a loud clank. Quickly tearing up your top and bottoms with ease. He needs to be inside you, away from the crows so the entity couldn’t see you. Even she doesn’t deserve the privilege to watch you crumble under him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s removing his sunglasses so he can get a better look at you, cat like pupils dilated at your shredded clothing that clung onto the smallest threads for dear life. He’s palming himself through the leather of his pants, trench coat discarded to the side. Wesker didn’t need to be vocal when he wanted you, his body language tells you enough.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’re slowly removing the last pieces of clothing left on your lower half, spreading your legs open and rubbing yourself so your boyfriend could get a clear view of the effect he had on you. No doubt that feeling is reciprocated the way his cock springs out of his pants, precum dribbling from the slit of the head.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Uroboros could be used for more than ruthless slaughter and power, so of course he was careful letting the tendrils wrap around your neck and torso as to not harm you. He wants you in the air, and he wasn’t going to throw you on a rusty hook for it so he settled for the alternative that wouldn’t hurt you. As long as he was careful though.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His free hand is gliding along your body, making occasional stops to squeeze your chest or to press down on spots that would elicit different sounds from you. Such a pretty voice, let him hear more of you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s getting hotter the longer he continued to toy with you, he needed to feel you wrap around him now.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He won’t break eye contact with you as he slides in, he expects you to look back at him when the two of you are fucking in this position. It doesn’t matter to him if you’ve adjusted to his size or not, he just needs to feel you, to hear you. Nothing could ever feel better than you squeezing around him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your throat felt sore with how much you were screaming for him, he was being rough with you, the tendrils of uroboros around your neck occasionally squeezing a bit tighter than before with the extras on your torso dragging you up and down on Wesker’s cock like you were some fleshlight.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You weren’t complaining though, it’d be a bit painful trying to stand up afterwards but the pain would be so worth it. Having him fuck you felt like a luxury, despite him always manhandling you; it was always a wonderful experience. He knew what he was doing, and he knew what buttons to push to get you more and more heated.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’re cumming all over him, and all for him. He didn’t give you permission to do as such, he should punish you for acting without asking first. But he’s feeling nice today, he won’t get on your case for it this time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His stamina is insane, you’d lost count how many times you’ve came from him alone, and he’d only came once. He’s purposely denying himself his own orgasms, just to see how long he can suppress them until he eventually snaps. He’ll keep doing this unless you ask him not to, or if you tell him to fill you until he’s got nothing left. He won’t listen if you ask him the first question.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s got you to himself down here for as long as the two of you want, nothing wrong with some endurance testing.

𝕰𝖛𝖆𝖓 𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖗

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ There’s traps littering the entire shack and entrance to the basement, Evan is paranoid that someone could come in at any moment and he wasn’t taking any risks.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Nobody is allowed to see you right now, he’s tired of sharing your attention with others and he wants you to himself right now. Let him be greedy just this once.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The two of you are hiding behind one of the walls, despite Evan being quite large it could still hide him too.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your back is pressed against his chest, one of his large arms is wrapped around your waist whilst his free arm snakes its way down into your pants. Your mouths intertwined with eachother, muffling moans from one another so that nobody passing by could hear.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His heart is racing and his cheeks are flushed a deep crimson that the mask thankfully covered. Even in this realm he’s too prideful, he can live with the fact that he’d give you the best fucking of your life but not with the idea of you realizing you could get him so flustered.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your ass is pressed against him now, he could get straight to it now but he just wants to hold you just a bit longer. His touches are so soft yet very powerful, he knows where and what he needs to feel to get you to fully submit to him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’re trembling under him, he can feel it. Pulling away just as you were about to release, you visibly distraught by the loss of friction. However humidity greets you just as Evan pulls your pants down just enough where he can put himself inside you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Although he’s much.. bigger than average, both in length and girth, he’ll move as slowly as possible so he won’t hurt you. Always a gentleman regardless, but despite his best efforts to be gentle with you there’s always a stinging feeling when he slides in.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s patient with you, it always takes you a bit to fully adjust to his size before he can start moving but he’s respectful still. You take him so well every time, so of course he’s going to be sweet with you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’ve given him the okay to move, and if course he starts off very slowly, still cautious as to not harm you in any way despite your reassurance that you’re fine. Your back is facing his chest now, your hands on the rickety wall for some kind of support. Evan’s hands grip tightly onto your hips, his teeth gritted together as he groveled in your warmth.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ It’s harder not not make any sound when he starts speeding up ever so slightly, now hunched over you with his breath hot on the back of your neck. His hands don’t leave your hips ever, he keeps them there so he can slam you down onto him harder when he wants to let his hips rest before he continues thrusting.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He still can’t get over how warm you are, it baffles him every time the two of your are intimate. He’d keep you this close to him forever if he could, you were important to him, very important.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s fully sped up now, slamming you down on his cock with anticipation. He’s close and he can feel that you are too. You had reached behind you to drag one of his arms to wrap around your waist again, gently caressing the scars that littered his forearms as he continued to rut into you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You always made him feel so loved, he wasn’t the man he used to be before he arrived in The Entity’s realm yet that didn’t seem to phase you in the slightest, that’s one of the many things he adored about you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’re making a mess around him now, coating his pelvis in your juices as well as having some of it drip onto the floor.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’ll ask you to turn around and open your mouth so he can finish too, to which you happily obliged. The two of you will sit in your spots for a moment to catch your breath, Evan bouncing back quicker than you to check for any external damage just in case, as well as asking you repeatedly if you’re really okay.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You gather yourself together while your boyfriend removes the traps around the building, you didn’t want to leave, but you had to. Of course Evan didn’t want you to leave either, but he had promised he’ll meet you in the woods that separate the killer and survivor camps.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Maybe the two of your could start up another moment of intimacy extended from the basement.

˚ ₊ ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊ ✧ ﾟ ₊ ˚

—

do not point out my spelling mistakes and grammatical errors i will cry at you

ALSO IM SI FUCKIGN TIRED I STARTED THIS AT LIKE 5 IN THE MORNING ANF I JUST FINISH AT 8 I AM EXHAUSTED

#dbd imagines #dbd smut #the trapper x reader #evan macmillan x reader #albert wesker x reader #the legion x reader #legion x reader #frank morrison x reader #dbd x reader

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gooppoo · 1 year

Note

oh.my.god. imma need u to elaborate a bit more on the jake’s hair pulling kink thing because i’m literally going feral that was way too good

REST ASSURED YOUR PRAYERS HAVE BEEN HEARD

tugging along: extended.

part 1

part 3

Requests Closed!

mdni.

warnings: same old same old, Jake is a lil pervy tbh...

It was a petty thing to do.

When Jake was on earth, he thought he had done stupid things to get his dick wet.

But this?

This was stupid.

Upon returning to his hammock, he quickly cleaned himself of the embarrassing mess he had made, and began to undo the braids. Almost immediately! The gel was still drying, and his scalp was still tingly and tender. How could he?

All because you tugging on his hair a little bit had him cumming like he never imagined. He was willing to accept how insane this was.

Next he washed his hair, cleaning it of the products and the kinkiness of the braids. Just out of curiosity he mildly pulled at his hair, but his body wouldn't let himself inflict that level of pleasurable pain.

He needed you!

And from there he devised a plan. One to have him crawling back and between your legs and under the intensity of your nimble fingers. Excuse after excuse would work for now, until you became suspicious.

He exercised this plan by waiting a few days and offering to go on a hunting trip. Upon his return, he made an appearance and you clicked your tongue at his hair.

"What have you done? Don't you remember how much you were crying?"

He rolled his eyes, "Listen, just fix it again. Had to take 'em out to go hunting so you could eat."

You crossed your arms, "I 'fixed' your hair so you could go hunting. If you take them out, I will not braid your hair again."

Oh no. This wasn't part of the plan!

"Sure." He nodded curtly, reworking some details in his mind.

Again, he was between your legs and ready for the session to begin. Already he was growing hard in anticipation. How was he going to keep this scheme up?

You began to comb out his hair, tugging out some of the knots and his head in the process making his dick twitch.

"Shit..." he began to grumble.

You smacked his head, "I do not want to hear it. You did this to yourself."

He huffed and shuffled his hips. To you, he seemed irritable, but you couldn't be further from the truth. Completely oblivious to Jake gripping his knees to keep himself from touching his aching, leaking length.

The braiding began, just as it did the time before, only this time you were careful to be tender. Jake could take what he got, whimpering when the hair got tangled near the ends and you had to work out the knots with your fingers.

"Fuck - auuhn-"

"Shut it."

He wish he could. By why would he?

Below his waist he had his legs pulled up to his chest to hide his desperate cock. It was weeping onto the material of his loincloth, creating a damp spot of pre-cum. He felt so gross. It was exhilarating.

Every mewl, grunt, and swear went under your radar, soon ignoring it all together. Insulting him every time he complained like a child was just as tiring as braiding his hair for an unnecessary second time.

"Oh Jesus."

His head had hung forward too far and to keep him in the right position you jerked his head back by one of his braids.

"Huuuunngh."

That, did not go under your radar.

Immediately you stopped, feeling Jake release his full weight between your thighs.

"What was that...?"

Slightly out of breath he turned to meet your bewildered expression.

"What was that noise you just made?"

There was a flicker of embarrassment in his eyes before it turned to defensiveness, "You're pulling my goddamn head around, what else do you want me to do? Hm?" When one of your brows rose, he faced forward.

Unable to see his expression, he bit down on his lip and swore himself internally. There was cum leaking down his thigh and tainting his garment.

Hesitantly, you finished his hair, noticing the shift in his responses to shaky sighs and even miserable yelps. You didn't hesitate to push him away from you and up onto his feet.

It didn't take a genius to observe his closed-off body language, "Thanks," he tried to play it cool.

"Turn around."

He froze.

"What?"

"I said, turn around." You challenged.

Again, he tried to play it off as if you were overthinking, "Ah- no, whatever you're thinking, think again." He began to awkwardly shuffle away.

"You came, didn't you?"

It was like he slammed into a wall -- he even stumbled. His silence was all the answer you needed.

"Yes."

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar smut #jake smut #jake sully x you #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #jake sully

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the-heart-of-leo · 2 months

Text

Nick's so far under the bus that they might as well change the oil while they're under there.

Okay, because I'm a bit of a masochist and I have adblockers...

I'm going to count how many times James throws Nick under the bus:

@2:40 – 'This fell upon Nick as well, as a non-binary person on the ace spectrum, they wanted to include asexuality and non-binary representation to our videos. But because Nick's experience is not universal – There is no universal experience – people felt that we were delegitimizing their own experiences because we focused on Nick's.' (The reason we were acephobic was because we (meaning Nick) didn't think other ace people had problems and when it was pointed out to us by The Ace Couple that ace people did, in fact, face discrimination and conversion therapy, we (meaning James) accused them of homophobia and sicced their followers on them.)

@6:38 – 'The work Nick and I were doing on the channel...' (Because Nick was here too! Not just me!)

@10:46 – 'I was much more interested in the production of the videos than the writing of them, at this point. So after three or four videos, I brought Nick on as a main writer for the channel. The idea is that they would write the vast majority of the scripts. I would film, voice, and edit the videos and we'd split the money that came in.'(Nick was the main writer for the channel! In case you forgot...)

@14:40 – 'And then my mom died... and I became completely useless. I couldn't think straight, at all, so Nick had to completely take over writing duties.'(DID I MENTION NICK WAS THE MAIN WRITER. ALSO MY MOM DIED; FEEL SORRY FOR ME)

@19:44 – 'When Nick got back, he believed the script needed a first page rework. This was also when he told me he was going to be moving back to Ontario permanently soon as he wanted to live closer to family and live in a bigger city with more opportunities. This was a punch to the gut for me. We'd been living together since 2015 and had become quite dependent on each other. I felt like there was no way I could make this movie without him.'(We couldn't make the movie we promised because SOMEONE DECIDED TO MOVE and since I'm co-dependent on him, I moved with him and screwed up everything. Oopsie.)

@26:32 – 'But by accepting as many sponsors as we did, which became very important when Nick and I started living apart and suddenly had two rents to pay, we ended up needing to produce even more videos. Which, along with the work on Telos and making sure everything was okay with my dad while living thousands of kilometers away meant I had even less time for writing – putting more stress on Nick and leading to even more copy and pasting from me.' (See what you did, Nick?! We have to pay TWO rents now and we need to make even MORE videos. I'm not creepily co-dependent on my asexual ex-roommate at all!)

@32:50 – 'I know what misinformation had made its way into our past videos. That was not something we intended; in some cases it was information I was told by people I considered experts. In other cases it was information that we had researched. In other cases it was things that Nick had learned in university.'(Nick told me some of this stuff! ((which is fair because NICK ADMITTED HE DOESN'T DO RESEARCH)) In other cases it was because I assumed I knew what happened because I'm the smartest person I know so of course Lesbians had it easier! I just forgot that Radcliffe Hall's books were banned and destroyed because of that head injury I talked about earlier.)

And here's an honorable mention where the smug “I'm smarter than you” BS comes to visit:

'To those who say I plagiarized the plot from the novel Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix – Read the book. It's nothing like the plot of the movie. And 'The Final Girl' is a trope in horror movies so if using the Final Girl trope is plagiarism then basically everyone who's made a slasher movie since Texas Chainsaw Massacre owes the Toby Hooper estate some money.'

So, much like how James doesn't understand why people aren't upset at him because of citation issues, he doesn't understand that it's not the fact that he's using the 'Final Girl' trope... it's the fact that he stated the book as a favorite of his and then... suddenly he's writing a movie about the aftermath of the Final Girl. And given the plagiarism, it can not be taken in good faith.

First off, if you just google 'First Final Girl', it just says Texas Chainsaw Massacre is one of the earliest examples. Another possibility for the 'First Final Girl' was actually Black Christmas which was released the same day in Canada so it is literally tied.

Secondly; the final girl trope is not required for slasher movies. One of the first 'proto-slasher' movies was actually Psycho so there were a few good decades between that and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. (I could try and make a case that Lila Crane should count as a Final Girl; maybe even Mrs. Bates/Norman as a subversion... but I'm not that invested or interested.)

So... James was true to form, he just wanted to be a smug asshat and try and seem smart over something easily googled.

#James Somerton #*Face palm*

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