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#I write in my own accent a LOT
buginateacup · 6 months
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I went down a youtube rabbithole of length and linking pronunciation between Australian/British/American accents and now I'm sitting here staring into the void wondering if other people are reading my stories with entirely different rhythms based on our different accents
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oolunar-spams · 4 months
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You! Who is your favorite Link and why?
TWILIGHT! WITH NO HESITATION, TWILIGHT!!
Maybe I'm a bit biased since Twilight Princess is my favorite game. I just absolutely adore the friendship Twilight and Midna foster. It starts out as two people who dislike each other but must work together for mutual benefit. Just as you think the journey is coming to an end, both partners are put into life threatening situations. They both mutually save each other and now the relationship between the two is so much more than just mutual beneficiaries. I mean, just go and peek at how they look at each other when Link pulls the Master Sword. Those are two people who support each other.
And then it ends. For the sake of both of them, Midna shatters the *only* connection between the Light World and the Twilight realm. There was no warning there was no preparing yourself for this because Midna didn't tell anyone her final plan. It's heartbreaking. Link just lost his best friend, the person who saw everything he went through, all the trials, the struggles, the effort put into his journey. They discovered new places, traveled to buildings that haven't been touched in centuries, and saved Hyrule *together.* And then she just left.
It's heartbreaking, not just to Link but to the player as well. I beat the game when I was 5 and while I didn't understand half the text I was reading, I saw the Mirror of Twilight break with it's Princess being the last passenger to use it. It's a clear cut ending, no alternative routes to get Midna back. The second half of the journey was to get to the Twilight realm, the player knows how much of a struggle that was.
There is no hope of Midna returning.
Perhaps I relate to Twilight. I don't know how, I never bothered to figure out why. All I know is his story. How, despite everything being against him, his entire world once being shrouded in Twilight, he fought against *everything* to get what was his back. He never sacrificed the children of the village, he never gave up on Illa's memories, he went out of his way to help people he hardly knew (Queen Rutella, Kakariko and the Gorons, the grand-children of the fisherman from Ocarina of Time). Link does every action that I wanted to do without question and with complete confidence.
Twilight is my hero. The Link that I hold dearest.
My second favorite is Ocarina of Time, simply because of how LU represents him.
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commander-damneron · 9 months
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Nothing will ever be as painful as seeing something tagged "[character x] is scottish" and thinking "oh cool, that's exactly my headcanon", only to start reading it and immediately realise that the person who wrote it has never spoken to a Scottish person ever in their life
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noxtivagus · 1 year
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prom. dress. 🫣🫣
#🌙.rambles#dark blue w silver accent yh 🥺#i'm so excited !!!!#it'd be. so cool to have a partner tho sob but i'm good on my own anyways n#there's extra payment for non-stag so good for me ig 🥹#i'll just like. dream maybe. idk#hmmm what else hehe#ah i've been thinking lately of what i want to pursue when i'm older#wait. hfsjgkhskfs i get so shy w compliments.. T_T#i wonder do me n apollo like. yk we look smart. bcs that's what they said#lucky that yk my mom has connections 🥹🫶🏼 discounts ily#hmm w profession tho. i want to be some sort of doctor. not sure#but other stuff i'm interested in r like. neuroscientist psychologist psychiatrist#i want to do writing as a side n. i cld do some freelancing w programming? or idk just work on my own projects at my own time#i cld also teach ppl actually. w my smarts n. i used to help my classmates pre-pandemic. so yk i cld do well too i think#music too.. in my own time 🥺#haven't finalized my questions yet for my interview later w my aunt buuut i wna ask a lot#bcs. idk what doctor i want to rlly be. n there's a lot i'm interested in#i want to do some lab stuff too. n i cld do well w surgeries too bcs i've always had good hands#i'll. cultivate my talent. n i want to use what i have to help others too.#i love helping others so i'm good w being a doctor anyways. n. hdkfjskfd science's my strength fr#when my cramps aren't fucking bs i'm gna do a lot 🥺🫶🏼#yk. w dark blue n silver i guess i'll be. sorta matching w like. noctis or smth#when i was like. a few years back yh i had that lil story w noctis 🫣#he rlly does resemble the night n the sky tho.. i still love noct v much hfjsfkhskfs he's like tied w alphi/emet for a chara i'd associate#myself w yk? there's kainé too n. oh i use mostima as my pfp so her too. help i rlly rlly rlly liked noctis a lot back then#no like. i still do but yk. uwahh noctis means a lot to me 🥹🫶🏼#was the blueprint too for the first version of like. one of my dearest osts. the love interest of my self-insert oc 💀#before artem they were named caelum after all 😭😭#nyways thinking of that. in a way that's one dream come true tho hehe in a way
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i-like-gay-books · 1 year
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just bought myself a new set of hair cutting scissors and a fine toothed comb and midterm papers are about to be underway you know what’s up
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rthko · 10 months
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I recently saw a post with Fran Lebowitz saying, "a book isn't supposed to be a mirror; it's supposed to be a door," and it made me think about the state of "representation" discourse online. I thought back to an anon I once received from someone who claims to get "secondhand embarrassment" from "drag queens, leather daddies, and kinksters with pup hoods acting like they represent all gays." Many thought my response was too harsh, that I ought to show more sympathy to people who do not "relate" to nor feel "represented" by these modes of queer being. Blame it on online fandom, blame it on heteronormativity, but we are too concerned with "relatability." It is the sort of "relatability" advertising executives concern themselves with, or "relatability" of people who treat their online presence as a "brand." It is a notion I find alien to queer art and culture.
I have never done drag, nor do I consider myself a part of the leather community beyond befriending others who do and owning some gear. I do not "relate" to these expressions in any vulgar, literal sense, but they are still deeply resonant. And how many of these individuals truly "relate" to the images they peform? Drag artists and leatherfolk are purveyors of fantasy. In their daily lives, they might not be bikers, rockstars, pop divas, or mythical beasts, but they reinvent themselves through metaphors and performances. These theatrical performances are no more absurd than the quotidian performances expected by cis straight society. Larry Mitchell writes, “The faggots act out their fantasies without believing them to be real. The men act out their fantasies always proclaiming that they are real."
This could explain why literal attempts at relatability are often less resonant than campy extravogant fantasies. I once wrote a rant about how Taylor Swift is not a gay icon, and an anon smugly told me, "Taylor makes music for everyone and not just gays." Yes, I suppose she does make music for "everyone," in the same way that the Midwestern weather reporter voice is the universal accent of the English speaking world. But diva worship was never about "relating;" rather, it's about survival through the evocation of patron saints of strength and glamor. Most celebrity or mass media attempts at "relatability" are at best clueless or at worst insulting. I would much rather participate in a campy fantasy, which is in its own right more "real." Susan Sontag describes camp as the "farthest extension, in sensibility, of the metaphor of life as theater.”
I am not telling anyone to stop pushing for the recognition of diverse stories. This is crucial! But the recognition of queer stories should also come with an understanding of queer modes of resonance. When has John Waters ever produced something "relatable?" Who cares? His work resonates, in fact, more than a lot of "safe" gay media that should be all accounts be more "relatable." The "average" listener would not necessarily relate to SOPHIE. They may find her work otherwordly or downright unsettling. But she did not produce music for the "average" listener, at least not before the rest of the musical landscape dragged to catch up with her. Adam Zmith writes: "Inside SOPHIE’s words, performances and final act is the queer utopia of always grasping, always dreaming of a freer life." We are living the wildest dreams of our former, closeted selves, but we are still always grasping, never quite satiated. Queer art is not just autobiographical but aspirational. Let art be a door.
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mrsrdlw · 2 months
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My valentine
Summary: You and your best friend found a way to get away from all the valentine’s day by doing your own program. But, being alone for a long time only meant you two were horny and needy for affection.
wc: 3.3k (i got a little excited writing it, sorry)
warnings: friends to lovers; smut!!! +18 please (you’re responsible for yourself babe, but i warned you); fluff; masturbation (m!reciving); inexperienced!femreader. Tell if something is missing.
authors note: I know i’m a little late with valentines thing but i couldn’t help myself. I really liked the result and i hope you do too. It’s a new thing writing smutty things but i hope it’s not terrible. <3
*update*- i just posted a part two!
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**********
It was valentine’s day and you felt like you were the loneliest person in the world. Everyone was with their partners when you were all by yourself. Of course you were being dramatic but you were tired of having to pretend that it was okay to be single because you don’t needed a boy to make you happy. But you wanted to.
The same thing happened to your best friend. Eddie was all by himself. He was never the guy the girls would die for. They were too scared to see how pretty he was. But he also had been feeling kind of alone. He would walk in the market and see all the decorations he hated so much. Not only in school, everywhere, people would be all over each other. He always hated valentine’s day but he never knew that was because of his jealousy and would always blame in the capitalism and its ways to persuade people.
As you both would be alone, to distract you from thinking about couples making out, you created your own thing. You would go at each other’s house to watch movies together, eat junk food and talk about stuff. For two years you’ve been doing this and this year was your time being a host. At this time, you got lucky your parents weren’t home for the week. In the first year, you brought Eddie home and your mom kept asking non stop questions about him and how did you finally realized you were made for each other.
“You’re late.” You opened the door for him, taking the boxes off his hands.
“I’m sorry my lady, is my butler work not good enough for you?” He said in a english accent mocking you. “There was a lot of people ordering pizzas too. They copied our idea.”
“Fine. I just took the cookies out of the oven.” You pointed to the baking sheet “What movies did you pick?”
“Well, let’s see.There is the movie you asked for with the cats”
“Did you take the right one? Or just some movie about a cat?”
“Is the Disney one, right? The Aristocats? I got this one, nightmare on elm street and fast times at ridgemont high.” Eddie only took this last one because Steve said ’there’s some very interesting scenes about a girl, if you know what i mean’. Of course Eddie knew the girl’s titties would show up, he’d never watched it because he thought it would be a shitty movie. “If i want to see boobs i’ll just watch porn or i’ll buy a magazine” he would say. But he really thought about it and that would be the only way to make you watch something like that with him.
Once he asked if girls watched porn and you just ignored the question. He wanted to see your reaction and he knew you would never watch something like that, let alone with a guy. It would be the closest thing to porn you’d watch.
Also it was a secret to no one that he had a little massive crush on you. Maybe it was a secret only for you. Eddie don’t even know when did it started. One day you were just a girl who he was friends with but suddenly you were much more then that. You were hot, interesting, cute, smart and he couldn’t help but be enamored with you. But he never did anything to change that, to afraid of making you run away from him. To him, in that situation, your relationship as friends was more important. He wouldn’t stand to lose you. So he buried his feelings deep down and pretended it that never happened.
“Eddie it’s not Halloween. We’re not watching that, you know i can’t sleep afterwards.”
“Alright, no horror movies” He discarded the movie
“So is gonna be aristocats and this other movie. Is this even good? I never saw it.” Of course you saw it. Since Dustin told you guys his girlfriend was a hotter version of Phoebe Cates you had to. You scolded him after.
“It was on the recommendation board so we’ll have to trust in that”
********
Eddie had never seen the Disney movie before. It was for kids but you always loved it since you were a little kid. And if you loved, he’d watch it for you (he would not admit but he loved it too). There you were in the second movie. You had seen it two years ago so you were focused on the movie. But with that, you forgot about the boobs
“Oh…” Your cheeks got red. Seeing that by yourself was ok. But right by Eddie’s side, you got embarrassed and tried not to look at the tv in front of you. In the meantime, he was looking at you to see your reaction.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know that would happen” He said trying to sound like he was surprised
“Don’t worry, i see this every day.”
Eddie didn’t payed attention in the movie anymore. Were you talking about porn?
When the movie ended you went to bed and Eddie came with you. Being friends for a long time made you so accustomed to be around each other that now you would insist that he would sleep with you in your bed and not on the couch.
He would not sleep if he kept the question to himself. He had to ask.
“Good night Eds. Thanks for today. It was really nice!”
“Sure sweetheart, i had a good time too!”
And the place got quiet. It was now or never.
“Hey… can i ask you something?”
You just hummed
“Well… Earlier, when we were watching the movie you said that you would see it everyday when we saw the girl’s titties. With that do you… you know, d’ya mean you see boobs everyday in like, porn?”
“What? Why would you say that?” You said looking at his face even though the room was dark
“I don’t know why it just came in my head like, come on!”
“Eddie… i’m a girl. I see them everyday because i have them. Just like every woman. Go sleep, will ya.”
Eddie don’t know if that make it better or worse. Not that he didn’t know you had boobs. Of course you had. But now, you had boobs, you’d watch them and everything came to Eddie as a movie. Or as a dream in witch it really did. Right by your side, in your bed, in your house. Eddie had a wet dream about you. I wasn’t the first time. But it was in you house, close to you. Till then, he was sleeping and his mind was working on making him hard by the images of you touching your boobs while you were fucked by him.
You had woken up first, not realizing his morning wood, you went to the bathroom, then to the kitchen to take a glass of water and came back. But now he’d moved and, in his sweatpants, his “situation” was pretty obvious.
That scared the shit out of you. What would you do? Should you go back to sleep? Or try to pretend you never saw it. You weren’t a boy, but that seemed to be very uncomfortable. Suddenly you got hot. Seeing his dick poking out in his pants, his bare torso shown by his shirt that was lifted up. His wild hair that framed his face. Of course you knew you had feelings for Eddie, but you never did anything to let him know. It was a secret only for you and you only. You couldn’t do anything about your best friend. Even if he had a boner and got you all worked up.
He started to move around and to wake up when he saw you sitting on the bed and looking at the ceiling. Before saying anything he felt it. “Holy fuck!” that’s what he thought. He started to panic. Did you saw it. Would he be fast enough to run to the bathroom and try to work on it. “No, you shithead, you can’t jerk in her bathroom”
You realize his movements and looked at him. You knew that he knew you knew. Now the blanket were covering him.
“Mornin” He said casually and you nodded you head, trying not to lend your eyes on his cock to see if you could still see his bulge. “You saw it, right?”
“Saw what? I-I just woke up!” You said a little to fast “I mean, i barely opened my eyes and- yeah, i saw it.” you stopped when you saw his expressions getting amused. If you already saw it, there wasn’t a reason to be concerned anymore.
“Don’t worry, that happens sometimes” he said as if he didn’t have any dreams. It was just normal
“What? Out of nowhere?”
“Yeah, sort of…” He said remembering you in his dream and resisting the urge to touch his cock
“Can’t you like, turn it off or something”
He laughed at you face. You were getting more and more uncomfortable and in the same time, a bit horny. “It’s not like the tv we watched last night. You can’t turn it off.”
“But…” You saw his face. He was looking at you “I don’t get it”
“Well, i don’t know how to explain it” He tried to sound confident about it “It’s like when your nipples get hard when you women get cold. It not a thing you control” That part was true. He couldn’t control his dick or his mind so he wouldn’t find you attractive.
“But it seems to be painful” You said looking at him getting up.
“It is a little. I’ll go to the bathroom to try to ‘turn it off’” He said giggling
“Wait Eddie!” He turned to you and now you could see how big he was. Even with his pants, it was visible. “You don’t have to do it by yourself. Can i do something? Like, can i help you?”
Eddie froze in place. He would go take a cold shower and have thoughts about random things that wasn’t you. He was not going to masturbate in there. Was he still dreaming?
“Sorry! Oh i’m so so sorry. I don’t know what i was thinking about” You regret when you saw how his face got to serious.
“No no no. Don’t be sorry. I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He sat again looking at you cover your face “I mean, we’re friends. Last time i checked, friends don’t usually give a handy to other friends.”
“I’m so fucking stupid and embarrassingly alone that i let this stupid date get in my mind. I don’t know…”
“Were you willing to do it? For real?” He was really curious to know if you would jerk him off. That had to mean something, right?
“I’m sorry, it’s fucking crazy!” Hugging your knees, you looked at him and forced your arms to open
“Come on, don’t be so harsh. Were you?”
You nodded to scared of his reactions to your horny attitudes
“I thought you were virgin and said you were inexperienced in everything”
“It can’t be that hard” You whispered and looked at his eyes. Those pleading eyes that were begging to go back in time but were just reassuring Eddie that the shower would not ‘turn it off’ anymore.
“What if i said i wanted you to do it, huh? Would that be to weird?”
Now it was your turn to be shocked. Now he was asking you to do it. Was it to weird? Maybe a little, but only because you never did it before and because it was your best friend.
“I don’t know Eddie… I think you just as crazy as me” He laughed at that
“I might be a little. But it’s a good thing” You were feeling more comfortable now. It was your Eddie again and not some guy you had a crush on. “I know what you’re thinking. But, don’t you think i never wondered how would it be to kiss you? You are the most amazing friend i could have and with that comes this feeling too. But i don’t want to lose you. You’re to important for me”
“You too. Honestly i’d be lost without you. But i also wonder how would it be, you know…”
You kept looking at him and he did the same. You were making sure that it was the right thing to do. The he closed the gap between you two. Bodies bonding and connecting to each other. Your lips were so soft. Eddie was sure he was in his dream now. His hands that before was holding your face, now went to your back, caressing your waist. And your hands ran from his shoulders to his hair, tugging some locks of it and making him groan.
Things heated up and he pulled you to his lap. His bulge was now touching your crotch. With his hands on your waist, he took advantage of that and encouraged you to move back and forth making you feel so good. The friction was perfect. His lips were perfect. The way he was kissing you like he waited his whole life for it. Separating to breathe, you leaned on him, your foreheads touching, but your movements continued slightly.
“For a very inexperienced girl, you’re a hell of a kisser. Damn, are you sure you’re telling the truth?” He said panting with his eyes closed and his lips curled to a smile. You smiled back
“Yeah, i assure you. Don’t make me feel like i’m too good though. I’m gonna get too cocky.”
“Tell that to him” He pressed you down on him and, once again, you felt his hard dick. ‘How can it be so hard?’ you thought
“Can i take of your pants?” you asked a little scared
“Sure thing, sweetheart” He was smiley. He helped you to take it off and wow. You were a little shocked. It was big. You thought about it for a second and you honestly thought he was not average.
“Can i say something too?” He nodded while he pulled you back to him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now but i just wanted to tell you so you don’t have any expectations. I don’t even know if you have any-” You were talking super fast, Eddie had to shut you up with a kiss. “Sorry. I was saying that, i think i still need some time, you know, if you want to have actual sex.”
“It’s alright. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to here”
“But i really wanted to do this. To help you here.” You said running your hand from his chest to his lower belly and his cock twitched. You wasn’t expecting that to happen “Is this normal” He nodded and giggled
“Are you sure you want to do it? You know, i’m not proud to say it, but have jerked off before. Plenty of times actually. If you’re not comfortable doing it, it’s not a problem for me to do it by myself.” It was melting your heart in the way he was talking to you. Caring about you.
“Yes i am! I’m just… insecure about it. I don’t know how to-.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you how, alright?” It was you time to nod you head. “A’right then. First thing, we need it to be wet, so you’ll have to spit on you hand.”
You hesitated but gathered a good amount of saliva on your mouth and spited on your hand.
“That’s right. Very good. Now you can wrap your hand around it” You just didn’t know where to. Was he talking about the tip or the base. You went for the tip.
Groaning low, he cleared his throat “Good girl. Now you can just make some circles around the tip and then go down.” You did what you were told to and that seemed to work. Your foreheads, that were glued to this time, separated a little before he came back. Both of you looking at your hand moving around his red tip leaking pre cum.
“Is that normal?”
“It means it’s fucking good” Even his voice changed. It was getting rougher and lower.
“Can you guide me a little. I’m scared i’ll squeeze you too hard” you said and his hand wrapped around yours.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s better when is tight. I’ll let you know if it’s to much” He let you do it by yourself when you got the right rhythm and grip.
Your hand were moving tightly up and down. You didn’t know if it was there before, you didn’t notice because you were to focus, but his hands were squeezing your tights hard. You could feel your panties getting soaked. How come you were excited by jerking him off.
More of the liquid you saw before came out and you ran your thumb over it. He let out a moan that rambled inside you body.
“Can you, please, go a little faster than that” And that’s what you did. The moan you heard was the first of many others that came along. You had gathered, again, more saliva and thought that it would be nice to be even wetter than it was. So you separated a little from him, looking at his confused eyes trying to read you. You separated enough to bend down and to spit on it again, looking at his eyes roll back, throwing his head back. You came back to your position, proud that you did something good without him telling you.
Your movements got faster than before and he, restless panting, kissed you. You wanted to make him cum hard. So you separated the kiss, kept up the speed, flashing him your boobs. That was the final push for Eddie.
The way he grabbed you and moan at your ear was insanely hot. You watched ropes of cum come of his dick. Your hand were now with white and sticky cum.
“Holy fucking shit!” He panted for the last time and let go of his grip on you. “Are you really sure you’re inexperienced?”
“I might’ve heard some advice about it from some friends” You said getting out of his lap, but he stopped you
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve been up here for a while, i don’t want to hurt your legs. Besides, my hand is a little dirty.” He laughed a little
“Let’s clean up and come back here then.”
That’s what you did. When you came back, he pulled you to his chest and you started to talk.
“You know, i got hard because i had a wet dream about you. Probably because of the movie. But you were in a bikini like hers and, well… you know the rest.”
“Really? What a perv.” You laughed together. You couldn’t be more happy to let this felling out of your chest. You didn’t know for how long you could keep that from him.
“What i mean is that, i really hope you don’t think that i’m doing this just because i was hard and you were there to help. I like you, not in a friend way and, if you let me, i would like to make you my girlfriend one day, if you want. For real. Take you out to dates, stay together doing whatever the shit we’ll want, give you things that i know you will love. This kinda shit.”
“If you want to, i would love to be your girlfriend. And all of the things you mentioned. Well… you know, you already do all of that. The sex is new though.”
He laughed and kissed you passionately
“Great. Now, you’ll get see how much fun we’re gonna have” You spent the rest of your valentine’s day like this. Laughing and kissing each other.
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lovelyiida · 4 months
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ミ★ IMAGINE KATSUKI SECRETLY KNOWING HOW TO SPEAK ENGLISH | once a year, ua hosts a program where rivaling schools in the area are allowed to stay for a month and experience being at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. And your school just so happened to be selected!
[ask based series, don’t be shy!]
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you and a selected handful of students were allowed to be apart of class 1-A for the time being. It was almost otherworldly once you walked in. Almost as if you were an alien greeting its foreign counterparts.
From your uniform, to the way you styled yourself—you were obviously a different sight never before seen.
Silently walking over to a random desk, you sit down and look ahead. Trying your hardest to grasp the lecture being spoken in a whole other language. You fought through with incoherent hums and shy nods.
Soon the bell rings and everyone (except your group because you literally have no idea what’s going on) jolts from their seats. Groups of students start to surround you.
Looking at each one you try your hardest to respond to them. From think accents and broken sentences—all you could do was politely nod.
“Leave em’ some space, damn it!”
Looking over, you see a random blonde burst in what you believe was anger. The group of students fade away and begin to innocently heckle your classmates instead.
The blonde walks over to you, looking down he begins to study your frame. Eyes leading from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. He dryly chuckles before speaking “nice shoes.”
Okay, that you could understand.
“Thanks! Like your belt,” you smile at the blonde before he gave you a nod of approval. “Don’t let those losers get so close, some of them do bite.” He says with a playful smirk.
Standing from your seat you chuckle at his words. “Wouldn’t be surprised,” the class watched as the both of you walked out of the room together, curious as to why Katsuki of all people was talking to you.
“So…what’s your name?” You asked.
“Bakugo Katsuki, but just call me Katsuki” he says, with a nod you held out your hand.
“My name is Y/n L/n, nice to meet you” you say with a warm smile. Katsuki reaches out and shakes your hand.
“Don’t get too used to me, you’re only gonna know me for a month” he deadpanned before retracting his hand back into his pocket. You couldn’t help but to scoff at his words.
“A lot can happen in a month, you never know—the universe could’ve led me to you.”
“Yeah, okay.”
What Katsuki didn’t tell you is that he’s been secretly studying English for years since the entrance exam. Kinda because he’s an All Might nerd and wanted to speak English just like him—but I digress…
Katsuki was almost excited that the program was happening. Since he didn’t know how to test out his skills beforehand. And he was also, kinda excited when he met you. Seeing that he didn’t butcher his words like how Denki did when he tried to ask you for your name.
So yeah, a lot can happen in a month.
Katsuki was down.
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Okay so, I kinda wanna make this into a thing where you guys can come out with your own scenarios and I can write them out for you!! I’ve been day dreaming about this for a long time and I wanna see it come into fruition. So don’t be shy to ask!!!
— lovelyiida ❤︎︎
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TAGLIST:
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mandoalorian · 1 year
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save a horse, ride a cowboy
pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
masterlist
warnings: EXPLICIT, no minors. m!masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism to some extent, riding, unprotected p in v. both so so touch starved. joel has a lot to teach the reader.
notes: 1000 notes on my last post— thank you. I haven’t written in a long time and get quite anxious to post new fics, but when the response is that great, how could I not? You make me feel way more confident with my writing and encourage me to post more often. I hope to soon get to a place where I can start accepting requests again and writing what you want me to.
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Joel didn’t like you— that much was clear. He hadn’t spoken a word to you since daybreak, when he left Tess at the QZ to deal with ‘unfinished business’ and promised her to deliver you to the outskirts of Boston without Fedra knowing. It was a difficult journey with the soldiers scouting the area on every corner, but after around six hours of travelling on foot, you and Joel had reached the border of Cornwall, Canada, which is exactly where you needed to be.
Unbeknownst to Joel, you wanted to be in Canada because that’s where your parents were. Or so, where you last heard they were. You’d do anything to reunite with them and make sure they were safe but you weren’t exactly good with a gun and you weren’t a particularly fast runner either. You needed someone like Joel to smuggle you out of the Quarantine Zone. He was your protector.
“You haven’t said a word to me all day,” you acknowledged when you couldn’t sleep that night. You lay next to Joel in your own sleeping bag, framed by a roaring fire and underneath tall, forested shelter. “Why?”
Joel huffed out a sigh and rolled over onto his back, now looking up at the starry night sky.
He didn’t reply.
You gave him a few minutes and tried to gather your thoughts, hoping he’d eventually cave and tell you why he’d hated you all this time. Had you done something wrong? You didn’t think so. Hell, you’d only met him earlier in the day. You’d hardly had enough of an influence on him to hate you. You liked to think of yourself as big and strong and apathetic in regards to people’s opinion of you. In the world that you lived in, you couldn’t afford to give a damn. And yet, you did. You couldn’t help it, it was just who you were. You got anxious about it if you thought about it too long and so you would desperately try and find a distraction or think of something else to focus on. The trees— the stars— the fire— Joel.
He was the epitome of ‘grumpy old man’. You briefly wondered if he was this grumpy before the apocalypse. Why was he so highly strung? Sure, life wasn’t exactly good or easy for him— but it wasn’t good or easy for anyone.
“I didn’t tell you why I wanted to go to Canada,” you said slowly, figuring that if you could open up to the man, then maybe he could at least offer you a few words back. “My parents are there. I think they are anyway. My father sent a letter over to the QZ months ago but I only just got it on Tuesday. I don’t know if they’re still there but I need to check. My mom is sick and I just… need to be with them… and I couldn’t go alone. I wouldn’t last two seconds out there with infected. So I guess, what I’m trying to say is, tha—“
“Okay.” Joel cut you off abruptly. He didn’t want your ‘thank you’s’ or your tokens of gratitude. He was doing a job and he was only here to get paid.
“Where are you from?” you asked him quietly. He shuffled but didn’t reply, and so you were prompted to follow on further. “You got an accent. Southern, there’s no doubting that. Tennessee…—?”
“Texas.” Joel corrected and you smiled to yourself. He may have been a man of few words but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you think he was from Tennessee.
“Texas huh?” you beamed brightly. Joel didn’t move his head, but he looked over to you and noticed your grin. “So you’re like, a cowboy.”
You giggled playfully and nudged his arm, but he only grunted and closed his eyes.
“You ever ride a horse?” you asked him.
“You’re annoying,” Joel sighed, rubbing his temples, but he supposed that— if he had to be honest with himself— he was somewhat amused by your plentiful questions. “But yeah. I’ve rode a horse.”
“I always wanted to ride a horse, but I don’t think I’d be any good at it,” you admitted sheepishly. “No co-ordination.”
“It’s all in the hips.” Joel explained and his interest in horses took you by surprise. This was the most he talked all day.
You pursed your lips together fighting back another smile. There was no denying the rush of blood that flushed to your cheeks as you felt them heat up over the thought of the Cowboy riding his horse. But then you remembered how he’d also just expressed his irritation with you and your abundance of pointless questions and you felt your heart drop in your chest slightly. A pang of guilt.
You told yourself that it was okay— no big deal— and it didn’t matter if he found you annoying. No, it didn’t matter that the extremely attractive Texan man who hadn’t uttered a single word to you all day, found you annoying.
You’d been so lonely recently. So lonely. You’d kill for a friend. A partner. Someone. And perhaps it was your fault for getting your hopes up when you met Joel. You figured that maybe you could finally have someone in your life who liked you back for you, and didn’t want to use you or hurt you in some kind of unexpected way.
“I— I don’t mean to be annoying, y’know. I just— I’m sorry,” you murmured, rolling over onto your side and facing the other way from Joel. “Uhm— good night.”
Joel wasn’t a heartless monster. He wasn’t as cold and calculating as he let off to be, but he sure as hell wasn’t innocent and pure-of-heart either. He was a broken shell of a man simply trying to get by, and the way he saw it, he couldn’t afford the time or effort to make friendships or have partners or even anything more than an acquaintance. It just wasn’t on his radar.
And although he was certainly taken aback with how beautiful you were, he just couldn’t bring himself to do anything he wouldn’t do with any other piece of cargo. This was a delivery, after all. A smuggle run. And he had to be professional about it.
But you were so— so beautiful. During the hours of hiking you and Joel did through the fields and forests, he often lagged behind you and consciously allowed you to take the lead when he thought it was safe to do so. Really though, he just liked to take a few seconds to admire you when you weren’t looking. You were funny and smart and although you couldn’t aim a gun to save your life, you might’ve been able to charm a Clicker away from you if you tried hard enough.
Joel enjoyed listening to you babble on, despite displaying no signs or signals to show that he had any interest in you. He couldn’t do that because he didn’t want to lead you on or give you the wrong impression. He really did like you, but if he dared to open his mouth, Joel was certain he’d slip up and say the wrong thing or embarrass himself. And so to him, it was better to not say anything at all. However, his heart would warm when you would get bored along the way and start humming— and eventually singing. You were in no way melidous, but still, you weren’t trying to be. Joel wondered what it would be like in another universe where your lives weren’t constantly at stake. Maybe then he’d grow the courage to actually have a decent conversation with you.
But this wasn’t another universe. This was reality and Joel had lost all hope in humankind a long time ago. Joel allowed himself to get lost in his own thoughts for a long time and by the time he’d snapped out of it, you were already fast asleep next to him, emitting light snores. He watched you, watched as your chest rose and fell with every breath. You looked so peaceful.
Truth was, Joel wasn’t entirely sure he could fall asleep here next to you. There was no way of telling if this forest was safe. Certainly he found it difficult to imagine there’d be signs of infected around but people? That was certainly plausible. Making sure his rifle was close enough to grab in case of an emergency, Joel took another glance towards you.
So goddamn pretty.
Joel didn’t know when, but at some point in the night, he’d gotten hard. Probably because he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night. He felt like such a creep for watching you sleep, but even under the pearly white stars and the sunset orange embers bouncing from the campfire, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever saw. And he wanted you.
Now, Joel probably wasn’t as touch-starved as you were, but still, it had been a helluva long time since he last got laid. Without drawing his gaze away from you, he reached his hand down into his sleeping bag and dipped it into his boxer shorts began to pump at his already throbbing manhood. His eyes snapped shut at the shock of the thrill which raced through his body. There was something so erotic about doing this outside, with you laying next to him, unbeknownst to it all. Stifling a groan, with his free hand Joel gathered the material of his sleeping bag and squeezed it with pleasure.
The coarseness, roughness, of his hands was never ideal, but he had no trouble imagining the softness of yours. Your hands were a lot smaller than his, and your fingers were a lot thinner, and as he stroked his cock, his toes curled at the thought of you in between his legs, playing with him.
He hissed your name through his teeth as he begin to feel a knot tie in his lower stomach, indicating that he was close. God, he’d only been at himself for a few minutes and he was going crazy for you. You stirred slightly at the mention of your name but Joel wasn’t paying attention anymore. Now his eyes were shut and his entire body was tensed up as his hand movements became faster. He guessed it wouldn’t be so bad if he finished quick because the longer he touched himself, the more chance you’d wake up and discover him.
But for some reason, that only stirred Joel on even more. Of course, he wasn’t trying to wake you up, but there came a point where he was so enveloped in his own lustfilled thoughts, he didn’t even notice you whisper his name softly through the night.
“Joel?”
Briefly, Joel registered the sound of your voice but he thought nothing of it. So deep in thought— he was close. He moaned your name back.
You stilled, your eyes widening when your gaze dropped to his crotch and you noticed the movements of his hands underneath the thin material of the sleeping bag.
“Oh… Joel.” you mumbled, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you nimbly slipped out of your sleeping bag and quietly crawled over to him.
He still hadn’t noticed you, but between the tinnitus in his right ear and being so lost in his own thoughts, you couldn’t blame him. On your knees and by his side, you placed the palm of your hand on his chest and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, alerting him immediately.
His movements stopped and his eyes snapped open in horror, only to be met by your wide smirk.
“Hey cowboy,” you teased, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.
“Shit.” Joel cursed, looking away from you. “I— you shouldn’t have saw me— I’m—“
You hushed him by placing a soft, chase kiss upon his lips. Joel froze and softened under you, completely feeling at ease under your touch. It has been years since he had been kissed. You hovered over him, finding his gaze in the dark before pressing a harder, more intimate kiss to his lips. Joel moaned underneath you and brought out his hand from under the sleeping bag, releasing his cock and bringing it to cradle the back of your head.
“Let’s get you out of here,” you giggled, unzipping Joel’s sleeping bag and bringing yours next to his, giving you both some kind of barrier between the grassy ground.
Joel’s belt was already undone and the zipper of his jeans pulled down.
Still beaming, you straddled Joel, positioning yourself over his lap and continued unbuttoning his shirt before before peeling it off his torso and discarding it into the corner.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Joel asked softly and his tone of voice took you by surprise.
“If I didn’t want to be doing this, I wouldn’t be grinding on you already, cowboy,” you giggled, thrusting your hips over the material of his jeans and getting a feel for his bulge.
Joel swallowed and nodded his head in agreement. Hastily, he brought his hands to your waist and guided you over his hips. You tossed back your head and let out a moan.
“Oh, I need you.” you whimpered, bringing Joel’s hands to your breasts and letting him feel the hard pebbles of your nipples under your t-shirt.
Growing impatient, Joel tugged on your shirt and you let him pull it off your body. He then smoothly unclipped your bra and let it fall off, before using his large, rough hands to cup and fondle your breasts.
“Joel,” you gasped, pushing back onto his legs and taking the hem off his jeans in your grip. “I need you,” you repeated. “Need you inside of me.”
Joel choked out a wanton groan at your words and nodded his head again. You took his signal as confirmation that he wanted this too, and tugged down his denim along with his underwear.
You removed your own pants and then sunk down ontop of him, sighing an air of relief when you felt the skin on skin contact. Joel adjusted himself and gave you a questioning look.
“I’m ready.” you whispered and leaned down, pressing your chest against Joel’s. Joel pushed himself inside of you and you tensed up, digging your nails into his shoulders as you adjusted to him. He was so big and thick, and yet he felt like he fit inside you perfectly. Like he was made for you.
Joel slowly thrusted upwards and into you, stretching you out. When you felt comfortable enough, you sat upright and rested your hands on his tummy.
“Show me how to ride, cowboy,” You urged. “You said earlier, it’s all in the hips? Show me.”
Joel looked up at you with wide eyes and extended his arms around you. He held onto you, and you felt like putty under his grip.
“Show me what you got, girl.” The handsome man demanded, his voice having dropped an octave.
You began to roll your hips over him, and Joel squeezed his eyes shut. “That feel good for you?” you taunted, letting a giggle escape your lips. Joel wordlessly nodded.
“Try— try circle your hips.” Joel requested, and immediately you changed your movements. You’d do anything to please him. You felt yourself get increasingly wet, making it easier and more comfortable to move freely. “That’s good.” he praised under his breaths.
“This is how you ride?” you enquired, raising an eyebrow as you continued to circle your hips.
“This is how you learn,” Joel corrected. “It’s all a process, baby girl. You go straight into the ridin’, you’ll get hurt.”
Joel leaned forward and pressed himself into you, the curve of his cock hitting you in just the right spot, You held onto him, gripping onto the broad of his back and this time, Joel kissed you. He yearned for your lips— for your affection. He dragged his tongue along your collarbone and planted sloppy kisses up your neck, along your jaw, and finally to your mouth. He slid his tongue along your lower lip, begging for entry, which you quickly granted him, and started to make out with you.
“Joel,” you whispered against his lips, and he pulled off you, allowing you to speak. “I need more.”
“Think you’re ready for your next lesson?” he quizzed, pressing his nose against yours.
“Mhm.” you replied. “Teach me.”
Joel leaned back again and brought his hands down to your hips. “I want you to bounce on my cock sweet girl, show me what you can do.”
You grinned with excitement and began to move yourself up and down, grinding on his cock so you could feel every ridge and vein against your walls.
You felt yourself clench around him, indicating that you were close.
“Shit, like this I won’t last long.” Joel admitted bashfully, his cheeks flushing pink.
“Me neither,” you replied, and began to speed up your movements. “Joel— please. Please cum inside of me.”
Joel panted, bringing his hands up to massage your tits. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes, oh— please.” you begged him. “Please cowboy.”
With those two words, Joel spurted ropes of his warm seed inside of you, painting your walls a milky white. Feeling him fill you, you clenched one last time around his cock and let a blinding hot light envelope you as you rode out your own high.
You rolled off the man and laid next to him, catching your breath. “How was that? Did I pass the test?” you nudged him playfully.
Joel let out a laugh and you felt your heart flutter at the sound of him displaying genuine happiness. “You passed the test,” he chuckled. “But— there’s still plenty more for you to learn.”
“Well,” you shrugged. “You do make a pretty good teacher.”
Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his chest. “Sun will rise in a few hours, you should go back to sleep.” he hummed into your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You closed your eyes, still in sheer bliss, and smiled.
You couldn’t believe that just a few hours earlier, you were so sure that Joel hated you.
You’d never been so wrong.
——— Taglist: ———
(I’m working on rebuilding a brand new taglist ever since returning to Tumblr. Let me know if you want to be added!)
@pedrosprincess
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hazelfoureyes · 28 days
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The Safeword is RadioApple (part 4)
Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins
Happy SunSinday! I really hope you like this. Thank you to @sugoi-writes for treating me to the coffee that helped me power through this. I’ll need like, atleast half a day of no writing to recover the mental exhaustion 😂 I’ll be back Monday to catch-up on all the comments and inbox from the last 2 days!
Lucifer lets fate decide how he and Alastor will show their dear kitten their teamwork skills.
「warnings/promises apply to both routes: RadioApple x FemReader, threesome, Lucifer x Alastor anal, p in v, soft breeding kink, Luci calls himself Daddy, biting, choose your own adventure, heaven ain’t got shit on Luci, fingering, tentacle fucking, cuddling, creampies, cum fucking, lots of deer references partially because of @n-after-me’s latest fic, sweet words, Happy Luci」
Deer Duck Kitten
Finally. You finally had both men in a place where you could enjoy each other as a group, instead of just you getting fucked by two people at the same time. 
You had half recovered from your hangover by early afternoon, but the little slip you made earlier in the day was just causing a new headache to emerge.
When the men both questioned what exactly you had meant, you decided the best option was to take your own advice and shut the fuck up. So shut the fuck up you did, for a solid three hours, while lying in your bed face down.
New problem now. Perfect. 10/10, you suck. 
Alastor and Luci were huddled in a corner of the lobby, two arm chairs pulled together and facing away from the others.
To Alastor, you had said something unspoken until then. The only difference that he could see was his …embracing of Lucifer’s inclusion in your relationship.
Lucifer was partially blind, the stars orbiting his head shining too brightly for him to see or think properly.
“Was that normal?” Lucifer asked.
“Not for us, no.” 
Lucifer, unblinking, “It’s too soon for sure for us.”
Alastor’s static aura flickered, “Obviously.” Lucifer glared.
“She’s obviously happy we got along so…well?” 
Alastor nodded.
“So let’s show her our teamwork in action! Let’s take care of her. Together.” He winked, making Alastor grimace.
“Take care of her how? Because she’s sick?” You were still hungover.
“No… take care of her.” Lucifer’s brows rose up and down, saying the words a little louder.
The air around Alastor snapped, a crackle of static returning, “I’m not deaf, I just don’t understand what secret meaning you’re hinting at.”
The normally patient and polite king’s face scrunched before he grabbed Alastor by the lapels and pulled him close, seething, “Take care of her. In bed. Sex. Fuck her.”
Alastor scowled, dark gums peaking past his lips, “We do that nearly nightly in some fashion, your majesty.”
Nose pressed to nose, forehead to forehead, “I am going to fucking kill you.”
While what they were saying wasn’t audible, Angel was adding his own narration to the video he was taking, “I’m gonna fuck you, Radio Demon.” He attempted a regal voice. “Not if I fuck you first! ha ha ha,” His best shot at a trans-Atlantic accent.
“You’re insufferable. Just speak plainly!”
Lucifer opened his mouth to reply but instead of words, a choked noise as he turned his face away. A deep blush now rising up his neck to his cheeks. A flash of a memory of Alastor’s dark eyes looking down at him over his wet body, stomach bulging with every thrust. Could he really say it out loud?
“Oh.” Alastor sat back in his chair, “She and I haven’t…” he searched for a delicate word, “Explored other avenues.”
Now who wasn’t speaking plainly?
“Well we could rearrange the order a little.” Lucifer sandwiched his hands together in hopes he could keep the details unspoken.
Alastor hummed, “Who would be in the middle, so to speak, if not my-”
“Our.” Lucifer cut him off.
A sinister snarl of a grin, “-dear.”
Lucifer put out a fist, “Did you know rock paper scissors or are you too old timey for that?”
“Loser has to hold open their gaping hole and-,” Angel jumped and nearly dropped his phone when Charlie bounced up beside him.
“Awww Dad and Al are playing games together!”
He snickered, tears forming in his eyes, “Yeah like tugga war and hide the pickle.”
“I think it’s called tug-of-war, Angel.”
Angel patted her on the head and turned to flee, “Good catch, princess. Nothin’ gets by you.”
They couldn’t decide who would knock, so both did. You weren’t ready for the conversation yet, having to explain it was just an expression and not intended to be a declaration. You and Alastor used many other words instead; my beloved, I adore you, my love. You had found comfort in the steadiness of his adoration, never a fear he would leave so you never worried much at the lack of direct ‘I love you’.
But …. Luci. You could see in his face how desperately he needed to be overshadowed with someone’s love. To be the one to eclipse all of his insecurities with a warm blanket of consistent affection? You’d die again for the opportunity. Just—- not yet. Certain words are meaningless without action. And you hadn’t done much more than cuddle and have sex. You needed to show him your love before you said anything about it. 
Another set of knocks. You whined, they didn’t deny you anything so how could you deny them? “What?”
“Kitten?” mixed with “Dear.” from outside the door.
You called them in, not watching as Luci beelined for the bed and Alastor closed and locked the door as quietly as possible to not bother you. 
“Does your head still hurt?” Lucifer slid up to your right side. You opened your eyes, turning your head to him. 
“No.”
He smiled. You felt the bed dip, Alastor settling to your left. 
“Are you feeling otherwise unwell?” Alastor asked. Rolling off your stomach to turn fully to Alastor now, surprised at the gentle conversation. You had anticipated an interrogation. 
“I’m fine now. Just don’t feel like moving much so… bed.” Luci’s hands slipped over your waist as he cuddled into your backside. You couldn’t help the smile you made. Alastor kissed your forehead, and your smile grew. Much more tender of an interaction than usual. Normal events involved you passed between the two, them taking turns with your attention when not actively having sex.
You were the little buffer between them. It always felt like they were trying to enjoy you without needing to realize the other demon existed in the room at all. 
Alastor made a show of taking his hand and sliding his fingers into Lucifer’s, resting on your waist. 
Manually breathing, you tried to keep your face neutral to not scare away the moment. 
Luci propped himself up and leaned over you. When Alastor leaned too, receiving a kiss from Luci on the lips you rolled onto your back. You’d never seen the Eiffel Tower from underneath but as you stared directly up as Lucifer kissed Alastor again, and again, you could imagine what it must be like to be under such a grand display. This was the first time you’d seen them intentionally touch each other… other than attempted murder. 
Did Lucifer win rock paper scissors? Cum here
Did Alastor win rock paper scissors? Smash this
༻Masterlist༺
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @slutforlucifermorningstar , @sarlaccussy , @saccharine-nectarine , @looking1016 ,@sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha
🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions
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Writing Advice #?: Don’t write out accents.
The Surface-Level Problem: It’s distracting at best, illegible at worst. 
The following passage from Sons and Lovers has never made a whit of sense to me:
“I ham, Walter, my lad,’ ’e says; ‘ta’e which on ’em ter’s a mind.’ An’ so I took one, an’ thanked ’im. I didn’t like ter shake it afore ’is eyes, but ’e says, ‘Tha’d better ma’e sure it’s a good un. An’ so, yer see, I knowed it was.’”
There’s almost certainly a point to that dialogue — plot, character, theme — but I could not figure out what the words were meant to be, and gave up on the book.  At a lesser extreme, most of Quincey’s lines from Dracula (“I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your little shoes”) cause American readers to sputter into laughter, which isn’t ideal for a character who is supposed to be sweet and tragic.  Accents-written-out draw attention to mechanical qualities of the text.
Solution #1: Use indicators outside of the quote marks to describe how a character talks.  An Atlanta accent can be “drawling” and a London one “clipped”; a Princeton one can sound “stiff” and a Newark one “relaxed.”  Do they exaggerate their vowels more (North America) or their consonants more (U.K., north Africa)?  Do they sound happy, melodious, frustrated?
The Deeper Problem: It’s ignorant at best, and classist/racist/xenophobic at worst.
You pretty much never see authors writing out their own accents — to the person who has the accent, the words just sound like words.  It’s only when the accent is somehow “other” to the author that it gets written out.
And the accents that we consider “other” and “wrong” (even if no one ever uses those words, the decision to deliberately misspell words still conveys it) are pretty much never the ones from wealthy and educated parts of the country.  Instead, the accents with misspelled words and awkward inflection are those from other countries, from other social classes, from other ethnicities.  If your Maine characters speak normally and your Florida characters have grammatical errors, then you have conveyed what you consider to be correct and normal speech.  We know what J.K. Rowling thinks of French-accented English, because it’s dripping off of Fleur Delacour’s every line.
At the bizarre extreme, we see inappropriate application of North U.K. and South U.S.-isms to every uneducated and/or poor character ever to appear in fan fic.  When wanting to get across that Steve Rogers is a simple Brooklyn boy, MCU fans have him slip into “mustn’t” and “we is.”  When conveying that Robin 2.0 is raised poor in Newark, he uses “ain’t” and “y’all” and “din.”  Never mind that Iron Man is from Manhattan, or that Robin 3.0 is raised wealthy in Newark; neither of them ever gets a written-out accent.
Solution #2: A little word choice can go a long way, and a little research can go even further.  Listen carefully to the way people talk — on the bus, in a café, on unscripted YouTube — and write down their exact word choice.  “We good” literally means the same thing as “no thank you,” but one’s a lot more formal than the other.  “Ain’t” is a perfectly good synonym for “am not,” but not everyone will use it.
The Obscure Problem: It’s not even how people talk.
Look at how auto-transcription software messes up speaking styles, and it’s obvious that no one pronounces every spoken sound in every word that comes out of their mouth.  Consider how Americans say “you all right?”; 99% of us actually say something like “yait?”, using tone and head tilt to convey meaning.  Politicians speak very formally; friends at bars speak very informally.
An example: I’m from Baltimore, Maryland.  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Texas, in which case I’m from “Baltmore, Marlind.”  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Pennsylvania, in which case I’m from “Balmore, Marlin.”  If I’m speaking to a fellow Marylander, I’m of course from “Bamor.”  (If I’m speaking to a non-American, I’m of course from “Washington D.C.”)  Trying to capture every phoneme of change from moment to moment and setting to setting would be ridiculous; better just to say I inflect more when talking to people from outside my region.
When you write out an accent, you insert yourself, the writer, as an implied listener.  You inflict your value judgments and your linguistic ear on the reader, and you take away from the story.
Solution #3: When in doubt, just write the dialogue how you would talk.
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dear-bunnyboo · 4 months
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐈𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖
important note: my face claim will be madison beer but you can imagine whoever you desire. also the songs mentioned are not all technically all madison’s i will be incorporating other songs from other artists.
all the pictures seen below are not mine, however they were edited by yours truly. credits to the owners.
happy new year, my loves! 🎉🎊🍾 not the season we wanted, however, I know for a fact that the next one will be our comeback season!!! Hope this makes you guys happy even if for a little while.
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader / Brief Ex!Jack Hughes x Singer!Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You decided to go live… your fans are nosy, Joe is noisy.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, social media, media, hate comments, ig live comments, fluff, mentions of cheating ex, fluff, more fluffiness, tooth rotting moments, Joe Burrow being a simp, established relationship
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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𝐲/𝐧_𝐲/𝐥/𝐧 started a live video.
You lounged on a plush couch in the heart of your stylishly decorated living room. Soft, ambient lights adorned the space, casting a warm glow on tasteful decor that bore witness to your numerous achievements. The room emanated a sense of comfort and sophistication, a reflection of your own laid-back yet refined taste.
Clutching your phone, you felt the familiar anticipation as she initiated an Instagram live session. Excitement filled the air as you looked into the camera, ready to connect with your fans after a hiatus from such spontaneous interactions. The room, a blend of neutral tones and vibrant accents, served as the perfect backdrop for you to share a slice of your life.
The subtle hum of background music added to the ambiance, enhancing the sense of ease that permeated the room.
You leaned back against the plush cushions, your eyes fixed on the phone's camera. "Hello, I’m gonna wait for people to come before starting.”
𝐟𝐚𝐧1: HELLOOOO QUEEENB!!!&3)373
𝐟𝐚𝐧2: MISS THING!? ARE MY EYES DECEIVING ME OR ARE U LIVE RN!??
𝐟𝐚𝐧3: y/n I love you 🩷🩷🩷
𝐟𝐚𝐧4: hello from Italy 🇮🇹
𝐟𝐚𝐧5: Omg! It’s been a while since you’ve been live 🥹🩵
“It's been a while, hasn't it? I don’t usually do lives but a lot of you guys have been asking me to, so… here I am.” You giggled.
The room feels cozy, with the soft glow of lights creating a warm ambiance. You can't help but smile as the viewer count rises steadily.
𝐟𝐚𝐧6: girl you look good 😫
𝐟𝐚𝐧7: 🧡🧡🧡
𝐟𝐚𝐧8: y/n you have no business looking so good like that at home.
𝐟𝐚𝐧9: are you making new music?
𝐟𝐚𝐧10: come to japan!!
Questions flood in, ranging from music updates to personal anecdotes. "Ah, someone asked about new music. You know I'm always working on something. I've got a few surprises up my sleeve, so stay tuned for that."
𝐟𝐚𝐧11: what’s your favorite genre?
𝐟𝐚𝐧12: where is y/bf/n?
𝐟𝐚𝐧13: talk about your breakup with Jack.
𝐟𝐚𝐧14: do you still watch Hockey?
𝐟𝐚𝐧15: GIRL WE NEED YOUR SKINCARE ROUTINE ASAP!!
𝐟𝐚𝐧16: what’s your songwriting process?
The chat scrolls rapidly, and you pick a question about your music preferences. "Favorite genre at the moment? Honestly, it changes all the time, but lately, I've been vibing with some indie and acoustic stuff.”
As more questions pour in, ranging from songwriting inspiration to behind-the-scenes moments, you share glimpses of your creative process. "Songwriting is such a personal journey. It could be a fleeting emotion, a random moment, or even something a fan shares. Inspiration can come from anywhere, really."
“How fast can you write lyrics?” You read in the comments.
“Uhm, it depends. Sometimes I get a wave of ideas just flowing. But there are also times where I get stuck and it takes forever for me to continue… it really does depend. But the fastest song I’ve written is far, has to be Selfish and Reckless. I write those two back-to-back in about three, four hours.”
𝐟𝐚𝐧17: I bet it’s easier to write when you have A LOT of things to say.
𝐟𝐚𝐧18: can you say hello to my cousin, Annie?
𝐟𝐚𝐧19: pineapples on pizza? yes or no?
As the questions continued pouring in, you found yourself engrossed in the virtual conversation. Little did you know, the front door to your home had swung open, announcing the arrival of your boyfriend, Joe, fresh from hanging out with his friends.
The comments section, ever vigilant, caught the subtle sounds of the door and began buzzing with curiosity.
𝐟𝐚𝐧20: Did anyone else hear that? Is someone there?
𝐟𝐚𝐧21: is it y/bf/n? I hope it’s her, I love when they do lives together.
𝐟𝐚𝐧22: girl are you being robbed?
𝐟𝐚𝐧23: I don’t think she heard.
𝐟𝐚𝐧24: SOMEONE JUST ENTERED YOUR HOUSE MISS THING?!!!
Your fans, always quick to pick up on details, speculated about the unexpected noise.
Your eyes met Joe's from his place by the door, and a smile crept across your face. Ignoring the barrage of questions flooding the comments about the mysterious door sound.
As he moved closer to you, you moved the camera away from the two of you as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips, “Hey, baby.” He mutters against your lips.
“Hello.” You whispered, pecking him one more time before moving away, facing the camera back to you as Joe walked towards the sofa, placing his things on it.
𝐟𝐚𝐧25: GOOD GOD IS IT JOE? AND DID I HEAR KISSING NOISES?!
𝐟𝐚𝐧26: she was just kissing someone right now 🥲
𝐟𝐚𝐧27: HI JOEEEE💕💕
𝐟𝐚𝐧28: imagine if she was cheating on Joe like she did with Jack and got caught on live 😂
𝐟𝐚𝐧29: OH ITS DEF JOE, DO U SEE HER SMILE 🥹
𝐟𝐚𝐧30: Who was that?
"Who was that?" you read from the comments, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. With a playful grin, you responded, "Santa." Giggles escaped your lips as you teased your online audience, fully enjoying the mysterious atmosphere you had unintentionally created.
Off-camera, Joe's puzzled expression deepened as he tried to make sense of your comment. Unaware of the ongoing live session, he exchanged a confused look with you, silently asking for an explanation.
𝐟𝐚𝐧31: oh they’re messing with us.
𝐟𝐚𝐧32: Y/N! STOP GATEKEEPING JOSEPH!!
𝐟𝐚𝐧33: Tell Joe I said hi.
𝐟𝐚𝐧34: Can you tease your new music?
𝐟𝐚𝐧35: BITCH WHAT DO YOU MEAN SANTA!?
𝐟𝐚𝐧36: “I saw mommy kissing, Santa Claus.” 😉
"Can you tease us about your new music?" you read from the comments, a gleam of excitement in your eyes. With a teasing smile, you responded, "Well, I'm planning on releasing an album soon." A collective wave of comments flood in your live as your fans absorbed the thrilling revelation.
The anticipation soared as you continued, "I've poured my heart and soul into this one. Some unexpected collaborations, and a sound that's a departure from what you've heard before. It's a journey, and I can't wait to take it with all of you.”
“That’s a bit of a generic answer.” You laughed as you read that comment.
“Okay, okay, I’m not allowed to talk about it too much as of now but since I love you guys too much… I can say that the vibes for this album would be the complete opposite of my previous one, Teardrops.”
𝐟𝐚𝐧37: EXCUSE ME!? DID SHE JUST CONFIRM A NEW ALBUM COMING SOOONNN!!?
𝐟𝐚𝐧38: HOLY SHIT! YES PLEASE 😍
𝐟𝐚𝐧39: opposite of Teardrops, she’s gonna be in her Lover era. Mark my fucking words.
𝐟𝐚𝐧40: release it now. I dare you to.
The comment section erupted with excitement, fans expressing their anticipation and excitement for the upcoming album. Amidst the flurry of reactions, the domestic sounds from Joe in the kitchen continued, adding a delightful and unintentional layer to the unfolding live session.
Amid the ongoing banter with your fans, the sound of Joe moving around in the kitchen reached the microphone, making a subtle entrance into the live. A clink of glasses and the humming of the refrigerator added a domestic soundtrack to the virtual conversation.
𝐟𝐚𝐧41: what in the hell is going on in your house?
𝐟𝐚𝐧42: IS JOE COOKING?!
𝐟𝐚𝐧43: I don’t think Joe knows how to cook, it’s sounds like he’s building something 💀
𝐟𝐚𝐧44: gurl—
𝐟𝐚𝐧45: I LOVE UUUUUU 😍😍
The comments section buzzed with speculation as your followers eagerly awaited an explanation.
“What’s that noise?”
Maintaining your composure, you chuckled, "Oh, just Santa making himself at home in the kitchen. You know how it is." The playful tone in your voice only fueled the curiosity of your audience, prompting more questions about the mysterious happenings in your house, knowing fully well it’s your boyfriend, Joe.
Joe silently took a seat behind the camera, handing you a glass of wine. A warmth spread across your face as you accepted it, maintaining your live composure. "I couldn’t find the fucking corkscrew to open the new bottle of wine your mom got us," he grunted, unaware of the ongoing live session.
Smiling, you tried to signal him discreetly with your eyes, conveying the message that you were live and to tread lightly on the conversation. "Yeah? Is that why you sounded like you were tearing up the place?" you playfully responded, taking a sip of the wine.
𝐟𝐚𝐧46: IT IS JOE!!!
𝐟𝐚𝐧47: that’s Joe’s voice
𝐟𝐚𝐧48: I wanna see him 🥺
𝐟𝐚𝐧49: HAHAHHA GOD HE’S SO CUTE.
𝐟𝐚𝐧50: he really wanted that corkscrew.
Little did you both know, your fans were going wild as they eavesdropped on this charming and candid exchange. The confirmation that it was indeed Joe from his distinctive voice sent the comments section into a frenzy of excitement.
"Who are you talking to, baby?" Joe asked, still clueless about the live session happening. "I'm live, bubs" you casually replied, flashing him a reassuring smile.
Joe's eyes widened in shock, realizing that your conversation had been broadcasted to an audience. Stunned and not entirely sure what to say, he glanced at the camera, suddenly aware that people were listening in on your cozy, domestic moment.
The fans, now privy to this unexpected revelation, flooded the comments with an enthusiastic mix of emojis and exclamations.
𝐟𝐚𝐧51: DID YALL HEAR HIS VOICE WHEN HE CALLED HER BABY!?)! IM UNWELL.
𝐟𝐚𝐧52: oh to be called by the Joseph Lee Burrow ‘Baby’
𝐟𝐚𝐧53: 🥰🥰🥰
𝐟𝐚𝐧54: BABY AND BUBS. IM SERIOUSLY NOT OKAY.
"Do you wanna say hi?" you asked Joe softly, well aware of his preference for privacy and aversion to attention. Despite his reservations, he entered the frame for your sake, a warm smile on his face.
"Hi," he greeted the camera before gently moving away, respecting his comfort zone.
The comments section erupted with joy, fans expressing their excitement and admiration for Joe's brief appearance.
𝐟𝐚𝐧55: HIIII!!!
𝐟𝐚𝐧56: OH HOT DAMN THAT MAN FINE 🥵
𝐟𝐚𝐧57: oh lawd.
𝐟𝐚𝐧58: good. god.
𝐟𝐚𝐧59: Y/N IS ONE LUCKKY GIRL WHAT THE HELL.
𝐟𝐚𝐧60: hello, Joe 😫
𝐟𝐚𝐧61: he’s so shy, it’s adorable.
As Joe retreated from the camera, you couldn't help but smile at the delightful chaos that ensued. The comments continued to overflow with love and appreciation, turning the live session into an unforgettable and cherished memory for everyone involved.
“It’s my birthday.” You read a comment. “Happy Birthday, love.”
Yawning and rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, you continued reading more comments from your fans. "You're tired," Joe observed, his voice lower but still audible to the viewers.
You shook your head, looking at him with puppy dog eyes, silently asking for permission to stay up a little longer.
Joe gave you a stern look, his voice barely above a whisper, "It's late, pretty girl." His hands appeared in the video, gently removing a strand of hair from your face.
"That's okay," you replied, trying to stifle another yawn. The fans, now witnessing this endearing interaction, flooded the comments with a mix of supportive and playful messages.
𝐟𝐚𝐧62: when will it be my turn 😩
𝐟𝐚𝐧63: COUPLE FUCKING GOALS.
𝐟𝐚𝐧64: it’s confirmed. Burrow is a SIMP.
𝐟𝐚𝐧65: is this too much to ask?
𝐟𝐚𝐧66: “pretty girl.” Goodbye.
"Don't stay up too late, okay?" Joe finally agreed, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek before moving upstairs to get ready for bed.
"Mm hmm," you nodded, acknowledging his concern for your well-being.
The comments section filled with heart emojis and affectionate messages.
𝐟𝐚𝐧67: girl is better than me, cause if Joe Burrow called me a pretty girl and directed me to bed I would in a heart beat.
𝐟𝐚𝐧68: y/n it’s late go to sleep.
𝐟𝐚𝐧69: 💕💕💕💕💕
𝐟𝐚𝐧70: JOE IS THE ABSOLUTE SWEETEST.
As Joe disappeared from the frame, the live session continued, but there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The quiet acknowledgment of the bedtime routine added a touch of reality to the virtual interaction, creating a relatable moment that resonated with your audience.
“Now, where were we?” You smiled at the camera.
The warmth of the comments reflected the shared connection between you, Joe, and your fans, making the live session not just about entertainment but about genuine connection and shared experiences.
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dividers: @cafekitsune
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𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @jackkyhughes @h0e4fictionalme-n @queenmendes @rd14 @scoobydoopoo @estapa94 @karmasabitchybitch @literaturelustrr @toterry @fangirl-madz @atticusismybae @stargaryenx @haydee5010 @porter113 @ryiamarie @starrgir1 @flwries @slafgoalskybaby @unsaidjaelinrose @in-my-body-bag @cixrosie @siutforjjmaybank @youn-jo @nobystanderz @bb-swift @buckystwilight @kidrauhlakaperf @kkrenae @catswag22 @hustler-sinner @asparklysoul @kaydesssssssss @97bngchn @dunningz @whiteleoqueen @austinswhitewolf @wickedfun9 @minkyungseokie @boldlypessimistic @utopiakys
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sister-lucifer · 11 months
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The Things That Find You 
Laughing Jack x Male Reader 
Genre: Smut 
Summary: Reader finds an antique Jack-In-The-Box at a yard sale, unaware that by purchasing it they would also be taking home an unwanted guest. 
Content/Warnings: Dubcon elements, horror elements, LJ being a stalker creep (so some non con voyeurism), LJ is just fucking weird in this one, clown fucking shenanigans, big stripey clown dick and also long stripey clown tongue, comically large clown penis, LJ eats ass, LJ is massive so big size difference, tummy bulge, that dick should NOT be able to fit in you but it’s my story i can bend the laws of anatomy however i wish, LJ is very mean in this one and doesn’t really care if he hurts you, some degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is kind of a slut boy (same), there’s a lot of build up but please it’s worth it i prommy (but also feel free to skip to the porn that’s totally fair)
Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!
Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 
Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)
Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!
A/N: Jack is british just fyi so if you’re like me and you read with accents there you go!
The antique jack-in-the-box was certainly an odd find at a garage sale, but there was no denying that it caught your eye the moment you saw it. It was incredibly ornate, clearly hand painted in all black and white and decorated with balloons and candy, not to mention it was preserved wonderfully for a piece that had, presumably, been stored in an attic for who knows how long. You could run your fingers over the edges and feel every detail of the tediously carved borders. You carefully turned the wooden box over in your hands, looking over the large, carefully painted words on the front:
“Laughing Jack In The Box!”, surrounded by all sorts of patterns and shapes.
Your face immediately lit up. Everything about this box screamed one of a kind. You could already see it sitting on your collectors shelf, safe behind the glass for you to keep and observe. You absolutely had to have it. 
“Excuse me miss?” You called, looking around for the old woman who was running the garage sale. She got up from her lawn chair and made her way over about as fast as you’d expect from one as antique as some of the items currently being sold. 
“Could you tell me about this jack-in-the-box?” You asked, trying to hide your elation. 
“Oh, this old thing…” She began, looking at you over her comically oversized glasses. “It belonged to my great, great grandfather, Isaac, and was handmade by his father. It was given to me as a young girl, and I was keeping it in the hopes I could pass it on to my own children.” 
You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the comment, but it seems the woman had no qualms about selling it. 
“Well, it may please you to know that I’m an antique collector,” You explained in an effort to reassure her. “This is a beautiful piece. If you’ll sell it to me, I can promise you it’ll be safe on my shelf.” 
“Oh, I have no worries about that. No one would pick this old thing up unless they knew what they were buying. So, what’s your offer young man?” 
You thought for a few moments, weighing the box in your hands. You didn’t want to completely rip her off, but a one of a kind antique like this could go for thousands in the right place, and you weren’t looking to break the bank for this thing. Besides, who else would possibly buy it if you didn’t? 
You pulled your wallet out and flipped through it, debating with yourself. 
“How about…a clean fifty?” 
And with that, a deal was made. Before you knew it you were proudly walking back to your car with the box tucked under your arm. You placed it carefully in the front passenger seat where you could watch over it, glancing back one last time to the now empty place on the table where the box once sat before driving away. 
Immediately upon getting home you rushed to your room and swung open your shelf, eyes scanning over every row as you tried to find the best place for your newest treasure. It took a bit of rearranging to keep the shelf organized to your liking, but eventually you were able to place the box neatly right in the middle. You carefully closed the glass door and took a few steps back to admire your work. It was absolute perfection, and you couldn’t stop yourself from happily clapping your hands together. You deserved to applaud yourself a bit, after all. 
You flopped down on your bed and grabbed your phone, eager to share your find with anyone who would listen, giddy with excitement. You really couldn’t believe how lucky you were! No one else would ever lay hands on a jack-in-the-box like this one, and now it was all yours. 
As the hours of the afternoon dissolved into the night, you found yourself peeking into your room just about every time you walked past. You smiled wide whenever you saw the pristine box sitting on your shelf. It was especially beautiful when the sun hit it just right and made it shine. Your chest was still swelling with pride even as you climbed into bed for the night, able to peacefully fall asleep knowing that you’d filled another spot on your shelf today. 
Unbeknownst to you, you had just given up the privilege of peaceful sleep. 
That night you had one of the worst, most vivid nightmares you could remember. 
You were standing in your room late at night, and everything seemed deathly silent, as if all the birds and insects that would normally be chirping outside had up and died off. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked around in confusion. You tried to turn on your lamp, but it wouldn’t come on. Trying the light switch yielded the same distressing result. You moved to open the door, but the moment you reached out for the knob it disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. When you turned back, your bedroom window was gone too. Both of your escape routes had dissolved into thin air without so much as a sound. 
The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your eyes slowly wandered to the jack-in-the-box. It was the only object left on your now open collectors shelf, but it seemed to take up so much more space than before. It had captured your gaze in an iron grip, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t look away. A terrible feeling began to bubble in the pit of your stomach, becoming heavier and heavier until you felt as though you may collapse from the weight, but nothing was happening. Something about the box itself felt so…malicious, so threatening, but it was simply sitting dormant on your shelf. 
What were you so scared of? 
That was the question replaying in your mind when you woke with a start, nearly falling out of your bed in your disoriented state. You shot straight up as you fought to catch your breath, taking a look around just to make sure your window and door were still there. Fortunately, they were. It really was just a nightmare. 
A wave of relief washed over you as you slowly laid back down. You took an extra minute to catch your breath, silently scolding yourself for being so easily scared. You turned your head to look out the window, now noticing the very first little shreds of the dawn coming up over the horizon. 
However, you noticed something else as well. Something that set off just a bit of unease in you. 
The glass door of your shelf was open. 
Not wide open, or broken, just slightly cracked as if it hadn’t been closed all the way and was now just barely ajar. You could’ve sworn you shut it all the way, you could even remember hearing the little click.
But we all make mistakes, don’t we?
That seemed enough of an explanation to calm you as you slipped out of bed to close the shelf once more. This time you double checked, just to be sure. When you were satisfied you went back to bed, finding sleep rather easily and this time without incident. 
When you awoke some hours later you couldn’t help but question which parts of the night were a dream and which were reality. The memories of when you had woken up the first time were hazy, not to mention you were still shaken up from the nightmare. You tried to push it out of your mind, though, when you found your shelf securely closed and seemingly untouched. That was really all that mattered. 
It seems you had the green light to go about your day as usual. 
First thing’s first: you need to change out of your nightclothes. The stained band tee and baggy sweats would not cut it for running errands. You decided on something that would be comfortable for the day, but still made you feel confident and happy with yourself. 
As you undressed you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate yourself in the mirror, standing there in just your boxer briefs. You ran a hand over your sides, turning around halfway as you admired your own figure. It was a silly habit to have, really, but what was it hurting? After all, you were one handsome man. You deserved to be seen. 
You weren’t the only one who thought this, and you certainly weren’t the only one who enjoyed admiring you. 
Completely hidden out of your view, just how he liked, two achromatic pinwheel eyes spun manically behind the shadows of the jack-in-the-box. He only had to lift the box just slightly, so little that you would never notice, and even if you did you would likely brush it off as your imagination. Jack was skilled like that, able to slowly lure his victims into madness in such a way that they wouldn’t notice until it was too late. 
You, though, had caught his attention in a slightly different manner. 
You had piqued his interest the moment you picked up his box, handling it with a curious yet careful manner. For generations he had been packed away in dusty attics and grimy basements and long forgotten storage units, completely disgraced by the family line that was supposed to cherish him. But you had plucked him from that miserable cycle, dusted him off, and placed him carefully on your shelf in a secure little spot where you could see each other every day. 
This was certainly unusual behavior. 
That ache of contempt that he felt for nearly everyone else somehow had yet to creep in. On some level, Jack was just as curious about you has you had been about him, and now he was safe behind the glass to keep and observe you as he saw fit. Human bodies in particular had always been an odd interest of his seeing as they looked so different from his own. Seeing you flaunt yours so proudly with no one else around was honestly a bit amusing. 
He watched silently as you slipped on your day clothes, turning around a couple more times in the mirror and adjusting your outfit a bit before finally deciding you were happy. He didn’t slip back down into his box until he heard your car pulling out of the driveway. 
He sat there with himself for some few hours while you were gone. He had lost any sense of time at this point, used to spending his days alone in his box. Although, this time, there was one reoccurring theme that all his thoughts seemed to circle back to: 
You. 
What made exactly you so interesting, hm? He could venture a vague guess, but something was just…different. His affinity for humans had long since waned to nothing nearly two centuries ago, and yet a small part of it was beginning to stir in him once more. 
It seemed this would require further observation, which was certainly no issue to him. 
You, on the other hand, were blissfully unaware that you were currently sharing your humble abode. There were a few times when the events of the earlier night managed to worm its way back into your mind, but you always managed to push it away. You were simply being silly, that was all. It was a random occurrence with absolutely no significance. 
Yeah, sure, that made enough sense. 
By the time you were unlocking your front door, you had been lucky enough to truly forget about your nightmare. It seemed that you had finally calmed yourself and managed to stay grounded. 
At least you had until you stepped through the door. 
The second you had both feet in the doorway, the nightmare came rushing back in vivid flashes. It felt like your grocery bags were filled with cement, your limbs suddenly going weak. Your entire body had gone stiff, paralyzed with an indescribable sense of anxiety, the feeling that something was terribly, deeply wrong in your home. 
You swept through the whole house and found not a single thing out of place, though every time you turned a corner you were sure you’d see something you didn’t want to.
No smashed in windows, no kicked in doors, nothing taken or broken, no other sign of an intruder. Nothing that would indicate anything out of the ordinary.
Then why was your stomach churning with the same heavy dread you’d felt in the nightmare? 
You wracked your brain as you tried to figure out what could possibly be making you feel so uneasy in your own home, but nothing came to mind. Even as you put away your groceries you were mumbling and muttering to yourself, attempting to fetch any semblance of an explanation. 
Nothing. 
Absolutely nothing. 
Jack was more than happy to watch you spin yourself into a tizzy over his little tricks. He giggled to himself when you paced back and forth where he could see you outside the doorway of your room, proud to see he hadn’t lost his mischievous touch. 
You felt absolutely exhausted by the time you were trudging your way to your room, the subtle thrum of an oncoming headache already threatening to floor you for the rest of the day. You were so drained, in fact, that you had to do a double take to realize that your collector’s shelf had been completely opened. 
Not just creaked open like last time, completely opened. If it had been pushed any farther, the hinges would’ve snapped. 
You stared in disbelief, mouth hanging half open. You couldn’t even will yourself to move. It felt someone had just lit a match to the pile of questions that had been accumulating in the back of your mind. As if on autopilot, you walked over numbly and shut the glass door of the shelf. This time, you triple checked that it was shut. 
Of course, this time you weren’t satisfied with that. 
The first thing you did once you had thrown on sweats and laid down was go to order a lock for the shelf online. You even paid extra to make sure it would be delivered the next day. After all, the last thing you needed was one of your prized possessions falling out and breaking. 
Yes, that was the very normal, rational reason why you needed a lock. 
You sighed with exhaustion as you struggled to get comfortable in your bed, figuring maybe a nap would help you recharge a bit. By some miracle you actually managed to fall asleep, and by another you slept peacefully for a full hour uninterrupted. 
Damn, you needed that. You actually felt better when you woke up, stretching and cracking your back a few times before getting up. 
Suddenly your fearful reaction earlier seemed so silly! Why were you so upset anyways? Because of a bad dream and a dingy old shelf? How stupid. Really, you were lucky you lived alone. If anyone had seen you like that they’d think you were crazy, irrational, completely out of your—
The shelf is open again. 
The fucking shelf is open again, and the box has moved an entire shelf down on its own. 
The box has moved on its own. 
You were suddenly feeling light headed. 
You sat back down on your bed, your head already beginning to ache once more. You were dizzy, confused, struggling to find your bearings in reality. You held your head in your hands as you tried to take a breather. Part of you hoped that if you simply looked away then back up, maybe the problem would fix itself.
No such luck. 
You groaned with frustration, practically stomping over to your shelf. You moved the box back to its original place in a quick and jumpy manner, as if it was burning hot and it would hurt to hold onto it for too long. This time you quadruple checked that it had been closed properly, and even threw a blanket over the shelf to cover it. 
It wasn’t a fix, but it could at least give you some semblance of security. 
“Stupid broken thing…” You muttered to yourself, speed walking out of your room to head to the kitchen where hopefully a snack could distract you. 
Jack was giddy with excitement, unable to stop himself from snickering with smug self-satisfaction. It had been so long since he had someone to play with, and you were so fun to scare it almost felt too easy. 
He would have to play his next cards perfectly, though, if he wanted to keep this up. 
He didn’t mess with you at all the rest of the day, even when he really, really wanted to. You peaked into your room every time you walked by, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the shelf was exactly as you’d left it every time. 
Maybe, you thought for the umpteenth time, you really were just being irrational. You didn’t even have another nightmare that night, and when you awoke the shelf was still closed with the blanket untouched on top of it. 
When the lock came in that day you wondered for a bit if you really needed it, but ultimately decided it was better to be over-prepared than under. You could finally remove the blanket cover on the shelf, feeling much better now that you could properly shut and lock it. You stored the key away in the drawer of your nightstand where you knew it would be safe. 
For you, it seemed like everything was finally back to normal again. 
For Jack, this was the perfect opportunity to increase his antics tenfold. He was becoming more and more impatient, wanting to badly to properly greet you, and with each scare he only felt himself grow stronger. He was feeding on your anguish, allowing it to fuel him until eventually he would be ready to come out and play. 
For the next few weeks, Jack made you sure you found absolutely no peace. He was relentless and cruel, even by his standards. He broke your stupid little lock, and the two others you ordered after that. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d made you shut the glass door to the shelf again. Whenever you tried to cover him with the blanket, he let you know he was particularly upset with you by not only swinging the shelf door wide open, but moving his box right to your bedside table. That way, he got to see your terror up close when you jolted awake, nearly tripping over yourself to get away when you saw the box a mere couple of feet from your face. He made the house creak and jump every time you got a moment of quiet. Hell, he was petty enough to mess with the thermostat when you were out, meaning you got to return home to a freezing cold or blistering heat that was surely running up your bill. Speaking of running up your bills, it wasn’t unusual for Jack to leave the water running either. 
The thing that got to you the most, though, was the incessant nightmares.
God, they never stopped. 
They were almost all the same: 
You’d be trapped somewhere familiar, like your room or a store you’d been at that day. You’d be completely alone and no lights would work, and when you tried to leave all the doors and windows would disappear. And every time, every goddamn time, that jack-in-the-box would be sitting there to greet you when you turned around. That was by far the worst part. Just looking at it would make you weak and nauseous, but you always woke up just before you’d collapse. Whenever you awoke from your nightmares you tried to take comfort in the sunrise beginning to slowly come up over the horizon, but deep down you knew the daylight could no longer save you. 
Each day you woke up more exhausted than the last, too tired to go anywhere but not able to stand being in your house with whatever entity was making your life hell. 
On the contrary, Jack was merely becoming more and more energetic every day. He hadn’t felt this eager in a long, long time. He was even feeling a bit bold, working up the courage once or twice to open the shelf while you were in the room. That scared you the most, making you jump with fear and scramble out of the room as fast as you could. 
He knew you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. You could leave for the day, sure, but sooner or later you’d have to come back home. The stars must’ve aligned for him to find you, the perfect little plaything that could never really escape and gave him endless entertainment. You were certainly a funny one. 
Although, there were times he enjoyed simply watching you just as much as tormenting you. 
Countless times he’d find himself occupied with quietly observing you as if you were a completely foreign creature. He’d peak out of his box to watch you toss and turn at night, to watch you dress in the morning, and he even got to see you walk back from your showers a few times. You looked so soft, even from this far away, with so many places for him to grab and squeeze and wrap his massive claws around. 
It was shameful, really. Or it should’ve been at least. Jack didn’t know the meaning of the word. All he knew was that the urge to reach out and grab you in his claws was growing stronger, and fast. His already minimal patience was beginning to thin, and he knew that soon it would run out completely. Watching you from afar wouldn’t be enough. 
But that was okay. 
He was finally ready to properly greet you, and he knew exactly how he’d do it. 
That night you experienced one of the usual terrors, but this time you couldn’t recognize the room. It looked to be the bedroom of a victorian mansion with tall wooden walls decorated with dusty paintings that seemed to go up forever, closing you in on all sides. A child’s toys were scattered around the room, and the blankets on the bed had been tussled and pushed around. It was clear someone had been living here, but who? And why were you in a room you had never seen before? 
And why, God— 
Why was that jack-in-the-box still sitting on the shelf? And why was the crank turning on its own, playing the quiet, foreboding tune of “Pop Goes The Weasel?” 
The feeling of dread that filled you was nothing new, but what you didn’t expect was to see the box slowly open as the crank continued to turn.
The movement wasn’t sudden, but it was absolutely shocking, so much so that you fell back onto your hands. You tried to scoot backwards, to somehow get away, but you couldn’t move. All you could do was watch as the lid of the box clicked into its open place, and a dark shape began to emerge. 
It took a moment for you to figure out what you were looking at. The shape had sharp edges and moved slowly, in a controlled manner. It wrapped around the edge of the box and tapped against it. 
It was a hand. 
A massive hand with pitch black claws, each nearly as large as your palm, much too big to belong to something that should’ve been able to fit in that box. 
A second clawed hand reached up, grabbing onto the opposite side of the box. They looked to be pulling up the rest of the body. 
You watched, mouth agape in silent horror as the claws were followed by long striped sleeves, then a head and face covered by long black hair that fell past broad shoulders, until eventually the entire body had dragged itself out of the box. The creature sat there limply with its limbs bent unnaturally as if its own body was too heavy for it to move. There was one thing about it, though, that made your blood run cold: 
Above a sharp toothed smile that was stretched impossibly wide were two achromatic pinwheel eyes, spinning manically behind a curtain of dark hair. They pierced your soul with their stare, almost seeming to glow in the dark.
There was a split second where you knew you were about to wake up, but the sight before you when you forced your eyes open was so similar to your nightmare that you weren’t sure it had worked. 
That…thing from your dream was hovering over you. 
Its visage was completely clear to you now, hair falling around its face and on either side of your head as it peered down at you. A single glance towards its body showed it was even bigger up close, easily twice your size. It resembled some sort of clown, in line with the theme of the jack-in-the-box, but nothing about it seemed comforting or humorous. 
Your first instinct was to thrash, but you couldn’t move. The clown had pinned your arms down with its massive claws, not even flinching when you tried to fight it off. It took no effort to hold you down. 
Its razor-toothed mouth began to crack open, and for a second you expected it to lunge forward and end it all with one fatal snap of its jaws. 
But that didn’t happen.
No, instead… 
It laughed.
The laugh itself didn’t even sound malicious or evil. In any other context it could easily be mistaken as an innocent giggle, a sound you might make when you saw something particularly cute. 
That was what you were to Jack: 
Cute. 
But not in the way you’d think. 
You were cute in the way a helpless, injured animal is cute. 
Cute in the way that something you could hold in the palm of your hand is cute. 
Cute in the way that something you knew you had complete control over is cute. 
Cute in a pathetic, pitiful way that Jack loved. 
He had waited so long to have his fun with you, he was trembling with excitement. 
“Oooh, there you are!” Jack spoke in a lighthearted tone, drawing out his words in a playful manner. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to sound like, but it definitely wasn’t that. You couldn’t decide if his oddly happy demeanor and sing-song tone with the cartoonish lilt of his accent was more or less frightening than the classic demonic voice of a supernatural killer.
Suddenly something uncomfortably wet slid from your shoulder to your cheek, and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you realized it was his tongue. 
It was impossibly long and had the same striped pattern as his sleeves, moving in a much too articulated manner, as if it was another limb. You watched with wide eyes at it slowly retracted back into his mouth with a sickening wet sound. You could imagine it coiled up in there like a snake; after all, that was the only feasible way it should’ve been able to fit back in his mouth. 
“You taste even better than I imagined…” The clown continued, taking no notice of (or at least not caring about) your discomfort. “You’ve been teasing ol’ Jack, haven’t you?” 
“J…Jack?” You echoed in a whisper. You could hardly hear your own meek voice. 
He only chuckled in response, taking great delight in hearing you say his name. 
One of his hands released your arm, though you didn’t dare move either way. It slowly slid its way under your oversized nightshirt, pushing it above your chest and exposing your entire midriff. Both of his hands ran along your sides slowly, two claw-tipped thumbs barely scraping over your skin. Just a bit more pressure could’ve drawn blood, and it wouldn’t even take much effort on Jack’s part. 
You tried not to move, to not even breathe, terrified that one wrong move would get you torn to shreds. You could imagine one razor sharp talon digging into your chest and dragging to your stomach, slicing you open in a mess of gore and intestines and oh, God—
You winced when Jack’s tongue unfurled once more, this time running from your navel all the way to your chest. It left a cold trail of saliva that made you shiver. You had to turn your head away, unable to look at Jack any longer, only to yelp in pain when you felt the sharp sting of a bite.
When you looked down again you were greeted with Jack’s smug grin. 
“Pay attention to me and I won’t have to do that again.” He ordered, unblinking stare piercing through you. The tone of the demand was almost whiny, like he would throw a tantrum if he didn’t get his way.
“Wh…What the hell do you want?” You choked out. 
Jack didn’t answer. It would be more fun to watch you figure it out on your own. 
He adjusted you in his hold, allowing him to sit up as he moved to grasp your thighs. It was then you realized you’d neglected to put on any actual pants before bed, your lower half clad only in your boxer briefs which were doing very little to keep you modest, especially as Jack lifted your clothed bulge closer to his eager mouth. 
“W-Wait—!”
But your plea came a moment too late, and any other attempt at words died in your throat when you felt Jack’s tongue run over your cock through your boxers. 
“Shit—! Jesus Christ…” You huffed, “What the fuck…are you doing…?” 
You dug your teeth into your bottom lip and watched helplessly as Jack’s tongue ran over you once more, making you tense as you felt your cock twitch. Damn, that felt good…
You really shouldn’t have been enjoying this. Especially not this much. You expected to be much more disgusted, and yet you weren’t. In fact, there was a little voice in the back of your head that was eager to take much more. 
But what choice did you have, really? 
Jack certainly had no intention of stopping, and you certainly weren’t going anywhere. Besides, for all you knew you’d wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a shameful wet dream.
You tried to relax a bit in his grip, which proved difficult when he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you alive. 
Before you could blink Jack had suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, making quick work of your boxers with one swipe of his claws. The sound of ripping fabric caught you off guard, and everything happened so fast you weren’t sure what had happened until you felt Jack’s tongue run over the bare back of your thighs. 
“Oh my God—!” You cried out, barely managing to muffle yourself with a pillow. You held it tight against your face, and even had to bite down on it in an attempt to stop yourself from screaming when Jack slipped his tongue inside of you.
It felt even longer than it looked, squirming inside of you and leaving absolutely no spot untouched. Every time you thought he couldn’t possibly go any deeper, he somehow did, filling you with his tongue until you couldn’t fit anymore. A shame, really; he had lots more to offer, but he couldn’t expect much from such a little human. 
His hands were easily large enough to grasp your waist and hold you against his mouth. You had no way of knowing, but Jack was more than aware of his own strength, even taking care to make sure he didn’t pierce you with his nails. You’d be much for fun alive, after all. Although, this didn’t mean he didn’t have a bit of fun scaring you, occasionally giving a rough squeeze just to feel you flinch. He was thoroughly invested in tasting every inch of you, but that didn’t mean he’d stop toying with you at every opportunity. 
Despite his hold on you, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing desperately in his hands. You weren’t trying to fight him, but the sensation of his tongue wriggling around so deep inside of you was certainly an odd one. Your cock was already throbbing between your legs and dripping precum onto your sheets. There was a nagging urge to reach down and give your needy member some much needed attention, but you couldn’t force yourself to release your painful grip on your blanket. It was the only thing providing you any sort of purchase. 
Jack was making quite the show of eating you out as well, moaning and slurping in a rather dramatic manner. He certainly wasn’t afraid of being noisy, though he made sure to stay quiet enough to listen to your encouraging noises. You sounded so desperate and needy, he just couldn’t get enough. You became especially loud when he began to slowly move his tongue in and out. He could even feel you squeeze around it, and it made his cock ache as he imagined what it would feel like to finally be inside of you. 
You shuddered when Jack finally retracted his tongue, his saliva completely soaking your hole and beginning to run down your legs, leaving you now feeling thoroughly stretched but unpleasantly empty. He only let you rest as long as it took for him to close and wipe his mouth before he was manhandling you once more, this time flipping you into your previous position on your back. It happened so fast that just the impact of your head on the pillow made you dizzy. 
When you looked up again Jack had leaned back a bit, looking down at his hands as he unbuckled his suspenders and soon after his pants. You followed his gaze just in time to see his own massive length spring free from his trousers. 
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
It was bigger than anything you’d ever even imagined, and suddenly you felt embarrassingly inadequate. It too was striped, and shaped in such a way that you could easily tell it was a cock but definitely not a human one. He laid it over your stomach and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size. It was thick and heavy too, throbbing eagerly against your skin. 
“W-Woah, wait, no way—“ You stuttered, attempting to crawl backwards and away from Jack. “That’s fucking giant, holy shit…You can’t— T-That won’t—“ 
“Shhhhh!” Jack interrupted as he roughly pulled you back to him, “Calm down, you whiny little thing. You’ll be fine.” 
You only whimpered in reply, watching with bated breath as he spread your legs wide to make room for his cock. He groaned with delight when his leaking tip brushed against your waiting hole.
“A-At least be careful…!” You pleaded in a last-ditch effort to earn yourself some mercy. 
“I make no promises.” Jack replied shortly, as if he was annoyed with your request. Maybe it was a bit cruel to be so careless, but surely you were being dramatic. Humans were meant to stretch, right? Surely you weren’t that fragile.
The noise that struggled out of your mouth when he forced himself into you was downright inhuman, followed by a string of curses and other equally nasty exclamations of the sort that could’ve barred you from getting you into heaven all on their own. Not that you were going either way at this point. 
When Jack had finally filled you as much as he could, only about two thirds of his cock had managed to disappear inside of you. That was still rather impressive, all things considered, and it’s not like he could complain. Your tight hole squeezed around him in all the right places. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You repeated under your breath as you tried to adjust to Jack’s size, a borderline impossible task. 
“Foul mouthed one, aren’t you?” He scolded, grabbing your chin roughly. “Behave, or I’ll have to wash your mouth out.” 
He seemed to find that hilarious, laughing to himself as if he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life. 
“You…fuckin’ freak…” You spat back at him half-heartedly. It was hard to sound angry when you were trying to catch your breath after being filled to your limit. Jack feigned a gasp of disbelief at your lackluster insult. 
“Naughty, naughty thing you are! Someone simply must teach you to behave!” 
He squeezed you in his grip, testing his hold one last time before he began to pull back. You thought he’d stop halfway or at least start slow, but you were left speechless as he pulled out nearly all the way, leaving just the tip still nestled inside of you. You grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for what was sure to be a brutal impact.
“Brutal” was an understatement.
Shit, it felt like he fucking impaled you. You choked on what would’ve been a shriek when he pushed into you again, nails digging into his shoulder so hard it would’ve drawn blood if he had any. You felt unbearably full as his cock bullied its way back inside of you until it was laying heavy in your stomach. 
Jack let out a shuddering moan that dissolved into a breathy laugh as he watched you struggle to keep it together. Your mouth hanging open in a silent scream and eyes going wide with panic was exactly what he wanted to see. 
“Aww, did that hurt?” He asked, and honestly the condescending tone stung a bit. You only glared in reply. 
He pulled back again, slamming into you with even more force than the first time. You could feel the bed swaying beneath you from the sheer strength. You could only hope he didn’t wind up breaking it after he broke you. 
Jack was never one to take things slow, and as soon as he had gotten the hang of his thrusts he set a brutal pace. Each movement made your head spin with the impact. You really weren’t built to take something so massive, you shouldn’t have been able to, but you were taking it despite your body’s protests. You didn’t want to look down, unable to even stand the thought of seeing his gigantic cock disappear inside of you. 
Desperate, animalistic noises spilled through your gritted teeth and out of your mouth. Each thrust hit deeper than the last and there were times you swore he was literally rearranging your guts. Of course you would eventually adjust to Jack’s size and strength, but that didn’t shake the fear that this encounter could land you in the hospital. This fear would fade as he continued though, the overwhelming fullness and ache soon melting into a pleasure like you’d never felt before. You grasped at anything you could, whether it be your sheets or Jack’s sleeves or hair, hopelessly clawing at anything you could get your shaky hands on. 
Jack’s tongue laid limp out of his mouth as he panted, shamelessly rutting into you like a toy. You were nothing but a rag doll in his clutches for him to hold and use to his black heart’s content, and then some. While you couldn’t bring yourself to look down, he was more than happy to watch his cock thrust in and out of you. The wet squelching sounds made by each little movement were like music to his ears. 
He knew he must’ve been hitting deep when he noticed the bulge he was making in your stomach. 
Oh, you simply had to see this! 
He grabbed your hair roughly and forced you to look down. 
“Ahah! Do you see that? Do you?” He asked eagerly. He took your choked noise as a ‘yes.’ 
“You’re so small, ahah…I wonder how deep I can go before you break in two!” 
He tugged on your hair once more, this time pulling it back to expose your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he dragged his tongue slowly up your neck before pulling you into a messy kiss. It only took one second of your surprise to allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, and it quickly found its way down your throat. You were caught off guard and nearly choked, which only made Jack laugh against your lips. You could feel every little twitch or jerk it made as it explored your throat with no regard for your comfort. 
Jack didn’t pull away until he could tell you were struggling for air, retracting his tongue incredibly quickly. You were coughing and heaving to catch your breath, which he apparently found very amusing. It seemed to send him into a giggling fit every time he scared you half to death. 
Suddenly Jack came to an abrupt stop. You looked up at him in confusion, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was focused on something else. You felt yourself being jostled around as he shifted his position, sitting up on his knees and lifting you from the bed with one hand still around your waist and the other under your back. You were entirely supported by his hands now. 
What the hell is he thinking?!
You felt him retracting once more, but this time he wasn’t moving his hips. He was moving you. 
He showed no signs of struggle or even the slightest strain as he began to thrust into you again, your weight practically nothing to him. He was using you like a goddamn fleshlight, nothing more than a sleeve for his cock. 
And honestly…It wasn’t so bad. 
That seemed to be your breaking point, any sense of dignity you had before completely going out the window as you gave into him fully. If he was going to use you like a toy, you could at least put in the effort to be a good one. 
“F-Fuck! Ah—! Jack, m-more…!” You begged, and for a moment a look of surprise flashed across his face. The last thing he was expecting was to hear you pleading for him so shamelessly, but it was a welcome surprise. His signature grin returned quickly, stretching from one pointed ear to the other. 
“Oh, more he says?!” He replied, “More, more!  What happened to ‘wait, Jack!’ and ‘you can’t, Jack!’, huh? Sudden change of heart?” 
He was mocking your voice, degrading you so blatantly that he expected you to recoil at his nasty words, but instead you tightened around him. 
Oh…you liked that. 
He was more than happy to keep going. 
“What is it then, hm? Or have you already gone too stupid to answer me? Aha, you really do love this!” 
You nodded quickly in response, managing to push out a slurred reply that sounded vaguely like an agreement. 
“Fine then,” he conceded, “I can give you more…” 
And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly go any faster or shove in any deeper or make you cry out for him even more. 
He fucked you like his current life and the next depended on it, each thrust slamming the headboard into the wall so hard it left a mark. Your legs trembled as you began to get lost in the pleasure. It all felt like a blur, a wonderful blur only broken up by the realization that you were much closer to your orgasm than you realized.
“Jack, J-Jack—! I’m close, I…I’m…” You couldn’t even choke out a single sentence of warning. Jack was more than aware of what you were trying to tell him, but he was content to let you pathetically struggle for words. 
“Go on, why don’t you? If you need it so bad I won’t stop you.” 
His attempt at an impartial tone was greatly hindered by his obvious excitement, a result of how close he was to his own peak and how much he desired to see you cum. He wanted so badly to see you make a mess for him, to feel you spasm around him and know that he was the one who brought you to that. 
“Oh, please—!” You whined, “Please, please, please…” 
You had no idea what you were begging for. You didn’t have to, though, because it seems like your pleas worked anyways. Every muscle in your body tensed on instinct, your back arching up into Jack and one last high pitched cry managing to leave your throat as you came. The force of your orgasm hit you like a truck, more intense and prolonged than any other you’d had, helpfully hastened by Jack’s increasingly erratic thrusts. 
“Ahah, you squeezed so tight!” He gushed, “You feel so, so good…” 
Faster, faster, faster, he had to go faster. He was so close, so close. He had to fill you, he had to. He had to see his cum dripping out of you and to know that he’d filled you with all he had and you had to be filled. 
He went silent for a split second, and you knew what you were in for when his hips stuttered before going still, but you weren’t ready for the sheer amount of cum he pumped into you. He held you on his cock until he was completely done, continuing to make small ruts with his hips until he’d ridden out his orgasm to the end. There simply wasn’t room for it all inside of you, but even as it flowed out of you and down your legs and onto your sheets he continued to spill into you. You’d gone limp in his hands by the time he was done. 
You barely processed the feeling of being laid back down on your bed, but you definitely winced when Jack pulled out of you. Damn, you were already sore. Not to mention your forehead was drenched with a thick layer of sweat and your thighs were soaked with a multitude of bodily fluids that you were trying not to think about right now. 
You managed to crack an eye open when you heard Jack snickering. 
“Tired already? A shame. I had fun.” He said casually, as if the both of you had just returned from an outing and he hadn’t practically jumped you in your own home. Your only answer was an exhausted sigh. 
Jack cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. Were you really so worn out already? He wasn’t tired at all! Then again, “tired” wasn’t really something he felt…
Humans are so strange. 
He laid down beside you and draped an arm over you. When he leaned in you expected him to lick you again, but instead he brought you into a kiss. An actual kiss, the first real gesture of affection he’d given you, even if it was rather brief. He pulled away to nestle his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his laughter against your skin. 
“You’re a funny one, do you know that? I hope I get to play with you a lot more…” 
Oh, fuck. 
He wasn’t leaving, was he?
2K notes · View notes
storiesbysoup · 1 year
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Could you write ghost and somno?
lieutenant simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader. warnings: somnophilia extra: so sorry this took so long to get out!! MASTERLIST
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“Fuck, bird – forgot how much I love doin’ this to ya.”
His voice was low and gravelly, sounding from the base of his throat as he did his best to stay quiet to allow your beauty rest while urging on your arousal. Simon was no idiot: he knew the exact feeling his voice brought onto your body, onto your mind. Conscious or not, you knew the sound of your lover and the familiar feeling of giddiness filling out your body. 
The soft, brown tint of his large eyes flickered from your body to your face, anxiety beginning to creep into his body. As much as he wanted to fulfill the fantasy he’d dreamt of for the last few days, he felt terrible. He had your consent of course, but if you lost sleep because of him? Simon would never forgive himself.
He loved the feeling of secrecy as he took you while you rested, the gentle lift and fall of your body as sleep overtook your senses made you look ethereal. The scruffy feeling of his freshly trimmed beard scratched against your temple, causing you to squirm a bit in your sleep. A soft giggly-mumble came from you as Simon pressed a kiss to your head.
The Brits fingers were thick, hardened with callouses after years of training and handling, and as much as you despised his work you loved how thick his hands were. Often times, when he would get overwhelmed you would take him hand and simply kiss the scars that littered his skin. It was unfamiliar to him but welcomed hesitantly. 
When you first brought up the concept of somno, Simon turned his nose away from it harshly. Taking you for his own pleasure without being able to even speak to you? He could never. Part of what got him turned on was hearing the pretty little noises you made. You sat down with him, holding his hand and looking into his eyes as you smiled nervously. 
It took a lot of convincing but he did eventually come around to it. You told him that he had your full consent to do whatever he pleased to your body, as long as you’d let him do it while you were awake. Simple terms and conditions, so it was set in motion. The one thing that irked you is he wouldn’t tell you when he was going to do it, just that he was. 
You didn’t mind, however, as it added to the anticipation that flooded your veins when you thought of it. It added to the fear you felt - a good fear - that your man was going to ravage you within the later hours of the night. A piece of you simply wishes that you could hear when unconscious, because by God did you love his voice.
“This tight cunt… fuck…”
His words were muttered underneath the harshness of his accent as one of his hands reached up, tracing the gentleness of your cheek as his eyes softened. You practically nuzzled into the warmth of his palm, mumbling out his name amidst your sleep as if you knew it was him. The gentle drag of his thumb against the your cheekbone as you sighed out; you were like an ambrosia to him.
“Gunna fuck you so hard, birdie… ain’t gunna be able to stop myself…”
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written by storiesbysoup© 2023. I do not condone anyone translating my works and/or stealing them.
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yandere-kokeshi · 5 months
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Can I get some poly yan TF-141 x male werewolf hybrid reader please?
Where he’s almost like their pet? And he’s like their scary dog privilege.
Or gn if you don’t write for male
— Yandere Poly TF-141 x male darling whose a werewolf hybrid
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Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about werewolf stuff, and name calling.
A/N: i’m always willing to write a male reader! It’s quite sad how underrated yandere x male reader fanfics are. Please enjoy <3!
Edit: I forgot to add the scary dog privilege part. So sorry!
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Honestly, it’s been a while since they’ve been excited — your characteristics of strength and incredible features of a werewolf make their ego strike higher than it should be. They absolutely love your hybrid features, the tails & ears, the enhanced senses, and the obvious need for constant attention is what they love you more. 
Price and the others enjoy it when you listen to their commands, which at times they love to joke around with.
If and when you decide to transform into your ‘full form’, even in the field, all of them coo over you, especially Johnny. You can never be left alone, even at night. Price and Soap really enjoy it when they get to play with your fur and ears. It feels like literal heaven between their fingers. 
And let’s not forget about how all of them call you dog-based names. A lot of good boys, even pups, or puppy if they’re in a teasing mood. Bad boy is for certain occasions. 
All of them have their own ways of showing affection, which, most of them, are fairly touchy, especially if the timetables are closer to a full-moon, or you’ve recently turned. 
Soap literally treats you like a dog. Every chance he has, he’s rubbing your stomach, ears getting smooched on, jokingly pulling your tail, and praising you like no other. Chin scratches, and his thick accent turns into a scratchy baby voice when talking to you. 
As for Ghost, he loves playing fetch with you — easily throwing it long, watching you jump at it, before returning it. His voice commands you to sit and calls you a good boy when you listen. The type of guy also aggressively rubs your snout as a way of affection. 
As for Price, he enjoys having you rest in his office, either on the dog bed he specifically bought for you or under his desk, looking at you every now and again with loving eyes. 
Gaz finds it cute, but also suffocating as you sit on his lap; not realizing you’re too large for him. He’s gently laughing, patting your back at your large weight, it’s comforting. But also he can’t breathe. 
To be honest, they fucking love it on how protective you are of them. Seeing you grunt, eyes narrowing in annoyance, makes them chuckle. 
Chin scratches galore. No matter what, if you’re in your full form or not, they love to scratch your chin.
They always get surprised on seeing how close you are to other dogs, especially to larger breeds. Price chuckles whenever a dog randomly runs up as the two of you are jogging, immediately latching itself to you and not leaving your side. 
It’s not something you see every day that you find dead animals as a gift, and most would see it as disgusting, but to them, it’s a gift. Even though Gaz has gagged on multiple occasions when he sees the dead birds, he knows it's your way of affection.
Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!
© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.
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bluberryfields · 7 months
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"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen
Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)
And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.
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*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*
ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.
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So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)
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even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).
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I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.
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Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.
But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.
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He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.
He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.
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(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)
He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.
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His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.
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Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.
I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.
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Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...
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I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.
Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.
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Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.
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Such a pretty shade of yellow.
Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.
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Delicious demon digits
Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?
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He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting
Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?
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Fuuuuuuuck
With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.
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Proper gentleman side part? Check.
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Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.
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Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!
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It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.
Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!
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To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”
Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).
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They are almost illegally cute together
We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.
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Stupid sexy snek
And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.
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Georgia is a very lucky woman
Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?
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