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#I'm no snob I promise
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For the color ask game—cherry and ruby?
Cherry - Thoughts on mainstream music?
Everything I know about mainstream music has been learned against my will, I'm afraid! :P
I almost never consciously listen to it and when I do, I find that it all sounds more-or-less the same to me as it flies in one ear and right out the other again... I'm not a pretentious dick about it, like, just a complete Luddite with a staggering lack of awareness when it comes to the tunes of today... I regularly find myself having the following conversation:
Me: What the fuck even is this song playing on the radio/blasting in the pub right now? Friend: Are...are you serious...? It's everywhere... It's literally No. 1 in every country in the world and won every award in existence... The singer's just been canonised as a saint? How have you not heard this? Me:
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Ruby - Favourite pre-2000 song?
Hard to choose a favourite when pre-millennium bangers constitute the bulk of what I listen to at the moment... :)
So here, for funsies, please accept the last pre-2000s song I happen to have listened to today - Hit & Run by sorely-underrated lady-pioneers of the early-80's N.W.O.B.H.M. scene, Girlschool!
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music-for-them-asses · 3 months
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That poll is validating me lol. I was afraid I was being too picky, but honestly, I have to date someone who also loves music (preferably close to what I listen to). Like, I go to concerts by myself. But if I put on Devo and you stare at me like I just grew a second head... it ain't gonna work
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cattatoir · 8 months
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honestly another thing that shows like Elementary have over other adaptations is understanding that Holmes and the dirtbaggy messy private eye are one
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emperor-princess · 2 years
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My god I am so sick of trap/house/dance remixes of every goddamn song in existence. I am begging the people making these to listen to something without the exact same beat for once in your life
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instantpansies · 1 year
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23 and 30?
23. a song that you think everyone should listen to
The Prophet's Song by Queen! it's a masterpiece. gets overshadowed by its album-mate Bohemian Rhapsody but imo just as good. from a musical, lyrical, and artistic standpoint, this song is incredible. wish i could experience it for the first time again. LISTEN WITH HEADPHONES PLEASE ITS SO MUCH BETTER
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30. a song that reminds you of yourself
ok this is a hard one. and i have a pathetic and depressing answer for you i guess: How To Disappear Completely by Radiohead. yes, i'm outing myself as a radiohead fan on tumblr dot com and yes i'm regretting this as i type. but. give them a chance. maybe they're the incel band but unfortunately they also slap. and this song is a great representation of (my personal experience with) dissociation. it's a vibe, and this is the song that i most strongly associate with "myself" rn
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darkarfs · 2 years
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There are exactly 3,232 tracks on my MP3 player and a terrible, niggling part of my brain is like "we need 101 more on here."
Why am I like this? Not everything has to be so effin' complicated.
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seat-safety-switch · 4 months
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One of my more accomplished friends is an MRI operator. When we first got talking about what we did for a living, I didn't get very interested. Now, don't think I'm some kind of elitist snob. My career (freelance journalist/greasy dirtbag) is a laugh-a-minute thrill ride, where you're as likely to get hunted down by friends of corrupt small government as you are to throw up in the back of a diesel-swapped Geo Metro being used to chase cows back into the paddock. It's set the bar very, very high.
By comparison, MRIs are boring healthcare stuff, meant for taking extremely high-quality pictures of people's junk all day long. Those pictures are then viewed by doctors, who will sneer at those people for not eating enough cauliflower. Just an absolute snore, which although involving a cool machine that's very loud, didn't fascinate me in the least.
That is, until they mentioned The Quench. In case you're unfamiliar, MRI machines operate on the principles of magnetism (that's the "M.") Big-ass magnets are used to send pulses throughout the machine, and those pulses are inconveniently blocked by chunks of your body standing in the way. By recording how irritated those magnets are, we can figure out what's going on inside your shit. Of course, you need big, big magnets for this, you're not running down to the grocery store and diagnosing a brain misfire using that cute little toddler-art-retainer shaped like a frog.
Sometimes, when shit really goes wrong, you need to stop the magnetism in a hurry. Maybe a patient walked in with a fully loaded firearm, and the magnets are now using it to shoot the inside of the machine. Perhaps you just decided that you would like to end your career. Either way, hitting the "quench" button douses those magnets with several hundred thousand dollars' worth of liquid helium, which makes them stop doing magnet-y things and start racking up billable hours for the MRI maintenance guy. This kind of highly expensive mechanical failure is my jam, and I asked immediately where I could get me some of those quenched-up magnets. Surely, they wouldn't reuse anything they've beaten up in this way?
My so-called friend figured out what I was up to, and clammed up almost immediately. Almost. He gave me just enough information for my inquisitive journalistic mind to figure out that they just chuck these big-ass magnets into the dumpster out back of the hospital, and someone with an enterprising enough mindset could then un-chuck them into the back of, say, a U-Haul van with the license plate removed after being careful to avoid all the security cameras along the way. Not that I would do such a thing, especially because it involves driving through a particularly weak chain-link fence near the seniors' centre.
Coincidentally, are you coming to my unveiling of my new magnetic-levitation Volare-launching system this weekend? I promise to listen very intently to whatever bullshit you say about your boring job, you'll love it. The Mayor is gonna be there, cut the ribbon and everything. Shit. Siri, remind me to get plastic scissors for The Mayor.
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megamindsecretlair · 8 months
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Have Mercy
A/N: Based on this ask. It contained porno links. Whoever you are, ya nasty and I love you. This is a bit of a deviation so I'm sorry if it wasn't what you pictured! Thank you for the support!
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Pairing: Pornstar!Tyrone x Black!Shy!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH for nearly 5k words! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, dirty talk, degradation/praise kink, Daddy kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, all consensual. Use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Established friendship.
Summary: After a very steamy porn video by Tyrone, you can't help your curious questions as you hang out and discuss his work. You'd been too shy to ask before, but you're dying to know what it's like in person.
Word Count: 5,284k
A/N: I was just waiting on the right spark to answer this ask. And...look, you all know how fuckin' feral I am for Tyrone. It's not a surprise. I promise 5k words is worth it. This was so fuckin' hot to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please, please, consider leaving a comment or reblogging to help support writers. I can't get better with no feedback!
Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings
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“Okay, but like…they just kind of sit there and…” You stopped talking and started jerking your hand. You looked across the hazy space towards Tyrone. He was laying across the bed and looked at you down the blunt he held to his mouth. The orange-red spark glinted and then dimmed as he pulled it out. He licked his lips and then blew out the smoke.
“Shit, ion know. I do this shit myself,” Tyrone said. 
Tyrone passed the blunt and you grabbed it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. You turned your head towards the ceiling, your eyes expanding. “So, you got a camera and microphones and shit?” You asked.
“Yeah,” Tyrone said and took the blunt from you. “Got to these days. If I’ma be rocking somebody’s shit, then everybody gon’ see it.” He brought the blunt to his lips and pulled on it. 
You tried to picture it. Your head was so blessedly silent for once. You actually formed a thought and kept it. Tyrone on the bed, naked. Showing off ropes and ropes of thick muscle. Arms strong enough to break coconuts. Thighs begging to be ridden. 
Your core heated up, a small tingle working up the back of your thighs. You bet he was the type to hold on and get to work. But you smirked at him and started to giggle. 
“You always talk that shit, Ty,” you said. Your giggles kept going, making your stomach hurt. You flattened your hand on your stomach. “Don’t make me laugh! My tummy hurt!” 
Tyrone stared at your high ass and smirked. Fuck. It took forever to make him laugh. Like the mu’fucka was born with ice down his throat. You longed to hear that rare, raspy laugh. 
“I talk big ‘cuz my dick big,” he said and huffed out a chuckle. It was barely enough to call it a laugh. 
The mention of his dick had you clenching your thighs. You’ve memorized the way Tyrone walked. He walked like he was swangin’ dick down there. Also, you’d never in a million years tell him, but you’ve seen his videos. 
You had second hand evidence that he was packin’. You have came plenty of times just to the sound of his voice on those videos. He rarely fucked the same girl twice. They were all different women; all Black women, and all thick Black women. 
You weren’t a snob. Sometimes you’d watch the woman getting their back blown out and wish it were you. But his voice. You were knee deep in his comments and he was gaining popularity just from his voice alone. 
You giggled again. “Where do you even find these women? You being safe?” You asked. You knew perfectly well that he fucked without a condom. Hell, you’d let him cum in you too. 
“I get checked every month and only fuck bitches that’s clean. Some hit me up. Some I find in the wild,” he said. 
He puffed on the blunt after you handed it back. Your body wasn’t floating but it felt like it. There was an all around hum on your body. 
“The wild? Like…damn, you just find women willing to have sex on camera and release it?” You never had enough courage to ask these questions before. But after last night’s video, you wanted to know. Your burning curiosity finally won out and started asking about it.
“You’d be surprised how many mu’fuckas wanna watch themselves. Some don’t wanna be seen. That’s fine. Hide they face and whatever. But the real nasty ones don’t cum unless the camera in they face,” he said. He released a cloud of smoke to join the rest.
You thought of being one of those women. Showing your face on camera for millions to gawk at. Cum to. You’d never in a million years…but the thought wasn’t terrible. There would be evidence that Tyrone fucked you and he’d control it. He could do anything with it.
“Do you rehearse and shit? Like do you know what you’re gonna say before?” You asked. 
“Hell naw,” he said and huffed again. 
He comes up with those filthy things on the spot? You bit your lip. Maybe…having sex with Tyrone wouldn’t be good. He’s a different breed. In a class all on his own. Sure, the videos could have told you that. But hearing it from the source? You weren’t so sure you wanted to find out what he was like. 
“You real curious tonight,” he said. The orange light from the blunt casted soft shadows over his face. 
You shrugged. “We ain’t talkin’ bout shit else,” you said. 
“You forget I know yo ass? You real curious,” he said. He looked at you skeptically. You looked right in his eyes. You were not going to give him an inch. You had years worth of experience pretending to not be in love with him. That every video wasn’t like a stab in the heart. 
He was making good money though and you weren’t gonna fuck with someone’s bag. So you kept your mouth shut. Pretended that you were just his friend. Just a friend. 
The bed shifted and Tyrone leaned closer to you. His eyes searched your face. He leaned in closer than he has ever been to you. His nose lightly grazed yours, making it both tingly and itchy. 
You swallowed hard and you knew you made a sound. Tyrone huffed, the breath fanning across your face.
“You trynna find out?” He asked. 
“Naw nigga,” you said. You didn’t know where this boldness came from. But your heart thundered in fear that he would learn your secret. You’d kept it so close to your heart for so long. It was like its own tiny dagger always piercing your heart. But sometimes removing it hurts you worse than keeping it in. If you opened your big mouth, you’d ruin this. This time spent together. 
Tyrone kissed your cheek. His lips lingering against your cheek as he spoke. “Every time I mention gettin’ down, you tell me I’m lyin’. So let me prove myself,” he said.
You giggled, the weed making him glow. You stared across his regal looks. You bet he was  a king in a previous life. 
You wriggled on the bed and took a deep breath. Stay strong. Stay strong. “You actin’ crazy, Ty. Not every girl wanna be yo bitch,” you said. You sounded weak to your own ears. 
“Mhm, I think you the one lyin’. I think you been cravin’ this dick,” he said. He pecked your cheek and traveled down. His lips kissed a trail of fire down to your neck.
“What you say that for?” You asked.
“You wanna know what it’s like to be fucked by me, don’t you?” He asked. He kissed up to your ear and laughed. “I know what desire look like. I eat that shit for breakfast,” he said.
His words made your mouth drop open. Words of denial rushed to your lips. But your mouth turned dry. The fuckin’ weed speeding along your anxiety at being exposed. 
“You trippin’, man,” you said. You shook your head, but he kept up the pressure on your neck. Practically making out. Little swipes of his tongue made you bite back a groan. Your panties were so damp, they were sticking to you. You ran the palms of your hands up and down your thighs. 
“You talk big game. You aint tell me to stop yet neither,” he said.
Fuck. True. But how could you? He hadn’t even done anything to you yet and you were ready to burst. You just made yourself cum this morning, thinking of the video last night. He had looked delicious pounding someone into the bed. How you wanted it to be you. 
Your words died in your throat. What could you say? He was seducing yo ass. Did you really want that to stop?
“Fine then, nigga. Break my back,” you said. You looked him in the eyes with the challenge in your eyes. He looked up at you and grinned. Yo momma ain’t raise no bitch. You got nervous sometimes but that’s okay. It’s okay to be nervous. Do shit anyway. 
The words sounded nice, but you were terrified of the look in Tyrone’s eyes. That was not the look of someone who was going to be sweet and loving in bed. Tyrone the Pornstar was here. 
He got off of the bed and moved the ashtray off of the bed and onto the nightstand. The sound of the glass was like a gunshot. You flinched and watched his every move. He stood up to his full height and stared at you.
The look in his eyes was not friendly. It was predatory. You were an unknowing baby bunny and he was a starving wolf. He reached out with his hands and ran them up and down your bare thighs. You gasped and flinched away from him. 
“When was the last time you been fucked?” He asked. 
You’ve taken your fair share of guys to your bed. Some were even good. None ever came close to Tyrone. Each time you came, it was to the sound or memory of Tyrone’s voice. 
“Been a while,” you said. 
He nodded his head. He reached for the zipper of your shorts and you let him unzip it. He didn’t pull your shorts down all the way. He opened your zipper as far as it would go and then pulled down the front just enough to see your panties.
You were hoping to disrobe in a quick rush. You weren’t exactly prepared for sex tonight. You wore one of your boring and safe panties. It didn’t bother Tyrone. He stared at it, like he’d just unwrapped a present. 
“Talkin’ all that shit. Why yo panties wet then?” He asked. 
You looked away briefly. “Thinkin of this guy at my job I got a crush on,” you said.
Tyrone dug his fingers into your panties and you cried out. “Every time you lie to me, that’s another orgasm,” he said. “I’m already thinkin’ of..four, maybe. I can keep goin’,” he said. His deep voice made you shiver. 
His fingers were right there. Your stupid panties were in the way. You felt the pressure but not his beautiful, strong hands. “I’m not lyin’,” you said.
He dug his fingers in more and you jerked from the strong wave of desire. It was like you drank static. 
“A’ight that’s five. And I want you to count ‘em out too,” he said. 
“Wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You never had your limits tested, but you were pretty sure you’d die after the third one. If he went for five, you weren’t going to survive. There were too many things you wanted to accomplish before you left this earth. 
“That sorry shit don’t work on me,” he said and grinned. “Now be a good little bitch and tell me you want this dick. And you want me to film it,” he said. 
A breath stuttered out of you. He was even better in person. “Don’t show my face,” you said. You borrowed boldness for tonight. If you survived to tomorrow, then that’s when you’d freak out. For now, you wanted the entire Tyrone experience. 
“Naw, this my personal stash. I wanna see that sexy ass face,” he said. He leaned over you and ran his thumb outside of your panties. You were leaking at the edges and his thumb glided so close to where you needed him. 
“Personal stash?” Maybe if you kept him talking, he’d give you a reprieve. You just needed a moment to think. To find a way out of five orgasms. 
“The ones I watch to get myself hard. The ones I cum to, thinkin’ of it when I’m balls deep in pussy online,” he said. 
Oh shit. “But–” your dry throat ached. It paled in comparison to the ache in your tummy. That deep, hidden place that few men actually hit. 
Tyrone slipped his thumb under your panties and crested the very outer area of your clit. You gasped and twitched, your legs couldn’t open wider because your shorts weren’t all the way off. He looked into your eyes. 
He licked your open mouth. “See, the game to porn? Focus on the woman. Always,” he said.
He increased his strokes until you were a shaking mess. You didn’t know you could make those types of sounds. But all of the tiny grunts and yips, turned to moans as you came from his finger circling your clit. He didn’t even touch it directly. 
He pulled his finger away and watched you jerk and twitch until you calmed down. He licked his thumb, made a surprised sound, and stood up. Your eyes tracked him as he stepped back and took off his black T-shirt. His jeans went next, his briefs tenting with his erection.
He stroked himself over his briefs and looked at you with his head crooked to the side. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped. He moved to the side of his room and there was the sound of devices getting moved around. You laid on the bed, your eyes back to the ceiling. 
This was really happening. You fought the urge to pinch yourself as Tyrone set up the camera. It had a retractable viewer and he flipped it around to the bed. You saw yourself lying there, staring at the camera.
Your pussy clenched at the thought. Tyrone had always been a man of his word. If this was his personal stash, he was the only one that would see you getting fucked. You wanted it so desperately, you leaned up on your elbows and started to remove your shorts.
“I say you can move yet?” He asked. 
You panted at his aggressive tone and shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Lay yo ass back down,” he said. You followed his command, laying back on the bed. Your body was floating this time. You felt every nerve in your body twitch up and await what Tyrone had in store. 
Tyrone puffed on the blunt as he finished setting up the camera. A moment later, he brought the camera closer and pointed it at your face. You blushed so hard that your cheeks burned from it. You knew they would be hot to the touch. 
“Smile for Daddy,” he said. 
You giggled and swiped at the camera. “Fuck you,” you said. 
Tyrone chuckled a little louder this time. He moved the camera down your body. “Take off the shirt first, nice and slow,” he said. 
You sat up and looked at him. Focus on him. That’s all you had to do. You’d make this the best damn video he can’t release. You took off your shirt, exposing your mismatched bra. That came next, slowly sliding it off your arms. You threw it at him and he caught it with one hand. 
He smirked from behind the camera and dropped your bra. He commanded that you stand up and take off your shorts. He told you to turn around and slightly bend over as you took off your panties. You stepped out of it and he groaned.
“Fuck, look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. 
You clenched and then clenched again knowing that he was picking it up on the camera. “Crawl on the bed, get on your back,” he said. 
You did as he told you. You climbed onto the bed and exaggerated yourself crawling to the top of his bed. You flipped over, dropping onto your back. “Get comfortable,” he told you.
You moved a few pillows over to cradle your head and back. You instantly felt better. You closed your eyes with a smile. Your knees were pressed together, still feeling that lingering shyness. 
Tyrone tapped your knees. “Open them up for me,” he said. Tyrone had the viewfinder half flipped between you. He had it focused on your knees. You hid your face behind your hands and shook your head. 
“C’mon, do what I say,” he said. 
You groaned but opened your legs. You threw your arm over your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “Open them pretty eyes and look at me,” he said. His tone, more than anything, made you open your eyes and stare at him. Tyrone was not the gentle type online. He barked and commanded and did nearly unspeaking things to women. Soft wasn’t in his vocabulary. 
“You know how sexy you are?” He asked. 
“Of course I do,” you said. Your sexiness didn’t depend on no man. Not even Tyrone. You knew you were fine as hell. You ain’t pull niggas for nothin’. But you were still fuckin’ shy. Damn. 
“Don’t hide it then,” he said. He climbed onto the bed and moved the camera beyond your head. You craned your neck to see him fix the viewfinder where he could see. There was a perfect angle of the length of your body, your legs spread open, and Tyrone hovering above you. 
Tyrone then kissed you, rolling his tongue all over yours. You don’t know how long he spent kissing you. It was long enough to make you relax for half a second. When he felt your body go slack, he added his hands. He lowered himself to your body and rested on his elbows. His hands, he ran them all over your chest. 
He massaged your breasts, rolling your nipple between his warm fingers. Each twist was just this side of painful. And you groaned. Your head flopped on the pillow as he nipped at your neck. 
You brought your hands up to grip onto his back. Your nails lightly scratched him. He groaned. He kissed down your neck, moving onto the top of your titties. “Oh, shit,” you moaned as his lips latched onto your left nipple. 
He sucked like he was mining for gold. He rolled his tongue over the budding peak. He ‘d stop and examine his handiwork, see if it was satisfactory, then return his attention to it. He licked a long strip down the center of your chest to your tummy. 
He paid careful attention to each stretch mark, each tiny scar from you being clumsy, and every mole. His hands worked their way down too. Squeezing your sides. The upper, fleshy part of your thighs. He reached around and gripped your ass, squeezing the globes. 
He continued downward, running his tongue through your pubic hair. He reached the very edge of your pussy and you squirmed away. A cold patch started inching its way under your ass. Your arousal was already flooding his bed. 
He flattened his tongue against your pussy lips and you bucked off of the bed. “Oh fuck, Tyrone!” You yelled. 
Your skin was itchy. You needed relief in the worst way. He chuckled and nosed his way through your folds. He swirled his tongue lazily around your clit.
“Did you know you taste good?” He murmured into your pussy. His lips caught your clit and part of your pussy lips. You made an unholy moan. 
“Could eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still want some,” he said. 
“Fuck,” you whined. Your pussy clenched thinking of a repeat with Tyrone. How else he could be so nasty. 
The wetness of his tongue made you wetter. He began to increase the flicks of his tongue against your clit. “Oh shit, right there, right there,” you begged.
Tyrone backed away at the last second and you growled. He chuckled and kissed your clit. “You think just ‘cuz you want it, you s’posed to have it?” He asked. 
“Please, please,” you said. 
“Mhm, I knew yo lyin’ ass was gon’ regret what you said.” 
“Or maybe I just wanna cum and I’ll say anything,” you said, goading him into proving you wrong. You’d gladly be wrong, many times over, if he kept eating you like that. 
“Guess, we goin’ for six then. Start counting,” he said. 
“What?” 
“And the first one ain’t count neither,” he said. 
“That’s cheating!” You yelled. 
He looked at you from between your legs. You had to sit up some to see his half lidded eyes. “I look like a nigga that play fair?” 
Your chest rose and fell and you looked at him. You shook your head. “No, but–what can I do to bring that number down?” You asked. 
“Not a mu’fuckin’ thing,” he said. He kept watching you as he descended on your pussy, running his lips up and down, licking up your arousal. He watched as he tried different things, trying to see what you reacted to most. When he did something you liked, he stopped and switched tactics. 
You tried not responding, quieting your moans but then he’d bit the sensitive spot between your pussy and your leg. You’d jerk, complain about the pain, and say, “Don’t give a fuck.” 
You were back to moaning uncontrollably. So out of your mind in bliss, that you barely noticed that he stuck a finger inside of you. He pumped you, his finger getting wetter on each slide. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you chanted. 
“Let Daddy hear you,” he said. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued. Each word ended on a shriek. Tyrone sucked and you came, with a loud moan. Your hands moved down your stomach, down your thighs, scratching underneath them. Your moves were jerky, flopping against the bed. You didn’t know what to do with your body as you came. 
When you were done, air whooshed across your heated, sweat-slick skin. Tyrone licked up whatever was left over, making you twitch from your sensitive clit. 
Tyrone kissed up one side of your thighs. He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. “One!” 
He then pushed your legs back, your thighs grazing the bedsheets. “This where I want ‘em. Keep ‘em there,” he said.
How the hell was he still in so much control? You were a ruined mess. You couldn’t survive any more. 
Tyrone had other plans. He trailed his fingers around your clit and you moaned. “I can’t,” you said.
“Aw, you wanna tap out?” He asked.
You nodded. Your eyes were closed. You weren’t strong enough for another orgasm. 
“Still don’t give a fuck,” he said. He leaned up and over you. His thighs pushed at yours, folding you. He leaned on his fist, his muscles bunching and contracting. A vein started near his elbow and ran down towards his hand. You longed to lick it, but his arm wasn’t close enough.
You resorted to rubbing his arm. He brought his other hand to cup your pussy. Then a finger disappeared inside you. “Oh shit!” You said and jerked.
He added a second finger and you twitched. Your moans were turning painful. Robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d gasp for any little molecule of air. And then seize up once more as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Mhmm,” Tyrone said.
“Nasty little bitch, ain’t you.” He added a third finger. 
“Ty, Ty,” you croaked out. 
“What? You need four?” He asked. He added a fourth finger and you rounded your eyes at him. As he pumped it into you, he turned his hand. Two fingers slipped out. The first two, he continued to pound into you. Then he crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and you exploded.
Your back lifted off of the bed as your orgasm steam rolled you. Your legs shook like mini earthquakes, each wave cascading through you like aftershocks. You reached for his chest, needed to feel something solid under your hands. He slapped your hand away and tilted his head at you. 
He grabbed your nipple and pulled and you shrieked. “Fuck,” you said. He arched his brow at you. “Two,” you said. 
You came down with tears gathering in your eyes. You sniffled as you shivered. Tyrone rubbed your arms, smirking at you. 
“Shit, may not need the camera. I’m gon’ remember this shit,” he said. 
You completely forgot about the camera. It turned you on that those orgasms were recorded. That he’d watch them again and again. 
He kissed your tummy, bringing your attention back. He kissed and suckled your skin. You watched it disappear into his mouth. You groaned when he started to hurt. He moved on to more patches of skin, kissing the underswell of your right titty. He caressed your hips and massaged your ass as he kissed his way to your neck. 
He bit your shoulder and then licked your neck. He placed kisses on your jaw and then kissed you. He licked the swell of your bottom lip. 
Your body relaxed into the feel of his lips on you. The weed still did its thing. Every kiss was its own inferno. Burning your skin and leaving no end in sight. 
Tyrone returned his attention to your neck, kissing along your ear. He licked the shell of your ear and lined up at your entrance. You didn’t even notice that he took off his briefs.
He slid in and you groaned. You brought your hand up to push at his chest. He stroked and coated his long dick with your juices. He moaned at the feeling of you. He threw his head back and you saw his neck swallowing. Tiny huffs escaped him.
“Goddamn, this pussy feels as good as it tastes,” he moaned. You clenched at his dirty words and he moaned again. 
“Wanna get fucked like a good little bitch?” He asked. 
“Yes! Yes, Daddy, please,” you begged, nodding your head. 
His strokes were long, languorous. His hands pinned your upper arms to the bed. “What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” 
He wanted you to speak? Speak when he had his third leg half inside of you? He wasn’t even fully seated yet. 
“Talk that shit now with dick in you,” he said. 
You opened your mouth, ready to say something. But then he slammed all the way home, hitting your G-spot and making you cum instantly. You shook on his dick, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your toes curled. The orgasm took all coherent thought. 
After, you sniffed as tears ran down your cheeks. Tyrone’s dick twitched, his eyes locked on your face. 
“Can get a nigga used to this. You cum so pretty,” he said. 
“Fuck, Tyrone. Please,” you whispered. He only smirked at you. He slapped his hand against your cheek. “Three,” you said with a cry. 
He moved his hand down your throat and squeezed. 
“Oh fuck,” you whispered. Tears fell in rivulets down your cheeks. You were past the point of feeling good in the afterglow of your orgasms. 
He kept up his slow strokes, making you feel every large vein sliding against your slick inner walls. “Put them legs where I want ‘em,” he commanded.
You lifted your aching thighs, putting your hands under to hold them open for him. “Please, Daddy.” 
“Please what? Ask nicely,” he said. 
He slowed down even more, almost to a torturous crawl. He wiggled his hips and his dick hit all the corners of your pussy. 
“Please, no more,” you said. 
“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he said. He wiggled his hips for emphasis. You whined and jerked on the bed. 
You didn’t want to punk out. But you truly couldn’t take another one. Still, one built up anyway. Tyrone chuckled at you, condescension poured out of him in waves. 
“You know I’m cummin’ in this shit right?” He groaned. He threw his head back and his hips twitched. 
You pictured him filling you up like a twinkie and your pussy clenched. “Like that? Want me to nut in you?” 
He squeezed your neck one last time. He moved his hand to your lower tummy and pushed down. You felt his dick from the other side, felt how deep he was inside of you. The tip of his dick kissed your G-spot. He kissed you, soft and nasty. “Talk yo shit then. Can’t talk with dick inside you?” 
Tears gave everything a watery haze. It streamed down your face. Tyrone licked up your tears and moaned low to your ear. “Gimme that nut then,” he said. 
On command, another orgasm rushed through you. Spots danced behind your eyelids. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Show me them pretty eyes,” he said. 
He smirked as you locked eyes with him. He angled his hips and your jaw dropped open. “Mhmm, I know. I know,” he said. 
As you were calming down, you muttered, “Four.” 
Tyrone slipped out of you and you drew your first real breath in what felt like hours. He leaned down between your legs, his mouth suckling on your clit. 
“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck, Tyrone, Daddy. Please,” you moaned. 
“Open them fuckin’ legs,” he growled. You opened them wider, both your arms and legs were tired now. He brought his mouth back onto you and sucked roughly, dragging another orgasm out of you. Your eyes were permanently glued to the back of your head. Pleasure coursed through you, making your legs shake of their volition. Your soul left your body, your feet cramped. Sound exited your right ear and you felt this one in your eyes. 
You squirted and Tyrone leaned back. “Mhmm,” he encouraged. “Nasty fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He licked up your sopping mess. You continued to squirt, the pleasure still so intense. He leaned back and watched you cum, watched you squirt. 
“F-f-five,” you shook. Your teeth clattered and knocked against each other. 
“Look at you, bein’ a good little bitch,” he said. “You made Daddy wait for his nut though.” His voice turned sinister. 
He leaned up and slapped his dick against your clit. The wet slap turned you feral, and you cried for more. You begged for more. 
“Fill me up, Daddy,” you cried. Your fingers tore at your body. You wanted more even though you were ready to tap out. Ready to give it up. 
Tyrone chuckled as he slammed back in. “Oh fuck,” you cried and collapsed your legs. 
“Uh-uh, open them fuckin’ legs. Keep that shit open,” he said. 
You cried, tears long since dried up. He bottomed out and then rubbed your clit with his thumb. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.
“I know,” he said. 
He slid in and out, stroking deep. Deep enough to make you see stars. “Oh, fuck, Daddy,” your voice was high-pitched. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me,” you chanted.
“Im finna nut,” he moaned. “I’m finna nut, I’m finna nut.” Hearing his moans was like the spark you needed. You came again, gushing and soaking his dick. He threw his head back and unloaded inside of you. 
He kept going, kept fucking his cum into you. Hot splashes coated your pussy. You felt every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you. He emptied his balls into you and you moaned and scratched at his back. 
He slowed his deep strokes, stilling inside of you. 
“Good fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He slipped out of you, his cum leaking out behind him. He panted, his sweaty chest rising and falling almost painfully. 
“Oh,” you cooed and moaned. Your legs flopped onto the bed, instant relief from keeping them up so long. “Six,” you whispered. Your voice was hoarse. 
Tyrone kissed you. He breathed in your ear. “You ever have any more questions, you come let me know.” 
You were already gone to the world as he said whatever it was that he said. If you woke up in the morning, it’d be a miracle.
&&&
You okay? Need more? The Secret Tyrone Files
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ellecdc · 4 months
Text
The Drink Snob
mafia!Remus Lupin x fem!reader | 3200 words
p1 // p2 // p3 // p4
CW: mentions of spiked drink (no one drinks it), reference to past spiked drinks, complaining about misogyny, bad reputation of American tourists in the UK (I'm sorry!)
The short of it was: it had been a long day.
The long of it though, by God, was that you really, really needed a drink.
You got to your favourite pub which was only a brisk 7-minute walk from the university; a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Irish pub which probably had several thousand identical pubs lined across the UK but that didn’t matter, dammit, because this one was special – this one was yours. You chuckled at the irony that you had moved half-way across the world to England only to sit yourself in an Irish chain pub that you’d likely be able to find back home a mere 6000 kilometers away.
You relished the feel of the warm air hitting your rosy cheeks after marching your ass down to the pub in the biting wind in naught but a long coat and a scarf. The warm air stung but in all the best ways as you shucked off your outer-layers and plopped down on a stool by the bar, unawares of anyone else within your vicinity other than the bartender promised to serve you your drinks.
“Alright there, Lass? What can I get for ye?” The fellow asked and you could have kissed him right then and there.
“Can I have a negroni and your tallest pint please.” You asked, hoping the desperation in your voice wasn’t noticeable – the fact that the bartender didn’t comment on the odd combination of drinks let you know that is was noticeable. No matter – you were desperate, what did you care?
Turns out you should have cared more.
“I’m sorry but I must tell you, that is an awful combination of drinks.” A lilting voice came from your left side. You groaned audibly and held your hands up to your temples like blinders to avoid even looking at the voice who dared to speak to you after such a day.
“S’pose its good nobody asked you then.” You muttered darkly. You didn’t make a habit of speaking to people this way often – people already spent enough of your time in the UK mistaking you for an American on account of your accent anyway, you needn’t add fuel to the fire by adding to an already bad reputation.
“Please tell me that you’re ordering for a friend. You’ve surely just ordered for someone who’s meeting you here?”
You knew better – you really did. You don’t let strange men in bars know that you’re alone; make them believe someone could show up to save you at any minute. But dammit, you’ve been fending off jackasses all day – what’s one more?
“Apparently, I live to disappoint men, sir, so no – both drinks are for me. Is that quite alright with you? I didn’t realize I had to pass this decision by the board.” You spat, finally turning your what you were sure was a burning gaze to this mystery guy on a stool to your left.
You hesitated in your ire for a moment: the man was quite a bit larger than you had pictured in your mind – not large in a particularly broad way but the man seemed to be excruciatingly tall; he sat basically spilling off his stool, while still managing to look elegant in doing so. He was dressed sharply but not in a way that made him stand out – respectable but forgettable, he blended into this bar well. Or he would if he hadn’t been so fucking handsome.
He had warm, honey-coloured curls that seemed to artfully fall in front of his face, and eyes to match. You’d never seen amber coloured eyes before, but you couldn’t seem to pull your gaze away from them. You did – by god you did – because the rest of the man was too enticing not too. He had a chunk missing out of his left eyebrow which was arched mischievously at what you assumed was your attitude with him, and his crooked smirk matched. He had a few scars littering his face – most were small, but there was one large one that crossed the bridge of his nose, and another nick on the right of his upper lip that may have continued onto his lower, but you didn’t want to get caught staring at his mouth. And of course, of-fucking-course he’d have a dimple. Why wouldn’t he? Could this day get any worse.
“What was the thought process, then?” He asked, his smirk growing deeper.
“What?” You guffawed. He couldn’t seriously be doing this; people didn’t do this, right?
He gestured between the two drinks sat in front of you with his own – a rum and coke if you guessed correctly. “Why those drinks, specifically? They don’t exactly pair well together.”  
You stared dumbly at this hot, audacious man. You hoped he’d decide you weren't worth the breath and move along. He only stared back at you.
“There wasn’t any.”
“Hm?” He queried.
“There wasn’t any. Thought process, I mean.” You muttered, taking a sip of the negroni. “I like both drinks – usually separately, but I’ve been dreaming about getting my ass down here since practically 9:30 this morning and I couldn’t choose which I wanted first and I knew that I planned on getting at least a little bit tipsy in order to pretend I didn’t have a completely mind-fucking day so I thought ‘fuck it, I’ll order both’ and I thought since it was no one’s business but my own what I put into my body that I could get away with it but clearly, I was wrong.” You felt winded after your mini rant as you looked back at the man. He seemed genuinely entertained at your story, though his eyes grew a bit softer.
“Thinking of drinking at 9:30 am, hm?” He pondered out loud. “You know, that’s usually the sign of a problem; one might call it alcoholism.”
You barked a laugh. “Yeah, you call it alcoholism, I call it Gilderoy Lockhart.”
“Ah, so boy-problems then, is it?” He asked in a laugh.
You shot him a warning look. “It is not like that.”
“I didn’t mean to offend.” He offered with his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Tell me what it’s like then.”
You sighed dramatically. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I’m just mad about stuff at school.”
“Ah, you’re a student, then?”
“PhD candidate, but technically, yes.” You offered, downing the rest of the negroni.
“Very neat. What’s your focus?” He asked again as you began sipping on your pint, trying not to grimace at the change in drink. You're sure you failed.
“Music.”
“Hm, I didn’t know one could get a PhD in music.” He queried.
“Music theory, but yeah.” You offered, moving your drink back and forth between your hands.
“And that brought you here? To England? Why not stay in Canada – if that’s where you’re from, pardon my assumption.” He quickly apologized.
You smirked at his correct assumption – thankful that you didn’t come off ‘too American’ today.
“She goes wherever the wind takes her.”
Your statement was met with silence, so you turned to see the man had frozen in his movements and stared at you incredulously.
“Are-are you quoting Disney movies to me?”
“So, you did get the reference.”
“I did, I just fail to see how Pocahontas relates to a PhD program in England on music theory.” He mutters, looking up at you from the rim of his drink.
“I finished my Masters, then the wind changed.” You offered with a shrug, “It brought me here.”
He seemed to study you for a few moments before coming to the conclusion that you weren't going to elaborate further. “And what does this Gabriel fellow have to do with the winds of musical theory?”
You snorted indelicately. “Nothing. He just, I don’t know, it sounds stupid now that I try to say it out loud.”
“None of that, now.” The man said gently with the same smirk on his face, “a smart girl like you doesn’t strike me as the type to overreact to male foolishness.”
He seemed honestly interested in your answer, at least, the most interested anyone has ever seemed in your ramblings about your toe headed fellow PhD’er. You tried facetime’ing your friends from home about him many-a-times before, and they listen but they don't get it. And your schedules don’t align and with the time-difference one of you is always either just waking up or going to bed. But this random, handsome guy in your bar making fun of your drinks has done nothing but listen so far and you really wanted to get it off your chest.
So, you did.
You told him how your morning started terribly as you ripped a hole in your stockings and only noticed once you got to campus and you usually don’t dress this formally to campus, but you were guest lecturing for Minerva and you know professors didn’t technically have a dress code, but she always looked well put together so, dammit, so were you. You explained that your mother always was the superstitious type and had you carry an emergency pair on you at all times, so you were thankfully able to change, but only after you spilled coffee on your blazer and had to shrug that off for the day and the lecture halls are ridiculously cold always; you know these stone buildings were built before electricity but surely with the great minds this school has churned out, they could find a way to keep the warm air in and cold drafts out?
And if all that hadn’t been bad enough, the other PhD candidate working under McGonagall is this absolute bell-end that you're almost positive has plagiarized half of his written work because everything he spews is absolute nonsense. He’s rude, and condescending, and spoke over you throughout all of your lectures to wax poetic about different Opera’s he’s performed in across the world - that you swear to God you will fact-check one of these days - that had absolutely nothing to do with the course content. And then, and then, he had the audacity to suggest you were only here because the school was required to accept a minimum number of foreign students and since you were, quote, just a woman, you also checked off their minority requirements too.
“People don’t get accepted here because of their nationality or their gender or their status as a minority. They’re supposed to get here because they’re good.” You muttered, finishing your pint you hadn’t realized you had guzzled during your rant
“And how’d Gavin get in, then?” He asked. You choked on the last of your beer.
“Fucked if I know.” You sighed.
A few more pints were placed in front of you as you continued to rant about the ins and outs of being a scholar in the world of music [for Christ’s sake, what was I thinking? I’ll never work a day in my life.] The man interrupting only to say that switching back to liquor would be a choice you would regret in the morning, and who were you to argue?
And he listened. He scoffed at some parts when you quoted Gilderoy suggesting something ridiculously altruistic that he’d done for the less fortunate while being nothing but condescending, he sprinkled in a few you’re kidding me’s, and even asked you to repeat something he couldn’t fathom the first time.
“See? I knew it. A smart girl like you wouldn’t overreact like that. Sounds like you’re perfectly justified in your ire.” He said.
You hummed as you finished your last pint. You felt thoroughly warm and heavy which was your intention of coming to the pub in the first place. You looked over to notice that the man – whose name you still hadn’t got – was still holding the same drink he had when you first arrived.
“Who are you here waiting for, then?” You asked him.
He looked confused for a moment. “How do you know I wasn’t just in desperate need of a drink myself?”
You nodded toward his still half-full cup in his hand. “Because you really haven’t been drinking.”
He narrowed his eyes and smirked at you. “Observant, aren’t you? Clever girl.” You rolled your eyes at the compliment.
“I was supposed to meet a business associate, actually.” He offered as he looked behind you towards the bar door. You turned to take in the rest of the bar yourself; it didn’t seem like the sort of place one would meet a business associate. The bar was dimly lit and somewhat claustrophobic; it didn’t offer a lot of privacy to talk business. You liked it because it was small - you’d be able to see everyone who was currently in the building with one sweep of your gaze save those who may be in the washrooms, and you could see out onto the street from your seat at the bar.
“I think it might be safe to say they stood you up.” You offered with a smirk as you turned to look back at him, only to find him already looking at you.
“I think you might be right.” He offered, looking you up and down.
You couldn’t help but admit he was quite attractive – and not just in his honey-blond curls and mischievous smirk and long limbs way, but he seemed clever, smart, and clearly he was a good listener. You sort of hoped he’d offer you his name, maybe even his number. You wouldn’t mind waiting around for a business associate of his with him again sometime.
You had no such luck.
He began to stand with an expression that bordered regret crossing his face.
“It appears I must be off.” He offered with a sad smirk as he placed some bills down on the table. You weren't quite familiar with the bills in the UK yet, but it seemed like an awful lot of money for the one drink he had at the bar that was still unfinished. You took notice of said drink as you came to this conclusion and got a weird feeling in your gut as he took the drink by the rim and brought it to his lips.
“Wait!” You said as you grabbed his arm. He tensed immediately and you pulled your hand away as if it burned. “I’m sorry. Just, is that the same drink you had when I first arrived?”
He looked from the drink back to me with furrowed brows. “Yes, why?”
You pointed to the drink he still held in his hand. “It’s old.”
He smirked. “Are you a drink snob, miss orders-two-incompatable-drinks-together-and-drinks-them-at-the-same-time?” You rolled your eyes and snatched the drink out of his hand as he brought it to his lips once again, which earned you an indignant ‘oi!’
“No, you berk, what I mean is, this drink is old. It’s warm to the touch, the ice has all melted and it should be as flat as a board but it’s bubbling, like, a lot.” You said as you held it in front of his eyes. He watched you for a few moments before you continued.
“It looks like someone put something in it.”
His gaze shot back to his drink where, sure enough, his should-be-flat diet coke was fizzing wildly as it began to turn a slightly murky shade.
You watched as he gently plucked the drink from your hand and casually put it back down on the bar and shrugged on his jacket.
“It appears you’re right.” He said in monotone. “Looks like we both ought to take our leave, hm?”
You nodded and followed suit; replacing your jacket and scarf you had ripped off unceremoniously as you had entered and headed for the door. The alcohol made you wobble for but a moment, but you were quickly righted by a gentle hand pressed to your lower back. Mortified, you put your best foot forward and marched out the door, hoping your embarrassment wasn't to evident in your cheeks.
You had to admit, you were beginning to panic. Why were you trusting this man? You had spent the last – you checked your watch – nearly two hours talking to this man whose name you still don’t know completely unaware of what was happening around you, and it turned out that there was someone here drugging drinks.
What if it’s him? An unhelpful part of your brain supplied. Why would he spike his own drink and then almost drink it? You argued back.
“You should be more careful.” You offered in what you had hoped to be a playful manner, but it came out strained. “Do you know of any reason why someone may want to spike your drink?”
He seemed to consider your question as you both walked somewhat briskly down the busy street to the subway station.
“No reason that would be suitable to share in the presence of a lady, I’m afraid.” He offered with a wink, leaning down slightly with his hands in his pocket. This answer didn’t make you feel any better.
“Any particular reason why you’re familiar with the signs of a spiked drink?” He offered back.
“I have a feeling most girls would be able to answer that.”
“Hm, perhaps. But I do not believe all would be as quick to catch it as you were.”
You didn’t answer him; you decided you had shared more than enough with this stranger tonight, and you were officially feeling all sorts of uncomfortable with the situation. You were mostly uncomfortable with how not uncomfortable you felt. It felt easy, walking with this stranger, as if you’ve been walking down dreary streets of London together for ages and this was just another Tuesday.
He stopped suddenly and flagged a taxi. You scowled at how quickly a cab stopped for him and his long as arms.
“Here, it’s too muggy for such a lady to brave the underground.” He offered as he opened the door. You began to protest, you had a tube pass through school for a reason, but his hand was on your lower back again as he gently led you into the car and closed the door before sticking his head in the window of the front passenger seat and tossing a handful of bills at the driver.
“Anywhere she wants to go.” He said, stepping back to the middle of the sidewalk and waving you off.
Between the alcohol, your nerves and being disarmed by the attractiveness of this man, you simply spouted the address of your flat to the driver and turned your face forward. The whole evening seemed otherworldly – like you were missing a big chunk of information of what happened tonight, even though you could account for every minute of it.
Your suspicions would have been proven correct if you had turned around to see your mystery man again, who was now accompanied by two other similarly dressed men - one with an unruly mop of brown curls and a shorter man with long black hair tied back haphazardly - who began chasing a fourth man in earnest down the street in the opposite direction.
Continue to part two here.
292 notes · View notes
harunayuuka2060 · 1 year
Text
Vil's dad: Sweetheart, can you promise Dad that you will focus more on your studies first?
Kid MC: Why, Dad?
Vil's dad: Well, because, *glancing at Helix and Claw*
Vil: Dad, you needn't to worry. Potato would be thinking twice before messing around.
Kid MC: Come on now, Dad. You know that kindergarten relationships don't last for a few months or so.
Vil's dad: Are you sure? You're one, adorable child. There's no way you wouldn't be the center of attraction.
Vil's dad: *sigh* I remember when Vil was a child once.
Kid MC: But kids weren't attracted to him because he was a snob. *laughs*
Vil: *frowns* What did you say just now, Potato?
Kid MC: I was just joking.
Vil's dad: *chuckles* But I'm serious, okay? Studies first.
Kid MC: Okay, Dad!
Vil's dad: I'll be going to work now. Vil?
Vil: Yes, Dad. I'll be keeping my eyes on them.
Helix: Take care, sir.
Claw: T-Take care, uncle!
Vil's dad: Thank you, boys. *gives MC a kiss on the forehead then leaves for work*
Vil: So, what you'll be doing?
Claw: W-We're going to my house.
Vil: Ah. I see. Well, I know you'll be safe there, potato. Greet Jack for me.
Kid MC: Okay! *to Helix and Claw* Let's go!
Helix and Claw: *nods*
Jack: These are your friends, Claw? *grins* Welcome!
Claw: Um, Papa? MC here said that they were your friend in college.
Jack: ...
Jack: Who?
Claw: *pointing at MC*
Kid MC: *beams*
Jack: ...
Jack: There's no way.
Kid MC: You dated Epel once.
Jack: ...
Jack's wife: *is in the kitchen* *starts chopping loudly*
Jack: ...
Jack: That wasn't true.
Kid MC: Hehe~ You believe me now?
Jack: But how? What happened?
Kid MC: It was a long story.
Kid MC: ...
Kid MC: Crowley dropped me off in the wrong place and I got hit by a truck.
Jack: Oh.
Jack: ...
Jack: Deserved.
Jack: *laughs when they pout at him*
Jack's wife: *who also giggled*
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optimistic-violinist · 2 months
Text
Hot Take: Magnifico learning magic and learning how to protect the wishes would've been a better plot for Wish.
Think of it. We start with a town on fire and see Magnifico running away. Maybe he gets caught by the villain. "Any last wishes?" Maybe we see his parents or siblings tackle the villain and tell him to run only for him to watch them be killed (off screen of course).
We get a shot of our villain. I'm thinking a very Shan Yu-like from Mulan. Just, evil. Pillager. Bad Guy.
Magnifico escapes. Since he's gonna be voiced by Chris Pine still (of course), we get the ROTG voice over. "I never saw them again. I never saw my home again. And I vowed that that would never happen again. But that was a long time ago." Cue musical sting, pan up to the night sky and wishing star, title.
Fast forward, Magnifico is now a teenager. Has an adopted mother, living in a cottage in the woods or something near town. He's trying to study magic in his free time, his mother is worried about him getting in over his head. He wants to apply for the magic school in the town. Cue song a la "When Will My Life Begin."
He takes the magic exam and isn't bad, but isn't good enough. Maybe they're snobs, maybe it's really that he failed fair and square.
Note: Amaya also lives in this town. They're friends.
Breakdown that night. Cue "So I Make This Wish," almost verbatim and summons... STAR!
Humanoid Boy Star from the concept art, specifically.
They get talking. Magnifico is obviously starstruck (ba dum tish).
M: "you're, you're---"
S: stupendous, extraordinary, splendiferous?
M: magnificent
Cue discussion about why he's out there wishing, the magic exam, why he wants to learn magic, and Star offers to teach him.
Not sure what happens here. Probably mini-quest to get magic books or items. Upbeat montage song. At the end, hint that the bad guy is coming to destroy this town now.
Somewhere in here, we befriend Amaya more and Magnifico starts to fall in love with her. Cue cute romantic song, something about wishing for each other. Star in the background a la Eponine from Les Mis. NOW we can either go romance or friendship route: either way, there is pining about how he is a cosmic entity, ageless, can't stay forever, and Magnifico is going to grow up and do great things without him.
Oh no!! Bad guys are suddenly a lot closer! We've got to prep and do something! Potentially an ensemble/town song. Culminates in Star asking Magnifico what his wish really is. We see his wish is founding Rosas with Amaya at his side. Star reassures him that that's exactly what he's going to do and teaches him how to take and protect wishes. We got a duet a la "For Good" between them. Star tells him that he's going to be magnificent.
Big battle against the bad guys! Magnifico with his really cool sorcery powers! He takes the Bad Guy's wish to harm people and makes him forget it. Magnifico also gets a cool "Defying Gravity" song here with some line about promising to protect people's wishes and if he should ever fail or use that power for evil, may he be cursed or something. Foreshadowing, y'know?
We get one last goodbye as Star goes to leave. Do they kiss? Maybe. Do they have A SUPER TIGHT TENDER HUG FULL OF LOVR AND CARE. ABSOLUTELY. I LIVE FOR THAT. Probably a reprise of one of the songs here.
Fast forward once more to Magnifico as a young adult with Amaya, sailing on a ship as they discover the island that will become Rosas.
Fin.
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aves-ery · 1 year
Note
CEO or Mob boss Wanda and stripper R👀 maybe she's just getting some visit to a certain club and she only have her for R but R is kind avoiding her. R is kind of snappy and feisty for Wanda but Wanda loved her more. One night she saw R entertaining other guests so she brought the whole club and kicked everyone out so she could have R all for herself.
Idk maybe you'd like to consider, btw you works are great and wonderful and so are you! Thanks!!!
one, thank you! two, this is ctually so bad bc I'm tired and for some reason forgot how to write good smut? but heres just wanda crazy for you.
pairing; CEO!wanda x stripper!reader
warnings; smut 18+ ONLY, infatuated wanda, praise!!, strap-on, fingering
if anyone saw wanda at a strip club, it'd be a field day for press. but quite honestly, she didnt care when she laid her eyes on you. she saw the flashes of the cameras when she walked in, but when she saw you in that lingerie, she didn't care what the articles were gonna read the next day.
wanda sat snug in a booth, watching you from afar. her silk button up was unbuttoned down to her upper stomach, her boobs only covered by her tight fitting sports-bra.
"i want that one," she pointed you out to all of her boss friends, a beer bottle still in hand. you were all over someone else, a lap dance she presumed.
one of the guys whistled you over, waving a "come here" motion. wanda knew it wasnt the way to get your attention, but you followed through, stalking over to them. you smiled, waving.
"hey gentlemen," you said seductively, plopping your pretty ass onto Tony's lap. wanda rolled her eyes.
"actually, as pretty as you are baby, this one wanted ya," tony pointed to wanda, and wanda waved her fingers.
"you just caught my eye, pretty," she said. you recognized the CEO immediately. you had to fight an eyeroll because no way in hell you were letting some snob like wanda touch you. you turned to the gruffy man whose lap you are on.
"i came over to see you," you avoided. the men around the table laughed, making fun of wanda. wanda just told them to all "shut the fuck up."
she tried to get your attention all night, buying you drinks, complimenting you, trying to just make you say hi. all she'd get in response is an eye roll and a "leave me alone."
"yo, get away from the girl she told you to stop," a bouncer said, pushing wanda away from you.
"look man, im not trying to cause a problem. she's just a pretty lady," wanda laughed, trying to use her charm to make him let her through.
"sorry, the girls not comfortable with you," the bouncer said again. wanda groaned, pulling out her wallet.
"c'mon ill even pay to just talk to her, man," wanda pulled out a few hundred dollar bills, and you rolled your eyes at the interaction. "i wont touch her, fucking promise. just wanna get to know the gal," wanda pleaded.
the bouncer looked at you, pointing at the money. wanda was at least holding 500 dollars in her hand currently. it was a silent agreement, and wanda was allowed into the private room
she handed a bill to the bouncer, then a few to you, before sitting in one of the booths. "you're a feisty one," she joked. you rolled your eyes.
"you can't buy me," she snapped. wanda nodded.
"im not trying to, babe. you're just... very intriguing," wanda said.
-
you had complained all of the next week, even after you didnt see wanda. you just didnt want her around, and didn't want her paying her way to you.
wanda found that out quickly, but she couldn't help it. you deserved to be worshiped with everything she could buy.
she sent you flowers, chocolates, everything to work. she didn't even know what days you worked, and she still sent them. Every time, you snacked on the chocolate and left the flowers in the trash. you didn't complain about that though. if she was going to spend money on you, she was going to laugh about it.
wanda came again two weeks later. she smiled and waved at you, but you continued flirting with a client. your hands on the man more than usual, making sure to get a rise out of her. you avoided her, but from close by. she'd call you over, and you'd give a lap dance to a guy near her.
wanda was fucking tired of it. that week, she bought the whole strip club. when you found out, you quit.
"no." wanda said.
"what?! you're fucking crazy. you're stalking me!" you screamed. wanda raised her eyebrows, standing up
"im not stalking you!" she screamed back at you
you laughed, "right. you're just fucking craz-" wanda kissed you. hard. you pushed her away, looking at her like she was actually insane, because she was, and then you kissed her back harder.
wanda grabbed your hips, picking you up and setting you on her desk. "you were just too pretty to leave alone. I'd buy the whole earth to be with you," she told you.
you thought she was joking, but she really wasn't. wanda was infatuated with you. when you looked her in the eyes, you could tell. you kissed her hard, allowing the woman you barely knew to have all of you.
"you're so pretty," wanda said, removing your sweater and kissing your breasts. you blushed, nodding.
"thank you," you whispered, moaning softly.
"you'll never have to work again, okay? and I'll win you over, i promise. I'll take you out on dates, I'll buy you dinner," wanda got on her knees sliding your shorts down, looking at you in the eyes. "I'll do anything, for you."
you blushed again, nodding, "win me over," you moaned. wanda nodded, sliding your panties over and taking you in.
"such a good girl," she praised, licking you fully. you shook softly, tangling your hands into wanda's hair. her lips found your clit, sucking softly.
you let out another breathy moan, and another as two digits pushed into you. your hand flew everything off the desk, and you lied back. wanda could deal with it later, you decided.
she was quick to make you cum, cleaning your thighs and kissing them both. she got rid of her pants, revealing a large red strap on. you looked at wanda with shaky arms and legs, smiling at her.
she didn't bother to take her button up off, only her pants and boxers, before shuffling towards you. "can i make you mine?" wanda asked, kissing your palms. you smiled up at her.
"yes," you said again, kissing her deeply. wanda smiled, lining her strap up with your cunt, before softly making her way into you.
the strap was the biggest you've taken, so you were grateful for wanda's soft nature. she looked at you, searching for any sign of discomfort. when she didn't find any, she started to go faster.
your hands found her back, gripping her shoulders and scratching down her back, "faster, wanda," you pleaded.
wanda nodded quickly, making sure to pick up the pace, "anything for you, doll," wanda kissed her thumb. she grabbed your boobs, kissing them both before kissing your lips. "you're so pretty like this," wanda said, kissing you again.
"thank you," you moaned. wanda's hand found your clit, rubbing softly until you came around her strap.
when you finished, she pulled out and washed you up with a washcloth. she then put you back into your shorts, and then her own hoodie.
"gonna get you back home and run you a bath, kay? dont gotta worry about anything ever again. I'll take care of you."
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rockethorse · 3 months
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Alright, let's meet Calcinidae Bay!
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Calcinidae Bay is a(n unpopulated) work-in-progress CC-free Sims 2 neighbourhood where all the buildings are made from shell challenges.
I'm planning on posting more about Calcinidae Bay and its lots, so I wanted to make an intro post to start the tag! Feel free to mute the tag "Calcinidae Bay" if you're not interested.
Shell challenges are quite popular in the Sims 4, but they're possible to do in any Sims game and the principles are largely the same; one player puts down a bunch of walls, then other Simmers have to turn those walls into something without altering that "shell". Rules may vary depending on the creator and between game versions, but here are the general rules I'm playing by:
Walls that are already placed cannot be deleted, moved, or swapped with fences/half-walls.
New exterior walls cannot be connected to the the shell; they must be separated by at least one tile. This includes vertically (e.g. additional storeys, basements, dormers). New interior walls may be placed freely, but any preexisting interior walls must be preserved.
Fences and half-walls are allowed to be added/connected anywhere.
Foundation can be added freely but any existing foundation must be preserved (though it can be replaced with any of the 3 basegame foundation types).
There are some lots in Calcinidae Bay that don't follow these exact rules (such as my Foundations For Families houses) but do follow other building-restriction challenges, but the majority of lots are based on Sims 4 shell challenges converted to the Sims 2.
Let's take a look under the hood!
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Calcinidae Bay is split into five sections, and has two roads leading in/out of town. Its terrain is Compass River by Leekeaux on MTS.
The blue/cyan area is the civic centre, where the entertainment, business, and government buildings are. There are some residential lots here, but mostly community. The road out leads to/from the future Downtown subhood.
The yellow section is the suburban area where most Sims live. It has a lot of housing, some smaller shops, and community lots like a library and public primary/secondary schools. The road out leads to/from the future Shopping District subhood.
The red/pink area is the rougher side of town. Since there are no roads out, there's less incidental traffic, so the real estate is less valuable and thus tends to be cheaper. This is where the remote offices, factories/warehouses, and affordable housing is/are.
The purple area is where the rich snobs live and gather. Houses here will be larger, older, and more expensive, and the few community lots will be more exclusive. (Note that "expensive" does not always mean "tasteful".)
Lastly, the green area in the corner is military ground. Eventually, it will have barracks, offices, and research facilities.
And if you were wondering, "why Calcinidae?" Well, Calcinidae is a family of hermit crabs - creatures that take shells left by others and repurpose them for their own use. :) The hermit crab and its shell are the coat of arms for Calcinidae Bay (and would be on its flag were I using custom content).
Most of the shells I use for Calcinidae Bay are remade from Sims 4 challenges, but I would love for Sims 2 players to donate shells too! Feel free to send me a Sims2Pack of a packaged shell OR simply draw the floorplan out on a grid and I'll remake it myself. You can also include other rules/suggestions about what the lot should be, what objects must be used, etc.
Lastly, I can't promise how useful all the lots in Calcinidae Bay would be for other players, especially since shell challenges can result in some unintuitive floorplans, but if you would like any of them, simply ask and I will do my best to share them. :)
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unreliablesnake · 1 year
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Scenes from a relationship: the fight (John Price x reader)
Note: Just a drabble.
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"Do you have any idea how much shit I got from my family for taking you to that wedding as my plus one?" you yelled at Price angrily, even pointing a finger at him.
He was taken aback, not expecting to hear this since he had pleasant conversations with your parents and friends after you introduced him to them. They were all snobs, he knew that, but were they really that bad?
Long seconds passed while he waited for you to breathe in and out a few times to calm your nerves. Then, once he saw you feeling a little better, he said, "Why?"
"Why? Because we weren't dating, they never even heard of you, you're not from a wealthy family, don't have a typical white-collar job, and you're not the guy my parents want me to be with," you replied with brutal honesty.
Price let out a sigh and nodded. "Okay, I get it. I'll leave you alone because I'm not good enough for your family, so I'm surely not good enough for you either."
"No, you don't get it apparently," you told him with a desperate laugh. "You were on mission after mission ever since, we barely kept in touch, you never said anything that even remotely suggested you wanted more from me despite what had happened between us after the wedding."
What happened after the wedding. Price remembered it as clearly as if it happened yesterday. He often thought about it, he often rewatched the short video he recorded while you were riding out an orgasm on top of him, wondering if you wanted more than just a one night stand.
But he knew your background, he knew you also had your snobbish moments sometimes, and his brain told him you just wanted to have some fun with him after a few drinks. You had been friends before, nothing more. Nothing pointed in the direction of an actual relationship.
Now that you stood in front of him, so angry and desperate, he wondered what the truth was. He said he didn't see any signs of you wanting a relationship, you thought the same, so maybe you were both missing the signs completely. Maybe it was that easy, it was nothing more but miscommunication.
"Do you want more?" he asked quietly.
Despite being on the verge of crying, you forced a smile on your face before nodding. "Do you?"
He took a hesitant step forward, moving very slowly as he reached out to take your hand. "I've been thinking about it ever since that night. I want you. All of you."
You jumped into his arms, a move so sudden that it took him by surprise and he almost lost his balance. But he got you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you tightly against his body, enjoying the warmth that radiated from you.
He had fantasized about this many times; to have you like this again, to be able to smell your shampoo, and to feel your soft skin under his fingertips. That one video wasn't enough, he needed new memories his mind could replay over and over again.
But then his brain started to work and he thought about something important. "What about your family?" Price asked as he leaned back to look you in the eye.
"I don't care," you replied with a sweet smile. "You're the one I want, if they don't like you, it's not my problem."
"They might disown you."
"They'll block my credit card and stop inviting me to fancy family events for a while. Big deal."
Leaning his forehead against yours, Price couldn't help but smile. If you were willing to accept your family's punishment, then you must have really liked him. It made him feel better about this already, even making him forget what you had started to fight about tonight in the first place.
But then you said something that reminded him of the beginning. "Don't you dare and ignore me again. And I promise I won't ignore you either."
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fafnir19 · 6 months
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Naughty or nice
Kathy and Ben lived in the same apartment building. They often bumped into each other in the lobby or elevator, exchanging casual small talks. Kathy, with her charming smile and endearing laughter, always managed to brighten Ben's day, but he was never quite sure how to respond to her presence. Since Kathy had broken up with her boyfriend, she had been turning to Ben for help quite often, seeking his company and assistance even for the smallest matters. Ben had treated Kathy had never sat well with Ben. So, when Kathy constantly asked for his help, Ben couldn't help but feel a growing annoyance. Perhaps she had been never been a fan of Kathy's ex-boyfriend. He considered him to be an arrogant snob, and the way he treating her ex-boyfriend like a servant because she came from a wealthy family, Ben assumed with a tinge of bitterness. "Hey, Kathy, I can't keep doing this," Ben said one day, his frustration bubbling over. "I'm not your personal assistant, you know. And just because your parents have money, doesn't mean you can make others do whatever you want."
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It was St. Nicholas Day, and Kathy pleaded with Ben for help again. "Please, Ben, it's important! I promise I won't ask for anything again," she implored. "You always say that," Ben shouted, his patience wearing thin. "I'm not your servant, Kathy!" Storming out of the apartment building in a huff, Ben collided with St. Nicholas and his helper, Knecht Ruprecht, who were spreading joy and cheer in the neighborhood.
"You've been good this year, young man?" St. Nicholas asked with a twinkle in his eye. "Save that question for the kids," Ben replied, irked by the joviality around him. Without warning, Knecht Ruprecht swiftly stuffed Ben into his sack, ignoring Ben's shouts and struggles. Before Ben could even comprehend what was happening, he found himself in the workshop of St. Nicholas with no way of escape. St. Nicholas's voice filled the workshop as he explained Ben's predicament. "You have refused to help Kathy too many times, young man. As a consequence, you will now work in my workshop until you understand the true spirit of Christmas."
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In the following weeks leading up to Christmas, Ben toiled alongside the cheerful Christmas elves in the workshop. The air was thick with the scent of fresh pine and the sound of little hammers and chisels transforming old, forgotten toys into new ones with magical craftsmanship. However, instead of feeling the joy of the season, Ben's heart grew colder as he was forced to immerse himself in the work. Furthermore, the elves had also forced Ben to wear a green tuxedo, a symbol of his servanthood that he couldn't shed. As Christmas drew nearer, St. Nicholas took Ben aside and revealed to him the truth about Kathy. "She is lonely, and she has turned to you because she cares for you. Her constant requests for help were her way of trying to connect with you." Before Ben could process this revelation, the Christmas elves lined up, thanking Ben for his hard work. "Only one thing remains to be done," they declared. Ben was puzzled, for all the old toys had been transformed into new ones. The elves surrounded him, molding him as if he were clay, their nimble fingers shaping his features with delicate precision. As if guided by magic, his once unremarkable visage transformed into that of a dashing, handsome young man with captivating charm. A radiant smile graced his chiseled features; his eyes sparkled with newfound allure, and he stood in stunned silence as he admired his own reflection.
On Christmas Eve, St. Nicholas took Ben on his sleigh to deliver gifts.
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But instead of taking him to his own home, St. Nicholas placed him under Kathy's Christmas tree. "Wait, I can't be here!" Ben's panic rose in his throat, but he couldn't move a muscle. St. Nicholas's words echoed in his mind: "You are nothing more than a gift now, a toy for the big girls.". He was a gift now, and a gift couldn't simply walk away from the Christmas tree.
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Kathy's gasp filled the room as she laid eyes on the extraordinary Christmas surprise. "Oh, my goodness! This is amazing!" She lifted Ben, who could only watch in shock as she reveled in her new companion, oblivious to the turmoil within him. As their days together unfolded, Kathy found herself ecstatic with the new Ben, soon realizing that he was not only the perfect boyfriend on the outside but was also unexpectedly better in every way, especially in bed. Despite his protests and struggles, he was perceived by everyone as an ideal boyfriend, a mirror image of Kathy's previous beau.
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However, Kathy was enamored with her new companion, and Ben couldn't help but notice her joyful laughter and contented smiles. And in the privacy of their moments together, Ben noticed another change – she moaned with delight and found solace in his embrace, making him question the depth of his own feelings.
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finnickfan8 · 6 months
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You’re in the Wind, I’m in the Water
Pairing: Finnick x reader
Genre: Songfic, Under the Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey
Warnings: none
You hadn't seen Finnick Odair for years as he was tied up with being Mr. Popular at the Capitol, drinking and partying around with the bigwigs and the who's who of Panem. Every year, you had made him a birthday card in case he comes back, you had just made your 6th one and tomorrow it will join the others in the box in hopes that he will come back next year. As you were cleaning up from making the card, you heard a knock on my door. You stood up from your sandalwood chair and creeped across the old creaking floorboards to the captain's style door. The round window on the door had been covered with spare scraps of fabric that you had been too tired to lift up to check who was at the door.
“Of course I am, Idiot! It’s been 6 whole years since I’ve seen you and you’ve been galavanting around with rich snobs and it’s unbearable.” you teared up a little, reverting back to when the two of you were younger, when you had heard Finnicks name get called as the male tribute. You remember how you looked at each other scared and he promised he’d come back for you one day, although you never thought it would be true.
He had felt horrible throughout the years not being there to protect you physically but he definitely was protecting you. “I had things to do to protect you, and that’s why I came to see you now, to protect you again. Pack your things, we have to leave, now.” Finnick had never been a man of secrets, not to you at least. You assumed it wasn’t without reason, and packed what little you had left in your ramshackle “house” and joined him on the walk to the train.
I'm on the run with you, my sweet love
The ride was silent until Finnick leaned over and chuckled, “You still wear the necklace I gave you?”
“Yeah, I do. It helps me when you’re not there for me.” you started to play with the shell around your neck “Why weren’t you there for me? Why didn’t you come back for me?” You both felt a tinge of hurt surge through you.
“I had to stay and let The Capitol sell me off.” He looks down and fiddles with his well-tailored dress shirt, “I had to do it for Snow so you would be safe. I had to do things I’ve never dreamed of in order to save you.” He starts to smile a little bit and it pulls on your heart strings. “But it was all worth it because you’re safe.” You were still trying to reason with why Snow would use Finnick like that, his job is to protect his people, not sell them.
There's nothing wrong contemplating God
You arrive to a small town and keep hiking out to the abandoned shores on the outskirts of District 11. There was a seemingly small cave up ahead that you followed Finnick’s lead to. “Home sweet home” he proclaims as you see this fully decorated cave with his spears and pictures up everywhere along with a small pallet in the corner with off-white pillows and blankets the outside of the cave lead to a pool-like calm in the water.
Together the two of you hopped in to the water outside of your little cave-home, the water smiling up at you as your legs danced to keep you afloat. Finnick took his ring-adorned hands and cupped water over your hair and smoothed his hands over the (H/C) locks before tucking it behind your ears. Finnick then reaches down and grabs the slightly tarnished chain around the shell on your necklace.
“I told you a piece of me would always be with you didn’t I, Pretty Girl?” He put his arm around you and help you tight so you could watch the Capitol’s airplanes paint small ribbons of white in the sky a beautiful yet fearful reminder of their control.
Under the chemtrails over the country club
Wearing our jewels in the swimming pool
The wave of relief and peace you felt was quickly quashed by questions that had been unanswered.
“You know how you went to the Capitol with my sister as your stylist?” Finnick begins to tense up around you and just nods. “She did well, kinda, your makeup was a little sparkly as per my request.” Finnick softly laughs, not wanting to really remember the games, but remembering the sparkly eye makeup that your sister had adorned him with.
Me and my sister just playing it cool
Under the chemtrails over the country club
“I don’t really know if now is a good time because obviously it’s hidden for a reason,” you had started, “but why are we running?” He sighs and cups your face tenderly, while trying to figure out how to tell you this without breaking your little heart.
“Y/N, you know how The Capitol is all mighty when it comes to the Hunger Games?” He begins to stroke your hair while you nod. “In my games there was no trident in the Cornucopia. I was a Career so there was no way that I wasn’t the first to the Cornucopia. Later in my games, a trident was gifted to me.” You didn’t really see where this was going, but he looked so pretty when he was talking so you let him continue. At this point he had let you go and had his arms rested propping him up on the side of the cave. “My games was rigged.” He turns to you. “ALL the games are rigged and you were next.” He finally confesses.
“What do you mean I was next? I was the next one that was to be reaped from District 4?” You had never taken food from the Capitol so you should have only had one slip in. Everyone you knew had 20,30,40 slips in so it made no sense.
“You were to be reaped next and they were going to torture you to get back at me ever since I started to rebel. I stopped going to appointments for people who had booked me because of how wrong it felt to do to you.” His green eyes glinted in the now ever present moonlight. He had done this to save you and you’ve done nothing to repay him. He starts to pull himself out of the water and grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist. “ready to go to bed sweetheart or do you wanna grab a cup of coffee and talk?” You hastily get out and grab a towel while you wait for him to start a fire for the coffee.
Meet you for coffee at the elementary schools
It feels just like how it felt to talk to him all those years ago you just talked and laughed about little inside jokes. Slowly throughout the night he reminded you of the boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago. He made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered. There might have been so much bad outside and so much good in him. He made everything feel alright again.
We laugh about nothing as the summer gets cool
It's beautiful how this deep normality settles down over me
“You’re probably bored of me talking about the games so much, I know that time must have been hard without me there like I promised to be. I won for you, I won for us.” you shake your head and him and clasp his hand, placing the intertwinement in your lap.
“I could never get bored of you, my love.” You reach up to cup his face as he cups yours, gently kissing you for the first time.
I'm not bored or unhappy, I'm still so strange and wild
“That was amazing, Love. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to be able to do that with you. I want a life with you. A life outside of the mess of a world. A world with just me and you together away from this world. We may have existed in two different worlds before, but together we can be one of our own.”
You're in the wind, I'm in the water
“we have nothing but each other in this world” you pressed your forehead softly against his.
He chuckles “Nobody’s son” you softly pull him in and kiss him. The two of you linger there for a while, feeling each other’s breath as it comes out.
“Nobody’s daughter.” You know that despite both having lost most of your family that you would make one together one day. He was yours and you were his.
“I love you Finnick Odair.”
“I love you more Y/N L/N”
A/N: I took this from my wattpad, it wasn’t being seen much there so i’m hoping for this to get some requests and feedback
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