#Look I've made this joke before but it's still one of my funniest moments | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cellarfulofnose · 1 year

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don't think twice, it's all right

@smallsnzplz prompt #3. Sooner or later, one of us must know...

"No, hey, listen, I can beat that, hang on."

John didn't realize he'd tuned out until Bob lightly shook his shoulder. He tried to focus, but they were in a thick haze. Smoke and drink and possibly a pill or two; John couldn't remember which kind or how many. Once they had sunk to the kitchen floor, communing with the tile, someone brought up sex, and whether they were getting any. There was a brief gripe over their current dry spell, but they quickly began trading war stories. Back in America, there was this girl...Back in Hamburg, there were these two birds... It didn't make John's head any less fuzzy, being randy as a bull as well as stoned, but he kept upping the ante. For each of Bob's escapades, he had one to top it. Some, even, were true.

But now the ball was in Bob's court again. "John. You listening?"

John kneaded at his eyes with a rumbling hum. "I'm still here, Bobby," he said somewhat reticently.

"Oh, there was this one chick, man." Without looking, John could hear the grin in Bob's voice. "This girl...hey, she woulda loved you, too."

John turned with a smile--perhaps this was worth a look. "Well, she's only human."

"Yeah, she's real keen on us 'Caesar of Rome' types," Bob explained, tracing a line down the bridge of his nose.

John scoffed. "Long noses?" He almost hesitated to ask. God knew he'd heard enough of that from Ringo over the years: these girls are going to kill me, John, this one actually wanted to sit on my--

"Yeah, but I mean, aquiline, you know?" Bob gestured again, as if to convey the shape of an eagle's beak, and chuckled. "I ought to thank you, really, you broke me in easy."

"Thank me?"

"Yeah, she wanted me to..." Bob giggled, but he gathered himself up long enough to get out, "She got off on makin' me sneeze."

"Hmm." John answered without really hearing. But in a matter of seconds, the words sank in, and a lightning stab of excitement snapped him back to the present moment. He shook his head, half sobered up, blinking as if to clear his vision. "She what?"

Still fighting a fit of giggles, Bob nodded. "She's got a whole thing for it. Gets her goin'. I thought it was about the funniest thing, because she brought up all that shit you showed me--with the tissue?" He twisted his hand beside his nose. "Remember? And the cotton swab."

John swallowed. Fucking small world, this. "Rings a bell."

"Yeah, well, she got me to sneeze that way. And she was good at it, too, I mean, she wouldn't let up, just unbelievable. But I'd already had some practice with you, so it wasn't so bad," Bob finished, laughing lightly, happily oblivious to the weight of what he'd just said.

John, despite himself, was finding it difficult to speak. If Paul were here...Now his thoughts were getting away from him. "But it didn't put you off?" he asked, before they could wander off for good.

"Put me off?" Bob sounded bewildered. "What do you mean, put me off? I loved it. And it got her so hot, John..." His voice changed, got lower and slower, as he leaned in, one hand on John's arm. Dead serious. "I'd sneeze and she'd just get this look, like she was gonna go all to pieces, you wouldn't even believe it..."

"A good fuck, then?" John kept talking, joking to quiet his head, but it was no use. His runaway thoughts, without his permission, had led him to his most reprehensible idea yet. He pushed it away. It wasn't worth spending time on, nor the trouble that was sure to come with it.

"Jesus." Bob collapsed his face into his hands and rocked to the side, letting his weight rest on John for a moment. "Best lay I've ever had. She was wild. I made her come just from touchin' her, just barely nothin'. And by the time I really fucked her--" he whistled, "she woulda done anything, man. I never saw a chick get like that before."

Speak for yourself, John didn't say. What came out instead, bypassing his brain by way of his cock, was: "Anything."

"Felt good, too. Shit." Bob lifted his head from his hands. He continued as if he hadn't heard John, his face split in a dopey grin, eyes half shut, miles deep in a daydream. "You ever sneeze right as you're just about to get off? Whew. Feels like dying and being born."

"Can't say I've had the pleasure," John lied. "So you'd..." Something pulled at his clothes, and he started, but it was only Bob, playing absent-mindedly with the lapels of John's jacket, running his long fingernails over the corduroy furrows. John responded almost automatically with a gentle hand on Bob's wrist, joining him in play. "You'd do it again, then?"

Bob shook his head. "God. Would I. Given half the chance. Just...somethin' different about it, I don't know." He chuckled. "Don't exactly see the chicks linin' up to--"

"I know someone who would." It was out before John could tell himself not to, and straight away his mouth went dry. There was no way he could tell Bob. Yet the thrill that leapt in his chest to hear himself even hint at the truth was too much. He couldn't back out. It was too late.

"Oh, you do, huh?" Bob was Cheshire-cat grinning. "Did you keep her number?"

"Hardly needed to, did I? When I could just ask Paul." Shit. That was a step too far, wasn't it? John prayed Bob wouldn't make the leap. Surely there was another way that could be construed. Maybe he'd think he meant--

"Ask...ask Paul?" At first, Bob couldn't make sense of it. "What, like...Oh, don't tell me."

John's heart dropped heavily into his stomach, but Bob said, "Not Paul's girl, too? The redhead? Jesus Christ, man, she must be about the luckiest chick on the planet. Can you imagine that? All she's gotta do is pet a cat and he's sneezing for a good...a good hour, something like that. Oh, I bet you he gets her so worked up. Shit, I'd love to see that."

John bit his lip to avoid breaking out in bewildered, relieved laughter. Bob was often right on the mark, but when he missed it...boy, did he. "It's not Jane. I meant..." John stalled. The words wouldn't come. He'd really painted himself into a corner, hadn't he? He didn't see any other way out.

Bob was still messing with his jacket, scratching and tracing thoughtlessly. John swallowed. "Only I, I wouldn't mind, you know."

For a crushing moment, Bob was quiet. Then he scoffed. "You don't mean that."

"I swear."

"You just--you've got this notion that I'm gonna put you on to a good thing." As he spoke, Bob jabbed an accusing finger into John's chest, but without any bite behind it. "That's all this is. You've got...misplaced notions. Huh, John?" He was smiling, not looking scornful. Amused, maybe; flattered, even.

"Well." John wet his lips. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

"Yeah, well. Why don't you simplify it for me?"

John made his face placid. He felt keenly aware of where their hands were still touching. "You know Paul and I are. Involved."

"In love?"

"I said, 'involved'."

"Oh." Bob smirked. "Yeah, I figured."

"Right." It was deeply unfair how caught John felt, more so than at the prospect of outing Paul's unusual interest. Somehow, though, he soldiered on. "But our Paul, he's...well, he's a bit mad for you, really." Earlier, he'd been holding Bob's wrist, lightly saying hello as Bob explored his jacket. Now, though, he pressed his palm flat over Bob's, cupping him to his chest, right over his heart. Even through Bob's hand, John could feel how it raced.

If Bob wanted to say something just then, it couldn't escape his lips, tightly pursed to squash a smile. John gave Bob's hand a squeeze, stroked it with his thumb, and continued. "You should hear the way he goes on about you. Makes me wonder."

Bob sighed, quick and tight like a breathless laugh. "Don't worry, Johnny, I'm not about to run off with him." He sounded cavalier, but he was looking down, doing nothing to hide his smile, unconsciously palming John's chest.

"Oh, I'm a jealous man, but I'm not unreasonable. I see what he sees in you." John began to push, just barely, guiding Bob's hand down at a glacier's pace. "I've half a mind to give him what he wants--long as I'm there to see it, of course."

"John, man, your heart's goin'..." Bob's hand had only just cleared John's ribs when he pulled back. But instead of separating, Bob sidled up to John and pressed the side of his head against John's chest, with his ear over his heart.

John's skin warmed all over, but he felt as though he might shiver. He clutched Bob's head and took a deep breath. "That's an open invitation." He could hear his heart thudding, now, too. He could only imagine what Bob must have heard.

As if on cue, Bob angled his head to listen better. "Wow. You're not kiddin', are you? You really want..." He trailed off.

"Yeah. Yes." John nodded, helpless not to even though Bob couldn't see. "But...there's a catch--"

"Hey." Bob beckoned lazily with one hand. "Hey, John. C'mere a minute."

John looked down as Bob gathered a fistful of his shirt and pulled slowly, dragging him down to eye level. His eyes were the color of a robin's egg.

Bob pulled once more, and the breath kicked out of John's chest. He shut his eyes just as their lips joined in a smoky kiss.

---

"Dylan wants me to watch you two fuck."

John had spent the previous night at Bob's place. They didn't get up to anything, too tired even to neck for more than a few minutes before they dragged themselves onto the carpet to sleep. He'd slipped out in the morning to meet Paul, leaving Bob still curled up against an ottoman. He and Paul had passed a normal day together, getting stoned, fiddling with writing, not committing anything to tape. All the while, John was ruminating over how to break the good news to Paul (and it was good news, he kept reminding himself, nothing less than one of Paul's fantasies come to life).

Yet for some reason, he just couldn't say it. At first he reasoned that he'd better get Paul in a good mood before dropping a bombshell of this caliber, but as the day went by, he realized he was stalling. Nervous. For what? It didn't make sense. Paul should be the nervous one--or, really, if anyone was to be nervous it should be Dylan, but of course he'd been cool as glass when John surrendered the details of his idea. Finally, John decided just to open with the most shocking part. Door-in-the-face. Get it out of the way.

Paul stared. He blinked so many times John was worried he'd have to repeat himself, but then he asked, "When?"

John had to take a moment to recover from that one. At least Bob had the decency to give the appearance of humility, coyly insisting that there must be some mistake, he couldn't possibly want him. No such urge existed in Paul. And he might have pretended to hand-wring over fidelity, tearfully swear he wanted John and only John forever, but that was a pipe dream, too. Oh, John could have pitched a fit, and on another day he might've done, but today, he felt the need to get to the point. He told Paul about the girl, her exotic tastes. How eager Bob was to re-create the experience, but for want of a willing participant.

"He wants to do it with you," John finished.

Paul became very quiet. After a long pause, he said in a clipped tone that John hadn't answered his question. John was a little taken aback. He floated the potential date he and Bob had talked about, but that seemed to have been the wrong thing to say. Paul snapped that John had betrayed his trust (again, he kept saying, again), that he had no right to be telling Dylan his most intimate secrets. He got quieter and quieter until John was sure he was ready to cry.

"I told him it was my kink," John blurted, after trying to interrupt several times. "Not yours."

Paul looked exhausted, and utterly lost. "What?"

"Look. No secrets. All right?" John spread his hands out, trying not to sound like he was crying wolf. "I'm not keeping anything from you."

He told Paul everything.

"With Paul, he's...he's very neat, see. Hates mess."

"Well, then he's gonna hate this, man. That'd be tantamount to torture, havin' somebody sneeze all over you."

"Aye, there's the fucking rub, innit? I love seeing him like that. When he's squirming like mad, but he grits his teeth and he does it just 'cause I asked him to. And you know he loves it. Pushin' his limits for me, showing me how good he can be. Can't get enough of it. He's dead easy, is Paul."

"Jesus Christ, what a...what a cheap date, huh? God, you two are somethin'."

John left out the cheap date part, but once he'd finished the rest of the story, Paul's eyes had gone big and round. John shrugged: Well?

Paul scratched his face. "So I've got to pretend to be..."

"Disgusted," John finished for Paul when he took too long searching for the right word.

Paul raised his eyebrows, somewhat defiantly. "Like any normal person would be."

If that was a line, John thought it best not to bite. He kept his tone and expression even. "Think you can do that?"

Paul shifted, crossed and uncrossed his legs. "Yeah. 'Course," he said with his thumbnail in his mouth. He'd gone from icy to twitchy, as if it had just broken through that this was actually going to happen and his nerves were already settling in. John wasn't worried. It was a performance, and if Paul was built to do anything it was perform.

Still... "You sure?"

"Yeah." Paul frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

John shook his head, his face tactless; I don't know, you tell me. "Well, it's one thing to try and play it cool when you're ten feet apart in his flat. With your clothes on."

"I was fine," Paul quickly said.

"And when he's on the ground with your cock in his mouth?" John fired back. "You'll be fine, will you? When he sneezes so hard he drives his head down and chokes on you? And then again when your cock tickles the roof of his mouth, you'll be fine then?"

For a brief moment, Paul looked ready to burst into flames. Nostrils flared, eyes shining. But he slammed his lips shut, wrinkled his nose and frowned, even pulled his head back a bit. "That's bloody disgusting," he spat, the same cant in his eyebrows and quirk on his lips that he got whenever he was asked to read lines for a camera.

John took a deep breath. "We'll work on it."

---

Bob arrived at Cavendish straight from a show. John had to admit, he'd looked better.

It was dark outside when he rang the doorbell, looking like the wind had blown him onto the doorstep, swimming in an angular woolen suit, the bags under his eyes heavy and stark. He said nothing, but gave a weak smile when John opened the door.

"Sorry, we've no room at the inn," John said brusquely, and that got Bob smiling enough for John to throw an arm round him and herd him inside.

When they entered the front room, Paul stubbed out his cigarette--he'd practically burned through a carton waiting for Bob to arrive. "All right, Bob?" he called brightly.

"Hey, Paul," Bob rasped. His voice was gravelly, more so than usual. It stung John's throat to hear, but only because he knew the feeling so well, the soreness of having screamed yourself hoarse onstage. At least when John did it, he only had to match half of Paul's volume. Bob's voice must have been double-wrecked, then, from being the only fucker singing at any given time.

Paul heard it too; John could see it on his face, which didn't bode well for the rest of the evening. But Paul deliberately avoided eye contact with John and coolly asked, "How was the show?"

"Terrible, oh, it was terrible." Bob dropped like a bag of rocks onto the sofa next to Paul, tiredly rubbing his face with one hand.

John sat in the armchair, kitty-corner to Paul and Bob. "They give you trouble?"

"They wouldn't stop booing me, man. I couldn't hear the band."

"Philistines," John sneered, just as Paul said, "Oh, all Brits are rubes, you know, we wouldn't know a real act if it bit us." In response to that, John clacked his teeth together, snapping his jaws like a crocodile. Paul ignored him.

"Ah, it's all bullshit anyway, that audience stuff," Bob said dismissively. "But next time I'm gonna boo back."

John flipped the V and hissed, and that made both of them laugh. But when they caught their breath, a silence fell that was just a bit too strained for John's liking. Everyone seemed to be waiting. Bob rubbed his eyes.

God. It always had to be him, didn't it? "Paul."

Paul straightened, and John said, "Get the man a drink."

Paul was on his feet in an instant. He seemed to realize a moment later how eager he'd been, the puppylike enthusiasm in his obedience, because he turned and gave them a stiff bow before he left the room: See, it's all a joke.

"It's so hard to find good staff in London," John lamented once Paul had disappeared.

"No, I like him, he's good," Bob chuckled. "You keep him."

"You think so?"

At that moment, Paul came back in, laden with glasses of whiskey and wine. "Oh, I think so," Bob grinned, and with a funny twinge in his stomach, John realized his unique position in this little dance. Whatever Bob and Paul thought of each other after tonight reflected back on him. He was the ringmaster, the matchmaker.

John reached for wine, but decided on whiskey instead. Paul sat. They drank.

Bob did most of the talking. Not all of his shows, as it turned out, were disasters. Only the other night, he'd played for an audience who cheered and were silent at all the right times (though, he claimed, they were mostly French and didn't understand what he was singing, which was almost worse). Paul shared a few anecdotes about some of their wilder crowds. He didn't so much as stammer as he refilled everyone's glass and kept easy attention on Dylan. John found himself listening intently to stories he'd heard a hundred times, never mind been there for, and he began to suspect Bob was right. About keeping Paul around, that is.

At some point, John saw Bob's hand resting in Paul's upper thigh with no memory of seeing him put it there. His pulse spiked, adrenaline cutting through the foggy balm of the drinks. It was no absent-minded fidget, but a gentle, deliberate hold.

As if he felt John staring, Paul turned to meet his gaze. He studied John's eyes for a moment, then hooked his ankle behind John's, nestling their shins together.

John's head spun. There'd been something coiling in his chest earlier, some strange possessive urge that rankled to see Bob and Paul touching each other. That was gone now. He wanted them to get on exceptionally, blisteringly well with each other, and he didn't want to miss a moment of it.

Bob laughed while sipping wine and spluttered out a few drops of red. He was laughing too hard to recover, so Paul reached over and thumbed the spilled wine off Bob's chin. He popped his thumb in his mouth to clean it; waste not, want not. God only knew what possessed him to give a little hum of satisfaction after that, as indulgent as if the wine were honey.

It didn't go unnoticed. "Thanks," said Bob. "It's good, isn't it?"

Paul nodded, looking slightly guilty, little Jack Horner caught with his thumb in the pie. "It's good."

John thought he might sweat through his jacket if they sat here any longer. Then Bob said, "Hey, I've never been here before. Where's the bedroom?"

"Just--down..."

John sprang to his feet before Paul could finish giving directions. "This way," he panted, and the other two followed.

He swore he'd only counted one breath before they were piling into Paul's room. The jostled each other in the doorway, someone muttered "Sorry" as they nudged through the bottleneck, and then at once Bob was kissing John, as chapped and smoky as he'd been the first time. John tried to let himself melt into it, just for a second.

Bob tilted his mouth away to murmur "Oh, fuck," all soft and sweet, and John realized Paul had pressed into Bob from the back to kiss his neck. The sight and sound pushed every thought out of John's mind, and they continued like that for a while, John at Bob's lips and Paul at his pulse, until Paul stepped back with a rustle of fabric.

John opened his eyes. Paul had stripped to his shorts and was working on getting his socks off. He was so beautiful, dark-haired and open-mouthed, his chest splashed with pink from the wine and the kiss.

Bob started to palm John through his jeans, clumsy but sure. John gasped. "Wait, it--" he took half a step back, separating them. "It's you and him now." With a hand on Bob's shoulder, he turned him to face Paul. It was what they had agreed. He was just here to watch.

And to direct. "Sit down," John said softly, and Paul perched on the edge of the bed.

Geneva. That was the word that would end the whole session, no questions asked, if spoken. John tried to keep it at the front of his mind, but it was getting harder to hold on to rational thought. Bob, too, seemed to lose some of his faculties at the sight of Paul. For all John knew, he could've been star-struck, unwilling to believe this was the same man he'd met just under a year ago. "Go on," he said with a hand at Bob's back.

Bob shambled forward, and by the way Paul bit his lip and flushed, John could guess Bob sported a sheepish grin. John smiled, safely unseen. He dragged a chair from the dresser to the middle of the room and sat.

Paul sighed heavily through his nose when Bob planted his hands on the bed and leaned down to kiss him. John stirred--not jealousy, not envy, but a fierce desire to move in as close to them as he could, to watch every fleeting touch transpire between them. He almost sighed with relief when Bob lowered to his knees, giving John an unobstructed view of Paul's face. Paul looked rumpled, already out of breath, his lips ruby from a good thorough kiss. His eyes darted down, but Bob was already standing again for some reason, as if he'd changed his mind.

John watched as Bob strode to the head of the bed. He was at a total loss until Bob reached over to the nightstand and ripped a tissue from the box.

"Can you get me started, John?" Bob asked, offering the sheet with a bashful smile. "I'm a little out of practice."

John blanched. Somehow amidst the wining and dining, he'd forgotten the hinge, the crux of this whole event. Judging by Paul's deer-in-the-headlights look, he had too, for a moment.

...He'd let his guard down. Perfect. John held out his hand, grinning ear to ear. "My pleasure."

As John twisted one corner into a wicked point, Bob bent down and began another story. "You know, I had to sneeze tonight, on stage. I dunno if it's the lights, or what, but..." he laughed. "I couldn't get my harmonica off. It was terrible. They were jeerin' me so bad. Someone, some--kgh--!" Bob twitched, sputtering out a cough, as John teased the paper into his nostril and gave a lazy swirl.

"You were saying?" John prompted, circling as slowly as he thought he could get away with, the other hand cradling Bob's chin. He stole a glance at Paul, who was running his fingertips over his lips. John raised his eyebrows once, suggestively, and looked back down.

Bob coughed. His expression was pinched, his lashes starting to darken with tears. "Someone's--Jesus--I hear someone going, 'Thahhh's...huh-! ohh...hh-...hhh--!" Bob's mouth fell open, trying to drink little sips of air, and John would've been forgiven for thinking he was on the edge of pleasure. He looked so blissed-out, yet so wanting; it was very Zen, John thought, to be so visibly caught at the crossroads of desire and suffering. He'd have to share that one with...ah, no, he couldn't tell George that.

Just then, Bob sighed thickly, having slipped the clutches of a sneeze. He sniffled a few times, as if to get his bearings, before he spoke. "They're goin', 'That's the best sound that's come outta you tonight!'" He laughed lightly, which made him sniffle again, and shot John a glare. "Hey, come on, quit teasin' me, John. I can't stomach it."

Without a word, John twisted his wrist and swirled, letting Bob feel the tissue's point properly this time.

Bob cried out and started coughing again. "Mother--fucker--that t-tickles," he managed.

John's eyes flicked up at a sudden movement--Paul was taking his hand out of his waistband. His cheeks were bright red. When he realized he was being observed, he shut his mouth and his face smoothed over a little.

John would've stared at him for an hour or two longer, but Bob gave a particularly vocal gasp. "Why don't you sneeze, then?" John asked, spurred on by an instinct he couldn't name.

Bob nodded, causing him to cringe and start gasping again. "I am...ahhh- hhh'm gonna--! ...htCch'uh!" The first sneeze had no kick to it; it was auxiliary, just to break the levee. Immediately, his lungs filled again, and he shivered out two proper sneezes. "hhhzzsch'ue! --hhih'SsChh!"

Despite himself, John jumped the tiniest bit--just from the sudden shock of spray hitting his hand, of course. He snuck a look across the room. Paul appeared--to his credit--almost bored. He blinked and rolled his eyes heavenward, his lips twisted as his tongue worked the inside of his cheek. One hand tapped incessantly on his knee. John knew the act well. He wasn't feigning disinterest; he was annoyed with himself, and only a few nudges away from biting down on something. Something about that, to John, didn't scream just fine.

"Bless you," John said with an affectionate tap under Bob's chin.

Bob swallowed and groaned, blinking away gauzy tears. "Ugh. Thank you."

John's gaze lingered a moment longer before he raised his voice to address Paul. "What, were you brought up in a barn, McCartney?"

Paul froze, petrified and utterly clueless, so John nodded down at Bob. A grudging understanding washed over Paul. "Bless--" His voice failed. He tried again. "Bless you, Bobby."

"Oh." Bob glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Thanks."

"There, now, that's better. I shouldn't have to remind you. We have a guest, after all." John didn't smile. He didn't need to. Paul's jaw was already tensing, like he was chewing on saying something. "Got to keep up appearances," John added, "haven't we?"

Paul's head tilted slightly, and his eyes might've narrowed, John couldn't swear from here. "Yes," he said flatly. "We have."

This time, John did smile. "Go on," he said to Bob, raising his chin toward Paul. "Till he gets it down."

"Happy to." Bob accepted the tissue from John and mopped at his nose with the non-twisted end. "I think I got it from here. Just had to...give me a little push." He grinned back at John as he sank to the floor before Paul's feet. Paul was breathing faster than usual, and blinking often, but otherwise he was impressively pacific. The only clue as to his true feelings was the rose-petal flush that dappled his chest. To John's eye, he wasn't even visibly hard. He'd tucked his thighs together just so, a skill learned out of necessity, prominent in the public eye as they were. But between those shapely legs, John knew, hid a throbber for the history books, and they'd only just begun.

Without much ceremony, Bob stuck the tissue's point up his nose. As if to prove to John that he could keep his cool, Paul worked a hand into Bob's curls, easing his head just slightly closer. He didn't look at John.

Bob made a sound of surprise. "Shit. Sorry," he added with a faint laugh. "I just. Snff. I never saw a better pair of legs on a chhick...yyyshh'ew!"

The sneeze seemed to catch them all by surprise. John blurted, "Bloody hell," and despite tensing conspicuously, Paul managed to offer a curt, "Bless you."

"God." Bob blew his nose lightly, but for some reason, he didn't elect to tear a fresh tissue. "Came up on me quicker than I thought. I guess I am pretty good at this. Hey, John?" he chuckled, twisting a new corner into a point.

John fought a smile. "Y'know how you get to Carnegie Hall, don't you?"

Paul's lips pressed thin. His shoulders gave a small jolt--he was swallowing a laugh. Victory burned John's cheeks.

"Man, ain't that the truth. Never thought I'd get the hang of this," said Bob, and stuck the tissue in his nose again. Right away, his breath came slow and heavy. "C'mon--let me..." he panted, easing Paul's knees apart with his free hand.

Paul's mouth dropped open, and he quickly pressed his palm over it, looking in need of a full-body shiver when Bob's hand slid up his thigh. There was no way to hide how shamefully hard he was now.

John swallowed--twice--and thought, fuck it. He rose from his chair and sat next to Paul on the bed, unfastening his belt as he went. All the acknowledgement he got was a brief moment of eye contact and a helpless little head-shake from Paul: Jesus fucking Christ, John.

Bob was too busy tempting a sneeze, and admiring Paul's legs, to notice. (His eyes were only half open, anyway.) "Did...did...did you get these--hhh'in-insured?" he asked haltingly, a faint smile playing at his lips.

"Aye, pretty fucking penny, too," John muttered. He didn't care if anyone but Paul heard him. Biting his lip to avoid gasping obscenely, he unzipped and wet the head of his cock with the dew pearling at the tip.

The memory of last time still fresh in his mind, Bob seemed to be over-cautiously slow at what he was doing, to the point that it didn't seem to be working. "Fuckin'--shit," he spat between ragged gasps. He tilted his head as if that would get him any closer, as if he could reach the tissue further in.

John's thumb slicked over the end of his cock again, and he nearly bit his tongue. "Faster," he hissed.

Bob quickened his pace and winced, hard. He didn't even have time to swear before he sucked in a stuttering breath and sneezed down at Paul's lap. Paul covered his mouth as Bob croaked something inaudible, gasped, and sneezed again, painting the tops of Paul's thighs.

"Holy Mary." John was so focused on stroking slowly and not fucking into his fist, he didn't notice Paul had stayed silent.

Paul's hand fell from his mouth. His eyes met John's by mistake and went from half-lidded to wide open. He sighed, as if out of breath, and choked out "Blessyou."

"Can't fucking count?" said John, a bit harsher than he needed to.

Paul glared. "Bless you," he added through gritted teeth.

Bob's breath caught once more, and they both flinched, but he let out a long, defeated exhale and sniffled miserably. "This thing's kaput, man," he said, casting aside the tissue with disdain. He leaned over to snatch another one, giving John just enough time to share a look with Paul. Paul looked strung out, his hair somehow out of place. When his eyes came into focus, his brow creased and he shook his head once, barely noticeable. Mouthed, 'M fine.

John rather hoped he would say that. "Bobby."

"Huh," Bob replied after a moment, his voice deadened by congestion. He slid back into place between Paul's knees and turned blearily to John.

"Need to blow your nose?"

"Yeah," Bob sighed, a hint of a laugh in it. "Good guess." He tented the tissue over his nose and began to breathe in.

"Stop--wait," John said.

Bob frowned curiously over the edge of the sheet.

John cleared his throat. His words tumbled out with a slight waver. "That's crap. Don't use that. Too rough, you'll rub the skin all raw. Got something softer for you. Haven't we, Paul? For our guest."

Paul looked at him fit to kill.

"Take your pretty knickers off," said John.

Something went through Paul's face, a twinge of nondescript emotion, a slight tremble in his jaw. But he only hesitated a moment before lifting his hips to slide his shorts down and off his ankle. Wet? They were soaked to partial sheerness in the front, bless him. Best of all, he needed no direction to hand them over to Bob, who buried his nose in them right away.

"Thank you," he lowed, muffled. "Oh, Jesus, these are soft."

"My best pair, so." Paul must have felt the sudden and wonderful need to act. He'd managed to pull an expression of mild discomfort--John thought it looked more like confusion than disgust, but Christ, what a show. "You know. Be care--" His monologue cut off when Bob blew his nose mightily into the cloth. Paul colored deeply and finished, "Careful with 'em."

Bob nodded but gave no other indication that he'd heard. He exhaled again with even more force, then stopped--inhaled--and convulsed with a wretched sneeze. Paul looked as if he might pass out. He dragged both hands down his face and huffed a sigh.

"Mother a' God," Bob groaned, before giving a final sinus-clearing blow. "Somethin' in the air in here, shit." He was smiling dazedly when he emerged, and God, if John thought he looked awful before...

"Wish I could take credit," John breathed. When he saw Paul roll his eyes, something occurred to him--Paul hadn't said 'bless you'. That wouldn't do at all.

"Oh, no, you're--you've done more than enough, John," Bob laughed. "Hang on, I gotta get..." He dropped the shorts and went for another tissue.

John leaned close to Paul. "Put them back on."

Paul huffed in disbelief, revulsion--and something else--on his face. "You're touched."

John tutted. "Mustn't forget our manners. And not in front of company."

At that moment, company returned to the floor between Paul's legs. With a firm edge, John said, "Put them back on."

Like a good host, Paul did. He couldn't stop himself from shuddering a bit (it must have been cold, John realized, never mind Paul's own hang-ups, and he cringed in sympathy).

Bob must have noticed. "Hey, it's all right, I took good care of them," he grinned. "I know what I'm doin'." He twisted a corner and resumed his work.

"No, I don't think you bloody well do," Paul said stiffly, and John would've smacked him if his dominant hand weren't so busy.

"Gonna take that lying down, Bob?" John asked, and to his great delight, Bob took the cue and stood.

"Some mouth on him." Then, "hhohgod," as he seemed to hit the right spot. Bob planted a hand on Paul's shoulder and one knee straight between his legs. A faint sound punched out of Paul at the contact, the light pressure on his severely neglected cock.

John's breath caught in his throat. "Too fucking--right," he growled, giving in to the temptation to stroke faster, never mind the filthy sound. "Only one thing for it."

"It hhhuh--hhurt...h-! hurtsSchHt!" Bob ducked into the curve of Paul's neck and shoulder to let out a ticklish sneeze and a short groan. Paul's spine arched, but he bit back his cry into a sound that could've passed for loathing.

"...Hurts me more than it hurts you, man. Jesus Christ." Bob sniffled. "It's getting to me."

"G'bless you, fuck," Paul wept--a plausible slip, as Bob had just pushed his knee against him at exactly the right angle. John didn't have the heart to scold him anyway. Couldn't be expected to mind his manners and his language all at once.

"Paul, baby, you're so good," Bob hummed, and Paul and John sighed together (close harmony, John thought). "You 'n' this, it...it feels so good, John..."

"Bobby," Paul breathed, curving into Bob's knee, and John's eyes snapped shut. He had to slow down.

Bob was quiet, a few soft breaths in and out. Then, high and fragile with want, "I gotta sneeze."

John's heart raced. He opened his eyes and snapped at Paul, "Don't want that, do you?"

Paul, unable to stop his hips twitching against Bob's leg, could only shake his head.

"Babe--" Bob coughed, "Baby, I can't s-stop it..."

John growled--or he meant to, but what came out was a whine. "Beg him not to, you dirty fuck."

"Please," Paul breathed. There were tears in his eyes.

"Please, what?"

A noise like a sob tumbled from Paul's lips. He clung to Bob's arm as if it were the only thing anchoring him to earth. "Please don't sneeze on me, Bobby, Jesus fucking--"

Bob shook his head, adamant that he couldn't avert the inevitable, but even so, John could hear him make little choked sounds, like he was trying to wrest control back. Desperate. Futile.

"Oh." John actually surprised himself with how quickly his climax came upon him. He was already about to crest the point of no return. "Holy Christ," he said softly, almost whispered, and Bob lost the fight.

"hhiH'kTCH'Shhuh!" Harsh as a bad cough, right in Paul's shoulder. All the more forceful for trying to hold it back.

"Bloody hell--bless ya--"

John bit his hand and came bone-shaking hard, just as Bob rattled off another vicious sneeze.

"Bless you." A voiceless sigh, all Paul could muster up.

Bob shuddered. "Sonofabitch," he said wetly, and sniffled to clear his voice. "That was big. That good for you, Johnny?" He still sounded three days into a cold, no different than before.

John sighed, half-laughed, shaking his head as he wiped his hand on his slacks. "Fuck off."

"Look at him, man. Snff." Bob dragged his knee lightly over Paul's crotch, provoking a strangled cry of pain and making him rut uselessly. "Hey, you're not using these, are you?"

Paul was beyond speech, fighting just to keep his eyes open and his body relatively still against Bob's lazy, rolling touch. But, with shaking hands, he reached for his waistband, and in a joint three-way effort, they got his shorts off again for Bob to use as a handkerchief.

John felt the blood start to fill him back in just looking at Paul. He was red all over, panting open-mouthed, a permanent furrow in his brow from the effort of trying not to give in. His cock was a mess, shiny with slick and darkened with blood.

"Come here," John prayed, and Paul whimpered softly as they pressed together for a kiss. The sound of Bob blowing his nose was just background static, white noise. John didn't notice it had stopped until Paul's head suddenly tipped back, his lips parting in a frantic moan.

John glanced down to see Bob's head in Paul's lap. His curls bobbed slowly as he sucked him off. "There's a good lad, Bob," John said in disbelief. "Fucking hell."

Paul moaned again, his eyes fluttering back. He was dangerously, cruelly close. John held tight to him and kissed him--not his lips, he wasn't going to close his mouth again until he came. John kissed his neck, his cheek, all he could reach. "That's it, love," he murmured, "we've got you. Nothing we wouldn't do for you. You get so gorgeous like this, God...so nice and good for us. Paul...Paul--"

Paul's body went rigid and he came at last, with a series of moans so high and desperate, so vulgar that John blushed. Below them, Bob raised his head, coughing and sniffling. His chin dripped as if he'd only caught about half, but he looked well pleased, even slightly proud.

"Well, you little devil," John said to Bob as Paul wilted onto his shoulder, "you satisfied?"

Bob sighed. "As good as. God." He tugged once at his trousers, shifting the fabric around his arousal, but he didn't seem hungry for it. Nothing like Paul. In fact, he had almost the contented glow of sex--though that could've been the wine. He wiped his mouth. "Just somethin' about a good sneeze, man. Quasi-...erotic. Orgasmic."

Paul made a soft noise of dismissal into John's sleeve, and John had to agree. "Nothing quite tops the real thing, though, does it?"

"No, sir," Bob chuckled.

Paul coughed very quietly, making John turn. "Y'okay, love?"

Paul pulled away to nod. He was rosy-faced, blinking away tears, biting down on a small smile. John had only just gotten used to it--the fact Paul got this way sometimes. Only after the most grueling sessions, when he was denied too long. The relief would be more than his body could handle, and he'd dissolve into tears. Of joy, he'd assured John time and again. Now, as before, the euphoria was plain to see, but he looked wrecked, fucked-out. He was shaking.

"Here." John patted the bed, and Paul lay down, wiping his eyes and snuffling softly.

With Paul taken care of, John gave Bob a deadly look and dragged him onto the bed by his collar. They kissed like they'd never quit, only now there was a little vengeance in it on John's part. Torture my bassist like that, will you. Bastard. He tossed him off quick and rough, taking no care to avoid soiling Bob's suit; hoping, actually, to leave a stain.

Bob didn't stop talking the entire time.

"I just can't get over, mmh, that--like that--oh. How much it turns you on...t' see him this way. And he's gettin' all red...pretty and--ohh. Mm...pretty 'n' pink. Babe. John. Just can't help it. I like it when you tell him, tell him what to do. And--ahhh--and me. Wanna do it for you too. Baby. That's...aah, Joh- John--!"

John smothered him with a kiss, worked him through his orgasm, stained both their suits. It was gentle, light, insubstantial. Waves swept over Bob softer and softer, until he was trembling above John, panting for breath, looking half asleep. He leaned down--John expected another kiss, but he only nuzzled their cheeks together, as if he hadn't the energy for more. With audible effort, Bob hauled himself into a prone position beside Paul. John heard a little peck and a pleased coo as Bob weakly kissed the crown of Paul's head.

It wasn't until he awoke minutes later that he realized he'd even lay down. Paul and Bob were still breathing heavily, and occasionally they'd snag as if to snore, but they didn't wake. Taking care not to move the mattress too much, John slunk off the bed and into the kitchen. His mouth was dry as a bone.

As he filled a glass with water, he felt an odd stir in his chest. Silly to even think about, really. It was the sight of Paul, wasn't it, getting all frustrated? That's what got John off. Bob, well...was Bob, and there was no diluting the attractiveness of that. But the rest of it--the sneezing bit, the whole garish display, that was for Paul's benefit, not John's. Lucky or not, he didn't rouse to that kind of thing. He didn't have the same kind of automatic reaction, anyway. His only consolation was the look of pure animal lust on Paul's face every time Bob--

Oh, shit. A fluttering rush filled John's stomach at the mere memory, the echo in his ear. His breath came short. His cheeks grew uncomfortably hot.

John took a deep, clearing breath and finished his glass of water. He could revisit that sometime (far, far in the future, preferably), when he'd had enough sleep. On weary legs, he made his way back to Paul's bed.

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galaxythreads · 2 years

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my kids will call me fury lore? one of my faves, i reread it like once a month or so

I APOLOGIZE THIS TOOK SO LONG.

LORE FOR MY KIDS WILL CALL ME FURY <- LINK TO STORY

I came up for the idea of this story while in the theatre for captain marvel

This is not the first time I have written an "Avengers are adopted by Fury" story. I actually have a one-shot series that I've never posted

80% of this was written in one setting

---

"Then Peggy brought word of the fact that Stark Industries was holding a gala in Maria and Howard's honour of five years since their death and he guesses this is where the whole mess started."

I don't know if it's canon that Peggy and Tony knew each other, but I will 100000000% take this headcanon to my grave.

---

"And, all that is good above, Tony showed up to a gala in his parent's honor drunk."

^^^

Tony feeling guilt about how they died and the last things he said to them. Tony not wanting to feel Feelings, so yeah, he showed up drunk.

"Admittedly, Fury thinks it's a stupid name, but he tries not to be to judgmental about titles villains choose because it can get time consuming and irritating."

Dude. I was reading a different older work of mine today where I made fun of yet ANOTHER supervillains name and I'm just like:

Nobody:

Younger me at supervillains:

---

"Clint's eyes refuses to meet his own, staring at his feet. He looks prepared to dive into fetal position at a moment's notice and it's something that Fury isn't happy with."

Hello physically abusive Circus of Crime. Have a very good Die. :)

---

"How do you feel about active duty?" He questions, clasping his hands together and staring at the young adult with a hard stare.

Clint's mouth open and closes several times before he says, almost as if inaudible with shock: "Where do I sign?"

Clint was hiding in the vents because he was listening for when he was going to get arrested. The fact that Fury was like, I guess you're an agent now was BIZZARE to him.

---

"Fury begins to finally notice what's going on when Clint breaks into his house late 2004 with a fiery redhead and demands a place to sleep and a Russian dictionary."

This is the funniest thing in the world to me that Natasha kept speaking in Russian and Clint was like "meh, whatever."

---

"You ate Chinese without a complaint," Fury points out, "you only do that when you haven't eaten for a few days."

^^^

Headcanon that Clint can't use chopsticks.

---

"He doesn't want to know how Clint learned where it is."

^^^

Clint stalked him. He wanted to know who he was working for. So. You know. Normal human behavior.

---

"Idiot almost got Natasha killed, too, and that's pushing things."

^^^

God help the man who attacks Fury's daughter.

---

"He turns to the Tesseract, an item that's been sitting in his apartment in a vase for more than ten years and contacts Selvig."

"It's in that pot over there, isn't it?"

---

"He immediately suspects it's a joke or a threat when he receives six cards on Father's day. He's not a parent, hasn't had the opportunity to birth kids and doesn't really want to at this point, but the six cards are on his desk when he enters his office that morning. He suspects foul play, and opens them with a handgun in one hand."

I love SHEILD. what was he gonna do, shoot a bomb or a virus or something?

---

But when the Avengers pop into his work-space or apartment with more vigilance to complain loudly or receive sympathy, he doesn't shoo them out.

So yeah, he's not a parent, but his kids still call him Fury.

^^^

this was the original ending. A few days after I posted, I was asked to add an extended ending where Fury kinda adopted Loki and they ran into Carol again.

---

"That's not any better." Fury insists. "You can't use chopsticks."

SEE.

---

Fury glances towards them, and then his expression clouds with some irritation. He walks up towards the table and rests his hand on the surface staring at Clint. "You're eating with a knife." He states obviously.

Clint shrugs, "No forks left."

^^^

This is just something that I do. If there aren't any forks, why NOT use two knives to make chopsticks? Couldn't be dangerous AT ALL.

---

His fists clench and maybe-Colby flicks

^^^

maybe-Colby is Coulson, if that wasn't clear.

---

bro. THIS STORY IS THE STORY. I WILL NEVER OUT DO MYSELF.

now i really want to go through that one-shot series and post everything. It was this AU where Fury collected the Avengers cause he was kinda a foster parent more so a WITSEC parent and Thor like legit attacked Thanos with a construction hammer. Those were the days, lol.

#my kids will call me fury #my fics #fic lore #answered

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romantichore · 2 years

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it's wip wednesday, my dudes

well this surely is exciting! I've been tagged by @thequeenofthewinterfthewinter to share my latest wip, and while it's technically cheating because it's not exactly the latest, I haven't written proper in a bit - mostly notes, so this is the latest actually readable thing. I'm not going to tag anyone this time around, but hey 👀 if you have a wip 👀 post and tag me in it 👀

ok so, the wip: it's part of a (hopefully) future fic that follows my dragonborn, Murien, as she leaves her old life in Cyrodiil and tries to make something out of it in Skyrim. she joins the Companions looking for combat lessons, and becomes fast friends with a certain ice-brained twin.

"So, you have family here?" He asked, pushing the mug of mead towards her, her third or fourth tonight. Something told him this should be the last one, that she would not handle another one well - that something being Vilkas, who eyed him from across the room like he was leading a lamb to slaughter. Perhaps he was.

On the other side of the table, Murien caught the tankard with both hands, stubby little things that looked funny wrapped around the cup as she wasted no time bringing it up to her lips. He had to give it to her, corners of his mouth pushing up in amusement, she may be a lightweight, but she surely did not think herself to be.

A couple of seconds later and the tankard laid empty before them, her yellow eyes looking down to where the liquid should be, brows knit together like she had no idea who it had been who had drunk her mead.

"What brought you to Skyrim?" Farkas tried a second time, now catching her attention for once, and her response was half a chortle, half silly wave of a hand.

"Death," she had turned serious for a second, hand slamming down against the wooden table hard enough to make it wobble, the entire room falling silent as her voice echoed.

A tense few moments, Vilkas looked worried, Aela like she would dismantle him into a thousand pieces if he made the girl cry. She held his gaze for what felt like far too long though he could not tell what it was that he saw in her eyes; and then she laughed, laughed like she had just heard the funniest joke told by the most amusing jester, head thrown back as she all but bellowed.

A collective sigh of relief, merrymaking overtaking the ambiance once more, but he knew better than to chuckle along. He knew better, he knew her better, had somehow been the one to figure her out first though he still had but a scant few pieces and was not really the brightest out of the bunch. Murien, on the other hand, oh, she was twice as smart as Vilkas, three times as clever.

He knew, the moment her eyes turned into tiny arcs and the corners of her mouth made dimples on her cheeks, that the drink had gotten the better of her and she needed to clear the air before things became too heavy. Before they looked at her different, before he asked the wrong question again, before some whelp boasted about killing and war and made her cheeks turn red and water pool in her pretty eyes. She hid, like she always did, that part he had not figured out yet but hoped that she would let him, one day. She hid though she did not want to, not really, not from him.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #farkas #the companions #murien sunbreaker #virgil writes #a wip from virgil?? in this economy?

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nellie-elizabeth · 2 years

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What We Do in the Shadows: Pine Barrens (4x07)

Amazing, flawless, no notes.

Cons:

No, seriously, no notes.

Pros:

This episode gave me everything I never knew to ask for. Let's take the two main stories in turn.

First, you've got Nandor, Lazlo, Young Colin, and Sean going out to a cabin in the Pine Barrens on a hunting trip. The emotional core of this story is that Nandor is jealous and resentful of Lazlo's friendship with Sean, and just feels in general that they've been spending less guy time together. Lazlo is insulting towards Nandor to start, and both of them fight back and forth, until the presence of the Jersey Devil (a creature they previously stated to be entirely made up), forces them to work together to defeat the evil in their midst.

As always, I'd like to avoid just listing out a million jokes that I thought were funny, but Young Colin playing "New Jersey music" from his phone in order to distract the Jersey Devil was pretty great, as was the gun battle ending in Lazlo accidentally shooting Nandor in the hand. I also just particularly loved Sean in this episode, he's just such a bro, such a guy, you know? His encouragement to Young Colin that he's not boring was really funny, as was his completely measured response to Colin's casual mention of his more violent tendencies. This was the funniest I've found Young Colin Robinson since the first episode of the season, so that's encouraging to see.

Predictably, given that Guillermo is my absolute favorite part of this show, I loved the other plot line even more.

Nadja and Guillermo, both inaccurately believing themselves to be alone in the house, celebrate in their own ways. Nadja has a girl's night with Marwa, the Doll Nadja, and the Guide, where they watch Mamma Mia! I just loved Nadja celebrating and enjoying her time with the girls, and the fascination and seriousness with which they all took the film was really charming.

Meanwhile, Guillermo decides to invite his family over to see the house. He's telling them all sorts of lies, about working for the railroad, and living in this house alone because he's rich, but then Nadja comes upstairs and catches the de la Cruz family at dinner, and Guillermo ropes her into pretending to be his girlfriend-slash-maid.

I don't know, something about the fact that Nadja continues to state her disdain for Guillermo while still playing along with this ruse is so charming to me. She gets into the role and seems to be having a good time, but Guillermo's family reveals something to him: his girlfriend is an evil vampire! How do they know? Well, they too are of course descended from a long line of famed vampire hunters, and they've now set Nadja in their sights as their prey!

The hunt is on, with Guillermo trying to keep his family from hurting Nadja. I was actually enormously touched by how hard he worked to defend her from them. And then there's his outburst, where he admits she's a vampire, that he lives with a family of vampires and hopes to someday become one, and also that Nadja isn't actually his girlfriend, because he's gay! I was so happy to hear this said out loud. Not that it's actually news or anything, but still. What a lovely moment of catharsis for Guillermo!

And also of course the comedy in all of these scenes, with Nadja playing the girlfriend, and Guillermo's family getting more and more aggro in the presence of a vampire, their horrified reaction to Guillermo's vampire-ish desires, and their total loving acceptance of his queerness, the mad chase through the house, the hypnotized family walking away and Guillermo just blissfully happy to have finally come out... all of it was golden, as the comedy in this show almost invariably is! (Best joke goes to Nadja saying she doesn't want Guillermo to call her "Mami", and sites his relationship with Nandor as the type of thing she's looking to avoid.)

And that's that! Another solid installment. I can't believe we only have three episodes left before the season is over, I feel like it just started!

9.5/10

#review #wwdits #wwdits review #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows review

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vivisoni · 2 years

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NCT 127

This is how my first impression of NCT 127 was when I first started stanning the group ｡◕‿◕｡

♡TAEIL♡

I'll be honest with you, I didn't really know him well untill much later. I kinda knew he was the oldest but never really went out of my way to pay attention on him properly, and I have to say: my man over here can single handedly rule the whole industry by his voice. And that he deserves a lot more. I remember getting him confused with Kun a lot. But the earliest memory of Taeil that I have is him and Haechan on that one interview with glamour where he shows his special "Taeil butterfly"....😂 That part really impressed me.

♡JOHNNY♡

So... I was scared of him at first💀. I don't know why but I kinda thought he was the tough dude of NCT. The one to dress up like a businessman and would not tolerate any jokes. But at the same time, I also used to call him monkey face because he looked like a monkey to me (please don't kill me for this, but I had to get this off my chest)... And it still kinda does, but I don't call him that anymore. I remember first noticing him in that freaky Friday movie him and mark made. The behind the scenes video was literally gold✨

♡TAEYONG♡

I saw him in Super M the first time, and...well, I couldn't not fall in love with such a sweet person... I am not kidding when I say that he is the prettiest person alive on earth! Like, would you look at that face! How on earth can someone be that pretty? More on his beauty later, though. But as far as first impressions go, it was the 'No Manners' performance fancam of his that caught my attention 😅. I remember seeing his tiktok on 'Candy' by Baekhyun in the 'punch' outfit way before when I knew nothing about k-pop and thinking to myself 'who is he? And why is he so pretty?' I used to not like him much before and then proceeded to literally fall in love with him.

♡YUTA♡

Scared of him pt. 2. I was just really intimidated by him. He looked kinda serious and like someone I didn't wanna mess with. But the first time that I remember seeing him(or rather paying attention on him) was the time when he flipped off the sasaengs. That was the most memorable Yuta incident that I remember. And I think thats why I got scared of him. Although, I did consider him prettier than Taeyong at that time, but I just didn't consider him friendly or cute😓 I know...huge mistake! And now he is one of the goofiest members!

♡DOYOUNG♡

I considered him as the mom friend of the group and well, I wasn't wrong in that. Just the vibes that I recieved from him in general screamed 'mom' energy to me. The first time I payed attention on him was in NCT world 2.0 when he sang 'yestoday' for one of the missions. Lord! I swear he has one of the most unique voice I've heard my entire life🙌. I also remember the 'Glamour' interview of him and Taeyong as one of the most memorable moments of his...

♡JAEHYUN♡

Well, I thought he was much older than he is. And I also assumed him to be an introvert. But, he turned out to be a 97 liner and an extrovert...😑 Anyways, I have something else to confess too... I didn't think he was handsome 😖 I know, I'm so so sorry! It's not like I thought him to be ugly but I didn't understand the hype behind his visuals. I guess his features just weren't my type... It's not an excuse but it's the only reasonable explanation I have. I think I saw him in the 'i like me better' cover that he did for the first time, and I remember thinking he was adorable.

♡JUNGWOO♡

I think anybody who first gets to know Jungwoo automatically considers him the cutest and the most innocent of all. And even if it's not the same for everyone, atleast I did think so. Although I didn't think he would be soo active! He does truly act like a puppy. His "ah, potato?" and "the member with the best hair" was my first introduction to him😂. Truly one of the funniest members of NCT... Also, I didn't know he was added in 2018 and wasn't originally the part of 127 for the longest time...

♡MARK♡

I was introduced to him on Super M as well. But, for some reason, I already knew him before I even got introduced to K-pop properly. That's just the magic of Mark Lee I guess🙃. I knew he was good at rapping and that he is super famous. But I don't remember exactly when I knew his name or when I started recognising him as an NCT member. But I remember watching the Super M's 'As We Wish' episode where they filmed their those short videos and when I came on Mark's video, I awed so hard! That is exactly the kind of proposal I imagined for myself... I just loved his energy in that video....

♡HAECHAN♡

I didn't like him very much either😅 well, I don't know why but most of my first impressions of people are kinda negative for some reason, and then they gradually turn positive. And so was with Haechan. I think that the thing that bugged me the most was that he always teased Doyoung and got away with it. I seriously was so annoyed because I related to Doyoung and seeing him being teased made me feel bad in a twisted way. And, also I'm an introvert and so Haechan's extrovertedness(is that a word?) was too much to handle for me. And the first memory is the same as Taeil's, the Glamour interview where he monkey hopped on Taeil... I wouldn't lie though, I hated him, but I still thought he was kinda cute..🤠

Okay! So that concludes the first impressions of NCT 127.

Fun fact: when I first got to know NCT, I thought the 127 in the name was there because NCT's main purpose was to have 127 members and that it had 27 members at that time and they had 100 more to go...😂

#nct.#nctzen #haechan #lee taeil #nct johnny #taeyong #yuta nct #doyoung #jaehyun #nct jungwoo #mark lee

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mattel-is-nobody · 5 months

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Time to brainrot about something I guess since I'm being kept up with a migraine.

Now you probably wouldn't think it from looking at me, but I am actually very, very much deeply obsessed with linguistics. To an unhealthy degree, some might say. And one of my favorite linguistic concepts is "This is a stupidly hilarious pun in Language A, but it makes no sense in Language B" The prime example of this is an old Sumerian/Babylonian joke that at this point has had several thousand video essays written about it. You know the one: "A dog walks into a tavern. 'I can't see anything!' he says. 'I'll open this one.'"

And who could forget the Greek Philosopher Chrysippus? In one of the accounts of his death, it is said that he got a bit too drunk at a party and, upon witnessing a donkey eating figs, he said "someone should get that donkey some pure wine to wash down the figs!". He then fucking died of laughter at his own joke. Beause apparently that was the funniest shit he'd ever seen.

Now neither of those make sense in any living language or modern culture, but the fact that it was written down at all means it made enough people laugh for it to be worth recording. And it's fun to look at living languages and see what makes the native speakers laugh but still utterly baffles everyone else. Even better, digital archeaologists in a thousand years are going to have a field day with this post if they ever stumble upon it, so here are a few of my favorite untranslatable puns: Hungarian: A man is pulled over by the police. The officer asks, "Are you drunk?". The man replies, "No, sir, Ivett is my wife"

Japanese: Why dont Hawaiians go to the dentist? Good teeth.

Finnish: "A bar and a screwdriver". That's the entire joke, by the way. Set up and punchline, apparently both right there, and in the original Finnish it's only two words. Apparently it's a reference to something? I'm just going to assume this is a thing you say and people laugh, much like "omae wa, mou shinderu"

Spanish: What fruit is the most patient? It's a pear. So fun fact, my Aunt is from Mexico, and I decided to tell her this joke in the original Spanish (which as a consequence of having a Mexican aunt, I speak pretty well). And I shit you not that as soon as the words "es pera" left my mouth, she let out the longest, heaviest, most world-weary sigh I have ever heard in my 20 years of life, before returning to the tamales she was making. I guess she now knows that my pun game has transcended to include her native language, and in that moment she was preparing herself for the ensuing decades of Spanish wordplay

Another from Japanese because they are gods of wordplay: "7-Up, Pepsi, Coca-Cola, they're all types of what?" "Soda?" "That's right!"

Chinese: "Who is Mi's mother?" "Hua, because peanuts". I took Chinese in high-school and I can verify that this is the shittiest pun I've ever seen, but the reddit user who posted it says "I am yet to find a single Chinese/Taiwanese person who does not find it hilarious"

Aussie English (which I'm including both for English rep and because Aussie slang is so markedly different that Brits and Americans are still unlikely to get it): "What's the difference between fat and cholesterol? You can't crack a cholesterol".

Danish: One sign says to another, "Are you married?" The other replies, "No, I'm divorced"

AND MY PERSONAL FAVORITE: French: "He wished to be Caesar, but he died as Pompey" -- George Clémenceau, commenting on the death of President Felix Faure (I refuse to explain this one or give any further context, go look it up)

Oh and side note. Obviously, no world leader can speak every language, so interpreters are a necessity for negotiation. And of course, world leaders and diplomats are going to try the lighten the mood occaisionally with humor. But for negotiations between most countries, that's hard to do, because there are very few puns with much cross-linguistic utility. Sure, you have that one joke about where cats go when they die that works in English and most Romance languages, but for some more serious negotiations, the number of puns that would make sense in both languages is pretty close to zero, and may very well BE zero. So the question arises, how do interpreters deal with that? Of course there are a lot of possible methods, not all of which are good or even remotely efficient. You could just translate the pun word for word, but as evidenced by the fact that that's literally what I did above, it's not gonna work that well. Explaining the joke also isn't gonna fly, because as we all know, the second you explain a joke is the seond it becomes Not Funny Anymore. The method I've found that I think works best is just to say "They have said a pun that doesn't translate well to English. Laugh now." Which is funny not just because it works, but because it works amazingly. That person on the other end of the table (who we are assuming doesn't speak a lick of English) has no clue what the interpreter is saying, and so must assume their joke was translated faithfully. Sure, their interpreter might know depending on how the whole thing is set up, but considering the vetting process you have to go through to be an interpreter for the POTUS , I highly doubt anyone is going to risk national security over a joke being left untranslated. Both leaders have a laugh, everything ends on good terms, and we avoid nuclear annihilation for another few weeks.

#linguistics #language #puns #terrible puns #bad puns #rambles

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alheria · 11 months

Text

Fresh wind on a hot day (1/9)

He really should have listened to his instincts and stay the fuck home.

Jim Street woke up with probably the most unsettling feeling he's ever experienced, the one that screamed bad things will happen. To him, surely. So like a semi-reasonable adult he was, the fearless SWAT officer decided to ignore that sensation of upcoming doom and went to his extremely dangerous job, feeling as if it could well enough be his last day on this planet. And maybe he was lucky enough not to die, but in the end, perhaps death would have been better than the humiliation he suffered.

The second their shift started, the 20-David got dispatched to multiple shots fired in an office complex under construction. The building turned out to be a twelve-story concrete skeleton in early stages of development, thus the team split up in search for potential suspects. Climbing the stairs up to the entrance of the eleventh floor, Jim clashed with a hostile trying to escape via the staircase. He swiftly ducked the few clumsy shots, quickly radioed his crew for backup and began the chase. Which was not easy, the floor on that level was clearly unfinished, the limited path was cluttered with materials, equipment and cables. Simultaneously focused on keeping tabs on the running man and not stepping right into one of many holes, he failed to notice when the looped cable caught onto his shoe. Few meters of sprint later, the cable couldn't stretch no more. The harsh, unexpected pull made Street lose the balance and fall down through the nearby opening. "Luckily" for him, the line was strong enough, instead of falling all the way to the ground below, the officer violently flew to the side, painfully hitting a support column he somehow managed to grab to stabilize himself. It minimized the swinging, but didn't change the fact that he was now dangling from the ceiling like a fucking chandelier.

For roughly ten minutes he hanged there, waiting for the team to finish the job, hand over the shooters and come to his rescue. Another five it took them to stop laughing hysterically before examining the situation their teammate found himself in and agreeing external resources were needed to safely get him down.

-This is the funniest shit I've ever seen. -chuckled Chris, wiping away the tears, having a hard time keeping composure when her best friend slowly spun in circles like a shish kebab, frowning furiously and cursing his luck once in a while.

-Chris, shut up and focus on recording. -ordered Hondo, poorly hiding a wide smile behind his hand. -No one's gonna believe without a proof.

-I see it with my own eyes and still cannot believe it. -hummed Luca, cautiously observing the younger man. What happened to him might have been funny, although the cable could snap at any moment. Jim wasn't hanging that high, but could still break his neck upon impact. -Send me those pictures later, Chris, so I can print one and hang it in my locker.

-Do you think this cable will hold him long? -wondered Tan taking some pictures himself.

-He's not that heavy, I bet he could hang up there a whole day. -responded nonchalantly Deacon, looking outside at the pulling up firetruck. Shortly, six people emerged out of it, grabbed some equipment and quickly headed inside.

-Should I cancel the firefighters? -snorted Chris, waving at Street when his face was in direct view.

-This! Is! Not! A circus show! -he screamed. -Take me the fuck down!

-We told you there is no way! -she shouted back. -Gotta wait for the fire guys!

-How long?! -Jim whined. -Not to complain, but this position is rather uncomfortable, and I think I can't feel my leg anymore!

-You think?! -exclaimed worryingly Luca. The relaxed atmosphere suddenly tensed. Street losing feeling in his leg was no joke. He needed to get down, now. -Where the fuck is that backup?!

-Right here! -called out a calm, male voice coming from the staircase direction. An older firefighter emerged from the entrance, followed by five more. Hondo quickly approached the man to let himself known as the leader of this Doom Squad. He briefly introduced himself as Captain Nash and proceeded to assess the situation. -We will have your guy back down in no time.

Two younger firefighters, Eddie and Buck, were sent upstairs while the rest debated if the air cushion they have on them would fit in the limited space. It wouldn't. The second-best option was to simply pull the stranded officer up.

-Can't pull him up Cap, rough edges could tear the cable. -reported the blonde man upon returning from the higher floor, making Street sigh very loudly. He didn't need any more bad news, he needed solutions. Luckily, the firefighter had one: -I say I lower myself from up there, grab him, then we cut the cable and go down.

Captain Nash frowned furiously before nodding eagerly:

-Okay, let's do it. Take Ravi with you.

The three guys quickly moved back up with necessary equipment. At that point, Jim couldn't give any more fucks. He was not feeling well. It's been around twenty minutes since he fell. His head was pounding, eyes tired out, the tied ankle was getting numb, in contrast to the bruised arm that began to burn. The officer was dozing off slightly when some small concrete pieces bounced off his uniform and flew down. He looked up to see one of the firefighters standing at the edge of the opening, cheerfully talking to the others working upstairs before beginning to carefully lower himself on the line he was attached to.

-Hey Jim, I am Buck, you okay up here? -asked the man, assessing the situation from closer perspective. He didn't like how tight the cable was on the leg. It had to come off soon.

-Do I look okay?! -barked Street as the sleepiness got abruptly replaced by deep frustration. He absolutely hated needing help. -I am dangling like a fucking piñata!

The rescue guy snorted so hard the officer was officially ready to die from embarrassment. After apologizing profoundly, Buck explained vaguely the process of getting them back on the solid ground. The firefighter would put a harness on Jim, identical to the one he was wearing. He would then hold him still while his teammate cuts the cable. After that's done, he would rotate him upwards, and they would be lowered down. Easy-peasy, the firefighter said.

It was, in fact, not easy-peasy at all. At least not for Street, who almost vomited upon returning to "normal" body position, feeling the blood and contents of the stomach move around to the correct places. His eyes went so blurry for a few seconds, he didn't even notice reaching the floor until the injured ankle flared with pain under the pressure of his weight.

-Shit! -he cursed, tightly grabbing onto the firefighter's shoulder to regain balance. The man instinctively shifted and wrapped his arm around Street's waist. -Fucking hell. -whispered the officer, glancing at the throbbing leg. The leather shoe was terribly mangled, but still intact, hopefully saved the flesh from severe damage.

-How about we sit you down? -suggested Buck, with a compassionate smile, slowly guided Jim towards a stack of wooden panels where he quickly got surrounded by his relieved team and tended to by a female paramedic. Hen was her name. She gently took off the shoe and pulled the sock, revealing a prominent mixture of dark colors painted on the burning skin. Luca reassuringly rubbed the tense back of Street's neck when a quiet fuck escaped his mouth. He prayed it to only looked that bad. Being benched for a long time was out of question, not when he was still pretty new at SWAT. If he lost the spot...there would be nothing left.

-Huh, seems like the shoe and the length of the cable saved the day. -she hummed, slightly rotating the ankle, making Jim's eye twitch in discomfort. Seeing that, Chris moved closer to squeeze his shoulder. Maybe it was a rather hilarious situation at first, but in the end, her best friend getting hurt was no fun. -Some swelling, bruising, broken vessels, and a few pulled muscles for sure, nothing more than that I believe. -informed the paramedic as she requested an elastic bandage she then began to tie around the injury to prevent from straining further. -Rest and ice should do the job, but you may want to have it looked at to confirm. -Hen concluded, supportive smile flashed on her face. -Done. Are there any other injuries?

-No, I am good, thanks. -Street lied, not keen on bothering anyone anymore, he wanted to leave already and forget about this horrible day. The arm didn't even hurt that much, he could always go to see a doctor later.

-Want a ride to the hospital to see a surgeon? -Hen asked standing up, but Jim denied.

-I will go if I must, I happen to know one and their girlfriend owes me a big favour for being an ass today. -he smirked, pinching Chris's hand, who laughed mockingly in response and roughly ruffled his hair.

-Well enough to joke around, I see. -observed Hondo, putting a stop to the immature shenanigans. -Let's roll, shall we?

As it might have been suspected, helping a rather heavy man with one unusable leg get down ten flights of stairs was not easy. Both Luca and the firefighter politely offered to carry him, which ended in Jim saying he may be injured, but is fully capable of committing murder if anyone dares to throw him over their shoulder. So, the overly proud SWAT officer for ten minutes, possibly more, hopped on his one leg all the way outside, minimally supported by Chris holding him firmly. Once out of the building, Luca, bless his thoughtful heart, offered to move Betty closer. Street, leaning on the wall next to the entrance, was unwillingly watching the video of himself when the fire crew passed by, packed up and ready to leave. When the tall one emerged, Jim realized something. He hasn't even thanked him.

-Hey, you over there! Buck?! -he shouted. The firefighter stopped abruptly and turned around with a puzzled look.

-Thanks a lot man!

The warm smile that appeared on his, quite handsome actually, face before he nodded and disappeared behind the firetruck, made Street's chest feel weirdly tight. An emotional response he instantly recognized.

The Omega side of his was clearly attracted to that fine, Alpha guy.

---

Somehow, after being sent home and later forced to see a doctor, benched for a whole week Jim ended up in a bar, having early evening drinks with Chris and her partner Amelia, whom Street absolutely adored. His two favourite girls met, not surprisingly, in a hospital, roughly half a year ago. That time, it was Luca who required medical assistance after getting hit by a perp with a metal baseball bat so hard, everyone around could hear his humerus crack. The second the tall, confident surgeon with a fierce sea of long red curls and radiant, blue eyes entered the room, Chris was gone, visibly unable to form any coherent thoughts all the time the beautiful Alpha spoke. Before the doc left, she glanced briefly at the absent-minded officer in a very specific way, giving Street an opportunity to act. He knew well enough his best friend was hopeless at initiating relations with people she was attracted to, thus he ran after the lady and gave her Chris's number. The rest was history.

-Next time, listen to your instincts. -suggested Amelia upon hearing how Jim vaguely knew in advance some misfortune was overdue to strike him. -Doctor's orders.

-No need to tell me Ams, one questionable feeling, and I am not even leaving the bed. -sighted the cop, twirling the half-empty beer bottle on the coaster. He was still a little shaken up, the pain in his side now muted by painkillers kept reminding he could've easily died today.

-Hey, Street, isn't that the firefighter that rescued you? -asked suddenly his teammate pointing with her head at a man chatting with a bartender, bringing her friend back from the depressing thoughts.

-...yeah, it is. -Jim hummed, focusing his attention on what was his name? Buck. Damn, he looked real good in the uniform, although in the casual setting was not lacking at all, defined muscles nicely hugged by a pinkish t-shirt on a side of too tight, round ass clearly outlined by dark blue jeans. Simple, but effective.

-Which one? -demanded Amelia, absolutely passionate about any type of drama. She followed Chris's gesture and instantly whistled. -Woah, he's fine. You should totally go for him. -implied, making Jim avert his gaze.

-You guys think? -he frowned. -I mean, he is pretty hot. -added, once again turning back to glance at the handsome firefighter. Was he even if that man's league? It would feel horrible to get humiliated in front of the same person twice in a single day.

-When was the last time you got some D? -asked Chris, knowing well enough she's never heard him talk about any recent intimate encounters. And he, by all means, wasn't shy. Just not getting laid.

-Oh Lord, no clue. -he chuckled. Trying to get into SWAT and then working extremely hard to keep the prestigious slot was his sole focus lately, there was no time to bother with hookups, let alone dating.

-Exactly! -she exclaimed, supported by Amelia's eager nods. -Go! Maybe you will finally stop third wheeling us.

Seeing the firefighter disappear in the bathroom, he made the decision - fuck it. There was not much to lose, only some dignity and self-confidence.

-Wish me luck. -Jim laughed, encouraged by the girls, quickly gathered his stuff, carefully got up, and slowly limped after the man.

Buck was washing his hands when Street quietly entered the room and leaned on the heavy door, arms crossed over his chest.

-Hey. -he said eventually, making the Alpha twitch in surprise, definitely not expecting anyone to talk to him.

-I know you. -observed intelligently the firefighter as he turned around, initial confusion in the blue eyes swiftly turned into joyful gleam. -Hi there, officer. -he smiled, drying his hands with a paper towel. -How's the leg?

-Fixable. -Jim answered shortly, starting to overheat, feeling as it was a big mistake to attempt flirting with such an attractive person. He had no idea what to say. Or how to escape.

-That's good to hear. -Buck nodded, throwing the paper away. -Is there anything else I could help you with? -he asked, taking a few steps closer, gazing at the cop in a way the older man couldn't exactly place. Like he wanted something but wasn't going to say what, rather waited for Jim to give it to him. And for the love of God, Street hoped he is not wrong about it because he was about to risk it all.

-I'm not sure. -murmured the officer, not breaking the intense eye contact. -Depends if you are willing to assist me once again. -he added, suddenly pushing himself away from the door and not at all purposefully losing balance on the injured ankle to have the firefighter instinctively stabilize him. The large hands holding the waist burned terribly on Jim's sensitive to touch skin, as his own, greedy palms attached themselves to Buck's hard chest.

He couldn't believe this silly stunt actually worked.

-My duty is to serve the ones in need. -smirked the blonde man, lowering his face to capture Street's lips in a long, sweet kiss. -Hmm, that's unexpected. -he whispered once they parted, nuzzling the soft cheek as he inhaled the surprising, very pleasant scent. -Would you like us to move somewhere more...suitable to continue? -wondered, wrapping his strong arms around the other man in a tight, possessive embrace.

-Yes, please.

---

The second they entered Buck's apartment and the firefighter pinned him against the door, Jim's mind went completely blank.

Their starved lips instantly crashed, tongues intertwined, exploring the depths of wet mouths as the desperate hands roamed the muscular bodies, sneaked under the shirts in search for skin-to-skin contact. Street's lungs struggled to breathe, filled with that amazing smell of an aroused Alpha, who growled when their hips crashed, pressing together the obvious erections. Upon hearing the dominant sound, the officer barely kept his composure, not keen on the Omega side taking charge. Trying to stay in control, he groped Buck's ass with one hand while the other travelled up to the bright, silky strands, entangled itself in them and pushed the head down to deepen the heated kiss.

-Where is your fucking bed? -he demanded, backing away far enough to roughly pull the younger man's hair towards the back to get better access to that beautiful, fragrant neck. He sucked onto the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of red marks accompanied by a series of very loud moans, Buck's trembling in pleasure body went all limp in his lover's arms. It was so fucking hot.

-Upstairs. -the firefighter managed to say, his previously sharp gaze now glossy, head still tilted up as he pointed at the staircase. There was no way in hell Jim was climbing it with this injury. He completely let go of Buck, confusing him horribly, but before he asked what's wrong, Street rolled his eyes, threw his arms around the marked neck and whispered:

-I'll let you carry me this one time.

And oh, Buck didn't need to hear no more. Swiftly grabbed the muscular thighs and effortlessly pulled the cop up, which was quite impressive considering how heavy Jim was. He quickly moved them to the bedroom, further turned on by the Omega's hard cock pressed to his stomach, and gently lowered him onto the mattress. Not wasting any time, he started unbuckling Street's strained pants while he got rid of his shirt, hoping his developing bruising gets left unnoticed in the weak light.

The firefighter slid his palm under Jim's ass to lift the hips in order to pull the jeans down, making him gasp in relief when the pressure on his penis lessened. The soaked underwear quickly followed, leaving him completely naked, while Buck was yet to undress.

-Enjoying the show? -he barked, biting off moans as calloused fingers tenderly grazed his abs, trailing down towards the flushed head, but not touching it, just lingering around the prominent erection, teasing.

-I do. -snorted the Alpha, taking off his own shirt, revealing a breathtaking, athletic body covered in odd tattoos. At this point Jim wasn't sure if he's going to survive seeing what's under those pants that soon joined the rest of clothing on the floor. His heart briefly stopped.

It was fucking huge.

Street has seen dick before, although only in Betas and never so big. He swallowed heavily, wondering how this monster is going to fit inside without tearing him apart. Buck, oblivious to his lover's worries, leaned over the cop and kissed him while his hand got to work down there, one finger easily slipping into the leaking hole, promptly joined by another. Their horny dicks rubbed each-other as he stretched the entrance, trying to prepare it to easily accommodate his width. Jim was melting, his mind going in wrong directions, Alpha-pleasing noises started involuntarily escaping his throat as the firefighter penetrated him skillfully. A long, low-tone groan escaped Buck's lips when he abruptly pulled away, reached for something on the nightstand and, slightly shifting to better fit between Street's spread legs, suggestively ripped the small package with his teeth.

-I need you to tell me if it's too much. -he ordered, pulling the Omega's ass onto his bent knees, lining himself up as he waited for a verbal response. Jim struggled for a second to collect any coherent thoughts, too overwhelmed by an incredible sensation of being touched and cared for by a strong, respectful Alpha.

-I will, but I kinda want you to make me scream. -grinned the officer, through foggy eyes watching Buck's pupils go insanely wide before he inhaled sharply and with zero warning, in one, smooth move fully buried himself inside.

Street was done for. He choked on air, shocked by the unfamiliar sensation of being filled with such large penis, which actually didn't move at first, the firefighter politely waited for his lover to adjust, even though raw desire burned his flesh alive. Pressing impossibly deeper, he nearly glued himself to Jim's chest, crushing his neglected erection between them, leaving feather-light kisses on his trembling jaw. When it stopped, he started slowly thrusting into those incredibly wet insides, picking up the pace as the cop began to respond more adequately once the tense muscles finally relaxed. The Omega weakly threw his arms around Buck's back, nose pressed to the warm shoulder, basking in the lovely scent while the younger man fucked him senseless, grazing the prostate over and over again with the fat shaft.

-More. -Street whined, causing the firefighter's spine to violently shiver and his vocal cords to purr like a fucking wild cat, his moves now at brutal speed, powerful enough to make Jim's eyes roll to the back of his head as he got flooded with pure ecstasy. -Oh God, Buck, just like that. -he cried out, clawing onto his lover's sweaty back, feeling the orgasm approach fast. -I'm close. -blurted, his back arching, stranded dick pleasantly sliding between hard abdomens. The Alpha's low groans mixed with the Omega's louder moans filled the whole apartment as the thrusts turned erratic, signalising Buck's not going to last long either.

-Me too. -he agreed, pressing his forehead to the nook of the officer's flushed neck. -Come with me, Jim. -whispered before biting into that painfully sensitive flesh as his hips bottomed down for the very last time, completely breaking Street's mind. His entire body spasmed, insides contracted on the heavily spilling penis when the orgasm hit them both at once, blinding their eyes, shaking them to the core. He could somehow taste blood in his mouth, but had no recollection of where it came from. And felt too good to give a fuck. Buck, still twitching from the insane force of his release, although more coherent now, shifted to lay a tender kiss on Jim's parted lips.

-Please, stay. -muttered the Alpha under his breath, shyness clear in the quiet voice. Street only smiled in response, pulled the other man closer and started to reassuringly stroke his warm neck, an intimate gesture that spoke clearer than any words could.

He wasn't planning on leaving just yet.

#ao3fic #m/m #9 1 1 fanfiction #SWAT fanfiction #Buck x Jim #omegaverse #omegaverse fanfiction #m/m smut

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elspeth-t-journal · 1 year

Text

21/22 June 2022

I found the draft above. I guess I'll use it as a journal, trying to put words onto my thoughts. Attempt to make it make sense.

I liked that M (sister in law) put me soe nail polish, last summer. I was curious, she wanted to do it for fun, why not. First time i gazed into the rabbit hole "dude, what if I like it? that would be a fun adventure"

I always play feminine characters in games

I use to run by he/they on th einternet, to "be a good ally" and piss off morons.

Then i put on nail polish a few times. I made Rey's hair style (i was not in a good mood, i wanted to feel... something powerful?). Generally, people were appreciative of the nail polish, it suited me. L (friend) noticed the Rey reference.

Later, at my mom's house, i had a dream whose transciption attempt i've lost. I was sailing quite fast aboard a small boat, around an island with high cliffs. I end up chosing/being guided to one of the caverns. There were a lot of them, and I somehow got the knowledge that they were different possibilities. Around that time, before or after the dream, i watched Matrix, and got a "better"/new understanding on "following the white rabbit", an invitation to discover a new truth. I remember a bit about this series of possibilities, ideas that were inside the caverns. An idea and its opposite. I remember that one of them was "I am a man. I am a woman". After waking up, i remember hoping that there was something here, without believing there was.

Once, i replied to a tumblr post that went like "Yo, imaging there was a trans gal deadnamed Adam that changed her name to Eve, funniest person alive" by "yeah, if that happend, i'll think about it ^^"

Also, who (WHO?) while being toally cis would hope to be trans to gain a bonus in computers and hacking ? Of course, that's the inferiority complex talking. Still cis, though.

Stuff from the past:

I don't really like my name, mostly because of the teasing. I since then learned to like this defiant side, enduring the "animosity" in a "what are you gonna do, laugh? make a joke i've heard a thousand times? i'll laugh first with a better joke!"

I Hate wearing a suit, feels like a disguise, a clown, an imposter (seems it happends to a lot of people, but i'm not getting over it) (note: at this point, i'm getting married in about 30 days)

And here we are, present time. And I have questions. I'm trying to put pieces together. Maybe future me will read this again, having connected the dots.

I don't know what triggered the questionning this time. But it seems more serious, i had never acted this way before.

I remember some questionning about "Am I bi or not?" where i'm having trouble knowing if I really feel this, or if it's just something my brains entertains for some stimulation. Or it like to fuck with me, that's a thing it does. Am I just longing to be included ?

Stuff I did, checking the temperature, finding euphoria?:

shaved a bit. Took care of my hairs (conditionner and the rest). Found a name ? Elspeth, ada, eva ?

I watched One Topic at a time, his videos on egg_irl, trying to find something, answers? kindhip ? i do feel kinship with trans people. Bits of envy)

I've heard that wanting to be trans makes you valid enough or something. Right now, I think, as i used to, to be just besides "Man", but maybe i'm a bit farther than that.

These days, i look in the mirror, wondering about how a feminine version would fit.

I'm affraid i'll be ugly.

I am also affraid to talk about it. i'd rather "have some results to show" first, have an answer. I'll never be able to tell my family.

On one hand, I think i'd like to be trans. I'll probably try to wear my hakama, some nail polish. Pluck my eyebrows, maybe shave a bit more of my body. And find a way to talk about these things with S (my wife, now).

Same day: I sent an anon ask to lizzy frizzle, regarding that name. And I smiled hard, reading the answer ... ("oh? OH .. well, fuck" moment). Especially the part "Does thinking about the name Eva Elspeth make you happy". Thrill sensation (chill? shivers? the nice one)

At night: after moments i'd qualify as "pleasant confusion", discovery, i've began to feel scared. The kind that stays for the next days.

#trans #trans journal

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cherrycheridarling · 3 years

Text

"that was painfully sexist" | t.h.

marvel cast x actress!reader

warnings: sexism and swearing

summary: at a panel for the new avenger's film, the questions differ drastically between the female and male actors on stage.

wc: 1.4k

"Okay, a microphone is coming your way, sir."

"Hi! I'm Leonard with Pop Times Blog. My question is for Y/N." your eyes found the bearded man who stood amongst the crowd of reporters.

You nodded, signalling for him to continue, "Playing Silk or Cindy Moon must've came with a lot of challenges. One of them being the costume you are in for most of the film. Can you speak about that and how it fit?" he paused at your skeptical expression, "Like, we all know the suit is skin tight, so did you eat anything special or workout a lot and are you able to wear anything underneath it? Or do you wear a thong and no bra?"

You let out an unenthusiastic chuckle at his question. Beside you, you could hear your cast mates scoffing under their breath. It was common for the women of the MCU to get asked such questions and it saddened you that people normalized such a thing.

Leaning forward, you clasped your hands together and smiled before Robert reached behind Tom Holland and tapped your shoulder, "Would you like me to say something?"

You shook your head, but gave him a grateful grin before returning to the 'man' that asked you such a question, while maintaining eye contact you spoke, "Well, I think the most difficult part about wearing the Silk costume is taking it off after a long day because of how sweaty I get after shooting," you began to fan yourself dramatically, "It all just clings to my body like a second skin and since I am completely nude underneath, it just adds to the problem." sarcasm dripped from your lips as your cast mates snickered at your words.

You quietly laughed to yourself, "I'm only kidding. That question seemed like such a joke that I presumed you expected a joking answer." you cleared your throat, "In all seriousness, it's an honour wearing the suit and I did visit the gym and do some physical fitness regularly to prepare for the role, as did all my cast mates. As for what I wore underneath," you grinned cheekily, having too much fun messing with the reporter, "A Spider-Man onesie was my go-to."

The whole room let out laughs at your words as Tom grabbed your hand and gave you a small squeeze, feeling sorry that you had to answer such absurd questions.

"I hope everyone doesn't sexualize Cindy Moon. She's only a teenager in the film, so keep it in your pants people. That shit is illegal." Anthony pointed an accusing finger at the crowd.

"Thank you for your thoughtful question, Leonard!" Scarlett spoke up, "I hope you got the answer you were looking for."

"Okay, next person."

You sat back in your seat and fiddled with Tom's fingers as the questions were asked towards your cast mates.

"You handled that impressively well, love." Tom whispered in your ear.

You gave him a smile and a shrug before your name got called again, "My question is for Y/N and Tom Holland." a lady with curly blonde hair stood up, "Since Silk and Spider-Man's abilities are very similar, did you two bond over that during shooting or did it cause some rivalry between your characters due to the similarities?"

You felt a wave of relief at the question, thankful that it wasn't another sexist one. Tom looked at you before answering.

"Yeah, yeah. We bonded a lot over that fact and I don't think it caused any rivalry between us. I hope not." he chuckled before you leaned towards the mic.

"No, no. No rivalry. Just a lot of banter about whose character is stronger and who swings around better. It's a lot of fun having someone on set whose stunts are basically the same as yours. And Tom and I have both agreed that Silk is faster and better than Spider-Man." you said that last part quickly drawing laughs and a gasp from Tom.

He looked at you incredulously, "Not true! Spider-Man's suit is so much cooler than Silk's." he huffed like a child.

You smirked, "Who makes their webbing in a high school chemistry class and who has organic silk coming out of her fingertips that she also used to create her own suit?"

Your friends laughed at the banter beside you before Sebastian started to speak, "I have to agree with Y/N on this one. Silk also has that cool ass eidetic memory."

Chris Evans agreed, "And her Silk Sense is a thousand times stronger than Spider-Man's Spidey Sense."

"Isn't she able to know who an attacker is before she even sees them?" Hemsworth asked to which everyone nodded.

"Sorry, Spidey. Silk's just a top tier hero." Robert patted his shoulder as Tom sulked.

The questions began again as the laughter died down. You leaned over to Tom's ear, "Still love the actor who plays Spider-Man even if his character is inferior to mine." he shook his head with a smile at your words.

Questions ranged from the generic ones of the funniest moments on set to who's most likely to become a villain. Your nerves died down as no incompetent person asked another sexist question. Until one did.

"I have a question for Y/N." she was short with jet black hair, "Being around all these attractive men must be a challenge for you as a young female adult. It couldn't have been easy to control yourself around them. Have you had any sexual relationships with any of them or thought about engaging in any?"

Your jaw hung open at her words and before you could muster up a retort, Tom let his anger get the best of him. Was it his anger, his jealousy or his protectiveness? A mix of all three.

"That was painfully sexist." he spoke into the microphone. "I don't see how any of that is relevant to the film. Y/N is an outstanding actress and it's outrageous that you decide to focus on who she fucks rather than her talent."

"What in the actual fuck did she just ask?" Sebastian added, making you laugh.

Chris Evans spoke up next, "Indeed. I thought this was a promotion for the movie not a real life dating app."

Benedict chuckled, "I fail to see how Y/N's private life holds any relevancy to this panel or the film itself."

"It's twenty-nineteen, people! Leave your sexist ass shit at home!" Anthony exclaimed drawing claps from the cast.

Elizabeth shook her head, "I've had my fair share of inappropriate questions, but nothing as horrid as that."

"First y'all ask about her underwear, now you ask about her sex life? Jesus Christ." Scarlett pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Seriously, she's like a daughter to me. That was incredibly disrespectful." Robert added with a disappointed head shake.

Similar comments were added by the rest of the cast as you felt an overwhelming amount of love wash over you. You were so unimaginably grateful for the people next to you.

"You don't have to answer that." Paul Bettany reminded you.

You shook your head and cleared your throat, "Thank you, guys." you looked to your cast mates, "But I'll answer. No, I have not. This cast is my second family and I've grown greatly as a person with them. I'm immensely thankful for the opportunity to call them my friends. And I agree, these men sitting up here with me are undoubtedly attractive, but they are also a great pain in the ass at times," everyone laughed at your choice of words, "And have I thought about having sex with any of them? Nope. Just Scar, Zoe and Liz." you finished with a wink as the room clapped for you.

You couldn't help but to feel a slight bit of sympathy for the woman. Her question was, without a doubt, uncalled for and unbelievably sexist, but the comments from the cast must've made this her most embarassing moment.

"I'm sure you meant no harm with your question. But a little heads up for next time; most actors prefer to talk about their career and their films rather than who they are laying in bed with. But thank you for coming out. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day." you gave her a genuine smile as she cowered back into her seat.

Robert once again reached over and gave your shoulder a squeeze, proud of how you handled the situation.

Tom interlaced your fingers with his and rubbed small circles on your knuckles.

You really were at home with these people and you couldn't have asked for a better family.

#marvel cast x reader #marvel cast x actress!reader #marvel #marvel fan fiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #sebastian stan #chris evans #robert downey jr #anthony mackie #chris hemsworth #paul bettany #benedict cumberbatch #scarlett johansson #elizabeth olsen

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supernovafics · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇

pairing: dylan o’brien x best friend fem!reader

summary: in which dylan has been your best friend for as long as you could remember. your busy lives and schedules may have pushed both of your lives in vastly different directions as you’d gotten older, but somehow you two would always be led back to your hometown, and each other, during the holidays. however, one moment causes all of that to change.

warnings: angst (what else is new), some fluffiness, mentions of past trauma (the maze runner incident), existential crises, explicit language

word count: 3.6k words

author’s note: idk why i decided to write something christmas related in the summer but it happened lmao (also i feel like it’s slightly important to mention that this takes place in 2016)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The rocks being thrown at your window were not what woke you up. Instead, you had been lying awake for hours; getting little to no sleep was something that you had become used to at this point.

However, on this specific night— or morning, depending on how one looked at it— you were glad that your sleep had been restless once again because it made it easy for you to get out of bed and walk to your window when the rocks began hitting it.

There was really no need for you to push open the curtains and check who was doing the throwing because, of course, it was Dylan. Ever since he moved onto your street in Hermosa Beach in middle school and the two of you easily became friends, he was the only person that would ever wake you up in the middle of the night with the soft pings of rocks, especially on this specific day at this specific time.

You waved at him and gestured that you would be down in a moment. You slipped on a random pair of sweatpants along with a hoodie and then placed the Christmas gift that you bought for him in the pocket. The item was small enough to fit in the not too big pocket of your hoodie; however, it did awkwardly protrude a bit.

All of this was a sort of unspoken tradition that the pair of you had developed over the many years you’d known each other. Meeting at five in the morning on Christmas day, walking to the beach that was only a few blocks away from your respective childhood homes, and exchanging Christmas gifts with each other as you both watched the sunrise. It started when you were in ninth grade, and you hadn't missed a year since, not even when the ending of high school pushed your lives in vastly different directions, especially since Dylan graduated a year before you and was almost immediately thrust into his acting career.

But, it didn't matter that Dylan's career took off, and you eventually decided to go to college in Santa Barbara, because, no matter what, you both would always come back for the holidays.

When you opened your front door and saw Dylan lingering by the sidewalk no more than ten feet away, you were quick to go toward him and pull him in for a tight embrace. It actually hadn't been too long since you’d last seen him, maybe only five or six months, but for some reason, it still felt as if the last time he was in front of you was last December.

"Hey," Dylan breathed out in a short greeting, his arms wounding around your waist.

“Hey to you too," You responded, a small smile gracing your features when you both pulled away, and you looked up at him. "How have you been?"

It was quiet for a few moments as you waited for him to answer the question, but eventually, you were met with no verbal response, and instead, Dylan simply shrugged. The short action made your heart constrict in the most painful way, and it was then that you noticed the light remnants of a scar peeking out from behind his dark hair that covered the majority of his forehead. You were quick to peel your eyes away from the scar and instead cast them down at your Converse-covered feet, but that didn't stop the memories from quickly coming back.

The Maze Runner accident had happened back in March, but to you, and you knew to Dylan as well, it felt as if it was just yesterday, especially considering the fact that he was still dealing with the unavoidable repercussions from it.

"Wanna walk?" You asked, finally looking up at him once again.

Dylan nodded. "Yeah."

A silence that could only be deemed as comfortable lingered between them as the two of you took the five-minute walk to the beach and sat down side by side on one of the random empty benches.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Dylan said as he handed a present over to you. The present was messily wrapped, something that was not at all uncommon when receiving gifts from Dylan, and the sight of it made you smile.

Before you unwrapped the gift, you pulled out the one you had for him and handed it over. "Merry Christmas, Dyl."

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A simultaneous shocked and happy yelp emitted from your lips when you held up a Harry Potter t-shirt. But, it wasn't just any Harry Potter t-shirt; it was one with a version of the Goblet of Fire movie poster on it, which was your all-time favorite movie in the series.

"Holy shit."

"It's the original merch that was sold when the movie came out," Dylan told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the green bow placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at Dylan and then back down at the shirt as you processed his words. "Wow, double holy shit. I would put it on if it wasn't freezing right now."

Dylan laughed a bit. "Very understandable."

“Why haven't you opened yours yet? I'm dying to see what you think of it," You said. You were now holding the t-shirt to your chest, genuinely feeling like a little kid on Christmas morning again.

Dylan finally began unwrapping your gift to him, and when all of the paper was peeled off, there was a square box. "Aw, a plain white box. Thank you so much. This is what I've always wanted."

You rolled your eyes and playfully bumped him with your shoulder. "Ha ha. Please save all of these bad jokes for your stand-up act; I can't wait to boo you off the stage along with everyone else."

"So, what I'm hearing is you don't think that becoming a comedian is going to be the next best career move for me?" Dylan asked. He attempted to make the question sound as serious as possible, but there was a joking undertone to his words.

You bit back your laughter. "Please just open the box already so I don't have to hurt your feelings by truthfully answering that question."

"Okay, we'll circle back to that topic later," Dylan smiled and then finally opened the white box to reveal a slightly faded baseball. When he picked it up, he ran his thumb over the black signature written on it. "Now it's my turn to say holy shit."

You could feel yourself smiling at his awestruck reaction, and you wondered if that was what you looked like when you saw the Harry Potter shirt. The baseball was signed by one of the players of the New York Mets that had been Dylan's favorite player when he was younger, and he'd even caught a ball hit by him when he went to a game before he moved to California.

"I've had this idea for years, but I could never find a baseball signed by him," You began explaining, the excitement clear in your voice. "But, last month, someone named Paul Todd posted this on eBay and I immediately bought it. God bless that old man. It's completely authentic and everything."

Dylan was quiet for a few moments as he simply looked at the baseball in his hands, a small joyful smile on his face, and it made you happy to see him so genuinely elated with the present.

"This just made my gift look like shit," He finally said, a light laugh falling from his lips.

"I have always been the superior gift giver. I think that's my hidden talent," You responded with a playful smirk.

Dylan placed the baseball back in its box and then looked at you. "Next year you will receive the best gift ever from me. It will completely top everything that you have ever given me."

"You're saying that as if I should feel upset about receiving a trip to Italy as a Christmas gift."

"A trip to Italy?"

"In my strong opinion, that would be the best gift ever," You said with a smile and then looked down at the t-shirt, which was now in your lap. "But, anyway, I don't think this gift is shit. I'm in love with this shirt already."

Dylan let out a joking, overexaggerated sigh in relief. "Phew, okay, since you think this gift is great, that means I don't have to do the trip to Italy next year."

"What? Did I say I like this t-shirt? I hate it! Harry Potter actually su— Fuck, I can't say this with a straight face," You laughed, and Dylan was quick to join in with you.

The joking statements leading up to the laughter hadn't even been the funniest things ever, but it didn't matter because this was probably the hardest you had laughed in a while, and you were both glad and unsurprised that it was with one of your favorite people in the entire world.

You missed joking around and laughing with him. You missed simply being with him.

Eventually, the laughter died off, but there was still a smile planted firmly on your face. You looked ahead at the darkness in front of you and the ocean that looked completely black; it was still kind of early, so the sun hadn't begun to rise just yet. Your back pressed against the wooden bench, and you let out a small sigh, your head finding Dylan's shoulder as you leaned against him.

"How have you been?" You asked him, your words coming out both soft and slightly quiet, and before the mood became too serious with your question that was nothing but serious, you attempted to lighten it. "And please no shrugs as a response this time. I don't wanna get a headache due to my head bouncing off your shoulder."

Dylan let out a breath of a laugh at your final statements but refrained from answering the question for a few moments.

After what felt like forever, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I honestly don't know. My mind has felt so fucked lately, thinking about everything. I swear I've been feeling every feeling known to man these past months."

"What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

"I'm really happy with you. This is probably the only normal and familiar thing I've experienced in a while. But, of course, there's still that confused feeling in the back of my mind revolving around everything else." He paused for a brief moment before continuing, his next words came out quieter. "I don't even know if I want to go back to acting."

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him as you pulled his hand into yours and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

"No matter what you decide. I'll be right there to support you," You told him and then added a "bro" at the end of her sentence along with a small smile. Whenever things became too deep in a conversation you two were having, one of you would always throw a "bro" or "dude" in there to bring some playfulness to the mood.

The corners of Dylan's perked up a bit. "So, you'll support me when I decide to become a comedian?"

You were unable to stifle your light laughter. "Yes, fine, fuck it. I'll be the loudest one laughing at all of your shows."

Dylan squeezed your hand back because he knew exactly how reluctantly true your words were. "Don't worry, I promise not to put you through that."

"Thank you."

"So, how have you been?"

"No."

"Oh, come on," Dylan said as he playfully poked your side. "I'm not gonna be the only one exposing my feelings."

You sighed and then hesitantly nodded. "Okay, okay."

The truth was you had been far from good lately. Your life was moving, but for some reason, you felt like you weren’t moving with it.

You felt stuck.

Stuck in a confusing mindset where you had absolutely no idea what you wanted to do with your life. You thought that identity crises usually happened in high school, but apparently, yours had come five years late. But, you knew that this delayed identity crisis had been your own doing because you had convinced herself that you would figure everything out once you were in college; and you were both lucky and smart enough to receive a full ride to UCSB.

And although you were finishing up your Master's degree in Creative Writing and had a TA job at the university with the department, which was the reason behind why you could even pay for the Master's program, something in your "should be great" life simply did not feel right.

However, you felt absolutely terrified to say any of that out loud because admitting it would only finally make that statement a wholehearted truth, instead of just a spiraling thought in your mind. And even though Dylan was your best friend and you knew you could tell him anything and not receive any sort of judgment, it still felt hard to let the words leave your lips.

You thought about the way to perfectly word everything, but nothing felt right. You pulled your hand away from Dylan's and covered your face as you let out an exasperated breath. "I can't figure how to say it all."

Dylan placed an arm around you and then mimicked the same question you had asked him not too long ago. "What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

You would have both laughed and smiled at the fact that he was using your exact words if the current circumstances were different.

"Scared," You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what the fuck I wanna do anymore, and actually, I don't think I really ever did. I only went to college because of the scholarship, and I convinced myself that I would figure my life out when I got there. And for a while, things felt right because I found creative writing and genuinely enjoyed it, but something doesn't feel right anymore. And I actually do like school. Because it's stable, and I am doing things, even if it's taking a dumbass test. But, it's about to be over soon, and I have no idea what I'm gonna do."

Your words were coming out like vomit, and nothing could stop it because finally, everything you had been feeling for so long was out of your head and put into the open.

"And don't get me wrong, I do love to write, but I don't know, I just can't see myself doing it for the rest of my life," You admitted and then let your next words come out quietly. "Honestly, I can't see myself doing anything. I'm so unhappy here."

You did not say it aloud, but you didn't think you were ever fully content there. Aside from Dylan and your parents, you never truly liked California. You had grown up there all your life, and although there were millions of people that adored the state, you felt the exact way someone from a state like Wyoming probably felt.

Dylan did not verbally respond to your long confession at first; instead, he simply pulled your confused and stressed self in for a hug, and you let out the simultaneous sigh and breath that you had been metaphorically holding in for years at this point.

"Maybe you should take a break," Dylan finally said; his arms were still around you, an action that made you feel completely comforted. "Right after high school, you went straight to college, and I don't think you've ever really taken a break to really think about what you actually want. Like, maybe, it's becoming a zookeeper."

Your laugh was slightly muffled by the fact that your face was pressed into the warmth of Dylan's chest. "Zookeeper?"

"I don't know," He laughed too. "You said you would support me in whatever the fuck I decide to do, and I'll do the exact same for you."

Somehow a smile found its way on your face. "A zookeeper and a comedian. What a fucking dream team."

Another laugh fell from Dylan's lips. "The best fucking dream team."

"But, honestly, I wish I could've known sooner that this is how you've been feeling. I would've been telling you to slow down so long ago, but you seemed content with everything," Dylan told you and gave you another light squeeze. "Please take a break and don't stress yourself out over the future when your next semester is over. Just relax for the first time. You can even come stay with me in LA for a little bit if that's where you wanna take your break. I'll be here for you, Y/N. Always."

Something about his words hit you hard. The wholehearted honesty and sincerity behind his statement shouldn't have surprised you, but it did. And the worry he had for you resembled the same concern you had for him when the accident happened. You two were best friends, so it should not have been a shock that you would worry about each other, but still, in that moment and for you, it was shocking because it felt like so much more than just that.

"Me too," You whispered, finally responding to his previous statement.

The long embrace came to an end with you being the one to pull away; however, you did not pull away far enough for you both to become completely detached from one another. Dylan's arms were still around your waist, and yours were still around the nape of his neck, and your faces were dangerously close. Your hand somehow took on a mind of its own as it reached around and cupped Dylan's cheek. The miniscule confusion and tickle of panic that began to prick at the back of your mind because of the action were not enough to make you pull away.

The slight way that Dylan leaned into your soft touch was the catalyst for you to take the leap and lean in the tiniest bit to close the small distance between the two of you, your lips almost too easily finding his. The inward sigh of contentment you emitted when Dylan almost immediately kissed you back made you realize that kissing him was the one thing currently happening in your life that actually felt right.

Later, when thinking back to that specific moment, you would wonder if that "rightness" had always been there between you both.

However, that right feeling, which was both comfortable and familiar, was quickly replaced with dread and angst, at least on your part. Your mind was beginning to fully catch up with your actions, and it immediately told you that the current action was both bad and stupid, and there were many, many reasons that proved that.

Maybe there were moments where a younger, and even present-day, you did want more to happen between you and Dylan, but you would always push that thought away because you knew that your and Dylan's friendship was so much more valuable.

And then it was the fact that your lives were nothing alike. Even though you were immensely confused about where your life was going, you could say for certain that it wasn't going in the same direction as Dylan's; an acting career that he genuinely loved and enjoyed too much to truly give up. Something deep down told you that, and you could feel the truthfulness behind the thought. The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect.

You abruptly pulled away, not just from the kiss but from Dylan's body entirely, moving to the edge of the bench you were on. Your hands covered your face in nothing but pure embarrassment and regret, and you wished that you could take back the last minute and a half of your life. And you also absolutely hated that you couldn't help but notice how much colder your body felt now that it was away from Dylan's.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. Fuck. That kiss— it was a mistake. I'm really sorry." Your words came out rushed and fumbled, and it probably did not make much sense, but you just hoped that there was at least a little bit of coherency with them.

As much as you wanted to look at Dylan, you refused to do so because you knew that you would only see the regret you were feeling written clear across his face.

"Hey, it's okay, Y/N. Everything's fine. Don't worry," You heard him say but could hear the uncertainty in his voice as if he really didn't know if everything truly was fine. And you knew that it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect, and you had just completely ruined that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts <3

((((already potentially thinking about doing a part 2 to this….. but idk…))))

#dylan o’brien #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brien x fem!reader #dylan o'brien gifs

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nessaxc · 3 years

Text

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Date Night || Gojo Satoru

Gojo takes you out to dinner, but the flirty waitress at the restaurant really gets on your nerves, so Gojo is determined to assure you that he only has eyes for you.

~ Words: 2.5k

~ NSFW 18+

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"I'm glad I got to see you tonight, I've missed my princess," he leaned across the table to nuzzle his nose against yours gently, and you returned the same motion with a soft giggle.

"I've missed you too," you replied, "it's about time you made some time for me," you added.

"Well, you know, Tokyo keeps me busy," he told you with a chuckle, "but I had to take my best girl out, I know how lonely she gets without me around," he teased.

You giggled and propped your elbow up on the dinner table, balancing your chin in your hand as you held his gaze. He was smiling and shaking his head at you, mimicking your pose, only he rested both elbows on the table and cupped his face with his hands as he looked at you from across the table.

"You look beautiful in that dress by the way, but what else is new, huh?" he winked and broke eye contact for a moment to admire the dress that perfectly hugged your figure, "I'm glad you wore it."

You giggled again at that and twirled a small section of hair around your index finger, smiling down at your lap for a moment before you looked back up at him.

"I'm glad you wore that suit and tie. You should wear it more often, because you clean up pretty well," you grinned and leaned forward slightly to whisper, "by the way, you're really pretty too."

"Am I really pretty?" he joked and batted his lashes, letting his jaw hang slack with a smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth over the way you instantly cracked up laughing. He chuckled airily as he continued to look you up and down, and you had to turn away in attempt to hide the deep blossoming of your cheeks.

"Yes, you're very pretty," you said with a soft chuckle when you turned back to him.

"Good evening, can I get you anything?"

A young waitress made her way onto the scene before Gojo could respond to you, and she appeared to be addressing just him rather than both of you. She beamed brightly at him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, letting out a hint of a giggle that you couldn't help but roll your eyes at.

"Some menus would be nice," he grinned up at her and she flaunted her smile right back at him, making it a mission to maintain eye contact for as long as possible and throw in a bat of the lashes here and there.

"I'll go get those for you right now," she bowed her head and smiled softly, but she didn't leave until she'd make a point of leaning towards him slightly to tell him, "by the way, that tie looks great on you, really compliments your complexion."

She was already flirting with him right in front of you whilst being so brazen about it, and it was really taking everything in you not to totally snap. You didn't want dinner to be spoiled by your temper, though, you could already feel yourself starting to lose your appetite because you were red hot with anger right now. You sat there silently and waited for her to leave, gritting your teeth and casting your gaze downward the entire time.

"Thank you very much," he thanked her before she walked away and when he turned back around to face you, he was greeted by raised brows, pursed lips and your eyes glimmering for the wrong reasons. You half-smirked at him and cleared your throat whilst picking at your nails to avoid looking up at him.

"I think she's expecting a tip from you tonight," you managed to make a joke out of it and mustered a small laugh.

He chuckled lightly and acted completely dismissive about it, waving it off as her following some sort of transcript, "It's just service with a smile, Y/N."

He insisted, but you just forced a smile on your face. You fiddled with the cutlery that rested to your side and toyed with the napkin as well, offering yourself a distraction rather than look up at him for the moment.

"Yeah, too many smiles in your direction, though, if you ask me," you sassed, and he laughed loudly at that.

"Babe, something the matter?" he raised an eyebrow curiously, an amused grin on his face. Before you had the time to open your mouth and retort, she soon returned with the menus.

She carelessly laid yours down in front of you while she actually handed Gojo his, making sure to brush her hand over his as she did so. You glared at her but your look went missed, and you were doing a pretty good job of keeping your mouth shut so far, no matter how badly you wanted to tell this girl to back off.

She started babbling on about something that he should try on the menu, ensuring to flash him her smile and bat her lashes some more. She was giggling like he had told the funniest joke, and you were clutching onto a fork tightly with a hand, thinking about digging it deep into her neck. Gojo was a bad influence on you. She brought her hand closer to his so she could flip through the pages and show him exactly what she was describing. You cleared your throat and decided to speak up, because this girl was getting on your last nerve.

"Could you give us a few moments to decide what we're having? Thank you," you gave her possibly the most painfully forced smile you could muster, somehow managing to keep a level head when she withdrew her hand and acknowledged you for the first time since she'd stop at your table. She simply nodded and smiled meekly before walking away, and Gojo’s bright blue eyes shot towards you to give you a look that was nothing short of sheer surprise at how sharp you'd been in your manner of speech.

"Did I miss something?" he cracked up laughing, "My little kitten's got a sharp set of claws, eh?" he remarked before his laughter starting to die down. "I thought she was a rather nice lady," he said with another chuckle.

He scanned over the menu to find a dish that stood out to him. You squinted at him and leaned into him, lightly bringing the menu down to have him look you in the eyes instead.

"Really, Satoru? I wouldn't class the light touches on the hand, the needless giggling and overall acting like a fucking schoolgirl with a crush as just 'being nice'," you snapped slightly, "she's flirting with you, a lot, and I'm sick of it."

"Oh, I see where this is going," he said with a knowing smirk that stretched its way across his lips a few seconds later. You noticed this and your hand targeted your menu in an instant as some form of shield to hide behind to avoid the stares he was giving you, and he lowered your menu down just like you had done to him.

"I think somebody's jealous when she really doesn't need to be," he sang and kept his eyes trained on your face. "So what if she's flirting a little bit? I'm not interested in the slightest," he told you, and you heaved a sigh before he continued, "you have nothing to worry about, my sweet," he said with a smirk, amused with your envy.

"Seriously? You mean that?" you asked, nibbling on your lower lip.

"Course I do," he said, "she could be on her knees begging for my cock and I would say no if that'd make you feel better about it," he finished, and you laughed at that.

"I'm not even feeling that hungry anymore," you said, "she's just so irritating," you huffed, and he looked at you like he was thinking of something until his brain hatched an idea.

"Forget about dinner, I know what will cheer you up, c'mon," he stretched his arm out for you to grab his hand, and you quickly took it in yours. He walked with you until you both reached the closest bathroom - the women's room.

"Um, Satoru, I don't think you're supposed to be in here," you quipped with a short giggle.

"Oh trust me, I am," he cooed. Once the door was closed, he lifted you up by your thighs and pinned you to the wall, his lips attacking your neck in little bites and harsh kisses, not caring about the purple marks he left in his wake.

"Satoru," you gasped his name out, much to his delight.

You let out a soft moan of approval through your own lips as you lifted your hips up in absolute desperation, wanting more of him, and wanting it now.

"I only have eyes for you, Y/N, you and only you," he told you as he continued to cover your neck in wet kisses, and you couldn't help lean your head back to give him easier access. Realizing that you both were still out in the open, he carried you into the bathroom stall, pressing you up against the nearest and sturdiest wall.

He tugged his pants down from his hips and quickly pushed his boxers down to his knees, just far enough to allow his thick and fully hard member to spring up. He nearly ripped your panties down your thighs and threw them to the floor, holding you up with one hand and using the other to glide up your thigh, one finger slipping up your wet folds. He grinned knowingly before he leaned in to growl in your ear, "Look at how wet for me you already are," he hummed, "mm, how bad do you want me?"

Just the slightest touch drove you absolutely wild, and you seemed to forget everything that took place before he brought you in this stall. You keened in the back of your throat and rocked your hips down against his finger, moaning out, "Fuck me, Satoru. I need you so bad. Please!" you cried.

"Well when you say it like that, I don't see how I could say no," he cooed. He grasped his member firmly until he was lined up to your entrance, exhaling loudly as he crouched down to push in. He took his time entering your body at first, watching the pleasure overcome your features. Once you had adjusted to his girth, he set a rough pace, taking you quickly in broad deep strokes that jarred your body and caused your head to slam back into the wall as you surrendered yourself to his movements, hips grinding forward in an attempt to keep tempo. He doesn't waste time going slow, knowing you both needed relief fast.

Grasping his shoulders tightly, you moaned, the volume increasing with each thrust until you were sure you would both get caught.

"That's it, let the whole goddamn restaurant know who's fucking you," he managed to say between his own moans and grunts. "You're doing so good, baby, so good," he praised.

You answered with an even louder moan, shoving your hips forward in a demand for him to go faster, grinding your clit against his pelvis whenever you could.

"Your cunt feels so fucking perfect, squeezing me like this, fuck," he ground out.

He obliged your command, snapping his hips into yours relentlessly, the sounds spilling from your lips urging him on.

"You look so good baby, you always do," he uttered through a pant, "you fucking drive me crazy." He quickly added, "Do you know how beautiful you look when you're all stretched out on my cock?"

One hand gripped onto your hair and he tugged backwards just enough to show you dominance as he pounded into you with no mercy, the sounds of your high pitched moans bouncing off the walls, mixed with his deep grunts and the sound of hot skin slapping against skin.

"Look at you, you're always so fucking pretty, so fucking perfect like this," he told you. His hips moved in the most sinful way, filling you up just perfectly, and he seemed to find that special spot inside you so skillfully, making you cry out in ecstasy.

"You like that, baby? You like how good I make you feel? Good girl, moaning for me and showing the entire diner who's gonna make you come," he hissed into your ear as his thrusts became more erratic, slamming into you again and again as he kept his wild pace up.

"Mmmm!" you hummed. You threw your head back and arched your torso sharply, screaming out in pleasure when your body started to quake with the sensation of your orgasm barreling towards you. His fingers left little purple prints on your hips at how tight he was squeezing your hips, knowing you were both close to your climax.

"Show me how much you like it, come for me," he rasped.

He maintained the angle of his thrusts, continually hitting a sensitive spot within your body until you were convulsing in his arms, orgasm rocking you to the very core. He wasn't far behind, taken over the edge by the tight clenching or your walls around his member.

Exhaling loudly, he relaxed his body against yours as you both came down from your peaks. The wall was the only thing keeping you both up as you wilt, exhausted from your spontaneous lovemaking. Finding the energy to pull back, he kissed you gently, running his fingers through your hair to fix the disrupted locks. You smiled into the kiss, body buzzing from your orgasm and heart glowing at his gestures.

You both cleaned up as best as you could in the stall, he helped adjust the skirt of your dress before moving to fix his own disarrayed hair.

"You had no reason to be jealous, Y/N, like I said I only have eyes for your pretty little face," he nuzzled his nose against yours, and you did the same in return, laughing with each other.

"Thank you, Satoru," you said with a soft giggle when you stepped out of the bathroom stall with him.

"Anything for you, babe," he told you as he intertwined his fingers with yours, walking out with you, "now let's go eat," he started, "we can even put on a little show for her under the table so she knows not to mess with you," he suggested with a loud laugh.

"I like the sound of that," you replied with a broad smirk on your face. That wasn't a bad idea.

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