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ironunderstands · 13 hours

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Would be waiting for acheron brainrot ramble here

Is it time for Acheron brainrot ramble? It’s time for Acheron brainrot ramble. Prepare for the most stream of consciousness post ever, I had so much fun writing this she has taken over my consciousness and puppeted me for my own ends, and commanded me to demonstrate how peak she really is. So enjoy, hopefully I can get others to love Acheron just as much as I do.

I think there are three reasons why I like Acheron 1) she’s really fucking cool 2) I love characters who guide/mentor others 3) She’s charming as hell.

Hoyo you aren’t allowed to make characters this good.

The music in her trailer, her aesthetic, the amount of fire fucking one liners. THE COLOR RED (I’ll get into it)

“Find me, your end, my origin.” Who cooked here who wrote this who’s the chef please where’s the restaurant I’m eating this up

“On the still waters of oblivion, I guide the wandering souls” GRAHAJDJWJKSSW YES YOU DO OH MY GOD I CANT PUT INTO WORDS HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS LINE SHUT UP EVERYONE SHUT UP. Like she literally is at the edge of existence fighting to help others find their future, I just. RAAAA

SHE CUTS A BLACK HOLE IN HALF?? HUHH AUGHH a black hole that’s the manifestation of meaninglessness in the universe, and she goes “nah” and fucking obliterates it?!!?

“I weep for the departed” Those who have died are gone, and slowly losing themselves even further. For decades, centuries, millennia, even, Acheron has witnessed this, and still cries for them, still guides them to the other side, even if the task itself is meaningless, because someone should do it, someone has to do it, and that someone is HER.

She saves Aventurine, she saves the Trailblazer, she saves the entirity of Penacony. Someone blessed by the manifestation of nonexistent dedicates her life to giving others a reason to live.

Aventurine asks her why people should bother living, if the dice are always weighted in a certain outcome, then why should we keep going? Aventurine asks her why people should bother living if the universe is meaningless?

He fully expects her to say people shouldn’t.

But Acheron doesn’t do that. The dice are weighted against us. Not just in game, but in reality itself. We will all die, you will die, the people you care about will die, I might die, it remains to be seen. However, before that inevitable ending, before the curtain finally closes, we have so many choices to make. If the ending is the same for everyone, it doesn’t matter, and Acheron tells Aventurine this.

Because the Nihility envelops everyone equally, the universe is equally meaningless for everyone, nobody is the special someone destined to have a destiny. Therefore, it doesn’t matter. Aventurine has no reason to live. And Aventurine has no reason not to live. She tells him his time hasn’t come, because it hasn’t. Until that dice roll, until his final breath, Aventurine can still make choices and he can still choose to live for himself, and that’s the answer Acheron gives him.

But she knows that’s not enough. Aventurine will still struggle to live for himself, after all he’s been through, after the mountain of expectations and hopes and dreams piled onto him. So she tells him his friend has already given him the answer. Aventurine pulls out the note written by Dr. Ratio. It doesn’t give him a plan, doesn’t inform him of what expectations he has for him, doesn’t list every single reason why Aventurine should keep going. Ratio tells Aventurine to stay alive and keep on living, because he doesn’t need anything more than that, there isn’t anything more than that. Her caring about Aventurine, Ratio caring about Aventurine, that’s enough to keep him going, because other peoples love is enough of a reason to exist, universe be damned.

existing. The Existence. AKSJAKKSNDKKWEN.

Like you don’t understand, you don’t understand. ACHERON IS ENVELOPED IN THE MEANINGLESSNESS OF THE UNIVERSE BEFORE SHE FINDS ITS EXISTENCE, ITS VALUE, ITS MEANING. Even if it can never be achieved, Acheron is willing to destroy herself completely as she walks farther and farther into the Nihility trying to find the Existence, even if it takes every from her she will find it. Only by giving up her existence can Acheron find the Existence and kill the Nihility. Only by sacrificing her own life and giving up her own meaning can she give it to others.

Red. She tells the trailblazer that when they can no longer see the world in anything but black and white, there will be a brief flash of Red for them.

Red is the Existence. Red is the color of her blade that allowed her to cut that black hole in half. Red is the only color left when she unsheathes her sword. Red is the color of the tears she cries. Red is the color of the words she speaks to us that truly matter.

Red is the color she cuts into reality. In a world of black and white, in which all the light has been swallowed by IX, and the path ahead is blurry, Acheron illuminates the universe’s future in bright red, creating color, creating life, creating Existence in a world devoid of it.

We will encounter the Nihility along our journey, just as we would encounter every other aeon. The world will seem meaningless, and it will be devoid of color, but when the Trailblazer needs it the most, there will be Red. A reason to keep going, a reason to exist, a reason to keep on Trailblazing, because the path of the Trailblaze’s end is also at the Existence, and we will meet Acheron there again. Whether that color will come from us or her remains to be seen, but it will be there for us when we need it.

However, I think we/the Trailblazer will be alone. As that flash of red isn’t the only thing Acheron tells the Trailblazer.

Only when left alone can people pick themselves up. Only when help is absent can people truly fight for themselves. Only when you are alone, can you truly understand your existence.

That doesn’t mean other people don’t matter, that you have to walk the world alone, that you can only exist devoid of others. Quite the opposite actually, other people can be your reason to exist, something to help keep you going. Acheron knows this, which is why she directs Aventurine to Ratio’s note. That’s the meaning he can find in a meaningless universe.

Moreover, people help each other, they provide the tools other people need to exist, the anchors that ground people in reality, the reason why you might want to wake up in the morning, they create the things and ideas that you need and enjoy. It’s when you are ripped of these comforts, stripped of the things that make you want to keep going, is when people fight for their existence. As in a world devoid of everything, can you truly appreciate the things you have, and acknowledge that since there is now nothing, you are the only something. When there is no one there to save them, fools pick themselves up, and that is Existence.

I love Acheron. I love her silly amnesiac tendencies, I love her beautiful design, I love that she’s a Mei counterpart, but most of all, I love what she stands for.

Acheron is the indomitable human spirit personified, she quite literally chooses to exist in the face of absolute nothing. When the world loses all color, does she paint reality in a bright red with her sword, writing her own destiny with each and every slash.

And for that, I will always adore her.

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maddipoof · 1 year

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Incoming Steddie thoughts…..(brief mentions of Eddie losing weight, but it’s really just one sentence and he’s ok)

So you know how Eddie tapes his rings to make them fit? You’ve seen the pictures of his hands. Yes, you have don’t lie to me. So he wraps tape around the underside to make them fit his fingers.

Yeah, so what if they’d been together for long enough that they want to give each other things. But like subtle ones, cus like, 1980s middle america… So Eddie gives Steve his guitar pick necklace because of course he would, and he can just tuck it into his shirt. (and I really feel like Steve is a necklace type of guy, like not just a chain guy- no absolutely not he needs some kind of pendant somehow) But Steve needs to give Eddie something inconspicuous too, something people won’t notice right away and even if they did, something they wouldn’t question.

So he decides on his class ring but Whump Whump, Steve has bigger fingers than Eddie and he already knows that so before he gives it to him he gets some string and he wraps it around the back because it’s softer than tape.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah Stevie?”

“You know how you gave me your necklace?”

“Yeah and I told you I don’t want anything back so get that hand out of that pocket and it better be empty”

“I didn’t get you anything, I already had it.”

“I said you don’t have to give me anything.”

“Too late, take it” and he presses it right into his palm.

Eddie looks at it and he shakes his head and makes a face, “Stevie, what- I can’t take this from you.”

“Yes you can, I’m giving it to you. Does it fit?”

“Yeah, uh perfectly, actually”

Then nobody really notices for a while, Eddie’s hands always flying around so fast no one gets a chance to really look at the numbers engraved on the side. They all know they’re together, but no one really gets the intensity of their relationship, considering they’ve only been together for so long. But they do notice the different colored string on the other side. Then Dustin and Gareth get worried that he’s losing weight again. So they ask him about it and he cannot make eye contact and he’s just fidgeting with his rings, which only worries them more but then they see his goofy little smile under his bangs and he just spills about how he and Steve traded and it was so cute and “Steve’s just so ugh- I can’t even make it into words, but he got the size perfect and everything, and I just-“ and they haven’t said they love each other out loud yet.

Then one day he’s cleaning all his rings so he has to take the string off and he sees the engraving underneath it. On one side, in the standard times new roman every one got, a nice, even SH. Then as he’s unwrapping it, he sees something else, and he starts panicking “oh my god I scratched it, he’s gonna be so upset, I scratched it Jesus H Christ.” Then after he paces his bathroom for a solid 15 minutes, his hands dragging down his face, rubbing his nose, he finishes unwinding it and there, in the most scraggly looking etching is a little, uneven EM

@haydipoof

#steddie fluff #steddie ficlet #steddie #steddie brainrot #steddie headcanon #steddie hyperfixation #Della’s headcanons

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heartsforhavik · 5 months

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possession (yandere bi-han/sub-zero x reader)

warnings: mentions of blood and murder, bi-han is possessive

summary: yandere bi-han takes care of your shitty ex boyfriend. reader is gender neutral.

a/n: i haven’t written a yandere character in sooo long. i chose bi-han just bc he’s easy to write as a yandere :3 anyways next one i write will be a yandere smoke x reader so stay tuned

bi-han was always possessive over you. the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were his. he carefully pretended to be your friend and then court you like a normal person, hiding his true colors.

he knew he would most likely scare you away if he showed his true colors too soon. he had to wait until he knew you’d never leave him. he had to be patient. but he couldn’t hold back anymore after he saw you crying.

“love.. why are you crying?” bi-han asked, gently holding you in his arms.

“it’s just..” you hesitated to tell him, knowing that he doesn’t know about your ex-boyfriend. you haven’t told him yet.

your boyfriend held you, waiting patiently for your answer, and getting ready to comfort you. if someone said something to make you cry, bi-han would rip out their spine and bring it to you. if it was anything else, he would just hold you for hours and not let go.

“my ex. i can’t stop thinking about all the shit he did to me.” you admitted, wiping your tears.

bi-han’s gaze turned cold. “your ex? who is he? what did he do to you?”

his grip on you tightened. he needed to know who it was. so he can teach the bastard a lesson.

he was also jealous of your ex. he got to hold you first, he got to kiss you first, and he got to call you his. but he fucked up by hurting you. bi-han will not let him live with those sins.

you told him all about your ex and what he did to you. you opened up to bi-han about all the trauma you endured because of your ex. and how he was the reason you were hesitant to get in another relationship.

bi-han struggled to stay calm. how dare he hurt you...

he had the audacity to hurt you? you’re so precious. so delicate, like a flower. you were so lucky to have bi-han as a boyfriend. he can protect you. he can hold you and keep you safe from harm.

“where is he?” bi-han asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

“i don’t know? he’s most likely at his house right now. why?” you questioned.

“give me his home location.” bi-han commanded.

you looked up at him in confusion. “huh?”

“don’t make me repeat myself.” bi-han sneered.

startled by his sudden anger, you blurted out your ex’s location. bi-han immediately got up and left to find the bastard and make him pay for what he did.

you couldn't sleep that night. bi-han left and still hadn't came back yet. did something happen to him?

you were worried sick, until you heard rustling and grunting outside. that had to be him, right? nobody else is awake at this time.

you walked outside, barely being able to see anything, but you saw your boyfriend slowly dragging something behind him.

"bi-han? what is that?" you whispered. your boyfriend stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice.

you took a closer look at what he was dragging. it was a dead body... but it was unrecognizable, almost as if it was beat to death. you assumed it was just some random guy the lin kuei killed, until you noticed the clothes. that dead body had your ex-boyfriend's clothes.

"by the gods.. did you kill-"

"he cannot hurt you anymore. he was a fool to put you through pain. i simply taught him a lesson. and now, you can live in peace. with me." bi-han interrupted, as he dropped the body and held you in his bloody arms.

you looked up at him, and he had a terrifying look in his eyes. this man enjoyed beating your ex to death.

"you know i will do anything for you," bi-han continued. "if i must get my hands dirty in your honor, then so be it. you need me, don’t you? without me, more people will target you and damage you. you're welcome, my flower."

he was trying to convince you not to leave him. how could you leave, when he just demonstrated what he is capable of when he is angry?

"i don't know about this, bi-han..." you whispered.

his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean? you know i can protect you, so why can't you trust me? if anything were to happen to you... i would tear the world apart. if you dare defy me, then i must teach you a lesson."

you panicked. you didn't want to end up like your ex. "no! i'm not defying you, love."

"good. it pleases me that you and i can live happily together now. nobody can hurt you while i am around. i will not let that happen." bi-han mumbled.

he meant every word he said. he will keep you safe from harm. he would never hurt you, so you must stay with him.

#mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #bi han #bi han sub zero #bi han x reader #bi han x you #sub zero #sub zero x reader #yandere bi han #yandere x reader #possessive yandere #yandere mortal kombat

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swampstew · 11 days

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Tulips

Summary: sex pollen trope is infesting my brain.

Warnings: Eustass Kid X Female Reader, consent is implied, dom/sub dynamics, exhibitionism because its outside sex but no one actually witnesses it, vaginal penetration, etc etc.

Minor Do Not Interact

"Oi, Y/N. Where are you going?" the brash voice of your Captain stopped you in your tracks.

"Explore a little since we're still here. Is that not ok?" the carefree smile on your face creased with worry.

You had been growing closer with Eustass Kid day by day since you had joined the crew. In retrospect it wasn't that long ago he found you on your island and invited you to join him on his adventures. You did what you could to stay on his good side, and every opportunity you spent with him seemed to drag slowly as you learned more about each other; you wouldn't have it any other way.

He lit up every corner of your mind even when he wasn't in your presence. Infiltrating every region of your brain with his sexy, brooding demeanor. That only seemed to perk up when you kept him company. At least, you hoped that's what you saw and felt, and not something you imagined.

"How many times do I gotta tell ya - don't leave the ship without telling one of the higher ups! Don't wanna lose you, dummy."

"Well there's nobody else here so I thought it was no big deal!" you stuck your tongue out at him, "I'll try to remember next time."

Kid's face broke out with an amused look, "If you fall down into some ancient, underground dwelling and no one hears you, what then? Or if you come across a carnivorous plant that tries to eat you, you think you'd regret not telling someone you'd left the ship?"

"Oh my gods stop with your whataboutisms, I get it, I'm sorry! If you're so worried about me, come along then," you resumed your walk to the gangplank.

"Let's go on a side quest," you beamed up at him. Hoping your smile would win him over so you could greedily hog his attention.

Not that he was never not willing to give it to you. He seemed to enjoy making you beg for it lately, so you were trying a new approach that didn't feel quite so...pathetic for your own sake.

Kid studied you with a piercing gaze, the grin on his face never leaving. Only growing wider.

"Just us hmm? Sure, I guess I can spare the newest, and weakest, member some one-on-one time so they can feel safe. It's a big, scary world out there."

"Byyyeeeeee," you waved as you descended the ship, leaving him with a gaping mouth.

"Hey wait up!"

---

The weather was just right, not blazing hot and just enough cover from the foliage to create an intimate atmosphere. You could talk to him about anything and everything it felt like.

Coming up on a small field of flowers, the sudden burst of color made you hover over them in appreciation. Kid was standing behind as you smelled them. Admiring the way your curves and body rounded you out so perfectly that it made his eyes glaze over.

You let out a sneeze, straightened your posture and continued your walk. Kid watched you silently before moving, falling in step with you before you ever noticed he was gone. Soon you met a fork in the path.

“Which way?” you asked him.

“I dunno,” he smirked. Pulling a handful of flowers from behind his back, he handed them to you, not looking at you but at the two routes. “Pull the petals or something.”

Stunned, you took them, “Oh! But these are so pretty, I don’t think I can.”

With a snort, he plucked a stem from your fingers and began, “Left, right, left, right…”

You fidgeted as you waited, a sudden warmth taking over you, making you clench the stems in your hand hard enough to make them wilt.

“Left, right, aaaaaand left,” he shook the remains of the pollen in the air as he tossed the last petal. With a cool touch of his metal hand on your hip, he gently pushed you on, “C’mon, the flower decided.”

A blush touched your cheeks as you wordlessly let him lead. Kid’s touch lingered for a few yards before he let go, suddenly walking ahead a little faster.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just scouting for a place to rest.”

You picked up your pace, yet you were no match against his long strides. He almost escaped your sight as he halted and let out a sigh of relief.

“This is a good spot. Hang out here, I need to take a leak.”

Without waiting for you, he jogged between the trees.

Perplexed, you reached a natural spring and some large, flat rocks stacked upon each other towering over the stream. You chose that spot to wait, enjoying the babble of water and low trill of insects in the breeze. Checking your watch every few minutes, you soon became impatient and rocked subtly against the stone, subconsciously seeking relief for a wispy ache.

After 15 minutes, you decided to look for your Captain. Maybe one of his wild warnings came true and he was impaled in a hole somewhere. Or he got lost. Neither option made you feel good. Thinking of his hulking, muscular body dirty and bloody, you bit your lip, gnawing on the idea of nursing him back to health in the wilderness all by yourself.

You heard frustrated curses and followed them to the source.

Eustass Kid, slamming through tree barks. The wood splintered from the impact, his mechanical arm not bothered by the strike moved on to the next tree. Grabbing the trunk with both arms—

--and rutting manically against it.

“Fuck fuck fuck!!! Go away!!!!” he bent his head down and seemingly screamed at himself.

“C-captain?” you stood a few feet from him, unsure if you should have called his attention or quietly run away while you had the chance. He seemed pissed.

Kid’s scowl should have sent your soul to the grave with how fierce it was, but the only thing you felt was your blood boiling and the ache in your body growing severely. You couldn’t help the way your body naturally shifted, thighs tightening and rubbing faintly.

He saw. His golden amber eyes never missed anything.

“Y/N,” his gravelly voice was lower than normal. Slowly, he stood to his full height and turned to you. A raging boner straining against his pants. “I-I think I’m having an allergic reaction or some shit,” he tried to explain.

Your eyes went from his face to his erection, to the flowers still in your hand. Cautiously you walked up to him, closing the distance he could feel your body heat despite not really being in contact with you. You dropped all but one to the ground, cradling the bulb in your palm as you put it in front of your faces.

And crushed it.

Puffs of pollen escaped between your fingers. Your body felt like it was a slow burning candle, and the fire was not where you yearned it to be. Kid’s pupils dilated they hardly left slivers of the color you love so much.

Your bodies crashed into each other with needy, hungry fervor. Kid’s lips devoured yours, metal hand clutching your body and pinning you to a nearby tree. You wrapped your hand around his covered cock and he let out a deep groan. He thrusted into your hand, hard enough that his body trapped yours against the tree, bucking with reckless abandon. It wasn’t long before you abandoned your grip and pulled yourself up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

He eagerly accepted the change of pace, using his flesh hand to grab at your ass to stabilize his grinding directly between your legs. A lovely melody spilled from your lips as he kept up his ministrations, unwilling to let go now after hearing the beautiful sounds you made for him. When he wasn’t even inside you yet.

It was for that reason he took his time walking back to the spring while groping and making out with you. Slamming you against every other tree so he could pleasure you both, drawing out the anticipation with agonizing edging and teasing.

“K-Ki—” you couldn’t speak, desperation robbing your brain cells as tears streamed from your eyes. “Please!”

“I’ll take care of you,” he bit your lower lip. Quick to shed both your clothes, he laid you against the smooth rock, caressing your shoulder and hip as you felt his hardened length pressing against your core.

You let out a needy whimper, Kid kissed you as he pushed in. Feeling your mewling cries against his lips, his tongue slipped into your mouth and freed your voice.

It rose higher and higher with each thrust of his cock. His own wanton moans joining yours in chorus as you climbed your peaks together.

“Fuuuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groaned, panting heavily over you. “U-under different c-circ—”

You hushed him with a scrape of your nails against his back, “Me-me too! Don’t stop, don’t—”

Kid shifted and grabbed your legs to sit higher on his hips, slamming into you deeply. The edges of your being felt hazy as your core tightened. Your walls fluttered around him as he rolled his hips, your moans coming out near breathless as your orgasm washed over you.

You clamped on his cock with a strangled shriek, head hitting the stone and nails digging into his arms as you came. A veil of white flooded your vision as you rode the wave, feeling your body moving with his in synchrony. Sweet moans spilled from your lips with every slap of his balls against your sopping cheeks.

Kid’s hips stuttered, letting out a choked cry as his hips pistoned faster. You felt his cock twitch before it left your gummy walls. He jerked his hand on his cock and when that wasn’t enough he pressed his length against your quivering lips, tip of the head nestled over your clit, and rut his hips until he came.

You could feel the hot spurts land on your belly, smearing and spreading between your bodies as he kept going. Pushing you both to the point of overstimulation.

“I can’t I can’t fuck I don’t want to stop!!” he roared, burrowing his fingers deep into your skin to leave bruises.

You answered with your own grinding, hungry for so much more. With each slide of his cock, your stomach coiled, wounding tightly quickly.

When you came, it was pain, pleasure, euphoria, hysteria, and tingling numbness all at once as your body tensed and pulsed. You felt the wave crest and then wetness on you. Then hotter, heavier droplets as Kid followed you with his own bliss.

A pool of fluids mixed between your bodies as you stayed locked in position, both of you catching your breaths, hearts beating wildly against each other.

“I meant it,” he finally muttered. Raising his head to look at you, rubbing his fingers on your jaw, “I did and still do. Meant to wine and dine you first.”

You smiled tenderly, half-lidded eyes drinking him in, “You still can. I’ve been wanting that very much.”

“Yeah?” he leaned to kiss your cheek, his slight movements triggered his arousal as he swelled against you. “What else have you been wanting from me?”

“A few things,” you let out a shy giggle, “Want to try some of them out while we’re here?”

Kid grinned widely, “You can have me for as long as you’d like.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, the aphrodisiacal effects of the flowers you inhaled will last for several, several hours.

#eustass kid #eustass kid x you #swampstew bedtime stories #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid smut #cw bd/sm #pollen trope #slight exhibitionism if you squint #swampstew stories

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arachine · 1 year

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— what's going on down there?: a dick analysis

ᥫ᭡ featuring :: jake sully, miles quaritch & norm spellman

ᥫ᭡ includes :: their human forms + avatar forms

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: talking about dicks obviously, explicit sexual content (?), humor lol

ᥫ᭡ note :: if you know anything about arachine, you know i love a good dick analysis. these posts are intended for comedic purposes only, which means they’re not to be taken seriously.

— jake “ima slut you out” sully

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: as we all know, jake’s life on earth was very unfulfilling. he was a man who sacrificed his legs for the fate of the country, only to be disposed of into the unforgiving hands of society, with no way to reap the benefits (or lack thereof) that veterans were promised to receive. and after losing the privilege of mobility, his body changed drastically. he got smaller, his body got weaker, and yet, one thing remained—that dick! jake is a survivor, through and through—his personal motto is: if it ain’t broken, then it’s still working—and boy, he does not disappoint when it comes to the downstairs department. standing tall at 7 inches, is little jake (maybe not so little). when flaccid, his length measures at a solid 5.7 inches. definitely a grower.

⟳ width: a little bit on the skinnier side, but he knows how to use it and that’s all that matters!

⟳ color: i think for the most part, his shaft definitely matches the rest of his body; though, i can see it maybe being slightly a little more darker at the base, like a very light beige. when he’s flaccid, his tip is a pretty pink, almost like a ballet slipper (aka the best pink). turns into an angry red when fully erect!

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: jake pegs me as the kinda guy who doesn’t really care? i mean, trimming isn’t foreign to him, because he has trimmed it before, and does so when he notices it’s gotten to be too long…but, i don’t think it’s something that he does often. to him, it’s just hair. he’s on his grown man shit, you know?

02. curved?: uhm, yes! you know that one beyoncé lyric? yeah.

03. any veins?: absolutely covered in ‘em

04. how he fucks with it: i’d like to think before his accident, he was a doggy style connoisseur—come on, it’s jake we’re talking about here. can’t nobody tell me otherwise! i just know he had bitches bent over, weaves sweated out, makeup all over the pillows…mans was f-u-c-k-i-n-g okay? fuckingggg.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: the masses may attack me, but it’s time i spoke up. the man has a monster schlong. a cooter cat killer, if you will. if you thought his human form was big, shit, you ain’t seen nothing yet! completely flaccid, his cock measures to about 10 inches. when fully hard, he grows an additional three! talk about impressive…

⟳ width: so thick that it basically slaps his thighs when he walks. the man could create a beat with it, get em into the soundcloud business now!

⟳ color: self explanatory tbh, it’s fucking blue. as blue as papa smurf’s ass.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: i’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that because he’s an avatar, he grows hair there. even if i’m wrong, i’m right. i don’t give a damn what james cameron says. he’s basically my character at this point, and i will him to have hair damnit! just…the idea of him having a full bush down there, in the wild, all primitive and shit…does something to me. idk. don’t ask me why i’m so nasty, blame my deadbeat father.

02. curved?: is a banana yellow? there’s your answer.

03. any veins?: i might have a brain aneurysm just thinking about it, but yes! god, yes. so many…so, so, so many. ribbed for her pleasure or whatever trojan said.

04. how he fucks with it: is he still the doggy style connoisseur? yes. but now that’s got the strength of 20 men, backshots sound a whole lot like gunshots now. they say every time the mighty toruk makto thrusts into a cunt, a tree falls down or something. so, yes. fucks hard, fucks rough, fucks like he’s on a mission. what’s that one tik tok audio? “rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, i dive in her cervix.” yeah, he lives by that.

— miles “on your knees, cadet!” quaritch

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: just gonna cut right to the chase. he’s huge. like pussy splitting huge. i don’t care what anyone says, you can argue with ya friend, you can argue with ya mother, but you cannot argue with me! coming in at a solid 6 when flaccid, quaritch takes the cake for the biggest cock on this list (at least, human form wise). at full length, he measures to about 7.8 inches!

‘booooo’ you say, well, guess what? it’s the truth, and i’m just the messenger. whether you hate him or love him, he’s just that guy.

⟳ width: surprisingly average. but it’s okay, sometimes you can’t have the best of both worlds.

⟳ color: if my memory serves me right, he was pretty tan in the first movie. so, i’m gonna stick with that and say that it’s a pretty tan that transitions into a pale pink. i don’t know if some of you have seen old dick, but their tips get less saturated with age. it’s a phenomenon (not really, the blood flow to the groin is just a lot slower, which can make it appear kind of gre—anyway, i digress!)

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: this man is a colonel, so he’s all about discipline and keeping things nice and tidy. so, obviously, his hygiene reflects that. i don’t think he goes completely bald, but he does give it a good trim. kind of like a fade…just imagine a patch of grey, prickly hair. yeah.

02. curved?: yes, and since he’s older, it’s probably curved a lot. you could probably hang something on it. maybe a towel, or a lanyard. it’s definitely useful for something!

03. any veins?: god, i don’t know why, but i have it in my head that he’s on steroids. he’s just so buff and strong, and i mean, yeah, he could just be really fit…but he could also be a self-image obsessed freak who takes drugs to be the perfect soldier. the correlation, you ask? well, i just feel like people who take steroids are really veiny, and i feel like his dick would be really, really veiny. so, thus the rant about steroids. steroid dick.

04. how he fucks with it: don’t let his age fool you. he may very well be pushing his late fifties, but he’s still a young man at heart—and he’s definitely got the sex drive to prove it! i can see his favorite position being something like missionary. not so much because he enjoys the intimacy of it (like being face to face), but more so because he’s got a size kink—and definitely a dacryphilia kink. he enjoys seeing his partners cry, whether in pain, or in pleasure, or both! so, when you’re fucking him, don’t expect anything romantic. he just wants to see your pretty little face all teary eyed and pathetic.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: so big you can see it from space; that’s how the RDA mfs know they’re close, because they can see the tip protruding from pandora. no, but seriously, it’s still really huge. like maybe 12-14 inches—maximum.

⟳ width: probably twice as thick as a human’s forearm. and god, it’s sooooo heavy. big breeding balls to match.

⟳ color: blue blue blue…like wet fun dip. with just as many stripes as the american flag or whatever.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: yes, but the hair is black instead of grey and it’s probably really straight because na’vi hair is straight as fuck.

02. curved?: sir, yes sir.

03. any veins?: what’d i say? steroid dick. but even worse (better) now bc he’s so damn tall, he needs all the blood he can get down there.

04. how he fucks with it: has you in all types of positions. his favorites are anything that shows off his new found strength, so i’m betting on full nelsons and mating presses. just fast, powerful strokes. lives by the motto: can’t stop, won’t stop.

— norm “what’s the sq root of 69?” spellman

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: i’m sorry to disappoint the norm fuckers (if there are any), but he’s not that big. when he’s soft, his cock measures to about 4.8 inches, and at most, 6.2 inches when hard.

⟳ width: skinny dick.

⟳ color: dawg he’s so white, it’s like hella pale and the tip is so pink that when he’s aroused, it looks like there’s something wrong.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: like jake, i don’t think he really cares.

02. curved?: straight like a pencil

03. any veins?: like two, and they’re really prominent because he’s so fucking pale.

04. how he fucks with it: i don’t think human norm is getting puss, let’s be real.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: i am a firm believer in N.W.B.C—nerds with big cocks. it’s just the universe’s way of saying thank you, they just…they just do so much for us, you know? norm may not have been packing down there in his human form, but this was his second chance at redemption. he’s now a proud member of N.W.B.C, sporting an impressive 15 inches. you know that one scene in the first spider-man when pete’s looking at himself in the mirror and he looks inside his briefs? yeah, that was norm when he found out. the man got so excited, he accidentally catapulted a scientist out of pandora’s atmosphere with the weight of his cock. joking.

⟳ width: on the skinnier side but still toe curling, nonetheless.

⟳ color: laffy taffy blue, with little (big) blueberry balls.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: no, he’s too busy in the lab and getting na’vi puss.

02. curved?: unfortunately no

03. any veins?: more than before, which he was pleasantly surprised to see.

04. how he fucks with it: norm’s got a big dick, but he acts so shy, like he’s scared of it or something. like stop playing boy and drop them drawls, the fuck? anyway, i think norm’s a sub. he pegs me as the type of guy who likes strong women, women who’ll tell him to shut the fuck up (because he talks so much) and eat their pussies. i guess this makes him a munch. yeah, he’s a munch. ice spice actually wrote that song with him in mind!

#jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader smut #jake sully smut #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles quaritch smut #avatar x reader #avatar x reader smut #avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water smut #atwow x reader #atwow smut

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notjustjavierpena · 10 months

Text

First: Time

A/N: Part of my “first”-series with dilf!joel!

Summary: You go to IKEA to buy a new bed, but after getting Joel to assemble your new piece of furniture. it somehow also ends up being the first time you have sex.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel hates IKEA, reader is overthinking, domestic fluff, Joel is lovely, pussy eating, creampie, unprotected piv sex, cute sex!!! Fluff!!! Filth!!

Word count: 4.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48689506/chapters/123842593#workskin

First: Time

Since the kiss on your front porch, Joel has taken every opportunity to press his lips against yours when nobody has been around to see. Making out is so easy, uncomplicated in the sense that it isn’t hard to find out what the other likes, but there’s always something stirring beneath the surface when you feel Joel’s cock start to harden against your stomach. It makes you pull away and come up with excuses, and Joel takes it politely when you reject him.

You aren’t inexperienced, but for some reason, Joel Miller, certified hot neighbor, and possible boyfriend, makes you nervous.

Even more so when he suggests joining you on an outing to buy you a new bed like he has a say in which one you’ll choose. Your old one barely made it across the country in the moving truck, the old bed frame creaking so loudly that you were scared that it would splinter and land you in a claim of compensation with the moving company.

Additionally, it’s simply terrible to sleep in, and when it had finally broken its last proper spring, you’d settled for a month on something that resembled a military cot. Not ideal for you back. Not ideal for inviting Joel Miller over.

“Sarah ain’t home anyway,” he had said, “And with how that stepladder turned out… You probably need someone to assemble it, so ya don’t end up on the floor, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart. What easier way was there to get you to say yes?

And so you find yourself in an IKEA not long after. Joel wants to play the gentlemen, pushing your cart around the furniture store, but he seems tired of it when you keep adding unnecessary bibs and bobs as you are forced to walk down the fixed path design. You ignore his tiny grunts, knowing that he would be more suited for powering through the halls than stopping every goddamn second.

“Ain’t this cute?” You ask as you show him a kitchen container that’s shaped like a flower.

“Very,” he replies without the same enthusiasm.

“What about this? I should totally get these,” you go on as you reach the cutlery and glasses, showing him a set of brass coffee scoops.

“Sure,” he answers, but he isn’t really listening.

Eventually, you reach the section of pillows, blankets, and bedding. He wants to go straight to the rows of beds along the wall and surrounding the path on the floor, but you grab at the end of your cart to steer him towards the linens.

“I feel like I should get some new bedding to go along with the new bed, don’t you think?” You scan the different patterns and colors. Joel hums beside you, clearly lost in his thoughts despite being the one who suggested coming along.

“Yeah, I really think this lilac set would look fantastic against my skin when you fuck me,” you say without any suggestive tone to your voice, then wait.

“Sure wou—“ Joel takes a second, nearly snapping his neck as he quickly turns towards you to look at you. He splutters, “Wait, what?”

“What?” You smile too innocently, “I didn’t say anything. I just said that these would look fantastic with my bedroom walls. Honestly, Joel, you should listen more.”

Joel narrows his eyes at you, parking your shared cart that he has nothing of his own in. He walks towards you again and God, you want to kiss him as he smirks at you, “You’re playin’ with me.”

“Not at all,” you say with a soft giggle as he looks around for other people, who, luckily, are nowhere to be seen, before kissing you in the middle of the store. You wrap your arms around his neck as his own comes around your waist.

It only takes a moment for him to pull back. You miss him the second that he is gone, though instead of going back to your cart again, he scans the room once more and then grabs at the hem of your jeans.

“What’re you—?” You look down with surprise and a pulsating feeling between your legs.

“I’m so fuckin’ bored, let’s just go do what we’re here for,” he yanks at the front of your jeans and steers you towards the row of beds. Your head swims and your legs try to follow wherever he tugs you.

“O-okay, yes, alright,” you stutter.

Joel only lets go when you choose the first bed to try out. You try to concentrate on the design as you run a hand over the material, but the grasp Joel has just had on your clothes makes you wonder if it translates into the bedroom. Fuck, you need a bed.

Unfortunately, you are also very picky; too soft, too hard, bad design, bad bed frame design, made of plastic, not convincing enough to look like wood.

“How do you like this one?” You ask as you lay down on the millionth bed with Joel. It’s the first one that has some potential. You wiggle to get comfortable, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“No,” he simply replies, turning onto his side to face you. You turn your head, not daring to mirror his position.

“Right, let’s hear it, Mr. Miller, what’s the verdict of this possible contender?” You sigh dramatically.

“First of all, ’m not the picky one here. We’ve had some fine contenders,” he points out and makes you smile, “But this one? Wouldn’ trust that bed frame, the headboard.”

“And what has the headboard done?” You roll your eyes.

“Nothing, but I’d for sure have you break it. We need somethin’ sturdier.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you’re sure that every drop of blood in your body goes down between your thighs.

Eventually, you arrive home with a bed that has a name that you are unable to pronounce and a Joel who tells you not to disturb him as he assembles said bed with a difficult name.

You try protesting against being left out of the project, but Joel reminds you of the stepladder massacre from the day that you had met, making you shut your mouth and pout prettily in your living room.

He leaves your house briefly to get his power drill from his garage, and you practically froth around the mouth at the idea of him power drilling his way to fixing up a new bed for you. If only he’d allowed you to join him, so you could’ve at least silently watched and admired him from the other side of the room. The images that flood your mind are as relentless as Joel’s comment about your new bed’s headboard.

When he eventually comes into the living room, he takes your hand and leads you through the house to show you his masterpiece.

“One new bed for the lady, even put the mattress on,” Joel says, stopping in the doorway to your bedroom. You look up at him with a smile and kiss him softly. He is warm, slightly sweaty after working in the August heat.

“Thank you, Joel,” you say against his lips, and there it goes again. You wrap your arms around him and he cups your face, and then you kiss like your lives depend on it and stop just as things start to get heated.

“No, don’t,“ Joel mutters quietly as you try to pull away, not letting you as he starts tugging a little at your hips, “Don’t run away from me again.”

“Mhmm… okay,�� you hum and find his lips once more, but you pull away as soon as you can feel the hard bulge of his cock underneath his jeans. God, you want him, but he has no idea how much that scares you too. What if you lose him right after? What if you can’t be what he needs? Oh God, what if it’s bad? Nothing is better than disappointment.

Joel furrows his brow in confusion and then takes a step back from you to look at you properly, “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

“What? No! No, of course not,” you run a hand over your forehead and through your hair, letting out a sigh that’s followed by an embarrassed chuckle, “I promise. It’s just...”

Joel has crossed his arms over his chest like he usually does when he is expecting bad news, probably a rejection in this case. You hate yourself for making him feel like he needs his guard up.

“I’m shitting my pants here, Miller, look at you,” you groan with brutal honesty at the tip of your tongue. He raises a brow at your choice of words, but doesn’t interrupt you, “Haven’t you ever wanted something so badly and then been afraid of getting it in case you’ve piled the expectations too high?”

Joel shifts his weight from side to side for a moment. He doesn’t say anything to you for what seems like minutes but is, in reality, nothing more than ten seconds.

“Can’t say I’m not jus’ a lil’ hurt that you think you’ll be disappointed by now,” he finally replies without looking at you, tapping his fingers on his arm.

“I just meant that I want it to be perfect and there’s no way I’m going to be perfect and then I’ll worry if I disappoint you,” you confess.

You hear him scoff in disbelief at your postulate like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, “Sure, I’m definitely gonna turn ya down after gettin’ in bed with you and knowin’ you probably wanna do it again in the near future.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” it does sound pretty ridiculous. You step towards him again, tugging at his arms to uncross them until you can walk into them. You look up at him through your lashes with an apologetic smile, “I don’t think you know just how much I think about your hands touching me.”

Joel’s offense is gone from his face in mere seconds, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm with a little newfound confidence. There’s something good about having told him your concern, putting it out there for him to do with it what he wants despite how badly you want the ability to read minds right now. You decide to stroke his ego a little, “With your job? I bet you know how to use them.”

“Then lemme show you, baby. I’m great with my hands,” he kisses your lips again, but only briefly, following it up with descending down your neck. You let him for the first time, tilting your head to the side to give him more access and shivering at the feel of his nose bumping along your carotid artery.

You hold onto him as he backs you further into the room, shoving down the instinct, caused by anxiety, to make him stop once again. Just let yourself have this, you try to remind yourself, don’t overthink it. You’re cute. He is sexy. He wants you.

“Tell me whatcha like,” he says as he guides you across the floor that’s scattered with cardboard and tools, “Maybe decidin’ what we’re doing will calm you a little.”

“Uh, it’s been a while,” you suddenly feel the edge of your newly acquired bed hit the back of your knees and make you fall onto it. Looking up at him from this angle makes your pulse quicken, your blood going straight to your clit and making it throb behind your denim jeans.

“Or not. Should I list suggestions?” He asks, sinking to his knees on the floor at the end of the bed. You spread your legs a little without thinking and he smirks at you as if you’ve lost a bet, “I could eat your pussy. Would ya like that?”

You moan at the mere words.

“Need to hear you say it,” Joel’s hands are on the hem of your jeans like they had been in the middle of Ikea. He does quick work of undoing them, but not pulling them down just yet, “Say yes, baby.”

“Yes, fuck, I want that,” you have to stare up at the ceiling again to keep your composure. You have a feeling that none of your expectations have ever been too high.

“Will you then tell me what you like? Tell me how to suck your pretty little clit?” His fingers curl into the denim and start pulling until he needs to sit back to get your jeans all the way off. He accidentally pulls your socks off too, but it just earns you a kiss to your ankle before he crawls forward again and you feel like prey at the mercy of a predator.

“Go slow,” you say breathlessly.

“Of course,” he reassures, hooking a finger into the waistband of your panties next, “Tell me if I’m too much.”

“No! I mean, this is good, I like your filthy words,” you suck in a breath as your cunt is exposed to him, cheeks burning up with shyness but he just groans. It feels very vulnerable to be naked from the waist down when he isn’t,

“I can touch you?” His voice indicates a question. You nod slowly, tensing up quite a bit as he rests one huge hand on your left hip bone and reaches between your legs with his index- and middle fingers. He runs them through your glistening folds, earning a gasp.

“Do you usually come from touching your clit or?”

“No, yes, but I like my g-spot stimulated too. Simultaneously,” you try to reply confidently.

He hums and nods, taking it all in. It takes a few extra seconds before he gently rubs his fingers along the side of your clit, dragging his fingers up and down slowly to test out the waters and see how sensitive you are. He guesses very, because you let out a soft moan at the contact, so he keeps going.

“We’ll get to your g-spot,” he says matter-of-factly, and your eyes nearly roll back into your skull at the promise. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a position like this, too busy restoring the house and falling in love to even think about seeking out casual sex. Who knew that you’d end up with something so not casual?

“When did you last do this?” You ask right before he leans down to taste you.

“Eat pussy?” He asks with a smirk.

“I meant slept with someone in general,” your head swims. Joel may have halted his head’s movements down towards your cunt, but he still has his fingers between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at what his hands are doing.

“Don’t think I’d use in general about sex,” he replies smugly instead of giving you a proper answer. You realize it doesn’t matter as he rubs teasing circles around your clit, still avoiding any direct touch to get you properly worked up and wet. You cannot wait for him to follow through on his plan to eat you out, which you aren’t sure when you last had a guy do to you.

“Fine, forget I asked,” you moan with a roll of your eyes.

Joel can sense the brat in you looming under the surface. He gets bolder, eyes changing to something hungrier than soft. He pulls you by your ankles to get you closer to him instead of the other way around. It makes you yelp, but he chuckles, “And there’s that attitude I like. Are you gonna let me now? No more interruptions?”

“No more interruptions,” you confirm.

Finally, he lowers his head between your legs and puts a stop to the noise in your head. You have been fantasizing about this position for months now, waited for the opportunity to lift your legs up to wrap them around his neck and shoulders.

His tongue is warm and wet on you, trailing through your folds as if he is eating ice cream and it’s melting in his hands. He makes you throw your head back, makes you look up again as you don’t want to miss seeing him like this but only to have you force your eyes away because it’s too much.

“Shit, Joel,” you swear when his nose bumps your clit. You try to lift your hips up into his mouth, but a big hand rests on your pelvis and aggressively pushes you down into the mattress again. That ignites something close to fire in your body, and Joel senses it immediately when your skin grows hotter.

“You like that, baby?” He pulls away from you for a moment, arousal dripping off his stubble, “When I get a little rough? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised with the way you like me to say filth.”

“I don’t want you to say anything right now,” you whine, “Not what your mouth is for.”

“And I told ya to guide me,” he retorts, replacing his tongue with his fingers whilst you are talking. He spreads your lips open, watching as another drip of slick runs down between your cheeks to pool on the mattress.

“Don’t need any guidance,” you squirm as he holds your labia apart, clenching around nothing.

“Then ya ain’t gettin’ anything,” he threatens, “I can watch your pussy jump under my touch for a long time. Ain’t gotta be home later. This is only to do it exactly how you want it, sweetheart. Needa know how you like to fuck.”

Your pulse quickens at the thought of him being a little mean if you don’t show a bit of cooperation. Your mouth parts as you pant in your compromising position. Joel looks up at you expectantly and you realize that maybe, as much as this is a bit of fun, it’s possible that he just wants to be reassured too.

“I want you to pay more attention to my clit, use the flat of your tongue, and don’t suck until I’m close,” you explain while your head spins. Your elbows ache from holding yourself up.

Another droplet of slick runs down. Without warning, Joel catches it with the tip of his tongue and it has you crying out. He remembers your demands, swiping his tongue through your folds and licking your clit expertly.

“Need your fingers inside me,” you only just manage to let out whilst your orgasm burns low in your belly. He follows through but only after pushing your t-shirt up to expose your bra, cupping your breast with his left hand, and sneaking his right down between your legs.

Your nipples harden underneath his touch. Your pussy clamps around his fingers. And then he sucks your clit into his mouth, causing your hips to stutter and your thighs to twitch. He wiggles his head a little, goes rougher.

“Just like that, keep go— oh, Joel, you’re gonna—“ you flop down onto the bed again, elbows giving out underneath you. With the way that the pressure keeps building, you scramble to grab the sheets with both of your hands, “Gonna make me come, baby. Just— Ah!”

Everything fades as your orgasm begins. The flutters of your walls are intense, causing you to throw your head back into the mattress and concentrate on each pulsating contraction of your cunt.

Joel pumps his fingers as he works you through it, sucking your swollen clit until you have to push him away to stop it from hurting. He lifts his head at your indication of wanting him to stop before removing your legs from his shoulders. He crawls into bed with you, hovering on top of you with his clothes still on and his legs hanging out off the edge.

“Now how was that?” He asks despite knowing the answer. The warm and handsome smile that you love so much translates so well into the context of being in bed together, and with a little more confidence from just having climaxed, you cup his face and kiss him. He tastes deliciously of you.

“Can’t complain,” you say with a little laugh and earn a little glare that Joel cannot keep on his face for long. He nudges your nose with his own and kisses you once again. The nervousness that you had felt earlier seems so far away now, so silly when he makes it so easy to forget.

“Take your pants off, Miller,” you add, moving to crawl back on the bed. You start undressing yourself completely, pulling at your t-shirt, “Can’t just be about me as much as that sounds entertaining.”

“Confident after havin’ climaxed,” he says out loud like it’s a mental note for himself, removing his shirt. He laughs whilst getting out of his jeans, out loud at your outraged noise.

You don’t know if it’s the comment that makes you the worst undresser in history, but somehow your bra becomes stuck in the sleeve of your t-shirt. Before you know it, the shirt simply won’t move anymore despite being halfway over your head, “Oh no.”

You can feel Joel moving on the bed. His attention is on you immediately, “What?”

“It’s stuck,” you admit but only after a long pause. Warmth creeps up your chest to your face as embarrassment fills you up, and even more so when Joel barks out a laugh at your eagerness getting the better of you.

“Sit still, you’re only makin’ it worse, we gotta start from scratch,” he says as you continue pulling at the fabric. He starts tugging your clothes back on until he has your face visible again and your body as dressed as before.

“Hey you,” he says with a boyish grin, then slowly works your clothes back off the right way.

“Hi,” you sputter when you’re finally completely naked, voice flustered. Joel is only in his boxers now, and God, he is tenting in them. It’s been on your mind a bunch of times; how big is he? Now that you see him straining against the fabric, you know that he is going to be the biggest you’ve ever had.

After he has tugged off his boxers, and you’ve nearly passed out from the vision, Joel pushes gently on your chest to get you to lie down. He helps you to bend your legs, plants your feet flat on the bed, and then settles on his knees between them.

“Condom?” He asks, stroking your thighs as he waits.

“I’m on the pill,” you reply, “And it’s been God knows how long, so I’m clean.”

“God knows how long,” he snorts, leaning down over you and holding himself up on his elbows, “We better fix that. Don’t ya think so?”

“Mhm,” you look up into his eyes, “Definitely. Yeah.”

“Wrap your legs ‘round my waist,” he guides you softly, can sense your hesitation or maybe it’s just how he can feel your heartbeat against his own chest. It’s rapid, beating like a scared animal.

You do as you are told. He is able to get even closer now, and when he is flush against your body, he kisses you slowly until he is allowed to slip his tongue into your mouth. You slide your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, and he hums into your mouth.

When he needs air, he only pulls back inches.

“I want you so much,” you breathe quietly, hands still at the back of his head. He smiles softly at you, reaches down between the two of you, and presses the tip of his cock against you.

The whimper you let out as he pushes inside has him attentively moving slower. Inch by inch, he fills you to the brim and you can barely believe that just a few months ago, this had only been a brief fantasy.

“Okay? You want me to stop?” He questions with genuine concern, but you quickly shake your head. That is the last thing you want.

“No, you’re just big … and it’s been a while,” you blush.

“Okay, tell me if it’s too—“

You pull him into a sweet kiss, legs tightening around his waist to make him realize that you don’t want him to go anywhere. When you pull back to talk, he is on the brink of interrupting you again. You shake your head, “Joel Miller. Shut up and just fuck me.”

“Wow, yeah. Can do.”

The slow outwards drag of his cock is almost more intense, leaving you empty for the briefest moment before it fills you up again. You moan as your muscles squeeze around him, accepting him so easily as you finally relax into him.

He rolls his hips sensually, fucks you open till your new bed squeaks and you hope that he was right about its sturdiness. For show, and to test it out, you reach above your head to place your palm against the headboard.

“Let’s see then,” he chuckles breathlessly.

“Wouldn’t even— fuck. I wouldn’t even be mad if you break my bed,” you pants, “Angle your hips a bit.”

You squeeze your legs around his waist to guide him, and when his cock nudges against your g-spot, you clench involuntarily around him. It pulls a groan from his lips, filth spilling from his mouth, “Yeah, you like that? Want it again?”

“Fuck yes, I want it again,” you whine, eyes falling closed and breathing rapidly, “Just like that! Fuck, Joel!”

Joel picks up the pace, leans further into you. He also adds more force behind his thrusts, making your eyes roll back when his pelvis aligns with your clit. The hand on the back of his neck slides down for more leverage, holding on for dear life as he pounds you into the mattress.

“Keep going, I’m almost there,” you cry, heat continuously pooling at the base of your spine. Suddenly, you have both hands on his back, raking your nails down until they dig into the widest part of his back, “Faster!”

“I know, baby,” he growls, but it sounds mostly out of breath. He gives you everything he has, seeking out your pleasure by making the bed slam into the wall, “Can feel you. Let go, baby, come on my cock.”

It is nothing but raw and hot pleasure in the next moment as he gets you to orgasm, causing you to release a breath that you do not know that you have been holding. You are taken aback by its intensity. A high-pitched cry leaves you as the first clench of your cunt hits you and Joel continues fucking you through it.

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he pants, buries his head in the crook of your neck to chase his own reward. He comes after a few more thrusts, coating your walls in his warm come and saying your name. You don’t think your name has ever sounded so beautiful with a string of swear words following it.

Time stands still after Joel pulls out. You expect yourself to be blissed out, sleepy, and quiet, maybe even annoyed at having to get up and clean yourself up, but instead, you find that you cannot stop grinning up at the ceiling.

“We are definitely fucking doing that again,” you say despite being completely out of breath.

“Was that perfect?” Joel teases, “Or did I disappoint ya?”

“Fuck you,” you giggle, still high on dopamine. You suspect you will be in the coming days, weeks, months, years. Hopefully.

“Just did,” he says proudly.

“You sure fucking did.”

“You always get so foul-mouthed after sex?” He turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He rests his free hand on the sweat-dampened skin of your stomach, “Or?”

“Only if it’s fucking good,” you respond but mostly to the ceiling. You want to cry, giggle, scream, and laugh out loud, but mostly you want to say that you love him. One thing at a time, you think to yourself, next time. Even if the next time is in a moment.

Taglist: @elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend

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vampdes · 3 months

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Please, I'm begging you do more Homelander x top male reader. I loved your other fic with him. Maybe reader is a supe who's stronger than Homelander and left. Homelander was sent to kill reader due to reader having information but instead gets fucked. Thank you and have a nice day.

DES says . . . im not doing anything right now, so why not? hope you enjoy xx (even though this is very late).

SUM. — homelander is sick, erratic, manic. why? he has his fame, his money, his powers – what more could he need? an antidote, obviously, what else?

CON. warning — smoking weed / rolling a blunt (once), dry humping, dry orgasm, overstim, mentions of: growling, passing out (figuratively), meeting heaven (figuratively), & yan-like actions. p in a. bareback. begging. impregnation (breeding ?) kink. collar & leash. subby (leaning on), needy, & whiny homelander.

NOTES. — very rushed. semi-detailed smut. not a very good ending.

you flipped through the televison’s provided channels with an unlit blunt protruding from your lips, itching to light it in order to feel the undeniable zest and haze it always seemed to provide you with. the calming and doughy-like sensation melted your brain, it allowed you to escape from the realization that you were indeed wanted by national police and superheros (all at the same time, mind you) just because you even dared to speak of retiring. therefore, you came up with an idea: just escape! to hawaii or somewhere — you landed in Australia, though, so hawaii was entirely off course but aye, you were gone and free and almost high.

what’s not to love?

you finally found a reliable sitcom that’d allow you to not think too hard or pay attention too much. so you sat back and slouched, drowned into the comfiness of the couch’s plush cushions, and lit your blunt. the wafting smoking engulfed itself deep within your lungs and etched itself into the cushions of your couch. before you could even care about your couch’s wellbeing or could even take a second exhilarating blow, the smell of metal being burnt and resulting smoke that wafted from under your penthouse door to your living made your eye brows furrow together with confusion. before continuing your trail on being high, you dipped the blunt into an ashtray and pushed it into the table, and sat up, watching the door with a sense that something was array in the air.

“fix me, oh fuck — y’gotta, fuck, fuck, fuck—,” john’s words fell into loud, squeaky squabbles into the silk sheets of your bed. his large frame sat atop of your hips, straddling you whilst he made a steady pace of teasing his concealed cock with the friction your ruffled jeans provided him with. you wanted to calm him down, tell him it’s okay, baby, you know i’ll fix you, but he chose that ignorant and arrogant company or what the two of you could have had. and that’s something you’ll never forget, but damn, why pass up on fucking the most famous hero in the world because he’s begging to have you? nobody in their right mind would, that’s for sure.

“you gonna let me treat you right?” you asked, gripping on his hips with words that haven’t been spoken before but explained and demonstrated through the many encounters that occurred in the empty janitor closets in the hallways of his company. and john. . he can’t help but grind himself a little harder and nod just a little faster. he wants you in ways he could never explain. he needs you with the biblical and primal history behind it. he begs to serve you as though he’s nothing but a measly worshipper and you’re a god within the highest of heavens. and you allow him to do so.

“please.” john responds, and you know he means it.

before long, he has a pastel-pink color around his neck with the leash wrapped around your balled fist, feeling like a submissive fucking bitch under your control, and damn, he feels good. his hands are tied behind his back with his nails clawing at the air between you and him in order to feel the pleasure that courses through every atom in his very being. for the first time in a long time, john allows himself to be willingly and properly used by someone he adores.

when you mention the fact that you’ve run out of the very last condom, he says: “get me pregnant.” and good lord above, you can’t help but comply with his demands. he felt fucking heavenly too, he felt so, so fucking good, and the noises that were coming from him? good fucking god, you’d capture those noises in a jar and listen to them every night before you sleep if you could.

in between the lingering touches and chaste kisses and animalistic thrusts and moans and being treated like a fucking free-use prostitute, the tears that streamed down his eyes and the whines that came from him and the need eminiting from him to have the immediate skin-to-skin contact with you even though you were literally shoving your cum into the deepest part of his guts is what captivated you entirely. the way he honestly showed his greed proudly with it circling around town and right back to you made your heart swell. fuck, this was sick (sick enough to make you force yet another cry out his hoarse throat).

“oh fuck, fuck, fuck — gotta make you mine, gotta get pregnant and make sure you stay with me, oh fuck, gotta – gonna cum, fuck, gonnafuckin’cum–,” the process that coincided with long strings of his cum colliding with his pretty pink breasts made the loudest, girliest, guttural squeal mixed with a whine mixed with the neediest moan escape from his throat with him crying out your name. your sylabells. and for fucks sake, he knew exactly how to get you started again to buck your cum-covered tip into his abused prostate once more.

when he cried out your name like you were the Archangel himself, you knew that today would turn into tonight which would turn into yet another post-sex morning with a bitchy, clingy, neck-biting john that always needed a piece of you with him or he swore he might (would and undeniably will) go crazy. and to be honest, if you just savor this maniac for just a little bit longer, maybe the earth would look a bit more brighter to you. maybe the air would be clearer, the sun would shine harder, the birds would harmonize better — the morning is the best time of your day.

#dan.writes #x male reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x male reader #homelander x gn reader #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #homelander smut #bottom homelander #x top reader #x top male reader

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fryingpan1234567 · 3 months

Text

listen I knowwww Roach should be British. he was on a British task force. he’s got the flag on his uniforms. but when @fixfoxnox said southerner Roach I just couldn’t not love him okay leave me alone

anyways. southerner Roach shenanigans

(I guess you could call this a Something in the Orange fanfic since he’s besties with Jackson in this scenario as well as dating Ghost and Soap……… but it’s general enough it’s probably fine ANYWAYS)

Roach’s accent, while it normally only lightly flavors a few of his words, gets considerably thicker when he’s visiting home

I mean like he does the thing southerners do where they somehow mash entire sentences into one word and the others are just like “……….what” but Jackson is nodding like he understood

Like. They’re all at dinner together somewhere. Somebody brings up the rodeo at the state fair. The Europeans have no idea what they’re talking about. Roach just goes “y’ain’tneverheardadat??” and Soap nearly has a stroke trying to figure out what he meant but Jackson continues to eat soundly like he didn’t hear anything wrong

COWBOY👏 HAT👏 RULE👏

HELP

No no no they go to some random dive bar for one of their birthdays. It doesn’t matter whose. Jackson and Roach both have cowboy hats because OBVIOUSLY and like. They exchange this look that the others can’t figure out whenever one of their boyfriends steals their hat via flirting

(They tell them later and then can’t stop laughing while Soap and Ghost and Gaz are just sitting there like uh oh)

After that the hat stealing is very much purposeful

Square dancing to fucking Timber by Kesha and Pitbull in said dive bar because that’s just required idk what to tell you

Soap and Ghost seeing Roach ride a horse for the first time and visibly bluescreen

Roach recognizing people from high school in his hometown even tho he hasn’t seen them in like 20 years

He likes Taylor Swift but only her old country-adjacent stuff

Ghost and Soap couldn’t figure out his aversion to any kind of substitute milk until he took them home and they found out it’s because he grew up drinking milk that literally came from the cows he has in his backyard. They own two cows. And a few chickens. Very resourceful

Jackson and Roach dragging the 141 to Roach’s family’s Super Bowl party one year because in the southern states it’s a huge fucking deal

The Europeans being like “………this is quite possibly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen in my life” but their boys are having fun so it’s okay

God help the rest of them. Jackson and Roach are rooting for opposite teams.

There’s screaming, there’s wrestling on the living room floor, there’s spilling food and beer everywhere. The amount of rubbing it in after a touchdown lands is fucking crazy, and they’ve shouted about stabbing each other every single time

Eventually, maybe with a bit of googling, the others get into it. Soap hasn’t stopped shoving Mrs. Roach’s buffalo chicken dip in his face since he’d discovered it when they’d arrived, and Ghost was letting the kids use his tattoo like a coloring page while he chatted with Roach’s dad and brothers. Gaz kept getting elbowed in the ribs whenever Roach and Jackson tousled on the couch, and a couple times he was asked to hold Jackson’s beer so “I can kick some sense into this dipshit,” usually followed by Roach’s maniacal cackling. Price was banging around in the kitchen with Mrs. Roach. Nobody knew how he’d gotten dragged into that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself

On the topic of bringing the boys home to the fam oh my GODS thanksgiving

Ghost is not a dessert person. He’s never been a dessert person. But he had four slices of Mr. Roach’s apple pie, so,,,,,,,,, apparently he is actually a dessert person

Obvi Roach is good with all guns, but he was hunting with his dad and brothers by the time he was like six. He knows how to work a shotgun like he breathes

(Ahem being southern is why he’s so fucking stubborn btw if anyone was wondering)

Roach and Jackson both are religious Dolly Parton listeners

“DID U GUYS KNOW SHE WROTE JOLENE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU ON THE SAME DAY—“

Ghost and Soap wake up one night because there’s a weird noise outside. They poke Roach awake like “???? what was that??” and he was just like “oh yeah the woods make noises sometimes. don’t worry about it. if something actually wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t hear it coming” and promptly passed back out

“Yea I’ve seen a skinwalker before” “FYM YOU’VE S E E N O N E ? “ “It was in my backyard?? Relax it just wanted the coyote that always tries to kill our chickens. I didn’t really mind”

Gaz suggests investigating a weird figure he saw in the woods. Roach laughs out loud and Jackson smacks him in the back of the head like “that’s how you fucking die you idiot”

“Y’all’re lucky we’re here to stop you from doing somethin’ stupid. Fuckin’ city slickers” “What did you just call me”

The deafening sounds of crickets and locusts puts Roach to sleep almost instantly every night. Ghost barely sleeps every time they visit.

”IT IS SO FUCKING LOUD IF ONE MORE BLOODY CRICKET—“ “Simon not everyone needs literal dead silence to sleep—“

No matter how many pillows he stacks on top of his head he can’t escape it

Oh. Oh. The Europeans CANNOT do southern heat. They’re passed out on the porch while Jackson and Roach and Roach’s brothers play football in the front yard

Roach makes killer lemonade and iced tea nobody talk to me

He has a rusty blue ancient pickup that he says is his baby. One of the wheels is misshapen and the bed squeaks dangerously every time they hit a pothole, but he won’t get rid of it EVER

Roach introduces Soap and Ghost to catching fireflies in jars with his nieces and nephews. They are. So in love with the concept.

It gets turned into a competition, because of course it does, and it looked like Ghost was going to win— but then the youngest of the participating children silently held up a jar that was too bright to look at and audibly buzzing from the amount of bugs inside of it. They cut their losses and embrace the fact that they’ll never be That Good

Southern👏 sunsets👏 there ain’t nothing like it

Soap has a sketchbook dedicated entirely to doodling Roach doing farm things

Roach had a horse he took care of in high school. Her name was Peaches and he literally cried when he found pictures of her in his room

Ghost LOVES the sweet old border collie Roach’s parents have. That dog has seen many a stampede, and he’s herded just as many. What a man. Ghost does not leave him alone Ever

gods fuck me bro I could literally talk about southern Roach F O R E V E R (idk if you can tell from the long ass post Jesus Christ)

good morning/ night/ 4am lmk if you want more of this

#cod #tf141 #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #paul jackson #something in the orange #kind of #soapghostroach #ghostsoaproach #southerner roach

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stickymolasses · 5 months

Note

omgg if you’re comfortable, can you write about reader calling harry “theo” after his middle name? i feel like he would blush so bad, his face would be all red 😊

MY THEO

an: hello anon! this is such a sweet ask, i'm giggling and kicking my feet omg. it’s christmas day for me, happy holidays to all! i hope we’re all eating good food and spending time with family and friends. <3

summary: You and Harry are resting in your bed and you call him a nickname he hasn't heard in a while. pairing: harry osborn x reader warnings: making out, cringe <:

The evening ushered in a tranquility that had eluded both you and Harry for quite some time.

A slight crack in the small window above your bed allowed a gentle breeze to permeate the room. While many might argue that the air in New York City carried a sharp and unpleasant scent, it smelled of new beginnings to you. Describing your life in the city proved to be an indescribable experience.

You gaze up at Harry, lying on your bed. He looks like a dream, his eyes half-closed and glazed with the allure of sleep. Your right hand rests on his bare chest, while the other is delicately woven through his.

His ginger hair is slightly overgrown, falling over his forehead haphazardly. He hadn’t been able to get a haircut lately; the holidays were approaching, and his barber was packed with appointments. You’ve been trimming his hair for him, but you're afraid to go too short—God forbid you ruin his beautiful hair. He couldn’t care less about his hair's appearance, though, as long as you're running your hands through it gently.

You swipe your hand over his forehead to smooth out his unruly hair, allowing you to see his eyes more clearly. His green ones flutter towards your own and rest there.

The two of you pause for a moment. The city is surprisingly quiet, with no traffic or drunk college students, just the two of you breathing in time with the wind outside your window. Your chests rise and fall together.

“What do you think you would be doing right now if we hadn’t met each other?” You speak, breaking through the silence you had accumulated. Harry moves a piece of hair behind your ear and lets his hand linger on your face for a while.

“I’d probably be in my own bed at home, dreaming of being here instead,” he smirks.

You scoff and let out a small chuckle, “But you wouldn’t know I exist! How could you possibly dream of me?”

“I’m sure I’d find a way,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“Well, I think I would be at the movies.” Harry laughs at your answer, a real laugh, from the bottom of his chest. The sound of his happiness always makes you feel warmth in your chest.

“What’s so funny?” You sit up on your knees, looking down at him, still laughing. His laughter is contagious, and you join him in his fit.

“Just you, always so sure of yourself. If you told me you were born with vampire fangs and blue skin, I would have no choice but to believe you.”

“Well, it’s just one of my many charms.” Harry laughs again, swiftly pulling you back down to lie with him. You wonder how he’s gotten so strong over the past couple of months.

He pulls you into a warm kiss, slowly trailing down to your neck and lingering there for a moment. You feel his breathing below your ear, and it elicits a shiver to run down your spine.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He says your name, dripping with want. It causes you to let out a gentle moan.

You suck in a sharp breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Of course you can.”

He smiles wide and kisses you again, this time harder and needier. He bites your bottom lip, and you gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You part to allow yourselves a moment to breathe. There is barely any space between the two of you, the gap between your lips just enough to speak in a whisper.

“Anything for my Theo…”

Harry blushes a red you have never seen before; it may not even exist on the color wheel. He swiftly buries his head into your neck and groans, embarrassed.

“Nobody has called me that since the third grade.” It comes out muffled, barely audible, but you heard it.

“But it’s so cute!”

“Who names anyone Theopolis anyway? What was my dad thinking…” He separates himself from you and flops on your bed, placing a pillow over his face.

“I think it’s a beautiful name. Very regal, like a knight.” You lean down and remove his pillow-shield, kissing his nose.

“A knight… Your knight in shining armor.” His blush fades, and his smile returns.

You fake a sigh and shake your head, “What am I going to do with you, Theo?”

Harry groans again, much louder this time, and swiftly launches a pillow at you.

“I am never going to stop calling you that.”

an: i wrote this pretty quickly so pls forgive me if it's shit lol. i had fun writing this, though. let me know if i have any errors or anything inconsistent that you notice. i fear i may be the only one still writing harry osborn ps5 x readers LMFAO. let me know if your interested in me writing for any other characters. i can write any spiderman character (age appropriate, of course) and pretty much any marvel character. i am not a huge mcu fan, but i will write for loki if anyone is interested in that. anyways, long author's note sorryyyyyyy! happy reading!

#fanfiction #x reader #harry osborn #harry osborn fanfiction #harry osborn ps5 #harry osborn x reader #harry osborn x y/n #marvels spiderman 2 #spiderman ps4 #fanfic

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cowgurrrl · 5 months

Text

It Ain't Me Babe

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: A holiday present from me to you ❣️

Summary: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

Warnings: creative insecurity, mentions of financial instability, teacher things, Ellie talking about Sarah, more flirty flirt, I think that’s it??

Nothing has ever been as annoying or guilt-inducing as an unfinished piece of art. Sure, every artist— no matter the medium— has felt like an uncreative, unoriginal hack, but it still feels just as new as it did the first time. Moonlight streams through your window as you glare at the canvas, hoping for an idea or stroke of genius. It's late. You should be in bed, especially since it's a Sunday night and you spent your weekend working at the bar down the street. But you're holding a paintbrush between stained fingers and praying for a miracle. It's been eight months since you last sold a piece for a whopping $200, chump change when it comes to living in Austin these days. Even with two jobs and doing commission work, you're living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that's why it's so hard to create? That has to be the reason. You don't remember it being this hard when you were younger.

Creating art was the only thing that brought you solace during your teenage years. It didn't matter if it was drawing, pottery, painting, sculpting. All that mattered was that you were doing it and you were good. You won awards, scholarships, and attention. Your art teacher, Ms. Henry, was a godsend. Grey-haired, glasses-wearing, colorful Ms. Henry glided through lessons and projects like it was second nature. She always had pencils in her hair, a mug in her hands, and a kind word on her lips when you entered her classroom. She's the one who pushed you to go to your artsy liberal arts college full of people richer and better than you. Even with her love and support, you struggled and almost dropped out after that first semester.

"There's always someone better," she told you when you ended up crying across from her in a coffee shop. "But there's nobody in the world who can make what you will because there is and never will be another you. I mean, God, what a gift. I'd hate to see you waste it." That sobered you enough to keep going and eventually pursue a teaching certification. Ms. Henry has since retired to the Pacific Northwest with her wife, Mable, and sends you a postcard every once in a while because she believes smartphones will be the downfall of civilization. After so many years in education, you're ready to agree with her.

You sigh, feeling your motivation fluttering away with your breath, and plop your paintbrush down in the cup engraved with the words "DO NOT DRINK" in bold. The canvas doesn't look like much of anything right now— just a mass of colors and shapes that could potentially pass as an abstract version of a landscape. It looks like the other painting you left at the school to work on when you have time. And the painting before that. And the one before that. You curse at exactly the same time your phone buzzes with a text.

You awake?

You don't bother responding and go straight to FaceTiming her. She picks up on the second ring, her beautiful, round face greeting you with a smile. You met Andie during high school, and her effortlessly cool attitude and bulky violin kit quickly became a part of your heart. You two were inseparable all four years of high school, dividing your time between rehearsals and time spent in the studio, but college took you to art school and her to a prestigious orchestra program in Vienna. She's been there ever since graduation, playing for diplomats and royals alike, but she comes home for holidays, and you've been trying to save money to go see her. Being so far from her is hard, but you make it work.

"Why are you awake?" You ask by way of a greeting, more than accustomed to your seven-hour time difference and her early riser habits. She laughs, and you hear a tea kettle whistle in the background.

"Well, hello to you, too," she says. "I have rehearsals all day today, so I got an early start. Why are you awake?"

"I'm staring at my waking nightmare."

"Oh, God, are you having another spiral?"

"I'm a hack."

"You're an artist."

"I got rejected again this weekend," you say as if to prove your point, and she sucks her teeth. "They said my art didn't fit their vision for their exhibition, but to feel free and submit another time."

"Well, they must not know great art when they see it. There will be another exhibition and another chance for you to show off your amazing skills. And when you get accepted, which I know you will, I'll fly in, and we'll drink fancy champagne and talk shit the entire opening night." She says, and you sigh. Her persistent optimism is one of the things you love about her, but sometimes, all you want to do is sulk.

"Or I could fly to you when your first composition gets performed, and we could do all those things in Austria instead of this shithole."

"Hey, some of us like that shithole."

"Some of us haven't lived in the shithole in ten years."

"Touche," she concedes. "But I'm serious about what I said. You're a good artist, just going through a little bump in the road. One day, we'll be really sexy and successful, and we'll look back at this and laugh with our rich spouses while drinking expensive wine."

"One day," you say, smiling. "How are rehearsals going?" She groans at the question, and you laugh. Whenever you talk to her, she's working on a new show or with a new conductor and always has something to say. There are many things you could call your best friend, but lazy is not one of them.

"I feel like we're stuck on this one part, but the conductor won't listen to me. He says he knows better than I do, which might be true, but also, if he just listened to me, then we can move on. I don't know. I'm sure if I poke him enough, he'll have to listen to me."

"Sounds reasonable."

"That's what I'm saying," she says as she shuffles her coffee mug and breakfast to her dining room table before checking the time. "It's midnight there. Don't you have school tomorrow?" She asks, and you sigh.

"And an early morning staff meeting and art club after school."

"Sometimes, I worry about your mental health." She says, and you laugh a little too deliriously to prove her wrong. You stay up talking with her for a while before finally getting hit with a wave of fatigue and crashing into bed.

The next day is not any less hectic than your weekend was. The staff meeting early in the morning is mind-numbing and completely unnecessary. The printer in the teacher's lounge breaks halfway through a heavy-duty print job, and you're left scrambling for new activities and lessons. Not only that, but your students were more out of control than usual, prompting a veteran teacher to come in and scold your class on your behalf. It would be kind if it didn't make you feel two inches tall and your students didn't look at you like you betrayed them. You spend your planning period indulging in the silence of your empty classroom and fighting off a migraine.

The second the final bell sounds, your art club kids are knocking down your door, more than ready to work on their projects for the winter showcase. The winter showcase is hosted by a local art gallery that opens for submissions from students every fall. If a student's work is taken, it gets shown in the gallery, and they get entered into a prize to win money and a chance to paint a mural downtown. It's a big deal. So far, you haven't had a student win first place, but you've had them get very close. You always assure them you're proud of them no matter what, which is especially true when Ellie slinks into your classroom with a shy smile.

"Hey! We're just setting up supplies to work on stuff for the showcase. Do you have something to work on?" You ask, gesturing to the students working around the room in a buzz.

"I think so. Are you gonna play music?"

"Who do you think I am?" You make a face, and she laughs. "Why don't you find a spot and get comfortable while I queue up a playlist?" She hesitates for a second before she takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to approach another student to ask if she can sit with them. They start chatting easily, and her shoulders relax as she gets more and more comfortable with all the new people. You put on a random playlist and move around the room to answer any questions about colors or give an opinion when asked for one. Over the course of an hour, Ellie makes her own little group of friends, and they all talk as if they've known each other forever as they work. She seems so in her own element, and you can't fight the pride beaming in your chest. Okay, so maybe your job can be pretty cool sometimes. Not fame and fortune cool or traveling overseas cool, but cool nevertheless.

Students gradually start packing up their things and leaving when they get texts from impatient parents in the parking lot or close to dinner time, but Ellie stays behind, bobbing her head to a beat or bouncing her knee under the table. She's the only one left in the classroom when you start packing your stuff and preparing the room for the next day. "You've got a ride home, honey?" You ask, and she glances nervously between you and her phone.

"Yeah. My dad should be here soon." She says.

"Alright, well, I've gotta lock up here, but I'll wait outside with you until he gets here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't left behind. Plus, I'm the adult responsible for you until he picks you up, so it's kinda illegal for me to just leave you here." You say, and she looks hesitant again but nods. Together, you walk out of the classroom and through the empty hallways until you get out to the scorching September afternoon. You stand outside in silence for a few seconds, taking in the sunset, before you turn to look at her.

"How'd you like the club?" You ask.

"It was fun! I met lots of cool people."

"I told you, kid. You just needed to give it a chance."

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes, and you smile. "Thank you for pushing me to go. I don't think I would've gone without you." She's so genuine and kind in her tone that it throws you off-kilter. You're used to being berated by students, staff, and parents. To be told you actually had an impact on someone is not commonplace, to say the least.

"I'm sure you would've found your way there without me."

"Maybe, but you helped me get there a lot sooner than I would've on my own." She says, and you take a deep breath. It feels nice to be acknowledged, especially after the day you've had, and Ellie seems to sense it. You're looking for something to say when she looks down at her shoes and kicks a stray rock. "Just take the compliment and move on. Don't make it a thing."

"Alright." You say, laughing, and she cracks a smile, too. Traffic will be horrible on the way home, and you have nothing to eat for dinner, but it's okay. You did one good thing today. That's all you need.

"Sorry, my dad is taking so long." She changes the subject, a touch of anxiety creeping in, and you shake your head.

"Does he always work late?" You ask, and she shrugs.

"Sometimes. Dad and Uncle Tommy have been picking up jobs to send money to my sister in Boston. "

"What's in Boston for your sister?"

"Medical school. She's about to go into her internship at a hospital there."

"That's a big deal." You say, and she hums.

"Yeah. She'll probably save the world or something one day." There's a hint of something nostalgic in her voice, and you decide to push just a little.

"Do you miss her?"

"A lot," she says. "She's my best friend."

"She's lucky to have you." You say. She smiles but doesn't say anything. You want to ask more about her family, but a rickety, greenish pickup truck comes rumbling through the parking lot before you can. Ellie shifts her backpack on her shoulder as her dad and uncle come into view, and you smile at them. Joel, however, looks frantic.

He's unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver's side door before the car can even finish moving. There's dirt on his pants and a little bit of a sunburn across his arms, the muscles straining across the black fabric. He politely pulls the ball cap off his head to reveal sweaty curls as he approaches you, jerking his head toward the truck at Ellie. "Why don't you wait in the truck with Uncle Tommy? He's got a snack for you." He says, and Ellie lights up at the mention of food. When you're alone, he tucks his hands in his pockets and gives you an apologetic look.

"'M so sorry. We got caught up at work and lost track of time. It won't happen again." He says, wringing his hands like he's waiting to be scolded, but you wave him off.

"It's okay. Things happen, and I'm just glad she's got someone picking her up." You say.

"How'd she do today?"

"Really good. I think she fits right in."

"She make some friends?"

"I can't give away all my secrets. What else are y'all gonna talk about at the dinner table?" You tease.

"I guess that's right," he says as he stares at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"It was my pleasure." You say. You stand awkwardly for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on your feet. His eyes are locked in yours, and there's a silent competition to see who's gonna blink first. "Well, I should let you get home. Have a good night."

"Uh," he starts, stopping you before you can even fully take a step. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say a little too quickly, and he smirks. "I was very flattered. Besides, it's not the first time."

"Beautiful woman like you, I'm sure you've got 'em linin' the block for a chance with you." He says. You're dancing a delicate dance here. You're not not flirting, and you're not not interested in him, but if your principal finds out, it could cause a whole new world of problems. Still, it's nice to be wanted after so long of being on your own. You're not a saint, but you're also not doing anything inherently wrong, right?

"The teacher thing usually freaks 'em out before they can get very far."

"That's a damn shame." He's quick with it, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the line. A buzz in your bag reminds you of the time and why you're still at school, and you find your footing again.

"Uh, I usually give out my contact information to the parents of my art club kids in case they need anything or need to contact me quickly. Since Ellie's an official part of that, I figured I should give you my phone number in case anything comes up. If that's alright?" You say, and he pulls his cracked phone from his back pocket.

"Yeah, yeah. That's more than alright." He says, handing it to you to punch in your information.

"It's for emergency purposes only."

"What d'you consider an emergency?"

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel." He corrects, and you give him a look as you pass his phone back.

"Don't abuse it. I'd hate to have to put you in a group chat with all the PTA moms."

"You're evil." He groans, and you laugh. Tommy, leaning over and honking the truck horn, interrupts your conversation, and he shoots daggers through the back window.

"I'll see you next week, Joel." You say, dismissing him, and he hesitates for another second before nodding.

"See you next week." He says and turns on his heels to get back in his truck. You think you vaguely catch Joel scolding Tommy for being impatient, but you ignore his deep voice and the engine sputtering as you walk to your own car with a little more pep in your step than this morning.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (look at how many of you there are!)

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #the last of us au #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #joel au #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #tlou hbo #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year

Text

Spice up

Lukas looked at his phone skeptically. He usually didn't believe in those kind of change-your-habits-apps, but his husband, Craig was motivated enough for the two of them.

"So..." Lukas said slowly, "and you are sure this app will help us spice things up a bit in the bedroom?"

Craig blushed. It had taken him a lot of effort to even ask Lukas something like this. The truth was, even though (or perhaps because) they were married for over a year now, there wasn't much going on in the bedroom department. "Not much" was even an understatement. Between their daily lives, Craig's shyness and Lukas overthinking, they had sex twice a year, tops. Even though Craig didn't mind all that much, he suspected that Lukas would be a bit happier if there was more action in their sex lives. So, he suggested the "Change" app, which advertised a big increase in intimate activity in the first few days of using it even.

"Yes, that's what they say. It wasn't that expensive, so let's just try it, okay? It's not that difficult, either. We start the app, and it tells us what to do. The only thing we have to do is do what it says for a few days."

Lukas nodded. His first impulse was to ask how that magical app would even decide without knowing anything about them, but he swallowed his remark. There was no harm in trying for a few days. And perhaps it encouraged Craig to be a bit more active. Lukas was the bottom in their relationship, but Craig was not too keen on getting intimate.

"Okay. Let's do it then." He said, hitting the green "Start" button on his screen, with Craig doing the same.

A few seconds later, Lukas frowned. Mine says: "Work out at the gym. I don't even have a gym membership and I would have to search for my workout clothes. Do you really want to do this?"

"Aw, come on, just try it!" Craig said. "I'm sure they have a day pass. Mine says 'Buy new underwear', which is actually a good idea. Mine is getting a bit thin here and there."

"Okay, okay", Lukas sighed and kissed his husband on the cheek. "See you in a few hours then, I guess."

At the gym, Lukas quickly got changed and went for the treadmill, quickly breaking a sweat. He wouldn't be able to sustain this for long and he really hated it. Just as he was about to take a break, his phone dinged, another message from the app: "Enjoy your workout!"

Yes, the app was probably right, even though he was sure it didn't mean it that way. It made no sense to have a bad mood and he would be stuck here for at least half an hour before he could call it a quit. As he continued to run, his mood got a lot better. He was actually starting to enjoy it!

Ding! Another message, this time from his husband. It was a picture of a bright blue pair of tight underwear. Lukas took a few seconds to answer:

"Not your usual color."

Almost instantly, Craig replied: "I know, but that's what the app suggested. Gtg, more shopping to do."

As Lukas wanted to get back to the treadmill, he looked down on himself surprised. He actually looked rather fit, lean and with subtle hints of definition. That was strange! He had not heard of anyone having that quick successes at the gym. Something was off here!

Ding! Another message from the app: "Stop worrying, start lifting!"

...Yes, why not, decided Lukas. He always wanted to try the weighs and now that he was here, he might as well. Any kind of worry was blown away as he made his way to the weight room.

He had started handling the dumbbells for a few minute, when there was another message from Craig.

"Oh God, I was so ashamed. The app had me going into a sex shop! What if someone saw me?" Was the message, which made Lukas grin. Craig could be so cute and embarrassed.

"What did you buy? I'm sure nobody saw you." He typed, a drop of sweat dripping to his display.

It took a moment for an answer to arrive, time enough for another curl. Finally, a picture arrived that made Lukas almost snort. On the picture was a butt plug in bright red, followed directly by a message:

"Why would I care if anyone saw me ;)"

Lukas didn't worry about the unusual message but replied: "Aww, is that for me?"

"Maybe... The app wasn't clear on that. Anyway, more stuff to do. Keep working out, big guy!"

Big guy? Lukas was hardly what people would call a big guy. Sure, he had his bulging muscles all over his body, and he was a bit bigger due to them than most people, but he was no body builder or something like that.

Ding! "The bench is the perfect place to get bigger. Start pressing and don't think too much!"

That made sense. Lukas made his way to the bench press and started working it with renewed vigor. He quickly got into a good rhythm and could focus entirely on the sensation in his body. No distracting thought or any worries came to mind, he was completely concentrated on his workout. He really couldn't tell how long he was doing it, when he checked his phone. Two new messages, one from the app and one from Craig.

He checked the app first: "You're a really big guy *everywhere*, that's something to be proud of! Who needs a brain when you have brawn, right?"

Lukas chuckled dumbly. Yeah, that was right. He was a really big guy, after all. All muscles, everywhere, and he loved to show them off. Why was he even wearing a shirt? Lukas quickly got rid of it and admired his massive body. It was definitely way bigger than what was practical, he knew he had to fold into most cars and didn't even fit into the smaller ones. He could hardly reach around his torso because of his bulging muscles. Good thing he could still reach his groin. He readjusted himself through his gym shorts. He was positively massive down there as well. Thinking about his muscles always made him chub up a bit, but he didn't care.

Lukas thought really hard for a moment. There was something important he had forgotten. Riiight! The phone. Lukas always had trouble with the small screen and the fragile device, as multiple cracks in the display proved, so he carefully opened the messenger with his tongue between his teeth.

It was a picture of Craig, who had a new haircut. It made his whole face look different, slimmer somehow. As he was looking at the picture, another message came in:

"Enough workout! You are coming home now, I need to replace that plug by something bigger 8===D 🍆🍆🍆"

Almost immediately, another message came in, from the app this time. "Don't you just love to be told what to do, big guy? Good thing you got someone to decide for you!"

Lukas couldn't help it. The demanding tone in the message he got from Sir made him get hard already and a bit of precum leaked into his shorts. He sent a voice message (he really couldn't type on that thing and his messages were always full of mistakes): "Sure thing, boss! Heading to the shower!"

As he made his way to the locker, another message from craig got in: "Skip the shower, Bull! You're coming home right now and you're gonna breed me with that fuckstick of yours, do you understand?" Another picture followed, of Sir sitting on a chair, already kneading his own, of course much smaller cock.

Bull grinned and nodded. It took him a while to understand that Sir couldn't see that, so he nodded again and started to jog home. He couldn't wait to stick his massive cock into Sir's juicy ass. Sir was insatiable and it was his job to provide for that. God, he loved being his Bull.

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #sweat #bodybuilder #power bottom

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kivedreams · 4 months

Text

I WANT YOU. part. I knj.

pair. idol namjoon x f. reader. f. is latina poc.

genre. falling in love, established relationship, romance, marriage

warnings. +18 racism and colorism discussed [this part does not contain smut, but the story is not made for a minor audience] this super delulu coded [pls tell me if i missed anything ]

synopsis; you make my life shine, and I think I also make yours shine or you didn't know how hard a relationship with a famous person would be

word count: 4.7k

A/N: i let my delusions run free with this one, i think ill be four parts.

next part.

Just a the moment you thought the party was dying down they arrived, is not like you hated the idea of having a party, but this week has been hard on you, nothing went exactly as you planned, having your thesis send back two times in a row, draw you down, that thesis was the last thing between you and your PhD, you knew it was going to be hard, but God it really was testing you, of course you were happy for Namjoon today was a big day for him, he was finally releasing the book that he always wanted to publish a full guide on The Joseon era art and its influence in today's korean artwork, Namjoon was really proud of korean artists, so being able to pay homage to them was a big thing for him and for you, because Namjoon happiness was part of your own.

The tight red dress that you were wearing might have been a bit too much, but it was Namjoon’s gift. It might have been tighter because you had put on some weight due to the stress of these months. Going to the gym or doing any type of exercise was the last thing on your mind. You would have been lying if you did not admit that, it was one of the things that were making you feel insecure tonight, your relationship was already hard, nobody believed that Namjoon the first born child of a korean family, the leader of the most successful kpop group and now Namjoon the writer would settle for you, a latin woman of color, that did not appeal to a single one of the korean standards, you weren't insecure by Namjoon’s feelings, but you were insecure on how everyone else feelings and prejudices might influence his decisions, is not like you were desperate for the ring, you really didn't need it, nor were you prepared for marriage, but sometimes it feel like the only thing that could silenced all the voices in your head, all the social media talk, and of course everyone around you.

“Y/N?” He called for you. You were still in the balcony of the apartment, seated in the light brown handmade chair you purchased for the space, with a glass of wine enjoying the Seoul night, a slight breeze, and of course the beauty of the balcony Namjoon and you have crafted together, a lot of plants were everywhere accompanied by artworks and souvenirs that you both had collected through the years, some on your travels together, some alone.

“Yes, darling” you responded looking at him, Namjoon was an extremely handsome man, you loved that haircut in him, and his choice of clothing today was a masterpiece, that beige suit with a purple turtle neck top was a perfect mix. He looked at you with confusion in his eyes, he quickly brushed that look a way and sais,

“My parents are here, they're asking for you” Are they? was the only thing in your mind

You walked to him with a smile taking his hand, to greet them and most of the guest that have arrived since you little rendezvous to the balcony, you were begging that nobody would notice your weight, your thighs were clearly giving a show in that dress, god I hope the concealer is strong enough to cover the sleep bags in my eyes, do I still have lipstick on?

“Y/N!” His father greeted you “You look so beautiful tonight! How is your thesis going? Are you close to the finish line?” His father always looked happy to see you, but was he?

“Mr. Kim! Thank you! And yes I'm close to the finish line, if everything goes as planned, I will be able to present it in a few weeks” You responded with a smile giving him a hug and doing the same with his mother. She always looked at you, at your hair with curiosity? Of course 4B coils were not the norm in Korea, but Korean beauty standards weren't going to pressure you into hating your beautiful hair.

After polite talks and greetings for a whole night with people that were close to both of you, in professional and personal level, the night was over, Namjoon and you finished saying good bye to the last guest and his agent, the night was a success, as you knew it would be, Namjoon never fails to amaze you, you saw him the whole night , moving around and enchanting everyone, you get it, you too were enchanted by him.

Finally being able to get rid of the uncomfortable shoes and the red lace around your waist that made the dress even tighter and letting Namjoon in the living room talking with the service that was in charge of getting everything clean up and tidy again, walking straight to your room, dreaming of the comfort of your bed, you forgot all the things that were placed on top of it, because you didn't trust any of the frail art pieces to be in the open while everybody drank and mingle, with not other option, you moved to the balcony, walking down to the kitchen first taking a glass of wine with you and politely smiling to the service, Namjoon was out of your sight.

Sitting on the cold floor of the balcony letting your hair free from the detailed bun that it was made into, enjoying the silence and peace of the night. You felt empty, maybe too much stress plus the insecurities in your relationship were passing you the bills, in a few months you would be 30, and if you get your PhD granted, working as a full time curator in the national art museum of Seoul, just what you wanted, but was Namjoon on your side for it? you didn't know.

“Babe” He called, putting a blanket on top of you, you did not realize how cold you were until he did so “ Tired? they are almost finishing, our room is ready, lets go”

You looked at him from the floor with your face resting on the wooden bench, giving him a little nod, but your body was not responding to the idea of standing up, maybe you were too tired, maybe it was that third glass of wine, reminding you that alcohol was not your forte.

“Too tired? “ He said lifting you up, you hugged him, getting flooded by his strong musky scent.

Before you could realize it you were already on the bedroom, headlight turn off, the only light in the room coming from the bed stands, Namjoon sat you on the edge of the bed looking at you with curious eyes, his hands on you waist, you could feel his breathing, warmth, “Can we talk in the morning?” you ask, with almost no energy to spare.

“Is everything ok?” he asked back, now with a worried look on his face.

“Yes, I am exhausted, let's talk tomorrow please” you said standing up making your way to the bathroom, trying to unzip the dress off and failing.

“Ok” He said, hugging you from the back, there it was again his scent, it made you feel so calm, at peace.

He started to remove the dress from you, leaving you there exposed to his eyes, and to yours. You could see the reflection in the mirror, how he was hugging you even harder, tighter, Namjoon loved you, you knew that. He started to remove his own clothes, making you move the other side of the sink to remove your makeup.

You heard the water running in the tub, namjoon got close to you naked, “Want to take a bath?”

“No, I’ll take a quick shower and go to bed”

“Ok darling “ He said, kissing your neck. Making you move.

He flicked due to the inspected action “I'm not in the mood to have sex” You said, before he could say anything.

“Is ok, I just want to feel you…” he said with a hurt look, you took a step back using the shower as an excuse. Namjoon was even more confused, because you never rejected physical touch, so it felt as if you were rejecting him, but you weren’t, you just wanted to reject the feeling that you had for him, because it felt like you had everything to lose.

It was around 2AM when you two were in bed together, Namjoon pulled you close, and you couldn't say no, you couldn't do that to him again. Nighttime passed through your eyes seeing the sun rise that sunday morning, you weren't able to sleep just thinking about all the possibilities, weighing your options, you could finish your phd and go back to your country, even though it was useless, jobs for a art history doctor, were not easy to find everywhere, you didn't think that you would be able to continue to live in korea after breaking up with him… the thought made you sob, you couldn't stay in bed anymore, so you quietly stood up, walking to your safe place the balcony.

The living room was like it always use to be everything clean up and in its place, you saw the blanket that namjoon used on you last night perfectly folded, taking it to the balcony with you, a cup of tea to clean your mind and a lonely space for you to cry in peace, and there you were cuddling up in the chair, with the cold morning breeze it was 6AM, but you were crying, because there were no other options for you, you knew, Namjoon would not settle for you, you'll never live up to the standard needed to be his wife, so it was better to finish it now, than wait for later.

Only your cries and the mobile hanging in the side could be heard, so that was it, like that, it was going to be over.

“Y/N?!” He called, and you used all your strength to hide your tears, but of course he noticed.

“Are you ok honey? Talk to me” You could hear the worry in his voice, you really tried to pull back the tears, but seeing him did not help

And there, both of you were, him hugging you and giving you solace, until your crying stopped, and all you could feel was his heartbeat, his hand going up and down comforting you. There he was for you, and you were about to end a 4 year old relationship.

You meet namjoon 7 months into arriving in seoul, while you were doing your master your favorite professor suggested you to pursue a doctorate in Korea, she knew people, she could get you a internship in Seoul’s national museum while you studied, and of course she knew people in HanYang university, you knew she was an important woman in the area, but you sub estimated her contacts and power, and there you were a year later accepted into Hanyang university with a full scholarship and paid internship, you didn't know how, but the rumor that you were there due to nepotism spread all over your department reaching your workplace, while it was true that your professor helped you, the scholarship was won fairly due to your grades and the ingenuity of your master's thesis. It made your work and student life harder, as if the racism and colorism wasn't enough, but of course you weren't there to make friends, you were there to finish your studies and make a name for yourself.

That just made everyone hated you more, your coworkers thought it would be great for you, a newly hire to conduct a private view of a new exposition for a VIP, at that point you did not know if it was the racism, the nepotism rumor or because they did not want to make it themselves; but at the end that's how you met namjoon, of course you knew who he was, you might not been his fan, but you knew what his impact was, the quality of his music, and the power he had. His whole presence made you nervous, but you weren't going to risk your job nor lose the professionalism. He ended up being there because the director invited him to look at the new collection that you direct boss had picked, but he wanted it to be private, he wanted to enjoy it, and that's how the both of you ended up there, sitting on the floor of the museum admiring the work behind the main art piece.

“Now I understand, why he wanted me to look at it in person” he said with a smile “it is magnific, it was worthy escaping from the studio for this”

“I know, art can free you, it's like the whole world shut down for a minute and you can breathe” you said, genuinely happy, because he was really calm and easy to talk to, so you weren't nervous anymore, it was a success.

“Indeed” he said looking at you, you felt the warm in your face because of the way he was looking at you, he stood up and helped you too “It has been a pleasure Y/N, meeting you and the collection, I think now I am supposed to take a photo” You got frozen en place, his voice was deep and raspy, it got you flustered, you came back to your senses

“Y-yes, you do, gimme a minute to look for the camera” You said moving quickly.

You took various photos of him, he looked great in every single one, Namjoon was a handsome man, and on top of that he was so humble and easy, maybe you expectatives where in the low as soon as you heard the world VIP or maybe Namjoon was just different, he made your heart move faster.

While you were tidying up he approached you with a question,

“Y/N would you like to take a photo with me?” it surprised you , but you did not have the ability to say no.

He pulled you close, you didn't know what to do, and he noticed, so he just told you to smile, you did so, but only god knows how you ended up looking in that picture. After that he said his farewell, and you could see his bodyguards getting closer than they were before.

It was such an experience it shaked your life for the next days, you could only think of him and his strong scents, it was so good, like a forest, as the freshness of the summer, Namjoon really did a number on you, you googled half of his life in those days, and started to listing to his music, it was really good, now you understood even more his fame. At the moment that you thought that you were forgetting the flustered feeling that he led on you, he posted it, he posted the photo that he took with you, you had a start sticker on your face, and his caption left you thinking about him even more,

art can free you, the whole world shut down for a minute and you can breathe

Did he post that because of you? Did he?

====================================

It was a normal thursday, you were in the subway on your way to work, thinking about the essay you had due this sunday, it was almost done, but you felt it was missing something, moonchild playing on your airpods. The day promised to be rainy, it always rained in seoul, but not in the sad depressing way it rained in London, Seoul’s rain was calm and nostalgic, sometimes it was full of rage.

You didn't have much to do at work that day, the inauguration of the exposition was a success, you replied to the emails you had, sent some codes and updated the maintenance date of some artworks.

“Miss. Y/N, Mr. Park is asking to see you, if you could go to his office please” the voice caught you by surprise, it came from Mr. Shin, executive assistant of the museum director, the surprise was more in him coming directly to see you instead of sending you an email. Have something happened, did you mess up something…

You colleagues gave you strange and curious looks, it wasn't a normal situation, and their looks worked as a further confirmation.

Walking through the administration hallways behind Mr. Shin, got you nervous, what could've gone wrong why are they calling you, are you fired? no, R.R.H.H would’ve called for that. Mr. Shin led you to the office door and retired, you could not bring yourself to knock at the door scared, but there was no other way of escaping it. You knocked on the door twice, until you heard a deep voice say, “Come in”

You opened the door using all your strength and calm “Good morning Mr. Park, how may I help-

You stopped on your word when you saw Namjoon sitting in the middle of the room, Mr. Park's office was big, two mauve sofas facing each other in front of the big brown desk, and Namjoon was seated in one of them looking at you with a smile.

“Hello ‘Y/N” his deep voice filling the room, “Please sit down’” he said signaling the sofa in front of him

You were frozen in your step, why was Namjoon there? you quickly got back to your senses, and greeted him sitting in front of him, you didn't know if the nervousness was visible, your hands were sweaty, while they rested on your knees.

“I know you got up here thinking you were going to see YoungJo, I am sorry for that, but I did not wanted to make a fuss, hope you understand” you nodded in comprehension, of course it was going to be worse if Kim Nam Joon came calling for you, it was already weird Mr. Park doing so.

“I'm going to be direct, would you like to work for me?” The shock was painted in your face “I want someone to curate some art pieces for my parents house, and for my house too, since our conversation last week, I feel that you would be perfect for it, we share the same art vision”

You couldn't say a word, he was waiting for your response, but since you stood there in silence he continue “Money is not the problem, nor is the time, please name your price and tell me when we can start working together”

“I-I, are you sure? wouldn't you like someone more professional for this? someone with more experience in the area” you muttered, still lacking the words.

“No” he said solemnly “I am not looking for experience or somebody with a name in this, I want you and your fresh views, I read your master thesis, and I know your working in your doctorate, as I said your vision is what I want, it amuse me”

“Can I think about it?” You said, but what was there to think.

“Of course” he said “Here look, this is my personal number, you can call me or add me to Kakao, and my agent number in case I don't respond, but it is unlikely” he handed you both of the cards, looking at your shocked face with a smile. “If someone asks, just tell them that YoungJo confused you with someone else, ok?”

You nodded, still feeling out of place, looking at his almond shaped eyes, he said goodbye and left, letting you there. You slowly stood up, and walked to your department, art acquisitions, as soon as you arrived your coworkers started whispering. You sat down keeping face, when you were about to start working, Anja, who seated next to you asked,

“Hey Y/N what was that about?” with curiosity flooding her face, you smile and said loud enough,

“It was nothing, looks like they were calling someone else and somehow they got to me” you said shrugging your shoulders, resting importance to it, with you saying that the whispering and the looks finished.

The rest of the day was normal, but you still could feel the nervousness in your gut, he read your thesis, and wanted you to help him curate art for his family house and his home, it feel surreal, to good to be truth, but if it was, the opportunity was amazing, Namjoon would become your first private client, the scholarship money was decent, and you pay wasn’t that bad, but you knew that whatever Namjoon would pay you would be enough to pay rent until you found a space in the campus dorms. You weren't sure yet, there wasn't a big reason to say no, but you felt insecure. What if your work does not live up to his expectations?

You arrived home putting those thoughts to rest, working on your assignments and studying your lectures, before you could realize it, it was already past midnight and you knew what you were going to say.

Hello Mr. Kim,

I would love to work with you, please let’s discuss terms and conditions.

Have a great day, “Y/N”

12:51 am

Looking at your phone screen maybe it was too short? but it didn't need any more it was concise, you hit sent, without realizing, that you did not programmed the text message to be sent at 9 in the morning, panicking looking at the screen, until those 3 hell looking dots started blinking,

Amazing, and yes I’ll have a great day ;)

knj

12:52 am

===========================================

And there you were the next day, in front of Namjoon’s workplace building, he asked you to come the next day to discuss the job requirements and pay, you set a 3PM meeting with him, going to the big doors of HYBE ent. you were nervous hand sweating approaching the reception, you'd feel the looks, but is not like you cared anymore, but maybe you should had hided your hair today, everyone at work was already use to it, but this was a new environment, the comfort of your usual places made you forget where you were.

“Hello good evening, I have a meeting” You say approaching one of the well groomed ladies in front of you, she looked you up and down, and say,

“Excuse you?” Your korean might not be the best, but it wasn't bad, now being here for almost 8 months it had clearly improved, you repeated yourself, and then she ‘understood’

“Ok, May I know the name of the person and their department please?” she said with a smirk in her face,

“I don't know his department, the name is Kim Nam Joon” she and the two ladies at her side looked at you like you were a rare species.

“Are you sure of that?” She said with a shuckle, she wanted to laugh, it was clearly on her face.

“Yes I am sure, I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't” you said annoyed.

“Miss please, don't shame yourself in here, please go, or I'll be obligated to call security” the disgusted expression on her face saying everything you needed to know.

“Could you at least call him to verify?” keeping the last strand of politeness you asked.

“No. Please leave or I'll call security” she said standing up signaling the big crystal doors.

You were mad, not knowing what to do walking down to the doors, hearing his laughs and the looks of the people around, until of course your brain reacted, you were a smart girl after all,

Hello Mr. Kim I am already here

2:58 pm

Ok, amazing please come to my studio they'll tell you the floor ;p

2:59 am

I am not being allowed, I went to the front desk and they asked me to go, should I?

3:00 pm

What? why? please dont leave, youre in the lobby right ill come to you

3:00 pm

You read the last text, still being mad but now you knew that namjoon actually wanted you there, you stood close to the door still with some of the looks in you, but they couldn't send you out, you haven't done anything and you could easily say you were going to the store. 5 minutes passed and you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket Namjoon was calling you.

“Hi Y/N? on what side are you?” his voice sounded agitated, as if he had run.

“Hello, yes, I’m close to the doors, I have a white cardigan and a brown plaid scarf”

“I think I see you” and when he said that, you heard the commotion, there he was, his hair looking frizzy, like he had been passing his fingers through it. He had a pale green sweatshirt, a dark brown jacket and light brown trousers.

You heard the call finish, and he was getting closer to you, the people in the lobby were looking at him, and you were too but not with the same eyes. Namjoon looked so hot, he smiled at you, he was happy to see you and that calmed your heart.

“Hello Y/N, I thought you would leave” he said, extending his hand to you, you shaked hands with him.

“I almost did” you said, trying to conceal the discomfort in your voice.

“What happened, why couldn't you come in? it was just a call away” he said smiling to the people around you, you started walking with him and two bodyguards started walking at the sides.

“I explained that to the lady but she did not care to confirm that”

“Who?” the demanding tone clearly in his voice he stopped to look at you, his eyes waiting for an answer

“T-he lady with the ponytail” you mutter, namjoon’s eyes intimidate you.

“Is ok” he said, dragging you to the front desk, “Can I have a visitors pass for MY guest” he was clearly annoyed, and you were too, the face in the lady was priceless, she was between shock and disbelief, until she actually needed to talk,

“C-can I have some form of ID? " she asked, you opened your purse to take your passport, going directly to your work visa.

=========================================

Namjoon drove you to his studio, scanning his face on the door. The hallway to it was beautifully decorated with small and big art pieces, Namjoon really had a great taste, his studio was small but cozy, you could feel how he crafted every space himself, it screamed his whole personality.

“Please sit down” he said and you did so “Before we begin I am obligated to made you sign a NDA, is just protocol” he said sitting in from of you handing you a folder

“Yes, I understand” you said, giving a quick read to the NDA, you signed because it was ok and handed it to him.

“Ok, perfect. Do you want something to drink? I’m making myself a coffee” he stood up waiting for your answer.

“Water would be fine”

“I don't like to beat around the bush Y/N, I want you to pick beautiful and meaningful pieces for me, I would do it myself” he brought a glass of water for you, while holding a cup of smoking coffee “But I am pretty busy right now and I like you, and your style. Your thesis in Seurat, was an enjoyable read, and I feel that your fresh vision would be perfect for what I want” He sat down in front of you taking a sip, you did the same, Namjoon made you nervous, his aura was intoxicating.

“I get it, still, I don't have a full experience curating, I might have the theory but I stick lack the practice” you said being honest

“I'm giving the practice to you, what about 15% for every piece you pick for me? " he said with a smile that made his dimples show up.

You smiled at him “What about 20%?” You smirked.

“25%, do we have a deal?” he put down his cup to look you directly in the eyes.

“W-we do.” you smiled at him nervously due to his gaze.

“You could've said 50% and I would have said yes. I just want you.” He said standing up, giving you his hand, his words made you lose your breath.

=======================

from delululand with love, kive <3

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theycallmemisterbutterfingers · 4 months

Text

Somebody To Luuuvvvvvv

so, i wrote this fic a WHILE ago, and promptly forgot abt it lmao. it was something i worked at on and off for a month, so it may be a little disjointed. also, I very much recommend listening to Somebody To Love (Queen) while reading, although depending on how speedy you are with reading, the fic will extend past the song's length. ALSO, I started writing it to mirror the lyrics of Somebody To Love, but I lost track of it a little in the last stretch, since there's a lotta instrumental and I just kinda went off HAH

anyhow

oh also i drew this little animation in like October and i'm sorry and you're welcome? sorry because ACK i swear to god i can draw better but you're welcome in case you like it ,,,,, yeah ,,,,,,, much love!!

Can

Anybody?

Find me

Somebody to…

Love.

…

Crowley launched himself up from his desk, sending a few pieces of glass clattering to the floor, shattered remains of his heart. He wobbled for a moment, the alcohol settling in weird places. Reality spun. He thought he saw stars. And then worse.

He thought he saw his angel.

His knees buckled, and his hand shot out to brace himself on his desk. His other hand reached up to shakily run a hand down his face. Take a look at this poor sod, he thought bitterly, about to berate himself. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his window, and he traced the scars down her cheeks that the tears had left in their wake. Crowley sighed, then chuckled—a small, self-deprecating one. Oh, what he’s doing to me.

He’d spent all his years believing in the bastard, chasing him, wanting him, hoping that they were the same. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fully alone.

And then the angel took his heart and blasted it away with his halo. With his Heaven-besotted ideals that Crowley thought he had left behind. No such relief.

And all Crowley wanted was to love and be loved by him. Too much to ask, turns out.

…

He was behind the wheel. Again. He didn’t quite know how he got there, really, and he didn’t know where he was going, either. All he knew was that he was driving—driving away. Driving far away from…what? The work he had put in for himself—for his angel—to live a life safely in the corner? Maybe. Driving away from being alone? Hm. As if he could be driving away from the ache in his bones and towards Az—well. He wasn’t, at any rate. Crowley cursed himself under his breath and pulled over.

The sun was setting, colors bleeding out into the sky. Bleeding out. Now that was something that Crowley was familiar with. He looked up at it all, trying in vain to see anything—any sign from the Universe, from God, anything at all—but no. His knees hit the dirt. “God…what’re you doing to me? You listening? This part of your Great Plan, too?”

Nothing. Crowley dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood.

They do say that snakes can’t cry.

Well.

They also say snakes don’t fall in love. That they can’t feel it.

But just look at Crowley.

🌟

Aziraphale hurried through the empty space of Heaven, a harried look on his face. He had been working nonstop ever since he returned, trying to prove his worth, trying to do good, trying to be good. But there were stares pricking the back of his neck. Veiled criticism, judgement. They thought him odd, strange, impure. Tainted from Earth. They don’t want me here, he thought, then quickly shook it away. He had to keep faith. Believe in good in others, and the good of God.

But there’s nobody left to believe in me.

…

Aziraphale blinked. He had been heading towards the higher floors, but his feet had betrayed him. They had led him to the globe. His chest warmed seeing Earth, but there was this terrible, sudden ache in his gut. Aziraphale put a hand to his stomach, breathless for a moment.

Guilt.

Horrible, horrible guilt.

His hands shook. His stomach roiled like there was a nest of snakes, snakes, Crowley, his Crowley, his Crowley that he left behind, the desperation etched into his face as he—

Stop, he told himself. Stop. You can’t. Push it down, push it down, remember? You need to focus on your tasks. You need to forget.

Do you? Part of him whispered.

Quiet, he thought. No thoughts. You must be good.

It would be good, this traitorous part of him whispered. You would be doing a good thing. Checking up on that nice angel, Muriel.

Oh, yes, Muriel. Of course. It would only take a moment to pop in, after all. He wrung his hands, thinking hard and thinking fast. His tasks weren’t too urgent—just some paperwork, a few visits to the superiors; yes, it would be fine. Tickety-boo. Besides, he really needed to make sure the bookshop and Muriel were fine. Nothing else. What else would there be, really? For such a quick visit, especially? Aziraphale was still for a moment—save for his hands, which shook like leaves—and then with one decisive motion he tapped the globe, and felt himself dissolve into light.

🥀

Crowley slumped in his Bentley, cheeks stinging, throat hurting. Queen played over the speakers, but he kept losing track of the song, sliding in and out of white noise. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He was alright. He was fine. He was a demon. Of course he was alright. In fact, he was so alright, he would go and make sure Muriel hadn’t sold anything. At the bookshop. Because he was alright he was alright he was FINE. He stomped on the gas pedal with a bit more vigor than usual and began to whip through the streets, disregarding anything his mind might mutter to him. Perhaps that—Crowley ignoring himself as much as he possibly could—perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the feeling of his angel returning to Earth.

…

Crowley slammed the Bentley’s door shut and sauntered across the street to the bookshop, confident as a lioness. The confidence was a sham. He was a right wreck internally. He unlocked the door and swung inside with carefully practiced nonchalance, carefully hidden nerves, everything under the surface, as it should be. But the memories still hit him like a Bentley going 90. Frozen, he could do nothing but boggle at the bookshelves with their alphabetized books all in the right places and the angel wing mug with hot chocolate still steaming, until he heard a cheerful voice from up the stairs, “Be with you in a minute!!”

This managed to jolt Crowley out of his reverie, and he managed to shout back, “It’s me!”

“Oh!! Ah,” and there was quite a bit of shuffling around. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to take measured breaths. Being back in the same place, the same spot where he—

“Hello, Mr. Crowley!!” Muriel beamed over the banister upstairs before hurrying down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you in a bit!”

Crowley hummed noncommittally. Muriel fidgeted.

“Did you need anything, Mr. Crowley?” They asked, looking at him a little too expectantly. Crowley had a sudden memory of that kid he had encountered as Bilidad, the little one who wanted to be a lizard.

“Erm…”

It wasn’t to check on the books, really. What did Crowley need?

Well.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He needed him.

His angel. His Az—hm.

His A—guh.

His A…He needed Aziraphale.

There, he said it. Wasn’t so hard.

He needed his somebody to love.

But his somebody was gone.

He didn’t say any of this to Muriel, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by, make sure you hadn’t sold anything.”

Muriel shook their head vehemently. “Oh, no, certainly not!! I remember what you were like when I first took over the shop,,” they took on a grumpy, spiky air then, ignoring the dinging of the shop bell, “Now listen here, Muriel, if you sell any one of these books, I will march right up to heaven and tell those higher-ups that you are doing Very, Very Bad Things. So do not, under any circumstances, sell these books!!” Muriel finished their impression attempting a scowl matching Crowley’s, cementing their inability to make any sort of coarse expression.

Crowley scoffed and was about to complain that he did NOT sound like that, not in the slightest, when—

“Oh, Crowley, did you really?”

Fireworks rocketed up Crowley’s spine and exploded in his chest, and he whipped around to see—

To see—

His angel.

Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the shop, looking like he was already regretting even stepping through the door, but still with that nervous, gentle smile Crowley loved so, and he could do nothing but gape at Aziraphale, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Aziraphale didn’t fare much better, only just managing to stand there, wobbly and woeful. Muriel, slowly becoming more adept at social situations, sidled into the back room, and the sound of the door shutting snapped Crowley out of his stupor—and his wounded heart throbbed.

“Back to forgive me again, then?” Spat Crowley bitterly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, teary-eyed, and before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale rushed into him, grabbing his lapels and burying his face in Crowley’s chest.

“I mi-i-issed-d you,” He sobbed, and Crowley wanted to shove him away, wanted to snarl barbed words and sharp jabs, wanted try and make him feel some semblance of the pain he felt—

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his angel, when he was already so awfully distraught. So he put a tentative, shaky hand on Aziraphale’s back, and said, quietly, “Hi, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed loudly at that and looked up at him. Then he stepped back, only slightly, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then—

“Why did you leave—?!” They started, simultaneously, then stopped.

“Well, you were the one leaving, Angel,” Crowley snapped, brows knitted together.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically and sniffed again. “B-But I asked you to come with me, dear. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to come so terribly,” his lip wobbled, “And-and then you got mad, and ki-kissed me, and then—hic—and then you left!”

Crowley scowled, confused. He was quite certain that Aziraphale had been the one to do the leaving.

“But you abandoned me,” he said, voice rough, “After all we’ve gone through! I thought we were a team, Aziraphale. I thought you liked me how I was—not an angel, not a demon, as me.”

Aziraphale whimpered, wringing his hands. “But I do like you, Crowley! I’m so, so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise, I just—I want to be with you, oh so much! And we could be together, in Heaven, as angels, without messiness, and—and, oh, I thought you’d be happier as an angel. I mean, you used to be, when you were…”

Crowley sighed, his anger beginning to cool. Oh, Angel. “I don’t want Heaven. I don’t want to be who I was. I just want to be me, now, here, with you,” He said, as gently as he could muster, taking his sunglasses off. Aziraphale blinked, another sparkling tear trailing down his cheek. Crowley had to curb the urge to wipe it away by shoving his hands in his pockets.

“B-But…but an angel? A-a demon?? That—”

“Would be alright.” Crowley finished, trying to smile, trying not to hope. “We could do it.” Aziraphale wavered, unsure, worried. He cast a look around him, and then, resolutely,

“I need to go back.” Crowley’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered like an empty bottle. Again.

He made to leave, eyes already stinging, but Aziraphale grabbed at him. “Wait, Crowley!!” But no. Not again. Never again. Crowley wrenched away, looking at the ground, trying to stride past him, a painful crescendo rising in his head, already berating himself for trusting so quickly, hoping so easily, and then, and then he felt a soft hand tilt his face up and take off his glasses and, and, and—and Aziraphale was kissing him. Kissing him. Crowley’s thoughts blinked out of existence completely. All he could focus on was Aziraphale, him against Crowley’s lips, again, finally. Aziraphale’s tears wet Crowley’s cheeks and burned there and Crowley didn’t mind in the slightest. And he kissed back, fiercely, not caring if the rest of him burned up as a result.

Aziraphale gasped at the kiss deepening, and something roared deep inside of Crowley, and then, suddenly—Aziraphale pulled away.

It was as if Crowley had been lit on fire and then doused with cold water, and all he could do was stand there, shivering and overheating at the same time. Aziraphale, though shaking as well, took a deep breath.

“Crowley. I am going, but I’m not leaving,” and he took Crowley’s face in both hands, “I’m not leaving you. I never meant to in the first place. I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? What could he—

A tear slid down his face, and Aziraphale brushed it away with his thumb, tenderly, lovingly.

And Crowley broke.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, and cradled Crowley close as he crumpled into his arms. He trembled like a leaf, loud sobs wracking his body.

They sank to the ground together, and stayed that way for a long time.

Eventually, Crowley could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating. Cheeks burning, he slowly sat up, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale, embarrassed. “Ngk—sorry, Angel.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale turned his face back to him with a feather-light touch, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Crowley damn near started crying again. He nodded and sniffed, rubbing his face. “You’re too nice to me.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

They gazed at each other adoringly, neither quite believing that they could hope again, hope for a future together, as hope was a four-letter word, too. Then Crowley looked down at the ground. “So…you have to go.”

“I will be back, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and stood up, “I just need to do a few things first.”

“I need you,” Crowley pleaded, on his knees, all defenses forgotten, all barriers down. “Stay. Please.”

“I need you too,” Aziraphale said softly, doe-eyed, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to stay with you. But I have to keep Earth safe. I can change things, in Heaven. I can stop the Second Coming.”

His face hardened and, for a moment, looked every bit the Archangel he was supposed to be. “Even if it means making a few…executive decisions. In the name of good, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley echoed, feeling a bit dazed.

Aziraphale smiled at him and then looked up, wings materializing behind him. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Crowley, as if struck by a pin, sprung up towards Aziraphale and kissed him once more. Aziraphale, who had already begun to glow with departure, kissed back just as hard, if not harder. Crowley held onto the quickly dissipating angel tightly, as long as he could, until Aziraphale fully disappeared…and then Crowley fell flat on his face.

Oh, would you look at that, Crowley mused to himself, ass up, face down. I’ve fallen. “Erm,” said a timid voice behind him, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr. Crowley?”

thank you for reading!!!!!!!

112 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 6 months

Text

Machiavelli took a day off

... when the Telegraph article was written in great haste, by someone blatantly given a last minute task, who had no fucking idea to whom she was talking and what exactly meant the PR vetted or even prompted questions.

Instead of a line-by-line analysis, we'll take things differently, on this page, using the '5 W rule of journalism' (or even non-fiction writing, in general, if you ask me):

Who? SRH, EP of the OL series and one of the two male leads of the TCND series, which will be shortly broadcast by Channel 4, in the UK and IE only (and Movistar in ES). The rest of the world is not concerned.

What? A promotional article, focused on the actor's personality, CV and projects.

When? At a particular moment in time, just after the SAG-AFTRA strike and before shooting OL's eighth and last season.

Where? Crucial to place it in LHR (to imply he is 'just visiting') and God forbid it would be in GLA, which (for some curious reasons) seems to be off-limits.

Why? An actor with solid credentials hopes to keep agents and employers interested, after above OL project is done, which is rather sooner than later. Also addressing (as per the actor's PR agent specific requirements) three particular issues: the Palestine letter, the Bond project and his 'private life'.

Onwards to the three issues at stake, which probably prompted the article. In chronological order, this time. And no, I am not going to address the Scottish independence mention, because this is a sincere, well-known position of his and this page never bitches about people's convictions - also because I educated myself on it and I agree with S.

Palestine:

It was important, for obvious reasons, to push damage control a tad further. Also, strictly from a hypothetical POV, I would be very curious to read your compare and discuss thoughts with regard to this particular post on this page:

A sort of answer came in the Telegraph paper, too. Not only to me (I am less than nobody), but to all the people (of which we were many) who thought he should not get involved in this type of debate:

This is not the first time he uses this specific talking point. Last time known to me was on the day the Queen died, on X (I looked for that post, but can't find it, because I am just a filthy lurker, like that: but it is there).

The really interesting question, therefore, is: does he/somebody monitor what is being said on Tumblr? The answer is, I think, yes, and it shows. Will it stop me talking in here? Nope, as I trust my discerning abilities, for the moment. Other than that, his damage control op does not bring anything new to the table.

Bond:

What can I say, Sir? While there's life, there's apparently hope. But that doesn't translate well, given the context of your interview. That spells desperate and it's not a great picture. Also, let us keep a pious moment of silence in fond memory of a 25 year old who had a dream and the dream went to Daniel Craig (who I detested as Bond, because every girl has her Bond and mine is Pierce Brosnan, amen).

I know people still speculate about it. I have very high reservations and I cannot, for the life of me, seriously consider even thinking about the possibility. He could do it with flying colors, no doubt. Does he stand a chance? I prefer to have zero expectations on it and be floored if it happens. If he naively still yearns/pushes for it, this interview could very well be as abysmal as C's VF tantrum.

'Private life':

Ugh. Slippery when wet. I have already touched the subject in a reactive re-blog of @samheughanswife's post about it and I will not get back to what I said even without reading the article.

Some more extraordinary wording, in here: 'there might even be space for a personal life' - begs the question 'when?' In general? (in general, all men are created equal, too - it's practice that kills the theory) Now? (it is my staunch belief the answer is yes). After OL? (then and now and after Hiroshima, too). Can you program these things? (nope, stars simply aligned) Heh. Enough said. Also, 'might' spells cheap insinuation to me. But that's just me, a blonde voice in the audience.

Now, onwards to the daughter thing. I believe this specifically addresses the cheap, abundant clickbait content on You Tube, hence the vague 'online' reference (not Tumblr, not fans, not blogs - he is not C, he kept it clean). Such as this very recent one (last 'clip' on the topic was five days ago):

The two I chose to share here, which are very conspicuous FAKES, are originating from the same 'source', an account that seems obsessed with S&C and has no problem changing its narrative three times a week, if needed. My opinion? PR induced shite, to prod numbers/interest and see what sticks.

No newborn daughter? I hear no lies.

As for OL leaving 'no time for relationships', ahem. *urv will be thrilled to read that, I bet the farm. As will Flukenzie Floozy, at least her - damn, she was persistent! Also, hello, back to 2014-2016 playbook, aren't we?

No new relationships? Whatever for, when IYKYK? I hear no lies.

'I want a cat' ('because she's great', says my shipper brain on autopilot), 'but I am too scared even for that'. Humph. A very poor lie. But admitting you wanted and got a Ca(i)t scares the bejesus out of you, since 2016. I hear no lies. Yes, I am being tongue in cheek and damn the consequences.

Morality of it?

The easiest solution is never to take personal questions in interviews or panels. Why These Two still do it completely mystifies me.

#shitshow

141 notes · View notes

jessiexcorner · 1 year

Text

Heartbreak Highs

Description: Amerie, Harper, and (Y/n). The three were the best of friends until the incest map. A heartbreak high x reader.

"I met Ameire when I was five."

A little brown girl with blue overalls and a pink shirt walks over to two girls one blond hair and the other (h/c). The blond draws a crocodile while the (h/c) hands her green crayons as she makes her own painting. “What’s that?” The new girl asks,

“It's a crocodile.” The blond responds.

“It's shit.” The brown girl states. The blond drops her pencil to flip off the new girl, making her smile, while the (h/c) hair girl giggles.

"For a long time, it had just been me and Harper, but with Ameire we were unstoppable."

The three girls run as a teacher chases them through the hall, “Stop it!” The girls giggle and run faster.

"They were my ride or dies. Nobody could come between us. Well, that was until the incest map. Ameire and Harper were super into romance, not that I wasn’t, it's just they tended to watch people.”

(Y/n) takes out her books from her locker clutching onto them as her friends, Amire and Harper giggle holding their books while staring at a couple making out against the lockers. The (h/c) color girl tries to pull them away from the scene but they don't budge.

"In so a creepy way.”

The girls now older, still watch as a couple fights making fun and guessing what the couple could probably be saying. “Oh, I swear to god Jessica you know I'm good for it eh?” Harper makes her voice deeper playing the man.

“If you touch her again I’ll fuckin smash ya, ya cheatin’ dog.” Ameire uses a high pitch.

“No babe, I'm fuckin’—“

“Kiss me!” Both girls make kissing noises. (Y/n) watches the teens quietly shaking her head.

“I don’t exactly know when it started to happen, but somehow I ended up drifting apart from the two,”

Amerie and Harper giggle as they write on the Incest map while (y/n) stands in the corner watching quietly. “You’re obsessed,” Harper comments as Amerie draws a line with a gold marker across her name and dusty.

“Destined,” Amerie says with a smile, (Y/n) looks down playing with the small rock on the floor, kicking it around, bored.

“Harper tried to include me in their activities, Amerie on the other hand seems to forget me more often. Maybe it's because Harper knew me for longer. Eventually, Harper left me behind too. I used to miss them from time to time and the fun we used to have, but now when I look back at those times, I remember they mostly kept me around because their parents trusted me, and if they were around ‘(Y/n) the good kid who gets grades and doesn’t do drugs’, they thought maybe their kids wouldn’t either, which gave harper and Amerie more freedom to actually, go out and do drugs. I completely stopped talking to them after the fight.”

“Ugh, I can't wait for the festival,” Amerie states sitting down on (Y/n)’s floor while eating a bunch of junk candy. Home worksheets thrown on the floor, harper lays on (y/n)’s bed taking some junk food from Amerie.

“I know right, I even got Cash to come and sell us some drugs, we are going to get so wasted.” Harper boasts. (Y/n) sits on her desk trying to finish her homework, ignoring the girls.

“Ah, no way? I can't wait, I got the tickets too! Look,” Amerie says taking out the tickets from her backpack and holding them out for Harper to see. Harper takes the tickets to inspect them noticing something.

“Am, there are only two tickets,” Harper states sitting up now.

“What?” Amerie looks up.

“You only got two tickets, what about (Y/n)?” Harper asks confused.

“Oh, well, she didn't give me the money for it so,” Amerie says glancing at the (h/c) hair-colored girl who sighs.

“I'm not coming.”

“What? Why not?” Harper questions.

“Because I don't want to keep being your guy’s babysitter when you get high or drunk.”

“..well you can just, drink with us,” Amerie states as if it's the easiest solution in the world.

“No, I can't Amerie, because if you knew anything you would know I don't want to.” (Y/n) snaps a little putting her finished homework away.

“..why are you so pissed off? It's just—“ Amerie gets cut off.

“Why am I so pissed off? Amerie. It's like the only time you guys ever hang out with me is because you want something from me or when I have use to you!”

“That's not true.” Harper defends herself and Amerie.

“Yes, it is! You only hang out with me because your parents think that you wouldn't possibly be going out to get drunk with me, and you guys are literally here because you wanted to copy my homework answers. You never hang out with me anymore just doing things like normal, it's always watching the latest hook-up or gossip or getting high and drunk. You never even invite me out anymore.” (Y/n) says angrily shaking a little trying to keep calm. The other two girls are silent and look at each other before collecting their things ready to leave.

“We’ll talk when you've calmed down,” Amerie says picking up her back.

“Oh fuck you, Amerie, just leave, I don't wanna talk to you again.” (Y/n) snaps. The brown girl walks out leaving Harper.

“..I,” Harper starts but then pauses not knowing what to say, muttering an apology while she walks off following Amerie, leaving (Y/n) by herself.

“After that, Harper would occasionally text me, and ask to try to hang out and watch movies like old times, but it wasn't the same. There was always this weird tension. I made new friends though, better friends. Quinni and Darren. Those two are actual ride or dies. They made me feel like I didn't have to pretend or have to get high for them to like me, they treated me right. I had almost forgotten about Harper and Amerie for a while, well that was until that night..”

At school grounds early in the morning, (Y/n) walks up to Quinni and Darren who are talking before someone bumps in between the two, squealing, ‘Dusty spoke to me!’ And giggling. “‘Dusty spoke to me’ what a pick me bitch. Also rude.” Darren mocks the brown girl who bumped them. (Y/n) chuckles lightly, agreeing.

“Maybe she didn't see us,” Quinni says kindly giving Amerie the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh please, Check the material. We are beautiful, exquisite jellyfish.” Darren says linking arms with both girls, brushing Quinni’s hair lightly, “of course they saw us.” They all walk heading to the school building. (Y/n) looks at her phone, sending a quick message to a contact labeled ‘H.’, ‘you coming soon?’ There’s a pause before the person responds with ‘yea see you there.’ The trio walks towards the steps seeing a new face. “Fresh blood,” Darren whispers to the two girls, (Y/n) looks up from her phone noticing a boy in a yellow t-shirt and multi-colored striped pants, asking for directions. As they walk past him to the stairs, the boy makes eye contact with (Y/n) giving a small awkward smile. (Y/n) smiles back and walks with her friends up the stairs, “What was that?” Darren questions,

“What?”

“Were you trying to flirt with him? Oh, baby (Y/n), growing up so fast.” They say teasing.

“Shut up.” (Y/n) ignores the taller stylish kid. The three are about to head to class when someone shouts gaining everyone’s attention.

“Oi! There’s a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell. It's called the incest map!” The person shouts walking away, everyone intrigued follows, heading to the stairwell. (Y/n) looks over noticing Amerie stood still with a look of panic. Both girls rush to the stairwell, (Y/n) catching up with her friends. She looks over the map noticing it has grown much bigger than the last time she saw it, then again she stopped coming her long before the fight. She notices new names, including those of her friends Quinni and Darren, she looks over and notices her own name, not connected to anyone just having the words ‘Fish.’ In bold written in familiar handwriting. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. She notices Missy walking away from her girlfriend upset about what she saw on the map.

“Darren jerked you off? Nice bro, you into dudes now?” A kid, Spider, teases their friend Anthony, also named Ant.

“Little cheeky huh?” Dusty comments, making a crude hand gesture.

“Who says I'm a dude?” Darren retaliates.

“Oh! Look (Y/n)’s a fish!” A couple of boys laugh. “Awe, I can change that for you if you want (Y/n)” Spider says making kissy faces at the girl who clenches her jaw. Looking over at Amerie who looks panicked and avoiding the girl’s gaze. Quinni searches the wall for her name before finding it, labelled ‘lazy kebab’

“That’s not true, what’s a lazy kebab? Spider what's a lazy kebab?” Quinni calls the guy who is said to spread the rumor.

The kids are called for a school meeting and they all sit in the hall. “It's mostly kids from our level, it must be someone we know,” Quinni comments her observation to the other two, who sit down.

“It's probably Spider or one of those idiots. Most of its bullshit anyway,” Darren says sitting in the middle comforting the girls. (Y/n) sits quietly beside Darren, glaring at Amerie, and forcing the kid in the seat next to her to move, leaving an empty seat beside her.

“So crazy right?” Amerie comments. (Y/n), although sitting a couple of seats away, hears this and scoffs. A girl walks into the hall wearing a grey shirt and red pants and having a shaved head.

“Holy shit is that Harps? Oh my god her hair,” Sasha comments sitting next to Amerie, she throws a paper ball at Harper only to miss. Most kids turn to look at the girl. Harper walks towards (Y/n) and sits next to her in the empty seat quietly.

Amerie notices and stands calling out, “Harper,” only to be ignored and told to sit down by the principal.

“Fish, really couldn’t think up anything more clever than that?” (Y/n) comments blankly not looking at the girl next to her, Harper turns to glance at (Y/n) and mutters an apology.

“I didn't write it.”

“I know but, you didn’t stop her either.” (Y/n) sighs as she looks over at Harper before turning away and focusing on the principal. Both sit quietly next to each other.

There is complete silence. “I am a woke woman.” The principal starts. “I enjoy sex as much as the next person.” She states, making a couple of kids laugh and snicker. “But reputation is everything and this map has jeopardised your reputations and the reputation of our school on the first day back. We are currently in the process of contacting all the parents of everyone on this map and have strongly suggested that there are to be no more parties, shindigs, or gathos.” The students erupt in protest, while Amerie continues to look at Harper and (Y/n), who are sitting quietly. “Hey, hey, unsupervised parties equals alcohol. Alcohol equals poor choices. The risk-taking behaviors outlined on this map are unacceptable. Hartley High prides itself on being a safe environment.” Darren laughs at this. “But clearly this is a wake-up call that we are not doing enough. Oh, and we will find out who did this.” Amerie gulps. “Get to class, go, go, go.” Students stand and head to their classes, (Y/n) and Harper stand and walk together while Darren and Quinni follow.

“Harper, (Y/n) oi!” Amerie calls out only to be ignored and stopped by the principal. “Miss Wadia. Come with me.”

Ameire sits in principal Stacy’s office. “Well, I’ve had quite the education this morning, Amerie. “Wristy? Oh, right.” She reads off her phone. “Doughy? Fish?” Her dog, Joan of Bark, whimpers sitting in his bed. “I think I can work out ‘tongue punch in the fart box.’” She sighs and puts her phone down, while Amerie sits smiling. “I know it was you, Amerie. One of our maintenance staff saw you in the stairwell multiple times. Who else was in on it? Your usual accomplice, Harper? Did you also force (Y/n) into it with you two?”

“Nobody else was in on it,” Amerie says confidently no longer smiling.

"Do you know who I just got off the phone with? The Guardian, Amerie. The Guardian."

"...Okay?"

"Were all of these acts consensual?"

"I guess." Amerie shrugs confused.

"Are your mates using protection?" The principal questions.

"I don't know."

"Well, how can you know that Alyssa scissored Nina, but not know if they're using contraception?" She asks suspiciously.

"I don't think you have to use contraception when you scissor someone, Miss." Amerie sarcastically retorts.

"I'd say that's a very dangerous assumption actually, Amerie. What do we have to do to get through to you? We've done the classes. We've watched the videos. We've had the police consultants in. And yet, here we are with this map." Miss Stacy scolds, "One foot out of line, one late slip, one phone infraction, and I will expel you. Understood?"

"Can I go to class now?"

"Yes, you may."

"Okay."

"Wait! You call this the Incest Map. I'm assuming that's just a play on words and not the actual..."

"Play on words, Miss." She quickly assures the principal.

"Okay, good. Now, get out of my office before I do expel you, by the count of three. One, two, three!" She sighs.

Pt.2; https://www.tumblr.com/jessiexcorner/716409910079913984/heartbreak-highs-pt-2?source=share

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