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ravengards-rogue · 2 months

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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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twobluejeans · 9 months

Text

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 8: you’re losing me, part 7: revenge dress, series masterlist

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 8! taylor swift deserves jail time for creating you’re losing me. taylor swift also deserves jail time for not officially releasing it. def recommend listening to it reading the chapter! (might have to stream illegally bc mother is being stingy 🙄.)

INSTAGRAM, july 17 (midnight)

liked by paulwesley, ninadobrev, and 13,333,112 others

yourinstagram and just like that, the final chapter of Midnights, is out now. this is my most personal body of work that i'm putting out into the universe, and i'm so scared yet excited to share her with u. thank u to my team, my producer jackantonoff turned dearest friend of almost 7 years (woah!!!) we spent many noons & midnights on this album and i'm forever in debt n grateful. thank u to all my other friends who i didn't mention, yk who u are. to everyone else, thank u for your persistent patience and support. it does not go unnoticed. from my heart to yours, midnights (till dawn edition), is available on all streaming platforms. i love u. thank u 💗.

View all 101,273 comments

leclerccharl ain’t that the teddy bear charles won for her at the fair forever ago??!

y/nsfeverdreamhigh leclerccharl o em gee yeah..

fernandoalonso_offical Proud of you cariño

barbie 🥹🥹💗💗

landonoriss screaming crying shaking throwing up

danielricciardo gagging choking ascending to god

authur_leclerc Love you always, Proud of you always ❤️

INSTAGRAM STORIES, july 17

zendaya 30m

viewed by alexademie, tomholland2013, and 64,134 others

badgalriri 2h

viewed by harrystyles, bellahadid, and 3,262,128 others

sabrinacarpenter 5h

viewed by zendaya, lola.tung, and 1,524,211 others

TWITTER, july 17

The song’s big question: “Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?”

BY: ALLY PUBLISHED: JULY 17, 2023

Y/n L/n’s lyrical candidness is what has always made her standout as a songwriter. Whether she was writing about young love, relationships, or breakups, her songs never flinched from trying to paint a full picture, even if it was one that was hard to look at.

It’s been a while since the super star has released a breakup song, but it was only a matter of time; since the singer split with Charles Leclerc, fans have already began anticipating the inevitable breakup album. But it turns out they didn’t have to wait long. At Midnight (July 17), L/n released a second deluxe edition of her 2022 album Midnights, which included four new songs, among them the release of “You’re Losing Me,” a song fans have deciphered as ostensibly about her split with Leclerc.

via @yourinstagram on instagram

The nearly 5-minute track is a devastating relationship ender if we’ve ever heard one, as it details the hopeless and tragic dissolution of a relationship. Though L/n doesn’t include any names or details, it’s not hard to see why fans are interpreting it as being about her and Leclerc.

When Entertainment Weekly first broke the news of their split in April, sources for both parties diplomatically described the breakup as amicable, and that “it was not dramatic.” “The relationship had just run its course,” one source told ET. However, that story was debunked as L/n herself, stated Leclerc had an affair with Australian Youtuber Lola Ransdell, in one of her Eras Tour Shows. With the release of “You’re Losing Me,” L/n seems to offer a window into her perspective of how things ended while also releasing one of the most devastating songs she’s ever written.

Its lyrics don’t waste any time getting into the tragic heart of the matter. “You say, ‘I don't understand,’ and I say, ‘I know you don’t’/ We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won’t/ Remember looking at this room, we loved it ‘cause of the light/ Now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time,” she sings in the first verse, painting a portrait of two people who are unaligned and have seemingly grown apart in their relationship.

The pre-chorus lays out the song’s big question: “Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?” But waiting for resolution feels like something L/n doesn’t want to do anymore: “I'm getting tired, even for a phoenix/ Always rising from the ashes/ Mending all her gashes/ You might just have dealt the final blow,” she sings.

The most heart-wrenching part of the song comes in on the chorus, as she warns her other half, “Stop, you're losing me/ Stop, you’re losing me/ Stop, you’re losing me I can't find a pulse/ My heart won't start anymore/ For you/ ‘Cause you're losing me.” The lyrics mirror the song’s production which sounds like a quietly pulsing heartbeat, driving the knife’s blade of the song in even deeper.

Perhaps L/n’s biggest skill on this song is being able to convey all the heartbreak and roiling emotion without actually providing any specifics into the breakup.

“You’re Losing Me” is rife with frank, confessional lyrics, but still keeps many of the exact contours of the split obscure. There are no accusations or fingers pointed at who’s at fault. There are no mic drop moments or explosive gossip; The closest L/n gets to revealing any details is on the second verse, when she seems to suggest that the relationship hadn’t been OK for a while now.

“Every morning, I glared at you with storms in my eyes/ How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying?/ I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick/ My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick,” she sings.

On the bridge, L/n reveals that she “wouldn’t marry me either,” perhaps offering the tiniest, sliver of hints into one of the other reasons why they ultimately fell apart: “And I wouldn't marry me either/ A pathological people pleaser/ Who only wanted you to see her/ And I'm fading, thinking/ Do something, babe, say something (say something)/ Lose something, babe, risk something (risk something)/ Choose something, babe, I got nothing (I got nothing)/ To believe, unless you’re choosing me.”

It’s the lack of details, the palpable restraint despite L/n’s clear heartbreak behind its lyrics, that makes “You’re Losing Me” perhaps the most devastating song in her catalog (yes, even more so than “All Too Well.”) Amid the grief and sadness of the song, there’s also a feeling of inevitability, of sorrow that nothing more could be done, of pointlessly waiting for action when you know nothing is coming.

In some regards, it’s one of L/n’s most mature breakup songs in her catalog, regardless of whoever it’s about. And if this is just a “from the vault” track, it makes one wonder what an albums-worth of these songs would sound like.

SEE MORE RELATED POSTS:

• Lola Ransdell Cancelled over resurfaced racism tweets

• Lola Ransdell loses brand deals over Y/n L/n drama

• Charles Leclerc finally breaks his silence over Y/n L/n Breakup

ally’s radio 📻:a filler chapter im sorry😞 but anyways, the related stories r a sneak peak of the next chapter🤫 if u asked me to tag u and i didn’t, pls send me a message or inbox me bc it might’ve gotten lost 😭 i try to stay up-to-date but sometimes i miss people so pls lmk!!!

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife @mrsmaybank13 @black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx @lilsiz @ohthemisssery @leclerclvr @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @shessthunderstoms @cool-ultra-nerd @ncentic @playboykenz @canvashearts @tinyhrry @xeliaaaa @ifionlywould @gaviypedrisbride @callsignwindow @dhhdhsiavdhaj @chasing-liberosis @laneyspaulding19 @a-daydreamers-day @saikikusouswife @motorsp0rt @lifesuckslife @shessthunderstoms @drewsandsebastianswife @sainzluvrr @ietss

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unpretty · 4 months

Note

could you type up a quick guide on how to install the plugin for somebody with negative computer literacy? :( I managed to install Calibre well enough, but I'm at a total loss for the plugin...

gonna do this on my win11 laptop because i don't already have calibre set up here, let's see how this goes

STEP ONE: install calibre. you already did that one so that's fine.

STEP TWO: install noDRM. github is scary looking but look for the thing that says 'releases' off to the right and click the latest one.

that will take you to the page where you can download the .zip file

Find the .zip file and right click > extract all

now you have a folder with two .zip files in it, one for each plugin

open up calibre and hit the preferences button

hit the plugins button

hit 'load plugin from file'

Navigate to the folder where you extracted the plugin file, probably your downloads folder - select dedrm first

it will pop a warning, hit 'yes' to tell it to mind its business

success!

do not restart, instead hit okay and then hit 'load plugin from file' again to select the obok plugin and repeat the install process. this one pops more options but we don't really care about these as much, it's just asking where the buttons go. you can keep the defaults and just hit ok, it's fine.

okay, now you can hit restart

STEP THREE: download your books. now, kobo theoretically lets you download a file from their website but it's a fake file that does nothing but tell adobe software how to download the actual file. this is stupid and confusing so instead download the kobo software for desktop. unlike for kindle you can just download the latest version direct from kobo. once it's installed it will basically just be a shitty browser for their website? i was going to tell you how to download your files but it just did that automatically with all of the books i have on there for some reason, not a fan of that. they'll have a download icon on them if the books aren't downloaded but anyway it'll look something like this:

STEP FOUR: import your books. go into calibre and hit the obok button that exists now:

depending on the size of your calibre window you might not be able to see the button after your restart, in which case you need to hit the button to display the overflow menu. this button is real small, comparatively, so you might miss it.

anyway hit the obok button and the books will pop up for import.

that little green icon under drm means there is no drm. for the terry pratchett books, this is a lie. i have no idea why it did this the first time i tried to import them. maybe because i still had kobo open? anyway when i tried to open the files after import they Would Not so i deleted them and closed kobo and this time it admitted that drm existed.

i hit 'all with drm', then hit 'ok', and this time they imported properly. i'm including this because i don't actually know if it was me having kobo open that borked it or if it needs to try and fail once to get its bearings or something. anyway. the covers might be fucked but as long as there's a harpercollins logo it's the real deal, you just need to fix the metadata. you can hit the 'view' button to confirm that the book is readable now.

to fix the metadata/cover you can just hit the 'edit metadata' button and then 'download metadata' at the bottom of the screen that pops up. here's what it'll look like after you hit that button, you can select which version you want to download info from (it includes star ratings for some reason?? i hate that but whatever, you can tweak things.)

once you hit ok it will present you with some cover options, but regardless of what you pick you always have the option of just pasting in a different cover you found doing an image search. i like doing this so i can use fancy alternate covers, or even fan designed ones.

the kindle version of this tutorial is slightly more complicated because step one is finding and installing an old version of the desktop software and preventing it from updating. so i'm not getting into that right now but the broad strokes are the same after that.

#original #how to internet #if you have ever wondered what my 'how to do my job' notes look like #it's a lot like this lmao

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crystaldivination · 6 months

Text

“𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠?”

Thιs ιs ᥲ ᥣᥱttᥱr/tᥱxt from ყoᥙr most dᥱsιrᥱd ρᥱrsoᥒ

Hᥱყ bᥲbᥱs! It’s bᥱᥱᥒ ᥲ ᥕhιᥣᥱ, ᥲ qᥙιtᥱ ᥣoᥒg ᥕhιᥣᥱ bᥙt ᥒoᥕ I’m hᥱrᥱ ᥕιth ᥲ ᥒᥱᥕ ριᥴk-ᥲ-ᥴᥲrd rᥱᥲdιᥒg. Todᥲყ I brιᥒg ყoᥙ ᥲᥒothᥱr romᥲᥒᥴᥱ toριᥴ. I oρtᥱd for somᥱthιᥒg I kᥒoᥕ ყoᥙ’d ᥣιkᥱ ᥲᥒd somᥱthιᥒg thᥲt’d rᥲdιᥲtᥱ ᥣovιᥒg ᥱᥒᥱrgყ to ᥱvᥱrყoᥒᥱ ᥕho fιᥒds thιs. I hoρᥱ ყoᥙ ᥲᥣᥣ fιᥒd ιt ᥱᥒjoყᥲbᥣᥱ! Lᥱt mᥱ kᥒoᥕ hoᥕ ιt rᥱsoᥒᥲtᥱs.

⣷ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⣷ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 ⣷ 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 & 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

Disclaimer: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

How to choose your pile? As always meditate or close your eyes before looking at each picture. Trust your intuition and pick out a picture you feel the most drawn to.

The piles

both rows from left -> right

1 🖤

—mყ oᥒᥱ

You! Yes, you. What are you doing? Letting your life passing by you like that… don’t make a habit of attempting to give up without even trying. Don’t you dare waste your precious time. It’s time to wake up my little honey bear. I don’t wanna see you like that. You got your passion to go after, a so amazing future ahead of you waiting for you to embrace.

Don’t you think you’re worth it? Worth your effort trying to make what you truly want happen even if you don’t know the outcome now? Because I think you are. I’m right here even if you can’t see me. You would know how frustrated I can be when you’re being so stubborn and fearful. That’s so not you, you know that *chuckle*. Where did the little fiery spirit go, hm? I get that, things are not that easy… everything used to be easier, dot dot dot but don’t you see that you’re just making it harder than it looks? What do you have to lose if you just make the first step, huh? Try it, right now! No one is standing in your way but yourself. I can speak from experience.

A not so good result? Chin up. Try it again! And again until you got the hang of it. It’s better than just living in dissatisfaction and getting by right? Master your bravery until you master your craft. Now take my hand and trust in the process. Believe in yourself and what you can. I’m always watching you from above. Don’t make me feel sad about not being able to guide you. I want you to enjoy yourself and your life. You got this! There’s nothing to worry about. Open your heart and your mind then you’ll see the magic happening right in front of you. Make a difference first and all will follow. I’m always beside you, loving and supporting you. We will find each other again. I’m the light at the end of the tunnel, always guiding you home. You’ve never lost me. You belong with me. If you miss me, look deep in your heart and you’ll see me there. Have hope my love.

────────────────────────

2 🖤

—sᥱᥲsoᥒ ᥴhᥲᥒgᥱ

It’s hard for me to say something or anything at all. I don’t know… I’m in pain right now. The darkest feelings from memories that I’ve always wanted to escape from are catching up to me. I can’t take this excruciating pain and agony anymore. People are cruel. Sometimes I ask myself if love really is out there, if it’s kind enough to wait for me to give me its sincere and beautiful magic like how they called it at all or if there’s nothing like that because if there is, would it betray me like this? What does it all mean? Is everything just love? What is love? Is it just a journey one must go to find themself again? It’s hard, it’s painful. I feel like losing myself. Why does one have to go through pain?

I can’t get these bitter feelings off of me. My world is falling apart with nothing to hold on to. You’re the one i want to avoid the most but at the end of the day I somehow always find myself holding on to you again. You’re the only one I can remember, the only one I can hold onto even if I don’t want it. The only thing I can do is to deny it so I won’t believe it but I know that’s not the truth. You’re keeping me from collapsing completely. I know it’s selfish if I say I want you to ease my pain, to take my pain away but right now you’re the only safe haven I have.

I want to be a sweet and friendly person for you but there’s all this anxiety. The horror and the fear from the past are holding me back. I’m scared. I’m scared to scare you. I’m triggered when I see your face. You need to stay out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you. I fear to make this mistake again. To trust and then being let down again. Loving you feel like a dream but I’m too unstable. What if I can’t ever get out of that dream although it’d be a beautiful thought but I’m scared to mess up. I used to have everything but you and now I have nothing but you to hold onto. Isn’t that sad or just a cliché? I do want to give you a love so pure and I want love you unconditionally but maybe love is not in it for me, maybe i just need to focus on myself. I’m just unlucky I guess, for a lack of a better word.

────────────────────────

3 🖤

—mooᥒᥣιght

I’ve been looking for you for way too long. We belong together, you and I. We're soulmates, I just know it. I know you’re right there. You’re just waiting for me like I am for you. It’s reassuring to know we both sit under the same sky looking at the same moon right? I can’t wait to meet you. I think we’re alike. You’re exactly what I’m looking for. Let me be the perfect missing puzzle to your picture and you can be the light that is shining on me. You’re my beautiful dream fever. You drive me wild and crazy.

Under the moonlight let me adore you. I can imagine your eyes sparkling when admiring the stars while I’m the one who’s admiring your beauty. Looking into your eyes must be magical. I don’t have to see through rose-colored glasses to recognize how you are the rosé world embellished with flower petals yourself that I seek. You’re a fascination to me. I can’t figure you out yet but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know you more. I don’t actually know you but I feel like I do regardless. I don’t need to know the truth. My heart knows you’re perfect either way.

Your skin, the softness that you carry in you. I want to inhale your scent like it's some kind of drug I can’t get used to with its intensity but won’t be able to stop. You speak and understand me with all your body and soul, I know you do, thus this is why day by day I dive into you with my soul. Although my mortal eyes show and tell me something else it doesn’t matter. As long as I have you in my heart I know you’re already here with me and always. They say you’re a rare diamond that I, as an ordinary human, have no chance to earn but let me, a humble one, find you and treat you the way you’ve always deserved because you’re worthy of all good. You can decide once you see and know me if I’m worthy of your attention and love. I want to claim you as mine but not out of fear, instead I want you to claim me as yours as well.

────────────────────────

4 🖤

—thᥱ soᥙᥒd of ყoᥙ

Why are you so ridiculously beautiful? You’re so stunningly beautiful. You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll let you. I care for you so much. You’re the softest sound from the most perfect lullaby I’ve ever known of but can’t seem to believe actually exists. I dream of you. I want to see you smile and make you happy.

Come here. I’m right here, sweetheart. I need you to stop beating yourself up. You won’t hurt yourself. You won’t give up. You can overcome anything because you’re strong. You can do it for yourself and me. Be happy and live your life to the fullest. You deserve it my little darling. You don’t know how special you are so don’t you dare lose your light because of anything or anyone trying to dim that light. Stay positive and be brave. I know you can.

Most of the times I don’t even know why my heart is longing for you. It’s like there’s an invisible draw that is pulling me towards you. A call for my other half. An important half that I feel is missing in me. Is there a chance that I’ve known you before because I feel like knowing you without knowing you before. You open up memories in me that I’ve never seen before but they are telling me they exist deep in my mind and were forgotten for a very long time. Do you believe in destiny? I don’t but I might get convinced.

With me you don’t have to be tough all the time or pretend to be. I can love you for who you are with all your strengths and weaknesses. If you’re really the right one for me and that can only my heart tells, I’ll love you with all that my heart can offer. And I promise you, I will stick around as long as I can. I won’t let you down.

Now wait for you? I can do that. Even if the world ends tomorrow my will would stay strong. I want to be able to see and touch you. I’m confused but this is somehow a good feeling. What do you say? I think I’m not ready for our union yet but I might get surprised by the universe by what it is conspiring for us, I guess?

♡ PS. to my followers who participated in my latest game — due to personal matters i won’t be able to answer your asks any time soon but I’ll try to queue them whenever I can. I apologize for the delay.

— you’ve reached the end of this post, thanks for reading!

signed, crystal.

#crystaldivination #pac #pick a card #pick a card reading #pac reading #tarot community #tarotblr #tarot reading #intuitive readings #free readings #free intuitive readings #free tarot readings #pick a pile #Spotify #SoundCloud

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melbatron5000 · 16 days

Text

The Big Damn Kiss

Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.

This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.

I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.

DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!

Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?

Ahem.

Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.

I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)

Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:

And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:

And the next:

And our last Clue:

With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies. Edit: Found it!

Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:

One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.

Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?

So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.

Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.

Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!

Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.

I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.

I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:

(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)

My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.

Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.

(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)

What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?

A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?

Oh yes.

Records that Gabriel meant to give to Aziraphale, but he forgot. Records that Crowley realized Gabriel had put in the fly. The fly that Crowley grabbed once Gabriel had his memory out. The fly that he gave to Aziraphale when he kissed him. The fly that no longer held Gabriel's memory, but did still contain those damning records.

Here's Aziraphale reading the records:

Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:

And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:

That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.

That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #ineffable mystery #aziraphale elevator #corporate heaven #the big damn kiss #the kiss #good omens muriel #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

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star-sim · 1 month

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how you hurt him ☆ ot7

☆ non-idol! ot7 enhypen x fem! reader ☆ summary: all the ways that you hurt him (ft. song lyrics) ☆ genre: angst ☆ warning(s): toxic relationship, toxic! reader, mentions of cheating, this is practice for an english project so please bear with me, most of this is very figurative/abstract ☆ word count: 2.9k total ☆ aka enhypen boys as sad love songs, it’s like 1am i will edit later 😭

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

heeseung ☆

"why would you ever kiss me? i'm not even half as pretty" — heather, conan gray

was there something wrong with heeseung? what if he wasn't good enough for you? did you think he was ugly? disgusting? annoying? needy?

at the beginning of your relationship, you made it clear to heeseung that you weren't good with words.

"don't worry about it," heeseung had told you. "i'm not good either."

he thought you meant that you found it hard to say "i love you."

what you meant was that you were indeed good with words, just bad at saying nice things to him.

at first he thought he was being ridiculous, a prisoner of his own mind.

he knew you loved him— how could you possibly not?

but if you loved him, why did you say such nasty things to him?

"god, heeseung, you're so stupid."

"i can't believe i'm dating someone like you."

"i'm disgusted with you."

he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

what had he done to make you repulsed by him? was he being sensitive?

he hated himself for all of it.

he hated the creeping feelings of jealousy that would suffocate him like a noose to a prisoner whenever he saw you talk to another man. did you like him more than heeseung? what if you wanted to leave him?

he hated how he craved what little kind words you could give him. it was so rare for you to compliment and speak to him gently, so when you did, heeseung was drunk on it.

he hated how insecure he got.

he hated how his mind was a gallow of its own.

he hated how afraid he was.

"you're so pretty," you whispered into his ear.

heeseung's stomach did flips. did you really mean it? was he as pretty as all the other men you entertained yourself with? was that why you kissed him and not them?

did this mean that you really loved him?

heeseung felt something tighten around his neck. not in that suffocating way that made him claw at his skin until he bled as he stared in the mirror asking himself what could be changed, but in the way that made him feel warm all over.

he’d wait at the gallows like a convicted prisoner, he’d stand there proud, ready to say his last words. he’d keep his hands behind his back, he’d admire the brass noose that would be his eternal necklace.

because for heeseung, to be with you, and to love you, was to be helpless.

to love you was to wait like a dog in the cold.

to love you was to eat your every word like it was his last meal.

to love you was to be your prisoner waiting for you to execute him.

jay ☆

"pretend that we are more than friends, then of course I'll let you break my heart again" — let you break my heart again, laufey

it's not your fault, jay tells himself. it's not your fault that you can't love him.

but at what point does it become your fault?

you knew that he loved you. he'd told you multiple times, shown you a billion other times. anyone with eyes could tell that he was head over heels in love with you. everyone knew.

especially you— you who rejected him time and time again, laughing that he was just a friend to you.

but here you were, pressing yourself up against him, looking at him with lidded eyes and licking your lips like you wanted to eat him. you held his hand against your chest, whispering a soft "good night." jay knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, not with you so close to him, not with the ache in his chest.

it's not your fault that he loves you, jay thought. but it is your fault that you lead him on, that you pretend to kiss him, that you snuggle up next to him knowing that he'd lay down his life for you.

did you enjoy torturing him like this?

what pleasure did you take in constantly making him think that he had a chance with you?

was this how it was going to be forever?

were you always going to keep him waiting like this, just because you knew that he'd stay no matter what?

jay swallowed the lump in his throat.

he couldn't continue living like this, having you play with his feeling like this.

"jay..." you mumbled, reaching out for him. jay was pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes flickering to you. you looked so innocent and peaceful despite himself. how could he ever stop? how could he stop when it was you at hand?

"i'm here," he hummed, throwing an arm around you. i'm always here.

you were warm, and soft, and everything that jay could ever want in a person. your soft breathing brushed up against his cheek.

jay stared at your sleeping face.

would it hurt to pretend that you were more than friends?

he let his eyelids fall slowly.

he could imagine you and him dancing in the kitchen, laughing together as the scent of jay's cooking filled the apartment. jazz music would be playing, and you'd pretend to be an old flapper couple from the '20's, swirling around the cold kitchen tiles.

your words from earlier echoed in his head.

"i love you so much, jay!"

"you're the best."

"how could i ever be so lucky to meet you?"

it made his heart pound in his chest, unable to hide the lovesick grin spreading on his face.

he knew your words meant nothing, that you truly only saw him as a friend.

he needed to stop this delusion now, else he'd be even more hurt than he already was. you broke his heart over and over again, as if it meant nothing to you.

but as you and him twirled around his head, basking in each other's presence, jay couldn't bring himself to let you go.

he'd let you, jay thought. he'd let you break his heart.

as many times as you wanted.

jake ☆

"the other man will always cry himself to sleep, the other man will never have her love to keep" — the other woman, lana del rey

of course jake knew that he wasn't the only man in your life.

how many times did he lay in bed at night, wishing that it was him that could hold you? how many times did he dream of being the man that could call you his? how many fantasies did he have of marrying you, of giving you the world?

and how many times did he have to remind himself that he couldn't have you— that you already had someone to love?

it made jake feel sick, seeing all the pictures that you posted with you and your husband, hearing all the chatter about your 2-year wedding anniversary, and forcing himself to smile as a tight-lipped "congratulations" fell from his mouth.

but what made him even more sick was how happy he felt whenever you showed up at his doorstep in the depths of the night.

jake couldn't help it.

he couldn't help how his stomach did flips when your hands slithered up his chest, wrapping around his neck as you pressed kisses against his jaw.

he couldn't help how his body moved on its own as he took in the scent of your perfume, his head filling with nothing but you, you, you.

he couldn't help how he craved you, how he was unable to pull away from you, even though he knew you had a husband waiting for you back home.

he couldn't help how for a moment, he could pretend that you were his; for a moment, he could live in the illusion that he was the one that you came home to every night, that he was the one that you woke up with in the morning, that he was the one that you sat at the kitchen table with to discuss your weekly grocery list, that he was the one that you laughed with in the depths of night, that he was the only man that you loved.

but as quickly as it started, you were already out the door, waving goodbye with a sweet smile as if you hadn't committed a crime against your husband.

jake knew the sight of your retreating back better than anyone, and as he closed the door, he'd suck in a sharp breath.

he would deny it over and over, until his words lost meaning.

but he knew the truth.

he was a fool for thinking that he could have you, for after all this time, he was the other man.

sunghoon ☆

"i bet on losing dogs, i know they're losing and i'll pay for my place" — i bet on losing dogs, mitski

you and sunghoon were never meant to work out, and he knew this.

everyone said that you'd hurt him. he'd seen it with his own eyes, how you bore your bloody teeth and ripped into people like they were your prey, how you barked venomous words at people.

you were a losing dog to begin with, a losing dog that would never truly love him the same way you loved yourself.

and before he knew it, sunghoon realized that everyone was right.

you sunk your teeth into him, feasting on what love he could give you like a ravenous hyena.

but how could he resist you? how could he resist your touch, your warmth, your limited moments of compassion?

wounded, bleeding, scarred, sunghoon staggered away from the killing floor. yet, he was unable to stop himself from turning over his shoulder to see your face.

there was something disgusting he felt, something that made sunghoon nauseous. his stomach churned. and then he realized, he couldn't bring himself to leave you.

because you were a starving dog, thristy for a victim.

because you were a wailing dog, weeping over your kill as if it would atone you.

because you were a losing dog, a dog that sunghoon placed his bets on.

and it was time for him to pay the price of his actions.

sunoo ☆

"i know who you pretend i am" —washing machine heart, mitski

sunoo wasn't stupid.

he knew it better than anyone, that your heart didn't belong to him. it never did, and it never will.

sunoo saw the way that you yearned, he saw the way that your eyes lit up, he saw the way that you gazed with love in your eyes— all for someone that wasn't him.

so why did you kiss him like he meant anything to you? why did you hold him like he could have you?

he knew why.

"i missed you so much," you breathed against his ear, pressing him against the wall. "so, so, so much."

the taste of your lips was addicting.

you liked to kiss roughly. you liked to run your fingers through his hair and pull it harshly, making him groan lowly against your lips. you liked to slip your fingers up his shirt, making him shudder.

sunoo liked to kiss gently. he liked it when your lips would melt against his. he liked it when you played with the clasp of the silver chain around his neck. he liked it when you pulled away and giggled softly at the lipstick smudge at the corner of his lip.

he didn't like it rough like you did.

but he took it all.

he took it all, because he loved you.

he took it all, even though he knew that you were kissing him pretending that he someone else.

it wasn't hard to tell.

you wore the gold necklace that he gave you, never any of the ones that sunoo got you.

you didn't even blink when sunoo's name was said, but the mere mention of his interests or career had you reeling.

and of course, he liked when you kissed roughly so you were a rough kisser, even though sunoo liked it gentle.

you don't even look at sunoo the way you look at him.

when you said "i miss you," sunoo could tell that you didn't mean it.

you didn't miss sunoo, you missed him. you just missed the attention that sunoo gave you.

he knew who you pretended he was.

but all he could do was look into your eyes, and be reminded of a tragedy: that while you couldn't love him back, he loved you.

"i missed you, too," he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat, swallowing his dignity.

jungwon ☆

"if you need to be mean, be mean to me" — i don't smoke, mitski

to be vulnerable, to be at someone's mercy, to be someone's lamb for the slaughter, was jungwon's biggest fear. he'd die before he'd let someone take advantage of his weakness.

yet as you slipped out of his grip, your once loving eyes turning cold as hands that once held him in your arms became the hands that striked him, all he could do was sit back and take it.

words like daggers into his back, slashing him over and over like he was a sacrificial lamb for a god that could not save him. hot tears would line as eyes as you raised your knife at him, sending shivers down his spine that made him cower into his skin, chanting apologies like they were prayers.

jungwon should run. after all, that was all he spent his life doing.

but how could he escape you when you kissed his tear-stained face? how could he leave you, for when your anger simmered down you cradled his cheek, whispering that you loved him?

it hurt, it hurt so bad.

but if you must destroy him, if you must slaughter him until your killing floor was covered in blood, if you must cut him up into little pieces for your own pleasure, so be it.

he'd follow you into the slaughterhouse, knowing full well that the darkness was the last thing he'd ever see, and jungwon would close his eyes and thank the person that crafted your blade anyway.

you can kiss him, you can hold him close, or you can strike him, you can treat him like an animal. he wouldn't care. it would be the same either way; he'd be glad that it was you.

for he was your lamb, and you were his butcher; for if you needed to be mean, be mean to him.

riki ☆

"even though she isn’t even really gone, but things are just different ever since she cut her blue hair off" — blue hair, tv girl

of course riki noticed. how could he not?

all those bored looks when he was talking, aimless nods when he asked you a question, and loveless kisses that you pressed against his skin. it took you hours to respond to his texts and calls, and when you did, you responded curtly. you stopped coming home, always having plans on weekends with no time for him.

riki didn't know what happened.

he thought that you and him had such a great relationship, filled with love and laughter.

but somewhere along the way, you seemed to lose interest in him.

he asked all your friends, but they said nothing changed about your behavior.

did riki do something wrong? did he make you angry? all questions that he'd never find the answer to.

the silence was piercing, ringing in his ears. he'd just asked you how your day was, and all he got back was a simple, vacant stare, before you turned back to your phone, scrolling mindlessly. his heart sunk so his stomach, brows crashing together.

had riki lost you? all he wanted was for you to look at him, for you to acknowledge him. was he being dramatic?

please, riki begged. please look at me, please see me, please love me.

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crystalandbow · 25 days

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PICK A PILE🤍

CALL OUT EDITION

Pile 1 is beach, pile 2 is garden, pile 3 is swans. Take the reading with a grain of salt and only take what resonates 🤍

If you liked the reading, lmk! & Follow for more

Hello pile 1👋🏻

Or should I say hello my mama bears

lol anyways let's begin!!!

The cards that you got: 2 of swords, ace of coins, the emperor and the ace of cups.

Okie so The 2 of swords really sums it up for y'all, the others cards just confirm it more. like you guys are torn between 2 options/paths/things/ whatever. Making a decision is important because It seems like this has been on your mind for some time and is bugging you ? Taking up all your mental energy/stamina. *like a vampire/jk* most of y'all already know which path you want to choose but for some reason you haven't locked in your answers is what I am feeling. And now it's time to make a decision! It might be that you are afraid for some reason, you have this fear of what if things go wrong or something like that or it might be that you are unable to make a decision because both options seem equally tempting.

I think you can choose any path because they will have decent results. The advice or call-out message is that whatever you chose to do for your situation, stick with it. Its not about the options it's about you! The reason why I called you guys mama bear is because that is how you should deal with your current situation. Chose whichever path you want, fight or flight. But stick with it! Know that what you did was absolutely okay!! You have to embody the emperor's energy (of being bold and authoritative, because it is your life, do not fall for anything that doesn't feel right )

The ace of cups tells me that you guys should make a decision using your heart ( feelings & intuition) because afterall you know what's best for you! follow your intuition/gut feeling, don't be afraid of anything YOU ARE THE EMPEROR & YOU'VE GOT IT !

Keywords: stability, bravery & action. Facing fears/oppositions, gut feeling

Ig thats it, lmk how I did and only take what resonates 🤍 have a good day/evening/night

Hello pile 2 👋🏻

Cards you got: 3 of cups, death, 2 of cups & 9 of cups

I'm getting the word "love potion" for guys, I mean we do have alot of cups *the 2,3 and nine of cups* woah! That's alot of emotions. I'm also getting the word "self acceptance" all the cards are so positive but it doesn't feel that good? Something feels heavy? And a Lil stressful yk? I think the message for you guys is opening up yourself.

Y'all might have the habit of guarding yourself, but many times sometimes you just end up over doing it, leaving you feeling sad? Y'all feel that you are different from others in a sad way and that you have to put up this "fake" self to fit in. You try to be like others / everybody around you in public and this needs to change, atleast your mindset that people won't accept you for who you are. Change is needed! Stop blaming it on other exteranl reasons. Do you even know who you actually are? Do you accept yourself? Do you love/care about yourself? Do you prioritise your needs first? Its not always others, sometimes it's our fault that we let people treat us like that! The two of cups imagery is giving me mirror energy, it looks like there's a mirror between the two peeps and they are actually the same person but also different at the same time like it's just their "other side" yk? How you view yourself, and how you let yourself be you truly. Love your inner child. Death talks about how you need to embrace all your different sides and be yourself, be unique & don't try very hard just to "fit in"

The nine of cups is here for advice and it talks about prioritising your needs first & putting yourself on the pedestal! Whether it be in romantic relationships or platonic or any relationship

Call-out message: DONT BE AFRAID TO BE YOURSELF let yourself be! Accept love, prioritise your emotional needs first!!!

Ig thats it, lmk how I did and only take what resonates 🤍 have a good day/evening/night

Hello pile 3 👋🏻

Cards you got: the strength, justice, devil & the star.

Surprisingly all major arcanas😭I really wanna know what's going on with y'all. Like what MAJOR shit is going on lmao

Anyways here's my interpretation for you guys: you guys are working hard towards some goals of yours. I'm getting the vibes that the world told you what you think or thought once upon time is unrealistic and unachieveable but to you it feels like "inner- calling". you have started working towards it and might have achieved/ overcome certain milestones and mini achievements that you should be proud about and if not then you should know that they hard work that you have put in WILL workout and you will gain the fruits for you dedication. One thing you should possibly avoid is arrogance and / or greed attachments will be different for everybody, basically avoid the temptations of the devil. Don't believe you're at the top of the world and for some it's not getting overly obsessed with results,etc. Everything will workout at the right time. The justice card over here is likely talking about getting your results. Call-out message for y'all could be to choose the path of hard work & patience instead of shortcuts and unfair means. The star card is asking you to stay optimistic regarding your work to know that it will all be worth it, you will get your answers and result just keep working hard and have pure intentions

So yeah basically, just on the right track, keeping working hard, don't fall for temptations like shortcuts, procrastination, unfair means,etc be patient and you will be good to go

Ig thats it, lmk how I did and only take what resonates 🤍 have a good day/evening/night

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strwbrryeyes · 23 days

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𖦹°｡⋆ haikyuu boys as my breakup playlist pt.3

⟡ featuring: hinata, semi, iwaizumi, kenma

⟡ cw: angst, mentions of cheating, heart broken hinata my baby, these also might be longer than the last two whoops. also can you tell i was angry while writing kenma's? ps thank you for 200 followers mwah<3

⟡ an: its that time again (waterparks ((fandom)) edition bc im obsessed)

⟡ part one, part two

⟡ hinata shoyo: never bloom again - waterparks

You and Hinata dated for four years from your first year of high school to your first year of university. Honestly, it could have been a lifelong relationship if it weren’t for Brazil. Hinata told you he was leaving the week after graduation. After telling you, you cried and yelled at him, pounding at his chest while crying ‘how could you do this to me?’ in between sobs but after a while, you had calmed down and you agreed to try a long distance relationship. Hinata visited you whenever he could, holidays, your birthdays, any reason to see you but it wasn’t enough for you. Hinata would always be everything to you but you couldn’t bear the fact that he was so far away, and sure you both called and texted each other but the time difference between Brazil and Japan made it difficult and Hinata could see it in your eyes whenever he visited, whenever you sent him a picture of yourself, whenever you facetimed…you were tired. It got to the point where you would cry yourself to sleep almost every night because you missed him and just wanted to be by his side, so with so much hesitation, you called him one night and told Hinata you couldn’t do this anymore. You needed him, not his texts, not his calls, no matter how much you loved them, you needed him physically there with you. Hinata protested and said that he wold move back to Japan for you but you couldn’t let him do that, you knew how important it was for him to be in Brazil to better his volleyball skills, so he finally gave in and you broke up after a year of long distance. Another year later, Hinata moved back to Japan after two years of being in Brazil, meaning he could see you again, he hoped so at least. Hinata didn’t know what you’ve been up to as you broke off communication with each other after the break up to avoid the pain of being in eachother’s lives. Hinata had his hopes up and was telling Yachi and Yamaguchi his plan to win you back but quickly had them crushed when they told him you had moved to Europe to finish university so you could start a new life. You didn’t want to be in Japan anymore, stuck with all the memories the both of you had made. It was too painful. Now it was Hinata’s turn. He was surrounded by the memories, everything reminded him of you, every now and then he’d see someone from across the street and see your face only for it to not be you, just some stranger. Hinata was never the same, even if he seemed happy and well, he was breaking inside constantly like he would never be truly happy again.

⟡ eita semi: worst - waterparks

You and Semi have been dating since middle school, practically inseparable. you and Semi were both in your 20s now and life has not stopped a single bit. The both of you were currently in the music industry, with Semi and his band being one of the biggest groups rising to stardom in the world and with you being a songwriter. You’ve always been a behind-the-scenes type person so you never really went out to parties or to big events. Semi, however, was a social person…at least on the party scene. It was a chance for him to let loose and not let worries get in his way, and who are you to take that away from him? The trust you and Semi had for eachother was strong, after all, you guys have been dating for years so why wouldn’t you? With this being the case, you never had any doubt about him going on tour without you. You still had other clients to write for so you couldn’t go with him but you never once worried about what he would do. That was until you were hanging out with your friends, Tendou and Ushijima, and they mentioned how Semi seemed different, that he seemed more careless and emotionless. You assured them that there was nothing different about him but when you went home that night you kept thinking about everything and looked back at how life has been since Semi has gained fame…he hadn’t changed. No. He was still the same Semi you fell in love with all those years ago. Sure he had questionable friends that made you uncomfortable, but he wasn’t like them, he always had girls lining up for a chance with him but he never gave them a chance…at least you think so. Regardless, you’re sure everything was fine and plus you were going to surprise him at his show in Tokyo! Any worry that you have will be wiped away when you see him all you had to do was wait. So you did. The day of the Tokyo show finally came up and you were standing at his dressing room doorway with tears in your eyes as you look at the sight in front of you- Semi and some random girl all over each other. Semi knew you were there, but he didn’t even care, all he did was give you a side glance before going back to the other girl. After that, you went home and changed all of the locks, removed all the pictures of him, blocked him on everything, and wrote a song that was sure to ruin his reputation out of anger, but even after all of that, you were still stuck with a giant hole in your heart and you don’t think it could ever be filled.

⟡ iwaizumi hajime: i felt younger when we met - waterparks

It all started four years ago when Iwaizumi moved to California for college. You both had known each other for 2 years prior to graduating and it was pretty obvious to other people that you two had a thing for each other but it wasn’t until after he had moved that either of you said something. Iwaizumi was the first to say he liked you, infact he said he loved you. It didn’t take long for your young and dumb self to transfer to where he was studying. You were both in love and naive so neither of you really thought about this big change in depth. The first two years of your relationship were perfect, you both got good grades, you had moved into a small apartment together, and you were both happy, you really couldn’t ask for more. Even though you and Iwaizumi were living the ideal love life, everyone else in your lives thought you guys rushed into things. The two of you weren’t even that close to begin with, you were just classmates in high school who had kiddie crushes on each other. It really all came down to the honeymoon phase, nothing was ever wrong and you never argued. It wasn’t until your third year of dating that you both realized that your life goals were very different from each other and this of course caused a ripple in your relationship. Wanting to be supportive of each other and your dreams, you set your goals aside for now and planned to come up with a compromise when the time called for it. Things were kind of back to normal until you both started learning more about one another. Bad habits you each had, sense of humor you didn’t share, different views, really whatever you could think of you both would disagree with one another and you were starting to get on eachother’s nerves. Iwaizumi reached the end of his rope quicker than you did. He ended things in the middle of a heated argument of something you can’t even remember because the only thing you were worried about at that moment was him packing up all of his things and walking out that apartment door but at the same time, you didn’t care. You had officially fallen out of love with him even though you never thought you could. Now whenever you think of him, all you could think about was how you uprooted your life for him. You moved across the world and for what? Nothing but anger and disgust filled you whenever you thought of all the moments you shared with him. To think of how different everything could have been if you two had just taken your time and not rushed into the relationship.

⟡ kozume kenma: easy to hate you - waterparks

Honestly, Kenma got on your nerves quite often. It was nothing you weren’t used to though because it was always simple things like him not doing the dishes whenever he was done eating or him spending too much time playing video games. Your annoyance never came from anything serious, just simple relationship stuff. When his streaming career started taking off, you never really bothered him to do anything around your shared house. It was only fair since it generated enough income for you to quit your part time job as a waitress and focus on school more. This doesn’t mean that it still didn’t annoy you that Kenma would seemingly spend more time playing video games than spending time with you whenever you had free time. Sometimes he would invite you onto stream so you two could ‘bond’ but it never felt right, to you it felt like you were more of a prop for his audience, like he would spend time with you only because his fansloved watching the two of you interact. Still, you brushed it off because it was still nice to be able to make him laugh whenever you did something silly in a game or said something funny. It also didn’t hurt that sometimes he would get all lovey dovey on camera making you swoon, even if it did feel fake at times. In the end, you thought it was the best you and Kenma could do considering the circumstances, you being in college and streaming being Kenma’s full time job. Kenma had promised you that once you winter break started, that he would put a hold on streaming so the both of you could spend time together and it excited you so it was only natural that you were pissed off when winter break finally came and Kenma said that he had sponsorships to deal with on stream. He said it isn’t something that could be helped but you snapped back saying that he could have scheduled these sponsored streams during any other time. Kenma didn’t care about what you said and just stayed in his streaming room for most of the two weeks. You started to ease a bit though once he started streaming for shorter amounts of times and spent more time with you during the day. You were finally happy with your relationship after who knows how long but then he decided that you being on a break from school would be the perfect time to do a 48 hour subathon. All you wanted was to spend time with your boyfriend but instead he just used you to gain more viewers. Again. Still, you agreed to do it agreeing that it would be fun but really yo had a plan. Three hours into the stream you said you have an announcement and everyone, including Kenma thought it would be something happy and big, but really, you were about to publicly dump him. After your little speech on how selfish Kenma actually was, you called one of your best friends to come pick you up and told Kenma that you would be back for your stuff the next day. You were finally free from the one-sided relationship you should have left sooner but now Kenma was rethinking all his choices as he scrolls through tweets talking about the breakup stream. At least it made him go viral.

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 4 months

Text

krisis wiping away your tears

i wrote a shitpost fanfic in the gc about how i put my sani pape in the microwave and somehow what was what kickstarted the urge to write as opposed to. yknow. the hour of writing and editing i did before the microwave

tags: hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader, established relationship, reader is crying for unspecified reasons

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🧻 Vezalius Bandage

uses a handkerchief or tissue to dry your tears

a medic handles with care, just as how he gently presses the cloth to your eyes

it kills him to watch you cry alone, so he takes your hand and guides you to his lap where he can give you all his undivided attention

rubs your arm while you hiccup, and places a hand on his chest so you can calm down to the feeling of his heartbeat

when you aren’t in the mindset to vent or hear him talk, he’ll hum to you. especially if you’re so tired you’re about to cry yourself to sleep

once you’ve cried it out he insists on getting you some water, a snack, and a shower (or change of clothes) to make sure the basic post-cry needs are met

“love. when i say i care for you, i mean it. i want to hear everything you have to say no matter what, and i’ll never, ever get upset at you for it.” it looks like zali’s eyes are closed, but from where your head rests in his lap, you see a hint of gold peer through his lashes. a surgeon’s hand brushes underneath your own eyes, patting away the tears. “so let me take care of you for now. breathe in and out.”

your body feels heavy from exhaustion and emotion. you curl up closer to him as you breathe. “tired, love?” when there’s no response but a nod he rubs your shoulder and clears his throat. the melodies of your favorite songs lull your to sleep.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🔪 Vantacrow Bringer

lets you get his shirt dirty without hesitation

drops everything to stay by your side when he realizes you’re this upset

he wraps you into a bear hug the second you start tearing up. he’s not great with words and he’s scared of saying the wrong thing, but actions don’t lie

he’s not gonna break the hug any time soon while you cry, but he traces shapes along your skin and strokes you hair as he holds you

he knows you’re always doing your best and supports it, and if you did anything wrong, he’ll let you know once you’re in a state to hear it, not now when you need comfort

it’s hard to hear what vanta’s saying. it’s hard to hear your sniffles, too; it’s all muffled by fabric crinkling and the sound of vanta combing back your hair as you sob, careful not to let it get caught in your mess of tears and snot. his throat vibrates against your ear while he speaks.

“no one in their right mind would say you’re overreacting.” that’s the first thing you can decipher, and the only thing you need to hear. “no matter what. and i’ll remind you any day of the week that you’re doing fine no matter how you handle it.”

your sobs are interrupted by a squeeze as vanta holds you closer. reassurance that you’re his world even if you did everything wrong. “let it all out. i’ll be here every second.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🥽 Yu Q. Wilson

holds your face in his hands so he can thumb the tears away

the best thing he can do right now is let you talk, and be the one willing to listen

if your thoughts are too scrambled to explain why you’re upset then he’ll gather any comfort items you need. snacks, stuffed animals, physical contact, anything

he lets you get it all out first before he even thinks of saying anything since he doesn’t want to cut you off. instead a lot of his responses are nonverbal. he nods and squeezes your hand when you need encouragement

your breath is haggard by the time you finish spilling your guts. the storm of choked sobs has passed but now emptiness has taken its place, a hollow, dreadful feeling lodged in your throat as you hiccup. the only warmth you can feel is wilson’s jacket over your shoulders and his hand in yours.

his eyes have been closed for a while as he took in your feelings. it’s unusual seeing him so composed, but right now? it’s a welcome sight when the world feels like it’s crashing around you.

when wilson opens them again he holds you a little tighter. “thank you for trusting me,” he says slowly. “i’m not going to forget it, and i’m not going to ignore it either.

“but you don’t need to be tough all the time.” with his free hand he reaches out. his palm cups your cheek as a thumb curls around your tears, gently wiping them away. the corner of his lips curves up as he tends to you. “it’s going to work out in the end.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#vezalius bandage #vezalius bandage x reader #vantacrow bringer #vantacrow bringer x reader #yu q. wilson #yu q. wilson x reader #krisis x reader #krisis #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #4402 writes

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guyfieriii · 11 months

Text

Get Us Strung

We're back to our regularly scheduled programming with another angst-y piece. Inspired by the song Dirty Love by Mt. Joy comes the tale of John Price and his best friend. My apologies if it seems a bit disconnected, it was originally much larger but I decided to scrap a lot of it (See? I can be nice sometimes.), but I tried my best. Also, this was edited on pure audaciousness, a bottle of wine, and a pitcher of margaritas. Do with that what you will.

Lastly, the biggest thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck for once again tolerating me bombarding her with snippets galore and supporting me as she always does.

(Can we consider this as a somewhat happy ending? My original one was A LOT worse.)

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Warnings: Explicit Sexual Scenes and a gallon of pain :)

Nostalgia is a cruel consonance of sentimentality and longing. A honeyed trap you could easily get caught in if you aren’t careful.

You weren’t.

All it took was one precarious step forth into its birdlime confines and you’re stuck, forever adhered to moments gone by. Try as you might to break free, to rid yourself of the persistent fog that looms and live in the present — you’re simply unable. The struggle of it brands ropes into your skin. A chemical burn that scabs eventually, but it leaves you debilitated of every ounce of strength you have to leave.

With time, you make do.

You adjust to the circumstances you’ve found yourself in. It’s easy enough — to simply give in. It’s like the call of a warm bed on a cold winter morning. The arms of a man you love held open in an invitation. It’s the perfect balm to your stinging disappointments and embittered thoughts.

Witness, reminisce — rinse and repeat.

A moment here. An admission of love there, just not the right kind. Not enough to keep you satisfied, just enough you keep you—

There. Still. Stuck in time. Recycling the same out-of-date echoes through your trench of despondency till they fossilize.

It’s his eyes that do you in, really. Lapis set in moonstone white reminding you of the ebb and flow of deep ocean currents that gently coax you inwards to drift among the waves.

They were the first thing you noticed about him.

A skinny kneed boy of eleven, head full of bistre-brown hair, and the bluest eyes you ever saw that suddenly wanted to be your friend. He was loud and brutish in contrast with your more reluctant and constrained demeanour and yet—

He was your best friend. Your first. Your only.

Is your best friend.

Five years later, he left to join the infantry.

He departed, eager to prove his worth. While you stayed back with a poor facsimile of a supportive smile as he promised his eventual return.

I’ll be back on leave before you know it.

But—

I’ll be back.

And I’ll be here.

You clung to him when he told you he was enlisting, fingers curling into the sleeves his Fleetwood Mac t-shirt — a gift from you for his fifteenth. He’d asked if you wanted to keep it, as a reminder of him.

Wouldn’t need to if you just stayed, Johnny.

In the fortnight leading up to his departure, you prayed for a last-minute change of his mind. Maybe the realization that he couldn’t stay without you would finally come to the surface.

It had to. Eventually.

You couldn’t bear the thought of walking up the morning after he left, just missing a part of you. Feeling a crater right in the middle of your chest grow wider and deeper as the distance between you and him extended.

But as the days counted down, his excitement grew nearly as fast as your despair.

It began with you pulling out all the stops, reminding him of the comforts of home, of you. To him, it was only the perfect gift farewell.

It wasn’t until just the day before that you decided to take the cheap shot and just beg.

Don’t leave. Just— please just stay, okay? You don’t have to go. You don’t have to leave me— please, Johnny. I can’t—

He stood at an arm’s length and listened to you in silence, watched you scrounge every ounce of emotional ammunition you could, until your voice ran hoarse, and your tears ran dry.

The pained expression that your outburst gradually chiseled onto his face left you shamelessly hopeful, and you took a step forward to close the distance between you and him.

He wordlessly took a step back.

The time slowed, and the seconds hemorrhaged until he finally spoke.

All he responded with was—

I have to.

You saw him standing out on my pavement by your house the next morning, walking across the same yard over and over. He’d glance upward at your window every now and then in such excruciating hope that you might grace him with something as simple as a wave goodbye.

But you didn’t. You simply stood there, watching from the shadows, trying to find some relief in tears shed, but you came up dry.

And he left.

When he returned, he came as Private Johnathan Price.

Nearly half a foot taller since you saw him last. Mostly the same in disposition if only a bit more self-assured.

In the 18 months of his absence, all you had was a shoebox full of unopened letters and that chasm left behind that grew deeper, still. Every week, unquestioningly, there’d be an envelope addressed to you. And every week, you’d hold it with measured trepidation and excitement. The first one brought you relief to know that you hadn’t lost him in your near ruinous parting of ways. But as you felt the weight of it in your hands, your fingers prudently tracing the ink, you couldn’t bring yourself to read what lay inside. It felt it would be ripping the bandaging off of a wound that had barely begun to heal.

So, you kept it aside.

18 months. 72 weeks. Every corresponding letter that followed underwent the same approach. You held them, appreciated them for their infallible arrival, and locked them away with repentance as the pile grew.

The letter that followed, came hand-delivered.

“You could have written back at least once, y’know.” He says with a smile.

“I’m—”

Sorry, Johnny. Forgive me. Forgive me. Please—

Your ensuing apology dies at your lips, and you nearly suffocate under the weight of it until—

“It’s okay.” He promises.

“It’s not.” You assert back.

His gaze softens and he tries again. “Hurt ya when I left, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“So, it’s okay.”

He means to placate. You know this and an infinitesimal part of you appreciates it. But what takes more prominence is one blazing question left behind.

It blisters and leaves behind the blackened soot of your unmatched expectations. A skeletal impression of his well intended albeit anticlimactic confession.

All you’re left wondering is—

Why didn’t it hurt you to leave me, too?

You met him in London to celebrate your collective 21st birthdays some time halfway in between them.

It took some coordination, between your school and his training in Sandhurst. He never told you — said he wanted to keep you detached from that part of his life.

How’re the— I don’t know what to ask, John. You never tell me anything.

I tell you plenty.

He does well— his mother informed you as much. But the details remained vacant. You try to fill in the blanks, hazard a guess — a poor approximation of the real thing, you’re certain.

It wasn’t something you liked, but never fought him on it. It felt as though your paths diverged at too steep of an angle and you were the only one trying to get them to realign. He seemed content in this compartmentalization, while you worried your margin in it would grow smaller still.

The disconnect it created left you unsettled. Like a trail down the woods that suddenly ends midway. You’re disoriented and unanchored, forever caught in an abridged narrative with his part missing.

But you couldn’t keep waiting around—

Something you tell yourself to make it better.

“Didn’t bring him with you, then?” He slides a glass of ale across the table to you, the bottom of it catching on the adherent buildup of many a spilled drink, causing the foam at the top to dribble over.

“You asked me not to, John.” You mutter, indignant.

You wouldn’t have asked to begin with, but for appearances sake—

“Didn’t want to have to share you with some other bloke, is all.” His self-satisfied grin tells you he sees right through it.

The implications that simmered beneath that statement cut through you instantly.

He didn’t want to have to share.

What would happen if you told him that it was never even brought to question? That you were his, and his alone.

Would he make it come true?

Would he—

“I’d like for you to meet him eventually, y’know.” You opted for a safer route. Something more dependable. Everything John isn’t.

That’s a lie. He’s nothing but.

“If he stays around long enough.”

“Johnny.” You snap, irritably.

“Been a while since you called me that.” He murmurs, his grin slipping into something less presumptuous and more unshielded. Vulnerable.

“We’re not kids anymore.” You turn your gaze downward, nails digging into the chipping laminate on the cheap bar top until he flicks the side of your palm to make you stop.

“No, we’re not.” It’s his tone that makes you look back up— hinting at some kind of unspoken understanding that you recognize right away.

Let’s not pretend, then.

It’s in the dimming obscurity of alcohol when it finally happens. With your dress hiked up over the curve of your ass, and panties pulled to the side — he fucked you in a rush, outside in the cold fall air. The grain of the brick wall scratched your cheek with every thrust he buried himself in you. His ale-laden breath at the cusp of your ear, his hands cupping your breasts, squeezing — they were your only source of warmth.

“Fuckin’ hell, I’ve wanted to—” He confessed.

“So have I, Johnny.” You matched his revelation with your own.

But this wasn’t how it was supposed to—

You’ll take what you’re given. Even if it’s just this once, just tonight. A fleeting taste is better than the fantasy of him you’ve held on to.

He’s better than what you’ve had in the past. Better than what you’d thought he’d be like.

Or maybe, it’s just how well knows you.

He knows how deep you need to feel him, no matter if it hurts just a little. It’s the kind of hurt you enjoy.

How many women have you been with, John?

Does it matter?

Yes. No. Maybe?

It was you that crossed the line. A temerarious lapse in judgment, a flick of a wrist that knocked down an already precipitous house of cards when suddenly your lips descend upon his. He tastes of stale beer and the cigarette you bummed off an old man at the pub. With a grunt of surprise, he reciprocates, his tongue invading past your lips.

In a flash of somewhat sloppy adjustment, your back remained firmly pressed against the brick wall of the side of the pub, while his hands to the side of you effectively cage you in.

It’s not soon after that he takes the reins.

His mouth is everywhere — your lips, glossing over your jaw to the underside while he firmly grasps a fistful of your hair at the root, tilting your face upwards. He lays siege to the delicate column of your neck, armed with a stinging bite and the consolatory swipe of his tongue after.

John. Johnny.

The straps of your top hang loosely off your shoulders as he pulls the front of it down haphazardly to latch on to your nipple. You helplessly mewl beneath him, fingers trembling as they undo the buckle of his belt.

“Tell me to stop, love. Tell me, or I’ll—” He groans. Your hands sink in past the zipper to palm his erection. Warm. Solid.

“Please, don't.” You sink to your knees with the excitement, the need to taste him chafing at your rib cage with every beat of your heart.

“Fuck— fuck, okay. Just slow down—”

“John. Please.”

“I’ll make it good, yeah? For you. I will.” He swears.

I know you will.

You moved to Liverpool a year later. Something about staying in Hereford without him just kept you trapped in a state of inertia. Spending your time waiting more than anything else. It was time to move on.

Or try to, at any rate.

Humble beginnings for you — a modest apartment, a job that paid the bills and nothing else.

You settled into a routine — oscillating between work, home, and bisected friendships that you formed.

It’s not the same. It’s not the same.

It’s hard not to hold him somewhat accountable for your perpetual state of futility. There’s an essence of banality that follows you wherever you go. A life lived in half measures, mediocre and prosaic. It isn’t fair, and yet—

Why couldn’t you just stay, John?

It’s usually at night when the bitter tendrils of your regret slink up your limbs, like stalks of Golden Pothos, that collect around neck and squeeze.

A fire that kindles all too easily.

Can you even call it your own, when it’s caused by the choices of another?

It’s when you think back to that night in London, the weight of his cock in the palm of your hand— the way his eyes pinched shut and his head tilted back as you attempted to take him all the way in.

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” He’d asked in a choked groan.

Had the head of his cock not been pressed against the back of your throat you’d have answered with:

Upset you weren’t the one to teach me, aren’t you Johnny?

Whatever remnants of that night that weren’t washed away by the glassy comber of one drink too many, replayed themselves a hundred times over. Every reiteration leaves you breathless and wanting — the evidence of it clearly shining on the inside of your thighs and the tips of your fingers.

Until—

A knock.

“You moved.” His voice was weight down by many an unspoken accusation.

“I did.” There’s no point in an apology— he’s here now.

“You never said.” Anger. Hurt. Betrayal — all in coalescence that lacerates you so deeply, you might stain the walls blood red.

“I— Do you want to come in—?”

He walked across the threshold, brushing past your shoulder before you even finished inviting him in.

“You— it’s not much. I’ve only just—” You stumble your way through some kind of explanation as he sheds himself off his duffel and coat. Any reasoning you were able to muster trickles back down your throat as he makes himself comfortable on your sofa, the floral embellished cushion sinking under the weight of him like it’s his right to be.

“It’s nice.”

You’d have expected him to feel out of sorts in this new home of yours, but he finds his place in it so naturally it fucking stings.

It really could have been that easy— a life with him. It’s a dangerous thought experiment but you wonder if he also aches for that near miss of a surrogate life. A peripeteia of decisions that might have led you down a different path entirely.

“How long are you on leave this time?” It’s a jibe and he notices. There’s an unmistakable clench in his jaw, a steely look set in his eyes at your question like he’s willing you to challenge him.

You almost do.

Good of you to waltz by after a year, Johnny. I’ve been waiting.

You really have.

“Two weeks. If you’ll have me.”

You considered turning him away simply out of spite. A laughable thought, really. An egomaniacal deliberation you pretend to have.

You’d never—

“Aren’t you going home?”

Don’t say yes. Please, don’t say yes.

“Would’ve — yeah. But you moved.”

Fuck. Don’t—

“You make it sound like I’m the only reason you come back.”

The words decamp themselves from you without any realization. Subdued embers relight themselves. Veiled desires now unwrapped — a festering infection that itched beneath near-mended dermis now touching air simply because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

“Would— would it be so bad if I said yes?” He asks, wavering slightly in his footing only to gauge your reaction, and you pray you’re not giving anything away.

Yes. Yes, it fucking would, John. Because—

It means nothing in the scheme of its payoff. You don’t know what he expects, because to you his disclosure only exacerbates the acridity of his absence tenfold. It makes his eventual departure seem like a harsher slap to the face.

You could accuse him of pretense. Tell him how hollow it makes you feel.

Or simply—

“No. Of course not.” You lie with a smile, instead.

He believes you.

His parents pass within a year of each other. He attends both funerals in uniform — having only singular days granted to him in lieu of bereavement.

It might have been a personal choice in his father’s case, which happened to be the latter.

The first was an open casket, the second closed — both lowered into the ground while his hand firmly grasped yours.

And after—

On both days, he found himself buried in you, however in polar opposite ways.

It began gentle, with his need to be held and your need to oblige. You straddle him in the backseat of your busted-up Mondeo Estate, soaking in his silent grief as you whisper condolences. He finds his home in the crook of your neck, bedewed with the warmth of his breath and his tears.

He tastes of grief.

Regret, even.

Maybe, one day, you’ll tell him it didn’t have to be that way.

Imagine what we could’ve been, John.

Only seven months later, you find yourself in circumstances alike only in one solitary way. This time, it’s his anger that transcends the grief. You’re turned away, bent over the disjointed desk in the corner of his childhood bedroom. His fingers etching your skin in a mosaic of blue and purple, willing you to acquiesce to his baser instinct rather than envelop him in comfort. He fucked you, brutally — bare teeth, white knuckles. A lacquer of vitriol to coat you in. Only apologetic in the aftermath.

And—

He wouldn’t let you kiss him.

Change is a weight borne poorly by most relationships.

You try to blame the distance between his visits, and the fact that he always seems more worse for wear than the last. A chronic transformation with every visit, like rust on iron — sandstone shaded corrosion bleeding into his edges.

He tries to shed himself of it when he’s in your company but it’s ever-present, like a phantom limb. An undeniable extension of himself.

You tell him not to pretend.

Not with me, John.

You might as well be white noise.

What started out as concern he’d brush off with a ‘this isn’t something you need to be worrying about, love’ slowly evolved into disregard which concluded with blatant contempt.

This isn’t what I—

He stopped himself a moment too late.

“This isn’t what I came back for.”

“Glad we’re both disappointments to each other.”

Finally, some truth spilled out. It felt oddly cathartic, even if it meant having your worst fears confirmed.

He makes an implicit plea to retract what’s been said, undo the hurt caused, and return to your perpetual state of synthetic decorum. Two people who tip-toe around each other, chat about the weather, and when all redundancies are through and done with—

Let’s just leave it be. Dinner’s nearly—

He feasts on your cunt like a man starved.

It’s funny how rarely you consider the sheer probability of his safe return. Is it simply denial? Is he so deeply rooted within your being that imagining him not being there isn’t an ending you can enumerate?

To you, there is simply no finality to John Price. Forever seems like a paltry presumption to have in his line of work and yet, you can never imagine the alternative.

You’ve tried. You even asked him once.

Just once.

“You’ll be informed if— I — they know you’re my— you’ll be informed.” He spoke with such unambiguous apathy like he was reading it off a manual.

Ten different ways to prepare your loved ones for your eventual demise.

“I’ll be informed?” This isn’t the hill to die on, but you just can’t help yourself.

“I don’t know how else to—”

“I’m glad to know I’ll have the privileges of being your widow without you having to marry me, John.”

He recoils away like you just struck him.

It was an unscrupulous remark to make. Atonement is futile, he’d see right through it. All you can do is wait for the dust to settle and carry on.

But he��

“I’d marry you tomorrow if I thought it would fix things.”

It wouldn’t.

Some things are just predestined to remain broken, you suppose.

“I know you would.”

You find yourself at an impasse. Anyone pragmatic might think to cut their losses and retreat. Start anew.

That’s just not who you are.

You find other ways to meet each other halfway, on an equal plane of vulnerability and certitude. Nothing to hide behind in the arms of one another. There are shared breaths, harmonies of impassioned confessions and you find yourselves in the other once more.

You shed the pain you wear like a second skin, disrobed in ways both actual and metaphorical.

He’s kinder and you’re more forgiving.

He tells you it’s his last night with you for a while and you request your goodbye before the morning. You need something to remain unsoiled.

He leaves before you wake.

Sometimes, he leaves a note.

I’ll be back soon, darling.

Empty words. Hollow promises. An interminable echo in a cave that ripples in the subterranean waters you float in.

Except—

I’m doing the best I can.

And that’s enough.

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jobean12-blog · 11 months

Text

Along for the Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 1,855

Summary: You convince Joel to go to the state fair wtih you..he’s grumpy about it but he’ll do anything that makes you happy.

Author’s Note: This is for @the-slumberparty June Monthly Challenge-Summer vibes! My item is a popsicle and my setting is a festival/fair. Thank you so much to Navy and Roo for hosting! I have one planned in the same setting for Cowboy!Joel because one my friends are the best kind of support and two it was really too hard to pick between them haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️All dividers used are by my lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics

Warnings: lots of fun, fluff and flirting, soft and sweet moments, Joel is grumpy but he’s always perfect for you.

EDIT NOT MINE: Thank you so much to @pedritosdarling for making this amazing edit with my Biker!Joel in mind, it means so much! I LOVE IT! 😍

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Is it ok if we take my bike darlin’?”

“Of course,” you answer with a quick kiss. “You know I love riding with you…but showing up in your pickup truck would be more on par for the fair,” you giggle.

“Yeah, yeah. I still can’t believe you convinced me to go to this,” he grumbles.

“It didn’t take much,” you tease, batting your lashes.

“Well you had me in a compromising position when you asked. I wasn’t exactly thinking with my brain. I’m pretty sure I would have agreed to anything princess.”

He’s trying to suppress a smile but the more you hold his gaze the more his lips twitch upward.

“We’re going to have a great time,” you state as you pack your bag. “Besides, you never tell me no…no matter what position you’re in.”

You wiggle your shoulders haughtily before asking, “and what’s with calling me princess?”

He slides up behind you, pressing into your body so he has you caged along the counter, his arms on either side of you.

His lips brush the shell of your ear. “Mm you’re right, I never tell you no. Made me think of a princess…”

“And you’re my knight in shining armor,” you giggle, willing your body not to react to him.

Warm and soft lips trail down your neck before meeting your shoulder, his fingers pushing the strap of your dress down so he can continue his path of kisses.

“Thought I was your teddy bear…” he murmurs.

His beard tickles your skin, sending goosebumps running down your arm.

“Joel,” you breathe out, trembling in his hold. “Don’t you dare try to distract me. We are going to the fair.”

Your words come out breathy and much less assertive than you wanted and you feel him smile against your skin.

“Whatever you say princess.”

His other hand smooths down the curve of your waist and he turns you around to face him. His kisses continue to move down your neck, across your collarbone, and he traces the thin edge of the top of your dress, the barest of touches but it leaves a burning heat in its wake.

“Joel.”

It’s a warning but comes out more like a whine.

He takes your chin between his thick fingers and brings your eyes to his, kissing you softly before smiling.

“Ok darlin’. Come on. I’m gonna take you to the fair…”

His warm hand closes around yours and he starts to walk you to the door.

“I feel like there was a but at the end of that sentence,” you say, squeezing his fingers.

“Let’s just hope I can behave while we’re there.”

With a cheeky wink he escorts you out the door, handing you your helmet before throwing a long leg over his bike.

You practically skip toward the entrance, one of Joel’s hands in yours and his other stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans as you drag him nearer.

“Come on you!”

He takes too long strides and catches up, releasing your hand only to wrap it around your waist and tuck you into his side.

“What are we doin’ first?” he asks with a kiss to the top of your head.

As you approach the fairgrounds, the air is filled with anticipation and a buzz of excitement. Everything is colorful and vibrant from the bright lights and colorful banners to the lively music playing in the background.

You glance at Joel and notice as he takes it all in that he’s rubbing the back of his neck and looking sort of misplaced.

When he catches you staring he huffs lightly. “I stick out like a sore thumb.”

You do nothing to hide the way you blatantly check him out then grab the front of his tight tee shirt and drag his lips down to yours.

“Who cares,” you whisper when you pull away.

Your fingers sneak under the tight sleeves of his tee before sliding down over his biceps. He flexes and you hum appreciatively, pressing closer.

“Now who’s lookin’ to cause a distraction princess,” he growls.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip and you give him a demure smile.

As you move further onto the grounds, you’re immediately greeted by a plethora of sights and smells. Food stands line the pathways, enticing you with the delightful aroma of freshly cooked and fried treats.

“Somethin’ smells good,” he says, eyeing the ice cream and cotton candy stand.

“Let’s get something!” you cheer as you rush over.

After ordering two popsicles you head over to a picnic table in the shade.

“Do you want some?” you ask as the pop hovers near your mouth.

He keeps his eyes trained on you and waits, watching intensely as you press it to your lips, parting them then sucking it into your mouth.

“Mmmm so good.”

He sits on the bench of the table, his legs spread wide as you settle between them, still working the popsicle in and out of your mouth.

“Princess,” he warns, his eyes dark. “You better stop sucking on that pop like you wish it was my…”

“Joel Miller don’t you dare finish that sentence!” you admonish but make no move to stop the way you’re clearly deep throating your popsicle. “We are at the fair and there are children present.”

Without another word he grabs you around the waist and pulls you down onto his lap, his free hand landing on your bare thigh.

“I’m pretty sure no one would be surprised if I said what I wanted to say darlin’.”

“Yeah, yeah. Big tough guy…tattoos…leather…”

You press your cold lips to his scruffy cheek and then move to take another lick of your popsicle but he grabs your face and turns it so he can give you a proper kiss, parting your lips to taste the flavor on your tongue.

“You done working that popsicle yet?” he asks, brushing his lips lightly along yours.

You push it back into your mouth then pop it out again. “Nope!”

He shifts you on his lap so you can feel how your popsicle eating antics are affecting him.

With a squeak you wiggle your butt and he quickly tightens his hold on your waist to stop you.

“And I thought I was the one who was going to be the problem today,” he simpers.

You shrug like it’s nothing, still sucking on your popsicle.

“Ok, I’m done,” you say, when there’s nothing left but the wooden stick. “Let’s go find a game where you can win me a stuffed animal.”

You hop off his lap and tug on his hand.

“Just gimme a minute princess.”

You giggle and go to sit back down but he blocks you.

“Darlin’,” he grumbles. “That won’t help any.”

When you discover the games you’re eager to find one in particular and you pull Joel along, pointing out all the cute stuffed animals he can win for you.

“There it is!” you shout.

You rush over to the balloon dart game and try to keep your excitement at bay.

“You’re going to be so good at this,” you tell him. “You always beat the guys at darts at the bar!”

The guy working the booth gives Joel the once over before taking his money. You roll your eyes and press yourself into Joel’s side, giving the guy a mocking smile.

Joel lines up his shot and pulls his arm back to let the dart fly. It lands just above a red balloon. You don’t say anything and just wait as he takes the other two shots.

He misses them both.

“Fucking weighted darts,” he grumbles. “They make it so you can’t win this shit.”

His body is tense and his jaw is set in a hard line.

You hang on to his bicep and whisper in his ear, “one more time…for me? Please?”

He looks at you and his expression softens. “Just for you princess.”

He pays for another round of darts and readies himself again. The first two miss but on his last shot he hits a blue balloon and it explodes in a spray of water.

“Fuck yeah!” he cheers and you join in with a whoop of happiness.

“Which one do you want princess?” he asks as he pulls you in front of him and wraps you in his arms.

“THE BIG PINK UNICORN!” you say excitedly.

The guy at the booth pulls it down and hands it to you.

“What are you gonna name him,” Joel asks.

“Joel.”

He raises a bushy eyebrow. “Really princess.”

“Yep,” you reply, popping the p. “Really, really.”

“He can be best friends with the teddy bear you got me,” you explain as you run your fingers over your new unicorn.

Having Joel’s bike was the best idea, especially once it came time to catch the evening sunset before fireworks and the two of you are able to meander through the traffic and find a secluded spot on the grass.

You sit comfortably in his embrace, watching the sky transform into a canvas of vibrant colors, the hues of orange, pink and purple beginning to spread across the horizon.

“This is so beautiful,” you say in awe.

He grunts in response.

After a few moments you turn in his arms and snort.

“That’s all you got? Ungh.”

You mimic the noise he made.

He stares at you. “You’re so much more beautiful.”

You stare back and suddenly your eyes go wide and light up in realization.

“OH MY GOD, you’re still grumpy about losing the darts game!”

He looks offended. “I am not darlin’! And besides, I didn’t lose…I won you the unicorn didn’t I?”

You poke his hard chest. “You are so!” you tease. “And I mean it took you two tries…”

“Whatever you say princess,” he mutters, but you can see the corners of his lips turn up slightly.

“And his name is JOEL,” you add, unable to stop your laughter that bubbles up.

He kisses the smile right off your lips but you feel his own before he presses the palm of his hand to your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin, his eyes soft as he studies your face.

You reach up and lightly drag your fingers across his jaw then run your nose along the same path, your eyes closing as your lips meet in a soft kiss.

The sun descends, its rays illuminating the fairgrounds, casting long shadows and creating a beautiful interplay of light and dark. The rides, food stalls and exhibits start to twinkle, creating a background of sparkling rainbow lights against the deepening sky.

His hands move lower, curling around your waist and sliding you under him until you’re laying back on the blanket beneath him.

As his lips kiss a path down your neck his hand slides up along your inner thigh and he gently pushes your legs part.

“Joel, the fireworks are about to start,” you weakly protest, letting your legs fall open.

“Nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he murmurs, his hand gliding higher. “And besides, think I’ve behaved for long enough princess.”

@sstan-hoe @justkinsey @blackwidownat2814 @beccablogsthings @laineyreads @lorilane33 @littleseasiren

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #biker!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #biker!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #biker au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #navy and roo's sleepover

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viking-raider · 1 year

Text

The Golden Egg - Cotton Candy Fluff

Summary: It's Easter! So, you and Henry have an Easter Egg Hunt. One for Kal, then go head-to-head against each other, to see who can find their eggs the fastest.

But what happens, when Henry finds the Golden Egg, you left him.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Soft!Henry, Fluff, Kal, Short Person Joke, Competition, Easter, Competitive!Henry, Domestic Bliss, Instagraming, Surprise Ending

Inspiration: It's Easter. I wrote this in an hour. This video of Good.Boy.Ollie on instagram.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

“So, explain this to me again?” Henry laughed, folding his arms over his heaving chest, as he laughed.

“I wanna do an Easter Egg hunt for Kal.” You repeat to yourself, narrowing your eyes at your near hysterical boyfriend.

“The Bear doesn't get the concept of Easter, let alone an Easter Egg hunt, babe.” He howled, his curly head rolling back with its mirth.

“So!” You huffed, pouting at him. “I think it's cute. I also want us to do one. To see who can find the most. The fastest.”

Henry sobered up a tad at that. “All right, babe. You're on.” He smirked, cupping your face in his hands and gently kissing your forehead. “Which do you want to do first?”

“Kal.”

“Done.” He nodded, dropping his hands and looking over the colorful sea of plastic eggs and prizes to put inside of them, that you'd come home with a short time before. “You know, my fans would absolutely eat this all up.” He remarked to himself, biting the corner of his lip and thinking it over, then glanced at you.

“Can I film it?”

“If you want to, Puppy.” You replied, grabbing a four pack of jumbo eggs and ripped it open.

“Sweet, I'll be right back. While you figure out what you're doing--” He waved his hands over the cluttered dining table. “Here.” He chuckled, before rushing off.

Looking over the prizes, you picked out a cute dog toy. It was made of rubber and looked like a throwing stick. You had gotten it cause Kal was a beast of a chewer, when it came to his toys, and this one was supposed to be nearly indestructible. Fitting it inside the bright yellow, jumbo egg, you dropped a couple of Kal's favorite peanut butter and blueberry treats in with it, so he had something to sniff out, then closed it.

You had a reasonable amount of the eggs filled up for the hunts, when Henry finally came back into the dining room, kissing the back of your bent head.

“Everything is set up.” He informed you, casting his eyes over the booty. “You want some help?”

“That would be nice, thank you.” You replied, tilting your head back, smiling appreciatively at him.

“Is there a method to your madness?” He asked, pulling up a chair beside you.

“The eggs on the right are Kal's.” You motioned to the cluster. “I don't fancy getting a squeak toy or dog biscuits, during my hunt.”

Henry's face twisted and he shook his head. “No, I don't either.” He snorted, dropping some chocolates into the egg he grabbed.

“All right, here we go!” Henry exclaimed, grinning, as the two of you finished hiding the eggs, all while his phone recorded on a tripod, he planned on editing everything down later on. “Kal!” He called out and smiled, as the Bear came charging through the open slider and into the backyard.

“Are you ready to do your hunting?” He asked, bending over to scratch the Akita all over.

You and Henry had made sure to hide his eggs in, more or less, obvious places. But a couple had Kal working for them, like one small egg slipped between the braided fabric of his rope pull. Kal was slow at first, sniffing at the eggs, letting out little snorts as his nose picked up the scent of his treats inside of them. You were worried for a bit, that it was a flop. Making your heart sink. But when Kal found the stick toy, it was as if something magical sparked inside the Akita.

And he went wild.

Kal started zooming around the entire yard, diving into the manicured bushes and making them shake as he ran between them and the border fence. He rooted around the patio furniture, nearly knocking over Henry's big, green grill for a hot pink egg that was there; containing three different treats. He finally tackled the last egg, one of the jumbos, behind a large stone planter.

Bouncing around it so ecstatically, Henry couldn't take it from him to open and reveal what was inside.

“Kal.” Henry cracked up. “Let's see what Mama put in it for you, Bear!” He finally managed to swipe it away from the pup and crack it open, discovering the surprise. “Oh my god! Look, Kal!” He dissolved into a fresh fit of laughter, holding out a plush, taffy-pink, pig.

Kal bounced on his front paws, so he stood on his back legs and took the toy out of Henry's hand, finding the noise maker with his mighty jaws and causing the lightly stuffed pig to scream out a stream of oinks.

“Do you like it, Bear?” You giggled, grinning at him, relieved that Kal's egg hunt had ended so well.

“That pig is going to drive us bonkers, until he murders it.” Henry said, wiping tears from his bearded face.

“I know it is, but I couldn't help buying it.” You confessed, watching Kal go to town on the poor thing. “Look how cute it is, and he clearly loves it.”

“Right, well.” Henry sighed, composing himself. “Kal's hunt is over. Now, it's time for our Battle Egg-royal!” He proclaimed, a competitive expression coming over his face. “You're going first. So, go inside and I'll hide your eggs.”

“Very well.” You nodded, kissing his cheek.

“Mind yourself!” He called, as you headed inside with Kal. “No cheating!”

“I would never!” You huffed back at him, feigning insult.

Henry grabbed the basket of eggs he had made for you and got to work hiding them all over the backyard, pausing in front of camera for a moment, a cheeky look on his face, even though it wasn't live, he couldn't help it.

“No, watching my stream, babe!” He laughed, then went back to hiding the rest of his eggs.

Satisfied with where his eggs were, Henry opened the slider and called you back outside.

“I have the stopwatch pulled up on my mobile.” You said, handing it over to Henry.

“All right.” He nodded, taking it from you. “Ready. Set.”

He stood there for a moment and you stared at him.

“Henry!”

“Huh? Oh, right. GO!”

Rolling your eyes, you shot off the patio and started searching the area. Henry trailing after you. You found the first egg balanced on a stone column that a pot of flowers were situated on. Shaking it, you heard the egg-shaped chocolates inside. Henry held out your Easter basket, so you could store your found eggs and not worry about holding them or accidentally rediscovering them. You found a jumbo egg next, inside Henry's grill, which had you giggling.

“Oh, that's so cruel, Henry.” You huffed, finding your last three eggs lined up in a row, on top of the fence, out of your reach.

Henry smiled at you, triumphantly, his nose wrinkling cutely. “Hop, short stuff.”

“You'll pay for this later, Cavill.” You warned, narrowing your eyes at him and jumped for the eggs, just managing to grab them, without knocking them into the neighbor's yard on the other side.

“I doubt you can put anything out of my reach, Bean.” Henry quipped, winking at you, then glanced down at your phone. “Eighteen minutes.” He smiled, kissing your cheek. “Not a bad time, babe.”

“Thank you, now get your butt out of the yard!” You said, pointing towards the house.

“Yes, ma'am.” He nodded, obediently. “I'll take your basket inside with me.”

Biting your lip, you glanced around the yard and quickly got to work, trying to find the hardest places for him to find his eggs. Wanting payback for the shenanigans of those eggs on the fence. You even moved a few eggs a couple times, feeling like they were too easy to find, before you finally let Henry come back into the yard with you.

“It took you longer to hide them, than find them, sugar butt.” Henry commented, amused as he scanned the yard, trying to give himself a head start.

“I wasn't making it easy for you.” You said, setting up the stopwatch. “Ready. Steady. Go!” You barked, jumping up and down.

Henry quickly hurried off the patio, his first target was his grill. You had put an egg there for Kal and he had put one there for you. So, he had felt you'd follow that theme. But, alas, when he opened the hammered dome, he found it egg free. Eyes narrowing, he looked around and under it as well.

Still, no egg.

“Come on, Puppy.” You laughed, wickedly. “I said, I wasn't going to make it easy on you.”

“True.” He hummed back, shooting a narrow eyed look at you, before slowly scanning the yard again. “AH-HUH!” He exclaimed, spotting a small point of neon yellow under the hedge, that led towards the side of the house.

Making for the egg, Henry happened to catch the flicker of something out of the corner of his eye in the process and came to an abrupt stop. Turning towards it, he gently parted the flowers in the stone planter and reached inside, plucking out a pastel green egg. He held it up with a smirk, his blue eyes sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun.

“Two already!” He said, dropping the egg in his basket, and grabbed the other one.

From there, your strategy steadily went downhill. He found three more eggs within a span of a minute and five after that. You looked down at the stopwatch and felt your stomach clench. Henry's hunt was six minutes in and he had found almost all his eggs, leaving him on course to beat you.

“There you are, little bugger.” Henry grinned, finding the turquoise egg in the drain spout. “What's the time, love?” He asked, dropping it into the basket with the rest.

“Fifteen minutes.” You informed him, sighing.

Henry's arms shot up into the air. “Yes, I win!” He grinned, wiggling his muscular body in a victory dance.

“No.” You shook your head at him.

“What?” He frowned at you. “You found your last egg in eighteen minutes and I just found mine at fifteen, baby.” He explained to you, his arms falling back to his sides. “I beat you by three minutes.”

“But you missed one, Bear.” You told him, calmly.

“Where?” Henry snapped, blinking at you.

“Right there.” You said, pointing to a gold egg resting peacefully in the grass, at the edge of the paving stones, near his grill.

Henry's eyes narrowed at you. “What is this, babe?” He asked slowly, cocking his head at you. “There wasn't one there, when I started my egg hunt.”

“I don't know what to tell you.” You remarked, biting the inside of your cheek, fighting the twitching of your lips. “Perhaps you need glasses, old man.” You teased, as he crossed over to the egg. “Why don't you open it?” You suggested, once he had it in his hand.

“You do know it's Easter and not April Fool's day, don't you, honey?” He asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at you.

“Oh, I do.” You nodded, finally allowing yourself to smile at him.

Henry looked at his still recording phone. “If this thing blows up, you know who to blame, guys.” He quipped, popping open the plastic egg and found a folded piece of paper inside. “What, are you proposing to me?” He chuckled, saying it for shock value.

That was until he finished unfolding the paper and concentrated on what it was.

You move to stand before Henry, smiling up at him, while his mouth gently fell open and his eyes grew. “Happy Easter, Henry.” You cooed at him, resting your hands on his hips.

“Is this-” He gulped thickly, looking between you and the paper. “Is this—real?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, tearing up, seeing his blue eyes start to glisten and his breathing shutter as he became choked up, emotional. “I found out last week.” You explained to him, taking the sonogram from him. “So, I thought this would be the coolest way to tell you. To train you for future Easter egg hunts with the help of our four legged son.”

Henry caught you up in his arms and spun you around, his blue eyes blurred with tears of overwhelming happiness, while burying his face into your neck as he held you tight against his body. He sniffled into your neck and you hugged him tight, feeling content.

“Christ alive, I love you.” Henry cried, tears dripping down his bearded face, as he set you back down on your feet, then looked over at his phone, just then remembering it was recording. “We're pregnant!” He announced, beaming.

445 notes · View notes

saetoru · 2 years

Text

IMPRESSIONS — OIKAWA TOORU.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ oikawa + pussy jobs - you want to make a good impression when meeting your boyfriends family—too bad he’s adamant about you fixing his problem

♱ kinktober ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

♱ length ⋮ 1.6k words

♱ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, needy oikawa, fingering, pussy jobs, male masturbation, pet names (princess)

♱ notes ⋮ this is the last of the edited reposts of last year omg bear with me

oikawa tooru has never quite been known for backing down when he wants something, and you’ve been proven that time and time again. but still, you thought that he’d have exercised a little restraint at his childhood home—while you’re in front of his family, as you meet them for the first time.

truth be told, maybe you’re partly to blame for letting him drag you up to his bathroom in the first place, but you can’t help but cave when he subtly grinds his erection onto you from behind, the thin fabric of your dress and his pants the only thing that’s separating you from him. maybe you’re feeding bad habits, maybe you’re letting him off the hook—but maybe it’s not so bad…or so you reason.

“we’ll be back,” tooru grins to his family, placing a hand on your shoulder from behind you. you bite back a gasp when his hardened length prods against your ass as he leans in and presses against you. “just gonna give a quick house tour,” he claims.

no one even thinks twice, sending you both off with sweet smiles and short waves as your boyfriend turns you around to follow him towards the direction of his old bedroom. your wrist is clutched tightly in his hand, and he walks a little too fast for it to be a house tour—he skips three doors in his haste—but you doubt anyone notices anyway.

he has you pressed against the door of his bathroom the second it’s closed shut, lips hungrily devouring yours as his hips rut his hardened length against your thigh. moaning quietly, he bites lightly at your bottom lip, hands gripping your waist tightly while you let out a slight gasp.

“tooru are you crazy?” you hiss, trying to push his face away from yours to look him in the eyes. he has other ideas, however, and his lips are trailing hot, wet kisses down your jaw and onto your neck, sucking gently at the skin. fighting back a low moan, you grip his arm tightly.

“what’s so crazy about wanting my girlfriend,” he murmurs, smugness dripping through his words like the wetness already forming in between your legs. you send him a glare, and he offers you a playful pout.

“we’re in front of your whole family—”

“no, they’re in the living room,” he corrects, “and we’re in here.”

he’s always been a smartass, and you’ve always had half a mind to smack him upside the head, but your mind is a little hazed right now when his erection pokes your thigh like that, hot and heavy in his pants, ready to stretch you out as he splits you open.

you know you should end this now before it’s too late to pull away, you absolutely should end this if you want to make a good impression on his family—plane tickets from argentina to japan certainly aren’t cheap, and you don’t want this to be for nothing—but the way his thick girth, strained in its confinements, is now rubbing against your clothed clit has you forgetting all about his family across the house.

he’s irresistible—it’s not long until all you can think of is him—and you think he’s been counting on the way it’s so easy to persuade you.

“t-tooru, we really shouldn’t be doing this here—”

“please baby,” he whines into your neck, voice so needy, so desperate, you let out a shaky exhale. you both already know that you’ll be caving into his desires, it’s not hard to see that he’s got you right where he wants you. “please, i need you so bad,” he breathes shakily against the shell of your ear, pressing soft kisses there too.

and when he feels your hand finally reach forward and palm him through his pants lightly, eliciting a soft groan from him as he shudders, he knows he’s won you over this time around, and he couldn’t be more pleased with himself.

“you have a condom?” you gasp when his fingers travel up the bottom of your dress, moving your underwear to the side and rubbing circles onto your clit. two fingers just barely glide over your entrance, and you let out a needy whimper.

“no,” he grunts, “not on me.” hissing as his fingers sink into your folds and pump in and out of your cunt, you grip his hair, pulling lightly on the strands and making him moan quietly at the tugs of his roots.

“then get creative,” you huff, “‘m not walking around with a mess between my legs,” you say firmly. he pouts at you, but the glare you send him makes him shrivel with a whine, too needy to argue and risk you changing your mind altogether.

in a moment’s time, both your dress is hiked up and tooru’s pants are pulled down, leaving both of you bare to each other. it’s a risky ordeal, and his family is close, and you can only hope no one needs to use the bathroom any time soon—but none of it matters when he tugs you closer and you fell the cat tip tap against your clit.

“guess this’ll have to do,” he groans, cock sliding against the slick lips of your cunt, rubbing against your clit with each drag. you both moan in sync, and tooru’s head falls to press his forehead against yours, eyes closing at the sensation that tingles all the way down to the bottom of his spine from the friction.

his length is hard, pulsing and ready to release, aching to cum—and he wants so badly to sink deep into your walls and fuck his load into your heat, but he knows now’s not the time. whimpering when you feel his swollen tip rub against your clit, your hands tighten their clawed grip on his arms, a cry of his name falling past your lips no matter how hard you try to keep from making a sound.

“f-fuck, tooru,” you mewl, jerking your hips in rhythm to chase the friction of his member sliding against your pussy.

“s-so good,” he whines softly, digging his head into your neck, clutching your hips tightly when your hand runs through his hair. “needed th-this just as bad as bad as me, huh?” he smirks against your skin.

even despite shamelessly dragging you into the bathroom, lying to his family, and chasing an orgasm right here in the middle of introducing you to his loved ones, oikawa tooru still manages to flip the switch and be a cocky bastard. you think someone ought to humble him—but sadly, you find you’re not the perfect candidate for that job yourself. otherwise, you’d never let yourself get into something as compromising as this.

you can’t help but clench your walls, fluttering around absolutely nothing at the fact that he can be so smug. and you want to feel his length slam into you, to hit you right in the spot that drives you mad with his angled thrusts, the blunt head of his cock drilling against your sweet spot—but something about him just barely rubbing against your wet core makes your head spin with need, and the coil in your stomach tightens slowly, builds up in a steady ache, right on the verge of snapping.

“fuck, princess,” he grunts, “wanted to feel me just as bad, huh? is that why you’re so wet?”

he never fails to turn the tables, to let the pieces fall into his favor, to promise the ball drops in your court every time. maybe that’s what you love about tooru—or maybe it’s the way his lips press wet kisses along the column of your throat, sucking gently on your jaw.

“please—t-tooru, more,” you whimper, pulling a low chuckle from his throat.

“more? thought you said we couldn’t do that,” he coos, hissing as his slick-coated length glides along your folds, rubbing against him with enough to burn pleasure along his nerves, but falling just short to pool desperation in his voice. “god, i wish i could fuck you right now,” he huffs, voice cracking as he stifles a groan.

the ridge of his vein slides against your clit once, twice, a third time before somehow, even without his thick length splitting you apart, you’re cumming. your walls are clenching around nothing as they spasm through your high, your voice choked as you repeat his name like a mantra.

“tooru, t-tooru,” you repeat, crying out as you cling to him tightly. tears prick your eyes as the pleasure takes up what feels like every nerve of your body, your back arching from the door he has you pressed against.

tooru looks at your face, watches your expression crumble through your orgasm, and he groans—a bit too loudly, and you hope to god no one hears—quickly pulling his thick length away from you once you’ve ridden out your high. his hand fists his cock tightly, red and swollen and aching to cum, balls heavy and begging to release his cum in thick spurts. it’s nowhere near the wet, tight clench of your cunt, but you watch his expression break as he strokes himself a few more times, choking on a gasps and body stilling as he empties his load. you watch with hooded eyes as cum spills onto the tiles of his bathroom floor, coating his hand as he fucks himself through his high.

“ngh—sh-shit,” he rasps, and you watch in awe as tooru’s lips part with each cry he lets out, eyes screwed shut as his orgasm crashes over his body in waves. sweat covers his forehead and his hair clings to his skin, thighs quivering as he tries to keep himself standing upright through the devastation of his peak.

finally, with a few more thick ropes of cum, he catches himself against the door with his good hand, sweaty forehead pressing against yours as he pants and catches his breath with you. his cheeks are flushed red, and his lips are slightly swollen, but he looks utterly beautiful caging you against the door like this.

“you really are a piece of work,” you say breathlessly, shaking your head and running a hand through his messy locks, pushing them off his forehead. wriggling his brows, he steals a quick peck from your lips.

“i can’t wait till everyone goes to sleep so i can fuck you for real,” he chuckles, catching your hand when you go to smack his chest.

“i am not fucking you in your childhood bed,” you mutter, glaring at him. and when his eyes glint as he stares at you, lips spreading to a wider smirk, you gulp, glare faltering a little at his expression—he still has you right where he wants you, you realize.

“we’ll see baby,” he murmurs, “we’ll see.”

#[ tee’s kinktober 22 👻 ]#thirstee!#teepods.writings #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x you

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thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai · 4 months

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When did Viktor choreograph Stammi Vicino and did he commission the music?

There are some controversies regarding Viktor's free programme and I took the time to look at them in greater detail and pin them down to the likeliest explanation. (some of the things discussed in this post I've mentioned in a discussion I was involved in recently. The rest of this post builds on that.)

Disclaimer: Please note that this is an analysis of the source material. Popular headcanons that have no basis in canon cannot be part of this discussion. This is getting a bit academic. Please bear with me.

1. Did Viktor commission the music for Stammi Vicino?

In an interview, Mitsurou Kubo called the aria a piece of music that exists in the world of YOI, but when we subject the hints in the anime to a close examination, they contradict her statement, making you wonder which is true.

I mean, there’s this (sorry for the crappy screenshot)

Technically, the YOI creators might just have used footage of this programme because there was no time to animate Viktor skating an entirely different routine, but due to the tight time constraints of 12 episodes that forced the creators to condense the plot to 50% of its initial size, every scene and every image demanded to be filled with meaning. Speaking of time constraints, they could have used a series of pictures that show adult Viktor in different costumes (like those that had been drawn for Yuuri's room), but they didn't do that either, which rules out technical reasons for this choice.

But there’s more.

From a storytelling perspective, it makes no sense to combine these lines with a short scene of Viktor skating Stammi Vicino if it doesn’t apply to this programme. It’s bad storytelling, period. As Viktor’s fan, Yuuri knows which songs Viktor commissioned because skaters love to talk about these things in interviews. Being a skater himself, Yuuri is knowledgeable in all kinds of music genres even if he lets his coach pick the songs for him. Skaters just happen to be exposed to a lot of music.

This scene makes it seem as if Viktor has been commissioning music for his programmes for several seasons at least. While this doesn’t rule out the possibility that he occasionally picked a song that already exists for whichever reason, Stammi Vicino applies to Viktor’s situation at the beginning of the show so neatly that the lyrics must have been tailored to him. The commentator’s words while Viktor is skating his FS furthermore suggest that this programme shows a new and personal side of him. Of course, that could also work for a song that already exists, but how likely is it that such a song 100% matches the vision of a perfectionist? That a genius like Viktor would just roll with that is debatable at least. He’d rather think “Okay, that’s nice. But this verse and that verse don’t match my idea at all. I think I'll call my composer and ask them to write a song for me.”

Stammi Vicino holds unambiguous references to Plato’s Symposium, which the YOI creators have mentioned repeatedly. And while this is neither an argument for or against the song already existing before Viktor even thought about a free programme for the season in question, it seems too coincidental from a storytelling perspective.

To me, all this points to Viktor commissioning Stammi Vicino because taken all facts together, it’s what makes the most sense.

Side note: It’s not entirely uncommon for storytellers to contradict their creation. Sometimes, you forget details, remember them wrong, or didn’t think them through. Or your views simply change. In the case of YOI, we have to factor in the possibility that certain details had to be de-homoed due to protests from parts of the Japanese fandom. The rings that were removed from many official arts that were released during the first year after the show had aired are such an example. In addition, interviews are often heavily edited.

2. When did Viktor choreograph Stammi Vicino?

The first time we see Viktor wearing the Stammi Vicino costume, is right at the beginning of episode 1 at the GPF. While there is no rule against wearing the same costume for different programmes and costumes are expensive, you usually don’t see this in real figure skating. Some figure skaters even get a new costume for the same programme mid-season because matches the purpose better.

The music, the composition and choreography, and costume build the concept of a figure skating programme. The more perfectionist a skater is (and many top skaters actually are), the more specific you can bet they are about the concept. Viktor is a perfectionist who has full authority over his programmes and he can afford having several costumes per programme. Wearing the same costume for several programmes is a breach with his characterisation.

Let’s assume for one moment that Viktor did indeed create Stammi Vicino because of his encounter with Yuuri at the GPF in Sochi. Why would the creators have been so sloppy and put him into the same costume which he wears at Worlds when they even designed costumes the other two GPF winners JJ and Chris?

Does he wear the same costume because he met Yuuri there? Well, Yuuri approached him at the banquet at the end of the competition and only because he was drunk. Before, Yuuri was to awkward to even talk to Viktor and was, in all likelihood, too busy not freaking out, dealing with having bombed his performance, and Vicchan's death. To reflect Viktor's first actual meeting with Yuuri in a programme, thus choosing a costume that resembles the suit he wore that night would make way more sense.

Some skaters change their programme mid-season. Some switch back to an old programme, other skaters create an entirely new programme. Again, a skater like Viktor could afford this and is skilled enough to bend a new routine to his vision in time for the big competitions. (For reference: Russian Nationals are two weeks after the GPF, which leaves a skater competing in both events one week in between. That’s just enough to pitch the idea to his composer and commission a costume.)

Once Nationals are over and done, Viktor could start working on the new programme and show it at Europeans for the first time. That would leave him about one month to bring it to a level that will win him this competition. Yuuri would now have about two months to create a perfect copy. As he his busy graduating and preparing his move back to Japan, it’s debatable whether this is enough time. That’s the only reasonable timeline for such a scenario. However, since Viktor wore the costume before the banquet, this doesn’t seem likely and the show gives us no clear-cut clue why that could be and I’m loath to speculate wildly.

BUT: Viktor can't have created this programme after Sochi because Yuuri explains to Yuuko that he started practising the programme when the competitions ended [for him, the season itself is not yet over]. For Yuuri, the season ended at Japanese Nationals, which happen to be at the same weekend as Russian Nationals.

Long story short: Everything points to Viktor having created Stammi Vicino at the beginning of the season in which he wins his fifth GPF and world title, respectively. And there’s a beauty in this choice because it gives Viktor an agenda beyond his love interest. Well-crafted characters exist outside of their interactions and relationships with the other characters. Giving them things that belong to them alone adds more depth to their personality and turn them into individuals. Viktor had a life before Yuuri and this life was lonely and his (secret) longing for love was an inherent part of it (I’m preparing a follow-up post that examines the lyrics more closely, so forgive me for not going into the details here).

Especially in a show that is limited to 12 episodes and in which every image is filled with meaning, including details that hint at the characters’ past are beyond precious.

Thanks for reading! <3

If you enjoy my meta, please consider checking out my works on AO3 (link in bio)! My YOI canon works all include my meta musings.

#yuri on ice #yuri on ice meta #yoi #yoi meta #my yoi meta #viktor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #figure skating #anime #stammi vicino

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