#the dialogue sounds cheesy as fuck
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Anakin and Padme’s dialogue from Attack of the Clones reads like the English translation of a Bollywood or Tollywood script.
#star wars#starwars#like to all my desi star wars fans#you've seen the english subs for indian movies#you can't convince me that Anakin wouldn't say that stuff#anakin x padme#anakin skywalker#anakin#padme#padme amidala#anidala#sw prequels#sw#prequel trilogy#the dialogue sounds cheesy as fuck#but it has the feeling of being run through a translator#like the original would have sounded poetic as hell#fuck even the dialogue here wouldn't be as lambasted if Attack of the Clones was a book and not a movie
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this mf really can, without ever meeting you (since you can skip the town introductions now) show up on your doorstep exactly a year after you arrive with some kind of gigolo application. it’s entirely possible for this to be your first ever interaction with him.
#sorry i’m just cross checking his dialogue in every language because i’m insane#someone who knows french please help me i’m being bewitched by his french dialogue variants despite knowing no french#i am going to look so fucking stupid but i need to know him in every language. he’s my mr worldwide#i AM annoyed that they matched the english ‘bud’ thing by having him call you poto constantly#kind of hilarious that his speech quirk that sounds flirty in jp was rendered in every other language as him constantly friendzoning#even during the proposal#in jp it’s a second person pronoun that sounds patronizing and overly familiar but also comes off very flirty if used towards a girl#which is why natsume translated it ‘dude’ in awl and ‘babe’ in anwl#i wish they’d have just gone with babe regardless of gender it captures the cheesy outdated feeling#or ‘baby’#t the three gender… dude babe and bud
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just had a lot of fun trying to be vague while explaining the plot of the movie i went to see last night to the machine shop guy who is apparently more conservative than i thought. the movie i saw last night was bones and all.
#also official review: fucking gross but not as gross as i anticipated#the worst part of this movie was the shitty dialogue it was just BAD#like i went in being like ‘wild that this is a YA book actually’ and i left being like ‘oh yeah that was VERY YA’#bc genuinely the dialogue sounded like how the characters talk in tfios and and lee was giving some kinda pudge/augustus waters type vibe#like i didn’t hate it. but it could have just leaned in a different direction and been a lot better#also i need to read the book now bc if it gets an adapted screenplay nom i want to be able to complain from both sides#also to be clear: i live for cheesy YA coming of age type stories. this just didn’t hit the way i was expecting it to
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i love cassie sm but good lird i wish the directing for her voice actor + the dialogue was better<//3
#the wolfs howl#some of it ... good golly#some of it sounds cheesy as fuck and in a way that makes me want 2 repeat the dialogue in a mocking tone#yk what i mean??
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so idk if you’re taking requests, but i love how you write Luffy and his dialogue! if you want, i would love to see a sweeter side of luffy smut :,)
Luffy x Reader
maternity leave
Content Warning: afab!reader, smut, pregnancy kink, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pirate wench, should probably talk to HR
You had dozed off, woken by soft, trailing fingers. Over the months, your body had either given your torso enough room for your babe, or it was much smaller than you though his baby would turn out. Either way, you had been assured that you were growing at a normal rate.
Now though ...
Someone had laid a blanket over you, however your new baby bump was huge compared to what you last saw. Looking under the blanket showed the culprit.
You had always known Luffy had large hands, but when they encompassed your belly, you felt tiny despite the growth. He smiled now, leaning in and inhaling your skin as he nuzzled you.
"Luffy," you simply said, melting at the sight of him curled to you.
He grinned, broad enough to take all his face. "Shishi! I couldn't resist. You're so cute sleepin'."
You blushed, but tried to grumble. "I'd have liked to sleep longer."
He smiled, eyelids heavy as he hummed. "Sure ..."
With sudden realization, you sank back into your bed as he leaned in over you, the grin growing as he stirred you inside all over again. You sweated under his gaze. Those hands stroked your belly though, and you shifted with a hotter tint to your cheeks while he slipped his tongue over his lips.
"I can't sleep," Luffy whispered.
"I noticed." You shifted, dark as you spread your legs, but he only settled between your thighs, starting a slow grind against your core. He was already naked.
With a hiss, you arched to him - into his hands as he rubbed your baby bump. You blinked, going still when you realized just how hard he was against you.
"You're driving me crazy."
You bit your lip as he smoothed your pajama shirt up. You shivered while you helped him get it off, nipples already pricking for his touch, but he enveloped your belly again. "Luffy ...?"
"I wanna eat you up. There's so much more of you now." As he licked his lips again, you braced yourself for some cheesy lines, until he said, "But the more I eat of you, the hungrier I get."
With a hard swallow, you lit up. "Oh."
"I can't get enough of you anymore." Hot against your flesh, he stroked your belly as he leaned down to bow over it. Luffy kissed the topmost curve, and your heart fluttered. "But I'm starving, so I eat more. But then there's still more of you."
Luffy kissed down your belly, slipping your panties off on the way, and you moaned when he disappeared beneath the swell, only aware of the wet lips that traveled further to meet yours. He parted your labia with his fingers, revealing you to the cooler air before he licked your clit. When you gasped and pressed to his face, his answer was to thrust his fingers inside, pumping.
"Aah, keep it down," he whispered. "You might wake the baby."
Growing hot, you matched his volume, but said, "The baby isn't born yet ...!"
"Practice with me."
He swirled around your clit, searing your brain as his fingers quickened. You gaped to nothing, hands searching for his hair only to jolt when he suckled.
"Luffy!"
His answer was a chuckle. "You're so loud. We'll do lots of practice."
As Luffy latched back on, your hips trembled in your attempt to press for his mouth, gasping as you tried to keep the squeaks back. You found his hair and pulled at last, releasing a pleased groan.
"Captain, please ...!"
Tongue lewd as he slurped through your hot folds, Luffy just moaned to you. The vibration ran through you while his thick fingers delved and hooked within. He pulled, and your throat tightened as he found your g-spot.
"Captain!"
Luffy kissed your pussy and laughed with a shushing sound. "Hey, I can't fuck you until you learn to be quiet. Be a good girl. Shhhhh."
You paled, steaming through your pores with a whimper when he laved his tongue over your clit. Not that you wanted him to ever stop ever again, but the thought of his cock not completing you ... You clutched his hair and when you pulled, his tongue glided inside as he slipped out his fingers.
He slurped, and your hips jumped as the pleasure shot through you. Lips working on yours while he ravaged and stretched deeper, filling you to your innermost reaches. As you clenched, gasping, writhing, he stroked your belly with another moan. Your heart pounded, bursting under the tenderness of his large hands and the lascivious nature of his tongue. Eyes rolling back, you searched out for one hand, squeezing while you still pulled on his hair.
With a groan, engorging himself on you, Luffy laced his fingers with yours. Your jaw unhinged with your gasp until he latched around your clit and entrance to suck hard. You came with a squeal and jolt, crying out as his raunchy hum of delight vibrated against your clit which throbbed through your body.
When he sat upright, lips dripping with your juices, he grunted, wiping his lips to lick his fingers, "I can't stop eating you." He grinned while you panted. "We should have twenty more."
As he came down to smother you with kisses, madly, you thought you might agree.
#luffy smut#luffysmut#op smut#one piece smut#luffy#monkey d luffy#one piece#luffy x reader#x reader#afab!reader#afab reader#pirate wench#pregnancy kink#pregnancy#preggo kink#i dunno how to calm down about this man#might be as sweet as i get
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Wally anon new request 2: This is pretty self-explanatory. A full expansion on the reader hearing/spotting Wally jerking off in the middle of the school. I imagine it'd be more than just using his hand(s), either being that he's found a toy in somebody's gym locker or has made a makeshift fuck toy (like taking one of the field equipment dummies, cutting a hole in it, & using lube he found in the nurse's office) that he's going to town on just to add to the reader's embarrassment/attraction to him.
dummy | wally clark x male!reader
a/n — yes, I know there's a plothole LMAO uhhhh because this isn't as serious as my other fics I kind of kept it in for the sillies.. (it's just ghost physics and all) + added wally railing us at the end causee he needs the relief
words — 3.3k
summary — check the ask!
warning — smut (anal, reader receiving), cheesy dialogue, joke fic first smut second
~~~
The pitter-patter of steps with varying intensities filled the open air, along with heaving breaths and an almost pack mentality as a whistle echoed out from the opposite side of the field. You thrust your legs forward, your feet slowly sticking more and more to the ground with each step as they got harder to lift up and keep kicking. They felt heavy and warm thanks to your heart pumping blood throughout your entire body, each thump, thump, thump ringing in your ears for you to heart amidst everything else. The shortness of your own breath was entailed with everyone else’s, your steps growing slow until you were discernible from the rest of the herd as you came to a slow down. The dissonance of second-period gym class, a sound you knew all too well.
Being in the middle of this pack was like being at the core of the Earth, so you let yourself fall behind until you were sundered from fatigue. Your legs felt like they could explode with one wrong step. The eight-lane mob in front of you kept chugging, and you watched them move away from you and further down the track. You found yourself taking up two lanes of the track, both legs in a different lane. Your hands fell on your thighs, and you hunched over, feeling the gut-wrenching exasperation work its way into a stomach-twisting nightmare. A thin veil of sweat covered you in more places than one—your face, neck, the back of your shirt. It was like some giant middle finger to you from whatever fate had decided that you deserve such a demanding class this early in the morning. Although, it could be worse. It could be math, and you didn’t have that until after lunch. Bowing your head, you took a second to catch your breath and just enjoy the outdoors, which felt impossible thanks to your gym coach being the fittest yet unhealthy person you knew. Overweight, balding, and painfully short, all of the things that would keep you from playing basketball, or any sport, for that matter. These things wouldn’t bother you if he wasn’t singlehandedly responsible for your grade in this class and he didn’t hand out the participation points for cheap. No, you had to show that you were actively engaged.
Lifting your head, you prayed that he hadn’t spotted you like the way a predator spots a weak link in a group. He seemed to be watching the oncoming stampede, but your eyes drifted to something else. Off to the left of where the coach stood, on one end of the football field was a guy messing with one of the three tackle dummies attached and propped up by curved metal bars. He was too far in the distance to let your eyes register what he was doing, only that it made the three dummies shake with his movements. He towered over them, you could tell that at least, the dummies only covering up to his torso. You figured that he was just transporting them around for the football team’s afternoon practice. But, his attire seemed awfully out of place. The school dress code would never allow shorts that short—yours were down to your mid-thigh when running and almost reached your knee when you stood up straight—and a sleeveless sweat-tank was an odd choice for a day that seemed fitting for jackets. Of course, students could wear one during gym but you were working out. Whatever he was trying to do felt like a walk in the park.
Just as you were about to question it, you heard the dreaded whistle along with your name following the disruption in the air. Some could argue that the way he hollered your name was a disruption, too. The coach called you over, and you did a half-jog, half-walk over to him with a twinge of nervousness creeping into your expression when you closed the gap between him and you. He was quick to give a pop quiz with just one question written on it, “Why did you stop running laps?”
“Well, why doesn’t he have to do it?” You asked the coach in a loud voice, pointing over to the guy. He was wearing gym attire, albeit a little out of style for the decade.
Your coach turned to look in the direction you gave him. “Who?”
“That guy over there,” You said, ready to walk over or give him a clearer insight as to who you were talking about. But, there was no one there, nothing rocking the football dummies back and forth like the man had been doing. You told him defeatedly, “The one by the… blocking guys…”
He still wasn’t visible from where you were, yet you knew he was there. You knew it. The coach didn’t buy it for one second, though. “Kid, you sound like you need to go to the nurse.”
“What? She’s just gonna give me ice. That’s her solution for everything.” Crossing your arms, you mentally made a refusal of his suggestion. You weren’t about to just say no to a strict teacher, or any teacher at all, but he insisted.
“Tell her to put it in a cup of water, you’re dehydrated.”
The walk to the nurse was painful. You passed the navy blue training dummies on your way over and found no trace of him, which only made the walk until you got into the building even more embarrassing. Each step taken to get to the nurse’s office felt like pure fire rubbing against your joints and inflaming your leg muscles.
It took a minute for her to get to you since she was helping a kid who got his hand stuck in a stage prop during a theater rehearsal and needed to get it off as soon as possible. Apparently, she lost the lube she kept for emergencies like this, and resorted to breaking the prop to set him free. The main reason it took so long was that it took a week to sculpt and decorate the “cornerstone of the play,” the theater kid called it. At least the time spent dealing with that allowed you to sit back and regain some of the energy you had just spent the past half an hour in class losing. When the nurse finally could see you, she gave you some water and ice to cool you down, since you were obviously having some level of delirium from overexerting yourself. She offered some Tylenol to help with a possible headache but said to tell the coach that you had to sit out for the rest of class. For embarrassing as it was, you would do anything to be safe from the scrutiny of performing your best for one out of five classes this week.
However, she must have not been paying close attention to the time, because your walk back soaked up the rest of class and no one was there by the time you got to the track. No one that you knew, at least. Once you stepped on the track, standing right about where you were when you saw him initially, he was back on the football dummies. He hadn’t moved them an inch yet they were still teetering from whatever force he was pile-driving into them. You figured that the best thing to do would be to ask if he was okay since he must have been scared of other people. It was the only logical explanation coming to fruition in your head.
Crossing the field, your legs felt heavy. You were slow with your approach, “Uh, dude, are you okay?”
You couldn’t tell if using dude or sir would be too relaxed or too informal, so you went with the safer bet because he seems to be around your age. His hair seems to be slicked back and cut short, looking reminiscent of the same decade that his attire was from. That’s what sparked the dilemma in your mind about his age. Was he younger—older? You couldn’t tell. The gym shorts you had identified from a distance were pulled down, exposing the top part of his ass crack and lower back, and clearly wrapped around and dipped in the front as they angled down on his sides, folding in on itself.
The noises clued you in as to what he was doing. Wet, sloppy plaps fill the air as the football dummy makes almost no noise yet the sound of him smacking against it does. Specifically, his hips rocked back and forth as he gave himself distance, then pressed his body back into the dummy. Getting a better look from the side, he seemed to be fucking it about halfway up from where the navy blue leather encasing started. A hole was cut in the middle of the dummy—right between the two sixes printed on its chest. You got a better view of how long he was, and how far he had to reel himself back before slamming into the dummy.
You reached out and grabbed one of his arms holding the helmet-like shape forming the top of the dummy, “Dude, I was talking to you.”
Wally looked like he had seen a ghost. He jumped back and his cock sprung free from the poor dummy he had been using as a fucktoy. It was wet with a thick layer of lube and red from the agitation of the foam inside and stood up perfectly, the erection never softening as you talked with him. “What the hell? I’ve seen you before.”
“Well, I haven’t and you’re, uh, doing that.” You were heavy on your emphasis. “I talked about you pretty loudly and you didn’t hear me.”
“I guess it’s kind of easy to ignore people when they’re usually never talking about you. I was more than a little occupied.” He could say that again. Even if you couldn’t make out his motions, he was plowing these things so hard it would make the football team tackling them look like a sign of affection.
“Right… am I interrupting?”
“Nope, I got all the time in the world,” he said happily, placing his hands on his hips. His dick was still proudly standing and you were both confused and intrigued that he had yet to attempt to hide it in his little shorts.
“Aren’t you worried that people will see this happening?” You had to remind yourself of the fact that both you and your coach couldn’t see him. There was some kind of chicanery going on and it was impossible to just let it go, “You went into hiding earlier when I saw you do it, so what’s different now?”
“Oh,” he held the word for a few seconds, “I wasn’t hiding, I’ve been at this all morning. And I’d like to continue if you want to watch?”
You were almost too astonished to say no. Almost. But the word “no” never left your lips, you just kind of gave a partially verbal agreement and took a step back, letting him get back to doing his thing. He approached the dummy, jutting out his hips and using it as a way to let his cock stick out even farther. With one hand on the dummy’s head and another on his shaft, he pushed his way back into the slit he carved out. “So—haah—what’s your name?”
You reluctantly gave it out, and he nodded like he knew your face and name. The free hand he was using to guide his cock in was now reaching out to you, offering a handshake as he introduced himself. “Wally Clark.”
“Wait, like, the guy who died back in eighty-three?” You asked him with sudden intrigue, losing focus on his rhythmic thrusting.
He moaned out, “That’s me.”
“Holy shit, I must be going crazy. I pass by your picture in the trophy case every day.” The mental image flooded your brain. You had spent just a little too long staring at it on some days when all efforts in finding love felt hopeless, and you wished you could just Frankenstein the stunning guy in the photo back to life. Little did you know, he had also spent a fair amount of time sitting in classes you were in, watching you from afar, and learning your name through roll call. He had spent himself dry with about a million dirty thoughts about you, because what else did he have to do? No one smuggled in porn for a distraction because it had all gone digital. Maybe it was that sense of wanting between the both of you that opened something up between worlds, some kind of connection neither of you had seen before.
“Hey, woah. You’re not going crazy, but I am definitely making you red in the face.”
“Could you stop doing that?” You asked, watching him lose himself even more to the pleasure he found from fucking dense foam that doubled as a great substitute for the real thing. He would even argue that it was just as good.
“Why? It’s not like anyone will see. Unless you’re worried about getting spotted.”
“No, it’s just weird to have a conversation like this.” You had literally been talking with a ghost who was putting himself out there in ways you could never imagine doing without getting some kind of cease-and-desist letter. Of course, it was going to be weird, and even as you ventured into the realm of understanding—and the paranormal realm—you walked back so many times because he felt unreal. An ephemeral image in your mind, it had to be that. You almost expected him to disappear any moment now, to wake up from this dream in the nurse’s office just when things were getting good. Were the plastic waiting chairs really that comfy? Or were you that tired that you happened to find solace in the slightest bit of comfort?
Either way, his next actions proved to you that this wasn’t a dream. “I was gonna take turns on all three, but I can add you to the lineup?” He offered, “There’s a lot less talking involved.”
“If you want, coach.” You agreed, and in seconds, he let the dummy free from his hold. He slid his cock out—still, never going down or finding satisfaction.
“I do.” He bent down to pick up the bottle of lube lying between the metal bars that supported the three dummies. You hadn’t noticed it before, but then again, this wasn’t your reality to mess with—it was his. And, for the moment, you were crossing over into it to get fucked by a ghost.
“Lean against that one,” he pointed to the dummy on the right, yet to be graced by his cock. “He’s not worn out from me… not yet, at least.”
You did as he said, spreading your legs as if it was instinctual to do so. Just as he had left the dummy on your left, he came up behind you with the same speed. “I always knew you would listen to me…”
Wally’s hands made quick work with your shorts, pulling the elastic strings in opposite directions to undo the knot and shimmied them down until the waistband stretched around your thighs. The cheap fabric the school used to make them felt scratchy, but his hands were smooth against your ass. You could feel one or two callouses subtly forming at the ends of his fingertips from being mid-game during his death, but it only added to the sensation. You knew exactly where he was while he discovered a world of new territory to claim. He gave it a quick smack, letting you feel confident that this wasn’t a dream. On Wally’s end, he saw the red handprint quickly leave the surface of your skin because he couldn’t do much to you in his current apparitional state.
He didn’t care, though. The inability to leave any mark on you didn’t change the fact that he would be forever ingrained in your head after this. How he filled you up—how his fingers were slowly creeping to your hole in a way that only he could ever call his own—all of that is his. The next sensation to rock your world was his fingers slipping in, cold, even without the lube at the tips of his fingers. He was stretching you with no help, just the ends of his fingers. After he felt you on the inside, feeling the warmth that he knew made you human, alive, he started drizzling the lube like it was his the final topping needed to complete his favorite meal. To make sure that every bite of this meal was perfect, he slid his fingers in and out of you until he thought that it was time to dig in.
His cock, hungry for a hole that wasn’t made from inanimate objects, was raised to meet your hole. The resonating noise of a hollow bottle filled the air as he tapped out the last of the lube onto his cock, having wasted some earlier with his fist and now the dummies that came before you. Then there was a soft squelching heard as he spread it over his thick length, making sure to keep a majority of it near the top for a slicker, smoother entrance.
Wally did as he had done with the dummies, lining himself up with precision and spearheading through your tight hole. He let out a loud moan that you would have worried about if anyone else could have heard it, it was that loud. He was even louder when he bottomed out, claiming that he “almost came” in a fleeting moment of desperation. Then, his lean frame and tall figure proved to be a force to be reckoned with once he started moving.
Thankfully, these things are meant to withstand two-hundred and fifty-pound meatheads charging at them, so they wouldn’t give to this, no matter how hard Wally fucked you. The front of his hips smacked against you, making the thudding noise from hitting against the leather of the dummies sound like nothing compared to the skin-on-skin clapping. Wally only worked up his thrusts, never losing his speed once he started fucking faster than your damn heartbeat.
Eventually, you needed release, but Wally’s colder, bigger hands intervened by taking yours into his, “Don’t touch yourself, too much of a mess, dude.”
You wanted to respond, to say that you’ll do whatever he wants, even depriving yourself of relief. But you couldn’t; the words didn’t form and you could barely keep your general composure against the dummy. You had gone cockdumb, unable to speak with how delirious he made you with his massive dick. You felt exhausted as if you had run a million laps, which you did on the regular in Wally’s head. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, even now that you were in the palm of his hand. In his neediness, he came, spraying himself inside you and watching it leak down the inches he hadn’t packed inside you. He pulled out and watched it disappear seconds after, but his desires felt at bay for once.
The pain and confusion quickly wore off and you were back to your good old wits, shaking your head to try and re-orient yourself with the world. It was like he had knocked you off balance, pounding into you so hard that he made you go cross-eyed. Wally finally tucked himself away and pulled up his shorts, coming to your side to help you stand. “You good?”
In combination with running for as long as you did and getting fucked, you could barely stand. All of that pain felt real. “I don’t think I can walk.”
#wally clark x reader#wally clark x you#wally clark#wally clark x male reader#milo manheim x male reader#milo mannheim#milo manheim#milo manheim x reader#x reader#x male reader#fanfic#gay#milo manheim x you#x you
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NGL I’m disappointed that the scene between Husk and Angel in Episode 6 was just Husk yelling and indirectly shaming Angel Dust for relapsing. Out of all the characters who can relate and empathize with Angel on addiction, it’s him. They could have had a genuine heart to heart conversation about relapsing and addiction where Husk allow himself to be vulnerable with Angel, recounting all the memories where his addiction ruined his life. At the Husk tell Angel while relapsing is normal, it isn’t healthy, he needs to start finding alternatives so he doesn’t resort to drugs first, and if he need someone to talk to, he is alway here for him as he doesn’t want Angel to become just like him.
His dialogue sounded like it came from a character who is ignorant about addiction, like Charlie or Vicky, not Husk. Husk would never say, ”Look, you want to fuck up all your progress? Be my guest! I just thought you were better than this.” Because he would know from being an alcoholic, how terrible and invaliding those words are.
YES! I am very upset about this as well. While it certainly isn’t the most aggressive reprimand for relapsing I’ve seen it definitely wasn’t great either. I think a “Are you really sure you want to be doing that?” would’ve been better or even just Husk giving him a stern look.
[Brief intermission of me opening up the episode again for review]
Okay. I have words.
So. The way Husk says the line you mentioned to Angel, I can see where he’s coming from, but considering the fact Angel just complained about having a genuinely dangerous day at work, I think Husk giving a look like I mentioned would be the best course of action. That or like “Just try not to.” Now real quick as someone thats struggled with addiction, words like that really don’t/didn’t have much of an impact on me but—as cheesy as it is—the thought counts. I suppose I can understand maybe Husk said that because he might’ve been projecting or something?? I don’t know really, but it just like. Angel doesn’t seem too bothered by it but you can tell Husk’s words don’t exactly help much.
I think your idea of a heart to heart would’ve been really great actually. A scene of Husk pulling Angel aside for a talk would give some reason as to why Angel starts behaving so randomly nice in the rest of the episode. I wouldn’t mind Husk being a little aggressive about it as long as it didn’t end with him shaming Angel for it. Like maybe he gets a bit heated and then apologises and they talk things out civilly.
Im also a bit confused on the direction of the relapsing in question because we can see that Husk is clearly against Angel doing drugs, but with shots he doesn’t seem to care at all and even downs two at the same time himself so I guess maybe that can be attributed to Husk not seeing alcohol as an issue, but again I dunno. It’s really strange how they portray everything in this episode.
End of the line, this is more of Vivzie being confused about her own story it seems.
#hazbin hotel#angel dust#hazbin angel#hazbin angel dust#hazbin critical#hazbin hotel criticism#hazbin hotel rewrite#hazbin hotel critical#angel dust hazbin#angel hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin husk#husk hazbin hotel#husker hazbin hotel#hazbin husker#huskerdust#do I tag this huskerdust??? this isnt a ship post but I mean its the two of them so I guess#raimble
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Purple Haze
Josh Kiszka x reader
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, use of marijuana, language, dirty talk, praise, degradation, sliiiiight dom/sub if you squint and turn your head just right. Idk, you guys know me by now
This goes out to my anon who asked for smoked up, lazy, dirty sex with josh, about a million years ago. I’ve lost your ask, but I hope you know I loved and appreciated your request, and I apologize for the long, long wait.
“Stop staring at me.” you run the tip of your tongue along the blunt you’ve just completed, purposely avoiding Josh’s gaze.
He sits at the opposite end of the couch, eyes boring a heated hole through you. “Can’t help it.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him curl his legs, twisting them beneath him, rendering himself even tinier than usual. “You look sexy when you roll.”
You hand him the blunt and a lighter - the green hit is his favorite. “You only think that because you can’t roll for shit.”
“Never needed to, Jake was always around to do it for me, and now I have a pretty girl to do my bidding.” He sounds pleased with himself, so naturally, you feel like knocking him down a peg.
“And you’re just okay with being a pillow princess? Happy to sit back while I do all the work?”
“Delighted.” he winks around a long, lazy hit. “This one’s a little too tight, though. You losing your touch?”
The perverted old man quip comes to you so quickly you consider getting up to check the mail for your honorary penis. “Thought you liked tight, Josh?”
“Oh my god,” he groans, passing to you after hitting it twice like a mannerless savage. “That was bad, babe. Like, Samuel level bad. We gotta work on your material.”
You smoke and pass back and forth in comfortable silence for a while until, as usual, he feels the need to fill it. “Wanna walk down to the store for weird snacks? I’ll hold your hand and pretend I like you.”
This is a favorite little game of his. Find a store and search out the strangest snacks you can find. The first time you’d played with him, he’d given you the most disappointed look you’ve ever seen grace his beautiful features when, with a smirk, you’d presented him with a cylinder of Pumpkin Pie Spice Pringles. “I said weird, love,” he’d frowned, tucking them onto a random shelf behind you. “Not disgusting.”
“No,” you sigh, crawling across the couch cushions until you can curl up like a cat with your head in his lap. “I don’t feel like going anywhere.”
“Okay,” he runs his thumb over your mouth. “Bad lip reading?”
Another of his favorites…throw on an old movie or cheesy sitcom, mute the volume, and make up your own dialogue. He is the reigning champion…mainly because his thoughts are completely unhinged at all times anyway.
You shake your head in his lap, just to feel the soft weight of his cock nudge against your temple. “You always win.”
“Sore loser, are we?” He teases softly, lifting his hips closer to you subtly.
“I’m high.” Your voice is slow and lazy…a fuzzy breath undulating along just like the haze of smoke that plays above your heads.
“Wasn’t that kind of the point?” His voice sounds just as faraway. Bluesy and thick.
Turning your face inward, you shamelessly nuzzle against his dick again through his sweats. Dragging your tongue along the length of it before bestowing a gentle bite into the girth of it. He sucks in a hiss of an inhale through those perfect teeth of his and then releases it shakily. “Watch it, baby.”
“I think you liked it.” You challenge, just before lightly biting once more. He’s harder now, and the moan you draw from his chest makes your thighs both press together and ache to spread apart.
“You want that?” His tone is guiding you down a familiar path…he’s switched on now, and you are positively alight with excitement.
“Yes.” You nod up at him with your sweetest fuck me eyes.
“Where? You want this pretty mouth all nice and full?” His thumb tugs at your bottom lip, “Or would you like to be nice and full somewhere else?
“I wanna sit on your lap.” the words drift out of you with a wandering curl of a smoky exhale as you pass the blunt back to him.
He takes it, fills his lungs and then rasps around the hit he’s still holding in. “On my lap or on my cock?”
Leaning forward, he brings his mouth to yours and gently breathes the smoke into your mouth. You accept the shared hit with lust and longing pulsing through your body hard and fast.
“So romantic, Joshua.” You tease, unable to summon much of a bullying tone…you almost sound serious, and maybe you are. No one else gets to sit on his cock, who’s to say what romance is? Shouldn’t it be in the eye of the beholder? Like beauty? Surely the universe holds millions of unique instances of love that…
Oh no, when you start thinking like Josh, you know you’re cashed. To that end, when he moves to pass to you, you shake your head and fumble up to straddle him while he leans over the arm of the couch to stub it out in a tiny clay ashtray he crafted in art class his freshman year of high school.
“Told the teacher it was a jewelry dish for my sister’s birthday so it wouldn’t be confiscated.” He likes to remind you proudly. As if his teacher actually bought his bullshit.
“Hi, cookie.” He smiles, red eyes heavy and slow as they drink you in.
“Cookie?” You laugh, rocking slowly down against him…the warmth of his cock leading you toward drowsiness, like slipping into a bath filled with fragrant, iridescent, bubbles.
“Yeah, you look good. Tempting. Plus, you taste very sweet.” He shrugs, “Also, I’m high as hell and thinking about food. We should’ve done the grocery store thing.”
“Okay,” your hips are rolling with rhythm now, his fingers gripping deliciously into your sides. “Well, it makes me feel like I’m a cocker spaniel, so quit it.”
A full-chested laugh rolls out of him as his head falls to rest against the back of the couch. “You’re cute, you know that?”
“Cute?” Your palms slide up his shirt, thumbs circling over his nipples as he hums and gasps his appreciation.
“So cute,” he pulls you down onto his lap harder, grinding up into you until the tip of his still hidden cock is sweeping over your clit. “And I’m high and hungry. What should I call you? Salt and vinegar chips? My crunchy taco supreme? Questionable leftovers? Chicken flavored ramen?”
How are you laughing this hard while simultaneously soaking through your panties?
“Mmm,” you moan, as though swooning. “Questionable leftovers, please. Fuckin’ hot.”
He quiets your giggles by wrapping one palm around your throat, the other clasping the nape of your neck, owning you as he pulls you in, nose to nose.
“But you’re my favorite thing to eat, aren’t you? So what if I just called you my pretty little cunt, like that’s all you are to me?”
The air in your lungs tumbles free on a stuttering, hitching, embarrassing, sound of lust, and the look in his eyes tells you it hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Oh…you liked that, didn’t you?”
“Josh, please…” you whimper, yanking at the waistline of his sweats.
“Needy girl.” He teases, breathing into your mouth, “On your feet.”
“No.” You protest with the smallest of pouts. “Right here.”
“Just need to get these off you, love.” He cradles your cheek and snaps at your pj bottoms. “Up.”
You feel the gentle heat of a blush rising to your cheeks. You really are gone. Cross-faded on the THC floating through your system, and him. Mostly him. “Love?” You laugh quietly as you stumble up. “What happened to Questionable Leftovers?”
His gaze lifts to yours, dark and full of lust, yet still swimming in the bliss of the blunt. “Don’t you mean, ‘What happened to my pretty little cunt’? Because, I think you liked that one better.”
Without another word, eyes locked on yours, he rids you of your pj’s and panties, himself of his sweats and then manhandles you back down against him, while you clutch your bottom lip between your teeth.
Rather than bother with your tank top, he simply yanks the neck of it down, stretching it out until your tits pop free. He nestles his face between them and murmurs against your skin; sweet nothings and filthy promises as he licks and sucks at your nipples until you’re shivering and panting, tugging at his curls, hungry for more.
“Josh, please…” the words tremble out shakily and he nibbles on the tip of your breast in response.
“Begging already?” He smiles fondly, the fine hairs of his mustache bringing chills with the movement. “Such a sweet girl. Who’s my sweet girl, hmm? Tell me.”
“Me. I’m your sweet girl.” you arch your back, sending your nipple further into his mouth, but he pulls away.
He reaches down and drags his thumb over the glistening shine you’ve glazed his cock with, then brings it to your lips. He watches on while you lick it away, savoring yourself on your tongue. “Yeah, taste…such a sweet girl, aren’t you?”
You nod and fight to keep your eyes from rolling back in your head.
“You’re dripping all over me.” He points out with that luscious rasp quieting his tone. His fingers guide your hips a bit faster. “Making such a mess of my cock with your slutty, wet, pussy…”
“Fuck,” the curse escapes you unexpectedly, interrupting him.
“Yeah?” He teases. “See? You know what you like, don’t you, baby? You’re a sweet girl for me until I start whispering filthy things.”
“Then what am I?” You yank and tug on his shirt with a lazy fever, both enjoying and hating the game all at once.
His palm cracks against the outside of your thigh, fingers digging into the soft, thick of it. “Then you're my pretty, pretty cock drunk whore. Look at you, begging for it with your whole body, all slow and gentle because you’re in the clouds and sleepy stoned. I love it.”
“Stop teasing,” you plead, sugary as cotton candy. “I want it.”
“And you’ll have it. You know I can’t deny you for long, love, but right now this just feels too fucking good.” He angles his hips to nestle the silky tip of his cock against your clit. “Beautiful cunt all slick and hot against me. Keep going. Just a little longer.”
“No.” You shock him statue-still when, in a flash of movement that should be too swift for your inebriated state - you lift your hips, wrap your fingers around the thick base of him, and slip him inside.
His arms are wrapped around you in a blazingly fast blink of an eye. “Sit still.” He orders, voice firm and unwavering…it sends a spark of electricity popping up your spine. “Naughty girl too high to know what’s good for her?”
Your eyebrow hooks defiantly, “Maybe.”
Without bothering to reply, he licks his thumb absently and drops it down to your clit. “Oh,” he grins. “This darling little clit is just hard as a rock. No wonder you’re being so pushy…you must want it bad.”
“You think my clit is darling?” You're trying to taunt him, challenging for the upper hand.
“Of course I do.” He begins circling over it with tight, silken, curls of his thumb. “So darling. So precious and pink, soft and delicate…and the things I can do to you just by babying her around a bit.” He hums, as if remembering. “Fucking perfect. Fucking darling.”
“Standing by your statement,” You gasp, trying your hardest to fuck yourself on his cock while he holds you still and sure. “Good man.”
You grow louder, nearing your end, tip-toeing along that familiar razor-sharp edge, silently praying that the way you can feel yourself clenching around his cock will coerce him into finally fucking it up into you.
And yet, he doesn’t…and it forces your hand.
“Fuck me,” you finally give in and beg. “Please baby, just fuck me.”
“Earn it.” He whispers, watching your face intently as his hand plays you like a song. “Be a good girl and fucking earn it.”
“I don’t want to earn it.” You whine, catering to his need to baby you. “I want you to just give it to me. Spoil me.”
“You’re a worthy opponent, love…” he croons softly, sounding proud. “I almost gave in. Almost. Now, come on, little girl, give it up. I can feel you right there, you’re squeezed so tight around me.”
Your head falls against his shoulder, thrashing back and forth but he’s having none of it. “Huh-uh, baby. Want you to watch me make you cum.”
Wrenching yourself back up, you train your blurry gaze on his face, and, with a whispered, “C’mon, sweetheart, right on my cock with that gorgeous little cunt…” he shoves you into the abyss.
Darkness seeps into the peripherals of your vision as you try to stay focused on his ethereal face, and the pained expression painted across it. In the end, it becomes too much, and your head lolls back with a blissful cry.
Rather than scold you for not honoring his request to keep your eyes on him, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and groans out praises and obscenities. Most of which you can’t understand through the lavender fog he has unleashed in your brain.
When, at last, the smoke clears, you find his eyes. It's as though he’s been waiting a thousand years for you for as much desperation as you find in his stare.
“Ride me,” he orders, sounding as shaky and needy as you must have just a few short moments ago. “Right now…fucking ride me, please baby, oh my god - fuck, please.”
You could tease him. You could metaphorically push him around a bit about how the tables have turned. But in reality, the tables haven’t turned at all - you want him just as badly. You want to ride him until nothing else exists in the world.
When you begin rolling your hips, sending his cock slipping in and out of your warmth with a divine, slick, drag, he doubles over away from the back of the couch and into your arms. “That’s it, sweetheart…fuck me.”
“Yeah?” You hum, raking your fingernails softly over his scalp just to feel him shudder with chills.
“Yeah. Doing so fucking good for me, baby…gonna make me cum.”
Pushing him back, you lean away, trying to find that elusive angle that will send him rutting against that perfect spot inside you, but instead, you stumble upon something that’s perfect for him.
“Right there…” he gasps, clawing his dull nails into your hips. “Oh fuck, fuck…right there. Don’t stop…right there…there there there…”
“Cum for me,” you coax, fucking him harder now as he loses it completely beneath you. Writhing and thrashing and clutching at you desperately. “Come on, baby…right inside. I want it so bad.”
With a loud, feral growl that could shake the rafters, he spills into you. His body twisting and bucking into yours, violently grasping for purchase to keep him grounded.
It takes an astonishingly long time for him to calm down, but you just pet him patiently, babying him softly, loving on him and whispering sweet things.
Normally, he would complain that you’ve only gotten off once, no matter how much you insisted you were fine. He’s almost never satisfied with once. Twice is barely sufficient in his book, but he’s too far gone. He came too hard to care, and you feel positively smug about it.
When, after a leisurely bask in the afterglow, you move to climb off his lap, he whines in protest. “Stay.”
“You know, you get very subby after you get off.” You poke gentle fun and lift away from him despite his complaints.
“I do not!” He huffs. His hand darts out to swat your ass, but he misses by a mile and slumps back against the couch rather than worrying about trying again.
“Yes, you do.” You correct, flashing him a little smile. “Now you just wait here while I run to the bathroom. I’ll be back to clean you up, and then I’m going to make sandwiches.”
“Oh great, mysterious universe,” he extends a fluid, waving hand toward the ceiling as you slip out of the room. “Full of wonder and truth, secrets and curiosities…what have I done to deserve this woman? Giver of orgasms, Bringer of sandwiches...I am unworthy.”
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @gardenofgreta @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @joshkiszkas @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @calumspretty @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama
#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van fleet smut#greta van smut#josh kiszka#fanfic#greta van fic#gvf fic#gvf josh#josh kiszka fic#josh kiszka fanfiction#josh kiszka smut#josh kiszka imagine#josh gvf
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im fascinated to know more of your thoughts on the winter king! Your first post and ideas were fantastic. If its okay I’d like to know about any kinks, suggestive, or overall possibly dark concepts you may have on his views/relationship with the reader! Like a continuation of some sorts of your first post! (Could be male reader or gn)
I will just write down some general thoughts here :')!! I'm glad to know you would like to know more of my ideas. I'll just start of with some NSFW headcanons I definitely have for him. These are just the main ones tho, I also have some somewhat extended petplay thoughts for him that I didn't put here.
notes: public / exhibitionism, CNC mention.
After being under the crown's influence for so long, Winter highly values the feeling of being in control. Especially in an intimate act such as sex, he'd want to at least feel like he's the one leading, at least the first couple of times. If he really, truly trusts you, he would be more willing to let you dom him. Based on some of the things Ice King says in canon, I do personally think he has a submissive side- An inclination for it, even, which is a remnant of Simon. His own experiences have shaped him to suppress any of such desires, though!
Winter does not shut up during sex. He's very, very talkative, constantly praising or teasing you, and describing how he's feeling! It's going to take a lot of pleasure to try and get him to shut up! Even when he's going cross-eyed with bliss, he's still babbling his needy little worlds. It melts his brain quicker if you're human, though. Your natural body heat would enhance the experience incredibly for him.
He's an exhibitionist in every sense of the word. Winter would get a lot of satisfaction of getting himself off in front of you, making a show out of it, but not allowing you to touch! He wants to see you squirm and shake with need for him so, so badly. In general, he'd try to have sex in, like, every corner of his palace. He assures you that his subjects, if they happened to walk by, wouldn't even be able to comprehend what they were seeing, much less talk about it! And if you'd let him, he'd absolutely just fuck you silly while having an audience in his throne room.
Oh, he just loves all kinds of roleplay! And if you indulge him, he will truly go all the way, with preparing costumes and lines of dialogue. It all sounds straight out of a cheesy porn, sure, but he's having the time of his life. He'd favour scenarios with darker undertones, and would be very interested in CNC if you wanted to try it out alongside him. Though he tries to ascribe any and all desires of the Ice King to the past, away from himself, he really wants to act out a kind of scenario where he's kidnapped you, his prince(ss)...! It gets him all kinds of giddy. Or anything else where he has an excuse to make you call him 'my grace / liege / King'.
As for any darker thoughts! Feel free to disregard these from the above if you aren't into it, btw.
warning: emotional manipulation, dubious consent / noncon, depending on interpretation
He will try to guilt trip you into sex, if he wants to fuck you. Winter hasn't had sex in nearly a century, (....he doesn't count the times he's had encounters with Candy, the few times that has happened. He would label those moments as mistakes.) and a part of him is selfish enough that he just feels like he deserves it. He's put so much time and effort into trying to sweep you off your feet, got you food and a place to stay, plus everything else that you could desire! His hints will turn more and more thinly veiled, his touches lingering more and more. Dear, hasn't he done so much for you? Won't you be willing to indulge him, just this once? He's certain you'll enjoy yourself with him, he'll make sure of it! It's horrible, really, but Winter is simply not a very good person.
If you continue to deny him for long, he might create a mindless, stupid ice clone version of you, that's basically just a cocksleeve for him. A version of you that cannot deny him, and is always happy to be stuffed full of his cum. In all honesty, it lacks in comparison to what he believes the true experience to be like... It only makes him needier for you, in turn.
#winter king x reader#adventure time x reader#fionna and cake x reader#winter king#cha.winter#cw.dubcon#cw.public#cw.noncon#cw.cnc
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Another one! For your follower celebration can I pls get a 🔥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 — with Steve Harrington? I'm thinking a soft enemies to lovers trope where they weren't friends in school, but maybe reader gets roped into helping the gang, and she and Steve end up having each other's backs? Maybe with the dialogue -- "so you like me-like me, huh?"
Feel free to alter however you like or do whatever inspires! I'm just in my Steve feels and would love a lil blub! Congratulations again amor! 🌿
more than a feeling.
pairing: steve harrington x (f)reader
word count: 888
warnings: none other than super cheesy fluff, and spoilers for season four.
etc: first off ilysm and i hope this fulfills all of your steve needs <3 and second off who woulda guessed the first thing my thirsty ass wrote for this mans is fluff? not me!
i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!
“I mean, I wouldnt go that far.” Your tone is lacking that softness it just had, instead replaced with your best forced sneer and roll of your eyes when you see the tug of a smile forming across Steve’s lips; your admission unfortunately not falling on deaf ears, or being mistook for near-death-expierenced kindness. But something else that the both of you know to be unspokenly there.
“You jumped for me.” Steve grins.
You hold your hand up, shaking your head. “I only jumped because everyone else jumped. Don’t let it go to your head, Harrington. Your hair is already big enough. Your shoulders aren’t going to hold any more inflation.”
Your jest does the opposite of what you want it to do; deepening the sickening fondness and knowing on his face.
And yeah, maybe you did jump in because just-maybe-possibly your heart sank just as deep as Steve did when he was pulled under. Maybe something inside of you seized and ached and your stomach was filled with a feeling you can only classify as something close to affection, a stupid crush maybe?
Or you could do the ‘of sound mind thing’ and blame it on the movement of the boat making your stomach ache, or maybe the fear of you being the next to be pulled under—because it made more sense than you actually admitting to yourself, and to Steve, that you didn’t actually loathe him; you actually liked him, alot.
But you know there’s no denying it now. No matter how many scowls you shoot at him or how you try to ignore his eyes moving over to you as the two of you follow the rest of the group through this fucked up version of your town. No, there was no going back now. Especially after you had bashed in a nightmarish bat's head to stop it from gnawing at him.
A longer than typical silence spreads between the two of you. There’s always some tease, jest, or banter flowing between the two of you. There was rarely a silent moment when one of you wasn't voicing distaste or complaints; that were clearly masking unfortunate feelings and the delight your body went through when you saw that deadpan look of his, and frustrating way he would run his fingers through his hair when you would make a stinging comment to his ego.
You were screwed. Had been since you were roped into this little group of theirs.
Guess there was no going back now.
You were either going to die at the hands of some demented boogeyman or from the endless mockery Steve was going to dish out at you now that he knew you actually didn’t hate him that much, or at all.
"So you like me-like me, huh?" He’s still grinning at you.
The eye roll you do is involuntary and completely warranted because god you were never going to live this down and screw your mouth for being so big and your heart for feeling…things. You were just another town cliche. Another girl who found Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington irresistible. Except you weren’t afraid to let him know how obnoxiously irritating he was—is.
“If you tell anyone I’ll deny it until the day I die.” You’re looking everywhere but at him. Trying to make your tone as sarcastic as possible, but not denying his words. Confirming them without letting anymore sentiments come out of your mouth like uncontrolled word vomit.
Theres a part of you that wants to hear him admit the same thing. Even if its masked by a joke, or a dig. And you hate it. Hate that you're pretty much in some fresh hell and your nerves are only tingling and preening at the hope that Steve says he likes you back. That he doesn't really find you as annoying as it seems.
How pathetic is that?
Extremely.
But you’re ready for the humiliation. Know that it’s coming before it happens. Try to convince yourself of it being factual as you stare down at the ground, focusing on not stepping in whatever gross muck is on the road ahead of you; it doing little to stop you from still holding out hope, to feeling the shared aforementioned pathetic feelings.
You're so prepared for the downfall, the aftermath of this situation—this place—just getting worse as the seconds tick by that you don’t realize Steve’s fingers are brushing against yours until his palm is pressed to yours. Your fingers laced with eachothers; your teeth sinking into the flesh of your cheek to hide the huge smile that threatens to spread across your lips.
Who knew fireworks could shoot off in someones body? Could light every nerve ending on fire, how cheesy, cliche.
You love it.
“It’s crazy,” Steve sighs. Your body readys for him to say something regarding the moment, to ruin it by making you feel even more. Something he doesn’t do when he says, “Not a strand of hair out of place,” and it’s even worse. Because you’re letting that smile spread wide as you look over at him and watch him play with his hair, the look in his eyes, in his grin, letting you know he’s only said it so you can say something about it—his hair your favorite topic of tease.
Yeah, you’re totally screwed.
#steve harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things x reader#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington blurb#stranger things fic#joe keery#5k celebration !
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Fandom fic thoughts no one asked for:
I am highly, highly against Wednesday having any dialogue in which she speaks like her parents to her loved ones, i.e. all of that "Mon cher!" garbage towards Enid. It's cringey:
1. It's traditionally romantic and excessively cheesy, and [Ortega's] Wednesday is not. She just isn't, and y'all should know better. ETA: In regards to love, her parents are like Pepe Le Pew and a willing/enamored skunk (I forget if Pepe ever found his equal, but I do remember the girl cat got 🧠 'ed into behaving like Pepe usually does, which gave him a taste of his own psycho stalker medicine...ah, we had some fkd up cartoons back in the day). Wednesday would be like Michigan J. Frog...animated with only one person, in private...and that's still not a guarantee that she would ever want to emulate her mother, with whom we know that there are severe issues between them. Ridiculous, exaggerated displays of affection define Gomez and Morticia. To have Wednesday behave like that would be sacrificing the one thing that keeps her from turning into a total clone of them.
She can end up wanting to have love and a partner, and even a family, but that does not change the public mask [of a narcissist], and the notion that she would be perceived exactly like her mother upsets her. Direct reasons aren't given by the show, but by how they interact, we can see that Wednesday believes that 'everything is a competition'...but it's not [Morticia's] accomplishments that she rattles off that are the problem; it's somewhere, Wednesday picked up some terrible, terrible "I'm not good enough, I will never be as good as she is" blows to her psyche. From Wednesday's POV, she believes her mother is a narcissist (her self-awareness of her own narcissism is for its own post); only a narcissist would purposefully break someone else's chances of either being equal to or surpassing their greatness, and they get envious (and ego hurt) when it happens.
(...God, now I wanna program Ortega's voice to sing the fkn frog's song 🤣💀)
2. She doesn't want to be like her parents, and that would just...make her be more like her parents. This is the most major personal growth theme in the whole of the show, and it can't be ignored, otherwise it just turns Ortega's Wednesday into a generic iteration of a 'Wednesday character'. If it were one drabble or fic, alright, that's AU, but I see it in nine out of ten Wenclair 'drabbles' (if you can call straight-on dialogue shorts drabbles...we did not, back in the day) that clog up my fyp.
3. Her parents are extremely cultured and speak those love languages/romance languages as a whole together, to each other. Enid is not that kind of cultured at all (she can't spell, has bad grammar, and is just not interested in the same things Wednesday is). Enid would think it was cute, too, and Wednesday doesn't do cute, either (ever! EVER.**).
4. Again, Wednesday doesn't want to be like her parents, and it would be unfunnily mortifying to her to speak like that in public and in front of other people, even if she were fucking Enid. In private? See #1 and 2.
5. In Afterburn: It pained me to have her let slip the Spanish to Donovan on her birthday, but I did it because it was an unintentional slip, it was in private, and it wasn't a pet name, it was a command. She is very much like her mother in bed, but she also knows that Donovan isn't as cultured as her parents, and thus, she will refrain from that "mon cher/mon amour/whatever non-English pet names" crap.
6. There are so many other things Wednesday could call Enid (or Tyler, or Xavier, or whoever the Hell's she's paired with) without becoming a clone of her mother. Resorting to Gomez and Morticia's horribly cloying phrases is not charming, it's laziness. *channeling my inner Bianca here*
7. Now this goes back to #2 and #4, but on that note: There are obvious issues between Wednesday and her mother, and sounding like her disturbs the Hell out of her (or behaving like her, which is why Wednesday's eyes just about shit themselves in different directions when Fester said that her "death stare of disapproval reminded him of her mother").
It's almost like she has a glass eye.👀 It's there bc the AI picked it up hard I guess & it affected my outputs.
There is no way in Hell, no matter how juicy-tasty Enid's furry twat is, that Wednesday would suddenly decide that she should mimic Morticia.
I know all of this is gonna piss off a whole lot of people, but I don't care. It's not Wednesdaying right to have her call anyone by the same pet names her parents use, no matter how fluffy the relationship is. She just doesn't do relationships the same way her parents do. It's far more OOC to do that than even my pairing her up with Donovan is (which needs its own reasoning, probably in a different rant).
Rant over, and y'all can keep goin', but that's not gonna make the dialogue sound any less terrible and embarrassing.
**Afterburn Wednesday does do 'cute' with Donovan in private, but it's because of the fundamental differences from N/Canon attached to her core personality, i.e. she's hypersexual and has some regression issues here and there. Even still, she has a very hard time calling him any pet names because once again for those in the back: She does not want to be like her parents or associate her love with her parents' love, even as she recognizes that she is a lot like her mother. 🤷🏽♂️
(Also, I just read an incorrect assumption. Morgues have blood samples. They don't keep whole ass blood bags like blood banks/hospitals do. Get that right before you write me some Yoko & Wednesday.)
#wednesday#wednesday addams#wenclair#wyler#wenovan#black bubblegum#wenjax#wenclay#wensko#wensina#wenskent#weemsday#whoever the hell you pair her up with#lazy creativity#lazy writing#mon cher#good gods#writing wednesday#writing fiction#writing problems#writing#good vs. bad writing#cringe writing
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GRAND THEFT BUTTON
Shot in the Dark (Canon) (Cliff and Sylvia)
~500 words
G/t dialogue prompt list
"Did you steal the buttons off my shirt?" - suggested by @pr-fae! Thank you for the prompt!! 💕
Enjoy Sylvia being petty as hell 💅
@marydublinauthor 🌸
Given how shirts were lucky to make it through a single hunt in one piece, Cliff wasn’t surprised when his fingers brushed an empty space where a button should have been. But as he reached up higher—and higher—he realized with a start that all the buttons were gone.
He shrugged off the shirt and looked at it in shock. Only a few wisps of thread remained on the empty spots, ends frayed like they had been sawed off.
Scraping together the shadow of patience he found within himself, he approached the table by the motel window. Sylvia was seated cross-legged in front of Jon’s phone, playing Candy Crush with laser-focus while Jon was in the shower. Her wings twitched in concentration, as though warding off the sound of Cliff’s approach.
He cleared his throat. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said, effortlessly creating a row of four green candies.
“Quick question. What the fuck?”
She hummed. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
“Did you steal the goddamn buttons off my shirt? That specific enough for you?”
Her hand paused in front of the screen, and she finally peeked over her shoulder at him. Even though her eyes had to trail high to meet his gaze, she didn’t look the least bit intimidated. He almost missed those days.
“That’s a bold accusation,” she said. “What makes you think I took them?”
“Who else has a tiny fucking knife and runs around collecting random shit?” When she stared at him with overly-blank innocence, he huffed. “Is this ‘cause I didn’t wanna watch that cheesy movie last night?”
Her brows drew together, a thoughtful pout forming. “Have you considered,” she pondered, “that your buttons fell off?”
“All of them,” he said flatly. “At once.”
“Why are you making it my problem that you can’t keep track of your buttons?”
She must have expected him to continue their stupid argument, because she certainly jumped out of her skin when reached down and snatched the phone from in front of her. With a little shriek, she took flight.
“Hey, give it back!” Sylvia lunged at him as if she’d be able to snatch it from him. “That’s not even yours!”
Keeping it out of her reach with quick movements, he regarded the screen. “Level 206, huh? It’d be a shame if your data disappeared.”
The temperature plummeted. She stopped at a hover a few inches from his face, looking ready to freeze his eyeball shut. “You wouldn’t,” she all but whispered.
He raised his eyebrows and tapped the setting screen on the game. She looked down at the screen, drawing a deep breath. Honestly, he had no idea how to delete her progress, but she didn’t know that.
“You wanna bet?” He met her stare, one fingertip hovering over the phone.
Their staring contest lasted ten more seconds before she broke away, grumbling, “Fine. But I’m picking the movie next time.”
#gt#g/t#gt writing#g/t writing#my writing#gt community#g/t community#gt fandom#g/t fandom#gt story#g/t story#gt fluff#g/t fluff#giant tiny#giant#tiny#sfw gt#sfw g/t#fairy#fairies#oc: sylvia#oc: cliff#shot in the dark#shot in the dark canon#shot in the dark canon story
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Trollhunters Ending FIXED!!!
So....I've recently binged this entire series, fell in love with it and promptly gotten heartbroken at the shitty ending the movie gave us. SO!!!! I have seen many people hating on the ending and pretending it and the movie didn't exist. I came up with an idea that I am permanently using as a replacement for the ending that I'm pretty happy with. I can't write dramatically for shit BUT I can scribble ideas! If anyone wants to flesh this out into a one shot fic PLZ TAG ME JUST SO I CAN READ IT!!!!!
(also this is gonna read more like a screen play for a movie cus I'm a vid editor and that's how I picture stuff, doesn't always translate well into a written story! 😅)
--------------
- So everything stays the same up until Jim uses the kronosphere to go back in time
- Instead of going back to the beginning and changing everything, he travels back to when the Arcane order had finally gotten a hold of the real Nari
- Everything is still happening around him but is dead silent as if he were deaf and in slight slo mo as he gets his bearings (not actually deaf, just that kinda cinematic idea for drama!!)
- Looks around and sees everyone alive gathered around (maybe some sappy or quiet music plays on top of him seeing everyone alive, I dunno!!!)
- As this is the past they don't know Jim just came from the future and are instead focused on glaring at something
- IRL sound hits back in like a huge thud, LOUD AF!!!!
- Jarring Jim to turn around and see the Arcane order hovering in that same ball of magic that surrounded them the first time (that's what everyone is glaring at btw!)
- This is when realization for Jim sets in and he knows this is his second chance
- The music from the credits in the original film (or something like that) starts to build up (in my head it's like him and the music are going "not this fucking time!")
- He transforms into his new armour (either cus it came back in time with him or cus now he knows about the 9th configuration, your choice!)
- Camera and everything is focused on the transformation as the music is building but you can see everyone in the background looking either shocked or like "HELL YEAH!!" when they see Jim finally transforming again
- Quick dramatic shot focusing on the Arcane order still performing their spell, t
- Some sort of cheesy/bad ass hero shot showing off everyone gathered together as the "9th configuration" and ready to kick ass
- Close up on Belroc looking pissed as they realize Jim has transformed and everyone is gathered to fight
- Equally cheesy close up on Jim quietly but determinedly saying something like "not this time" or "my turn" (I can't do dialogue I'm sorry!!!;)
- Jim jumps into fight with everyone following behind
- Final shot of everyone running toward the camera (Arcane order) and cuts to black with Jim swinging Excalibur at the camera.
- As it cuts to black the outro music (roughly 20 secs into it) hits the beat drop at the same time as the credits start!
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Cliffhanger-ish ending, doesn't get rid of the whole story, leaves it up to imagination on who still lives and dies, doesn't undo character development, has more of a feel good "HELL YEAH!!" ending to it (at least for me!) Doesn't feel like a definite ending but has enough to still feel like Trollhunters isn't just over and wrapped up nice and nearly with a pretty bow! For me this works and I'm happy to pretend this is canon. Tbh 90% sure this looks cooler in my head than how it's written down, I might get round to making a vid edit for it on YouTube (cus that's my specialty) but dunno if anyone actually wants to see that!
As I said I'm not a writer so apologies for this chaos!! I don't usually post these things that I think about (cus I've also imaged a better ending for game of thrones!) But I just really wanted to share this in case someone else also enjoyed the concept or in case anyone wants to translate this mess into something coherent!
Anyway, rant done and idea written out, go have fun with it you want, just plz tag cuz I wanna read if you! 😭🙏
#trollhunters#trollhunter rise of the titans#fixed ending#jim#claire#toby#aja#krel#douxie#archie#james lake jr#jim lake jr#jim lake junior#jlaire#claire nuñez#rise of the titans#rott#steve#aja tarron#krel tarron#hisirdoux casperan#hisirdoux#magic#merlin#fix it fanfiction#fix it fic
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Ok but why did you like madam web? I have no opnion on the movie and I'm not planning to see it but I do want to see why the few people that enjoyed it did
There’s many reasons. For starters it is extremely campy, and I love that. I kinda miss superhero movies that go the extra mile to be different, that they even become a little bit cheesy. I guess that’s why I also liked Multiverse of Madness, it was refreshing to have a different story AND visual storytelling, which takes me to my second point.
I’ve heard a lot of people complain about how superhero movies became kind of static, no camera movements, no different shots or angles to push the story forward. I am a professional story board artist, so I appreciate a lot when a movie isnt just telling you what’s going on just through dialogue, but composition and camera work. Yes, it’s a little sloppy in madame web, but I’m so glad it just isnt green screen 24/7 and its the editing and the cinematography what «shows you» Cassie’s abilities. That’s super creative!
Then I loved Cassie as a character, I related a lot to her. The snarky comments, the acid humor, the not knowing how to «properly» interact with other people. That felt so real! She felt like a real person, like someone I can be. I also enjoyed her connection to the girls, them all had great chemistry even if the script made their scenes trip a little, but the way them all shared things in common and became a family, I liked that, I’m a sucker for the found family trope. And also Cassie’s relationship with her mom, I understood that, and that hit me deeply.
Then as for the superhero part. I love that Cassie’s power isnt questioned or dismissed because she’s a woman. I’m VERY tired of movies having these hollow speeches of: ‘Oh, but I am a woman and that makes me strong’ or ‘we’ll take you down with female power’, or having male characters underestimating them for being women and then ‘learning their lesson’. This story never goes there and I appreciate it a lot.
I have many other reasons, but I’ll end just by saying that I’m a huge greek mythology nerd. And I enjoyed a lot Cassie’s story connecting with Cassandra, the seer whose visions weren’t believed. And also Oedipus as Ezekiel trying to avoid his fate.
Is it the best movie? Definitely not, but it’s not as bad as people have said. I believe that every movie has something good to highlight and enjoy and I enjoyed this one a lot! Also. Britney Spears and The Cranberries in the same soundtrack, that sounds fucking awesome.
#madame web#dont take my words as the final truth#this is what i enjoyed#every opinion on the film is valid
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hi! i hope you’re doing well. i’m hoping this doesn’t sound too weird but i wanted to ask if you have any tips on writing smut? you’re works are amazing and i just wanted to ask :)
awwwww you think my shit is amazing and want writing tips from moi WOW I shall do my best since I still find my smut skills a bit iffy so some of the stuff I may say I might not even do but we shall see anyways.
READ SMUT: I think the thing that got me to write smut is just the fact that I wank a lot and read a shit ton of smut. therefore I internalise what I read more, and see the common phrases, tropes, plots, that other writes use that I can infuse into my writing. and no im not saying plagiarise and copy ect but im just saying the more you read, the easier it is to write.
USE A PLETHORA OF VERBS: so basically when it comes to me writing any type of fingering or like dick in the v a g i n a scene like try out using a variety of verbs to make your works more descriptive. my trusty little bag of verbs is mainly: charges, drives, forces, pushes, inserts, thrusts ect.
DIALOGUE: to make ur smut a bit more wordy and not as boring, use dialogue, since people talk when they fuck (surprise surprise) it doesn't even have to be a proper convo if you aren't into writing dirty talk and shit but just moans and groans and like gasps like some form of written audio to go along with the visuals.
MAKE SURE IT FLOWS: like try and find some form of the flow so the smut doesn't read as awkward, like if you're doing a short snapshot smut (like what I do in my "when you have sex..." series )then thats fine but in like actual smut fics, you dont need to have a serious plot BUT it does make it better to read when theres some form of flow. such as including some type of foreplay, then get them to fuck ect. and if ur doing a pure smut fic and struggling to find a plot, think of cheesy porn plots LIKE OLD ASS PORN PLOTS like the pizza delivery man that you want to tip but you end up taking his tip (hehehe im funny right) or like the plumber thats supposed to unplug ur sink but plugs up with pussy instead (am I eating with these or nah omg)
BONUS TIPS these r so unserious kinda sorta
dont call a dick a cock thats lame (this is purely a joke I personally wont be calling a dick a cock but if you want to you can you have my full support)
HAVE FUNN WRITING SMUT, LIKE REALLY AND TRULY IT ISNT THAT DEEP WHATEVER YOU WRITE. JUST MAKE SURE TO TAG UR SHIT PROPERLY, OUTLINE IN UR RULES WHAT U DO AND DONT WRITE IF U TAKE REQS AND STUFF AND THEN LIKE JUST WRITE AND BUILD UR CRAFT. CAUSE LIKE IF U LOOK AT MY FIRST SMUT COMPARED TO NOW ID PERSONALLY SAY IVE IMPROVED (even tho ive got like 15 works loooool)
#omg this was longer than I thought BUT I HOPE SOME OF IT IS HELPFUL#I LOVE BEING ASKED FOR TIPS IT MAKES ME FEEL IMPORTANT#NOW SOMEONE ASK ME HOW TO WRITE A GOOD ANGST TO FLUFF FIC AND I WILL ASCEND#since I feel that is my true calling#anyways if u need any more tips on smut or anything or how to just be AN IT GIRL ON TUMBLR (since I obviously am THAT girl)#I am here to share my wisdom#empresshelpsyou!#xoxo gossip girl 💋#unknown sender — ★
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guilty by association | jacob custos x male!reader
a/n — i was overtaken by the hag's spirit and wrote this in a day. . . I've never done that before- meant to be posted before new year's but now it's like 1 am, so happy new year!
words — 1.8k
summary — Jacob can't sleep thanks to his situation with Emma and gets some help with it.
warnings — oral sex (jacob receiving), face-fucking, unrequited feelings, himbo says dumb things alert, plus cheesy dialogue
~~~
“Silas. . .”
A haunting old woman’s voice crept into your ear and urged you to wake. You flinched away from the direction the voice slinked from, careful not to jolt too far up and accidentally hit your head on the rickety wooden planks above. They weren't easy to see in the dark, but every time it happened, never missing a single night, you were able to suppress the reaction a little more.
It was something about this place—the name had never come to you before until you entered the campgrounds, and they likely would continue until you left. Mr.Hackett would never believe your stories about the voice, or he might send you home early with a case of heat exhaustion. You couldn’t tell your bunk-mate either as he would laugh at you and insist that even he’s not that stupid. But, maybe that was one of the good things about him underneath the very, very dense pile of stupidity behind that pretty face; reassuring your total insanity made you feel a little less hysterical.
As for your bunk-make, Hackett's Quarry brought him nothing but positivity. He succeeded in getting a summer hookup, maintained the body of his dreams, and persuaded everyone—but mostly you—with his charm to do most of his responsibilities to sneak away with Emma. It was a hard pill to swallow, but Jacob's cluelessness to any hint you dropped his way, whether that was the eagerness to do his after-hour cleanup chores or asking him on more than one occasion to take a late-night swim, only made him more attractive. It was hard to tell if he was stunned at the thought of someone else liking him or if he was just that big of an asshole.
You assumed it was the latter after the first day of camp with him. Jacob was pretty unabashed about the fact that he snored, flatly stating that you would have to put up with it for the summer with a stupid smirk. You hoped a bear would wipe it off within the first week, but Emma kept it alive and well for him. He had to have known it was simply a thing for the summer, right?
It was almost every night, just like the whispers in your ear, that he would come back before you woke up and be passed out until dawn. With a leg dangling off the side of the bed, he would lazily stretch himself over the small twin bunk, snores filling the cabin. This time, he wasn’t snoring.
You hesitated for a moment in realization. The worst thing to happen was that he wouldn't answer or was still out on a thrill ride with Emma. “Jacob?”
A silence-impacted moment passed, then his voice came from above you. "Yeah?"
"You're awake?"
"Tell me something I don't know," Jacob pouted. He sounded defeated, but you weren't about to point that out. His voice came down muffled as if he buried his face in a mound of squishy pillow.
You held your breath for a moment before blurting out the first thought that came to mind. "Abby likes Nick?"
"Wow, I did not know that," Jacob's voice became notably more clear.
"Is everything good?"
"Me and Emma. . . broke up," he reluctantly admitted.
"She said you guys weren't ever dating," you reminded him, much to your own annoyance. Her persistence about the two of them not being an item while keeping him mentally tunneled to her, and only her, was tiring.
"I know," he sighed, "but she was, like, baseballs to a pitcher. I was the pitcher, and I don't have balls anymore."
His allegory barely made any sense, but you knew the last part was the perfect opportunity to lighten the mood. "You don't have what?"
"Shut up! What are you doing up?"
"Can't sleep." A simple lie was better than the complicated truth, you figured.
“Me too.” Jacob fully twisted around, though you weren't sure in which direction. The planks above you creaked, and his movements making the sheets whir together were enough of a clue.
“Why not?” It was redundant to ask, but what else could you say at the moment?
"I’m kinda pent up here, dude. You know, no Emma,” he stated.
“Use a sock,” you casually suggested, even if there was something that you were willing to give him. Your only reasoning as to why you didn't immediately jump on the opportunity when it reared its ugly head was that it was late, and old women waking you up in the middle of the night wasn't exactly nubile.
“Nah, I learned my lesson the last time. Jakey’s hurricane has a splash zone,” he somehow more offhandedly replied, veering into the territory of boastful about his previous climaxes.
"Gross!" You blurted out with a chime of laughs after.
"I'm just being honest. But, fuck, dude. This sucks." Just like that, he was back to sounding defeated, finding no resolution to his self-proclaimed problem.
It was hard to resist offering to help him, but it was also hard to discern if he would go for it. Jacob seemed like the kind of guy to take any hole he could get because that's all it is: a hole. So, you took the risk. You piped up to ask, "I'll help you out?"
"Wait, really? Dude, that would be amazing. Uh—how?"
"Like, how—," you paused, "—how Emma would do it."
“So, like, a bro-job?” Fuck. He was never going to get it. You might as well take what you can get.
“Yeah,” you sighed. Jacob hopped down from his level, and you got a good look at him in the faint light of the cabin. He wore a cropped shirt, and you could make out the numbers of a jersey being part of the design, barely visible. His dark happy trail led to a loose pair of plaid boxers handing on his hips, the fly of which bulged out from his eagerness. His hair was spiky and tousled, which was odd since he lacked his signature backward-facing baseball cap that usually the mess atop his head.
“Cool. Where do I stick my dick in?” An eager angel’s smile spread over his face. Whatever blessed him with his confidence was sorely mistaken to give it to someone like him.
You sat up, turning and swinging your legs over the bed. “Tell me you're joking?”
He didn't have anything witty to defend his ego with, opting instead to skip the path of foreplay and run right along to letting his dick bob freely. The trunk's waistband was pushed past his lightly hairy thighs and down to his knees. You got a moment to look at him underneath everything, the importance of it flying over your head. It was hard to care that this was your first impression of him underneath his controlled appearance. Not that Jacob was one to hide his defined physique, but this was more than a shirtless dive in the lake. You were seeing without barriers, both emotionally and physically.
As for his package—the thing that must have kept Emma around for longer than she would have been—he fulfilled every thought you had about it. The length was a little shorter than you expected, but the girth felt like something you could get drunk off, the true root of a brewing addiction. You wanted to feel it stretch your throat and test your limits when it came to him, and unlike what you teased him for earlier, he did, in fact, have a hefty and hairy pair of balls that looked to be a mouthful.
"Are you just going to look? Open wide, dude."
The tip brushed your lips and slipped past quickly with Jacob's guide. He wanted this bad, and you could have sworn that there was a twinge of blue coming from his balls. Weirder shit had already happened this summer, so it wouldn't surprise you if that became literal. Just a few inches deep and Jacob was already causing your jaw to feel stretched to its limit with his girth. That didn't stop him from continuing.
Seconds later, the tip swept the back of your throat, provoking an appropriately-timed gag. Jacob didn't stop for that either, pulling his lips apart to unleash a moan when you finally let him invade your throat. The moment to adjust passed quickly, and he had total control over your throat with his pulsing heat. Like a hot blade effortlessly cutting its way through foam, Jacob made himself fit with ease.
"Holy fucking shit, you're way better than Emma," he remarked with praise and astonishment. The walls were fully down.
By the time his pubic bone pressed against your nose, giving it a slight scrunch back as all you could smell was him, Jacob was getting needy. You felt the warmth of him and the presence of his trimmed hair slip away from your face, your throat growing empty for a few seconds until he crammed it all back in. Your throat wanted to convulse, to swallow the hunk of musky meat partway down it, but that was the hard part. You tried to apply pressure with your lips to make up for the lack of it, wrapping them around him and greedily sucking him down.
Sure enough, Jacob couldn't tell much of what he was shorted on at the moment, consistently uttering soft fucks and that's its as he fell into a rhythm of movement. Some more stuff about how you were "better than Emma" escaped his thoughts and formed into half-coherent sentences that you barely processed, too hung up on him to give your attention to that.
He kept at it until he couldn't. His weight shifted, and his pace slowed, and it a few ah—ahs, Jacob spilled himself into your mouth without even asking. He didn't even pull out. Jacob just let himself sit there and pump ropes into your mouth as it drizzled from the corners of your lips, expecting you to swallow what you could. He was right, after all. He was nothing if not a hydrant for release.
Jacob settled himself over you, leaning forward as the last few sloppy thrusts drug himself over your tongue and smeared the mess in your mouth.
Jacob reeled himself out of you and took a step back, shucking off his boxers and using them to wipe his dick clean of his release. He threw them somewhere into the dark of the room and turned to admire you. "Damn, wish I could take a picture. This is something that needs to last forever."
You were still grappling from swallowing his come, just muttering a quick and quiet, "No problem."
He patted your shoulder, "Thanks, bro. Making a fucking s'more out of your mouth was insane."
#not requested im just obsessed#jacob custos#jacob custos x reader#jacob custos x male reader#jacob custos x you#jacob custos x male!reader#jacob custos x m!reader#the quarry#the quarry x reader#the quarry x you#zach tinker#gaymer#lgbt#gay#mlm fanfic#mlm ns/fw#mlm#not multi level marketing
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