#I didn’t think about the timing with Pearl but I think if pearls goal is to make pink happy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

garfunklefield · 21 days

Note

i've been asking this a lot and no one do it😞😞

May you write a fic about Pirate sukuna X Mermaid reader??

PEARL

18+ viewer discretion is advised

mermaid!fem!reader/pirate!Ryomen Sukuna Warnings: pirate AU, dub-con, love at first sight, imprinting, sukunas personality is V complex here, soft sukuna, pining, kind of slow burn not really, drinking, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, slight humiliation kink, ass job, cumshot [back] backshots? mermaid sex sort of, idk man I'm making this up as we go SORRY Word count: 4936 DESC: Ryomen Sukuna never believed in mermaids, until he met you

NOW WHY WOULD NO ONE DO THIS!?!? I had so much fun writing this omg I LOVE THIS

Fair warning: this is kinda shit IM SORRY I have a HEADACHE

Sun blessed Ryomen’s features, kissing against his brow and creating a tan he could never escape from. The waves crashed against his ship and made it rock ever so slowly, back and forth, as he walked across the deck. He wasn’t sure how long he had been at sea, maybe a month or so, but he wasn’t getting any closer to his goal. The wood made a faint clicking sound under his heel as he paced, waiting for something. There was an island his crew had been in search of for months, but it was becoming a distant dream. There was no evidence it truly existed other than a map he had found in the depths of a library. The paper crinkled against his pant pocket, always reminding the captain it was there. There was never a moment where it wasn’t on his person. He didn’t trust anyone but his younger brother, Yuji, and his half-brother Choso. The two made for adequate help on board, but they weren’t serious. They enjoyed drinking into the night and regaling stories of mermaids. Psh, like those existed. Ryomen knew that tall tales existed, but he didn’t believe anyone thought they were still true.

Mermaids were the stuff of fiction. Although he had seen his fair share of weird shit, he drew the line at mermaids. Sirens too.

Yuji was leaning against the railing of the tip of the boat, staring off into the distance with squinted eyes. A small bandana wrapped around his forehead to stop more sunburns from creasing his skin, and to keep his hair clean from the sky. He was superstitious like that, always fearing too much sun could ruin his naturally pink locks. His brother was somewhat right, Ryomen’s hair was more washed out from sun exposure than Yuji’s. Choso was different, choosing to stay inside and tending to the food. His aura was melancholy and it reflected in how he walked, with a limp.

The rest of the crew were either downstairs or tending to their duties, keeping a watchful eye on their captain. Sukuna was a scary man when angered, but docile all the rest of the time. Most days he rarely spoke a word, unless it was to his brothers. His voice never raised above a mutter, unless he was angered. If he was upset, the whole ocean could hear him. And if he was intoxicated. But he didn’t drink anymore. Someone had to watch over the boat and make sure looters stayed clear of it.

Ryomen took this life very seriously, never straying from getting what he set out for. So it puzzled him as to why the island hadn’t appeared. They were in the right direction, they did everything right! So why was it so hard to find this treasure? It could buy him a new life, and his brothers a better life. That’s all he wanted. All the other men would rave about the riches and the women, but he didn’t care for that. Women never caught his eye, he instead cared for his family. Or, surprisingly, the misfortuned. His crew was made up of people who needed a second chance at life, people who wanted to start over. He never judged anyone’s past. He had no right to. He was just a lost soul floating on Earth as well.

“Ryomen,” Yuji’s voice broke through his thoughts, stopping his footsteps against the sun-washed wood. He raised his head and stared at his brother, waiting for him to continue, “Do you think we should anchor for the night?”

“Anchor?” One of his eyebrows quirked, “Now why would we do that?” It was rather odd to suggest such a thing. But the more the captain thought about it, the more it made sense. The wind wasn’t very strong today, making the ship keep at an almost standstill for the majority of the day. Anchoring could let everyone get a good night's rest for a longer journey the next day. Although Ryomen didn’t typically sleep at night. Someone had to keep watch, and he wanted his crew to be awake in the morning than at night. He didn’t mind losing out on some daylight hours if it meant keeping up productivity. The only reason he was awake now, was because it was an hour and a half until sunset, when his job began.

“Well,” his brother tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips together hesitantly. He had a stupid idea, “I was thinking we could have a bit of a party! Raise morale and make everyone a little less … depressed!”

Ryomen raised his hand and waved it in the air dismissively, “No one’s depressed. I’d know if they were, brat.”

He frowned, “They so are. Everyones been sluggish for days. Just one night of partying should reset us!” The boy perked up and waved his hands in the air, trying to convince his older brother, “C’mon! Ask Choso, I’m right.”

“Choso would only agree with you to spite me,” the man grumbled, looking away for a moment. Something caught his eye and made him stop. It was something shiny bobbing in the water, a few yards from the boat. A bright color, flowing across the sea in an almost blob-like fashion. Like… hair. Ryomen didn’t hear Yuji’s further protests, boots squeaking on the deck as he marched over to the side of the boat. He placed two of his rough hands on the railing and peered down, astonished when the blob was gone. It was weird. Just … disappeared into thin air as if it hadn’t been there just seconds before.

Yuji tapped his brother's shoulder, groaning into his ear, “C’monnnnn Ryommennnnnnnnnnn! Just one party!!” Like an incessant child who wanted a toy at the grocery store, he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.

He looked over at the boy with a muddled expression. Eyebrows furrowed together, he found himself searching his memories for an answer. Ryomen had seen unusual things before on the ocean, but never like that. Were his eyes playing tricks with him? Deceiving and pulling him from reality? Or were those tall tales really true? Nonsense, he shook his head, there wasn’t any reason to think that. His eyes were playing tricks on him, that had to be it. The pirate looked over at his brother once again, seeing his pleading expression, and nodded.

There would be a party.

Just because you were a mermaid didn’t mean you were a special one. You considered yourself normal, in every sense of the word. A regular mermaid with a regular life, who went to work and came home at the same time every day. Swam the same channels and hung out with her friends on the weekend. You didn’t find yourself longing for more or wishing you were special. You were content. That was until you noticed the shadow. You had heard of humans before and been told the same story. Don’t go up to the surface, they could spot you and kill you. Humans feared the unknown and mermaids were exactly that. You followed and respected the rules, so your curiosity never got the better of you, until you noticed the shadow.

It was a large shadow cast over your coral reef home, making it almost impossible to see. At first, you thought they were building a new mall overhead or perhaps a new traveling show in town. But as you swam closer to the surface, with the cooler water brushing against your fins, you realized it was human. A ship. You had heard of ships before yet you had never seen one this close to your home. Housing closer to the surface was cheaper for being more dangerous, but you didn’t think you were that close.

The boat was brown, and covered in wood panels. Something came over your brain as you swam closer and closer, taking in the bottom side. One of your hands reached out before you and touched the cold wood, brushing against the edge with your fingertips. It was foreign to you. You had never let yourself explore before. You had never let yourself be curious before. It was an addicting feeling. Your eyes glazed over as your tail propelled you further up until your head was bobbing out of the water. Long hairs, of different colors spread out across you, hiding your form in a cave of strands. You watched with interest at the top of the boat, your eyes catching on one man in particular.

He was gorgeous. Pink hair, pushed up in a spikey fashion, with the under part shaved and a dark brown color. His cheekbones were high and hollow, signaling he hadn’t had a good meal in months. But his body showed otherwise. The constant running, walking, and standing, meant he was built. Arms, covered in black ink, broke out from his sleeveless shirt and flexed in the sunlight. Ink covered his neck, lightly stopping by his jaw. It dipped into his front, and you just knew there was more. He hadn’t noticed you yet, staring at a boy who looked similar to him. They were talking about something you couldn’t hear, but from reading their lips, you deciphered his name.

Ryomen. It was an ancient name, something you hadn’t heard before. You wanted to think about it more and admire him from afar, but he turned his head and spotted you. He didn’t see you, but your hair flowed before you in the water. It made your heart drop to see his face contort. It wasn’t hatred, but a look of shock, followed by disbelief. As he walked closer to the edge of the boat, you made your decision and dove back under the water, floating backward to hide yourself in the depths of the waves.

The night rolled around faster than the pirate captain had anticipated. Stars lit up the sky and illuminated the ship, although most of the light came from the lanterns strung across columns. He didn’t drink but opted to sit on a barrel and watch as his shipmates did. They all danced around and sang as if there wasn’t a care in the world. He would’ve danced with them, or done something lively, but he couldn’t get that image out of his head. He had seen something in the water, something alive. It watched him through a veil of thick-colored hair, that bobbed in the ocean’s water. And it ran away the moment it realized he had seen it.

“Ryomen,” a voice behind the man made him jump. He looked over and saw his half-brother, with a tired look across his features, staring back at him, “You should dance.”

“I’m tired.”

“Ryomen,” he said knowingly, “stop worrying and enjoy yourself.”

“I said I’m-” but he was cut off again by a pointed look from Choso. He was hot-headed, sure, but Choso was another level if angered. Ryomen let out a breath and got up, slipping off his jacket. Yuji had brought his fiddle, playing some tune everyone had heard of. It was simple but drowned out by the voices of their laughter and singing. It was a cheery moment, filled with more screams once their captain got up and bowed dramatically.

“Captain!” A crewmate, Nobara, chided. She strolled over to him and took his hand, “Dance with me, will ya?” She was about Yuji’s age, which made her almost a younger sister in his eyes. He took her hand and put another on her shoulder. With one movement he picked the younger girl up and set her feet atop her shoes, striding around the deck with a small smile. She giggled and laughed, holding onto him so she wouldn’t fall. It even made him smile wider, which was strange considering he used to never smile until he met his crew. They all … softened him. Showed Ryomen a side of himself he hadn’t known before.

The captain didn’t notice, in fact, no one noticed they had a guest. From a gap in the railing, a small hole, you watched. You never left. Your curiosity was starting to get you into more dangerous situations, hanging off the edge of the boat all to see a man who didn’t know you existed. You watched him as his face contorted into a smile, echoing laughter radiating from his chest. It calmed you, to see this side of him. Watching him dance and have an amazing time, all without realizing someone was watching.

They danced for another hour and drank for several. But you never left. You ducked your head when the crewmates got close and peeked up to meet Ryomen’s rugged face. He didn’t notice you, no one else did. They were lost in their own world and you were more thankful than ever. His eyes had softened and his smile was radiating, so you were surprised when everyone had left that it… disappeared. The captain put his coat back on and looked around. He didn’t do much to the bottles lying across the deck, or the garbage, opting to kick it with his shoe. There was a hollow look on his face and you desperately wanted to know why. What changed him from turning so happy and charismatic into… that? You had to admit, it was hot. And you had to admit, you were beginning to feel a way about this man you had never felt about anyone before. A loud heartbeat thumped in your ears and made the world slightly fog over, in a daze.

You had imprinted on him.

It’s a bit self-explanatory, but I’ll explain it for a bit. Seeing someone, the someone in mermaids sets off a biological code. They can tell from the moment they meet that person that that’s their lover, their someone, for the rest of their lives. It was complex, seeing as you were two different species. And, seeing as he didn’t even know your existence. You couldn’t get the feeling out of your head that he was meant to be yours, in some universe or lifetime.

You didn’t realize it, from all this info dumping, but being out of the water for so long had dried up your tail, causing you to transform. A bit more lore, if you will. Mermaids, in any body of water, will form a tail around their legs as a protective barrier. Although, out of the water their legs are shown and they can use them, it’s illegal and forbidden to even go above the water and test this theory out. Many mermaids who've tried to live undercover as humans always get outed in some way or another, so after so many terrible disastrous stories, the king outlawed it. You always followed the rules, but you knew it would happen. Looking down, you gasped and stared for a moment before warmth spread across your inner legs.

Masturbating as a mermaid was always kind of a chore, finding the sensitive spot over your tail and rubbing until you got somewhere took forever. But you always heard stories from your more adventurous friends that masturbation with legs was heavenly. Your eyes glanced from your bare legs back to Ryomen who was seated on another barrel and staring at the open ocean. It was so wrong, to touch yourself in front of someone who had no idea, but you couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed onto the ledge and slid one of your hands in between your legs, spreading apart your foreign folds. It was wet and slippery, but a different kind of wetness. Not from water, but natural lubrication. Your teeth found your bottom lip, biting down to suppress a noise when your fingers brushed over a sensitive spot. Was this the clit? It felt so good, that you started to focus solely on it. Rubbing small circles over your clit and praying you wouldn’t be too loud.

It felt like you were on fire, watching the captain and imagining what he would do to you. His cock, because human cocks were much better than mermaid cocks, you’ve heard, would feel so good in your wet pussy. You could imagine him stretching you out and fucking into you with such sheer force it would hurt. It would be different from the sex you’ve had before, no more men laying eggs in you. But instead, pumping bucket loads of sperm inside your tight hole. Your fingers slipped into your cunt, three at a time. Small noises escaped from your mouth and before long you began to unravel. You could see it on the horizon, and feel the orgasm building in your stomach. It was so good, it was so hot. You tried your hardest not to moan too loud, but you did. It was a small noise that could have been passed off as a grunt or perhaps a pained noise. But he knew.

Ryomen’s head snapped in your direction and he saw your face contorted in some kind of pleasure. You pressed your lips together and widened your eyes, thinking of something to do. But in that moment, you were frozen. It was fear, but it was excitement. You had been caught and humiliated, and it felt so hot. Your fingers trailed up from your pussy and to the ledge, glistening in the light. The captain just stared at you for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what exactly to do next. He was face to face with a mermaid of some sort, who he had just heard moan. He stood up and slowly made his way over to you, boots squeaking.

“You,” he gruffed, kneeling to look you over. You stared up at him with wide eyes. He was gorgeous up close too, something out of a fairytale. You wanted to extend your hand and reach out for him, let him pull you up and into his embrace.

“Me,” you repeated sheepishly, a hazy blush forming at your temple. Ryomen reached for your hand and took it, looking over your delicate skin. You went to continue, but he pulled you up. You gasped and let go of the ledge, then found yourself being thrown backward into the water. When your frame hit the water, a shriek escaped your lips and was cut short.

“You!” You gasped, breaking the surface tension and appearing back from the waves, “What the hell was that for?!?” He raised a calculated eyebrow and nodded, standing up. The captain's body shifted from side to side as he debated a response. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he decided if he should even respond to you, or leave you to drown. Of course, you wouldn’t drown, but it was the thought behind it that left a sour taste in your mouth.

“You’re a siren. Some kind of temptress trying to infiltrate my crew,” he spoke proudly as if he had come to the right conclusion. You stared up at him with a dumbfounded expression. How could he be so far from the truth? You weren’t there to tempt him into diving in and drowning, that was an outdated stereotype. The majority of the mermaids and sirens you knew didn’t want anything to do with humans. Why would he think that? In all honesty, you just wanted to feel his skin again. When he grabbed you, you had a chance to feel his rough calloused hands against yours. He was strong and warm—a warmth you had never experienced before.

“I wasn’t gonna-” A frown pulled at your lips, swimming forward to the base of the ship. With force and a lot of groaning, you made your way back up to the ledge with arm strength alone. The man watched you without a caring look in his eye. To him you were here to ruin his mission, the quest he had taken so long for. You were … his enemy. You weren’t sure how to make him see you didn’t want any harm, but rather him. In those few hours of just watching Ryomen and seeing him operate, you had begun to fall for him, even imprinting on his being. It was a tale as old as time, a creature falling in love with a human who couldn’t want anything to do with them. You had heard it play out before, but you wanted to try. Something about him felt different, even if his initial reaction was the same.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the words flowed out of your mouth gently, taking the captain by surprise. You saw it in the way his eyebrow twitched, and the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown, “I’ve been watching you all today. You intrigue me, Ryomen.”

“How do you know my name, wench?” He sneered back at you, a cold wall in place of the warm exterior you had seen moments prior with his crew.

“I heard it. I heard a lot.. I don’t want to hurt you,” you looked down at your hands, then to your tail that flowed in the small breeze, “I don’t want to hurt you or your crew.”

He was silent for a moment, lips pressed into a line. He stared at you with an expression that was hard to read. Thinking, calculating, and figuring out his next move. Ryomen was truly stunned. He had never expected a siren to be real and approaching him. And he had never expected one to be so … beautiful. The captain had to admit, he was captivated by your beauty from the moment he saw your orgasm face. Yeah, he knew what you were doing. He didn’t want to think about how it turned him on to be watched like that, hear your sweet moans fill the salty air.

Sukuna knew the tale, a beautiful siren would take in a captain and make him jump. He knew it all too well, so he couldn’t trust you, not even if he wanted to. A part of him did want to. He noticed the fact you grew legs, followed by a tail in their place. He could see the appeal of drying you off and fucking a baby into you, then throwing you overboard and leaving. But something was different. There was a genuine tone in your voice and there was a genuine flutter in his heart. He would never admit this, or show you his warmth as he did his crew. You were a stranger who deserved nothing but a cold exterior and a cold heart.

“Then what do you want?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. You let a moment pass, silence falling all around you. You didn’t want to say it because the answer would make you completely and utterly vulnerable. But you had to, you had to say something.

“You.” The words rang in Ryomen’s ears for a few moments as he stared at you with incredulous eyes. You wanted him? Even after he threw you into the ocean for dead, you wanted him? You wanted this man when he showed you nothing, not kindness, not hatred, just nothing? He didn’t want to believe he had just accidentally captivated you so much that you’d fall for him, in hours no less. The captain stood and watched you, taking in your form. Your hair was covering bits of your face, and blue scales covering bits of your skin. It didn’t cover your breasts, exposing your perked nipples to the cold wind. It didn’t cover the skin of your stomach, how your rolls were accentuated in the light.

He couldn’t deny he was a little bit curious, and the curiosity was turning into a perverted lust building in his abdomen. He had a mermaid at his will, a pretty one too, willing to do anything for him. The man could tell, from how you stared at him. So in love. It was cute, it made even his heart flutter just a bit. But it was still Ryomen, as warm as he was to his crew he was still a cold-hearted man. And he was a man. A lonely man, who hadn’t seen someone look at him with such love in his whole life. It was intoxicating, how you devoted yourself without thinking. Imprinting. He had read about it but never seen it in person. Hell, he had never seen a mermaid in person before. It was all new to Ryomen. There were mixtures of love, lust, warmth, coldness, confusion, love- love? He didn’t know you! How could he love you? But… it wasn’t natural. There was a pull, different from his other thoughts. It took over his thoughts and made him forget those perversions. It made him want to kneel and take your hand, pulling you from the water and holding you close. Was this the effect of your imprinting somehow rubbing off of him? Or was it… being shown unbridled love and affection that made Ryomen crumble?

Ryomen didn’t say anything, leaning down and taking your hand. His eyes intimately met with yours, as his hand enveloped yours. You looked down at him and a small gasp escaped your lips when he lifted you, without breaking a sweat. His arm flexed in the dull light, and you collapsed against his chest. Wet, you clung to him and rested your face against his pectorals.

“You… want me?” You murmured, not bothering to look up at him.

“I don’t know. I’m drawn, I’ll say that.” his breath was warm against your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand up. He was holding you up, so your tail didn’t drag on the ground. It wasn’t long or big, so it didn’t make a loud commotion as he set you down on the deck, “You.. need to dry off, huh?”

Your head nodded, thinking that would be that. You didn’t expect him to pick you up again, laying you on your stomach. A moan-like breath escaped from your lips, “Ryomen?” You turned slightly to watch, but something stopped you in your tracks. He was drawn to you, in more ways than one. It was your imprinting, rubbing off on him, making you drunk on his scent. Yes, Sukuna had his own will, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. Your eyes, maybe that’s what it was? Those tales of sirens were right, except it wasn’t just lust he was feeling. Maybe he was imprinting as well? If humans ever could. Love at first sight, which caused massive arousal on his part.

The entire point I’m trying to drill home is, that the captain was (whether he liked it or not) stuck with you, and he did like it. You couldn’t control your desires for him as much as he could. You knew he was the one and that aura surrounding yourself brought him in, making him feel safe. But onto the matter at hand? His erection was out, glistening in the pale light. You bit your bottom lip as you saw it bob from his left hand slowly stroking up his shaft. He didn’t know how mermaids consummated, because your penetration hole was not behind you, so you weren’t entirely sure what he was doing.

Then you felt it, he pressed his length against your asscheeks, frotting it back and forth to create stimulation. A small whine came falling from your bite-swollen lips, feeling the foreign sensation, “I think… we’re going to have to get to know each other,” Ryomen breathed out between his thrusts in between your asscheeks.

You said your name lowly, giving a brief description of your life. It was boring, with no parents and no siblings. So you had no qualms about leaving and starting over with this hot sailor. He nodded to your story and asked questions about different aspects. For him rutting into your behind, it was oddly casual. As if the two of you had silently agreed, this was normal, and you were now committed. Then he narrated his tale, growing up an orphan with two younger brothers to take care of. How he wanted a better life for his siblings and by doing this exploration, he’d get that. At points, the two of you forgot he was even humping your ass to begin with. It was so intimate, that detail slipped your mind.

It didn’t though, when his grip on your hips tightened, sharp nails digging into your scaled skin. He gaped and groaned, throwing his head back. You felt so good, different than the women he had fucked before. You were good and quiet, letting him hump you until he was about to cum. Then Ryomen leaned back and stroked himself to completion, spilling all on your pretty little back. You gasped and shuddered at the cold sperm, dripping onto your lower back.

“Warning, next time,” you breathed out, looking back at him.

Ryomen smiled and nodded, “Of course. Are you dry yet?”

You looked down at your still very mermaid bottom half and glanced back at him, “Do I look dry?” A hearty laugh escaped his mouth and he shook his head as you continued, “Just a few more minutes. Am I officially coming home with you? I mean, I’d like to, if you’re offering.”

“I don’t think I have a choice. I just came on your…” He trailed off, “I don’t even know why I,” another laugh, “Did that. I think you imprinted- or maybe I imprinted? I just… feel something for you I’ve never felt for anyone else before.”

“You mean it?”

“Mean it.”

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nats-firefly · 5 months

Text

livestream

camgirl!wanda maximoff x reader

summary: your girlfriend has a stream, and you watch it like the good partner that you are. when she’s done she comes to you to finish her off.

warnings: camgirl!wanda, voyeurism, strap-on use (wanda receiving), powerbottom!wanda, mommy kink, swearing, hair pulling, smut 18+ only

a/n: another repost! sorry it took me a bit to post, life's been a little crazy

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 1.7k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

gif source | divider source

“Hey, babe,” You yelled into your apartment. “I’m home.”

“Hi baby,” Wanda purred, pausing in front of you so you could admire what she was wearing. Your mouth watered as you took in the sight in front of you. Your eyes raked up her body, admiring the way her thigh highs hugged her thighs perfectly, followed by the pretty and sheer white lingerie set and bustier she had on. Her neck was adorned with a simple pearl necklace that matched her iridescent light makeup look. “How do I look?”

“Delicious,” You replied, pulling her into you by her waist as she laughed. Your lips connected to her neck as your hands roamed down to grab her ass. She moaned against your lips, scratching the base of your scalp before sliding her hands down to the front of your chest and pushing you away.

“Careful, you’ll ruin my makeup,” She whined, turning away to look at herself in the mirror hanging on the wall, and smiling once she made sure everything was still perfectly in place. “I’m about to stream.”

“Oh,” You said, pulling her in once again and smirking down at her. She looked at you with a playful grin, fingers playing with the buttons on your shirt. “Tell me I get to help with this one.”

She fake pouted, leaning up on the tip of her toes to give you a small peck. “Not this time.”

“Baby,” You whined, pulling her back by her hips when she tried to walk away, but not before admiring the way her ass looked in that thong. You kissed down the side of her neck, making her whine when you grazed your teeth over her soft skin. “Please, baby.”

“As much as I wish I could,” She took your arms and unwrapped them from around herself. “You’ve helped with every stream in the past month, to the point I’ve been getting comments that they want me by myself.”

You fake pouted, giving her your best puppy dog eyes, to which she laughed and cupped your cheek. “Next time baby,” She turned away and walked towards your spare room, which she used as her studio. She draped her long hair over her shoulder then looked back at you. “But there’s no one saying you can’t watch.”

She closed the door with a wink, leaving you slack jawed standing in the hallway. You snapped yourself out of it and moved to the couch, settling down and clicking on the app your girlfriend was about to get naked on.

You met Wanda long after she started her career as a cam girl, in fact, you subscribed to her and it was only a coincidence you ended up meeting at that club one night. Your relationship had been fast since then, you were completely infatuated with one another, and soon enough you’d moved in together. Wanda has only ever made you happy, and being a camgirl was her job. You didn’t think it was a big deal if she continued doing it and you sure as hell had fun helping her out with it.

Soon enough, you saw her face show up on the app. She started out with her usual routine, explaining the tip goals for her to do anything like usual. You watched her tips come in, enjoying the way she looked on the screen. Wanda started off playing with her chest over her bra, her soft moans making you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes glued to the way you could see her nipples harden through the sheer fabric.

It wasn’t long until Wanda reached her first tip goal, meaning she would be taking her top off. You leaned forward in anticipation, watching as her tits spilled out of her bra. It didn’t matter how many times you’d watched her do this exact action, how many times you’d watched her tits bounce in front of you, every time was captivating. Her body was perfect, she was a goddess, and you were her devotee. You couldn’t get enough of her.

Your hand gripped the phone as she smirked at the camera and started shimmying her underwear off, you clenched your jaw and swallowed hard. She is breathtaking. You watched as Wanda showed herself off in different angles, lightly playing with herself and going slightly further every time she hit another tip goal.

“Fuck, Wanda,” You groaned as she switched her camera angle to show right between her legs. Wanda leaned back hand working between her thighs. You watched her dainty manicured fingers start circling her clit, moans filling the room. Her pussy was already soaked from her playing with herself, and knowing you were watching her drove her insane. She couldn’t care less about the tips coming in, or how many people were watching, the only person she cared about watching her was you. All her streams got better since she met you.

She brought herself closer and closer to the edge, her hips bucking up into her touch. You could feel your temperature rise, like steam coming up from your shoulders. You couldn’t wait until she was done. You watched as Wanda’s back arched in pleasure followed by the loud moan coming from her studio.

“Fuck,” Wanda moaned, the same way she does when your strap is inside her and you knew at that moment exactly what she was thinking about. And like a good partner, you’d make sure she gets what she wants after a long day at work.

You went into your room and put on Wanda’s favorite strap, the one that was private to the two of you, the one you knew made goosebumps erupt all over her skin. When you came out, it was just in time to settle back on the couch before she came out of her studio, clad in her fluffy pink robe. Wanda strutted over to you, moving to stand between your knees. You looked up at her with a lazy grin. She smiled down at you, fingertips trailing your shoulder.

“Did you like the stream?” She asked, biting her lip. Wanda didn’t need your validation but she wanted it.

“I fucking loved it, baby,” You answered honestly, grabbing her hand and playing with her fingers, scooting closer to the edge of the couch to run your hand up her legs through the slit of her robe. “You look so perfect.”

Wanda laughed, hand running through your hair as you tried snuggling your way to her skin through her robe. “You think so?”

“Oh yeah,” Your hand slid up higher to her inner thigh, squeezing her soft flesh. Wanda pulled your head away from her by your hair until your back was flush against the back pillow on the couch. She leaned over you, her face mere inches away from yours. Wanda’s eyes flicked down to the bulge on your pants before she smirked up at you.

“Aw,” She giggled, straddling your lap then sliding her hand down to grab your jaw. “Did that make you horny, baby?”

You groaned, her hips starting a slow rhythm against yours. She tilted her head to the side, gaze sending a wave of heat straight to your core. “You wanna fuck me so bad you went to get your strap, baby? What a good toy, didn’t even have to ask.”

Your hands gripped her hips as you fought against her hold on your jaw to kiss her. Her lips were just out of reach, she was holding you in place just because she knew she could.

“Wan,” You moaned trying to hold her closer. “Please.”

“Please, what?” She asked, leaning her face closer to you.

“Please let me fuck you,” You said, lips attaching to her jaw the second she let up her grip. She moaned as you continued kissing down to her neck, nails scratching against your scalp when your teeth grazed her skin. “Please, I want to make you cum on my cock.”

Wanda felt a shiver run down her back at your words. You always knew exactly what to say. She pulled your head back once again, lifting herself off your lap just enough so you could pull the strap out. You knew what to do.

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” She rasped, sinking down on the strap. “Tell Mommy what you were thinking about while you were watching me.”

“Fuck, Mommy,” Wanda moaned at the title, starting to bounce on your lap. You reached up and slid the robe down her shoulders, giving yourself a perfect view of her tits. “I was thinking about this.”

You looked up at her as she threw her head back, Your hands on her hips guiding her movements. “Thinking about how much I wanted to see you bouncing on my cock,” You bit down softly on the soft flesh of her chest, making her moan out and hold you closer. “How pretty you look cumming for me.”

Wanda moaned out, her movements growing faster and sloppier the longer you continued. You gripped her hips harder, pulling her down roughly in just the way she liked. “Are you gonna cum for me, Mommy?”

Wanda gripped your hair, rolling her hips in search for more. You knew exactly what she wanted and were fast to react, putting your mouth on her nipple and pinching the other one between your fingers. Wanda moaned loudly, arching her back in pleasure as the strap hit her in just the right way.

“Fuck, baby,” She moaned. “I-I’m gonna-”

You pushed her up almost until the strap was fully out before pulling her down in one last thrust, making her scream out in pleasure as her orgasm overtook her. Her body shook as you helped her through her high, enjoying all the sounds she made for you. She tiredly slumped against your shoulder, heavy breathing and eyelids threatening to close.

“Baby,” She mumbled, you hummed at her to continue as you ran your hand through her hair. “I think that was the best thing we’ve ever done.”

#wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #bonk.wanda #bonk.repost #bonk.au

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shou-jpeg · 9 months

Text

-Back on the Beat-

Part 4. 03

-------------------

“Your teeth are going to rot at this rate, p’Kim," Chay says, eyeing Kim’s drink critically as they sit down at a table in the back corner of the tea shop.

“I’ve got a good dental plan,” Kim says, taking a sip. “And it’s worth the risk.”

Chay perks up, leaning forward in his chair eagerly. “You like the classic flavour then?”

Kim hums, looking down at his drink and using the straw to mix the little pearls around the bottom of the cup. “The tapioca pearls are a little weird, but the flavour of the tea is nice.”

Chay beams at him.

-------------------

“I don’t really know what to do with myself. I still love music, but I’m not sure it’s something I want to pursue as a career after all. I wanted to be what your music was to me and help people and be there for them when they need it most... but I'm not sure being a musician is how I want to achieve that goal.”

Kim shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the piano, Chay’s guitar is abandoned to the side, long forgotten in the wake of their conversation. Kim doesn’t regret asking Chay about his gap year, but he wishes he didn’t feel so responsible for causing Chay to drop his university interview. Chay had just finished telling him about how Kim’s rejection was only one of several reasons he did so, but he still feels that responsibility like a sharp knife to his chest. He’s also unsure if Chay is just downplaying his involvement in light of their rekindled not-relationship.

“Do you think you will go back next year?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Chay replies. “I want to, but I need to figure out everything else first. Music was a pipe dream to a future with hia that helped get us through some tough times, but it’s not a realistic future. Not for me anyway.”

Kim looks down at his hands.

“But.. I still want to keep making music, p’Kim. I like making music with you and coming here to jam regularly."

Kim looks up and makes eye contact with Chay's warm expression for a moment before looking away, unsure what to say. A light smile tugging at his lips and a warm feeling in his chest.

-------------------

November 21st, 8:08pm

Kim has been strumming around on his guitar for hours now, feeling uninspired but with an unquenchable urge to create. His cat, Jimbo, has been sleeping on the sofa, only waking breifly every now and then to groom.

He thinks of his brothers.

Khun and his melodrama that at times feels more like a front than genuine feeling. Khun’s been messaging him recently with requests to come visit and watch a new series that dropped. Apparently it’s a BL that he just “has to watch, Kim. It’s about the mafia! It looks very cool and romantic!”

He should make time for him next week.

He thinks of Kinn, his desperate need to please their pa clouding his view forward. Kinn would resent him for saying it, so he doesn’t, but sometimes he thinks Kinn stands as more of a pawn to their father than he even realises. His agency a part of a larger, more complicated plan. Porsche is also part of that plan, though Kim isn't sure the romance had been anticipated.

Kim does his best to keep Kinn safe from a distance, the details of Kinn’s month’s schedule in a short, neat stack on his desk across the room.

He thinks of Chay and their developing not-relationship. He doesn’t know what to think of some of their interactions lately, but Kim has been feeling that simmering hope boil within him with each message, each not-date, each little smile…

He looks down at his note book, chords written down messily. They sound nice, but they feel a little hollow and unexciting.

Kim has an idea.

He hesitates a little, but then hits record on his voice recorder app, plays his notebook chords, and sends them to Chay before he can psyche himself out of it.

He loves making and talking music with Chay, why should he limit sharing that to their studio sessions? Chay has a habit of saying just the right thing that sparks Kim’s creative flow, and sometimes just talking to Chay gets him out of his head.

Kim smiles down at his phone softly. God.

-------------------

November 22nd, 7:30pm

"Hey" Kim says into the his phone. He has it wedged between his cheek and his sholder while he uses both hands to chob vegetables.

"Hi!" Chay's chipper voice comes through the speaker, "what are you up to, p'Kim?"

He slides the chopped carrots into a small bowl, moving on to the red capsicum. "I'm cooking dinner. Pad Phak."

"P'Kim, you cook?" Chay sounds surprised which... okay fair. Kim is a child of wealth and living in the very building Kim grew up in, Chay has seen first hand how meal times tend to work.

"Mmm. I like it, it's fun."

"Oh my God" Chay breathes quietly into the mic. Kim isn't sure what to make of that. He thinks it's a good thing... Chay sounded almost awed. Does Chay like it that Kim can cook?

He suddenly feels a little proud of himself, and maybe slightly pompous. "I'll cook for you sometime," he says, "I make a really good pad kra pao."

"Yes!" Chay says excitedly, causing Kim to jump. He continues in a softer tone "I'd love that, p'Kim."

-------------------

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First

Playlist

#kinnporsche #kimchay #kim theerapanyakul #porchay kittisawasd #porchay pachara #i want you bach au #i want you bach au part 4 #got it finished!#the real reason this is late is it was my best friends birthday yesterday and he decided what he wanted to do for that was #to spend all night playing video games with me and my other housemate #so i didn't get to finish this #updates to the playlist for this one!

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punk-in-docs · 1 year

Note

“if you want to come you better beg” x prince paul cause i need this filth 😩👀

🥀Qualities of Mercy🥀

Prince Paul x Tsarevna // smut drabble - Bugger me sideways @usedtobecooler only the best for you babes crème de la crème - Prince Prick and some bratty behaviour culminating in angry!hate!fucking coming up. Also short? I don’t think I can write short drabble a about this man. I’m having a lot of feelings ok.

Some babes I know may want to see this @indouloureux @munsonswhore86 @heyndrix @lunatictardis @creme-bruhlee @callmeloverr @roanniom

It’s an odd relief to see the signs of war increase with each gained mile, burnt out patches of land and artillery tracks wedged into the mud. Foul air, fire, and rifle smoke; it means you’re closing in on your goal.

It means you’re that much closer to your husband.

Foul boggy mud, and nipping winds that cut to bone. You’re rumbling your way along treacherous roads, ever closer.

The terrain is dismal. There’s not even any sweetly soft birdsong chirping from the trees. There’s no kind nature. There’s only war and man, and guttural cries of the wounded. A landscape drizzled with slanted misty rain. Stubby felled larch trees and splintered bark.

The soldiers encamped, look like misshapen beasts. Blood crusted black, and the wounded wearing filthy yellowed bandages. Eyes missing, limbs turned to stumps. Squatting and huddling in clumps in the woods. Shivering under canvas with pithy licks of orange campfires staining the air with spicy woodsmoke.

They watch the carriage pass with rapt fascination. But too cold to react.

You weren’t expected.

That fact is writ plain as day all over the face of the dirt smeared soldier who trudged up to the carriage window. The soldier on watch. Who’d been pissing up against as tree when you rolled up.

His eyebrows buoy in surprise as you drop your fur lined hood.

“My Lady-“ He rasped in surprise.

“Tsarevna.” Your second maid, Maricel, leaned forward and snipped. Voice like a barking hound. Just as dogged.

She was eternally bolshy and hard edged. Hated you not being given the proper due politesse as deserving of your rank. She took great offence to those who didn’t understand the severity of your position.

“I’m here to see my husband. Kindly take me to him.”

“I’m not sure he’ll want- he’s occupied with many important matters.“ He fumbles for an excuse.

Maricel’s words come locked in impatience.

“Are you suggesting the Tsarevna of Russia is unimportant?” She tests.

“No- I.”

“He will carve out the time for his wife, you dumb prick.” She points out. Rubbing her shivering hands.

“Now, now.” You scold her.

She merely rolls her eyes. Not frightened by you whatsoever. Just pissy cause she’s cold.

The solider shuffles on his feet. Breaks eye contact. “I’m not sure I have the authority to-“

“Are you going to make me repeat myself.” You warn. Ire threaded into every word.

You stare him down with slicing diamond eyes. Tips sharpened and designed to cut.

A look you’ve thieved and mastered from Catherine’s own brand of venom. Don’t budge an inch.

It’s enough to get him to snap his mouth shut.

“No. Uh. Of course. This way, Tsarevna.”

You clambered out that boxy royal carriage. Door encrusted in a golden crest. Dainty sky blue heel sinking into earth. Hem sodden and dragged with it in no time. Maricel follows you dutifully. Your guard dog.

“Cunt.” Maricel bites out at the solider as she shuffled after you. Trudging into the muck.

“Put your forked tongue away.” You suggest.

She moodily deigns to do as you say.

You fold your gloved hands. Pretty pearl buttons march along your wrists now seeming contemptuous among all this. You rub at them to spark up some warmth in your numb fingers, as you looked around for the cluster of carmine coated generals.

Slipping and staining your skirts with slodgy mud as you followed the dismal soldier who’d take you to him. Your heels slip up, your feet get bogged. The stench of this place is curdling your lungs. Burnt larch trees and smoke and decay.

You press on. Determined.

The men swim their their groggy eyes to you. This place is used to viscera and gummy black blood, and mud crusted ash.

By comparison you look like a chunk of pure silken teal sky, fallen to earth. Precious and spotless. A drop of stunning sapphire wedged into all this dirt and death.

You squelch your way through tents and surgeon tents where men lay gouged and exposed. Rotting alive and shivering under the canvas as they cried out to the chowder thick sky. Rain melting on their eyelashes.

The smoke cleared past you, drifting. And then your overly elegant shape comes moulded out the congealing blood and smog of his hell. Pearl buttons, satin, and floral petal perfume. A wrenching juxtaposition coinciding.

You see your husband. Through the cloth mouth of one of the larger tents. No mistaking those puddle eyes for anyone else. The white scratchy wig. The cut of his powder blue coat and red royal medals slashing blood.

He’s gathered with men around a map table staked out with battle plans. This fare is all simplicity. Battle for blood and the vicinity of conquering men.

This is a land shuttered to the gaze of your sex. Your kind do not come roaming here. Not noble women anyway. The generals of mild importance probably had their favourite whores fetched in, however.

You stand and his eyes travel at last to yours. You smile lightly.

His expression altered into bitterness. Eyes lost their walnut warmth. Jaw clenched. Mood spiked sour.

He told you distinctly not to fucking come.

Yet here you stand.

You meet his burnt umber gaze and the sparky fire flecked there, scalds you.

“Tsarevich.” You greet him. Breath whipped to silver. You’re standing in the misty rain.

Waiting to see what comes spat back.

The generals clustering him, all bow in confusion and politely bob their unkempt wigged heads.

Not Paul.

His jaw clenched. Expression stiff. Posture as rigid as a Siberian Larch.

You’re fucking in for it now.

You batted at the sopping stretch of canvas. Hurling it out the way. Rain crashes down into your sprouting feathered hat and onto your shoulders.

Every squelch of your step into the oozing mud came sharp. Striking as a gut punch.

He’s following, hot on your heels, and you want to turn around and swing a punch into the angelic cherubim face you’d missed all these lonely long eight months.

His anger set off your own. Silky black gunpowder meeting roaring flame.

He’s livid.

You stand in his quarters. His tent is this huge beast of a thing. Clean and comfortable. A room with a table and maps and trunks takes up one. Green and gold tapestries make the walls slightly more habitable. More sophisticated. A cut above the desolate forest and the miseries of the wounded.

An emerald velvet curtain shields off the area where his ornate downy bed must be. He was still a Prince after all. He’ll be among his men. But he’s not sleeping in a frozen bedroll in the muck like an animal.

He storms into this space behind you and slaps the canvas closed. Words snapping out his mouth, that flimsy tent walls and steadily dripping rain will not conceal.

“This is not a place for you. You’re not supposed to be here.”

You don’t twist back to him as you angrily shed your gloves. Ripping them off like it was your own skin.

“Heaven forfend. I travel for two days in an uncomfortable carriage in the fucking driving rain to come see my husband and this is the thanks I get?”

“I told you not to come!” His words stamp out his mouth. He stabs a finger in the air. Aiming it as you.

“A lovely welcome.” You stab back.

He’s toe to toe with you. Muddy boots. Those chocolate eyes are all bitter. Not skated in love. Cold as all this terrible mud you’re bogged into.

“I don’t need you here. I have enough to deal with on my plate as it is fighting these Turks. I don’t need my wife by my side whilst I’m engaged in matters of battle.”

You steel your wilful jaw and bathe in the burnt brown shadow of his scowl.

“I am your wife. I have been left rotting at court. In misery now you’re gone. I decided to come and see you. To be here, by your side. In sickness and in health and even in battle. I don’t consider that as an action that deserves censure.”

“Yes it fucking is. I don’t need you here.” He shouts.

The burn of tears stings at your chest. Rips at your eyes. The man you’ve missed and ached after for months now and this is his choice of words levelled at you. It’s cutting.

“Lovely.” You bite out. “Well then. I won’t waste my time loitering around for you to yell at me.” You grip your gloves and turn back to him.

“Fuck you, Paul. Good day. Go back to your warring, and muddy filth.” You finish acidly. Your throat is full of clotting fire. Your rage. In situ with your wounded pride.

You shove at his coated chest, dull gold buttons. Go to move past him. Wipe your boots on his fine rug floors on the way out.

Your ruined shoes stick on the spot. He’s banded a hand around your wrist. It tugs. Burns skin.

“Let go.” You seethe. Pull your arm. You don’t look at him. Jaw grit.

He does not.

You wrench again. It brings you closer to him. You snarl. He stills your arm.

You do meet his gaze. The glint of fire - raked embers - returns to his eyes.

“No.” He decided.

Oh, now he’s in for it.

Anger spumes out of you like raining cursed hellfire. He should be terrified. You are mighty. Goddess of war backed with wrath. Angrier than Ares. These men should cower under your golden gaze. Desolation writ into you so heavily they should run for the hills.

“Thought you didn’t need me? Why would the mighty Tsarevich need his dumb bitch of a wife at his side? Run out of good whores have you?”

It was too late for niceties.

“Just be quiet.” He snaps.

Stepping very close. Close enough to touch only he doesn’t. His eyes move to your mouth. His hand seeks for your waist. Reels you in.

You don’t want too. But you clam up. You want to rear back and swing your fist to strike him. Preferably with a knife.

“I have never known a woman as disobedient. Nor as wilfully stubborn as you are. It’s infuriating.” He snipes.

His breath warms your mouth. He smells like his woody spice soap and bitter brush of smoke, and sweat. Still Paul. Underneath all things.

“Good.” You snarl with a nod. “I’m glad to have been such an inconvenience.”

“Constant dagger in my side.”

“Fuck you.” You announce passionately.

“I have had enough of your inability to listen to my orders.” He comments.

“Tough shit.” You snark.

“Elegant verbiage.” He insults.

His gaze is swimming into something steel black and lethal. You hate how much you like looking at him like this. It almost makes him look intimidating and handsome.

At this point, you’re half desire, half pure lightning hot rage.

“Get back to me when I don’t want to stick a knife in your thigh. Maybe my vocabulary will improve.” You hiss.

You’re so locked and entwined with this man. Tug his strings and it’s sure enough to jerk some distant part of you, merely by extension.

“Are you wet right now?” He asks. Head tilting His lashes shutter his eyes as he scans you. From the dirt crusted hem, sweeping upwards.

Your mouth is dry as tumbling scorched sands. Clench your teeth to dust. Heart ramming your tonsils.

He spies that twitch in your face. “Am I to take that as a yes, Tsarevna?”

If looks could kill.

“I’m going to fuck you. I know how plaint and weak it makes you when I work that delicious cunt open with my cock.” He steps you back. Hands tugged in your dress. Leading.

“I will fuck every disobedient word and thought out that head. Wife.” He sneers.

He pushes you to one of the wooden columns. Shunts a breath out of you. Hands digging through your skirts. Searching for your pussy.

You rake your nails into the nape of his neck. Hope it stings. Pray it brings blood.

“Be careful what you wish for.” You warn.

He smiles.

He’s fucking you not two minutes later.

Naturally, it didn’t take him long. You succumbed way too easy. Melted like butter, really.

He’s slithered to the gaps in your armour and snuck beneath with all the cunning adroitness of a serpent. You detest it.

He doesn’t give you what you need. Of course not. He doesn’t make this easy. His actions are all dipped in mocking taunt and brat.

He splayed you open, and rubs the fat leaking head of his cock against your trembling pussy. Eight months of nothing your your own fingers and he’s making you sit and beg like a trained lapdog.

Slapping it to your clit and smiling when you lurch. Unwilling to feed the head into you just yet.

It’s fucking agony.

You’re ready to slit his throat by the time he rewards you with sinking to the hilt in one ramming surge of his hips. The anger dissipates - a little.

You soothe the rest of it by leaning up and gnashing your teeth into his neck. Clamp down hard- force him to fuck you harder.

He cursed when sliding into you. Mumbled wisely about how conflict always made you so juicy wet for him. He pulled back and taunted you with your own greediness for his cock. The shine of your arousal coating him all glossy. A pretty sight, that.

“Hear how wet you are my love?” He lurches and slams you. A sharp stroke that wracked every vertebrae of your spine.

The sounds that come keening from you make your eyes flick back into your head. Enough to make him more smug.

“Utterly filthy. Soaking.” He huffs in gasps. “Making wet patches on my bed like a damn harlot.”

“Can’t believe you. Hmm- fucking brat. Yelling at me for coming here.” You manage to gasp. Cheeks blistering hot with this anger spurned arousal. Nails clawed into the carved headboard.

A hiccup snags the back of your throat as he knees closer.

Pushes your legs almost crushed up to your tits. Your stays almost strangling you. You cry loud because of this new angle. Makes him punch a spot inside that almost aches.

“I think this cunt is more pleased to see me than you are.” He smirks. Hands with dirty nails digging into your thighs. Ten half moons socketed into your quivering flesh.

“Fucking hell.” Spews out your mouth. Unguarded. He’s severing every strong steel thread of your resolve.

“I’ll take that as yes.” He says. Hair falls choppy in front of his wild eyes. Tiger eyes. Frightful fierce. Hands clamped to your thighs. He spreads you and sits up to stuff himself deeper. Harder. Faster.

The noises he’s getting out of you are just growing and growing. Rising in pitch and volume. So much so you’re swirling your hips to him to get feedback off that friction. That burgeoning pleasure begins to slice mean into your belly.

“How you moan for me when I give you my cock. Never gets old.” He grins.

“Never too late to punish my disobedient-“ he huffs and fucks hard inbetween his words. “Petulant. Stubborn. Wife.” He insists with a playful leer.

He can tell by the wails how close you are. Enough to taste it now. That eye rolling pressure ready to snap.

His cock stretched you just right. Stabbed into the gaping cup of your womb. You’re so treacherously close to that blissful peak you go rigid trying to chase it down and let the sensation ruin you.

It was mind meltingly good. Close and looming closer. Heat wrapping your limbs and warping your mind to bend to him. Every atom of you trained for this pleasure to come-

He yanks his cock out of you so fast, you want to shriek.

That coal hot glow of orgasm withers and curls to ash. He’s back to slipping his fat head around your cit again. Smearing your cunt in a sticky taste he’ll find and devour later.

“You fucking-“ you glare up at him all blissed and edged. Cunt clenching on nothing but air. He smooths both his thumbs over your pretty and dripping pussy lips. Making you throb.

“If you want to cum, you better beg.” He insists.

“I could kill you.” You seethe. Words dressed in a growl.

He tilts his head. Teasing. “Yes?”

You yelp when his cock slams into you once more. Puff for breath. God fucking dammit.

“How about now?” He checks as he folds you in half, yet again. Cock rooted deep.

The start of a long night, to be sure.

Hours later, darkness wraps you up. Comforting tenebrous blanket. Candles are lit. Dozy gold and matte dark pours into the tent.

He has you food brought in as an apology.

Someone ducks in the tent with a tray of it. He pulls on his boots to go fetch it. Leaves you boneless on his goose feather plumped bed.

There’s a bottle of wine with dinner too. Not the best but you’re not complaining. Dry hard biscuits and a salty wedge of goats cheese was your lot in the carriage ride here.

There’s a thick milky porridge with creamy oats and nutmeg and warming spices. A slab of pink roasted meat glistening with fat and golden globs of plain boiled potatoes barely salted. Sided with some hunk of brown hardy bread smeared in greasy butter.

This food is hot and warm and fills your belly well. He feeds it to you.

It’s how he soothes. But it’s not the only way he wants to offer you comfort.

He gets naked and climbs under the covers. Always bathed you in limitless comforts and luxuries after a rough fuck. The calm sweetness after a raging storm of passion and stinging claws and slamming hate. When the blood has dried to rust, along with the nasty words.

He slips between your legs under the sheets to tongue at your cunt like it’s a juicy honeycomb treat that drips honey.

It’s dripping him.

He eats it out of you. You sigh all dreamy and elongate your neck back to pillows that smell like his shaving soap, to moan his name.

Slipping your nails over the short brown thorns of hair. Rake over his scalp.

You gasp his name and you know the soldiers will have heard the sound sneak out the tent flaps. You don’t care.

His tongue slithers and laps through your puffy sex. Fully nursing your clit with the curl of his tongue. Brushes through the tactile scratch of your curls there. He loves burying his nose in them.

When he’s done he slinks up from under his furs and sheets. Wiping his mouth in the back of his hand. Still a little bit of both of you combined is smeared wetly across one cheek.

It catches in the flickering murky light. Candles are spinning red gold in the dim. Rain is a steady pat on the tent roof.

You look down at him. His gaze is all warmth and tenderness again. A knowing smile slopes the corner of his mouth.

“Did you really travel all this way just so I could fuck you?” He asks all smug.

You smirk. “Got what I wanted, now didn’t I.” You dismiss archly.

But you both know it seats a little deeper than that. There’s definite skin both of you have sunk into this game. It might even be the gummy beating walls of your hearts involved.

“You do know you’re a walking fucking nightmare.” He tells you.

Slotting himself between your hips. Seeking to hold your hands as he rolls into you. Makes your cunt clench.

Your hand slips from stroking his hair, downwards. Vicing your cruel hand around his soft throat. His eyes blaze again.

“Don’t you dare fucking forget it.” You sneer.

He sends you home sore - five days after your arrival.

#punkwrites #prince paul fanfiction #prince paul catherine the great #prince paul imagine #prince paul fanfic #prince paul x you #prince paul smut #prince paul x oc #prince paul x reader #prince paul #i would die for this man #such a brat #he’s such a filthy ho #such a hottie #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn

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legally-allowed-to-slime · 5 months

Text

Fic about Scar after Secret Life? I noticed that he got the same task again after winning and it got me thinking. Apparently Martyn had the same idea but I swear I didn’t get it from him it was just me

I did get the idea of going insane from him but the rest is me

***

Scar normally detested routine, but now he was craving it and there was nothing to be done.

It had been five days. Five days since he’d pressed that succeed button, five days since the last ghost had left the game.

He’d tried to leave, just after pressing.

He couldn’t. It was as if there was some virtual barrier that was stopping him from disconnecting every time he tried.

Then, he’d tried dying.

Just as he’d thought of it, the fail button was no longer there.

He’d grabbed at the thin air where it used to be, then pounded his fist onto the hard stone beneath it and screamed until his hand bled and his throat was sore.

He jumped into the ravine. He stood in lava. He plunged underwater and didn’t hold his breath.

What had happened was that there was all the pain that came with dying but none of the final relief, of seeing that death screen and the pressure lift up. He’d looted some golden apples, devoured them just to stop the pain.

His hearts just wouldn’t go down.

Normally he couldn’t stop them from going, but now, just when what he wanted to do most was to die, the Secret Keeper wouldn’t let him. It was a cruel joke.

“I’ve already won!” He yelled at it. “I’ve already won, let me leave!”

He’d pressed the reroll for hard, but he just got the same “Win Secret Life.” book over and over again. The succeed button merely gave him more hearts and flashed “You have succeeded.” at him, as if taunting him.

Now, on the fifth day, he didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t eaten at all, and his hunger bar stayed empty, but his hearts wouldn’t go down.

He leaned against the side of the Keeper, his stomach hollow and his head aching.

The sun was particularly piercing today, but he stared at it stubbornly, not caring if it would make him go blind. It hung in the air, resolutely staying but not helping at all.

He wondered what it would be like if everyone else was here.

Surely, they would all love him and congratulate him on his win. He’d wake up with a smile on his face, pop around to the Mounders and have a chaotic breakfast, then maybe go off to practice archery at Grian’s base, probably have some joking banter with Scott. Then…

It hurt to think about it.

He’d already buried them all.

Jimmy and Mumbo had long been buried, and Lizzie’s final resting place was the void, of course, but he’d gathered up everyone else.

He’d cleared the leaves at the Heart and laid Skizz, Tango, and Bigb to rest. The Scotts and Tots were likewise given a simple grave at their base, and Etho and Cleo at theirs. Mum and Dad.

He’d killed them, laughing, all towards the goal of winning, and in the end he was left alone in an empty world filled with dead bodies. All his previous grudges seemed unimportant now.

He’d buried Grian at Sunflower Valley, near the mess of blocks that used to be Trader Scar’s.

It seemed selfish but there was no one around to judge, and he still recalled the whisper of his ghost that day.

She’s dead, Scar. You won.

It was just words. He hadn’t won.

Winners were supposed to be happy.

He’d found Mumbo’s grave by the patch of fresh grass by the man’s own mound, and put Bdubs and Joel next to him. He couldn’t bring himself to bury Pearl at first, but leaving her in the ravine seemed like letting the Keeper win, so he’d done it as well.

Letting the Keeper win. As if there was still a game to play.

It had felt weird at first, burying his friends. But after a while he didn’t feel any sorrow when burying them. They were all dead anyway.

He was going to be dead anyway, if not by the Keeper’s hand then by his own. He anticipated the day the Secret Keeper would get bored and just kill him off.

But there was nothing to do now.

And sitting by the Keeper, on the brink of death yet forbidden to tip over, Scar laughed.

He laughed and laughed, unsure if it was the heat of the sun, or the unrelenting silence of the Secret Keeper, or maybe the despair of his own mind that was making him do it.

Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life.

He hadn’t won. He never would, and he would never finish this last task, left to rot, alone, in the world that he had created for himself by killing and killing until there was no one left to kill but himself and he couldn’t even give himself that mercy—

It occurred to him that he might go insane. Or maybe he already was.

What did it matter? He was alone anyway.

#secret life #secret life smp #trafficblr #life series #traffic series #traffic life #traffic life series #life smp #life series smp #slsmp #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #traffic life smp #traffic smp

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collegecuckcakev3 · 4 months

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To conclude my report on my cake’s new dominance of me, my weigh-in was close. I was 171 and my goal was 170. However my thigh measurement was 26” and that was unchanged. (She humiliated me by making me measure her 19.25” thighs). She called my husband and told him of my failure and he whipped out his belt and she quickly reduced me to tears. The time of the session was moved up by an hour as she informed me I would be allowed to go with them to dinner and she wanted me to have time to get ready. She picked an unflattering dress for me to wear while she wore a very short red mini and my pearls. I was trying my best to shower, dress and do my hair and makeup, but when she told me they were ready to leave and chop chop, so I had to take my make up to do in the car. No such luck. She told me I was to drive them and they got in the back seat and I into the drivers position. About three blocks from the restaurant, she told me to pull into a McDonalds. I was puzzled but went through the drive through and she ordered a happy meal. I didn’t understand until I pulled into the restaurant and she told me to enjoy my dinner and handed me the bag. I ate the burger and fries and edged until they came out two hours later. I had to stand in the corner while they had sex on our bed and then was allowed to clean them before they fell asleep. I was allowed to sleep on the floor next to the bed. I don’t think she is leaving.

that is so hot!

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archandshri · 4 months

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9th feb '24 - [arch] characters, interactions and emotion - making a mini webcomic

Gahhhh Shri this has been an absolutely crazy couple of weeks!!!! Hope you are doing well :)) First of all, WOW! You have a lot of goals, and I’m sure you’ll get them done! I’ve worked a lot on my graphic design during the process of making Winter Wellbeing. If you wanna see a blog post dedicated just to that, I can do so! It would be cool to compare notes on the approaches we take for graphic layouts. If you wanna share your knowledge of camera skills when you build that up that would be awesome 😭😭

It’s been a tough few weeks, art wise. I have been reflecting on my process, motivations to create, the ego and all the baggage that’s lumped into the creative process for me. It turns out there’s a lot. I took some space from my illustration practise (literally for a weekend!) and began to realise how dysfunctional it is. I’ve been writing a lot about that so there may be a larger piece of writing coming about that at some point (no promises!!)

But for now, let's talk about little successes!

I’ve been playing with some characters for a while but I’d hit a bit of a block with the plot. I realised the expectation of having a finished project of high quality soon is unrealistic, and an unhealthy expectation to put on myself. I rarely give myself time to play with concepts for a long time and let the characters, plot and interactions evolve naturally. Maybe this in part came from sticking to the short university module turnaround. I noticed that that short turnaround was causing a lot of block, so I have decided to bench it as a comic for now and focus on using it as a playground - falling in love with the characters, creating stories and drawing them for fun. Maybe years down the line I’ll make them into a comic - we shall see!

I *tried* to do hourly comics day this year and it didn’t quite work for me. I think I made 3 comics? And then got distracted with a bigger project that ended up taking a week or so to complete. Let’s have a look at it, shall we?

[you can find the full version here]

First of all, it’s based on an unfinished fanfiction I started a couple of months ago, which was mostly bad, but there was one nice scene that I liked and wanted to expand on. I started by having a look at the script I wrote and thumbnailing on the iPad. I’m away from home at the mo and usually would prefer to do most of my artwork traditionally, but because I don’t have access to a scanner, the whole process was digital this time. A lot of the pages got scrapped because the dialogue wasn’t necessary, and I’m not drawing pages that aren’t necessary.

some more development screenshots

I thought a lot about posing during the process, acting the scenes out in my mind and sometimes physically, really understanding the emotions of the characters, why they’re saying what they’re saying, their tone and how to convey that though their body language and expression (i find grian really annoying normally [affectionate] but I want this grian to step on me).

Pearl was hard with this because she’s quite erratic and unpredictable in this series, so I wanted her to switch from raw explodey anger to playful jabs at Grian. I’m hoping this comes across as somewhat insane, rather than tonally off and inconsistent. I did super enjoy drawing her and her explosive nature though, especially in comparison to Grian’s coldness.

I played with levels and monotone colour too - I’m not working with multiple colours much at the moment so I’m able to focus on things like values composition, characters and backgrounds. My skills limit the kind of stories I can tell currently, so I’m working to improve those foundations. Maybe when I’m back in the riso studio I can play with colours a little more.

Colours - despite the simple pallete it gets a bit nerdy here.I stuck to specific flat percentages for most of it - Pearl’s hair and Grians jumper are 60%, Grian’s hair and Pearl’s cloak are 20%. Then I added a 14% layer for shadows, using a ahrd blend eraser tool for highlights, making the images quite dark. I fill a layer with texture from Forystr’s riso brush for procreate, and turn it into a 40% opacity colour dodge layer. This gives it some much needed texture and makes the lighting feel low and nighttimecore. It also pushes the values to look really nice - I tend to be too scared to push them by myself.

I tried a few different colour layers to get a *vibe* but settled on a low percentage riso blue in a colour layer. All layers besides the riso blue are in a riso black, colour picked from a riso colour pallete. I learnt these tools - using percentages to get good values - from working with risograph. I really recommend having a look at these techniques and doing some monotone work. It's really improved by character designs, page layouts and compositions.

That's all from me today, though I have had MANY other thoughts over the past two weeks about creating, but perhaps we'll dive into them another time. If you (or anyone else) has any questions, hit me up with a reblog or an ask and I will get right to it. Lovely to hear from you! Hope your art is going great too :)) Arch :)

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loveysmoke6998 · 1 year

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Hey there! Would you also take requests referring to Spider x Reader / OC ?:) yes I would ngl I lowkey hate him but I think this turned out well 😢😭

Spider x Navi y/n (warning cussing)

Spider was an interesting one. He had much carisma and was annoying to most, but you found him quite intriguing. You were always the calm type someone people confided in. You basically knew everything about everyone’s life but they knew practically nothing about you. You were an orphan and your past held nothing but scars in a way you understood Spider. Yet he never really understood himself. He never truly belonged and everyone knew that even you. Although he had tried his hardest to be like you guys, that goal of his could never be accomplished because he wasn’t a Navi. He’ll never be a Navi you never understood why he’d try to be something he wasn’t it was pointless in your eyes. That’s exactly what everyone got wrong about understanding him. To fully grasp what he was going through you needed to look at it from his perspective.

Spider trusted you with his life, he’d tell you everything including what he was feeling. How he felt judged at all times, the insecurities, he was smart he knew he was never gonna be as good as the Navi. Yet with you somehow he never felt judgment you understood him. You were a person of few words but today was the only day you verbalize your feelings for him.

Spider was feeling out of it today I mean really bad he didn’t even put the stripes on himself. He just wanted to stare of into the distance and disappear. That’s when you came and sat next to him.

“Spider what’s wrong?” you asked knowing something was on his mind.

“Nothing I’m fine just leave me alone” you knew he’d reply with that. It was just an act of defiance to see if you’d stay and like always you did. After a while he warmed up to you. He always did, but instead of just rage venting he just let the tears fall down his face. You seeing this grabes his cheek to turn his head towards you.

Then you asked him one more time “ What’s wrong what’s on your mind pearl.”

That nickname always did make him melt it was a joke because u thought he was very white like a pearl. At first it was irritating but he grew fond of the name. Leaning into your touch he asked you a question you’d never think you’d hear come from his mouth.

“Do you think I’m like my father, destined to be a killer just like him?”he asked as tears streamed down his face.

“Spider?!….. of course not” you started while still holding his cheek to keep his eyes on you.

“Listen and listen closely cause I will never ever say this again but your not a killer you never will be!” you stated now frustrated and confused as to how he could think so lowly of himself.

Him also getting frustrated stood up and yelled “how do you know, how do you know that I won’t end up destroying everyone I love!? How do you know that I won’t end up a just another monster like the sky people?! Tell me how your so sure! Tell me!”

You were getting sick of this of his fucking self pity it was aggravating. Now you stood up towering over him and yelled “Because I see you!… I see you Spider, I feel you, I love you fuck!.. And your too damn stupid to see it. Why would I be next to you right now if I didn’t?! Why would I hang out with you when no one else would because Eywa knows I hate your kind?! Why do think I’m doing this?! I’m doing it for you!..”

This time he was the one speechless so he did the one thing he could do. He pulled you down so you were kneeling on your knees and kissed you.

“Y/n I see you”

#spider x reader #avatar way of the water #avatar pandora

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spatialwave · 5 months

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how do you think limoreau would say i love you for the first time? who would say it first?

omg… i need to write this one 🥹❤️

saying i love you was a phrase unknown to jordan li. they’d never said it in a romantic aspect before because it was easier to say you’re not in love than know you are and get your heart broken.

emotions sucked and heartbreaks sucked even more. they were above that.

it was a simple rule to abide by — don’t say it. don’t say it unless you absolutely know it to be true.

jordan silently understood that they would never find the chance of saying it, that they would live their life pursuing career goals and making it to the top. the seven didn’t seem like they had time for love.

who ever had time for love?

that was until marie moreau showed her face at god u.

it began at their very first meeting, hip-hop music blaring in their ears when a figure moved their way as they tried to power through some last-minute work for brink. “go away. go away. go the fuck away.” they repeated in their head in hopes that maybe that super could read minds and realize how horrendously busy they were.

unfortunately, big brown eyes peered up as a headphone popped out, ready to shoo off whoever the hell thought now was a good time to bother either them or brink.

a goddamn freshman. of course.

a narrowed gaze settled on marie moreau and only after a few seconds they felt all the oxygen leave their lungs. a beautiful sight. a beautiful woman. their heart fluttered and for the first time they had figured out what people meant by love at first sight.

it made jordan sick to their stomach.

they immediately convinced themselves that their feelings were solely attraction-based and far, far from anything close to love. it wasn’t illegal to appreciate someone’s beauty.

even when marie left in a huff after her short introduction to brink, they had an odd feeling about her and little did they know what lingering effect she would leave.

for the next several days they stayed up until the early hours of the morning tossing and turning in their bed as they thought about how kind she was to them when she introduced herself. the little compliment she spoke that made their heart thump hard against their ribs until it hurt.

jordan fed on praise from anything and anyone, but never had they felt so physically ill because of kind words. what was it with marie moreau?

she was all they thought about.

even when she managed to anger them more than they assumed was physically possible, jordan still had a soft spot hidden away for her.

time continued. feelings were shared. kisses healed past frustrations.

life never felt so full than with marie moreau.

“i don’t know why i was expecting a magical moment to happen,” marie spoke as she sat up straight, her lips letting go of red and white straw that sunk into a chocolate milkshake, “it’s just chocolate and ice cream blended together, not any better than i remember.”

the two of them sat in a diner, themed to be like the 60s, but it fell short with modern details and tacky indoor neon lighting. marie had said it like it was, it felt like a fever dream, but it was one of jordan’s favourites places, almost like a guilty pleasure. nostalgia for an era they’d never experienced — and likely never existed.

“you don’t like it?” jordan asked, eyes widening as they tucked back some of their shoulder-length hair behind an ear. that same hand fell to their necklace, fingers toying with the pearls that hung over the collar of their black long-sleeve. “you’re the one who dragged me here practically begging me for a milkshake.” their voice was full of amusement as they prodded for marie’s answer.

“says the one who wouldn’t shut up about this specific sixties diner and their amazing milkshakes for the past two weeks. you’re the one who subliminally planted the seed in my head.” marie smiled in return, resting her chin on her hand as she admired jordan’s features from across the booth. her attention flickered to the neon lights that seemed so out of place amongst the elvis and marilyn monroe decor, “this place is so weird, jordan.” she let out a breathy laugh.

“come on, babe. you’re telling me that you’ve never wanted to go to a diner that’s cyberpunk themed?” jordan’s eyes sparkled as they questioned with a smirk, reaching forward and pulling the milkshake so they could take a sip from the same straw, “this is, like, every person’s dream restaurant.”

“you do know that neon signs are meant to be used outside of businesses to attract customers, right? it’s not cyberpunk themed just because there are neon lights in the shapes of palm trees and flamingoes over every table.” her voice was full of playful exasperation as she grinned and reached back for the milkshake and pulled it away from jordan’s hands. she took a sip, letting out a soft sigh of content at the sweet and rich flavour, “you always take me to the strangest places.” she noted softly.

maybe it was the way she sighed in delight at the milkshake she tried to admit was boring. the way she hated the diner so much that it would make someone’s old-school-loving grandparents angry. the way she looked underneath the headache-inducing neon lighting so hues of pink and green lit up her face. or maybe it was the way she looked at jordan with those big, brown eyes — just as full of life as they were the first time jordan saw them.

it was a culmination of everything that made up marie moreau that had jordan blurting out words that they promised to always tread carefully with.

“god, i love you.” jordan’s breathy voice was just above a whisper, cheeks a bright red and eyes widenening when they realized what they’d said. “fuck. i mean—“ they stuttered as they tried to backtrack, blinking several times.

the words fell much-too easily from their lips. marie noticed that.

she tilted her head as she watched jordan’s internal battle from their admission of love, biting away a giddy smile of her own. she stayed silent and watched jordan for a few seconds, silently gathering their thoughts in a panic, but never once taking back those words.

“i love you too.” she said, her words clear and certain, waiting to see if they would comfort her partner’s worry.

jordan paused after taking several seconds to process her returned sentiment. their breath caught in their throat and their lips cracked into a small smile. the world slowed, allowing time for them to take a deep breath and slide their hand across the table to take marie’s into their own, craving the physical comfort.

“are you sure?” they asked quietly, struggling with feeling vulnerable and afraid. as if heartbreak was in the horizon, waiting to strike with a vice grip.

“more than i’d care to admit,” marie teased as she gave jordan’s hand a squeeze and placed another straw into the milkshake so they could both take a sip together.

#limoreau #gen v #jordan li x marie moreau #jordan li #marie moreau #yes this was inspired by going out to eat at a 60s diner a few days ago #and deciding that it would be funny for jordan to have a fascination for really weird places #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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shittyness · 6 months

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I’ve got a new theory!!

It’s been a minute since I wrote one so it’s probably not my best work lol

Anyway! This one’s about Martyn! I don’t think I’ve made one for him yet actually

Spoilers under the cut

So as Martyn had confirmed under Ryan’s post, he isn’t a listener

And he isn’t a Watcher

I think he’s still a player, but one the listeners protected, and the watchers wanted to take

I think that’s why he has heard messages from the watchers in the past

They want to make him one of them, but because he’s under the listeners protection from back in Evo they can’t

So they still use him, but at the same time they try to temp him to join them by showing him all the power he can have.

Martyn has a strong will and is able to fight off the temptation, but he still is curious on the Watchers goals, motives, and reasonings behind their actions

I think at some point he had tried to ask Grian, or any of the other former Evo members, but the watchers had taken their memories (or in Grian’s case it might’ve been too painful to retell it)

So if Martyn is suspended in this in between of the watchers and the listeners, what does that mean? To me it means that he has these two opposing parties fighting for him to side with them the listeners wanting him to remain a player, and the watchers wanting him to join their ranks. Both parties keep trying to either make the other side look bad, like the listeners did in Evo, making promises to Martyn without any evidence that they’ll keep them, or by gifting him power for him to chance after, like I believe the watchers did in limited life (think a child of divorced parents, where both are trying to get the kid to decide to live with them full time)

Another point I’d like to make it, while I know the life series isn’t scripted, in lore I think it makes sense if the watchers choose who will win the season.

My explanations:

3rd Life: Grian won. Grian is also a former watcher, and as Martyn’s last life lore (specifically the ‘he was only ever meant to watch’ line) proves, the watchers don’t like that he’s a player again. So the watchers chose for him to win to once again win his favor and remind him of the power they wield. But Grian saw right through their schemes, and him jumping off the cliff on monopoly mountain was kind of his way of telling them he doesn’t need their power to be happy, and in a way that he’s better then them. Obviously they didn’t like that and so they cursed him to always be a part of his closest allies demise. I think their anger was most apparent in limited life, for example, out of the 3 people who had to miss a session, Grian was the only one without a fill in. Grian was also the first one to loose his main alliance

Last life: Scott won. Before I start this one, I will admit I don’t know as much about this season, especially Scott’s character, and I don’t currently have the time to watch all his episodes. Anyway Scott and the Watchers like mutually dislike each other. (I believe Martyn said this once) and I’m pretty sure this started in last life with Scott being the boogie man. So I think the watchers had Scott win despite their hatred to try and force him back into line. I think they wanted him to fear them and wanted him to see the extent of their abilities and control. I think they wanted him to see the truth so that he would worship them. But obviously we know that didn’t work either

Double Life: Pearl won. Pearl won because she was the most interesting for the watchers to watch, and she had the most negative emotions throughout the season. Her story was one of overcoming these tragedies while also dealing with her decent into madness. She lost her soulmate because she chose to go to the nether to try and benefit them over finding Scott. Then after Scott and Cleo left Pearl and Martyn and Pearl was already heartbroken, Martyn left her as well. Then throughout the season she becomes an omen of death and destruction. As she became more and more insane, she also grew more and more upset. Eventually she did end up teaming with Scott, Cleo, and Martyn. But by then the damage was already done. Finally when she did win, she was surrounded by grief. She had lost her soulmate again, she had also just watched Scott sacrifice himself for her to win the game, and she had killed her only other surviving friend throughout the entire game. She had the most negative emotions, and the most interesting story to watch.

Limited life: Martyn won. He won for all the reasons I said before. The watchers wanted to show their power, and get him to join them. They made him win by giving him that dose of power and bloodlust to kill Impulse and Scott. They had that control over him.

Anyway, that’s the end of my rants for now! If anyone read this I hope you found it interesting and I hope it makes sense lmao

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frozenjokes · 9 months

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Signing Back In, Apparently - 9

Prev/Next

Through the fizzling spurts of his slowly fading anxieties, Mumbo was beginning to feel.. light? A good feeling! Very good! Impulse had sat them all down to, in his words, ‘Get it all out on the table.’ Get on the same page. Talk.

And they did.

It took awhile for the ice to be broken, but the longer they went, the more horrified Mumbo was about just how much the four of them had left unsaid. Pearl was afraid. Afraid of being hurt, afraid of the crew being hurt, and being too late to save them. She always used the word save. Scar couldn’t do any more harm if he was dead, and god , she wanted him dead. Scar needed to suffer for the way he had played with them. Grian locked her in a tight hug when she admitted to blaming herself for his death. Mumbo hadn’t even known what had happened between the two of them and Scar before now.

Grian was.. angry? He was angry so he didn’t have to be sad, confused, betrayed, and every other range of emotions someone might feel when one of their best friends murders them. It shocked Mumbo to learn Grian still wanted desperately to know why. “I thought if I just crushed it down hard enough, I would eventually stop caring. I thought if Scar was dead, then it would go away. Now, I’m not so sure.” Mumbo took Grian’s hand in his and promised he’d find out. Mumbo didn’t recognize the pain in Grian’s eyes when he begged Mumbo not to.

“I don’t understand,” he had said. No one explained.

Mumbo probably had the most to say. Maybe it was because his own emotions were so confused? Unraveling every piece of the story felt like he was fraying the strands, leaping back and forth as he tried hopelessly to keep things simple and understandable. He was grateful when Impulse would step in and help. Usually, his insight was right. Pearl and Grian looked.. mostly distressed to be honest. Mumbo was deeply relieved when the explanation of his own attachment to Scar seemed to click for Grian. He hadn’t realized before seeing Grian’s shoulders relax, that Mumbo wanted him to understand the most. Pearl struggled with the idea, but she promised she wasn’t angry. Given Mumbo felt similarly with her desire to hurt Scar, he was more than happy to leave it at that.

Impulse insisted he had already said everything he wanted to with each of them separately, but with more than a little friendly bullying, he eventually caved. Mumbo didn’t remember the last time they had all laughed together like this. When they were alive, maybe?

“How did we ever lose sight of this?” Mumbo leaned back on his hands. He.. felt warm.

“Well I have a guess!” Grian rolled his eyes in mock-exaggeration, pushing against Mumbo’s arm.

“Ugh, Scar. Well, he did one good thing at least, bringing us all together. I can’t imagine living without you guys. Or, dying? Being dead? Gosh, imagine being dead with three other people you hate! I’d go crazy!” Pearl threw her arms in the arm, carrying the top half of her body ever so slightly away from the bottom. Grian snickered.

“Well, now that we’ve all agreed we are happier without Scar in our lives, I am declaring a Scar vacation! A Scarcation if you will,” Impulse grinned, making circles with his hand as he bowed. Mumbo clapped when no one else made a noise. “We all need some time away, I think. Even though we’re bound to him, we still have quite the range we can spend elsewhere, so I think we should take the opportunity to.. I don’t know! Hang out? It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Yes please, ” Grian let himself float on his back, crossing his legs. Mumbo caught Pearl’s eye, relieved to see her also looking a bit unsure.

This didn’t escape Impulse’s notice. “I know we’re all very focused on our individual goals, but Scar isn’t going anywhere. We need to take care of ourselves, first. And honestly, I’m tired! This is a mandatory vacation, so I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

“Okay, dad ,” Grian giggled, flicking at Impulse’s hair.

“Hey! You were on board!”

“You can’t force me to do anything! I’m a free spirit! A free spirit that doesn’t want to so much as look at Scar for a while! Let’s go Scarcation!”

“Just.. how long?” Pearl asked, unable to cover the apprehension in her voice.

“A week. Just a week.”

Pearl blinked, quickly sinking into a more relaxed posture, “I can swing that. Mumbo?”

“What? Yes, of course that’s fine. Sorry- do you guys feel like Scar is getting farther away? Like that pull?”

The three other ghosts paused, silent in their focus. “Oh come on!” Impulse broke it first, “Scar hasn’t gone sailing in- in weeks, right? Yesterday was probably one of the worst days of his life! Why would he go now?”

“Are we just going to let ourselves get dragged through the water then, or do we get to sit on the boat?” Pearl gave Impulse a bemused smile, patting him on the shoulder.

“Maybe we just don’t interact? Scar’s never out long,” Mumbo suggested. Impulse put his head in his hands.

“We could always just start tomorrow,” Grian suggested, shrugging.

“But we just had a moment! It was the perfect time!” Impulse wailed, throwing his hands up.

“Come on, let’s just go,” Pearl laughed, pulling Impulse to his feet, “Scarcation has already started, we’ll just separate once the boat docks.” The pull was starting to get uncomfortable now as Scar presumably picked up speed, and Mumbo wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay. He caught Grian’s eye, waving before he disappeared.

“Why would I tell them I’m leaving? They’ll figure it out, and they can teleport to my location anyway. God, when I first got here they wouldn’t stop because it spooked me so bad each time one just appeared in front of me! Eventually, I just got really good at not flinching so- AAUGH!” Scar’s scream was magnificent as he turned around to see Mumbo standing there, making a flying leap directly into Cleo’s arms. Grian popped into existence beside Mumbo, cackling as Cleo unceremoniously dropped Scar to the ground. Mumbo doubled over next to Grian, tears forming at the edges of his vision.

“I take it they’ve arrived?” Cleo smirked.

“Oh! Did you scare him?” Pearl said, delight evident in her tone as she pushed forward to examine Scar, still laying on the ground

“I didn’t mean to!” Mumbo jumped back, unable to keep the smile off his lips. He sat down, joined quickly by Impulse. “Sorry, I think I’ve already jumbled your Scarcation.”

“Well on a ship this small, I think that was inevitable. Alright everyone, pack in! Just pretend like he’s not there!” It took a little more convincing to get Pearl and Grian away from Scar, but eventually, they all sat, trying their best to ignore whatever Scar and Cleo were speaking about. But why was Cleo here? Mumbo hadn’t seen her in ages, along with most other pirates from the other factions. The same question was plastered on the faces of the other ghosts, and it wasn’t long before the whole group was silent, listening.

“Scar, aren’t you going to introduce me to your ghosts?” Cleo put her hands on her hips and jokingly tapped her foot. When Scar only gave a noncommittal grunt, she plucked him off the boat’s wheel and turned him around.

“No? Why do you even care? They’re my ghosts,” he scowled, shaking her off.

“Relax! I’m not going to take them from you. I just want to be friendly if we’re going to be seeing each other more often, and plus, ghosts are far more interesting than people.”

“I refuse to do this regularly. I already think it’s stupid, and honestly, you’ve made it seem like I’m not going to survive the trip in the first place.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine, you’re charming enough. Cub loves that kinda thing, which is why he’s so obsessed with me right now. It’s definitely not because I’ve started a competing business and anyone who tells you so is a damned liar.”

“Okay, this is like the fifth time you’ve brought Cub up, care to tell me who that is?”

“Trust me, it will be better as a surprise.”

“You keep implying he’s going to kill me!” Scar said, pointing an accusatory finger. Pearl perked up, but curled back in when Mumbo laughed, a sheepish smile crossing her face. She pushed him, and he pushed back without missing a beat, the two of them dissolving into a complete cat fight in seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Impulse looking pleased. Pearl caught his moment of distraction, shoving her hand over his face with a short bark of laughter. Mumbo fell back on Impulse with a yelp, only for Grian to lunge past him onto Pearl, sending the both of them tumbling over the edge.

Grian didn’t miss a beat before teleporting back to Scar’s side, striding forward with great bravado, “I saved you, Mumbo! Be grateful!”

Mumbo rolled his eyes, “My knight in shining armor are you?”

“If you want to call me that, sure!” Grian happily took Pearl’s place beside him, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Ugh! Grian! You know I can’t see you in the water, how was I supposed to know you’d left?” Pearl said, appearing at Scar’s side. She laughed, eyes softening, “And you stole my seat.”

“You weren’t appreciating it enough.” Grian only caught Mumbo’s eye for a moment before both of them were distracted by Cleo’s call.

“Look, it’s right over there. Try not to crash on the spiky rocks, they’re hard to see through all the ominous, ever-present fog.”

“This ‘The Haunted Island’ is quite on brand, isn’t it?” Scar huffed, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

“Oh, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. They’ve also got haunting wails, cold breezes that send shivers down your spine, all of the good stuff! These guys have a reputation to uphold after all.”

All four ghosts stared, frozen in place. And then, almost all at once, they stood up to get a better look, clambering over each other. Mumbo felt Grian crawl onto his shoulders, and then felt Pearl scramble up Grian. Impulse floated beside them with an amused, but exasperated look.

“Where the hell are we going?” Pearl leaned forward, causing Grian to squeak and Scar to scream. Cleo was the first to turn around, delight coloring her face.

“Oh, look at that, you guys are adorable! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #pirates smp #boatem #boatemghostsau #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #zombiecleo #mumbo jumbo #pearlecentmoon #impulsesv

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emaistome · 8 months

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Through the years, the A song of Ice and Fire Universe has blessed us with amazing, and nuanced characters. But there are some of them who are purely evil, and I’m referring to characters like Euron Greyjoy, Geoffrey Lannister and Ramsey Bolton. Our question for today is where does Aegon II from HOTD stands in between them all?

Aegon is the first son of King Viserys Targaryen by his second wife, Alicent Hightower. From the day he was born, everyone expected him to be name heir, but his father kept his older sister, the princess Rhaenyra Targaryen the heir to the Iron throne, despite the Andal Tradition and the precedent established by the Great Council of 101, stating that the succession would follow absolute male primogeniture.

He was neglected by his father, who was sick at the time and didn’t really love or care about his four children with Alicent. And his mother was physically abusive, meaning that she used to slap him when he did wrong things. Aegon did a lot of wrong things. Like raping servants, drinking, and watching children fight in the pits of Flea Bottom. He is also aware that he is not loved by his parents, which is partially true and says that he tries a lot to make them feel proud of him but it never works. The people around him forced him to usurp the throne, which was rightfully his sister’s.

I think that Aegon is a badly written character simply because the writers want to make us feel bad for him while simultaneously presenting him as pure evil, or at least they do very little nuance him as a character. Aegon does unarguably the worst things someone could do in the first season of the show, we are not told why he did, and there’s no balance between some good things that he may have done and all the disgusting things he does. He doesn’t have any goal that might make people feel interested about the things he might do in the future. Even the things he says that he tries to do to please his parents are not shown.

In fact when he says all that, it feels more like gaslighting because the discussion was not about him being lazy, or not trying hard enough, it was about him raping a young girl, but he tried to turn the discussion about this totally unrelated subject. Even if we consider what he says about trying hard, the context of the discussion just proves that he was lying. Because it’s not very difficult to not rape the maids in the castle, and just go to a brothel, like he does all the time. On top of that he’s the last person to wake up in the castle, even the little children that he has, have already woken up, and there’s an important meeting that he doesn’t even know about.

It’s not even the worst thing that he does; personally, I think that watching children fight to death is worse. And there’s no build up to it, again we just have accept that he does just like watching children die. He is objectively evil, with no redeemable quality. I know his parents didn’t like him but it is not written in a way, that it could explain why he is the way he is, or at least the writers failed to frame it that way, especially considering that he’s a prince who was raised and pampered in a castle.

As a character he makes me think of a failed male version of Pearl. They have a lot in common:

• Their very religious and conservative mother;

• The sick father;

• The need to leave the place that they live in;

• The fact that they seem to be born evil, even though only Pearl recognizes it.

The first difference is that the movie was about Pearl, her life and her feelings, while Aegon had little screen time in a show that discusses mainly the struggles of women in a feudal and patriarchal setting, and he iss a rapist who doesn’t face the consequences of his crimes because the system protects him. He’s the antagonist.

Second of all, Pearl has all the things that might make you sympathize with a villain, she does good things by taking care of her sick father and working hardly in her family’s farm. On the other side Aegon seems so lazy, and is always bored, he does wrong things and it’s all he does. We can’t feel bad that his parents don’t love him, because the bar is literally in hell, he still can’t touch it.

Pearl has goals, she wants to become famous and leave the place she leaves in, but Aegon doesn’t have any goal, any purpose, he wants to leave his family but it’s mainly to avoid doing anything serious in his life, while his family might die if they don’t take the throne for themselves, and crown him.

Lastly Pearl does arguably the worst things between them two, she kills all her family but every death has an emotional weight to them.

• She kills her mother because she wanted her to feel as bad as she made her feel about herself;

• Pearl kills her father because she couldn’t leave him all alone in the house, and because she loves him;

• She kills the projectionist because he lied to her, and wanted to abandon her;

• And she kills Mitsy because she thinks that Mitsy is privileged by being younger and blonde, and got the role she wanted.

But Aegon does horrible things just because he finds pleasure in doing them. He doesn’t draw any emotion from the public, outside of disgust and outrage.

In the end, Aegon as a character is like an empty shell. He has nothing to appreciate, and this characterization will have an impact on things that he will do in the future, or how he will react to events like Blood and Cheese. How him going mad after this event will make sense if he never cared in the first place?

In Fire and blood, his characterization was more alike to that of Robert, minus the good humor, but in House of the Dragon, he seems to be an annoying, and whiny type of Geoffrey.

However I still think that Aegon plays some roles in the show quite perfectly:

• Being the embodiment of everything wrong with the feudal system;

• Being a foil to his brother, who thought that he was much better than him but won’t get the throne, because Aegon was the older brother;

• Serves in the development of characters around him especially Alicent who still loves him despite his very bad actions.

His biggest enemy was the time jump, because the writers seriously want us to believe that all his troubles come from his relationship with his parents when he was younger. But the only time we saw him as a child he was still being loved by his father and mother, so it doesn’t seem like they did anything wrong to him. When he grows old Aegon looks like he has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). And for this part I’m gonna extrapolate a lot from what is presented in the show and make a lot of assumptions, because there is little source material to work with

People with BPD, have an unstable image of themselves, difficulties to regulate their emotions, causing an increase in impulsivity, they are thus subjects to intense mood swings, feelings of emptiness and fear of abandonment. Generally important factors in the development of this disorder are from bad parenting styles.

His upbringing seems more that of a quiet type of BPD as there are four types, the impulsive, the petulant, the self-destructive and the quiet. But I digress. The quiet type of BPD is quite different from the others. As the quiet BPD are often overly dependent to their caretakers and in Aegon’s case this caretaker is his mother, Alicent. It is mainly small details that show his dependence to her, like the fact that when they all grow up, he’s the only one to wear green, the color they all wore when they were children, Alicent’s color. For Vaemond’s petition Haleana wore a golden dress and Aemond was dressed in black. But he was wearing green as if he was still dependant on her. In addition at the age of twenty she was waking his up, when everyone had already awoken by themselves. And it may not seem relevant but a lot of times, commentators who try to understand him talk about him as if he was some kind of teenager.

The lack of identity is linked to his position as the only first born son, in his period to not inherit their father’s position. From a societal point of view, if he’s not his father’s heir, what is he going to be? And there is no one to help him find another purpose. His father is often lost in poppy dreams and even when he is not, he cares more about Rhaenyra’s children than his own. On the other side his mother believes that he is going to be king but not because he is deserving of anything or because she loves him, but because she believes that he is going to die if he doesn’t. There has never been anyone around him interested in him as a person enough to show love or appreciation. I mean, they were preparing a coup in order to put him on the Iron Throne and he wasn’t even consentant, he wasn’t event present.

The caretakers also don’t encourage autonomy and erase the child’s sense of self efficacy; the child’s needs are neglected in favor of those of the caretakers. We saw Aegon being belittled by Alicent when he was fourteen, and at the same time she was forcing kingship onto him, and forced him to mary his sister, while all he ever needed was love and appreciation from his parents. He even knows that he is not suited, and doesn’t deserve anything, it’s probably the reason why he wants to leave, and maybe he thinks that everyone’s life would have been better if he wasn’t there.

People with this type of BPD are often somber, moody, quiet, clingy, and very angry on the inside. This is not at all how I would describe book Aegon, who is more impulsive, but it goes quite well for Aegon in the show.

People with BPD often experience feelings of emptiness, and often exhibit very hardcore behaviors in order to fill the void. They are always in search of pleasure, and adrenalin. And for Aegon it is blatant that even when he was only a teenager, he went farer than other children, like masturbating in front of a window, developing drinking habits and using sextoys (dildos). The more time passes the farer he goes, he drinks more, and rapes servants and watches children fight to death, all to fill the void left by the absence of his identity. These are traits that are most likely to be found in a self-destructive Borderline person. They come from quite explosive environments, and have a lot of repressed feelings, mostly anger from never getting their needs met. And it often creates anxiety and depression. This type is like the other, they are simply vacillating, between obedience and recklessness, impulsivity and indecisiveness. And I think that we will get more

In conclusion, out of all four of Alicent’s children Aegon is possibly the one who resembles her the most. Anyone barely shows love or interest towards them for who they are, they are both forced to marry people they don’t like and take responsibility for things that they don’t want. The biggest difference is that by being a man, and a prince, Aegon is allowed to fill the void in him as he wants, because he still enjoys the highest of the privileges. While on the other side Alicent was a woman, and daughter to a second son, who had a name, but no land, and had to cling to other people and be more careful in order to stay relevant. I think that Aegon is a little hill made of suppressed needs and emptiness that come back as anger, self loathing, and an insatiable need of pleasure. Although it can appear to work it doesn’t, because his characterization is like a scenario where Georges R.R. Martin started Tyrion’s, story with all the things that he did in the later book, without all the build up to it. The cracks will inevitably appear in s2 when he will have to show more emotions, like care for his family, while he lets his bastards in the pits, and doesn’t care about his wife and children. The only interesting things about him are his relationships with Alicent and Aemond.

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raccoonfallsharder · 4 months

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yo. wsp. sooooo i been writing some thoughts lately and i need help with something

HOW THE FUCK DO I WRITE GOOD SMUT? like i tried once and it was fucking BAD lollll. i seriously need help and you're the only person i can actually ask because you. are literally. the best at that. so pleassse send help

bb i love you and you are a sweet little raspberry pastry. i am so flattered to be asked something like this. i don’t know if i am the best but i do think any success i have is from learning from the best! im not great with advice but here are some things i believe have helped me.

the most important thing i can tell you is this: WRITE “BAD” SMUT! who cares? no-one has to see it?? write bad smut, and then write more bad smut, then go back and reread your og bad smut and decide what you would change so you enjoy reading it just a little bit more. then write some more bad smut. the first time you ever wrote a sentence, was it an ivory tower example of academically flawless grammar, punctuation, and spelling? was it an evocative and award-winning piece of revelatory poetry inspiring massive social change on a global scale? no way. you probably didn’t even have all your letters facing the right direction. WRITE BAD SMUT OR YOU’LL NEVER WRITE GOOD SMUT.

also write bad smut because it’s fun honestly and who cares how good it is?

next most important piece of advice: i think you gotta start by asking yourself what you like best when you’re reading smut. nono wait back up. first you gotta read A LOT of smut. no, more. however much you’re thinking, probably more. then you gotta figure out what your favorite parts are and why.

now. on a more individual note. every author’s smut is different and personal because everything author’s writing is different and personal and smut is in some ways even more personal, right? (don’t stop making plums) so what you’re writing will always look different. but here are some things that have worked for me and maybe they can provide a good space for you to start exploring how you want your smut to look. (warning for late-night first-draft rambling ahead)

for me, there are two parts to what makes smut satisfying (again, this is personal preference).

the first is when the smut is very rooted in an emotional core — specifically, the characters and their motivations. what does each character want? if it’s only an orgasm, why is it only an orgasm? if it’s more than an orgasm, what is it and why? and what does that look like?

sunshine-reader in sunshine wants a playful one-night stand but is incapable of not offering warmth. rocket in the same narrative wants connection because he’s rocket and never feels connected enough. their connection is warm and open because (they think) it’s low-risk and short-lived.

pearl-reader in wyndham/cicatrix wants to exercise autonomy for once in her damn life. rocket/“the monster” in wyndham/cicatrix wants revenge-sex. both of these two are grappling with their own versions of grief and that shows through in their motivations too (at least id like to think so).

in window, sex between jo and rocket looks different when it’s their first time versus when rocket’s trying to coerce her into taking up more space versus when jo is spiraling as they head back to terra, because the goals and motivations are always different.

knowing your characters’ motivations for sex, the way they’re trying to communicate with each other, and their outside-the-bedroom neuroses can also help make sense of kinks, too. in my imagination, rocket always has control issues (especially mcu rocket tbh) because of his historical lack of control and what it means for him to be under someone else’s power. (but i also see him with a complicated/conflicted praise kink a la adorations because he wants to believe nice things about himself while also not believing them, or not believing compliments are genuine).

all of the above is the philosophical part of smut — the emotional core that makes smut more satisfying for me personally as a reader. after that, we get into the technical writing-shit. i think, much like actual sex, the pay-off is better if you savor the journey. so at least for me, that means writing beyond just pinched nips, grinding, penetration. it means taking time to explore the way it feels to be touched in even the mundane parts of our bodies: different textures, pressures, etc.

for example, a claw prickling over the inner flesh of the forearm is not explicitly sexual but. i mean. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ or is it. you know?

another thing for me is to focus on detail. when our senses are overwhelmed we tend to focus on very specific details: the light coming through the window, the stroke of the back of the knuckles on your shoulder, the scent of the pillow. you could say “then she reached orgasm” or you could say “she squeezed her eyes tight. the crackle of electricity in her abdomen snapped taut, and then broke apart in a shower of sparks.” you could say someone was spanked, or you could say there was a crack in the air, and a stinging heat bloomed on their asscheek. don’t just say what happened — say what it felt like, what it looked like, what it smelled and sounded and tasted like. (i mean sometimes you gotta just say what happened or the scene can get too dense…but overall, i opt for relying on sensory description over exposition).

the rest imo is window dressing. are there certain phrases or words you particularly like to read or hear? are you someone who loves or hates the word “pussy” or “dick”? would you rather avoid explicit terms all together, or use them often? or sporadically, for impact?

anyway. like i said these are just my initial late-night first-draft thoughts so they might be rough and they ARE just things that have helped ME (everyone has different thoughts/ideas on this!) but i hope maybe this is a helpful place to start??? also if any of this did not make sense i apologize i am sleepy just lmk and i am happy to expand/clarify

also you are a precious little cherry tart, a springtime crocus, and i love you. please write more smut and allow yourself the freedom of enjoying it. ♡♡♡

#rfh writing advice #rfh asks #rfh smut #make plums #people need plums #just writer stuff #just fanfiction things

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deificdahlia · 27 days

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Beautiful luna just blew a kiss to Venus as she makes her way to a new lunar cycle. The upcoming new moon will occur at 18º in Taurus’ Mercury ✨☿✨ decan (modern) which is also in Jupiter’s ✨♃✨ bound.

What’s so special to me about this lunation is it happens at the same degree as my natal Venus, giving me a tender embrace by Luna as I prepare for my Venus return 🥹

The Omega symbol for this degree is "A bottle of gold dust gathered from many places over many years." This degree merges the mercurial and jupitarian energies of its placement and asks us to savor the insight of the little things in life. In order to see the whole picture we must first place value on the simplistic pearls of wisdom that take time to gather.

Post eclipse lunar cycles are a great time to get back on track with any plans or goals you’ve been putting off. With the new moon nestled in between Venus and Uranus this is an ideal time to think of areas in your life you want to improve that you may not have felt confident in indulging in prior. Uranus lends a guiding hand to Luna to open up doorways that we didn’t know were possible. Spend some time journaling or engaging in creative endeavours that can help you map out some manifestations for this lunar season.

What better flower to symbolize this venusian lunar event than the timeless rose. A universal symbol of love, passion, and romance, roses act as a reminder of Venus herself here on Earth. In Greek mythology red roses originated from Aphrodite pricking herself on a white rose thorn as she rushed to her dying lover Adonis, causing her blood to create the first red rose and cement its association with love and devotion🌹🩸🕊️

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satans-helper · 5 months

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Reaching for Stardust - Part XVII

Read Looking for Space here / Playlists / Read RFS on wattpad or read previous parts here

Word Count: ~4000

Warnings: none:)

This chapter took me ages to write! But it ended up being quite a fun one. Hope you enjoy <3

---

“I can’t believe the boys actually wanted to go to a club,” I said from the passenger seat of Josh’s Jeep. Although it wasn’t a super long drive to get to the city and to see our kinsmen again, I was glad for the break in the harsh winter weather that made the journey smoother–instead of the ice-slicked and snow-covered roads we’d been struggling to get used to again, the highway was clear and dry, the snow kept to the sidelines. The woods lining the interstate were still coated in a seemingly perpetual layer of white which seemed to sparkle a bit with the rare and warm sunshine, the sky a wall of gentle blue and sparse clouds, the sunlight strong through the windshield. I was actually beginning to feel too warm with the heat from the vents and the sunshine licking my skin, bundled up with anticipation of the worst. You never knew when things might change. But underneath my coat, I was already in my “going out” outfit–a midnight blue sequined top with a deep v neckline that was slightly itchy on the inside but not enough for me to sacrifice it, a black skirt and matching sweater tights to complete it. Sequined black heels too, which made me notably taller than Josh, which he seemed to actually love.

“It is a little surprising,” Josh agreed, also dressed in his New Year’s Eve celebration outfit–gray, almost silvery, pants and a matching jacket, a white shirt underneath, all topped off with a mixture of silver and gold jewelry. I figured we’d both be sparkling quite a lot throughout the night. “Then again,” he continued, turning down the heat after he saw me close one vent. “I think they’re always riding on the high of a much busier life these days. Going out to a whole myriad of places is more natural for them now.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I looked out the window again, following the treeline with my eyes, imagining how much fun those three boys must have after their shows. Josh and I heard a lot about those nights, sure, but it would be so different to be a fly on the wall. Or to actually be there.

“Jane didn’t wanna drive down with us?”

“She’s already there,” I said with a laugh, pulling out my phone to check again for texts from her, though I had a feeling there would be none. “She drove down yesterday.”

“Oh, they had a sleepover?”

“Yes. Imagine that.” Yup–no texts. I clicked my phone shut. “I’m assuming it all went well since she hasn’t texted me at all. Did Jake text you?”

Josh chuckled. “Nope. And why isn’t Bev joining us tonight?”

“She’s got another party to go to.”

Josh gave an exaggerated, offended scoff. “Would this other party be better than spending the night with us at a club called Pearl, drinking overpriced champagne and smoking all of Sam’s weed?”

I laughed. “I think she just doesn’t wanna hang out with Sam, honestly.”

I saw Josh’s lips twist a little. “Ouch.”

“No, no, it’s not like she hates him or anything,” I assured him. “I think she’s still attracted to him but knows he’s not interested anymore. So it’s easier for her to take a step back.”

“You think that or she told you that?”

“She told me. More or less.”

“Well,” Josh said, shifting in the driver’s seat. “That makes me a little sad. Bev is great. Is this going to make their places in the wedding awkward?”

“She assured me that it won’t,” I told him and, for once, I actually really wasn’t worried about it. “She’s hell-bent on finding some hottie at her party tonight and bringing them home.”

“Oh, is that right? I hope she achieves her goal.”

I reached over to briefly toy with his earring. “What’s our goal tonight, Josh?”

He giggled and swung his head to the side to evade my intentionally ticklish touch. “Our goal, my darling, is to get absolutely wasted and have the best time ever.”

“Which we will be doing again in like, two and a half weeks.” I shuddered, not from any slight chill in the car but from the anticipation. “At our wedding.”

“So?”

I smiled, using Josh’s own smile at me to turn the nervous anticipatory energy into unbridled excitement. “So let’s do it.”

Pearl lived up to its name which, in my own naivety, I hadn’t expected. Then again, I should have known that Sam especially would only go to a club he passionately approved of, which meant it wasn’t going to be a cesspool or anything even remotely close to “subpar.” Still, I hadn’t been prepared for the slick white light, the shimmering waves illuminating a glossy, excited crowd, hot, scantily clad bartenders and servers passing out colorful cocktails in slim glasses, and certainly not the very not Sam music, which was pulsating and electric. The sound felt like it was vibrating through my bones as the entire lot of us made it past the exceptionally well-dressed bouncer and headed toward the bar.

The place was packed despite it being early. It wasn’t even half past nine, yet a throng was caught up at the bar, some people leaning over the counter in desperation while some stood back, shoulders straight and taut, eyeing the bartenders with impatience and contempt.

“I’ve never been to a club where so many people were actually dressed up,” I noted to no one in particular while I surveyed the people squishing against our group. Even the people who didn’t look fancy were sparkly enough to make up for it.

“How many clubs have you even been to, girlie?” Sam asked, a cheeky smile on his face while he stayed close to Danny, who was one of the people leaning over the bar. The two of them were dressed up–Sam was in silky, shiny creamy fabrics with a bold pop of red from his jacket, while Danny was in black and indigo. I could even see faint traces of black eyeliner around Danny’s long lashes–oh, how things had changed.

“This makes two,” I told him, earnestly proud of that fact.

Danny fell back into line with all of us and said, “It’s gonna be an eternity before we get drinks. Should you guys find us a table or something?”

“Yeah, what exactly are we doing here?” I asked, trying to peer past the crowd ahead of me for spare tables. There were people sitting on the edges of the club, but on free-standing stools, not tables, and with my strained leering I could see a dimly lit hallway that piqued my curiosity. I tugged on the sleeve of Sam’s jacket and asked, “What’s back there?”

“Actual tables,” he told me, giving Danny a shove to get him struggling for the bartender’s attention again. “There’s also a big patio out back.”

“There’s also another bar in there,” Jake said, tilting his head and looking at Sam with his eyebrows raised. “So why don’t we try that?”

“Tag team it,” Sam suggested, lifting his arms to gesture out at the hallway and back behind himself at the bar. “Us here, you back there.”

“And WE will find all of us a table,” Josh added, linking his arm with mine.

“My god,” I said, too quiet to be heard over the music while Josh and I navigated through the crowd, Jake and Jane just a few steps ahead of us. I raised the volume of my voice to say, “What do you think about this place?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Josh called back to me, pivoting to avoid being elbowed by a man shoving his way past us to, presumably, get to the bar. “Visually, I don’t dislike it. The music, however, I’m not sure about.”

I wasn’t either. The fast beats that had been laced with electric pop sounds had been replaced with what sounded almost like strange, electronic remixes of goth metal songs. “It’s like whiplash,” I had to shout back to Josh.

The dark hallway was lit with strings of fake pearls, all dripping from black wires that almost entirely disappeared into the walls, and then we were in an even larger room where there were indeed tables. I sighed with relief–the space was marginally quieter, though the same songs filtered in my eardrums, and the bar was entirely visible. I watched Jake take Jane’s hand and zig-zag through the other patrons to reach it as I cleared my throat, the air so full of so many different colognes and perfumes, smoke and sweat, everything dry and dank at once.

With the volume of the music so loud, Josh and I resigned to sitting next to each other in mostly silence, primarily communicating with facial expressions and hand gestures–a sour face from me when a man in a pleather jacket and way too much Axe body spray walked by, which made Josh sniff after the man and laugh hard into my side. The wait for drinks continued, and Josh’s eyebrows lifted and his lips parted in awe while he pointed at two girls headed to the bar, one in a purple sequined mini dress and the other in a longer, flowy, glittery teal dress.

“Matching!” Josh said, leaning against my shoulder to get right at my ear. “Kind of.”

I nodded, my eyes following the shift of those purple sequins until the girls disappeared into the sea of people, then caught a glimpse of red and black headed our way–Sam and Danny, respectively.

“My fucking god,” Sam said loudly as soon as he was within six inches of our table. He set down a try of six shots that he’d been carefully cradling the entire way as Danny set down a separate tray holding four different cocktails.

“It’s nice that they gave you trays,” I noted, tapping the one holding the shots which was all iridescent and cream colored. “So fancy.”

“You didn’t get Jake and Jane drinks?” Josh asked, scanning the tray of cocktails that all looked unfamiliar. “What are these anyway?”

“Different house cocktails,” Danny said, pointing at each one as he explained them. “This red one is called something like ‘Cherry Divine.’ I think it has amaretto in it.” He pointed at a bubbly, almost clear drink with a strawberry garnish in a shorter wine glass. “This one has champagne in it but I can’t remember what else.”

Sam shoved those two at Josh and I, clearly ready to get on with it, and took the last two for himself and Danny. “Okay, yeah, drinks,” he said with a huff, running one hand through his hair. He picked up a shot for himself and gestured at the tray. “Let’s do shots already.”

“Wait, wait,” Danny said, laughing, and grabbed Sam’s arm. “We have to wait for Jake and Jane.”

“There they are!” Josh said victoriously, standing up and waving an arm out at the pair headed toward us, another tray of shots in Jake’s hands and another tray of cocktails in Jane’s.

“Long wait,” Jake needlessly explained as he lifted the tray of shots over his head while shoving past a different couple going in the opposite direction. With a deep sigh, he set it down once he was finally at the table and Jane set her tray down in tandem, then they both looked incredulously over the four trays holding the copious amounts of alcohol.

“So are we gonna do all these shots right now?” Jane asked with a laugh, sitting down across from me, the silver and purple glitter in her fine, tulle-like top catching the light.

Jake sat down next to her and finally Sam and Danny joined in their own chairs, the table bouncing a bit as Sam slid in too hard. “We really should,” he said, already reaching for two of the shots. He and Josh were actually the least sparkly and shiny of us all, with Jake taking a little note from Danny with his all-black ensemble. “I’m feeling fairly desperate for a cigarette now.”

“Me too,” Josh echoed, passing me a shot next. I sniffed the clear liquid, discovered it was tequila, and grimaced. Josh just laughed and said, “You’ll need one too after this, won’t you?”

Twelve shots down the hatch, two for each of us, most of us wincing with each one; we sipped our cocktails as chasers and sat there amongst the excitable crowd, all of us turning our heads one direction, then the next, to take in the atmosphere.

New Years always felt strange. There was so much expectation, but for what? Josh and I tried–and succeeded, honestly–to make the best of it every time it came around. The harsh, dark, bitter cold winters ended up being no match for a rowdy night full of multiple bottles of champagne, loud music, card and board games and the inevitable midnight kiss which always led to sloppy, fun, giggly drunk sex. This year was the first in a couple years we’d gone out, although last year we had also ended the night with not just the two of us.

Looking away from the strangers and back to all my friends–my new family–I began to wonder what next year’s celebration would look like. There had been a night recently where I’d been texting Danny, mostly about wedding stuff but also about band stuff, and the latter proved to be more interesting–I’d known how talented all the boys were and I’d seen their success grow more and more over time, but I hadn’t known just quite how serious it was becoming. Danny wouldn’t tell me details–he swore that he couldn't–but apparently big things were happening. Bigger than all the other big things that had happened. And with the sudden onset of a wicked buzz in my head from the shots and somehow downing half my cocktail without even realizing it, my mind lingered on the mystery and the trepidation that came along with it more than I cared for.

“Is anyone feeling daring enough to dance?” Josh asked, scanning each and every one of us with bright, mischievous eyes.

“Can anyone dance to this?” Danny asked, tilting his head, eyes looking up. “I don’t even know what I’m hearing.”

“I’m gonna need a few more drinks before that happens,” Jane said, and I voiced my agreement.

“Patio?” Jake offered, gesturing to the vague backdrop where the patio must have been waiting, and was probably just as congested as the inside of the club.

“Are we really ready to risk losing our table?” I asked, though I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to stay in any longer once the music changed yet again. The bass was even louder than earlier, aggressive and juxtaposed by swooping, high-pitched vocals. Maybe later on they’d start playing more familiar tunes. I turned to Sam and asked, “You chose this club? May I ask why?”

“Okay, alright, the music absolutely sucks ass,” Sam agreed, lifting his cocktail. “But the drinks are good, it’s busy, it’s kind of cool. Sue me for wanting us all to do something different for the new year.”

“No one’s gonna sue you, but I do really want to see you dance now,” I told him; Josh smiled and gave an enthusiastic nod while Jake snickered behind his drink. “You know, to make up for it.”

“I would also like to see you get down with these strange, terrible songs,” Danny chimed in, nudging Sam with his elbow.

Sam roped an aggressively affectionate arm around Danny’s waist and brought their faces close together. “Only if you do it with me. You’re the one with all the moves.”

The patio out back was less crowded but still full of life, although most people had covered up their festive outfits in favor of jackets and coats to shield against the cold. Some brave girls didn’t cover up at all and I wondered how they were standing out there without, at the very least, shivering violently.

The city street in front, mostly devoid of trees, sent wind hurtling back to us but the vague sort of tree-lined courtyard behind the fence–also covered with string lights of fake pearls and tiny, glittering white stars–shielded us a bit from the other wall of cold air. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself and Josh pressed himself to my side. My hand that was holding my drink was already becoming frigid and a little stiff; I went to put the other in my coat pocket but Josh grabbed it and held it, his hand warmer while he rubbed his thumb over my knuckles for a few seconds, then he let me go to fish for his cigarettes while Jake pulled out his own and Sam whipped out a joint.

No one else around us cared about what we were doing or who we were–while I shared that American Spirit with Josh, I wondered to myself if Jake, Sam and Danny were reveling in their anonymity. Someday, they might not have much of it. But tonight, we were all strangers to the rest of the club-goers, just another posse looking for a good time and to ring in the new year with lights, glitter, alcohol, smoke and that excitement that some people like to say only comes once a year. Meanwhile, I was sure I felt those butterflies, the anticipation, the bundle of buzzing sparks every day with my sweetheart, who stayed close to my side and whose fingers brushed against mine each time we passed the cigarette back and forth.

We smoked; we drank; we danced. Danny really did have the moves, I was reminded of again–I hadn’t seen any of the boys dance in so long that I couldn’t stop laughing with pure delight when Danny was the first to get out on the dance floor and force himself to jive with the music. I watched Sam watching him, then he swept out to meet his best friend and long, gangly limbs moved alongside Danny’s more built ones; it didn’t take long for Jane to pull Jake along by the hand, giggling enough for him to laugh too, and Josh and I watched them all until the song changed. Then he was doing the same thing–grabbing my hand and yanking me into the crowd, into the circle of our very best companions, while the clocks around the Eastern time zone ticked minute by minute into the night, while everyone forgot all the bad things that had happened in the past twelve months.

Pearl had their own ball to gradually drop in the last minute of the night and, of course, it looked like a huge, shiny, opalescent pearl. It twirled in the air, sparkling in the lights from the extra layer of jewels and sequins coating it, as some people kept dancing, ignoring it, some kept dancing while watching it with their heads tilted up and fixed in the same direction, while some people stopped entirely to focus their full attention on it. It was a mixed bag in our group–Sam and Danny kept dancing as if the ball didn’t exist. Jane and Jake swayed together slowly, side by side, watching the molasses-slow drop, as if the music was something gentle and light. Josh gathered me in his arms and swayed us together too, my back pressed to his front, and I had a hunch we were both imagining the giant fake pearl as the moon outside–the moon that would ascend, not fall, on both, on all, of us in just a few more nights.

Despite the club being more or less a total mass of strangers, most people all chimed in together for the final ten second countdown of the ball drop. Sam and Danny did too, which prompted the rest of our group to join, all of us so drunk and stoned that every second of camaraderie felt like part of a huge, profound mission. In a way, I think it was–getting through any year was a feat every person should celebrate.

I felt an excited sort of trembling in my bones, my eyes wide and too clear given the amount I’d drank as I followed the descent of that opalescent orb hanging overhead like it really was the moon. The moon displaced, an artificial but still significant moon that had been created just for us, for all of us who danced, laughed and consumed beneath it.

When the chanting of counting became a roar of nearly synchronized cheers, before Josh spun me around, I saw Sam grab the sides of Danny’s face and pull him into a shocking, searing kiss. My own laugh in response at what I’d witnessed caught in my throat, a hand flying up to my mouth; I saw a flash of dark hair that I knew was Jake going in to kiss Jane, then Josh was in front of me as my mind went dizzy for a moment. But when he pressed us back flush together, facing each other this time, and his mouth met mine. I blinked into velvet darkness and felt like we were the only two people in the universe for a brief, blissful moment.

“So…” I began, slurring the single word, while Josh and I were undressing in Danny’s room. Now even more unsurprisingly, he and Sam had volunteered to share Sam’s room and leave us in Danny’s, and I had saved this juicy gossip until Josh and I were alone. It hadn’t seemed like the best thing to bring up with all six of us crammed into an uber on the way back to the boy’s house, although even in the dark confines of that SUV, Sam and Danny hadn’t hidden touches of their hands and the pressing together of their thighs.

“So..?” Josh countered with a sly smile at me not having finished my thought. He stumbled as he tried to take his pants off, helplessly hopping around on one foot until he careened over to prop himself up with the edge of Danny’s bed.

“So,” I began again emphatically, raising my eyebrows at Josh while I unzipped my skirt. “Did you see what Sam and Danny did when the ball dropped?”

“I caught a glimpse,” Josh replied with a chuckle, then a grunt of effort as he struggled to kick his pants all the way off. “Given how things have been going for a while, can’t say I’m surprised. Anyway, who doesn't want to kiss Danny?”

I laughed and nodded. “Totally, right? But yeah, not surprised, just surprised to see it, I think.” Standing in just my bra, tights and underwear, I grabbed my overnight bag to rummage through. The pajamas I’d packed felt luxuriously soft, comforting and inviting against my fingers, the electric energy of our celebration night dwindling into the usual drunken sleepiness.

“Everyone’s pairing off!” Josh said with a dramatic flair of his voice and a dramatic whipping off of his shirt to the floor. “What are we going to do?”

I laughed, tossing him his own pajamas from his bag. “Who do you think will get married next?”

“I can’t even think about that.” Josh stripped down to nothing at the same time I did. “I almost didn’t remember you and I were getting married until just now.”

I let out a loud laugh while the soft cotton brushed over my chilled skin. “You’re a little liar. I’ve thought about it a lot tonight, actually,” I told him, looking away from his nude form to find my travel toothbrush. “It was a really enchanting night. I didn’t expect it–not with the music and the club being, like, what it was.”

“It was a great night,” Josh agreed, achieving a little more balance while he got his PJ pants on. “Now it’s a new year–what are we gonna do with it?”

I paused at the bedroom door, toothbrush in hand, head and heart thumping: “We’re gonna get married and we’re gonna have the time of our lives.”

---

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