#One of these days I need to do a huge post on that christ of europe thing... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darealsaltysam · 2 months

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I JUST GOT BACK FROM SEEING DUNE PART 2 AND HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUUUUCK I NEED TO. I NEED TO. I NEED TO TALK SO BAD HOLY SHIT

below the cut because oh boy do i have a lot to say and i dont want my poor followers to suffer when i post this

oh my god okay okay where do i even start

opening with irulan's narration to mirror her notes in the openings of the chapters of the book. oh yeah baby. i ate that right up

watching paul get close with the fremen,,,,, fucking hell that hurts. dune really is a tragedy at the end of the day huh. they go from reluctant allies to friends but the whole time you know the switch will happen any moment now and they will be devotees and he will be messiah and that gap between them will never be as small as it is out in the sand. huddled in those tents. sharing drinks and laughs. im not doing ok

this especially hurts with chani. their love is so genuine and pure and she wears blue for him (which by the way sticks out so much more with how muted the colors of the rest of the movie are... i could talk about this all day) but she can see what he is becoming and he's trying to avoid it for her so hard but there's no avoiding fate. LORD ABOVE!!!!

i loveeee jessica being the manipulator thats pulling all the strings, urging paul towards becoming messiah. rebecca ferguson is such a talented actress she really understands the character so well. also as a hashtag certified alia atreides enjoyer her scheming with her unborn fetus might be the most unhinged thing ever but thats also so fucking funny aka its as dune as it gets. dune is WEIRD and im glad theyre not shying away from that. thank u denis

arrakis looks so much more beautiful in this movie like theres defo been some changes with how its framed and presented it feels so much grander and idk just ??? what it makes me think is that we're not seeing arrakis, we're finally seeing dune. we're seeing the land as the fremen see it as paul becomes one of them. i might be looking too much into it but who cares. god i love this movie

but yes more on the fremen in the first section of the movie. i like how there's this cluster of non-believers almost?? its a nice breath of fresh air. its hard to believe every single person would be just devoted to the prophecy and it adds some depth.

i will say the one thing i didnt like is the way stilgar is characterized?? i dont think he was so blindly devoted to paul in the books, and definitely not alia and leto ii after him as the atreides line went on. he's always been a source of small doubt towards paul but i think they're moving that element of him onto chani, so i think i can let it slide. i'd like to see him question alia more in the future though.

the scene where paul was named muad'dib and usul??? god it was so cute which made it so heart wrenching. all the fremen coming together and welcoming him into their lives. as a brother. as a friend. only for him to turn around and make them all bow before him. ohhhhh i cant do this

OH BOY THE WORMS THE WORMS AND THE WORM RIDING AND THE AHHHHHHHHH OH LORD

jesus christ. what the fuck. how is this allowed on cinema screens how is something so amazing allowed

the tension. the effects. the sound design. the sand rushing past the wind the worm moving forward paul struggling to hold on the fremen all watching and then cheering him on HOLY FUCKKKK HOLY FUCK I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH

all the worm riding scenes were so intense and so well done like. when i first read that stuff in the books i didnt think anything could ever capture how i imagined it exactly and yet. AND YET. DENIS!!!!!!!!

once more dune hits the idea of scale SO well everything is HUGE and they MAKE YOU FEEL IT. that shows especially with geidi prime but ill talk about that in a bit. but yes this applies to the worms too lord above them WORMSSSS ARE HUGEEEE AND I LOVE THEMMMM

rebecca ferguson put her heart and soul into that water of life scene and we all need to thank her for it

the way jessica is so quick to switch up and go all in on the prophecy. it makes me think of leto's "im not asking his mother, im asking the bene gesserit" like. the bene gesserit really come first for jessica and she takes her opportunity to fulfill her duties. to be the reverend mother. to rub it all in the faces of the other bene gesserit. she is the mother of the messiah and by god will she make everyone well aware of that

okay. okay okay. i think i said my peace on the early fremen stuff. i think. okay fuck okay SHIT fuck SHIT

FEYD FUCKING RAUTHA LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

oh my god okay. okay ill admit it. i doubted austin butler. i saw the cast list and i was unsure(tm). i saw him in the trailers and my faith was restored. and holy fucking shit did he DELIVER

stellan skarsgård's baron harkonnen is already such a threatening figure it feels like it would be impossible to make someone even more terrifying and yet. AND YET

just the way he's introduced. killing servants with zero remorse. LICKING THAT KNIFE THE WAY HE DID??? OKAY WHORE. I SEE YOU. GO RIGHT AHEAD. MAKE IT SLUTTY IN HOUSE HARKONNEN. I RESPECT IT

when the arena doors open and that loud ass fucking music BOOMS. makes the room fucking SHAKE. thats a PRESENCE right there. THATS how you introduce your antagonist.

the music playing as he fights being as fucking deranged as he is. chaotic and weird and unsettling. just. oh my god feyd had such a presence from the moment he showed up and he did not lose it for a single second. you could feel him LOOMING over the movie the whole time just as he looms over the whole book from his very first scene. oh my goddddd oh my godd

GEIDI PRIME. THE ARENA. THAT MASSIVE HARKONNEN PALACE. oh my god. once more. that sense of scale. the harkonnens love to flaunt their wealth so ofc they have huge fuck off arenas and castles where everything and everyone feels so SMALL in comparison.

dont even get me started on the black and white. the way it accents those coal black teeth and mouths. the way it makes everything look so much more inhuman and clinical and PERFECT because harkonnen power is so absolute and ruthless.

and the way the baron sits so so high above watching the fighting. literally impossible to picture his elevation above his people above the rest of the universe. the way feyd looks to him for approval after every movement. even as his uncle is trying to kill him they exchange those little looks and feyd knows hes getting his chance to show off while the baron gives him his "gift" what a fucked up family what the hell

speaking of fucked up family! wow! they are SO fucked up! there is something seriously strange being hinted at with feyd and the baron! feyd making his own brother bow and kiss his boot! those constant threats of death against rabban as if theyre nothing! this family is capital f FUCKED up. they hurt each other as much as they hurt everyone around them. theyre made of violence and blood and they could never show each other kindness because they dont know such a thing

what can i say about the feyd/margot scenes that hasnt been said already. like wow just unpack the boy's trauma like that. use him and then throw him to the wolves. once again the bene gesserit make it so clear this is THEIR empire and THEIR bloodlines and THEIR messiah. too bad jessica doesnt see that collective "ours" and instead settles for "mine" when it comes to the messiah

special shout out to dave bautista before i move on. just cause. his rabban doesnt get enough love. he really sells that balance of ruthless power but also incompetency compared to his brother so well. can you guys tell i REALLY like this cast

WE ACTUALLY GOT TO SEE GURNEY PLAYING THE BALISET WE FUCKING WIN Y'ALL

the paul/gurney reunion being the last shred of the old paul. how he gets so happy "i recognized your footsteps, old man" shoot me in the fucking brain stem it would HURT LESS

a bit off topic and it happened earlier (sorry my thoughts are so all over the place) but i like how they actually showed the process of how the water of life is made. it was actually exactly like how i imagined it when i read the books so thats neat !!

anyway. back to the horrors.

i already talked so much about feyd's presence so just another small note. that scene in sietch tabr. he is a MONSTER and i am EATING IT UP

i cant even begin to explain. how much it fucked me up. when paul took the water of life. i knew thats where we were going. i knew it was unavoidable. and yet still. when chani bent over him and screamed at everyone for making him follow this prophecy. when she was forced to shed tears to save his life. when she got him back only to realize she lost him and he wasnt the person she loved anymore. it broke me

chani's utter hatred for the prophecy and what paul is becoming added to it so much. i know some people are unhappy with how much shes been changed from the books but i think its elevated her character and all these scenes so much. and oh my god does zendaya DELIVER when the spotlight is on her. i never doubted her for a moment but all those changes to chani really allowed to let her shine. thats that euphoria acting coming out baby !!!!

SPEAKING OF GOOD ACTING

TIMOTHEE

FUCKING

CHALAMET

listen i hate the fact that he gets cast in everything these days as much as everyone but hes such a talented actor and i cant deny this anymore. the water of life scene really sold it for me.

he was such a perfect paul already in the first movie but this was the moment it really came out. the way he wakes up so calm and collected. lifeless. monotone. theres nothing theres literally nothing

paul atreides the boy who became duke far too young is dead usul who was the lover of chani is dead muad'dib the fedaykin fighter is dead only the kwisatz haderach remains and thats what the prophecy was always leading us to and yet the moment it happens its so haunting

like i cannot say this enough. that complete switch is so sudden but so subtle at the same time. its still paul technically but hes so different

what makes dune's weird concepts so easy to take in once you get into the book is all that internal monologue that really leads you through these complex concepts slowly. and yet in a few shots and a few lines of dialogue timothee chalamet somehow manages to express the idea of "i just learned the secrets of the fucking universe and im about to start a holy war" ???? HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THIS???? HOW ARE YOU THIS TALENTED???? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT WAS A FEW LOOKS A FEW MOVENTS JUST THE RIGHT TONE OF VOICE AND THATS HIM!!! THATS HIM BABY!!!! THATS THE KWISATZ HADERACH AND THE UNIVERSE IS FUCKED !!!!!!!!!

also. anya taylor joy alia. we only had you for a split second but i cannot wait for you. im sure youre going to completely slay the third movie. give us our beloved tragic meow meow. alia is my fave character so i will be JUDGING HEAVILY. she better bring her a-game istg

when paul storms the war council and just completely takes control of the room so easily. thats the bene gesserit conditioning giving him his pedestal and he is making the most of it. he knows exactly what the fuck hes doing. and once more oh my goddddd all that shouting all that emotion and yet a complete lack of it. timothee spare a crumb of talent for the rest of us

also the way in that scene gurney is hesitant about it all until paul proclaims himself the duke of arrakis. and suddenly gurney has house atreides again and he doesnt care what chani does anymore. hes a follower to paul just as everyone else in that room. nothing changes. fuck me man i cant do this anymore

have i mentioned yet im so excited for chani in the next movie. her arc is so interesting. children of dune is defo not happening with the way chani has been set up so i doubt we'll see leto ii and ghanima but. lets hope we still get all the cool stuff wit alia at least. and maybe chani can be the one who leads the charge against her

okay i need to really fucking. get along with it im dragging this post on im so sorry this movie is eating my brain alive

chani still wearing blue during the final fight. im not saying more than that i might cry if i think about it too much

THAT. FINAL. FIGHT. OH MY GODDD OH MY GOD

IT ALL CAME TOGETHER SO SO WELL

THE WORMS

THE SENSE OF SCALE

THE FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY

THE MUSIC HOLY FUCK THE MUSIC HANS ZIMMER YOU OUTDO YOURSELF EVERY TIME

THE SOUND

EVERYTHING FLOWING TOGETHER SO WELL

the way the fremen fight for their messiah but still fly the atreides banner. the way paul leads them as their messiah and as a "fremen" but always proclaims himself duke of house atreides first. oh lorddd im unwell

every time paul menacingly emerged from fog/sand/smoke my life was extended by like 10 years thank u denis

gurney killing rabban with as much ease as he did cleared my skin and watered my crops <3

the way the baron was literally dying and still crawling towards the throne.......... the way at the same time feyd ignored him completely and looked towards the doors reveling in the fight ahead..... if that doesnt tell u everything you need to know about house harkonnen idk what will yall

i also love how no one intervenes as paul walks in and kills the baron. not even feyd. feyd looks like he was a little TOO into it as paul killed him tbh. feyd u little freak. austin butler you talented talented man. im unwell

i AM sad we didnt get to see baby alia stab him but ah well. we got a bunch of other weird dune shit so ill let this one slide. the psychic toddler may be too much even for denis and everything he did give us. we'll always have our 1984 alia <3

OHOHOHOHOHOHOH. OH. HERE WE GO

HERE WE GO YALL

THE SCENE IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE READING THE BOOK

THE SCENE THEY SHOWED BITS OF IN THE TRAILER AND THE SCENE IVE BEEN NON STOP YEARNING FOR SINCE!!!

THE DUEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god oh my god oh my goddddd where do i even start

okay so. the way theres no music. no fancy cuts no slow mo no over the top effects. its just the slashing of the blades and those BEAUTIFUL shadowed shots with the setting sun in the background. this really is the sun setting on the peaceful universe. just pain and suffering ahead marked with the blood spilled from the two who were meant to produce the messiah but who both got thrown off this path by the greed and selfishness of their forefathers. guys im normal about paul and feyd. definitely. i definitely have very normal thoughts about how they are foils and yet two sides of the same coin. yes guys

paul making the emperor kiss his ring is already such an insane fucking scene and it translated to the screen so well. amazing performances all around

i didnt talk much about florence pugh's irulan but she really didnt have much time to shine. im excited to see where she goes next and i definitely think shes a great fit but i need to see more of her to really be able to say more

i will say this. the way chani, irulan and jessica are the only ones who dont kneel for paul. the three most important women in his life who give him his power, everything he has. jessica made him and she made him the messiah. chani opened her life up to him, helped him become and in turn control the fremen, and she shed her tears for him and fulfilled her role in the prophecy against her wishes. irulan is his path to the throne, his key to being emperor. and none of them bow before him because why would they bow before a power they are responsible for, a power they own, a power they gave?

but for chani its different ofc. she also refuses to bow because she despises everything paul stands for.

oh my god i could say so much about the last scene being chani. not paul reveling in his victory. paul leaves for his next bloodshed and chani is left behind crying for the person she loves who she knows is gone. crying for her people, again enslaved. crying those same tears that brought the messiah back into this world.

theres a lot to be said about the role of gender in dune and how it hangs over every facet of this world but thats a whole separate analysis post to be had so ill just throw it down here in this little point

another thing chani does very well in the movies is she really makes paul's villainy explicitly clear. SO many people read dune and completely misunderstand it and walk away from it concluding its a "white savior narrative" and nothing more which. yes!! yes it is!!!! but thats not a good thing!!!! its never stated to be a good thing!!!!

this movie is not gonna let you misunderstand the message of the story no matter how blind you try to be to it. paul is not a good guy. hes never been the good guy. hes the protagonist, but hes not the hero. and chani allows that to translate from book to movie very well. have i mentioned yet i love movie chani

chani fills in the holes left behind by the narration and internal monologues of the book and, bonus points, she holds the people who dont understand what dune is about by the hand and tells them explicitly "PAUL IS A BAD GUY!!! DONT IDOLIZE PAUL!!!! DONT WALK AWAY FROM DUNE THINKING ITS PRAISING PAUL'S ACTIONS!!!"

i think thats pretty much all i had to say. i might reblog with additions as they hit me but yeah i. i enjoyed the movie. so so much. i think i might watch it again sometime soon while its still in cinemas.

sorry for being unhinged hope u enjoyed my rants. kiss kiss night night <3

#dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #paul atreides #chani kynes #jessica atreides #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #rabban harkonnen #vladimir harkonnen #stilgar #alia atreides #irulan corrino #im so crazy im so feral holy shit #okay im going to bed now #its 1 am lmao #ive been writing these down for like 2 hours since i got back

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whatsnewalycat · 8 months

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what do you need?

Pairing: BratTamer!Joel Miller x Brat!F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: no show spoilers, established relationship, non-canon compliant, post-outbreak, smut, swearing, brat “taming”, D/s dynamic, dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, pain kink, impact play, collar wearing, maybe might have taken a snippet of dialogue from how the world works by bo burnh@m for horny reasons, unprotected piv sex, crying, shower, overstimulation, choking, spitting in mouth, fluff

A/N: I feel like this story is going to be presented as evidence when I'm rejected from the pearly gates post-mortem. Happy birthday to Joel Miller, sorry your birthday was a huge bummer that one time. Big big smoochies to @frannyzooey for helping me with several things and just generally being awesome.

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You’re having one of those days.

You know.

The kind of day where everything you come into contact with barbs into your flesh and tugs at your nerves.

Noises out on the street too loud, cupboards too empty, coffee too weak, counters too cluttered, shower too cold, clothing too tight—fuck, even your skin feels too fucking tight.

Overstimulated.

Exhausted.

Restless.

You’ve given pieces of yourself out hand over foot, and now you’re at a deficit and the world around you is still hungry, even though you’ve been picked to bare bones. Everything is too much and too little all at the same time.

The toddler that lives in the apartment above yours is throwing a temper tantrum. The kid’s defiant screeching rubs against your brain like fiberglass until all four walls of your living room feel like they’re closing in around you, squeezing you out like a tube of toothpaste, suffocating you.

And you’re thinking: If I don’t release some of this pressure I might go all fucking Hindenburg and explode.

The apartment door swings open, and Joel walks in, his broad shoulders all slumped like he’s carrying the goddamn weight of the word. He glances over at you as he slides the chain lock closed, “Hey, darlin’.”

You look up from your place on the couch, where you’re hunched over crossed legs, elbows digging into your thighs. All sharp angles and tense muscles. Without responding, you return your attention to the glass of moonshine dangling from your grip. Swirl it around a little. Take a big swallow and try not to wince as it burns down to your belly.

Joel stands there for a beat, watching you, waiting for your manners to kick in. When they don’t, he huffs and stomps into the kitchen. Cupboard doors slam and glass clinks as he searches for a clean cup, then pours himself a drink.

And, christ, he’s so fucking loud.

Every noise he makes is an exclamation mark. A shard of glass pressing into your eardrum. A sliver wedging further and further under your fingernail.

He walks over, eyes glued to you, each heavy footfall a stubborn grain of sand that won’t leave that space between your toes no matter how much you wiggle them.

By the time his weight shifts the couch cushions and sets you off balance, tilting in his direction, you know what you need.

You need to get under his skin like he’s under yours. To push him until his edges are hardened and sharp to the touch. You need him to pry open the emergency hatch and empty your mind.

“What’s wrong?”

Your nostrils flare. You bring the cup to your lips and take another big, burning swig of bootleg liquor, then say, “Nothing.”

“Nothin’,” he repeats, his voice low and disbelieving, “Now, why don’t I believe that?”

You sit up and glare at him, meeting his dark eyes, all shadowed by his drooping brow as he tilts his blank stare at you.

Excitement flickers inside you. You tilt your head right back and drop your voice, mocking him, “Reckon it’s ‘cuz I got a fucken attitude.”

His jaw tightens, mouth flattening into a straight line as he narrows his eyes at you, “You gonna talk about what’s got your panties all in a twist, or just be a nuisance about it?”

You bat your eyelashes at him and shrug.

“I see,” he searches your face, turning his wrist in slow circles, moonshine sloshing around in his cup, “You know, if you need me to do somethin’ for you, or… to you, all you have to do is ask. You don’ need to do this whole thing.”

“What thing?” you blink. Play dumb.

His eyes roll a little as he brings the glass to his lips and tips it back. Taking its contents all in one swallow, he slams the glass down on the end table with a thunk. Shaking his head, he looks at you, “Are you fuckin’ done?”

You smirk at him, dragging your eyes up and down his body. He’s studying you with this stern stare, teeth clenched, the muscles in his jaw twitching like little warning signals: PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

A warm fluttering starts at your center. Setting your glass down, you crawl onto his lap. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t do anything but watch your face as you drag your fingernail along the tightened line of his jaw.

Threading your brows together, you coo, “You’re just so cute when you’re angry.”

“That’s enough,” he grabs your hand and squeezes it hard enough to make you gasp with delight, then says, “Open your mouth.”

“Make me.”

It happens so fast.

One hand on your forehead, the other gripping your jaw, yanking your mouth open.

“Stick your fuckin’ tongue out.”

You do.

You hear it first. The squelch of him gathering moisture. He spits onto your tongue, his saliva moonshine flavored and melting into yours. He does it again, then groans as he rubs it into your tastebuds, the rough pad of his thumb scraping against the tender muscle.

“So, what, you had a shitty day, now you’re actin’ out? Tryin’ to get me all worked up so I punish you?”

The words are all hoarse and heated against your cheek. His cock twitches beneath you and you grind into him, tongue still stretched out.

He spits on it again.

“Is this what you wanted, you little shit? Hmm?” he tugs on your chin, “Do you like it when I spit in your fuckin’ mouth?”

“I like it,” you tell him, nodding, placing your palm on his chest.

His throat rumbles like he’s pleased. He loosens his grip, then brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, glancing down at your mouth, “Do you want more?”

“Yes—yes, please.”

“Much better,” he purrs, “Open.”

You open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue. Another hot wad of spit plops down on it, moonshine flavored, Joel flavored, and you moan.

He cups your cheek and murmurs, “See? You can be a good girl. Can’t you?”

Sparks sizzle up your back bone. You nod and bat your eyelashes at him, closing your mouth and swallowing his spit, sliding your hand through the soft patches of gray in his beard.

His throat rumbles. Dark gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, ”Now, tell me, darlin’, what do you need?”

The question trickles down the middle of you and twists into a stubborn knot. Your heart flutters when your lips part, but courage dies in your chest.

You shake your head and mutter, mostly to yourself, “It’s stupid.”

His brow furrows just slightly.

Heat blooms in your chest and on your face. Nervous energy makes your throat bob and your tongue go numb, and you shake your head, “Sorry.”

He fully frowns now, searching your face, “Sorry? What for?”

You shake your head again, dropping your gaze, and clamp your mouth shut.

Joel releases a big sigh, curling your body into his, and kisses your forehead. He murmurs against your skin, “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

He lets you sit in the wake of your own answer. The weight of his expectant silence wriggles under your skin and makes you squirm. You cast your gaze downward and shrug, “I don’t know.”

He’s quiet.

When you glance back up at him, his expression has softened into one that makes your heart ache. It’s almost doleful, the way he looks at you.

“I don’t know how to explain it, I feel,” you intertwine your fingers with his, “Empty here,” you pull the clasped hands to your chest, “But full… in-in my head. Everything feels like too much—I don’t know, Joel.”

The tears that prick your eyes take you by surprise. Usually you keep these pesky blue feelings to yourself, so as not to burden him. You should be used to this world by now. Your skin should be thicker.

You feel weak.

Pathetic.

Shame rips through you. More tears erupt from deep within your chest and stream down your cheeks, burning the whole way. A rush of adrenaline pumps through your body. It tinges your blood cold and makes you panic.

You let go of his hand and bring your knees to your chest, burying your face between them, blubbering, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t,” he sighs, not quite sure what to do with this, and slides his warm palm up and down the curve of your back, “It’s—it’s ok.”

All you can do is shake your head. It’s not ok. He doesn’t want someone like this. A crying, sputtering mess. Someone who gets upset because, what, noises seem too loud?

“Look at me, babygirl.”

You can’t help the whimper that bubbles up your throat. He only uses the term of endearment during rare, tender moments. When he needs you to know, really know, that above the games and the rules and the agreements behind the locked door of this apartment… he cares for you.

You sniffle and wipe your tears on the stiff denim of your work pants, then peak up at him.

He searches your face, and says, “Let me take care of you.”

Your eyebrows thread together and your lips part. He just keeps staring at you like that, so earnest, his eyes fertile earth you could take root in.

“Ok,” you whisper.

“Go take a shower. You can be a good girl and do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

You stay there for a moment, eyes locked on his, and ask, “Can I have a kiss?”

He hums, dropping his gaze to your lips, “How do we ask?”

Heat coils around you. He studies your movements as you unfold yourself and sit up straight, then climb on top of him, knees framing his hips, “Can I have a kiss… please?”

His hands land on your waist, “Course you can.”

You slide your palms up his chest, his neck, to cradle his jaw, then lean in to capture his lips in yours. The kiss is molasses and moonshine. Syrupy and rich. Intoxicating. It warms your insides and leaves you wanting more.

When he pulls back, he smooths his touch around your backside and gives your ass a firm smack, “Go on now.”

You try on his Texas accent and tease, “Go on, git,” and start giggling when he blinks at you, then add, “Ok ok I’m going!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, y’know that?” he calls after you as you scamper into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You pull back the shower curtain, flip on the hot water, and strip off your clothes. The weak stream splatters hot against your skin when you step inside. For a minute, you just stand there with your eyes closed, relishing the warmth.

The bathroom door opens, then closes.

You wash your hair as Joel strips off his clothing into a pile on top of yours. His shadow on the shower curtain grows, then disappears as he pulls it back and steps inside. Your eyes close as you tip your head back into the water stream and massage the conditioner from your hair.

He plants his palm at the small of your back and brings himself closer. A soapy washcloth meets your bellybutton and moves in circular motions, working up a lather. When he hits a weak spot, and a tickle shoots up your body, you giggle and grab his wrist.

“You don’t like it?”

Feeling through your wet hair for any remaining gobs of conditioner, you open your eyes to meet his, grinning, “I do, I’m just ticklish.”

His lips curve into a smirk and he shakes his head as he returns his attention to the task at hand, scrubbing the day’s grime off your body. The hot water works with his meticulous attention to dull the serrated edges under your skin.

“Turn.”

You do, taking a backwards step towards him. Your nerves tingle with want, the snarled tips of them all stretching in his direction, untangling to beckon him closer.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and starts on your back. Your shoulders relax under his praise. Under the firm pressure of the washcloth scouring your skin. He draws circles down your spine, around your hip, between your legs, leaving a trail of suds for you to rinse off.

When he’s finished sudsing and you’re finished rinsing, he says, “Go wait for me in the bedroom,” so you swap places with him and squeeze the excess water from your body and hair. You step out onto the bath mat and wrap a towel around yourself, then tiptoe into the bedroom.

Across the patchwork quilt, Joel laid out your collar. You dry yourself off and fasten the leather strap around your neck, then wait for him in the middle of the bed with your legs crossed.

When Joel enters the room, it seems to shrink around him. Every inch of him is gleaming and dewy, his hairline all steely gray and combed back into damp, dark waves. He appraises you while tucking a ratty towel around his waist. You feel your shoulders pull back. Your spine uncurls, pointing straight at the ceiling.

His eyes flick around the room as he walks to the side of the bed and hooks a finger in the little loop of your collar, tugging you to your knees. You crawl to him, following his firm guidance until you’re eye-to-eye and just an inch or so apart.

Under the squeaky-clean soap scent lies something so unmistakably Joel. Woodsy and masculine, it cattle-prods your heart.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Heat sparks from deep within you and blooms in your guts, your cheeks. You feel yourself arching towards him, leaning closer, trying to taste his breath.

Some smart-aleck answer parts your lips, but he preemptively interrupts you.

“Rhetorical question.”

An amused smile twitches the corners of his mouth.

His mouth.

You stare at it, fingertips buzzing with energy, yearning to feel the soft curve of his plush lips.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flick to his, smoldering but critical. A wide, calloused palm lands on your waist and slides around to your backside, cupping the heft of your asscheek. You swallow hard. This thick, pulsing ache starts between your legs and makes you whimper. An attestation to your pliancy.

His throat rumbles and he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth. Joel likes the noise, because he knows what it means. It means you’re putty in his hands. Giving yourself over to him, letting him take control. He digs his fingers into the tender flesh of your ass and smirks when you gasp.

“That’s what you need, hmm?”

You nod, eyebrows drawing together, batting your lashes at him.

He doesn’t let up. Quite the opposite, actually, he grips you harder, rumbling out, “Jus’ need someone to take care of you? Fuck the angry out of you?”

Again, you nod.

He tugs on your collar, “Use your words.”

The grasp is bruising and constant and fucking delicious. Dropping your gaze, you breathe, “Yes si—”

“Look at me.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing as you comply, meeting his lust-blown eyes.

“Yes sir.”

“That’s better.”

Joel releases your ass cheek and tugs at your collar.

When his lips meet yours with a firm, ravenous kiss, urgency overcomes you. You clamber closer, hooking your hands behind his neck, dragging your nails through his damp curls. Each time the kiss renews, it gains traction, intensity, evident in his nips and groans, and his harsh, wandering touch. Grabbing your ass, your tits, your thighs. Pinching your nipples so hard you gasp and nod.

He buries his fist in your hair and pulls back, panting, “Turn around ‘n’ bend over.”

You do, reluctantly parting from his lips to spin 180° and raise your ass in the air, pressing your ear to the mattress.

“Close your eyes,” he knocks your knees further apart, and when you comply, letting your eyelids flutter closed, he murmurs, “That’s it. Now you’re gonna sit there and take what I give you, hmm?”

The rough pads of his fingers trail electric up your seam, ghosting along the hungry, aching nerves. You gasp and nod, “Yes sir.”

His throat rumbles, and his fingertips start to work your throbbing clit in hard-pressed circles. He’s heavy-handed in the way he touches you. It’s not delicate, or teasing, or gentle—it’s fucking perfect. Heat bubbles up your middle and spreads across your skin, pulling a whimper from your throat.

Joel’s free hand slides up your spine, his palm pressing firm and slow across every vertebrae, coaxing you to stretch your backbone, arching your hips towards him.

“There we go, that’s my good girl—”

You moan at the rush of pleasure his praise gives you. Your heart starts to thud, heavy and thick in your chest, and his hand between your legs starts to work you faster, jolting your center.

“Fuck, Joel—”

Another gravelly sound surfaces from his chest. He slaps your ass, hard and firm, and you gasp at the sharp sting. He does it again. The smack rings in your ears and the divine pain it’s coupled with resonates deep in your bones. He does it again and again and again, all the while rubbing your clit in vigorous, tight circles, growling out, “All fuckin’ wound up, acting out, this is what you needed, hmm?”

“Yes yes yes yes—”

The feeling at your center grows and spreads, building building building—then it swallows you whole. Your body convulses with pleasure so acute and overwhelming, you try to pull away from him, to close his hand between your thighs, but he grabs your hip and kneels on your calf, keeping you spread open.

“Don’t you run away from this,” he barks as you let out a choked sob, “You take this fucking like a good girl, you hear me?”

“It’s—fuck, it’s it’s—”

You want to tell him it’s too much, but the tide of pleasure draws you back with violent force and washes over you again. The noise that comes out of you is guttural, barely human, this half-howl, half-cry. It’s excruciating and overwhelming and so fucking good.

Joel chuckles, “That’s it, let it go, darlin’.”

You do. A sensation overtakes you, that’s warm and secure. The weight strapped to your shoulders, that skin-too-tight, noises-too-loud sort of feeling melts away and you nod, “Yes, sir.”

He withdraws his hand from between your legs and grabs your waist, bringing your bodies closer. The head of his cock nudges against your entrance and he plunges forward.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you gasp as his thick, throbbing length slides into your well-lubricated cunt.

He splits you open cell-by-cell, his own needy moan mingling with yours, and tells you, “God, your pussy—fuck, that’s good—”

There’s no warm-up period. No sweet, slow strokes, or whispered words of comfort, or gentle anything. Immediately, he’s fucking you hard and fast. You push back against his harsh thrusts, each impact devastating and intoxicating and heady with a feral energy that fills your body with static.

Joel closes a fist in your hair and yanks, tilting your head to the ceiling, and you let out a long, sick moan that makes him groan with delight. His arm slips around you and pulls your back to his chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder, mouth gaping open to babble out, “So fucking good, fuck fuck fuck—I fucking love it, Joel, holy fuck—”

His big hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, restricting your airflow, and you let out wheezing, gasping breathes as he grunts in your ear, “Yeah you fucking do. Pussy jus’ needs a good pounding, that it? My little slut just needs to get fucked, hmm?”

You whimper and nod, as much as his grip will allow. His fingers crush your pulse, leaving you light-headed. The scraps of breath you manage to take in carry the sharp, tangy scent of sex. You revel in the feeling of him filling you over and over, each roll of his hips collects electric at your core, gaining traction and energy.

When you look up at him and meet the corner of his dark, lust-blown eyes, he releases his grip on your throat and pulls you into a heated kiss. Both of you start to take in short, frantic breaths, passing soft moans back and forth. That gooey static in your middle grows and grows. Your limbs start to quiver and you cry, “Oh my fucking god, Joel—you’re gonna make me come—”

“That’s it, babygirl, let it go.”

You do.

You let it consume you, a bright, blissful warmth that pulses through every inch of your body. Joel moans as your cunt clenches down around him, then pulls out in time to shoot his load onto the bedspread.

For a moment, the only things in existence are the two of you. His ragged breath in your ear, your heaving chests and empty minds.

He departs your body and stretches out on the bed with a groan. You only feel his absence for a second before he hooks his finger into your collar’s loop to pull you closer, “C’mere.”

An obedient creature, for the time being at least, you follow the suggestion and curl up at his side. You smooth your palm up his heated chest, all dewy with sweat, and admire his broad frame. His distinguished features. While surveying the map of scars and wrinkles and grays on his rugged exterior, your gaze meets his, and you find a remarkable softness there.

He seems to study you with the same sort of reverence as you do him.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?”

It makes you smile, which, in turn, makes him smile. A gorgeous and rare spectacle. The expression carves out a dimple in his cheek and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

You scoot closer and kiss him, your lips soft, gentle. He kisses you back in a similar manner, slow and sweet, twisting your brain in a big, beautiful kaleidoscope of emotions.

The intimidation you felt when you met him, still hot-to-the-touch after all these years, tumbling around with tiny glimmering glass bits of desire and apprehension and pride and excitement and awe and dread and security.

And love.

Of course love, even though neither of you dare look at it directly. Only suckers allow such a thing to exist in this world. But it’s there, nonetheless. Weaving its way through each fragmented shard, pulling it all together.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #brat tamer joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #whatsnewalycat writes

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theragethatisdesire · 1 year

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"ti penso ogni giorno" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

first fic! kind of threw this together while traveling and had no beta readers, so please be nice to me. i've been spending some time in the italian countryside and got a little inspired.

pairing: reader x eren jaeger

wc: 7.5k (jesus christ)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, unprotected sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, princess), slight breeding kink (if you squint) crying, multiple orgasm, creampie, aftercare

**title means "i think about you every day" in italian :')

Standing on top of this mountain looking over unfamiliar fields, you don’t remember a time in the recent past you’ve felt so at peace, the quiet fluttering of the sparrows easing the ever-present ache in your heart.

It was a tasteful ceremony. A small church in the middle of the Chianti region, in a little town with a name you couldn’t pronounce, decorated with so many candles that the room was sweltering, even with the breeze wafting in from the hills. Mikasa and Jean’s little girl, Clara, had played the role of flower girl perfectly; you hadn’t seen her since she was a newborn, and there she was, toddling down the aisle on fat little three-year-old legs. Historia and Ymir were beautiful brides, practically unchanged over the years, still as consumed with each other as they had been in college.

Even now, you distinctly remember a drunken night when Ymir promised Historia that she would take her to Europe one day, and here she was, marrying her beloved blonde in the heart of Italy. Another memory surfaces, parallel to that one, of someone looping an arm around your waist as you watched college-Ymir make her declaration, a whisper in your ear of the same promise. You pack that up and tuck it away as soon as it surfaces, scratching at your elbow.

“What are you doing out here?” Mikasa’s voice is behind you, drawing closer. You smile down at Clara, holding her mother’s hand and wobbling out into the grass.

“Just thinking,” you sigh, swishing your wine around in its glass, “I should come back in and join the party.”

“They just finished the champagne toast, but you haven’t missed the first dance,” Mikasa agrees.

You take Clara’s other hand and reluctantly allow yourself to be led back into the thick of things, the two of you swinging the little girl between you. Her shrieks of joy make you smile in spite of yourself, calming the nerves fluttering around in your stomach. Years had passed and things had changed, you and everyone else around you included.

It was a gorgeous reception, even more beautiful than the ceremony. They’d chosen a huge stone patio outside of the massive villa they’d rented, covered by columns of stone arching up to form a roof and dripping with flowered vines. It was exactly what you would’ve chosen, so beautiful it didn’t need decoration. Simple, natural, Tuscan.

“He didn’t bring a date,” Mikasa murmurs to you as you enter the terrace, scanning the room for Jean. She didn’t need to specify who “he” was; you had seen him at the ceremony, longer hair than you remembered, two rows ahead of you. Even if you hadn’t, the sad truth was there was really only one “he” for you, and Mikasa knew that.

“What do you want me to do with that?” You respond, trying and failing to mask your discomfiture with irritation.

“Whatever you want,” Mikasa shrugs, vague as always, scooping Clara up onto her hip and striding across the tented reception to Jean. You watch her go, watch Jean take Clara and kiss Mikasa, envy and self-pity clawing at your heart.

Ymir and Historia chose a slower song than you expected; it must be Historia’s doing that they were doing a first dance at all. Ymir had made it exceptionally clear during the bachelorette trip that all of the frills were to make Historia happy, and she was mostly looking forward to the honeymoon. The memory makes you snort into your empty wine glass, until you catch a glimpse of green eyes across the room.

Eren’s suit is more expensive than anything you knew he owned, sharp at the corners and resembling something your boss’ boss would wear. Mikasa had mentioned months ago that Eren and Zeke’s business was really taking off, but you find yourself wondering if these were the clothes he wore now, or if it was a splurge. He’s staring at you, no surprise there. Breakup aside, Eren’s the most possessive person you’ve ever known, and anything that was his is always his, at least from his point of view. That was part of the problem, you reflect, tracing your red fingernail around the rim of your wine glass.

The first dance concludes and amidst the applause, waiters begin circling the room with hors d'oeuvres, little bits of smoked salmon and crudite platters. After the travel and ceremony, you’re ravenous, and you begin weaving your way through the crowd to track down a tray with carbohydrates on it.

You’re halfway through stuffing a croquette into your mouth when Armin interrupts you, chuckling. “Hungry?”

“I only flew over this morning,” you excuse yourself, dabbing at your mouth with a cocktail napkin. Armin doesn’t care, you know that, but after the last few years of cocktail hours with the most influential magazine and website owners in the world, manners are second-nature.

“At least it was a short flight. You came from…Belgium?”

“Moscow,” you shrug, “four hour flight into Milan, two hour train, hour long car service.”

“Car service?” Armin cocks an eyebrow. “Haven’t you gotten fancy over the years?”

You blush, embarrassed. “Did you fly from the states?”

“Shanghai, actually.” Armin’s face shows it, still puffy from the flight. “I don’t even know how many hours, just that it was long.”

“I’ve made that flight,” you say, empathizing, “not a fun one.”

“I was able to throw some miles from my company card into it and get first class, though, it was the nicest-”

“Can I join you two?” Your heart drops. You knew he was watching you, he’s always watching you, but to be so bold as to interrupt a conversation, speak to you here? Now?

“Sure, Eren,” Armin steps to the side to make room for Eren at the high-top table you’ve found yourselves gathering around, “we were just catching up on our flights over.”

Eren nods, masterfully collected as he smiles politely at you. “I actually had business over here, so I left New York maybe…a week ago, now? It wasn’t bad at all, our company card covers first-class flights.”

Some strange mix of annoyance and being impressed swells in your throat. You take a swig of wine to swallow it, not trusting yourself to resist throwing out a snarky comment or alternatively inquiring about where this first-class-covering business card came from. You don’t owe him the satisfaction. Armin nods politely, but you can see the tension in his smile. The history between Eren and you could stretch for miles of scorched earth, and it’s no secret. You imagine that earth, black and smoking, half-finished houses with white picket fences smoldering down to their foundations.

“So,” Eren breaks the silence, turning to you, “where did you come in from?”

“Moscow.” One-word answers, minimal detail, you assure yourself in your head. He won’t get his claws in you this time if you don’t let him.

“Moscow is beautiful,” Eren sips the bourbon that you had considered throwing in his face when he approached, “but a little cold this time of year, isn’t it?”

“It was very nice, actually,” you can’t help disagreeing for the sake of it, “I was only in town for a few days covering a story, anyway.” Shit. You’ve betrayed yourself already and revealed a detail. Eren’s smile curls up over his cheeks like a cat that’s found a trapped mouse. You kick yourself inwardly.

“Hear that, Armin? Our little bookworm is still writing.”

You roll your eyes at the old nickname from college, earned by your constant pleas to stay in for a comfy night instead of a frat party. You had read over 350 books in college, breaking your four-year goal by at least fifty. Eren used to beg you to tell him the stories you read before bed like a child, because he couldn’t be bothered to read the actual book and it sounds so much more interesting when you read it, baby. And up until the last three years, you had obliged him. Now, the only person you read to sleep is yourself.

“I made a career out of it,” you snip, “so yes, still writing.”

“Clara’s getting into the wedding cake- I don’t see Mikasa, shit, one sec-” Armin’s sentence is cut short by the speed with which he darts away from the pair of you, running off towards a table on the other side of the room. You don’t necessarily blame him, but you seethe anyway, vowing to repay him for abandoning you.

“Career, hm?” Eren hums pleasantly. “Work’s going well, then?”

You snatch a second glass of wine off of a passing tray, wanting more than anything to walk away from him, but you both know your feet won’t move. Getting a nice buzz going is your only option, at this point. You take a healthy swig, shrugging. “I enjoy it, and it pays.”

“That’s a beautiful dress,” Eren murmurs, quiet and thoughtful. You blush and frown all at once.

“Says the one wearing a $6,000 suit.”

“Is it?” Eren fingers his lapel. He looks amused, and you want to smack the faux-bashfulness right off of his face. “I honestly didn’t know.”

“Your work must be going exceedingly well, then,” you glare, seeing right through him. The facade falters for just a moment, a critical moment: Eren almost looks sad.

“The business took off about a year ago,” he’s not looking at you, focusing on something in the distance, “so I’m traveling almost constantly now. I hardly see Zeke, my only company is usually just my assistant or a flight attendant. I love visiting a new city every week, but it’s…”

“Lonely?” You finish for him before you can stop yourself. He nods, looking surprised.

“Your work keeps you on the go now, too?”

“I switched over to a rolling travel schedule two years ago, when Rolling Stone started their global music column. It ended up being super popular and I’m the lead journalist, so I’m basically running all over the world listening to the weirdest music you can imagine. They had me head over to Berlin one time to cover the ‘rising alien punk scene’; it was…really something.” You pull a funny face at the memory, Eren laughs, a deep, real laugh from the belly. You can hear yourself rambling, revealing, but you can’t stop. It’s so natural that the realization of falling back into yourself, the self that loved Eren, is making your skin crawl. You should walk away, look for an out-

“Have you explored the grounds at all?”

Eren’s question snaps you out of your moment of clarity, back into his magnetic field. “The grounds?”

“This house,” Eren gestures to the villa that Ymir and Historia have rented for their closest friends, “sits on over a thousand acres of vineyard. The best wine in the world.”

“I can tell,” you examine the legs on your glass of red, provided by the vineyard itself, “it’s not my usual French, but it’s incredible.”

“Snob,” Eren grins at you. You have always been a picky wine drinker, Eren used to joke that you could pass a sommelier test without even taking the course. “So, the grounds?”

He offers you an elbow. You look at it, weighing but not really weighing your options, and slip your arm through his, feeling the rapid thudding of your pulse. You’re fairly sure if anyone looked closely at your neck, they’d see the frantic heartbeat insistently pushing right under your skin. You tell yourself it will only be a short walk, just a few minutes, because you do want to see the grounds, even if it’s with the last person you should be spending any time with. You hope that you’ll be able to sneak out without catching Mikasa’s eye.

Eren tugs you along, prattling on about the history of the vineyard, entirely unaware that you’re not listening. This Eren is so different from the Eren you left in New York, but still similar, still feels like home. His nose and jaw have only grown stronger with age, but his eyes still have a youthful glimmer, even if they seem sharper and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. It’s unlikely that he’s physically grown even taller between 23 and 26, but his presence makes him seem like the tallest man in the room. He’s self assured, confident, and in charge, in a manlier, more mature way that you’ve never seen before. A heat simmers in your stomach as you admire the curve of his strong neck, and you want to swat your own hand, tell yourself to settle down. It’s just a walk.

“I think I could die happy here,” Eren says, looking over the view you’ve approached, about a half mile from the rest of the party now. You chuckle.

“A beautiful view and some good wine is all it takes?”

“That’s most of it, these days,” Eren shrugs, “but I do need cable. And-”

“A television, a gym, at least one case of shitty domestic beer in the house at all times,” you count off on your fingers.

“For starters,” Eren concedes with a shy grin. “And a wife.”

Those last two words cause your heart to stop altogether. You look around, realizing just how far you are from the villa, how alone you are with him. The sun is setting reluctantly around you both, sinking slowly, holding onto the landscape with an iron grip.

“That would be nice,” you stammer, “f-for you, definitely.”

“Want to explore this building over here?” As if nothing out of the ordinary happened, Eren points out a smaller home down the hill from you both. “It’s really cool inside.”

You trudge along beside him, having kicked off your heels and left them at the reception long ago, and a fresh wave of anger kicks up in your chest. It was just so quintessentially Eren; drop a bomb, and then act like nothing happened. It reminds you that there are aspects of Eren you can’t stand, and that reminder instills you with the confidence to seclude yourself with him in the charming little stone house.

It is really cool. No window panes in the entire bottom floor, just the fresh vineyard air rolling in. There’s a little kitchenette, some various odds and ends of sofas and chairs sprawling across the clay-bricked floors. A huge table, clearly made for workers’ lunch breaks over the centuries, squats in the middle of the bottom floor, and racks of wine cover the walls. You break away from him to pick up a bottle or two, examine the label, brush off some dust.

Eren grants you a few moments to yourself before you sense him behind you, closer than you want to consider.

“Anything good?” He says, peering right over your shoulder from the sound of it.

You turn around before you can regret it, chest to chest with him. He’s hunching his head to make the best eye contact with you he can, the way he’s always done. You focus on breathing normally, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how his proximity still affects you after all these years. “A ‘92 vintage Chianti. They actually talked about this wine in my sommelier course; I didn’t even realize this was the same vineyard.”

“You took the course?” Eren smiles crookedly, an endearing grin that you’ve always loved. You smile despite yourself.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly, “I took the course.”

Eren grins wider, and thankfully leaves you there, striding across the room to shuffle through the kitchen drawers. When he returns, he’s holding a wine key and two glasses. You cock your head, confused.

“It’s supposed to be the best, huh? Crack it open.”

“Eren…” you trail off, holding the bottle gingerly, “this bottle has to be over a thousand dollars. We can’t do it.”

“Did I forget to mention this is my bunk for the trip?” He smiles again, his prominent canines glinting in the sunset light streaming in, gesturing around the room grandly; your knees nearly buckle at the sight. “Bedroom’s upstairs. Ymir and Historia said any of the wine’s up for grabs. It’s the owners’ fault if they left the good stuff out for us to get into, and it’s on my tab anyway.”

You’re nearly speechless, not only that Eren got an entire house to himself (he’s always been the spoiled brat of the friend group), but that he tricked you into coming here, with him. When you fail to respond, he takes it simply as more reluctance to open the bottle, and he grabs the bottle from you and starts to dig the corkscrew in through the top.

You let a few beats pass, considering your options as he pours the wine. When he finally hands you the glass, you give voice to your thoughts, testing the waters. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because you love wine and the house is cool,” Eren shrugs innocently, taking a sip, “damn, that’s good. Try it.”

You hold your glass stock-still in your hands. “We’re done with…what we used to do, you know. That’s not what’s going on here.”

The air sparkles with dust; Eren’s demeanor stutters, a small frown working its way onto his face. “Just try the wine, babe.”

Your heart flutters, your stomach sinks, your memories with Eren shriek from the back of your mind. The pet name is too familiar, too easy, and it brings a cold chill over you. As you’re prone to do, your panic comes shooting out coated in snark.“Babe? Yeah, no, I’m done-”

“Sorry, sorry– it was a mistake, force of habit,” Eren’s already apologizing as you’re talking; you hate how he can still anticipate your reaction before you can give it. He grabs your wrist as you turn to leave, rolling his eyes, “a mistake. Try your wine, you don’t know when you’re going to stumble across that again.”

You let him hold your wrist, enjoying the pressure of his strong hands into the delicate flesh of your arm despite yourself. You look between him, the wine, the room several times, as if you’re weighing your decision. You know what you’re going to choose, but maybe you can pretend that he doesn’t know, too. Eren’s willing to play along, eyes wide and pleading.

Without breaking your gaze, you carefully taste the wine. Damn him, it is good. It has a complexity of flavor and a depth to it that’s incredibly rare, even in the French countryside wines you tend to favor. Even though you fight it, you smile at him and offer your glass for him to pour more.

The bottle passes quickly, both of you settling yourselves in chairs at the kitchen table, discussing old friends, new friends, reminiscing on the college years when you were both a little happier and a little less sane. You hardly notice the sun setting further, the smallest bits of twilight leaking into the corners of the sky.

“Your teeth are so red,” you giggle, head spinning. The wine was delicious, delicious enough for Eren to pop open a second bottle, but God, was it strong. You aren’t sure how you’ll manage the walk back up to the reception- is the reception even still going on?

“So are yours,” Eren pinches your cheek, giggling drunkenly along with you.

“God, you’re right.” You place a finger onto your teeth, rubbing frantically at the wine stains to no avail. Eren reaches a wobbling hand out to pull your fingers out of your mouth, shaking his head. He frowns and shakes his head, childlike.

“Don’t take them off.”

“The wine stains?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? They make teeth look dirty,” you laugh again, trying to shove your finger back into your mouth where Eren’s holding it.

“I…okay, maybe it’s weird, but I always thought it was kind of sexy when your teeth were all red from wine,” Eren blushes, and it’s so childishly endearing that you can feel your heart swell.

“Really?”

“I never told you that?” Eren looks astonished, chuckling under his breath. “It drove me crazy back when we were together. You’d go to Historia’s, or Sasha’s, or whoever’s and down a bottle or two of red and come stumbling back into that crappy apartment in Harlem-”

“-the one with the mean bodega lady outside!”

“Yes!” Eren snaps his fingers, pointing at you excitedly. “Anyway, you’d come waddling back in, hair a mess and wine all over your teeth, your lips would be bright purple, and you’d always be so horny-”

“Eren!”

“It’s true! You’d ride me for an hour before you knocked out.” Eren sipped his wine, smiling in a private way that you felt was just for you.

“An hour seems like a bit of a stretch,” you murmur, looking down into your glass. You’ve almost finished your wine and you shouldn’t have any more, the reception is waiting for you and you’ve been gone with Eren long enough that you’ve been missed at this point. When you pull your head up, Eren looks different. It’s a familiar face on a new man: his eyes have a mischievous glimmer in them, the sunset winking at you through his green irises.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips; your mind wanders to that tongue, those lips. Mentally, you dance over what you know those lips and tongue can do, how they feel on your mouth, your neck, between your legs. Your wine-addled mind tries to shake the persistent thought. Eren reaches a hand over to your mouth, absentmindedly rubbing a thumb over the corner of your lips.

“Still think it looks sexy,” he mumbles, half-drunk and half expecting a stern reprimand from you. His eyes search your face, curious of your reaction. It’s the moment you’ve been running around the world from for the last three years, finally coming to fruition here in this little house.

You embarrass and surprise yourself simultaneously: tears well in your eyes. You want him; you’re drunk and beautiful and desperate for him in the beautiful countryside of Italy, but he’s so bad for you. They’re tears that have been waiting behind your eyes, tears of frustration and desire.

“Why are you crying?” Eren asks, furrowing his brow. You know he knows, he understands you and your emotions better than anyone. You’re angry with him, angry that he knows the source of your tears before you open your mouth.

“We’re done, Eren,” you fail miserably to steel your voice, “we can’t do this anymore, remember? It’s not good for us.”

“It’s been three years, baby,” Eren responds, still rubbing his thumb over your lips, “three years of growing. We’re different now– I’m different.”

“No,” you sniffle, feeling like a child. Whether he’s changed or not is still up for debate, but your sore heart can only take so much. He’s so beautiful, soaked in sun and wine and temptation, simpering at you. Your resolve is weakening by the second.

“Yes,” Eren insists, “it’s me. You belong to me, you know you do.”

“Eren–”

“You always do this, always try to run from me, but I’ll always find you,” he murmurs, “I’ll go to every corner of the earth if I need to. I’ll always find you because you’re mine.”

You’d love to say that he leaned in, he grabbed your face and pulled you to him, but you’d be lying. It’s you who leans forward ever so slightly, catching your chapped lips in his and kissing him tentatively. You wouldn’t be lying if you told anyone that he sighed into your mouth, ready to feel your body under his hands again. You wouldn’t be lying in the slightest.

Eren allows you a few tentative kisses, a few pecks against his lips, familiar and new all the same. Once you’ve had your fill of shyness, your obligatory ruse of unassuredness, he reaches for you, scooping you into his lap. You straddle him, whimpering at the friction of his already-growing bulge against your clothed cunt. He has to push your dress up to allow you room to spread your legs over him; you’re wearing a slinky little silk number, a gorgeous deep brown against your tanned skin, but not cooperative for lap-sitting.

Eren’s tongue is practically down your throat, teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you have to pull away for air, hands roaming your now-bare thighs.

“This dress,” he pants between kisses, “is so fucking perfect on you. Look so good for me.”

You sigh into his mouth, running your hands through his hair. Off to the side of your mind, you realize you may have knocked his hair out of its bun, but the dark locks feel so soft in your fingers, you can’t bring yourself to apologize for it. He’s wrapping his hands around your ass; Eren always loved your full hips, and it seems that that fact hasn’t changed.

Your hands find their way to his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He’s grown stronger over the years, definitive muscles rippling under your fingers, but the broadness he’s always possessed is still there. He’s large compared to you, twice as wide and at least a head taller, and you loathe to admit it, but it turns you on. You love the way he manhandles you, the way he pushes and pulls you exactly how he wants you, the way he grabs your hips hard enough to bruise, rocking them against his own.

A particularly well-placed thrust of his hips against yours elicits a wanton groan from you, spilling into his mouth. Eren moans back, moving away from your lips to mouth his way down your throat.

“Gonna sit you up now, okay?”

He stands, knocking the chairs aside on his way up, to set you on the table, the perfect height for him to grope at you, pull your dress this way and that.

“Wanna get this thing off, will you let me?”

You hesitate, or try to, at least. His hands are dizzying, flying all over your body and squeezing at just the right spots as he nibbles on your earlobe. “But, the reception–”

“Sh, sh, sh. We’re so far away, baby, they’ll never even know, yeah?” Eren goads you and you’re putty in his hands, the rapidly-shrinking rational part of your brain growing quieter with each kiss, each pet. He manages to wrench your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but a stringy pair of panties. Eren steps back to look over you; you resist the urge to cover yourself. You know his routine.

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, palming your tits, “you’re perfect, do you know that? So beautiful just for me, aren’t you?”

You flush pink from your chest to your forehead. Even after years of love and war and running, his bedroom talk still gets to you. Eren loves to tell you what he thinks of you, and you’ve never managed to grow accustomed to hearing it.

“Say it.”

“Hm?” You hum, preoccupied with his mouth pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses around your breasts, even pausing to suck a bruise into the side of your left.

“Say you’re beautiful, tell me how pretty you are for me.”

This part is new; Eren has always loved to talk to you in bed, but your participation in the dirty talk has been minimal until now. Your blush grows even deeper. “I’m beautiful, beautiful just for you.”

“Good girl,” Eren purrs, allowing you to pull his head closer to your chest. His tongue swirls around one nipple. He closes his lips around it, sucking hard, and you moan openly, pulling him closer. Eren grins, letting his teeth pinch down on it. “You still like when I play with your tits, hm?”

“Yes,” you hiss, too caught up in pleasure to address his smugness.

“Know you baby, know you inside and out. These tits are mine,” a hand wanders down to your cunt, swiping across your panties and feeling the wetness that soaks them, “and this pussy’s mine too. You might not love me anymore, but your body– oh, she loves me.”

You have no way to respond to that, no way to address what those words do to your brain. Chagrin as you might be to admit it, he’s right. Eren was your first and only adult relationship, fucking your body into submission for years and training it, training your cunt to respond to him and the way he liked to touch you. He’s pushed and prodded you into his perfect little fuckdoll, and you let him and you loved it. You loved every second of it, and god does it feel good rushing back to you now, finally under his hands again after years without.

Eren nudges your panties to the side, rubbing quick circles over your clit, just the way you like it. A long, heady whine leaks from your lips, your hips urgently roll towards him.

“Missed me? Is that it?” Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smug grin on his lips. Eren loves when you’re needy for him.

“Mhm,” you indulge him in the hopes you’ll get what you want, and you’re right. A long finger sinks into you, instantly curling to press into the spongy spot within your walls that has you swooning, clutching desperately onto his shoulders.

“That’s it, feels good doesn’t it?”

You pull at his suit jacket, fumbling with the buttons on his collared shirt. “Want it off, want to see you.”

Eren relents, pulling his hand from you to step back and strip his shirt and jacket. He is as muscular as he feels; you drag your eyes over his strong chest, his defined abs, and the deep V leading down below his belt. You briefly remember all of your post-college friends, girls that had never known Eren, teasing you that he was your hottest ex. You had blushed, but you understand. He’s like a Greek statue, glistening with sweat from the evening heat, every crevice of him on display just for you. It sends a fresh wave of heat pulsing through your body, and you pull him back to you, relishing in the feel of his hands on you.

“Want me to make you cum, is that it?” Eren’s amused, sinking two fingers into your heat. You croon, nodding desperately. He chuckles, moving his fingers against the spot inside of you. “I’ve got you, don’t worry baby. Gonna make you feel good.”

You nod again into his shoulder, attached to him wherever you can find the space, grasping his body and pulling it to yours. You wish you had the capacity to be ashamed of your need, laid bare for him to see, but you don’t. All you can think about is his fingers moving in you, gaining speed and bringing you closer to an embarrassingly fast orgasm.

He slides a third in, just to be safe, and you’re so wet that your pussy accepts it willingly. The stretch makes you pout, push at his chest. “Too much, Eren–”

“Gotta get you ready for me,” he huffs, his arousal getting the better of him, “get you ready to get fucked. Cunt’s tight after all these years, isn’t it? Gotta work it open.”

That does a lot to your hazy brain; you bite deep into his shoulder, moans coming faster and louder as he works his fingers in you. The bubble is building in the pit of your stomach, your hips are canting towards him.

“Eren, Eren I–”

“I know, I know,” he coos, fingers curling inside you even faster, “my girl needs to cum, doesn’t she? You want to cum all over my fingers, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry into his skin, biting and moaning alternatively. Your head’s spinning; you can’t remember the last time you felt this good. You’re no nun, not by any means, but Eren knows your body, crafted it to respond to him, to his hands and mouth and cock, and your body is rejoicing at the feel of him on and in you again. You can’t hold it, you know you can’t, you’re moments away now. “Eren, I’m going to cum, I’m gonna–”

“Do it, baby,” he growls into your ear, his fingers working even faster, thumb moving up to swipe at your clit, “give it to me, want to hear you cum.”

Your body convulses and you’re cumming hard, with Eren the first one of the night always goes that way. Eren knows it, pulls you close against him and works his fingers in you, helping you ride it out. He’s practically purring into your ear, telling you what a good girl you are, cumming all over his fingers like that, and you eat it up. You cry into his flesh where it’s secured between your teeth, rocking your hips into his hand desperately.

Your orgasm begins to fade, and you find the presence of mind to shove at his fingers, begging for a reprieve. “Give me your cock, want it in my mouth.”

“Is that what you need?” Eren’s already helping you onto your knees, gentle, but needy. “Need my cock in your mouth?”

“Please,” you say eagerly, adjusting your knees to a comfortable position on the dirt floor, easily unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down his legs. He steps out of his shoes, kicking his pants off, strong thighs twitching under your nails as you softly scratch down them. A groan rumbles in Eren’s chest at your enthusiasm, he places a hand on your head, running through your curls.

“Can’t be for too long, ‘kay?” Eren pants, hissing when you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. “Still gotta fuck you, feel you cum on me.”

You hum your approval, popping him fully into your mouth with a satisfied moan. You’ve always loved taking him in your mouth, the comforting weight of him on your tongue. You’re getting impossibly wetter, feeling the heat gather between your legs as you bob your head up and down on him, listening to his satisfied little grunts and groans above you.

Eren rubs a hand over your cheek, mutters his approval, thrusts his hips forwards unwittingly a few times. You gag when he does, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’ve taken him like this so many times, even with his impressive size, you love the feel of him pressing back into your throat until you choke.

“Fuck, fuck, baby it’s– it’s too much,” Eren indulges in a few more thrusts into your throat before grabbing your hair and urging you off of him, “need your pussy, okay?”

You’re not going to argue with that, letting him pull you to your feet, an anticipatory smile cracking across your face. You’re drunk on the wine and sex and him, babbling nonsensically. “Wanna feel you, Eren, need you.”

“I’ve got you, gonna make you feel so good, princess.” Impressively, Eren scoops you off of the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He walks you both over to the wall, pressing you up against it. “Gonna make you mine all over again, yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a loaded question, but you’re so captivated by him, all you can do is murmur your agreement, tell him you want to be his because at least for now, you do. Eren’s magnetic, the man you run from so you don’t get lost in him, but tonight, you’re willing to drown. You’re begging for it.

The stone wall is rough against your bare back, but the head of Eren’s cock rubbing through your folds distracts you, a promise of what’s to come.

“Please, please put it in, Eren, I need–”

“My girl needs to be full, doesn’t she?” Eren’s smirking at you, slipping the tip of his cock in. Even the stretch of that alone is enough to make you moan, digging your nails into his back. “There you go, gonna fill you up, make you all better.”

You nod into his shoulder, the weight of your actions catching up to you as he presses himself into you, fills you entirely. Eren’s your kryptonite, he’s a drug, he’s an overwhelming presence, you can’t think straight around him. Before coming to this wedding, you told yourself you’d stay away, but you can’t help it. Everything about him is like he’s sculpted just for you, your body yields to him so easily you think you might be made just for him too. His skin, salty and sweaty from the summer air, is delicious under your tongue.

He’s moving now, fucking up into you desperately, like he loves you and like he wants to break you. You jolt in his arms, helpless to do anything but take and take and take everything he has to give you.

He smiles against your open mouth, placing a sloppy kiss over it. “Does that feel good?”

“Feels so fucking good,” you whimper, letting him manhandle you. Eren’s always rough with you, always riding the line of too much, and you love taking it. You love letting him push you to your limits.

“Missed my cock in you, didn’t you? This cunt was made for me,” Eren huffs, “made just for me. Mine, isn’t it?”

You don’t indulge him with an answer, loathe to admit that your cunt is made for him, but you feel yourself clench down around him, more of your wetness soaking his lower stomach. Eren chokes out some mix of a moan and a breathless laugh, fucking up into you harder. “What a perfect answer, baby. You love it, I know you do.”

“I love it,” you agree, simpering against him as your willpower fizzles out to nothing. You’re reluctant to believe it, but there’s another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Your body responds to him in a way it responds to no one else, clinging to him and growing wet for him and tightening around him.

Eren’s digging his hands into your hips, moving you up and down on his cock more so than actually thrusting. He’s panting against your ear, hot and heavy and in tune with your own gasps. He nudges his mouth down to plant sloppy kisses around your shoulder, just at the crook of your neck in the sensitive spot that he knows you love, remembers even after all these years.

“Been too fucking long, baby,” Eren says, “gonna cum soon.”

You nod into his neck, cunt tightening around him at the prospect of his cum inside you. Just the thought of it sends your mind into orbit; a little fantasy forms in your hazy head of him fucking you like this every night, like he used to, a child with your curls and deep, green eyes-

“Gonna let me cum in this perfect cunt, aren’t you?”

As usual, Eren’s right in line with you– the synchronicity makes you moan again. “Please, please–”

“Gotta cum with me, alright? You can do that for me, can’t you?” You can, you will, but you’re so close to the edge when you try to respond your words are jumbled together. Even so close to his own release, Eren snickers at you. “My sweet girl’s all fucked out, can’t even talk.”

“Need your cum,” you manage, “please, Eren, m’close.”

Years ago, through strenuous games of overstimulation and denial, Eren trained your body to wait for him, you can’t cum unless he does and you know it. Your only option is to beg, hot shame warming your face. Eren remembers, just like you do, it makes him grin, feral and dangerous in the early evening light.

“Need my cum, baby? Needy, so needy, so beautiful,” he’s starting to slur, you know he’ll finish soon, “gonna cum in this perfect cunt of yours, never let you keep it from me again. Maybe I’ll knock you up, hm? Can’t run from me with my baby in you.”

Your watery eyes fly open at that, the logical part of your brain long-quieted, and you moan loud for him again, just the way he likes. Eren’s thrusts have grown sloppy, he’s grabbing you so hard now you know you’ll be left with Eren-shaped bruises on your hips.

Eren finally cums in you with your name on his lips, long and deep, keeping his cock fully seated inside you. It triggers your orgasm, a toe-curling wave of pleasure coursing through your body, straining your sore muscles. Eren’s mouth is pressed against yours and all you can manage is a whimper, feeling his cum warm your pussy, leak out around from where you’re both still joined together.

All the energy’s been pulled from your body now; you slump against his shoulder and whine when he slides out of you. Eren places you gently on the floor, presses a soft kiss to the top of your head before leading you upstairs on shaking legs. It smells like Eren up here, the pricey cologne he favors and the scent of well-loved sweatshirts intoxicating you. There are no words between the two of you as he leads you to the bathroom, helping you sit on the toilet seat as Eren rummages around for a washcloth to clean you.

“We need to go back to the reception,” you say weakly, wincing as Eren rubs the cloth over your cunt.

“What do you think?”

You frown, confused. “About?”

“Us, again,” he’s avoiding your eyes, focusing on his work between your legs. You’re not surprised he waited until you were disarmed to ask, brain still muddled and dizzy.

“Eren–”

“I am different now,” he finally meets your eyes, gaze alight with the burning, too-hot-to-touch love you know so well, the only love Eren knows how to offer, “got a therapist like you were always asking me to. I meditate every day. I’ll be so good to you, you know how good I am.”

He is good to you, you remember it well, your own tendency to flee was what broke you up in the first place. You’d left his heart shattered on the sidewalk of your apartment back in New York City, overwhelmed with commitment and unwilling to give his flaws the same grace he gave yours. You’re opposites: he’s hot where you’re cool, angry where you’re distant, argumentative where you’re cold. You sigh, head feeling heavy on your shoulders.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me? What about the lives we have now?”

“We’d make it work, line our schedules up together” the corner of his mouth curls, you want to kiss him again, “we’re always able to figure something out.”

You hate yourself for it, you want to run from him, get a car to the airport right now. You also want to pull him into your arms, feel his heartbeat against yours, kiss that hesitant smile on his face and never stop. “I…can I sleep on it?”

Eren’s face lights up, a kid on Christmas morning. He’s always been so expressive in these quiet moments; unreadable in a crowded room, but when it’s just you and him, his heart’s always been on his sleeve. He can’t help it. “Yeah, just sleep on it.”

You get yourself as put-together as you can, wipe the mascara from under your eyes, slip the dress back over your shoulders and concede one more kiss to Eren. It’s slow, long and languid, tongues slipping over one another, the desperation now cooled into a sense of homecoming.

You hold hands as you climb the hill back to the reception. Your knees wobble, and it makes Eren laugh, makes you blush. He’s still going on about the villa’s history, and you’re half-listening, admiring the stars above you both. The reception is still going on, albeit a bit more subdued than earlier. Some guests have trickled out, finding their beds, but your friends are still seated around a table, drunk and laughing.

Connie’s the worst, of course, leaning on Jean and regaling everyone with a tale about their Midwestern childhood together; Mikasa’s buried under Clara, who’s sleeping soundly in her lap; Ymir and Historia are alternating between listening and kissing one another; Sasha’s struggling with a corkscrew and a tricky wine bottle, Armin attempting to help her.

Your face warms as all eyes turn to you, rumpled and suspicious and late. Mikasa raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her face.

“Where have you two been? You missed the garter toss,” Ymir nudges Historia conspiratorially.

“Just touring the grounds,” Eren answers coolly, pulling the empty chair beside Mikasa and offering it to you. You sit, grateful to be off of your shaking legs.

“It’s so beautiful here, thanks for putting us all up…” you accept the glass of wine Armin is offering over your shoulder, tipping it in the happy couples’ direction. Historia murmurs a quiet ‘you’re welcome’, the entire table exchanging knowing glances. You scowl, being left out of a joke is one of your pet peeves. “What?”

Jean grins lewdly. “Nothing, just…I don’t think Eren’s room is as far from the main house as you two think it is.”

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desceros · 5 days

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i open up my tumblr to get my daily dose of turtle content after an excruciating day and immediately SPAT out my tea seeing what was happening in the rottmnt tumblr community like?? oh my god thats WILD

i presume you're referring to the dragon situation which is. well. it sure is fucking something i'll tell you that.

it's my understanding that she's currently being told she didn't do anything wrong which. ok. i'm going to need people to understand something. there are two big reasons to Why this is Such a Huge Fucking Deal.

interacting, sexually, with adults (which dragon lied about her age to do) is harmful for kids. it puts them directly into explicitly sexual places, which while Mostly Safe, do harbor some people who will latch onto vulnerable people. kids don't have a lot of the real-world experience that adults have that allow them to Spot these asshats and avoid them. kids like validation. they like feeling cool, wanted. and groomers know how to spot people that like these things and give it to them. christ, there are a lot of Adults that get this part wrong. (comprehensive sex education can reduce the chances of this happening, but considering the state of that for children being less than robust, it's safe to assume Most kids aren't being taught the sighs of a proper, actual predator and not 'dude in a white van with some candy.')

interacting, sexually, with kids, can get adults into a MASSIVE amount of trouble. there is no recourse for this. it ruins your reputation, it puts you on a fucking List, it can get you jail time, it destroys your ability to get housing or a job, etc.

so yes. this was all bad because a kid was doing sex stuff. but for everyone who i've seen saying "ohhh we all looked at smut and stuff when we were teenagers, she didn't do anything wrong", yes, she did. because she INTERACTED WITH ADULTS ABOUT IT. yes, we all know that teenagers read smut. we all know that you can click onto someone's blog. frankly, in my opinion, there's never going to be a way to stop that. but having that teenager come into adult spaces and TALK to adults, SEND them asks, POST erotic art, SEND THAT LEWD ART TO ADULTS, DO EROTIC ROLEPLAY WITH OTHER ADULTS, is beyond the pale. that's not "a teenager reading smut like we all did." that's a minor violating the trust and consent of adults who have said they don't want to interact with minors.

i want you to imagine a scenario where we have someone we Know is a liar. she says she's 17 in two months. but is she? she's lied about it before. but let's say we believe her this time. let's say we trust her when she says she's 18 now. we start letting her interact again. we talk about erotica with her again. except oops she's still not 18, she's 16 and her mommy just checked on her blog and sees she's talking about porn with adults. or she hears a headcanon she doesn't like and decides to narc on that adult for sexting with a child. or one of her friends decides they don't like how i talk to people, so they say something.

do you see the problem? sure, the kid is in danger. but so is the adult. the adult who thought they were interacting with another adult, but because that kid lied, now they're the one in trouble. oh, and fun fact, there is typically no recourse against the kid in this scenario. the adult's life is ruined, and the kid gets to walk away.

there are very few adult-only spaces left on the internet. we put up signs on our blogs that say "we talk about sex. minors do not interact." because we want these spaces for ourselves. it's so disrespectful and childish and stupid and selfish and bratty for kids to think "oh, i'm adult enough for that, actually" or "well everyone i'm following is an adult, but they all say minors don't interact, so i'll just lie and say i'm an adult, heehee." it reveals a lack of character and regard for others that disgusts me. it tells me that you don't care about my wishes, you will do whatever you want to get what you want. i did not consent to speak with a child. it's vile behavior, and people who can't comprehend why the adults here are so upset because "oh you don't owe anyone your age, we all read smut as kids, what's the big deal, it's totally fine" are clearly not using any amount of critical thinking because they learned that their favorite artist is a minor and they don't want to rock the boat and lose access to it which, by the way, maybe think about what that says about you.

#ask tag #inhale. exhale. okay i got that off my shoulders. feels better.#.......imagine this wasn't the drama you were talking about and i'm missing something else LMAOOOOO #well THIS is the drama in MY world right now so THIS is what you get the rant on!!!!#but yeah. dragons is 100% blacklisted. i don't tolerate people who lie about important shit like that.

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petrssecrethideout · 16 days

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"Bro, do you wanna hear about something crazy?"

"I mean sure, go ahead,"

"Alright, so I was just relaxing, scrolling TikTok,"

"Already a bad idea."

"I know, I got beef with that fuckin' algorithm let me tell you. I follow a couple of bodybuilders, post a couple of gym vids and suddenly my For you page is filled with the biggest assholes alive. Anyway, I'm scrolling, and I see this guy, he's doing that whole 'alpha top dog' thing even though he's not that big."

"Okay wait pause, how big is not that big?"

"I don't know, I have more muscle in my arms than he has in his whole body, real gym influencer type."

"Alright, for anyone listening to the pod at home, I should probably just say that this guy could be anywhere from 150-300 pounds from Dale's description of him, okay? He's not good at judging what normal guys look like anymore."

"Yeah, okay, you got me. Anyway, this guy keeps going on about his great advice, so I stick around to hear it. You wanna know what he said? 'Stop Cumming, its killing your natural testosterone' What kind of bullshit is that!?"

"I mean that is a big part of the current fitness world, these guys will say anything to get more followers, and a lot of their followers are so desperate for progress that they'll take whatever advice they're given."

"It's a shame, because he's also wrong! I tried that whole 'No Nut Whatever' and its been the only time in these last 5 years that I've plateaued."

"... Really?"

"Yeah! If I'm not cranking a load out every day I can kiss any potential gains goodbye."

"Wait,"

"Like after my workouts, when I got a huge pump going, I just have to crank one out, like what good workout would it be if I didn't"

"Dale c'mon,"

"And its not like I can just hit up a guy on Grindr and go to town every time I need to, there aren't enough guys on Grindr for that."

"Uggggh dude, we are never getting a sponsor with you talking like this."

"What, so all the straight alpha dudebros can talk about semen retnetion and get a ton of followers, but I get censored for talking about jacking off and getting tons of ass?"

"Yeah, we will."

"Well then, listeners, go subscribe to the patreon so that I can talk about my actual tips for growing, and so that you can help Mark get bigger. I'm telling you, I'm gonna make this boy huge with your help. Audio listeners make sure to check the videos so you can see this boy get huge. Now bro, help me out here. You don't want those Tiktok gymfluencers to win do you? How often are you jerkin off?"

"Oh god I can't believe I'm answering this... A couple of times a week maybe?"

"A week? That's fucking crazy. My average is like 4-5 times a day. More if I'm really feeling horny. If I'm being honest I jerked off a few weeks ago on the pod, like I forgot to before I came here. One of the comments mentioned something about my grunting that episode."

"Jesus christ dude, how do you even manage that?"

"Well, you gotta work up to it. I couldn't do that starting out, but once I started growing I was so horny I had to do something about it. I think that's what these guys don't get. You gotta get those balls working, give them a reason to keep making that sweet testosterone. How are you supposed to do that if you aren't jacking it? Honestly dude, I feel like I gotta prove these guys wrong now."

"What, you're gonna be a cum warrior?"

"Hell yeah man, I'm gonna be fighting the war on jerking it, on the side of jerking it!"

#ai muscle #muscle fiction #cumcast

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breadvidence · 6 months

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Please mind the #wineposting tag. Regardless: are you asking, "Should I watch this adaptation of Les Misérables?" I'll give you advice, though I suspect if you are reading this blog post you have watched all of these anyway (and quite possibly a few more, besides!).

'25 (Fescourt): Probably! If you are a Brick fan none of the adaptation choices will startle you, but having visuals to go with key scenes is a treat. This is a loyal piece. Toulout as Javert, Gabrio as Valjean, Milovanoff as Fantine, and Nivette as Éponine all give excellent performances. Be prepared for a lukewarm Cosette. You might struggle with silent film conventions, length, and French intertitles.

'34 (Bernard): Probably! This is a fairly loyal adaptation of the Brick that makes internally consistent choices where it deviates from its source (sometimes it has goofy continuity errors—politely ignore). Baur as Valjean and Gaël as Cosette give fabulous performances. Moments of silliness do not detract from the quality. Another long haul.

'35 (Boleslawski): Probably not. As an adaptation of Les Misérables this film is bad. That being said, Charles Laughton is a lauded actor, and you can't say he didn't put his whole laughussy into his performance. Because it is accessible and prominent, a lot of LM fans will have seen this film, and you might benefit from shared context if you're in fandom. Speaking personally, I'm glad I saw it, but I'm not sure you will be.

'52 (Milestone): No. Most likely based on '35 rather than on the book, this film is also a bad adaptation of Les Misérables. There are no notable performances. Because it is accessible, this is another adaptation many fans are familiar with, but understanding jokes about Valjean's boyfriend Robert and Javert's sentient hat probably don't justify sitting through the movie.

'58 (Le Chanois): No. Not the English dub, at least. "Bland" is the word of the day. Contemporary French audiences wildly disagree with me per Wikipedia.

'72 (Bluwal): Strong maybe. If you are an intense fan of the Brick, yes. Its use of a narrator to draw from the novel directly and its focus on the Amis makes this adaptation unique on this list. You might not end up liking it but you will have had an experience. If you have zero investment in Les Misérables but are still reading this post for some reason: no, do not watch this.

'78 (Jordan): At some point I will talk about this film and not make a gay joke but today is not that day. If you are not queer, get off my blog, you cis straight, begone. Everyone else: yes, watch this movie, c'mon. Perkins. That performance. At some point I need to make a serious post about queerness and '78 but right now all I've got is Javert's literal on-screen boner. Jesus Christ. Not a great adaptation of the novel but a virtuoso example of unintentional homoeroticism.

'82 (Hossein): No. This is an odd little adaptation without the charisma of a '35 or '78, somehow not as bad as either of those but not as good either. The GIF of the Amis walking in heavy wind is the best this film has to offer.

'98 (August): No—but I stared into my wine glass for a long, long time before typing those two letters. If we are judging adaptations by how they handle the source material, this is a disaster. As a film? I'm sure entertained. I call it bitchslap Les Mis. I should note here I am also a huge fan of Uma Thurman. Possibly I should recuse myself. I don't know, pal. IDK.

2012 (Hooper): I dwell bitterly on the fact that this is our film version of the musical. Brick fans are restless, musical fans are restless. People who first encountered Les Mis via this version are making feral noises. I'm afraid. I'm moving on.

2018 (Davies): It's really unfortunate that I am at my most drunk while commenting on this adaptation. Sure, watch it, it's one of those BBC series that has watchability sheerly because of production value and proximity to contemporary narrative/film expectations/standards. Personally I hate it. My partner is so tired of the tone in which I utter the syllables "Oyelowo".

The Musical: yes c'mon. Bootleg that good bitch.

#les mis #les misérables #wineposting

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duckprintspress · 4 months

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Thanks so much to the people who've already helped spread the word, it's making a big difference already.

The exact amount of the junk pledge is $2,015.

To overcome it's malicious impact, we need to hit an "actual" amount of $15,515 (instead of our real goal of $13,500) - as in, we need to raise enough over our actual goal to cover the money that'll disappear when this fake pledge is removed.

Someone also suggested in the tags that we report it - we absolutely did. :) Here's what I wrote to KS:

"My campaign has 50 hours left and I just got a huge spam pledge for $2,000. This is absolutely insane, and I'm furious. How can you guys let this happen? When this pledge becomes nothing but air, my campaign either won't fund at the last minute because people who WOULD have backed to help get us over the line will think we're already funded, or it won't get cancelled til after the end and then the money won't exist and we won't actually be able to afford to do our project. I'm absolutely livid. I knew y'all were having problems with spam pledges but jesus f-in christ KS you need to resolve this absolutely immediately or figure out a way to make it up to loyal users like us. It impacts KS too, since if we crash and burn at the last minute because of this spam pledge, y'all can't collect your fees. This pledge and it's timing entirely screws up my ability to get last-minute pledges, and even having it there for a few hours will have a substantial negative impact on my ability to run this campaign.

"If this can't be resolved immediately, please PLEASE extend our campaign a day, anything to make up for the damage that this will do to my ability to get my project funded.

"This is the kind of problem that, if KS can't get it under control, I don't know how I'll be able to continue using the platform. Another person I know has had over $10k of spam pledges on his campaign in the last few weeks, and was initially told one of the pledges WASN'T spam and it took over a day to actually resolve. Can you think what it taking over a day will do to my project?

"Sorry, I'm ranty, but I'm livid, and the useless chat bot, my inability to get a human in chat when I've got an urgent problem, the utter lack of FAQ support for what to do when I get a spam pledge like this, and the irrelevant categories on this form I'm filling out now, plus the dozens of uncontrolled spam messages I've gotten about my project across four different platforms, have all combined to make me feel like KS either doesn't care about the spam issue or has zero ability to control it, and honestly neither of these conclusions is heartening when they relate to a company that has taken thousands of dollars in fees from me over the last few years."

I. Might have been a little angry, lmao.

However, their support staff doesn't even get to the office until 9:00 AM Eastern time (one hour from when I'm posting this), and then they'll have however many other e-mails to get through before mine. Our 48-hour window starts at 9:37 am. The odds that the junk pledge will be gone by then are EXTREMELY low. The person I mentioned in that message, it took over a day to get rid of a junk pledge and KS initially told them it WASN'T a junk pledge, so ya know that was awesome for them. I'd been feeling pretty lucky that it hadn't happened to me yet - this happened to them about three weeks ago - but well. guess my luck had run out.

Anyway, if anyone has other questions or comments, I'll see them in tags or you can drop us an ask. The outpouring has already been incredible, folks have pledged (or increased their existing pledges) to a tune of $303 since I put up the post an hour and a half ago, which means we're only about a thousand shy. I was teary-eyed before because I was upset about the junk-pledge, and now I'm teary-eyed instead being grateful about how awesome people are.

Thanks, everyone.

We'll overcome this dipshit scammy bullcrap!

#duck prints press #unforth rambles

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penguicorns-are-cool · 7 months

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I posted this in a reblog earlier but I think I should make it it's own post

Believe it or not, there are actually many different types of zionism as it is a complex political movement that existed for over 1000 years as a loosely connected set of ideas and saying it proposes that Jewish people are more entitled to Palestine than Palestinians is a huge oversimplification and for most types of zionism is just completely false.

Here's a little crash course on different types of zionism

Political Zionism: this is how zionism started and it is basically everything Theodore Herzl said in Der Judenstaat (The Jewish State). basically the idea that the establishment of a Jewish state (preferably in Palestine but anywhere will do) is necessary to prevent the genocide of Jews and for Jews to have somewhere to go when their lives are in danger. The belief here is that for Jews to truly have any sort of security Jews need to have sovereignty over their own state. It is a response to antisemitism.

Revisionist Zionism: this is the one that y'all are all familiar with. This one also formed as a response to antisemitism but with a bit less patience. It was most popular in central and east europe with Jews who were waiting to immigrate because of the astounding amounts of antisemitism in europe at the time. This one calls for mass Jewish settlement in Israel with the goal of making a Jewish majority in Palestine. They became very popular because they would facilitate mass migrations from europe to palestine during Holocaust times. This is the zionism of the Likud party which Netanyahu is a part of.

Religous Zionism: religous zionism advocated for the establishment of a Jewish state for religous reasons. Basically all the, it's a Jewish holy land stuff and how there are some mitzvot that can only be fulfilled in Israel. There was also a prophecy and stuff about Jews returning to Israel it's a whole thing.

Socialist/Labor zionism: This was the most prominent form of zionism for Jews living in Palestine just before Israel was established and many of Israel's founders were socialist zionists. They believed that the rise of capitalism would spark class struggles in other countries that would exacerbate existing antisemitism and working class Jews would be forced to move. The idea was that there had to be a Jewish state where those Jews could escape to to avoid antisemitism. These guys actually did a lot of really cool things under very bad conditions. They spread modern Hebrew, made uninhabitable parts of Israel into fertile land, and set up a lot of schools. Many of them had just recently escaped genocide or had families being genocided in Europe. At this point in time they were also being constantly massacred by Palestinian Arabs (there's a whole thing with Nazis spreading their propoganda in the Middle East at this time in an effort to kill more Jews then later the soviets did something similar it's a whole thing. There were also general tensions and the British did not help at all). Depending on the person or group, whether the socialism or zionism is more emphasized can vary.

Spiritual Zionism: these are the people who don't believe Palestine can hold all the Jews and rather than being a designated safe space for all Jews to go in case of emergency it should be a religous hub that would help the diaspora regain their spirituality

Messianic Zionism: this is an extremist group. This one developed around the six-day-war and is honestly kind of culty from what I'm seeing. They believe Israel belongs to the Jews by divine decree. They would like ban people from even interacting with Arabs and were only tolerated until Israel started trading back land in peace treaties. Then one of them assassinated Yitzchak Rabin (generally loved prime minister cause he signed a bunch of peace treaties). They're controversial at best terrorists at worst. we don't like these ones at all.

Christain Zionism: there's some sort of christain belief that all the Jews returning to Israel is part of the end of times prophecy so they will organize trips for Jews to move to Israel. They're actually pretty antisemitic. Christain zionists generally support the oppression of Palestinians and also a whole lot of other horrible things.

Please just understand that zionism ≠ supports Israel's actions against Palestine. For a lot of people it means Jews should have a safe space to go in case of antisemitism or Israel is a holy land for Jews too and we'd like to also live there and have a bit of sovereignty. There are in fact zionists who would like there to be one Jewish and Palestinian state where Palestinians and Jews have somewhat equal political power, that actually was one of the suggestions back before 1948 and it ended up falling through.

Also, please please please go research some history of Palestine from like early 1900s on. 1948 isn't the start of the conflict there's so much context that you lose if you start there. Just like, if an article or source starts telling the history at 1948, it's probably biased in some way. The wikipedia page is actually pretty good for this just read the British Mandate period and maybe check the sources if you want to.

#zionism #israel #palestine #types of zionism #antisemitism #jewish #jumblr

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not-a-perfect-metaphor · 1 year

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(Hardcore hatting post with wives + fauxmance content. Please do not continue if you know that’s going to rub you the wrong way.)

————————

Today in the world of J2-tinhatting:

Things that make you go ‘hmmm…’ 🧐 number 5,63877 -

————

Jared and Genevieve choosing October 24th, 2008 as the day they fictitiously decided to enter into a ‘serious’ relationship with each other.

I’m sure it seemed like it would add an extra little boost of significance to the timing of their staged engagement on October 24th, 2009.

You know…like the proposal was a tribute to exactly one full year of ‘mutually exclusive commitment’ between the two of them.

And to clarify, they didn’t mention any of this; meaning the specifics of when they had officially become a ‘serious couple’ until after their engagement went public, and that was just one of the many necessary milestones they would swiftly need to fabricate (and then remember, which…don’t even get me started) as they pieced together a ‘dating timeline’ that would hopefully be convincing enough to sell their completely out-of-the-blue engagement and marriage.

And when I say out-of-the-blue…boyyyy do I mean it, because for anyone who wasn’t paying attention to the comings and goings of the Js way back then (christ…fifteen years…good grief), the Jared/Genevieve ‘reveal’ happened essentially like this:

Jared vs. romance, post-Sandra McCoy: he’s single, single…single, yada yada, single some more- (except obviously he’s ‘secretly’ with Jensen, and by ‘secretly’ I mean the entire universe knows it…*AHEM*), but yep…still single, sinnngle, wow these gay rumors sure are gaining a sudden huge amount of traction, but anyway…single, sin-

-BOOM, now there’s this one stray article speculating that he mayyy (or may not) have a girlfriend, and…wait, huh? Who dat? What’s-

Oh okay, I guess he really DOES have a girlfriend, and wait, they-they…they’re actually super girlfriend-y/boyfriend-y, or…

They’re engaged?

Yes, they’re engaged!

DUH.

It’s Genevieve. Genevieve and Jared. And, in fact, they’ve been serious and lovey-dovey lovebirds for quite a while, now.

So, um……..psych!

Yes, this is 100% normal, because whether you know it or not, you did actually know about it the whole time.

Yes you did.

NOPE, DON’T EVEN.

YES YOU DID.

YES.

YOU.

DID.

…….

Seriously, though.

I cannot overstate the bizarreness of watching it all unfold in real time…of witnessing the way this relationship that ABSOLUTELY WAS NOT ANYWHERE TO BE FOUND…EVER was being framed and talked about as if it had been right there, right in front of us…progressing normally and not at all suspiciously to the point where it was just like finally, it’s finally just time for these two crazy kids to stroll down that aisle and tie the knot.

……

When meanwhile, in real life, it was pretty much just a giant -

Plus throw in everything that was suddenly going down with Jensen and Danneel AT THE SAME EXACT TIME (like…no joke, though…and then both engagements materializing on the same frickin’ weekend for christ’s sake??)

🙃

———

*By the way, the Jensen/Danneel fauxmance unfolded in a way that was equally as dumbfounding and twilight zone-ish as the Jared/Genevieve fauxmance but for completely different reasons, which I’ll rant and rave about in another post, because I have a LOT (a lot a lot) to say about that, too.*

———

But back to the Jared/Gen fauxmance and the dates I started this whole thing with.

Because remember the journalist who authored that epic article after interviewing the Js in which she famously wrote that they “share more than just a mortgage”? (they were still publicly living together at the time)

That lovely little chat happened to occur in late December of 2008.

And…but-…but…

Hmmm…🧐

According to Jared…during that interview (again, in late December, 2008), he was “very single.”

He wasn’t even just “single.”

He was “very single.”

He wasn’t “maybe casually seeing a girl.”

He wasn’t “dating a girl” but just not quite ready to name names.

He wasn’t “well…you’ll find out soon enough *wink wink*.”

Nope.

He was living with his best friend (*cough-HUSBAND-cough*) and “very single.”

Lol. So, um, then…

Well, fast forward to Jared and Genevieve’s engagement, October 24th, 2009…

-shortly after which we were informed about the whole October 24th also being the one year anniversary of the day they both decided it was time to fully commit to each other as a long-term, exclusive couple thing.

Except…two full months PAST that special day -

(October 24th to late December)

Jared.

Is.

“Very single.”

#j2 tinhat #my ramblings #things that make you go hmmm #fauxmance

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anantaru · 4 months

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Hi! Long time lurker here with some words of wisdom if you will. Gonna apologize in advance if it's too cutthroat, but know it's not directed at you with malice.

It's not your responsibility to cater to every person on the internet. It's not your responsibility to curate an image that makes other people accept you. All you can do is be yourself (whether that be actually you or your internet persona if you have one) to the best of your abilities. At the end of the day, who gives a fuck if someone is triggered by some offhanded comment? You kinda just have to think, "Sorry you experienced some unpleasant things, but I don't know you or your history."

Not your monkey, not your circus.

The issue with the internet today is that too many people are so fucking sensitive about context and self-imposed perceptions. Too many people have a victim complex with a snowflake mentality and it makes me want to blow my brains out everytime someone has a freaking melt down over something so little and once again self-perceived. To be honest, you shouldn't even have to apologize, but it's kind that you did.

From this moment onwards, I want you and anyone else who may read this to remember that it's literally not your responsibility to make anyone comfortable on your little corner of the internet. It's yours, post whatever the fuck you want. Anyone who attacks you is just a fuckin loser who can't cope with navigating life like an adult, or staying in a kids place if they're a minor.

I'm tired of seeing all this unnecessary discourse like we're a bunch of highschoolers or even worse, middle schoolers, jesus fucking christ. On that note, I hope you feel better, I'll be rooting for you from now until you decide to leave. Thanks for all of your hard work, and try not to let the bullshit bother you so much.

hello! 💕 i wasn't planning on answering any asks regarding this situation anymore but this ask really woke me up. i for one, totally agree with you and i have always had this mindset as well, like there's been plenty of times where i would scroll through social media and something would catch me off guard or even trigger me (which happens so rarely), but honestly guys, i don't care when this happens lmao, i just kept scrolling and forget about it in two minutes like i have so much on my mind in real life with my profession, i do not need something online to force itself into my peace and it's the internet, you will stumble upon something that might upset you.

I believe if you are on any social media site, you cannot expect everything to go according to plan, even considering you take the necessary steps and block certain tags (for example on tumblr) it can very much happen that you will still be exposed to it. at some point you have to realize that this world is not accustomed to you, nothing is, wether in real life nor online, you have to accept that there will always be different views and opinions that will piss you off or not align with you, make you mad or sad, but what you should never do in this situation is send hate or make it seem like a person is this awful individual.

you are not a good person if you bully people, and even if you show us all the awful things you had to go through in your real life, it is not an apology to bully people and you can attempt to make us feel bad, but i don't have sympathy for bullies, even if you were bullied yourself, especially then you should know how it feels like.

again anon, thank you so much! 💕 i was really questioning on how to behave on this blog anymore, it's a huge blog and i have found it to be a little overwhelming, but then I remember that my readers are the sweetest people out there and I know I have the best little corner on the internet here, with them by my side 💕 you really brought me back to reality, thank you nonnie.

#˚✩彡 anon'#꒰୨ 𖤐 ୧꒱ answered'

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welcometololaland · 9 months

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Pls don't judge banner, I'm gonna come up with something better for the actual fic!

WIP WORKING WEEK DAY 4: WHEN IN ROME AKA EUROTRIP AKA EUROTRASH. I had to do 49 sentences - unsure how many this is but enjoy! Tagging @rmd-writes and @clottedcreamfudge for interest and noting that the first chapter of this mammoth fic is due to be posted in mid to late September. Also, @athousandrooms VERY KINDLY took a commission to do some art for it, so it's coming together like the RWRB fic of my dreams right now! Avengers, assemble!

Henry is being weird. Alex knows this, despite having met Henry fairly recently. He also knows that they’re both completely aware of the fact that Alex was two seconds away from making out with Henry’s stupidly beautiful face yesterday, before Henry had the audacity to swim away from him.

If there’s one thing that Alex isn’t super fucking great at, it’s dealing with rejection. Instead, he decides to be incredibly immature about it.

The previous morning he had practically dragged Henry out of his twin bed, eager to get going on the Azure trail. This morning, he sulks, pulls the covers over his head and refuses to come out, even when it becomes apparent that Henry has gone on an early morning adventure to the local bakery and the bread smells amazing.

Also, Henry has coffee, which is basically vital for Alex’s survival.

Still, Alex can barely stand the sight of Henry – all stupidly soft, blond hair, pink lips and kind blue eyes – because all it does is remind him of how much he’d love to mess him up. In hindsight, Alex can’t quite believe he ever thought he was straight. It all seems so obvious now.

He eventually emerges from the bed and makes his way downstairs, squinting at the sunshine already streaming through the huge wall-to-ceiling windows. This house is kind of insane – definitely the nicest place Alex envisages staying on this trip – and he feels guilty that his first thought was that he doesn’t feel too bad about making Henry stay in a hostel. Without it, he doubts Henry would ever have seen the inside of anything less than a five star hotel, so it was probably character building.

He has questions, mostly about who the fuck Henry’s grandmother is and why she loves Brené Brown so much, but he can tell Henry is hesitant to talk about it. Alex counts this as a win for his emotional intelligence – something June has in spades and loves to claim Alex completely missed – and wonders whether the Instagram influencers are right. Perhaps travelling the world does change you.

In any case, it’s not changing Alex’s mind on Henry. He’s irresistible and Alex can’t stand the sight of him.

“Good morning, Alex,” Henry says politely from behind the expansive kitchen counter, looking up from his phone as he puts the piece of bread he’s eating down on the plate in front of him. “Sleep well?”

Alex makes a non committal noise in reply and deposits himself onto a bar stool opposite, reaching out to claim the untouched coffee next to Henry’s right hand.

“Wait,” Henry says abruptly, pulling the coffee back out of Alex’s reach. “You can tell me what’s bothering you first.”

Alex scowls. “It’s fucking early and you’re holding my coffee hostage,” he groans. “I need that.”

Henry raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. Alex spirals about it, then wonders what the fuck is wrong with him. It’s an eyebrow. “Then I suppose you’re lucky I bought you one. Come on. Out with it.”

Alex’s under-caffeinated brain goes through a variety of scenarios in a surprisingly short amount of time. He could be honest – he wants to be honest, wants to know why Henry doesn’t want him – but at the same time, he has another three weeks to kill in Europe and if he makes things awkward now he might be alone for most of them. He likes Henry – way more than he cares to admit to himself – and he doesn’t particularly want to give him up.

“Christ,” Henry breathes, drawing Alex’s attention, and when he looks up, there’s a soft expression on Henry’s face. “You look tortured.”

“I am tortured,” Alex protests, leaning into the sympathy. “I’m severely under-caffeinated and if I don’t get my hands on that coffee in the next—”

“You’re impossible,” Henry says, but even as he rolls his eyes, it looks fond. Alex has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning. The coffee gets passed over without further interrogation.

#eurotrip #eurotrash #when in rome #WIP working week #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue fic #rwrb au #wip #working in progress #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #this fic is my baby please be nice to it #YAY #eurotrip snippet #lolaland snippet

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asoftspotforangels · 24 days

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so I was tagged three times lately so I am putting it all in one post XD

from least to most difficult askfhjadkhfjkdlhaf

from @hardboiledteacozy 💝

⟡ rules : answer + tag 9 people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with!

⟡ fav color : green 💚

⟡ last song : Moment's Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier

⟡ last movie : Barbie (I haven't seen any movie since last year lol). tv series - 1670

⟡ currently reading : I just finished I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy and started 1F: Fukushima I Nuclear Power Plant Work Log by Tatsuta Kazuto

⟡ currently watching : Dungeon Meshi 🍳

⟡ currently craving : some nice juicy oranges 😔 if anyone has tips on how to choose the best oranges, let me know pls

⟡ coffee or tea : I like coffee only if it's a sweet treat (so with milk and sugar or some sugary syrup); tea, however !! 🥰 a few days ago I opened a blend I got who knows how many years ago and from where or from whom, it's green and white tea, and it's soooo gooood~

from @minnichan 💗

Rules: pick a song for each letter of your url and tag that many people. my url is too long for that lol

I have a playlist for songs I currently listen to, let's see if it's enought to complete this game… there's not a huge variety of artists tho ^^"

A - Appaloosa by Lor S - Sinktank by Inabakumori O - Overdose by Natori (hi minni!!!! I saw a cover of it in one of your asks lately!!! :3) F - fanfiction by Lor (yes, that's a lyrics video on their official channel xd) T - Tail by Sunmi (when will she come back to Poland TT__TT) S - Sweet Dream from Alien Stage by C!naH / by BL8M (I have both versions on my playlist, yeah) P - Post Shelter by Inabakumori O - Order of Silence from Genshin (ost from Cyno's demo) T - Trafalgar Square by Lor F - FightSong by Eve O - Overture from Jesus Christ Superstar 1996 R - Ruler Of My Heart from Alien Stage ( ‼ spoilers from Alien Stage here ‼ cw: blood, violence, death, panic attack) A - agaki (亜ガキ) by Ora (sometimes the background music skips between left and right side and I love it) N - Nonsense Bungaku by Eve G - A Gentleman's Fantasy from Honkai Star Rail (amazing boss theme!!) E - Ezra Was Right by Grandbrothers (this one starts quite slowly, if you're impatient you can start at 3:15 xD) L - Lagtrain by Inabakumori S - $hrek 2 by Lor (cw: guys without shirts fighting at school)

Lor is a Polish band that I recommend with my whole heart :3

many Eve's MVs are like short animes, I love them so so much

the whole Alien Stage is quite short, because it's basically made of music videos and there's less than 10 rn (here's a playlist for anyone interested) (but it can be quite triggering sometimes)

fuck gachas and their gambling, but genshin and star rail have amazing music

here's a very fun fact: I started listening to Eve and Inabakumori last year on April 17 and May 4 respectively, so about a year ago!!

from @dangerliesbeforeyou 💖

list 5 topics i can talk on for an hour without preparing any material

this one's difficult!!!! because I can endlessly talk about my fandoms and blorbos........only. I don't feel knowledgeable on anything specific, but I could, however, ramble on about my interests

I'm back to that Stardew Valley Grind™ rn so I could talk a lot about my farm. my first farm. year three, winter, and it's probably the ugliest farm you've ever seen. and. and also. my cyhaino sdv au brainrot. 😳

genshin, especially my ultimate blorbo Alhaitham 🌱 idk, I just like this guy, I saw first leaks and I was like 👉 this guy. this is my dude.

my babeys blue lions from fire emblem 3 houses 😭 I chose them in my first playthrough and I still do NOT care about anyone else (that's an exaggeration, I care about others, but... not as much... 😔) also, Sylvain is there and flirty red guys are my ultimate weakness. I know he can, just, switch to your house if you're playing female Byleth (lol), but I don't want to separate him from his friends 😭 they're all traumatised and need hugs

painting and drawing! lately I fell back in love in traditional art and I picked up acrylic painting, and I'm watching a lot of videos and learning a lot - by my own trial and error too, but it's fun!

various handcraft I learned - embroidery, crocheting, knitting, punch needle, sewing - and stuff I created. I don't do all these all the time, only when I feel like it so.....irregularly lol! but I have lots of ideas and some plans, and unfinished works

tagging: @natowe @one-trash-alek @hardboiledteacozy @dangerliesbeforeyou @minnichan

@vanyafresita @giosele @shuuenka @thebrokenwriter911

tagging everyone for everything, do whichever you want or nothing at all, no pressure ✨

(but I love reading other people's answers :3)

pretty dividers from @cafekitsune (x)

#Agnieszka talks #I had to separate the tagging because I couldn't @ more than 5 people in one line ._.

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mostremote · 5 months

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reflecting on 2023, thoughts for 2024, long personal post

How would I sum up 2023? Well, it's certainly been productive. Securing a permanent position at a university I adore is unreal, and I still subconsciously assume there's been a mistake and they'll fire me any day now. After what was essentially 7 years of precarity, having professional stability is absolutely wild. I love my job, I love my students, I love my colleagues, and it's insane to me that I seem to have actually "made it" professionally.

My second book is coming out with a Big Publisher and that's very nice too. I don't have much emotional attachment to that project, but it took a lot of work and I'm satisfied that it is reaching its appropriate conclusion. I will make, I am sure, zero money out of it, but that's academic publishing for you lol

I gave my first keynote paper at a (cute, small) conference, so that was also a milestone. I also organised a very successful conference in which like 1/4 of the speakers cited my work, which was absolutely surreal and made me want to disappear into the ground.

I made a huge amount of progress on my novel, it's pretty much finished, and my one real resolution for 2024 is to make a proper effort to get it published. I'll wait until my academic book is out to start that process, but that's the one resolution I'm setting for myself. I don't know if I'll have any luck (it's not exactly a book with mass appeal) but I want to at least give it a shot.

Healthwise, well. It's been a ride. A good ride, but a ride nonetheless. I switched medications for my chronic illness, coming off a really major one and getting onto a much milder one, as I've been basically asymptomatic. This is good news all round: I've adapted well to the new meds, and I don't have to deal with all the nasty side effects of the old meds (they fuck you up long term). The main problem I have now is that I can't drink much alcohol, but that's a small price to pay for good health.

But one side effect of the medication was weight gain. I gained around a stone after I'd been on it for a year but I figured that was just "not being in your early 20s anymore" weight gain. Turns out nope! I haven't weighed myself lately but I have visibly lost a lot of weight and it's a little disconcerting to be suddenly, well, very skinny again. I look much younger and smaller. It's not bad, it's just a stark difference to adjust to and not something I was expecting to happen in my 30s.

I've also adjusted my hormone regimen. I don't have any long term plans (i never do lol) but I've been enjoying playing more with feminine presentations. I'm just, comfortable with my body and happy with who I am. How about that!

Mental healthwise, hoo boy. Let's address my being cursed by an ancient amulet and becoming crushingly obsessed with the fictional villain of The Hunger Games. I haven't spoken about this on here but The Shivering Season is significantly informed by my own experiences with different forms of abuse and mental health problems, and I have been processing a lot while writing it. Sometimes I've had anxiety attacks while writing, which never happens to me! There was a point before Christmas I was having anxiety attacks at random everyday, just hanging out watching TV, because it seems I was bringing so much stuff to the surface. And I seem to have worked through some things, because the intrusive sexual abuse thoughts/fantasies I have experienced compulsively for, idk, 15+ years have gone. Completely gone. Really, really weird! I need to go back to therapy about this but I just don't know how to explain "I became obsessed with The Hunger Games and now I have 70% less trauma" in a normal way.

And I have been extremely manic these past 2 months. That is probably obvious from how I've been posting, but jesus christ. I wake up at 5am, I fall asleep at 11pm (and as someone who historically needs 8-9 hours every night, this is significant). I write thousands of words almost every day. I am generally inclined to periods of mania, but this is extremely intense and it has lasted since the start of November. I'm scared of crashing, both because this hyperproductivity is giving me a lot of positive brain chemicals and because I don't know what kind of person I'll be if it goes. Will the intrusive thoughts come back? I don't want them to! I've been very happy without them!!

And that's the conclusion, really: I've had a very happy year. I'm mistrustful of happiness, but I am still happy. I don't know what to expect of 2024, but I am optimistic, and content, and marvelling at in what a good place I'm in now compared to how I was.

Happy new year!

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eashmo · 9 months

Text

7 minutes in hell, or is it heaven? Part 11 💋

-You Taste Devine-

Warnings: Smut!, fluff, and lots of angst. Billy forever being a soft Lil bean to y/n.

A/n: Sorry for not posting chapters. i was actually finally watching the show, also I've been distracted on watching the witcher for the first time as well, sooo yea. Also, sorry if ya'll don't have a daddy kink.

So the date seems short to me, because I wanted to write the smut more because I'm a hoe 🤣

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rolling over onto my side, I wanted to face him to admire the curves of nose and jawline with my fingers, I want to constantly touch him somehow. Watching how his eyes flutter in his sleep as i touched him, touching his addicting lips, touching his hair that glowed in the morning sun. Thinking about prom and last night's activities, I was smiling like an idiot because of this man in front of me.

Suddenly, feeling his hand on my wrist, the grip was tight but not inflicting pain. He didn't say anything. He just kissed each of my fingers slowly, his eyes still closed.

"What do you think you're doing, princess?" He says in a husky morning voice. opening his eyes.

My cheeks were getting red for being caught. He grins and leans in, watching intently. I lower my eyes, suddenly intimated by the strength of his gaze.

He reaches out, gently nudging my chin up. "Are you blushing?" He asks in a teasing light tone.

"I-i don't know what you mean," I insist weakly as a smile slowly spreads across his face. His thumbs move across my cheeks as he chuckles. Fully grinning as he held my face, i gasped a little at the rare sight. I always felt like I had saved the world in my past life to be able to witness that smile.

"Let me take you on a date tonight."

"Can we go to the skating rink?!"

He chuckles, "As you wish, princess." He leans into me once more, capturing his lips with mine.

Neither of us heard a car pulling up, keys jingling as the front door opening, or the footsteps coming up the stairs, nor my bedroom door opening.

"Y/n, dear, I thought I would – oh my!" hearing a familiar voice of my mom, I shoved Billy off of me, making him fall to the ground taking the comforter with him with a loud thud, wincing as I heard a groan of pain from him.

"Mom!" I tried to cover my naked body with other blankets.

"Hello, Mrs. y/l/n ,” Billy greets smoothly, finally standing up from his place on the floor, wrapping the comforter around his naked waist, taking my moms hand, and kissing it “You are far more beautiful in person than I could imagine” sincere, charming even, brimming with utmost confidence. She looks at me with a huge grin on her face. I rolled my eyes. “I'm Billy Hargrove, your daughter's boyfriend."

“It’s nice to finally meet you. You look just like how she described you, Billy,” my mom says with a big smile. “y/n has had a crush on you for a year. ”

“Oh really?” he asks, one eyebrow raised, looking at me amusedly.

"Also, please, call me y/m/n." She took one look at the boy standing awkwardly somewhat naked in her daughter's room. She noticed that his torso was severely bruised.

“Are you alright dear, did you get into a fight? She asked with concern, filling her voice as she pointed to his torso.

“Oh. I- i um.” he says, not able to tell the truth about how he got them.

Coughing. "Mom, you and dad came back early," I say, finally finding my voice. Distracting her from Billy.

"Oh, most of the meetings were canceled. We left for two days and got yourself a charming handsome boyfriend." She playfully scolded. My mom seemed to play off the ignored question.

Billy rubbed the back of his neck. He let out a boyish grin, and immediately, I knew he had just won over my mother.

“Um Mom, can you give us a second, please?”

“Of course honey, but later we need to have the talk about certain things” she says painting at my current state but right before she closes the door she gives me a thumbs up along with a wink.

“Christ.” I say as I flopped on my bed, covering my face with my hands.

“Well that went better than i expected” he chuckles, putting on his jeans, ignoring the shirt that was on the floor. He crawled over me and hovers over me, straddling my legs. I looked up through my fingers. He gently removes my hands from my face. Bending down to capture my lips.

“You're cute when you're embarrassed” he smirks.

Laughing “Oh fuck off hargrove”

Gingerly, my fingers touch his bruises, “I wish he didn't do this to you. If I meet him, I will kill him, I swear” I was getting pissed.

He chuckles a bit “jesus you are hot when you get pissed, but thank you for being my little protector”

I gave him a small smile “well someones gotta do it” pulling him down for a quick kiss , We finally came down the stairs fully dressed. “Ready to meet the father, big boy?” He stiffened immediately. Laughing “he's going to love you, i promise.”...... I hope so.

The meeting with my dad went smoother than i thought, dad took one look at Billy's scared face and immediately laughed while shaking his hand. “Welcome to the family, Billy, but no more sex under this roof ever again,” my dad scolded him. My eyes widen “thanks mom” i grumbled under my breath

“S-sorry sir” Billy gulps

“And you young lady from now on your are grounded."

" Can I at least go on a date tonight?" I pouted.

"OK, I'll let you off with a warning, just for tonight," he points at me with a semi Stern look.

“See i told you nothing to worry about” i teased as He slings an arm around me. “Yeah, your parents are fucking awesome, but not as awesome as you” he whispers in my ear.

Rolling my eyes “I love you, dork.”

“I love you too, nerd,” he grins.

*First date at skating rink*

“I’m totally gonna fall on my ass by the way. I never had luck with skates” I say to Billy as he laces up his own skates. We looked around the skating rink, watching as the people on the rink passed by.

“Well we can't let that happen now, can we?” He says with a smirk, leaning over to wrap an arm around me.

“Let me help you to the rink.” He says, taking hold of my shaky hands. I bite my lip and attempt to lift myself off of the bench. I immediately lose my footing upon fully standing up, falling into his arms. Billy lets out a hearty laugh, causing me to pout. “Asshole,” I mutter, placing my hands on his bicep for balance.

He chuckles “come on, bambi.” I stick my tongue at him with the nickname.

“I can't believe I suggested this for the first date. After all these years, I still can't skate.” I groaned in embarrassment.

“I think it's cute, especially because it gives me an excuse to hold you more,” he says.

He pulls me from the carpet onto the slippery, wooden floor of the rink. We start off slowly but gradually start going faster over time.

“Just ease into it, your tense baby.” he says, letting go to give me some freedom.

Immediately, i slipped and fell flat on my back. Billy stops immediately and goes to help me up.

“Nice one, y/l/n!” A group of girls snickered at me as they swerved by me. I flipped them off, hissing in pain as Billy lifted me up off of the floor.

“Well that went great.” we both say at the same time, both of us laughing.

I finally started to ease into it after several hours. It still isn't easy, Billy leads me around the rink, and I laugh as he does little tricks around me.

“How are you so good?” I whined when he was showing off again.

“My mother took me to skating rinks a lot when i was little. If i wasn't surfing, i was skating.”

“I would like to know more about her.”

“I will tell you soon,but now is not the time.” he sighs with a small frown.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” he smiles.

An announcement rings through the building, stating that the rink will be closing soon.

He took me over to the plastic bench, and he helped me sit down and undo my laces. “Baby, I’m not five, I know how to untie my shoelaces.” Billy chuckles, “I know princess…I just felt like doing it for you.”

“You’re so cheesy.” I tease. rolling his eyes. “Only for you.”

“Wanna do the photobooth before they close?” I say with puppy dog eyes.

“Anything for you.”

*car ride home also smut incoming*

I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he drove. Something about him driving does things to me. his hand had started off holding my own, but it had slipped to my thigh, gripping it tight like he was reading my thoughts.

"Billy, do you mind going the long way home?" I asked. He chuckles lowly, moving his hand a little more up my thigh, causing my breath to hitch. "Gladly." he says, punching the gas pedal a little more.

It wasn't long before he was driving down an old, almost overgrown, dirt road to a small clearing passed the warehouses; He pulled over, he looked at me with dark, lustful eyes that made me wanna moan; he leans in, his hand still on my thigh, kissing me harsh and bruising, pulling me onto his lap, his grip moved to my hips, fingertips harsh and making me roll my hips. His addicting taste of strawberries and cigarettes made my head spin.

"D-Daddy," you mewled in his ear, grinding down on his lap.

He stops my grinding “what did you call me?”

“Daddy.” I said quietly that I was turning red with embarrassment sitting back in the passenger seat thinking I did something wrong.

With a smirk, he undid his belt and pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles; his cock rock hard, "What's the matter, kitten? Dont You want Daddy to fuck you?"

You bit your lip, nodding eagerly. "Yes, please.”

“Strip” he demands.

I stripped quickly at his command. “daddy.”

the growl that escaped his throat when i said that was primal, and without even any hesitation, he quickly puts me back on his lap, aiding me in lining myself up with him before he let out a loud groan when i fully sank down on him, gripping his shoulders as i began to rock and grind my hips.

"That's a good girl, You look so fucking good on top of me,fucking yourself on daddy's dick like a good fucking girl."

My lips were against his neck as I was begging for more, leaving bright hickeys everywhere whilst I tangled one hand in his hair, tugging it perfectly, his hands firmly on my hips, fingertips bruising my skin, losing ourselves in the ecstasy.

"Fuck, Daddy, I'm so close."

“Then cum baby girl.” he mercilessly played with my clit as he continued roughly pounding into me, I clenched around him, my juices covering him, he quickly pulled out and his thick cum covers the space in between us.

"Fuck, princess," he manages to say at last as he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "You're so fucking gorgeous when you cum." He licked his lips.

"Lie down in the backseat," his voice was low and gravelly, making you bite your lip in excitement. "Daddy wants to taste you.”

Lying down in the backseat, spreading my legs, watching in awe as he got between my thighs. moaning loudly and arching my back when he ran his tongue through my folds, slow and teasing at first, he made sure to keep his eyes trained on me, especially when he pushed two of his fingers inside of me, making me gasp from the overstimulation. the windows of the car had fogged up.

He crooked the fingers that were buried inside of me, making me let out an incredibly loud moan; clenching around his fingers I came for the second time my juices were eagerly licked up by him, he pulled away, licking his lips.

my legs were shaking, i was sure i couldn't move. "Baby, let me return the favor," I breathed out.

Chuckling, he shook his head “you don't have.”

“Please daddy let me.”

“Ok princess.” he smiles.

“I've never done this.” i say quietly

“It's ok, baby.”

He sat back when I got on my hands and knees on the seat. bending down, I spent some time kissing his thighs, getting closer and closer to his balls. He let out a loud growl when I put one of his balls into my mouth. swishing it around inside my mouth, then switched to the other one; He started breathing hard. I managed to put both his balls into my mouth at once. “ You are doing amazing, princess.” he grunts, I gingerly begin to stroke his cock. removing his balls from my mouth, licking his shaft with the tip of my tongue. Drenching his cock with my saliva. finally putting my lips around the whole head of his cock and started to gently suck him off. slowly lowering my mouth over his entire cock, getting it deep inside my mouth as i could. grunting softly when I realized I couldn't get it all inside her mouth. slowly bobbing my head up and down on his lap. I could hear his breathing getting heavier.

“Fuck, are you sure you never done this before?” he grunts.

He began to buck his hips up and down; Swirling my tongue wildly around the underside of the head of his cock, driving him mad with desire. It was hard to really say anything back with my mouth filled up. I intended to milk him dry; looking up, I saw his eyes were tightly shut, and his hands were by his side. “I'm about to cum kitten.” he moans, shortly after he said that the explosion came.

The intensity and amount of cum was difficult to handle. letting his cum drip out onto his lap. His hot cum mixed with my saliva as I licked the tip of his shaft.

“H-how was that.”

“That was absolutely amazing, baby girl.” he says as he pulls me up to kiss my lips, tasting himself.

“I love you so much.” I whisper in his lips.

“I love you more than you think.”

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Masterlist

2023

#Spotify #billy hargrove scenario #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove stranger things #stranger things billy #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #dacre montgomery

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