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just-null-cult · 5 months

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YO, SUPER LATE SUPER LONG SUPER MESSY OCTOBER POST THAT I JUST SHOVED EVERYTHING INTO BC I DIDN'T WANT TO DO MULTIPLE. FUCK IT.

I forgot halfway that these were supposed to be costumes and not mini aus... SO REMEMBER IN MY PLACE, EVERYTHING IS HYPOTHETICAL. also. some have a bit of yandere elements to them bc its SO FITTING FOR NORITOSHI.

Happy late October, everyone. it's winter now. Let's get it, baby.

[Long rambles and doodles under the cut!]

Vampire!

I kept asking myself, "How sexy is too sexy.." and "How the fuck does a sexy vampire even look like without it being a shirtless guy w fangs or Edward Cullen....." I think I figured it out

Sure, sure, vampires are superhumans with sun allergies that can drink blood really hotly. They can also easily overpower you to feast and blah blah blah, but what if said vampire (Noritoshi) was too weak to do any of that? Not literally, but he craves your say. He wants not only your blood but your affection. He wants to get praised as he drinks you in. Are you comfortable? How much will you allow him to take? Do you want to get him back in return? Guidance with this makes him feel more at ease. It's still Noritoshi at the end of the day. He's going to find a way to be a little awkward about you because of his crush. He refuses to drink from anyone other than you, even if it causes his death. Therefore, he has to keep you healthy! For the rest of your lives..! Besides, he can't really go outside or else he'd.. y'know. So if you think about it, this is a very beneficial relationship for both of you!!

The only downside is that you're losing blood on the regular, and for some reason, more people are moving away... Probably nothing, right? Noritoshi is always there to keep you company and help you recover anyways.

Witch!

my attempts also bled into the witch design.... you got greedy with requesting two in one ask, but I'll spoil you this time bc I also wanted to see Noritoshi as a (sexy) vampire and witch. heh. AND I DIDNT REALIZE HED BE SO CUTE AS A WITCH..... WHAT THE FUCK?? rip momo, fight for your title of cute witch...

Noritoshi strikes me as one of those witches who'd rather be left to their own devices because they're running some important magic whatever in the background. though, he'll take some breaks and indulge you if you insist on having him around. Insist meaning you pass by and strike conversation, leaving him to neglect anything and everything to prioritize his time with you. He doesn't want to use magic on you unless it's beneficial for either you or both. Noritoshi likes a natural progression with you that he knows for a fact is true and not some product of some spell. Though it doesn't mean he wouldn't use charms and such to get you to interact with him more often to speed up the process!

Can't sleep? He has a remedy perfect for that! Bad luck? Oh no, take a charm. Nerves? A potion he perfected will help you ease your jitters. Annoying peers? With a snap of Noritoshi's fingers, they're gone! Just don't ask what happened. Enjoy yourself instead and come to him with any new issue. He's quick to resolve it.

Definitely has some sort of doll that looks suspiciously like you.. Noritoshi would probably talk to it and practice one liners that give you the strongest sense of nostalgia once he uses them. He's simultaneously giddy that the charm he put in the doll works but also a little annoyed that his hard work isn't surprising you, but leaving you with deja vu.

Idol!

i was crying the entire time bc what does an idol look like.... noritoshi is handsome enough to be an idol without actually being an idol... now i can confirm that idols are very well dressed though. thumbs up 100% but i had some thoughts...

[Idol]

Noritoshi would be the type to cherish his fans, but hold clear favoritism over you. he'd be those idols that look cold, but they talk, and they sound smug in a charming way. i don't know much about idols, but i know he'd be so fucking good.... he'd be the type of guy to sing to you amongst the hundreds in the crowd.... ahhh the interviews w these famous aus. they're just talking and acting like themselves. can you imagine Noritoshi getting asked the question if he has a lover or not? he can lie, im sure you're alright with that, but he doesn't want to!! he does have someone!!! someone he loves more than all his fans love for him combined!!! he just can't say it for the sake of your privacy and his career. so Noritoshi does what any charming guy who's good with their words does. he deflects the question. answering the question, but not really, that'd be something he's known for. fans online are split on why Noritoshi does this. some think he's trying to keep that side of his life private, others think he's trying to mess around, and others think he's hiding a secret lover!!! though the last one is usually seen as the outlandish one, sometimes it makes Noritoshi's heart drop bc they get some things right. "Having a lover is a complicated question hidden behind a simple disguise. If I had to answer, I'd say my lovers are my audience. they make sure i'm well cared for, some more than others." AND HIS FUCKING LITTLE SMIRK I CANT COUGHS UP BLOOD. IM A THEORIST TOO. SECRET LOVER. 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

ON THE FLIP SIDE....

[Not an Idol]

An amusing thought where Noritoshi goes out in his casual clothes, and he's mistaken for an idol. No one knows who he is, but he just looks like he'd be one. bro's just trying to buy groceries, and now he has a fan group asking him to take pictures with them.. He'd tell them that he's just a guy, not an idol, but the group would still want a picture with him. it'd be a waste to pass by someone who's so naturally gorgeous, so with a sigh of defeat, he relents. It's just a photo, right? No harm done. Noritoshi'd go home and feel overwhelmed/embarrassed by the whole ordeal. later, he gets a call from someone in the kyoto group or you to inform him how he's all over social media, known as that handsome guy in the supermarket. HED BE COMPLETELY UNREACHABLE TO MEDIA OUTLETS BC NORITOSHI IS THAT GUY WHO DOESNT HAVE SOCIAL MEDIA.... he'd have to make one to make sure no one pretends to be him online. "Hello, I don't use social media, but I've been informed I've been getting attention online. To prevent anyone from being fooled by an impersonator, this is my official and only account. thank you." P.R. STATEMENT WRITING ASS.. his single post gets flooded with likes, comments, and DMs. it almost blows up his phone..... he was just buying bread, dude...... people try to dig up and find him through the other Kyoto group's social media.

[bonus] my second in command requested to put him in a fem idol outfit bc he thought it was funny. after frothing at the mouth and coughing out blood, I complied.

Doctor!

THIS IS SUCH A STRAIGHT FORWARD ASK BUT IT HAS SO MANY IMPLICATIONS. MY BELOVED CULT MEMBER.. THOSE EMOJIS GIVE ME A DIFFERENT IMPRESSION BUT IM NOT SURE.

Noritoshi as a doctor...... apple sales would plummet. his little clinic's business would skyrocket. sick cases would peak in his area. getting your heart checked by his stethoscope would be so fucking embarrassing bc all he'd hear is THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

LIKE IMAGINE IF THAT WAS YOUR DOCTOR? BRO.

COUGH COUGH HACK WHEEZE COUGH COUGH.

Noritoshi would probably own a small clinic that he wants to expand. That or he opened one after working for a hospital for a while. He's a great doctor who's most likely respected but a pain in the ass to work with. Among patients, he's gotten the hot doctor reputation. Most want to be treated by him, but he's so professional, any chance of trying to flirt goes down the drain. Yeah, he puts his hair up to avoid it in his face even though his eyes are closed classic lab safety procedures. He seems like the type to have a soothing but authoritative voice during examination, so he gets his message across. it's a bit difficult when dealing with patients for Noritoshi. If he sees them too often, he firstly scolds you for not taking care of yourself, then feels guilty for not giving you the proper care. Keep yourself safe and healthy, or else Noritoshi will clearly :( Putting him in a yandere setting would be dangerous. He'd have a lot of control over you, considering he can prescribe medication, shots, visits, and other things.... he'd have a ball.... nothing that would cause you any harm, of course. he's only looking out for you and doing what's best for you..!

Pirate!

my second in command wanted a pirate. pirates are so fucking cool and i know damn well if this guy were a pirate he'd have a bunch of battle scars under that fancy coat.

Noritoshi as a pirate would be more than a little odd, but also fitting. He looks like the type of guy who'd be well put together, yet he's willing to get his hands dirty. Like the guy who got into the pirate life because of some personal issue that couldn't be solved fast enough through conventional means. Even as a pirate, i imagine he holds everyone to high standards. They're still pirates though.. so his expected standards aren't even that high. He has more freedom here, so even he himself lets loose once or twice. Especially with you. He's even able to get away with more violent actions for you, the seas are unpredictable, after all. While taking some treasure, Noritoshi'd toss you a gem or golden coin, just so you can say you were the first to claim it. Just so he can see that happy glint in your eyes when getting your hands on treasure. God forbid anyone try to get their hands on your hard earned goods. They'd be met with a bullet to the foot or a sword at their neck. Everyone and their mother knows how you're his favorite, but Noritoshi downplays it. Its not a crime to help out someone from his crew is it? Not in the seven seas. He leans more into his cold ruthless killer side here. He has goals and people to help keep in line whether hes captain or not. Yet when around you, he's almost adorable in how he shows you a pearl so entrancing that it reminded him of you.

Corpse Bride!

my submission to my Noritoshi Halloween costume closet.. CORPSE BRIDE, THIS MOVIE FUCKS. esp w the yandere elements.

Noritoshi 100% made you recite the wedding vows to him before accepting the ring. If you fumbled up, he'd correct you with SO much attitude and expect you to start from the top until you got it perfectly.

Hypothetically, in the chalice scene towards the end..

Noritoshi is the type to never be fully relaxed unless he knows for sure you'll be eternally his. In this scenario, YOU proposed to HIM but have to die to continue being together. Not only that, but someone in the living world is also after your heart. Someone who bleeds. Someone who's the obvious choice. Someone who can give you the life that you deserve. Someone who will succeed in their pursuits if you. remain. alive. Noritoshi's life was cut short, yet he still managed to lose so much and be abandoned a considerable amount of times. When he meets you and finds out about the possibility of having to go through that again even in death, it finally clicks in his rotting mind. He realizes he's been doing something wrong to keep constantly failing. Noritoshi revises his methods to a more.. selfish course. Why should he care about anyone else's wants or how his actions hurt them? You were the only one who made him truly fulfilled, to make him feel��alive. The only one who deserves anything and everything good that comes from this world. Destiny is never done toying with him when he realizes your marriage is invalid because of your pulse and his lack thereof no matter how hard he'd try, but the opportunity arises. of course, he's ecstatic to give you an afterlife worth much more than what a silly beating heart can achieve. "All people die eventually. If you miss your living family or friends, all it takes is patience, darling. I'll wait by your side in the meantime." He weighs the pros and cons of everything, but when it comes to swaying manipulating your thoughts he only highlights the ones that'll get you on his side. in this case, the pros of dying to be with him! Honestly, the answer was so obvious that Noritoshi didn't know why he was stressing about it before. It hurts him to see you in any type of pain, but he reassures both himself and you that it'll only be for a moment. Afterward, he'll have the rest of your afterlives to make it up to you!! What happened to Till Death Do Us Part? Noritoshi thinks it's insulting that something as shallow as that could be so widely accepted. If your love were true, it wouldn't stop just because the world decided to take them away. "Till death do us part? Darling, don't be silly. 'Not even death will do us part' feels much better, doesn't it?"

#noritoshi #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #yandere noritoshi #yandere kamo noritoshi #yandere noritoshi kamo #merry october #???#ragingbisegzual #charamander459 #I FUCKING LIVED THROGUH THIS GOD I FELT SO BAD I TOOK SO LONG ESP SINCE ITS ALREADY HALFWAY INTO NOVEMBER BUT HERE WE GO. BABY IS HERE #i thought i was so smart making this look like a fashion show. anyway hi im still alive just busy #vampire and witch nori were makin my brain fry bc all the outfits for guys were their shirt off. it was both funny and testing my creativit #as for idol.. heh. <- in love with forbidden love and secret relationships and 'we shouldnt be doing this' 'i know' *does it anyway*#I WAS TEARING MY HAIR OUT AT DOCTOR. LIKE I LIKE THE CONCEPT BUT WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO.. PUT HIM IN SCRUBS???#im not upset im just so entertained by how straight forward you were yet there are still so many implications in this ask #LIKE YOU WROTE FOUR WORDS AND TWO EMOJIS AND THATS ALL IT TOOK FOR ME TO DO A DOUBLE TAKE #now that i think abt it. i shouldve put him in a hot nurse outfit... //punches myself in the face #THATS WHY ANY FAMOUS/ROYAL/REPUTATION AU IS MY SHIT BC THEY HAVE TO HIDE THEIR RELATIONSHIP/EACHOTHER AGH FROTHS AT THE MOUTH #i love how the pirate noritoshi is a cool guy until he sees you and turns into a simp #CORPSE BRIDE WAS SO SELF INDULGENT. THAT MOVIE FUCKS SO HARD. THE USE OF 'DARLING' WAS BC EMILY USED IT IN THE MOVIE #IT HAD SO MANY YAN VIBES BUT FUCK. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH A GREEN FLAG EMILY. I LOVE YOU #heh. the lace and mask are supposed to represent the bones and such. didnt mean to give him a phantom of the opera look.. though it fits...

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russellsppttemplates · 6 months

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We'll figure out as we go (Lance Stroll)

A little peek into Lance's birthday celebrations

Note: english is not my first language. This is incredibly self indulgent, but the writer's block is still here and I have not been able to distract myself too much even though I have way too much free time (maybe another rant for another day), which means ruminating is a big part of my days. Also, let's pretend that the race calendar is a little different.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: f1 2023 season for AM, mentions wanting to start a family in the future, fertility issues, the tiniest suggestive smut

"Happy birthday, my love", you greeted Lance, your voice croaky from having just woken up. The bed was warm since you both planned to stay in for as long as you could before facing the outside world.

"Thank you, sweetheart", he mumbled back against your lips before kissing them, allowing himself to freely feel your skin against his palms as they travelled around your torso, "I love you".

Because of your schedules during the week, with you going to work pretty early and Lance's workout sessions also at the beggining of the day, these moments only really happened on the weekends he spent at home and whenever you travelled with him to watch him race from the paddock and not your usual spot on the sofa. So you decided to take it all in, even if you both had set an earlier alarm than usual and probably had the first room service request of the day.

"Part of me wants to go and race, but I'm also very, very tempted to stay here with you and celebrate", your boyfriend nudged, kissing your neck area before kissing all the way up to your lips, dissolving your smirk, "I don't think the team would be happy if you did that, and the fans, too, they're here to watch you, too", you reasoned, cupping his face and rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs.

"It seems keeping them happy has not been my strongest suit lately", he admitted, looking down slightly, "you're not responsible for anyone's happiness other than your own, Lance. Sure, you can help others feel happy, but it's not your responsibility", you smiled as he looked back up and into your eyes, "besides, it's your birthday, and after the race, we can go home and soak up eachother for a few days", you said, looking at the clock on the bedside table, "also, we have breakfast arriving any minute now", you kissed his cheek before you got up, heading to the bathroom to freshen up quickly.

When breakfast arrived at the door, you thanked the lovely employee and they set the plates and trays on the table, "we don't have a cake, but I'll make that one you really like when we're back home", you said, sitting in your boyfriend's lap as you enjoyed the plate of pancakes.

The race didn't go as planned, and with a double DNF, the whole team was feeling a little bit down, so after all of Lance's duties were taken care of, you went back to the hotel, packing the last few things into the suitcases and driving to the airport.

"I know you've had a way harder day than I've had, but I can't wait until I feel our bed", you cuddled closer to Lance once you were allowed to push the armrest between you upwards, "soon enough, you will", he kissed your forehead.

"I still can't believe I have you all to myself this week", he added, "I still have some things from work, they're just fine if I do them from home", you recalled, "but I couldn't agree more. I'm going to cling onto you like a limpet".

"Are you sure that we don't need anything else?", you asked again, "I have finished work for the day, I have time to bake something else", you added. "I know you like to cook, and that you wouldn't mind making dinner, but it's easier this way", Lance said, "you don't need to fuss around, and I get to have you for the rest of the day", he kissed your forehead, "right here with me".

The plan for the day was simple: after you finished your work assignments, you and Lance would spend the rest of the day basking in eachother's company and later Chloe and Scotty would join you for dinner provided by a caterer your boyfriend had arranged.

"How about we go on a walk? You said you wanted to do the trail the other day", you suggested, earning a nod as you both walked upstairs to grab what you needed. The previous rainy days called for stronger walking gear as the trail would be muddy, paired with a thick jumper and a puffy coat to protect you from the cold, "are you ready, darling?", Lance wondered seeing you walk to the door as you put your hood up, "didn't know I was going on a walk with the Michelin man", he teased you, kissing your cheek as he grabbed the keys from the bowl, opening the door for you.

Taking a walk had become one of your favourite outdoor activities with Lance since it was one of the fewer ones that didn't involve head protective gear or going at faster speeds than you liked, so you had grown acquainted to the trails and paths near where you lived, always wanting to explore them a little more and see what they had to offer. It quickly became your couple thing to do when you wanted a slow day, so whenever the weather allowed, you and Lance took that time to move your bodies as well as catching up, specially after double and triple headers.

"I really miss this quiet and calm whenever we're on the road", Lance began, "I love racing and travelling around the world to do it, but it's too loud sometimes". It was not a new confession or something you had never heard, and particularly with the season he and the team were having, you knew how much everything had gotten to him and how much he needed his safe place. For him, his safe place was somewhere he could be that was a little quieter, with friends and family and no other eyes prying around, and being with you, as he soon found out after you started dating. You had quickly become his safe person and he couldn't be more grateful.

"I get what you mean", you said, squeezing his hand that was laced in yours, "I spent last weekend with you and I've felt my social battery run low a couple of times", you admitted, "I love to watch you race, so I get what you mean", you stopped as he helped you across a big puddle, afraid you'd lose balance and fall, "but I'm glad you're also taking care of yourself. I'm very proud of you, Lance, in every way possible", you noted, seeing his blush and taking advantage of the fact that he was pulling you in slightly to fully face him and kiss his lips.

When you arrived back home, you and Lance went upstairs for a quick shower together, your boyfriend helping you wash your body after you grabbed a claw clip to secure as you did with him, the warm water and soft touches only stopping because soon the catering people would arrive to deliver the food.

When they knocked on the door, they quickly set the containers on the counter like you asked them too, explaining which ones contained what and a few instructions if you needed to heat them up and how to store them if there were leftovers. Thanking them one last time, Lance walked them to the door, coming back to the living room and helping you set the table.

"Your sister just texted me saying that Scotty is driving them here, they just left", you smiled, hugging Lance from the back first before he then turned to look at you, kissing your forehead, "thank you, for this and everything else, and before you go all 'I didn't even do anything' on me", he tutted, "I'm saying it because it is true, I would've gone mad if I didn't have you, so thank you for always being there for me. Here's to many more birthdays with you by my side", he kissed you, being interrupted by the door.

"Now, where's my girl Y/N?", you heard Chloe say, hearing her heels click against the wooden floor, "hey, gorgeous girl", you greeted her with a hug, "how have you been?", you asked, "same old, and you?".

"I've been good, busy with work and travelling with this one, but it's good busy", you smiled, tapping your boyfriend's back lightly before nudging him so you could hug Scotty, "has the older Stroll sibling been bugging you too much?", you wondered, "please, Y/N, I got the easier sibling, I should be the one asking you that", the snowboarder said, getting a giggle out of everyone before you headed to the dining room.

While you ate dinner, you took the opportunity to catch up with eacother, laughing and sharing recent and older memories as you enjoyed the food. By the time dessert was on the table, Chloe and Scotty gave Lance their present for him, "There's another bag, which is not a present for you", Chloe pointed out, grabbing the black paperbag from the sofa, "I like to think this is a collective... enjoyment for the night", she smiled, taking out a big brown book that, by the pages you could peek while it was still closed, looked like an old photo album.

"Mom found it when she was arranging space for the wedding photo album and she said that they messed up when they printed this one, so she had two copies. She gave me this so I could show you, too.", your sister in law smiled, opening it to reveal a picture of young Lance and Chloe hugging eachother.

"Oh, look! It's baby Lance!", you cooed, tracing your finger on a picture of Lance when he was probably no older than twelve months, laying down on what looked like a sun lounger. You could see Claire-Anne sitting by the end of it, attempting to get him to look at the camera even though he still looked at her, "That's one cute baby".

"He was a troublemaker though", Chloe chipped in, "not loads of times, I must admit, but he knew which buttons to push whenever he wanted to cause a tantrum", she defended, hugging her younger brother, "Oh, look! There's that one of when my tooth fell!".

Lance helped you move the plates and trays back to the kitchen so Scotty would have time to run back to the car and get the cake, allowing you to sing Happy Birthday to him and enjoy another slice of sweet and fluffy cake over a cup of wine.

"Lance probably wants another type of birthday celebrations", Scotty smirked, "and training ended me today, too, so maybe we could get going", he said, earning a nod from his wife, "me too, I'm exhausted", she got up, "thanks for dinner, guys", they said as you walked them to the door, not before swatting Scotty's arm, "you thought I didn't notice the comment?".

After leaving the downstairs area was somewhat tidy, you and Lance went upstairs to get redy for bed, "You know, the pictures just made me think about having a family of our own, little babies that look like you", you smiled, sitting next to him on the bed and nestling yourself on his chest, "I know it's not right now, but it got me thinking", you drew small random shapes on his skin.

"Me too, although I must admit I've seen your baby pictures and I'd be lying if I said that I don't imagine out kids with you chubby cheeks", he said, softly kissing the top of your head, "when the time comes, we will figure it out, okay?", he asked, already knowing where your mind was taking you. The diagnosis was a turning point, that was for sure, not only because you could finally put a pin on what was happening and that your discomfort was indeed caused by something, but because it came with uncertainties. For all you knew, it could either be something that would interfere only a little or it could put a serious dent in your fertility and how you and Lance would proceed to start your own family when the time came.

"We'll figure it out as we go, like we always do", you smiled, pushing him down on his back as you began kissing his jaw, "now, can I love on my handsome and wonderful boyfriend?".

#lance stroll imagine #lance stroll × reader #lance stroll fanfic #lance stroll fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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whumpbby · 5 months

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Thinking back to that omega JC with alpha NMJ idea, both outcomes are interesting but I find myself more captivated by the version where NMJ lives, the guy doesn't get to live very often after all. He deserves some good things to finally happen to him. The same goes for WQ (and maybe WN). Who I just realized would have a blast taking on the challenging mystery of the Nie's saber technique. Go play God girl.

Sometimes I forget how creative omegaverse allows one to be, not just with the dynamics but with packs too. Both NMJ and JC are dynamic leaders of their inner pack (family) and general pack (sect); both of which have recently taken major casualties. Their instincts are hypersensitive right now. Something they don't fully realize until the baby can be felt kicking not just JC's belly but their parental instincts into overdrive.

God I just want to see these two be parents! JC doesn't have JL anymore because JYL and her husband are thankfully alive and NMJ is finally able to experience parenthood thanks to also being alive. I wonder what type of uncle NHS would make?

Some last thoughts, at least JC has JYL to ask questions about parenthood, WWX will get to be a proper uncle this time, and A Yuan can keep his Wen family. Truly this is a happy timeline.

Sorry for the long time it took me to answer this ask, I needed to put my thoughts in order about this AU, becuase there are A LOT of thoughts about this AU!

I love omegaverse - it allows to pull in such a variety of subjects and themes, from straight-up porn to some really good character analysis and world building:)

In the 'NMJ lives' option, the plot goes a bit different than in canon - NMJ is a rash and righteous character, but I don't believe that he's politically dumb. He's set in his ways and inflexible, sure, but he can see the bigger picture (something that JC is not able to do at the moment due to stress, inexperience and having approx. 3h of sleep a week). He knows what sort of a viper JGS is and how the Jiang being weak benefits the Jin - and how he didn’t have a horse in this race until the option of an heir by JC came up.

Now, the Jiang being strong again will benefit the Nie - a pact with a trade-oriented region? Yes, please. After the war, they all need that. No wonder JGS is so keen on destabilising the region - with his son married to the Jiang Yanli the man probably thinks he has first pick of the trade deals.

However, if NMJ has a child via the current Jiang clan leader, then the Nie get the political priority and that's tempting. The Jin don't need any more power in their hands - and it's obvious that's what JGS is aiming for and JGY is helping him achieve in front of everyone's faces.

Well, then. Huaisang isn't the only one with a mischievous streak in this family. There are not many chances to indulge in it as a Sect Leader - but pissing of other sect leaders is a long-reaching tradition in the sphere of Great Sects. NMJ wasn't leading the charge against the Wen just so the fat cats that barely lifted a finger could reap the benefits.

And thus begins Nie Mingjue's campaign to be the biggest pain the JGS's ass he can manage to be. He's still pissed off at JGY, so he channels that into less screaming and more interrupting him whenever some speech about Yiling Laozu starts winding up. At Huaisang's prodding, he brings his oldest advisors to the conferences, the old sly foxes that served his father and has them look out for the issues that may evade him. Yao sect leader is so brave when ranting against a young omega sect leader, but somehow has little to say when an imposing alpha growls at him to shut up from across the room.

And it's fun. Most fun MNJ had since the war has started. It relaxes him a little, allows him to focus on something else than the despair of losing so much to the Wen (and trusting the wrong people). It allows him to see the bigger picture a bit more clearly - and while the Nie never paid much attention to the rest of the cultivation world, the threads he can see now aren't running in a good direction. They are staring into the face of another war - all for a pathetic handful of war prisoners and a piece of metal Jin Guangshan apparently cannot live without!

So, yes, it makes perfect sense to get himself involved at this point and help out a fellow sect leader forged in the flames of war. It would be damn shame if the Jin got to fold Yunmeng into their coffers and take the one eligible gentry omega for themselves.

And, that is not to be understated, Jiang Wanyin isn't hard on the eyes in any measure. And talking to him proved that he isn't much as the rumours painted him - not a rash, angry shrew. Not like his mother was described. He is raw and inexperienced, yes, and very defensive - but he's also reasonable and respectful, and willing to discuss his points until pressed into arguing them. He's honourable and honest. No wonder Meng Yao is able to talk circles around him.

Having a kid with an omega like that isn't a bad idea.

Hell, maybe he even allows JC to take him to the Burial Mounds to see in person how Wei Wxian's army fares... and yeah, that's what he expected tbh. Well, the pup running around is a surprise, but otherwise yeah, he's shivering in his boots. He's not going to admit he was wrong to want them dead - never - but he can admit that they're too pathetic to be a danger to anyone at this point. Seeing the fames Ghost General weeding turnips puts things into perspective a bit. (Maybe that's how he comes across Wen Qing and she makes her case about helping with the family curse?)

#headcanon #jiang cheng #nie mingjue

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hee-blee-art · 4 months

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are there any specific ocs your rotating in your brain rn that you wanna talk about ✨👀

yes! always :)

recently I've been thinking a lot about my toyhouse corners guys as I continue working on their comic, especially basil, alfred, foster, and mac :) coincidentally (or not so) they're the four of the cast who do the most yearning and pining and of course I'm very normal about all that (that's a lie they all make me insane). I can't wait to reveal more about them, I could (and will) talk about them for ages (any questions always welcome, I'll try not to spoil anything too big). particularly I've been thinking about basil's past, his complex troubles with getting close to people, and his relationship to whisk, a troubled kitten who he sees a lot of his younger self in and may or may not be fixated on trying to help because he wishes he could somehow reach though time and help himself when he was a kitten in a similar position to her. all in all I am very excited to keep putting those guys in situations (there will be a candyland, a creepy safety village-esque town, and a mirage-like travelling megastore called appleworld in their future).

I've also been thinking (as I often do) about my tragic fantasy gays, sebastian & konstantine. I've been busy enriching their world with lore and planning out their story so I can start (yet another) draft for the first book of the grey circle, and with that comes a lot of thinking about those two, the haunted prince & his begrudgingly valiant knight who knows him better than anyone and yet cannot know him fully because of his unfathomable secret... oh, there's just something so intimate about being doomed by the narrative and bound together, done part by none, not even death <3 they're very enemies to lovers in a "we're on the same side but I can't stand you but I also can't stand to be without you and if anyone messes with you I'll kill them" way, which I can't get enough of myself.

also! the grey circle has lots of characters I haven't posted about nearly as much but are so dear to me and that I oft rotate in my brain, like ilèan & cainiph, who are a very skilled fairy princess with truly profound mommy issues and cain-and-abel vibes with her sister & an adrenaline junkie bounty hunter who is a bit of a hothead and accidently becomes a werewolf :) another mismatched pair that end up needing each other as much as air. and of course, gren & bain, the little mousy halfling-type creatures who are inseparable best friends in love beyond words, a sly bartender & a leisure-loving bard respectively, both incredibly curious and brave beyond credit, setting out to right a wrong and solve an old family mystery. I think about the grey circle very often, it's one of my favourite little worlds to visit in my head & I can't wait until I have something written that allows others to visit as well :)

the last herd of ocs I've been preoccupied with lately are my room & board cast, the characters for a comic idea I have about silly and bizarre sci-fi/fantasy comic about alternate-dimension-faring roommates travelling in a house-turned-spaceship in search of a (the?) holy grail. they're all old ocs of mine (6+ years I think) that I've rebooted a few different times, and returning to them after some years off feels like reconnecting with old friends as cheesy as that sounds. I genuinely missed them, and I'm excited to be messing about with a story for them again, even if it's just for fun. I've especially been thinking about the main(est) character, martin, and how her journey with transness fits into their larger existential and relentlessly silly adventures.

thnks for offering the stage to talk about my ocs! I love talking about them but I'm not always sure anyone wants to hear, but perhaps it's time I curb that mindset and just start putting more out there because it's fun for me :) also! if anyone reads all this, first of all thnk you for indulging me, and second I am genuinely always open to hearing about other people's ocs, whether through ask or dm or whatever! I know it can be intimidating to just reach out of the blue but I really do love talking about people's characters / stories / creations and I am always open to it. maybe I ought to make some more dedicated venue for that sort of thing but yeah casual oc chat is always an option! I hope anyone who sees this has a wonderful day / night :)

#asks #my very sincere thnks whimsy; this was such a nice ask to receive!#your artwork & characters are so lovely & I am very humbled that you'd be interested in mine :)#toyhouse corners #they grey circle #room & board #(I may end up archiving this on butchjesus but I'll leave it up here for now)

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blahandwhatever · 5 months

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So I thought I'd spend the last few days of November getting as much low-paying work done as I could, but my mind was so split by indecision about which tasks were most worth doing - truly, none of them were - that I barely did anything. Had a ton of microtasks available from Appen (not generative AI stuff, but the company seems to like to market itself around that because it's trendy [also, "Clients include eight of the top ten largest technology companies" but they pay like shit because whatever amount of success they have is likely based on the business model of "we can provide this service cheaper than anyone else" a.k.a. worker exploitation, which is just so depressingly prevalent]), but they were all such a combination of low-paying and tedious that the idea of filling a whole hour - much less the multiple hours required to make a sum of any significance - with god knows how many of them was simply inconceivable. I've never been able to do the microtasks on MTurk, either. Some people can do this stuff in a focused and sustained enough way that they can make some legit low-wage job earnings, but I am so overwhelmed by both the tedium and the sense of interminability that it is literal mental torture, and I'd rather make half as much per hour just doing some surveys.

Meanwhile, the low-paying real job I thought I'd be starting this week got delayed by some onboarding processes and issues, and the reviewing of an assessment for another job (also low-paying but not as badly) got delayed by Thanksgiving, but I did finally get the job, so there's that. Still keeping my eye on higher-paying jobs to apply for, but my motivation to actually work on applications is very limited. One of the big lessons I've learned from my latest miserably protracted job search experience is that I have to apply to both high-paying and low-paying jobs to some extent, like, from the beginning. For a long time, I was avoiding lower-paying jobs altogether because, like, why would I downgrade. But I had no idea how insanely long it would once again take to get a better one - and in the meantime, I still needed to make some fucking money. So I finally caved and applied for some lower-paying ones recently. And they are easier to get. And I resent them for their pay but need to take whatever I can get for now. In the end, it's not that much of a commitment if the jobs are flexible, and it adds at least passable security while I continue to look for something better.

I've also been drained of getting-stuff-done time and energy by Sleepiness again, which I've allowed myself to indulge most days, though I have to put some kind of limit on how late I get up - plus one day I had to go to Naperville to help with the dog because my father was gone and my mother was working a long shift, and yesterday I wanted to go for a walk before sunset, which I just barely managed. Each day I tend to feel a little better, and I might have like a four-hour window for which I feel legitimately motivated and energized, and then I seriously overestimate how productive a day I'm going to have, not knowing how I will crash again. My plans never ever account for the power or possibility of The Sleepiness.

I'm forever behind on chores like always, but I push myself to do At Least Something each day. Today I washed my sheets, remade my bed, and added the extra comforter layer I add for winter - which then led to sorting through the latest clothes pile disrupted by the bed-making, which then led to doing a bit of organizing in my closets because it would otherwise be impossible to place my freshly folded clothes in there without simply allowing it all to dissolve into anarchy and throwing them onto the Pile that had developed in there too. Of all chores, the Pile of Clothes is the one whose dread never exaggerates the reality. It truly takes forever to go through and organize the hundred fucking things that manage to accumulate on my bed somehow. So, I guess I can feel pretty accomplished.

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anvoo · 11 months

Text

Hey, up so late? What you up to?

I was a bit restless, so I figured writing my thoughts down would help.

Sounds good. Go for it.

I wrote the part below on my phone (small text):

I'm thinking about Cat a bit rn. About how it'll be later on the 7th of July - our anniversary.

I guess I'm worried and catastrophizing a bit. I'm worried that she won't want me and the break anymore.

I sometimes worry or feel like it's a race against time, that I need to be better faster so that she wouldn't leave me. The thought of that just makes my chest tightens up.

And what if one of you just decides that you don't want the break anymore?

Well, I guess I'm single again if that happens. I'll still be on my path, or I'll kill myself (dramatization). For the latter, I'll be gone, so everything would just be meaningless then.

So, if I'll still continue down my path, I think I'll do just fine. I'm an interesting and funny guy, I'm doing my best to secure a stable career and future, and I'm working on myself. I'll probably find someone I'm interested in, and who's interested in me, and it'll be the start of something new then.

If we continue with our break, it'll be the same thing; the only difference is that Cat will kinda have special privileges in the auction for me :p

Both paths look pretty much identical, only with a slight difference later down the line.

So why am I so distraught over the idea? I think it's because I associate Cat's want "to be with me" as a measure of my self-worth and value, so not having that meant that the feelings I have towards myself would come crashing down. It's like a dam that's holding back my insecurities and negative feelings.

I have so much to say, to write, to think about, but my energy level in this moment isn't the highest, so I'll leave some for later.

It does make me sad to realize that at the roots of many of my sufferings lie the same issues and causes still.

No one said it would be easy or quick. These are deeply rooted things, and change takes a tremendous effort. It doesn't come at just a flick of the wrist.

Yeah, I understand. It takes time. I guess I'm somewhat happy that I'm able to slowly see the beauty in the process and my progress, that I'm doing bits and pieces better and better.

And that's how it's meant to be. Appreciate the progress that you've made and are making.

I'm not sure how I'm feeling right now, to be honest. In terms of progress and goals, I know where I want to head towards. It's concrete and straightforward. But about me and Cat, what do I want? I'll allow myself to indulge in these thoughts a bit.

I would say I do love and care for her. I do want to be with her, and I can imagine a future of us spending our lives together. I like her humor and how well we get along. I like that she's honest and straightforward with her emotions and feelings. I like that we can spend time together. I like her passion for cooking and food. I like that she is a good listener and that it fits well with me, someone who talks a lot (I really appreciate this). I like how open and vulnerable we can be with each other. I like how she makes me feel like I could talk to her about anything and everything. I admire her tenacity and determination. I like how much I trust her - it's proof of her actions throughout the time we've known each other. I like her voice. I like being close to her. I like that she likes my drawings. I like that she loves and cares for me. I think it's funny how some really crazy and weird coincidences have happened between us.

I think that I do want to be with her.

It's good that you can say that.

But I also understand and remember why we're on our break right now. It's a difficult period right now for us personally, and our capacity for things isn't high. Sometimes I wonder, can we be together in the moment still, while working on the things we want to work on? I think right now, at least for me, it would be difficult. I need my capacity to focus on building and keeping good routines and habits, to further my progress with my studies, my physical health, socializing, my hobbies, mental health,... Because of how my brain works and the "issues" that I talked about before, actively maintaining a romantic relationship right now would take too much out of me, and I wouldn't be able to progress with the goals above. My studies are incredibly important, and dictate my future, so that isn't something I can leave on the backburner. I have not yet convinced myself that I am capable of balancing my life out like that, so getting back together right now (08.06) with Cat isn't a decision that I believe in. Cat also has her own circumstances, so we're kind of in the same boat, one way or another.

A lot of my internal thoughts and feelings of self-esteem and self-worth reflect outwards. It's a case of "if I think I'm this, then others must also think I'm that". The same goes with the subject of me and Cat's romantic relationship and break. If I don't love or believe in myself, I tend to excessively worry that Cat won't love or believe in me either. To wrap up a bit my thoughts about Cat, I'll ask myself this question: "Do I think it's a good idea for me and Cat to end our break and reconnect right now?" - No, not yet. I would like more time. I know that she loves and cares for me and that she values and is really serious about us and our break, so we'll communicate throughout about how we're doing and our feelings and such. No need to worry or catastrophize, it's just stupid cavemen brain working against me. Unless something's changed, then that just means that our plan's still in motion, and we're just on our way :)

So what now?

Well, I have a few options.

To kill myself now, to spare further suffering. I would rather not do this.

To just not do anything and let things happen. I can more or less tell where this will lead me, and it's not somewhere I want to go. I'll rather go with option 1.

To continue with my goals and progress. I think this is the choice I want to go with. I think I'll be able to feel better and more confident in myself if I go along with this option. Confidence in self will allow me to do a lot of things: to feel better in my own skin, to have fulfilling hobbies and interests, to be secure in my professional life, to live with myself better (in my head), and to enjoy people's company.

#thoughts

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mainscampus · 2 years

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Temporal extortion

#Temporal extortion free#

The deck will run Norn's Annex and Ghostly Prison to deal with creature decks. Currently I am planning to test a different kind of jank there being Eight-and-a-Half-Tails with a enchantment called Earnest Fellowship to nullify most threats to my creatures and run Rune of Protection: White to protect myself. Also I kind of want the pressure to be on their life total more than the board state.Īs for a legacy deck, my experience in legacy in minimal so I can't comment too much on the meta and whatnot, but it could be fun. However those types of decks usually run either heavy removal, bounce, or something of the like. Against a deck without creatures, or with very few creatures, it could be great. If it was either a bit cheaper or had a higher toughness I would consider it.ĭesecration Demon Maybe a possible include if the deck needs more creatures. Indulgent Tormentor 5 mana CMC and dies to bolt. Pain's Reward I had thought about it, but it feels like a potential blowout where the opponent could force me to bid too much for needed card draw. Killing Wave fantastic and will likely become my go to unless I can get Choice of Damnations for cheap as that hits all permanents instead of just creatures. I would rather it were instant speed or allowed the caster to target a person to choose to pay (like Athreos does). I think once my deck moved from the 4-5 range to the 7-8 range I just found better ways to make people suddenly lose a bunch of life ( Repay in Kind ). If I find some spare cash I could certainly see it in the deck. I played Temporal Extortion in my mono-black deck for a while. Temporal Extortion I had thought about it, but I was going budget. To go over the list.Ĭurse of the Cabal Feels to slow and with the prevalence of the cookbook deck, I see this as a blow out against me. Play it early, and you just paid 4 mana to draw a card. Temporal Extortion is strictly meant as a mid-game card, and it's good because if you do play it during the mid-game, it will always benefit you. Please remember it can take some time for your bank or credit card company to process and post the refund too.Zapyourtumor Some fantastic suggestions, especially Killing Wave. Why Because if you time it right, both choices will get you ahead. If approved, you’ll be automatically refunded on your original payment method.

#Temporal extortion free#

We will notify you once we’ve received and inspected your return, and let you know if the refund was approved or not. The ultra-budget, thousands-of-cards Magic Online brewers paradise with powerful cards, seven free weekly tournaments, free 24/7 league, prizes. The fastest way to ensure you get what you want is to return the item you have, and once the return is accepted, make a separate purchase for the new item. Unfortunately, we cannot accept returns on sale items or gift cards. Please get in touch if you have questions or concerns about your specific item. We also do not accept returns for hazardous materials, flammable liquids, or gases. Not Just Gamin' will cancel your order and reach out to customers to offer the reward or discount in question on the original MSRP price listed on the website.Ĭertain types of items cannot be returned, like perishable goods (such as food, flowers, or plants), custom products (such as special orders or personalized items), and personal care goods (such as beauty products). Today we’re taking a look at a pretty fun version of Time Walk: Temporal Extortion Temporal Extortion is a sorcery for four black mana that lets you take an extra turn unless someone pays half their life, rounded up. Rewards and discounts can not be applied to items already on sale or discounted. Please inspect your order upon reception and contact us immediately if the item is defective, damaged or if you receive the wrong item, so that we can evaluate the issue and make it right. You can always contact us for any return question at and issues Items sent back to us without first requesting a return will not be accepted. To start a return, you can contact us at If your return is accepted, we’ll send you a return shipping label, as well as instructions on how and where to send your package. You’ll also need the receipt or proof of purchase. To be eligible for a return, your item must be in the same condition that you received it, unworn or unused, with tags, and in its original packaging. We have a 30-day return policy, which means you have 30 days after receiving your item to request a return.

#Temporal extortion

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

The Donor

31 Days of Kink: Day 25

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, Breeding Kink, Fertility Issues Mentioned, Polygamy, Pregnancy

Words: 2,165

You and your husband Sam have been trying for a baby for about a year now without success. Going down the route of IVF wasn’t an option for you as you wished to conceive naturally. Following a few tests, it turned out that Sam was the one at fault and you were looking at options for donor sperm.

‘You know, I might be able to help. I already have a couple of healthy kids’ Sam’s brother Cillian suggested one night over a bottle of wine and you seriously considered Cillian’s offer.

***

A few months went by and you had been trying to conceive with Cillian’s sperm the conservative way with a little cup, a porn magazine and a syringe.

But your efforts were futile and you had to come up with a different idea.

‘I have been reading that the chances of conception are higher if you were to actually do the deed’ Sam then said one night after a glass of red wine.

‘You want me to sleep with your brother?’ you then asked somewhat surprised about his suggestion and he simply shrug his shoulders.

‘Just to fall pregnant, Y/N. If it means we can have a baby, then yes’ he sighed and you reluctantly agreed.

It is not that you had never fantasised about Cillian but, of course, you would never have acted on it.

***

It was a Sunday night and your most fertile day of the month. The doorbell rang at exactly 8 o’clock and, as usual, Cillian was punctual and on time.

‘So, we are really doing this?’ you asked somewhat nervously as he walked inside the house together with your husband Sam.

‘I guess so…if this is what you both want’ Cillian chuckled, feeling slightly weird about sleeping with his brother’s wife.

‘Yes, we do’ Sam said after you nodded at him nervously and you were quick to disappear into the bathroom to get yourself ready.

‘I suppose, I will be down here watching the footy while you do what you need to do’ Sam said as you finally emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but black panties and a black tanktop.

‘Alright man’ Cillian said and you couldn’t help but giggle.

But your giggle soon turned into a purr as you climbed on to the bed while you watched Cillian undress himself almost completely and somewhat reluctantly.

‘Come on then, let’s do this’ you said nervously as you gazed over Cillian’s body. His cock was already semi hard, straining against his briefs and ready for you.

‘My brother is one lucky man’ Cillian then said politely as climbed onto the bed and his eyes locked with yours. You scooched back, moving to lie against the headboard and he followed, leaving kisses on your thighs once he reached them, your soft flesh trembling slightly under that attention.

His fingers then hooked into your panties and another purr followed as your eyes were inviting and your trembling was growing restless.

He slid your panties down slowly, revealing your slick sex, the pink folds coated with plenty of your feminine dew. Your panties were discarded once past your ankles. Briefly ignoring that revealed sex, he let his fingers trail idly over your belly, up into your tank top. You squirmed, biting your lip as that trailing drew your tank top up, soon showing off your pert breasts, the swells crowned with stiff nipples. The tank top was also discarded, this time by you, tossed aside with no hesitation.

His cock twitched at the sight before him, your nubile figure laid out before him, your ripe curves available for ogling and more.

Your pussy drew his attention again.

He slid up in between your thighs, taking a firm hold of them, spreading them further. His eyes locked again with your, that shared gaze suffused with affection and lustfulness.

‘What are you doing?’ you then asked surprised as Cillian was leaning down to leave more kisses over your thighs.

‘Getting you ready’ he murmured in between kisses you were squirming evidencing your building neediness.

He laughed, shaking his head in bemusement, and then let his tongue swipe over your folds.

‘Oh good lord, what the hell Cillian’ you moaned in surprise, causing him to pause and look up at you.

‘I’ve done some research myself. The best chance of conception is achieved when a woman orgasms before and during insemination’ he advised and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his use of the word ‘insemination’.

But your chuckle soon turned into a loud moan when he descended back in between your legs.

Your moan made his cock twitch again. The flavour of your juices was a delight and his tongue was swiping a few more times through your slit, collecting a few more trickles of your juices. You arched your back, reaching down to twine fingers into his hair. More moans followed, his thirst immediately aroused, his tongue setting a steady pace in swiping and licking over those folds.

‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as his hands squeezed at your thighs, dimpling the flesh there.

You knew you shouldn’t be enjoying yourself like this with Cillian, but you couldn’t help it. His tongue was magic and your moans fell in droves, encouraging him to keep his tongue working, to lick and lap more over those folds. Your pleasure was obvious, little bucks and squirms at every movement his tongue made, those incessant moans, the sultry desire plastered across your face. You stroked over his hair, staring down at him, your head occasionally tilting back into the pillows.

‘Fuck yes, Cillian, lick it just like that...’ you groaned loudly and Cillian slid his tongue up to your clit. Your back arched sharply, and the praise became a cry.

After that little bit of attention, he returned to swiping his tongue over that slick slit, gathering up plenty of juices, savouring that subtle musk. One hand went from your thigh up to your breasts, adding more sensations to the mix.

‘Fuck yes’ you moaned again, knowing that all of this was wrong.

Cillian’s cock was hard and aching inside his shorts. Despite the instinct to free it and then sheathe it inside you, he carried on with his eager tonguing, enamored with your flavour and your reactions.

‘Ooh, I'm close, please don't stop, please!’ you moaned again and the thought of stopping to tease you flitted through his mind in order to draw this out, but he quickly decided to keep going, wanting to see, hear, and feel you come undone.

His tongue kept up that same pace, and soon enough, that desire was granted.

A series of strong shudders wracked your figure, one hand tugging at the bedsheets while the other stroked over his hair. The shudders were followed by squeals, your voice ringing out in the bedroom. He carried on licking and lapping, slurping up the copious juices streaming from your sex. His eyes stayed pinned to your face, drinking in the expressions there, the way your eyes clenched shut to ride out the storm of euphoria, the slight flutter as you opened them, the little 'o' of your parted lips, the flush across your cheeks.

As the ecstasy dwindled, he snuck up to your clit, and sucked, swirling his tongue atop it as well.

Your back arched, and your mouth fell open, letting out a strangled cry. Coming right on the heels of its predecessor, this next orgasm was vicious, a certain strain appearing on your face. He drew back, letting you return to normalcy from those intense heights of pleasure.

That strangled cry became breathless purrs. His eyes roamed along your body, noticing twitches pop up here and there. He drew back further to get a better view.

A smirk spread across your lips at the sight of him drinking in your figure while removing his briefs. The hand you had kept locked on the bedsheets now crept over your thigh towards your sex, lazily stroking over those slick folds, framing that pink slit, teasing him to take you.

‘Ready for the main event?’ he then chuckled and you nodded with excitement knowing again that you shouldn’t have been fantasying about this night over the past few weeks.

When Cillian’s cock then finally neared your entrance, firmly in his grip, you moved your fingers away from your folds, taking up another fistful of the sheets. Your eyes flickered down to fixate on his stiff shaft nudging up against those soaked petals, smearing a few trickles of wetness.

His shaft slid past your slit, driving steadily into your channel, that warm sheath eagerly welcoming him.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned with delight, your joyous shriek having died down in the face of the wondrous sensation that was your husband’s brother slipping all the way inside your clutching pussy.

‘Jesus Y/N, you are so fucking tight’ Cillian groaned as his hips slid back and eased forward. You glanced back up at him, blushing at how his eyes devoured the spectacle of your bodies coming together, an enthusiastic lust written across his face.

‘You feel so good’ he then moaned as he looked at you lustfully and the steady pace continued with no urgency in his movements.

Then, out of the blue, Cillian leaned forward and kissed you and, whilst you knew it was wrong, you let him and another moan followed, muffled by his mouth.

You squirmed, your back arching slightly, your breasts smushed against his chest, your legs moving to rub over his calves, not quite wrapping around them, only indulging in an instinctive need for more of that close contact.

Your bodies and mouths moved together calmly and you were running one of your hands over the side of his body, feeling his skin against your palm. A shiver ran over him, a groan spilling into your kiss, that simple touch affecting him as much as it did you.

You felt your pleasure rising steadily, helped along by that delight and the thrill that came with knowing your husband was downstairs and had allowed this to happen.

Then, the kiss broke as Cillian eased his mouth off yours and brought it over your neck. You cooed at the feeling of that warmth making its way along that stretch of flesh. Your hands clung to him, mindlessly hoping to keep him close, that hope unnecessary.

His cock picked up a bit of speed, pumping inside you, throbbing and twitching. Another coo fell from you as you shuddered, your body reacting to that throbbing and twitching, your channel clutching, your back arching, your legs looping over his calves, your toes curling.

That coo was answered by another groan, and then Cillian’s mouth reached your breasts and found a nipple. The sensitive bud was immediately trapped between his lips. Your body reacted again, bucking slightly, but he stayed comfortably atop you, sucking at your breast, his hands roaming along your figure.

The combination of sensations drew an orgasm closer. His mouth did not let up, moving over your breasts, switching from nipple to nipple, kissing along the luscious flesh between them. His cock pumped with that same rhythm, metronomic thrusts broken up by the occasional more vigorous effort. You luxuriated in the swirling stimulation as the orgasm neared.

It struck seconds later. You bucked harder, squealing loudly, shamelessly expressing your bliss and ignoring the fact that your husband was downstairs.

Whatever restraint had been guiding Cillian’s slower pace by that point crumbled once he felt your pussy spasming around him.

His hips pumped harder, driving into your channel with a decisive vigor, stirring up the abundant juices flowing freely. That added vigor sent you into yet another orgasm.

A ragged moan brushed over your breasts, and then he stilled inside you.

‘Fuck’ Cillian groaned as heated spurts of his cum followed seconds later. Your channel clutched around the flood, eagerly accepting the slick warmth and drawing it into your womb. His cock pulsed with each spurt, adding to the amount inside you which is when that second orgasm you experienced became a third as your pleasure surged higher along with his.

After you milked the last drop of his seed from him, you both finally came down from your highs and Cillian eased himself from inside you, letting his softened cock slip out, and then moved off you.

‘So, you think we did it?’ Cillian then chuckled before propping a pillow under your bottom which, apparently, was yet another thing he had read about and researched.

‘Well, if we didn’t, then we gotta try again, right?’ you asked, causing Cillian to laugh before putting his clothes back on and joining his brother downstairs to watch the rest of the footy.

***

Two weeks later, you finally saw those magical two lines on your pregnancy test for the first time.

Tag List:

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#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

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needleandhammer · 3 years

Text

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

romeo must die

this one-shot is based on the song Romeo Must Die by Gabrielle Aplin, I highly recommend listening to it! shout out to @eugeniaslongsword for introducing me to it :) i even borrowed some lyrics from it haha. it is also inspired by the entire playlist I made, "being treated badly by someone doesn't make you love them more"

content warnings: past toxic/unhealthy relationship, the uncomfy 6-year age gap between Alastair and Charles

Masterlist | Read on AO3

"Alastair, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Alastair looked up from what he was working on. He was in the library of the Institute, along with Cordelia, Thomas, James, Matthew, and Christopher. They were searching for any clue as to how Lucie had done what she’d done or what Tatiana and Belial were planning. Alastair wasn't entirely sure how he got roped into the ordeal, but it seemed as though Thomas suggested him as an extra set of eyes, and Cordelia latched onto the idea.

"No," he said curtly, returning to his reading.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I'm quite busy at the moment." Alastair spoke under his breath, not wanting to draw the others' attention. How many times had Charles barked the same words at him, swatting him away, hacking away at paperwork or planning his next step in his career? The words sat bittersweet in his chest.

"Surely you could spare a few moments."

"I certainly could. But I do not wish to." Charles had a way of getting into his head and twisting his words and his feelings. It was not an experience he wished to revisit. It was better here, with an audience. It had also been easier in the infirmary, knowing that he held all of the power. His father had made him feel the same way, he thought bitterly. He understood now that what he'd done at school was not only to protect himself from the bullies. He wanted to reclaim the power stolen from him by his father; he wanted for once in his life to hold power himself. He hadn't yet come to the realization that holding that kind of power did nothing but harm. It was of no use, anyways, because it didn't matter how much he perfected his tongue and his wit on the other students at the Academy, he was never able to use it when it counted. Not with Elias, and not with Charles.

"It's fine if you need to take a few minutes, Alastair,” Cordelia said gently. All of the eyes in the room had come to rest on the two of them. Now he wished he’d spoken louder.

“It’s alright, Charles was just leaving.”

He had hoped that Charles would give up and leave knowing that everyone was watching him, but he was determined. He grabbed Alastair’s arm. “It’ll just be-”

Alastair stood, but pulled his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

In a flicker, Alastair saw it: the anxiety began to set in. Charles began to realize that he would not be able to play his usual tricks. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I believe I was quite clear when I told you I don’t wish to speak with you. You’re the one who can’t let this go.”

“Must you act so childish?”

He rolled his eyes. “Must you always call me childish for thinking for myself instead of catering to your every whim?”

“I don’t understand. You said we were fine.”

Alastair sighed. Perhaps for a moment, he thought that was true. For just a second, he thought there was a world where he and Charles could be friends. But Alastair had decided that he would no longer call people who hurt him his friends. “Yes, well, I lied. I wanted to let you down gently, but it’s clear to me now that it must be spelled out for you. How shall I put this? You and I are past our dancing days, Charles.”

“But-” He stammered, searching for words. “What happened with Grace Blackthorn wasn’t my fault.”

“Maybe not. But what of Miss Bridgestock? Am I to pretend that what happened with Miss Blackthorn was not the same as what happened two years earlier?”

“You told me many times that you took no issue with that, that you understood.”

“I understood what you told me, which we both know was never the full truth. I was a sixteen year old desperate for your affections, and the fact that you truly believe I never had any issue with your arrangement is proof that you never genuinely cared about me or listened to my thoughts. I told you in the infirmary that this wasn’t your fault because I thought it’d ease the pain, but I lied. And I don’t have time to sit here and watch you cry over it.”

Alastair wished that watching Charles become flustered would have been more enjoyable. Instead, all he wanted was for this to end. “You- you’re different than when we met. You’ve changed. You’re cruel and callous, I don’t understand how I could not see how heartless you were until now. You are everything that everyone claims you to be. How am I to even know what the truth is when it comes from your lips?”

There was a time when those words would have cut deeply into him, eating at his every insecurity, but Charles mistakenly assumed that Alastair was the same person he was last July, with the same insecurities. “When we met, I was fourteen years old. I’ve grown up, and it is time for you to do the same. It’s been six months, Charles. You need to stop writing me. If that makes me heartless, I don’t care. And if you wish to know the truth, the truth is that the moment you leave here, if I never see your face again, it still will not be long enough.”

Charles stared at him for a long while, unable to find a proper retort. In the end, it was Matthew who stepped in. “Charles, I believe it’s time for you to go.”

He obliged, finally turning to leave the library. As he began to walk away, however, Alastair knew that he was not finished. His heart beat a little bit faster at the thought of such a confession, and faster again when he realized who would hear it, but there was no piece of parting with Charles that he wished to regret.

“Wait,” he said. Charles froze and turned to look at him. “I know it’s unlikely that you have it in the cold depths of your soul to care, but let the record show that I would have given you everything. I would have given you my life, all of the love and trust that I had to give, and then I would have given more. And you gave me nothing. So the next time you’re pondering my heartlessness, you ought to wonder what that means for you.”

Finally satisfied, Alastair did not wait for Charles to turn and leave again to return to his seat and pick his reading back up. He waited for a moment, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him. He stood once more, opening his mouth to speak, but the words were caught in his throat. Instead, he walked out of the library in silence.

Finding the nearest balcony, he attempted to steady his breath.

“Are you alright?” He heard from behind him. Thomas. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He shook his head. “I just needed some air.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Alastair sighed. He backed up against the window and slid down to the floor of the balcony. “I know- I know that everyone sort of knew already, but… by the Angel, I feel so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Thomas told him, sitting down beside him.

“You were right, of course you were. I was so… taken with him, back in Paris. I couldn’t see him for what he was. I was so naive, so foolish. I just- After everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been through, how did I not realize-”

Thomas put his hand on Alastair’s knee. “You wanted to see the best in him. After everything you’d seen and been through, you wanted to believe that there were still good and honest people in the world. And there are. I’m sorry that he was not one of them, but that does not make you foolish or pathetic. It makes you… kind.”

“I bet you’d never imagined describing me as such before.”

“It seems you’re full of surprises,” Thomas teased. “But that’s not true. I always saw the kindness in you, even back at school, when you did everything to keep it hidden.”

“As you can see, my ‘kindness’ has never gotten me very far.”

“You were out of practice. Following me on my reckless nighttime patrols, that was kind. More than kind. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, for risking your life to protect mine.”

“I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“And yet I owe you mine nonetheless.”

“I can’t go back in there, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can tolerate you and your friends hating me just fine. But if any of your friends give me even an ounce of pity- well, we’ll see just where the limits of my kindness lie, won’t we?”

Thomas stood up, offering Alastair his hand. “Pity comes from those who cannot even begin to understand what you’ve experienced. For what it’s worth, I don’t think my friends will pity you. But if they do, you can ignore them. For Lucie.”

Alastair sighed and allowed Thomas to pull him to his feet. “Fine. Let’s get back to reading.”

“Speaking of reading, do you have the entirety of Shakespeare’s canon memorized, or only the lines you believe may pop up in conversation?”

“Excuse me?”

“‘For you and I are past our dancing days,’ it’s Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it? It’s the only one of his works that I got through.”

Alastair froze. “You haven’t read Hamlet?”

“I tried.”

“Othello? King Lear? Macbeth? Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

He shook his head.

“That’s impossible. And James is friends with you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wait until my sister finds out you haven’t read Hamlet,” he warned, starting towards the library with urgency in his step.

“Wait, don’t- I just don’t like Shakespeare! What’s so wrong with that?” Thomas’ attempts at reasoning were futile, however, a welcome distraction from all of their recent sorrows finally taking hold.

Thanks for reading!! This was self indulgent af lol. I'm not to sure whether some people only wanted to be tagged in my social media AU, so if that's the case I'm sorry & please tell me!: @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @thecodexsays @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @icouldnotask @shadowhunting-hooligans @melanielocke @clarys-heosphoros @kiwichaeng @lightwoodsimp @thecrimsonsorceresss @theenchanteddreamer @adams-left-hand @yozinha-z @ipromiseiwillwrite @skirtsandsweaters @goodoldfashionednerd

#alastair carstairs #charles fairchild #if you're a charles apologist just block me #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #cw toxic relationship #coi spoilers #fanfiction #fanfic

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thestorycfus · 3 years

Text

Behind these two white highway lines

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x gn!Reader

Summary: Erik and Reader always kept some distance, but they get a better glimpse of each other when they are tasked with bringing a new mutant to the school. The teen doesn’t like being a mutant, but Erik and Reader help him see the bright side of his identity.

Warnings and notes: This is a very self indulgent and obvious metaphor to how lonely it feels to be ‘the only one different’, and it’s not nearly as well written as it should be. There’s mentions of family discrimination, feelings of isolation, self-doubt and a journey to acceptance. But just... Not well written, for real. Other X-Men (First Class generation) are mentioned.

Word count: 2,641

Masterlist

Erik Lehnsherr was quite a mystery to you. He was close to Charles and Raven, and he was great at training with the kids, but you had never even had a full conversation with Erik. Even though you had gotten to know everyone else in the Institute after it became your home, the metal bender preferred to keep his distance. He wasn’t rude, just… Private, it seemed. Maybe he had something against you, or maybe he was like that with every new mutant. You wouldn’t be able to tell. The guy made you a little nervous, to be honest. He was serious, powerful, strong-willed and, of course, irritatingly handsome too. If he didn’t want to be bothered, the best you could do was let him be.

For months, that was exactly what you did. You kept teaching your classes and working on your powers, while Erik kept doing whatever Erik does. You rarely talked to each other, despite living in the same house. The Institute was always full and always busy, so there was no need for you two to exchange more than a few words, nothing beyond small talk or work-related communication. You still wondered what Lehnsherr was all about, for a while, the quiet balance worked.

The equilibrium started to crack when Charles gave you a mission. He had detected a new mutant, a teenager with human parents living out of state, and it seemed like the kid was having trouble controlling his abilities. The parents were more than grateful when Professor Xavier called and offered to help their son understand and use his power, but they couldn’t drive him to the institute. With everyone else busy, Charles chose you and Erik to bring the kid to the school.

It sounded like a simple task, but you felt nervous all the same. The road trip was a little awkward, but overall uneventful, with you driving there so Lehnsherr could drive on the way back. As far as you were told, the kid would be ready to go as soon as you arrived. You both got out of the car and Erik rang the doorbell, always keeping a safe distance from you, as if you were about to bite him. You tried not to role your eyes, focusing on your most welcoming smile – very important when meeting a student and their family. The door opened to reveal a fidgety mother, who looked at you and Erik as if you were a miracle.

“I am so glad you are here, we don’t know what else to do. I’m Christine Johnson. Please, come in.”

At the same time, you heard shouting coming from upstairs, with a distinct scream of ‘I am NOT going to that freak show’, followed by the bang of a door closing. You and Erik exchanged a look before introducing yourselves and following Mrs. Johnson to the living room. Nobody had informed the school of it, but you were more than familiar with that sort of conflict. Being a mutant wasn’t always easy, and being a mutant teenager with a bunch of human friends and relatives was a mess, most of the times.

“Please, make yourselves at home. I will go get Jay, we will be ready in just a minute.” Mrs. Johnson said, looking towards the stairs and back to you and Erik. Before she could leave, you took a step forward.

“Maybe we could talk to him first? He might feel more comfortable if he gets to know us a bit before leaving.” You offered, only then remembering to give Erik a glance. He nodded discreetly, ready to follow you. There was a tension on him that you weren’t used to witnessing, but you couldn’t wonder about that now. This kid needed guidance and support, and that was the reason you went to the Institute in the first place. Mutant kids deserved better than what the world usually offered them, and the X mansion was their best opportunity to have that.

“That is very kind of you, Professor, if you don’t mind trying… Come upstairs, he’s in his room.”

You both followed Mrs. Johnson to the hall of the second floor, where her husband was pilling up bags. She called him to help with the something in the kitchen and they practically run downstairs, in an obvious attempt to not be a part of the conversation. You took a deep breath, not wishing to lose your temper, but the way the parents seemed desperate to get rid of the problem made your blood boil. To your surprise, it was Erik who knocked on the bedroom door.

“Hello, Jay. I’m Erik. I am here with my colleague Y/N. We would like to talk to you for a minute, if that is okay.”

There was silence for a moment. Erik beside you in the narrow hall, more serious than you had ever seen him. You watched his expression get lighter when he heard the doorknob click. Jay opened the door and stared at the two strangers with childish curiosity, but quickly looked away and went back inside his room. He sat at the bed, absent mindedly playing with a ring of old keys in his hands.

“It’s nothing personal, but I won’t be going to your school. I already told my parents, if they want me to leave, I’ll just move in with my friend until I get a job. His parents said it’s all good. Sorry you had to drive all the way here for nothing, though.”

His tone broke your heart. You had heard it so many times before, seen so many scared kids who were tired of sticking out, terrified because the people supposed to love them the most just saw them as an issue to fix. You and Erik walked into the room together and you sat down on the floor, leaning against the bedside table. Jay’s eyes scanned you as if you were about to shoot lasers at him – and for all he knew, maybe you were – and even you were surprised when Erik followed you, sitting on the carpet too.

“Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Professor Y/N L/N and I work at the Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, which, as you might know, is home to many mutants, including myself and…” You gestured to Erik, who took your cue.

“I’m Erik Lehnsherr, also a Professor at Xavier’s and also a mutant. If you do not wish to join us, that is perfectly fine, but you could at least hear us out first. You know, to compensate for the long drive.” He opened his right hand, and Jay’s ring of keys came flying towards him, floating just above his palm.

You smiled at the way Jay stared, looking so lost, but also as if he had just been found. He looked so young, so starved for some understanding… Erik’s approach was a bit on the nose, but it was worth a try.

Since you entered the room, you had spotted the few plants that decorated the room, including a succulent on the table next to you. You reached up and grabbed it, touching the delicate flower that was just beginning to appear on top of it. At your touch, the flower grew, opening up in yellow and orange tones. Jay’s eyes went from you to Erik and back to you.

“What do you even do in there, though? I bet you’re not studying chemistry or something.”

You chuckled at that, and Erik had big grin when he answered.

“You would be surprised. Just because someone is blue, doesn’t mean they aren’t a science genius.”

“Blue as in sad or blue as in… Blue?” Jay probably sounded more invested than he intended to.

“Blue as in blue. Dr McCoy is a biochemistry expert, and he can also take down all three of us in a fight at the same time with very little effort. And he is blue, but he’s not the only one at that.” You explained, amused to see the kid look so curious.

“Actually, Hank couldn’t take me down unless the fight took place in a plastic prison, and even then it would be a close call.” Lehnsherr feigned offense, and you chuckled again. It was nice to see him being so casual and playful.

“No, it wouldn’t, but I won’t insist on that topic.” You turned back to the kid with a soft smile, while making a couple more flowers appear in the plant you were holding. “There’s a lot to discover at the school. You don’t have to stay there forever, but you could meet everyone, take a few classes and see if you like the place.”

“Sounds like all of you have everything figured out, uh?” As Jay spoke, a small flame emerged from his fingers, and he threw it from one hand to the other. “I’m not that good at keeping this under control.” There was a challenge in his eyes, as if he doubted that the school would be able to handle his abilities, even though you were used to students with powers way more complicated.

“Controlling all the metal near you isn’t as simple as it may seem. Most mutants are not in control of their powers when they first appear, but we can develop our abilities to degrees you can’t even dream of, Jay. That’s the reason Charles found the school in the first place – so all mutants can be safe and proud. I used to believe I was alone until he found me, and I was almost lost in my anger. The others allowed me to see that there is more than just one path for us.” Erik answered, making the keys fly back to their owner. Jay extinguished the flame and caught the keys midair. He remained in silence, so you continued Erik’s speech. Everything he had said really resonated with you, making you even more certain of the point you wanted to get across.

“You may make fire, but we have a guy who turns into and produces ice, a lady who can literally control the weather, some laser-shooters and a few telepaths and the list goes on. Even a seemly harmless mutation can be trouble, like when I have a nightmare and break the floor with tree roots growing out of nowhere, and the scariest powers can save all of us very often.” You felt Lehnsherr’s eyes on you, but you focused on Jay. You thought of how tiny you felt before you knew of others like you, remembering the desperation of dealing with a part of yourself that nobody around you could know, because they would never have to handle something similar. Until you were surrounded by other mutants, you were never able to allow yourself to just be.

“We know how hard it is to be the only one that is different. Pardon my language, but it royally sucks, doesn’t it? It gets lonely and terrifying, and it seems like there’s not a single person in your life that can understand. But we do. We have all been through it, one way or the other, and it gets much easier and much more fun when you have a community, if you’re willing to give us a chance.” The honesty in your words was undeniable. Even though no two mutants were the same, and each of the residents of the X Mansion had their own past and their identities, with the x gene being just one aspect of who they were, finding your community had being freeing in ways you didn’t even know you needed. There were still many barriers to face, and a lot of grief for everything that couldn’t be. It wasn’t fair, and it still hurt, but it didn’t hurt after you became more comfortable in yourself. The love you had for every mutant in the institute and the bonds you created made you see yourself in a brand new light, and you had seem the same magic happen to many others. You hoped it would happen to Jay too.

“I’m not just talking of making the burden less heavy. I’m talking of honestly understanding that there isn’t a burden at all. Even if I said I was proud of myself, I wasn’t really happy to be me until I was with the others. Now, when I say I’m a mutant and proud, I mean it. I know how strong, how amazing, how brilliant we are, and I’d never change a thing. I wish the world wasn’t as tough on us, I wish we didn’t have to be strong, but kid, I’m really thankful and proud to say that we can take it, and we’re worth standing up for and celebrating.” You finally stopped talking, feeling a bit self conscious about how much you had said, but opening up was worth it if it gave Jay a better chance of experience those changes. Before you could say more, though, Erik spoke again.

“I had an entire mutant pride speech ready, but I believe Y/N spoke for us both on what really matters here. Give it a try. If the school isn’t for you, you can come back to your friend’s house with some interesting stories.” You smiled at his words, waiting for Jay’s answer.

“Will someone drive me back here if I don’t stay or do I have to find a new ride?” The kid was already getting up and collecting stuff around the room. Erik stood up and offered you his hand. You took it, standing up too and smiling at him.

“Maybe our teleport guy will be back by then. We usually take the road when we’re inviting a new student, but we’ll figure something out.” Erik replied, which gained him an impressed look from Jay.

“Of course there’s a teleport guy. You could have lead with that.” He continued gathering his belongings but, besides the plants, there wasn’t a lot more to pack. Most of the stuff was already in the bags in hall. Jay arranged most of the plants in a metal shelf so they would be easier to carry, but he shook his head when you tried to hand him the succulent in your left hand. “You keep that one. She likes you.”

You nodded, turning around to leave the room and help bring the bags to the car. Only then you noticed that you were still holding Erik’s hand. You let your hand fall, but the two of you didn’t stand so distant to each other now. All three mutants walked out of the room and divided the bags among you, with Lehnsherr showing off and making every metal object float to the front door. Once everything was in the car, Jay went to talk to his parents. There were tears and goodbyes and promises of behaving, but you and Erik stayed outside to give the family some privacy. The Johnsons might not be the best parents a mutant could get, but they were still Jay’s mom and dad, and the process would be important for him.

While you two waited, you decided to break the silence.

“Turns out we can make a good team, Lehnsherr.”

“Wait to see if the kid comes running back home when he sees Alex explode something before you start to boast.”

“Oh, shut up. Alex will be his favorite.”

“Yeah, he will. And we do make a good team.”

The conversation was cut short when the Johnsons came out of the door, with Mrs. Johnson hugging Jay. You and Erik promised to take care of him and finally got in the car. The ride back to the institute was a little less awkward and silent, even though the kid fell asleep in half an hour. You could definitely count that day as a win.

#erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x reader #x men #marvel #erik lehnsherr imagine #erik lehnsherr m #marvel m #x men m #m

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yourmidnightlover · 3 years

Note

Babe can i request for your celebration of 1k followers: Smut 11 with angst 4 and happy ending

Also ‼congrats‼ babe ❤️🎉😏

of course! thank you so much, sweetie :,)

angst 4 just GETS TO ME. it’s very angst but very addictive. it also turned into an actual fic, kinda?

if anyone wants to request another blurb, the prompts are found here.

angst #4: “i can’t... you’re engaged.”

smut #11: “please, just let me please you.”

CW: kinda angsty, reader thinks he’s such eating when he kisses her (he’s not-it’ll make more sense once you read it), fingering, cream pie, nicknames (good boy, princess), kinda switch!reader and spencer, overstimulation, slight cum play ig?, unprotected penetrative sex. *let me know if i missed anything*

you never thought you’d actually lose spencer. okay, you didn’t lose him. he’s not dead. but he can’t be yours anymore. you don’t really know how it happened. they had just gotten into the relationship. max, is her name. and she was wonderful, which might be the worst part.

she was beautiful and kind and great with children and probably perfect for spencer. but you wouldn’t let yourself believe that they were actually together. you refused. until he came into the office one morning looking... concerned? he was biting his bottom lip gently and didn’t speak a word as he entered. there was no ‘random fact of the day’ or smart quip. it was just rush.

“spence? are you alright?” you walked over to his desk.

“what?” he looked up at you. “of course i’m fine. why wouldn’t i be fine?”

“you just look... bothered,” you pressed as you leaned on his desk, your hand accidentally touching his as you tried to get comfortable. that’s when you looked down and saw it. “sorr...y.”

a gold wedding ring on his left ring finger.

they had only been together for four months. four months. you had known him for four years. and he was no longer gone. he was no longer yours, although he never really was to begin with. there was a beat of silence, a rather long one at that. you just stared at the band of metal for what felt like a decade before looking back at his face. he looked like he was sorry, like maybe he could tell what that meant for you.

in the months of his new relationship he came to you during their issues. when he felt as though she was moving a bit too quickly, when he thought he should end it, when he felt too insecure around her... everything. he came to you. it’s like he had all of these seeds of doubt planted in his mind. you had more than one opportunity to squander their relationship.

but instead you were a good friend. you helped him resolve the conflict and you mended their already failing relationship. and here all of those moments were, mended together in the form of a ring that was supposed to represent the bond of forever, biting you in the ass.

“um,” you cleared your throat before removing yourself from his desk, metaphorically from his life. “congratulations,” you said curtly before scurrying back to your own desk.

you thought you still had a chance. he still gave you the look that had given you hope for all of these years. his eyes would say, ‘i want you,’ but clearly, all he wanted was a life without you. the two of you had been teetering on the edge of being in a relationship and being strictly friends. maybe you had been imagining the glances he would send you and the lingering stares and the way his hand would touch yours so delicately when you needed the reassurance. maybe you just needed a break from him to organize your feelings.

that’s what you would do. a little distance would do you some good. and maybe, just maybe, you could finally get over your little crush love for him.

so when you would normally go on a lunch break with him, you worked through it. when he asked what you wanted to eat, you gave him a simple shrug and a, “i’m not hungry,” with a tight-lipped smile, which was the best you could muster up.

when you would normally take a coffee break with him to stretch your legs, you stayed put and opted to continue the case file you were on. as it turns out, taking no breaks from your work really helps everything go on much quicker. you finished your workload by 4:30, so hitch let you go home.

you didn’t tell spencer goodbye.

the next day was the same. and the next. and the next. the days turned into weeks and then eventually a month and then two.

it was hard to not talk to him. it was as if a piece of you were missing. but he was never a part of you, so why did you feel so empty? he seemed perfectly fine without you.

but he wasn’t. he wasn’t fine without you. he knew that him getting engaged in such a short amount of time hurt you - and it hurt him too. truth be told, he didn’t want to marry maxine. he intended on breaking up with her on the date she proposed, she just beat him to it. and he couldn’t bring himself to embarrass her like that. she seemed so excited and happy. but he was so worried about you and what you’d think the entire time he had the ring on his finger.

and when you stopped talking to him altogether he swore he might not make it. but it seemed as though that’s how you needed to cope. so he gave you your space. once the two month mark of you not talking to him and avoiding him hit, he knew he couldn’t last like that.

he couldn’t live without you. it’s been ages since he’s heard your laugh and he’s having withdrawals. so he did something that was extremely hard for him.

when you saw him enter the office with a bouquet of flowers before anyone was even here you rolled your eyes. did she give those to him, too? did she just want to rub it in? no, you wouldn’t think bad of her just because she’s with the man you’re in love with. you avoided his gaze and turned your attention back to your case files, trying to avoid spencer at all costs. then you felt a presence at your desk. a shadow was cast over your papers and you looked up to see him standing above you. you gave him the same tight-lipped smile as two months ago and went back to your work.

“y/n,” he whispered, you looked up to see him biting his lip.

“what, spencer?” you answered with an edge to your voice.

“i want to talk to you,” he looked around at the still empty office. “in private, please.”

“spencer, i can’t... you’re engaged,” you sighed, trying to lower the tears that threatened to pool in your eyes.

“please, let me explain-“

“what more is there to explain?” you scoffed as you rose from your seat. “clearly you want to be with her for the rest of your life. so have fun, spencer. i just... i can’t.”

spencer watched you walk away. away from him and away from the flowers with a card that told you what had happened. the card that would’ve explained everything. and the card that would’ve explained how he had cut things off with maxine.

that very night, however, he decided he’d had enough. he drove to your apartment and banged on your door, without the flowers since they were dead now. when you opened the door to reveal spencer reid standing outside of your apartment, you fought the urge to both cry and slam the door in his face.

“what?” you asked, pleading with your eyes for him to give you some sort of peace whether it be from him leaving or telling you what you wanted needed to hear.

“please...” he asked, “just let me explain.”

you moved out of the doorway so he could come into the room. you closed the door, your back pressed against it, and crossed your arms over your chest defensively.

“explain,” you ordered, deciding to not be sad but instead be angry with him.

be angry with the fact that he chose her. be angry that he didn’t tell you in the first place. be angry that he showed up to your apartment right as soon as you had finally finished crying - again.

“i-i...” he couldn’t find the right words.

he couldn’t figure out how to tell you the right way how much he loved you. how he wanted you. how he needed you.

“for christ sakes, spencer!” you laughed. “you come here late at night, when your fiancé is probably waiting to see you, and what for?! to stand there and just look at me like some dumb, broken fucking puppy?! i’ve never been one to doubt my intelligence but maybe i am dumb. maybe i’m dumb because i let you break me. i never should’ve let myself fall in love with you, you- you asshole,” you were seething. you didn’t even realize you had been crying until he looked at the tears streaming down your face. “how could you? how could you hurt me like that? you lead me on and then... just get engaged so easily. what am i to you, spencer? because i thought i meant more to you than that.”

“you do. you do!” he interrupted. “you mean so, so much to me. more than i know how to describe,” he walked closer to you and tried to take your hands in his, you reluctantly allowed it. “i love you. i love you, y/n. i love you so much it makes me idiotic. i have been chasing my tail trying to figure out how to get you to talk to me again, and if the only way you’ll talk to me is by yelling then so be it. i just need to hear your voice and i need to hear your laugh.”

“leave, spencer,” you tried to pull your hands from his. “you’re engaged. you’re going to get married. i won’t be a home-wrecker, spence. i don’t know what kind of game you’re getting at but telling me you love me isn’t going to make me forget that you’re in love with someone else. you’re marrying someone else, spencer. i can’t-“

and his lips were on yours, his hands now cupping your face. the stupidest thing you allowed yourself to do - you let him in. you let his tongue enter your mouth slowly. you let yourself indulge in his lips on yours, the soft pillowy flesh you’ve dreamt of kissing since you had met him.

his hands trailed down your face and to your waist, pulling your body flush against his own. you whimpered into his mouth, obviously spurring him on as his hands trailed further around and squeezed your ass. your breathing picked up as his lips traveled down your neck.

you had forgotten all about his engagement and how much he hurt you. just this one time, you would give in.

he sucked a dark mark on your neck before sliding his hands underneath your shirt, palming gently at your breasts.

“spencer,” you sighed softly from his touch.

“please,” he muttered. “please, just let me please you.”

“okay,” you agreed, your hands pulling at his shoulders.

“thank, fuck,” he groaned before you helped him toss your shirt on the couch, leaving your bare chest on display for him. “you’re beautiful.”

“shut up,” you pulled his lips back to yours to silence him.

“no,” he mumbled with a smile on his lips. “you truly are, y/n,” he tried to tell you between kisses.

“what did i say, spencer?” you pulled back with an angry look on your face.

“before i actually do shut up, i need to tell you something,” his hands on your waist began stroking circles into your soft skin. “i ended things with maxine.”

“why the fuck didn’t you lead with that?!” you questioned.

“i saw you and i just-“

“god, i don’t care,” you muttered before pulling his lips to yours once more. “do something, spence,” you rolled your hips into his as you began to undo the buttons on his shirt. “i need you.”

he let his hand trail to the front of your body and enter your shorts once he looked at you for permission. his fingers danced over your underwear and found your clit quickly, rubbing gentle circles.

“stop teasing,” your hips bucked into his hand before you pulled his hair, he moaned into your mouth.

his fingers finally entered your panties, and he gathered the wetness that had been collecting before going back up to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves moderately slow.

“fuck,” you groaned, making him eager to please you. he picked up his speed on your clit before letting his fingers travel back to your entrance, slowly pushing to fingers in. “g-good boy, baby.”

his hips rutted up into your own upon the praise. he curled his fingers, trying to find that spongey tissue inside of you that would drive you mad. once he found it, he began thrusting his fingers into you, allowing his palm to hit your clit just right each time he slammed them inside of you.

“fuck, i’m so close,” you whined, sucking on his bottom lip before pressing a kiss to it. “keep going, baby.”

and boy did he go. he loved watching you come undone on his fingers, it would probably definitely become his favorite sight in the time to come. the way your lips hovered over his own, your eyes became hooded, and your moans wanton. when he let his lips travel to your neck and find the soft spot he somehow knew drove you crazy, he also let the one hand on your waist travel up and palm your breast, tweaking the nipple gently between his fingers and sending you over the edge.

he pulled back swiftly to watch you as you came undone. a sheen of sweat littered the high points of your face, your chest was heaving for air as your hips continued to fit into his hand as you came down.

“i need you inside me,” you muttered softly, almost afraid of his rejection.

“good,” he breathed out before grabbing your face and connecting your lips once more, you led the both of you to your bedroom.

you crawled onto the bed, and he undid his pants, throwing them aside and carefully navigating up to you once more.

“hi,” you smiled, your hands stroking his cheekbones.

“hi,” he whispered back, admiring the softness of the situation. “are you ready?”

“yes, please,” you nodded your head as he spread your legs, taking his place between them and lining himself up with your entrance.

“so tight, princess,” he groaned once he barely entered you.

“princess?” you quirked a brow at the nickname.

“yea, princess,” he chuckled before giving you another chaste kiss that you deepened, clenching around his dick once he was fully sheathed inside of you. “shit, do that again,” and you did. “fuck, you’re so good, baby.”

“please,” you pawed at his back as if that would push him to start thrusting. “fuck me.”

“you want me to fuck you, princess?” you nodded eagerly.

he slowly began thrusting in you before he rapidly snapped his hips. ever thrust of his hips meeting yours caused the sound of skin on skin clapping echo inside of your room. he brought his hand up to your face, gently cupping it and tracing your bottom lip before you took his thumb into your mouth. you sucked on his thumb, your tongue tracing his fingerprint. maybe that way you’d become a part of him forever, right on the tip of his fingers.

“fuck,” he moaned before he sped up even quicker. “touch yourself, princess. make yourself cum on my dick.”

you were already close - spencer could feel it. it only took a couple more seconds before you were clenching and unclenching around him, the fluttering of your pussy sending him over the edge. his hot cum spread into your stomach, filling you with a sense of warmth and satisfaction you hadn’t known you needed.

“so good, spence,” you muttered as he fucked his cum back into you, you hissed at the overstimulation.

“your mine, princess,” he pressed a soft kiss to your neck before pulling himself out of you.

“wrong,” you corrected. “you’re mine.”

“whatever you say,” he smiled, turning his head to look at you. “i’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

“yea, me too,” you sighed before sitting up, not looking at him.

“here,” he jumped up out of the bed. “let me,” he ran into your bathroom, not missing the chuckle that emitted from your lips. he returned with a damp, warm washcloth and got between your legs once more, this time eye level to your pussy. “fuck,” he whispered.

he used his fingers to spread your pussy open, admiring the way his cum was dripping out of your entrance, you pussy seemingly clenching around nothing. suddenly, his tongue was on your entrance and lapping up the both of yours arousal. your hand shot into his hair, gently tugging at it as he ate you out.

“so good, spence,” you ground your hips into his face. “please don’t stop-don’t stop!” you knew he wouldn’t stop as he pushed you over the edge for the third time that night. “god-fuck, yes!” you looked down to admire the man beneath you, smiling when you saw that his eyes were still on your face, watching you come undone.

“such a pretty pussy,” he squeezed your thigh before rising back up to give you a belated kiss. “now i can clean you up,” you both laughed.

for the first night in two months, neither of you worried about what was to come - even if you probably should’ve worried about work. you both were guarded by each other’s presence; nothing threatened to breach the security you had with one another. because, now, he was yours. and you were his.

#spencer reid smut #mggwl 1k celebration #blurb request #spencer reid

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

Late July

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Pairing: Agent Whiskey [Jack Daniels]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit explicit.

Summary: Upon hearing about you from Tequila, Jack Daniels seeks you out with a full set of emotional baggage to work through. You happily oblige, helping him craft a scene that just might grant him some peace of mind. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @cookiethewriter @culturalrebel @jackierey09 @crookedmoonsaultpunk @duker42 @agirllovespasta @nelba @pedrosbigdorkenergy @lestrange2703 @youmeanmybrain @luvley-shadow @theocatkov @miscellaneousjunkk @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @buttons-beads-lace @gooddaykate @lackofhonor

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains consensual non-consent (surrender play), light domination, roleplay, unprotected sex, frank discussion of safe words, usage of safe words, dirty talk and light bondage. Remember that fanfictions are not research and that you should never engage in any activity if you do not trust your partner. Stay safe!]

There was just something about you that put people at ease, and Ginger Ale noticed during the interview process. "You have a gift!" She had praised you, her smile unexpected and bright. "I can see why Tequila recommended you for this position."

Granted, being the 'head of first impressions' at a distillery that was actually a front for a secret intelligence agency had its ups and downs, but you enjoyed the work and (if you were honest) the exciting interactions with the Statesman agents.

Tequila, of course, would practically drape himself across your desk as he regaled you with (hopefully) exaggerated tales of his heroics. The two of you were sexually involved but preferred to keep each other at arm's length out of the bedroom, neither party particularly keen on surrendering your freedom and committing to anything serious at this point of your lives. You admired his dedication to Statesman, and he in turn respected your desire to have a successful career. He also was blatantly mooning over a certain analyst.

Ginger Ale was quieter and sharper than Tequila, her dry humor a joy to witness. She was the one who had done your interview, and she had given you the full behind the scenes tour once your background check went through. She was beautiful, charismatic and smart as a whip. You hoped to one day be as self-assured as she was.

Champ tended to keep to himself for the most part, though you had encountered him several times in the past when he dozed off in a certain chair at the end of a sunlit hallway. The elderly man was like an old tomcat, you decided, able to prowl but more than willing to take it easy.

Whiskey was often away managing the affairs of their New York headquarters and as such, was the one that you interacted with the least. He would come breezing in at all hours, a slow smile and a wink directed your way before he would saunter past. The rare occasions that he engaged you in conversation were nerve-wracking, as you were a little starstruck due to the glowing accounts both Champ and Tequila had given of his prowess in the past.

Ginger Ale was a bit more down to earth, thankfully. "He's just a man who's lost a lot, and his reasons for wanting to change things for the better may not be entirely altruistic." She had informed you concisely when you queried about the origin of one Jack Daniels. You had picked up on the veiled sadness in his dark eyes, the age that seemed to weigh him down that wasn't entirely related to years.

So when the aforementioned Statesman agent had drunkenly expressed a certain desire to you at a company party, you couldn't hide a little spike of curiosity. Mainly because the two of you interacted so rarely. Hell, you wouldn't even call yourselves friends. Tequila must have told him about your side activities.

"Ever since I lost her, I can't fuckin' bring myself to raw anyone else." The confession had come out of left field, but you had done your best to play it off like it was normal. Lord knew you had done enough paperwork in your career at Statesman to understand that agents would just kind of…say things thoughtlessly if they believed they were in a safe environment. A hazard of the job.

"What do you mean, Mr. Daniels?"

"Call me Jack. Jesus, I ain't that old." He had hiccupped sharply, grimacing. "I just mean I...it's like a mental block. I wanna', I'm excited about it, and everything's fine until I try to come and boom. Python shrivels up like a damn salted slug and I'm left holdin' the bag tryin' to explain myself." He stared into his glass, looking pensive. "Real mood killer."

"Any idea why this might be?" You had prompted, leaning against the bar and idly scanning the throngs of people around you. It wasn't every day that so many of the company's rank and file rubbed elbows with the higher-ups, but you had to assume these economic mixers were what had kept the company (and intelligence agency) on such an even keel. It was a grounding experience, a way to remind the suits of their humble beginnings.

He scoffed out a breath. "Oh I know exactly why. When I lost her, I...we had only learned a little while before that she was havin' a baby. We'd been havin' a rocky time and we were actually thinkin' of breakin' up, but that news…" Jack had tilted his head to glance your way, his brown eyes distant. "If I hadn't gotten her pregnant, she wouldn't have been out shoppin' that day, y'know?" A sad smile had quirked his mouth beneath his mustache. "My fault."

At the time, you had made a noise of sympathy and gone to lay a hand on his arm before you could think better of it. He, instead of shrugging off your touch, actually ended up twining his fingers through your own and giving your hand a light squeeze.

Agent Whiskey's past was a shadowy affair in the Statesman organization. Though to be fair, no one really asked anything about anyone. Ginger Ale reasoned that the less people knew, the safer they and Statesman were in the event of a security breach.

Anything you learned from any of the agents, you tended to keep close to your heart. It was your nature to gather useful information and foster trust for a rainy day. That personality facet had served you well as you had climbed the ranks from intern to head of first impressions, and knowing that you were someone that could be counted on to hold your cards close put many people at ease.

Including one Agent Whiskey.

"Tequila said you were good at helpin'. I'd be much obliged if you'd consider takin' a crack at my sexual baggage."

...

"Alright so for your words, you've decided on 'sixth' as your 'yes I'm into this', followed by second for 'slow down but don't break character', first for 'slow down and do break character' and finally neutral for 'full stop'." You tapped the customary notepad on your lap, glancing over at the man across the table. The two of you were currently sitting in the kitchen of the vacation cabin that your parents had willed to you, the modest dwelling often your staging ground for affairs like this. The warm wooden decor tended to make your partners feel more at ease and less vulnerable. Perceived safety was, after all, incredibly important when crafting scenarios.

Jack nodded. "Gears are easy for me to remember. Simple."

"Got it. And no kissing on the mouth. Can I kiss you in other places, or would you prefer I didn't at all?"

"Kissin's fine." Jack allowed. "Whatever you wanna' do is fine, just not on my mouth." You jotted that down. "Hey, I uh...I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate you agreein' to help. I dunno' if this will work, but…" Whiskey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Thanks. When Tequila mentioned your...extracurriculars, I figured he was jus' bein' outta' pocket again."

You grinned at that, giggling a little. "Does he get weird a lot?"

"I mean, he's uh...well, he's got his moments." Jack replied with a smile of his own.

"So," you hummed once you had checked your notes again, "after looking over all the information we've compiled, and the ideas you gave me an outline of, I'm thinking that you may want more of a 'surrender-play' kind of experience."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask how that's different from what I already suggested?"

"Look, you and I both know that I couldn't keep you from moving if you wanted to. Now, if we had a real working dynamic going on and I believed that you would listen and trust me implicitly so that you don't end up hurting yourself or me, then we might have something. But as we are right now, that's not gonna' happen." Whiskey inclined his head with a rueful chuckle, acknowledging the truth of your words. "So I propose that it's more of a scenario where all the agency is removed."

The agent leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "Explain."

"You need a scenario where you aren't in control and there's not even a chance of you being in control, taking any responsibility or guilt from the equation." You elaborated. "Basically, you would surrender your control so that you can indulge guilt-free. A lot of people do this coupled with a roleplay aspect in order to test new things that may be out of character for them."

"You coulda' jus' said you wanted to tie me up, sugar." Jack drawled. "I'll show you some good knots."

"You don't have any issues with being secured to...I guess a chair, probably? We'll keep you upright. If we sprawl you out on a bed that might be a little too vulnerable." You reasoned, waiting for his nod before you wrote it down. "I know it sounds contradictory, but I want you to be comfortable in what we do. Should I leave your clothes on?"

"If you can stand to, I'd appreciate it." The man answered with a cheeky wink. "Bein' naked and restrained is a little too close to the job description." He sighed after a moment, tipping the chair backwards as he laced his fingers behind his head. "Now I warn you, if I'm supposed to be an unwillin' party, I may display a little less Southern hospitality and a little more Southern history with my language, if you catch my drift."

You pursed your lips, squinting at him. "...is that your way of saying you might use a naughty word or two?"

You received a lazy finger-gun in reply, "bingo, cherry pie. You got any names you ain't a fan of bein' called?"

"Oh! I mean, I've heard just about everything in the book." You straightened up as a thought occurred to you, and then pointed back at him sternly. "No slurs."

"Ma'am," Jack sounded aghast, "I am not that breed of Southern gentleman. My lingo can verge on the spicy, but I sure as hell wouldn't stoop to that level."

You narrowed your eyes to drive your point home. "I really hope not." The agent inclined his head once more, putting a hand over his heart in a display of sincerity.

The front legs of the chair met the floor with a soft clatter, once again putting him on stable footing. "Now, I been wrackin' my brain tryin' to drum up a good premise like you asked, but I ain't exactly big in the screenwritin' department. I figure it could be kinda' like I'd been kidnapped? Drawin' a blank on why my kidnapper would be rawdoggin' me, maybe you can come up with somethin'?" He queried hopefully.

You furrowed your brow in thought, going silent as you carefully considered the hodgepodge of contributing factors. "Oh, I think I can manage."

...

This deck had been rigged from the start. In theory, you knew that he knew that. Still, he was certainly acting like it stung his pride a bit that he'd fallen into your 'trap' so cleanly.

Everything was going according to plan.

Whiskey struggled against the binds that secured him to the kitchen chair. His whip was safely confiscated. Lasso out of reach. Hat was still on his head. He had specifications, after all.

You left him to wriggle for almost half an hour while you got yourself ready. The man was a secret agent, after all. If he hadn't been restrained for much longer than that at any given point you would be very surprised.

You finally opened the bathroom door, sauntering out into the cabin's small kitchenette. "Miss me, love?" You crooned, committing to your role as villainous vamp stereotype number six. You had worn a plain set of underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, soft and see-through from the amount of times it had been washed. You got the feeling that if you went more elaborate, you might scare Whiskey off or make him too uncomfortable to really get into it. This scene was all about trust, and he hardly knew you. But he had sought you out for this. All you had to do was follow through.

"Was beginnin' to worry that you forgot about me, ma'am." The agent drawled back, his smile tightly sardonic and his low voice curling hot in your belly. "You fixin' to untie me yet?"

You clicked your tongue, the noise disappointed. "Whiskey, sweetheart, where's the fun in that? If I untie you, you'll just kill me."

"Can't blame a man for tryin'." Jack was absolutely in his element right now. He looked furious.

You ambled around behind him, slinging your arms around his neck and resting your weight on him briefly. "Remember," you murmured in his ear. "If you need me to slow down, or need to stop entirely, you say…?"

"Second, first and neutral." The agent replied readily. You patted his cheek.

"Good boy." You praised.

"Ain't my first rodeo." Whiskey's tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips and you wanted to reassure him, but you knew you had a job to do.

"Now, can I get you a light refreshment? Something to drink? Maybe some chips?" You offered, moving to the small refrigerator that you had stocked a little earlier in the day. Planning was imperative for engagements like this. "I have water, sweet tea, Coke…"

"Dammit woman, stop beatin' around the bush! Why the hell do you have me hogtied to this damn chair?!" Jack erupted.

"So rude." You chided him, removing a water for yourself and then leaning casually against the counter. "You really want to know, Mr. Whiskey?"

"Obviously." He scowled.

"Well be a patient boy and maybe I'll tell you." You hummed, not making eye contact as you unscrewed the cap on the water bottle. "It was more than enough trouble for me to get you here in the first place, big shot. Don't rush me."

"Listen, I'll be the first to tell you that I probably ain't who you're lookin' for." He said bluntly. "I'm just a simple liquor tycoon, nothin' more."

"Mr. Whiskey, if you continue to insult my intelligence maybe I will decide I've got the wrong man. And then I'll just get rid of you." You swirled the water in the bottle, fixing him with a thoughtful look.

"You're talkin' a mighty big game, woman." Jack grumbled.

You sloshed some of the water on your thin white shirt as if by accident, and began daubing at the gauzy fabric aimlessly. "Whiskey-"

"It's Jack." He spat.

"Oh, we're on a first name basis? How exciting!" You teased him, laughing when he muttered angrily under his breath. He was clearly enjoying the role of 'belligerent definitely-not-a-spy'. "Alright then, Jack. I won't beat around the bush, as you so tactfully put it."

"Hallelujah, some goddamn cooperation." He replied in a sulky tone.

"So, Jack, I need you to come inside me. Strictly so I can bypass Statesman's biomechanical security systems. It's nothing personal, I just assumed you would be the easiest target, you know?" You remarked with a shrug. "The flirty cowboy with the filthy mouth." He stared at you and you raised an eyebrow, half-convinced that his reaction was legitimate. "What? You do have a reputation."

"I hate to break it to ya', but you got the wrong beverage. You're lookin' for Tequila, ma'am." Jack retorted, his voice a little raspy. "You want...what?"

"I need you to come inside me so I can use the your genetic signature to bypass the security." Granted, you were pretty certain that Statesman used exclusively fingerprints, retina scans and time locks, but Whiskey had told you to weave a good story for the setup, not necessarily an accurate one.

Jack swallowed hard. "You've got bats in your fuckin' belfry, woman. You expect me to-"

"Oh no, that's the beauty of this arrangement." You interrupted him, still smiling. "I don't expect you to do anything aside from sit there and stay still while I ride you."

"Jesus fuck woman, you--shit, isn't there some other way to do this? I ain't keen on the prospect, but if there's literally any other way…"

"Sorry. This is the only solution that my superiors could get behind." You sighed, feigning regret. "And we might be here a while, from what I've heard." Jack's eyes darted to yours and he flushed, working his jaw. "Don't look so glum! I'm one of the best in my field. I'm sure I'll be able to compensate for your...lack of investment."

"You touch me and I swear to God-"

"Ah ah, naughty boys get gagged." You threatened gently, walking your fingers up the side of his face to stroke them back down his jawline. Jack glared at you, his dark gaze fairly luminous with fury and maybe just a touch of poorly-veiled interest. "Be a good boy and I'll let you talk as much as you want. Maybe I'll even let you play with my tits, hmm?" You asked, cupping your breasts through your still-damp shirt. "Would you like that, love?"

"I…" Jack trailed off, then snapped his eyes back up from your chest. "No!"

You tapped his nose, winking. "Oh I think you would. Don't be so stubborn, Jack." You cocked your head to the side. "No one from Statesman even knows you're gone. No one is coming to rescue you." You informed him, all the playfulness evaporated from your voice. "You're mine now, Jack. My own personal key-card."

"You won't get away with this." Jack snarled.

"I think I already have." You knelt between his legs, running your hands over the jeans that covered his thighs. He squirmed, trying to dislodge you, but you just moved with him. You dug your nails into his thighs. "You keep wiggling and I'm going to have to tighten the ropes, Jack. Is that what you want?"

"Oh you filthy fuckin' woman, you absolute bitch, let me go!"

"Hmm," you tapped your chin as he kept jerking and straining against the knots. "No."

Jack froze when your fingers unbuttoned the button at the top of his fly. "Now wait, wait just a damn minute, y-you can't--" he tried to plead.

"Oh I can. And I will." You looked up at him. "As long as we're in the right gear?"

"Sixth, sixth." He affirmed, flashing you a quick smile. You nodded and seamlessly resumed your play.

The zipper of his fly opened devastatingly slow, the agent exhaling raggedly when you pulled up his shirt and palmed his groin gently through the fabric of his boxer briefs. His cock was already half-hard, and you pointed that out with a mean little smirk on your face. "Oh no, looks like someone's interested." You crooned, rubbing your index finger over the head of his still-clothed dick.

"Fuck off, you...y-you-" he swore, rolling his shoulders as if he was testing his bonds. "You little bitch."

"Temper temper." You chided, ducking your head down to mouth over the fabric of his boxers. Jack gasped out another swear over your head, his hips twitching up to meet you before he slammed them back down. "Methinks someone doth protest too much." You snorted, splaying your fingers on the newly-revealed skin of his stomach. "We could make this so much simpler if you would just give in, Jack." You didn't miss the way his skin jumped at your touch, and you smiled against his boxers.

"You'll--you'll have to do better than that." Whiskey breathed. "You think just any ol' woman can get me up?"

You stood, leaning in close and pressing your mouth to his ear. His whole body flinched when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gave him a nice, slow stroke. "Oh, poor thing. You must believe you're really special, hmm? God's gift to mankind every time you take someone to bed." You mocked, your teeth and tongue laving over his earlobe. "We're all so lucky to have you, Jack."

"Hhn-" Jack's shoulders went stiff, the man obviously biting his tongue.

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart. I'm going to get you hard. Then, I'm going to use your cock. And all you have to do, my lovely, handsome cowboy, is come inside me." You informed him, drawing a finger beneath his chin. "More than once, preferably."

"I'm not usually a man to voice my own shortcomin's, but I must warn you that this will be a futile-" Whiskey's words hitched in his throat when you stroked him again. "Fuck, no, don't touch me like that, you--"

"Stop playing hard to get, Jack." You murmured, slinking your free hand up the back of his neck to massage his scalp right beneath the band of his hat. "Give up."

"Never." He hissed even as his head lolled forward, granting you more access to rub his neck.

"Pity." You settled back down between his legs and wrapped your lips around his cock.

"No, no, dammit-" Whiskey growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Don't you fuckin'...no, no, don't use your tongue the-ah f-uck--" His protest died in a pitiful groan when his cock met the back of your throat. "Oh, you--fuckin'--you've got to be shittin' me woman, the whole-?" He grunted out haphazardly as you relaxed your throat and took him all the way down to the base. "You think y-you can take advantage of me jus' cuz' it's been a while since I got laid? Fuck you."

You hummed around his cock, wanting to giggle when he twitched and swore loudly. Your fingers dove past the hem of your underwear, and you moaned against him as you ran your index in slow, steady circles around your clit.

"I ain't fuckin' you, and I sure as shit am not gonna' come in your pussy." Jack snarled.

"Oh yes you are." You sang, rising to your feet and slipping your panties off. The white t-shirt came next, baring your breasts to the air-conditioned environment.

Jack seemed to forget that he was supposed to be vehemently against this yet again as he just...watched while you teased your nipples. You tugged at the taut peaks, rolling them between your fingers and making a show out of the whole bit.

"I can't wait to have you inside me, filling me up, just pumping me full of your come." You said with a smile, sauntering over until you would be in reach if his hands were free. Jack's tongue made a nervous reappearance and you tugged his chin upwards so you could see his eyes. "Are we still in gear? Or do we need to shift?" You asked. He seemed slightly dazed.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, s-sixth." He stammered. "Sixth, holy shit."

"Mm. Don't disappoint me and maybe I'll let you live." You remarked smoothly, swinging one leg over his lap and straddling him. Jack's shoulders were rigid again and you kneaded at them surreptitiously, trying your best to keep him in the scene and out of his own head.

You were well on your way to soaking wet with arousal. There was nothing better than when you had a partner that trusted you, regardless of whether you had truly earned that trust. Just the fact that they had blind faith in you to execute the endeavor that they needed...it was heady and sweet and you loved every second.

You rutted your pussy against the underside of Jack's cock, the man snapping his teeth at the sensation. "Too good?" You taunted, laughing when he swore again.

"I can't believe that you think I'm fuckin' enjoyin' th--look, any dick perks up at heavy pet-"

Cutting Whiskey off mid-sentence was quickly becoming a favorite pastime, you realized as you angled your hips and let the head of his cock push past your pussy lips. "In, just a little, give you a taste, sweetheart…" you sighed, rocking your hips forward and back but not allowing him to sink any deeper into you. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" You cajoled as he shuddered beneath you. "Just keep being good, my sweet cowboy, and this will all be over so much sooner."

"No, no-" He struggled to move, to do anything, but you had made certain to tie him exactly as he had specified. "Dammit, when I get free of here, I'll--"

"Shh, you think too much." You tapped your index finger to his lips, smoothing it over the bristle of his mustache. "Focus on your job right now, and everything will be fine."

Jack turned his face away, inadvertently presenting the thick column of his neck to you. And you, channeling your inner villain, leaped at the opportunity to lick and bite at the bared skin. He made a strange noise, a combination of a moan and a whine that had you raising an eyebrow.

"Is someone a little sensitive there?"

"No, I am not." He answered through gritted teeth. "I hate that you're touchin' me, that's all!"

"Hmm, it doesn't sound like you hate it." You mused, suckling gently at the spot where his jaw met his throat. You were very careful not to leave marks, as that had been another specification. Whiskey struggled underneath you again, only succeeding in pumping his cock up into you slightly.

"Don't, don't--" His voice actually cracked and you smiled, nuzzling your nose beneath his jawline and letting his dick settle deeper.

"Oh no, it seems like you do want to fuck me after all." You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back and stroking over the base of his cock with two fingers. "Warming up to the idea of being my little fuck toy, Jack?" You teased, noting the way his knuckles whitened from his grip on the rope and his Adam's apple bobbed with the force of his convulsive swallow at your words. "I could just keep you here like this forever, you know. All tied up, helpless for me…" You squeezed the base of his cock and he gasped, trying to stifle the noise. "Soon, I'd have you trained so that you couldn't come from any other pussy aside from mine. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Without waiting for an answer, you let the last few inches of his dick enter you. You leaned back on his thighs, feeling the muscles coil and strain beneath your touch as you reached down and grazed your clit. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, those brown eyes fixated on the motions of your fingers even as his cock split you open. You were grateful that he was secured, you weren't sure if you would have been able to take him otherwise. His cock curved thickly against your back wall, the engorged head throbbing back and forth over the area that made your whole body shudder in delight.

Whiskey's jaw was taut, his shoulders set in a rigid line that made you ache to get him to come undone in you.

"You're so quiet." You pouted, raising your hand and brushing your wet index finger over his slack lower lip. "Aren't you having a good time?"

His chest abruptly expanded, like he had forgotten to breathe for a moment or two. "Fuck you." Whiskey seethed, making you chuckle softly. "I ain't nobody's goddamn fuck toy."

"Sweetheart," you chided as you sat up. "That's not a very nice thing to say to the person warming your cock right now." You deliberately clenched down on him and Jack swore under his breath, shaking his head. "I can make you feel so good, Whiskey, if you just give me what I want." You insisted, cupping his face and pulling halfway off of his cock.

"N-N...No." He replied weakly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and shaking out your shoulders. "Well, I tried." Your hands landed on his shoulders and you gripped down to steady yourself, your hips meeting his own with a wet slap! of skin. Jack's chest heaved, his eyes closed and head tilted back as you began to ride him roughly. "All I wanted was for you to come in me. I don't feel like that's asking for much!" You complained petulantly, rolling your hips against his when he was hilted in you with an agonizingly slow grind of your body.

Jack bit out a low "fuck," those tense shoulders trembling under your touch. You tucked your face into his neck to tease the sensitive area even more, your tongue tracing random patterns that made him squirm and writhe underneath you. "I don't--can't, can't, don't make me--" he tried to protest, his words fractured and pitiful.

"Yes you can, and you're going to." You snapped, taking a handful of hair at the nape of his neck so you could urge his head back further, leaving his throat at your mercy. "You're coming in me, Jack! Give up!"

...

"First!" He choked out, and you immediately slowed to a crawl. Your touch on him gentled significantly, no longer demanding but cradling, caressing.

"Easy, easy." You soothed, the unrelenting assault of your perfect hips gone to a slow and careful rhythm, back and forth like a porch swing in the summer heat. Your eyes searched his own, concern shining through.

Jack was speechless, his blind panic melting away at the sound of your regular voice. What the hell just happened? He licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they had gotten. "Sorry, I uh-"

"No apologies." You murmured. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Would you like to stop now?"

Whiskey took a long moment, running a mental check on his body. Nothing was sore, nothing seemed out of line. Everything was raring to go.

Everything aside from his brain, that is. The damn thing wouldn't stop conjuring up scenes of you pregnant and everything going to absolute fucking shit. It didn't matter that he had zero attachment to you, it didn't matter that you were on birth control. This was how it always was.

Every damn time things got serious with a new interest, "oh, let's start a family," Whiskey just wanted to curl up into a ball. Without fail, like clockwork, he would shut down.

And then the accusations would start, the distrust, "How come you can do it with protection but not without?" and it was disheartening, crushing to go through again and again. Explaining didn't seem to do a lick of good, it was always just that he was stringing people along, that he was a damn selfish prick, that he didn't care about what his partner wanted.

That couldn't be further from the truth, of course, but maybe that was his own fault for not dropping the bomb before getting attached to someone. He just couldn't ever seem to justify asking a person on their second or third date, "hey so what's your thoughts on having kids?" It felt manipulative, cheap, and if he was being honest, he knew for a fact that sometimes just the idea of having children was enough to scare a potential interest off.

You were the first person to try and help Jack really wrap his head around this whole issue. And yeah, that was the whole point in sussing you out, but…

Tequila didn't tell him that you actually gave a shit, or at least you were damn good at acting like you did. Whiskey bit his lip. "I'm okay." He said finally, trying for a smile.

"Anything chafing? Do you need some water?"

"I…" Jack trailed off. "Huh, I admit I am a bit parched. But that means you'd have to get up." He realized unhappily.

"Were you enjoying yourself?" You asked, sounding curious.

Whiskey got the hysterical idea in his head of you pulling out some sort of satisfaction survey at the end of your engagement, the notion making him smirk slightly. "God, yeah. I...yeah." He flushed a little bit. "Dunno' if I ever got this far after…after all my mental hangups and stuff. The fact that I don't have a say in the matter seems to be helpin', though."

"Okay, don't go anywhere. I'll get you some water." You patted his thigh, cautiously settling your feet on the floor and then going to stand with a quivery little gasp that absolutely stroked his ego.

Jack couldn't help his own groan at the loss of your heat, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Damn it woman, has anyone ever told you that your pussy is fuckin' perfect?" He muttered, his usual honeyed words suddenly clumsy in his mouth. "I mean, hell."

You laughed, bending over to dig in the small fridge for another water. Whiskey felt his entire body throb at the sight of you presenting yourself to him like that, and he sucked in a breath at your obvious teasing. Even in the soft light of the kitchen, he could see the glisten of the wetness between your legs. Hell yes, he found himself thinking stupidly as you turned back around.

"I'm just glad that you're doing alright. That's the most important part to me, after all." You assured him, unscrewing the cap on the water and tipping it to his lips.

Jack gulped greedily, feeling a few droplets escape his mouth and run down his neck to blot his collar. "I am. One hundred percent." He said firmly after he had slaked his thirst. "Let's keep goin'."

"If you're sure, absolutely." You acquiesced, smiling again. Placing the water bottle on the kitchen table, you then swung your leg over his thighs like you were vaulting back into the saddle. Jack held his breath, waiting for you to welcome his cock back into your body. And God he was so hard, he couldn't remember ever being this hard, what the hell--

But strangely, you didn't immediately resume from where you had left off. Instead, you put your arms around his neck and actually rested your forehead against his own, bumping his hat upwards.

Jack swallowed roughly, confused.

"Let me take this from you." You whispered. Whiskey felt pinned by your stare, he felt as if you could see every terrible thing he had ever done, every transgression laid bare under the weight of your gaze. "Let go of it. I have you. I won't let anything happen to you."

The words washed over him, soft and sweet. Your fingers slipped up into the hair at the nape of his neck to toy with the mussed ends that lurked there. The whole exchange was oddly intimate and Jack found himself at a loss yet again, simply grating out, "sixth," when he couldn't come up with anything else to say.

You reached down and stroked his cock, rubbing the head of it against your clit. And Jesus he could feel you, the difference in heat, the slick--

"Are you gonna' take it from me, sweet girl?" He hissed through his teeth like it wounded him to ask, trying desperately to cling to the illusion that he wasn't willing. "Take everythin' I've got?"

The blur between reality and this playdate was getting messier by the second. He wanted to fuck you, wanted to bury himself in you, spend every last drop inside the hot embrace of your quivering cunt. He wanted that. Jesus Christ, this wasn't part of the bargain.

This was a pantomime, specially designed pornography that existed only to coax a very specific reaction from his confused body. So why did he wish he had met you years ago? Why was he suddenly hoping and praying that the sounds you were making were legitimate instead of exclusively for his benefit, hoping that you were also enjoying this?

You angled your hips and sank back down on his lap, your hands going to your breasts where you proceeded to fondle and tease them until your nipples looked like they ached.

Whiskey fucking ached himself to wrap his lips around one pert little peak, swirl his tongue across the tip and make you come undone, rut his dick up into you until you cried out his name and soaked him--

Whoa cowboy, he chastised himself, a little startled by how sharp the longing was. You just kept fucking yourself on his cock, that hot, wet little pussy molded perfectly to every ridge of his member and he had never been this hard, this ready in his life. Despite the air conditioning in the cabin, your skin shone with sweat from all the work you were putting in and Whiskey couldn't recall a time where he had been more appreciative of someone else accomplishing a task within his field of vision.

Your hand slipped down, down, and Jack found himself following the trajectory until it delved between your legs and you started playing with yourself. "Jack," you crooned his name and it was like a prayer, reverent and soft, tender enough to coil itself around his lungs and choke him to death without a whisper of protest. You parted your legs even wider in his lap, exposing yourself to him so he could watch his cock slide in and out of you, so he could see himself fucking you open.

"Are you gonna' come for me, sweet girl?" He gasped, craning his neck and managing to tilt his head so he could mutter into your ear, "you just gonna' wrench one out for me, beautiful?"

"Mm, no, I'm not coming until after you come." You whimpered, still moving your hand. "But I'm so close, Jack. I want to come."

Your plaintive whine had him ablaze. God, he had never wanted to please someone so damn badly in his life. "I know you do, sweet girl." He murmured huskily, exhaling hot over the shell of your ear and loving the way you quivered in his lap. "You're so good, lettin' me blow my load before you get off--gonna' pump me dry when you come, aren't you? Just keep me inside you until that little pussy is all fucked out," he growled, barely aware of the words that tumbled from his mouth.

All he knew is that you were all a-tremble at his voice, your body as hot as late July against his chest, your eyes heavy with adoration that he did not deserve and God, he couldn't get used to that look even if it was fake. What if you stayed? he wondered absently. What if you stayed?

Oh fuck, he was about to come. Panic jabbed like the blade of a knife between his shoulder blades and Whiskey went silent, his teeth bearing down on his lower lip and his eyes slamming shut as he focused harder than he ever had in his life.

The smell of you, the sounds, the heat, the little spasms of your cunt around his cock…

Yes. Yes, God yes, he could do this--

"Come in me, sweetheart." Begging him, pleading, demanding, "Jack-!" You cried his name.

Whiskey groaned hoarsely, so low it was almost painful, and let go. He bucked his hips up against you as best as he could, minute little thrusts while he came harder than he had in years. "Oh," he snarled, gritting his teeth, "fuckin' Christ woman, I think you've ruined me, Jesus fuck."

Your hands threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck again and you held him, not tightly, but just enough to keep him steady, anchored. "There," you said abruptly, the snide, put-upon tone of your role contrasting wildly with the gentleness of your touch, "was that so difficult?"

Jack burst out laughing, not overly concerned with how strange of a reaction that was. Hell, was he relieved? "Jesus fuckin' Christ, you're great." He remarked breathlessly. "I don't even know what just happened."

"Oh?" You replied, raising an eyebrow. "The mess between my legs seems to allude to you possibly having an orgasm. Jury's still out though."

He grimaced apologetically, glancing down. "Sorry darlin'. It's been a while, y'know?" You rose up off of him again and he grunted as his cock slipped free from your body. Whiskey felt half-drunk, relief and release combining into a potent cocktail that left him boneless in the chair.

You quickly put your shirt back on and then crouched at his feet, beginning the arduous process of untying him. Jack just sat there, watching you drowsily. He couldn't do much else, really. "Any numbness or chafing?" You asked quietly, stirring him momentarily from his daze.

"Nah, nothin' yet." He replied, straightening his freed left leg and rotating his ankle in his boot. "A little stiff, but I've survived worse than that."

"And how do you feel?" You questioned, "physically and emotionally."

Jack gnawed at his lower lip, trying to force his sluggish brain past the haze of serotonin in order to give you a satisfactory answer. "...good." He said finally, scrambling to elaborate, "or uh, better, I guess. More okay than I've been in a fuckin' while." It wasn't a lie, he was surprised to discover. He hadn't actually put much stock into this endeavor, figuring it would be a fun little diversion that would end just like every other time. Of course, it didn't hurt that you were easy on the eyes, prettier than a peach if he was being honest with himself.

Your smile was bright and Jack's stomach knotted confusingly. "I'm glad."

His right leg was released and he shifted his weight in the seat, groaning happily when his hip popped. "Hey, wait." The agent belatedly realized, "you didn't-?"

"We were here for you." You reminded him. "Not me."

"Whoa now, that don't seem fair at all!" Whiskey protested, taken aback by your nonchalance. "You just put in all the work!"

Your laugh tripped down his spine like an aftershock. "Don't get bent out of shape! It's standard policy, Mr. Whiskey. Once the desired result of the scene has been acquired, the scene ends and I start with aftercare."

"B-But--you didn't get to get off though!"

"Me 'getting off' wasn't specified in our planning."

"I needed to specify that shit?! I figured you'd just kinda'..." His right arm was free now and Jack seized the opportunity to make a certain gesture, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I was at your mercy!" He continued, bewildered. "You totally coulda' just kept goin'-"

"Yes, and that's exactly why when the desired result has been achieved, the scene ends." You interjected firmly. "Because you trusted me enough to let me take control, and I'm not about to break that trust by doing something selfish on a whim."

Jack exhaled hard, scooting his hat a little further back on his head so he could study you. You didn't look disappointed, or annoyed with him. He wondered how many times you had fielded ignorant questions like his own and he cringed at himself. "I'm...shit, I'm sorry. I don't have any right to be all shitty about it." He apologized as you moved out of his field of view to untie the rope securing him to the back of the chair. "I just feel like you worked so hard an' got nothin' out of your end of the bargain."

"It's sweet of you to be concerned about that, but don't take it personally, okay?" You assured him, "I do this because I enjoy it. The whole experience, not just the finale." The ropes around his chest sagged and Jack slid forward a bit in the seat, relaxing.

"Can I get that water again? Christ, I need a cigarette and a tumbler of the strong stuff after all that." He joked, clumsily tucking his cock back into his boxers. You pressed the bottle to his hands and he nearly dropped it, chuckling self-consciously. "Whups, sorry. I had my fists all bunched up so my fingers are stiff." Jack proceeded to down the rest of the bottle, wiping his mouth and mustache with the back of his hand after the fact. "So...what exactly is it you do for Tequila?" He queried nosily.

You laughed at him and God, God he loved the sound of your laugh. "That, Mr. Whiskey, is on a need-to-know basis. Just like this little soiree between the two of us." You chided, your eyes bright with good humor. "I would never violate a partner's trust in me."

Jack tipped the bottle in your direction, as if making a toast. "I'll drink to that, partner. What's next on the menu?"

"We'll talk out the scene and wind back down. Get cleaned up. I'll probably…" you paused, squinting at the clock over the sink. "You want some pizza? There's a joint not far from here that serves pies and chicken wings until midnight."

Jack groaned appreciatively, "I knew you were my kinda' gal. Lead the way to the debrief, ma'am."

It didn't really matter in the long run, he supposed. You obviously weren't interested in anything serious (if only because he figured that your flings with the stereotypical 'bad boy' Tequila would have become more regular in spite of the younger man's painful crush on Ginger Ale), and he could respect that. Still though, he couldn't help feeling a touch morose over the possibility of never engaging with you again.

He toyed with the idea of asking you for another 'appointment', but dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it arrived. Better to quit while he was ahead.

Or rather, he amended ruefully as he settled down across from you in the diner booth, his hair still damp and curling slightly beneath his hat from the quick wash he had indulged in at your cabin, better to quit now before I make even more of a fool of myself.

Part Two

#jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman: the golden circle #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character #agent whiskey imagine #consensual noncon #whew where did this come from #enjoy!#working things out

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone.

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden.

Genocide, basically.

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara.

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart.

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs!

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable.

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story.

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.)

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play.

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR.

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops.

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+.

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots.

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.)

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

#supergirl: woman of tomorrow #long post #dc comics #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #kara zor el #comic thoughts #comic opinions #just occurred to me I should be crediting the creative team in these things #I think thus far I've included every title page?#still #will try to be better about that going forward

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