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cowgurrrl · 2 months

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Dear Arkansas Daughter

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: A truce [2.8k]

Warnings: guilt, Andie being a menace, so much yearning, Ellie has an anxiety attack, comfort, June pushing her Mary Oliver agenda once again

You don't speak to Joel all throughout the winter break. You get so busy with family events, work, and painting that you don't even notice it until a song he recommended comes on while you're working, and you reach for your phone to tell him about it. You stared at his contact for a little too long, debating your options, before you finally sighed and threw your phone on your bed.

Sarah's home for the break. He's probably busy with the girls. The last thing he needs is to hear from you after you got out of his truck without even saying a proper goodbye. The silence feels like a staring contest or a challenge of wills to see who will break no contact first. It sucks, but thankfully, Ellie is none the wiser and even texts you Merry Christmas with a picture of her and Sarah with reindeer ears on the abnormally cold December morning. You reason this is the best-case scenario for a really shitty situation. No reason for anyone to get more involved than they absolutely have to, right?

Andie's reappearance on Texas soil is a welcome reprieve from the guilt. You pick her up from the airport once she gets back from visiting her parents in Dallas and run into her arms like she's a long-lost lover. "You're here!" You yell as you squeeze her tight.

"You're here!" She mimics. Her dark curls tickle your face, and she laughs loudly in your ear, but you don't care. Just having her within the same zip code again makes you feel like a kid. On the drive to your apartment, you sing along to a playlist she curated specifically for your time together— a perfect mix of Beyonce, ABBA, and Joni Mitchell— and talk about everything from her parents to work to Vienna weather. She takes all of five steps into your apartment before she guns for your newest canvases drying against the wall.

"Those aren't done!" You scold but you couldn't stop her from fawning over them if you tried.

"Are you kidding? These are amazing." She says, gasping when she sees the corner of another one peeking out behind the stack. "Babe!"

"Alright, alright, calm down. They're still in the early stages. They probably won't look anything like this when they're done."

"You're right. I'm sure they'll be even better when they're done," she calls as you walk into your bedroom and drop her suitcase at the foot of the bed. You don't have a guest room, and there's no way you're gonna make her sleep on the couch, so you get to have a good old-fashioned sleepover again. You’re secretly really excited just to sit in bed and do nothing with her. When you walk back into the living room, she's holding an old, reworked painting with a fond smile. "Are you going to submit these for exhibition?" She asks, and you shrug as you lean against the back of the couch.

"I don't know. Maybe? They just don't feel done."

"That's because the longer you stare at something, the more things you want to change about it."

"It's not a bad thing to want to make sure something's perfect."

"If you wait for perfection, you'll never make anything, and you know that." She says, cocking an eyebrow at you, and you roll your eyes at how well she knows you. "Isn't that what you tell your students?"

"Oh, God, please don't pull the teacher card on me right now. I'm supposed to be on vacation." You groan, and she laughs.

"Does it count as vacation if we have to go to the student showcase tonight?" She asks.

"Yes, it does because you're here, and I don't have to lecture a group of thirty teenagers about pointillism," you say. "And you really don't have to come. All I have to do is show up to support the kids for a couple of hours and leave. I'll be home before nine, and then we can go out and actually do something fun."

"Is Hot Single Dad gonna be there?" She asks, waggling her eyebrows at you, and you give her a look.

"You said you'd stop calling him Hot Single Dad."

"Hot Single Dad is so fun, though," she whines. "Also, you're avoiding the question. Is he gonna be there?"

"Ellie's work is being shown, so yeah, most likely, but there will be lots of people there. I doubt we'll even see him."

"Oh, I'll see him."

"Andrea Lynn," you scold, and she throws her hands up. "We're gonna go and be professional and not cross any lines that could get us in trouble, right?" You think you're saying it more for your own benefit than hers, but she still puts up three fingers and nods.

"Scouts honor."

The gallery's atrium is buzzing with conversation and excited kids from all across the district. The winter sun set long ago, but the warm lighting of the space makes it feel a little less oppressive. Small trays of refreshments make their rounds as you talk with other teachers and some parents you know. You introduce Andie to each of them, mostly to sing her praises about being a professional musician in Vienna, and she chatters away with anyone about anything. You easily kill half an hour just mingling with people before the exhibition officially starts.

At the hour, someone on the school board (you don't know their name or position, and honestly, you think it's too late to pretend like you care enough to find out) stands on a makeshift stage and says something about the importance of art in academia. You doubt it's a sentiment he actually shares, considering you've never seen him at any other art-related events, but you clap politely anyway. Halfway through his spiel, you just barely catch the sound of squeaky boots coming through the door and turn to see the source without fully thinking it through.

There, through the crowd of heads, you lock eyes with Joel. Tommy and Ellie are at his side and wave politely. Sarah must've gone home before the New Year. You think you remember him saying something about her working at a clinic in Boston? You're a little disappointed you won't get to meet her, especially after hearing such amazing things, but you can't focus on that. Joel's eyes don't move from yours, even when Ellie and Tommy turn their attention to the speaker at the front.

His hair has gotten long since the last time you saw him, the curls defiantly sweeping around his ears after an obvious attempt to tame it, and he looks well-rested. Despite the extra length of his hair, his beard has been recently trimmed and the salt-and-pepper stubble well maintained. He's wearing a nice dark green shirt (a Christmas gift?) and a well-broken-in denim jacket. He looks good. Of course, he does. Andie notices you're not paying attention and bumps your shoulder.

"'S that Hot Single Dad?" She whispers, and you shake your head.

"Not here." You beg. She seems to want to question you further about it, but she doesn't. You're sure she'll buy you a drink or two to loosen up after this and spill your guts. You sit through the rest of the speech without any more hiccups before you're finally allowed to view the gallery.

Everyone is all smiles and excited chatter when you enter the colorful room. Thrilled parents take pictures of their kids next to their work, and proud art teachers point out their student's talents to others. There's a wide array of art. Anything from photography, drawings, paintings, sculptures, and even a video of a performance projected onto the wall. You catch bits of people’s conversations and hear a lot of chatter about the artist from your school. You don’t need any more context to know who they’re talking about. You and Andie walk side-by-side in silence as you look at the different works, only talking when you come across one of your kids' works. She makes you take a picture in front of each one, and you feel a little silly, but you can't fight the pride in your chest.

Andie has always had the unique ability to celebrate you for things you wouldn't celebrate yourself for. In reality, all you did was push them to make the art and consult them through the process, but she reminds you that they might not even have made anything if it weren't for you. It makes you feel special and seen. It makes you wish she lived closer so you could do the same for her by showing up to performances and taking pictures of her in her element so she can cherish them. It makes you forget about Hot Single Dad until Tommy rushes up to you, calling your name.

"Mr. Miller, it's good to see you." You greet politely, but he's out of breath and looks stressed as he looks at both of you. He softens when he sees Andie and takes a deep breath to pull himself together.

"I don't believe we've met," he charms and offers his hand to Andie. "I'm Tommy, Ellie's uncle."

"I'm Andie, the forever teacher's pet," she shakes his hand and gives you a look over her shoulder. "Honey, you didn't tell me how handsome Ellie's uncle is." She says. Tommy smirks and looks flattered, but mentioning Ellie brings him back to the moment.

"Ellie's askin' for you." He says, and you furrow your brows and look behind him.

"Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She got real upset bout somethin' but wouldn't say. She just said she wanted to talk to you." Fuck, you think. Did she find out? If so, how? There's no way Joel would've told her, especially tonight of all nights. Is she upset about how her art is being shown? Is she mad at you? Possibilities run through your head and twist your stomach into knots, but you don't hesitate to follow Tommy. If she says she needs you, then you need to be there.

Andie follows closely behind as you and Tommy weave through the crowd until you come to a stairwell off the side of the gallery, away from overlapping voices and bright colors. When the door creaks open and echoes through the empty space, you see Joel and Ellie sitting on a step, tears staining her face. Andie says something about hanging back, and Tommy agrees to wait with her, but all your focus is on the crying kid in front of you. You wait until the door shuts behind you to settle onto the step under theirs and pull Ellie's hand out of her balled-up fist. Joel watches you carefully but doesn't try to stop you.

"Hey," you say gently, like she's a scared animal. "What's goin' on? I heard you wanted to talk to me."

"I," she tries, but her voice catches in her throat, and more tears well in her eyes. You rub your thumb across her knuckles and shush her gently.

"You're alright. Take a breath, okay?" She does, and Joel reaches out to rub her back soothingly. A few more tears fall down Ellie's face as you wait her out. You catch Joel's eyes over her shoulder, and he gives you a grateful look. All you do is nod.

"I'm not good enough to be here," she finally gets out. "Everyone's work is so much better than mine, and I... I think they made a mistake. I can't compete."

"That's not true. That's what your anxiety is telling you. That's not even close to the truth." You say firmly. She shakes her head as she looks at her dad.

"We shouldn't have even come." She says, and he pulls her under his arm, kissing her temple.

"Honey, they took your art for a reason. We're not here by accident. We're here because you worked hard and made somethin' so beautiful that they had to show it."

"He's right," you say. "Hundreds of students apply for this exhibition every year, and every year, hundreds of students get rejected. But not you. You worked and earned your spot here. How many days did you show up early to my classroom to work on it, huh?" You ask, and she wipes her eyes. She seems to calm down a little at your words but still shrugs like she’s unsure of herself.

"I don't know."

"Ellie, you were in my room for at least a month straight working on this. Somedays, you were painting before I even had a chance to turn on the lights. You got up early and stayed late, and it shows. You made something so wonderful the district couldn't keep it a secret. Do you know how many people are talking about your yellow painting?"

"People were talking about it?" She asks, and you nod, squeezing her hand.

"They kept saying they'd be surprised if you didn't win, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your art teacher. I'm saying that because it's true." You say. She chews at her bottom lip and stares at her shoes as she thinks.

You knew about Ellie's anxiety long before this moment. She's spent many planning periods in your classroom venting or crying about it, and you pointed her to the correct resources. She's in therapy and on medication to help her control it, but it still rears its ugly head every once in a while. With all the teenage emotions and daily battles, you're not surprised that it does. But it does surprise you that she can't see how special she is. She works so fucking hard— sometimes too much— and she gives her all in everything she does. Of course, people are going to recognize that greatness. Of course, she deserves to be here. Of course, she's going to be amazing.

"Every time I look at it, I just see all the bad things about it." She admits, and you sigh. Of course, she treats her work the exact same way you do.

"I do the same thing," you say, and she looks at you with wide eyes like she wasn't expecting you to actually cop to it. "It doesn't matter how much time I spend on it or if I like the concept; I will find a million things wrong with a piece before I can admit that it's a semi-okay piece of work. I have a canvas sitting in my apartment right now that makes me want to throw up every time I look at it."

"How do you get over it?"

"I'll let you know the second I figure it out," you say, and she smiles a little now that she knows she's not alone in her internal fight. "You deserve to be here, kid. You are hard-working, creative, and smart. You are going to make so much beautiful art in your life, you won't believe it. And it's true that it won't always be the best, and you won't always love it, but the thing all great artists have, regardless of medium, isn't talent. It's resilience. If you wait for perfection, you'll never make anything, so you have to keep going and making things even when you feel like it's bad because the world needs your art. The world needs you, Ellie." You say, echoing Andie's words from earlier. She takes a deep breath, and the weight on her shoulders seems lighter. Her anxiety rolls away like a wave from the shore. It will be back again and again, but she knows people are going to grab her before she can drown. She knows she's got lighthouses. She knows she's okay.

"Thank you," she mumbles, and you nod as you squeeze her hand. She relaxes into Joel and looks up at him. "'M sorry."

"You've got nothin' to be sorry for, baby girl. I'm on your team," he says. He looks at you and chews the inside of his cheek. "We're both on your team." It's a peace offering. An end to the challenge. An acknowledgment that you can't ignore each other forever. You take a deep breath and let your free hand squeeze his calf where Ellie can't see, letting him know you know.

You read a poem once in college about not being afraid of joy and taking advantage of the happiness while it's there. You remember reading the words "Joy is not made to be a crumb" and feeling your chest crack open in that funny way that only art can cause. It couldn't have been longer than two hundred words, and you read it so long ago you're surprised you even remember it, but you're glad you do. You're glad Joel and Ellie came into your life. You're glad you made so many memories with him, and you hope he'll let you in enough to make more as friends. You're glad you called the parent-teacher meeting when you did.

You decide joy is not made to be a crumb, but neither is affection. In that cold, dingy stairwell in downtown Austin, you think you could paint something about this feeling. You think you could be okay with its imperfections. You think you could even submit it. You think you could win the bet.

TAGLISR: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia

#hippies and cowboys #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller au #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller fluff #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fluff #tlou fic #the last of us fluff #the last of us fic #joel miller fic

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prettygirlstothefloor · 30 days

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Cowboy Carter Review

sorry if i write a lot. i like to yap lol

Ameriican Requiem- i'm a huge sucker for a sitar so i was gripped in from the beginning. i grew up on country music (mainly 90s/early 2000s) and so when she showed up at the CMAs and performed with the chicks it was a childhood dream. but as a person who liked country music around the time 9/11 happened, it's only become even more racist since. the way they treated her that night even though she was one of, if not THE, best performer of the night was so upsetting to watch. even as the best artist on the planet, at the top of her game, she's always going to work a million times harder than any of her peers. i'm so proud of her being able to make a song like to this to put her thoughts out on the whole night that night.

Blackbiird- obviously everyone has heard this song before. i was unaware of the actual backstory to the song since i don't follow the beatles too much (i like george harrison but that's about it lol). i was not aware that the song the song was written for black women during the civil rights movement. i assumed the song was mainly written by john lennon who to my knowledge was kind of a grifter when it came to his activism. having this song come right after ameriican requiem is so poetic.

16 Carriages- shockingly i was able to avoid hearing this song in full until tonight. i tend to only do one single per release and so texas hold em was the one. this song is so heartbreaking because i think about all the kids in the entertainment industry who can probably relate to this song all too well

Protector- these songs she makes for her kids... i'm gonna need her to stop. not because they're bad but i straight up can't listen to blue and probably this song because i want a mom like this 😭

My Rose- i hate that this is an interlude. it's so beautiful and not to be dramatic should've been 10 hours long

Smoke Hour • Willie Nelson- idk what to say about this one lol

Texas Hold 'Em- i love this song. the only problem i have with it is it sounds too clean. like the production sounds too clean. maybe it sounds better on the radio where the quality is lower than streaming but its definitely a song that needs to be played not so isolated.

Bodyguard- there's something in this song. she channeled carole king for this on or something. it's so good instantly a top 20 if not top 10 song of hers through her whole discography.

Dolly P- once again idk what to say about this one its too short to say anything

Jolene- i mean i think the same way about her version as i do about dolly's version. why are we getting mad at these women when we should be getting mad at the men?? take away that beyonce is beyonce for a second. if she was a normal lady and this girl was unaware her man was taken, isn't that more on him than anyone? he's letting it happen.

Daughter- her voice in this song is insanity. the control she has is unmatched truly.

Spaghettii- the beat omgggg. i know this would hit so hard in a mashup with "my house" i'm obsessed.

Alliigator Tears- just from hearing snippets of the country music that's on the radio nowadays, i think this might be one of the few songs from this album that they will eat up. i'm not saying that as a diss at all. i love this song alot especially after a second listen.

Smoke Hour II- i guess i can add on here a random tid bit. i made a country playlist in preperation for the album to come out. i made it on valentine's day. tell me why i named it KNTRY. i didn't even know the "radio station" she has on the album was called that lol.

Just for Fun- i don't listen to lana del rey anymore. i had a small time during last year where i did but then she got real messy again and signed that letter thanking joe biden. that being said this song sounds identical to "norman fucking rockwell". which is a compliment because both are good songs. keep jack antonoff away from beyonce though. that's the good thing about beyonce is she doesn't sound like everyone else which he makes everyone do (yes i am a fan of him but i'm critical of his production lol)

II Most Wanted- i'm sorry i've never been a fan of miley cyrus (except for the song she did for black mirror and that one EP she put out). i want to like this song because i like aspects of the song but it being a miley cyrus song with a beyonce feature is not want i want.

Levii's Jeans- this is also a collab i'm not a fan of. i actually enjoy post malone but i would've liked to see them in a more upbeat song.

Flamenco- idk how to take this song. it's stunning as usual. my thoughts on the lyrics though is she's kinda talking to fans maybe like the OG like destiny's child fans who have started to leave because she's starting to experiment more with her sound and they miss her old sound. i would love to know her take on this song in particular. because i know so many artists who decide to change their sound throughout each release are terrified of losing fans because they're so stuck on a certain sound.

The Linda Martell Show- another one i can't say much on since it's an interlude

Ya Ya- now.... remember what i said about bodyguard??? easily top 10. idk where on my ranking but it's there. the interpolation of "these boots were made for walking" and "good vibrations". there's something about that old soul rock sound that gets me every single time. i know that it doesn't sound anything alike but "freedom" has that same vibe, where it takes alot from old 60s blues soul rock. this is gonna hit so good on tour!

Oh Louisiana- i will say i really like this interlude. second favorite out of the ones with actual music

Desert Eagle- another song she chose to make extremely short when it should've been hours long... come on B

Riiverdance- its a fun and cute song. i think the beat is good but i think i like it more on my first listen.

II Hands II Heaven- i'm hoping this will finally click for me. im seeing everyone really love this song but idk whats not clicking for me. i'll definitely keep listening to it though maybe someday.

Tyrant- someone said this is the thique of cowboy carter and yeah i can definitely hear it. it's a sexy song and it's a fun song. definitely like it alot more after a second listen

Sweet • Honey • Buckiin'- her sampling "i fall to pieces" in this song is so special to me. i do want someone to take this "honey" and add it to the end of pure/honey though i wonder if it would sound any good. i think sweet and buckiin are the best songs out of the three of these.

Amen- i love how this really rounds out the album, calling back to the first song. it feels and is a very emotional song. don't know if i'll go back to it only because i think it could make me cry lol

overall, i think it's a solid album. if we're comparing the acts, which idk how you can because they're two distinctly different sounds, i would probably still go with renaissance but there's still so many solid songs on this album that are now some of my top faves. usually i rate out of 10 but it feels too low tbh, so i'm rating it out of 100. it will definitely grow on me just like renaissance did. 89/100.

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seasonschange32 · 2 months

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I'm trying to watch Athena P lore videos because god are they entertaining and so funny. But here's some shows/movies I would love a lore deep dive on and why:

Inspector gadget reboot - the 'romance' between penny and Talon was so confusing yet endearing. Also, loving how chief Quimby just Disguises himself just to give gadget a misson

Total drama - not only was it a huge fan of gross out humor and has our overlord chris mclain, it literally introduced me to the ' bad boy x good girl' trope before ripping it out and taking a character ( who was literally perfect with another) and forcing them together due to aesthetics.

Transformers: robots in Disguise ( 2015) or Transformers prime - two shows that have fanbases debating ( seriously), each saying why each respective show is better. But other than that, both are fine for what they are and gave me two crushes that I hold dearly.

Mia and me - a fairy show that's not only animated but live action? With the main character having an ability to talk to unicorns? And with one of her bullies DISCOVERING HER SECRET LIFE??

Ben and hollies little kingdom - super wholesome and I love how the humans coinside with the fairies

Max and ruby - there's a tiktoker who made a whole series on why ruby was annoying. Need I say more?

Trollhunters and the spin off 3below - honestly from what I remember, I loved the stakes of the show and how cool the Armour the main character had. Regarding the spin off, loving how the bully I think was into the alien girl

Max steel ( not the 2000s one. sorry) - Max having to come up with the most unbelievable excuses as to why he has to go is cliche but also kind of funny? And the fact that the company Max's dad works for has lore as well is kind of interesting

Dino squad - I actually remembered this show through a cringe compilation of all things and had to add it. From the theme song, to the plotines, to the fact that I had a crush on Laruzo even though he was obviously queer coded ( his Dino form was cool though)

Jem and the holograms - the I am a giant song from the misfits lives in my head rent free. Also, jem practicing trying to reveal to that one guy only from him to yell at her is funny to me

Lolirock - same with jem as revolution is iconic as well as the villians. Plus, why is was eventually taken off

The tinker bell movies - forgot I was supposed to mention movies as well ( sorry). But I love them and how the fairies each have their own abilities ( as well as different kinds). From pirate fairies to winter fairies, it's really cool.

Barbie: a fashion fairytale - I love all barbie movies equally but this...this just takes the cake. What other movie will you see ken making a child cry, fairies with attitude, rotting dresses, and a roller skating aunt?

Zoom (2015) - the trailer showing a scene of the main character and her character arguing is honestly what made me want to watch it ( I haven't but I'm planning on it)

Super hero squad - kid me was laughing my butt off when falcon married his bird. So...

The little prince movie - I didn't even read the book but when I saw that the old man had died, I was emotionally devastated, especially after listening to all his stories which inspired the main character to go find the prince UGHHH

The book of life - is it cliche? Yes. Is it like coco? Yes. Do I like that in the end, the main boy has to sing a guitar version of creep to calm down a bull? Absolutely yes!

Epic - josh hutcherson, beyonce, Amanda Seyfried, Johnny knoxville, an enemies to lovers storyline, a snail, a royal guard having a love for the queen, the enemies being bugs, and ANDD a nerdy dad. That's it.

Rise of the guardians - I absolutely love it followed jack and his arc of being seen and when he finally is, the kid and him are just so excited! Also, the fact that a lot of people are simping for the Easter bunny is a testament to how many people will call anyone sexy.

Daniel spellbound - wanted to add this because there's an awesome creator ( cough cough @bonkalore) who's made an amazing au out of this show and I wanted to see what you thought of it and your theories

Bonus options ( just random one's I think could fit): the rainbow fairies series, Lego friends, the complicated life of Claudia Christina Cortez, sonic underground, drama or sisters ( but any book by rainia would be great), Junie b Jones, stoked, barney, goddess girls, glitter force ( that's what I remember it as), invisible sister, a monster in Paris, Maya and miguel, and Martha)

If you want anymore, let me know!

#nostalgic #Athena P #youtube #childhood #this took a lot of time because i have a really bad memory lol #girlblogging #remebering #rise of the guardians #epic 2013 movie #total drama #lolirock #transformers #max steel #tinkerbell #tv shows

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beardedmrbean · 4 months

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Hmm I was watching this video https://youtu.be/DHF8LdiFhW8?si=U3QcuoufihSLEONt

And in the comments they pointed out that parents of the 50’s were children on the Great Depression. Which got me thinking

As you know a lot of people who came from poverty goes crazy when they get famous or successful. The…black community is like that as we can barely comprehend so much wealth at once. Not all as many are slick enough to start their own record labels, clothing, etc.

But that comment got me thinking about the great generation. I can only imagine how crazy they went with the fact they grew up in the Great Depression and then boom the USA is on top of the world. Then they sent their kids to college who got brained that Kinsey studies was good for society.

Yes I know the previous generations prior to boomers had libidos, I mean look at Walt’s and his colleagues/competitors works when the female body got more defined in cartoons.

But we really need to look into the boomers upbringings and their parents prior to prevent another one.

youtube

I wish this was the stawman it looks like but I've seen this all before on here.

Wonder if they'd be terribly shocked at how much "GAY" was ignored in the 50's and beyond.

Couple of teachers at the Christian (ND but Pentecostal run) school I went to, ladies that had a duplex they rented next to each other and always had neither one married or dated that anyone knew of and they were just "really good friends" and had been forever. Both taught 5th grade too.

Didn't even click for me what was likely going on till I was in my 20's and they drifted into my head for some reason, but ya that was in the 80's that was going on.

The arguments about divorce and women not having their own bank accounts honestly hold a lot more water.

The…black community is like that as we can barely comprehend so much wealth at once. Not all as many are slick enough to start their own record labels, clothing, etc.

Herb from "Peaches and Herb" was working well here

"Once again, Fame returned to law enforcement and joined the U.S. Marshals Service in 1986 as a deputized court security officer at the U.S. Court of Appeals for Veterans Claims."

Big part of that I think was him getting shafted on royalties, but initial payouts still should have kept him comfortably middle class for life after the 3rd peaches.

Then we have MC Hammer and Mike Tyson, though being shit with handling money and the fame that comes with it isn't exclusive to any one group regardless of the demographic they're in.

Thankfully the lawyers and accountants are getting better at convincing people to knock it the fuck off so we don't wind up with.

To be fair to Willie his accountants had screwed him and there were some bad investments, oversight of accountants is also part of the bit above this with the getting them to knock it the fuck off part.

Ted Nugent ran into similar, but the accountants had made some really bad investments instead of just flat out not paying his taxes for years.

But ya guys like Dre, Jay Z, Beyonce, and Rhianna from that end of the spectrum have done very well, Michael Jackson for all his eccentricity made some great investments that should be enough to keep his grandkids doing wonderfully even. (as long as they still have half the Beatles catalouge at least)

As for libidos, we been horny since the dawn of horns it got played down some round WW1 or so and people started to reset their memories, there's some nasty stuff out there from the Victorian to Edwardian ages.

#anonymous

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aizenat · 4 days

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Here’s the thing about Meg and the allegations. So like as her lawyer pointed out, this person didn’t ever file any harassment complaints either to Megan or anyone else. Now you can argue “who would he complain to” but Meg had been managed by Roc nation since 2019. Even before she blew up with Savage. So like he could have complained to their hr so there was at least a record of it.

But he didn’t. So, seriously, when did Megan get a chance to know she was making him uncomfortable?

Like I feel like ppl need to really realize that celebrities are NOT like us. They may put their pants on one leg at time like us but they don’t live like us. AT ALL. Wild and crazy parties with things we couldn’t even imagine, all types of drugs everywhere, orgies and kinky sex galore: the real lives of the rich and famous would have even the more liberal of us clutching our damn pearls.

Just like with the Lizzo case, everyone is down to party until the party stops. Especially when the party stops because of their own actions (those backup dancers were obviously bad employees who got mad they got fired for not working the way they were supposed to). Then when the party stops, they want to expose the craziness of these celebs lifestyles, KNOWING it’s supposed to be an industry secret. You want to know why a lot of celebs will go quiet or distance themselves from ppl who get these accusations? Because they don’t want the truth of what THEY get up to to also come out as a result of someone else getting outed. Ppl like “weird she told the cameraman not to say anything” like it’s not well known that anyone working with Beyonce on anything has to sign an ironclad nda and speak no evil they see. And the connection plus the money is more than enough to incentivize them to keep their mouths shut.

This guy and those background dancers got good, cushy gigs and fumbled the bag and now have to go this route after trying to extort these women didn’t work. And they both existed in a way where it’d be hard for them to get another similar gig without a good reference. And if they didn’t leave in the best terms, that’s similar to getting blacklisted. And honestly no one will want to work with them after these lawsuits so they have nothing to lose other than time by filing these lawsuits and almost everything to gain if they win or (more likely) settle out of court.

Megan herself is not a business or company, and likely didn’t hire this guy formally. And if she did, he likely knew beforehand (either was told or quickly learned) what all he’d see and be taking pictures of. And especially if he was partying with Megan, he knew what would be going on. He’s a fucking liar.

Also, America is an at-will employment country (outside Montana lol). Meaning an employer can, technically, fire you at any time and that’s their right. But it also means that as a worker, you’re allowed to quit at any time (meaning no employer can force you to stay on once you decide to quit). He wasn’t forced to do anything he didn’t want to do. If he was uncomfortable, he could have filed a complaint with Roc Nation or her old label (considering the legal issues they were having, they would have LOVED to have that to hold over her I’m sure).

He worked for her for like 4 years! When the Tory stans were dragging her, he could have came out with this to bury her. When Nicki was having a meltdown, he could have brought this up. There were so many times where Megan was getting so much hate or dealing with so much shit and he could have given her enemies ammunition then. Why not then? Why now? You spent four years watching her fuck ppl and whatever and you apparently had a huge problem all those years and never said anything?

Megan’s entire persona is she a freak. I’m supposed to believe this photographer, this MAN, got a job following her around taking pictures of her and he was surprised and shocked to see her fucking in front of him? Yeah ok. Like use your brains ppl. What makes more sense: a group of young people excited to travel the world and be as freaky as they want having fun and wild parties that sure get crazy but that’s the point, or this young woman on the come up with no real power or foot in the industry yet hiring a photographer to only professionally take pictures of her in professional settings but she’s so evil and crazy that she couldn’t help but fuck ppl in front of him and viciously harass them.

Just a note too: funny how similar these accusations are to the accusations against Lizzo. The body shaming accusations against both women is definitely a calculated choice to purposely denigrate and undermine these women as they are both known for being body positive.

Also the “hostile” work environment in very non-traditional situations; both cases use situations outside of the work setting to try to argue that the artists created a hostile environment. But like you didn’t have to go to a strip club if you were so against it. You can say “well they had to for work” but no you don’t. There was a kid at my last job who was aggressively against doing anything outside business hours with the company. He went to zero company outings, never went to the holiday party in all his 10+ years of working there, refused to have anyone from the company be a friend on fb or any social media, never went to the company picnic, etc. People didn’t even know if he had siblings or whatever because he was determined to keep work and private life separate. And that wasn’t even close to the reason he got fired lol (he was constantly late/called out all the time so it finally caught up to him lol).

My point is that if these ppl were so against the lifestyle, why do they seem so into it until they get fired/are no longer able to collect a paycheck from these celebs? You on tour, go to your hotel after a performance. No one is forcing you to the strip club. You don’t want to be around someone who drinks a lot and gets freaky when she does? Take another car to where you’re staying and leave her to her antics. There are so many pretty big names on entertainment who don’t party and aren’t on drugs and shit; if they can figure it out, I think these employees can too.

And this to me is the tell tale sign these accusations have no merit. The things they always list sound like things friends do when hanging out. Going to clubs, drinking and making out with people. I’ve been at parties with ppl making out in front of me. I’ve drunkenly made out with a girl while a friend was awkwardly standing off to the side; shit happens when you put a bunch of young people in hot rooms with alcohol.

Like the work environment (for Megan; there are a few claims from the Lizzo case—tho not the ones directed at her but at her company and choreographer—that I do think have merit) claim this guy is trying to make is weird because you first have to establish what was work and what wasn’t. I used to go on outings with my old coworkers outside of work, and I wouldn’t blame my company if one of them did something to offend me or whatever. As a photographer, I would assume you’re taking pictures in very specific circumstances. So if you’re partying outside of work or having lunch outside of work, anything Megan does you claim you don’t like isn’t a work related issue.

Similar to the stripper story from the Lizzo story (also, learning that story supposedly happened at Crazy Horse is WILD for a host of reasons that invalidates the claim even more imo), going out after work isn’t required. And they can say pressured well they want; they’re grown and if Lizzo tried to fire them for not going, THAT would be a major HR violation and terms for a lawsuit right there. It’s so obvious in both cases that these ppl were down to party and got mad when the party stopped. They got a taste of that celeb life and got drunk. They wanted more. They didn’t want to return to their regular lives. So maybe a lawsuit would get some money to keep the party going.

The music industry is particularly shady. More so than the tv/movie industry. And these ppl are barely hiding it these days. The little bit we see we can bet the reality is that to the ♾️ power. And anyone getting into music knows that and has to decide how they want to navigate it. The very nature of these lawsuits and their allegations seem less about someone seeking justice (like we see in cases like, let’s say, the Diddy lawsuits) and more like someone trying to tear down a woman’s reputation.

Because with Diddy and R Kelly and the sort who get called out on these, it’s rarely a shock. Few ppl in general are living entirely separate double lives; that shit would be exhausting. Ppl been knew about Kelly; people been knew about Diddy. The lawsuits and documentaries and shit just exposed what we already knew/suspected. And based on their personalities and personas, there’s no real reason to doubt it.

But with these, notice how the accusations are not just surprising giving the nature, but how they specifically contradict the image the celebrity is portraying. Lizzo doing fat positivity but she’s actually not fat positive to others (despite making a point to hire big dancers but sure). Megan is all positive but she fat shamed me and told me not to eat! She’s so mean! Funny that.

It seems to me that these ppl have a vested interest tearing down these women’s reputation and shaming them. Or, at least, are leveraging their reputations to get some payouts, assuming they’d rather do that then fight this in court.

Also, and idc who hates this, but Johnny Depp, a man with a known and long recorded history of violence and drug and alcohol abuse, was able to convince the world his mostly unknown wife was the one abusing HIM by twisting moments she was trying to defend herself against her. And the world fell for it. Many still believe it because they didn’t do any real research, nor looked at the unsealed records that mostly support what Amber claimed. And it worked because ppl love to hate women and will find any reason too. And people have beef with Megan for unhinged and loser reasons. Meaning they will jump on this to vilify her immediately. And that’s what this asshole was banking on. That’s what all these people are banking on: that our hatred of women will lead to us harassing these women the way the world did Amber and get them to yield.

Johnny Depp started a trend of men (and the gender traitors) filing lawsuits against women to attack their character and force them to do what they want. And the threat is obvious: give me what I want or end up blacklisted, hated, and ostracized like Amber. And because everyone hates women, you idiots will fall for it every time.

Believe women means you believe them even when they’re being accused. Y’all are really not ready for real female solidarity. We’re never making it out the patriarchy.

#long post

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yespumpkindoodlesthings · 1 year

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Personally for me following the royal family drama isn't about trying to decide whose in the right its about whose my favorite evil inbred

All the babies out there are probably not old enough to remember the 90s and see how much of this is a slow motion trainwreck. I'm approximately Harry & Will's age and my mom was Diana's, so I grew up in a Diana fan household. I was at a friend's house for a sleepover the night Diana died and my mom kept calling me with updates. I have a vivid memory of my childhood best friend & I watching George Clooney going out to scold the press for harassment before it was announced that she'd died. The outcry was massive. Then there was a years-long lull where the press was kept at arms' length so her sons could have privacy. Anyone younger really doesn't know how big she was or how well-known William and Harry were, even in the US. She was as big a star in her own lifetime as Marilyn Monroe in the 1950s. A girl in my 6th grade science class wanted to marry William! He was in the teen magazines alongside famous actors allllllll the time, before his mother died. I don't think ANY of them have the US media profile now that Diana, Will, and Harry had back then.

I started following royal things more again when H&M announced they'd quit in 2019 and I read the book that we now know H&M collaborated on (it came out in her & Harry's lawsuit against one of the newspaper groups that she'd passed info from their staff to the authors). Finding Freedom was such a weird book. It's a hagiography with all these personal details and it's got this very strange, gushy writing style that is just...odd. So that got me re-interested and I've read a few of the other (less gushy about H&M) books since then. Harry keeps inadvertently confirming negative rumors about himself and Meghan in his own writing and interviews, like: -he's on drugs; ex: he describes using "grocery bags of weed" in one sitting and I want to know how big the UK's grocery bags are now. Are these like American-style grocery bags? Are they teensy paper bags? I need to know, y'all. That he's out here promoting therapeutic psychedelics is just...no. Bad idea, terrible idea! -he’s tried to start fights with his friends/bodyguards while drinking heavily -admitting their staff was breaking down and crying at their desks because of either the workload or the negativity, so H&M bought them ice cream?! -Harry is so clueless that he names a woman on their staff and says she lied in his book. Sara Latham is an American PR person and a former Clinton staff member who also worked on the Obama transition (alleged in one of the other books is that the royal family gave him a bigger budget specifically to hire her). If Meghan has any ambitions of political influence--rumors have said so---then her own freaking husband has just thrown one of their best political contacts under the bus. By name! In a book! I cannot get over how this has played out. I can't even, y'all. I'm fully expecting that next week he'll confirm something even more strange about himself (there have been rumors that they secretly used a surrogate, which I dismissed as a weird rumor that gets attached to a lot of celebs, from Beyonce to Hilaria & Alec). He's sabotaging his own rep and opening the door for: -the newspapers to dig into tons of stuff about them -for anyone who ever had a negative interaction with Harry while he was drunk to come forward and be believed OR people be believed in the future -for Meghan to point to the drug use in his book and say he's an unsafe parent if they split, etc. He's out there doing tequila on Colbert and he doesn't seem to grasp what he's potentially done to himself. I'm sure they paid for good PR people, so I imagine he's just not listening to them. He could have written a whole book about Invictus, or charity work, or anything. Anything but his todger!

#dear God #this is the definition of self sabotage #what is he doing?

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harryfeatgaga · 1 year

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saw some dude on some tik tok live shitting on harry and was talking about how he was going to film a fashion video tomorrow meanwhile the dude looks like he got lost in a kohl’s clearance section….let’s not speak on what we don’t know ❤️

LMFAOOOO BYE

Anonymous asked: Ben Affleck looked so miserable you could tell he and Jlo fought before the Grammys there’s a video of her scolding him and then laugh when she see the camera on them

HELPPKFJNUIK!??!?!?!

Anonymous asked: saw some tweet that was like “i’m just gonna look up harry’s racist tweets” as if that man didn’t only tweet song lyrics for years I just know whoever tweeted that hasn’t seen sunlight in days

literally bye good luck all ur gonna find is song lyrics

Anonymous asked: WAIT I LOVE HARRY LIKE IM HERE AS A HARRIE BUT IM ALSO HERE AS A DARKSKIN WOMAN SO "beyoncé’s fans are so fucking mean" AND BLAMING HER FOR STAYING SILENT IS NOT A COOL THING TO SAY. i'm saying this with kindness, but have y'all met harries. do y'all know HARRY? love him but when has he ever defended anyone his fans have come for? & as a white man it *IS* easier for him to speak up than it is for bey. all fandoms suck. lets not bring down a black woman lets just be happy for harry. thank you.

Anonymous asked: my last ask might be confusing sorry im responding to the anon talking about how beyonce doesn't do anything to stop hate and that somehow her rude fans means she is just as bad too. was not calling anyone racist in particular but i've just seen that sentiment a lot today and its made celebrating harry hard because it feels personal. idk why people can't ever celebrate harry without putting others down. beyonce was smiling and happy for him in the crowd

no yeah I dont think anon was blaming her I know I certainly wasnt but yeah it applies to all fandoms but hers are quite notorious for being....mean fbhcj she has a lot of male fans as well and men are just nasty so hfbhucjik as many other fanoms are aka swifties, bts and yes harries can be too absolutelyyyyy but yeah beyonce was literally happy for him people need to relax

Anonymous asked: ill get everyone trying to spread a false narrative adele did not leave everyone was happy for him and if people r mad about ben winston being a producer why do they not care about beyonces dad being a voting member of the academy and campaigning for her like first 20 grammys apparently

like as if ben has any actual say in the grammy winners themselves he just produces the show that is airing like

Anonymous asked: I just woke up and omfg the hate??? Ridiculous I feel like I need to cleanse my eyes. I can’t wait until Harry is out of the country so these uncultureds can leave him alone 😭😭😭

still havent seen too much and im glad so pls yall dont send it I really dont wanna see it lmao

Anonymous asked: I never thought I’d be telling her to gtfo of America like I need these people to leave him alone!!! Cant wait for him to shine at Brit’s and see no one pissed about it 😭😭

brits sweep incoming!!!

Anonymous asked: Fandoms hate Harry but their idols sure don’t

LITERALLY

Anonymous asked: i’m sorry but i’m still mad. does b deserve a grammy? yes. were a great majority of people dragging and not streaming renaissance at all? yes. if we’re going to war on somebody’s behalf, it should be uvst by bb because it objectively was the most streamed album of last year, but i fear twitter wouldn’t have liked that either bc a lot of twitter is still xenophobic as hell and refuse to listen to spanish music and it would’ve devolved into a conversation about “why didn’t they give bb the latin grammys instead?”, which would have been xenophobic too but in a lowkey “progressive” way so i’m glad harry won bc i really don’t think a b win would’ve really been appreciated by twitter at all anyway bc it would still be about how they dislike the album or its genre or whatever billion ways they’ve tried to drag renaissance this past year when it’s literally always been a gorgeous album that you should have been appreciating from the get-go but now want to pretend like you’ve always loved it bc you love to be victims and somehow snubbing an album that twitter didn’t like just bc you like the artist and they are deserving of a grammy in general is a ridiculous hill to try to die on when i truly think b wouldn’t have liked to win an album for something that wasn’t well-received either 🫠

im shocked I didnt know her fans didnt really like the album but yeah she deserved it bad after lemonade like we all been knowing the grammys are fucked up im.very happy for harry and all hs peers there last night including beyoce looked happy for him 🫶🏻

Anonymous asked: So many famous people or you know social media known people made memes out of Harry saying “stuff like this don’t happen to people like me” and literally almost all of them took it down within minutes lmao idk why but either is the power of harries, the power of Jeff or the power of Harry, they should all shut up and let him have his moment! Especially when they do nothing with their sad miserable life pretending to be famous because of Instagram, try getting a real fucking job!

GOODBYEEEEEEE

Anonymous asked:

the grammys were never gonna give aoty to something like renaissance🤷🏼‍♀️ i. can tell you the grammys hates giving awards to albums with that many producers and they loveeeee when there’s a smaller number of producers and writers( they’re weird)🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ with it fitting into a sort of niche the grammys (sadly) are not up to recognizing something that was made for the black queer community i think renaissance deserved the award the most tbh but what beyonce fans don’t understand is that there’s 10 albums in the category…. and most of them deserve to be there (coldplay and abba nope but anyways) and you can’t blame harry because he deserved the award as well you have to blame the grammys😭 because the truth is this year was a solid category and she should’ve won album of the year long ago for her self titled AND lemonade😭 and now they’re trying to find a way to blame him by tearing everything he’s said apart😭 because now people are expecting him to act as if he didn’t deserve the award??? when he completely did??? and beyonce she just sits there and cheers and she genuinely looks happy for everyone who wins and she’s not about what some of her fans are about😭😭😭

IM JUST SO TIREDDDDDDDDD THE AOTY WAS STACKEDDD EXACTLY LIKE YOU SAID FULL OF GOOD ALBUMS LIKE GOD

Anonymous asked: I’ve seen harries be equally as nasty when Harry looses things so I think everyone needs to realize that this stuff is not worth being a horrible person over because even though it’s online it still hurts. I hope a lot of harries will remember this feeling and not be so horrible to other artists so we can stop the hate circle

so true!!!

#OKAY GOT ALL THE ASKS IN ONE #CAUSE I FEAR IM GONNA HIT POST LIMIT BY LIKE 6PM

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1kook · 4 years

Text

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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yslkook · 3 years

Text

WRONG (3)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you find yourself at the tattoo parlor more often as of late. also, jungkook hates lemon jelly filled donuts and is easily bribed by mint chocolate and macarons. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, excessive use of pet names, kinda toxic friendship

Sora’s unbridled passion for why she believes Jungkook is wrong for you has never irritated you as much as it does in this moment. You’ll never understand why she’s so adamant about the topic, when it’s not her decision. When she knows that you’ve been harboring a small crush on the man for years now, and you’re fairly certain he returns your affections.

When the man told you that he had put an orange heart next to your name, you knew it was real.

You don’t understand why Sora is determined to make things so complicated, when they don’t have to be. You don’t believe her claims that he’s a fuckboy, that he treats people like trash. He’s shown you the opposite. He’s so gentle with everyone, not just you. He’s blunt but he has a big heart under all of the leather and layers of black.

If there’s a word to describe him, it’s dreamy.

Which is why you’re so hurt that Sora refuses to give him a chance. After all, if she was your best friend, shouldn’t she offer him a chance for your sake?

It confuses you.

“I’ve heard so many bad things about him,” Sora says knowingly, swirling her glass of wine in her hands. You don’t feel very much like drinking, not when your stomach swirls in unease. Being in her apartment is nothing new, but right now, you’d rather be anywhere else.

“But what things? And from who? Jungkook is such a genuine guy and he hasn’t done anything for people to start rumors about him,” You protest, but your words fall on deaf ears, “And I like him-”

“I mean come on, have you seen him? The man radiates bad vibes. My friends have all said-”

“Bad vibes? You’re dismissing him because of bad vibes when I’m telling you that-”

“I’m your best friend, don’t you think I know these things?” Sora says, heat and arrogance in her voice, “I’m only looking out for you. It’s shitty that you’re dismissing me for a guy-”

“I’m not dismissing you-” But your voice grows smaller and smaller, something that you think Jungkook might be disappointed in you for.

“It sure as hell sounds like you are,” Sora sneers with a cold sort of tilt to her lips, “Listen. I’m just looking out for you, even if you don’t seem to appreciate it. I thought we were best friends. Friends look out for each other, but if you don’t want to listen to me, that’s on you.”

Something dry settles in your throat and something heavy settles in your chest.

“He’s not good news,” Sora continues, as if she can’t see your heart beginning to ache, “I’ll find someone who will treat you much better, don’t worry.” She pats your knee in a way that is supposed to be reassuring but you wince.

You don’t want her favors, but it’s too late for you to protest. Besides if you did, she’d feel awful and you never want to be the cause of her being upset. She’s your best friend after all. And what kind of friend would you be, if you upset her to that degree?

But still... you don’t want anyone else. You want the sensitive man who gets misty-eyed by powerful renditions of Beyonce songs, the man who texts you until you fall asleep, the man who asks you what color to paint his nails when he feels like it.

You kind of want the sensitive man dressed in layers of black.

You let Sora talk your ear off about all of the guys she has in mind for you, but you stop listening. You don’t understand this vendetta she has against Jungkook, the vendetta that she’s always had. But she is correct about one thing- she is your best friend and has your best interests at heart...right?

The four walls of the tattoo parlor that you’ve begun frequenting more and more often begins to feel more and more like a welcome place in recent days. You’ve always been friendly with the guys, especially Yoongi and Hoseok.

Even if Yoongi doesn’t work at the parlor, he’s here frequently enough.

Though Yoongi and Hoseok are some of your oldest friends, you’ve only come to the parlor a handful of times in the past. Once that realization hit you, you’d made it a point to stop by more often.

Why hadn’t you before?

They’re your oldest friends, but these days, you feel closer to Mina and Mei as well. While you do have other girlfriends who you see as often as your collective schedules align, it’s still different.

But still. You don’t know if you’ve ever truly belonged with anyone. You feel as if you’ve been floating through life, with Sora by your side (at least half the time, when she’s not spewing criticism over the man you have feelings for).

Thinking about it gives you a headache and makes you feel nostalgic for something that you never had. But maybe it’s something you can have.

“Hey, you,” Mei calls from reception, where she’s sitting next to Hobi who waves at you, “What brings you here? Finally gonna let me pierce you?”

“I brought donuts,” You shrug, “And I’m not ready for that surgical instrument to touch me, thanks very much.”

“You can stop by without the pretense of bringing sweet treats over,” Hobi says knowingly, “I mean none of us will complain about donuts, but you know that right? You can come by anytime you want.”

“O-okay,” You nod, your throat feeling a little dry.

“Now, come here and let me see what you got. If there’s a lemon jelly filled donut, save that for Jungkook. He hates them.”

“You got plans this evening?” Mei asks, grabbing her bright red purse that’s nearly the size of your head. Her purse matches her bright red nails and for half a second, you’re mesmerized by the glossiness of her nails.

“No, other than getting ready for tomorrow’s day of work-”

“Great! Wanna come with me to the tattoo supply store? I have to pick up more needles, grips and gloves.”

“Sure,” You shrug, a little excited at the prospect of a quick adventure for Mei, “I’ll just say bye to Hobi.”

He’s already watching you with mirth in his eyes, as if he knows what you’re about to say. “Hey, will you tell Jungkook I said hi?” You murmur, feeling your ears burning at his smug grin.

“Sure, I will,” Hobi grins, “I’m sure he feels bad about not being able to say hi to you himself. He’s had a busy day.”

“Understandable,” You nod, “I mean, you guys say he’s the best in the city, right? I’m sure he’s got a waitlist of people who want to be tatted by him.”

“Maybe someday he’ll tattoo you, huh?” He says mischievously to which you roll your eyes and feel your face heat up.

“He would be so lucky,” You scoff, as if the notion of Jungkook tattooing your body doesn’t make something flutter in your belly.

“We have this competition at the parlor where the person who makes the most tips has to buy the supplies on a monthly basis,” Mei says smugly, “Usually, it’s Kook but for the last few months it’s been me.”

That doesn’t surprise you in the least- Hobi has told you that Mei and Mina are both skilled in realistic and watercolor tattoos, as well as piercings. You think if you were ever to receive a tattoo from either Mei or Mina, you would tip them for the mere fact of them being so close in your presence for so long.

They used to intimidate you, when Hobi had first introduced you to them. Mina with her sleek bob haircut, and Mei with her long, glossy waves. Both of them had nose piercings and their ears were dotted in different hoops and rods. You’d only caught a glimpse of their tattoos a handful of times- Mei has a full sleeve on her right arm where Mina’s tattoos seem to be more hidden.

They’re just so cool and funny and smart.

“How did you all get the idea for the tattoo parlor? Like, was it a business decision or were you all friends before?” You ask curiously.

“Well… Jin, Mina and I have been friends since we were kids, our parents are really close. Jin had this dream of opening his own tattoo and piercing parlor for the longest time. Jungkook and Hobi joined a few months after we officially opened. It took a while, but we’re where we are now,” Mei says fondly.

“That’s incredible! You guys started from the ground up,” You say, in awe, “That parlor is your baby.”

“Fuck, yeah it is,” Mei grins, “What about you? What cool tech stuff is going on in that pretty brain of yours?”

“Um…” Your face heats up at the compliment, “I’m currently helping in developing this app for one of our clients, it’s specific for tracking and trending information related to chronic health conditions. It’s still in its infancy, but it’s been fun! And it’s job security, I guess.”

Mei lets out a low whistle, “Wow, you’re doing something like that by yourself?”

“No, I have a pretty great team,” You shrug, “Something like that definitely can’t be done alone.”

Mei hums, “You’re gonna be great, Ms. CEO.”

“Yeah right, I’d never want that burden,” You scoff, “I’m good right where I am.”

With both of your arms full of bags of supplies for the tattoo parlor (and some extras), you both walk out of the shop and towards Mei’s sleek, black car. It’s late, and you don’t really feel much like taking public transportation. But you’re nervous to ask Mei for a ride home for some reason.

“Hey, did you drive to the parlor?” Mei asks.

“N-no, I don’t have a car yet,” You reply, “I only just bought my condo and didn’t want to make another big purchase just yet. I want to start looking though…”

“Oh! I’ll drive you home then,” Mei offers once she starts the engine.

“Are you sure? It’s kind of out of the way from here,” You reply, folding in on yourself a little in the passenger seat.

Mei only waves you off. “Oh, please. What kind of friend would I be if I just left you to get home alone?”

You bite your tongue, as vivid memories of Sora claiming that she didn’t have enough gas in the tank or her asking for gas money for the ten minute drive from her apartment building to your condo flash in your mind.

“Thank you, Mei,” You say gratefully, “Let me know how much to Venmo you, for gas money-”

“Gas money? For a seven minute drive? Is that a joke,” Mei gasps, “What do you take me for?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I asked!”

“Asking me for gas money,” Mei mutters, “You said you want to start looking for a car?”

Her smile twists into something mischievous.

“Yeah, I have no idea where to start though…”

“Ask your boy, Jungkook. Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin work at a car dealership and they’re his roommates, I’m sure he’d be eager to help you.” Something in her voice is coy but you maintain a neutral face.

“Yeah… maybe I will,” You say thoughtfully, “Hey! He’s not my boy-”

“Alright, alright,” Mei relents gently, “But really, reach out to him. He’ll help you. So that those boys don’t scam you like the sleazy car salesmen that they are.”

When you see Jungkook next at the tattoo parlor which is conveniently on your way home from work (again with a box of pastries), you muster the courage to step into his office to ask him for help.

“Hi,” You say weakly, “Umm… I come bearing gifts. Got some of those mint chocolate brownie bars that you like, and those macarons-”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to bribe me, baby,” Jungkook says, smirking widely when your lips part in protest.

“If I was trying to bribe you, it wouldn’t be with mint chocolate. Disgusting,” You roll your eyes and squeal out loud when he lunges for you, giving you a teasing but tight back hug.

“Take it back,” Jungkook murmurs lowly in your ear. You hardly hear him, too wrapped up in the warmth of the big black hoodie he’s wearing. The soft, gentle scent of laundry and vanilla floats into your nose when you turn your head to press your cheek against his chest.

His heartbeat is faint against your ear. You wonder if he can hear yours speeding up.

“Mint chocolate sucks. It’s a fact,” You mumble.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” His voice comes as a low grumble from his chest and you swallow nervously. Before your nerves can get the best of you, he changes the topic. “Mei told me you’re in the market for a new car?”

“I don’t really know where to start, but I’ve already started doing some research,” You reply, pointing to your small backpack. You pull out a binder with meticulously colored tabs labeled in neat print that Jungkook raises an eyebrow at.

“What?”

“You just carry around a binder with your research on car purchases at all times? Is that what you do?”

“I have to be prepared!”

“Sometimes you just need a vibe check-”

“You want me to purchase an entire vehicle worth about a million and one paychecks based on just a vibe check? Is that what you did with your motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook gives you a crooked smile, “And a little research. I guess.”

“You guess,” You mutter under your breath.

Jungkook has been more touchy with you once you had given him the go ahead all those weeks ago. He doesn’t show his affections with you unless you’re both alone, and it’s never anything more than hugs and the occasional brush of hands.

He’s melting you from the outside in, and you bask in his radiant heat. The thought of Sora’s approval doesn’t bother you, not when he hugs you like this.

But as always. Her disapproving voice worms its way into your head and you reluctantly peel away from him to sit on the faded burgundy couch with the box of macarons on your lap.

“So,” Jungkook says, immediately feeling the loss of your warmth in his limbs, “How can I help?”

tags: @kookdbean

MoM tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you

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hercleverboy · 3 years

Text

the comfort of rain

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ spencer reid is her soulmate, isn’t he?

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ heartbreak, unrequited love

word count ↠ 1.6k

“Do not bother holding on to that thing that does not want you. You cannot make it stay.” — Rupi Kaur

Spencer Reid was her soulmate.

She was sure of it. The pair had been inseparable since she’d started working with the BAU four years prior, practically joined at the hip, never one without the other.

He’d never fail to bring her breakfast on days filled with paperwork, when he knew she’d barely slept and craved nothing more than a banana muffin from the bakery down the road. He simply placed it on her desk with a warm smile, receiving a thankful one from her in return.

Such a small gesture, but it meant the world to her.

He would press little kisses to the crown of her head after they arrested an unsub, a small act of thankfulness that she was ultimately unharmed. An appreciation that she was okay, safe.

For all intents and purposes, they were only best friends. Though she’d been helplessly in love with him for years, and she had an inkling he felt the same. She didn’t want to make assumptions, but then again she was the only person he ever really got up close and personal with. Sure, he’d hug the other team members too occasionally, but she didn’t see him holding Emily or JJ’s hands on the jet home after a case that ended badly. He didn’t give them countless book recommendations, or spend his evenings watching TV shows that she was in love with just so they’d have something else to talk about.

He always offered her his coat when it was cold, or when the rain began to fall heavily and she was only in her shirt and jeans (despite how he’d commented, as he looked up at the sky, that it was likely going to rain based on the colour of the clouds. She never listened to him.)

One of his most treasured memories is the time they were hanging out at his place on a rare Saturday that they didn’t have to go into work for a case. They were watching some eight-part crime series on Netflix that she’d finally convinced him to watch with her, after her complaining about needing someone to talk about it with. The loud clap of thunder cracked through the sky, making her jump up from his couch in excitement, looking out the window as rain began to fall heavily from the grey clouds above. She looked out silently as the rain pattered, watching how people on the street below rushed to find shelter from the unexpected downpour.

Spencer frowned, coming to stand behind her.

“I love the rain.” She commented, noting his presence behind her.

His frown deepened. “Why? It’s cold and wet and- gross.”

She chuckled quietly at his comment. “You’re not wrong there, but I meant more that I love watching the rain. I like the way it sounds. The way it smells. It reminds me that I’m alive. It’s comforting.”

It was quiet for a little, the sound of the rain pinging harshly against the window.

“Pluviophile.”

She turned back to him, speaking softly. “What?”

“Pluviophile. It refers to a person who loves the sound of the rain. They often find a sense of joy or peace of mind during rainy days.”

She bit her lip to stifle her smile and turned back to the window, giving him a simple nod in return. She was always somehow surprised by his never-ending plethora of knowledge.

They stood and watched the downpour together in a comfortable silence.

Spencer supposed the rain wasn’t so bad, after that.

In the recent weeks, she found herself wanting so badly to confess her feelings, but as every friends to lovers story goes- she feared rejection. She feared him leaving. And she’d certainly rather love him from afar than confess her feelings and risk losing him.

He’d managed to embed himself so deeply in her heart that she was sure there could never be anyone else for her.

She was mesmerised by him. Compelled by every word that left his mouth, enthralled by all his random knowledge and infinite number of stories he’d committed to his memory. When they sat on his couch watching Doctor Who, she’d gladly listen to any time travel related ranting he wanted to get off of his chest, without any interruptions or eye rolls. (She could listen to him talk forever.)

She’d often fall asleep on his shoulder, and he’d smile down gently at his best friend, a woman he cared so deeply for.

She stuck by him throughout everything, and she never sugar-coated things. If she thought he was being petty or overreacting slightly in a situation she was the first to bring it up, to call him out. And he’d listen, too, because he trusted her more than anyone and it’s likely she was right about it. She took care of him, in a way that no one ever had before. It was unspoken between them that they’d essentially die for one another, two souls destined to be one another’s everything.

When he confided in her one night that he was afraid that he should’ve amounted to more, she was quick to soothe his worries. She held him as he sniffled into her shoulder, with hushed reassurances that he was already doing incredible things, and that his work was making the world a safer place, one case at a time.

She was particularly close to JJ, the woman who had become like a sister to her. She told JJ of her feelings for Spencer, and the blonde had just smiled at her in response, as if it had been obvious.

“You should go for it.”

“Really? You think so?”

“Think so? I know so. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you. You mean everything to him.”

That conversation was the final push she needed to decide that it was time to come clean about her feelings.

With the nervous pit in her stomach being overwhelmed by the excitement she felt, she tried to clear her thoughts. She could only hope this went well. She was meant to meet Spencer at his place for the evening, and so knocked gently on the door when she arrived, taking deep breaths to prepare herself.

The door swung open, Spencer flashing her a smile when he saw her. “Hey! I’m glad you’re here, I have something to tell you.”

She grinned, making her way past him into the apartment. “Oh god, what did you do this time? Did you misplace your phone again?” She joked, sliding off her jacket.

Spencer shook his head, biting his lip to supress his smile.

“Okay. Then what is it?”

He smiled then, and it was a smile she’d hadn’t seen him wear before. One that was so much bigger than the rest, one that reached his eyes and made them glimmer with hope and glee.

“I- um. I met someone.”

and just like that, her face dropped.

“Her name is Maeve, she’s a Geneticist. We’ve been talking over the phone for about a month now. I know what you’re going to say, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just wanted to see if it was going to go anywhere-“

Her ears stopped tuning in to what he was saying. She could only hear the pounding of her heart filling her ears, tears burning her eyes as she tried her best to keep them at bay. That’s the smile he’d had, the one she couldn’t quite place at first. She recognised it now. The realisation hit her like a train.

Lovesick.

Spencer had stopped talking, looking at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

She snapped her head up to meet his eyes.

No, I’m not okay. I’m in love with you.

Is what she wanted to say.

Instead-

“Sorry, Spencer. I think I’m gonna have to take a rain check tonight. I’m feeling a little sick, so I think I’m just going to head home.”

“Oh, are you sure? You can always stick around here for a bit, I could take care of you. You know, technically I am a doctor.” He grinned, attempting a joke.

She didn’t laugh, but gave him her best fake smile, one she could only hope he didn’t read too much into. She hoped he couldn’t see the tell-tale profiler signs of devastation on her features that she was so desperately trying to hide.

If he did notice, he said nothing about it.

She shook her head. It was taking everything in her to hold herself together, but she’d be damned if she ruined his happiness because of her own pitiful feelings.

She remembered the smile, his beautiful, lovesick smile. It was for Maeve, not her. It made her heart ache in a way that felt like it was trying to claw its way out of her chest.

“It’s okay. I’ll uh- I’ll text you later.” She mumbled, grabbing her coat before leaving the apartment, leaving a confused Spencer behind.

However, all was forgotten when his phone started buzzing, Maeve’s name flashing across the screen. He smiled.

Outside in the car park, she sat in her car as the thunder cracked above her, the treacherous rain coming down in harsh hits against her windshield.

She found herself grateful for the rain in that moment, as the dam holding her emotions back broke, tears flooding down her cold, pink-tinted cheeks.

She placed her head in her hands and began to sob, her uneven breaths and heartbroken cries being slightly muffled by the patters of the rain hitting the gravel outside.

She felt comforted by the sound.

It was as though the sky was crying with her.

Yes, Spencer Reid was her soulmate.

But she just wasn’t his.

Tag list - @beyonces-breastmilk @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx

#idk what this is #plot who?#i don’t know her #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds #spencer reid angst

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kyotakumrau · 3 years

Text

2021.04.06 a talk event at Meguro Rock-May-Kan film screening at Namba Hatch with Kyo and Shinya - PART 3

Report by とあ on twitter (topics are not reported in order things happened, I followed the order they posted, 1st and 2nd session are mixed)

"Who outside the music world would you feel nervous about meeting?"

Shinya: I think no one.

Kyo: How about Dewi Fujin (Dewi Sukarno)?

Shinya: I wouldn't be nervous meeting her.

Kyo: You wouldn't? Meeting Dewi? Everyone would be nervous meeting Dewi, right?

Shinya: No, I wouldn't be.

Kyo: But you always said [you would be when] meeting Dewi.

Shinya: I didn't.

Fujieda: How about you, Kyo?

Kyo: Ehm. I guess [when meeting] Alejandro Jodorowsky. That's it.

"If you created a game?"

Shinya: wouldn't it be a riddle solving?

Kyo: a game of being born out of uterus. Ruthlessly breaking out or coming iut slowly. The way you come out would decide what happens in the story.

"To Kyo. Did you eat choboyaki?"

Kyo: Choboyaki is from Kyoto so I didn't.

"Where did you sit on the train to Osaka?"

Shinya: At the window seat. There was no one else.

Kyo: At the window seat. No one else on the train.

Fujieda: It started raining

Shinya: When I looked outside before it was raining.

Fujieda: What should we do? It seems it's raining quite hard.

Kyo (no response)

Fujieda: I'm worried about the way home...

Kyo (no response)

Fujieda: I got totally shut out...

Kyo looked like he was going to start talking but went on rapidly without taking a breath

Kyo: But even if you say what should we do when it's raining so hard I don't have power to stop it don't have power to make it rain harder there's nothing I can do but you still say that (mumbling)

I think you got tired answering questions so maybe you have something you want to ask fans?

Kyo: ... nah, it's fine.

Ah, but there's a weekly tv program today. I watch it every week.

Fujieda: Is it good? I haven't seen it.

Kyo: It depends on the episode, but it's good.

Shinya: Like what prefecture have fans came from? And so on?

Fujieda: Ok, so... People from Osaka, please raise your hands. How about people from outside Kansai? People from Tohoku? People from Kyushu? People came from different areas.

Shinya: How about people who came from abroad?

Fujieda: Abroad?...people who came from abroad... ah, not surprisingly no one.

Takabayashi: Right now people can't enter Japan.

Shinya: Ah...

"To Kyo. Can you recommend some manga?"

Kyo: I like many but... I post about that on instagram so please check there.

...ah, but do you know NON STOP!Kyouhei? Anyone here who knows? (surveys the venue) ah, got someone. Someone here knows! No one around me knows it. It's an old manga about bad kids. Ah, and, I guess B・B?

I think it was a continuation on the topic what they're into?

Kyo: A bit earlier I asked you to help get me something from the sale that started at 10, right?

Fubieda: Ah, yeah.

Kyo: After 15 minutes passed I asked you how did it go and you replied that you were sleeping until 10:30.

Fujieda: Yeah, my alarm didn't ring.

Kyo: Is it even possible nowadays??! For the alarm clock to not ring... you should think of a better lie.

Fujieda: Like my granny thing?

Kyo: Granny?

Fujieda: That my granny is unwell and so on.

Kyo: I don't mean a lie like that, one that would give me a good chuckle!

Fujieda: I'm sorry... It was something quite rare, wasn't it?

Kyo: Yeah...

Kyo: Is it really interesting to watch the same thing so many times?

Fujieda: I think people who come many times come because it is intetesting? But there are also people who are watching for the first time.

Kyo: How many people are watching for the first time?

Fujieda: I wonder? People who came for the first time [pls raise your hand]...

Kyo (surveying the audience): Ah, there are quite many. Thank you.

"About the fashion point."

Shinya: Many fasteners.

Fujieda: That's true. You have many fasteners. You're not cold in those clothes?

Shinya: I'm not. I came here only wearing those.

Kyo: I also have many fasteners.

Fujieda: That's true, Kyo as well. Can those fasteners be properly opened?

Kyo: They can. And if youpull this upto here it becomes like this.

Fujieda: Oh~ Ah, but I don't think fans can see...

Kyo stands up and shows his clothes.

Kyo: It's Adidas.

Fujieda: It doesn't look like something from Adidas at all.

Kyo: It's a collaboration with Beyonce. Ladies item. I usually wear ladies clothes a lot.

"It seems that Kaoru is holding a grudge that his idea of collaboration plan was declined, you really don't want to do it?"

Shinya: What is it about?

Takabayshi: Didn't Shinya Channel and TheThe Day start at the same time? That's why he wanted to do something together for the anniversary. But you declined and now he's 'not doing it with him'.

Kyo: I told you.

Shinya: Ah, I think I heard something from the staff. But I didn't think it's serious so I didn't pay attention. He was upset?

Takabayashi: It seems so.

Shinya: Ah, then... if there's another opportunity.

Takabayashi: If.

Shinya: In the next life.

Kyo: You're using that 50k yen camera for shooting riddle solving, right? I could understand if you were using it to photograph mountains and scenery, but it's for Youtube, right? Doing quizzes? Solving riddles? Isn't iPhone enough?

Fujieda: Have you watched it?

Kyo: I haven't. I don't know the content for either of them...

Fujieda: Yeah, you didn't even know they started it.

"To Kyo, do you have Zoom meetings?"

Kyo: I do. I hate doing them.

The ending of the 1st session

Kyo: I don't have anything to say, please (he gestured at Shinya to go on)

Shinya: Thank you for coming. People who don't have a ticket for the 2nd session, we have a stack of tickets left so please buy them.

(Takabayashi and Fujieda cringed a bit at Shinya as ...don't say it that way).

The ending of the 2nd session

Kyo: We'll have a concert in May. ...I'd be great if we can meet again at the right time for each person.

#dir en grey #kyo #京 #shinya #talk event #爆音会 #目黒鹿鳴館gig #namba hatch #translation

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petersasteria · 3 years

Text

Pride And Joy - Peter Parker

Parker || Main || Taglist

Stark!Peter x Reader - both aged up Requested? Nah. 3,621 words W: curse words, a bit of smut (omg and it's a no for minors), cheating, pregnancy, virginity loss, just Peter being a rich kid that's all, character death

* * * *

“It’s literally a big deal, Peter! You know this award means so much to me and you didn’t even attend the opening!” Gwen yelled in anger. Peter was supposed to be Gwen’s plus one at an awarding ceremony for doctors. She won the AMA Foundation Award for Health Education and it meant so much to her. It was understandable that she was royally pissed at Peter.

Peter scoffed as he sat down on the couch with his feet on top of the coffee table. The small table next to the couch had his scotch on top of it. The glass had droplets of water running down it because of condensation. Peter grabbed the glass and took a sip from it as Gwen, his long time girlfriend, kept yelling at him. Peter kept making faces as Gwen yelled. She finally took notice of this and shouted, “Are you even listening, Peter?! God! You’re so out of touch lately! I don’t even talk to you anymore!”

“Oh, shut up, Gwen!” Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?!” Peter stood up from the couch and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?? We’re not done here, Peter! I’m still talking to you!”

Peter turned his head to look at her and said, “Yeah? Well, I’m done talking to you! Without me, you wouldn’t even have your award and you wouldn’t even attend medical school because you couldn’t afford it! Let’s not forget that I paid for your tuition fee and for everything else related to your studies. You don’t see me bragging about it, now do you?!”

Gwen shook her head as tears streamed down her face, “You’re such an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse by better.” Peter said sassily before leaving the house. The door shook as he slammed it, making Gwen jump back in surprise. She retreated to hers and Peter’s shared bedroom and cried herself to sleep.

Meanwhile, Peter went to his favorite bar and drank the night away there. That’s where he met you. You were the new singer in the club and it was your first night on the job. It wasn’t your ideal job, but it pays the bills. Besides, you were thankful that you got a decent voice. Otherwise, you’d be waitressing and you didn’t have the patience to deal with people in general.

Peter loved your voice. It made him sober despite drinking copious amounts of alcohol. He just sat there and listened and hummed along to the songs he knew. When it was your break, he approached you.

You and the band were talking, getting to know each other when Peter tapped your shoulder. You turned around and smiled at him. Plus, he was cute. “Hi!” You greeted.

“Hey.” He smirked. “You’re a really good singer. I’m Peter.” He offered his hand for you to shake and you gladly took it. “I know. You’re, like, everywhere.” You giggled. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Peter said before carefully letting go of your hand. He smiled to himself as he thought of your name rolling off on his tongue. It sounded right.

“Would you like to grab a drink with me?” Peter asked politely. “I’d love to get to know you.”

“I’d love to, but I’m about to sing in a minute.” You said. “But my shift ends in an hour, if you’re still up by then.”

“I’ll wait.” Peter winked as he walked to a new table, closer to where you were performing. He called for a waiter and ordered a drink as he watched you get ready.

You took a sip of water and turned on your mic. You slightly leaned forward and spoke through it, “Hi, everybody! I’m now back for my second set. This next song is for the people who recently got cheated on by their man-”

A man shouted “GO OFF, SIS” somewhere in the back and it made you chuckle. Your chuckle was music to Peter’s ears. He has never heard an angel chuckling before, but he was convinced that it sounded like yours.

“Anyway, this song is called ‘Irreplaceable’ by Beyonce.” You smiled before turning to your bandmates and nodding at them to start playing.

You sang a few more songs and before you knew it, your shift was over. “That’s my last song for tonight. My name is Y/N and you can catch me here every night from 9PM to 2AM. Thank you and have a good night!” You said before turning off your mic and thanking your bandmates. You walked towards Peter and asked, “Is this seat taken?”

He grinned and shook his head. You sat down in front of him and said, “It’s been a long time since I last drank.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I can’t really handle it well and I do crazy shit. That’s why I moved here. I want to start fresh and all that.” You told him before calling your new friend, Amy, to order your drink. Amy’s a waitress and she’s really kind to you. She showed you how things went and everything.

Amy walked towards you and you told her, “You know my favorite drink already.” Amy grinned and said, “You got it, Y/N/N.” She left and immediately got you your drink.

You and Peter stayed there until 5AM just talking and laughing and drinking. It wasn’t until you looked at your watch that you noticed the time. “Oh, shit. It’s already 5AM.” You giggled before downing the last drop of your drink. “I have to leave and get some sleep.”

“I’ll take you home.” Peter offered, downing his last drink as well.

“You don’t have to do that. I live just around the corner.” You smiled at him. “Thank you, though.”

“Nonsense! It’s my day off, anyway. I’d also be really happy to know that you’re safe.” Peter said and you shrugged. “Alright.”

You went to the back and grabbed your bag as Peter waited for you outside the front of the bar. You finally walked out and Peter grinned at you. You two walked together and true enough, your apartment was really near. He offered to walk you upstairs and you allowed him to.

When you got there, you stood in front of your door and said, “Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home.”

“No problem.” Peter smiled. You looked at each other for a while and Peter couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and kissed you. You were in shock for a second, but you immediately kissed back. His arms wrapped around your waist and your arms were around his neck. It was getting heated and you decided to pull away for air.

“Oh my god. I’m so sor-”

“Don’t apologize.” Peter panted. “Don’t be sorry. We both know we want it. Why should we stop?”

You looked at him before quickly turning around to unlock your door. You and Peter quickly went inside and you locked the door as soon as you got in. He took your hand in his and pulled you towards him to kiss you once more.

You pulled away and said, “Wait, not here.” You brought him to your room and he pushed you on your bed as he got on top of you and leaned in to kiss you. Before you knew it, yours and his clothes were on the floor and as he lined himself in your entranced, you stopped him.

“I’ve never done this before.” You blurted out.

“What?” Peter said.

“I’ve never… done it… before.” You said and you were embarrassed that you had to tell him that. In fact, you wished you kept your mouth shut. He looked at you and shrugged, “That’s okay. I’ll be gentle, I swear.”

He smiled at you softly before pecking your lips sweetly and lining himself in your entrance again. You relaxed a bit as he slowly entered you. It hurt a bit and once he was fully in, he lets you adjust to him before slowly thrusting. Once you got used to it, you begged him to go faster until you felt something forming in you.

“I think I’m gonna-” You moaned.

“Just let it out.” Peter grunted. You did as you were told and Peter released in you too. He rode out your highs and pulled out before laying next to you. Both of you were gasping for air and you didn’t say anything for a while.

“Oh my god.” You said as soon as you caught your breath. “I can’t believe I lost my virginity to a Stark.”

“You’re welcome.” Peter said with a smirk.

Your little rendezvous with Peter happened every day since you met. It always happened at your small apartment and you felt sorry for your neighbors who got to hear you moaning through the thin walls. Peter didn’t care, though. He loved hearing you. He’s got you wrapped around his finger and you didn’t even notice that. You were innocent and fresh and he loved it.

He still went home and he still went on a few dates with Gwen, his long time girlfriend. Peter knew what he was doing and he knew it was wrong, but there was something about you that he really liked that he couldn’t put his finger on. He never told you about Gwen and he never told Gwen about you. It was meant to be that way until everything changed.

You were pregnant.

After all the wild sex that you and Peter did, you realized that he never wore protection. You quickly texted Peter about it and Peter quickly went to see you.

“What the fuck?!” Peter said as soon as you opened the door. You rolled your eyes and allowed him to come in before closing it.

“Yes. I’m pregnant and you’re the father.”

“I can’t be the father.” Peter shook his head.

“Well, too bad. You’re the father of this baby that I’m carrying. Besides, how can anyone else be the father? You’re the only man I’ve been sexual with. Why are you so upset?” You told him with a frown and somehow seeing you frown made Peter sad. He walked up to you and gave you a hug which you gladly returned.

“We’ll get through this.” Peter said even though he knew he was screwed. What would his father, Tony Stark, say? Tony would be disappointed, that’s for sure. He’d be yelled at.

A month later, Gwen found out. She saw Peter’s phone laying around which made her roll her eyes. She grabbed it and when she did, the screen lit up as a notification came in. Gwen knew that she wasn’t supposed to look, but her guts told her otherwise. She looked at it and gasped.

It was a text from you saying that the baby is okay and that you were excited to become a mom and that you already loved the baby.

Peter got out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He saw Gwen holding his phone and said, “What are you doing with my phone?”

“Who’s Y/N?” Gwen asked with a frown and a disappointed look on her face. “And why is she telling you all about her pregnancy? I would believe you if you told me that she’s just a friend, but she has a heart emoji next to her contact name. Who is she, Pete?”

“I cheated on you.” Peter said. It was so straightforward. He didn’t give Gwen a time to react as he just kept talking about what happened since the night of their argument. He told Gwen about how you two met, where you worked, where you lived, everything. After all, he could give Gwen was honesty. He didn’t have a reason to lie when everything’s out there.

“We’re done, Peter.” Gwen said as she tried not to cry. Peter nodded in understanding. “Peter, I love you and I always will, but that kid needs a father and I don’t want to get in the way of that. The kid is more important now.”

Gwen looked at the man she loved more than anything in the world and smiled sadly, “It wasn’t working out anymore, anyway. I wish you nothing but good luck and happiness. Since this is your house, I’ll move out. Don’t worry about me.”

Gwen walked up to him and kissed his cheek before grabbing a bag to pack her things. Peter gave Gwen a few days to move out before asking you to come live with him. You didn’t want to leave your apartment, but you figured the baby needed a decent home.

Once you moved in, Peter came clean to you about Gwen and everything. It hurt to know that you were just a side chick, but you knew it wasn’t your fault. He never told you in the beginning. Because of this, you decided not to agree to be his girlfriend when he asked.

“But why? We’re having a baby together.” Peter asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I just- I can’t, alright?” You frowned. “I’m still so upset to find out that I’m the side chick. Just give me some time to get over it.”

After that, you were surprised that Peter still welcomed you to stay. You were always taken care of and Peter made sure that the maids made sure you were comfortable whenever he’s at work. He pampered you and he spoiled the unborn baby inside of you as well. He bought a crib, a baby monitor and all things that a baby needs.

“Peter, I’m not even close to my due date yet.” You chuckled. At this point, you were already two months pregnant. Peter smiled and said, “I don’t mind. It’s better to be early because knowing me, I forget things.”

Time passed by quickly and it wasn’t long until you were seven months pregnant. A few months back, you and Peter found out that you were having a boy and that excited both of you. Now, it’s like you’re the only one who’s excited. You noticed that Peter wasn’t happy anymore.

One night when he came home from work, you confronted him about his behavior. “Peter, are you okay? You seem really sad lately.” You said softly.

Peter stared at the wall and heavily sighed, “I made a mistake, Y/N. I’m so sorry that I have to do this to you.” The fact that he can’t even look at you says everything. You knew that what he was about to say, will ruin you. You felt it.

“I think I still love Gwen.” Peter mumbled. “What happened to us was a mistake and I’m so sorry that I gave you false hope of becoming a family. I’m really sorry.” He felt so bad. He genuinely did. It wasn’t some sick joke and he cried. You cried too, but you refused to let Peter see your tears. Instead, you sat next to him and patted his back as he sobbed with his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He cried. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You hugged him and rubbed his back with your palm in a circular motion. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s fine, Peter. We all make mistakes.” You said, your voice trembling. You gulped and held your composure. You didn’t want to cry because you knew it would make him feel even more bad. You didn’t want that.

“It’s okay, Peter. Really, it’s fine.” You said sadly. You couldn’t help it, though. Your tears streamed down your face as you silently cried while you held Peter in your arms. “We’ll be okay.”

You quickly wiped your tears before letting go of Peter. He looked at you straight in the eyes and opened his mouth to apologize. You brought your index finger to his mouth and shook your head.

“Don’t.” You said. “I’ll move out.” You got up and started packing your things. Peter left the room because he couldn’t take it. You were an innocent person who got dragged into this mess and you didn’t deserve it. He hated hurting you, but what’s done is done.

You packed what you can and exited the room that you and Peter shared. You dragged your suitcase downstairs and Peter cringed as he heard every step you took. Peter got up from the couch when he saw you reaching for the door.

“Y/N, please promise me something.” Peter pleaded. You looked in the eyes that you’ve grown to love. You nodded and said, “Anything.”

“Promise me that you’ll give me updates about the baby. Send me pictures and videos and just tell me everything about him, okay? I want to feel close to him somehow. If Gwen takes me back, I know she won’t allow me to see you and him.” Peter explained.

“Of course. Anything for you, Pete.” You gave him a small smile before leaving.

That was the last time Peter saw you. Surprisingly, Gwen took him back and he was right; Gwen didn’t want him to see you or the kid despite what she said before about not wanting the kid to grow up without a father. In Gwen’s thoughts, Peter went back to her for a reason and that reason is to be with her. Therefore, Peter should start fresh and pretend everything related to you never happened.

You never texted Peter for a while and that scared him. You promised to update him and not getting any texts from you sent shivers down his spine.

Two months later, you texted him again. It was midnight and Peter was still awake. He was working on his laptop when he got your message. He quickly looked at it and it was a picture of you in the hospital bed with a baby in your arms; his son.

Your text read: Meet Maxim. He’s healthy and he’s fine.

Peter was so happy that he finally heard from you again. He was extremely happy. He was sad that he had no trace of you in his house because the day after you left, Peter sent yours and all the baby’s things to your apartment. It left nothing behind.

Knowing he couldn’t be physically present, Peter sent you a bouquet of flowers and a note that said: ‘Congratulations, darling. Like his name, Maxim is the greatest little boy I’ve ever seen.’

This turned into a tradition for years. Every year, Peter would send gifts for Maxim on his birthday and it would make him happy. Maxim loved his father despite not meeting him yet. He saw pictures of Peter, though. He kept his favorites in his room.

Peter and Gwen got married and even though that happened, he longed to see your updates. It felt wrong, but he just wanted to know you were okay.

One day texts from you just stopped. Peter became paranoid not knowing about yours and Maxim’s condition. He was extremely sad when a week passed by and he still hasn’t heard from you.

“Dad, can you just calm down? I’m trying here, alright!” Peter raised his voice as he spoke to Tony through the phone. “I’ll handle the M.I.T scholarships, dad. You know that I’ll handle it. What makes you think that you can’t trust me?”

“Well, you cheated on Gwen and I lost my trust in you too.” Tony sassed.

“For god’s sake, that was like eight years ago! Get over it!” Peter hissed. “Anyway, I-”

Peter got cut off upon hearing a knock on the door. “Linda, can you get that please?” He shouted from the kitchen before continuing his talk with Tony. The person behind the door knocked again and Peter sighed.

“Dad, hold on a sec.” Peter grumbled. “Linda! Can you get the door, please?!” He stayed quiet for a while and waited for Linda’s footsteps, but they never came. Peter shook his head and spoke to Tony again.

“I’ll just open the door. Linda’s probably watching TV in the maid’s quarters. She likes the volume super loud.”

“Jesus, kid. Just fire her.” Tony said and Peter imagined his father rolling his eyes and disappointingly shaking his head.

“Linda needs the job. Anyway, I’ll get the door.” Peter said as he heard knocking again. He puts his phone on the countertop. He quickly jogged to the front door and opened it.

“Hi, dad.”

Peter wanted to faint. He looked around and you were nowhere in sight. “M-Maxim?”

“That’s me!” Maxim grinned. The 8-year-old boy had the features of Peter and it was so obvious that Peter’s his father. Peter stared at him for a long time and Maxim cleared his throat, “May I come in?”

Peter could only nod as he opened the door wider for Maxim. He closed the door and quickly went to the kitchen. He grabbed his phone and said, “Dad, I’ll call you back.”

“Why? What ha-”

Peter hung up the phone and turned his attention to his son who was standing behind him. “Was that grandpa?” Maxim asked with an innocent look on his face.

“Yeah.” Peter smiled softly. “Where’s your mom?”

Maxim frowned, “She’s dead.”

Peter’s heart stopped. Maxim told him about how you met your demise and Peter couldn’t function anymore. The mother of his child was now dead and he didn’t even get to say goodbye. It broke him and his heart broke even more for his son because he was motherless at the tender age of eight. He looked at his precious son with sad eyes as Maxim explained everything.

Peter hugged him tightly and swore to himself that he’d protect Maxim at all cost. He just couldn’t believe that you were gone.

* * * *

Part 2? Bc there will be whether you like it or not.

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @cocoamoonmalfoy @thatforgottenangel @parkerpeter24 @slutforsr @givebuckyhisplumsnow @buckys-little-hoe @runawayolives @chewymoustachio @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @beverlythrillz @pearce14 @juliediggory @yaya4302 @alexx-stancati @rumplebutterbaby @dummiesshort @spideyspeaches @quxxnxfhxll @marvelsimps @angelsgrxzer @dreamy-clousds @bora-world @hunnybunimdun @supred12 @more-like-reyna @caitsymichelle13

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @calltothewild @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker one shots #peter parker angst #stark!peter parker #stark!peter #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now.

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really.

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them.

God damn she’s a fucking idiot.

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous.

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.”

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne.

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented.

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air…

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before.

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern.

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?”

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake.

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation.

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects.

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate.

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.”

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints.

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father.

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss.

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter.

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye.

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces.

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin.

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day.

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards.

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.”

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden.

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls.

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns.

A huge mistake.

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.”

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.”

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.”

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son.

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?”

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says.

“Zoe?”

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod.

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head.

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself.

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her.

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying.

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.”

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy.

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy.

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.”

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet.

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable.

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more.

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too.

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always.

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident.

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something?

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s.

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.”

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest.

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.”

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry.

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked.

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--”

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face.

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.”

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly.

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up.

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.”

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees.

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still.

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover.

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying.

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.”

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath.

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth.

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?”

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.”

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”

She spins on her heels, and walks away.

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.”

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go.

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.

Her stomach rolls again.

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.”

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much.

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him.

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on.

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster.

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.”

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.”

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says.

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable.

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.”

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.”

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays.

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help.

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall.

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting.

Two voices she knows intimately.

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock.

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again.

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head.

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.”

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.”

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less.

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside.

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly.

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it.

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not.

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier.

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again.

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf.

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying.

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain.

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully.

Good. He’s gone.

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick.

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out.

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror.

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

#this one's a long boi folks #long and sad #but this is as bad as it gets! we've hit rock bottom!#it's all uphill from here i promise #pjo au #ballet au #percabeth #pjo fic #the rivalry ends here

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pinkkunt-imagines · 4 years

Text

Shao Kahn || Ego & WAP

Songs: Beyonce - Ego & Cardi B feat. Megan Thee Stallion - WAP

Synopsis: The Kahn has been pussymatized, and is need of his favorite good little concubine.

A/N: Soo, I had to go with two songs for Shao. Ego because his attitude is big and well...you know... ;) And WAP because I can imagine he was pussymatized by Sindel. Soo here it is for reader. I’d also like to mention that I’m appauled about their is virtually almost no Shao Kahn x Reader on the internet? Like only one about him on Tumblr. Ya’ll gon give him respek! It was supposed to be Light NSFW, but it got out of hand real fast into a full smut one-shot. So NSFW WARNING BELOW! Here is also Shao Kahn eating your vagina through a screen gif.

“[Name]! Where is my [Name]!?” That roar rippled throughout the palace, practically scaring anyone who heard. “I want her! Bring her to me now!”

He sure was needy today, or more like, everyday. The only one that could help him was [Name], his favorite concubine out of a cluster of various women. Something about her was pure in nature, and a natural beauty at that. It was something he had to have for himself, something he had to rip apart and destroy. He had to change her, make her see that conquering people and land was the only way to get stronger. But the opposite had been happening.

She was the saving grace of Outworld. While her Kahn was a cruel man, capable of many bad deeds, [Name] was not. While she wasn’t a big fan of his more brutal approach with imperialism, she believed that if he was going to take other realms that reforming the people would be a better approach. It was all nonsense to him at first, people didn’t need to be reformed to listen, they just needed to do it. But [Name] was pretty good at choosing the appropriate times to talk about such topics, usually during pillowtalk. And honestly, it was working, [Name] was changing the immortal little by little. Lately, he found himself taking prisoners rather than executing them at the spot, just like she wanted. Mentally he cursed her and himself while making such decisions. Who would’ve thought that the man so obsessed with power would be influenced by some ordinary human. She was making him weak.

Shao also noticed a change in his mental thought when he was out conquering realms. Oftentimes thinking of something he could take from someone and give to [Name]. He needed to hold her at night, spoil her, listen to her concerns even when they were a bore. And unlike many of the other concubines who had to do chores like cook and clean, [Name] was not required to do such labor. Many of the girls became envious towards her and Shao’s favoritism. Was this some form of love? Vice versa for [Name]. There was something oddly attractive about his lust for power, and that big mean persona he put on. He took what he wanted like some thug, and most of all knew how to make her feel good. Being intimate so many times, she was bound to fall in love with him.

When walking into the large throne room, she noticed that Shao was already bare, rubbing his abnormal large cock in between his hands. Having sex was one of the only times he’d remove his helmet, as he did enjoy kissing more than he’d like to admit. She wore a black wool coat, fully buttoned and barefoot as she approached his throne. The distance between them was about six feet apart, and even then Shao was ready to pounce out of the chair and fuck her against the cold floor.

Fingers lightly tracing the buttons on the coat, [Name] teasingly ran her hand around her covered body, Shao’s eyes watching closely in anticipation, “So impatient today, Shaowie. I was already coming the first dozen times you called.”

Shaowie was the nickname she had given him after growing closer. It was okay to call him in private, but even she knew without warning to not call him that around others. But this only proved to her even more that he had a soft spot for her.

He grinned wildly, rubbing his cock with haste. He was ready and couldn’t wait any longer. “Ah! My [Name]! How ravishing you look today. Come now, and I will rip that piece of Earthrealm clothing off your skin and devour you.”

“Only if you can guess what I’m wearing underneath~”

“For your sake, it better be nothing.”

[Name] undid the buttons on her coat at a slow tantalizing pace. Her teasing gaze caught the eyes of the lustful man, and that's when he lost it.

“Come to me, now! I won’t wait any longer.”

He hoisted her naked body up, turning her around so that her back faced him, whilst he stayed seated. With both of his hands on her curved hips, he lined himself up with her already dripping hole before shoving himself inside. God, he was so big, so thick that he was splitting her in half. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. The initial burning sensation that she felt when he was ripping her apart was something that she loved. So full and so sudden, she could hardly breathe. All that left her mouth were strangled gasps. Shao on the other hand let out an animalistic growl, that echoed throughout the throne room walls. Her walls, with a short initial spasm, had clenched onto him tightly. Shao loved to take [Name] from behind, mostly for the show of watching his cock disappear inside her.

“Mmm, yes that’s it! Take all of my cock!”

He started his impatient and sloppy thrusts, using her tight soaked pussy as a cock sleeve with no care. Shao marveled at how good her cunt felt around him. She was no Sindel. No, she was tighter, younger, and was always on a mission to milk him dry. The fact that he was allowing himself to be controlled by her pussy was in proof in itself. What he admired most was her determination to take all of him (even though he was way too big for that), even when the head of his dick kissed against her cervix; yet, he always kept pushing forward, and she never objected. Shao Kahn’s ego matched what was going on below. He had every right to boast about himself, because he surely could back it up.

“H-Harder!” She moaned, completely immersed in the pleasurable pain that was Shao Kahn’s cock.

His claws dug into her soft flesh with greed as to so seem as pure fury, while he pulled [Name]’s body back against his dick, somehow managing to go even harder than he already was. Shao’s head flew back against the throne, mouth hanging open still releasing those animalistic grunts that thundered from his chest. It was mere carnal pleasure taking over both of them. In his frantic race for release, he accidentally hit a precise spot in her, beyond pleasant: she cried out and her soaked walls pulsated around his cock, signalling her early release. [Name] was already a drooling, babbling mess, but this took the cake. She didn’t even get a chance to feel the orgasm build up, she just began squirting everywhere, as her orgasm washed over her.

“Sh-Shao! Ah~ Keep fucking me, Emperor! Don’t stop!” Most of what she had said was slurred and incoherent, but it made Shao’s cock throb anyways.

In a demanding meanor, he asked ,“You naughty little thing. Who said you could cum just yet?”

There was never a need to hold back an orgasm when haing sex with [Name], he ALWAYS made her cum first, and that wasnt even by choice. However there was one occurrence where they came at together, and it was beyond breathtaking. He’d never felt that overwhelmed with pleasure unless he was killing an enemy.

Getting up from his throne, he twisted [Name] around, never retreating his member from her slick. The turn stimulated the underside of her abused clit, sending another round of sybaritic pleasure, that all she could do was whimper. Shao grunted, wrapping his power arms around her body, bringing his hands in between her ass cheeks, and harpooning his claws into them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking into his glowing red eyes that were sinfully hungry for more.

[Name] forcefully pushed herself in for a heated kiss, tongues and saliva exchanging, all without stopping to slam upward into her at brutal and merciless pace. Her pussy bubbled wet and obscene sounds, which only helped to push him to his release. He held her firmly and glued to his own body, and she could hear him panting and grunting desperately into the kiss, sounding like a true wild beast.

His rhythm doubled, he was close. The hand, more like a claw, that was holding tight to her bruised ass, dragged away from under her body to reach her head. He took a handful of her hair at the base of her scalp, and pulled with a quick tug. Her head was tilted in an uncomfortable arch, leaving exposed the slope between her neck and her shoulder, in which his face dove eagerly. His panting breath came out in hot puffs, his grunts roared louder and louder in her ear, while his hips continued frantically crashing into hers at an ungodly pace, the sounds of sweaty skins contact echoing with every impact.

Shao’s cock kept hitting that sweet spot inside her and she felt that familiar pressure dangerously building up. Her walls began clenching onto him again, she was so damn close, giving the man an additional, irresistible sense of blind pleasure. His pace began to wobble, his thrusts became more uneven and sloppy. He was close by now.

Finally he gasped and froze. His grip on her ass intensified, making her fear to explode. Then, with a final, powerful push, he stiffened completely sunk into [Name]. His body pressed flush against her, his nails were like blades into her skin as he did punctuated thrusts to release streams of hot cum that flooded her squashed walls, while the excess was already spilling out of her and along your inner thigh. Simultaneously, the fire that was building up in [Name]’s abdomen finally exploded, coming in waves of lightning pleasure, that she couldn’t help but dissolve herself in it. He grunted trembling and deeply straight into her ear; then it followed his long and echoing sigh, similar to a profound relief.

Shao lifted the exhausted woman off of his still throbbing hard cock, setting himself down back on his chair and her across his large lap. Chuckling, he ran his fingers through her soft locks. “Mmm~ What a good little concubine you are.”

#shao kahn #shao kahn x reader #shao kahn imagines #shao kahn imagine #shao kahn headcanon #shao kahn headcanons #shao kahn scenario #shao kahn scenarios #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mk11 #mortal kombat scenario #mortal kombat scenarios #mortal kombat headcanon #Mortal Kombat headcanons #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines

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