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wonderlandwalker · 21 days

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Shining Bright | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You and James reunite after the winter holiday, reminiscing old memories and stumbling into new ones. Except Sirius doesn't know you're dating yet, and James is not particularly good at hiding it anymore.

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, angst kinda idk, Reader is Sirius' sister (how do I even tag that), 18+, hinting at abuse, simping, traumatizing bystanders, not proofread just go with it, no use of y/n, ignore any plotholes

Word Count: 4.0k

A/n: I listened to the hazbin hotel soundtrack on repeat while writing and I'm praying it doesn't show. This was gonna make this longer but then I got impatient so lemme know if you'd like more. Not kidding when I say it's not proofread this came straight out of my notes so sorry for any mistakes, will come back later to fix them xx

The black family siblings were all as bright as the stars they were named after, James knew this for a fact. Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky, scorching others with his light in a way you couldn't look away from even if you wanted to. Regulus, not as blinding as his brother, but shining in his own right amongst those who took the effort to look for the constellation he carried with him. And you, you were a puzzle James couldn't yet solve, the light luring him in like that spark people spend their lives looking for, never sure if they'll ever get to hold it.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor in his first year, your parents had been very strict about who you socialized with, not wanting any further damage to the oh so carefully crafted family image. Not that it mattered, you and Sirius found plenty of ways to talk, most people didnt care enough to snitch and the ones who did were familiar enough with what you both were capable of to watch their tongues. Sirius was more loud and proud in his defiance, living up to his namesake in the sky, but you were better at hiding it, playing into the part people expected. Yes, Sirius was a fallen star, and your parents had worried he’d drag you with him, but you only shined brighter in his absence, trying to make up for the light lost as if something wasnt permanently dimming it.

And that's exactly what he was worried about right now, because you were never really yourself after a holiday at the Black family manor, always a part of you left behind, a part dimmed. But James was your sun, always there shining bright enough to ignore anything else, because with his light you were never truly dulled. He had missed you, he had missed you so much, your relationship was fresh, but he had been head over heels from the first time you kissed. He had been replaying the memory in his head so often he could almost see it.

You were slytherin’s head girl, just as he was gryfindoors head boy, and you had run into each other while doing rounds of the hallways. Typically this would be a job for the prefects, but for some reason the both of you had decided to take over their duties for the evening, you called it luck, James called it destiny.

It was simply banter while walking down the halls, and it was mostly at James’ expense, but he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. He was loud with his body, moving his hands as he talked and sometimes kicking his feet ahead of him, but you were more quiet, more calculated. So James did what he always did, talk. “I had a dream once about a glass of strawberry lemonde except it was only as big as my pinky finger, and there was this duck who tried to keep stealing it from me.” You stop in your tracks as he finishes his rant, staring right at him. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream.” “Really?” his eyes were wide as he saw your face change.

“Are you crazy, of course I didn’t.” You fell back into step and he hurriedly caught up with you again. “Well you never know, Sirius and I have the same dreams sometimes, I mean we’re basically brothers-”

“Does that make me basically your sister?” Your eyebrows were raised at him as you asked your question, and he had to do his best not to trip over his own feet as he answered.

“What, no!-” his face had turned bright red rather quickly, and you would probably never admit this to him, but you had found it quite endearing. “I don’t, I just don’t think of you as a sister, definitely not a sister.” Somehow you had turned him into a nervous wreck in under a minute, and you were quickly getting addicted to the effect you had on him, letting him tumble over his words further.

“Like, if I married you, Sirius would be my brother but you wouldnt be my sister, you know. Those two things don’t have to go togethe-” his thoughts slowly trailed off as he turned his head to look at you, a bright smile now evident on your face, and if this is how your face lit up, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of his life. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me?” Your head was turned up towards him, challenging him to continue his train of thought. He looked frantically around him as if searching for an answer, hiping the right thing to say would magically appear, but of course it didnt. “What, of course not, I don’t wanny marry you. Wait- no i mean, hypothetically I would but-” “You can relax James, I’m just messing with you” Your shoulders were slightly shaking, suppressing laughter he was desperate to hear. “Right” The tension seeped out of him right as he started laughing himself, and it was so infectious you couldnt help but join him in it.

The two of you fell into an effortless silence as you continued, and James was about to break it before you beat him to the punch.

“You know, right now would be a great moment to kiss me” he was sure he would get whiplash from the way his head turned towards you. The look on your face didnt give anything away, and for a moment he had wondered if he had made it up. “If that's the sort of thing you’d want to do” you were looking down at your shoes now, roles reversed as you had become the nervous one, and for another moment he just stared at the blush creeping up on your face before he realised he should probably say something, anything.

“Don’t you think this is wrong? '' Alright, maybe that wasnt the right something to say, but he genuinely pondered before you put his worries to rest. “dont you think that’s up to us to decide?” You were looking up to him now, eyes enchanting him with a single glance.

“If Sirius finds out-” “I won’t tell if you don’t”

“Well- “James, do you want to kiss me or not?” “Merlin, yes.” with that the last of James’ self control was lost, and he pushed you into the wall behind you as his lips found yours, dedicated to explore you for as long as youd let him. You melted into the kiss just as quickly, leaning your body into him as he pressed up against you. James was eager with everything he did, and this was no exception. His hands didnt know where to go, never staying still for long as they roamed your body, you couldve sworn they were little rays of sunshine, lighting you up everywhere he touched. Your own hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging at some hair, resulting in a small moan leaving him, and after the taste you were desperate for more. James found himself in a similar situation, completely forgetting his surroundings as his mouth made its way to your neck, trailing kisses down from by your ear to your pulse point until you were silently moaning his name, begging him not to stop, not that he’d ever dare to.

He continued his assault on your neck, his hands trailing up higher and higher underneath your shirt, longing to feel more of you, you tugged at his hair again and led him back to your face, connecting your lips once more, this time more sloppy, your patience completely gone.

James was ready to drop to his knees for you, and he would have if he didnt hear someone nearly shriek behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with a second year Hufflepuff who looked close to fainting, stuck in place at the corner she had just turned.

“Shit” he mumbled as he leaped forward, not sure whether to comfort the girl or scold her for being out past curfew. As James looked back at you you were close to losing it, and he couldnt deny the humour of the situation himself. In the end the two of you walked the girl back to her common room, not too worried about the situation with how in shock she seemed to be.

So yes, winter break had left him simply wishing to be near you again, and now he was so close he could almost already feel you in his arms again. He had debated telling Sirius, it would be so much easier, since he had moved in with the Potters a while ago and James was struggling to keep his yearning for you to himself, he was sure his parents had figured it out already, but simply choose to let him deal with it on his own for now. Everytime you send Sirius an owl he wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, hoping that information about you would fall out like loose change.But he knew Sirius couldn't know, he knew that. Everyone assumes it's James who can't keep a secret, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but really that's only because he's never really had a reason not to. Truly, it was Sirius who couldn't keep a thing to himself, once he knew, half of Hogwarts knew, he just couldn't stop himself from talking about the things that excited him, which was one of the qualities James so adored, but not one which would play in your favour at the moment.

You were still living with your parents, still subject to their ways and while James had begged you to come live with him as well, you were hesitant. Hesitant to leave Regulus behind, hesitant to leave the life you had grown so accustomed to, even if it wasn't a good one. The both of you knew your parents would never approve, sure, James held the pureblood status, but it had lost its value the moment he harboured Sirius.

And so when the winter holiday came to an end and they once again reached Hogwarts, James was the embodiment of pure excitement. He was glad no one was questioning it, most likely brushing it off as joy at reuniting with his friends, which wasn't entirely untrue.

For a little while he truly got lost in seeing everyone again, trading stories with Remus and Peter about what they had been up to, discussing pranks that needed to be set ij motion to make up for lost time, but when the start of term party took place and he walked down to the common room with the others he froze in his tracks, because there you were. For a split second he wondered if it had been a dream, he had been having them so often now, but Sirius rushed past him to envelop you in a hig so tight you spilled half of your drink over yourself, cursing at him in such a soft tone of endearment as you hugged him back.

"I've missed you, you know" Sirius was beaming at you, doing a quick double check of you, something James used to not think much about until je started doing it himself after he found the strange bruises none of you dared to speak of.

"Yes Siri, I do know" you chuckled back at him, and in that moment all the worry disappeared.

"I've missed you too"

The rest of the group caught up with the two of you, and it was Remus who first spoke

"It's good to see you back" he acknowledged with a small nod, not one for big gestures, but you had all learned it truly was the thought that counts.

"It's good to be back, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change so there's no longer firewhiskey all over my shirt" You gave a pointed look at Sirius, but his antics were nothing new to you.

"Just use one of my sweaters so you don't have to go all the way back to the slytherin dorms, I have some extras upstairs" sirius nudged his head towards the stairs, you gave him a final hug as you moved to take him up on his offer.

As you walked by him James could smell the blend of vanilla and rosemary that was still there despite the liquor, it intoxicated him like a drug he was already hooked on, finally getting a fix of it after so long apart, and he had to remind himself not to grab you and kiss you right then and there.

You disappeared from his sight as you went up to the dorms and it only took another second for James' brain to spring to action.

"I gotta go"

"What, why? We just got here" he knew he would need a better excuse, but the fuses in his head weren't connecting.

" forgot my wand" is what splurged out

"Why would you need your wand we're-" thankfully it was Sirius's short attention span that came to the rescue, because the moment he saw Marlene he made a beeline to go see her. James wondered if he had it in him to explain his actions to Peter and Remus, but neither of them seemed to mind much, so he sprinted off to the stairs as well.

As soon as he got to his dorm, he reminded himself to knock, not wanting to startle you.

"Merlin Sirius, how am I meant to find anything in this mess?" James creaked the door open to see you rummaging through your brother's trunk, still looking for the sweater you had come up here to find.

"Why don't you just wear one of mine" even the idea of it already made James's head dizzy. Your head spun around as soon as you heard his voice, and for a moment the two of you simply stood there, looking at each other like a long lost treasure. But it didn't last long, because right after James crossed the room in record time, he took you in his arms, connecting his lips with yours as if you were his last source of oxygen. The kiss was heated and filled with lust from the both of you, and James could finally let himself go, finally let his thoughts out and make them reality once more.

That’s why he decided not to waste any more time as he gently nudged you towards his bed, making sure you wouldnt hit the headboard as the both of you laid down. He remembered the path he was trailing down your neck with his eyes closed, had remembered the way your breath hitched and your hips squirmed everytime he did so. All he had to do was follow the same signs and you were a mess underneath him in no time. His hands made their way up underneath your skirt, massaging the skin underneath his fingertips as he heard you moaning out his name, pleading for him to keep going, and he was more than happy to fullfill your request. He continued his way down until he came face to face with your whiskey stained shirt, not thinking twice before taking it off you, but from how you were quick to connect his lips with yours once more you didnt seem to mind. But James was a man on a mission, and it was not one he was willing to abandon. So he willed himself to ignore the whine that left you as he moved away from the kiss, knowing you’d forgive him for it soon enough.

He found his way to your chest and took in the sight for sore eyes you were to him, once again glowing underneath him. He was starting to suck bruises onto your skin, love marks he knew only he would see, and when he would next time he’d be just as eager to leave even more of them behind. Having you like this again, feeling the heat of your skin against him, your hands tugging at his curls as he could hear more and more moans slip out of you, it got him hard in his trousers simply thinking about all the things you’d let him do to you, all the things he’d do for you. He was rutting his hips into the mattress, desperate for the friction of it, his hands krept up further towards your cunt, inching further up until he could slide your underwear to the side and feel just how wet you were for him. His mouth was still busy on your chest as one of his fingers found its way inside of you, making you arch your back towards him. “Fuck darling, your pussy feels just as good as I remember” You wanted to reply to him, telling him how good he felt inside of you, his long hands reaching places you never could on your own, but your words failed you as just another moan left you, your exterior having crumbled down in a matter of minutes thanks to the one and only James Potter, but he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“I know baby, I’ll take good care of you don’t worry”

He had never broken a promise before, and he wasn’t about to start now, he added a second finger, crooking them inside of you towards the one spot that would turn your vision white as if you were staring straight into the sun itself. If this had been any other moment you might have been embarrassed about how fast you were starting to reach your high, but James wasnt the only one who had been waiting for this, dreaming about seeing each other again, counting down the days. It took him only a little while longer, encouraged only further by your laboured breathing until he was sure he was about to reach his own climax simply from the sounds you were making underneath him as he coaxed you through it. But he didnt give you much time to recover, not letting you catch your breath as he went further down the bed until he could start kissing your thighs, giving in to the urge to bite some of the fat leading up to your cunt, it made you produce a small shriek, and it encouraged him even further.

So he wasted no more time, attaching his lips to your clit and lapping at it like a man starved, wanting to make you cum again, wondering how fast he could make you come undone again. His tongue hungrily took in all the juices from your previous orgasm and from the next one creeping closer and closer. His nose kept bumping against your clit as his mouth was now on your opening, not quite reaching the spots his finger could but oh so heavenly in a whole other way. He was dangerously close to his own high now, rather sure he’d reach it the moment you started spasming underneath him from the overstimulation. But he wasnt letting down just yet, doubling down on his efforts as he felt you grow restless, gracing his ears with whimpers and whispers reserved only for him. He could tell you were about to tip over the edge, knew you and your body well enough by now to see the signs before you even registered them yourself. “You can let go, I’ve got you” he accentuated his words with a soft squeeze to your inner thighs as he could feel you melt into him and took everything you would give him.

“I’m pretty sure you just beat your record” you were breathless but you were already softly giggling as a wide smile broke on his face, proud of himself for his endeavors but furthemore proud of how he had been able to get you to let your walls down around him, how you had let him help you disassemble them brick by brick with each passing day. It was still early in the relationship, but James had never been so sure as to the fact that he loved you, because your presence made him shine even brighter than he already did, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could keep it contained. He moved back up the bed, caging you in with his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, no longer hurriedly or messy, but soft and delicate like the first rays of morning light.

Just as he did so however, someone came barelling in the room, and James cursed himself for not having locked it.

“You better not be cutting one of my shirts into a tank-top again- holy fuck” Sirius very nearly landed face first into the hard wood flooring as he caught sight of the two of you before he he steadied himself on the dresser. The both of you shot up from your positions on the bed, and, ironically enough, approached him as one would a startled deer. “What in Merlin’s beard were you two just doing” He looked as if he was contemplating life itself, and you almost felt bad for him

“What, nothing, you’re drunk-” James tried to defend, but you were rather sure there was no way out of this one.

“I’m not drunk, I’m sober and that's the problem” He was flailing his hands around now, and it was hard to suppress the laugh bubbling its way up your throat.

“Don’t laugh, this is not a situation to laugh at” he was trying to be stern, but it didnt quite suit him.

“It’s alright Sirius, James and I have been seeing each other for a little while now” He was no longer shocked, no, his current expression better resembled being offended.

“And neither of you told me” he was nearly shouting now, but the party downstairs was loud enough that it didn’t really matter anyway.

“We haven’t told anyone, and youre not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

“Excuse me, I’m great at keeping secrets, I never told you he’s had a crush on you since third year, but apparently I should have”

“Completely forgot I ever told you that” James’ shoulders had lost their tension as he stood next to you now, slowly reaching out for your hand.

“I will go now before either of you scar my eyes any further” Sirius said as he made his way back to the dorm door.

“Oi Moony, wait till you hear- fuck I can’t tell you” He had made a complete mood shift once more as he turned fuzzy, wanting to tell someone the news immediatly.

“It’s fine, Remus knows.” You tell him, interlacing your fingers with James’ in the meantime.

This time he looked betrayed again, halfway down the stairs already as you could hear him yelling. “You knew and didnt tell me?!” and it was faint, but you could make out Remus’ voice as well. “Of course I knew, I have eyes” The two of you looked at each other as he placed a simple kiss on top of your hair, a small gesture of affection that would become increasingly more common with time. He turned around briefly to grab something from his trunk and before you could register it he had already asked, the shirt in his hand.

“Still gotta change your top, why don’t you take my jersey” It made your heart flutter as you slipped the item of clothing over your head and you went to follow Sirius downstairs, figuring this was as good a time as any to tell everyone.

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iutdwae · 7 months

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— the little things they do.

pairing. skz hyung line x reader

cw. fluff, just lots of pure raw love :3

word count. 595

[ found my drafts for my haikyuu blog from 3 years ago so i recycled it into my new interest LOL i’m just buffering while i write out my chan hard thoughts ]

CHAN buys you anything he sees piques your interest. you never have to verbally tell him you want something. whenever he takes notice to when your eyes linger just a second longer on a shirt on the hangers, or you constantly talk about a decoration you’ve been wanting to get, he’ll go out and buy it as soon as possible. he doesn’t just give you gift after gift either, he’ll shower you in so much subtle affection. the way he’d cling onto you and place gentle kisses on your forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, everywhere when the two of you are sitting watching tv; he absolutely spoils you. he’s an observant guy, and this really comes to play, especially when he starts buying you things that you don’t even look at, but rather what reminds him of you.

MINHO, though unwilling to admit it, has a 42 hour long soundtrack of songs that remind him of you. he’d been subconsciously compiling a playlist of songs that rubbed him in a way that others didn’t: a slight buzzing feeling in his head, it might even stop him in his tracks, contort his mood to where he was unexplainably snappy (he was just suddenly emotional), and he couldn’t pinpoint the reason for so long. it was when a mental image began to pop up during a certain chord of a song that he realized he was connecting the songs to you, and it wasn’t until it was at 30 hours that you found out about its existence. and the funny thing was, was that the songs were always slow and sleepy-like, almost like he was floating in the dream that was you.

CHANGBIN is always looking out for you. at every time of the day where a meal should be, expect a text from him asking if you’ve eaten. in the mornings, he’ll write a quick good morning message and a “make sure you grab something to eat.” it’s to the point where he’s memorized when you typically have dinner. it progressively grows to him making sure you eat a proper meal three times a day. he’s your top motivator if you’re on a diet, though he also soothes your worries on your body image. his goal is to keep you healthy and satisfied, is all. if he knows you’re too busy to feed yourself properly, expect to find food delivered with a lovely note, never cold and always something he knew you enjoyed. and if he’s home too, you already know he’ll be the one to prepare you something from his own hands.

HYUNJIN texts you good morning and good night every single day, without fail. a lot of the time, it’s really energetic with lots of emojis and exclamation marks. if he’s up late at night, sometimes, it’ll be a lengthy, childish love letter. he’s particularly good with his words at these times, and it’s common to find yourself crying at his constructed paragraph, stacked with innocence and pure love. sometimes, if he’s too exhausted to let his fingers do the work, he’ll lay in bed with his phone by his head and speak flawlessly into the mic, spilling out all the things he wishes he’d get to say to you in person. he’s out and about for work, and you aren’t always in the same timezone as him, so he’s developed a way on having you keep up with his agenda when he’s away. bonus if he sends you a picture of his bright, smiling face with a thumbs up, ready to begin his day.

#skz #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz x reader #bangchan x reader #hyunjin x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #bangchan fluff #hyunjin fluff #lee know fluff #changbin fluff

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notjustjavierpena · 8 months

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Reunion - Part I

A/N: I have wanted to post this for a week now, expanding the dbf-universe a little more than it just being smut. It’s cliché-filled and lovely, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Summary: You're flying back to visit your parents (it’s Joel, you’re actually home for) after a month at college.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, sooooo much longing and love and fluff and teasing, Joel gets a blowjob, pet names, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, cuddles, reader’s dad is oblivious

Word count: 6.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892244

Tonight

You feel giddy as you walk through the airport with your headphones on, your bag slung over your shoulder, and with a bounce in your step. Your feet’s movements have automatically adjusted to the beat of the song that’s playing in your ears, setting a late-summer soundtrack to your life as unimportant faces pass.

It’s sunny and warm inside the glass building, and whilst you cannot wait to get outside into the colder weather, it’s actually because of your father’s work emergency that you are excited; Joel is picking you up instead.

Joel at 11:06 a.m.: I can’t wait to see you. -JM

Your eyes roam over the screen of your phone whilst you pass through the crowd, smiling in a way that would make your parents ask why. Who knew that Joel Miller could make you feel like summer was still at its peak?

“There you are,” Joel says when you find his car in the enormous parking lot. He is leaning against the side of the vehicle, and you approach him whilst taking off your earphones to let them hang around your neck.

When you are less than twenty feet from him, you stop walking and run the rest of the way. You close the distance between you by throwing your arms around him in a tight hug, a happy squeak leaving your mouth. He lets out an ompf-sound but embraces you when the car saves him from falling backward.

“Hey,” he says into your hair, noticing the volume of your music when he can hear it play through the speakers, “You hate your ears?”

You are too busy breathing him in, head swimming from the very first inhale of his cologne, “Hm?”

“Turn that music down,” he tells you.

“God, stop sounding like my dad,” you groan and step back from him to do as you are told, “Fucking boner killer.”

“Don’t swear at me,” he warns but his tone tells you that the way he rolls his eyes at you afterward is more playful than impatient. He holds out his hand, “Bag.”

You stuff your headphones into the bag before giving it to Joel and watch him throw it into the backseat before circling the truck to hold the passenger door open for you. It feels stupid when your heart flutters at the sight of both of your bags lying side by side.

“Thank you,” you smile politely as you crawl into the car, “Even if you just hurled my possessions into the car.”

“Brat.”

You ogle him in the few moments it takes him to walk around the front of the car. He wears a green flannel shirt over one of his usual t-shirts, chest threatening to pop the buttons with how tight it is across his broad frame. A part of you hopes that he has dressed up for you, and the image of him fussing over his appearance in the mirror before leaving to pick you up is enough to make you smile goofily to yourself.

“What?” He asks when he finally sits beside you, turning the key in the ignition. The truck comes alive.

“Nothing,” you shrug, but then lean across the console center of the car. You reach up to cup his cheek and turn his head towards you, “You just look very handsome today.”

Then you kiss him softly on the mouth, seeking him out in the way that only you are allowed. He turns his body towards you, slides a hand around your back, and rests the other on the back of your neck.

“Mhm, and you’re lookin’ pretty, princess,” he hums against your mouth.

You kiss for a while, intimate and soft. When you try to move closer and escalate things by nearly crawling into his lap, he grips the hair at the back of your neck and holds you in place.

“No,” he tells you and you whine in response.

The hand you have on his cheek slips down to rest on his shoulder, but only so you can reach down on his back and scratch affectionately between his shoulder blades, “Please. It’s been forever, and— and I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens as he restrains himself. He shakes his head, eyes only going down between your legs very briefly, “Promised your old man to feed you on the way back since he ain’t at home, and your mom’s gone out with her colleagues. Plus there’s no way I’m screwin' a girl twenty years my junior in my car… in a public place. Don’t care how busy it is here.”

You slip from his grasp and sit back into the passenger seat with a huff. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him adjust himself in his washed-out jeans, “When then?”

“Tonight,” he promises as he pulls out of the parking space, “Think of how good it’ll be after bein' worked up all day.”

“If you can wait that long,” you sigh dramatically.

Joel scoffs and then starts to drive. Your clit throbs during the whole duration of the car ride.

He eventually pulls into an IHOP parking lot after you’ve begged him since seeing the billboard a few miles earlier. It is better than one of the roadside diners and more crowded too which gives you a greater sense of privacy.

You step out of the car, immediately met with the smell of sugary fried food. It makes your stomach growl, but still, and you’ll admit it, you are more excited to see what feast Joel will choose than you are about eating pancakes for lunch.

“C’mon,” he says as you lose yourself to basking in the sunlight and listening to the cars driving by on the highway.

“Lemme just get my wallet.”

Joel makes a sound of disapproval, “Food’s on me. Get your ass in there.”

The restaurant looks less rundown than you’d expected, and the sweetness in the air hits you like a brick wall as soon as you step over the threshold of the entrance. People are chatting loudly whilst eating breakfast foods, somewhere a baby cries and you have to actively search for a free table.

You walk across the tiled floor which is meant to look like wooden boards, not able to see Joel but feeling his presence a few steps behind you. When someone walks in front of you, you hear him grumble and feel his hand on the small of your back. Your head swims, your stomach swirling at the warmth of his touch.

Unsurprisingly, this means that it ends up being him who finds an unoccupied corner for you, one that doesn’t have anything sticky on the blue cushions of the booth. He offers you the booth and takes the chair on the opposite side.

You pick up the laminated paper menu from in front of you, studying it intensely. In the many years that you have known Joel, you have never actually been out with him where it’s just been the two of you because why would you? It makes butterflies fly around in your belly, fighting their way out until they are everywhere in your body. Especially between your legs when you see him scratch his beard whilst also looking for something to eat.

“This is our first date, you know,” you note and see Joel tense a little. You try to sound cool and indifferent whilst hiding behind the menu, “Are you nervous?”

“I’m usually always a lil’ nervous when I’m with a pretty girl,” he replies nonchalantly too, “But actually no. Even if she’s the prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You dare not open your mouth at that, scared that the butterflies might actually escape your body at this point and fly off into the air. You are hot in the face, resting the menu against your forehead to hide your face from him, “Shut up.”

“You started it.”

You peek over the top and are just about to say something when—

“Hi and welcome to IHOP!” A way too cheerful voice says and interrupts the tender moment. You slam the menu into the table a little too hard.

Both of you stare at the waitress, but Joel looks more like he has been offended by her bubbly attitude. She has a heavy southern twang. vibrant red lipstick and thick-framed glasses that suggest that she’s trying to go for something vintage and modern at the same time, “What can I getcha?”

Joel mumbles something about bacon and eggs along with the blackest coffee they have. The woman scribbles erratically on her notepad whilst complimenting his choice.

“And for your daughter?” She continues. Joel looks horrified, and you try to hide your giggle.

“I’ll take your cupcake pancakes, please. And a strawberry shake,” you reply, “And hash browns for me and my dad to share.”

“Alrighty!” The waitress concludes, collects the menus, and turns to Joel, “And for you, I’ll be right there with your coffee, sir.”

Joel kicks you under the table as soon as she has left. You stick out your tongue at him, but he fixes you with a stern look, “Don’t fuckin’ do that.”

“Why? It’s just a joke,” you shrug and lean back into the booth, “Not like anyone knows us here.”

It’s then that you realize that it probably has more to do with him than you; Joel probably feels like the comment was a slap in the face and a way of illustrating how fucked-up his relationship with you is. You find that you don’t actually care if the relationship is known to the whole IHOP, but with the way that Joel is looking away, you don’t dare to lean over and kiss his lips.

“Hey,” your voice is gentle as you place your hand on the table, palm facing up, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Joel curls his own hand around yours but still doesn’t say anything. His eyes are focused somewhere else as if he doesn’t dare to look back at you. You don’t think you dare see the wounded look on his face.

“This isn’t just fun ‘n games to me, you know. I mean, it may have started like that, but over the summer…” you try to fill the silence, background chatter fading from your ears as your pulse picks up, “I do mean it when I say I mi—“

“Stop,” he warns, eyes snapping back to yours and stealing your breath for a second, “We ain’t talking about that in a goddamn IHOP.”

“I feel like there’s no better place to do it,” you retort but he just shakes his head with a mix between a chuckle and a scoff.

“Tonight,” he says just like earlier.

When the food arrives, you eat in comfortable silence for the most part, and the conversation revolves around mundane things such as how you find the start of the semester and what projects he has coming up at work.

You barely give him reason to tut at you. You play nice and sweet, and make him laugh genuinely so you can admire the tiny lines around his eyes. He only makes a parental comment when you start to wolf down the plate of hash browns, and you respond by stuffing the last one into his mouth. It earns you a laugh that nearly sets your heart on fire with how rapidly it ticks.

He drives you all the way home afterward, and you dare to steal a kiss from him before exiting the car. You’ll be around later, you say, and he suggests picking you up, but you tell him you'd rather just take your bike and save him the gas money. He somewhat accepts.

When you step inside your childhood home, you lean against the door with a giggle. Your cheeks burn as you cup them, staying like that for a minute whilst you try to calm your pounding heart. You run your fingers up and through your hair while sighing, “Shit.”

You think back to the first time Joel had fucked you in your bedroom. It had been rushed, intense, and frankly terrifying, but then it’d been good. More than good. The greatest, actually. It had opened something up inside your chest, provoked something between your thighs that you didn’t know existed. In return, Joel has become more gentle with you, softened under your touch every time you are together. You wonder if…

He still yanks your hair, reprimands you, and practically makes you feel like you’re on fire when he touches your pussy like no one has ever done before, but you could swear that he kisses you like you’re more than just fun.

You distract yourself with a shower, find yourself dipping the shower head between your legs for just a moment before shaking the thought. You’ll get what you want soon enough, no need to fantasize. Instead, you do the mind-numbing task of shaving your legs.

Just before leaving for Joel’s, already sitting on your bike, you shoot your father a text.

You at 6:55 p.m.: House is empty. Going out.

Dad at 7:15 p.m.: I’ll be home in 2-3 hours. Did you eat dinner? -Dad

You at 7:17 p.m.: Yep, see u tomorrow :)

And then you start pedaling.

Joel opens his door with a smirk, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside his home after making sure that no one is watching. You didn’t even know that you could pine for someone you already have. Yet here he is looking young, beautiful, and full of life when he is sneaking around with you, and you want him to kiss you silly.

He reads your mind, closes the door quickly afterward, and doesn’t hesitate. He kisses your giggling mouth with the determination to follow up on your make-out session in the truck earlier. He has his arms around you, pushes you gently against the front door, and practically eats at your open mouth. It makes you sigh softly, your heartbeat racing and your skin prickling with electric excitement.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess when you pull away from his lips to go down his neck with the same enthusiasm as a puppy who hasn’t seen their human in forever. Usually, Joel is the one who is eager to move on with less innocent things, but you have been in his company half the day without permission to touch him like this, so you are starving for him.

“We saw each other a few hours ago,” he argues, relaxing his grip on you as your tongue goes over a certain spot that has the ability to bring him to his knees. He groans quietly over your shoulder.

“Wanna suck you off,” you whisper in his ear then descend to your knees right on his scratchy doormat. He rests his hand on your head and runs it over your hair with the gentleness of someone who has nothing to prove, shakes his head at your suggestion that’s hardly a suggestion.

“Not here, your knees gonna hurt,” he insists.

“Don’t care,” you say and mean it; you’ll take the rug burn. You don’t stop your hands from unbuckling his belt, looking up at him through your lashes with a devious smile on your face. He strains, half-hard, against the zipper, and when you pull it down he seems to give in completely.

You yank his jeans down over his hips, and he starts helping you by stepping out of them until they lay forgotten on the floor behind you. As soon as you lay eyes on the outline of his cock, you run your palm over it from tip to base. A wet patch is already threatening to form on the front of his boxers with your simple touch, his length coming to full size as he swells completely underneath your hand. You can see the head starting to poke out from underneath the waistband, so you take pity on him and yank his underwear all the way down as well. They pool around his ankles until they end up in the same pile as Joel’s jeans.

Your mouth is salivating at the sight of him fully hard after a good month without him. Joel is shaking in anticipation, his usual calm and collected facade crumbling.

You waste no time; your hand wraps around the base of Joel’s cock to guide the head to your mouth. The ache to taste him has settled between your legs, clit twitching as you let out the flat of your tongue, curling it around the underside of the head to lick along the frenulum. Your eyes nearly roll back into your skull, and Joel seems to enjoy it because you hear his head bump against the door.

He moans and shudders above you, but he doesn’t yank at your hair like most stupid college boys would already have done because they’ve seen it on the internet. He takes his time with it, instead spreads his fingers over your scalp, scratches, and lets you move freely, “Ohh, you’ve been hungry for it, haven’t ya?”

You smile up at him, nod eagerly to earn praise, and then lick along the underside of the head again. You catch a droplet of precome with the tip of your tongue as you reach the slit, tasting the slight bitterness on him with a hum before repeating the move.

“Mhmmm, that’s it, good girl,” he says breathily.

When you want to tease him a little more, you move to nose along the shaft until you can press a wet kiss by the base. He twitches a little in your fist. You start planting open-mouthed kisses all the way up to the head again, stroking him a few times after getting to the tip.

Your free hand skims up underneath his t-shirt, over the trail of hair that you sometimes bury your nose in whether it be during this sort of thing or just when you feel extra cuddly, mirroring the hand on your head and splaying across his soft stomach. Your nails scratch too, affectionately almost, and then you prepare yourself to take him into your mouth.

Joel looks down as you stop, but groans as he sees you let a good amount of spit gather in your mouth. You let it drip down over the head. His stomach jumps underneath your palm, “Fuck, you are trouble, ain’t ya? Can’t wait to see that pretty mouth around my dick.”

You hum. A few kisses to the head, and then you slide your lips down over him. It is quite the stretch to fit him as far inside as you want in this insatiable state, but you are satisfied with your work when he chokes out a noise that you only thought you were capable of making. That weak croak is worth the ache that will eventually overtake your jaw.

Joel bucks his hips as soon as you encase him in the heat of your mouth. The fat head stabs at the back of your throat, causing you to gag and clench around him but he seems too far gone to even register its doing on you. You let him do it again, blinking rapidly to stop tears from spilling down your cheeks.

Instinctively, his free hand wraps around the wrist of the hand you have on his stomach. He groans as you bob your head and make tiny noises that sometimes develop into wet gagging.

When Joel’s hips start to move, you begin to feel the doormat underneath your jean-clad knees. He isn’t being particularly rough with you, but it’s his size that makes the tears, that you’ve blinked away successfully so far, spill from the corners of your eyes. He is so big, hot, and heavy on your tongue, and filling your belly with the sweetest ache for him to wear you out tonight.

The other hand finally grips tightly, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You whimper as he tugs, fucking you onto his cock, and he nearly loses his mind as your throat squeezes around him with the sound.

“Filthy, filthy girl,” he scorns as spit starts to dribble down your chin, continuous wet noises bouncing off the walls of the living room, “God… You’re gonna make me come down ya tight throat.”

Perhaps after he has fucked you, you think, and then barely shake your head. Joel notices though, slows down as he gets too close, dick twitching inside your mouth before he, albeit reluctantly, draws back out. His breathing is ragged, trying his hardest to calm down and stop himself from teetering around the edge.

You swallow down the remainder of spit in your mouth and pull your hand out of Joel’s grip to wipe the back of it over your soaked chin, shiny with saliva and tears. Your eyes are red, your lips puffy, and your hair a mess. Your jaw hurts from the strain on it but despite this, it hurts more between your legs by now; the throbbing sensation has started to become uncomfortable, your clit desperate for friction and your cunt feeling so empty that it clenches again and again. You need to be filled right now, think you might die if he doesn’t shove his cock in you soon.

“Need you,” you say to break the silence and start to get up on your feet again. You want to cling to him, shed him of the rest of his clothes, and crawl under his skin to live there. You almost sob, “So bad, Daddy. Please please please.”

“Shh…” he coos, toeing off his socks and reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head, revealing his beautiful tan skin and the faint amount of hair on his chest. You reach out to run your nails through it, but he grabs both your wrists and starts taking off your top instead.

“Let me touch you,” you whine but still let him undress you slowly, piece by piece of clothing ending up in the same spot on the floor.

“Y’just touched me,” he says simply, reaching around you to undo your bra. He slides the straps down your arms, the cool air of the room hitting your chest and making your nipples harden. He hums in approval, “So fuckin’ pretty. Been too long.”

He cups your tits, pushes them together, drags his thumbs over your taut nipples, and then lets go when you’re just about to let out a moan. He looks as starved as you and he satisfies his hunger by kissing you with bruising force, his chest against yours to feel your breasts press against himself.

You hoist yourself up and wrap your legs around his waist, his thick cock trapped between your stomachs. He groans at the friction with each step he takes towards the couch and you kiss the noise right off his tongue, sucking at the tip as a reminder of what you have done minutes earlier.

When he reaches the destination, he drops you down onto the leather. Then he leans over you, one knee beside you to reach for the curtains to close them, and you almost give in to the urge of sucking him off again because he is so close. He seems to notice.

“Sit back, panties off,” he orders whilst making sure there are no gaps that anyone can peek inside of.

You follow orders so quickly. He takes no time to tease either, sinks to his knees, yanks your ass further to the edge, and parts your legs until he can get in between them. Your hands rest on the back of your thighs, holding yourself open for him as he guides his cockhead inside of you.

The slight breach makes your breath hitch in your throat until it comes out in a wanton whine, walls already trying to pull him In further. Joel joins you with a guttural groan, staring down at your stretching cunt as he feeds it inch after inch. Usually, there’s some resistance, a pinch, but he bottoms out inside of you so quickly now that you’ve been wet since you saw him before lunch.

You throw your head back against the back of the couch and let him have his way with you, feel him repeatedly pull out almost all the way until he slams right back in and sets a desperate pace. His hand rests on your mound so his thumb can circle your swollen clit, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so fucked out in mere minutes.

Your breath catches, your pulse quickens, the first time he slides over your g-spot which he immediately notices with the way your pussy clenches in surprise pleasure. It makes him repeat the move, tilting his hips to ensure he won’t miss it with every crash of his pelvis into yours.

“Don’t stop, ah-ah! Joel!” You practically yell for him, digging your nails into the plump flesh of your thighs and triggering a growl from him. He cants his hips again so he can move forward and lean into you, still rubbing your clit with his thumb, but now also losing himself in a kiss that’s surprisingly soft compared to the crushing force of his thrusts.

When he pulls back, his body needing the air through his mouth again if he is to continue fucking you like this, he rests his forehead against yours. His breaths are damp and exchanging with your own. Your eyes meet in a fiery gaze as filth starts pouring from his mouth.

“I’mma fuckin’ wear this pussy out tonight, princess,” he tells you with a moan, speeding up the taut circles on your throbbing clit as if to make a demonstration of his next promise, “Make you come and come and - shit, that’s good - fuckin’ wring them out of you.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m gonna come right now,” your voice is frantic and your toes are starting to curl.

“Fuck yes, you are, can feel it,” he pants, “Right on Daddy’s cock, just like he wants it.”

You come undone under his intense gaze with an orgasm that knocks the wind out of your chest to the point where your voice disappears, the only evidence remaining being the furrow of your brow and the open-mouthed yet silent ah. Joel can see it, sense it.

When you come back to earth, greediness bubbles up in your chest. Despite your voice still being caught in your throat, you manage to croak out a wish, “Wanna get on top. Not finished.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans in unison with you as he pulls out of your oversensitive cunt. It doesn’t take long to switch positions, and with a steady grip on the backrest of the couch, you drag your wet heat across Joel’s painfully hard dick. It twitches against your cunt, and he whines when he holds it steady for you to sink down onto.

He fills you differently like this, goes deeper, and feels impossibly bigger. You give an experimental roll of your hips and Joel’s hands fly to your hips, his head falling backward and his body slumping into the seat.

Your initial pace is slow but you want to move faster, yet your body is held in place by Joel’s hands having slid up to hold around your waist. He sets the pace just like before, pushing a little on your back to arch it just how you like to do it yourself. The tip of his cock pokes into your front wall, and the slow sensation of getting it to slide over your g-spot has you thrashing in his lap.

“Need ya to come without me touchin’ your pretty little clit,” he begs without saying please and then slides his thumbs down to rest below your belly button, “Missed it so much, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

He presses the two digits into your flesh, adding the amount of pressure that he has found out is just right by playing with you for hours during the summer. You keen, head lolling to the side and your jaw going slack, “Just like that, Daddy. I’m gonna come if you keep going like that!”

He allows you to ride him in earnest after that, bouncing in his lap and causing the front of his thighs to slap noisily up into your ass. Your whole body trembles at the force, building the pressure that you’ve come to know so well after Joel pulled himself together to fuck you that one day.

“Fuck, you givin’ me another one already? Lucky Daddy,” he growls, still denting your belly with his thumbs. Your pulse is so incredibly fast, and your breaths are nothing but squeaks.

You let out a high-pitched sound as your orgasm rolls through your body, electricity spreading out from your cunt to make your chest blush. You clamp down rhythmically on Joel’s cock and he nearly slides down onto the floor with the way that he melts under you. The thick head continues to ram into your g-spot to keep the second high going for as long as your body will allow, but whereas your voice was gone earlier, you force out a request.

With your hips not stilling, you lock eyes with him and give him a lazy smile, “Tell me when you’re about to come, Daddy.”

“Fuck, won’t be long,” he pants.

“Tell me when,” you repeat.

“N-now, princess!”

You don’t warn him as you lift yourself up from his dick to slide down onto the floor, kneeling with a dirty smile. He catches on fast, swearing under his breath at the realization, and spreads his legs so you can settle between them.

Quickly, you guide his cock to the far back of your mouth and suck him like he is a popsicle and it’s a hot summer’s day. He sure tastes good, arguably better than normally because he is coated in your sweet slick. The dramatic part of you would say that he tastes like sin.

He hisses loudly above you, immediately yanking at your hair when you swallow him down enthusiastically. You make sure to hum so that your muscles clench around his length and the vibrations go down his shaft.

You’re delusional with post-orgasmic pleasure as you bob your head, squeaking as Joel painfully pulls at your hair to the point where you can hear a few strands of hair pop off your scalp. He is so close, twitching in your mouth with every beat of his heart.

When you hollow your cheeks, he comes on your tongue with a loud groan. His hips stutter slightly but you expertly move with him so nothing spills, and so you can push it to the back of your mouth and swallow.

You radiate pride as you pull off of his spit-slicked cock. He breathes heavily, utterly spent and relishing in it.

“See? No mess to clean,” you rest your cheek against his knees as his cock softens.

“Wow, clever girl,” he praises with the little energy he has left whilst you beam. He holds out his hand for you to take, “C’mere, baby.”

You don’t know how long the two of you lie down on the couch together, naked bodies completely entwined. Your back is pressed against Joel’s chest, and you are giggling as you talk about tedious date-like things that somehow feel like they’re the most interesting things in the world. You ask Joel about his favorite color to which he says that he doesn’t have one because he’s a grownass man. So you playfully roll your eyes and continue on to the topic of favorite songs, would-you-rathers, embarrassing habits…

Joel answers them reluctantly and shyly at first but then seems to relax into it when you answer your own questions with a laugh that has his heart beating so fast that you can feel it against your back.

And then you go again, spooning this time, and you don’t make a joke about his outstanding refractory period because you are too busy trying to make sense of how many orgasms he pulls from you by sliding his hand down your belly and between your thighs.

The pattern starts over. You talk a bit more, but the topic never lands on what you had planned during your way-too-sugary (Joel’s words) lunch together.

Instead, Joel suggests bringing you to his shower, but you reassure him that you are far from done with him for the night, so he might as well save the hot water and the money for the heating bill.

He hums in agreement but does, however, convince you to hydrate with a huge glass of water and to wipe yourself down with a damp flannel that he gets for you during a lie about having to pee. The flannel has cooled down on its journey from the bathroom but it soothes your aching clit the second you hold it over the swollen nub. You sigh contentedly whilst Joel lays down behind you once again.

“Right, where were we?” You say excitedly.

Joel sighs into your neck and tightens an arm around you, “Thought I had made ya forget about that.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to get to know you better,” you tut, patting the hand that splays on your belly, “Now tell me if you were a jock in high school.”

“You got some nerve,” his chest rumbles as he talks, “Definitely wasn’t. I spent all my teen years keepin’ my baby brother outta trouble, you think I had time to play football? Did try baseball once though.”

“I feel like there’s a joke about balls in there,” you lean back and turn slightly to look up at him, wiggling your brows.

“Shut up,” he laughs, and you don’t think you have ever witnessed the man laugh as much as he has done in the last hour.

“I’m just saying you don’t know if you haven’t tried it,” you continue. A warm feeling settles in your heart as he breaks into another grin followed by a chuckle. The hand on your stomach digs into your side, triggering a fit of gleeful giggles as you are tickled. He overpowers you so easily and you quickly find that he is relentless. It’s a fight, a struggle that turns into several kisses everywhere on your face when he is suddenly on top of you again.

That’s when you hear a knock on the door. You look at each other for a second before Joel shoots up from the couch, already pulling on his boxers and fighting to make his semi-hard cock go down. He points at you, “Stay down. They can’t see you if ya just stay down. Ain’t gonna invite anyone in.”

You make yourself as flat as possible and hear Joel’s sharp intake of breath as he looks through the spy hole.

“‘S your old man,” he says, flinching when there’s another rap on the door.

Your pulse spikes, “Well then don’t act suspicious.”

“Right, didn’t think of that,” he deadpans, quickly flattening the hair that has been yanked by you a few times tonight, “Don’t say a thing, okay?”

Joel opens the door after your dad starts calling for him on the other side. He smiles a little forced at first, “Sorry, was just tryna look presentable.”

“Family’s out, so I thought I’d see if ya wanted to catch a game,” your dad says, and you can hear the smile on his face and him holding up what you assume to be a six-pack.

“Now’s not really a good time,” Joel replies. You dare to look up through your lashes in the front door’s direction. Joel has a hand on the doorframe, barring the door in case your father tries to invite himself in.

“I won’t be here long!”

Joel’s feet shift a little, “Just ain’t a good time, buddy.”

“What does that mean? And why are ya barely dressed—“ there’s a brief pause, then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Got someone over? Ya old dog. Damn, look at you. Still got it,” your father’s hand is visible in the doorway. It nudges Joel’s shoulder, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Because it’s your fucking daughter and it’s the best sex she’s ever had, you think to yourself and consider screaming into the cushions.

“Right,” your dad hands over the sixpack, “You need this more than me. I’m proud of ya, Miller.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Joel rushes to end the conversation, “‘Nother time. I’ll call you.”

They exchange goodbyes. You peek up at Joel when he closes the door, awaiting his next words to figure out how to react. He stays silent though, even as he walks to the couch again.

You bend your knees to let him fall into one of the seats. He runs a hand over his scruff, and you refrain from placing your feet in his lap.

“That was…” He eventually breathes without any tone to his voice, “Somethin’.”

“Good for you for getting laid,” you joke.

He clicks his tongue at you, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you move to get up from your seat, hold your hand out for him to take, “C’mon. Let’s go shower, wash that guilt off your face.”

“Ain’t guilt, just concern,” he promises as you help him up. He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Could never feel guilty 'bout this.”

“We ain’t talking about that after we almost got busted by my dad,” you repeat his phrase from lunch, mocking his southern drawl.

“I feel like there’s no better time to do it,” he catches on with a smile.

You kiss him, and start to pull him along, “Tomorrow.”

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boinin · 3 months

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Batten down the hatches: Rin's ego is about to land

The latest chapters show Rin playing with an unfamiliar aura: what looks like swirling rivulets of water.

This represents the refinement of his ego and playstyle since the under-20 match. But what exactly are they going for with the swirling water? Here's my two cents.

Rin is strongly associated with water, specifically the sea. He grew up by the coast; he and Sae shared a love of watching the sunset over the water after training together. Those childhood memories are turbulent now, like dark clouds on the ocean's horizon.

It's here he realises that he can no longer play the puppetmaster football that helped him thrive in Blue Lock. As good as he is, it wasn't authentic... and it's nowhere near where he needs to be to compete with his brother, or even Isagi.

Rin's flow state is the most unique out of any others we've seen. Let's dig into it. All panels are from the official translation, which is important as the translation choices are 1) consistent and 2) likely chosen carefully.

In the dying moments of the match, Rin complains about feeling restrained. Being Itoshi Rin is eating him alive.

Cool, calm and aloof.

A genius. Prodigy. Puppetmaster.

Team player. Team captain.

Isagi Yoichi's partner. Shidou Ryuusei's rival.

Itoshi Sae's little brother.

The prospect of defeat rudely wakes him up. His pretence comes crashing down hard, triggered by his ineffectiveness in spite of the teammates around him. It's one of the best rugpulls in sports manga.

When the power of friendship comes knocking, Itoshi Rin tells it to fuck off and die.

What a glorious moment... and not just because it posits Rin as a Uchiha Sasuke kinnie. I prompt you to examine his eyes in this panel.

They're a swirling vortex of hate and destruction, befitting Blue Lock's angstiest character. The shape reminds me of this:

Satellite images of Hurricane Franklin and Hurricane Idalia, August 2023. Image credit: NOAA Satellites.

Rin's true ego, which he unleashes against Sae, is a storm.

youtube

Optional soundtrack for the rest of this post (because Rin 100% listens to this once it comes out in Blue Lock's universe).

Although it isn't portrayed visually as such in the under-20 arc, the metaphor fits Rin's evolving playstyle. What is more destructive, more uncontrollable, more senseless than a hurricane? A violent force of nature that we can predict but never avert?

When a storm approaches, all we can do is rank it, track it, then attempt to mitigate the inevitable damage.

In football terms? Sounds a lot like playing Rin.

It's even alluded to in chapter 250: the graphics for Rin's formation are similar to the satellite images of large storms.

Within the U20 match, there are exchanges that support this theory. Darai calls Rin's evolving playstyle arrogant and avaricious. The latter (meaning extreme greed) is evocative of a force that pursues what it wants without regard for anything in its surroundings. What it can't have, it destroys.

Niou is confident enough in his physicality to try withstand his opponent's attrack. Rin literally flips him into the air. Niou's hubris brings to mind all man-made constructs which are supposedly storm-proof... until a cyclone comes along and proves otherwise.

The contrast between Rin and Sae's egos are interesting. If we accept Rin's is a storm, i.e. a destructive force of nature that cannot be controlled, Sae's is the opposite despite being as impossible to defy. Sae's motif is defined in the manga as "beautiful destruction", plays and passes depicted in graceful data strings. Rather than natural, his playstyle is sleek and controlled, and dominant to the point of appearing pre-ordained by his opponents.

Their attitudes are equally different. While Rin drools and loses composure in the final minutes, Sae does little more than raise his eyebrows throughout the entire game. He's completely emotionless.

It's the extremes of human nature: animalistic rage versus robotic detachment. This time, the latter wins. Will Rin have an opportunity to face his brother again, with a better grasp on his ego? Here's hoping.

My final thoughts on Rin are speculative. How does one beat a storm? Not just endure—but subdue and calm one?

It's beyond human capability. The ability to control the weather exists only in myth and fantasy, and even then it's usually in the hands of powerful entities, not mere heroes or wizards.

Subduing something as powerful as a hurricane would require a god.

Is this Isagi and Rin's endgame?

Time will tell.

#blue lock #blue lock analysis #blue lock meta #itoshi rin #itoshi sae #isagi yoichi #i missed doing long analysis posts ❤️#this was fun to pull together #bllk analysis #blue lock spoilers #blue lock anime spoilers #boinin talks bllk #mine #long post

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onsunnyside · 2 years

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OMFG SONNY OKAY SO stepdad!ari x naive!inexperienced!stepdaughter and bicep choking😩maybe you’re sat on the couch watching a film and he just comes up behind you putting that arm round your throat while whispering dirty things in your ear🥵🥵

“i see the way you look at me honey, i can smell how wet you are. you gunna let daddy fuck you huh? you want him to play with your little pussy?” fuuUUUUUUUUUCK

it’s summer but for the sake of filth, what does stepdad!ari want for Christmas? 🫠 the answer is you

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | stepdad!Ari Levinson x inexperienced!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | age gap, stepcest, stepdad!ari (he’s a warning), dilf!ari, inexperienced!reader, size difference, smut - minors dni, daddy kink, unprotected sex (p in v), choking (bicep choking), spitting, dirty talk, degradation, dumbification, a pinch of dacryphilia, ruined kink, size kink, overstimulation, mhm balls. implied: pussy spanking, panty stealing.

𝗪/𝗖 | 1311

P.S.: at the time of writing this, I was only thinking of the image of Ari and combined the prompt with Christmas on the whim, completely randomly. Yes, I know his character is Jewish, and I’m sorry if I offended anyone, it was not my intention. This was just for a fun little party and I wasn’t thinking, please don’t read this if it offends you.

🍆 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲… 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The red and green lights are a blur, and the forgotten Christmas movie is still playing on the television, the jolly soundtrack a disgusting contrast to your current sin.

You wetly gasp his name and your nails dig into his skin, but he’s unrelentless. He’s so much bigger than you in both height and mass, a threatening force railing into your body like a hungry beast. Your hand slides between the two of you, pushing him back.

Ari freezes, heavily breathing against your neck. “If you don’t move your hand, I’m gonna pull out and leave you here.”

Whining, you grasp onto his forearm with both hands. The rocking picks up again, your hips digging into the cushions as pathetic choked whimpers escape your tight throat. Your stepfather flexes, his bicep constricting your airflow and fueling the fire in your tummy. You moan loudly, desperately trying to meet his thrusts, but he’s too much and you’re too fucked out.

“Poor baby, can't even think, huh?” He chuckles lowly, “fuck, can feel you dripping down my balls. Such a filthy whore—letting your stepdad fuck you, soaking my cock like it’s your fuckin job. Who knew you were such a perv?”

If you could, you’d scoff at the irony of it. After all, he was the one who commented on your dress and sat at the end of the couch in perfect view of your panty-less core. If he sat anywhere else in the living room, he wouldn’t see your bare folds, already wet because he just looked so good in his striped button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Knowing Ari, he’d say something like “would you rather not have me compliment you?”

Perhaps any other person, but with Ari, you wanted him and all the attention he could offer. Which right now was inappropriate knowing your relationship and his marriage to your mother.

You know you should feel ashamed, but there isn’t any room for anything other than hot pleasure with Ari’s thick length splitting you open.

He’s straddling your ass, his pelvis slapping against your flesh with every thrust, sending your juices down your slit onto the couch and his heavy balls.

“Bad girl, you like being choked? Like how much bigger I am than you, how I can just throw you around wherever I want?” He leans down, gripping the arm of the couch inches from your flushed face. His beard scratches your jaw as he noses your cheek, “like a dumb little doll.” He grunts when you clench around him, sucking his thick cock deeper.

“That’s it, make a filthy mess for daddy. You’re gonna clean it up later. Suck my cock, clean your stupid mess—”

“Never done that, uh! Had someone—in my mouth.”

If possible, Ari gets harder at that, “Daddy’s gonna teach you, don’t worry.” His big hand lands several spanks on your ass, “look at you, ruining your mother’s couch, imagine how disappointed she’ll be.”

You try to escape his punishment, but he yanks you back onto his cock by your hips, pinning you down with your arms behind your back as you weep into the cushion.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess? Daddy isn’t done using this cunt.”

Tears stream down your face, “Y-You’re too deep—ah!” You squeal when he falls over you,

His face is in the crook of your neck, filthy words jumbling in your foggy mind.

You’re trapped under him, his weight pinning you down, pressing you into the soft cushions. “That’s it, take daddy’s cock. Dumb little baby, you can handle it, can’t you?” He rasps over the lewd wet squelching of your bodies, “you can. Or else you would’ve worn panties.”

“Didn’t have—any clean ones.” You shudder.

“Why? Are you giving them away to boys?”

“N-No!”

Ari hums, “Don’t know if I believe you, sweetheart.” He sits back up and works into you, pounding into your tight cunt, making you slide up the couch until you brace yourself on the arm.

He spits down, his salvia lands on your puckered hole and trails down to your stretched pussy, joining the cream coating his length. His rough fingers collect your slick, and you jump at the extra sensation, pulsating around his girth.

He groans gutturally around his digits—and his collection of your dirty panties is forgotten, now that he’s had the real thing, nothing will give the same sick satisfaction. “Have you ever tasted yourself before?”

You shake your head, or try to at least. Suddenly wet fingers slide deep into your mouth, touching the back of your throat as you gag.

“God, I love that noise. You’re gonna choke on my cock too.” Ari’s balls slam into your swollen clit, still sore from his ‘experimental slaps’ as he called them. You can’t decide if you want him to spank your button again, or keep fucking your guts.

“I can only imagine how you’ll fit my balls in your mouth, you gonna gag on them too? Get me even more filthy because you’re so fucking small?”

His hips stutter when you tighten, “you like that? Like when I talk about how tiny you are compared to me?” His assumptions are confirmed when you subtly move against him, hiccuping his name. “Your little cunt can barely take me, you know that? Daddy’s tearing you open, just because you’re a fucking whore desperate for cock. Never been fucked like this, huh?”

His bulbous tip slams into your spot, forcing your juices out with every ruthless thrust. He takes great pride in your convulses, and the way your fingers pierce the cushion. “Know you haven’t, haven’t been fucked much at all, poor girl. Don’t worry, we’re gonna make up for it.”

Your toes curl in pleasure, thighs trembling under him. You cry out a mantra of daddy, your unexpected high is too powerful and it yanks away your breath. Ari pulls you by the back of your head, extending your neck as you gasp for air. You feel a rush of wetness and almost scream as he drags out your orgasm, it’s so intense it almost hurts—but you love it.

“That’s my good girl. Daddy loves when you make a mess, means I’m doing something right.” Ari’s hips pick up the pace again, starting with thorough grinds that bleed into hard pumps. The cushion is soaked and your wetness clings to his skin, forming a white ring at the base of his cock, smearing down to his heavy sack.

Ari stares down where you meet, your puffy folds struggling to take him. “Poor baby, little cunt is quivering.” He tuts, “c’mon, I know you can give me another.”

Your garbled reply is far too cute for your act of betrayal.

He catches sight of the twinkling lights, the decorated Christmas tree with the Angel on top, staring down at you. The foul satire makes him even more greedy to tear you apart. “You know what I want for Christmas, baby?”

You can’t even manage any words as he fucks you brainless. All your fantasies were crumbs compared to this, the times you’ve woken up wet and bothered over a dirty dream about your stepfather—you thought those fictitious scenarios were obscene. But, reality has proven you terribly wrong.

You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

“Want you to be my little fuck doll, daddy’s cock drunk slut. I’m gonna teach you, train you and your little holes so I could use you whenever I want.” He groans, spreading your cheeks to watch his fat length spear you open. Bare, raw, it takes every ounce of control to not fill you up because there is still a Christmas party in fifteen minutes.

“And, if you’re on the nice list, I’ll give you my cum. Don’t you want daddy’s seed in your pretty cunt, wanna be pumped full until you can’t take anymore?”

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hauntedestheart · 7 months

Text

Transcript: "You Know The Face" Episode 47 - Blaise Gigson

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and resemblance to any real life persons is completely intentional, lol, but to spare the virgin eyes of the search algorithm I changed the name.

[Theme tune plays]

Arsenio: Hey there listeners, welcome back to "You Know The Face," the best podcast out there devoted to discussing the great changes that The Great Shift brought about.

Arsenio: As always, I'm your host Arsenio Braxton, still here and still me, and for this episode I'm by a very special guest- you might know the face, Blaise Gigson is here in the studio! Hi Blaise, welcome to the pod.

Blaise: Hey Arsenio! Thanks having me, I'm a huge fan of the show. This podcast is like, the soundtrack to my morning runs.

Arsenio: Oh my god, dude, I'm blushing! You've been one of our most requested guests for a while now so it's such a pleasure to finally have you here in the studio with us. And I want to let the listeners at home know, this guy is even bigger in person.

Blaise: Okay, now you're making me blush. I'll admit it, I always do fifty pushups before getting on camera just to make sure I look my best- does that make me sound weird?

Arsenio: I mean, it's healthier than my pre-show ritual, which is just a Red Bull and a shot of vodka. Now I'm gonna be calling you Blaise, but that wasn't the name you were born with, right?

Blaise: Yup, just like most people I was shifted into this body.

Arsenio: BUT, unlike most people, after the shift you decided to adopt the name of the original owner of that body. What inspired you to make that choice?

Blaise: Well I flipped a coin and- nah, I'm just joking. How do I explain this... the shift changed everything, you know? Not just our bodies, but the whole world. I don't really think that any of us are who we used to be, even the people who didn't shift, so taking on a new name just felt natural. Plus I think I'm kind of a special case since I swapped into a celebrity- I get recognized all the time, every day people come up to me on the street and call me "Blaise," so I figured I might as well just embrace that.

Arsenio: Oh that's true, I never thought of it like that. See, that's what I love about doing this show- getting all of these different perspectives. A lot of the people I talk to on this pod mention that they try stay connected to who they were before the shift, but it sounds like you're just full steam ahead. You very famously don't like to talk about who you were before at all, is that right?

Blaise: Nah, not really. A lot of people think that means I was a criminal or something and I'd like to say for the record that I was not, but I don't like to sweat the small things like who I used to be. I'm just focused on who I am today! And I think I make a pretty good Blaise Gigson, don't you?

Arsenio: Absolutely, man, you're crushing it. But I gotta ask, has the real Blaise Gigson tried to get in contact with you?"

Blaise: Try, like, eight Blaise Gigsons. That's the thing about swapping with a celebrity- there's a lot of creeps out there who were obsessed with you that think about this as their chance to get in on the action. Since it was impossible to figure out who was telling the truth, I had to just block all of them. For safety reasons.

Arsenio: Oh, so you don't talk to any of them? But aren't you worried you might be shutting out the real Blaise?

Blaise: Well, wherever he is he can rest easy knowing that I'm taking good care of his body. If you're out there watching Blaise, this one's for you!

Arsenio: Oh, and there it is! The famous bicep. Would you mind doing it again, just for me?

Blaise: Mind? I'd love to, these things are awesome.

Arsenio: No arguments here... actually, let's pivot and talk about that for a second. Now, we all knew that Blaise Gigson was a hottie with a body, but you've sexed up his image a lot since assuming the reigns. I'm sure most of our listeners have probably seen a certain viral video-

Blaise: The workout stream, yeah.

Arsenio: Dude. you broke the internet with that one! Seeing you all hot and sweaty, flexing all those muscles on the floor... pretty iconic if you ask me. Can one of the producers insert the clip here?

Arsenio: Damn daddy! Sorry, I shouldn't be thirsting over you while you're right here in front of me, they're gonna have to edit this part out or else before get cancelled haha.

Blaise: Nah, don't sweat it man. Trust me, no one gets it more than I do- you think looking at this body is great? Try living in it. Like, I'll admit it, I get turned on watching those clips too. I look fucking hot there.

Arsenio: So I think it's safe to say the "himboification" of the Blaise Gigson brand was a conscious decision on your part?

Blaise: Honestly? A little bit yes, a little bit no. I mean, it wasn't something I planned on when I first got this body, it just kind of happened. Like one day I just woke up and I was a famous hunk... of course I was gonna get a little wild, right? I couldn't resist showing off a bit. At first I was worried that I was going a bit overboard but people have really been responding to it.

Arsenio: Yeah I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who "responded" to that video, if you catch my drift.

Blaise: I hope so! I mean, think about it. When I was just a nobody sitting at home I would have killed to see my celebrity crushes take their clothes off and just, I don't know, start slutting it up. And so now that I am one of those guys I used to dream about, I wanna make that fantasy a reality for everybody else.

Blaise: Like, come on, don't the people deserve to see all of this?

Arsenio: I completely agree. Actually, could we see a little bit more, for the camera? Or even just for me?

Blaise: Haha, maybe later.

Arsenio: Alright, I'm gonna hold you to that. But we should probably get moving or else this episode is gonna wind up being four hours, haha. As the listeners know, I started this podcast because I was one of the few people not affected by The Great Shift, so I'm always fascinated by the stories of people who were. Let's get yours Blaise- can you walk us through your shift experience? What was it like for you that first morning?

Blaise: The thing I'll always remember about waking up was the weight. Being in a body like this one that's built like a tank, that's a lot of muscle, and muscle is one of the heaviest things in the body. I knew something was different before I even opened my eyes because I could feel how much space I was occupying. And that kinda freaked me out!

Blaise: But all of that weight is actually strength, and the second I started moving I knew that whatever had happened to me was a good thing.

Blaise: I'll never forget this- the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes and looked down was this giant chest blocking my view. I was so confused I tried like, wipe them off because I thought they were something stuck to me, but nope! I just had massive pecs all of the sudden. And then I got distracted just, like, squeezing them.

Arsenio: That's so funny- I hear that exact same story all the time, but from shifted women. I think you're the first guy to have the classic "boob grab" experience, haha!

Blaise: Hey, it's a classic for a reason! I say when you've got tits like these, you give 'em a squeeze. But I realized pretty quickly that there was a whole body underneath my chest, and that... woof. I was actually confused at first because I'd never touched a six-pack before so I was like "what the fuck is going on with my stomach" when I first felt it- I wasn't used to my body being so hard.

Blaise: The new core strength was incredible too- like, just sitting up felt better than it ever had before. And when I sat up and the blankets slid off of me and I saw my new body for the first time, I was shocked. I'd never seen someone with that many muscles in my life, and suddenly I had the best seat in the house. And by "best seat," I mean I had a dump truck ass.

Arsenio: Sounds like you were in bed for a minute then.

Blaise: A minute? Try two hours. I was alone with the body of my dreams and I could do anything with it, so I- well, you can probably guess what I did next.

Arsenio: I bet I can and I would love to hear about it, maybe even see a demonstration, but I think we should move on before we get demonetized. When you finally got out of bed, did you recognize yourself when you looked in the mirror?

Blaise: Recognize myself? Dude, I basically creamed myself. Blaise was one of my biggest celebrity crushes and seeing that face staring back at me from the mirror... just, words can't even describe it. Having all of this body and the face to match? The beard? This jawline? These lips? I'm handsome as fuck.

Arsenio: Dude, I'm so jealous right now you have no idea. So you weren't scared that you'd woken up in a completely new body?

Blaise: I mean, I was confused, but I thought it was just me, you know? I thought it was some kind of Freaky Friday situation and I'd just been zapped into this body so like, he could learn a lesson about the meaning of Christmas or something. I didn't learn about the shift until later.

Arsenio: And then did you freak?

Blaise: Nah. I feel selfish when I say that because I know how scared so many people are, and I feel for them I really do, but I was excited. I wasn't really thinking about anybody else, I was just excited to be Blaise.

Arsenio: And so we're heading on over a year since the shift- how are you settling in to your new body? It's quite an impressive physique and you've maintained it well.

Blaise: Thanks- keeping up with the gym routine was definitely one of my top priorities. Letting a body like this go to waste would have been a tragedy.

Blaise: But to answer your question, I'm still not entirely used to this body yet, and honestly, I hope I never am. It's fun always feeling surprised, you know? I'll just be going about my day and then I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and remember that holy shit, I'm a fucking stud, and I get excited all over again. It hits me at the strangest times.

Blaise: Muscles are cool because they're like... they're always there, you know? I get a little show every time I look down. And the thing about it is- I'm not bragging, this is just a fact -I'm so ripped now that a bit of bulging is inescapable. People are always saying that I'm a tease but half the time I don't even realize that I'm doing it, it's just a side effect of existing while being this hot.

Arsenio: Damn, and here I thought you were doing this especially for me. Well, it's nice to see that fame hasn't gone to your head!

Blaise: Haha, I mean, when the head looks this good, I can afford it!

Arsenio: I can't argue with that, that is one big beautiful head you've got there. Blaise really is just a stunning man.

Blaise: Aren't I? It's great. I was kinda nervous when I started being active on Blaise's accounts because at first I felt like I was impostor or something like that, but I knew I had to keep posting because people deserved to see this face. I get a lot of hate comments from people saying "you shouldn't be doing this" and stuff like that, but I block them out and focus on the positive ones. There's a lot more of those anyways.

Blaise: It sounds shallow but like, as a hot guy, I hold a lot of power. I've been on the other side of the screen, looking through it at those gorgeous faces, so I'm very aware what an important escape a bit of thirst content can be. Now that I have this face, this body, I can make so many people happy just by taking some clothes off and posting a picture. Why wouldn't I want to do that?

Blaise: That's why the content shifted. Less comedy videos, more thirst, workout videos, photoshoots- the stuff people really wanted to see all along. I love sharing the gift of this body with the world.

Blaise: I don't take anything for granted anymore, I live my life to the fullest, and I want to invite all of my followers into that. Especially after everything the world has been through since the shift, I want people to be able to open up their phone, see this sexy smile, and know that it's possible to still be happy. That there's still beauty in the world.

Arsenio: Oh my god, Blaise, I didn't expect us to be getting so deep on this episode.

Blaise: Hey, I'm more than just a pretty face... I've got a great ass too.

Arsenio: That you do, Blaise, that you do. So, Blaise, let's lighten the mood a bit and jump to one of our listener's favorite sections- and if you've listened to the show before you know what I'm going to ask you next. What's your favorite part of being in your new body?

Blaise: My favorite part? I'll give you two guesses.

Blaise: I love being a walking, talking gun show. Like I look down and I just think wow, I get to own these arms.

Arsenio: Yeah those are some killer pipes man.

Blaise: Dude you have no idea, I'm so fucking strong now. I'm still not over how like... round they are? It's like someone shoved a football under my skin, they tear my shirts if I'm not careful. I'm never gonna get tired of watching them flex.

Blaise: Every part of this body is great actually but I wanna give a special shoutout to my thighs actually- I'm thicker than a bowl of oatmeal. I just love having some meat on these bones, you know? I never skip a leg day.

Arsenio: Oh trust me, I can tell. And Blaise, you know I gotta ask because it's the question everyone's dying to know the answer to... how big is it?

Blaise: I'm gonna have to plead the fifth on that one actually- I'm currently in talks with a few different studios that have some ideas about how we can unveil that particular part of my new brand. But... let's just say that Blaise was a big boy, and he didn't disappoint. It's hard for me to make it through the day without fondling myself all the time, pun very much intended.

Blaise: This is so embarrassing but I actually had trouble pissing when I first got this body because every time I whipped my dick out to piss I'd get a boner from the sight of it- it's a grower, I'll tell you that much.

Arsenio: Damn, well, there you have it listeners! An exclusive!

Blaise: Oh god, I can just hear my publicist in my head screaming at me right now. Can you edit that out?

Arsenio: No, no, we are definitely leaving that in! This is the kind of content the people want to hear.

Blaise: Haha, well, I'm always happy to give the people what they want. But yeah, if you're really curious about what little Blaise looks like, keep an eye on my socials. Big things on the horizon... very big.

Arsenio: We'll be sure to put links to your accounts in the episode description. Moving on, I feel like I know the answer but here's one that we ask everybody: if you could switch back to your old body, would you?

Blaise: ...Sorry, what? I got distracted for a second.

Arsenio: Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyways, Blaise, you know what's more exciting than waking up to find yourself in the body of a famous hunk? Today's sponsor, Squarespace...

#male body swap #the great shift #this is dumb and kind of meta but I managed to finish it #so that's an accomplishment at least #I think thegreatstoryteller did a story with a similar concept a long time ago so shoutout to him

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hasaniwalker · 1 year

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A word about Alice

“Have you seen that evil Alice in Wonderland game at best buy?”

That was how I was introduced to it. A game that would stay with me for years after. I had no idea what the person was talking about at my high school in the A.V. room. I was there frequently, editing my first stop motion film (An adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s the Raven). They told me she had a knife and there was a thin cat next to her. I was intrigued and the next time I was at best buy I wandered to the Computer Game department and found the box.

That’s when I was introduced to American McGee's Alice.

I feel like I should mention, I was not and still am not really a PC gamer. I do console games mostly and reserve my computer for animation and editing. This game however, I needed to play it. I was gripped by the image. The stark red background. The haunting stare of the character. the hand on the knife. It was unapologetically dark and I was obsessed.

I went online wanting to learn more. It was early 2000 and my home internet was still dial up. I still recall going online to the Alice website and finding a countdown page. It was a music box, a child singing in the background, a terribly broken tune looping as the box threatened to open. It was haunting and perfect. I’d come home from school and for the short moment while I was the only one there, I’d go to the site and let that strange tune play though the house. At the end of the countdown, the box opened to reveal a decaying baby doll head (All of this is from memory and may be distorted by time. I unfortunately can’t find any images of the countdown page.) It stirred something in me to see that page come to life. It was the early days of internet. The time of MySpace. So the site was crude by today’s standards, but it was the most amazing thing to me at the time.

I’d leave it open on one of the computers while I was in A.V. at school. friends would come and we’d watch Alice move (sitting up from her seat, marveling at her blade, dusting off her dress.)

And of course, take time to show anyone the trailer.

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I remember this time of being a teenager entering adulthood, feeling misunderstood, anxious, scared, and losing myself in the music of Garbage, Poe and Crystal Method. Alice fit right in to the aesthetic of everything I saw at the time. If Wednesday was the goth friend saying and liking macabre things, Alice was the older teen sister angry with the world and ready to scream at it with you. She was grunge, she was dark, she was frightening and wonderful.

I couldn’t afford the game, but I could afford the soundtrack. I ordered it from Amazon. A site that was also in it’s early days at the time. I hadn’t ordered much form the site, but I needed this.

I’ll always remember when the email alert came. My package had been delivered. There was a storm that day. I lived in Phoenix Arizona, and when we have storms it looks like the world is ending. The sky was dark, the thunder was loud. You had to get inside. I came home and went to the mailbox. The CD shape of the package nearly made my heart stop. I knew what it was, but holding it felt like an achievement. I listened to that music daily.

Now, so you know, I didn’t just admire this game from afar. I did get the game for my birthday one year. I had talked about it so much that it was almost certain my mom would remember. It was the first computer game I owned. I was terrible at using a keyboard for games and couldn’t get through the first few levels without a huge amount of struggle. It was a lot of getting used to and I loved it.

From the opening cinematic, the menu screen, the sound of the bell when you start the game. It was exactly what I wanted.

At the time I couldn’t think of another game like Alice. It felt tailored made from people with my mindset. A frightful game with a deep story and a character I immediately identified with. At a time where games had very action oriented goals, Alice gave a backstory of an asylum even coming with a patient log for Alice. All of it detailing the terrible fire, her mental state, and the struggle she was going through.

The best part of this was that I wasn’t alone in my admiration for this story. You could walk into Hot Topic and Tower Records and be greeted by large Alice statues modeled from the box art that captured my imagination from the start.

I wanted to see more of this character. I dreamed of seeing a movie someday.

And it almost seemed like I would get my wish.

There was news that a film was being developed of Alice with Wes Craven directing and possibly Natalie Portman or Sarah Michelle Gellar playing Alice. part of me hoped for an animated film with the original voices, but I was still gripped by this news.

At the time, I didn’t consider myself a horror person (feels weird to write that now since I think I’ve always really been one). I didn’t really seek out horror films and avoided gore. But I wanted Alice to by a disturbing and imaginative experience. I wanted to be scared watching this while feeling for the main protagonist and wanting her to reclaim her mind.

In a world where this film went the way I hoped, people would have movie nights today of Midsommar, Pearl and Alice. It would be a film that would take you somewhere you were afraid to go, but couldn’t look away from.

But then...I heard the movie wasn’t happening...and news of Alice stopped.

I never stopped thinking about that macabre girl and her journey through a tattered land of her mind. I listened to the music, revisited the game and also drew her now and then. lines from the game even made it into my typical dialogue (”Promise only what you can deliver” wise words).

I also still dreamed of seeing a film someday and would imagine who would play Alice (for a while I kept seeing Emma Watson as the character, but also still like the idea of an animated Alice.)

Then, one day, watching Attack of the Show on G4. I saw the most unexpected image.

Alice was coming back, and this time she would be on consoles.

The thrill was back, and as soon as a trailer came out, I immediately shared it with everyone.

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I was quick to buy the game when it came out, and it was wilder than I could have hoped. A gripping story with tragedy, beautiful animations and moments that sent a chill through me. The kind of chills that made me pause the game and take in what I was seeing. The sight of a monstrous train rampaging through wonderland was a gift. The way Alice’s mind would unravel things was mesmerizing. Seeing life in London through her eyes and getting more of the history of the character (and the twist of the Red Queen’s identity) it was perhaps the only game that really pulled me in fully. I love games like the Arkham series, Bioshock, Horizon, Silent Hill, and so on. Alice to me felt like something more. I wasn’t trying to save a city or save someone, I was playing to help retain someone’s sanity.

The fascination with this character and world was just as alive as when I first saw all of it. I bought the art of book and still go through it and use it as a bit of inspiration if I have a creativity block.

I carried my love for the character all the way to my work in animation and even built a stop motion puppet while I was working on Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio film. A character who I was so taken by in high school now stood on my desk.

All this is to say that this take on Alice Liddell and her fantasy world has had a great influence on me. I was prepared to continue following this story and I hoped to someday see her find her way to the big screen and have a final story where she would come to peace with what happened to her.

The news that the tale of Alice is not going to continue is devastating. It’s troubling to see so many stories be brought to an abrupt end. for finales to never be given and answers to questions to be lost forever.

There are a lot of stories that I believe deserve to be told, but we’re constantly given entertainment that’s simple, easily digestible, with nothing to say except to reference nostalgia and trend online. It’s hard to find something that you can connect with. Something that you need a moment to think about after you’ve seen it. Something that gets you emotionally. These things are found mostly in the passion projects of creatives. The projects they pour so much into and want to present to the world. The projects that are not just made with earnings in mind, but also how you’ll connect to the audience. I think these projects are important. They push us to look further in and to question how we connect and interact with a story.

Too easily these types of ideas are thrown aside now and it’s harder for anyone to finish the tale they wanted to present to the world if it doesn’t fit with what a studio algorithm says. It may be a dark time to be a creative right now, but I’ll remember the stories that I connected with. The ones that hit an emotional part of me and made me stop and think about a new perspective on life, fear, depression, joy and how I connect to these things.

Thank you American Mcgee and the Alice team for taking me and many others through a Wonderland that reached into our very soul.

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lovings4turn · 9 months

Text

☆ i like shiny things . . . (j.f.p.)

— a compliment from a stranger leads to something far sweeter than you ever could have predicted (2.5k)

+ contains: references to drinking and smoking, swearing

+ inspired by an event from my own life (though my paper ring making skills are pretty shit), hence why it seems quite rambly !! banner from cafekitsune

your head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, a combination of your high spirits and the two tequila shots you had just taken in quick succession coming together to create a hazy bliss that blanketed your mind.

the pub that your friends had dragged you into was relatively busy, most of the tables being populated with groups of people chatting happily over pints and cheap cocktails, the odd bout of raucous laughter travelling through the air. it wasn’t too loud though, which you were secretly grateful for. instead, the noise acted as a gentle soundtrack to your night, a soft buzzing to play behind your own enthusiastic conversation.

you hadn’t even really intended to go out tonight.

it was only supposed to be a few casual drinks with your friends, and then home to be curled up in bed by eight o’clock at the latest. but, denying the chance to spend an evening with your friends was something you could hardly ever bring yourself to do. it was rare that you all had the chance to hang out together, thanks to the painfully annoying existence of university and jobs, so it would be rude to shut the door on such an ample opportunity. plus, mary had some very convincing puppy-dog eyes.

a small booth in the corner of the room was your home for the evening, the soft leather lining of the seats only just making up for how sticky the table was thanks to many spilled drinks. every so often, you’d catch a grimace flash across someone’s face as their skin came into contact with the wood. as long as you kept your elbows by your sides, you would be fine.

just as you were swirling the remnants of your drink around, watching the last droplets mix with your melted ice in the bottom of the glass while you contemplated heading to the bar, marlene broke you out of your trance by suddenly jumping up.

she rushed to approach someone and threw her arms around the stranger in an embrace, already talking animatedly to them and their two friends. through squinted eyes, you took in the sight of the three men who you had never seen before, but marlene was evidently quite acquainted with. you wracked your brain trying to conjure up an image, a memory of marlene mentioning them before, but nothing appeared to you.

involuntarily, your eyes were drawn to one man in particular. he stood tall and broad, both hands in his pockets as he gave marlene a toothy grin and a nod in lieu of a greeting. it was clear he’d tried to tame the curls on top of his head, but a few dark strands had broken free, falling into his face every now and then to his clear frustration.

dropping your voice to a whisper, you dipped your head to position your lips next to lily’s ear, hoping that you were being somewhat inconspicuous.

“who’s that?”

“i know the lad in the middle is sirius,” lily responded, turning to survey the group herself. “no clue about the other two. they’re fit, though.”

both of you laughed quietly at her final comment, though you were unable to deny it. all three men were incredibly attractive, but there was something in particular about the boy standing to the right of the group that charmed you.

before you could continue your train of thought, marlene was striding over with all three men in tow, gesturing with her hands for you all to budge up and make room for them to take a seat. some higher power must have felt particularly fond of you that evening, as the boy you were previously eyeing slipped into the booth next to you.

names and greetings were exchanged, and you learned that the boy marlene was initially talking to was, in fact, sirius, and he had brought his friends remus – a tall man with sandy hair and a charming, crooked smile - and james along with him, thanks to marlene’s requests. the pair hadn’t really seen each other in a while, and marlene was a firm believer in the statement ‘the more the merrier’, so it was no surprise that she had invited them along to join you.

sirius declared he was heading to the bar to buy the next round, shaking off everyone’s protests with a sly wink and the claim that it was no problem, he just needed marlene to come and help him carry everything. begrudgingly - and not without a lot of complaint - marlene obliged.

one round quickly became two, then three, and you’d began to lose count of how many drinks you had had. you’d maintained a pretty nice buzz over the course of the evening, thankfully never straying into the territory of being too drunk.

you were currently engaged in a conversation with james and dorcas, dorcas recounting a story about one of the many times marlene had gone above and beyond in flirting with her whilst you and james interjected every now and then.

a rush of excitement travelled through you as you remembered a crucial part of the story, and so you began to retell it, gesturing wildly with your hands as james watched on. as he caught sight of the multiple silver rings adorning your fingers, a soft gasp escaped his mouth as his lips quirked up into a grin.

“those are cool,” he said, gently grabbing your hand and bringing it closer to his face in order to properly admire the jewellery. if he noticed how much your hands were shaking, he was polite enough not to mention it.

his eyebrows furrowed slightly, a clear indication of just how intensely he was studying your rings. not that you minded — james’ distraction provided a perfect opportunity for you to shamelessly stare at him, raking your eyes over every inch of his face.

you were thankful that dorcas had been swept up into another conversation. if she had seen the way you were practically swooning over james, you would never hear the end of it.

this was the first time you had ever really appreciated the dim lighting of the pub, as the shitty overhead lamps caused james’ hazel eyes to look soft and honey-like each time they caught the soft glow. slight stubble dusted his chin, complementing his almost unfairly sculpted jaw, and your mouth grew dry at the fact that such an attractive man was essentially holding your fucking hand right now.

“i like this one,” he grinned, pointing towards your middle finger.

following his motion, you looked over the ring that embellished a good portion of your finger. it was a newer one that you had picked up at a market a month or so before, and you distinctly remember being very proud of your find. the metal was bent to fashion the shape of a bull’s head, horns branching out and curling up to reach your knuckles. it was relatively chunky in comparison to some of your other rings, but that was one of the reasons you were so fond of it.

thanks to the tequila working its magic on your mind, you wasted no time in pulling it off of your hand and holding it out to him with a soft smile. “try it, if y’want.”

james delicately plucked the ring from the palm of your hand, briefly scrutinising his fingers to see which one would make the best fit. after a moment, he settled for sliding it down onto his ring finger, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he held his hand up to you.

“well?”

"suits you," you grinned. "y'should keep it."

“mhm, nope,” he hummed, beginning to pull the ring back off of his hand. “absolutely not. it’s yours, couldn’t take it from you.”

despite your protests that it was totally fine – though you knew your more sober self would regret it in the morning – james was adamant that you were to keep the ring, even going as far as to slide it back onto your finger himself.

“there,” he smiled, patting your hand. “back where it belongs.”

to avoid looking at the soft grin on his face and likely making a fool of yourself, your eyes fell onto the table as you mumbled a thank you. a discarded straw wrapper caught your eye, the pale white standing out against the dark wood, and an idea quickly popped into your mind.

the concept of embarrassment was clearly muffled by the alcohol if next your actions were anything to go by. picking up the wrapper, you turned to james with a proud smile.

“pass me your hand,” you said. “got an idea.”

clearly either too amused or intrigued to refuse, james held out his hand for you, fingers splayed. with your tongue poking from the corner of your mouth, you delicately wrapped the paper around his ring finger, tying it just tight enough to be secure, before you attempted to fashion the ends into a mock imitation of the bull’s horns found on your own ring.

pleased with your work, you sat back with a smile and held your own hand out next to his so he could understand the solution you had come up with.

“there. now you have one, too.”

james let out a laugh, shaking his head fondly as he looked between the two ‘rings’ before turning his gaze to you.

“it’s my new prized possession,” he joked. “thank you.”

his teasing grin softened, and though you couldn't pinpoint the exact physical differences in his expression, something about his current smile seemed far more affectionate.

"oi!"

the friendly call snapped you and james out of whatever little bubble you had been sucked into, and you followed the sound to see remus standing at the pub's exit.

“coming, mate?” remus asked, a cigarette balanced between his lips as he held up the pack for james to see.

james shot remus a thumbs up in response, watching his friend walk out of the door that led to the smoking area, before turning back to you. his face bore a soft smile and his eyes glinted with something that you couldn’t quite place.

“i’m just heading out for a smoke, if you want to join?”

before you’d even really processed his question you were nodding, standing up and smoothing down your clothes as you followed him through the pub. a small laugh escaped your lips as he opened the door for you with an over-exaggerated bow.

the moment you stepped outside and moved to stand with remus, you regretted not bringing a jacket as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms. it was clear that your logic of ‘alcohol is the best jacket’ wasn’t always correct.

but as you registered james following close behind you, his musky cologne mingling with the faint smell of smoke, you would have gladly frozen to death if it meant he would be standing by your side during it all.

the flame of his lighter cast an orange glow across his face as he brought it up to the cigarette placed between his lips. he inhaled sharply, taking a long drag before tilting his head to face away from you as he let out a steady stream of smoke. he extended his hand to offer you a drag, and your fingers brushed his as you plucked it from his grip.

remus raised an amused eyebrow at the two of you, yet said nothing, instead continued to smoke his cigarette with a smug expression that james pointedly ignored.

you continued to pass the cigarette back and forth in a comfortable silence, appreciating being away from the muted commotion of the pub’s environment for a breather. you didn’t mind it, of course, but you couldn’t deny that a moment of peace and fresh air was necessary every now and then.

the three of you stayed outside until your cigarettes had burnt down to the filter, and james crushed yours into a stray ashtray before approaching you with a smile. his arm flexed slightly, looking as though he was going to move it to settle around you before he decided against it, opting to keep it pressed firmly against his side.

a warm smile played on his lips as he cocked his head towards the door that led back inside. “shall we?”

and god, you’d be a fool to ever say no.

for the rest of the night, you were unable to tear yourself from james’ side. it was like he had some magnetic field operating around him that required you to be at least within a foot radius of him at all times. at the risk of sounding like a love-sick thirteen year old, fawning over someone you had met not even three hours prior, you were positively head over heels for him.

every hearty laugh and off-hand comment caused your stomach to flip, and you were sure that by the end of the evening, james would have two holes burned into the side of his face where you had been unable to tear your eyes away from him.

unbeknownst to you, everyone else was extremely aware of just how enamoured you were by james. lily and mary had already begun placing bets on how long it would take for you two to get together, and marlene had made more than one comment about how you should just get it over with and kiss already under her breath.

as last orders were called, you were unsure how to feel. the comfort of knowing that your soft, freshly made bed was waiting for you at home was outshined by the fact you would have to say goodbye to your friends, and james. you thanked mary as she handed you your bag, pulling her into a hug and appreciating the floral smell of her perfume as she wrapped you in her arms.

everyone else was exchanging similar goodbyes, moving from one person's embrace to another and making promises to meet up again soon no matter what your schedules said. your friends had already arranged for a six-seater to pick you all up, but the boys were adamant they could walk home by themselves after they were sure you’d been picked up safely. the conversation had slowed slightly as the long night and multiple drinks caught up on everyone, and you stood in a comfortable silence until your ride arrived.

clambering into the taxi, you peered out of the window one last time and gave james a gentle wave, smiling as he returned it. even through the smudged windows, all you could focus on was one thing: the straw wrapper that remained tightly wrapped around his ring finger.

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #james potter #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter x reader

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cowgurrrl · 4 months

Note

okay, so! this relates to the "one for the money, two for the show" series (which is BEAUTIFULLY written btw) but: could you imagine reader hosting SNL while the musical guest is her own husband, joel miller?! iconic if you ask me.

(bonus! the little promos they do for SNL! imagine that but with those two and in-between, they just keep giving each other heart eyes! UGH, i love it personally)

Thank you for this request and your sweet words!! I hope you like this 🥺

Live from New York

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Summary: this ask

Warnings: fluff, not edited

You can’t stop laughing when Joel tells you the news. He thinks you’re insane but you think he’s equally as insane. It isn’t until Violet curiously pass into the room do you get yourself under control. “Did they ask you to do this before or after they asked me?” You question and he shrugs with a guilty look on his face.

“Guess we’ll never know.” He says as he walks over to kiss your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist and turning to look at your daughter. “Vi Chai, you wanna go to New York?”

The day SNL announces you as the host and Joel as the musical guest, poppy news sources and other celebrities start reposting the image with varying reactions. They’re mostly positive and only add a little bit of extra pressure to the already stressful week ahead. All five of the Miller children, including spouses and grandchildren, join you in New York and you spend the week bouncing between rehearsals, family dinners, and play dates with the kids. On the day of shooting bumper pictures, Joel and his band mess around with different props and poses and you get to watch them work and laugh together. Watching them achieve success as a band has been one of your favorite parts of being married to Joel. That and all your cute kids, you guess.

When it’s time to switch, you take several individual pictures in different costumes and poses, moving every time the photographer tells you to. You catch Joel laughing in the corner when you’re taking a particularly ridiculous one where you’re reenacting a very dramatic scenario Violet and Sophia came up with while playing with Barbies and you can’t stop yourself from laughing too. “You’re distracting!” You yell and he shakes his head, a wide smile splitting his face.

“I didn’t even say anythin’!” He says and throws his hands up.

“I can hear you laughing!”

“God forbid I think my wife is funny.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and he laughs.

“Yes, dear.”

“Did you guys want to take some together? Since you’re the first married couple doing something like this.” The photographer asks and you raise your eyebrows at him. He shrugs and makes his way back to the mark in front of the camera. Together, you guys pick various poses— some dramatic and some funny, like the ones of you guys showing off your wedding bands— and play off of each other in a way you haven’t gotten to do since he worked on the soundtrack for one of your movies. You make good work individually but when you’re together, it’s magic.

Your favorite and the one that ends up splattered all across social media is taken when you thought the cameras were off and you were wrapped in Joel’s arms. You must’ve told him a joke or a funny story from set or something because he’s throwing his head back, eyes crinkled shut in laughter, but your focus is on him. You’re both smiling, close, and impossibly happy. When the picture gets posted the day of the show, Carolina texts you a screenshot of it with the message, “you guys are so sweet it’s SICK.”

You spend a majority of the day running from sketch to sketch in a final run through while the band and Joel entertained the little kids and you switched off when it was their turn to rehearse. It’s an awkward system but with the older girls and their spouses there, it’s not too hard. By the time the cold open starts, you’re more than ready and drumming on Joel’s chest backstage to get your nerves out.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Joel says but doesn’t interrupt your nervous fidgeting.

“I know.” You say, making him laugh. He kisses you for good luck before scurrying away and letting you do your opening monologue. Sarah and Ellie whistle loudly the second they see you on stage and you blow kisses to them. You run through the rehearsed jokes, talk about how cool it is to have this opportunity, and promote your newest project easily. It feels good to be in front of a live audience and get real time feedback to what you’re doing. You love it even more because you think you can hear Sammy loudly chattering away about his Mommy.

“Now, this isn’t my first time hosting Saturday Night Live but it is my first time hosting it while I’m not pregnant with twins,” you say and cheers erupt from the crowd. “But those twins and my three other children are in the audience tonight so this is going to be a very, very special show.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Joel says, hitting his mark beside you perfectly to even more cheering. It takes about twenty seconds for the audience to die down, it’s that exciting. “That’s the only reason this a special show?”

“I mean, I think we may be the first married couple to be the host and musical guest on SNL.” You say, glancing between him and the camera, as more cheering erupts around you. Together, you make jokes about your unconventional family structure, fame, marriage, and more before transitioning into the next sketch.

You spend a majority of the night running around like a psychotic person but one of your two favorite parts of the night comes when you get to introduce Joel to the world. You stand a little ways away from the stage and face a camera in a zip-up hoodie and a stupid smile plastered to your face.

“Ladies and gentleman, the love of my life, Joel Miller!” You announce and the audience cheers as the camera pans over to him and the band. Joel winks at you before falling into sync with the rest of the band and you get to watch him do what he does best.

Your second favorite part comes when Joel gets to make full usage of his Valley Girl voice for a sketch. He’s high-pitched and elongated his vowels perfectly as he bobs his head around in a wig. Your character is supposed to be having brunch with him and the rest of the band but you keep almost breaking every time one of them does something. Joel thinks it’s hilarious and the hysteria quickly spreads to the rest of the table. The sketch is unsavable the second Ryan comes up to the table as a guest in a blonde wig and identical Valley accent.

The night goes off without a hitch and at the end, with makeup smeared across your face and your body screaming at you to take a break, Ellie, Sarah, Ryan, and Carolina join you on stage as you thank everyone and end the show. Joel is hugging you and spinning you around before you can even fully finish your spiel but you don’t mind. You’re both exhausted and happy and so full of love. You couldn’t imagine doing this life with anyone but him and things like this only solidify that.

That and the fact that even after being together for so long and getting older together, he stills has the strength to carry you home drunk after the after party.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel miller #joel miller au #joel miller series #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou au #the last of us au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader

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granolawriting · 7 months

Text

New things ☆ ° *

pairing: Platonic Jedi!reader x Jedi Anakin

Summary: Anakin spent his young days as either a slave or "the chosen one". Never having the opportunity to really celebrate the holidays, you explain to him a celebration on your own planet for the fall season

word count: 1.8k

masterlist

A/N: This was literally so much fun to write, I really like writing anakins banter with the reader, and overall just the stupid things he'd say in my own interpritation of his character off the battle feild. I hope you enjoy!! This is the 3rd installment for my kinktober list, Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

“I feel dumb. Are you sure you’re not pulling one over on me?”

Anakin stares with inquisitive intent at the pumpkin you laid before him. Sat upon a steel counter of the kitchen within your room in the Jedi temple. Tossed on a small ottoman in the middle of your home was a bag full of ingredients for baking, holodramas of sith legends, and most importantly, the means for cutting up the pumpkins that sat before you and Anakin.

“Dude, I lived it and you didn't. Either you can trust me and stab the pumpkin, or you can forever live in a non-holiday spirit.”

“I just can't imagine that this actually got popular. What’s the meaning behind this?”

“Yaknow, this was initially made to scare away the sith ghosts that would roam the halls at night on the night before halloween.”

“That's total bull. I don't think this would scare a 5 year old.”

“You haven't even cut into it yet!”

Anakin holds up the traceable mold that came with the package of serrated knives and spoons, triangle eyes and comically sharp teeth.

“I don't have to to know that if a youngling saw this, they would start laughing at me.”

You snatch it away from him teasingly, a melodramatic face of anger contorting upon you,

“Well then, it seems like they have no holiday spirit either! Pay them no mind. There are those who get it, and those who don't!”

“Whatever. Just hand me the knife.”

“You don't even know what to do!”

Thus the first activity begins, detailing the two of you slowly cutting into pumpkins while a music box softly plays soundtracks of scary films from your childhood. Demonstrating to Anakin exactly how to cut into a pumpkin with less than graceful precision,

“You don't know what you’re doing.”

“Shut up! It's been a while.”

And as the top finally pops off of the head of the pumpkin, you and him rejoice in quite a small victory. Though the excitement upon his face only lasts a moment, because as he watches you delve elbow deep within the inside of the pumpkin, horror shocks him stiff.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

Eyes widened at the prospect of having to do that himself.

“What? Big scary Jedi doesn't like getting his hands dirty?”

Teasing inflection coats your voice at the sight of his distress.

“This is just disgusting! I don't mind getting dirty if it's not slimy shit all over my body.”

“Well, I suggest you take off that fancy robe.”

Exasperated sigh exits him with great dramatic flair, as he walks over to the living room to slowly disrobe as to take in his last seconds of cleanliness before his agreeance to engage in your home planet festivities weighs more and more on him like one of the worst decisions he’s ever made in his whole life.

Slowly does he inch his fingers inside the pumpkin itself, and when he reaches the bottom eyes close and eyebrows contort upwards.

“Stop looking like you’re about to die. It's a pumpkin not a dead tooka.”

“Thanks for that image.”

And so the two of you slowly scrape pumpkin into a larger bowl of insides between the both of you, melodramatic whines by Anakin that really bring out the kid in him. Anakin, despite being such a great warrior and chosen one, was still quite young. He never really had the ability to do childish things, growing up as a slave and thrusted into the jedi temple thereafter there was no room to be a kid-- do kid things. So that's what you focused on in your time with him. It consisted of helping him get in touch with who he really is, not who people exactly wanted him to be. And you bore through it, even if sometimes it meant feilding his complaints like a whining child who has to share their toys with other kids. When Anakin wasn't in the line of fire he was a simple, silly person. A boy, really.

The moment his pumpkin was satisfactorily scraped, he runs to wash his arms under water and copious amounts of soap.

“Oh, did you know people can be allergic to pumpkin?”

“You’re kidding right.”

“Yeah well I just hope you’re not.”

“Could've told me that before I just violated it like that.”

“Slipped my mind.”

After a bit more carving within the eyes and mouth of the hollow pumpkin, you adorn the iconic face of a halloween grin upon yours, and Anakin opting for a more sinister look upon his.

“You said it was supposed to scare people, none of the designs has that effect.”

Well Anakin, I think the most scary thing about this is how you cut it. I can barely tell what's going on here.”

“You don't understand my vision. It's for the sith ghost, not you.”

As the first activity of pumpkin cutting comes to an end, a small glow emitting within the pumpkins as you place the small glowing orb that completes every carving inside its center, you and Anakin stand back impressed with one another's work.

“I guess it wasn't half bad.”

“Told you”

The next project you two had up against you was baking. Now, once again you were well convinced that Anakin had never cooked his own food his entire life. At least, anything complex. Whenever he had to make his own food it was often very simple, laced with struggle. The peak of his culinary journey was 5 years old, for reference.

“Why do we need to put so many things in here? Aren't we making cookies?”

“Yes, but to make it not taste like sand then we’re gonna have to add more flavors.”

“Sand, very funny. What's with the paste?”

“The icing?”

“Whatever.”

“It's for after the cookie. We’re going to decorate it.”

“This seems like a lot of work for 2 bites.”

“You eat them in 2 bites?”

“I’ve got things to do.”

And thus the teaching begins once more. You have to explain how to keep the wet from the dry until you’re willing to mix everything, teaching him how to crack an egg as he fails in the process getting residue all over your countertop. You show him how to whisk, watching him struggle with the thick batter as the automatic one you keep in your cabinet stays sadistically untouched. And as you two finally finish the batter, you show him how to put them on the sheets properly.

“When you roll them, you have to remember they’re going to flatten and expand. Don't make them the size of a cookie, make them like a third of the size.”

“But if I made it the size of a cookie, I could have a 3x cookie. Mathematically speaking.”

“Yes, but don't do that. They’ll all stick together.”

“To make one monster cookie?”

“Theoretically yeah.”

“Noted.”

As he grabbed huge chunks of dough within the bowl you both shared, you just chose to pick your battles.

Setting the timer for 40 minutes, there were now 40 minutes to kill before you were able to get to the next part of the process-- decorating. Looking within your bag of festivities you find the holodramas that lie at the bottom of the bag, reminiscent of your childhood. The exaggerated stories of siths and creatures of the outer rim that would haunt and stalk you, stories that scared you awake when you were younger. You allow Anakin to pick from a few of the titles.

“Frankensith? The uh.. Friday before 429. The ewok in the woods. These all sound a little corny.”

“Again, you don’t get it. But I promise you watching these things will freak you out. The ewok one scared me so much I couldn't sleep for days afterwards.”

“And how old were you when that happened?”

“...fifteen.”

“You’re joking. Put it on.”

Dimming the sights of your living room do the both of you sink into the couch as you pull out the final thing that will stave you from hunger until the cookies are completed.

“What's with the wrapping on these?”

He pointed at the chocolate you unveiled, wrapped in various depictions of horror legends over the years.

“Isn't it scary?”

“He looks like he has a lazy eye.”

“He’s supposed to be undead!”

“Yeah, and with all that reanimation they cut him a little short.”

“That's mean!”

“Nothing so far has scared me, and the candy definitely isn't much different.”

“Whatever.”

The bowl sat between the two of you held various kinds of candy from chocolate to sower, as the movie slowly came to a head. Laid back and judgemental, did Anakin lie unbothered upon the couch, expecting nothing to really catch his eye about this film more than dumb special effects and poor acting.

Though as time went on you watched as his body slowly straightened, eyes with greater focus on the projection as the story grew deeper. You saw his face contort from indifference, to morbid curiosity, to the well awaited fear.

BEEP!

The oven goes off, which makes Anakin jump.

“HAH! You’re scared shitless aren't you.”

“Are you kidding me? These things are freaky by nature. Their little swords.. Their agility. I couldn't live.”

“Uh huh. Well get up we need to decorate the cookies.”

After allowing them to cool for a moment you begin to teach him how to pipe the icing onto the cookies. However as you gaze upon his own tray, there seems to be about 3 discernable cookies to your 6 well shaped ones.

“All this means is that I have more room for artistic expression than you.”

“Right. Just watch what I do and you can make whatever you want.”

And as you draw cute ghosts, small faces decorating each of their eyes and little bats and pumpkins to match their theme, another glance at Anakin's tray once again reminds you you’re dealing with a 10 year old. Upon his cookies did he design quite crude depictions of the ewok’s with angry expressions on their face, forever immortalized- until eaten of course -a glare of small and furry anger upon the cookie.

“Nice Anakin.”

The night came to a close after that, finishing the ewok holo with greater ease as the fear inhabiting Anakin slowly dissipated in the ability to eat them at the same time they were eating others in their traps. A dark sky fell within your room and as you sat there with Anakin, pumpkins illuminated with silly faces and a growing pile of colorful foil piling on your coffee table as the candy bowl depleted, you felt complete. The feeling of having not only someone to celebrate the holidays with, but someone to share them with made you feel a little less alone. And you knew Anakin felt the same.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #sw anakin #platonic anakin #platonic #anakin x jedi reader #anakin x platonic jedi

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your-favorite-god · 7 months

Text

Vita nostra aeterna pt 1

Wednesday's child is full of woe, ep 1

I’m not sure whose twisted idea it was to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago… but I admire the sadism.

A monochromatic girl walked the halls of a seemingly normal high school, walking swiftly when she turned and pulled open a locker. Out falls her younger brother, Pugsley.

“ I want names.”

‘I don't know who they were, honest! It happened so fast…”, the boy panics. He didn't want to witness the outcome of whatever his sister did.

“Pugsley, emotion equals weakness. Pull yourself together.” As her brother continued to squirm and whimper Wednesday tried to start a sentence but was rudely interrupted. Images of what had happened before, her head thrown back as she saw the horrid jocks jeering at her little brother while they tormented him. “Wednesday?”

I’m not about to confess to my brother that I’ve recently been plagued by visions. They come on without warning and feel like electroshock therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn.

“Leave this to me”, Wednesday says as she promptly walks away. “Wednesday? What are you gonna do?” Pugsley questions, now free from his restraints.

“What I do best.”

Endears POV:

“Wednesday, you know I always love your company. But is now the time? I was just about to tell Christina what happened at that gathering her precious Jonathan attended before class started”

She stares at me with a bag of piranhas in hand,” Cara, do you still have the peroxyacetic acid you made?” I look at her with a raised brow, “Of course I do, why?”. “Those fools hog-tied Pugsley and shoved him in his locker. I intend to teach them a lesson.”

I can see how this might be confusing for you, allow me to briefly explain. Wednesday Addams is what most would call my best friend.

Soulmate.

Shush ma morelle, anyways, we met a decade ago in the woods. She intruded upon my home and I found her very cute. So I decided to stay with her, my adorable little human. I came with her to her home and have continued to live with her family. I've even joined her in this boring little hovel named school. Or Should I say schools, we’ve been to many. Wednesday has this horrible habit of getting caught.

It’s more satisfying to watch the looks on my victims' faces.

As you can see, Wednesday has no appreciation for subtlety. But we’re just getting to the fun part, so let us get back to it.

“Well then, allow me to raise you a better idea. Thallium in the principal's coffee. I’d prefer to avoid life on the run for now.” Wednesday pauses for a second, then looks at me with her version of loving eyes. “Brilliant mi vida, as always.”

And off we went.

Non, Je ne regrette rien - Edith Piaf | Wednesday Soundtrack | Wednesday drops piranhas in the pool

We had stepped through the doors of the practice room as I heard the jocks mutter to themselves,

“ Yo Dalton look, pigsleys sister and her weird ass friend. Hey, freaks! This is a closed practice!”

Wednesday leveled them with her usual murderous stare as she spoke,” The only person that gets to torture my brother is me.”

Nothing delighted me more than the fear on everyone's faces as she dropped the bag of piranhas into the pool, blood seeping into the normally crystal-blue chlorine-filled water. And that is how we landed ourselves here. In the Addams family car with Wednesday's parents, Morticia and Gomez. They were singing In Dreams as they doted on one another, Wednesday was brooding next to me. Unsatisfied with being shipped away to her parents' former school. “Darling, how long do you intend on giving us the cold shoulder?” Morticia spoke as Gomez continued to kiss her arm and neck.

“Lurch, please remind my parents that I’m no longer speaking to them,” Wednesday replies, making me grin. I love it when she's like this, all petulant and ruffled, most of the time it means I’ll get to play around while she's busy thinking and sulking. Her mother hums as her father tries to persuade his daughter,” I promise you, my little viper, you will love Nevermore. Won’t she, Tish?” “Of course. It’s the perfect school for her. For them both really.” This irks Wednesday as she replies, “ Why? Because it was the perfect school for you? I have no interest in following in your footsteps. Becoming captain of the fencing team, Queen of the dark prom, president of the seance society.” Morticia looks at Wednesday with a serene face, always ever so calm and poised. “I merely meant that finally, you will be among peers who understand you. Maybe you’ll even make some friends.” Gomez looks at Wednesday with his signature grin,” Nevermore is like no other boarding school. It’s a magical place. It’s where I met your mother.” “and we fell in love.” They look at each other with this mutually infatuated gaze and sigh. Wednesday's eyes darken, if that's possible,” You guys are making me nauseous. And not in a good way.” They looked at her again” Darling, we aren’t the ones who got you expelled. That boy’s family was going to file attempted murder charges. How would that have looked on your record?” Wednesday looked off as her eyes widened slightly,” terrible. Everyone would know I failed to get the job done.” At that I couldn't keep it in, I chuckled as the little family smirked at me. Save for Wednesday of course who was still very occupied with her brooding.

My my, this was going to be a fun new adventure. I can feel it.

As we drove through the strong… iron… gates of this new school, morticia made mention od the weather. An admirable attempt at small talk through the thick silence, normally i would be the one to break it but wednesday specifically told me to give her parents the cold shoulder. If I’m being honest i dont entirely understand why but she looked so cutr and annoyed when she asked in her own way. How did she word it again? Oh yes, i was to be silent or else she would lock me in a tower and take all my jewelry. And my tongue.

3rd POV

Finally the small family unit had made it to the principals office, greeted by Larissa weems.

“Wednesday is certainly a unique name, i'm guessing it was the day you were born?” she spoke with a grin, after everyone had taken their appropriate seat. Save of course for endeara, she preferred to stand. Tall in her red bottom pumps and silk blouse, she had taken her place behind wednesday, gazing at her new principle with a veiled look of boredom and small smile.

“I was born on friday the 13th.” wednesday quickly rectified, as morticia followed, “Her name comes from a line from my favorite nursery rhyme, Wednesdays child is full of woe.”

“You always had a unique perspective on the world morticia, did your mother tell you we used to be roomates?” Principle weems said fondly, her welcoming facade staying strong through the addam’s penetrating gazes.

“And you graduated with your sanity intact? Impressive.” wednesday spoke again. The topic quickly changed as the principle spoke of her and endearas “interesting educational journey.”

“Eight schools in five years?” Weems questioned,” They havent built one strong enough to hold us. I’m sure this one wont be any different.” wednesday replied with her same bluntness. Endeara simply smiled as her parents bristled and were about to reply,” Thats just wednesdays way of trying to say she is very excited for this new opportunity. As am i, and thank you for giving us such a gift.” their new principle seemed to fully take in endeara then, all elegance and playful smiles as she dressed in her small red bottomed pumps and silk black blouse.

“Nevermore doesn’t usually accept students mid-term, but given their perfect grades and your family’s long history with the school, I’ve spoken with the board and we’ve made an exception.” Weems said simply as the addams parents joined hands in satisfaction, “what about their um,... therapy sessions? The court ordered them.” morticia eyed her daughter as she spoke, hesitant to ask. “The school school has a relationship with a therapist in jericho, she can meet twice a week.” they all looked to wednesday as gomez spoke,” did you hear that my little storm cloud? Youre in excellent hands.”

“We’ll see if she survives the first session” wednesday quipped back, her gaze unwavering to the woman in front of her as mortica and endeara grinned at her as well.

The principle resumed again, unbothered. Truly impressing endeara as she spoke again,” ive assigned wednesday to her mothers old dorm. Ophelia hall.” morticia gasps and chuckles excitedly as wednesday turns to her and says,” refresh my memory. Ophelia’s the one who kills herself after being driven mad by her family, correct?” morticia nods happily as the principle leans forward with a plastered grin

“Shall we go meet your new roommate?’

Endearas POV

We go to wednesdays new dorm and its… something. The family is stunned as morticia speaks,” its so… vivid.” The girl, the new roommate, looks at me and gasps excitedly “Howdy roomie!” and i have to bite my lips from cackling. I mean this is just beautiful, but our principle steals all the fun and introduces wednesday. “wednesday , this is enid sinclair.” Enid looks to from me to wednesday confused, maybe even disappointed, as she asks,” are you okay? You look a little pale.” and mortica smiles as she explains,”wednesday always looks half dead.” “its genetic” i whisper, smiling at the girl. Enid goes in for a hug from wednesday as we both step back, she looks disheartened as she mumbles,” not a hugger. Got it.” morticia pipes up again,”please excuse wednesday. She’s allergic to color.” enid looks shocked,” oh wow. What happens to you?”

“I break out in hives and then the flesh peels from my bones.” this is when our principle speaks again,” luckily weve special ordered your and endears new uniforms. Enid, please take them to the registrar’s office to pick it up along with her schedule, and give them a tour along the way.”

I whisper quietly to Wednesday, ”If they dare put me in cheap, scratchy, suffocating material…i will raze this school to the ground.” Wednesday almost smirks as the Addams look at me in pride and the other two look at me in horror. This tour better be good.

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tisalonelydreamer · 1 year

Text

i'm currently thinking about how, for so long, you couldn't be an asian on the screen unless you were a side character that was pretty much built on stereotypes. and there are standout asian actors, but i'm a teenager so legends who made a name for themselves are kinda before my time. but both michelle yeoh and ke huy quan are the embodiment of not giving up on your dreams. even if it takes a while, you're time will come, and in a way that honors yourself. every time i see another post or edit of their oscar wins, i tear up.

i didn't grow up watching asians on tv. my only likeness as a child used to be mulan, but people at school used to tell me i couldn't just pick her as my favorite disney movie because she's asian (which, kids are dumb and that reasoning is stupid and besides the fact the she was the only representation kid-me had, mulan had a great storyline and message and characters and soundtrack and it was and still is a really great movie). i remember seeing characters like mike chang from glee on tv, but he was a character always pushed to the side, and those shows always had a way of just mocking and reaffirming stereotypes.

i think about how sometimes the only space for asian women was so that they could be sexualized, or how there was even less room for asian men on the screen unless they fit a certain look. how asians had to become an image to get their space.

and in recent years, the representation for asians has increased, and i'm so thankful. i wish i had that when i was younger, but i'm glad to have it now. with movies like shang chi or crazy rich asians, we get to see how respecting and celebrating culture is significant, but it's also not an asian's entire identity. how we are still people with stories that deserve to have main characters.

i'm so happy that eeaao gave michelle yeoh and ke huy quan their space. how this door opened for them and asians to be seen and respected. how they inspire people to dream big. how it feels possible for big dreams to really and truly happen.

when i was a little girl, i was obsessed with superheroes, which led me to my obsession with the tv show agents of shield. and i adored melinda may, played by ming na wen, who was a bad*ss character. and her character revolved not around her culture (although culture was not ignored) but how even without it she is still a character with a complex history and development and personality.

it's nice to be living and experiencing an era where asians are getting their recognition. representation is so important because it reaches so many people and lets them know that somewhere out there, achieving the dream, even for someone who looks like us, is within our reach.

we finally get to exist in the mainstream. and for that, my inner child is so grateful.

#asian american #asian #michelle yeoh #ke huy quan #asian representation #mike chang #ming na wen #melinda may #mulan #harry shum jr #shang chi #simu liu #eeaao #oscar2023 #ranting #text post

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miyuhpapayuh · 10 months

Text

fifteen

Music’s playing, candles are burning, there's no light beside the sun peeking through the curtains, shining down on her prettiest subject.

Her glass of white wine is being babysat, cause knowing her and how much of a lightweight she was, a few sips were enough.

Leon definitely took a shot before they got started, since he'd never been a model for anything. His last minute nerves made him even more adorable to Zora.

Blk Odyssy had become one of her favorite musicians, thanks to Leon and his impeccable taste. Their new album, diamonds & freaks served as the soundtrack.

Sexy lady

Got me faded

I'm intoxicated

I been watching, baby

Sexy lady

Sweet Jesus, save me

Go on, and rock me, baby

Don't stop it, baby

“Love this song,” she comments, dipping her brush into the deep red paint, using it as one of her base colors.

“I thought you would.” He replies.

“Yeah, you knew.” She hums a laugh, tilting her head to the left, following the curve she's creating for her study of her boyfriend.

“Are you painting me just like I am?” He asks.

“Well, everything above the knees. That's all I can fit in the canvas.” She answers.

“Where'd you get this idea from?” He asks, curious all of a sudden.

“My sisters actually suggested it. They were really excited that I had started painting again, and since you're my muse, it seemed like something really fun to do.” She explains, poking her head out to look at him, snickering at the focus in his face.

“Quit laughin’ at me,” he mumbles.

“Sorry, you're just so still, like you might break if you move. Relax a little.”

“I thought I needed to stay still.”

“Yeah, but not that still.”

“Hm,” he hums, staring at the back of the easel and the sliver of her face that he could see. A smile graces his face as he watches her in her comfort zone.

Still singing along to the music, she takes another sip of her wine and paints another fine line onto the canvas, super pleased with how everything is turning out.

His green button-up covers her thick frame like a dress.

Her feet were tapping against the bars of the stool, her sloppy bun, flopping around with every concentrated turn of her head.

She was just as focused, but he wasn't gonna tease her. He loved seeing this new side of her. She let him into her art world, finally.

Taking her advice and relaxing, he falls into his natural trance of her, when she readjusts the easel, giving him more than just a peek at her beautiful face.

All the while, she was looking at him and back at the canvas, perfecting every curve, dimple, divot with striking blues and oranges, deep reds and browns.

Stealing glances at him, she tugs on her lip.

She knew it was gonna be kinda distracting, but he definitely wasn't playing fair.

Flexing those big arms of his, “stretching”, was already enough and too much for her. And every time he licked his lips, her left leg would tangle with her right. He caught it each time and smirked.

Once he got to readjusting the only article of clothing he had left, her eyes diverted to his lower region and hers began to throb.

Almost finished.

“Jesus,” she mumbles to herself, shaking her head like it would clear the explicit images swimming around her mind.

“You alright over there?” He asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Yeah, I'm good,” she shakily answers, taking another sip, which looked more like a gulp from where he was sitting.

“You sure?” He teases.

She laughs, now looking over at him. His devious smirk does nothing to help the wet spot forming between her thighs.

“You done?” He asks.

“No.”

“I'm distracting you?”

“And, you know it.” She nods, making him laugh.

“You told me to relax. I'm just tryna follow the rules, dear.”

“Yeah, and now your friend is winkin’ at me.”

He simply shrugs. “That's your fault.”

“Mine? How?”

“Cause you're so fine. This happens every day, babe.”

“Every day?” She repeats.

“Yeah. A couple times a day.”

“Wow.”

“You've seen you, right?” He asks.

She scoffs, lifting the brush back to the canvas. “Boy, please. I can't even look you in the eye, right now.”

He snickers, moving out of his pose to further mess with her. Pulling his chair just a bit closer, he leans forward to stare at her and she keeps her eyes trained on her work.

“Zoraaa,” he drags out.

“I'm so glad I got all the details I needed, you play so much,” she laughs, trying her best to ignore his taunting.

“Come play with me,” he continues, almost making her drop her brush.

“Can you get back in your position, please?” She asks.

“Can I put you in a couple positions?” He quips, earning that eye roll that he knew was coming.

“If you let me finish… maybe.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, moving right back into his pose. Zora fans her face, no longer caring if he can see how flustered he's made her.

The next thirty minutes dragged on by and she was finally done, not even getting to sit her brush down good before being whisked over to the couch, him hovering over her.

Bruising her lips with his rough kisses, he quickly discards the scrap of lace that barely covered her ass, as well as his own briefs, before sliding into her with one fluid motion.

Gasping into the kiss, her hands cling to his broad back and shoulders, sinking her nails in as the feeling of him bottoming out with every thrust sends fire through her.

His mouth latches onto her neck, while she lets out every expletive she can think of, into the damp air of her apartment.

“Oh m— my god,” she pants, holding him so close to her body, shivering as his groans vibrate on her skin.

“You feel so damn good,” he rasps.

His tongue trails down her chest, nibbling on her breasts as he rips the shirt open, squeezing her flesh into his big hands, driving her crazy as she cradles his head.

Her feet are pressed against his chest and he leans up to do more damage, his hips rutting against her ass that's hanging off the couch. She looks up at him in disbelief.

His hands have her ankles bound, as she cries and writhes underneath him. Her hands move up and down his arms, back down to scratch his hips as it gets too good.

“Fuc– king me so— good,” she squeals, catching both of them off guard as she releases all over him. His thumb finds her clit, making matters slipperier.

“Yeah, gimme all that shit, baby.” He moans, encouraging another orgasm to happen right on the spot. Her edges were back curly by this point.

“C’mere,” she whispers, pulling him back down to her level to swallow his every breath in a kiss. Her cramped legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer if that were even possible.

Pulling away, he smirks down at her, taking her in, breathless, sweaty, hungry for more as she stares back at him, ready for his next move.

“So beautiful,” he says, dragging his thumb across her parted bottom lip, “why don't you pose for me, now.”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Once she got around to actually taking in her painting, she was super pleased with how it came out. So was Leon.

“Can I just say, I'm flattered.” He smirks, cracking up at the look she gives him.

“Stop it,”

“Seriously. That's literally me.” He exclaims, pulling her into his side.

“All of me.” He mumbles, hearing her disapproving groan sound through the space.

“Leon, please!” She laughs. “But, you really like it?”

“Love it, sweet stuff. I told you. Art gallery.” He says, smiling down at her.

She smiles back up at him, shaking her head. “Nah, not yet.”

He raises a brow at her, earning a brighter smile.

“Not yet, huh? So you're getting closer to putting yourself out there?” He excitedly asks.

“Yeah, I thought about what you said and it doesn't sound like a bad idea. I'm just nervous, ya know?”

“Why?”

“I feel stunted. Like, I gave everything up to be someone's doormat and.. I don't know. I just feel like the level of artistic ability has kinda dissipated? And yeah, I know. I look at my paintings and I see what I'm capable of so get that sad look off your face,” she pinches his cheek as he laughs, “I just have my doubts.”

He wipes the frown away, but there's still sadness there. He wants nothing more than for her to believe in herself. Fully.

“It's harder than it seems to cross some hurdles, I understand that. But if you really want this, that's what you gotta do.”

“No, I know. And, I appreciate you for putting me back in front of this here easel. It's been a while, but it's always so much fun.”

“Of course, baby. It's a pleasure watching you in your zone.” He says, leaning down to kiss her temple.

“I cannot show this one to the girls.” She snickers, before looking up at him.

“Yeah, nah. Maybe the top half.”

“Please. I can hear Nique fighting for the extra details, as we speak.”

“That girl is hilarious.” He comments, moving to stand behind her and wrap his arms around hers.

“Funniest person I know, besides myself, of course.”

“And me. Hol’ up.”

“Right, right. Can't forget about you,” she snickers, yelping at the pinch to her butt.

“It's what you get.. talkin’ shit.” He mumbles into her neck.

“Oh yeah, don't try and bill me for that shirt, since you were the one that ripped the buttons off.” She says, making him chuckle.

“One, I would never do that for real, it's an empty threat every time.” He admits, making her laugh. “And two, I can always get the buttons put back on. Or you can just add it to your collection.”

“Oh, I was gonna do that anyway, cause that's how I am.” She smiles like he can see her.

“Something else.” He shakes his head.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“Why I can't see that one??” Nique asks, pointing to the covered canvas and stomping her heeled foot like a bratty child.

“Cause you play too much, man.” Zora waves her off, pointing to the painting on the easel. “But you can look at this one!”

Nique immediately gasps at how breathtaking the painting was. It's as if Zora had committed Leon's face to memory and captured him in five different lights so realistically.

“Girl, when I say talented doesn't even cover it.” She shakes her head, looking over at her best friend.

“Oh, girl. Stop.”

“Nah, man. This is on another level!” She swats her arm in excitement. “Like, that's his literal face, dude! How do you even do something like this?!”

She shrugs. “I honestly just sat her and did it. He came to my mind and I just let my paintbrush guide me.”

“Wow.” She says in response, making Zora laugh.

“Yeah, I said the same when I was done.”

Staring back at the canvas, she smirks. “So, are you gonna do anything with it?”

“Ah— I might. I don't know yet, really.”

“Cause you know, it would be really nice if someone invested in you snagging a spot at the mint museum to display such a piece.”

Zora squints her. “That's still something you'd do for me?”

“Zora, it's like you forget who I am or something. I'm highly offended right now.” She places her hands on her hips, reminding her of both of their mothers.

“Get your hands off your hips, Roberta! I know who you are! It's just.. I don't know. That was a long time ago and that was the biggest dream I've ever had to give up.”

“It's okay, I understand. But my offers are never conditional to you, dude. You could not even be my friend anymore and I'd still send you the money to do it cause I believe in you. That bozo of a boyfriend was a hater and he fucked everything up, yeah he did. But look at you, rebuilding it right now. Every time you get in front of the canvas do this,” she's eyes wide as she points back to the canvas, “you're getting so much closer to that dream of yours.”

By now, Zora is wiping tears away. Nique frowns and pulls her into a much needed hug. She wasn't expecting to get emotional today, but leave it to her best friend to pull a few tears out of her.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. I know you hate that,” she softly laughs, wiping her cheeks.

“It's okay, I think I've needed to let it out for a while.” She smiles, covering her face for a moment to get herself together.

Nique heads into her kitchen to wet a paper towel, bringing it back to cool down her flushed face.

“Ugh, anyway,” she outright laughs. “I really appreciate you. That really does mean so much that you could hate my guts and still help me out. That's the kind of support everybody needs.” She covers her heart, Nique doing the same.

“One of a kind, I know.” She nods. “And it's nothing, seriously. You're my mother’s kid as much as I'm yours. I got you, you got me.”

“I love you, dude.”

“I love you too, man.”

“I've honestly been thinking about getting back out there for a while, but you and Neoma already knew that cause that's what y'all do,” she snorts, beating her to it, “Lovita is close to getting there, she all into Clyde right now—”

“You mean, he's all into her?”

“Right. Anyway, she'll catch on, but Leon asked me a while ago and I've just been sitting on the idea for a while. Maybe.. I wanna paint a couple more pieces and then maybe I can look into it.”

“Yeah, hey! Nobody is pressuring you. I promise. You know we just wanna see you do your best and you are the best. Fuck him and fuck those negative voices he left behind. You're the shit, Jean. Let's ask his ass to come pick up a fucking pencil and see if he won't jam it into his eye, before tryna attempt what you did on this canvas. I'd bet you the air in this room and win. He's a bitch.”

“Okay, okay,” she cackles, “relax, relax. You hate him more than I do, at this point!”

“I could kill him,” she smiles, “because you deserve better and girl, look at god! Better meets you at your favorite place!”

“I know, I can't wait to tell everyone at the wedding, someday.” She giggles.

“Oh lord, that's gonna be the countriest wedding ever!”

“Stop! It's gonna be the most beautiful wedding you've ever been to, shut up!”

“Y'all gon be letting doves go, it's gon be a duck pond somewhere cause y'all love the ducks, flowers of every damn kind!”

“Nah, I'm pretty sure he's already got flower combos to present to me.” She laughs, remembering one of their trips to the shoppe this past summer.

“What?”

“He was asking me which flowers were which one time, and they'd just happened to be my second favorite flower, my mama's favorite and he asked me if I thought they would pair well with aster, which is his mama's favorite flower, and I just kinda looked at him like… I know what you're up to.” She laughs at the giant smile on Nique's face.

“Aw, that is so cute! He thinks he's slick, let him be slick!”

“Nah, I'm not gonna burst his bubble! I thought it was adorable. He's so cute, I can't take him sometimes.”

“Lord have mercy. So, I got a question.”

“No, I'm not having a maid of honor. Y'all ain't killing me, cause I'd make it all of you.”

“You can have three! It's your wedding!”

“Three maids of honor? That don't sound crazy?”

“Nah, not to me. I was gonna do that for mine.”

“Really?” Zora smiles, making Nique laugh.

“See, look at your face! Do it for yours, too! Wouldn't that work out better anyway? Three people to divy up your something old, new and blue. Might be something you've have your eye on.”

“Okay, okay! We're getting so ahead of ourselves, and what if I don't get married? Then I can't get that something new… or blue??”

“Girl,” Nique laughs. “You worried about the gift?”

“Yes, duh. Leon ain't going nowhere. We don't have to get married, honestly. It's just another dream of mine, but I'm not as traditional as I used to be. But, I'd love to get married, too. Don't listen to me.” She cuts herself off.

“No, no. I totally get it. What girl doesn't wanna confess her love to the man of her dreams in front of everyone they both love?! In a frilly dress! With a veil! Or no veil! Big poofy hair! A reception! We'd throw the biggest party, you already know it!”

“Yeah, we would!” She agrees.

“Right! Don't let go of your dreams, keep 'em close. Just in case. Hell, Leon seems like a wonderful suitor so far!”

“Yeah, he’ll do long,” she jokes.

“Now back to this canvas, over here.” Nique says, making Zora sigh super loudly.

“Dominique.”

“Let. Me. See. It.”

“No.”

“Whyy??” She whines again, adding extra syllables to the word.

“Because, you play too much!”

“I'll be good, I promise! I just wanna see it!”

Zora rolls her eyes, before moving to uncover it, watching the joy wash over her best friend.

“Behave. I'm serious.”

“I said I'll be good, girl! Uncover the thing already!”

She does so, waiting for her snarky remarks, but they never come.

Again, “wow” was the way she described this one, too.

“See? I'm lost for words, actually.” She shakes her head. “You've done it again, man. The detailing is beautiful.”

And with that, she covers it back up. “I knew it wouldn't last long.”

“Long, like—”

“Nique!”

“Okay, okay!” She holds her hands up. “But uh.. congratulations!” She puts emphasis on the end of her sentence, stomping her foot again.

“Thank you. I love it over here.”

“Trust me, I love it over there.” She winks, both of them falling into a fit of giggles as she covers the canvas back up.

“Do tell, since I basically just did.” Zora presses as they sit on the stools in her kitchen.

“He's big all over. He makes me dizzy, sometimes,” she laughs. “Baby is hung to the left, and you know how I feel about a curve!”

“Yeah, you love it over there!” She cackles, slapping hands with her.

“Wait, y'all ain't in love too are y'all??”

“Chile, no. As much as we be up on each other, he's my man and I'm his woman and that's good enough for us, right now. I really like him, but we can kick it just as long as I don't gotta kick his ass.”

“My girl.” She laughs. “I told you I'd find you a boo!”

“Thank you, Zora-Jean. My god!” She exasperates.

“You're welcome! That was so hard for the three of you to say! Why?!”

“Because,”

“Y'all are so ungrateful,” she playfully digs.

“Stop it! Personally, I was holding my breath for a while. I didn't wanna thank you too early and then all this bad shit would start happening, and knowing you, you'd think I'd resent you for it. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't waiting for the other foot to drop. I'm sorry.”

“I accept your apology, and don't feel bad seriously, I get it. Knowing me, I probably would think that, but I know better! It's one of those negative voices,” she shrugs, “but I'm glad this is a good relationship. You deserve it, honestly. Plus, I'd kill him if he ever hurt you.” She smiles.

“And you talk about Lovita!” Nique cackles.

@ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @cecereads209 @soufcakmistress @abeautifulmindexposed @harmshake @mauvecherie-writes @honestpreference

#mochaff #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #yahya abdul mateen ii #zora x leon #smut #fluff

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jtl07 · 9 months

Text

like a boat

[also on ao3 - note: Spoilers for Stray Gods]

(also shoutout to @sango-blep whose fanart of Stray Gods got me to play it!)

Beatrice starts her own file on Stray Gods after Ava gushes for five days straight to her and their sisters about the “amazing music,” the “super hot characters,” and how it had “such a cool vibe.” (Beatrice agrees immediately to Ava’s first and last points, grudgingly to the second - though she stands by her opinion of Apollo needing to learn how to button his shirt.)

She finds herself terribly torn when deciding her personality traits and again at the first major decision point. ‘It’s just a game,’ she tries to remind herself. She can always redo, she can always play through it again, she has time - they all do.

Her decisions from then on are made on her own instincts, tries not to engage her “strategy brain” (Ava’s words) too much, even though she’d figured out the killer early in the first act. But she finds herself enthralled enough with the characters, the world, with the music that she can accept that small imperfection. (‘Life isn’t about perfection,’ she repeats in her mind as she plays the game, when her eggs turn out a bit too soft, when her run takes a bit too long; as she trails her fingers along the jagged scars that cross Ava’s skin, as Ava looks up at her and grins, laughs, and tucks her head underneath Beatrice’s chin.)

Music hadn’t played a big presence in Beatrice’s life growing up. The exception, of course, being church music, though that had been relegated to Sunday mass. There was no jazz to keep them company at home, no pop music while they were being shuttled to and fro - as a family, they’d hardly spent time together as it is, much less to develop any sort of unifying soundtrack.

Beatrice knew the mechanics of the piano and the violin, could sightread most sheet music placed in front of her but she doesn’t have the same joy Camila has whenever she sees an instrument, doesn’t have the glee Ava has when she plays the electronic drumset she’d been gifted anonymously (they all knew it was really from Lilith). Spending time with Camila and Ava together meant becoming accustomed to conversations peppered with random bursts of song - it never took much, a mere word or phrase could get either of them going - and Beatrice learns to just smile along, fond, content with being an audience to their impromptu mini-musicals.

And it’s because of this lack of experience, this lack of passion, that Beatrice doesn’t expect to like the game as much as she does. Finds herself answering emails quicker than usual, starting up the game whenever she has an hour to spare. Ava will sometimes perch on the arm of her chair and watch her play but is careful not to give anything away, always gives Beatrice space when it comes to decision points in the game.

Ava’s out running errands when Beatrice gets to the end, which is just as well: She sits there, watching the credits roll by, sits there with a bittersweet feeling heavy in her chest. Finished in what seemed like no time at all - ‘The good things are always quick,’ she thinks, and she sees the image of Freddie’s hat overlaid atop Ava’s baseball cap, held tight between her hands.

Ava finds her in the dark, notes what’s in her hands, gives a sad smile. “Finished the game, huh?” she murmurs, brushing a lock of hair behind Beatrice’s ear. Beatrice nods, leans into Ava’s palm. Ava coaxes her out into the living room, keeps the lights low as they order pizza and watch a couple TV shows that Beatrice hardly pays attention to. Ava, however, of course, is paying attention, knows to keep close for the rest of the evening, just hums into Beatrice’s hair when she clings to Ava after they make love in their bed, shuddering and mouthing silently at the space on her chest above her heart.

Beatrice wakes up before her alarm the next morning, a dream of lost boats and ancient pillars whispering at the edges of her consciousness. She goes for her run, per usual, makes her protein shake and sets up Ava’s coffee, per usual, takes a shower, per usual. It’s still early, however, earlier than usual, and Beatrice finds herself turning on her computer, starting up Stray Gods. She opens her file and scrolls back to the beginning of act three. She hesitates briefly at the warning prompt, realizes this is the first choice: keep her saved data or attempt to save Freddie?

‘It’s just a game’ chimes through her mind as she hovers over the ‘Cancel’ button. ‘It is,’ Beatrice thinks, ‘So just play.’

She clicks ‘Ok,’ and lets her decision play out. It’s strange, a part of her brain acknowledges, to make the choices that she normally wouldn’t allow herself to make. To choose selfishness, to give in to her wants. It’s not honorable, it’s not responsible - ‘It’s just a game’ repeats in her head - but Freddie comes back. And it’s not perfect, it’s not all sunshine, but they’re together and Beatrice can’t help but wonder, can’t help but be jealous, can’t help what’s already been done.

‘It’s just a game,’ she reminds herself, numb as she watches the credits roll a second time. When it finishes, it’s well past sunrise and Beatrice knows she should get up to wake up Ava, that they need to leave for the farmers market soon so they can get that cheese Ava wanted but had run out last week, but she stays fixed to her seat, afflicted by a sense of detachment: adrift.

Ava finds her, again, as she always does - as Beatrice never did, and her guilt spills out over her hands in the form of tears. It comes in waves, feels like an ocean, like a ship crashing against a cliff. There’s no music here, no songs, no lyrics; their game has already been played.

But they’re still here, at the end of it all. Ava had come back, against the odds.

‘It was just a game,’ Beatrice reminds herself as she breathes Ava in.

Reminds herself two more truths: That Ava’s here, and they have time.

They’re late to the farmers market but when they arrive at the cheesemonger, they find a wedge saved with Ava’s name on it, much to Ava’s loud delight. They find some vegetables, some fruit, they find plenty of cute dogs to pet; they walk back home hand in hand, laden with bags.

They’re cooking up some of the vegetables when there’s a knock at the door - a package. Beatrice thinks nothing of it until they’ve cleared the dinner plates and Ava’s pulling her onto the couch, pushing the package into her hands.

“It’s a lamp,” Ava explains, a careful, hopeful look on her face as Beatrice studies the small lighthouse. A melody, unbidden, remembered, rings from the back of her mind - lost at sea - and she lets her hand slide to the back of Ava’s neck, pulls her in; uses her lips to map a path from Ava’s mouth to her temple to her forehead.

As if to say, ‘thank you,’ as if to say, ‘yes, I know what it means,’ as if to say, ‘yes, it’s what you mean to me; yes, it’s what I wish to mean for you, if you let me; will you let me?’

And the answer Ava gives is the same choice Beatrice has made, will always make: “Yes,” Ava says as she pulls her in - to shore, to her arms, to her joy of life - “Always.”

#my writing #jt writes fic #avatrice fic #avatrice #plays stray gods #i honestly don't know why i'm writing so much lately #but it's kinda nice to just write and yeet lol #we'll see how long this bout of creativity lasts 🙃#but omg if you like musicals and new takes on greek mythology definitely recommend this game!

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violetsandfluff · 2 years

Text

Angel in Disguise

Word count: 3.1k

Pairing: Frat boy Harry and singer!Y/N

Summary: Harry meets his crush and she shows him that she loves him too; more than he could have ever guessed.

Trigger warnings: smut/sex (unprotected), pet names, swearing, slight degradation, slow burn, probably more, but, ya know… the stuff.

A/N: This didn’t take me too long, but I proofread and fixed it more than anything I’ve ever written for tumblr. I hope you enjoy it! <3

They’d seen each other before, fitful and futile attempts for Harry to connect with her. He was convinced she couldn’t see him, that there was a blind spot in her eye that shielded him from her view. She was one of the only girls on the planet that could brush him off without a word. Without a reason. Without a glance.

For the sensitive people out there, even the ones who leaned more toward the cocky side, this was discouragement at its finest. But Harry was not sensitive, nor overly cocky. He, mixed with Y/N, was the perfect storm.

He had been open about his feelings from her from the beginning. He had been invited on The Ellen Show to play ‘Who’d You Rather,’ and it was no surprise who won.

“She’s outrageously attractive,” he stuttered, unable to look Ellen in the eye. “I mean, really, have you ever seen a more gorgeous woman?”

This simple line found its way into many ears throughout the world, two of which were Y/N’s.

She couldn’t really escape it, with her followers tagging her in every repost of the clip. It tickled her to see that she had a man, who she’d never met, in the palm of her hand like that.

After the internet had exploded with this information, all interview hosts seemed to be asking Harry about her, and her about Harry. She seemed to be all he talked about for months, and she devoured every word for it.

After all, who would let such a cute man’s words slide off like that?

“Tell me, what part of Y/N do you find most attractive?”

“She’s got a breathtaking face,” he would sigh wistfully, “and gorgeous curves. Her personality is so… bold and striking.”

He had come across her by fate on the street once, after the initial revealing of his love. She had come close enough to him so her shoulder brushed against his side, but she’d continued walking in the opposite direction, like a model, like nothing had ever happened.

Harry had turned to watch her go, hurt, lust, and adoration illuminating his face. There were articles plastered over the internet and tabloids the next day, of him gawking at her as she has, literally, brushed him off.

He couldn’t stand this, the mere thought of her touching him would harden his cock faster than anything. He touched himself religiously to mental images of her, as a soundtrack of her songs and speaking voice flowed through his head. He came into jars on a nightly basis too, imagining they were her tight pussy. He wondered what it was like to hear her sweet voice moan. Thinking of that sent him practically over the edge. What would her lips feel like?

“You released your new album, Harry’s House, more than a month ago now, and the world is going absolutely mad over it,” A sly smirk crossed over the interviewer’s face. “I’m sure you talk about that quite a bit nowadays, so allow me to shake things up. Harry, if you had to ask Y/N one question, what would it be?”

Harry chuckled. He hadn’t been asked this for a while, but he was still used to answering it. Every answer that he’d used in response to this was different. It was always untrue, but it was somewhat amusing nonetheless.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned, using a hand to stroke his chin as if he were in deep contemplation. “Many things.”

“Just one, mate.”

At this point, the audience began to murmur and point behind him, but he knew better than to turn around. He had been fooled one time too many.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

This was nothing compared to the one question that dwelled in the darkest parts of his overactive mind. A question that wouldn’t see the light of day for anything.

“Tulips and buttercups.”

A sweet voice tickled Harry’s ears from behind, causing him to whirl around. He blushed deeply, beginning beneath the collar of his shirt and spreading up his cheeks. The world’s most beautiful girl was standing behind him, smiling sweetly, and touching his shoulder.

The audience laughed out loud at his surprise and he immediately folded his hands, placing them subtly over his lap. Convenient.

She bent down to give him a big hug from behind as he sat, awkwardly, wringing his hands and kicking himself internally for not hugging her back.

That could have been his last chance, but dirty scenarios were already flooding his mind. They brought a dark smirk to his face and caused him to tune out the interview host and the beautiful girl sitting beside him. Her hips could be good for a whole lot.

He drifted slowly out of his daydream, just in time to hear his name after what was supposed to be a question.

“What?” he had to ask as he noticed the other two staring at him.

“Did you hear the question?” Y/N joked, giving his arm a playful slap.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly, drawing laughter from the audience. “Sorry.”

Y/N giggled as she repeated the question Jeremy had asked him. “What initially attracted you to me? Did you catch it that time?”

He chose to ignore the second part, thinking about the potential of the first part. “Your personality…” he stammered, all too aware of the chatter going on in the audience and at the pair of gorgeous hazel eyes that twinkled from beside him. “You’re really pretty…”

“Good answer,” Jeremy confirmed and Y/N gave a half-smile, showing off her dimple as she put her arm around his shoulder. She must have been able to feel his pulse in the blood that pounded through the veins on his back, though, because she drew back quickly.

But that didn’t keep Harry from internalizing the feeling.

Jeremy handed a stack of thick laminated cards to both singers before explaining the rules. “You are going to read the other one a question. They will be required to answer it to the best of their ability. Understand?”

“Yes,” the pair replied in unison.

“Y/N, ladies first.”

She cheerfully picked the top card off the stack, giggling as she read it. “This is fun! Who do you dream about most often?”

“Niall, Louis, Liam, and Zayn,” he replied honestly. Despite how many hot nights he had spent under her sheets in his dreams, his mind always went back to mourning the loss of his 1D days. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question?”

When Jeremy and Y/N nodded their confirmation, he nearly choked upon reading the top card. “Are you single?” He was being set up and he knew it. And he loved it.

“Yeah,” she replied with a toss of her beautiful hair. “And ready to mingle.”

“A better question is,” Jeremy added, “it’s Friday afternoon. You think you’ll still be single tomorrow morning?”

“Who knows?” she tossed the curly-headed boy beside her a tantalizing gaze. “I prefer to go with the flow.”

He laughed out loud at the comment, shifting the cards into his lap. Couldn’t he keep it in his pants for a few minutes?

After more questions and painful giggles, the interview was over and Harry was alone with Y/N backstage.

“I love that shirt on you,” she mentioned as she tugged at his collar. “It makes your eyes look really green.”

He grinned at her and they gave each other a mutual hug.

“Do you wanna come somewhere with me?” he asked and she nodded her approval.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Out for dinner somewhere,” he responded, touching his hair nonchalantly.

“Of course!” she followed him as he headed for the exit, grinning at his sweet manor. “Or we could order takeout and eat it at my place,” she suggested and Harry agreed with that.

“I can call it in if you tell me what you want.”

“What do you want?” Harry asked his princess. “It’s up to you.”

She suggested an Italian restaurant that she loved and he found their menu as she slid into her car and he slid into his.

“Tell me what you want, quick,” he said, leaning his head out of the door.

“I’ll have chicken Alfredo,” she decided and his cheeks heated up, excited about the concept of being at her house.

“Okay! I’ll order it and have it delivered to… where?”

She gave him her address and he repeated it back as he prepared to dial the number on his phone. He was pleased with how his day was going. He was pleased that he had exchanged words and physical contact—hugs!—with Y/N. He just wanted to kiss her. That would make his day the best in history.

- - -

“You’re so cute,” he had barely gotten in the door and Y/N was already in front of him, arms hanging loosely around his neck, drawing him down to her height. “Can you kiss me?”

He groaned at the feeling of her hands on his face as she pressed her lips against his. They burned with passion he had no idea she felt for him and tasted like… true love. Not cheap, meaningless love, but real, dangerous love.

He opened his mouth for leverage and she took the opportunity to slip inside and begin exploring his mouth with her tongue. She tasted so good.

He moaned as he felt her tongue caress the inside of his cheek, stimulating him in ways he craved.

Her tongue slipped over the roof of his mouth, leaving a tingling sensation behind in its tracks.

The kiss only broke when there was a knock on the door and Harry straightened to open it. He exchanged a few words with the delivery person and Y/N grew increasingly irritated with the time he was taking. She placed his palm on top of hers and her other hand on top as he shut the door, setting down the food on the table beside the door.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, holding back giddy giggles.

“I wanna keep kissing you,” she explained. “You taste so sweet, feel so good on my tongue.”

“You taste exquisite yourself, cutie pie,” he commented as he smashed his lips back against hers.

She groaned out of pure joy as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, enjoying a flavor he could never find anywhere else. After kissing that pretty girl, he never wanted to put his lips on anyone else.

Her hands wandered curiously into his hair and she began twirling it subconsciously, syncing the twists to the movement of her tongue.

Eventually they pushed off of each other and walked into the living room with their food and Y/N directed Harry to the floor behind her coffee table, and in front of her couch.

He knelt awkwardly between the furniture, opening his takeout box as she turned on the television.

“Do you want anything to drink, Y/N?”

“Yeah. Actually… I have something.” She headed towards the kitchen and opened the cupboard, pulling out a bottle of wine and some glasses. “If you want any.”

She knelt beside him on the floor and opened her box, too.

Friends was playing as they ate, but they were doing anything but paying attention to it.

With every bite, Y/N scooted a little closer to Harry, until she was practically in his lap.

He noticed.

“Sweet angel, what are you doing?” he asked as she leaned against the side of his arm.

She used her fork to twirl up some pasta and she turned to look at Harry. “Try some!”

“Don’t want any, sorry,” he grinned as she put a hand on his knee to help her lean closer to him. She pushed her fork against his lips and he ate the pasta off of it, the thought of her mouth on it making him salivate.

“Is it good?”

He nodded. “It’s pretty good, but I’m full,” he leaned back against the couch behind them and sighed contentedly.

She turned to set her fork back down in her box before going back to Harry and licking a stripe across his face.

“What was that for?” he asked, stunned by her audacious actions.

“You look so yummy,” Y/N took a sip of her wine before turning around and sitting perpendicular to him. “I can get wet just looking at your gorgeous face, your curls, your soft, pink lips…”

He couldn’t help but admire her. He wondered if the extra pigment in her cheeks was makeup, the wine, or him. It was too perfect. It had to be makeup, right?

The way her eyelashes fluttered when she blinked was a drug to him. She was everything he wanted and so much more. She was his entire life.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as she sat up and turned to look at him.

He grabbed her face and immediately began kissing her all over.

She sat there, in shock, as her face was covered in messy kisses. She shifted her body into his lap and felt how hard he was beneath her.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. “Get offa me.”

“You’re…”

He looked at the ground, thoroughly embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

“It’s alright,” she assured him, “it’s cute.”

“It’s cute?”

“Yeah,” she kissed his cheek. “Where do you wanna go?”

His mouth fell open as he tried not to smile. “Your house, your choice.”

“This old couch should suffice, hm?”

He nodded, waiting for her permission to undress.

“Do you want to…”

He nodded desperately as she locked her lips onto his neck and kissed, tongue roaming around his skin.

He moaned continuously as she grabbed his pants zipper, giving it a tiny tug and urging him to take it off as she pulled up her skirt.

He gawked at seeing her panties, just thinking of her pussy underneath got his mind racing.

He unzipped his pants as he kissed her jaw and she could see a prominent erection in his underwear.

“Can I… suck you?” she asked, and the question alone caused him to moan.

“Please!”

He pulled his underwear off and dropped them beside him as he sat on the couch and she knelt before him, between his legs.

He tasted so good for her, the precum tasting like summer and joy.

“God… fuck…” he murmured as he felt her tongue lick long strokes up and down his cock. “Feels so good, princess,” he breathed. “Keep going, fuck, I already need to cum.”

“You can’t cum yet,” she mumbled through her mouthful. “I’ve barely gotten started with you.”

She loved the feeling of his skin beneath her tongue, the veins that were present on his length. He tasted so wonderful, and every move she made seemed to turn him on more and more.

He moaned almost ceaselessly as her tongue and lips wracked his cock, until she instructed him to cum. The release was impressive.

His eyes squeezed shut and his toes curled, as he moaned her name repeatedly.

“You’re okay,” she assured him as his orgasm reached an end, licking the leftover cum from her lips. “What now?”

He pressed his hard cock to her dripping pussy as he shifted to a lying position on her couch, pulling her on top of him.

She rode his cock, bouncing up and down on him as enjoyment played in his face, mixed with a withheld orgasm.

“You’re hot,” she said and the simple words made him throw his head back with a moan.

“I just want to fuck you.”

“Y/NNNNN,” he moaned and she grinned, moaning back.

“Harryyyy.”

Tears came to his eyes as he tried not to cum again, bucking his hips. Hearing her voice was amazing. But hearing her moan his name?

“You can’t cum yet, silly fuck. You’ve barely been in me for thirty seconds!” She must have seen the look of pain on his face, though, because she slowed down enough to give him a kiss on his cheek and ask if he wanted to keep going.

Once his consent was given and accepted, she sat back up as he drove his hard cock into her from below.

A burning sensation crept stealthily through her stomach as she bounced a little on his cock, as if she were riding a horse.

“Fuck, Harry,” she groaned. “You feel so good in me.”

He moaned before pleading one final time for her to let him cum, and she did, cumming right alongside him. The warm juices filled her cunt so well, she could barely breathe. She sat up in a bewildered Harry’s arms and nuzzled her face against his neck as the last of her orgasm exited her body.

“What did you really want to ask me earlier?”

“What?” he opened his sleepy green eyes, frowning in confusion.

“What did you want to ask me at the interview,” she repeated and he sighed wistfully. “I promise, I’ll answer.”

“How do you make me feel this way?”

“What way?”

“So good, so fucking good. So hard, all I wanna do is kiss you until we’re tired of it. Then I wanna lie down with you and sleep in your arms.” These sleepy thoughts provoked a deep yawn out of him and she grinned, stroking his hair gently.

“I don’t know, but I sure do love you.” A delicate kiss was placed upon his swollen lips as she directed him to the shower to rinse off as she cleaned up her couch. “This is more cum than I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” she remarked.

Harry groaned as he walked into her bathroom. It was immaculate. It practically sparkled and the counters… seemed a perfect height to ruin.

He stepped into the shower and rinsed himself off. He knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he was all sweaty and covered in cum.

When he emerged from the shower, Y/N directed him to her bed and tucked him in among the silky pillows and sheets.

“I’ll be right back,” she explained, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You go to sleep.”

He waited up for her, despite her instructions, and she came back into the room clean and fresh.

She climbed into bed beside him and he nuzzled his nose into her damp hair. It smelled so good. He should go out and buy some just to smell and remind him of her.

“Sleep tight, darling,” she mumbled. “Do you wanna be big spoon or little spoon?”

He hesitated for a moment before deciding, “Little spoon.”

She rolled over as he curled up and cuddled up around him. Her hands rested comfortably on his lower torso and he fell asleep almost instantly at her touch, but not before asking, “So are you going to be single tomorrow morning?”

“I don’t know,” she grinned mysteriously. “Only time will tell. Sweet dreams!”

“Can we do it again tomorrow morning?”

Taglist: @madybeth21 @fishingirl12 @groovychaosavenue @sortingharryshairclip @mimischaos @mrspeacem1nusone

#angel in disguise #harry styles #dunkirk era harry #Harry styles fanfic #Harry styles imagine #Harry styles x y/n #Harry styles smut #Harry styles x singer!y/n #singer!y/n #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart #Harry styles x plus size y/n

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