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violentdelightsandviolentends · 4 months

Note

hi baby!! dont worry!! it was about reader getting so stressed and annoyed while building a gingerbread house that they throw it in the garbage because its going all wrong and carmy finds it hilarious lol then he builds one for her hehe<3 love u

Perfectionist.

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks - especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

pairing - carmen berzatto x female reader warnings - cursing word count - under 1k!! short and sweet author's note - just a little dose of carmy at christmas for you. thanks baby angel for sending this request in (twice!!) <3

masterlist. inbox.

"Fuck this."

Carmy hears your raised voice and immediately comes running, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You good, baby?"

"No."

The frown on your face is amusing him to no end, fighting to keep his smile from breaking out. He doesn't want to minimise your feelings, but you're cutest when you're mad.

Carmy takes in the scene in front of him, surveying carefully. There's chunks of gingerbread scattered across the table, icing dripping from the tablecloth. Your kitchen looks like a candy store exploded - sweets in red, green and blue littered over every surface. You're caked in frosting, hair falling into your eyes as you take deep breaths to try to keep your anger at bay.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy, but fuck me, Carmy... I'm on the brink of a breakdown here."

He makes his way over, grinning like an idiot. It's not often he gets to help you with things - you're fiercely independent, determined to get stuff done all by yourself. He likes teaching you, getting to feel like he's easing your worries a little.

"You want my help?"

"I said I'd do it," you huff, on the verge of stamping your feet and pushing the table over.

"It won't kill you to ask for what you need, baby."

You roll your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It's difficult for you to admit defeat, but you might rip your hair out if your gingerbread collapses one more time.

"Can you help me, Carm?" you whisper.

"What was that, honey? Say it again?"

You sigh in exasperation, slumping back into your chair.

"Can you help me, Carmen? Please?"

He beams at you like the cat that got the cream, making his way over to sit next to you at the table.

"Lets start again, hmm?"

"Good idea."

You pick up the remnants of your gingerbread house and throw them so forcefully, the trash can almost tips over. Carmy laughs, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"I think we've finally found the one thing you're not good at, honey. It's a Christmas miracle."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss or four into your neck, nosing at the spot under your ear.

"Okay, Mr Michelin Star. Show me what you got."

You bake, first, Carmy explaining how to get the perfect texture you need for structural soundness. He even gets out a ruler, measuring the rolled out dough so the sides will be even.

He kisses you lazily while your gingerbread is in the oven. You're propped up on the counter as he stands between your legs, arms thrown around his shoulders. He tastes like cinnamon and spice, groaning when you lick the sugar straight from his tongue.

When it's cooled, you begin your assembly, sitting back while Carmy trims and remeasures. He draws out a template with a pencil and cuts accordingly, ensuring each piece has a straight edge. You watch in awe as he works, so careful, so attentive. You're fighting not to jump his bones at any given moment.

It's time to build, and Carmy has the perfect plan. He's made a thickened sugar syrup that acts as a glue, hardening when it dries and keeping everything together. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates, determined not to mess this up for you.

He steps back, then, to let you decorate. You clearly have a vision, your picturesque idea of what you wanted your original creation to look like. Carmy makes you multiple bags of icing in different colours, and melts down candies so you can make windows and doors. He opens packets of chocolates, and carves into them with a knife to make little trees for the yard.

Hours later, when you're both covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, you step back to admire your masterpiece.

"Holy shit, Carm."

"We did good, huh?"

"Is there like, a business in this? Can we do this for a living?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you from where his chest his pressed to your back. He's got you tightly in his arms, swaying gently to the soft music that plays from the radio.

"What were you saying about finding the one thing I wasn't good at, Berzatto? Hmm?"

He spins you, pressing his forehead into yours.

"I take it back. I take it all back, baby. You're good at everything."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

You lean up to kiss him, wiping some frosting off his cheek with your thumb.

"Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."

"I would never. Life is a learning curve, baby, You taught me that."

"I love you," you whisper. "And just so you know, we're never eating that. It's going to have to be display only."

He laughs, full chested and whole hearted, moving his hands to cradle your face.

"I love you too, baker extraordinaire. We don't need to eat it, anyway. We've got all this candy to get through."

You reach behind him to pick up a chocolate, tossing it into your mouth.

"It isn't as sweet as you," you wink.

A blush rises up his cheeks as he rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Carmen."

1K notes · View notes

blitzyn · 3 months

Text

prospect

toji fushiguro x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> sighs and explodes i need this man injected in my blood right NOW. nobody will be able to convince me that this man doesn’t have a breeding kink. sometimes i forget im writing for real people on a real platform and it jump scares me when people comment on my work. but in a good way ofc i love seeing people’s thoughts on my stuff. ANYWAYS. REQS.

wc -> 4.7k words of filth LMAO

cw -> anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, throat fucking, using “pussy” and “cunt” as a synonym, mild impact play, breeding kink, mirror sex, finger hooking, bondage, begging, brief gun play, when i say “little” i mean that in a condescending sorta way and not bc the reader is described to be petite and tiny, not beta read obv

"You're a tricky one, I'll give you that," is the first thing the man before you said. It'd been quite a while since the first time the two of you met in a dingy bar hidden in the sketchier parts of town. He hadn't been trying to kill you then - he was but a fellow patron eager to ruin his liver. Originally, he had a strange gut feeling about you. Like a pretty thing like you wasn't all it seemed, but he shrugged it off after a well-placed look from you offering to buy a couple more rounds.

So when he's given another job, the first thing he does is laugh. He didn't really mean it at first, but really, the irony was hilarious. The guy he nearly got to fuck was his current target: [Name] [L.Name], a rising Jujutsu Sorcerer. He obviously wasn't as strong as the esteemed Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru, but he was advancing a little faster than many would've liked.

"Thanks. I tried," you replied, seeming much too relaxed for a man about to be assassinated. You were currently stuck on the floor with your arms tied behind your back and your legs bound together by plain, old, ordinary rope. You were a little embarrassed, truthfully, to have been caught by such a mundane trap like this.

You struggled against your restraints a bit, sighing in defeat when you only served to remind yourself just how stuck you were. "These are pretty secure," you started, giving the man before you a laidback smirk. "You experienced?"

Toji gave you a quizzical look for a moment before breaking out in an amused grin, resting his handgun against his shoulder. He definitely wasn't expecting his target to start flirting with him instead of pleading for his life like he was used to. But he'll entertain you for a while. "You could say that."

You huffed through your nose, your eyes lazily flitting around the room. You were making your way back inside the abandoned building you chose to hide in when you suddenly found yourself tied up. It took you a moment to realize you couldn't move when he appeared in front of you, but even less to recognize him as the man you almost got to sleep with. "I would've loved to have you tie me up back then, but this wasn't really what I was thinking about."

"Your phone's a real cockblock, huh?" He chuckled lightly, in an almost mocking manner from what you managed to detect in his voice. "Can't even begin to imagine how long you've had to go without gettin' laid."

You rolled your eyes like he wasn't only there to kill you and get his money. "Don't get me started. There's always something new I have to kill every fuckin' second. My boss thinks it's great training to go out whenever I can."

Right. Technically, you weren't a fully-fledged Sorcerer. You had more of a vigilante-esque vibe to you. You hadn't attended either Jujutsu High School in Tokyo or Kyoto as well, only taught by your family and experiences. Not that that really mattered anyway. You fought, you got strong, and now someone put a hit on you.

You sighed, shifting your body to a more comfortable position before tilting your head back against the wall. “This is the part where I beg for my life, right?” You questioned rhetorically, with an almost bored expression on your face before your eyes lit up with an idea. “I’m not too good at that, but I am good at begging for something else.”

Toji raised an eyebrow in intrigue, unable to fight off the grin at the obvious implication. He didn’t stop you from shamelessly checking him out, but he cut your ogle session short regardless.

“Yeah? Care to elaborate?” He made his way closer, crouching in front of you to get a better view of your face. He knew what you were asking for. He just wanted to know if you’d follow through with it.

Maybe it was the adrenaline making you bold, knowing that he could easily kill you with the pull of a trigger—or maybe it was just because he was really fucking hot. With a quick, obvious glance to his crotch (you could see the imprint of his dick through his sweatpants), you spoke clearly. “I want you to fuck me.”

He liked how forward you were, how unafraid you were to say what you wanted. He swiped his tongue over his lips and nearly laughed at how your eyes darted downwards to watch it. “You call that beggin’?” He taunted, raising his arm to press the tip of his gun against your chin to tilt your head up. “Do it right.”

A shudder ran through your body at his demand, leaving a trail of heat that settled right into your groin. You felt hyper aware of everything—of the cool metal on your skin, of the faint gunpowder scent emanating from the barrel, of your heartbeat thrumming so hard you briefly wondered if he could hear it.

“Oh, please, Mr. Fushiguro,” you whined, staring up at him through your lashes pleadingly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together as you squirmed, attempting to provide your hardening dick friction. “Please fuck me. I’ve been thinking about this whole time. I need it so much.”

“Well, aren’t you a confident little thing,” he remarked with a thoughtful hum, carefully inspecting your reactions. “But what makes you think I won’t just kill you and get my money?”

“Because you haven’t yet,” you replied with a smug undertone in your voice, like you figured him all out. Although, when he dragged his gun up towards your lips, a brief wave of fear washed down your body, settling deep in your chest.

“Really? That’s all you’re going off of?” He tilted his head, watching you through the dark curtain of hair that fell over his piercing eyes. “That’s cute.” He held his finger over the trigger, teasingly flexing it before relaxing just as fast. He found it funny how your confident facade slipped away the moment you remembered that you weren’t talking to a casual friend—that the Sorcerer Killer himself was staring you down the barrel of his gun. But, apparently, that’s what got you all hot and bothered.

“I didn’t think you’d be this desperate.” His scarred lips curled upwards in a predatory grin as he nudged the tip of his gun against your mouth, prying it open. You fought the urge to squirm when he pushed it further, jaw straining, but you tried your best to comply. “You seemed all mysterious ‘n’ unassuming back at the bar. What happened to that? Got me feelin’ like I got the wrong person with the way you’re actin’.”

You tried to shake your head while a garbled noise left your throat, but he kept you firmly in place as he pushed it as far as he could go. Even as you squinted, it was hard not to practically eyefuck him where you sat. Your watery irises trailed over the length of his arm, tracing the bulging veins that patterned over his forearm, dipping back underneath his skin before reappearing in his thick bicep. His shirt did little to hide his chest, squeezing in just the right places to render any woman jealous.

You couldn’t stop your gaze from wandering down, down towards his legs, zeroing in on the dick print he so obviously flaunted like a trophy. Your mouth watered, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. You slid your tongue over the rough metal, imagining that it was his cock stretching your eager throat wide open; imagining the salty taste of his precum, of the scent of his musk, of—

“My eyes’re up here, pretty boy,” he interrupted, pressing the gun up against your palate to snap you out of your stupor and avert your gaze. “If you’re gonna deny bein’ a slut, at least act like it.”

He pulled it out of your drooling mouth, wiping the string of saliva off on your cheek before setting it on the floor with a dull thud. Your face was messy, chest heaving up and down as you panted, expectantly waiting for him to continue like a lost puppy.

“You’re so damn easy,” he commented teasingly, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. It throbbed under his touch, leaking precum and straining against the fabric. “If I’da known all it took for you to get all nice ‘n’ compliant f’me was a dick down your throat, I’d have my money by now.” There was a hint of honesty to his voice that you couldn’t even find in yourself to protest.

“Please…” you breathlessly whined, trying to writhe out of your binds, but it was tied too tightly around your body to free yourself. “I want it. Stop messing with me.”

“I know.” He reached down to shift you onto your knees, steadying you with a firm hand on the back of your neck. You watched him slide his free hand under his pants to pull his thick cock out, eyes fixated on the leaking tip. He wrapped it around the shaft and leisurely jerked himself off, the wet sounds of his precum sliding along the shaft mixing in with your labored breaths and his quiet groans.

Finally, after what felt like decades, he shuffled forward just enough to press himself against your lips, finding little need to nudge his way inside when you so eagerly parted them for him. You let out a pleased noise at the taste of his precum, beginning to squint and fight the urge to gag when he refused to stop until your nose was buried in his pubes. He held you there for a moment, enjoying the sight of your throat bulging to accommodate his cock.

“You’re takin’ me in so easily,” he purred, sighing in satisfaction at the feeling of your tongue tracing over a prominent vein, making him twitch in your mouth. “Is this what you do? Use your body to live a little longer? 'Cause I gotta say, whatever you're doin' is really payin' off."

You visibly preened at his praise, feeling your dick strain against the fabric of your pants. He let you move at your own pace, watching you hollow your cheeks and slide and bob your head up and down. He was thick and long and made your jaw ache in the best way, utterly infatuated with his scent, with his taste, with the way he let you go at your own pace—but you knew better. You knew that he could easily take that control away from you and fuck your face.

You kind of wished he did, honestly.

With a bit of effort, you pulled away from his cock, breathing heavily. Your voice was shaky but it was firm, determined to get what you wanted. “Fuck my throat,” you demanded, staring up at him through your lashes. He gave you an intrigued smile, clearly pleased with your eagerness to be used like a toy.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ til I cum,” he warned. He hardly gave you enough time to reply before he held the base of his cock, gently tapping the tip against your slick lips to get you to open up wide again, obviously unconcerned with your response. “But if you really insist, then who am I to say no to a pretty thing like you?”

He adjusted his stance, towering over you with both his hands atop your head. He allowed you to take a deep breath before pulling you to him just as he shoved his cock back down your throat. You were still unused to him, nearly choking at the sudden movement, feeling tears pool along your lashes. You could’ve sworn his musk was an actual aphrodisiac. It was all you could smell, filling up your nostrils to render your mind a pathetically fuzzy mess.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he drawled out, staring you down with enough heat in his eyes to practically glue you to the floor. You weren’t even sure if you’d get up and leave if he gave you the chance to. Probably not, frankly. Not with the way his strong hands so easily kept you in place, nor with how he strained your jaw—infatuated with every inch and vein and his salty precum. “Take it all, baby.”

He chuckled to himself, not bothering to hide the condescension in his voice. “But I didn’t need to tell you that, huh? Is this muscle memory takin’ over?” Despite his words, his brows were furrowed, focused on thrusting his hips, stoking the rising fire in his abdomen. His rhythmic groans were music to your ears, mixing in with your wet gags and the faint sound of his balls slapping your chin.

“Fuck,” he panted, taking one hand off to wipe your hair off of your forehead and get a look at your watery, unfocused eyes. It sent a heat down his spine that made his cock jolt at the sight of your blissed out face. “You’re so damn tight… gonna make me cum.”

“Is that what you want?” He grunted, digging his fingertips into your skin. “Y’think it’s what you deserve?” For a moment, you were worried he was going to stop. But he didn’t really, instead he kept you still, holding you at a distance to make sure you didn’t accidentally pass out. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”

You blinked your tears away and looked up at him, squinting, confused when he hadn’t let you go yet. It took you a second to piece together what he wanted of you, and felt the burn of embarrassment trickle down your spine and settle into your chest when you did. He wanted you to beg with his cock in your mouth. You were quiet, unsure how to respond without choking and coughing into next week.

“C’mon,” he persisted, his scarred lips lifting in a grin. “I know a little slut like you can do it.”

With a deep breath, you attempted to get your words out through muffled sounds that very vaguely sounded like sentences. It was humiliating—letting him use you to entertain himself like this, but it was an exhilarating feeling that made your cock twitch and throb, aching to be touched.

“Sorry, what was that?” He questioned mockingly, expression laced with faux concern. “Do you mind repeating that?”

You paused, staring up at him pleadingly, but when that didn’t seem to work, you tried again. Drool seeped out the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin. It was hard to breathe and form coherent thoughts. Your cock throbbed and ached to be touched, finding your pants to be uncomfortably suffocating.

“Was that so hard?” He questioned rhetorically as he tugged your face close again, savoring the feeling of your throat squeezing around his dick before beginning to fuck it. He groaned when he felt you run your tongue over the veins, the vibrations of your voice sending heat through his body that he eagerly chased.

He swore under his breath, panting, focused on the tightening coil in his abdomen. “Shit—I’m about to—fuck—cum.”

You moaned when you felt him still, pressing your face into his pelvis to make sure every drop of his cum went down your throat. It was difficult to swallow, letting your eyes flutter shut until he was finished. Your vision was a bit blurry when he finally decided to pull away, leaving you gasping and panting.

“I want—I need you to fuck me,” you slurred, desire flashing brightly in your eyes. Your voice was raw and hoarse and raspy, but there was no hiding your desperation. “Please. I need it so bad it fucking hurts. Please, Fushiguro.”

“I just got done cumming down your throat and you’re already askin’ for more?” He chuckled condescendingly, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb along your chin to gather the mix of saliva cum. He brought it to your lips, watching you wrap them around his finger and suck the fluids off his skin. “You needy whore. You’re lucky I’m not in any rush right now.”

With a swift hand, he untied the rope holding your legs together to lead you to a different spot, confident that you wouldn’t make a break for it. Not that you could nor wanted to, anyways.

The mirror before you was dusty and cracked, but it still served its purpose well. He kicked your legs apart and brought you back down to your knees, lowering himself behind you with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You nearly came on the spot when he squeezed your aching cock, hips jerking needily, but he let go in the blink of an eye to unzip your pants and bring them down far enough to expose your ass. He brought two fingers to your lips and dipped them inside your mouth with his other hand, coating them with your saliva rather haphazardly.

He swiftly brought them back down, running them over your balls and perineum teasingly, grinning at your sharp intake of breath. He slid the pads of them over your hole, just barely pushing them through to feel the resistance give way before pulling them back out.

“I swear to god, I’ll—“ you tried to threaten, only to be cut off by a whorish moan that Toji managed to tear from your lips when he shoved his fingers inside you. They pressed against your prostate, firm and unrelenting, rubbing it just the slightest bit to keep you reeling. The sudden stretch fucking burned as you clamped down on him like a vice, wincing and groaning.

“You’ll what?” He urged, eyes fixated on your face, watching every single muscle twitch, noticing the way your cock spurt a fresh stream of precum down the throbbing shaft. “C’mon, don’t get all shy on me now. What were you saying?”

He thrust his fingers in and out slowly, emphasizing the wet squelching sounds of your asshole. You could feel his breaths brushing against your heated skin, sending shivers up and down your spine that ended in your fingertips. Your knees ached and your arms were growing numb from being tied back for so long but you figured you could ignore it for a little while longer if it meant you’d get what you wanted. His dick, namely.

“I’ll—agh, fuck—I’ll…” you trailed off, hardly able to form a coherent sentence with the way he massaged your prostate so perfectly. “Just… just shut up,” you muttered finally, breathless and unfocused as you stared at the spot you connected from the reflection in the old mirror. A subtle feeling of embarrassment settled in your heaving chest when you heard the raspy sound of his chuckle.

“Is that it?” He taunted, locking eyes with you. His free hand slid upwards, teasing your nipples through your shirt to watch you squirm. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight. I’m startin’ to question whether or not you’re really some hotshot Sorcerer.”

It was hard to refute him when you looked the way you did—all messy and disheveled and desperate, hard for the man supposed to kill you. You were completely unlike yourself hardly half an hour ago, but you barely gave a shit. How could you when the hottest man you’ve ever seen was behind you, fingerfucking your eager hole? Chances like these don’t come often to you, that’s for sure.

You shivered and moaned, leaning back against his chest. Your hips practically moved on their own accord, thighs flexing to keep yourself upright as you tried to fuck yourself on his thick digits. Toji could see the way your eyes unfocused and glossed over with understimulated tears, frustrated and horribly pent-up.

He gave your prostate a quick jab, firm enough to intensify the heated coil in your belly, but too fast to savor. He wasn’t planning on giving in to you so easily as he avoided your sensitive spot, instead moving his fingers in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

“God—stop doing that,” you pleaded. You felt like an open book, unable to stop yourself from furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance or conceal the painstakingly obvious glint of hunger in your pupil-blown irises.

“Quit whinin’ and maybe I’ll consider it,” he murmured gruffly, enraptured by the way you writhed and squirmed and looked just downright pathetic. You both knew he wouldn’t, not when all the others he’s fucked couldn’t hold a candle to your pliant little body. You knew why he was there in the first place, but still, you remained there on your knees even when he untied them.

You nearly let out a sob when he curled his fingers again, offering you the barest of touches to your prostate that sent liquid fire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, please,” you begged, yet again. You didn’t know much of this you could take or how long it’d be until he caved. God, was it so much to ask for a man to fuck you stupid?!

“I want your cock inside me so bad, fucking me fast ‘n’ hard ‘n’ deep,” you slurred, hardly able to maintain even the barest shred of dignity. You looked into his deep, green eyes through the mirror’s reflection, hoping he’d relent.

“Yeah? Y’want me in this slutty pussy?” He purred, sliding his slick fingers out of your twitching hole to give it a sharp slap. You jolted just as a spurt of precum slid down your hard cock, leaking onto your clothed, heaving abdomen. He chuckled breathlessly as he leisurely rubbed your puffy rim with the pad of a finger. “You should’ve just said so.”

He wiped his fingers off on the back of your shirt, offering you an oblivious shrug when you glared at him through the mirror. Your knees ached when he had you lean forward a little, placing your more of your weight on the poor joints as he reached down to quickly jerk himself off before tapping the tip of his dick on your asshole one, two, three quick times.

It felt like he was splitting you apart when he finally decided to push through after spitting on your hole, groaning at the way you squeezed around him tighter than a damn virgin. It hurt like a bitch. Of course it did—you made him rush and he was using less than ideal lube, but, God, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t feel so fucking good.

You watched him lean back a little and hold you by the ropes binding your arms together, rolling his hips experimentally, only to grind his cockhead into your prostate so deliciously you saw stars. A searing heat enveloped your body, blinding you with white that took you far too long to come down from. Opening your eyes (you didn’t even realize you closed them), you instantly spotted your twitching cock drooling cum onto the floor. Fuck. He didn’t even start and you came.

“That was so damn fast.” He couldn’t be bothered to stop the hint of a laugh from leaving his throat. With his free hand, he reached down and gave your throbbing dick a squeeze, stroking it with a tight grip to milk out the rest of your cum.

You shuddered and trembled, biting your lip to stifle your moans. He let go to stuff two of his slick fingers in your mouth, careless with how deep he forced them in. Not that you really minded as you swirled your tongue around his skin, readily cleaning it off. You locked eyes, keeping your expression firm in a weak attempt to regain even a sliver of composure when he suddenly moved, giving you a quick, harsh thrust that nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

He shifted his fingers, curling them as they pulled on your cheek, tugging at the flesh until he forces your mouth wide open. You couldn’t stop your tongue from lolling out, jaw slack as you drooled and whined and cried every time he rammed his thick cock into your eager fuckhole. He was relentless—pounding into you fast and hard and deep, just like you begged for so prettily.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, digging his fingertips into the flesh of your hip hard enough to leave bruises, arms flexing to yank you back as soon as he pulled out. “Your pussy’s so damn tight,” he panted, brows furrowed in focus, relishing in the sound of his hips slapping your ass and your whorish moans. “M’gonna make sure your messy little cunt remembers my cock by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Uh-huh, mhm,” you nodded, hands itching to grab onto his biceps, his back, something to ground yourself while he churned your insides to mush. It was nigh impossible to think or breathe or speak, but it felt so fucking good.

“Awh, look at yourself,” he cooed, his voice slightly jumpy as he let go of your mouth to roughly pat your cheek, forcing you out of your stupor to make you stare at your reflection. “Are you out of it already? Should I stop?” He questioned, his raspy voice laced with faux concern.

“No! N-No,” you stammered, finding it difficult to comprehend what he was saying until moments later, alerted by the word “stop”. “Don’t stop! Ohh, oh god, please don’t stop!”

You’re so, so sensitive and so full, and you can feel him losing his rhythm. His cock is heavy in your stomach and you swear through your addled brain it’s weighing you down as a trail of precum connects your heated bodies together, frothing between your thighs and his balls.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunted, gritting his teeth. He could feel the burning coil in his abdomen intensify with each passing second, and suddenly he’s speeding up, pistoning into you with loud and sloppy thrusts. His green eyes are locked on your swollen and puffy hole sucking him in with a vice grip, watching his cock slide in and out, in and out, over and over again until you’re cumming hard, shaking and convulsing.

“That’s it,” he growls, the sound low and deep. It went straight into your stomach, sparks lighting up under your skin as your hips jerk, unsure whether you want to endure the building overstimulation or move away. “M’gonna cum so deep inside your pretty little pussy I’ll knock you up,” he murmured in your ear, dragging a canine down your neck to clamp his teeth down on the flesh. “Y’want that? To be my breeding bitch?”

You sobbed, unable to answer, but he didn’t need one. Not when your body spoke for you.

He fucked the air out of your lungs one, two, three more times, feeling his balls tighten until he finally came, spilling his cum so deep inside you, you were sure it’d stay there for weeks. You moaned, savoring the warmth that spread through your body with each spurt of his cum that coated your velvety insides, trying to catch your breath before you had to move.

Toji sighed in satisfaction, pulling out after a few moments. He watched your fucked-out hole clench around nothing as it leaked with his seed, spreading one of your asscheeks to get a better view before giving it a final pat.

You didn’t realize he cut the ropes holding your arms behind your back until you nearly fell face-first onto the floor, catching yourself with your numb hands.

“Ow… fuck,” you cursed at the sharp stinging sensation that ran up your arms, shaking them uselessly in an attempt to restore the blood flow faster.

“You were better than I thought you’d be,” he hummed, getting up to fix his clothes. He grabbed his handgun from off the ground, holding it against his shoulder as he stared you down. “But you have three days. Make ‘em count.”

You weren’t oblivious to know that he was giving you a three-day recovery period before he began hunting you again. Even then, you couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement from running through your spine at the prospect of seeing him again.

You grinned, breathless and shaky but confident nonetheless. It was unlikely he’d fuck you once he found you, but a man could dream. "I will."

cross-posted on ao3

675 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 2 months

Note

I just read an article on The Conversation that states: "Today, most data has Trump narrowly beating Biden in the national popular vote, albeit within the statistical margin of error." (Source for that data: https://projects.fivethirtyeight.com/polls/president-general/)

In your opinion, is that true? How can that be possible after everything Trump has done? After the Insurrection? I'm terrified 😕

(For reference, the original article can be found at https://theconversation.com/five-reasons-why-trumps-republican-opponents-were-never-going-to-beat-him-223288?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=The%20Weekend%20Conversation%20-%202888329325&utm_content=The%20Weekend%20Conversation%20-%202888329325+CID_fceedfd21410eb8a7b6fd6e1124d9d54&utm_source=campaign_monitor_uk&utm_term=five%20reasons)

Short answer: no, I don't think it's true.

Long answer: no, I really don't think it's true. Here's why.

Broader context. A Republican has won the popular presidential vote only twice in the 21st century, and in the first of those occasions -- 2000 -- I use "won" very advisedly. We all know, or at least we should, about all the fuckery that went down in Florida with Bush vs. Gore and SCOTUS stepping in to stop the recount (which almost surely would have gone to Gore) and handing Florida, and thus the presidency, to George Dubya Bush by a mere 537 votes. Dubya then did win re-election and the popular vote/EC in 2004, in the throes of patriotic war fervor and the GOP's Swiftboating of John Kerry (who was a pretty terrible candidate to start with). Other than that? None. Zip. Nada. None. Even in 2016 when Trump squeaked out a win (and thus the presidency) in the Electoral College, he lost nationwide to HRC by over 3 million votes. He lost to Biden by 7 million votes nationwide last time. Also, the reason the GOP loves the antidemocratic Electoral College is that it always works in their favor, and because red states with relatively scant population are given the same power in the Senate. That's why California, with 40+ million people, gets two (Democratic) senators, and Wyoming, with 400,000 people, gets two (Republican) senators. There is just no way that red states can get the actual raw numbers to win the popular vote against heavily blue urban population centers. The only one that comes close is Texas, and while it's something of a white whale for Democrats who think fondly that it'll surely turn blue this election cycle (and then it doesn't), it's not giving all its votes popular-vote-wise to Republicans. So yeah. The numbers aren't there. Biden is about 99% certain to win the popular vote, but because this is America, the question is whether the EC will follow.

(Although, I gotta say. In the deeply unlikely event that Biden loses the popular vote but wins the Electoral College -- i.e. the exact same thing Trump did in 2016 -- the right wing would lose their fucking minds and it would be incredibly hilarious. Also, we might finally get some red states willing to sign up to the National Popular Vote Compact, which is just a few ratifications away from going into effect. As noted, the Republicans will cling onto the Electoral College with their last dying breath because it's the only thing that makes them competitive in nationwide elections. If it fucked Trump, they might finally listen to ideas about changing it.)

The media are incredibly biased, and so is Nate Silver. Silver first rose to prominence as an independent geeky Data Guy elections whiz-kid, and was relatively good at being unbiased. That is not the case anymore. He's now affiliated with the New York Times and has started echoing the smugly anti-Biden framework of both that paper and the mainstream media in general. I'm not necessarily saying his data is total bunk, but he's extremely eager to frame, narrate, and explain it in ways that artificially disadvantage Biden (in the same way the NYT itself is all in on "BUT HIS AGEEEEE," just as they were with "BUT HER EEEEEEMAILS" in 2016) And that's a problem, because:

The polls are shit. Like, really, really shit. Didn't we just go through this in 2022, where everyone howled about how All The Data pointed to a Red Wave and then were /shocked pikachu face when this was nothing more than a Red Dribble of Piss (and frankly, the best midterm election result for the ruling party since like, the 1930s?) We've also had major, real-time proof that the polls are showing a consistent pro-Trump bias of 10 or more points, which is a huge error and keeps getting corrected whenever people actually vote, but the media will never admit that, because TRUMP IS WINNING WE ARE ALL DOOMZED!! We heard about how Biden might lose New Hampshire because he wasn't even on the ballot and that would be a critical embarrassment for him. He cruised easily with 68% (all write-in votes and FAR more than any other Democratic "candidate.") Meanwhile, Trump won New Hampshire by about 15% under what the polls had predicted for him (after doing the same and barely squeaking over 50% in Iowa, one of the whitest, most rural, most Trump-loving states in the nation). The number ballparked for Biden in the NV Democratic primary was something like 75%; he got over 90% (and twice as many votes as any candidate in the Republican Primary/Caucus/Whatever That Mess Was). The number for what he was supposed to get in the SC primary was in the high 60% (driven by the media's other favorite "Black voters are abandoning Biden" canard); he absolutely crushed it at 97% statewide. When Biden is winning by whopping margins and Trump is underperforming badly, in both cases by gaps of ten percent or more, it means the polls are simply not showing us an accurate state of the race. This could be because of media bias, bad data, selective polling, inability to actually connect with voters (especially young voters, who are about as likely to eat a live scorpion as to pick up an unsolicited phone call from an unknown number). This also shows up in:

Special elections. We've heard tons of Very Smart Punditry (derogatory) about how Democrats kicking ass in pretty much every competitive election since Roe was overturned in 2022 totally means nothing for the general election. (Of course, if the situation was reversed and Republicans were cleaning up at the same rate, we would be hearing nothing except how we're all destined for Eternal Trumpocracy... wait. no... we're still only hearing this. Weird.) In the last special election in early February, Democrat Tom Suozzi won back his old U.S House seat (NY-03) by over eight points, after polls had given him at most a two- or three-point edge. (Funnily, once again a Democrat did far better than the media is determined to insist, so Politico hilariously called a thumping eight-point win "edging it out.") This represents almost a 16-point blue swing from even just 2022, when The Congressman Possibly Known as George Santos won it by 7 points. On that same night, a Democratic candidate in a Trump +26 district in deep, deep red Oklahoma only lost by 5 points, marking another massive pro-blue swing. This has been the case in every special election since Roe went down. Apparently blah blah This Won't Translate to the General Election, because the media is very smart. Even when Democrats (historically hard to motivate and muster in off-year election cycles, or you know in general) are turning up in elections that don't involve Trump to punish terrible Trumpist policies, we're supposed to think they won't be motivated to actually vote against the guy himself? And not just them, because:

Trump is a terrible candidate. Which we know, and have always known, but now it's really true. We've had up to half of Haley voters stating they will vote for Biden over Trump if that is the November matchup (which it will be). Haley, amusingly, actually outraised Trump in January, because it turns out that the Trump Crime Family's open promise to send every single donor or RNC dollar to pay El Trumpo's legal fees hasn't been a terribly effective message. We had Republicans in NY-03 telling CNN that they voted for the Democrat Suozzi because they're so fed up with the GOP clown show in the House and don't think Republicans can govern (which uh. Yeah. Welcome to reality, we all knew that ages ago too). We have had up to a third of Republican voters saying they won't vote for Trump if he's convicted of a felony before the election (and technically he already has been, but we're still hoping for the January 6 trial to go ahead). Now, yes, Republicans are a notoriously cliquey bunch and might change their minds, but for all the endless bullshit BIDEN SHOULD STEP DOWN BECAUSE DEMOCRATS ARE DISUNITED narrative the media has been pushing like their kidnapped grandmothers' lives depend on it, Democrats aren't actually disunited at all. Instead, Trump is in chaos, the GOP is in chaos, sizeable chunks of Republican voters are ready to vote for someone else and in some cases have already done so, and yet, do we hear a peep about how Trump should step down? Nah. In related news, did you hear that Biden is old?!?! Why isn't anyone writing about this?!?!

Now, I want to make it clear: Trump's chances of winning are not zero, and they are not inconsiderable. We need to face that fact and deal with it accordingly. Large chunks of the country are still willing to vote for white Christian nationalist fascism. Trump still has plenty of diehard cultists and the entire establishment Republican party in his pocket, and it's been made very clear that Putin is bringing the full force of his malevolent Russian fascist machine to bear on this election as well. Case in point: we spent four years hearing about HUNTER BIDEN HUNTER BIDEN SECRET CORRUPTION GIANT SECRET BUSINESS SCANDAL, and it turns out that the GOP's "star informant" has been actively working with Russian spies the whole time and fed them complete bullshit disinformation, which they were eager to repeat so long as it might hurt Joe Biden. (And it would hurt Ukraine, so, twofer! I cannot emphasize enough how much it was all a deliberate collaboration by some of the worst people on earth.)

In 2016, people naively assumed that Trump could never win, and so they were especially willing to throw away, spoil, or otherwise not exercise their vote, or throw purity hissy fits over HRC (likewise fed at the toxic teat of Russian disinformation). That was exactly what allowed Trump to squeak out a win in the EC and put us in the mess we are currently in. If people act in the same way in 2024 that they did in 2016, Trump's chances of winning are drastically increased. So once again, as I keep saying, it's up to us. If we all vote blue, and we get our networks to vote blue, Biden is very likely to win. If we don't, he won't, and Trump will win. It's that simple. We had better decide what we're doing. The end.

#jayciethings #ask #politics for ts #long post

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embrosegraves · 3 months

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𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕊𝕞𝕦𝕘

(request) Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader "Are you decent?" "Probably not morally, but I've got clothes on, if that's what you're asking"

Dating a Formula One driver meant that life would never be smooth sailing. For a lot of people, this was terrifying and if you were honest with yourself, it did scare you a bit at first. However now that you were a few years into it, it wasn’t as bad as you once thought. Sure there were moments that you wished you could live even a tiny bit more privately, but such is life unfortunately. One thing you were grateful for about this chaotic spin on life (besides your boyfriend of course), was that your career was thriving. There was no way your career wouldn’t thrive. You were a lifestyle vlogger with access to the unadvertised side of a world famous athlete.

You had been filming snippets of your life long before you had crossed paths with Carlos. Having been in the vlogging business for 8 years now, you had been dating Carlos for 3. Carlos was well aware of your career choice and while it had taken him a while to get used to you filming every other week, he eventually came to terms with it. He even managed to start having a bit of fun with it. Your fans always loved when Carlos made a cameo in your videos.

Currently, Carlos was getting dressed in your shared ensuite, having just finished showering after his training session, while you were filming in the kitchen. Today had been a filming day for you. You had taken the camera with you as you went grocery shopping, explaining that you were planning a home date for Carlos and yourself. You filmed as you went shopping for a small gift to give Carlos and you filmed as you prepped the food you planned to cook with Carlos later.

Originally, you were content with waiting for Carlos to be done before you even went near the bedroom but you had forgotten something that you had left on your vanity. Camera in hand, you thought why not record the retrieval as a sort of spy-esque montage. It would be fun for the fans and yourself, and who could say no to pretending to be a spy? Opening your bedroom door, you moved the camera in a way that made it look like you rolly-pollied your way across your room. Making sure the camera was facing you, you began to ‘sneakily’ rummage through everything on your vanity in search for the ��hidden jewel that had been stolen by pirates”. However it was nowhere to be seen.

“Alright guys, I think we’ll have to give up on being spies. I’m pretty sure I left it in the ensuite because it’s not on my vanity.” You explained to the camera. “There’s just one problem. Carlos is currently in said ensuite and I have no idea if he’s naked or not. Which isn’t normally a problem but I’m selfish so I’m gonna gatekeep that from you all.”

You quickly made your way to the ensuite door and knocked loud enough for Carlos to hear over his music. You could hear him turn off his music.

“Yeah?” He called from inside.

“I’m filming.” You said. “Are you decent?”

“I mean probably not morally, but I’ve got clothes on if that’s what you meant.” You heard him laugh to himself as you opened the door. You poked your head through first, just to be safe. Seeing that he was indeed dressed, you moved the camera to face him.

“I’m keeping that in, I hope you know that.”

“I would hope so, that was hilarious. The people need to know that I’m funny.” He walked up to you and gave you a kiss. “Did you need something?”

“Mmm.” You hummed as his hands came to rest on your hips. “I honestly don’t even remember what it was.”

Carlos chuckled before he grabbed something from the bathroom counter. He held it in front of you with a smirk on his face.

“It wouldn’t happen to be the mini ring light that you always forget to put back on your vanity, would it?”

Your sheepish smile told him everything he needed to know.

overall, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. With twitter in shambles over what happened, I thought I'd post the Carlos request I had in my drafts, as a treat/distraction.

I hope you all enjoyed!

Likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated!

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #formula one #formula 1 #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr fluff #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr fanfic

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americas1suiteheart · 10 months

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Hi! Hope you are doing well! So, Tangerine x Reader: any headcanons about Tan as a partner? Thanks!

I'm doing great in fact, thank you for the request! Headcannons are my favourite thing to write, hope this is fitted to your taste.

Dating Tangerine Would Include...

[Tangerine x GN! Reader Headcannons]

[Warnings; Violence, smoking, violence, its a bullet train fic guys]

[Notes; I love writing for Tan so much you guys have no idea, I get to cuss as much as I want to in these fics]

Oh man, he's such a softie for you, you have absolutely no idea.

He can go from being the same grumpy prick to other people and have one of the worst days but when he's around you he's calling you love and darling, clinging onto you practically and just showering you in kisses.

He's so clingy, as soon as either of you get home he's begging you to sit with him on the couch just so you could cuddle. And if your making dinner expect him to try to help but just end up holding you by your waist the whole time.

Lemon thinks it's the cutest thing how tangerine acts around you. He thinks its hilarious how quickly Tan switches up with you.

"-you're the one that doesn't fucking know how to go on about this job correctly! You're such a fucking idiot sometimes Lemon it's insu-" Tangerine yells at his brother before being interrupted by you.

"Whats going on? What are you two fighting about now?" You say in annoyance.

"Nothing darling, just please go back to the living room I'll be right there okay love," Tangerine tells you softly, pressing a kiss to your head before you leave.

"You're a right fuckin' sap for them, Tan," Lemon snickers at Tangerines change of attitude and tone.

"I'll put your fuckin' head through a wall, honest to god Lemon."

He just loves when your laying with eachother and you run your hands through his curls.

I'd like to think you help him take care of his hair actually. Like, he would know how to take care of it properly before, but he let's you put different product in his hair to make sure he doesn't miss any areas on his hair, (In reality he just wants to be touched by you in some way).

Being a part time nurse for him and Lemon definitely became a thing almost immediately after you two started dating. Constant cleaning of wounds and such, just constantly.

The days when he's on missions he's constantly texting you as much as he can, checking up on you to make sure you're doing well.

There are times where he's come home a couple days or even weeks later than he had originally anticipated without being able to contact you, and you'd be absolutely furious, (sometimes not knowing that he wasn't able to contact you at all).

"What the fuck happened, Tan! I thought you were dead. You hadn't even texted me or anything, you were supposed to be back 5 days ago! You had me absolutely worried sick!" You yell.

Tan had been gone for almost 2 weeks when the mission was only supposed to last a week. And on top of that he hadn't phoned or even tried to text you. If it weren't for Lemon telling you that they were fine 2 days before they showed up you would've assumed the worst had happened.

"I really am sorry my darling, the mission was just much harder than we'd expected and we got stuck there longer than nessasary." He explained quietly.

"But why hadn't you contacted me at all? If it weren't for lemon calling me I would've thought you two were gone for good!"

"My telephone got broken by some prick the 3rd day into the mission whilst we were fighting. And I didn't think to used lemon's phone because I was so frazzled the whole time. Really darling, I didn't mean to frighten or worry you."

"Alright.. Sorry I freaked out on you but I really was worried. I'm just glad you're okay now." You walk to Tangerine, pulling him into a hug.

" 's alright love, I'm glad you and I are good too. Let's go wash up and go to bed, I've got blood all over me and my fuckin' clothes and it don't feel too great," Tangerine says, picking you up and taking you to your shared bedroom.

Loves taking baths with you, taking turns washing eachother off makes him feel all warm inside, that you trust eachother enough at that point in your relationship. He thinks it's so sweet though.

Sometimes when he goes outside to have a smoke he'll invite you out with him so you two can just talk. If you smoke he'll probably share one with you too.

Very protective.. Being he's an assassin and all, he'd most definitely go to extremes if someone had been bothering you. Some random person flirted with you? Dead. A someone you knew in high school used to bully you? Dead. Any person that has hurt you no matter how long ago will probably end up dead.

You two are so good for eachother though. Strangely the healthiest relationship you will ever have. Please don't break this poor boy's heart. He will be absolutely devastated and blame himself for it. Underneath all of that muscle and confidence he's very emotional and sensitive.

Will ask to marry you and even possibly start a family with you if you're up for it. (Adoption or old fashioned depending on your biological sex).

Loved writing this, and I was infact so excited that I finished this in just 2 hours🤭

#tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #gender neutral reader #headcannons

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arceespinkgun · 29 days

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One thing I really love about the UK Marvel continuity is how it handled Decepticon leadership. All of the leaders were so unique and well-defined characters! There are so many civil wars among the Decepticons that I actually lost count. I think they each show different aspects of Decepticon culture, too. In this post I wanted to showcase the leaders and discuss why I really enjoyed the way they were portrayed!

Megatron: used to be the equivalent of an Olympic athlete. Started the War by preying on political unrest caused by preexisting tensions between the city-states, an aging Autobot council who wouldn't listen to their one radical voice (Emirate Xaaron), and a lack of resources. He started the War with a plan to equip giant engines to Cybertron to pilot it around the universe to conquer other planets lol Megatron is a dictatorial strongman at heart, and his major trait seems to be his indomitable will. No matter who tries to brainwash him or how embarrassed he ought to be by his defeats and stupid mistakes, he keeps going shamelessly.

Shockwave: used to be the ruler of Tarn, and constantly tries to take leadership from Megatron, probably missing the control he had over his city-state. Has a brains vs. brawn dynamic with Megatron, but tends to get extremely frazzled when things don't go his way and don't follow his twisted, self-serving idea of what logic is. However, that doesn't mean he doesn't emote.

Starscream: used to be a figurehead dictator of Vos. Generally tries to backstab whoever's in power, which is probably informed by the fact that he wasn't #1 in his own city-state back before the War. Also, props to Starscream for killing more people than Unicron (the majority get repaired, but still)! Something I find interesting is that Megatron preyed on the war between Vos and Tarn, but usually Starscream and Shockwave work well together in present-day, which suggests the whole war thing was entirely about power and not personal. They're both also ultimately cowards out for themselves.

Soundwave frames Wild Rider when, of course, Soundwave had been the real traitor the whole time

Soundwave: this continuity has such a good version of Soundwave... unlike Starscream, whose treacherous actions are big and loud, Soundwave's treachery is quiet. He serves under nearly every leader and never faces the consequences of blackmailing and betraying any of them, until eventually he is left as the ultimate leader in at least one future timeline. He is such a snake!

Straxus: initially was the leader of the Decepticons while Megatron was on Earth. Despite only being leader for a short time, he leaves a lasting impression with his absolute brutality in the way he melts POWs down to make ingots, beats his own soldiers, and is obsessed with taking over Megatron's body. He also has lasting impacts on the story overall because the identity of Megatron becomes questionable due to Straxus's attempts to subjugate his mind with his own.

Ratbat: originally kinda like Straxus's Laserbeak, Ratbat takes over and becomes one of the most intelligent leaders! He used to be an auditor and his entire philosophy surrounds being as energy-efficient as possible. He even gives Shockwave a negative performance review LMAO Interestingly, he's positioned almost as more of an enemy to the Witwicky family than to the Autobots at times. He also likes to use his own enemies as test subjects and slaves. Eventually, though, his string of successes leads to him being too arrogant for his own good.

Scorponok: wow, I don't even know where to begin. Introduced as the archenemy of Fortress Maximus, he becomes a Headmaster commander by teaming up with the evil Nebulan politician, Zarak. Scorponok begins as a complete mess, with hilariously idiotic plans like using bubbles against his enemies or humiliating the Autobots by having his soldiers defeat them in wrestling matches... and on Earth, he and his soldiers live in a dump. Literally, they live in a dump. He also has more truces than battles with Optimus Prime as he comes to know him, never having seen him until Earth. But Scorponok's ineffectual villainy and eagerness to team up with the Autobots actually leads up to something, as it becomes clear that he actually wants what's best for all transformers but needed to be inspired by Optimus Prime's compassion and support to become confident enough to risk losing the Decepticons' respect and aim for peace. Scorponok (and Optimus) show the strength that lies in choosing to give up conflict and try for peace. In some ways, Scorponok is more like Optimus Prime than Optimus is in this continuity!

Thunderwing: really fascinating. At first he kinda comes across like a generic distillation of what a Decepticon leader is, with all the traits you'd expect of one, and he even takes a test to become one... not the norm given that it's usually backstabbing and civil war that decides who comes out on top. He also thinks he fails the test because he gets distracted by revenge, but then he passes because that proves he's a true Decepticon!!! It's Thunderwing's relationship with the Matrix that is especially interesting. He's obsessed with it, but it's the Matrix's own desire to have new experiences that's corrupting his mind and eventually possesses him. Thunderwing is actually honorable and it's his goodness that allows him to temporarily fight back against it. By current TF standards, Thunderwing would actually be a Prime, since he opened the Matrix, but the Matrix isn't benevolent here. It's more like a little kid that wants to learn by acting out, and Thunderwing is a casualty of that.

Decepticon leaders don't look like this anymore!

Megadeath: the reason Thunderwing is like That™️, and the reason five specific prominent Autobots are the way they are. I mention him because he only appears in a single story in one of the annuals, yet his actions were so unspeakably horrible (the Autobots he traumatized certainly thought so) that he's one of the most sadistic Decepticon leaders ever.

Galvatron: such a multi-faceted and cool villain, that I already made a whole post about him! Notable for his cunning, his fears, and the fact that he was made from at the very least both Megatron and Straxus.

Bludgeon: introduced as part of the Mayhem Attack Squad, which is the Decepticon equivalent of the Wreckers. Specifically, he's introduced hunting down former Mayhems for fraternizing with Wreckers! Bludgeon hates the possibility of peace and loves war, to a religious degree. He thinks he believes in honor, but to be honest, he really doesn't. He's also incredibly fake in that he will pretend to be all for peace just long enough for the Autobots to let their guards down. I'm impressed by how much I love to hate this character given how short Bludgeon's time on-panel was.

There are a few other minor ones that appear as well, so there are even more! I'd like to say that while it probably shouldn't be given that this was like... the first continuity ever, as a fan who became introduced to TF during the Aligned continuity, the way the Marvel UK stories approach Decepticon leadership is so refreshing.

One reason is that Megatron is not portrayed as special just by nature of being Megatron. Yes, he started the War and founded the Decepticons, but he's not given more respect from his troops or his enemies automatically, and he gets his shit rocked constantly. Shockwave's intro was to immediately beat him up and take over, and Megatron embarrasses himself constantly. That's not to say that Megatron isn't worthy of being a Decepticon leader, no—but it means he's often shown clawing his way back up and constantly battling legitimate threats to his position. As a fan, it made me respect him a lot more.

Another thing I appreciate is the way the Decepticons are humanized. There are a lot of blatantly evil ones, but there also many of them who have a sense of honor and goodness, and it's clear that both many Decepticons and Autobots feel stuck and don't even remember why the War started at this point. And even the Decepticons who lack compassion or honor have very understandable struggles, such as facing trauma and trying to overcome it.

Along with the above point is the way the story of Scorponok is handled. I love that Scorponok is a Decepticon leader who always secretly held values that align with Autobot values, but then he ended up stuck in this bloodthirsty culture and endless conflict where he felt like he couldn't do anything, and I love how this is slowly foreshadowed throughout the comic. His friendship with Optimus is also excellent. I really enjoyed how they didn't meet until Earth and slowly became friends as they continually teamed up against greater threats. I appreciate that the Decepticon leader who's best friends with Optimus isn't like... Megatron, who started the War. I feel like a lot of newer continuities make the War center on the falling-out of two friends, which I think is a ridiculous way to handle the conflict.

Speaking of Megatron and Optimus, I appreciate how this continuity just doesn't have a lot of the dynamics that are typically present regarding these Decepticons. Megatron and Optimus are definitely each other's oldest enemy, but their conflict is de-centered in the narrative and they never had a falling-out. Instead, they always disliked each other from before the War. It's actually Shockwave who becomes the nemesis of both Optimus and Megatron for many issues! A lot of Optimus's deepest trauma was inflicted by Shockwave. Also, Megatron and Starscream still have a conflict, but that conflict is rarely present. Starscream causes problems for everyone and is mainly linked to Shockwave for a long time. And as I said before, it's Optimus and Scorponok who become friends.

I think a lot of the approaches this continuity took with the Decepticons should be used in the future!

#transformers g1 #transformers marvel #Megatron #Shockwave #Starscream #Soundwave #Straxus #Ratbat #Scorponok #Thunderwing #Megadeath #Galvatron #Bludgeon #my analysis #maccadam #long post

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m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.3

Yoko, you're hilarious. Sirens going off in her brain. “Alert! They're into childhood bedroom crush confessions territory. Redirect! Redirect!”

But also I find them so ridiculous. All the men in this. Is it just a case of men always assuming women are talking more than they are? Because I am definitely not hearing Yoko talking for John here. Or is this a rare case?

Paul’s scouse getting progressively thicker as the argument intensifies. Trying to finish his point as John's interrupting him. “But. Bot! Boot!! I do think –”Ugh it's so sexy. Sorry, anyway.

Paul's pep talk to John is super cute, but what does he mean, exactly? “we would actually all have dug to see you kick that telephone box in.” What is this metaphor? What does he want John to break? Or does he just mean John should act out more?

Okay but in this interview, she's definitely doing 90% of the talking even when the interviewer specifically asks just John. So if that's how they are in meetings or whatever then okay I could see that being frustrating.

Ow. Fuck. Hate that moment.

John: another Lennon/McCartney original entitled “All I Want is You”. Paul: Allan Wanna Too . . . Al Aronovitz. John: Al Aronovitz if you'll Aronovitz. We'll both Aronovitz together. Ugh sometimes you can just hear the voices in their heads being like “no don't tell him you like his song, that's pathetic! God, you're such a loser for even thinking it.” And sometimes . . . It's this. There's no in between.

John knows if Paul's singing “Darling” he's talking to him. Look at his expression as he's watching Paul sing “stand by me Darling, Darling.”

“Dig it” is actually insane. Paul: if you want it, you can get it. You can get it if you can dig it up. John: I can hardly keep my hands still. John: if you want it all you gotta do is ask for it. Paul: (intermittent with John, starts a crescendo of “yeah. Yeah! Yeah! YEAH!” and “want it. Want it. Want it. Want it.”) John continues: Nicely. Say pretty please and you're gonna get it. You're gonna get it alright, you're gonna get it. This time you're gonna get it good!

The looks as they're making fun of something important to him. Poor George.

See and here's the thing. If George knows basically what happened in India (which from this quote that's what I'm deducing) then Paul knows. You know?

Okay you know the “I love you, blue” moment from Get Back? I was feeling so devastated for John that there was no response to that and someone very smart pointed out in the tags that this moment could be interpreted as Paul's coded reply which I think is a lovely idea. And seems legit especially since John responds with song lyrics.

Paul: no that's good, that one. John: okay, tick it. Paul: I Love that one. John: thank you. Paul: I really do. John: I enjoy it too sometimes.

Peter Jackson why didn't you include these bits in your film? Huh? Huh? Was it because it was too homosexuality for you?

John's voice singing “you can imitate anyone you know” over teeny clips of Paul doing about fifty different impressions. It's so phenomenal.

John's “pleeeeeheeeease” actually makes me want to cry. He's begging with everything he's got. It's like he's a baby, really truly, and it physically hurts. If I was the one he was talking to in that song, I don't know if I could survive.

But Paul is sure. They're stuck. He can't give John what he wants.

Yoko tries to give John a kiss and he's so harsh. “Stop it!” If my boy ever talked to me like that . . . Let's just say I wouldn't be sitting with him at work anymore.

And then he's laying with his head in her lap, laughing madly with Paul. See what I mean? If Paul would just let John lay in his lap, I guarantee Yoko would not be there.

A coded exchange PJ left out. You can tell when they start to talk in code just by their tone. Suddenly they're a bit more even-keeled, a bit slower, clearer in their speech. Paul: achieve something every day. It may in theory sound silly, but . . . John: in practice . . . Paul: it's even sillier. But in practice, it's all there is. John: this is where it's at. Paul: this is where it's at unless that is where it's at. John: this is where it's at now. Paul: teamwork. A good defense. John: you play ball with me and I'll play ball with you. Paul: could be learning something instead of this you know.

There's a reason Let it Be is played at funerals, folks.

Is it just me or has Paul literally never looked uglier? Linda's a babe, though. John and Yoko both look cool and hot ASF.

Again, the song choices. “Goodbye (Paul's Version. From the Vault.)” Played over the double wedding footage? Okay. Goodbye, my love.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #yoko ono #linda eastman #understanding lennon mccartney #ulm

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stormblessed95 · 3 months

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Hi Stormblessed (dope name btw),

Don't know if this is the best place for this essay or the right time but I need to word-vomit this out, or I'm gonna be a JK-style spaced out zombie all day.

It's a truth universally acknowledged that a big part of the fandom tends to mis-characterize the members based on edits, fanfics and out-of-context clips. Something probably mostly to do with how social media platforms have been pushing for these short videos over the last few years. Why watch 300 hours of original content (some of which is behind a paywall) if you can get the gist of it (you think) from TikToks?

My particular point has to do with how that allows for the narrative (aka made up shit) especially around Jimin to grow. All of the members get that treatment, the maknaes worse due to their popularity, but due to how a big part of Army are also tkk shippers, Jimin is the one who's portrayal often skews more negative. The others' perceptions just are neutral or fantastical in a sense that they're more like badly written male leads. Don't get me wrong, solos throwing around bs is nothing singular to him but no one gets accused (said completely seriously btw) of sleeping his way into BTS or the release of his album.

After I saw this vitriol for the first time I had to actually sit down because wtf.

And then I started wondering why that is, and came to the conclusion that it is:

(Internalized) misogyny and sexism

Blatant homophobia

Jimin is the member the most obviously in tune of his femininity. He hasn't subscribed to gender norms for a decade at least, and once his hyper-masculine-esque persona from the debut days was dismissed, he ventured further. (That isn't to dismiss the growth they all have shown in that area.)

But antis, akgaes, Solos and shippers take that femininity and apply every stereotype and misogynistic idea to JM.

Traits they f.e. hate:

He is openly flirty with many people (members especially)

He is very physical, and touch is arguably one of his love languages and go-to way of comforting smn

He is pretty af and knows it

He's sensual and sexy and knows it

He's cute

He's sweet (aka a good fucking human)

But why does that make "them" hate him so much?

Because they have been taught that these traits in women (like themselves) are bad. What makes it worse, however, is that the men around JM all know these things to be true, acknowledge them as true and compliment him on them. In the case of JK (since this is about Jikook at the end of the day):

He loves flirty JM despite sometimes not knowing how to handle him (ehem the 'shameless convo'). He flirts back (fe the whole live where he was in bed begging for JM to come over)

Tkkers and such love pulling the "JK hates it" card. Which is nonsense, considering how he seeks JM's comfort when he's down (esp during concerts), actively cuddles JM (In The Soop) and never uses all his big muscles to shove JM but rather to just carry him around. Compare that to the jokingly disgusted face Yoongi pulls when Tae tries to hold his hand, and it becomes glaringly obvious that no one who says the members dislike touching each other has a leg to stand on. Calling it harassment goes so far beyond any line of sanity...

JK - like all of BTS - acknowledges that Jimin's beauty is simply out of this world. They are regularly stunned by his appearance

Just gonna point to JK's reaction to Filter, Blood Sweat & Tears, Black Swan, and Set Me Free pt 2 here. JK calls JM sexy so often it's hilarious

* inserts clip of absolutely WHIPPED JK after JM cutely punches him during that performance of Boy With Luv *. Also we know that "cute" his JK's type as he himself admitted.

Jimin has been Jungkook's comfort person for so long, and with such depth that he dedicated a whole trip and video to him. They care for each other so deeply that the only logical conclusion was to go to the military together.

Aka: he is all that they hate in the girls/women in their normal life so they can't do nothing but tear him down. They envy how comfortable he seems in his own skin, how easily he goes from sexy to cute, how loved he is by those around him. On top of that is how gay people are still perceived and treated by a lot of countries around the world. No matter what they say, being an army and shipping men doesn't make you automatically an ally and non-homophobic.

They treat Jimin like they would most likely treat the lgtbqia+ people in real life: something to be careful of, someone dishonest and slutty.

They conflate everything they hate about themselves and gay people and * boom * out come frankly terrifying tweets, fanfics and shit.

Contrast that with how these very same people fetishize the relationship between Tae and Jungkook - either viewing them like men who watch p_rn involving two women, or a self-insert with how little character they have - and that's the state of the army shipping community. They could be Barbie dolls getting smashed together and you wouldn't know the difference.

I'm not saying Jikookers are better in that, but the language they tend to use is incredibly different.

---

That was a lot.

To end on a sweet note: I saw a quote on Twitter "If you want to find out what someone fears losing, look at what they photograph."

And...well. that just screams Jikook

Hi! Thank you, I like my name too 🥰

And yeah, basically I agree. I think there is more to it as well, but that a lot of it could be boiled down to all this. And yeah, jikookers are just as guilty of this too, but not always in the same way. Sometimes in a way that is more fetishizing but is just as harmful. Take it from someone who has seen it all in my inbox from people who feel safe on anon 😂😂

Thanks for sharing! And your quote at the end is SOOOOO cute!

#jikook #kookmin #Jikook antis

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archiveikemen · 1 year

Text

William Rex 1st Birthday Campaign: Story (2023)

His POV

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

Contains spoilers from William's main story

The sound of Kate playing the piano reverberated through the air — and the music piece soon came to an end.

William: Was that my first present?

I asked while waving the card I found on my bedside table this morning that said “come to the Grand Hall”.

Kate wore a smile as beautiful as a flower.

Kate: Yup, but there’s more. I hope you’ll look forward to them.

Kate: — Happy birthday, Will.

My first ever birthday wish was engraved in my mind.

It was a sweet and beautiful memory that soon turned into a poison.

– Flashback Start –

Kate: You must've had tons of amazing birthday celebrations up till now.

That day, Kate apparently heard from Victor that my birthday was coming soon. She frowned, slightly nervous.

Kate: Which celebration was most memorable to you?

William: Most memorable? Let me think…

William: There was a year when a mission fell on the same day as my birthday, so I had the target sing me a happy birthday song before being executed.

Kate: … I’ll be sure to write that one down in my next report as one of your most villainous episodes.

William: Ahaha, please do, Miss “Fairytale Keeper”.

William: But why did you want to know that?

Kate: I’m thinking of ways to celebrate your birthday.

Kate: … I thought it’d be nice if I made your birthday memorable.

(... Memorable, huh.)

Kate was someone who was willing to lose her life in order to protect me.

I would never let her die so easily, but who’s to say that fate would not take her away from me the next day?

Perhaps, that was why every day and every second, she always tried to love me with all her body and soul.

(I guess that feeling is especially strong because it’s my birthday.)

William: We can celebrate it however you like. That way, it’ll be most memorable to me.

Kate: … Really?

William: Yes, of course.

(After all, I’m looking forward to receiving your birthday wishes.)

I decided that I would no longer reject her self-indulgent love that was given to me by her free will.

I wanted to enjoy every last moment of it.

(Ah… I just had a great idea.)

William: … I need an accomplice.

Kate: Hm?

William: Nope, nothing.

Kate: Ah, right. What’s the date of your birthday?

William: — In a week’s time, Kate.

– Flashback End –

After playing the piano, Kate held something out to me and said it was a present.

(... An umbrella?)

On the umbrella’s handle was the same card as the one I saw on my bedside table.

“Don’t get drenched in the rain with anyone besides me”.

William: What’s this?

Sensing her adorable possessiveness, I smiled and tilted my head.

Kate: Um… getting drenched in the rain with you can make anyone go crazy… so this is just in case!

Kate’s ears turned red as she mumbled something that didn't really sound like she was making excuses.

I found it hilarious that she thought I’ll ever be swayed by others.

There was no one else I would rather be in love with, than the woman who was soaked in red on that night at the Tower of London.

… But I didn't say that to her directly.

And of course, it was because Kate was becoming more and more self-indulging as the days went by.

William: Since it's a request by my dearest, I shall be extra careful about that.

Kate: … Please do.

William: What else should we do to celebrate after that wonderful performance and present?

Kate: Let’s go on a date. It’s been raining non-stop since this morning, so we shall put that umbrella to good use.

William: … It’s not okay to get drenched in the rain with you?

Kate: Huh…!?

Kate: T-That’s… um… saved for the end of our date.

William: Fufu, I see. For the end, hm.

Kate: L-Let’s get going…!

…

In the end, the rain had stopped by the time our date ended, so we couldn't get drenched as planned—

Kate said “I’m going to tell you why there was no dessert at dinner” and playfully led me away by the hand, like a little girl hoping for her prank to be a success.

Awaiting us back at the castle was a strawberry tart hat Kate had baked early that morning with Victor’s help.

Stuck into one of the bright red strawberries was another card.

(“Eat me”?)

It was a very bold invitation. Usually, I would suspect that it was Victor’s idea.

However, judging by everything that had happened that day… it was definitely Kate’s own idea.

William: Does “me” refer to you or the tart?

Kate: … Both.

Kate gave a single worded response and looked away.

I couldn't contain my laughter when I noticed that the tips of her ears were as red as strawberries.

I was sure that she fought her feelings of shame to write that, just to make it “memorable” for me.

(Kate is truly so adorable.)

William: Is this the last of your self-indulgent cards?

Kate: … Yes.

Kate: I thought that nothing can go wrong if I used cards… and that you’ll definitely remember this day whenever you look at the cards.

Kate: Even when I’m no longer with you.

Those cards served as a symbol of my beloved’s love and well wishes.

The day I would hold her lifeless body in my arms — would be the most horrible poison to me.

William: I see… thank you. It's a splendid present.

Kate smiled ecstatically.

It was a beautiful, attractive, and ephemeral smile that only someone who has accepted her impending demise could wear. I burnt that sight into my memory.

By the time I finished eating the strawberry tart — “today” was coming to an end.

William: Ah, I almost forgot. I have a present for you too.

Kate: Huh?

William: It’s right at your feet, next to your chair.

Kate quickly peered under the table and her face lit up, eyes twinkling.

Kate: … W-Was that a magic trick?

William: Yeah, I learnt it from Victor.

I shan’t let her know that the delicious aroma of baked goods I smelled this morning had given her surprise away.

I didn't see the need to disappoint her by revealing that her surprise was, in fact, not a surprise.

Kate: But it’s your birthday, why did you give me a present…?

William: To thank you for today.

I gently took the hair accessory from her hand and walked around her chair to stand behind her.

As I had expected, the hair accessory looked beautiful on her.

Kate: Thank you… I’ll cherish it forever.

Kate looked at me fondly while touching the hair accessory with her fingertips to check its placement.

Kate: The day is ending soon…

Kate: … Do you think this day will be memorable to you?

William: Yes, of course — however…

William: It’s still a little too early for this day to become only a memory, don’t you think?

I sat on the table and held the “eat me” card between my lips.

William: … Hm?

Kate: …

As always, my little robin was quick to catch on.

Kate got up from her chair and took the card from my mouth.

She pressed her lips to mine.

Kate: Mm…

Kate didn't resist when I drew her in. Instead, she straddled me in a naughty way.

William: … Fufu, you’ve become a very bad woman.

Kate: Yeah… all because of you.

Kate cupped my face in between her hands.

The pleading look in her eyes was oozing with passion.

Kate: I want to celebrate the day you were born, as much as you want me to.

Kate: One day will never be enough for that, but… I want to do that until the very last minute of the day.

Kate: I want to make myself a permanent part of you.

(No matter how expensive the present, or how enjoyable the party…)

(Nothing can ever compare to her expressing her desires.)

I shivered from the excitement I felt at the very core of my body.

She sensed it and the passion in her gaze grew stronger.

We kissed again and again.

The way Kate desperately tried to love me with her entire being, despite her inevitable death, was enough to move someone to tears.

It was like we were running away from the end of my “birthday”, rushed by the time on the clock ticking past.

(... Should I tell her now?)

William: Kate… there’s something I haven't told you about.

Kate: Mm… what is it…?

William: Actually— my birthday is tomorrow.

Kate: … What?

Kate paused, her breathing ragged.

The seductive facial expression she had just a while ago turned into a surprised one, I couldn't help but smile at how endearing it looked.

William: One day is not enough for me to enjoy the well wishes from my beloved.

William: … Because I’m selfish.

Kate: T-Then… today isn't your birthday or anything…?

Kate: Huh? But Victor and the others said that your birthday is today…

William: I selfishly got them to cooperate with me.

There could have been no better accomplices than the members of Crown.

William: A memorable plot twist, isn't it?

Kate: … Pfft, ahaha!

Kate burst out laughing and nodded happily.

Kate: Yeah… I was just thinking that a day wouldn't be enough.

Her laughter was beautiful, like she was single-handedly gathering all the happiness that could be found in the darkness.

William: Can I make my first request for my second birthday celebration before the day ends?

Kate: Of course… what is it?

William: There’s a dress in my room that would go really well with that hair accessory.

Kate: …!

William: My first request is for you to wear that… and let me love you.

Kate: … I’d love to.

At that exact moment, we heard a bell sounding in the distance.

We looked at each other and laughed.

Kate: Once again… happy birthday, Will.

Nothing could ever make me happier than hearing those words of blessing from her lips.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil birthday #william rex #aikm translation

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donnerpartyofone · 9 months

Text

This has been a really hard one to talk about. I'm always very ambivalent about mourning celebrities. I try to remember that I don't know these people, that what is really mourned by most of us is the person's ongoing work, which in the best cases has helped us understand ourselves and the world in which we live. Unavoidably, though, you can start to develop the sense that you know these people personally, which isn't true or even appropriate necessarily, I mean you have no idea whether you would even like someone you've only seen on a screen or received an autograph from; but at the same time, I don't know if you can really force yourself not to feel like the deceased celebrity is a dear friend you will never get to talk to again (the last time I tried and failed was the passing of Lux Interior). Maybe this is more forgivable, and also more inevitable, if you feel like you grew up with the person.

Of course this is all about ME now, but my mother (who also died from cancer) was an extremely hip, brilliant, funny individual who for whatever reason refused to form a relationship with me. This was pretty strange, because we liked a lot of the same things--B movies, old comics, all types of camp and kitsch--but when I liked those things, it was in poor taste and punishable by exile, whereas when she liked those things, it was evidence of her cultural genius. Before I make anybody too mad I should say that I'm being a little bit unfairly reductive just so I can get to the point, which is that one of the few things we could share was Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I didn't know anything about the show's more adult origins or the fact that Paul Reubens was sort of a performance artist, but I didn't have to. Pee-Wee's Playhouse was a feast for any child's senses: stylish, hilarious, and on some subliminal level, really sophisticated. I was clued into some of what was going on just because I watched it with my mom, who always laughed at Pee-Wee's winks and nudges to the hep parents in the audience. The show might have been my first encounter with the kind of anthropological humor favored by people like David Byrne and Laurie Anderson, artists who engage subversively with cliches, stereotypes, and other memetic parts of popular culture. In Pee-Wee's Playhouse, with its sharp, edgy cast and crew, kids like me were getting into fine art without even knowing it--which is possibly the best way to learn about art anyway.

In fact, on the other side of our house, I became obsessed with Gary Panter's incredible punk opus Jimbo In Paradise, a Dantesque comic book about an innocent young guy living in a dystopian future, where he is occasionally joined by guest stars such as Nancy and Hedorah. I was about 7 when I started reading Jimbo over and over again even though I could barely understand it, and I had no idea that Gary had pretty much designed Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I'm speaking about him so familiarly because I got to know him a little bit as a grownup. I remember Gary talking about how private Paul Reubens could be. He used to do this thing where he would accept a dinner invitation from anybody who asked, as sort of a stunt, but he had to stop doing it because people became so intrusive and entitled with him. Gary said that they'd be walking around in New York and when they saw an obvious Pee-Wee fan gearing up for an offensive, Paul Reubens would sort of transform into this totally different person, putting out an aura that let you know not to fuck with him. It's crazy-making to think that someone who was so protective of the boundary between his private and public selves had to suffer that ridiculous arrest, but it's heartening that most of society eventually grew the fuck up and forgot about it. It's also helpful to remember when he turned up later on the MTV Music Video Awards and started off by asking the audience, "HEARD ANY GOOD JOKES LATELY??"

I'm glad we got one more Pee-Wee special in the past several years, but I always wished that we would see Paul Reubens in more movies. He was such a cool actor, funny, convincing, and naturally charismatic. While people are cycling through their favorite roles of his, I want to point out that he had a great role on a recent HBO miniseries called Mosaic, an intense, engrossing crime drama that I definitely recommend if you have access. Maybe I'll rewatch it, too. In closing, here's a great story that I grabbed from Facebook that should warm everybody's heart, along with the heartbreaking statement (inappropriately cropped by Instagram of course) released upon the death of the very private Pee-Wee Herman. It makes you wish you could thank him in person, for everything. The best we can do is just remember him.

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ilyasorokinn · 6 months

Text

thank the donkey , ross macdonald

note, okay, originally, there was going to be a big halloween series, but i couldn't think of anything that really spoke to me and i wasn't inspired, but i was inspired to write for ross. so, this is my contribution to the holiday. this is my new personality trait, get used to it. also, lmk if you like this little family because i do and would like to write more if you'd want to see it :) another note, i tried to find photos of the costumes but couldn't so please just use your imagination :) last note, dedicating this to vee (@abiiors)! i was inspired by your dad!ross, so in my world, ross is also a girl dad and names his daughters after flowers lol love ya <3 pair, ross macdonald x reader summary, poppy macdonald is upset her dad is working on halloween. her dad is even more upset he has to work. so, he does the best he can to make the night special for her. warnings, kids/children word count, 1240 words (a little short, i know. but i promise it's sweet!)

(gif not mine)

Halloween, no matter how old you were, was your favorite holiday. When you were growing up, most of the other kid's favorite holiday was Christmas, not you. Maybe it was that your parents went all out, or maybe it was that they let you eat all the candy you wanted, but it left a lasting mark on you.

So, when you had your first daughter, her second Halloween (the first you really celebrated with her), you went all out. You and Ross dressed up as poppies and Poppy was a gardener. She had no idea what was going on but she found it hilarious that her parents were wearing weird big flower things on their heads.

Now, Poppy was four, and her little sister, Willow, was 10 months old. Poppy had inherited your love for Halloween and by August had her Halloween costume planned. She wanted to match with you and Ross which made you a little sad, knowing that Ross would have to work on Halloween.

When you did tell her he was working, she was sad but her mood brightened a little when you told her she could still dress up for the show.

She was very adamant about being Donkey from Shrek, so you did your best to make that happen. The band loved the idea of Shrek, so they each decided to follow in your daughter's footsteps and dress up as a different character and assigned themself different characters.

Poppy was Donkey, Willow would be Puss in Boots, Gabbriette would be the Fiona to your Shrek, Matty would be Lord Farquaad while George, Adam, and Ross would be the Three Blind Mice. John would be the Dragon, Jamie would be Pinocchio, Polly would be the Big Bad Wolf and Gabrielle would be the Fairy Godmother.

Poppy was completely oblivious to everyone's costumes and was just excited to get to dress up and eat candy all night.

On the day, you walked around Detroit and got her some candy from a couple of stores that were handing it out before you headed over to the arena for soundcheck, one of Poppy's favorite parts of the concerts. She got to go on stage and dance around with her uncle and dad.

Before the show, after Ross helped you dress the girls, and after he'd left to get himself ready, Gabbriette came in and watched the girls briefly while you got ready, and took pictures of you and the girls before Willow started to cry. You soothed her then slipped headphones onto both her and Poppy. Poppy's headphones had a pair of donkey ears glued on and Willow's had a pair of cat ears.

You heard the intro to the opening song and held Poppy's hand as you walked to the side of the stage where you watched the show. Willow sat in the baby Bjorn comfortably and watched from the stage with wide eyes.

"Mommy." Poppy gasped when she saw the band dressed up as the characters from her favorite movie.

"I know." You gasped with the same enthusiasm as you bent down to her level, "Look at Uncle Matty." You giggled with her when she saw what he was wearing.

Ross looked over to the side of the stage and waved at Poppy, who giggled and waved back shyly. Poppy couldn't stop smiling as she looked at the band's costumes.

Somewhere in the middle of the set, Matty finally addressed the crowd and addressed their crazy costumes, "Now, I know we look a little crazy right because we're missing our main characters, but I'll have you know this idea was formed because of my little goddaughter. She loves Shrek, and I mean, who doesn't?" The crowd cheered at that.

"So, the littlest MacDonald is Donkey and her mom is Shrek. Strange, I don't know how we got there, but here we are." He shrugged, keeping everything about your daughter vague because he knew you and Ross didn't want people knowing too much about Poppy or Willow, "So, anyways, everyone thank Donkey for this genius idea." Matty and Ross looked over to the side of the stage where Poppy was beaming at the sound of the cheers.

The rest of the show went on as normal and right before Ross turned off the lights, Poppy ran onto the stage and over to her dad, which sent the crowd into a frenzy because Little MacDonald, Donkey herself, was on stage. The lights were strobing so there wasn't a clear image of her face which was why she was on the stage in the first place.

Ross picked her up and carried her over to the giant light switch that would turn off the lights on the stage. He waited a few seconds before he gave her a nod and she pulled the lever, shutting the lights off on the stage.

He carried her offstage and once she was in the safety wings, she was off and running to greet her uncles and godfather. Ross removed Willow from the Bjorn, surprised that she was still awake because it was way past her bedtime.

Now baby-free, you gladly accepted the drink Gabbriette was handing you, "She's gonna be up a while, isn't she?" Ross asked.

"I'm hoping for a sugar crash," You smiled, watching George pick up Poppy and run around with her like an airplane, "You did amazing tonight, by the way." You nudged him.

"Yeah, I had a donkey and an ogre to impress." He teased.

"I'm gonna save the smack in the head for later because you're holding my baby." You narrowed your eyes at him.

"I love you, too." He wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you followed everyone else into whichever room would be used as the afterparty room.

You rolled your eyes, "I love you, too, even if you're mean to me sometimes." In response, he placed a kiss on your head.

When you made it to the room, Matty was standing outside with Poppy, who was pouting, "Why can't I go in?" She whined.

"It'll ruin the surprise, Pop." He explained, tapping her on the head, "You like surprises, don't you?" She nodded her head enthusiastically, "Then just wait a second." Poppy turned to you and frowned.

"Listen to your uncle, flower," Ross told her. She frowned and crossed her arms, "Just wait a second." He laughed.

A few seconds later, Matty opened the door and nodded over to Poppy, "Cmere." She skipped over to him, gasping when she saw what was in the room.

The best part of Halloween, in any kid's eyes, was trick-or-treating, and everyone knew that Poppy was a little upset she was missing it, so in the biggest room in the arena, everyone spread out with little bags of candy, creating a makeshift version trick-or-treating.

"Here's your bag." Matty handed her a big bag before tapping her on the head once more. She didn't need to be told twice before she was running into the room from person to person, gathering candy.

You looked over at Ross, who was smiling with pride, "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Halloween's her favorite." He shrugged, before producing your favorite candy bar from his pocket, "Like her mother's." He kissed your head again, smiling as Poppy giggled.

"You're amazing, Ross MacDonald, you know that?" You smiled up at him.

"Says you." He nudged you, smiling equally as big and squeezing your shoulder.

my taglist: @romanticingheroin @sadqn1 @befrwime @mattymybeloved @zzzhealy @fanaticalfantasist @thefrontofmymind @scooby-doodoo @because-she-goes @imogennjordan

add yourself to my taglist!

#taylor writes #taylor writes: 1975 #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald imagines #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 imagines #ross macdonald #the 1975 #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald blurbs #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #the 1975 fic #the 1975 blurbs #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic

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