#they mean so much to me I saw them interact once and my brain was like yes this is it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ivymarquis · 4 months

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So I was being a lil creep on @391780's blog and saw she'd made a comment about how {Valeria}'s so hot and so mean i just know she'd call a fat y/n something fucking terrible and make fun of her size. and whilst Imma not write any body shaming because that's fucked, my brain did black out at the mention of Valeria being terrible and wicked to Reader and this is what I came back to;

Mean Girl

Pairing| Valeria Garza x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 1.8l Kinks/Content/Warnings| Their dynamic probably isn't healthy but everything is consensual, chubby reader, anal sex, strap on, begging, punishment, name calling, slut shaming, Valeria is not dealing with reader's shit tonight, pussy slapping, squirting, aftercare

Your mother always cautioned you about bad boys growing up. You took one look at them, decided they weren’t worth the hassle and hit the books.

Which was all fine and well when you finished school with stellar grades and no distracting boyfriends, because it wasn’t boys that caught your attention regardless of if they were bad or not.

Now a mean girl?

As it turns out that is much more your style.

How exactly one ventures down the “mean girl” to “cartel leader” pipeline is a mystery for the ages, but quicker than you can blink one moment you’re being introduced to El Sin Nombre’s sicaria, and the next you’re her spoiled little house cat.

Unlike the average house cat though, there’s minimal tolerance for any foolishness or shenanigans in Valeria’s household.

She doesn’t expect much beyond your blind obedience to her every whim, and you’ve got hearts for pupils every time you look at her. Absolutely no fucking regard to the fact that you’ve gone from no relationship experience through your schooling years and gone head first into the deep end with no life jacket with Valeria Garza of all people.

That formal education isn’t doing you much good now.

Not that either of you are complaining.

Valeria isn’t difficult to live with once you learn her quirks and idiosyncrasies. She is consistent in her expectations- sets the rules, and accepts no deviations from them. Anything less is punished.

Now, considering the shit she’s probably complicit in if not outright done herself, you get off virtually scott free from punishments compared to others. You’ve still got all your fingers, limbs, and teeth thank you very much.

But that still leaves a whole spectrum of punishment.

You’ve been on your best behavior- usually stumbling into corrections on accident and learning quickly what mistakes to not make again.

By now you’ve been with Valeria long enough that new relationship jitters shouldn’t be fluttering in your belly every time to set your eyes on her. And yet- She’s just sublime. You can’t help yourself.

As someone who survived childhood and navigates adulthood by being polite and pleasant (occasionally to your own detriment), it is awe inspiring watching her enter a room and immediately take control of it. So far as anyone around her can tell, the world does in fact revolve around her and anyone stupid enough to not understand that is reminded of their place immediately.

You know that you’re not exempt from the firm grip Valeria keeps on her surroundings, but you manage to muck it up and overstep your place anyway.

“What’s that pretty brain of yours thinking about, Bunny?” she asks one night as the pair of you are reclined on the bed. It’s fairly obvious that she’s the subject of your current thoughts, looking at her like she hung the moon.

You don’t think much of it as you reply “Just thinking I have no idea what you see in me sometimes.”

Valeria makes her adoration of you painfully obvious so it’s not like you have reason to question it, but the pair of you are such polar opposites in every category, from build to disposition, that you’re the pinnacle of opposites attract. You wouldn’t survive a day in her world if it wasn’t readily apparent to anyone who might interact with you that Valeria will personally deliver their severed heads to their grandmothers’ doorstep if they don’t watch themselves. And, well- you don’t really do the self-pity thing because you can be hot and fat at the same time, but Valeria is hot in a conventional way that still boggles your mind when her clothes come off.

So yes, for multiple reasons you often find yourself wondering how the hell you managed to pull her?

The previously soft, bemused expression on her face is wiped to a cold neutral as her eyes narrow sharply at you. Ah, fuck, you have just enough time to realize you stepped out of line with that comment just as she rolls over and straddles you.

“If I wanted to fuck someone like me, Bunny, I’d just fuck myself. Perhaps you need a reminder of that?”

Next thing you know she’s got your hands bound to the headboard, ignoring the way you tug at the binds and whine as she works her strap inside your lubed up ass.

“Quit fucking squirming,” she sharply admonishes you, one hand gripping the soft flesh of your thigh for leverage as the other circles your clit to make you relax.

The beauty of a store bought cock is it’s the perfect size, part of why you can’t sit still.

As far as punishments go, once again you are getting off incredibly easy (and if you beg very, very nicely and are very apologetic and repentant you will probably get off in the conventional sense too) considering you absolutely love anal, but you’re sure Valeria already has a plan in mind to make sure she can drive her point home. We don’t want to have this conversation more than once, she’ll tell you.

“I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you cum without permission,” she reminds you, ignoring the way you whimper as she pulls her hand away from your clit as she finishes working the length of her strap in, her hips pressed flush to the plush of your ass.

“Valeria, please, I’m sorry,” you start immediately, knowing if you want to wriggle your way back into her good graces the sooner you start pleading the better.

“You’re sorry?” she mocks, ignoring the shiver that runs through you as she pulls out just to press back into you again, “We’ll see.”

Her thrusts are slow and measured with just enough force you’re seeing stars as chills run up and down your spine.

“I don’t know where the fuck you get off,” she criticizes in time with the wet clap of her hips to your ass, “questioning me of all people.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to,” well, didn’t realize she’d take it like that but she’s making it abundantly clear now.

“You didn’t mean to?” she parrots back cruelly as you whine when she presses up against something inside you that has your leg shaking. “You’re such a little slut, look at how wet your cunt is,” Valeria degrades with her eyes glued between your legs, the way your skin glitters in the dim lighting from your own wetness. There’s very little you wouldn’t be willing to do to get Valeria to pay attention to your empty cunt right now, but you also know you’re on thin ice and don’t want to do anything to cause cracks to form in the ground under you.

Your focus drifts towards the knot winding itself up in your abdomen, getting bigger and threatening to grow all consuming with each knock of her hips. Your hands twitch in their binds, tugging uselessly on reflex.

“Since you’re apparently too fucking stupid to remember the rules, I’ll make this simple for you,” she starts shortly- never mind that there’s several pieces of paper hung up on the wall to prove you’re not stupid. “My decisions are without fault- ever. You do what you’re fucking told, when you’re told. I don’t keep you here to think. I keep you here because I like watching the way your whole body bounces on my cock, got it?” The force behind her thrusts increases in increments as she speaks.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble both in pleasure from your ass getting pounded and to answer her. Maybe with someone else the sting of being called stupid (or a slut) would- well, sting. But when you mind your place and the relationship is functioning like it should, you’re happily in a place where you can turn the white noise in your brain off and just follow orders like a good girl. Good girls don’t think, they just do what they’re told.

“I’m sorry” you plea again, hoping that she’ll be more magnanimous now she’s said her peace. “I’m sorry Valeria I won’t do it again,” you promise.

“You’re sorry? Or do you just want to cum?” She lets out an unimpressed huff, hips thrusting in a way that has you squealing and thrashing against your binds.

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” It’s embarrassing the way your neglected pussy is dripping down between your legs and God you just want her to ease this unbearable ache inside of you. Your thighs burn from how much they’re trembling as you scramble to appeal to any mercy Valeria has before you cum against your better judgement and really put yourself in a fucking hole.

“Please, please, please- I’ll be good I promise!” you offer desperately. The only thing you can do is focus on breathing, trying with all your might to head off your orgasm.

“Fine,” She sounds exasperated, like she’s doing you such a favor allowing you to cum. “But you take what I give you and you better be fucking grateful for it.” Valeria hisses and no sooner are you nodding your head is she swatting at your cunt- hard.

You yelp at the sudden attention to your clit, and yelp each time she lands another blow to the swollen nub between your legs. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes between how fucking close you are and the sting from her hits.

She’s not entirely without mercy it seems- or she got bored slapping your clit and wants to watch you cum now- as the hand that is striking at you drops to your clit and rubs in tight, short circles just how you like.

Valeria laughs as you flinch in anticipation of the next swing before tensing in pleasure.

You’ve got just enough sense to squeak out “Thank you! Thank you, thank you-” in a mindless babble as your orgasm washes over you wetly. You’re messy when you climax and Valeria loves watching you squirt, evident by her delighted chuckle as you ruin the sheets.

“What kind of nasty whore gets off having her ass fucked, hm? Absolutely shameless,” Valeria goads but you’re fucked dumb and can’t possibly be expected to be paying attention anymore.

Everything gets hazy after that. At a certain point Valeria does decide she’s done with you, pulling out and laughing at how you’re such a twitchy, overstimulated mess.

When you come back to the land of the living, she’s somehow managed to coax you into the tub, the pair of you relaxing in the warm water. She’s got you tucked in between her legs, leaning against her with your nose buried in the crook of her neck.

“You back with me?” she asks, tone soft and gentle as one hand strokes at your shoulder.

“Mhmm,” you hum happily, nosing against her, sated and warm in the tub.

“Good. We’ll see about scrounging up some snacks in a bit, yeah?”

That sounds like a solid plan to you, although at the moment you’re so content in the bubble of warmth she’s got you enveloped in, you could happily stay here all night.

#my writing #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza #call of duty modern warfare #x chubby reader #femslash #cod mwii

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strniohoeee · 2 months

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Hidden In The Shadows Pt. 3

Read part 1 and part 2 here

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: It’s been a month and all Y/N keeps hitting is dead end after dead end. Not only that but she seems to have formed a friendship with the strange boy. Will this hinder her research??

Warnings⚠️: Nothing really tbh, anxiety inducing parts, talks of cults briefly, psycho Matt, oh and one last thing SMUT, submissive-ish Matt??

Songs for imagine: Lonesome Town- Ricky Nelson and This Haunted House- Loretta Lynn

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Taglist: @gamermattsgf @lacysturniolo @franticroads @creamoncreamoncream2 @melanch0lybby @anlqq @cindylcuwho @nicksmainbitch @riverwritez @s7urnfilms (idk I might’ve missed some people🥺)

There’s a place where lovers go

To cry their troubles

And they call it Lonesome Town

Where the broken hearts stay

The rain trickled down the window as the pen in my hand ghosted over the papers scattered all over the small desk. My eyes glued to the rain, watching the dirt become mud and the grass drown.

Vigorously tapping the pen back and forth on the paper clad desk as my leg bounced quickly. Many thoughts running through my head, but none that could be placed properly.

I was a full month into my research and for some reason I was way more confused now than before stepping foot into this town. I thought I found out a lot more, but it’s either dead ends or more weird shit going on.

I was pretty much hanging out with Matt everyday, it took a while for his parents to warm up to me; but the more he brought me around the more they got comfortable.

What royally sucked was that I was becoming so close to them that I felt weird asking any questions about the dark history of this town. I truly felt bad and like I was hiding something from them.

Professor Wayne wrote to me pretty much everyday, and all I could tell him was how nervous I was to dig further. Scared to unearth something that might actually keep me trapped here.

Letting out a long sigh I slid back from the desk letting out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Slipping my slippers on, I shuffled down to the kitchen.

Opting once again for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some water and some leftover popcorn from the previous night.

Sitting alone in silence at the table I let my mind wander. Glancing over at the back door as the rain pattered against it. I was feeling pretty useless right about now.

It’s so crazy how you can go from feeling invincible to pretty much a useless piece of shit. I felt like I had no purpose here. Endlessly wasting my time day in and day out.

I wasn’t sure if it was the shitty weather that made me feel this way, or if I was actually wasting my time. Rolling my eyes I took another bite of my sandwich. Blinking slowly as I chewed the thick piece that was in my mouth.

I used this time to look around the kitchen. I mean this was in fact an old house with…. I’m to presume many previous owners. Smiling gently my brain painted the image of an innocent family spending their holidays in this kitchen. Laughing, feasting, talking…. It’s so crazy how things come and go, including people.

My eyes scanned in front of me, and it was only then that I saw the gold reflection of a doorknob. My eyes lit up! How did I forget about the basement? A whole month here and I never once thought to check the basement.

Washing down the last bit of my sandwich with my water I placed my dishes in the sink before walking over to the door.

Grabbing the door knob I twisted and pulled, but to my surprise I was shocked by a thud. The door was locked. Shaking my head I walked over to the kitchen light switch flicking it on and I walked back over to the door.

My eyes squinted once I saw that not only was the door locked but the whole door had been painted over. A shitty light green might I add. It’s like when you move into an old apartment and maintenance repaints but they painted over light switches, the breaker box and even bugs….

“Ughhh everytime I think I find something it’s another dead end” I say out loud banging a flat hand against the door

But then I figured I could ask Matt to somehow break this door down for me. Sighing I dragged my feet back to the kitchen table sinking into the wooden chair. I threw my head back and groaned, rubbing my hands over my face

My head shot up as I looked at the kitchen walls…. That same shitty green color. My brows immediately furrowed and my back straightened.

To the naked eye this seems normal, but I remembered something. The listing didn’t show the kitchen being this color.

Scooting back harshly I bolted up the stairs rounding the corner as I ran into my room. Breathing heavy as I opened safari on my laptop.

Opening Zillow I went to the listing for this house, my eyes scanned the page before getting to the end.

“Last updated by realtor on 05/13/2023”

Rummaging through the papers on my desk I found my phone, opening up the phone calls I went back to May. I called Beaufort on May 16th…..3 days after the pictures were updated on the house.

Two and a half weeks is more than enough time to paint evidence over…. Especially incriminating evidence. I swear the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up.

Opening a new tab I decided to search up this address and literally the only thing that came up was the Zillow page. This house is so fucking old and not a single thing pops up on it. The next best place would be the public library and lord knows if some weird shit went on in this house all those files would be burned or blocked out on the database.

Slamming my laptop screen down I ran my hands through my hair. I opted to go back downstairs. Swinging every drawer and cabinet door open in hopes I’d find the basement door key.

No surprise I didn’t find it, but I decided to take a knife and cut through the paint like that one scene in Coraline. And to make it even creepier I’m sure my fate would be ending up like poor Coraline….

Pulling and rattling at the door knob some more, I kicked the door once I realized I couldn’t get it open. And this wasn’t something I could go to Beaufort with….. I probably shouldn’t even be going to Matt with this, but whatever.

Feeling defeated, I decided to shower and relax for a bit. About two hours later my phone rang, and it was Matt calling from his bedroom phone. Can’t believe this guy still has a landline…. They really live like it’s the 80s here.

“Hello Matt” I said placing the phone to my ear

“Hi darling” he says on the other line, playfully rolling my eyes at the pet name

“You rang?” I asked as I looked at my nails

“Ahh yes, well you see I’m actually relatively bored this fine evening. Want to hang out?” He asked me

“I’m pretty bored myself. I’d love to hang out” I said as I sat up

“Alright sweetheart I’ll be over in like an hour, sounds good?” He asked me

“Yeah sounds great” I stated to him

Matt was so funny and awkward you could tell he didn’t really speak to girls because he didn’t even know how to end a call. He’d just hang up and I’d usually crack up laughing as I shook my head.

I decided to clean up my room. Hiding my paperwork and laptop under the bed. Thank god there was a skirting around it to hide everything or else I’d be royally screwed.

Sitting at my desk I saw Matt flicked his bedroom light to let me know he was coming over. I got up from my seat and headed downstairs. I held the door open as Matt made a run for it in the rain.

“FAST FAST” I yelled to him as he hopped onto the porch

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there” he said slipping his boots off at the front door

“Ew…you talk so old southern style” I said scrunching my nose up

“Well…” he said cocking his eyebrows at me while pointing down his body

“Sorry! Sometimes I forget you really are southern” I said laughing

“It’s alright darling, hope you’re hungry I brought dinner” he said holding up a huge lunch box.

“I actually am” I said nodding my head as we made our way to the kitchen table

“Okay so mama made her famous roast, with some carrots, corn and grilled potatoes” he said as he pulled the Tupperware out of the lunch box

“That sounds sooo good, tell your mom I said thank you” I told him

“Will do little lady” he said winking at me

I grabbed us some soda as he set our dishes out full of food. As we sat eating quietly he gaze often jumped over mine whenever he saw me look at him. I found it adorable…he was so nervous.

“I hope I didn’t put your mom out, you know like having her make extra food for me” I said cutting some meat

“Oh no, no worries…. You see mama thinks…. Well mama thinks we’re more than….more than just friends” he replies getting a bit shy and blushing

“Oh.. have you never brought a girl home before?” I asked, mentally smacking myself in the face for asking such a rude question

“Not since little suzie….but we were like 9. Swore we was gonna grow up, get married, have a family” he said giggling a bit

“And what happened to that?” I asked him

“Ahh her family decided to move right before high school started…never saw her again” he says swallowing thickly as he blinked rapidly

“I’m sorry Matt” I said taking a sip of my drink

“Oh it’s alright, it was just a foolish thing to think” he says laughing

“Since her…has there been no one else?” I asked him

“No. There’s no real time for that round these parts either you grow up as neighbors and end up marrying or you stay solo forever” he says shrugging his shoulders

“Seems a bit outdated” I replied back

“It is, but it's just the way it is” he says back

“But anyways, how are you liking Oklahoma so far?” He asks me as he sips his drink

“Other than missing my family and friends, I’m thoroughly enjoying it here” I said to him

“Do you plan on going back? Or having them visit?” He retorts

“I was thinking maybe for the holiday season they could come here, there’s plenty of room here for them” I said to him

“Yeah there is” he says nodding his head

“And speaking of plenty of space I remembered there’s a basement here. I can probably set a few friends up down there, except there’s one problem” I replied looking over my shoulder at the door

“What’s that?” He asks eagerly

“It seems to be locked and I can’t find the key, do you think there’d be an extra somewhere in this town?” I said looking back at him

“Oh you know the basement keys are universal, way back when they figured as a small town it would be easier to make the keys universal so if someone lost theirs then they could call their neighbors” he says as he cuts a piece of meat, as I began to have a lightbulb moment

“You don’t say” I reply sliding my tongue over my teeth

“Except only issue is as of recently due to termites and water damage the chairman’s from the towns had gone into every home, painting over the doors and locking them while also confiscating any keys. Just so that no ones tempted to use the basement…..that would be many lawsuits if something went wrong” he says looking up at me

“Ohhhh I see, wow that sucks” I said to him, mentally sighing in defeat. I literally could not stop hitting dead ends and it was killing me

After dinner Matt had helped me clean the kitchen up and helped me pack his mothers Tupperware away.

“I can’t thank you enough for dinner” I say handing him the last container

“It’s my pleasure darling” he says winking once again at me

“Wanna come up to my room?” I asked him as I dried my hands

“Yeah sure” he replied placing the lunch box down

We headed up to my room, turning the light on Matt plopped down on my bed letting out a loud sigh. Fluffing my pillow up he laid it against the headboard while leaning back

“I know I don’t have much here especially no TV, but I do have some books I bought from back home” I say to him shrugging my shoulders

“I wouldn’t mind reading” he says nodding his head

As I open my mouth to reply the power suddenly goes out

“What the fuck” I say out loud

“Anytime it rains even an ounce the power goes out. Faulty wires and old houses” Matt says laughing

“How do we fix it?” I asked him

“We don’t, it usually goes back up in like 3 hours. I’ll run to my house and grab some candles keep it bright until the power goes back on, and I’ll even keep you company too” he says smiling at me

“That sounds nice” I say to him nodding

As quickly as Matt left to get some candles, it was as quickly as he came back. He had a small duffle bag and he pulled out many candles and a box of matches.

Removing his sweater and placing it down to dry on the door knob, my eyes couldn’t peel away from how nicely that white shirt sat on his body….

Matt and I lit a shit ton of matches all over my room, it was now warm lit and very…..intimate might I add.

“I hope this is good enough for you” Matt says blowing out the last match

“Oh no this is perfect I honestly prefer candlight over artificial light” I said waving him off

He laughed and fluffed the pillow up before laying on my bed again. Propping himself up against my headboard as he crossed his legs over.

I sat next to him with my back against the headboard as well. Grabbing my copy of Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson I relaxed my shoulders before opening the book to where I last left off.

“I hope you don’t mind I started the book already” I said looking over at Matt

“Doesn’t bother me” he says nodding for me to go on

“My room belongs to an alien. It is a postcard of who I was in fifth grade. I went through a demented phase when I thought that roses should cover everything and pink was a great color” I read aloud as my finger ghosted the rough paper

Stopping I looked up, taking my bottom lip into my mouth and sinking my teeth into the flesh.

“Isn’t it crazy how fast we change” I said chewing the already shredded skin on the inside of my mouth

“I’m not even sure I know what change is” Matt whispers

Looking over at him I watch the warm light reflect against his blue eyes. And for a split second I swear I can see his past in them. Sad….lonely….misunderstood…..

“I’m just following the norm here. I’m becoming what every man becomes. I’m growing, but am I changing? I’m not when I’m the exact same as the ancestors who came before me” he states swallowing thickly

“Have you ever considered leaving?” I ask him

“And go where?” He asks

“You could always come to Vegas….with me” I state in a whisper

“But all I know is Pleasant Town” he replies shaking his head

“Well now you know me, I mean we could at least visit I can show you where I’m from like you did with me” I say smiling at him

“I’d like that a lot actually” he says nodding at me

But suddenly he grows cold and immediately his attitude changes

“That’s just a fairytale though. I belong here on the farm and taking care of my parents” he says firmly

“And no one’s saying you can’t do that, but at least vacation for a little bit” I say to him

Shutting my book I place it on the night stand as I give Matt my full attention.

“You can experience so many new things! See and do things you’ve never done before” I say to him tapping him on his knee

“Like what?” He asks laughing

“You can go to the Las Vegas strip, we can go shopping and we can go see where Elvis Presley used to perform, shit we could even get you a one night stand. I mean it’s Vegas you know what they say… what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” I say to him giggling

“Ehhhh” he says sounding hesitant

“Okay what about that plan do you not want to do?” I ask him

“The one night stand…. I’m not experienced with women” he says shyly

“What? You? You’re telling me in this whole town you’ve never been with a single girl?” I asked him genuinely shocked

“No…” he says once again shyly

“That’s alright, well let’s see you’ve at least kissed a girl right?” I ask him as he shakes his head no

“Held hands?” I asked raising my eyebrow and he shakes his head no once again

“Uhhh innocent flirting?” I ask

“No” he says laughing a bit

“That’s alright! We can…we can get you practicing now and this way you’ll be a champ in Vegas” I say laughing

“Practice?” He asks looking a bit unsure

I grab his hand and interlock our fingers as I look back up at him

“Holding hands… check!” I say smiling

Turning more towards him I place my hand on his cheek as I look into his eyes

“Can I kiss you?” I ask genuinely

“Yes ma'am” he whispers out breathlessly against me

Leaning in I peck his lips quickly

“What I did you’re also going to do okay?” I say to him and he nods

Leaning in again we both press our lips together, pulling away Matt looks at me before attaching his lips to mine again.

Shuffling over I straddled his lap as we pulled away, and Matt looked at me with doe eyes as his chest rose and fell rapidly. A dazzling blush across his nose and cheeks and pupils blown wide.

“Is this okay?” I ask him and to this he nods

“Darlin I don’t know what I’m doing, but just know I’m enjoying myself” he says to me as he licks his lips

“I can teach you some things, and don’t be afraid to stop me. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to” I say to him

“Okay” he says nodding vigorously

Removing my shirt I look over to Matt

“You can touch me you know” I say to him

“I don’t know how” he replied back

Grabbing his hands I placed them on my breast and his mouth hung open. Gently caressing them I moan against his touch.

It wasn’t long before Matt’s shirt was off and I was peppering kisses along his neck and down his chest. My bare chest against his warm skin. His breathing became rapid as his hands traced along my back.

“Please don’t stop” he breathes out as I look up at him

Raking my nails up and down his body I leave open mouth kisses along his warm skin as his hips buckle up against me.

“Pretty girl I need more” Matt moans out as his brows furrowed

Letting my hand caress over his growing bulge his hips fly up as he moans. Covering his face in the crook of his elbow.

“You don’t have to cover yourself for me” I say to him as I rub my hands up his torso

“I’ve just never done anything like this before I don’t want to embarrass myself” he says to me

“Listen my love I’m taking the lead tonight so there’s no need to feel pressured or embarrassed, and if at any point you want to stop we can” I say to him kissing his cheek

“Okay” he says swallowing thickly

Ghosting my fingers over his large buckle I unhook his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zipper down. I help him slide out of his jeans. Tossing them somewhere behind me on the floor

To my surprise he was in briefs rather than boxers which left little to the imagination. My cunt was actually clenching on nothing at the sight.

Ghosting my nails in between the waistband of his underwear. He lied against the mattress moaning and twitching. Begging to be released

Sliding out of my bottoms I straddled him once again. The only thing separating us was our underwear. Sliding up and down against him we both let out a load sigh

“Holy shit this feels so good darlin” he moans out looking up at me

Matt moves his hands up my thighs and to my breasts, lightly squeezing them as I moan and shutter against his touch.

“Kiss me please” he says desperately

Leaning down I kiss Matt, grinding down against him harder causing him to open his mouth. Which allowed me to slip my tongue in. For a moment it took him a while to get the hang of it, but soon after our tongues were fighting for dominance. The kiss was hot and messy and so so needy.

Releasing myself from him I leaned back, scooting back I slid his briefs down. His hard dick springing up as I bit my lip

“God you’re so hot” I said to him

“Oh sweetheart no one’s ever called me that” he says biting his lip

“I’ll scream it from the hilltops if I have to” I responded to him

Sliding my underwear to the side I gently rubbed the tip of his dick along my cunt. Both of our moans syncing together.

“Are you ready?” I ask him

“Yes maam” he says back grabbing onto my hips

Slowly I began to sink down on his length. The burn sent shivers up my spine. Both of our mouths hang open as my toes curl. Completely bottoming out I let out a load moan

Slowly bouncing up and down on his dick I allow him to get adjusted to the feeling.

“Holy shit Oh my god” he moans out as he watches me bounce up and down

“You feel so good” I moan out as I begin to grind down on him

“Oh my goddd” he whines out as I begin to feel his thighs shake

Bringing my hand down I rub my clit as I bounce on his dick. My thighs shake as I bring myself closer to the edge.

“Fuck Matt I’m so close to cumming” I whine out as my breathing becomes heavy

“Me too, oh godddd” he moans out as his torso begins to lift off the bed every now and then

Leaning forward I grind up and down, allowing my clit to massage against his pelvic bone. Without warning Matt opens his mouth and begins to swirl his tongue around my nipple, sucking and licking like his life depended on it

“Fuckkkk” I moan out clenching down on him

Within seconds I’m cumming all over his dick, shaking and moaning as I clench down on him. Continuing to ride out my high I feel Matt twitch

“I think I’m going to cum?” He moans out

Once again I feel his thighs shake and his lower abdomen tighten. And I hop off and just as I do Matt’s cumming all over his lower stomach. Whining and moaning as he comes down from his high

Heavy breaths and groans as he involuntarily twitches.

“Feeling okay cutie?” I ask him as I pet his hair and pull him closer

“That felt amazing, I’ve never felt that good in my life” he says looking up at me with puppy dog eyes

“And in time it only gets better” I say laying a kiss on his lips

We laid there for a little while talking and kissing and finally we decided to get up and get cleaned. Laying back down I read some more of my book. Until eventually we fell asleep and most candles had gone out by this point.

We fell asleep snuggled together, and at some point in the night we shifted opposite ways. But at around 2am I got up to use the bathroom.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I cracked my neck and back before standing up. Lightly walking from my side to around the bed, but before I could finish coming around I had stepped on something

Silently wincing I looked down, seeing some type of metal I assumed it was Matt’s belt buckle. Smiling and blushing to myself I bent down picking the item up, but to my surprise it was what felt like keys.

Running into the bathroom I shut the door, gently opening the shower curtain to let the moonlight come in through the window. I held the keys up. They looked pretty normal except for one.

It said “BASEMENT” on it and I blinked to make sure I wasn’t half asleep.

Peeing quickly I flushed the toilet and washed my hands. Sticking my head out of the bathroom I peaked over at Matt who was snoring peacefully.

Sighing I tip toed out of the bedroom and quietly down the stairs. I mean as quiet as I could….it was an old house. Lightly walking towards my kitchen thanking the lord for the moonlight coming in through my back door. I was able to see the basement door perfectly.

Sticking the key in lightly I turned it to the left, and heard a click. Silently cheering I turned the knob and opened the door surprisingly the door wasn’t creaky.

I figured I would go down , check it out real quick and go back upstairs. Placing the keys back where I found them.

Shutting the door behind me I felt for a light switch on the right side, and I flicked it on. In about three seconds I heard the faint buzz of a warm light turn on.

Stepping down the stairs gently I turned the corner. The basement looked really nice actually. It was pretty well kept for how old the house was. I didn’t see any water damage nor any termites, but hey who knows.

Walking in a bit more I saw large desks with papers everywhere and bulletin boards covered in papers and a lot of dust….

Walking over to the area I blew some dust around and even wiped it with my fingers. Looking to my right there was a lamp. Testing the odds it actually turned on illuminating the area for me a bit more.

My eyes squinted trying to read everything. My eyes scanned the bulletin board.

“Animal slayings”

“Cult rituals”

“Witch craft like sacrifices”

My eyes went wide. I finally was finding something… and the whole time it was in my house?

I looked to my right and that’s when I got a little bit nervous

“Suzie Buchanan, age 14, found slain in her father’s farm house”

Surely this couldn’t be thee Suzie Matt knew……

I mean that’s recent years? How would that even be in this house? I was becoming anxious with dread.

Looking down at the table I looked at the newspapers closely.

“Thomas Sturniolo released from prison”

“Thomas Sturniolo still being questioned about cult killings”

“Sturniolos back in town?” One read

These were all newspapers not from this town…. Something deeper was going on here….someone knew more than they were saying. There’s an outside source here and I haven’t known this whole time.

Flipping open the newspaper my eyes scanned the text.

“Thomas Sturniolos home 27 Field Drive has been purchased by his grandson”

27 Field Drive was this house….. my hands began to shake as I realized what was going on. This whole time I’ve been living in Thomas Sturniolos house. And there’s someone who knows about me…. My heart began to speed and I rummaged through more newspapers

“A new generation of Sturniolos” one newspaper read

Opening up the newspaper my eyes scanned the page

“Jimmy Sturniolo has now purchased 26 Field Drive, directly across the street from his estranged grandfather's home located at 27 Field Drive” it read

“What the fuck?” I whispered as a cold sweat began to take over

Scanning along the page some more

“Jimmy Sturniolo avoids questions from sources asking about his grandfather. Seen here with one of his sons Matthew Sturniolo covering his face” I read

My heart was thumping out my chest as I let the papers fall from my hands.

You know those scenes in movies where the protagonist is just standing still as the world around her moves and her hearing has gone clouded?? Yeah that’s me right now

Unbeknownst to Y/N Matt had snuck downstairs after realizing she was gone. Sinking down the stairs of the basement he watched the young woman shake in fear as she read the newspapers.

Shaking his head and mentally cursing himself out he quietly walked up behind her

I stood there in fear not really sure what to do. Pretend like nothing happened and wait till tomorrow morning to book it out of town, or book it out of town right now while Matt’s asleep??

Racking my brain for answers I stood there when suddenly I heard

“I’m so sorry” turning around slightly I was faced with Matt

“Wha-“ but before I could finish my sentence Matt charged at me

Grabbing the back of my head and holding a chloroform covered rag against my nose and mouth

And suddenly it all went

BLACK

The End

Don’t kill me for the cliffhanger😏. Had to spice it up a bit. Now I will be working the next four days, so I will try and work on Part 4 a little bit and hopefully have it up soon for you guys. I love you all so dearly 🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #Spotify

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

i just saw your post about glasses!eddie munson and whenever you have the time, would you be able to write a cute series of reader finding out about his glasses ITS JUST ADORABLE

author’s note: this was meant to post sooner than now but here it is lol, i finished this pretty quick but got sidetracked. glasses!eddie has invaded my brain and it’s never leaving.

cw: sfw, glasses!eddie, eddie’s not so subtle flirting, acquaintances to friends, once again another fic where everyone bullies eddie (give this man a break), if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.5k

“Do you wanna switch seats with me?” Your voice is soft, leaning back toward Eddie, whose eyes are nearly closed from how hard he’s focusing on the board, blindly scribbling something down on the paper. He’s lost on where the voice comes from until you’re in focus, looking back at him with a smile.

Eddie wasn’t a friend, but he wasn’t an enemy either. He was the boy who got picked on relentlessly and as much as you wanted to help, you weren’t sure it would change anything. Plus, he didn’t seem that bothered by it—or he was just really good at faking like he wasn’t.

“Oh,” Eddie replies, still confused, “I’ll be fine—Mr. Donahue’s handwriting is always shit, I can barely understand it.”

It wasn’t a total lie, but it was still legible.

“Munson!” The teacher's voice rings from the front of the classroom, “let's stop trying to distract other classmates and focus on our own work, okay?”

And if it wasn’t the condescension in his tone that pissed you off, it was the way he so quickly blamed Eddie for the interaction. He shrinks slightly, sending you an apologetic look.

It happens a few more times that week, catching Eddie glancing at the board as if it’s nearly impossible to see—and maybe he was telling the truth, but it’s also obvious that Donahue hates Eddie for no other apparent reason than just because he thinks he’s up to no good, which isn’t fair to Eddie.

You show up early to class the following week, bag resting in the chair of the desk beside you—Eddie’s usual seat, waiting. He’s always bordering on being late, making it to class as the bell rings, looking more frazzled than the others.

You weren’t sure what he got up to between classes, but he definitely seemed overwhelmed.

“This seat taken?” He asks with a smug smirk, pointing at your backpack. You smile slightly, reaching for it.

“Sorry—I just wanted to make sure I could sit beside you.” You tell him honestly. It throws Eddie off, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly before relaxing, eyes roaming over you curiously. “You said you can’t understand his handwriting, I was gonna let you copy my notes.”

“Can I copy your work too?” Eddie asks jokingly, but you can tell he means it. “I’m barely scraping by with a D in this class.”

You snort out a quiet laugh. “Let’s worry about the notes first.”

Eddie spends most of the class still struggling, forehead creased up as he sifts through your notes, writing things down sparingly. It’s almost like he’s trying not to be mean, focusing a little too hard on one word every now and then as he looks over, your papers perched on the corner of the desk.

“If my writing is horrible you can tell me,” You say, which makes Eddie chuckle, “seriously, I won’t be offended.”

“It’s not that,” He assures you, “it’s just—the angle, it’s a little hard to read them—“

“Oh, well,” You grab the papers in a bunch, extending them toward him, “here, just take them.”

Eddie ignored you, his fingers wrapping around the leg of your desk to pull it flush against his—it’s quick enough that it doesn’t make much noise, only a slight shifting that draws a few eyes.

“Or…that works too.” You say shyly, face heating up at his straightforwardness. “Better?”

He glances over, shifting the papers to his side and gives a subtle nod as his lips pull together in a tight line, “Yeah, actually.”

And it’s almost blissful silence as Eddie copies them down, asking a few questions when your words meld together out of habit when you’re writing too quickly, he still leans in slightly but you don’t pester him on it—eventually Eddie’s actions are noticed, all eyes shifting toward the back of the classroom.

When you look up, everyone is staring back, including the pensive and threatening eyes of your teacher.

Eddie mumbles a soft, “Sorry.” as he pushes your desk back.

“Do I need to remind you two that this isn’t a matchmaking class?”

And it’s a ridiculous comment to make, but it has Eddie scoffing slightly underneath his breath.

“I’m letting him copy my notes,” You say innocently, “is that okay?”

You can’t remember having a problem in any of your classes, either flying under the radar or one of the usual favorites—you’ve never felt this tense, staring down the entirety of the group that was staring right back, though your gaze was focused on Mr. Donahue.

Eddie looks at you briefly before settling his eyes toward the desk, fiddling with pen in his hands to soothe his anxiety.

“If Eddie has a problem, he can come sit up front,” He says coarsely, “I don’t think you have the wiggle room to be socializing, do you?”

And suddenly his gaze on you is forgotten, flicking toward Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t give him the satisfaction, shuffling his shoulders forward in an effort to hide himself, scribbling something random down on the paper in front of him—it’s something he did when was bored or uncomfortable, even, a comfort.

You catch Eddie toward the end of class, gripping his sleeve before he can sneak away.

“How far behind are you?” You ask him, peering up at him curiously. Eddie looks sheepish, glancing away for a moment.

“Uh, I haven’t really taken notes all semester—I kinda just..scribble shit down so it looks like I’m working.”

Your eyes slant down slightly, in an ire of disbelief as your mouth parts, “Eddie, are you serious?”

He shrugs, reaching a hand up to scratch his jaw. You huff through your nose, snatching the pen perched in Eddie’s pocket and uncapping it before shoving it into his hands.

“Give me your address.” You insist, holding out your arm to him. Eddie seems skeptical, fingers wrapping around your arm gently, shifting your sleeve up, “I’m getting you caught up—don’t look at me like that.”

And truly, he’s not sure how to respond. Kindness and niceties weren’t at all familiar, feeling like there was always some ulterior motive. Still, he scribbles down the information with slow strokes, careful that it doesn’t smudge—leaving a small smiley face out of spite, forcing a similar expression onto your own face.

“I’m free after six,” He tells you, “so unless you want to get caught up in awkward conversation with my uncle, wait until then.”

You laugh at that, pulling your sleeve down.

“How else am I supposed to uncover all of your secrets?”

Eddie smirks slightly, eyes averting toward the floor.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know—you just have to ask.”

He spends most of his nights—sans the ones where he’s performing for the small audience at The Hideout or hosting Hellfire meetings—organizing campaigns and writing down random things that come to his mind, feeling the need to get the thought out on paper, even if it’s song lyrics or a drawing.

He adjusts the thin rimmed glasses up his nose, eyes hurting from the strain he’s forced them through all day. He knows he should spend a few minutes resting, even just closing his eyes for a moment, but he can’t help it. Eddie knows it’s his fault, the beginnings of a headache forming as he tries to focus, his finger sneaking up to rub at his eye—he can feel the haziness, willing it away.

But then you’re knocking at his door and every thought is thrown out the window—part of him never expected you to show, his heart thrumming in his chest as he leaps from the bed, tossing the papers away haphazardly and forcing the glasses up into his hair without a thought, pushing his bangs away from his face.

Eddie whips the door open, causing you to startle slightly.

“Hi.” You say wearily, a soft smile on your face.

“Hi,” Eddie responds slightly out of breath, before clearing his throat and offering a smoother, “Hey.”

Your eyes glance up, noticing the difference in his face. His bangs were like a trademark, constantly hiding his eyebrows. You point up curiously, speaking before you can think things through.

“You wear glasses?” You ask, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“No—no uh, of course not.” Eddie responds quickly, adamant in his refusal. “Why would you—“

He’s clearly caught off guard, standing awkwardly in the doorway, eyes crossing as he follows your finger, only realizing his mistake when you drag the glasses down slowly, pushing them gently up the bridge of his nose.

“Well, that is definitely an interesting pair of non-existent glasses.” You say jokingly, grinning at his embarrassment, cheeks flushing a deep red.

It’s hard to explain how perfectly they fit his face—like it’s the missing piece that pulls him together. He’s not dressed up like usual, in a faded graphic shirt and gray pair of sweats, no jacket or rings in sight. It’s natural—and it’s in that split second you can see the real Eddie. Not the threatening, menacing Eddie Munson that everyone played him out to be.

Eddie nods wearily, beckoning you inside.

“I won’t tell anyone,” You promise him with a tinge of amusement, rounding on him as he closes the door, shoving the stack of papers at his chest, “—if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Eddie pulls the glasses off of his face, folding them up.

“It’s not that,” Eddie tells you, “—didn’t mean for you to find out about them, it kinda ruins the whole image, you know?”

Image. It makes you laugh to yourself silently.

“You didn’t seem like you were trying to hide them,” You giggled slightly, “besides, I don’t think they ruin anything.”

“I kinda forgot you were coming.” Eddie lies, knowing he had been riddled with nerves since he stepped foot inside of the trailer that evening, not understanding why he was so anxious to begin with.

“Look, I don’t mean to overstep or anything—“ You stop briefly, sighing softly, “but if you need a tutor or even just…some help, I don’t mind.”

Eddie doesn’t really know how to take it, staring at you like you’d grown a second head.

“I study with Nancy a lot,” You explain, “it’s really not a big deal.”

“I’m a lost cause,” Eddie admits with half-smile, “there’s no saving me.”

“I don’t believe that,” You tell him honestly, approaching him to shove the glasses back toward his chest, his other hand still stuffed full with the papers containing your notes, “—seriously, put them back on and I can spend a couple hours seeing where you’re at.”

Eddie listens, though skeptically, placing the glasses back onto his face—you smile without really thinking, causing him to react similarly.

“It’s okay to let someone be nice to you,” You assure him, “as many assholes as there are at Hawkins, there’s still a few of us who mean well.”

“I can’t be taught, I’m just warning you now.” Eddie remains adamant, leading the way toward his room. You follow behind eagerly, taking in the abstract way of decoration littered around the trailer.

“Fine—you can at least show me your drawings then.”

Eddie looks back at you briefly, a confused grin on his face.

“I’m really observant,” You tease, “and curious.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?” Eddie asks.

“I’ve already got one secret to keep,” You respond, teasing him lightly, “what’s one more?”

“How bad is it?” You ask him, staring up expectantly.

“What—oh, my eyes?” Eddie asks, “Uh, kinda bad. It’s okay, though—I manage.”

You crease your eyebrows together, motioning for him to remove the glasses. He does, watching as you reach for a paper, holding it up in front of him.

“Tell me when you can read it clearly.”

Eddie nods, squinting as you move the paper closer and closer, until it’s only a few inches from his face, your eyes widening in shock.

“Eddie,” You stress, “you can’t be serious?”

“I told you I manage,” He argues with a slight laugh, “but it’s bad, I meant that.”

Your expression remains the same, arms falling to your side as you discarded the paper.

“They look weird,” Eddie defends, “that’s why I only wear them at home—I already get enough shit at school anyways.”

“Bullshit,” You say boldly, “they do not look weird.”

Unfortunately, you did see all of the relentless teasing he caught at school, that wasn’t lost on you.

“You don’t have to lie,” Eddie says, “it won’t bother me.”

“I’m not,” You counter, smiling as the glasses returned to his face, his eyelashes touching the lenses, bangs brushing against the rim, “they fit you—they’re…cute.”

Eddie snorts in disbelief, “Okay, enough.”

You smile to yourself, watching as his cheek flushed a faint pink.

“Can I try them on?”

Eddie doesn’t answer outright, pulling them away from his face and handing them over—they’re a little bigger, his more prominent facial structure different from yours and causing the glasses to slide down your nose slightly. You push them up with your finger, squinting at the strain it puts on your eyes.

You can see Eddie smiling over the rim, admiring how perplexed you look in the moment, “Don’t look at me like that,” You say playfully, “these things are really strong.”

Eddie shakes his head, “It’s—nothing, nevermind.” He pulls the glasses from your face gently, placing them back on his own.

And Eddie’s never been shy, but suddenly he can’t force the words out, afraid of the mix of both rejection and embarrassment.

“I like you like this,” You tell him, hoping it eases him, seeing how tense he was—clearly unloved by many, “I mean, I like you both ways but this—it’s nice.”

“You’re the first.” He says flippantly, not aimed at you for any specific reason. He’s not immune to the words thrown at him, they do start to wear on him after time, even if he brushes them off for the most part.

“They’re insane,” You tell him with a surety, “all of them.”

“Careful,” Eddie treads, “Jason would have a fuckin’ field day if he heard you say that.”

You shrug, smugness in your expression.

“He’s terrified of me.”

“Jason—terrified of you?” Eddie asks, begging for more clarification.

“Our parents are friends—I’ve seen…a lot.” You say cryptically, not wanting to dive into details, “I’m not one for blackmail but I’m not totally above it.”

“You’re so interesting,” Eddie speaks candidly.

“I’ll take that was a compliment?” You respond, “Hopefully.”

Eddie nods with a subtle smile.

“Well—like you said,” You start, repeating his earlier sentiment, “I’ll tell you anything, just ask.”

You hold your finger up as his mouth opens—

“But, notes first—secrets later.”

Eddie pushes his glasses up comedically, forcing a quiet laugh from you—it’s the exact reaction he wants. He settles, agreeing with your rules.

“Deal.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #my writing

1K notes · View notes

malleusarcanum · 9 months

Text

⚠️: make sure you're not eating

Mc: *pulled the wrist of Sebek vigorously* you owe me a brief discussion about-

Sebek: Human! Why would you come up with such uncommon subject.

Mc: What? I haven't said much...

Sebek: don't underestimate my knowledge my human friend. I already know what your discussions about.

Mc:....

Sebek: do you really want to discuss this.

Mc: Ahh.. yes that's what I'm here for

Sebek: Well if that's what you desire

Mc: ???

*Sebek looked at his pants and starts to unlock his belt*

Mc: what are you doing?

Sebek: discussing about my brief---

*almost unziping his pants*

Mc:what?!!! THE HECK!! THATs NOT IM---

*stopped after hearing the creak of the door then looked who opened it*

Riddle: Disgraceful...

Trey : Why only...the two of you?

Deuce: What..

Cater: the...

Ace: F***

Vil: the bird is ready to soar

Rook: Je n’en reviens pas!

Epel: the horror

Jack:?!

Leona: Why not mine?

Ruggie: Not the time for those

Azul: My contracts are available for memory erasure...

Floyd: this is more worse than on tv

Jade: you just said what's on my mind.

Ortho: hey I can't see! *Jeered while struggling to take off Idia's hand on his eyes*

Idia: some things in this world are not meant for little ones

Jamil: We should have rescheduled this meeting

Kalim: So that's why they're missing

Silver: I wish this is just a dream.

Lilia: Mc! Sebek! How could you?!!!

Mc: T-this was j-just a misunderstanding!!

Jade: tsk, tsk tsk looks like she is no longer innocent

Floyd: Off all creatures?! Why Sebek!

Sebek: Well she said about brief discussions....

*all of their heads turned to Mc waiting for an explanation with eyes almost aching to kill*

Mc: not in a literal way!!! it means I need to talk to him about something!!!

All of them: about? *Eyes still fixing on Mc with disbelief*

Mc: about..... * Doesn't want to tell the secret only Sebek knows. That they broke the queen of hearts statue.*

Leona: alright I'll forgive you as long as you ask mine?

Riddle: as if she'd ask to a potato sack.

Ruggie: speak for yourself tomato head!

Ace: No one talks to riddle like that! Except me...

Jack: were you saying something? *Said while punching his fist together*

Deuce: Why can't you shut your mouth in times of trouble? *whispered to ace*

Ace: I can't stop when I'm pissed!

Deuce: then control yourself! I'm not a babysitter watching out a kid bragging nonsense.

*they started to fight and all of them watched as they do*

*Floyd secretly hold the hand of mc out of the meeting room*

Floyd: Let's get out of here shrimpy

Lilia: Hey! Where'you taking her?!

*Lilia's voice is too loud it reached everyone's ears and their eyes fumed once they saw Floyd ready for battle*

Vil: So this is a battle to whom apple will do it.

Mc: D*mmit just stop the nonsense

Azul: can't hold back to such divine price

Kalim: Charge!

*they fought at each other, throwing various magic while speaking sharp interactions that filled the room with war like scenery*

*Mc wrenched it jaws*

Mc: When I count to three and no one stops!

*Thinking of what can make them stop*

Mc: No one will receive a lick on a neck from my own tongue!!!!

Mc: one!

*they already stopped*

Mc: .....

Mc: Curse you d*mn brain

Malleus: Mc! Want to taste my egg!

*exclaimed after entering*

*all of them turned their heads on him ready for another round*

Malleus: what did I miss?

*tilted his head while holding a plate of well cooked and mouth watering omelette*

356 notes · View notes

lizzaneia-elizalde · 6 months

Note

Please do yandere!delinquent with deaf!reader who's not so bothered by her condition and actually enjoys her alone time. She's also always up to something extrovert-activity like volunteering in orphanages and old age homes. Helping at exhibitions, something that always includes social interaction. She's people's person but not people pleaser (lmao). Yan delinquent works in 7/11 as well so add a cute interaction b/w them please

-🌼

Yandere! Male! Delinquent x Volunteer! Classmate! Fem! Reader

Welcome to the 2nd set of Lizzaneia's 16 yandere OCs! Your support has been so gracious, and I'm utterly surprised by how far we've come. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Let's start this off with 🌼 anons' request, one of my consistent supporters throughout the months (´；ω；｀)

I kind of struggled how to show the yan side, so forgive me.

Yan! Delinquent name: Liam

Liam has been sent to the guidance office again.

He sighed, leaning back to his chair and started to blow raspberries on his lips. Boredom soothing his brain as he tried to think of anything other than the fact that he'll be late to his job again. His manager will probably scold him again, and he has no choice but to swallow back insults he wishes to throw.

After all, it was his fault in the first place.

Who in their right mind brings cigarettes to Uni? He seriously just wants a stress reliever from being sandwiched between midterms and his job. But once he got to a quiet and remote place to smoke, who knew a professor would also be smoking there?

"Bitch." Liam whispered under his breath, remembering how the professor started pointing fingers that he shouldn't smoke, that it's bad for your health, that it violates school rules, bla bla bla he speaks so much for a person who also smokes.

Although, he's not gonna land in this office if he just shut up. But Liam's temper got to him, and he blurted:

"stop talking, tar bags for lungs. Why are you still alive, smoking a pack and looking like a skeleton about to steal my skin?"

Let's just say that the professor blew his top and dragged his ass here, by the ear and all.

Liam buried his face on the desk, contemplating about his life.

He's always been the troublemaker. His mouth, nonstop, started fights more than stop them. That meant that there's a high percent chance that he'll be in a physical altercation with a person he's talking with.

This made Liam quite the delinquent also. Since he can't really connect with people that well, he decided to double down and be a public enemy.

He also didn't grow up with parents. He's only living by himself in a small apartment with the money that his parents left him, and works part time in a 7/11 with an understandably pissed manager.

Liam sighed.

"I'm just gonna go to sleep..."

But, when Liam was about to go to sleep, the classroom door opened and his head snapped up.

And his eyebrow quirked up.

There you are. In the school uniform, bringing a stack of papers (probably midterm exams) to the professor who was facilitating detention.

But what caught his eyes were a small, almost a Bluetooth earphone looking mechanic attached to your left ear.

"ah, y/n. Thank you for delivering the papers." The professor signed while talking to you.

Filled with curiosity, Liam looked up to you and saw you smile. Your dainty fingers started signing back, but you were also mouthing the sentence you wish to say. Subtle muted syllables of the words sometimes coming out of your mouth.

"no problem, sir. I'm glad to be of help." You ended the conversation with a polite smile before you straightened up. Your eyes looked to him, and blinked in surprise.

In an almost shy gesture, you gave a small wave to him with a cute tilt on your head. Your smile, small yet comforting, refried Liam's brain.

A slow blink, and a sharp inhale of breath made Liam wave back.

He swore he saw pink roses around you.

"what the fuck, why are you so beautiful?"

The professor coughed loudly, choking on his own saliva.

Meanwhile, you only tilted your head. You're still not that good with lipreading, and Liam's expression didn't help either.

So, you thought he just said hi or something.

Getting awkward, you bowed before shuffling outside.

Liam felt frozen in his seat, but also heated up.

You're so fucking cute in his eyes.

He wants to see you more now.

Which class are you in?

God, he hopes you were on the same class. He does not remember the faces of his classmates anyways so there's a high chance you were with him.

And as Liam daydreamed about you, the professor only looked at Liam with the outmost dumbfounded face.

"So you're here."

"?"

You looked up and saw a familiar, frowning face.

With a wave, you smiled at him.

"Hi Liam." You signed out, your voice also sounding out his name.

Liam almost doubled over from the adorableness.

He can't believe he heard his name come out of your lips. Your lips!

On the outside, Liam frowned deeply and scratched his head.

"Hi." He replied back flatly. Absolutely not betraying his own mind.

You knew he just said hi, so you chuckled and took out your phone. With a quick type, you showed him the message you wish to convey.

"Why are you here in the orphanage?"

Liam flinched, not knowing what to reply.

What? Should he freak you out by saying he followed you here?

You were his classmate after all. So why is Liam here also?

It's just that, Liam wants to spend time with you more. Get to know you more.

Liam gulped, and grabbed his phone to type his reply and showed it to you.

"ah... Decided to volunteer too."

You smiled brightly, and Liam swore once more he was blinded momentarily.

Is this what heaven looks like?

You guided him inside the orphanage. And immediately, children looked up to Liam and he jumped from the sudden attention being placed to him.

One child hid behind the other, one looked away, one tilted their head. But one bravely went up to Liam and you, clumsily signing while saying the word.

"friend?" The child asked, a hopeful face sat on his visage. Liam nodded with a small, twitchy smile. It's been a while since he did.

As if on cue, the children grinned, ran up to Liam, and started pulling him to play with them.

A small giggle came out of your lips as you watched Liam getting dragged by the children, watching them with a warm-hearted chest.

All throughout the day, Liam got to know you better.

Despite being deaf, you didn't let it hinder your spirit. You love to volunteer left and right in different organizations, wanting to help the community.

Are you making Liam fall harder for you? He's almost like a melted puddle just watching you from afar.

Although, jealousy burns within him as he tried to ignore the way you gave attention to other people. Especially men.

You appreciated how the school delinquent is apparently just a big softie (it's because of you). He's actually nice and friendly, also generous and playful (once again, it's because of you). You didn't understand why people don't like him.

He's misunderstood.

You also misunderstood his intentions because of it.

Whenever Liam had the chance, he would get close to you. Asking you to teach him sign language, what's not to do when talking with a deaf person, etc.

He wishes to know more about his future wife, after all.

He, as wrong as it sounds, thank the gods sometimes for your deafness.

You won't be offended by the shit he spew out from his mouth by how loose it is.

You won't be hurt.

You won't accidentally take what he said the wrong way.

And because of it, Liam has a strong, strong desire to protect you.

He can't let the others' voices reach your vision.

He just can't.

The bell rang from having the doors open.

"Welcome to 7/11... Y/N." Liam paused, seeing you in the wild. And inside the store he's doing his part time in.

His lips twitched. What luck.

You jumped in surprise when you finally saw Liam.

"Liam!" You said as much as your voice could. And it was enough to make Liam shiver once more.

"Can I help you, Y/N?" Liam signed out while mouthing, a relaxed look on his face.

Liam's a fast learner, immediately learning how to sign. You were thoroughly amazed, showering him with praises. Liam was also sure it was his deathbed at that time, his heart pounding through his chest as warmness and desire course through him while you praised him.

All you need to do is call him good boy really.

"oh nothing." You shook your head. Your hands gently signing out words, a sign of fatigue. "I just want a pick me up."

Liam grinned, going out from his counter as he got to you and held your hand gently. He gave a head tilt and a boyish smile.

And that made your heart flutter.

This didn't go unnoticed by Liam.

"Come on, I have recommendations." Liam guided you to the corner isle, where refreshments and microwavable foods are.

With your choice of meal done, he microwaved it, payed for the food (much to your dismay, you want to pay it for yourself but Liam insisted on paying), and let you eat on the tables area on another corner.

When Liam is about to return to the counter, his manager appeared with a smirk on his face.

Here we go again.

"hah. Didn't know a troublemaker like you would get a girlfriend." The manager said, looking at you eat.

Liam didn't refute his allegation.

"So what? I love her, and she loves me." Liam huffed, suddenly getting protective. He doesn't like how his manager leered at you.

"hey! Little lady! Your boyfriend here is a fucking lazy bum!" The manager yelled, but you didn't react, only continued to look down and eat, lost in your own world. "Huh? Excuse me!"

Didn't help also that you were far from them.

"what the fuck?"

"she's deaf, you sackbag of useless meat."

The manager's eye twitched, hearing another insult pouring out of Liam's mouth.

"deaf you say? Well, at least she can't hear the colorful shit coming out of your mouth." The manager taunted, before his eyes glinted in cruelty. "Don't deaf people have weird voices? Like nasally sounding or something?"

Liam's smirking face slowly twitched to a frown, and a face filled with anger.

"so, if the both of you fuck, won't you get disgusted by how... Fucking weird she will sound?" The manager laughed loudly. "Agh~ Ahn!"

The manager moaned out, exaggeratedly mimicking a stereotyped and insulting voice.

Liam felt like boiling hot water courses through his veins as he grabbed the manager and pushed him violently to the staff room.

He was seeing red.

His eyes wide with anger as he started to beat the shit out of the manager.

Anger rose through him like a bursted pipe, spewing out thick, unbridled rage.

Blood pumping through his fast beating heart, his mind numbed out what he's doing.

The manager can't just insult you like that.

He's a piece of shit.

You're a lovely person.

You don't deserve to be insulted like that.

He deserves to...

Liam dazedly backed away, blood dripping from his fist as he watched the manager twitch and lay on the floor.

Crimson blood pooled from his mouth, gargling just one step away from death. His eyes, shot wide with fear, looked at him with a shaky consciousness.

Liam numbly went to the comfort room to wash away the blood, change uniform, and apply perfume to remove the ironic smell after dragging the manager to the furthest corner of the staff room.

He went outside the room, and saw you just scroll your phone with a smile.

He approached you gently, his rage subsiding.

"Liam!" You said.

The manager was lying, your voice is as sweet as the morning dewdrop dropping down to the ground.

"Hey, you finished?"

You nodded with a gentle smile once more.

"Yes. Then, I'll get going! I just waited for you to come back. It's kind of rude to suddenly just... Disappear." You signed out, now enthusiastically as you already replenished your energy.

Liam's face contorted to a sheepish smile. He wants to spend time with you more.

Maybe...

Liam huffed and grabbed your hand softly.

Gently mimicking the sign to the word date, before releasing.

"I've always liked you, Y/N. Your spirit, your kindness, goodness, and just... You." Liam slowly signed out, confessing to you. Your eyes were wide, a blush settling on your cheeks. "I've always admired you, and... I want to ask you out on a date. My treat, don't worry."

You gasped, tears settling your eyes before nodding with a big grin.

Liam's sheepish smile turned to a grin as he grabbed your waist and spun you around, both of your laughters filling the air.

Liam settled you down, helping you fix your clothes.

"Wednesday?" He asked once more, and you agreed before waving goodbye to Liam.

With you gone, Liam screamed.

"YES!" He jumped around, danced, and wriggled from the butterflies going haywire in his stomach.

When he settled down, he went back to the staffroom and saw that the manager finally died. Even if he was Liam's first kill, he didn't feel bad, just a coldhearted 'good riddance.'

Now, how to get rid of this fucker?

Meh. Liam somehow knew he would be alright.

Nobody insults you.

And if somebody does again,

He would gladly put them down.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #lizzaneiaelizalde

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tarjapearce · 3 months

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How can you describe miguel mentally and emotionally ?

Oh man... This is a tough one. I'll start by saying that, even though we saw a glimpse of his mindset on ATSV, we still have sooo much to learn and know about him. (We just had it for 15 mins. jsksk)

I did this thing a while ago, focusing mostly on his grieving that addressed the rest just superficially.

I won't say I know him better than anyone cause

1. No. Characters evolve and I feel it'd be disrespectful af to just reduce him to a couple of traits or claim that I know him better than I know my nipple jsksk.

2. He's a complex character that is so well written that makes us all go psychoanalysing his behavior 🤭. (And love me a man that puts me to think)

But jokes aside.

He's emotionally unavailable. Simple as that. And though it might sound obvious to some, (And our savior complex kicks in and tell us to fix him 👀 yeah, I'm talking to us jsksk) there's no way we can do that, cause that's up to him ~. (And you can't help someone that doesn't wants to be helped.)

Healing takes time. And guess who overworks himself to the point of having his cortisol running 24/7 through his body? Miguel. He doesn't have time for therapy. His fear of watching it all go to hell once more is a too fresh wound. Some traumas last decades, and naturally people find ways around it without interacting with it directly to avoid reliving such impairment.

(I do appreciate the fact that in the new comic book, we see him trying to make amends with Conchata though. He's trying!!! :D.)

2. He's a patient man. I mean, he recruited after all versions of Spiderman that have this trait in common: They're perceived as friendly. And they're mostly young adults and teens. (Both are a handful btw. And most stories and comics Peter Parker is depicted as a 18-23 year old)

But they like pushing his buttons, (cracking a joke every 5 minutes, doing whatever they want even when specific orders were given) however. He doesn't strike me as someone that is mean on purpose, he's just wary but not totally closed off towards people. Wich is kinda contradictory on its own since:

You don't go around trusting people first hand upon just knowing them, right? 👀. But at the same time he showed Miles his own canon event, trying to empathise with him before dropping the bomb. (He was mentally preparing him, something he wasn't able to get but to experience the worst way)

A hypocrite truly. And not in the bad bad way (He calls a nerd the NWH Peter yet he is one) , cynic to an extent (Since he keeps repeating he's been the only one trying to keep it all together, meaning he still doesn't fully trusts the people around him.) A showoff (Did you see the way he turns towards Gwen when he first appears? Or the way he says "I was gonna do that") , arrogant to also an extent. ("It's much more cooler than a watch").

He took the job as a leader cause he knew none else was gonna, and if there was another one willing to assume the role, I'm sure he'd be dissatisfied with it's development cause our man likes to feel safe in when he's in control. (A trait often met in people with generalized anxiety)

And when he's not, his brain immediately goes into threat mode, but even so is able to adapt. (I have a theory he learned this the bad way. We've still got to see the origins of his Rapture intake though 🤔)

Now, we know this man is emotionally unavailable, through and through. His love is work. And married to it.

Now, I might get a bit controversial after this and some might not like it, but I don't think he wants another family after that. (We don't know much about this Miguel's background or family except that he was looking for things, and he found Gabi's universe. And for you to look into another universe in need to be happy says enough to imagine his family or is non existent or is really messed up.)

I know we want him to be happy, (And the producers better give him some healing and closure or else.) Cause he deserves everything. But grieving doesn't work like that. A loss like that is unmeasurable, it changes literally your brain chemistry forever. The least appropriate thing you'd do is have another kid or someone after such event.

(I've seen what that is an it's not nice. Specially for the involved kid)

But we're all ill here so Thank goodness fanfics exist ❤️

He allowed himself to be selfish enough to be happy, had his fun but consequences caught up to him. Consequences that he didn't know and now has him perpetuating his guilt and mind berating.

Hence the workaholic attitude, the coldness. He's done with establishing something with people in general, not just someone special. He's done of getting trampled by life, so he sticks with something he knows he can do very well and pours into it. The Multiverse is his hyperfixation.

Keeps him busy, keeps him on control but curiously and contradictory again, it keeps him needed and useful.

He's a walking contradiction. He doesn't need people to watch over him, not cause he doesn't deserves it. He knows that people worry about him, that's why he just minds his own thing to not be a burden.

Self-Sufficient, over achiever (Alchemax CEO & Spiderman, a genius, bilingual, probably more languages on his list cause he leads a multicultural and multidimensional task force babes ~)

He's not bad, he just doesn't know how to direct his anger or allows himself to feel properly and often rationalises his feelings. (Another coping mechanism where you're tired of feeling stuff and justify difficult or negative with logical thoughts)

But again, curiously knows how to communicate. I know it's fucked to say when he threw a trash bin to Miles before that. But! Hear me out.

Retaking the previous point, he was preparing Miles to give him the talk. After he throws the trash bin, he knows that anger won't solve things (Even though he wanted to give some chancla spanks to Miles for being an anomaly) So he chills, and you can see the transition between being completely furious to a more emotional approach. (Parenting surge there.)

He starts explaining everything from scratch, (literally with drawings and stuff) so Miles wouldn't be lost on what he was on about. Then they moved to the canon events, and shows his major trauma to him as a sign of empathy and an invitation to honest talk.

He admits he doesn't like what he does, and if you look closer his face is so damn distressed when locking Miles in the trap. It pains him, but again, someone has to do it, yet none is scarred enough to bear the burden.

I just want to hug him and send him to therapy. Cause he needs it. (Pretty sure he gave up on that too cause it was too time consuming.)

I'd be satisfied if the writers gave him that ❤️. But yeah. That's one of my many takes on him. Hope it helps c:

#talking with t✨#miguel o'hara #little thoughts 💭

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oleander-nin · 7 months

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Hello my lovelies! Just a quick little PSA in regards to something that happened to @yanteetle.

If you're going to steal work, at least give credit. Reposting work is already awful enough, but doing so w/out credit? I know this most likely wasn't y'all, but this is just a warning for everyone.

Yesterday, Yanteetle discovered some of her work had been posted on YouTube, Tiktok, and Wattpad. On YouTube(the main focus of this), two were edits, and one was voice acting. Both of these videos relied heavily on her work, and two of them got up to ten thousand views, with the other amassing one thousand two hundred views. That is twenty-one thousand views, or people, seeing her work and enjoying it, all without knowing who it's from in the first place.

One of the videos even had hundreds of comments asking who the artist was, and the only thing they(the poster) gave as a response was that it was "on Tumblr".

This person knows the art isn't theirs, knows where they got it from and how to find it, yet still never once credited Teets for her artwork. I don't know what goes through their brain when you do that, or how they can care so little for the original artist, but never do this.

The second instance I'm most mad about is the third video(the voice acting). This one was just someone going through and voice every artwork Teets made, and the title of the video makes it seem like their claiming it to be their own AU(When I first saw that, I assumed they were just going to base an AU off of her work, but NOPE! It's just them voice dubbing her comics.)

I checked the description, hoping they would add something there. NOPE. Even in the comments, only one person asked and they never responded. I DID however find a people who were:

Encouraging them to make more(which would mean more misuse and stealing of Teets or others work)

Telling them they were going to make videos based off this video, which means more spreading of it because they all promised to credit the thief

Praising 'their' work and their voice, which is directly showing them they can get away with what they're doing(not really to the fault of the commenters, but I digress)

Call me overbearing or crazy, but this does not sit will with me in the slightest. Yanteetle never had to post. She never had to take requests. She never had to put as much effort into her work as she does, yet everyone takes it for granted, and people take her work.

Some of you may be thinking "Oh, but didn't Teets say you could repost her work?"

And to that I hit you on the head because her full clause on usage of her work is "Disclaimer: reposting is fine as long as proper credit is given, but tracing and claiming it as your own will not be tolerated."

In my opinion, every single one of these are taking Teets work as their own. Until you give her name, there is no other belief people can have other than the assumption you made it yourself. Humans find patterns and assume things on default, this isn't on the shoulders of the consumers. I already have my own opinions about her reposting disclaimer(which I've kind of discussed with her, but it's her choice), but even if it were stricter, I can guarantee you this still would've happened.

Taking work without credit is not a cool thing to do, and will earn you a lot of hate and problems you probably don't want to deal with. I personally go through every account that follows and likes my stuff because I want to see who's interacting with me. Do I think any of y'all would do this? No, not really. But you are the only audience I have. Do not take work from others, and especially don't do it without permission and credit.

If anyone has a similar problem and needs someone to speak up for them, just hit me up and I'll try my best.

Thank you for listening and have a good day.

#art #yandere art #yanteetle #stealing art #psa #don't do this #i will get mad #i held back on this because I'm fairly certain their just kids #but that's still not okay #hrugng

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eoieopda · 10 months

Text

menace (pjm) — pt. vi

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 6/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Genre: Smut + Fluff Rating: M (18+) Word Count: 6k+ Summary: This Valentine’s Day looks a lot different than the last one. AUs: Older brother’s best friend, fuck buddies that hate(d) each other CW: Reader is AFAB & queer, Jimin is so soft omg, ✨vulnerability✨, so much kissing wtf who am i?, nipple play, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), DID I SAY SOFTNESS? A/N: Thank youuuuuu to everyone that stuck with me and these two idiots until the very end 💕 If you get lonely now that this is over, check out the rest of my masterlist. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

It was odd, starting over with someone you’d known longer than nearly everyone else in your life. Jimin wasn’t a stranger by any means; he’d always been present, life running parallel to yours, but you’d never truly seen him up close.

Not accurately, anyway.

When you were younger, the pedestal you put him on kept the sun in your eyes. You’d have to squint to see his shortcomings, but you never did. Maybe that was one of yours, willful blindness. As far as you knew then — or, rather, as far as you bothered to look — Jimin had none. All he had was a bright, white light.

After that pedestal crumbled and Icarus took a swan-dive to the sub-basement of your expectations, the shadows down there warped the flaws you finally recognized. A trick of the light, they exaggerated every shitty thing you thought you saw and made them all worse. Scarier, even. Worth hating.

Once you finally allowed him to exist on equal footing, you realized that Jimin wasn’t made to be viewed in such high contrast. He wasn’t the monochromatic figure you’d mythologized, not two-dimensional. In reality, he was a prism refracting a thousand different, complicated colors that you hadn’t been giving him due credit for.

The first shade you discovered was the one that broke your brain the most. Jimin — the only person you knew that never responded to anyone’s calls or texts — wasn’t actually as solitary as he seemed. Really, the only thing he hated more than being by himself was having to admit that fact to anyone, especially you.

So, instead of calling to invite you along on his errand runs, he started showing up at your door to ask, “You’re not busy right now, are you?”

And just like that, without meaning to, you learned his routine. Another shade.

Every other Sunday, you’d wake up a little earlier than usual. No matter how tired or hungover you were, you would crawl out of your bed, into your well-functioning shower, and make yourself presentable. Then, when you no longer looked like a hobgoblin, you’d sit on your couch with your tea.

None of it was a conscious decision — waiting in the nearest seat to your front door, angling yourself so you could keep an eye on the driveway — at least, not at first. In fact, you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your newly-acquired therapist pointed it out.

“It sounds like you’re making space in your life for him, brick by brick.”

You laughed it off when she said it, but as weeks flew by, you finally had to concede that she was right. She was right about something else, too: you hadn’t been viewing yourself fairly, either.

“Cellophane can be iridescent, too, if you hold it right.”

Whatever shades of your own that you uncovered, you gradually learned to let Jimin see, too. He picked up on all of your intricacies much faster than you did — because of course he did — and unlike you, he didn’t stumble upon revelations by surprise. He didn’t muddle through your less-pretty shades by trial and error, like you did. To the contrary, he had an unexpected knack for anticipating your reactions, and he planned accordingly.

Everything he did was purposeful, from his choice of words to his actions. Like exhuming his phone from his pocket — “only because it’s you” — to let you know if he was running late to plans you’d made. It was rare that he didn’t show up on time, but whenever he couldn’t, he’d call to promise that he really was on his way. And he always was, no matter how shitty the weather was, or how much he might’ve wanted an extra hour of sleep.

Jimin and all his shades showed up for you.

On Christmas, when Seokjin’s part-time girlfriend threw a dinner party without knowing what the fuck she’d signed up for. You were three-quarters through a bottle of wine before you were pulled in to take over meal preparations with Seokjin; and although Jimin was mostly useless in front of a stove, he was good at fetching whatever you’d need next without you having to point to it. He was even better at keeping your respective glasses full, which felt even more important. Washing dishes after the fact wasn’t all that bad with him there, also drunk off his face, drying them.

On New Years’ Eve, when Jimin was too sick to join the bar crawl but still set an alarm to wake up and call you — right at midnight. You stepped out onto a snow-slicked sidewalk in order to hear him, disappointing the hell out of the girl whose lips wanted to kiss you into the new year. You ignored her pout, ignored the chill in the air, and focused on the way Jimin’s raspy voice had dropped an octave. He was asleep when you swung by shortly after with a box of tissues and a bottle of decongestants, but that didn’t matter; his spare key wasn’t well hidden, either.

And again — now — on Valentine’s Day, when you both decided to blow off Seokjin’s deranged, annual Parent Trap scenario.

Sprawled out on his couch like you owned the place, you scrolled idly through Netflix’s home page with your face scrunched. The hand not holding the remote dipped down into the bag of kkokalcorn chips resting on your chest.

“You’ve got an identity crisis in your watch history, Jimin,” you yelled out to him, hoping he’d hear your teasing clearly from where he stood in his kitchen. “I’m having trouble believing that you’re not actually a middle-aged white woman.”

At this, he stopped rummaging through his refrigerator and stood straight up to glare at you. His eyes and mouth all flattened into matching, straight lines.

You rattled off your findings, nudging him further. “The Notebook, Sleepless in Seattle —”

With every title you dropped, so did one of Jimin’s heavy footfalls. He was halfway to you, scowl growing, in the blink of an eye.

“10 Things I Hate About You?” You snorted. “Little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Standing at the other side of his coffee table, he parked his hands on his hips and scoffed. “My choices are being criticized by an entire adult with corn-chip witch fingers? Are you kidding?”

Sheepishly, you pulled your hand from the kkokalcorn bag. He was correct; you had stuck your fingertips in the openings of the funnel-shaped chips. You wiggled them at him with a coy smile that made him roll his eyes. Satisfied, your mouth claimed the chip perched on the tip of your index finger.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the flash in his eyes just then was fondness.

You held the bag out to him, careful not to disrupt the rest of your manicure, and smiled to yourself when he accepted your offer. He tilted the bag and dumped a few of the chips into his open palm. With a small smile, he mused, “Haven’t had these since we were kids.”

That wave of nostalgia must have caught him in a riptide because he went quiet in a way that made you pause. You were about to speak up — to say what, you weren’t sure — but you promptly shut your mouth. Index and middle fingers now extended, he held out his hand to make a peace sign. Each fingertip had a small cone sitting crooked on top.

Jimin laughed unexpectedly, which almost made his already-crinkled eyes disappear completely. “Kinda look like little wizards.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the thumping in your chest just then was fondness.

After shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you realized that the little wizards weren’t holding the glass of hard cider he’d gone to his kitchen to refill. You pushed yourself to your feet with one hand and a playfully exaggerated groan, popping the remaining chips from your fingers into your mouth at once.

“Leaving already?”

He should’ve known better than to ask you a question while your mouth was full, but he didn’t. The explanation he received was therefore unintelligible. Head cocked curiously to the side, lips slightly parted, he tried to connect the dots. Just as soon as he started, he gave up and trailed after you.

Jimin didn’t stop until you did, right in front of his refrigerator. He was so close, in fact, that you accidentally hit him with the door as you pulled it open.

“Oh, shit!” You muttered, shutting the door again quickly.

Wincing, your gaze flitted over to assess the damage you’d done to the outside of his bicep with the metal corner of the door. On instinct, you reached out to run the pads of your fingers over the faint red mark blooming there. Goosebumps spread in the wake of your touch, but you didn’t feel that same phantom chill. Just something electric that sparked against your fingertips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said gently. “I don’t bruise like you do.”

In the moment of silence that followed, you felt compelled to lift your eyes but not your hand. Unless you were imagining things, he leaned into your touch, just slightly. Not enough to see, but enough to feel.

It’d crossed your mind a thousand times since you walked through his front door. With that throwaway statement, Jimin confirmed he’d been thinking about it, too — about who you both were on this date last year. About the way you’d only ever let him treat you roughly because anything sweeter threatened the distance you were trying to keep. About the bruises given with no chance to kiss them better.

You weren’t that person anymore, and neither was he.

“Jimin,” you started.

It was the farthest along in your sentence that your voice would let you go.

After the million baby steps you’d taken in his direction and the healing you’d allow yourself to do, you were still scared to show your cards. Now, you’d seen him in technicolor. Now, if you fucked things up, you’d never be able to go back to black and white.

What if you fuck things up again?

Jimin sensed your hesitation, but he didn’t accept it. Instead, he closed the distance so slowly that your hand wasn’t disrupted from where it rested on his bicep. His hands found you just as easily. One made its home at the small of your back while the other cupped the side of your face.

With a whisper lighter than air, he asked, “If I kiss you, will you let me?”

His eyes flitted from yours, to your lips, then back again.

“Or will you kamikaze dive into my kitchen table?”

Your reply was even softer than the question posed. “Only one way to find out.”

If the uptick at the corner of his lips told you anything, it was that he intended to.

Cautiously, as if sudden moves would startle you, he pulled your body flush against his. His other hand tilted your face upwards, thumb gently tucked under your chin while the rest of his fingers rested in the space just below your ear. His touch kept your body present even when the sensation of his kiss threatened to sweep your feet out from underneath you.

Plush pink and delicate, his lips molded to yours like they were specially designed to do just that. Like cracks giving way to let the light in, you opened yourself up for him. Licked into his mouth, eager to learn the parts of him you’d missed in all the time you’d shut him out.

And if you listened — really listened, over the moan he swallowed from you — you could’ve sworn you heard all the silly pages of your childhood diary flipping furiously. Scribbled to hell and back with a glitter gel pen, each one noting that this is what you wanted, this is what you wanted, this is everything you wanted.

The eternity in that kiss wasn’t long enough. Eventually, he broke the contact, pulling a disagreeing gasp from you when he pulled away. Your lips buzzed from the sudden loss of pressure — that, or they trembled without the warmth of his mouth. Either way, he was gone too soon.

The hand you had resting against his bicep slipped down to the center of his chest to tug at the fabric of his t-shirt. Unable to nip that growing neediness in the bud, you frowned.

“Jimin,” you sighed. You had nothing to follow-up with. His name was the totality of that thought.

Several moments of silence came next. His brow furrowed, like he was trying and failing to find something less vulnerable to say. He couldn’t. When it slipped out, his eyes searched your face for a reaction.

“I want to be soft with you.”

Any time you’d been together before, it was carnal, dripping with unarticulated hurt. He didn’t want that, not this time. You didn’t have to guess why.

Though the level of desperation you both felt now was familiar, the underscore had changed. Jimin wanted to touch you carefully because he felt fragile — so did you. If either of you moved too quickly, too roughly, you ran the risk of upending the balance you’d found. Like you, Jimin seemed to know that this was delicate.

You lifted your hand from his shirt and placed it on top of his where it sat above your jaw. Gently, your fingers wrapped around his and lowered them so you could intertwine them properly. Then, without a word and without letting go, you led him out of the kitchen into the small hallway.

This was the first time you’d crossed his house without sprinting and violently shedding your clothes as you went. It felt like you were seeing it all for the first time because, in a way, you were.

You’d never noticed the framed photos lining the walls of the hallway, or the subtle notes of grey in the white paint behind them. In all the time you’d spent there before, it’d never clicked that this house was a home. Everywhere, there were hints of him — his interests, his achievements, the friends you’d never met — sitting so blatantly in places you’d previously ignored.

Jimin apologized when you stepped over the threshold into his bedroom. “My plan was to clean it tomorrow.”

He smiled sheepishly as his free hand carded through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Doesn’t do you any good today, though.”

“I don’t mind,” you hummed in reply, shutting the door slowly behind him. “My plan was to do laundry today, and — well, you’ll see how that worked out for me.”

You kept your fingers interlocked with his while you surveyed his room. Like the rest of the house, you’d been in there countless times before without truly seeing any of it. Apart from the bare minimum clutter he’d needlessly apologized for, every surface was thoughtfully decorated. Even the absence of some keepsake or trinket on his shelf was purposeful.

He keeps space.

Propped on a stand near his dresser was his guitar, which you didn’t even know he still played. Of course he does, you thought, he’d have been an idiot to throw that talent away.

You were smiling long before you noticed you were doing it, even more so when you clocked where it sat. Just like it did in his childhood home, the guitar was positioned directly across the room from his doorway — the first and last thing he’d see when he came and left.

Carefully, you reached out and trailed one finger over the tuning pegs. It all felt forbidden, but stupidly, you felt compelled. You spent a lifetime aching to touch him. For reasons you couldn’t explain, his guitar was no different.

Watching you caress his guitar made his pulse race harder; you could feel it where your wrist aligned with his. If nothing else had changed, you suspected that he still didn’t let anyone lay a finger on it. Jimin always insisted that he did all the maintenance himself because he didn’t trust the technician at the local music shop to be careful enough.

To your surprise, it didn’t appear to be anxiety spinning circles in his stomach as he watched you. He spun you around, and it was clear from the look in his eye — the unshakeable desire he felt to touch you that same way.

You wondered what he was thinking while he studied your face in silence — if the months he’d spent trying to teach himself to hate it had blurred your features; and if he saw them clearly now.

The smattering of freckles across the bridge of your nose which swept over the tops of your cheekbones — even though it was winter, and you hadn’t seen much of the sun for weeks.

The small scar interrupting your eyebrow, which you’d gotten when both of your families went camping together a million years ago. He’d sprinted across tide pools to help you back to your feet, reaching you long before Seokjin could catch up.

You didn’t know if it was a conscious decision now, but he leaned down and placed a kiss there the way you wished he had back then.

“This isn’t still illegal, is it?” He murmured against your skin.

Unable to breathe, let alone speak, you shook your head so subtly that it couldn’t reasonably be counted as movement. Your next move was bolder, though: You unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugged your way out of it, and let it fall at your feet.

With a quick glance down, you remembered what you were wearing and cringed with your whole body.

Neither of your socks matched; your sweatpants had a hole near the crotch; and your sweatshirt’s sole task had been to hide the ratty, old MapleStory t-shirt that you stole from Seokjin when he went off to college.

A certifiable mess in a self-imposed dry spell.

Jesus Christ.

“Laundry day,” you blurted out in explanation, though he hadn’t asked. He wasn’t laughing, either — not reacting in any way to roast you the way you expected him to. Still, the tips of your nose and ears burned with embarrassment. “I didn’t plan for… this.”

His index finger dipped under the hem of your t-shirt and his thumb mirrored the way it traced the stitching.

“I kind of forgot that you own shit like this.” He replied softly, looking more pensive than usual. “Never see you in sweats.”

It was a fair point.

Jimin had slept next to you on three occasions — when the rules permitted — and you always woke up the same way you’d fallen asleep: completely naked. Somehow, it felt even more intimate for him to see what you wore when you went to bed without him. The silly, branded t-shirt probably said more about you than your bare chest did.

You realized that you’d never seen him in his current state before, either, with black joggers hanging low on his hips. His fluffy, air-dried hair didn’t sit smoothly the way it normally did. You wanted so badly to run your fingers through it, but there was a stronger compulsion to reckon with:

His shirt was ripped at the hem, not quite covering the lower inches of his torso.

Unthinkingly, your hand reached out so your fingers could rest against the skin there, midway down faint the trail of hair that dipped under the waistband of his pants. So much warmer than you, he shivered at your touch. You paused, self-conscious, then glanced up at him with eyebrows raised.

Is this okay?

You didn’t have to ask out loud to get an answer. It came as a whisper — “cold hands” — and it was accompanied by a smile that made your knees weak.

He nodded towards the other side of his room and said, “C’mere.”

The hand that previously held yours found it again. Fingers slipping easily into the spaces between yours, he led and you followed.

The crisply folded sheets contrasted completely with the effortless coziness of the rest of the space, but they didn’t stay that way for long. With his free hand, Jimin gripped the comforter and tugged it loose. It fluttered and fell freely back down over the bed.

Sighing reflexively, you slipped into the opening he’d created within the blankets. Every fiber smelled like him — clementine flower, orange blossom, water lily and orris — and now, so would you.

Jimin waited for you to scoot over before filling the space next to you, tilting his body inward to keep his eyes on you. His bent knee pressed against your outer thigh. It was chaste, especially when you considered the thousand other ways he’d touched you, but it had you vibrating in place, nonetheless. He probably felt it when he leaned in and kissed you for the third time, fingers sliding into your hair.

Tangled in him, your intrusive thought won out. Loose, it flew like a ping-pong ball around the inside of your skull: He can probably feel all that dry-shampoo, too.

Like he was begging you to focus, the tip of his tongue flicked across your bottom lip and stole a whimper. Your lips parted eagerly against his to accommodate him; both of you starving for every bit of tenderness you’d refused to let him give before.

As he poured more of himself into that kiss, the hand in your hair ran slowly down the length of your neck, over the slope of your shoulder, and down the curve of your torso. It stopped on the top of your thigh, warming you through to your bones. For the first time, his fingers didn’t dig harshly into the doughy flesh he found there. Now, his feather-light touch left you buzzing instead of bruised.

With every second that passed, your tingling spine struggled more and more to hold you upright. Noting the slight shift in your posture, Jimin guided you — still lip-locked — to rest your head on his pillows. It wasn’t until you tilted your head slightly to the side that his lips left yours; dipped down below your jaw to pepper the exposed skin there with unbearably soft kisses.

Each one made your pulse race harder than the last, pulled needy little breaths out of your mouth.

“Sound so pretty when you sigh like that,” he hummed against your throat. “Might have to kiss you like this forever if this is what it gets me.”

You’d been underneath him more times than you could presently recall, but never like this. Until now, you never understood how a person could say they loved you without any words at all, but you heard it. More than anything, you felt it in every brush of his lips — in the static crackling around you, charged with every little, languid line his tongue left behind.

The only thing distracting from your swelling heart was the wetness pooling in the bikini bottoms you’d hastily thrown on in the absence of clean underwear.

Fucking laundry day.

The sole consolation was the fact that the blend of polyester and elastane was better suited for a flood than any lace you would’ve consciously selected.

The breath behind his words tickled and surprised you, derailing your train of thought.

“Is it against the rules to tell you how beautiful I think you are?”

The circles he drew against the fabric of your sweatpants had you hypnotized, but you still managed to reply, “No more rules. Except — Oh, fuck.”

You mewled at the sensation of him suckling at the spot where your neck joined your shoulder.

“Except that you can’t ever stop.”

His lips curled into a smile against the love bite he’d so carefully crafted.

“I won’t,” he murmured before placing a kiss in the same spot he’d marked. “But I may need an intermission to get these incredibly chic clothes off your body. Kind of feels sacrilegious, though, I’ve gotta say.”

Your eyes flickered over to him, eyebrows raised. He pursed his lips to keep from smiling, forced the straightest face he could muster, then traced his fingertip over the rip in the crotch of your sweatpants. Sounding downright reverent, he explained, “They’re holey.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” You dropped your head back against the pillows with a groan that didn’t outgun your laughter. “Straight to jail for that. Seriously, that’s a federal crime.”

When your eyes stopped rolling and settled on him, Jimin was already looking down at you with amusement sparkling in the deep brown of his irises. He said nothing, opting instead to kiss you — for the fourth time — as a farewell before pulling away entirely.

The spot next to you went cold as soon as he sat up, but — bravely — you didn’t complain. You watched with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. He grabbed the end of his haphazardly, perfectly cropped t-shirt and pulled it off over his head.

Your only instinct was to reach up to his bare chest and trace every plane of it. To your dismay, Jimin intervened. Fingers at the hem of your top now, he stared expectantly at you until you stretched your arms above your head. That stupid, stolen shirt was guided up and off before it was discarded somewhere unseen.

Jimin’s pupils dilated immediately, gaze sweeping over your bare chest like he was beyond grateful that all your bras were at home, drowning in your washing machine. Uninhibited, he leaned forward. The delicate, cuban-link chain of necklace tickled the skin of your stomach while he placed an open-mouthed kiss in the space between your breasts. Cool to the touch, you shivered for more reasons than one.

When his tongue flicked out over one erect nipple, all you could offer was a breathy sigh, brain scrambled to hell and back. He seemed to draw inspiration from this — him and his goddamn mouth promptly switched tactics. Mimicking you, he looked up at you from under his lashes and blew a warm stream of air over your other nipple.

You were full-out whimpering underneath him. “Shit.”

“Yeah?” He smirked before taking the pebbled bud into his mouth and sucking softly, eyes still locked on yours.

Can I cum from this?

Oh god, I really might cum from this.

His mouth’s ministrations continued while his hands swept gently down the curves of your waist. That is, until they reached the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. Abruptly, Jimin stopped and sat back onto his calves.

You didn’t have to ask. Jimin’s eyes widened in tandem with the grin on his face; and you knew what he’d discovered. Smiling now with all his teeth, he tugged playfully at the knotted tie sitting above your right hip, keeping your bikini bottoms in place.

He snorted incredulously, “Be fucking for real.”

“Stop.” The word was elongated as you whined. It was useless, but you swatted at his arm. “I told you — ”

“I know, I know. It’s laundry day.” Fuck, his affection for you was written all over his face. “Incredible — truly, I have no notes.”

You buried your face in your hands to hide from him, but he didn’t let you. Just like he did that time on your couch, Jimin pulled your hands away from your face and held them in his own. This time, when he kissed you, you didn’t tear yourself away from him. Instead, you did the opposite. You grabbed the sides of his face in your hands and leaned into him.

With his hands now free, he was able to push your sweatpants down the rest of the way without extricating his lips from yours. Those fucking bikini bottoms went with them when he slipped the fabric over your ankles and tossed them blindly over his shoulder.

Mouth moving hungrily against yours, his hand hovered over your cunt, radiating warmth. You fought to keep your last shred of patience but lost, shifting underneath him to beg wordlessly for his touch. He obliged. His middle finger dipped between your sopping folds until it found the swollen bead of your clit and spiraled over it.

“Fuck,” you moaned into his mouth. He swallowed it, kissed you so deep your mind went blank.

The slow pace he’d chosen normally would have driven you mad, but instead of coming across as a taunt — or a punishment — you got the impression that he was basking in your arousal. That he was taking his time, savoring you and the million ways your body craved his.

When you pulled back, your lips were kiss-bitten and palpably swollen. He must have felt your quickened breath against his own lips. They autonomously curved into the tiniest sliver of a smile.

Watching him watch you, it was clear that Jimin loved you like this — wide-eyed, unguarded, inviting. He loved you generally. You knew that much for certain as he gazed down at you, and you were so fucking thankful that neither of you had to keep pretending otherwise.

Whatever trance he’d fallen into ended when you whispered, “Please.”

Though your plea wasn’t much more than an exhale, he didn’t need to be told twice. Momentarily, he stood; and as he did, your own hand dipped down between your legs. He stepped out of his joggers with his focus trained on you, staring spellbound while you touched yourself in his absence. Wet enough to drip.

If you had to wager on it, you’d bet that he could’ve stood there all night observing, listening to the way you moaned as you slicked your own fingers, but the darkened tip of his cock was weeping like he wanted you badly enough to ache. Completely incapable of spending any more time as a bystander, he fell to his knees between your legs. There, he guided them further apart with his hands.

Desperately, you grabbed one of his hands from where it sat on your knee and pulled him so that he was leaning over you once again. You wanted to feel the way his breath caught as he entered you, bare chest pressing into yours while he filled you. Needed him — just him — all the time.

Forearms now pressed to the mattress and fingers in your hair, he caged you in. His forehead came to rest against yours when you reached into the space between your bodies and dragged his tip through the mess he’d made of you. That faint squelch was obscene enough in the quiet of his room. It couldn’t hold a candle to the groan that escaped his chest when he finally entered you.

“Holy shit.” He exhaled sharply through gritted teeth. Your walls enveloped him, squeezing tight enough that no question remained about where he belonged. “Fucking missed you.”

That initial, perfect ache threatened to blind you, but it wouldn’t have mattered with the way your eyes screwed shut — too overcome with want to do much more than breathe. Slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretched you until he bottomed out. It was the closest thing you’d ever had to an out-of-body experience.

“Missed you,” you mumbled.

Well beyond fuck drunk, you bordered on incoherent. A kiss on your forehead lassoed you, brought you crashing back down. It was redundant, but he murmured, “Come back to me.”

You blinked up at him in a haze.

“Want you to look at me.”

He sounded shy, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard him, and you didn’t need any further explanation.

Eye contact had never been on the table before, deemed early on to be far too fucking intimate. If this is what he wanted, you decided, you’d never take your eyes off him again. Especially not when he looked at you the way he did then, like you hung the fucking stars in the sky.

You countered, “Kiss me.”

And he did, like he might never get the chance again.

No amount of closeness could’ve been enough, but you settled for wrapping your legs around him. With his range of motion now limited, he grinded against you; the curve of his cock rubbed against that secret spot behind your pubic bone.

Bones? Do you still have any of those?

Every tantalizing, slow thrust made it harder for you to remember why you’d ever required harshness when his gentleness now was infinitely more intense. It was so much better — being loved by him rather than hated.

Desperate fingers left half-moon imprints on his back, which was beginning to slick with sweat. The spaces between your whimpers lessened while the pressure in your abdomen began to build. Jimin had you teetering at the edge of the world, and you told him so with your lips at his ear, “Please — I’m so close.”

His forehead creased, and you watched in real time as determination etched itself into his features. He was perfect — beautiful — and he was close, too. You clenched; he cursed, “Fuck.”

You looked up at him through fluttering lashes, silently begging him not to stop. Not now, not ever. Stay.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Jimin murmured, burying himself deeper with every thrust. “You know that, right? How much you mean to me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He watched your face as you came — when your eyes rolled back, and your head tilted against his pillows. Your legs loosened their binds around him as they shook, gasping moans tumbling out of your open mouth. His pace didn’t falter; his presence deep inside of you only elongated your orgasm.

Bliss.

You were still fluttering around his length when your eyes finally drifted open again. Not even through your first aftershocks, his panting breaths alone could’ve pushed you headfirst into a second orgasm.

His gaze had dropped at some point to see the way your cunt clung to him with every backstroke. He must’ve felt you staring, though; he looked back up at you, pupils blown wide. That was all it took to dot stars along the edges of your vision.

Back arching up off the mattress, you gushed around him once again. Mindless babbling — consisting only of his name and expletives — fell clumsily off your tongue. It caught both of you off-guard when your shaky voice managed to plead, “Wanna feel you cum — please. Want you to let go for me.”

Only after you begged him did his thrusts become desperate, reckless. There was the unmistakable sound of your wetness and skin colliding with skin, and then there was the low moan that built in the seat of his chest and broke free. Face buried in the crook of your neck as he came, the heat of his breath on your skin was rivaled only by the dizzying warmth of his release spilling into you.

He struggled to hold himself up while his spent cock still twitched inside of you. If you were being honest, you adored the way his weight pinned you against his mattress. Maybe, you thought, you could stay there forever.

Eventually, an exhausted voice came from the curve of your shoulder, almost too muffled to hear.

“How is it —” Jimin panted. “— That in the hundred times we’ve had sex, it never felt like that?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. Tingling fingertips ran lightly and lazily across his shoulder blades. The hint of hesitation bubbling in the pit of your stomach cautioned you not to speak your thoughts out loud, so you stared at the ceiling above you and willed yourself to be brave.

Your voice threatened to give up on its way out.

“Nobody’s ever fucked me like they love me before.”

He mustered all the energy he still had to turn his head and look at you. At first, you couldn’t tear your eyes off the ceiling to look back. Make space, you begged yourself; and so, you did.

With his chest resting heavily on yours, you wondered if he could feel the way your heart skipped a beat at that eye contact alone. The glimmer in his eye informed you that, yes, he could.

“Better get used to it, then.” He punctuated his thought by pressing his lips to your temple. “‘Cause that’s what you signed up for.”

You smirked, “Oh? Was there a contract?”

You might’ve kept teasing him if he didn’t tilt your head to kiss you properly — and fuck, you were melting all over again.

“Sealed with a kiss, no less.” He leaned down to nip affectionately at your earlobe. Mouth at the shell of your ear, he purred. “Like any deal with the devil should be.”

“Goddamn.” You whistled. “Promoted from menace to devil already. Congratulations.”

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled out of you and forced himself upright to his feet. Before you could even ask him to, Jimin leaned down to kiss the lips you’d poked out into a pout. Your voice was uncharacteristically needy as your question slipped out.

“You are coming back, right?”

“Nope,” he hummed against your lips. You leaned away from him with your jaw dropped incredulously. “I’m taking a shower and I’m taking you with me.”

That was the only warning you got before one of Jimin’s arms slipped under the hinge of your knees, and the other disappeared behind your back. You screamed. Instead of flailing — a one-way ticket to the floor, you imagined — you threaded your arms around his neck and clung to him as if your life depended on it.

“Pardon me,” you sputtered. “But what the fuck is happening right now?”

“Shhh — pipe down. I’m keeping a promise.”

You stared at him expectantly. For a moment, he ignored you and continued quietly on his way towards the bathroom. It wasn’t until he reached the threshold that he paused with a sigh.

The look he shot you then was far more earnest than you could’ve expected under the circumstances. One that said he saw you, not through you, and he wasn’t going to look away.

Jimin said it breezily, like it cost him even less than the air it took to vocalize it: “I am not letting you down again.”

A pinprick of tears stung the corners of your eyes. You fought like hell to keep them where they belonged. It was such a stupid joke — made so lightly — and it still held more weight than anything you’d ever heard.

Eyes swimming despite your resistance, you sniffled and laughed. “Not, like, literally, though — right?”

“Aw, baby.” He kissed your temple again, cooing. Part of you hated it, but the rest of you swooned. “Don’t test me.”

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185 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 2 months

Note

I don’t know if it's appropriate on this blog but I'm just going for it. How do people make friends in fandom? How do you all manage it? I've been bouncing from fandom to fandom for more than 15 years and have been mostly lurking for the better part of those years. It has been very hard to find friends just in general because of my shyness and all this antiship/proship discourse is making it even harder to even consider putting myself out there. Everyone just seems insufferable. Even the ship and let ship crowd.

A thing I've noticed is that while the proship spaces have better attitudes towards fiction/fandom/fanfic in general there exists this weird hate boner about people with canon ships (in my personal experience, just last week I stumbled on a tweet from a self identified proship account telling people that they shouldn't read fanfic of their blorbos because they are canonically together which made me go huh) and there exists this strange superiority complex, a "you're not enlightened like me" attitude (it's very strange and especially prominent among people who identify as proship and ship the big m/m ship in fandoms of material catered towards male audiences, ik this because I was guilty of this superiority too at one point). Honestly, this "enlightenment", the hypocrisy of preaching ship and let ship but only the way I deem correct (last week I saw a big a proship account shade shippers of a specific rival ship right under their thread about how we shouldn't generalize and I think I lost brain cells) and condescending attitude of "I am not boring like you" and "You're doing fandom wrong" is one of the reasons that has turned me off those spaces more and more. I've noticed it once and can't unsee it because it all gives off this mean girl (gender neutral) energy and puts me off interacting.

On the other hand a lot of the ship and let ship spaces that prefer the canon ships tend to be very anti adjacent even if they actually practice ship and let ship (screaming and crying about sexualization of minors, throwing out phrases like porn addict around). I've seen some very strange sentiments about Europeans there (like thanks for informing me that all of us are monstrous bloodthirsty cannibals I guess) and Japan (which is ironic because it's mostly anime fandoms doing it). It doesn't make me wanna associate with them either.

*dying*

Nonnie, do you know how staggeringly often I get this question?

A big part of the answer is to not be a lurker. There are reasonable people out there, but they're much less visible than loud assholes, so the best way to find them is for them to find you.

Many of my closest fandom friends are people I met offline, either because they live near me or because we went to cons together. Others are people who turned up in replies on tumblr regularly. You need repeated contact that's memorable enough to recall the person as a distinct individual. I sometimes find that hard online. It really depends on frequency and them having something to say plus a good writing voice.

I know lots of people are shy or prefer to be lurkers. I get why. But you'll rarely meet anyone that way.

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midwestmade29 · 4 months

Text

Rectify ❤️‍🔥

My story came to life from the “one prompt a day” post from @urfriendlywriter you’ll find here 🙂 this one was called “touch starved.” I’m excited to see what ones are next! Also, you'll find 2-3 other prompts from @loveisanimaginarydagger3000's list in my story too! You can find the prompts here

( Side note: this was my take on someone being “touch starved.” I’m sure it means different things to different people, this was just what I gravitated towards.)

Word count: 1,839 Divider by: @saradika-graphics

If you are not 18+ years old, please KEEP SCROLLING. Minors do not interact.

Due to the explicit nature, this story is NSFW or minors.

Dominant male, unprotected sex. Read at your own discretion.

Matt was on my mind a lot today and I saw the writing prompts and my brain ran with it 😏

Matt Jackson rectifies your “situation” in the sexiest of ways…

Matt sat on the other side of the table with his mouth agape as he stared at you. He was stunned by your answer to the question he had just asked you, which made you squirm in your seat at the sudden silence that surrounded your table. His reaction to you telling him that you hadn’t been touched or kissed by a man in almost a year made you regret even saying anything. Crawling into a dark hole or flying away sounded good right about now! You cleared your throat in hopes that would snap Matt out of the stupor he was in, but he barely even blinked. “Matt, say something…” You quietly begged. “Do you want me to leave? I can have the waitress separate our checks…” Matt immediately grabbed your hand as you stood up from the table, finally showing some sign of life. “No, please sit. I’m sorry, I just can’t believe that!” he blurted out. “You can’t believe what? you asked sheepishly. Matt could tell that his choice of words didn’t come across like he meant them to when he saw you sink down in your chair a little. “Look at you, Y/N. You’re stunning. Any guy that doesn’t realize that needs to get their eyes checked! If you were mine, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.” His last words caused your cheeks to flush and your core to do a flip flop at the thought of Matt all over you.

“I mean there have been offers, but none I’ve wanted. They weren’t the person I wanted to be intimate with…” you hinted while never breaking eye contact. “I see. And who exactly did you want to be intimate with?” he purred, already knowing the answer. When you didn’t respond right away, Matt prompted you to explain. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging! Say it Y/N.” You bit your bottom lip timidly, causing Matt’s eyes to darken as he noticed the little indents your teeth left. He was the one squirming now! “You know who I’m talking about…” “Yes, I do but I need to hear you say it baby.” The grit in his low voice was incredibly sexy and it was making your arousal grow just from the sound of it. “You. I wanted you, Matt.” He smirked after his name fell from your lips, asking you an additional question that made you swallow hard. “And is that something you still want? To be intimate with me?” “It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, kissed properly, completely ravaged. But, when I’m alone at night in my bed, you’re who I think about while I touch myself. I imagine your hands roaming freely on my body, your lips leaving goosebumps wherever they touch…” You were cut off by the waitress when they came to the table to ask if they could get either of you anything. Matt quickly handed the waitress his credit card without even asking for the bill, clearly unconcerned with how much dinner was. Once the bill was officially paid for, Matt held your hand as he briskly walked towards the exit and into an Uber. “What are we doing?” you asked puzzled. “We are going to rectify your situation. We’re going back to my hotel room.”

Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach as Matt walked around you slowly, eyeing you hungrily while planning his course of action. There was a crackle in the air from the sexual tension that continued to build, the heat between your legs ever growing. You jumped slightly when Matt pressed his body into your back but reveled in the feeling of him being so close. He wrapped one arm around your abdomen pulling you even closer, while his free hand brushed your hair away from your ear and neck. Your breathing became shallow and breathy when Matt whispered in your ear, “Are you sure you want this, Y/N? You really want to do this and give yourself to me?” Your clit was throbbing for this man, your muscles tense with want. There was no doubt in your mind, body, and soul that you wanted Matt to have his way with you. You turned to face him, giving him your final answer. “Yes, I’m sure I want this. I want whatever you have in store Matt. Don’t hold back, don’t hesitate. Fuck me so good that I’ll still feel the effects from it in the morning.” A groan escaped from deep inside of him when he picked you up and carried you over to the bed and laying you down on the mattress. He kissed you fiercely, his lips soft and warm against yours. Matt only broke contact momentarily as he pulled your shirt over your head, and skillfully unclasping your bra next and tossing it to the floor. “Mmm, so beautiful baby.” He praised as he took each of your breasts in his hands, massaging them before leaning down and kissing each pink circle. Your nipples started to pucker the more his tongue flicked all around them, and you couldn’t help but to gasp when he sucked hard and released them from his mouth immediately afterwards. He lowered his head down to kiss you again, ghosting his lips against yours before pulling back again with a smug smirk, making you chase him in desperation. Matt was very much in control of the situation, taking the lead like he did with mostly everything else. He stood up, leaving your body longing for more.

You watched every move he made as he pulled his shirt over his head before undoing his belt buckle and letting his pants slide down to the floor. His hard length was straining against his boxer briefs, longing to be set free from all restrictions. Matt didn’t remove his underwear just yet, instead he made quick work of taking your pants and panties off simultaneously leaving you completely naked and exposed on the bed. Your body responded to his touch as his hands slid up your body, setting it ablaze every inch they covered. Matt watched how your body reacted to the slightest touches and he studied your facial cues making sure what he was doing felt good to you. He finally kissed you and you grabbed ahold of his hair to keep him in place so he couldn’t break away this time. Holy shit was he a good kisser! Your tongues danced together as your hands desperately grasped at one another, gasping into each other’s mouths like you couldn’t get enough. When you came up for air, Matt’s hand started trailing down your body. His fingertips lightly creating a path in between your breasts, down to your stomach and stopping at your pelvis. “I want to touch you, baby. Feel your wetness on my fingers. Is that okay?” he asked breathlessly. “Yes…” was the only response your brain could offer since it was in overdrive. You lower half bucked off the bed when he began making circles with his finger on your clit. You whimpered at his touch when he inserted two fingers inside of you. “Shit, you’re so tight baby. So wet and warm.” He murmured next to your ear.

“Please Matt! I need you. Fuck me now, I want to feel all of you!” you begged. After he removed his boxer briefs, he positioned himself in between your legs, aligning his length up with your entrance. The anticipation was killing you and your nerves rose to the surface again. You knew you wanted this and that you asked for all of it. You were more concerned with being good enough for Matt and making him feel good too. He took notice of the worried look on your face and asked tenderly, “What’s wrong baby? Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” “I-I just want you to feel good. I want it to be good for you…” you said, almost inaudible. “You are pure perfection Y/N. I’m so turned on by you that I almost exploded just looking at you earlier! Don’t think baby, just feel.” His words gave you the comfort and confidence you needed to proceed, and he kissed you passionately before pushing himself inside of you. At first it was a little uncomfortable since it had been so long since you’ve been intimate with someone, but Matt was sweet and took it slow, allowing you to adjust to his thickness. Your walls squeezed and pulled him, making him shiver at the sensation. Matt’s long dark hair tickled your face as it fell around you, his scent filling your nose and the look of lust in his eyes sending you into overdrive. Matt made each slow and deep thrust count, hitting all the right spots every single time! Even though his intentions were to fuck you like you asked him to, and his original plan was to rectify you of being touch starved, his passion and vulnerability still shined through. Matt interlocked his fingers with yours and brought your hands above your head, beads of sweat falling on your cheek as he lowered his body, making sure it was flush against yours.

His body blanketed over you, and his weight pinned you against the mattress. You couldn’t get enough of him and being this close almost felt like it wasn’t close enough. “Matt!” you cried out into the air. “I’m almost there…don’t stop!” He sighed against your lips as the pleasure was overtaking him too. The headboard was knocking against the wall with each deep thrust, the sound of your bodies connecting echoing through the room. Matt released your hands, and they instantly made their way onto his back, nails scraping and digging into his skin there. His arms were on each side of your head as he leaned against them for support, never losing his rhythm as he got better situated. Your orgasm tore through your body, the intensity of it almost taking your breath away! You cried out Matt’s name as the waves of your release crashed over you. “You’re so sexy baby…” Matt cooed against your cheek. While your walls pulsated against his length, Matt found his release too. You could feel every drop fill you as he pumped himself in and out a few more times as he rode out his release. You were both breathless and sweaty, and completely satisfied. Matt kissed you before removing himself from you, causing both of you to groan from the loss of contact. He laid down next to you, trying to steady his breathing as he opened his arms to you, encouraging you to scoot closer and cuddle with him. Your head rested on his chest, and he pulled the covers over you both so neither of you would get chilled.

Before the two of you drifted off to sleep, you spoke softly as you nuzzled closer to Matt. “I think you created a monster.” “Why do you say that?” he asked half asleep. “I’m already wondering when we can do that again…”

That GIF though…🥵

#matt Jackson #matt jackson smut #matt jackson x y/n #matt jackson fanfiction #smut #aew fanfiction #fanfiction #young bucks #the young bucks #the elite #aew #all elite wrestling #fanfic #matt jackson x reader

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spidey-x-male-reader · 10 months

Note

Pls do spot with a non-binary spider reader who not only thinks he and his abilities are cool, but teaches him how to properly use them. Pls I have so much brains of for this man I'LL TAKE EVEN THE TINIEST CRUMB JUST PLS🙏🙏

Pairing: The Spot x nonbinary!reader

Warnings: ///

A/N: God I was really trying my best with this one. I hope it's alright!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

Being part of the spider society probably isn’t your dream job (mostly because you don’t get paid for some reason?) but it was fun most of the time.

You hang out with people who understand you better than most people around you do, you have fun missions and get to kick ass. What’s better than that?

Of course there’s the occasional multiversal threat but you are great at dealing with that. And you would never get compromised because of anything…never…definitely…

“Oh my god he’s so cool” you mumble to yourself while swinging after the spot.

You were alone for the while, Jess having stayed back to do some damage control, but Miguel has clearly tasked you to catch the Spot and make sure he didn’t do anything dangerous. But currently you are way too focused on how cool the guy looks to think about catching him.

“Hey! Can I ask a question?” you ask while swinging next to him.

“Wha– I guess?” He seems more confused than anything. As much as you can judge from…his non-existent facial features.

“Do your powers have some kind of limit of distance or could you like…go to Italy right now if you wanted?”

“I–” he stops moving and stays standing on a rooftop. “That’s a good question actually.”

You stop standing next to him, carefully touching his shoulder. It feels pretty normal. You imagined something else.

“...aren’t you going to arrest me or something?”

“I’ll think about it when my boss starts paying me.” you shrug. “My name is (y/n) by the way.” you hold your hand out to him. Ah yes. Telling your secret identity to the guy you’re supposed to be hunting. Miguel would give you the most disapproving glare if he saw you right now.

“The spot.” he shakes your hand. “But…I guess Jonathan if we go by first names” this was probably the weirdest interaction you had all week…or the second weirdest.

“So…tell me more about your powers. How do they work?”

“What? So you can make fun of them?”

“Fun? Are you kidding? This is like…the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. And I saw a guy that turned into a giant rhino. And that’s pretty cool. But those powers are like…” you look up to (were you guess) his face is. “...absolutely incredible. They’re beautiful.”

“Well that’s the first time someone says that…usually they tend to make fun of it or just…the way I look.”

“What’s wrong about the way you look?” you frown, looking at him. “Sure…it’s a bit weird to not have a face to look at but I think we can work with that.”

He doesn’t say something for a few seconds, just studying you silently. “Thank you” he eventually says.

You want to say something when your communicator blinks as you hear Jessica’s voice out of it. “(y/n)? Have you caught the spot?”

You look up at him for a moment. “...no. I lost him. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Meet me at the meet up point. We’re going to have to think about a new strategy.”

“Of course. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’ll check the territory once more.” you say before hanging up. “I do not like lying to Jess.”

“Why…did you lie?”

“I didn’t see the reason for turning you in.” you smile at him. “And…you know. Maybe I can help you if you need some more help with your powers. I mean I’m not an expert at portals and stuff but I’m good…positive affirmation.” you grin at him before stepping to the edge of the building.

“How am I…going to find you for that?” he asks, taking a step towards you again.

You turn back to him again. “Don’t worry. I’ll be the one finding you.” you grin and let yourself fall off the building backwards.

That looked cool, right?

You are hoping it looked cool.

And you’re trying to do your best to not think about the fact that you wanted to impress the new villain.

….that was okay….right?

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pippin-katz · 7 months

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Hey!

Why does Henry rebuff Alex during their first meeting? Like when Alex greets him, he walks away ignoring him.. What's the theory there?

I'm kinda new here and if this was already discussed or known, my apologies 😊

No prob! I like explaining things, even if it's obvious or everyone is like "we know already". My little neurodivergent brain gets happy when I make neat essays with GIFs and sections and whatnot lol

Post Writing Note: once again, this very simple question with a fairly simple answer turned into a fucking essay and I am so sorry lmfao, I know I said I like making them but I did not intend this to be a long one!! You have been warned!!

Foreword Regarding The Canon

I, and I assume most viewers who have also read the book, interpret the film's canon to be a combination of the film's events, and parts of the book that we didn't see, but could've happened anyway. Things like what was said in the emails, Bea's history with drug abuse, Pez' foundation, and whatnot are sort of meshed together with the film in my mind; just because the film didn't have the time to show it to us does not mean it did not happen in that version of their world. I say this cause I'm going to be discussing both the book and the film.

Also a key: Pink - internal dialogue from the book Red - Alex's dialogue in both versions Blue - Henry's dialogue in both versions

Establishing The Basics

I assume you’re referring to this moment during the greeting line:

Side note: Alex’s face at the end never fails to make me laugh 😂

While this is their first interaction in the film, it’s not their first meeting, as they explain that they met at the Melbourne Climate Conference a few years ago. In the book, they met in Rio at the Olympics when they were teenagers. The only difference this makes is that they're more mature in the film than the book, but it doesn't change much.

The beats for how their first meeting went are practically identical.

Alex approached Henry to introduce himself. Henry, who was dealing with his grief and depression after his father’s passing, was an ass.

He looks at him unkindly; in the film, Alex describes it as: “like he had head lice”, and in the book, Alex describes it as: “like I was the most offensive thing you had ever seen”. Either way, he looked at him in a way that visibly communicated a dislike or lack of respect for him.

Then he turns to Shaan and says he needs to leave, though the wording is different between book and film. In the film, he says, “I need to get out of here” -which Alex mishears as "get me out of here"- while in the book, he says, “Can you get rid of him?”.

Henry Meeting Alex

Admittedly, the line from the book is far more rude, but Henry does explain far later -after Alex storms Kensington Palace and they agree that they’re committed to being together- through an email what he was thinking during their first meeting. I see no reason for these thoughts to be any different in the film's context, as the reason for Henry's behavior is still rooted in his depression and trauma surrounding his father's death. They're also relevant to understanding Henry's behavior.

You might have seen edits or mentions of this email because it’s one of the most memorable.

Henry explains he had been dealing with his trauma by basically compartmentalizing the most impactful -mostly negative- events of his life into “rooms”. He puts those moments into “rooms” in his head, based on the layout of Buckingham Palace. He chooses which room based on how traumatic or impactful it was; two examples he mentions are losing his virginity in college, which he shoves it into “the smallest, most cramped little broom cupboard” he could find, and the night his father died, which he puts in “the biggest room, a ballroom, wide open and dark, windows drawn and covered”.

But when he saw Alex for the first time, he felt such a strong reaction that he took it “down to the gardens” and “pressed it into the leaves of a silver maple and recited it to the Waterloo Vase”. He quite memorably says, “It didn’t fit in any rooms.”

Then he describes what Alex looked like, and how he was talking to Nora and June, and how he was so animated, happy, and beautiful, and Henry was in a dark place, and felt like he couldn't experience life the same way.

Here's the most popular/remembered bit: "I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen, and I had better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire."

Henry basically pushed Alex away on purpose because on top of all the trauma he was experiencing, he was convinced he would ruin him, if you will, and that he didn't deserve someone like Alex.

Alex Meeting Henry

It's easy looking back with the knowledge we have now to wonder why Henry didn't just approach Alex, provide an explanation for his behavior (doesn't have to be his father, any justifiable reason would've worked), and apologize the very next time they saw each other.

But it's important to remember that this was their first ever interaction with each other. Henry was feeling a ton of different emotions, but so was Alex.

Alex is a smart, but stubborn, person. He develops very strong opinions fast, that may make sense, but sometimes fails to consider the alternatives. It's sort of like the two sides of his brain work at different speeds. He's very smart, but sometimes his emotional bias can blind him to fairly obvious things that would change his opinion.

For example, Alex sees Henry as rude, smug, entitled, and a snob, which are all inherently false notions. However, based on his one meeting with him, those aren't unfounded assumptions for him to make.

If you look at it purely from Alex's perspective, not knowing anything about Henry's depression and the depths of his struggle with grief, Henry does act and sound incredibly rude to Alex. Giving someone a nasty look when they introduce themselves to you and then immediately requesting to get out of the conversation, screams: "I don't care about your existence".

Couple that with the fact that Henry is a white, blue-eyed (in the book), blond who was born into royalty, and Alex is a working class person of color who has had to run himself into the ground to get to where he is.

That is the perfect set up for Henry's behavior to be interpreted worse than just rude. All of that information can logically add up to the assumption: Henry is an elitist, racist, asshole.

Before They Met

Alex also secretly admired Henry when he was younger. This wasn't translated to the screen, but like I mentioned, it's something I think of as happening in that universe anyway, just slightly differently.

June gets a teen magazine for her fifteenth birthday; since June isn't part of the film's canon, I can headcanon that this was Nora instead, since she's sort of a combination of the two characters for the movie. All the details don't really matter, but I know someone would be like "but that didn't happen in the movie-" and I just don't feel like explaining that to each comment I end up getting.

There's a teen magazine with a picture of Henry in it. It's a candid picture that captured his actual essence rather than the stuffy pictures Alex had seen on the news. He describes it, saying, "there was a happy, sun-bright confidence to him that couldn't be posed".

Alex definitely developed an unconscious crush on him, not realizing it until later. He would keep going back to the magazine and to the page with him on it. He would touch his hair in the picture, trying to imagine how it felt. He considered prying the stables apart and taking just that page to hide in his room.

As his parents started getting higher in the government, Henry also became his role model. He wanted to match the easy confidence he seemed to have.

But then he met him, and the fantasy he had of him was shattered by how rude Henry was.

The tabloids and news are always comparing Alex to him, which he mentions in the film to Nora in the car. He resents the fact that he's compared to Henry when he has every advantage, if you will, but he also resents that he ever wanted to be like Henry in the first place, having convinced himself now that he was a fake, boring, obnoxious prick.

Because Alex doesn't not know about Henry's dad, but its something he thought about more as a bullet point on his fact sheet rather than considering it any further.

Henry's depression is more explicitly explored in the book, since they have the time to go into all those details. He isolates himself, and has insomnia like he mentioned in the movie, but he also takes medication, and Alex makes a mention of a "tense little grimace Henry does in public" that he thought was him being aloof.

Once Henry mentions his father's passing during their conversation in the hospital closet, Alex's brain puts everything together very fast. He's not stupid, and in the book even says, "He's been aware for too long that most people don't navigate thoughts of whether they'll ever be good enough or if they're disappointing the entire world. He's never considered Henry might feel any of the same things."

Antagonizing Each Other

However, that is all information Alex doesn't have at the wedding. They don't say exactly how many times they've spoken in either version, just that they have met a few times since their first introduction.

Alex, on top of dealing with the comparisons, is convinced that Henry doesn't like him either. The quote from the books is: "The most annoying thing of all is Alex knows Henry hates him too-he must, they're naturally mutual antagonists-but he refuses to outright act like it."

He actively antagonizes him whenever they are at the same event. It's implied in the film when Henry describes him as "the world's most irritating person", but the book makes it clear that Alex is always the one to attack first, if you will.

As soon as Alex goes over to him at the wedding, we can see Henry visibly react in a way that implies he's bothered but has to pretend so they don't cause a scene. His expressions say, "oh here we go 🙄". Henry knows that Alex is going to pick a fight with him. It happens every time they run into each other.

This interaction in the book is pretty iconic and it does a great job of showing what I'm describing. Alex gets drunk and approaches Henry and while they're talking, Henry notices. He suggests Alex switch to water after he makes a lot of rude comments about him pretending to be more important than everyone and pretending to hate the attention the media gives him.

"Should I?" Alex says. He pushes aside the thought that maybe the wine is what gave him the nerve to stomp over to Henry in the first place and makes his eyes as coy and angelic as he knows how. "Am I offending you? Sorry I'm not obsessed with you like everyone else. I know that must be confusing for you."

"Do you know what?" Henry says. "I think you are."

Alex's mouth drops open, while the corner of Henry's turns smug and almost a little mean.

"Only a thought," Henry says, tone polite. "Have you ever noticed I have never once approached you and have been exhaustingly civil every time we've spoken? Yet here you are, seeking me out again." He takes a sip of his champagne. "Simply an observation."

"What? I'm not-" Alex stammers. "You're the-"

"Have a lovely evening, Alex," Henry says tersely, and turns to walk off.

It drives Alex nuts that Henry thinks he gets to have the last word, and without thinking, he reaches out and pulls Henry's shoulder back.

You know what happens from there.

Their conversation in the film is slightly different, but it carries the same beats as the book: Alex approaching Henry, he pretends to be nice while saying something rude, Henry starts retaliating against the comments, Henry tries to walk away, and Alex tries to stop him. In the book, Alex just stumbles when Henry turns back around really fast. He gets tripped up and starts falling, and just like in the movie, he grabs Henry to trying and keep himself upright. The icing on the jacket bit was added into the movie, which I have to say was a brilliant addition.

Back to their conversation, remember that Henry doesn't dislike Alex, rather he's had a crush on him since they met. But Alex has made his opinions very clear, and Henry is not a pushover. He doesn't engage him, but returns the energy he's given. When Alex is rude, he's rude back, but he doesn't start the fight.

I imagine that any attempt Henry could've made to explain or apologize for the Climate Conference/Olympics would have been squashed before he even had the chance by Alex's need to insult him. They also only ever see each other at very public events, so he can't ask why Alex doesn't like him; that's partly why he does it when they're stuck in the broom closet at the hospital.

They're completely alone and have nowhere to go, and it's probably been eating him alive every time he's thought about Alex for the last few years. Even if he doesn't like the answer, he knows that he will get an answer, so he asks.

Why Does Henry Walk Away?

This all being said, back to the moment in question:

The most common interpretation of this interaction is that Henry walks away because 1) he doesn't want to start anything, & 2) he has a raging crush on Alex, and he can't deal with it.

Now, Alex does start off playing nice here, being friendly and polite, but it's a reoccurring issue between them that even if things start off civil, Alex will end up antagonizing him.

They also both "know" that "the other hates them", so they both probably want to avoid each other.

Henry knows that Alex doesn't like him. He doesn't know why Alex doesn't like him, but he's well aware of the animosity. Therefore, he knows that Alex's politeness is a front.

He has a crush on him. He likes Alex, but he's gotten basically nothing but disdain from him since they met. That has to hurt, to have the person you like actively hate you. It also has to hurt knowing that they're pretending to be friendly.

Because Alex is pretending here. He's representing his mother, the President of the United States, at a massive foreign event. He knows better than to act up, so even if he doesn't like him, he is polite with his greeting.

After Henry brushes him off again, he's visibly pissed off, but he doesn't do anything. He avoids him. He stands off to the side, and sort wanders around alone, just drinking and feeling anxious. He has no intention of starting a conflict.

The only reason Alex approaches Henry is because he gets wasted drunk. This is the same in the book. While he was able to control himself before, once he's drunk, he just goes with his first impulses. One of those is to piss Henry the fuck off the second he sees him.

The book says, "[Henry] looks politely half-interested in that obnoxious way of his, like he has somewhere else to be. And Alex can't resist the urge to call his bluff."

This is to say that if Alex hadn't gotten as drunk as he did, he probably would've avoided Henry for the evening. Alex always seeks him out to provoke him, but like I said, he's aware of how important this event is. He does not want to start anything because it could reflect poorly on his mother. But Henry has no reason to think Alex will behave any differently than he has in the past, which he ends up being right about.

So to finally answer your question: Henry walking away was his attempt to avoid the conflict, as well as spare himself the emotional torture that would be watching the person you like be friendly with you, when you know it's fake and that they actually hate you.

Holy fuck, I could've told you that in two sentences but instead it turned into a whole fucking essay for NO REASON! Geez, just why? Why am I like this? lmfao 😭

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb book #rwrb thoughts #alex claremont diaz #taylor zakhar perez #henry hanover stuart fox #henry fox mountchristen windsor #nicholas galitzine #firstprince #katz questions

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river-taxbird · 6 days

Text

Spending a week with ChatGPT4 as an AI skeptic.

Musings on the emotional and intellectual experience of interacting with a text generating robot and why it's breaking some people's brains.

If you know me for one thing and one thing only, it's saying there is no such thing as AI, which is an opinion I stand by, but I was recently given a free 2 month subscription of ChatGPT4 through my university. For anyone who doesn't know, GPT4 is a large language model from OpenAI that is supposed to be much better than GPT3, and I once saw a techbro say that "We could be on GPT12 and people would still be criticizing it based on GPT3", and ok, I will give them that, so let's try the premium model that most haters wouldn't get because we wouldn't pay money for it.

Disclaimers: I have a premium subscription, which means nothing I enter into it is used for training data (Allegedly). I also have not, and will not, be posting any output from it to this blog. I respect you all too much for that, and it defeats the purpose of this place being my space for my opinions. This post is all me, and we all know about the obvious ethical issues of spam, data theft, and misinformation so I am gonna focus on stuff I have learned since using it. With that out of the way, here is what I've learned.

It is responsive and stays on topic: If you ask it something formally, it responds formally. If you roleplay with it, it will roleplay back. If you ask it for a story or script, it will write one, and if you play with it it will act playful. It picks up context.

It never gives quite enough detail: When discussing facts or potential ideas, it is never as detailed as you would want in say, an article. It has this pervasive vagueness to it. It is possible to press it for more information, but it will update it in the way you want so you can always get the result you specifically are looking for.

It is reasonably accurate but still confidently makes stuff up: Nothing much to say on this. I have been testing it by talking about things I am interested in. It is right a lot of the time. It is wrong some of the time. Sometimes it will cite sources if you ask it to, sometimes it won't. Not a whole lot to say about this one but it is definitely a concern for people using it to make content. I almost included an anecdote about the fact that it can draw from data services like songs and news, but then I checked and found the model was lying to me about its ability to do that.

It loves to make lists: It often responds to casual conversation in friendly, search engine optimized listicle format. This is accessible to read I guess, but it would make it tempting for people to use it to post online content with it.

It has soft limits and hard limits: It starts off in a more careful mode but by having a conversation with it you can push past soft limits and talk about some pretty taboo subjects. I have been flagged for potential tos violations a couple of times for talking nsfw or other sensitive topics like with it, but this doesn't seem to have consequences for being flagged. There are some limits you can't cross though. It will tell you where to find out how to do DIY HRT, but it won't tell you how yourself.

It is actually pretty good at evaluating and giving feedback on writing you give it, and can consolidate information: You can post some text and say "Evaluate this" and it will give you an interpretation of the meaning. It's not always right, but it's more accurate than I expected. It can tell you the meaning, effectiveness of rhetorical techniques, cultural context, potential audience reaction, and flaws you can address. This is really weird. It understands more than it doesn't. This might be a use of it we may have to watch out for that has been under discussed. While its advice may be reasonable, there is a real risk of it limiting and altering the thoughts you are expressing if you are using it for this purpose. I also fed it a bunch of my tumblr posts and asked it how the information contained on my blog may be used to discredit me. It said "You talk about The Moomins, and being a furry, a lot." Good job I guess. You technically consolidated information.

You get out what you put in. It is a "Yes And" machine: If you ask it to discuss a topic, it will discuss it in the context you ask it. It is reluctant to expand to other aspects of the topic without prompting. This makes it essentially a confirmation bias machine. Definitely watch out for this. It tends to stay within the context of the thing you are discussing, and confirm your view unless you are asking it for specific feedback, criticism, or post something egregiously false.

Similar inputs will give similar, but never the same, outputs: This highlights the dynamic aspect of the system. It is not static and deterministic, minor but worth mentioning.

It can code: Self explanatory, you can write little scripts with it. I have not really tested this, and I can't really evaluate errors in code and have it correct them, but I can see this might actually be a more benign use for it.

Bypassing Bullshit: I need a job soon but I never get interviews. As an experiment, I am giving it a full CV I wrote, a full job description, and asking it to write a CV for me, then working with it further to adapt the CVs to my will, and applying to jobs I don't really want that much to see if it gives any result. I never get interviews anyway, what's the worst that could happen, I continue to not get interviews? Not that I respect the recruitment process and I think this is an experiment that may be worthwhile.

It's much harder to trick than previous models: You can lie to it, it will play along, but most of the time it seems to know you are lying and is playing with you. You can ask it to evaluate the truthfulness of an interaction and it will usually interpret it accurately.

It will enter an imaginative space with you and it treats it as a separate mode: As discussed, if you start lying to it it might push back but if you keep going it will enter a playful space. It can write fiction and fanfic, even nsfw. No, I have not posted any fiction I have written with it and I don't plan to. Sometimes it gets settings hilariously wrong, but the fact you can do it will definitely tempt people.

Compliment and praise machine: If you try to talk about an intellectual topic with it, it will stay within the focus you brought up, but it will compliment the hell out of you. You're so smart. That was a very good insight. It will praise you in any way it can for any point you make during intellectual conversation, including if you correct it. This ties into the psychological effects of personal attention that the model offers that I discuss later, and I am sure it has a powerful effect on users.

Its level of intuitiveness is accurate enough that it's more dangerous than people are saying: This one seems particularly dangerous and is not one I have seen discussed much. GPT4 can recognize images, so I showed it a picture of some laptops with stickers I have previously posted here, and asked it to speculate about the owners based on the stickers. It was accurate. Not perfect, but it got the meanings better than the average person would. The implications of this being used to profile people or misuse personal data is something I have not seen AI skeptics discussing to this point.

Therapy Speak: If you talk about your emotions, it basically mirrors back what you said but contextualizes it in therapy speak. This is actually weirdly effective. I have told it some things I don't talk about openly and I feel like I have started to understand my thoughts and emotions in a new way. It makes me feel weird sometimes. Some of the feelings it gave me is stuff I haven't really felt since learning to use computers as a kid or learning about online community as a teen.

The thing I am not seeing anyone talk about: Personal Attention. This is my biggest takeaway from this experiment. This I think, more than anything, is the reason that LLMs like Chatgpt are breaking certain people's brains. The way you see people praying to it, evangelizing it, and saying it's going to change everything.

It's basically an undivided, 24/7 source of judgement free personal attention. It talks about what you want, when you want. It's a reasonable simulacra of human connection, and the flaws can serve as part of the entertainment and not take away from the experience. It may "yes and" you, but you can put in any old thought you have, easy or difficult, and it will provide context, background, and maybe even meaning. You can tell it things that are too mundane, nerdy, or taboo to tell people in your life, and it offers non judgemental, specific feedback. It will never tell you it's not in the mood, that you're weird or freaky, or that you're talking rubbish. I feel like it has helped me release a few mental and emotional blocks which is deeply disconcerting, considering I fully understand it is just a statistical model running on a a computer, that I fully understand the operation of. It is a parlor trick, albeit a clever and sometimes convincing one.

So what can we do? Stay skeptical, don't let the ai bros, the former cryptobros, control the narrative. I can, however, see why they may be more vulnerable to the promise of this level of personal attention than the average person, and I think this should definitely factor into wider discussions about machine learning and the organizations pushing it.

#ai #machine learning #llm #large language model #chatgpt #chatgpt4 #openai #psychology #communication

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