#Malibu light bulb

[strniohoeee]

Belong To The City

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT THIS IS A 18+ STORY BEYOND THIS POINT

Pairings: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Enemies-ish to lovers, friends-ish to lovers

Synopsis: Chris is such an arrogant asshole to Y/N, but when she snaps back he loses all control and pulls her to the side ⚠️THIS IS SMUT SO LEAVE ME ALONE⚠️

Warnings⚠️: This is straight up smut okay, so any young person PLZ PLZ go away and get off tumblr and go to bed please. Oh god what’s in here?? Manhandling, spit, mean Chris, crazy dirty talk. Mannnn idek this shit is intense, and I’m not even a Chris girl, but I put my whole pussy into this one

Song for the story: Belong To The City-PARTYNEXTDOOR

Right now I was currently standing in the corner of the living room of the triplets house as they had a party going around for completing the tour. It was mainly a celebration party for Chris, but Nick and Matt would never admit to that. However for me it was like my eternal hell. I absolutely hated parties especially ones full of all these LA “influencers” who were only here because they wanted to see who’s pants they could get into first. Same boring game over and over, so I stand in the corner at most parties with a drink in my hand observing everyone else, listening in on conversations and cringing at how embarrassing some of these people were. It brought me great joy, and I could ignore how badly I wanted to claw my way out this sweaty body infested house.

I went to take a sip from my orange solo cup, and noticed it was empty, so I made my way over to the kitchen. In there was Nick, Matt, Tril, Chris, Madi and a few other close friends of ours. Although I love the triplets, and they know how much I hate parties I always am on my best behavior for them!

“Yooo look who decided to join the party” Tril said bumping my shoulder. I just give a slight upturn of my mouth

“Haha so funny….” I replied back rolling my eyes

“Hey! Lighten up! Let loose, this is a celebratory party “ Tril answered back grabbing me by my shoulders

“You’re clearly very drunk, I’m having a great time watching all these people embarrass themselves trying to get into y’all’s pants” I replied back looking at all the drink options. My eyes light up once I see the strawberry Malibu

“Woahhh get into our pants?? Says who” Matt replies looking around curious

I pour a shot and gulp it down, and then another before I go to pour my third shot I look up and answer

“Nearly every single person in here” I replied down my third shot after pouring it

“You should slow down on the shots” when I bring my head down after downing my shot I lock eyes with Chris

“Ouu is the king of parties telling me to slow down on drinking??? Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?” I said laughing along with everybody else

“No I’m just saying you tend to get a little out of hand when you’ve had a little too much Malibu” Chris responded shrugging. To this Nick giggles and has a light bulb moment

“Oh my fucking god like that one time you drank Malibu at that one party and puked on that guys dick” Nick says giggling….he was completely sober, so why in the fuck was he saying such a thing. My eyes pop out of my head

“First of all not true, and second of all you guys always purchase Malibu knowing it’s my favorite and then get upset when I wanna have fun” I said back with an attitude

“Maybe control your liquor intake and you wouldn’t be choking on dicks” Chris retorted back laughing hard with Matt while they leaned on each other for support like it was the funniest shit ever

“I can promise you I’ve never choked on a single dick, and I also promise you I’ve never sucked dick while drunk before…that’s a rookie mistake fuck face” I say back throwing ice cubes at him from my cup

“That’s not how I interpreted it when you were gagging on my dick, but I mean hey” He said back with the most smug smirk I have ever seen. My blood was boiling, my skin was on fire, I was seeing white hot rage.

Back in high school Chris and I got really close one year. It was actually the summer going into senior year, and to say I had a crush on him was an understatement. I really liked the kid, but I knew he’d never see me that way. But for some reason we had a really romantic summer, and at the end of it we decided to be each other's first everything. That being said I had never seen a dick nor touched or sucked one, and he was pretty large, so I did in fact gag a few times. Needless to say after that summer we never spoke about it again, and we actually acted like we never liked one another after that, so there was always this weird tension here and there

“You’re such a fucking dick” Was all I could get out, I was angry but I was hurt mostly. It was something we swore we’d keep to ourselves, and here he goes airing it out to his brothers and our friends, and making me feel embarrassed.

“Chris not fucking cool” Madi said giving him a disgusted look.

“Oh come on it was a harmless joke I swear” He said acting shocked that nobody liked what he said

“You fucking idiot you always take shit too far” Nick said smacking him in the back of his head. I looked over to Chris with no emotions

“No, honestly it’s fine he can’t eat pussy for shit, and when I did let him go down on me he was crying from all the emotions, talking about some “aww you’re wet for me” pfft you wish….hes a fucking joke in bed” I responded giving him a bitchy smile. Everyone’s jaw dropped and Chris just clenched his jaw and scoffed. He pushed himself off the edge of the sink and walked over to me. He grabbed me by my upper arm and yanked me hard towards the direction of his room downstairs. As he was walking me with him harshly like a scolded child all I could hear was laughing and and them going “OUUUU” like I was some school delinquent getting told to step out of class.

Chris firmly walks me down the steps into his room slamming the door shut behind us. All that could be heard now was PARTYNEXTDOOR blasting from upstairs. When he’s a little more into his room he fully throws me down to the floor, and I fall smacking against the wooden floors.

“Ouch you fucking prick, I’m not a fucking ragdoll” I said as I get myself up and try to shake off the embarrassment.

“Yeah? Well you ain’t shit to me after that little stunt you pulled up there” he said towering over me by a few inches.

“Oh me? I’m the bad guy?? Yeah let’s not play victim” I said back to him crossing my arms over my shoulder

“Oh no let’s not! But let's tell the truth shall we” Chris stated back flashing his white smile. I go to cut him off, but he immediately speaks loudly over me.

“Truth is you did choke on my dick because it’s too big and you can’t take it, truth is you were the one crying when I was going down on you, you were fucking trembling and shaking moaning like a little bitch…..fucking thighs shaking like a complete untouched virgin” He said laughing at me now with his arms crossed over his chest

“We can fake orgasms you know” I told him sizing him up

“When your cum was dripping down my chin? Yeah that wasn’t fake mama, and the way you just laid there limp like a fucking used slut” He responded laughing in my face. God why were his words making me hot and bothered? WHEN DID CHRIS BECOME SO FUCKING HOT?

“Fuck you” was all I could manage because I was genuinely getting turned on by the way he was treating me and the memories of him abusing my pussy.

“Yeah you wish” Chris said rolling his eyes

“I’m not 17 anymore I’ve got experience now, I bet you couldn’t make me cum” I told him…well more like challenging him.

“Please I’d have you used and abused by the end of this party babe” he said stepping closer. Fuck this man really got it….

“Is that a bet?” I asked, raising my brow with my arms crossed over my chest. He roughly grabbed my hands smacking them out the way and grabbed me harshly by neck pulling me in for a kiss. Our lips smashed together just tongue and teeth fighting for dominance, it was hot and it was messy.

He turned us and had us back peddling to his bed. Once my shoes hit the edge he pushed me back, as I laid back he pulled his shirt off along with his hat. I decided to take my shirt off as well

“Fuck Chris you’re so hot when you’re not speaking” I said to him as he came lower to continue kissing me

“Could say the same about you too” He said as nudged my head up and started to leave wet kisses all down my neck to my breast. He stopped and lifted back to look at me

“I can’t wait to have you moaning and weeping on my cock” He said with his droopy eyes lazily looking over me. I just grabbed him by his chain and pulled him forward to continue kissing him. He had me lift up so he could remove my bra. Once my bra was off he separated from my mouth to look down at my chest. His eyes shimmered. I will say I had a last minute puberty incident at 17 I was a size C, but now at 21 I’m a size DD.

“Since when did you get boobs” He asked, laughing while kneading them and moaning a little bit. I let out a sigh/whimper at the feeling of his large hands caressing my breasts.

“Don’t be a fucking weirdo” I said back to him rolling my eyes. He just chuckled and came down to take one of my hard nipples into his mouth while kneading the other one. God I was getting so wet just by this interaction alone, and I know he’d make fun of me for it once he got to removing my bottoms.

He continued to massage them as I let out little moans and gasps of breath. I could feel my underwear being completely soaked right now. My pussy was throbbing, and it was aching a painful ache. I so badly needed him to touch me. He was doing this so he can hold it over my head in the future about how wet I was for him. He hovers over my boobs and spits on one of my nipples. A shocked gasp came from my mouth followed by a moan. He does the exact to the opposite breast and uses his flat palms to massage the spit in. My eyebrows were knotted together and my mouth was hung open. He was doing this all so I could beg him to move on from my breast, but I was enjoying this, so that wasn’t happening.

“Next time I’m fucking your tits, and coming all over them, and then leaving you here like a dirty whore covered in my cum” He said to me biting his lip

“Fuck Chris don’t say shit like that” I responded trying to rub my thighs together for some friction. He looked at this and smirked.

“Now let’s get down to what I’m really here to do” after saying that he took my bottoms off leaving me in my underwear. Of course today I have on light orange underwear making my arousal very noticeable.

“Aww she made a mess for me” he said ghosting his thumb over my pussy, my body shudders from the touch

“Chris I don’t fucking care of course I’m wet you were stimulating my breast, now let’s go if you do get me to cum I’m trying to cum tonight not tomorrow” I responded clearly annoyed. He just laughs and nods his head slightly.

He slowly starts to remove my panties, and as he takes them off there’s a very visible string of my arousal connected from my pussy to my underwear. He just looks up at me and smirks, and I throw my head back and moan as the cool air in his room is causing some release to my untouched core.

Chris pulls my legs apart propping them up on the bed as he situates himself in between my legs. Once he’s comfortable he grabs both legs on either arm and spreads my thighs back. I throw my head back at how hot he looks right now.

“You’ve made such a mess, let’s make it more messy” he said and as he finished that sentence he gathered all the spit in his mouth and let it dribble down onto my wet pussy. I let out the most quiet “fuck” of my life as I watch this unravel infront of me.

As soon as he's done with that he immediately goes down and licks from my hole up to my clit. I was propped up on my elbows but my top half goes limp and I fall back moaning

“Holy shit Chris” was all I could say. He’s sucking my clit and licking it lightly grazing his teeth on my clit hit spit and my slick are mixing together creating the most ungodly sound ever. It is only then that he moans against my clit and my thighs shut around his head

“Fuck Chris oh my god….if you keep doing that I’m going to cum on your face” I said said gripping the sheets. He goes down to lick my hole and his pointy nose is banging against my clit in the most delicious way. Allowing me to moan out for him once again slamming my thighs shut around his head.

He detached from my pussy to look at me, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen….his fucked out eyes, his nose,lips and chin covered in my arousal and his spit and his cheeks are all red and rosy. He immediately goes back down to my pussy this time adding his middle finger while sucking my clit. As he’s sucking my clit he’s motioning his middle finger in a come here motion and then moans against my clit. I let out the loudest scream as I could, shaking and cumming all over his mouth and finger. Seeing flashes of white and my body coming off the bed. I had no warning. I was just hit with an intense orgasm. I was breathing heavy as i came down from my high 100% fucked out.

“What’d I say trembling and thighs shaking like a used slut” Chris said as he was removing his pants and I was just there basking in the feeling of the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I look up and see Chris stroking his hard dick while watching me pull myself together

“Chris that was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had” I stated watching his hand move up and down against his rock hard dick. I was already getting aroused again. He comes closer and takes his right hand swiping it against my pussy collecting my cum and his spit as I shudder from the sensitivity.

He uses that to stroke his dick “Should I fuck you, or should I use your cum as my lube to get off and paint your skin like the dirty slut you are?” he asks, still stroking his cock. All I could do was moan and beg him to fuck me.

Once again he spits on my pussy and on his dick using it as extra lube. He’s looking down as he places the tip at my entrance. We both lock eyes as his dick enters me, both of our mouths dropping and our eyebrows kneading together. Both of us whispering fuck. He slowly starts to go in and out.

“Fuck Chris you gotta move you feel so good I wanna feel you pounding me” I told him he bites his lip and nods starting to pick up the pace

30 seconds later he’s rapidly thrusting into me like there’s no tomorrow rubbing my nipples and then going back to my clit. I’m a moaning bitch right now, and I’m about to cum on his cock I can feel it, so I started clenching his dick.

“Fuck Y/N keep doing that I’m going to fucking cum all over you” He said into my ear with his arms on either side of my head as his chain dangles in my face and his sweat starts to fall on me.

“Chris keep touching my clit I’m going to cum so hard again” my breathing was becoming more rapid and my moans were becoming silent as my mouth would just stay open and my eyes shut. He backed up a little bit so he could look down at me while rubbing my clit.

“Fuck open your eyes I wanna hold eye contact while we cum” he said, and I did what I was told I opened my eyes just as I was about to cum, with one more thrust I came so hard on his dick clenching down and moaning while looking into his eyes. As soon as I came down from my high he pulled out and kept the eye contact while pumping his cock, and soon enough he came all over my lower stomach with his mouth wide open and bitchy whimpering moans spilling out of his mouth.

He collapsed down next to me while we both sat there in silence not moving for 5 minutes. Then Chris got up and got a warm wet rag to wipe me down with. He came back with it and was staring at my lifeless body there still shuddering.

As he’s wiping my stomach down he states “exactly what I said a fucked out used slut” he looks at me chuckling

I turn my head to him “Chris you just let out the most whiniest moan as you came on me” I said as we both laughed.

“You know I didn’t mean for my joke to hurt your feelings I truly thought you were over the feelings for me. I’m not over my feelings for you, but I thought saying that would help me get over it” he said after wiping me down

“Chris I was never over you. I lost my virginity to you, that’s a soul tie and you’ll forever have a special place in my heart” I told him looking at him. He helped me sit up so we can sit face to face

“Good because I have never wanted someone so badly in my life as much as I want you” Chris responded back moving my hair behind my ear. I just smiled at that and looked into his eyes

“Let me take you on a date, and try again. None of that high school shit I want this for real” He said looking into my eyes for an answer

“I’d love that” I said going in to kiss him. As I pulled back we hear a knock at the door

“Are yall done fucking the parties over and we need help cleaning” Nick said from the other side. Chris and I both looked at each other wide eyed laughing because we totally forgot there was a whole house party going on upstairs.

“Uh yeah we’ll be right out” we both said.

The end 😀

Okay I warned yall this is just a little bit of the type of shit I write, and I used to write this at 14 LMFAOOOO. But anyways leave some NICE comments. All young people under 18, that are rude are gonna be blocked cause I can’t do this shit. My mouth is crazy I’m from New York😁🤞🏽

I’m writing a sweet Matt smut next will either be up later tonight or tomorrow 😘🧎🏽‍♀️

[drivinmeinsane]

{ Under Pressure }

※ Driver (solo) ※ { masterlist } ※ { ao3 } ※

※ Summary: Driver is feeling under the weather. Blaming the oppressive Los Angeles heat for the tightness in his chest, the mechanic leaves in the middle of his shift to try to recover only to receive a shock when it turns out to be something that he should be utterly incapable of. ※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content. ※ Content/tags: Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Cumming Untouched. ※ Word count: 1,666 ※ Status: Oneshot/complete ※ Author's note: n/a

Time is going by painfully slowly. Every movement is laced with discomfort, and Driver can hardly focus on his work. His chest has felt tight since he left his apartment this morning. Each movement serves to agitate it.

The mechanic is in the midst of removing the last lug nut on a customer’s car when he feels something slide down his torso. He’s been flushed and sweating since he started work, so he thinks little of it. Summers in Los Angeles are hot and it is certainly warm in the open air of the garage. Exertion combined with whatever is wrong with him must be taking a toll. He feels unusually sticky beneath his layers.

“You look like shit, kid.” Shannon comments, catching the distressed eyes of his employee.

He shrugs in response, setting the impact driver aside on the cart alongside the rest of his tools and the displaced lug nuts. What is there to say? Shannon’s right. Driver knows he looks like a wreck and he sure feels like it too.

“Look…” The other man sucks his teeth thoughtfully, “Get that tire set off to the side and just get outta here. Go home. Get some rest. I don’t want to catch whatever illness has you looking like that. Damn.”

Driver doesn’t have it in himself to argue. He pulls the tire off the hub and drops it onto the floor beside the tool cart with a grunt. The action provokes another round of unexpected moisture to slick down his torso. He doesn’t return the other mechanic’s goodbye wave as he hurriedly walks past him towards his own vehicle. He doesn’t usually appreciate Shannon’s meddling, but occasionally, the older man is right.

Making contact with the steering wheel of the Malibu sends his head thudding back against the headrest as he tries to control the sudden flare of something in his gut. Pulling the seat belt over his sensitive chest and feeling it tighten into place when he buckles it has him gritting his teeth. He can’t put a finger on the sensation he’s feeling. It’s almost as though his skin feels too tight, too hot. The drive back to his apartment is immensely unpleasant. He flexes his hands over and over on the steering for the entire journey.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The first thing that Driver does when he gets home after closing the door behind himself is strip off his work button-up and toss it onto the kitchen counter with his keys. He wrestles himself out of his socks and boots before he makes his way to the bathroom and fumbles for the light switch. The minute the bulbs come to life with a buzz, he’s confronted with the sight of himself in the mirror. His undershirt is soaked through in some places. The blue fabric is darker from mid chest and downwards. He skates a concerned hand over the damp material, catching the hem of the shirt right above his belt and pulling it up to his chin. He almost takes it off entirely but decides against it. That seems too intimate.

His eyes trail back to the mirror and he freezes at seeing his reflection. He has been feeling discomfort for a number of weeks, ever since he had taken an active role in his neighbors’ lives. His chest has felt larger, each pec more defined than they had been prior. The stunt driver had chalked it up to muscle growth. He has been doing more lifting and carrying lately between increased work at the garage and helping out the woman living down the hall. But this… There is no precedent for this. His nipples are swollen into hard, straining peaks. The veins are more prominent than before, lightning arcs of blue against the pale sky of his skin.

Warily, Driver presses his fingers to his right areola. His breath gets caught in his throat at the feeling. A white substance beads on the tip, teetering precariously. He presses a little harder, giving the sensitive flesh a slight squeeze. A spurt of fluid surprises him. It runs, opaque and thick, over his fingers. Despite his better judgment, he lifts the hand to his face and gives the liquid an exploratory sniff. It smells slightly sweet. Surely, it can’t be what he’s thinking it might be. He brushes his tongue over it in doubt. The substance is rich and creamy on his taste buds. It’s milk.

His mind goes blank with shock. He’s lactating. Somehow, impossibly, his body is producing milk. For a moment, he considers pulling his shirt back down and going down the hall to ask his neighbor for help. She had given birth to a kid. He’s not pregnant, not even capable of it, but she might know what to do. He imagines himself knocking on her door, explaining that his chest is leaking milk, and the thought horrifies him. He can’t do it. He’s alone in this and he has to resolve it by himself.

He wipes the spit-slicked hand on his shirt before gripping the pulled up hem between his teeth. Driver braces a hand on the edge of the sink, he traces his fingers shakily down from his cloth filled mouth and back to his pectoral. He finds the nipple again and gives it another firm squeeze. More milk leaks out, but the pressure underneath the surface doesn’t feel as intense.

Driver searches his mind for any scrap of information that might assist him with this. He remembers going on a field trip to a hobby farm when he was young, before he stopped going to school at 16. Gradually, the memory of the farmer explaining how to milk a cow comes to mind. He cringes at himself for the association but does his best to mimic the instructions he was given a decade ago. He grips himself at the base of the nipple with his thumb and pointer finger, as close to the skin of his breast as he can go. Slowly, he gives it a gentle pull and is rewarded with a steady spurt. Encouraged, he lets go of the sink and takes his other, more tender, nipple in hand. He mimics the milking motion he had done for the other. The relief is immense. He can’t help but relax into it. His skin doesn’t feel so tight over his engorged chest now that he has drained some of the milk.

A deep breath through his nose and straightened back gets him on the right track to start dealing with the problem in earnest. With both hands tugging his nipples between the calloused pads of his fingers, he allows himself to wonder what it would feel like to have someone’s mouth doing the work for him. If he concentrates, he can almost feel the wet brush of a tongue over his tender skin. He breaks stride on one stroke just to feel the milk slick brush of his thumb against the peak. A particularly strong spray hits the mirror. The liquid runs down the surface in dense streaks.

Despite himself, he’s hard in his jeans and can’t help but grind against the edge of the sink, trying to relieve another source of internal pressure. He pants around his gag, jaw clenching. With his eyes lidded, he catches glimpses of himself in the spattered mirror, snapshots of unwilling pleasure. Saliva leaks from the corners of his mouth into the fabric of his shirt. It’s doing a commendable job of muffling his low groans and growls as he milks himself. His overworked nipples are a brilliant, rosy pink from the stimulation. Milk has run down in wide streams over his hands and down his torso, soaking into the fabric of his jeans. It’s hard to tell if the front of the pants are more of a mess from the trickling milk from his chest or the precum leaking from his cock.

Closing his eyes and hovering on the cusp of orgasm, he pushes his pelvis tightly against the sink. Driver lets himself daydream further. He lets himself imagine someone standing behind him, shoving his hands aside and taking over for him. Their hands would milk him dry with expert ease, pulling at both of his nipples, teasing the liquid from his full glands. He wonders if they would rub their own crotch against his ass while they grind him against the porcelain in front of him.

That's all it takes for his own imagination to push him over the edge into a free fall. He curls over, grabbing onto the faucet for stability as he rides it out. The moan he lets out despite being gagged is loud enough to warrant a neighborly complaint, but he hardly hears his own noises over the ringing in his ears. His cock is twitching and pulsing in his jeans. The material is a sodden mess. He pulls the shirt out of his mouth and over his head to drop it onto the floor at his feet.

Breathing heavily, legs trembling with the aftershocks, he tries to rally himself. He grabs the hand towel hanging on the rail mounted on the shower door. He has quite the mess to clean up before he can wash the rapidly cooling evidence off of himself. Breathing heavily, he wipes down the mirror. He does the best that he can in his current state and tosses the hand towel onto the floor to join his discarded shirt. His jeans follow suit.

Hurriedly, not wanting to think about the mess streaked across his skin, he turns the shower on. Not waiting for the water to heat up, the mechanic steps under the spray. The sensation of icy needles raining onto him helps to distract him from his overheated, sensitive body. He feels wrung dry, exhausted. This has to have been a one time thing. Surely, every day won’t find him with his hands on his chest, working busily at his nipples to keep the involuntary leaking at bay.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Iron Man: Part Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (implicitly)

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

"Rise and shine, Y/N," Jarvis' voice comes over the loudspeaker. You groan and roll over, shoving your face into your pillow. "It's 7 AM. The weather in Malibus is seventy-two degrees with scattered clouds. The surf conditions are fair with waist-to-shoulder high lines. High tide will be at 10:52 AM."

"Do you have to do this every time?" you huff.

"I'm afraid Mr. Stark insists."

"Yeah, well, Mr. Stark can kiss my ass. Where is he?"

"In the lab. He's requested your presence."

You get out of bed and quickly get dressed. There was something you needed to do today... something you needed to do with Tony. What was it...? A light bulb goes off in your head and you curse out loud.

"Shit. Jarvis, will you call Rhodey and tell him we're on our way? Shit, I forgot."

"Yes, ma'am."

You walk through the house, not stopping in Tony's room to see if Christine is awake. Jarvis won't let her anywhere that she isn't supposed to be which is why you're not worried about leaving her alone. You trek through the main room when you hear the clack of sleek heels on the tile.

"Good morning, Y/N." Pepper enters the room with a tight smile on her face. You have to give it to her. She's been with the company for ten years now, and she doesn't have an easy job to do. "I have your clothes here. They have been pressed and dry cleaned."

"Hi, Pepper. Those aren't mine. I wasn't here last night. They're for the woman in his bedroom."

"I see."

"Listen, I want to tell you how much I appreciate you and what you do for Tony. You do more than what's needed of you."

"Thank you," she smiles.

Tony's lab is located downstairs in the basement that is blocked off by a door that needs a code. Only you, Happy, Tony, and Pepper have a code to get through. This is where Tony works on his creations and does most of his thinking. Tony is playing hard rock music that you can hear even with the door closed. After punching in your code, you enter the lab space.

"Do you really have to wake me up at seven in the morning?"

"Don't look at me. That was Jarvis."

"Who created Jarvis?" you joke. "He said you needed me down here. What's going on?"

"Would you believe me if I said I got lonely?"

"Tony, I'd have believed you if you said you wanted me to get you a coffee from the cart across the room."

"Would you?"

"What are you working on?" you chuckle. One of his dad's old but pristine cars is in front of him with the motor out. Based on what you see on the screen, you believe he's building a new motor for it. "A new motor?"

"The old one crapped out."

Pepper walks down the stairs and enters the code to the same door you entered through. She is on the phone with someone and as soon as she enters, the music turns down.

"Please don't turn down my music."

"I'll keep you posted." She hangs up. "You two are supposed to be halfway around the world right now."

"Yes, that's why I came down here. You told Rhodey you'd be there hours ago."

"Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?"

"Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago."

"That's funny, I thought with it being my plane and all that it would just wait for me to get there."

"Tony, I need to speak to you about a couple of things before I get you out of the door," she sighs and looks at the paperwork in her hands.

"Doesn't it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?"

"Larry called. He's got another buyer for the Jackson Pollock in the wings. Do you want it? Yes or no."

"Is it a good representation of his spring period?"

"No. The Springs was actually the neighborhood in East Hampton where he lived and worked, not 'spring' like the season. I think it's a fair example. I think it's incredibly overpriced."

"I need it. Buy it. Store it," he declares. 

Both you and Pepper can't help but smile at his attitude. Tony is not like anyone you've ever met.

"I need you to sign this before you get on the plane," she says and opens the file in her hands.

"What are you trying to get rid of me for? What, you got plans?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"I don't like it when you have plans," he flirts.

Tony is a natural-born flirt and Pepper is the perfect person to direct that energy to. She's been with him long enough o know the kind of person he is and she hasn't left him... yet.

"I'm allowed to have plans on my birthday."

"It's your birthday?" you ask with a quiet gasp.

"Yes."

"I knew that. Already?" Tony asks.

"Yeah. Isn't that strange? It's the same day as last year," she flirts back.

She looks over at you, clears her throat, and becomes stoic again. It's as if she knows you're watching her and doesn't want to get in trouble. Why? Tony is free for the taking.

"Get yourself something nice for me."

"I already did," she smirks.

"And?"

"Oh, it was very nice. Very tasteful. Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You're welcome, Miss. Potts."

"Okay, if you're done flirting with each other, we got a plane to catch," you interrupt.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Whenever Tony drives one of his own cars, it's never for the scenic route. Tony loves speed and often proves to you and Happy just how fast he can go without killing anyone. Happy is being you trying to catch up with the speed Tony is going at and even lost him a couple of times. Rhodey is definitely going to give you shit when you arrive which you are prepared for. Toyn races into the airport and screeches to a halt with Happy right behind him.

"You're good. I thought I lost you back there," Tony laughs as he gets out.

"You did, sir. I had to cut across Mulholland," Happy replies and gets the bags from the trunk.

Rhodey is standing right outside the open door of the plan with a deep frown on his face. Shit, you're really in for it now.

"What's wrong with you?" Rhodey snaps.

"What?"

"Three hours."

"I got caught doing a piece for Vanity Fair," Tony lies.

"For three hours? For three hours, you got me standing here," he glares.

"I'm waiting on you now. Let's go. Come on."

Tony smiles and walks onto the plane, Happy is right behind him with the bags, and you turn to Rhodey with an apologetic look on your face.

"I'm so sorry, Rhodey. I woke up late and--"

"Don't worry about it. We're late."

You and Rhodey walk into the plane as the pilot prepares for take-off. It's only until you are at cruising altitude that you're able to move around and relax a bit more without seatbelts. The flight attendant on board gets drinks and food ready for you three, and Rhodey takes out a newspaper to read.

"What are you reading, platypus?" Tony asks but Rhodey deflects his question. "Come on, sour patch. Don't be mad."

"I told you, I'm not mad. I'm indifferent, okay?"

"I said we were sorry," you pout. 

Being with Tony for twenty years has changed you as a person. You're not like who you were in the 40s. Bucky and Steve kept you honest, loyal, and sane. While some of that is still true today, you're more lenient with things and more spontaneous because of Tony. He taught you that you can allow yourself to let go and enjoy the moment instead of worrying about the future like Steve often did.

"You don't need to apologize to me. I'm just indifferent right now. You don't respect yourself so I know you don't respect me."

The flight attendant comes by with three hot towels which everyone accepts. She grabs three plates of sashimi and puts them in front of you, Tony, and Rhodey.

"I respect you."

"I'm just your babysitter. So, when you need your diaper changed let me know and I'll get you a bottle, okay?"

"Hey! Heat up the sake, will you?" Tony asks the only flight attendant on board. "Thanks for reminding me."

"We're not drinking. We're working right now," Rhodes frowns.

"You can't have sashimi without sake."

"You are constitutionally incapable of being responsible."

"It would be irresponsible not to drink. I'm just talking about a nightcap," Tony shrugs.

"Come on, Rhodey. Just one drink. You need to unwind and let your feathers ruffle," you grin.

You and Tony accept the alcoholic drink from the flight attendant, and Rhodey hesitantly accepts his. However, after the first sip, he starts to calm down. Before you know it, he's as loose as a goose. They both moved the party to the couch, Tony turns on some music and allowed the lights to change different colors as if you were at the club.

"When I get up in the morning and I'm putting on my uniform, do you know what I recognize? I see in that mirror that every person that's got this uniform on got my back!" Rhodey grins. 

"Hey, you know what? I'm not like you. I'm not cut out--"

"No, no. You don't have to be like me! You're more than what you are!" Rhodey cuts him off. 

A metal pole rises from the middle of the room and the flight attendant comes out to dance. Well if you can't beat them, join them. You down the rest of your drink and get up to dance with the lady. Tony watches with a grin but tries to pay attention to what Rhodey is saying.

"Can you excuse me if I'm a bit distracted here?"

"No! You can't be distracted right now! Listen to me!"

The rest of the flight is spent dancing, singing along to the music, drinking, and having a good time. Though, Rhodey calmed down right before he got off the plane at the Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan. The General and a handful of soldiers are waiting for you at the end of the line.

"General," Tony says and shakes his hand.

"Welcome Mr. Stark and Ms. Y/L/N. We look forward to your weapons presentation."

"Thank you," you smile and shake his hand.

To test something as big as the missile Tony and his team created, it needs to be tested in the appropriate field that the Army uses for things like this. It's quite a far distance from the base but you don't mind the extra drive. Everyone who wasn't busy attended this weapons demonstration because they were curious as to what Tony is capable of. Once you arrive, Tony stands in front of everyone with his back turned to the mountain behind him.

"Is it better to be feared or respected? Is it too much to ask for both? With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel of Stark Industries' Freedom Line. It's the first missile system to incorporate our proprietary repulsor technology. They say the best weapon is one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once. That's how Dad did it, and that's how America does it." He gestures to the person in charge to launch the weapons. The rocket launches into the air and breaks apart to allow tons of tiny bombs to fly from the middle of it to maximize damage. "If you find an excuse to let one of these off the chain, I personally guarantee you the bad guys won't even want to come out of their caves. For your consideration, the Jericho."

Just as he finishes speaking, the bombs hit the mountains and explode rock and debris to the fullest. A gust of wind shoots toward the group from the explosion, and you subtly use your aerokinesis to advert the wind to stay away from you. Everyone is impressed with the weapon for sale, and they break into small groups to talk about it. Obadiah must be watching the time because he calls Tony to ask how it went. You're about to go after him when Rhodey gently grabs your arm.

"Hey, what's up?" you ask.

"I don't mean disrespect at all, but why are you here? Like, here? I know you've been a big part of Tony's life but you didn't help design these."

"Actually, I was. I just don't like the attention. I'll save that one for Tony. Plus, I couldn't let him come alone, and the General was more than okay with me coming. I don't see a problem here."

Like hell, you're gonna tell him you're an alien with powers. He'd have the entire Army on your ass in seconds. You leave his side and join Tony inside one of the military vehicles that will take you back to base.

"Wait, Tony!"

"Sorry, Rhodey, this is the fun car. The boring one is right behind us."

Rhodey resists an eye roll because he's actually kind of proud of Tony.

"Nice job back there."

"See you back on base."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[rpmtrish]

Classic Instruments Releases 1978-88 Chevy G-Body Package

Boyne City, MI, October 31, 2023 —   Classic Instruments is pleased to release an all new 1978–’88 Chevy G-Body direct-fit package. It is an all-electric cluster featuring a speedometer, tachometer, clock, and fuel, oil, temp, and volt gauges in an OE style; available either with or without overdrive. Hybrid LED Lighting offers the feel of the original perimeter lighting and the visual benefits of back-lighting: even illumination and clear nighttime readability. Turn signals and high beam indicators are in the original locations and the kit includes new check engine and high beam sockets with LED bulbs. Additional indicator bulbs are available for purchase. The kit also includes: a wiring harness, push-button speedometer calibration for ease of setup, a new acrylic lens, and built-in ECM signal filter switch. Save space with Classic Instruments’ Zeus Speedometer Technology built-in, meaning the cluster requires no external control boxes and works directly with ECM or VSS signals. The fuel gauge is programmable for many ohm ranges with a selector switch on the back of the cluster, meaning the fuel gauge will work with the stock sending unit, any other factory sending units, or any Classic Instruments fuel sending unit. All other necessary sending units are included in a Classic Instruments GM sending unit kit. Install using customers’ existing diffuser. Complete list of fitment includes: 1982–1987 Chevrolet El Camino, 1982–1983 Chevrolet Malibu, 1982–1988 and 78-81 Chevrolet Monte Carlo, and 1982–1987 GMC Caballero. This new 1978–’88 Chevy G-Body Package is available direct or through any one of its authorized dealers. Classic Instruments has been handcrafting in America since 1977. The company offers a full line of catalog order instrumentation for a wide range of Ford and Chevy model cars and pick-up trucks, plus over 100 universal fit instruments. The Classic Instruments’ line also includes many specialty items such as performance series instruments, Zeus speedometer technology, and Fuel-Link. Classic Instruments can build virtually anything through their dedicated Instrument Customization Unit. Whether it’s a direct-fit set, retro-fit, or complete custom their team is ready to help add “The finishing touch”TM to any project.   Read the full article

[kylo-wrecked]

@brooklynislandgirl :// { cont'd from ~~~ }

—☾—

Just a night or two because she's generous and lonely, and he's greedy and lonely. And maybe because she catches on, and Beth somehow figures going out east will limit his access to certain party favors, but New York's New York. There's salt on the surf even this far out. Especially this far out. Ben does one tidy bump off the side of his hand in the bathroom—that's it, the last one—and minutes later, he's engrossed with every syllable that leaves Beth's wine-plump lips. 

Beth speaks, and Ben gets a taste of her world, flashes of shark fins in bloody sacks, colorless, scaly soups, trembling, knobby hands, reaching out for nothing. She's woven herself into the thread of the land she called home, through generations of sorrow. Even if it means most of what she knows is pain, Beth's thoroughly true to herself. Makes his cock warm, but that’s a problem for later. 

"You're a whole slice of angel, aren't you?" he says with tilted head. "Messenger of the gods. 'Every angel is terror.' Says some Austrian guy, who's probably right."  

'Wha' about you?'

The architecture of Ben Solo shifts then. His head jerks upright. The smile he wears is prim. He even frowns for a split second—just there—appearing ever so slightly puzzled once it registers, when the crescents of Beth's teeth blink from the shadows of his eyes, like lights going out, that she expects an earnest answer from him, as though there were any criteria of human mess Ben might avoid. Under the flickering storm lights, he is smooth as a Swiss Army knife with all its tools tucked away. There's a peculiar glaze over his features, an odd distance in his stare that is generally starkly present. 

"Come on, Riley," he says, tipping the contents in the bulb without drinking. "I'm the avoidee in this scenario. I'm selfish. I get bored. Then I get wired." 

He taps a thumb to the stem of his wine glass, keeping rhythm with the soft bass humming from the patio speakers on his right and clinking over the faint whish of conversation from the white tablecloths and the ocean to his left. 

"I'm a walking red flag." 

Ben shouldn't talk like this. It's just the blow coming off, the wine. Beth. He should stop talking. But he says, "It's bad. I try going to church. Confession. I always have my foot on the threshold. It's public knowledge." 

"I think..." He looked around, lewd eyes darting over sand-washed wood panels and paper furniture from Williams Sonoma. The cougars in Dooney & Bourke and double-hemmed white shorts. "It's just; I can't stand anyone who eats granola every morning but won't let the weedheads use the fucking beach chairs."

The Hamptons were fuckin' weird. Like a cold, Amish Newport or a pancake flat Malibu.

"Joking." Ben raises his glass to Beth, slides into a more comfortable grin, another topic. "I don't know limits, but I'd never eat an apex predator. To the sharks. They're having their revenge this summer—and to you."

He smiles. Not so prim this time. Big red flag, hoisting himself into the sky. 

"I like you."

He drinks.  

[yjrescue]

New tires and brakes! It's roadworthy! Put in some fresh gas and it ran noticeably better. Still needs that new starter, which I’ll order soon. Yes they’re highway tread, don’t at me. Tires are crazy expensive right now & I found these Kumho 225/75R15’s for $80 each. Good A/T’s were much pricier and they add up quicker when buying five. Slightly bigger than what was on it (these are Sahara-stock sized), but they look good to me.

Lights are all working-- I want the interior bulbs to be all the same color, but this is fine for now, especially since they look more alike in person. I’m still thinking about LED’s there but I probably want warm white anyway so may as well keep cheaper incandescents. Amber LED’s could look cool, but I’m not sure the different size LED bulbs would colormatch correctly either.

Turns out all the exterior lights are working fine, even the bent & broken ones—I just needed to see them in the dark. So that’s great news, something else to not spend money on, though I’d love to replace them at some point in the future.

Sadly, thwarted in my plans to take off the trailer hitch over the weekend. One side is installed through the leaf springs (is that normal?) and the other side is welded. Sooo, maybe I’ll just scrape and spray rust converter on it. It looks terrible, so maybe soon.

I have to reevaluate my plans for the tub. There’s really no way I can spend the time it needs to get it looking good. I’ve bought some Malibu yellow in a rattle can for touch up but doubt I’ll be needing it for a bit. I need to focus on the basics instead, like how it runs.

Will fix the seat belts and put the tub refinishing on hold. I got two of the passenger seatbelt bolts out but two won’t budge. Soaked them in PB Blaster overnight and still no luck. Will try again in two weeks, at which point I’ll have the new belts on hand to install. Opted to buy a set of TJ belts off eBay for $40. A pair of belts for the YJ were about $200 everywhere I looked, and it seems like the TJ buckle end is the right length for the stock sleeve below, which I’d like to reuse. They were cheap enough to risk it!

And no new wasp nests yet.

[zamincharger]

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[srrbcableconnector]

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[bathbeyond]

【BUILT FOR INDOOR / OUTDOOR USE】Specially designed for outdoor landscape and low voltage lighting, fully encapsulated to keep moisture away from LEDs. ✔Use them in RV Camper ceiling dome fixture lights or outdoor wall mount, edge, walkway, garden, fences, downlight, path and patio deck lighting and more.

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[maybe-your-left]

Could you write a piece on Frat boy Kylo/ Fuck boy Kylo. Like y/n is in a sorority but she’s a quite girl so Kylo see’s here as a conquest. But falls for her

wrote this while listening to this song on repeat, I hope you enjoy it.

also, no taglist because no one interacts anyway!

I made a little sign for it because I felt like it needed some cover art :)

ALSO ALSO, we are sorority girls (sisters) and sororities have paired fraternities (brothers) so the First Order is our brother frat. AND, Xi is pronounced ‘Z’ in the Greek alphabet and is the nickname of our sorority we are in. which is called the Xi Wings (like x-wings but not).

The house is a mess.

Walk through the front door, that's held on by barely three screws and smearing in maybe... eggs? Greeted by a dark brown leather couch that has someone slumped in it, maybe sleeping off a hangover? A blue bucket by their head in case of emergency, god knows you wouldn't use the bathroom here.

Leftover gym equipment is scattered around a faded green pong table, with leftover cups that were filled with beer maybe 12 hours ago. Pong balls litter the floor, crunching under your shoes as you walk on the equally crunchy flooring.

A hallway comes next, narrow and without a light. Was punched out a few weeks ago during a fight that resulted in the faded bulb shattering someone's fist. Fluorescent lights blind your vision while you enter the next rooms, the kitchen, and the back living area. Where someone has dragged the backseat of a minivan’s chairs into the middle of the floor, faded and green with stains and other items that make you want to gag. 

The stove is cracked in the front. 

The counters are sticky and smell like someone spilled Malibu rum all over the glasses, and a stray glass of orange juice sits precariously by the edge of the sink. And also a jack o’ lantern, that someone took a bite out of? 

You huffed a sigh and stepped over the glass on the linoleum before peering over the crowded kitchen island. Spying more bodies scattered on the floor of the back living area. String lights strobing over the darkened windows, covered in the fraternities flags, to keep people from peering in on them, apparently. 

One-two-three… 

“Hey,” you cleared your throat, holding tight to the strap of your shoulder bag, “Hey, guys?” 

A chorus of groans responded to you, along with two of the three lumps moving under blankets or jackets. The beanbag occupant rolled so you could see their face, green eyes. Not who you were looking for.

“What,” a burp, you could smell it from where you stood, “What the fuck, Xi”

You purse your lips, looking around the rest of the kitchen instead of answering. You were just doing your job-checking on the brothers to see if they were breathing… and didn’t do too much damage to the house. It was essential recruitment 101, you were the newest so you had to do the dirty work for monitoring the brother fraternity. 

“I-I was just checking on you guys, Bazine t-told me I had to follow up with the president?” 

Another groan, green eyes rubbing his face with a suspiciously dirty-looking hand. You stepped back into the crunchy kitchen, “Sorry-I just let myself in…I can come check later?” 

“Nah,” he shot off the bean bag, launching his hands to his knees before taking a disgusting-wet breath. Your nose scrunched, preparing to watch this man throw up all over himself… how hard did these guys party last night? 

“Sorry,” green eyes stood up, running a hand through his short, curly hair, “I’m not mad, just seems early for one of the checks. Are you new?” 

You popped your lips, arms crossed over your chest. Wounded, only a little, maybe, he didn’t recognize you? After rush and pledge week, you’d been around him dozens of times, and introduced yourself to him, albeit that was when he was drunk… You smiled, raising your hand to move on and try and make a better impression, “Yes,” regretting putting your hand out when he took it with his gross one. 

“Kuruk,” he pointed to his chest. 

You feigned a smile, of course, Kuruk.

“So, you’re looking for our fearless leader?” Kuruk chuckled, stepping past you barefoot on the broken glass. He didn’t even flinch! You spun around and walked around the mess, determined to get this over with and let the president know your message. “He’s probably upstairs in his room, sleeping off a wicked hangover. That guy went too hard,” he laughed again while you followed him throughout the various dirty rooms. 

Grabbing items along the way, you cringed as he lit up a glass-blown pipe, smelly weed crumbled in an end. He didn’t hesitate to smoke some right in front of you, thank goodness for him blowing it away from you… 

And then walking through it. 

You stepped over various obstacles, from a full-grown man to a pile of women’s high heels that must’ve been left here throughout their parties. Softly saying sorry every time your boot hit the edge of someone's shoulders, or squashed that one girl's pinkie… 

It felt like you’d been walking forever until you came to the top of the stairs. You were faced with a long hallway littered with trash, and a mirror on the floor for some reason. You followed him right up to the sharpied black front door at the end. 

Kuruk turned to you, pausing his raised fist to knock, “Be careful, he has a lizard and it bites.” 

“Wha?” you started before Kuruk knocked as loud as he could, yelling at full volume…

“BAZ SENT ONE OF THE XI’S HERE TO CHEW YOU OUT!” 

You blanched, what?

The door literally flew off its hinges into the hallway past your face. Hitting the back of Kuruks knees, you slid to the sidewall. Breathing sharp small breaths while an animal came out of the darkness inside. 

You took in the sight before you, staring at a very tattooed shoulder of a naked man. The same man you knew to be the president of the fraternity you were bound to. The same man you knew to be the school's biggest playboy. And also the same man who ‘broke up with’ your sororities president last night. 

And here he stood, completely naked you might add, pointing a finger down the dark hallway at Kuruk who was laughing at the tops of the stairs. Ankles most definitely bleeding, the man began screaming, “You fuck! I was fucking sleeping! I don’t need any of those fucking sluts from Xi’ over here! Get the fuck-Oh.” 

You stayed completely still. 

Eyes wide as you stared into his face, stuck between pure anger and instant remorse as he stared right back. 

Dropping his hands immediately to hover over your trembling shoulders, you jolted as he grew closer. You stared between his large eyes filled with worry, hazel eyes. Those eyes you’d stared at unblinking for weeks in a row. At chapter meetings, club pledging, rush week, Sunday dinners, and around campus, you couldn’t stop. His face filled your chest with warm butterflies that fluttered all over until you had to cough one up just to stop. 

Kylo Ren's eyes. 

He looked you over, licking his lips before speaking to you in a much softer voice, “I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re a slut… I was just saying that because your president is a slut.”

You were taken aback, his worried form instantly relaxing to laugh at your face. Completely confused and a little disgusted how he leaned away from you after such rude words about Bazine. She was nice and caring towards you, not the best friend you’d ever had, but she made you feel good, and sent you on easy chores across campus for her! 

“That's my president you’re bad mouthing,” you rolled your eyes, focusing now on the ceiling, “I’m just here to check on you guys and give you a message.” 

“Oh yeah?” he mocked, “And what’s so important that Baz sent a little Mouseketeer to deliver it?” 

“You know you’re very rude.” 

His eyebrows shot up, “Am I?” 

You tensed at his tone, squished between him and his lair, and the staircase to his goons. He planted his left forearm over your head and leaned in very close. Invading your bubble with his naked torso, angling his hips to face you… 

“Please,” you scrunch your eyes closed, “Put some clothes on…” 

“You must be new,” he took a long breath, exhaling over your face while you shivered, “Yeah, I don’t recognize your perfume. What's wrong, baby? Open your eyes and look at me.” 

You shook your head, no. 

“Come on, I don’t bite,” you jumped as he wrapped his thumb and finger around your chin. Jutting out with his grip, “Unless you like that, huh? Come on-look at me.” 

You opened one eye carefully, met with a dramatic smile that made your stomach lurch. Fighting the instinct to look down and see if his personality was compensating for something else… 

“Hi-you’re definitely a new girl, none of the others bother to tell me Baz’s ridiculous message. They usually stay for other things,” he flashed a grin, eying the doorway into his room. Your eyes followed him towards a lump in his mattress, a barefoot peeking out from the black sheets. Lips smacked by your ear, “There's the last girl who came.” 

A groan came from the bed, “Why are you talking so loud?” 

“Shut up, Kaydel,” he barked over you towards the pile. Your heart sank at the name, that was the vice president of your sorority. What-what was she doing there? You floundered in his hold, wanting to tell him he was a liar, but you also recognized the voice. There was no way it wasn’t her…

“So, do you really wanna read me that message, or do you wanna strip down to your bra and I’m guessing? Thong? And hop in the bathroom with me?” 

Your head snapped toward him, completely taken aback by his suggestion. That you would willingly jump into bed with this man, who still wouldn’t cover up his private bits!? 

“You know,” he stepped back, straightening to his full height, “I bet Kaydel would be down for a threeway if you aren’t a prude…” 

“KAY! Can we fuck one of your sisters together?” 

“You know what,” you backed away slowly, making your way down the crunchy hallway, “I have to go…” 

He raised a brow, walking a few slow steps forward, “Oh-do you? Come on,” he reached a palm out for you to take, “Baby, you’re too cute to walk away from me. I’ll chase you,” his other brow raised, “Do you want me to chase you?” 

Suddenly, you felt the animal instinct to bolt, like prey from a predator. He brushed his hair from his face with both hands, moving them down from his scalp to his neck. Cracking it a few times dramatically before having a long sigh. 

“Okay, I’ll count, 1-2-3-Go!” 

You spun quickly, dashing down the staircase faster than your feet could allow ever again. Rounding the corner into a sea of half-lucid people. Zombies waking up from an eternity slumber, grabbing at anything you could to ground yourself as footsteps boomed behind you. 

He wouldn’t actually… 

“Gotcha!” He laughed in your ear, “First catch of the day,” he wrapped both arms around you, bringing you to the dark cul de sac where the stairs started. Pinning you to the wall with his entire torso and urging hips. Your legs settled instinctively around his waist, regretting looking down at his very excited member… 

“We doing this or what, newbie?” 

“No,” you pushed on his shoulders, thankfully releasing you to the floor. He stepped away from you, as respectfully as he could still nude. “Thank you,” you huffed. 

He shrugged, covering a hand between his legs, like that would help. “It’s all good, just wanted to offer. Can you tell me the shitty things she has to say so I can go back upstairs?” 

You nodded, grabbing your phone to pull up the text. Now that you were reading it again, it wasn’t really a message you should be delivering, instead may be screamed at through a megaphone. You bit your lip, “Uh-it’s all good. She just wanted you to know that the meeting tomorrow is still on for the chapters… and to have a good day?” 

He snorted, “Sure-that's what she said. Just give me the phone.” 

You handed it over, staring at the ceiling while he scrolled through much more than your text conversation with Baz. You didn’t say anything, already uncomfortable enough with the encounter to make him angry. He'd already chased you down a hallway, what could be worse?

He locked the phone, dropping it back in your hands. His returning to cover himself in a much better fashion, you were grateful, turning to leave the house. Maybe go shower off the entire morning, and vow to never come back. 

“What's your name, little Xi?” 

You paused, whispering your name before turning once again to leave. His hand caught your shoulder before you could step any further. Bringing you in front of him for the third time, “You’re just gonna leave? Not without giving me a goodbye hug and kiss?” 

“I’m not hugging you like that,” you scoffed, eyes flashing down again and blushing profusely. “I’ll just see you at the meeting.” 

“And then you can give me a hug? right?” His nose scrunched with his words, moving closer to you, “Come on, just a little kiss? I won’t tell.” 

You bit your tongue, yes. Just a small one couldn’t hurt, he was so handsome and truthfully you’d want to jump him but… You let out a long breath, “Alright-fine. Just one kiss,” you held up a finger. 

Kylo mirrored you, “Just one.” 

“And then I leave,” you added, “This place is disgusting…” 

“Whatever,” he leaned down to your height, plumping his lips out for you. “One kiss.” 

You quickly launched forward, perking his pout with your own as fast as you could. Overcome with the smell of liquor and nicotine, you pulled away. 

Only you couldn’t, Kylo had wrapped his palm around the base of your skull. Keeping you trapped again to his lips. Licking for entry in your mouth, you tried to stop it, you really did. But then he let out a soft moan, and you melted… 

Kissing back with no remorse for your club president's claim on him, you brought your hands to cup his cheeks. Tugging him into your body as they crashed to get teeth-gnashing and gnawing on his lips. 

Kylos tongue plunged into your mouth, caressing yours into dancing together in a wet suction of spit. You barely made it through with your life, pushing away from him. 

The head rush left nothing but a bad taste in your mouth, while he stood and stared at you. Chest heaving deep breaths before he wiped his sticky lips with the back of his palm. 

“Oh-yeah. I’ll be seeing you around little Xi. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can do this again.” 

———— 

:) part 2

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- The past week has been hectic and tough, but we made it! Anyways, this may be the last update for this one for a couple weeks. Maybe. Finals are staring tomorrow, so I’ll only be posting things that I’ve managed to complete over the past two weeks or so. However, the exams are online and open book this semester, with way more time to complete them, so maybeeeee, I’ll sneak something in)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3  4  5  6

Warnings- Very, very slight smut

Chapter 7- Behind The Scenes

"And cut!" Jackson yelled, and after a minute of delay, Y/n along with everyone else in the scene stopped, some breathing sighs of relief, others diving straight into conversation. She'd been fretting against bindings on her arms and legs, though, upon his call, Y/n's muscles relaxed and a small group came to help out of the restraints that bound her to an old iron chair, which in actuality wasn't that old, in an abandoned warehouse, which really happened to be a section of the studio decked to look differently. 

From the minute the last of the rope was undone, Y/n stood, stretching her muscles. She'd been sitting in the same position for an hour. Just then, Keanu came over, wide grin plastered on his ruggedly handsome features, "Don't tell me I missed you being bound and gagged?" He teased, low enough so they wouldn't be discovered. While she'd been tied up, much like your typical kidnap victim, Keanu had been in the thick of his fight scene just a few feet off.

"Just by a bit," Y/n teased playfully. She was about to say more when Jackson approached them, his hair a wild, disheveled mess as it usually was and his grey button up was wrinkled to match his skittish, eccentric persona.

"There are my stars," he grabbed their shoulders, "I just wanted to let you two know, whatever’s changed between you two, I’m loving it. The chemistry is fantastic! Keep going like this and people will start thinking that you’re actually a couple!” As usual, Jackson seemed to completely forget about social cues, walking off before either of them could respond.

“Its….almost….like we’re actually a couple,” Y/n cocked her head to the side, a teasing glimmer twinkling in her bright eyes. Slowly, they started towards the entrance, close enough so her shoulder would occasionally brush Keanu’s arm, though not touching intentionally.

“I know,” Keanu scoffed, shaking his head, “It’s wild,” he chuckled, holding the door open so Y/n could exit first. The minute they were both outside, Keanu took a quick look around, before hastily shifting until he’d had Y/n backed up into the outer, grey painted wall of the studio, his front pressed firmly to hers. He looked down at her, feeling himself react to her coy, sultry grin, “I mean think about it; a girl like you, and I get to do this,” Keanu’s hands skimmed up her thighs, slow enough so his touch would send tingles up her spine as it made his way to her hips, slipping beneath the hem of her tattered, light blue blouse.

“I know right,” Y/n giggled, standing on her toes, “A guy like you, and I get to do this,” her fingers tangled in the ends of his soft, dark locks, twirling them between her fingers as she reached up to capture his lips in a kiss that quickly became heated. “We’re gonna get caught,” Y/n mumbled against his lips when he reached for the button of her jeans.

“You started it,” Keanu accused, pressing his denim clad hard on into her.

“Well,” Y/n giggled between passionate pecks, “Why don’t we finish this in my trailer?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“So,” they were huddled on the sofa, basking in the afterglow of their pleasure, "We're gonna be off for a month from next week. Got anything planned?" That was actually Keanu's way of asking Y/n if she'd be spending any time with him. It was illogical, but some part of his mind was worried that what they were doing was exclusive only to Chicago.

They weren't calling it a relationship. At least not yet. It was as if they were scared to.

Y/n shrugged in his embrace, absently tracing circles into Keanu's chest. "I don't really know yet," she thought for a moment more, "I'm definitely gonna spend some time with my dad, maybe I'll fly out to see my aunt," chuckling quietly, she eventually added, "And I'm dating this guy, he’s probably gonna want me to spend some time with him too.”

“Sounds needy,” Keanu played along, his fingers tangled in the ends of her hair, his other hand splayed on Y/n’s back.

Y/n made a little sound of disagreement, “He’s more of a control freak, especially in the bedroom,” she shifted so Keanu could see when she rolled her eyes, the gesture completely exaggerated, and when Keanu smacked her ass, Y/n yelped in surprise, “Ow!”  Her shoulders shook as she erupted in a fit of giggles.

“What about your mom?” Keanu probed when the mood settled as they lapsed into yet another somber bout. Up until then, Y/n never talked about her mother, she’d mentioned her father a couple times, never by name and only briefly. But never her mother.

Y/n didn’t make any move to respond immediately and Keanu was beginning to think that she hadn’t heard him. Or perhaps she’d wanted nothing to do with the question. Though, Y/n eventually gave in, feeling the weight of her silence press down on them, “What about her?”

“You aren’t going to see her too?” Really, it probably wasn’t his business, Keanu was mostly sure that Y/n would tell him about her family life if she wanted too.

Shrugging again, Y/n maintained her facade of indifference and if there was any turmoil swirling beneath her exterior, Keanu couldn’t readily identify it. Of all the women he’d met, all the women he could never figure out, Y/n was by far the most difficult. She was an enigma of sorts. Maybe that was what had made her so alluring. She was so quiet and reserved that an air of mystery followed her like plumes of smoke signaled fire and her demure disposition was perfectly enticing, her obvious innocence making Keanu want to show her things. Ruin her even. But only in the best ways. 

Y/n was the embodiment of a paradox, the thought; the more she told him, the less he knew. And her silences were typically quite telling. Much like the one she’d just sunk into. Her relationship with her mother was clearly a sore subject, and Keanu was about to remind her that she didn’t need to tell him more than she wanted to when Y/n spoke up, “I’m not, we haven’t spoken since I was fifteen.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, cuddling Y/n closer. Again, he wanted to know more. Yet, he didn’t know if it was even his place to prod around; Y/n didn’t exactly come across as the type that wanted to open just out of the blue like that. Still, he felt compelled to put it out there, “You can talk about it, if you want ”

On his chest, Y/n folded her arms, propping her chin there so she could almost meet his gaze, “I don’t want,” she rejected, already disinterested in the topic, “So, what about you; what are you doing with the time off. Any hot girls to keep you busy?”

Chortling quietly, Keanu let his rough palms inch lower, reaching her thighs and urging her legs open, “Oh,” he cocked a devilish grin, “Just one.”

It had been a while since she’d been there, but still, Y/n knew the place like the back of her hand. Her father’s beachfront home on the Malibu stretch was the perfect reflection of contemporary luxury; thirty two hundred square feet of modern architecture situated on thick round posts, holding the house nearly four feet off the pale sand. When tides were high, water would invade the space beneath the house, and unless you were willing to wade through a foot worth of ocean, then you’d be stuck there until the water receded. 

Inside, large panes of glass, lightly colored hardwood and white marble dominated. Natural lighting filtered in from several places, though transparent walls and awning windows, negating the need for bulbs during the day and the view from the living room was spectacular; the vast blue was straight ahead, just past an infinity pool that hung daringly over the shore. 

An open floor plan allowed one to still see the sparkling water even from the small kitchen, which was nearer to the front door. Y/n and Roger had spent most of their evening there, preparing dinner together. Or course, it might have been easier to order in or maybe even let one of the house keepers do it for them, but cooking together was something they enjoyed. It made Y/n feel normal; in the kitchen she wasn’t a rising actress and her father wasn’t an acclaimed director. It was just a father and his daughter, most of the time floundering around a recipe that was far too complicated for their sub par talents put together. 

That night, Y/n was on pasta duty while her father sauteed scallops in a white wine sauce, both often referring to the recipes on their phones. “I think I’m doing this wrong,” he eventually admitted, when for some reason beyond comprehension, the sauce started to dry down without the shellfish taking on the golden color it was supposed to.

“Maybe you didn’t put in enough liquid?” It was no doubt more of a question than sage advice, and Y/n was too busy trying to finely chop a handful of parsley to pay attention to whatever Roger’s troubles were anyway.

“You’re right,” he hummed, grabbing the bottle of Pinot Gris next to the stove, pouring a generous amount into the pot, “Wine makes everything better,” he chuckled. Y/n just shook her head, rolling her eyes absently at his ridiculous quip. “So,” Roger began once he seemed to get everything under control, just as Y/n finished draining a potful of al dente penne pasta, “How are things in Chicago?”

What he really meant was; did you ever work things out with Luke and he who had never been named?

“They’re good,” Y/n started up her own sauce, trying to follow every direction to the letter, unlike like her father, who usually preferred to add his own touch, even if his culinary skill set was next to nil, “Filming has been lots of fun, I’ve been…..hanging out with….people,” just one person really.

“You’ve been hanging out?” Roger seemed surprised, if he knew his daughter as well as he thought he did, and without fail, he really did, he knew for a fact that Y/n wasn’t the ‘hanging out’ type. She’d always been more reserved, keeping an alarmingly small friend circle and almost everyone at an arm's length. There was only a privileged few that had seen her for the sweet girl she really was, with an overly sensitive heart and an open mind. Most people, the ones that didn’t really know her often, though she was stand-offish and too prissy to hold them in conversation. “Are these people real?”

Y/n’s dismay came in the form of a huff, contained in her throat and an annoyed rendition of the classic, “Dad!” Huffing again, she continued the task as hand, measuring out the right amounts of stock before pouring it into the pasta, following that up with a generous handful of basil.

“Can you blame me?” Roger took a lengthy sip from his beer, proceeding to lower the lower the flame on his burner, letting their entree simmer. When Y/n just scoffed, he continued, determined to wean what he wanted out of her, “So, did you ever work things out with Luke?”

For a minute, Y/n considered pretending to not hear him, but there weren’t really any disruptive noises, unless you counted the crashing of waves muffled by the walls. Besides, she’d just feel guilty about ignoring him anyway. “No,” she breathed reluctantly.

Roger nodded slowly, regarding Y/n curiously, “But you’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” 

Why’d he have to know her so well?

Well, there was no point in lying anyway. “Yeah, we’ve been going out for about two months now. He’s nice.”

“Yeah? Nice enough for me to like him?” Of course her father would want to meet that man she was dating. Curse him for being so involved! 

Y/n just shook her shoulders, wishing that there was a way for her to just slither out of that conversation. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of dating Keanu or anything like that, but she still wasn’t really sure of what they were doing. He’d never called himself her boyfriend, and she had even considered that she might be his girlfriend. It felt even juvenile to have to think about something as frivolous as labels, but for the first time, Y/n understood Luke’s desire to have them. Labels were easy and unambiguous. There was no toeing around the subject or wondering where you stood. 

But on the flip side, Y/n wasn’t even sure if she wanted Keanu to be her boyfriend. He was a little confusing, serious most of the time but humorous at others and she constantly felt like he was holding out on her, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And worst yet, Y/n didn’t think she’d exactly call herself ‘girlfriend material’, she was a little too self-concerned sometimes and found that she couldn’t always empathize when she was stuck in her own thoughts and feelings. Who wanted that for a partner? 

“Well?” Roger probed, awaiting an answer. Why was it so confusing? Because despite both their obvious flaws and incompatibilities, Y/n wanted things to work with Keanu. She thought she could want them to work in the forever kind of way, even if he didn’t seem like the kind of man interested in forever, even if part of her knew that she probably shouldn’t. 

“I don’t think we’re ready for that yet,” the mood changed and Y/n gave the pasta one last stir before turning the stove off, “We’re just…..”

“Seeing where things go?” He chuckled quietly, shaking his head, getting a couple dishes out of the overhead cabinet mounted to the wall over the sink, “Why are you young people always doing that? Seeing where things go? When I was your age, people dated for a future, for marriage.” Which was probably how he’d ended up with her mother.

At a loss for words, Y/n just raised her brows in unspoken annoyance as she took a generous swing from her own tinted bottle. She didn't really want to broach the whole ‘Keanu wasn't really her age’ part of her answer, "I don't know what to tell you dad. I'm just not looking for that right now," she shrugged, helping him with plating their dinner. Afterwards, he grabbed a couple of stemless wine glasses and Y/n grabbed a bottle of white from the refrigerator, following her father out to the balcony where they'd be having dinner.

 "What about him?" Their talk was starting to feel like an interrogation.

"What about him?" Y/n shook her shoulders, using the toe of her black ballet pump to shove the screen door open. When she saw the warning eye, scolding her sass, coming from her father's direction, Y/n sighed internally, relenting, "He's not looking for anything too serious either."

Y/n could see the worry in his gaze, nearly boring into the side of her head. Maybe it was the turmoil of her parents' marriage, maybe it was just her nature, but Y/n was proving to be repellent to stable relationships, not wanting to get too serious or go the whole mile. She knew that he'd probably blame himself for part of it, but she wouldn't. She'd cut that offender out of her life the second she could. They set everything down at the table that looked over the infinity pool and the ocean beyond. "Well, who is he?"

Ugh

Y/n was growing tired of the conversation. The less she gave, the more Roger wanted to know. Even if he hadn't been around a lot when she was younger, he always tried to be involved. Usually Y/n didn't mind, he was her go to for parental advice and a listening ear, but as of then, her dating life was a complicated mess and the last thing she wanted was for dad to give her a lecture on why she shouldn't be with Keanu. "It's the guy from Chicago," she evaded, "The one I told you about."

"I thought he didn't feel the same way?" He quoted. 

Pushing some food around with her fork, she shrugged childishly, staring at her glass, the chill of the wine fogging it over, "I guess I was wrong."

"You don't want to talk about this," he finally assessed, "But you know I don't mean to be overbearing, I just don't want you to get hurt again."

"I know," she nodded, "I won't," it was a baseless promise, Y/n had no idea on where things were going with Keanu, and it was likely to end badly, even if she was hoping for the best. 

Their silence stretched on for a while, but when Y/n broke it, she was adamant on shifting gears and getting them to talk about something else. "So, are you reading any new scripts?"

After a lengthy conversation about her confusing dating life, Y/n and her dad had spent the rest of their dinner talking about work. She'd left his place at around nine that Friday night, and after nearly three months of not driving on an actual street, she drove back to her place, a cushy condo in West Hollywood. 

Keanu had called and they'd talked for about an hour, in the end deciding that he'd come to her place that Saturday evening, just after sunset. And, as promised, he'd showed up at around seven, "Hey," he cocked a crooked grin, his motorcycle helmet chucked under his arm and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark jeans and his leather jacket zipped up. 

"Hi," Y/n pulled one of the heavy doors open a bit wider, wordlessly inviting him in through one side of the double entryway. The minute she closed the door and turned the lock, Keanu discarded his helmet on the counter of her moderately sized kitchen, just a few feet off from the entrance, laying his hands on her hips. He pressed a searing kiss to her lips, letting one arm circle her waist. 

"I missed you," he mumbled against her lips, his salt and pepper scruff rough and ticklish on her skin. As they lingered like that, Keanu tilted his head again, his calloused touch inching beneath the hem of her loose, cotton tank top. 

Y/n giggled softly, the musical sound muffled by his lips smooshed on hers, "We saw each other two days ago."

"Two days too long," he growled, tugging her closer that Y/n thought was possible. Really, he was right; in Chicago they saw each other every day, they had sex everyday. 

Y/n's hands skimmed the cool leather of his coat, sliding them upwards until her fingers were tangled in his ends of his shaggy, dark locks, tangling them around her little fingers, “You really missed me, didn’t you?” Y/n teasingly rubbed against his jean clad erection, smiling at how he hissed appreciatively. 

“Baby,” his husky voice was low and rich, the simple word making her feel things, “You have no idea.” Kissing her again, heated and hungry, Keanu pushed Y/n deeper into her apartment, just past a thick rectangular post, where the electronic fireplace was embedded and the television mounted above it. There was an armchair near the unlit fireplace, with soft white upholstering, complemented by black accent pillows, and as they reached it, Keanu slid his palms down the curve of her ass, hoisting her up in his arms. As he sank down into the chair, Y/n straddled him, eager to undo the zipper of his jacket before pushing it off, unabashedly moving on to undo the fastenings on his jeans. 

Groping her ass one last time, Keanu’s hands resumed their former task, traveling up the inside of her worn, grey top, his touch igniting shocks. His lips ravished her neck, probably leaving behind purplish bites and beard burn. Y/n ground in Keanu’s lap, moaning eagerly when he reached around to fondle her unrestrained breasts. Clumsily, she reached between them to free his hardened cock, when a startled obscenity erupting from near the kitchen interrupted them. 

Keanu’s hold on her boobs was still firm as sirens went off in Y/n’s head. “Dad!” Y/n shrieked, more horrified than she’d ever been.

“What?” Keanu furrowed his brows, confused at her alarm, and why she’d stopped. Turning and craning his head to see who she was seeing, his eyes went wide, his jaw hanging slack. Just when he thought a situation couldn’t get much worse than sleeping with a woman and then having brunch with her and her boyfriend, Keanu was reminded that it always could. An uncomfortable and awkward brunch was certainly better than getting caught with his hands up the top of an old friend’s daughter. “Roger?”

“Keanu?” Needless to say, Y/n wasn’t the only one absolutely mortified with the situation. Almost immediately after, though still not nearly soon enough, Keanu dropped his hands, not really sure of where they should go from there on. 

It took another minute or two, but eventually, Y/n was scurrying out of Keanu’s lap, tugging at her tank top and loose, grey booty shorts. So much for hiding her somewhat complicated relationship from her father. Though, that wasn’t the issue hot on Y/n’s frazzled mind, “You two know each other?”

Red in face, Y/n stood, barefoot on the fluffy, off-white rug, unconsciously curling her toes into the fabric. Neither of the men made a move to answer and the sheer horror of the moment seemed to be mirrored three ways. Everyone was at a loss for words and tension was on a continuous rise; embarrassment, awkwardness and bubbling anger from at least one person. The room suddenly felt much smaller than it actually was, and though there was at least ten feet and one piece of furniture between Keanu and Roger, anyone could tell that whatever friendship was shared between them, wasn’t going to be there much longer. 

As seconds ticked by, and everyone processed what had just happened, it felt like time was passing too slowly for anything to make sense. Though, when the kettle finally whistled, the noise was piercing and what happened next was not what Y/n was hoping for. 

His face was beet read with anger and his fists were clenched at his side as Roger strode up to Keanu in long steps, “You’re fucking my daughter!”

“Dad!” Y/n screamed, and the rest of it was a blur.  

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @thesadvampire​  @fanficsrusz​  @fickensteinn​  @ladyreapermc​  @babygirltaina​  @septimaseverina​  @snatchedbylele​  @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx​  @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan  @keandrews @greenmanalishi​

[coldbloodedkaehler]

7:23 AM || Solo

App Solo

He sliced cleanly through the saran wrap, the thin sheet of plastic taut between his hands. On the counter beside him, Matty and Genny’s school lunches – the latter with the crust cut off – waited to be packed away. Across from him, one eye, glazed like a sanded marble, stared back at him. Its twin was long gone. A jagged hole and silvery blood, an eternity stain, was all that remained.

“Hungry?”

Michael didn’t look up as he sliced the sandwiches in half and bundled them up. Claire frowned, like she always seemed to do, and the one remaining eye rolled in contempt. “Someone’s funny,” she replied. No smile to match his own mangled one. He laughed.

From the stairs, Risa’s footsteps bounded down and his smile widened as his wife came into the kitchen. Water dripped from her hair like blood and she tousled with it with an old towel as she headed towards her husband and the woman she could not see. She sat where the ghost sat, for a moment entrails seemingly spilling from her own cavity until Claire disappeared, like a light bulb that had suddenly shorted. Michael’s wife drummed her hands on the counter. “Make me one?” Her husband pushed the crust scraps towards her.

“To put the hairs on your chest,” he replied. She giggled. They each picked up one and held them out, knocking them together in toast. Peanut butter and honey. Salty and sweet. She would be the salty, so she’d claim. Oracle of sound character judgements.

Passing through the living room, Michael paid no attention to the withering looks that tracked his every movement. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet; even it seemed to protest him and he respected it for it. But his was the will that always won. He turned the corner, switched on the stairwell lights. “Matty! Genny! It’s 7!” Obedient progeny, he’d made sure of it. Bed covers tossed aside in immediate response. They loved their father, but they’d long since learned not to cause trouble. Not in the open, anyway.

They ate their breakfast with smiles and laughter and the dutiful husband and father kissed each of them – wife, eldest, youngest - on their foreheads as they all prepared to leave. He hugged them and they savoured his warmth against the cold and he slipped chocolates into his daughters pockets even though they weren’t meant to have them. As they left he stood at the door even though the wind turned his pale face pink and waved eagerly as the school bus came and went, as his wife backed out in her Chevvy Malibu that she’d dented but he’d never been angered with her for. The chill of White Crest, the North-East winter betrayed the warmth of the light that filled the tired house. Some people might have found it unwelcoming, but Michael didn’t mind. Too long he’d spent in the West. Maine wasn’t Canada, but it was close enough that it may as well be. He waited for a while after his family was gone, then closed the door.

The only living thing alone now. Against bare flesh, goose bumps raised. This was home now.

[kyunsies]

Any kpop recs? Like maybe recent stuff idk

HEY ADRY BUB!!!!! hmmm okay I’ll try my best for ya :)

i went thru my whole spotify playlist!! some are old, some are new, some are popular, and some are not so popular, enjoy <33

make this : 1TEAM

baby tonight : a.c.e

r u riding + love again : baekhyun

be! : bvndit

stay tonight : chungha 

black out : cix

believer + ohh ahh : cravity 

D (half moon) + bonnie & clyde : dean 

kiss me : dpr live 

blooming day : exo-cbx

j.us.t : eyedi

sign : got7

red-sun (021) + total eclipse (black out) : gwsn

fever + sacrifice : han seungwoo

and july : heize

YA : huta

100 ways : jackson wang

call anytime : jinu

focus on me + senses : jus2

scandalous : keembo

honest : key

focus : kim donghan

ride +sunset : knk

romanticism : leo 

free somebody : luna 

girls : nature 

make a wish : nct u 

deja vu : nct dream 

light bulb : nct u 

segno + talk about love + love me + trust me + firework : nu’est

intro: time : oneus 

parting : onewe 

asteroid + sukhumvit swimming + geppeto + we must love : onf 

designer + dOra maar + angel : onlyoneof

smile + lukewarm + asteroid + organis song +skateboard : pentagon 

malibu : ph1

look + kingdom come : red velvet 

diamond + uncover : irene and seulgi

doa + love in my pocket : rich brian 

lie again + together : seventeen 

intro; : sf9

i am not alone : sori

black pearl : sunmi

criminal : taemin

fairy of shampoo : txt 

i love you : treasure 

trick it + love foolish : twice 

thrilla killa + i’m sorry : vav

thunder : verivery

mayday +nostalgic night : victon 

scentist + odd sense + black out : vixx

twilight : wei

soso +hold : winner

send me a sleepover ask!

[epiphaniesandpoems]

Mi Maria

My pen touched the paper, such grace 

It shook my core; the stickiness of ink

Drawing smooth curvatures, I wrote 

More and more, doubling strength, 

My spine straightened with tension, its almost...

Romantic, I wrote by the fireplace that evening

The light bulbs didn’t give me such a feeling

Of class, the poet’s vibe, I call it. This night

I closed my eyes, waited with the nausea to subside

And transform itself into a story worth telling, 

Below the sea of thought, I found Maria. 

At these times, I recall her silhouette in the rain

She spoke with a musical voice; breath like the 

Malibu breeze, warm but addictive. Her lined figure,

Under the bright light above her, read like words from 

An emotional story, of hurt and happiness all in one. 

Maria, we never met and you may be a figment 

Something my heart weeps with melancholy to be like, 

Pero te amo y gracias por todo, Maria. 

[secretagentdreamer]

Day 7: Isolation

Fandom: Marvel. Character(s): Peter Parker. Tony Stark. Warnings: none. Word Count: 1037. 

-*-

2012

Penny wanted her Dad.

She wanted Pepper. She wanted Uncle Rhodey. She wanted Happy.

Really, she just wanted anyone.

At this point she would even take Ms. Haskell, whom she hadn’t seen in over five months, over the overwhelming loneliness that she was currently feeling.

Three days ago, Penny had watched her house be blown up, her dad not-die but go missing and had been kidnapped by some strange man and Maya Hansen. Well, Penny thinks it been three days. After the stranger and his two henchmen had come to the hotel room to kidnap her and Pepper, they had been shoved into two cars and driven to different locations.

Penny had been promptly thrown into a five by five room and left alone. There was a single bulb, a thin piece of material (that was probably supposed to be a bed) and a hole in the corner that she had been using as a toilet. She’s been given three meals during her time in here, slotted through a tiny cut in the door, and unless time was moving really slowly Penny had only been feed once a day. Therefore, Penny had assumed she had been stuck in this closet for three days. The single bulb remained on constantly so that was no help to her either, except for making it difficult to fall asleep.

Penny was starving, she was cold (she had been dressed for Malibu weather; a simple dress and a cardigan only) but she wanted her dad and her family more than anything right now. She was worried about Pepper as well: who she had assumed had gone with the man who looked at Pepper with a creepy expression. Penny was worried that someone was going to hurt her Dad: someone had already tried to blow him up once, clearly, someone was out to get him.

Penny was also worried that she was going to left alone here in this tiny room forever.

She didn’t like being alone. There was absolutely no noise except the occasional shuffle as she was brought her one meal of the day and then it was back to complete silence. Occasionally, Penny would try to sleep; curled up on the floor with the thin mattress wrapped around her to try and create some warmth, but the continuous light source made it hard to sleep. For the most part, however, Penny spent most of her time making noise: repeating the math and science equations her dad had taught her, singing songs, trying to remember any of the books she had recently read or movies she had watched and reimagining the endings to them.

Penny also spent a fair amount of time just walking around her cell as she talked to herself. If she sat still for too long in the small space, she got fidgety and it felt like someone was sitting on her chest: so yeah, Penny preferred to walk around rather then sit. (She had also perfected her handstand in her time stuck in the cell so if she ever got out, she couldn’t wait to show her Dad.)

She spent a lot of time thinking about her family: about Dad, Pepper, Uncle Rhodey and Happy. Penny knew that they would be looking for her. If they were still alive.

(She tried to not fall down that rabbit hole of thought. But sometimes it was hard not to.)

(Her dad would come for her and save her: he had done it at during the Hammer droid attack last year, he would do it again. He had promised. And he had never given her a reason to believe that he would break that promise.)

It was during one of these trips down the rabbit hole that Penny heard noise nearby. It wasn’t time for another meal (if you could call a stale slice of bread, some cheese and a cup of water a meal), she still had one sitting in front of her from earlier. Fearing that someone dangerous was finally coming to do something with her, Penny immediately cowered into the corner of the room, trying to make herself as small as possible.

And then she heard something glorious, “Penny?”

Penny scrambled to her feet, pressing herself against the door. “Daddy?” She yelled in response.

A pause, and for one horrible second Penny thought that was she was finally cracking and beginning to hear things. “Penny? Sweetheart, where are you?”

“Daddy! Daddy, I’m in here!” Penny begins to pound her closed fists against the door, hoping to make as much sound as possible to attract her Dad’s attention.

Seconds pass and Penny can hear the sound of metal on the ground, her dad must be wearing the Iron Man suit. Penny continues her banging against the door: she’s so close to freedom and fresh air and having her dad with her again. “Penny?” Her dad’s voice is right outside now and Penny lets out a sob of relief and it’s only then does Penny realize that she’s crying. “Penny, I need you to stand back from the door, so I don’t hurt you!”

Penny scrambles back into the corner of the room. “I’m away!” She calls and two seconds later the edges of the door heat up as her dad cuts through the metal easily with a laser.

Finally, the door falls away as her dad completes the task. As soon as it hits the ground, Penny is leaping over and into the arms of her awaiting Dad. The hug is a bit harsh since she had just collided with the metal of the Iron Man suit, but the pain that courses through her body at impact is nothing compared to the relief that she’s feeling of being found; of being safe in her dad’s embrace.

Penny buries head into the harsh shoulder of the suit and begins to sob in earnest.

Her dad is whispering in her ear, the faceplate out of the way and words a rush, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now, Pen. I won’t let this happen to you again. I love you, kiddo. I’m so sorry, I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

And once again, Penny believes him, cause he’s her dad.

[rachelcarsoncenter]

Guest post by Kriss Kevorkian

*Featured image: Jill Hein

Twenty years ago, when I first coined the term environmental grief—the grief reaction stemming from the environmental loss of ecosystems caused by either natural or human-made events—I thought I was the only one grieving the destruction and ecocide I saw taking place around me. Fortunately, a few well-respected scientists told me that I had put a name to a vague feeling people had but couldn’t identify. Environmental grief was exactly what scientists, conservationists, and even science reporters were reacting to as they continued to observe species after species declining in front of their eyes. At a conference at Oxford University in 2006, I presented my research to a group of environmental scientists. When I talked to them, it was as though a light bulb had gone off. They too had experienced something for which, until that moment, they hadn’t been able to give a name to. But, at the time, there were also those who didn’t seem to understand environmental grief at all. At a second conference, several people asked me, “Why would you grieve about the environment?”

There is another form of grief that I coined around the same time as environmental grief and that is ecological grief, the grief reaction stemming from the disconnection, and relational loss, from our natural world. This form of grief speaks to the relationships we have with nature. Many images these days highlight this disconnection with nature—the selfies people take with wild animals comes to mind. There have been instances where a person has gotten too close, not respecting an animal and its space, and the animal has attacked. Other images include people jumping on the backs of sea turtles that are trying to get back to the water, only to be harassed. The worst image I’ve seen was of a group of people who had grabbed a baby dolphin from the sea, holding it up to take pictures. A few years ago, photos emerged of boaters driving over our Southern Resident Orcas (SROs) and disrupting their habitat—a perfect illustration of the lack of understanding or awareness of our relationship with nature .

Sonar Technicians monitoring equipment during a training initiative. US Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Sunday Williams [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

I first joined forces with the Orca Network—which has long been involved in efforts to save the SROs—after they learned about my research on environmental grief, which in fact originally focused on Southern Resident Orcas (Orcinus Orca). These creatures spend most of their time in the Salish Sea, which borders British Columbia, Canada, and Washington, United States. But you’d be hard-pressed to see one today, given that the population has plummeted to just 75. The reasons for this startling decline are all directly related to human activity: Humans have poisoned the Salish Sea with polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) and other toxins from oil, gas, and pesticides from aquaculture; the Navy practices sonar exercises in this area, wreaking havoc on the SROs and their habitat; and boaters eager to see the SROs ignore the legal 200-yard limit. Furthermore, Chinook salmon, the orcas’ preferred source of food, is endangered, which has pushed the J,K, and L pods to the point of starvation.

Those who have been observing the SROs, whether scientist or layperson, are profoundly involved in their lives and know each one’s name and number. For example, everyone knew that J-50 was Scarlet, who died of starvation recently, a little shy of four years old. Prior to her death, we watched Tahlequah, J-35, carry her dead calf for 17 days. The world watched day after day as Tahlequah kept pushing her calf to the surface to breathe, but there was no response. Other members of the pod joined her, offering what to human onlookers might have been considered support.

With these terrible losses and increasing evidence of the damaging impact of human activities on the planet, it is becoming more common today to see scholars, the media, and the public talking about terms like climate grief and eco-despair. The fact that these terms have made their way into the public consciousness and become part of mainstream environmental language is encouraging, because it speaks to an attempt to identify the loss that humankind is facing and feeling, and to reestablish our connection with the natural world.

Tahlequah (J-35) holding up her dead calf. Photo courtesy of the Center for Whale Research.

Scarlet (J-50). Photo courtesy of the Center for Whale Research.

But how are we to deal with this grief? People might react with despair, sadness, frustration, lack of control, hopelessness, and even apathy. It’s understandable, given the enormity of the destruction taking place. It’s understandable to feel powerless when faced with the news of another whale dying, another forest being decimated, or another oil spill. But though it’s important to acknowledge our ecological grief, we also need to use that grief to take action, to get laws changed.

Rights have been given to people, corporations, and even ships. More recently, the concept of legal personhood has been extended to rivers, mountains, national parks, and forests. The entire planet should have the right to live, thrive, and be healthy, which is exactly why we are working towards achieving these same rights for the SROs. We’ve been fortunate to work with groups like the Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund, which has helped other communities get rights for various ecosystems including Lake Erie—people in Toledo, Ohio, united for this cause and won. Once we partnered with the Earth Law Center and Dam Sense, we gained momentum, allowing us to build a coalition of concerned citizens who, together, composed a Declaration that we will present to politicians both in the United States and Canada.

Harmful algae bloom in Lake Erie, which has just been granted rights. Photo: NOAA Great Lakes Environmental Research Laboratory [CC BY-SA 2.0].

So far, in Washington, Governor Jay Inslee called for an Orca Recovery Task Force to look into possible solutions to save our SROs. Unfortunately, those on the task force came from very different backgrounds and there were those who tried to promote their own business interests, putting profit over planet. The biggest issue was that no one was there to speak for the SROs themselves. Many people, including various Native American Tribes, tried but were dismissed.

The task force recommendations included limiting whale-watching boats, which would lessen the boat traffic that SROs have to contend with. Thankfully our legislature recently voted that whale watching would continue. Many of these whale-watch boat captains keep an eye on the recreational boaters, who might not be aware of the laws to stay 400 yards away from the SROs. The whale-watch captains help police the area and educate those who come to see the SROs in their natural habitat. Scientifically, we’re told that the whale-watching boats themselves really aren’t disruptive to SROs. It’s the amount of vessel traffic that is an issue, and the task force wants to limit that traffic, but there’s no mention of limiting the Naval sonar exercises that cause massive harm to the SROs. Another recommendation has been to kill sea lions that eat the Chinook salmon that SROs prefer. The only problem is that the Northern Resident Orca eat sea lions so the recommendation takes food away from another orca species. With the ineffectiveness of these methods, it seems that the rights of nature is the most reasonable course to follow.

In 2014, Mayor Joan House, of Malibu, CA, passed a resolution stating that dolphins and whales deserve the “rights to their own freedom and lives.” The proclamation included a statement about cetacean rights: “whales and dolphins are known to be highly intelligent and emotional creatures…and therefore deserve the right to their own freedom and lives.” 

It’s easy for us to live our lives in blissful ignorance as we eat animals, spill oil in the driveway, use toxins to clean the house, flush medication down the toilet, and throw away old clothing. Many people rarely consider what happens to any of those things. In reality, our fish are filled with antidepressants and toxins thanks to the everyday products we buy and dispose of without a thought, and that clothing often ends up in a landfill that only continues to grow. Regaining our relationship with nature by fighting to afford it rights would do much to curb the pollution and destruction that we have unwittingly (and sometimes very consciously) wrought on our planet. Continuing to pursue rights for the environment and its inhabitants is an important step in making sure that we preserve our ecosystem.

  Environmental Grief and the Fight for Nature’s Rights Guest post by Kriss Kevorkian *Featured image: Jill Hein Twenty years ago, when I first coined the term…