#and i love you jonny for taking care of him

[satelarry]

no one will ever understand how much tim laughlin means to me, his kindness and fearlessness is an example for times like these when people of the community are still being harassed and murdered for loving who they love. i truly wish him the happiest of birthdays wherever he is (i'm betting hawk's taking him to the theatre tonight in case anyone's wondering) and i would also like to thank him for being so persistent in a world that continuously tries to undermine us for who we are. even though he isn't here anymore, he left a mark in many of us and i think that's ultimately the best thing that could happen to someone.

you will never be forgotten skippy.

[7s3ven]

MAFIA AU! TASK FORCE 141 x MOB BOSS GF! READER

( head cannons / might turn into a series )

( master list )

more

Feel free to to request more scenarios with this au LOL

Notes: poly, reader is described as on the shorter side, age gap, daddy issues (reader has a bad father), inappropriate jokes/themes mentioned

YSL, red bottom shoes, sugary cocktails, leopard print, faux fur, y2k, mcbling, lana del rey, cigarettes, mob boss wife…

- When people join the mafia, they expect tough muscled men, maybe a few scarred women carelessly waving around guns. What they don’t expect is you

- You’re an interesting sight, perched on Price’s lap like a little trophy, freshly manicured nails tapping away at your phone screen as you play a game

- You don’t care about whatever meeting you’re in, you aren’t even listening to Price’s rather gory plans. You’re too busy deciding what to have for lunch

- Nobody can look away from your pretty pout as you discover your favourite drink is temporarily out of stock

- Price was the one who found you first. Your father was indebted to the mafia and what better way to force him to pay than taking his precious daughter? Price found it strange how you were so willing to leave your father but it made sense when you told him the truth

- Your father wasn’t a good man. He had blood on his hands and he never cared much about you or your mother. You were thankful to find a way out, even if it meant going with a strange (but equally handsome) man

- You belonged to Price first but his property was Simon, Kyle, and Jonny’s as well

- “Jonny, is this skirt too short?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

Jonny glanced up from his phone, shrugging. “Nah. It’s all good, bonnie. I can fight. ‘Sides, shorter skirts makes it easier to bend ya over.”

- Simon loves sharing his cigarettes with you, especially when you kiss him and transfer the smoke into his mouth. The best part is seeing your lipstick stain the end of his cigarette

- Price buys you lots of clothes and accessories. You’re never not draped in the most expensive jewellery he can find. Gaz is the one buying you heels. For some reason, he has a knack for choosing the best shoes

- Seeing you waltz around in your short skirts, lace tops, and clicking high heels is enough of a reward for the four men

- The rookies love the sight of you but you’re forbidden fruit. You belonged to their bosses who did not like to share

- When there’s talk of a rat among the mafia, your four lovers do not take it kindly. They need someone to infiltrate whatever plot is brewing up. Luckily, they have you. Nobody in their right mind would pass a chance on being able to get a taste of your strawberry-flavored lipgloss

- “Oh my gosh, it’s giving office siren.” You say, excitedly tugging on the tight, short-sleeved blouse that Ghost is shaking his head at.

“It’s too short.” He mutters, “Ain’t there a ‘nother size?”

“It was the only one. Sorry, baby.” You sheepishly smiled at your lover’s displeasure. “Anyway, how do I look?”

Clad in that damn white blouse, a short pencil skirt, and thinly rimmed glasses, you were a vision.

“You look like you’re ’bout to get some action when ya get back.” Kyle says, nodding over at Soap who’s staring at you shamelessly.

“How ‘bout this, lovie?” Price steps forward, “If you do a good job, we’ll give you a little reward. Sound good, yeah?”

( please note that for the cod tag list, you will be tagged in all the cod fics i post, not just this one lol )

COD TAG LIST (COMMENT TO BE ADDED/REMOVED): @galactict3a

[mypoisonedvine]

Ok 1 I love your Halloween theme, and 2 can I request a delightfully unhinged threesome between estranged twins, jackson and Dr. Crane 👀

oh my i wonder who could've given you such a ridiculously thirsty idea!!! definitely wasn't me ummm anyways this turned out to be another full length fic, so. yeah.

𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎 | jonathan crane x reader x jackson rippner

length: 3.6k

warnings: NONCON SMUT (dark as fuck, 18+ only, read the warnings), kidnapping, implied stalking, yandere!jonathan, threesome with oral m receiving and breeding kink, housewife kink, slight corruption kink, possibly inexperienced jonathan??

It was eerie, seeing his twin on the other side of the doorway; it wasn’t quite like looking in a mirror, but it was closer than anything else was.

The differences were obvious, and had only become stronger over time: the hair, the glasses, even the way they dressed. But the biggest difference between the brothers was their smiles… in fact, Jackson was wearing that tilted, toothy grin already. “Well, look at you,” he greeted smugly, “Doctor Crane.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d really come,” Jonathan admitted quietly.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever call me again,” Jackson laughed as he stepped inside, despite never actually having been invited in. “Nice place, Doc— guess they pay you pretty good at the looney bin.”

“We, uh, try not to use that term,” Jonathan mumbled as he watched Jackson roam the apartment, getting a little nervous that he might break one of the more expensive decorations or artifacts.

“So, what’s this problem you needed my help with?” Jackson wondered as he spun on his heel to face his brother. “Must be a pretty sticky situation you’ve got yourself in if you have to ring up your big brother.”

“You’re only four—"

“Four minutes older, yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes, “but somebody had to be first.”

“I need… advice,” Jonathan finally answered, “regarding a sort of… sensitive situation.”

“You can spare the foreplay, Jonny, this isn’t my first time,” Jackson smirked. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Nothing… happened, really,” he sighed, “I just… there’s someone that needs to be… dealt with.”

“If you want a hit, I don’t actually do that,” Jackson explained, “but I can call somebody for you—“

“Not a hit, no,” Jonathan shook his head, “the opposite, really… I need her kept alive.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Oh? A ladyfriend you want protected?”

“Uh, sure,” Jonathan mumbled awkwardly, “but I’ll take care of that. It’s her, um, footprint, if you will. Her old identity, and all that— I need her to disappear, so to speak. W-well, she already disappeared… I just need people to stop looking for her.”

“You know, you’re always full of surprises, Jonny,” Jackson laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have this woman in your basement.”

“I don’t have a basement,” Jackson replied.

“That’s… not the part I was expecting you to deny…”

Soon enough, Jonathan escorted Jackson to his bedroom, where you were tied to one of the bedposts by your wrists, curled up in a shaking little ball, watching with wide eyes as the two men entered the room. Jackson realized you probably hadn't seen anyone other than Jonathan since getting here-- that, or you were just thinking oh fuck, there's two of them?!

“Why’d you dress her up like that?” Jackson snorted, admiring the vintage-style dress and heels, with a matching set of pearl earrings and necklace. “I didn’t know you were so… traditional.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting a bit pink. “Can we just focus on the present issue, please?”

"And what a lovely issue it is," Jackson cooed as he stepped closer to you, admiring you with a tilted head.

You watched him approach with wide eyes, finally speaking in a broken whisper. “Please,” you choked out, “help me— he’s keeping me here, I think he’s gonna kill me—“

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Jackson smiled, “he’s real sweet on you. I’d just be worried about whatever freaky shit he’s into.”

“Well, as you can see, she’s not adjusting very well,” Jonathan sighed. “I thought my drugs would help— and she’s pretty obedient when she’s been given a large dose, so I was sort of right— but I can’t keep her high all day, she’ll build a tolerance. And I know her case is going to get a little too much attention, if there isn’t some kind of closure for the police or the family sometime soon. I mean, a beautiful, promising young medical student? Gone without a trace? It’s cable news catnip.”

“You’re right about that,” Jackson agreed. “There’s a pretty face perfect for the papers.”

As Jackson reached to tilt your chin, petting the line of your jaw, Jonathan slapped his hand away. “Hey, hands to yourself,” Crane warned, “she’s mine.”

“Okay, Mr. Defensive,” Jackson widened his eyes, raising his hands like he was perfectly innocent. “How sloppy were you? Are they gonna find any evidence that brings them here?”

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan sighed, “but you can’t be too sure. Even without evidence, she took one of my classes, so if they get desperate enough they can certainly trace her to me.”

Jackson sighed. “That’s tricky,” he nodded. “And it gives us two options.”

“Which are?”

“The happy ending, and the sad ending,” Jackson explained. “Happy ending: I get one of my little computer nerd friends to fake a plane ticket to somewhere exotic. Send a postcard to a friend. Just like that, she’s absconded from her old life, escaped the pressure of med school, and everyone thinks she’s off somewhere getting her groove back or whatever.”

“And the sad ending?”

“Bloody clothing planted by the woods, with a tip that somebody saw her hiking,” he shrugged. “Big bad wolf got to her. Simple as that. That one’s handy because no one’s gonna expect her to come back… and you can have her all to yourself, forever.”

Jonathan bit his lip, obviously excited by the idea. “I'm guessing that will require taking a sample from her?"

"Not too much," Jackson promised, "you're a doctor, you can do it safely."

"She's scared enough of me as it is," Jonathan sighed. "I thought she would... take to it a little faster."

"What, you thought she would like getting kidnapped?"

"I thought she would appreciate how well I can take care of her," Jonathan clarified.

"Oh, Jonny," Jackson laughed, "you haven't learned a thing about women since the last time I saw you, huh?"

Jonathan didn't even have the heart to deny it.

"When they ask if they look fat in something-- you just say no, don't even look, okay? It's like DARE: Just. Say. No." Jackson informed his brother sternly. "And when they say they're not hungry and don't want anything, just order some fries anyway or she's gonna end up with half your entrée. And most of all-- you can't forget this one-- they really dislike being kidnapped and held in captivity."

Jonathan crossed his arms. "I knew that," he announced defensively.

"Let me ask you this," Jackson began with a twinkle in his eye. "Have you used her yet?"

Jonathan shuddered a little, looking embarrassed as he looked at you and then to the floor. "J-just once..." he admitted. "That was... a lapse in restraint. I had wanted to wait until she was more comfortable, but..."

"But you just couldn't help yourself with a sweet little thing like this in your bed, huh?" Jackson finished. "I get it. And she looks cute when she's scared."

You shuddered under Jackson's hungry stare, and he winked at you. "So, you'll take care of it?" Jonathan reminded him. "Happy ending or sad ending, whatever you think is best."

"Well, I'm always a fan of a happy ending," Jackson smirked. "You know speaking of: I figure I can give you a good deal on this whole thing... you know, since you're family."

"Alright," Jonathan nodded.

“I’ll make sure her case is closed… if you let me take her for a spin.”

It seemed to take Jonathan a moment to realize what that meant, before he laughed incredulously. “No,” he asserted, “absolutely not.”

“Oh, don’t be so insecure,” Jackson pouted, “she’ll still be yours when I’m done with her. You can keep her for the rest of your life— I’m just asking for one night.”

"I can pay you very well for your time, Jackson," Jonathan promised.

"Eh, money's boring," Jackson shrugged.

"If I recall correctly, women tend to bore you pretty easily as well," Jonathan accused with a frown.

"Sheesh, you kidnap one woman and you start getting all judgmental that I haven't settled down," Jackson rolled his eyes. "I don't have a lot of time for anything serious, that's all. In fact, I barely have time for anything these days. That's why I figure I can help you break in Mrs. Crane over there."

"I don't need any help," Jonathan promised.

"Except for the part where, if I don't help you, you're probably gonna get caught with a missing woman tied to your bed," Jackson reminded him.

Jonathan sighed, clearly realizing the choice he had to make.

“C'mon, just a little favor for your favorite twin brother? You can stay and make sure I don’t do anything you wouldn’t… approve of,” Jackson rolled his eyes, “you prude.”

"She's innocent," Jonathan breathed, "that's what I liked about her-- it's why I had to bring her here. You'll... you'll ruin her. I can't let you do that."

“Seems like you don’t really have a choice,” Jackson noticed, lowering his voice and leaning in closer to Jonathan.

There was a pause, and finally Jackson turned to leave the room as he patted Jonathan on the back.

"Get a good lawyer, buddy," he offered as his final piece of advice.

But before he could take another step, Jonathan relented with a sigh: “Make it quick.”

“Hey,” Jackson shrugged with a grin as he shed his jacket and tossed it aside, “no promises.”

He all but leapt onto the bed, crawling up to you as you whined and shrunk away.

“Did y’hear that, babydoll? Jonny said it’s my turn to play with you,” he purred.

As you tried to shrink away, he grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you down, forcing you onto your back and keeping your tied wrists above your head as the rope when taut.

He growled as he laid on top of you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can make it good for you,” he breathed, “if you behave. It’ll be so much better than whatever my idiot baby brother does to you— promise.”

Jackson's hands crawled up your skirt, and he bit his lip as you kicked your legs in protest.

"Be good, baby," he warned you sharply. "Good girls get a treat... you know what bad girls get?"

You didn't seem that invested in an answer, but he continued anyways as he lowered his voice and spoke by your ear.

"Bad girls get fucked up the ass," he whispered, giving a quick little kiss to the side of your face; suddenly, you relaxed a bit under him and stopped resisting so much. "That's a good girl," he praised, spreading your legs a bit and petting them until he reached higher and found you totally bare under the dress. "Oh my, Jonny didn't even give you panties to wear? Poor baby..."

Jonathan shuddered and crossed his arms, looking away with his head and yet unable to actually look anywhere else but the bed. He was trying to figure out how his brother had gotten you to behave so quickly... when Jonathan had given in to temptation and forced himself on you, it was a constant battle to keep you down as you kicked and screamed and begged him to stop. Whether it was the sight before him now, or the memory of that night, Jonathan felt his cock twitch in his trousers.

Jackson sat up a bit, opening his own pants and sighing as he wrapped his hand around himself. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he purred as he held your legs open wide with his other hand. "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun together, sweetheart."

He spit straight down onto you, smearing it around your opening with his tip, before pressing right up to your hole. He groaned loudly as he slid inside-- one long, slow stroke as he filled you. You whined and shut your eyes tight, but otherwise resisted the urge to struggle.

"Fuuuuck," Jackson purred, holding on tight to your hips as he simply buried himself inside you for a moment. "So tight, honey, Jesus."

Beginning to move, he laid himself down over you and kissed your neck again, moaning against your skin. You whimpered, back arching slightly under him, and he smiled when he felt you tense up as he thrusted into you just a little harder.

"Oh, baby, feel how deep I am?" he grunted. "Feel how good I'm stretching out that little hole? Fuck, keep squeezin' me like that and maybe I will make this quick..."

He grabbed your hips and yanked them up a bit, holding you right where he wanted you-- and sitting up again, so he could get just the perfect angle as he started fucking into you again. Normally he would build up a little more naturally before being so rough but, well, you weren't going anywhere... he could just use you and chase his own pleasure. That said, he still grinned proudly when you moaned suddenly, your head falling back and your back arching. That was when he decided that, even though he had no real obligation to make you come, he was going to anyways-- if for no other reason than to know that he could take total control of your body, and force you to an orgasm even unwillingly.

"Right there?" he taunted as you whined, giving you fast and hard thrusts right into the place that made you bite down on your lip. "Yeah, that's it-- you're getting so wet, honey, you feel that? Gonna soak my fucking cock, aren't you?"

He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, letting himself bask in the feeling for a moment. You made little sounds, obviously trying to hold yourself back, but the longer it went on the less you were able to fight it-- soon you were properly moaning, arching your back deeper, your walls clenching on him rhythmically as you came.

"Fuck, just like that," Jackson praised as he watched you give into it. "Just like that, baby, fucking cream all over me-- good girl."

Jonathan watched in astonishment as you quivered all over, nervously clearing his throat as he tried to conceal the throbbing erection in his pants-- and it seemed to remind Jackson that his brother was still standing nearby.

"What was that about your girl being innocent, Crane?" Jackson laughed. "'Cause she seems like a desperate fucking whore to me."

“H-how’d you make her do that?” Jonathan asked with a shaky whisper, licking his lips a bit as he watched you writhe against the mattress.

“Nothing to it, really,” Jackson smiled, “just gotta find that spot and beat the hell out of it. Here, I’ll show you.”

You whimpered as Jackson pulled out and slid his fingers inside you, curling them against the place that had become more sensitive than ever.

“Right here,” he explained, “you try it.”

He took his fingers out as Jonathan approached the bed— and you felt Jonathan’s fingers slide in a second later, a bit more hesitance to his movements. He let out a wavering sigh, and Jackson smiled.

“Feel the swollen part? Rub her there— hard.”

He curled his fingers slightly and you bit your lip.

“Harder,” Jackson instructed.

“I-I don’t want to hurt her…”

“Well, she needs it rough,” Jackson laughed, “so man up and make her come!”

You yelped when Jonathan harshly pressed into the spot, making your whole body shake as he started to thrust the digits in and out of you. “Wow,” Jonathan breathed as he watched you, his brother smiling proudly next to him.

"She can probably come again pretty fast," Jackson assumed, "you should try. See how fast you can make her scream again."

Jackson, meanwhile, moved to kneel by your head, slapping your face a little to cue you to open your mouth. He groaned as he rubbed his tip over your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself alongside his salty precum.

You unintentionally clench on Jonathan's fingers, and he smiled wide. "Like that?" he asked eagerly. "Are you gonna come again?"

"Just keep doing it," Jackson urged his brother before speaking to you again. "C'mon baby, you can take a little more."

Holding your hair, Jackson started to fuck your mouth a bit more earnestly, making Jonathan frown at him after you gagged a few times. "Be careful," he warned him, "don't hurt her."

"I know, I know," Jackson rolled his eyes. "But look at that mouth, Crane, don't you think it's just made to take cock?"

Jonathan couldn't exactly disagree, he'd fantasized about your mouth plenty of times. But now, he was much more focused on your pussy-- he was watching it closely, enraptured by the way his fingers moved in and out of it... and the way it responded, gripping him tighter and tighter.

"Go on, suck it," Jackson ordered you impatiently, smacking you on the cheek again to try to encourage you. You whimpered and hollowed your cheeks, blinking up at him as he grinned down at you. "Oh, pretty eyes-- I can tell why Jonny couldn't resist you..."

You moaned again, and Jackson raised an eyebrow as he looked down for a moment at what Jonathan was doing-- which was moving his fingers faster inside you, watching you whimper and writhe as you reached the edge again.

"Show me," Jonathan begged, "come for me-- come on my fingers."

It happened pretty quickly, and Jackson let you take a break from sucking him for a second so they could both enjoy your pretty moans as you creamed around Jonathan's fingers.

"O-oh, fuck," Jonathan gasped, "I can feel her... pulsing."

"Yeah," Jackson grinned, "really something, isn't it?"

"Fuck," Jonathan said again, taking his fingers out and suddenly climbing onto the bed. "Need to feel that on my cock."

"Atta boy," Jackson praised with a laugh.

Jonathan moaned loudly as he pushed inside you, your own reaction a muffled groan around Jackson's cock which he shoved between your lips again. "Oh, god," Jonathan whined, "you feel even better than I remember, angel-- fuck, I missed you so much."

He was even more desperate and impatient than before, fucking you quickly and eagerly even though you were far too sensitive for it after coming twice in a row.

Jackson pulled back out of your mouth, but held your head steady as he stroked himself rapidly. “Gonna coat that pretty face,” he growled, “keep your mouth open, baby, I’m close…”

You whimpered and tried to keep your throat shut, afraid to choke on his come while laying back like this, and after a few more moments he groaned loudly as ropes of come fell over your face and onto your waiting tongue. You grunted a little in surprise but just tried to squint your eyes in case some got too close, but the vast majority went into your mouth or over your cheek.

"Fuck," Jackson purred, milking his cock for every drop before finally taking his hand away and sinking back, looking down at you with a new redness and sheen of sweat to his face. "Good girl. You can swallow now baby-- oh, wait, let's make sure you get it all first."

He swiped up the come on your cheek with his thumb, feeding it to you as you closed your lips and swallowed his salty spend.

"I told you good girls get a treat," he grinned.

Jonathan, meanwhile, was panting and whimpering and clearly trying to hold himself back-- but the way he held you tight enough to bruise gave away how close to the edge he really was. "I can't wait," he finally admitted with a groan. "I need to come, angel-- I need to come inside, get you pregnant. Then we can be happy together."

Suddenly, he started to rub your sore clit with his thumb; and you jolted again, pulsing around him as he sighed and dropped his head onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, beautiful-- just like that, let me feel you come again, please. Then I can fill you so deep..."

"You can make her come one more time," Jackson assured, "she's so sensitive-- go on and come for him, baby, let him feel how hard you come..."

Though Jonathan was a little irritated by the way Jackson made it seem like a favor you were doing on his behalf, he couldn't complain when he felt you coming around him, slick walls pulsing so perfectly around him that he had to come with a loud, broken moan. He kept moving until he was sure he'd given you everything, heart racing as he imagined and hoped that he'd properly bred you this time.

Then, there was a silence. Not very long, but plenty nervous as the three of you caught your breath.

"Well... mazel tov," Jackson offered with an awkward laugh, getting up off the bed and getting himself back in order. "I'll call you when it's all taken care of, Jonny. You, uh... you have fun with her, alright? Call if you need anything or, you know... feel like sharing again..."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for that, Jackson," Jonathan sighed.

"Don't miss me too much, honey," Jackson winked at you as he slipped his jacket back on. "But feel free to think about me so you can get off while this guy's fucking you," he joked, motioning to his brother with a tilt of his head.

"Don't listen to him, angel," Jonathan cooed at you as Jackson finally left the room. You shivered a little as he trailed kisses all over your face and neck, holding you a little tighter. "You're all mine-- you finally know that now, don't you?

[carmillatism]

hey, what if i got you? what then?

carlos going to the desert otherworld and kevin, desperate for a second opinion desperate not to believe lauren and knowing carlos has interacted with the smiling god before, asking carlos what the smiling god thinks of him. and carlos Knows and panics and says that the smiling god likes kevin as much as carlos does. and kevin manic and stressed and his whole life falling apart trusts that carlos means that they both love him. but neither of them do.

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Third Place Poll

Propaganda...

Colonel Brandon (1995):

Alan Rickman has the sexiest voice. Just listen to him reading poetry to Marianne at the end to witness how hot he is.

Alan Rickman simply embodies the truth of Col. Brandon in a way that no one else every could. It's the perfect merging of actor and role. He brings the perfect combination of honor, decency, sensitivity and passion. He is the ultimate mensch.

Brandon propaganda in which even the film's director agrees that Brandon is sexy.

More Brandon propaganda! This photo could only be published in black and white because it would have been too powerful in color (the original color version is currently being used to provide electricity for a medium sized town in Devon. It's THAT powerful).

The brim of the hat falling over his eye. The casual lean. The hunting rifle slung across his leg. The puppy bestie. The fact you know he could row that boat while you watch and wish you were the boat.

From Emma Thompson's diaries which she kept while they were shooting Sense & Sensibility. Emma Thompson said vote Colonel Brandon.

The man has just heard her sing for a minute and he’s positively awestruck!

also adding his adorable adorable smile just bc i can.

Mr Knightley (2009):

Johnny Lee Miller as Knightley is JUST SO. I mean the way he says "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" IS JUUUST. The dance scene. The tentative shy smiles. The fact you can see in his eyes the entire time " I am completely in love with this woman. She'll never love me back BUT I DO NOT CARE I'LL LOVE HER FROM A DISTANCE ANYWAY" IS JUUUUUUST

We need to appreciate Mr Knightley more for both his snark and for those soft eyes just so full of love for Emma

GIF by dearemma

I was just going to send in the actual dance but the little panic he has when Emma says she knows his secret is just soo charming. There was some thread on twitter a few years ago about how a romcom man's most important quality is knowing how to look at a woman and JLM is just the master of it in this Emma

I really feel like the pictures say it all. He stands there, head tilted to one side. He is listening to you. His posture is relaxed. His gaze open, frank, candid. He's not trying at all. He just is.And that's why he is Knightley.

GIF by night-unfurls-its-splendour

Some propaganda, not just for Jonny Lee Miller, but the general interpretation of 09 Knightley. I have some excerpts here from my review of the 09 adaptation:

What I really think is great about the 2009 interpretation of Mr. Knightley is what an easy and comforting presence he is, without being apologetic when he scolds Emma. I think this is communicated especially well by how often we are actually shown Mr. Knightley taking his almost-daily walks to Hartfield, how smoothly he comes and goes, and how happy Emma is every time she sees him coming up the path (usually, just at the perfect moment when she needs something to put her back to rights.)

64.media.tumblr.com

Here is Emma, feeling lonely after Miss Taylor's wedding. And in the background, walking up to Hartfield--there's Knightley. He's always been there for her, and he always will be.

And also this Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight this outfit and why I love it: This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding of her home.

Additionally, Jonny Lee Miller captures Knightley’s playful qualities, and his exasperation is so endearing

GIF by christophernolan

GIF by sashajames

GIF by christophernolan

I can’t be the only one tickled by this Knightley’s frustration with Emma! JLM FTW!

Jonny Lee Miller is mesmerizing in any role he inhabits. It’s 2009 Knightly all the way.

no but can you actually go vote for mr knightley he was FOUNDATIONAL for 16 year old me my favourite portrayal of my favourite austen man cannot fall at this hurdle!!!

He is my ultimate Austen Dream Man, I'm with him until the end. Honestly this adaptation is my very favorite of them all (P&P 1995 is a VERY close second) because it made me fall in love with Emma as a story? Honestly no other adaptation or indeed even my reading of the book made me love it quite as much. My crush on JLM goes back to 1995 and I do think he is one of the better actors of his generation - his range alone is just impeccable. The fact that he can go from Sick Boy to Mr. Knightley to Sherlock to Jordan Chase is really something. Of all the actors I know, his range is the most impressive. But i love how bright and sunny this adaptation is. The colors, it is as vibrant as Emma should be! The Kate Beckinsale Emma is dark and terrifying to me, not at all suitable an adaptation. I like the Paltrow Emma a lot, but it's got the same issue the 2005 P&P has for me -- it's just too short. This is tonally just right, and the casting is lovely, and JLM is just at his dashing best. His face is so expressive, he is so capable of communicating so much without saying a word. His open jealousy of Frank Churchill is delightful to watch. His face when Emma tells him his secret is out at the ball! JLM is maybe the most underrated actor of his generation and I LOVE that he has been multiple Austen heroes. I maintain that in a future adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, an older JLM would make an EXCELLENT Mr. Bennet. He would convey the right amount of grumpy but fond beautifully.

Look. Do people realize JLM hates wearing period clothing AND hates dancing? And yet in Emma he's sashaying around in pink jackets looking amazing and is THAT convincing? That's called BRILLIANT ACTING!!

A tiny bit of Mr Knightley 2009 propaganda but I love that they put in that bit from the book where he looks like he's going to kiss Emma's hand when he's saying goodbye but then he hesitates and doesn't and I just...it's such a tiny detail but conveys so much!

GIF by myforeverworldofmovie

It’s the only Emma adaptation that really hits the romance notes well. Knightley’s crowning moment of awesome really feels like it (when he rescues Harriet from humiliation) and his subsequent dancing with Emma does make you feel a shift in their relations. Love this adaptation. - This Knightley and Emma in particular are equals. They quarrel, not because he’s telling her off, but because they can have an argument because they know each other, trust each other and care about each others opinions, and there is never a sense of domination of one over the other. This adds so much fire to the romance, and it’s so unusual for a romance of that era (or even one written today!!). - Emma is rich, clever and beautiful and as powerful as a woman of her age and situation could be at the time and she married Knightley for no other reason but because he’s her best friend and his company for the rest of her life will enrich her. - He even leaves his house to move in with her!

GIF by elinordash

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To be alone with you 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, cheating, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (f!plus sized!reader)

Character: dilf!Clark Kent

Note: Long time, no see.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Spaghetti and meatballs. Simple and delicious. You assume it’s one of Clark’s specialties, the way Jonny talks about it. A plateful steams before you, the garlicky scent tugging at the appetite you hadn’t noticed before.

After the unsettling night alone, you’re starting to feel normal again. It’s comforting to have someone else there, even if it is Clark. He’s not a bad guy, he’s nice enough, it’s just that underlying imbalance that makes it awkward. Technically, he’s your boss. Even if he wasn’t, he’s much older, you’re not sure you have much in common.

“Uh, what do you want to drink?” Clark calls from the kitchen, “I see Sprite and… not much else.”

“Oh, I’ll have one, please,” you answer. You don’t drink soda often, your mom’s the one who keeps the Sprite in the fridge but it’s so hot out you could go for a crisp drink.

You wait patiently, not wanting to be rude and start before he’s sitting down. It only seems right after he went to all the trouble of cooking for you. Clark appears with two glasses. You’re surprised he didn’t just bring the cans but don’t think much of it.

He puts a glass beside your plate, then his own, a few cubes of ice in his. You notice how his hair curls with the heat, a little askew from his efforts in the kitchen. You smile and thank him for the drink.

“This looks good. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. Dad left me pizza money.”

“It’s fine. I’m a bit restless without anyone around. I’m used to this,” he shrugs as he sits down, his shoulders wider than the chair. Sometimes you forget how big he is. It’s almost absurd when he’s just an overworked suburban dad in your head.

“Dig in, please. You didn’t have to wait,” he stirs the sauce into his noodles.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you twirl your fork in the pile of pasta. You blow over the steaming sauce and lean forward, tasting it as you try not to flick sauce all over. You hum and do your best to slurp up the ends of the noodles without making a mess. “That’s pretty good.”

“Yep, got more than my good looks,” he chuckles, “I can cook too.”

You smile, taking another bite and chewing through the tension. There’s a bit of zest to the sauce. You can’t disagree with his self-appraisal. He can cook.

You take the folded paper towel next to your plate and wipe your lips before you reach for your soda. You gulp it greedily and nearly choke. You sputter as the carbonation bubbles up to your nostrils.

“You okay?” Clark asks, his cheek ticking.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” you sniffle and push the paper towel to your nose. You laugh at yourself and clear your throat, “I… haven’t had sprite in a while, guess I forgot how it tastes.”

“Ah, well, did you want water?” He asks.

“No, it’s fine. Not bad,” you turn the glass and look at the soda, “bit of an aftertaste.”

“I don’t really have soda,” he sits back, poking at his plate, “most water. A juice box here and there.”

“Makes sense.”

Your forks clink as you eat in silence. The air is thick as both of you search for something to talk about. Where you’re struggling to find some commonality, there’s a twitchiness to him that suggests he’s trying not to say everything.

“If you’re up for it, maybe we could watch a movie?” He suggests.

“A movie?” You weigh the prospect. You suppose it’s a better idea than staring at the wall. Movies are a great way to fill awkward silences. “Sure, why not. Been a while since I saw anything good. Do you have anything in mind?”

“Nah, not really. I mostly end up watching Pixar so it’s on you. I trust your judgment.”

“You shouldn’t,” you scoff, “I love Pixar.”

He smiles and gives a small chuckle, “well, just don’t be mad when I mouth along with the dialogue.”

“Kidding,” you take another sip of Sprite, trying to wash away the tomatoey tang, “promise, adult movies only.” You cringe as you realise what you said, “I mean, grown-up– er–”

Clark laughs louder, “I got it,” his cheeks bulb as the cleft in his chin deepens, “I know what you’re saying, don’t worry about it.”

“Right,” you shift in your chair, thoroughly embarrassed. You really are so smooth. It’s a good thing it’s just him, you’re sure he’s not very worried about your dumb remarks.

🏡

Despite your efforts to help, Clark insists on cleaning up. You let him as you go upstairs to take a quick shower. Sweating in the sun reading all day has left you feeling a bit musty.

You pull on a pair of striped pajama shorts and a loose tee shirt. You do a face scrub and some moisturising serum before finally emerging, feeling fresh and a bit sleepy. You can hear Clark below scuttling around.

You go downstairs and peer towards the darkened doorway of the kitchen. You pass it and stop just at the threshold of the front room. You find Clark laying out the cushions on the floor along with the throw blankets and pillows. The coffee table is moved aside to allow for some space as the TV glares behind him.

You give him a curious look and he flinches as he notices you. You come forward slowly as the loose hem of your shorts ripples against your thigh. You’re suddenly very aware of how much of your legs are bare. Oh well, it’s only Clark.

“What are you doing?” You ask as you cross the room.

“Oh, me and Jonny do this. I figured you weren’t into making forts but I just thought–” he stops and looks down at his handiwork, “it’s lame, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make things feel normal… for both of us.”

You give an empathetic smile, “it’s nice. Really,” you look him in the eye, the bold blues gleaming back at you, “it’s sweet. And it looks cozy.”

“Great,” he lightens up as he drops the last pillow, “well,” he turns and grabs the remote, “choose something.”

You nod and take the remote. You sit on a cushion and lean back against the couch. You flick through the new additions on the main screen and choose a movie you’ve heard a lot of buzz about. You blink as the light suddenly goes out and you look over to see Clark’s shadow moving towards you. It gives you an eerie wave of deja vu as you recall the silhouette of the intruder.

You shudder and reach to put the remote up on the couch behind you. You turn back around and a large yawn erupts without warning. You rub your itchy eyes and shake your head, the edges of the television almost blurry as you try to focus on it.

“Tired?” Clark nudges you as he sits beside you.

“Didn’t sleep after… after last night,” you say.

“Ah, of course not. That was a stupid question.”

“It’s f-i-ine,” you yawn again, “really. I’m sure I will tonight. Especially with you here.”

“Really?” He breathes.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to turn the lights off if I was alone,” you lean into the couch as you slouch down, “anyway, I’ll be quiet. Movie’s starting.”

He doesn’t answer as he mirrors you, plumping a pillow behind himself as he wiggles down and gazes up at the screen. Your eyelids feel heavy as you fight to keep them open. The opening scene barely ends as you feel your body slackening with fatigue. You’re barely going to make it through the credits.

You turn onto your side, leaning on your elbow as you hug a pillow under your head. You feel Clark shift too. You blink, a long blink, and when you open your eyes again, you’re lost. You have no idea what the characters are talking about.

You flutter your lashes and try to sit up. You give up as an achy weakness bites at your muscles. Oh well, if you fall asleep, you fall asleep. You can’t fight it anymore.

You close your eyes and wade in the shallow pool of exhaustion. Your head goes wobbly as you’re vaguely aware of the hues flickering and flashing from the television. A sudden warmth rests on your hip, a light sensation you can’t place.

“Are you awake?”

The question blows through you. You don’t have the strength to answer. Your eyes feel strange, dry and almost painful. 

You wiggle, shaken by a strength not your own. You slip further from consciousness. You flip onto your back, dragged down until you're entirely flat on the floor. Your eyes are glued shut as you’re trapped in the dregs of sleep. You can’t break through, but you can feel the world around you.

You feel a tickle over your stomach and along your chest. A soft squeeze and a dampness blows over your throat. Heat surrounds you as something prods below your jaw, something soft brushing on your neck. A low drone swirls in your ears.

“Mmm, sweetie, you smell good,” Clark’s voice distorts as you languish in the void, “I bet you feel even better.”

Another tickle. Just along your thighs. A coolness that breezes over you as fabric ripples against you. The loose leg rumples against the crease of your leg as a stroking sensation flicks around your clit.

The electrifying currents radiate from your core. Your chest rises and falls with your rushing breaths. Your heart beats loudly, further deafening the muffled voices coming from the television and the low moan drifting into your ear. Your name plucks at you but cannot rouse you.

Wetness across your cheek then on your lips, delving inside, pressing to your tongue. A sloppy lapping, slickness around your mouth, a new weight over you. Tugging at your shirt and roughness against your tender skin. Squeezing and kneading your chest as a fire razes over your.

Your legs are pushed wide. You feel the world shift and tilt as you come near the surface. Your eyes slit and you can see shadows pulsing all around. A heavy blackness hangs over you as you feel heat against your thighs. Firm muscle holding you open.

You gasp as the wetness along your cunt eases the intrusion. Your eyelids flick up and your eyes roll as your head lolls dizzily. You fight to lift your head but can’t. It’s too much just to look around. 

The single digits moves in and out of you, inching deeper each time, the ridge of knuckles grazing your walls. You moan as the hand pulls back and a second finger stretches you. In, out, the wet noise of your tight cunt nips at your shame. 

It’s not a dream. It can’t be. It feels too real. Too deep. He’s touching you, he’s inside you. Mr. Kent rocks his hand against your cunt as he hangs his head next to yours and pants, his large body draped across you.

“Baby,” he purrs as your arms remain paralysed at your sides, “shhh, it’s okay. It won’t hurt…” he whispers, “the pills will help.”

You don’t understand what he’s saying or what he’s doing. No, no, you’re wrong. It has to be a dream. He wouldn’t do this. He doesn’t want you. He has a wife. He’s heartbroken over her.

The glare of the TV limns his shoulders, broad and rounded with muscles. He’s naked. The colours skew over his skin as he curls his back, dragging his fingers free of your cunt. He leaves a wet trail down your thigh.

He pushes his knees up, keeping you splayed around him. He feels along your shorts, once more delving past the loose cotton. He prods against your folds. A bulbous, thick shape that has you clenching. He lines his tip up with your entrance and leans in, just enough for you to whimper.

He slides back along your lips, slickening himself with your stolen pleasure. He rubs against you, over and over, stopping again at your entrance. He huffs and jostles you, urging his thick forearm under your neck. Your head hangs back over his arm as you groan and curl your fingers against the blankets.

“Baby, it hurts me too,” he dips his hips, forcing his tip past the tight resistance. Your voice rises, tiny, short squeaks as you feel the daze splitting with your inside. “Just a little…” he rocks back and in again, an inch at first, over and over, shaking each time. “Little more…” he sinks in further and your voice grows more steady. 

Your eyes are wide and terrified as the pain assures you of reality. You tense but your body won’t obey. You can’t stop him. You can’t move!

“Little…” he repeats and thrusts deeper again, “...more,” he rolls back and in. His arm bends around your neck as he buries his face in your hair. His other hand braces your thigh, nails digging in as he keeps his motion. With each tilt, he slides in more. More and more until you’re agonizingly full.

You let out a whine, long and desperate as he reaches his limit. He keeps himself there as he whimpers and shakes. He wiggles his hips as he feels you around him.

“Oh god, I… you’re so good. Why are you so good?” He puffs and thrusts, jolting your entire body, “you… you’re so good I had to. I know…” he ruts again, “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t…” he chants as he keeps his motion, easing back slowly only to snap back into you.

Your eyes wet and tears trickle out. It’s more than the pain, it’s the horror swelling in you, boiling but unable to flow over as you remain helpless. You close your eyes and choke on a sob as he rams into you faster, flesh clapping louder each time he dips into you.

You ache as he fucks you. On and on. It feels like forever as you strain against the futility, only able to bend and unbend your fingers. Please stop. Please get off. All you can utter are senseless garbles.

“Baby,” he growls, “I’m gonna– I can’t–” He pushes off of you in a panic, sliding halfway before he spasms and bucks, whimpering as you feel him spill into you, “shit, shit, shit,” he pants as he stills himself, “I didn’t mean to… not inside…”

Your head falls to the side, your eyes rolling back into your skull. You let the darkness win. You’re going to wake up and it’s all going to be a nightmare. Right?

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Nancy gets back with Jonathan not too long after. He barges in and makes a beeline straight for Steve. “You know where Will is?”

Steve nods. “There’s a lot to explain.”

“Then you’d better start soon.”

Robin, his savior, steps in. “C’mon, Jonny-boy, let’s go for a walk.” She leads him outside, and Steve can hear her start. “What do you know about time travel?”

He smiles and looks around. He can hear Eddie upstairs, practicing the song. The boys are occupied with planning, Nancy’s looking over Mike’s shoulder, and El’s watching him with big brown eyes. He focuses on her and lets his smile grow. “Wanna help me make dinner?”

Her eyes widen a little, but she nods. “What are we making?”

“Probably sandwiches,” he shrugs. “I’m not sure what else I have. Can you find the bread in the pantry? And there’s butter knives in that drawer over there, we’ll need two.” He winks. “One for you, and one for me.”

She does so, and he pulls out the condiments and lunch meats, as well as the jelly. “And the peanut butter, if you can find it,” he calls from where his head’s stuck in the fridge. He looks around for anything else he might need and grabs the pickles before closing the door.

“Y’know the best part about making dinner?” He asks her, impish grin growing on his face. She hums inquisitively. “We get to make ours first and eat while we make the rest.”

She giggles and accepts the high five he holds out.

They get to work assembling sandwiches. She pauses, mayonnaise slathered halfway onto a piece of bread. “Steve?” He hums. “I’m scared.”

He sighs and puts down his knife. “I am too, El. Terrified, if you can believe it. But I have faith in us. I know we can do it.” He wipes his hands off and rounds the counter, taking her hands in his. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met in my life. Even stronger than Vecna. And this time he won’t know we’re coming. We’ll have the element of surprise on our side, and we will defeat him. We’ll find Will and Barb, and after this we’ll never have to worry about it again.” He strokes a hand over her head and sighs. “There’s something else, too. I know where Papa is.”

She pulls back, eyes wide, posture stiff. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m not going to take you back there. Ever. Okay?”

She nods hesitantly, but allows him to pull her closer again. “I was going to ask if you want us to take care of him,” he murmurs. “Lock him inside and set the building on fire, or something.”

She shakes her head. “He loves me!”

“Oh, El,” Steve whispers. “I thought the same thing of my parents for a long time. No matter how mad they got, how much they yelled, how much they hurt me… they said it, so it must be true, right? They must love me. I must be the problem.” He shakes his head. “That’s not love. You fear him, El, and for good reason. He made you into what you are, but you never asked for this, and it’s okay to be angry about it.” She looks up at him with wide eyes, and he sighs. “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he murmurs. “If the answer is still no, that’s okay. But if you change your mind, that’s okay, too.”

She nods, steps out of the hug. He lets her go, feeling like he’s almost knocked a vase off a table. His heart’s still thumping oddly, eyes wide, scared to make the wrong move.

But then she looks up at him and offers him a small smile. “Thank you,” she says. “I know the way you treat me is different from how Papa treats me. I do not know yet if they are simply different forms of love or if you are right. I think you are, but…”

“You need to see for yourself,” Steve nods. Moves the metaphorical vase back from the edge of the table. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help prove it.”

“I will,” she says, and picks up her butter knife again, spreading mustard onto a piece of bread. He goes back to his side and smiles at her.

“Steve?” She asks after a second. “When my hair grows back. What does it look like?”

He thinks for a second. “It’s fluffy,” he says. “Very soft and light. Like cotton candy.” He puts his head to one side. “Floofy,” he decides, and grins.

She giggles. “Like you!”

He opens his mouth to tell her no, she’s wrong, except… he can’t. “Yours is even more beautiful,” he tells her. “And kids in school nicknamed me ‘the Hair’. That’s how famous this was.” He tilts his head her direction, and a lock of hair falls in his face. He splutters and shakes his head, grinning when she laughs again.

“I am very glad you came back, Steve,” she says suddenly, seriously, a little at odds with the smile still quirking her lips up.

His heart breaks and mends all in the same second. It feels like absolution. “Me too,” he says, and means it.

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[thesiltverses]

Hello! I found the silt verses about three weeks ago and have listened to it several times since. I have a few things to say.

I absolutely adore that episode about the national grid workers. I think it’s my favorite episode of any podcast I’ve ever listened to. My favorite part of that first episode Paige is in is how she justifies not standing up for Vaughn, that cognitive dissonance that you wrote so well. This episode gives me what I wanted from that episode, the workers all banding together to stop the wasteful sacrifice of one of them. The actor who played the foreman did an incredible job as well. I think that having him discuss which of his workers he would sacrifice was such a significant moment, despite how brief it is. It cuts right to the big question that I took away from the podcast which is, “How much is someone willing to sacrifice in order to maintain their comfort?” And the utter disrespect of Glodditch (apologies for the spelling) refusing to cancel even the radio but asking grid workers to kill themselves for 200kw/h! Top tier episode.

I grew up in the south and went to college in Appalachia. I saw the disparity in technology and “advancement” if that makes sense that poverty brings, and the way you set up the world invokes that feeling in me again. You are an amazing world builder and storyteller.

I really enjoyed the cameos - I’m a big fan of malevolent/devisor, Old gods of Appalachia, and all of Jonny sims work, so hearing familiar voices was an absolute delight. Harlan Guthrie as an acolyte of the snuff gods might have been a bit too on the nose with some of the things that man writes, though… /pos

I’m transmasculine, and something that I really appreciate is how you manage to make a trans man do some objectively awful things, but still manage to make him a complex, full character that I was rooting for very frequently. Brother Faulkner is so, so important to me as a character. Paula Vogel has a play called “Indecent,” which is about the true story of a troupe of I believe German Jewish actors between the years of 1910ish and 1940s putting on a show called “God of Vengeance” by Sholem Asch, also a Jewish man. “God of Vengeance” has queer themes and received a lot of criticism from the Jewish community for showing Jewish folks in a “bad” light at a time when there was already so much hatred for Jewish people. Brother Faulkner being as complex and, in my opinion, malicious and cutthroat as he is at a time when trans people face so much bigotry, especially legislatively in the United States, brings this conversation about “God of Vengeance” up again for me. I also love how normalized non-binary people are in this world, without question. “Sibling this or that,” the hunter, adjudicator Shrew - big thanks from me for all of this.

All of this to say, I love this podcast. Can you talk more about the rhetorical gods? Is Babble one? What makes them one if they are, or why aren’t they? I’m fascinated by them. Can you talk more about the propaganda gods too?

Thank you so much for the thoughtful and kind words!

I'll check out Indecent, it sounds really interesting and I'm very glad to hear Faulkner works for you as a character. I think the topic of how to include and write queer characters who are capable of terrible things and thoughts (because, after all, these characters are human beings and not tutelary exemplars), within the context of both a rising movement of transphobia right now and centuries-old scapegoating / pathologising portrayals more generally, is a really knotty but a really important one, and I always want to make sure I'm approaching it with care and due responsibility as well as a sense of humility around the limitations of what, as a cis writer, I can actually achieve.

To that end, I don't want to ever take the audience response for granted, but I'm always really grateful to hear that the portrayal is working for a listener!

Propaganda gods: gods whose prayer-marks or ritual verses are fed directly to the enemy, enforcing destructive or sabotaging changes to reality (so rather than sending a destructive saint or angel to rampage over the foe, you might drop pamphlets or send radio messages to the enemy to 'convert' them).

Rhetorical gods: gods whose followers possess reality-warping powers of language itself (which is why 'rhetorical god' is a polite way of saying 'liar's god'). In other words, the paranoia around them comes partly down to the fact that a disciple like Val may appear to be a limitless shaper of new forms, rather than shaped into a limited form of their own, as a result of their worship.

[sockiess]

hiii!!! if your up for it could you write something for johnny kavanagh like maybe something fulffy? it’s totally okay if you dont want to though!!!

Anon you have no idea how much I love and appreciate you🙏🙏 I have been waiting for a request on Johnny🙏 #numberonebookboyfriend

Shannon doesn’t exist in this fic and the reader basically takes place of her (I love my girl shannon though don’t worry!)

Sick Day

Warnings: none besides mentions of feeling sick!

I laid in bed covered by blankets and yet I was still shivering. I felt horrible and haven’t slept a wink all night. I knew that I had to leave for school soon but I just couldn’t find the strength to get up.

I was about to cry from my headache and exhaustion I heard a soft knock on my door. “Baby you awake?” I hear Johnny’s voice softly ask behind the door. I found comfort in his voice and all I wanted to do was curl up into him. I heard my door softly open and close before feeling the bed dip down beside me. Johnny’s hands softly rubbed at my scalp before he leaned down and kissed the side of my head. “It’s time to get up baby” He softly whispered into my ear as he started to rub soothing circles on my arm. All I could do was groan. My whole body hurt and the thought of getting up made me want to cry. “Come on baby” Johnny whispered as he softly sat me up. “There’s my sleepy girl” Johnny smiled as he brushed my sweaty hair away from my face. I let my head fall into his chest as I breathed his comforting scent in.

“What’s wrong baby?” Johnny softly asked as he rubbed my back. He gently moved me away from his chest before kissing my forehead. He immediately pulled back and frowned and then moved the back of his hand to my forehead. “Jesus you’re burning up” Johnny said. “Stay right here” He instructed me as he quickly left my room. I would have gone down and eavesdropped to what he was talking about to doing but I just didn’t have the strength to.

about 5 minutes later Johnny came back in with his mom Edel this time. “Oh pet you don’t look like you’re feeling well” Edel’s soft voice said. “I’m not” I confessed. Both Johnny and Edel gave me a sympathetic look. “Well you just stay home and rest today” Edel said. “I’ll let Johnny stay home as well to take care of you.” Edel said smiling. That brought a smile to my face. “Now I know the rules I have set but I have faith that my son won’t get any notions while you’re in the condition you’re in” Edel said smiling and sending Johnny a look. “Jesus ma!” Jonny said while looking horrified. “Can we not talk about sex while my girlfriend is on the brink of death” Johnny said, the pitch in his voice getting higher. “I was just saying that I trusted you” Edel said defensively. “Well thank you Ma” Johnny grumbled.

30 Minutes later I was in Johnny’s bed with a cold washcloth set on my forehead and a movie playing on his tv. “If you want to move somewhere else like the living room or back to room let me know” Johnny whispered as he kissed my forehead. I didn’t, I loved the comfort of his room and his bed that smelled like him.

“I’ll be right back” Johnny said before getting up. When he opened his door Sookie ran in and laid on the bed next to me. “Hi sookie” I smiled and petted her. “Keep her company Sookie” Johnny smiled down at the old sweet dog and give her a little pet before quickly kissing me on the forehead.

When Johnny came back he had some medicine in his hands and a bottle of water. “Here baby you have to take these” Johnny said. He handed me the water bottle and medicine and I took it, feeling grateful for the way the cool water soothed my sore throat. Sookie got up and went and laid down at the end of the bed so Johnny could sit down beside me. Before Johnny could sit down I softly grabbed his hand. He looked up at me “you ok?” He asked before moving hair away from my face. “Can I wear one of your t-shirts?” I asked softly. Johnny smiled before moving to his dresser and pulling out a T-shirt for me. “This one ok?” He asked me, holding up the shirt. I nodded softly. Johnny walked over and helped me out of the hoodie that I was wearing, and sweated through, before helping me put on his shirt.

Johnny sat back down beside me before he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and softly pulled me into his chest. “Johnny you’re going to get sick” I whispered. “Don’t care” he replied. As much as I didn’t want him to get sick I still nuzzled my face into his chest, I mean i’m sick so I should get a free pass on being a little selfish.

A wave of exhaustion hit me as I curled up into his warm chest some more. I felt Johnny dip his head down before placing a kiss at the top of my head and pulling the blanket up. Before I fully fell asleep I head Johnny’s voice whisper “goodnight my little darling sleep well” and pulled me closer into his chest. I finally let the sleep that i’ve been craving for so long finally take over.

I don’t know how long I was asleep for before I woke up but when I did Johnny wasn’t in bed with me. I frowned and searched his room for him. When I saw that the his bathroom door was open and he wasn’t in there I decided to get up and look for him. My whole body ached as I stepped out of his bed but I came to the realization that It didn’t ache as much as it did this morning and smiled at the thought that I was getting better. I softly went downstairs and headed towards the kitchen when I heard movement.

When I stepped into the kitchen Johnny was there making me soup. I softly smiled at the sight of him stirring the soup in the pot. I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. “You’re supposed to be in bed” Johnny said, though I could hear the smile in his voice. “You weren’t in bed with me when I woke up, wanted to see where you were” I whispered into his back. “I’m making you soup” he said with a big boyish smile on his face.

After a few hours and 3 bowls of soup later we all heard the chaos of my little brothers coming home from school. I smiled as you could hear Tadgh and Ollie arguing. After a few minutes there was a soft knock on the door and Edel came in, “How are you feeling pet?” She asked me, giving me a sympathetic look. “I’m feeling a lot better thanks to Johnny” I replied, smiling at the boy whose chest I was currently resting my head on. “Oh good!” Edel said smiling before leaving the room and closing the door.

“I love you” I told Johnny as I looked up at him and smiled. “I love you too” Johnny said before kissing the top of my head for the thousandth time today. “Thank you for taking care of me” I said. “I’ll always take care of you my little darling” Johnny said smiling. I nuzzled my face into his chest feeling tired once again and as i let sleep take over me I felt a feeling that I could never get sick of.

I felt safe.

i did not mean to make it this long but i’ve been wanting to write for Johnny since like August so I got a little carried away, oops😁

I didn’t know if you wanted Fem reader, gn reader, or Male reader so if you want me to change the pronouns or anything please let me know!!

as always thank you so much for your request 🙏 sorry it took a couple days I’ve actually been sick LMAO which is what inspired this story in the first place 😁 If you want me to add or change anything please let me know!! I appreciate you anon!!

[brookreader]

Scuzz headcanons!

Older than the other Mechanisms, but younger than Carmilla and Aurora (as much as anybody can be younger than anybody else when you move every which way through time).

Either she’s a sort of prototype-Mechanism or Carmilla made her immortal via a different method that she abandoned in favor of mechanization. Either way Nastya sometimes refers to her as The Prototype (derogatory).

If they do have a mechanism, it’s their left leg. If not, that leg is still a prosthetic.

Her wounds generally take longer to heal than other Mechs, she also scars easier and for longer.

Very small, like 4’10”.

Cat-like shoulder and collarbones let them slip into tiny spaces.

They have a tapetum lucidum, so their eyes do the glow-in-the-dark thing.

Far better reflexes and hearing than ye average earth human, slightly better sense of smell.

Slightly sharper canine teeth.

Barely-noticeable pads on hands and feet (or at least the flesh foot) that soften her steps.

Considers the other Mechanisms their siblings, or at least family.

Loyal to a fault. The “to a fault” part is mostly in relation to Carmilla — she steadfastly refuses to accept or care when her mother is in the wrong, even when Carmilla herself admits it.

^Though eventually I like to think do grow out of that. They remain extremely close to/fond of Carmilla though.

Gets along very well with the octokittens. They have accepted her as one of their own.

Little shit. Takes great joy in fucking with the crew (lovingly!).

Knows how to use a gun (learned from Jonny, she in turn taught him to fight with a knife), but dislikes doing so.

Doesn’t actually like performing. Only ever did it because they knew Carmilla wanted them to. They do like playing cello by themself, though.

Habit of napping in weird places including but not limited to in the vents, on bookshelves, underneath beds, and among the dangerous machinery in the lab.

Avoids talking to people who aren’t Her people. Kind of (very) socially awkward.

Has a surprisingly strong protective streak for someone whose loved ones are all immortal.

Left the Mechanisms to stay with Carmilla.

[madlittlecriminal]

Don't Care, Sit ↦ Jonathan Crane × Female!Reader

Request: no, but i mentioned it in the discord server im in & @fuckmycrane went feral

Warnings: smut, face sitting, praise, he's kind of ooc i think, crane being a little bit of a masochist, aftercare

"Baby, are you sure?" You asked, tilting your head to the side as you lie next to him in bed. He just finished wiping your thighs clean with some wipes he had on his bedside table and cleaned himself off from excess cum that was on his cock after taking off the condom. "Oh, I positive. I want you to sit on my face while I eat you out." He was blunter about it then the first time he asked. "Can you handle it?" He gave you a look. "Darling, I wouldn't be offering if I couldn't. Now, do you want to sit on my face?" You nodded.

"But what if I hurt you?" He shrugged. "I don't care. It'll be the best pain I've experienced in my life."

"Jonny, I really wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Darling, I'm telling you I really don't care. I want you to sit on my face so I can eat that delicious cunt of yours. So, once again, do you want to sit on my face?"

"God yes," he nodded and laid on the bed. "C'mere beautiful." You leaned down and kissed him before bringing yourself over his torso. "Take your time, alright?" He rubs your thighs in reassurance while looking up at you. "Okay." You say softly before going higher and higher until your cunt was hovering over his face. His hands didn't leave your thighs as he licked his lips at the sight of your cunt over him. "Perfection," he mumbled, making your face warm up before you slowly bring yourself down to his lips. Jonathan's tongue darted out of his mouth as he began licking you. A soft moan escapes your lips as his tongue continues to work its magic on your pussy. "Fuck, Jonny, that feels so good."

He groaned against you before flicking his tongue against your clit, making you grip the headboard and through your head back in pleasure. "Yes baby!" You moaned out as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it as his hands held your hips, wanting to keep you there. However, you couldn't help but rock your hips back and forth against his mouth and tongue. He moaned against you, sending vibrations through your body. "Oh fuck, baby! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" His nails dug into your hips as he continued to eat you out from underneath you.

Jonathan continued his movements, not wanting to stop and to give you complete pleasure. He felt your legs begin to shake above him as his thumb trails to your clit while his tongue slid inside your entrance, making you gasp. "Baby!" You moaned out and he continued to thrust his tongue in and out of you while his thumb circles your clit, one of your hands flying to his hair and tugging it. "Jonathan!" You cried out as you arched your back and threw your head back, cumming on his mouth and tongue. Jonathan licked you clean before guiding you off of him and letting you plop down next to him on the bed. "You okay?" He asked as he grabbed the wipes once more and cleaned your thighs. You nodded while catching your breath.

He wiped his mouth clean before throwing out the used wipes and pulled you closer to him, planting a kiss on your temple. "I love you." He whispered while tracing shapes against your arm. "I love you too." You whispered back as your eyes grew heavy, snuggling into Jonathan, making him smile.

[murmiss]

Our love.

Pairing- Simon "Ghost" Riley/reader.

Chapter warning- none, light smut, Still just fluff and tenderness, but next chapter Angst!!!!

Summary- A meeting on New Year's Eve turns to love. A strong, fiery love. But. Suddenly Simon's childhood friend Samantha shows up, and she's not herself. It seemed your relationship was going through an emotional seesaw and it was Samantha who was causing it, because Simon could only belong to her. Not you.

(The ending will be good)

Part1, Part2

Part one.

Wounded by life and many battles, Simon didn't think he'd ever be able to fall in love or get anything more than a quick fuck. Sex was an everyday occurrence, something he could get easily, even with his seemingly unattractive appearance. But real feelings were something out of the ordinary, something he longed for.

The encounter took place in December, when Simon was lonely on a holiday night, lighting a cigarette on the street. He was on his way to get a new bottle of alcohol, and awkwardly wondered about his mates who were celebrating with their families. Price was visiting his brother and his family, Gaz was welcoming the new year with his girlfriend Millie, and Jonny, even more so, with his parents. The image of Soap, dressed in a silly reindeer sweater, his mother, in a white apron, putting food on a plate popped into Simon's mind. Unconsciously he pictured himself at their table, surrounded by family and comfort. Johnny had actually offered to take him to visit for the holidays, but Simon had declined, deciding he didn't want to intrude. Trudging through the slippery road, covered with a thin layer of snow, and skirting the drifts, Simon slowly made his way to the small store nearby. The snow crunched under his boots, and the snowflakes landed on his eyelashes and hairline, melting immediately.

Upon reaching, Simon opens the creaky door and his eyes are immediately blinded by the bright light. Entering the store, Simon immediately heard an emotional argument and with his eyes he searched for the source of the noise. His gaze fell toward the cash register where his acquaintance Danny, the store owner and a young girl were standing.

"How the hell is it you can't sell me a goddamn bottle of shitty alcohol?" -already being slightly tipsy and frustrated you replied. It's New Year's Eve and it's going incredibly shitty. Living in another city, you thought making friends would be easy, but it's not. How do you make conversation? Do you just walk up and say, "Hey, dude? Let's be friends?" But no, it doesn't work that way. Not among adults, that's for sure.

After your mother died, you had to move away just to avoid seeing the face of your 'beloved' father. He was an asshole, but you didn't want to think about it. Life was hard and now, the only thing you honestly burned was a bottle of cheap booze to cheer yourself up. There was a cat at home and an empty fridge, but you didn't care. Your shift had ended just a few hours ago, and you didn't have the energy to not only decorate, but even cook.

"Ma'am, we can't sell to you, the cash register is already closed," Danny insisted firmly. The ghost, knowing it was just laziness, laughed dryly and, with a slight chuckle in his voice said, "Hey,Dan."

The guy behind the counter immediately exhaled and smiled, relaxing away from the disgruntled girl to chat with his acquaintance.

"It's late and you're still at work?" Simon asked dryly, but with a smile. Only the outline of his lips showed through the mask. In retirement, outside of his second self, Simon continued to wear the mask, but over half of his face, and every time people asked, he answered, "Protection from the coronavirus." And people seriously believed his joke.

"Actually, no, I'm closing, but this lady is in my way," Danny replied, defiantly turning around and giving an appraising look to the disheveled girl with the bottle in her hands. Danny was a pretty weird guy, lazy and very strange.

"Hey, I'm actually here and there while you guys are chatting. Sell me a bottle, dude," you exclaimed confusedly, lifting the bottle up and gesturing in desperation, but it was as if you weren't heard, and then you groaned, "Come on! Please! I'll show you my boobs"

Danny thought about it for a second and looked away from the girl again, and then, with a smirk, said, "Oh, girl, you're not impressing anyone with your tits tonight."

"Give me a bottle of whiskey," came Simon's gruff voice, clearly enjoying this strange situation.

"Sure thing, buddy," the russet-haired salesman replied smoothly, grabbing the bottle and punching it through the register.

You immediately shout indignantly : "hey, you're closed!".

To which you get a sharp reply: "Oh, girl, leave the store!"

"I've been coming here for a year, you..."-you don't have time to finish, as the big guy in the mask snatches the bottle from your hands and, grinning, says. "champagne? That's nice, try it too, Dan."

You stare at the man with a raised eyebrow for a couple of seconds, feeling both grateful and wanting to hit him over the head with the bottle. The man, rattling bottles, calls after you: "Let's go, neighbor." And you follow him.

It's cooler outside.

You look at the back of the big guy walking in front of you and pensively follow him, until an epiphany comes to you in a second. You let out a ragged groan, slap your warm gloved hand over your face, and catch up. "It's that what's-his-name... Raleigh. Rily.. Reyli... Riley, that's right, Riley," you think as you remember what his last name is on his mailbox.

"Why not with your family?" - Simon finally asks the question. Honestly, he doesn't know why he got into this adventure. In terms of... He was having fun watching this girl desperate to buy a bottle, and then... He found himself wondering. Simon recognized, though not immediately, his floor neighbor. Her apartment was the far one.

"I don't have anyone," comes the nonchalant reply. The girl stares pensively into the distance before asking back, "you? "

"Same shit."

They walk on and remain silent. The streetlights illuminate the already dark street, and the snow glistens under the bright lantern light. "Maybe..." - They both say in sync, and Simon feels awkward for the first time, muttering: "go on." The girl waits a few seconds and says, "Maybe.... Umm... Celebrate together? In terms of... Well. if you don't feel weird or something."

"Nah, I can't turn down the company of a pretty girl on this lonely night," Simon replies with a dash of flirtation he didn't expect himself.

A silly laugh escapes the girl's lips and Simon is ready to admit that it was the best laugh he's heard before.

It was a little awkward when Simon opened the door. His dog, Riley, immediately rushed to lick his guest and almost dropped the girl, but she laughed again. There seemed to be light coming from her disheveled hair, or it was his fantasy. She walked in awkwardly, but half an hour later they were sitting in his living room, wrapped in blankets and with a modest but cozy table. While Simon quickly cleaned up the mess, the girl ran to her apartment and brought some groceries, quickly chopping a salad for two, and Simon opened the champagne and poured it into glasses. To be honest, he'd never liked fancy and sweet champagne, finding it too feminine, but tonight was an exception. He really sympathized with this girl, who was carelessly and unafraid, sprawled on his couch and lazily stroked his dog Riley.

During the commercial break of the movie, Simon looked at the girl for a long time, and then, laughing, asked: "would you really show him your tits?"

"To whom?" she answered carelessly, but when she realized, she was immediately embarrassed and exclaimed: "God, no! It was a maneuver!" She gave an embarrassed shriek and her cheeks turned purple. She stared at Simon for a few seconds, then threw a small couch cushion at him, "You don't think well of me."

Simon just laughed. She was adorable.

From that vicious day, their relationship began. Living next door, they saw each other almost every day, saying hello in the elevator and looking forward to the next day and the next meeting.

You worked part-time at the Strawberry Nights cafe near your home, combining work with your hobby, drawing in between customers, sitting in a small staff room. Usually your sketchbook was full of simple drawings, crooked sketches of people that you drew out of boredom, maybe even funny caricatures of annoyed boss and colleagues. But it was different now. Instead of empty and idle drawings, your sketchbook was full of sketches of Simon, memorable moments of his appearance. Every tiny feature of his character, of his appearance, all reflected in the drawings. On the first page was a hand, a rough, masculine hand, but with a faint mole on the ring finger-a feature that not everyone would notice on close inspection, but you did. The scar above his left eyebrow, his blue eyes, like two bottomless oceans, his smile, like an aggressive grin but causing you to babble inwardly, his ridiculous laughter, driving you crazy.

Ah...Could it be love?

Sitting at a bar stool, you draw Riley's profile from memory, gently scribbling your pencil across the paper. Suddenly a shadow casts a frightening glare at you, forcing you to abruptly slam your sketchbook shut and look up, mentally hoping it's not your nasty boss and his damn inspections, but unfortunately, or fortunately, you meet your gaze with that bumbling hulk. A nervous laugh escapes your lips, and carelessly, without realizing it, you toss your hair back, carelessly fixing it. When did you ever start worrying about your appearance? Shit...

You bite your lip and mutter, "What do you want, Riley?"

He responds with his gruff and bassy laugh. You're lost for a second, and like a true villain, he speaks up. Too Hot.

-"When did I become Riley? What's the point of being formal, Ms. Barista?"- He's teasing again. He's being subtle.

"I'm on the job, Simon"-smiling playfully, rolling your eyes back and rising from your chair to stand taller, carelessly grabbing a mug from the table and saying in a pretend-sweet voice, "What would you like to order, sir? A mochaccino? Latte? Strawberry milkshake or for the classics?".

Simon froze with a smile on his face, unmasked, which was surprising in his case. Honestly, Riley didn't know what was going on, sitting on the edge of his bed at night, unable to get you out of his head. The smell of you, the sparkle in your eyes, the silly, slightly snorting laugh-- he thought he was going crazy. Why does he follow you? Why does he walk home slowly, to get home at the same time as you, for two minutes?

Is he in love? It hurts him to admit it, not when he's been shown so many times how insignificant a guy and lover he is. No one can accept him, and neither can you. But without listening to his brain, he goes back to the cafe where you work, gets closer to the counter and... Freezes. You paint? It's beautiful. What's beautiful? Your soft image, the careful movement of your hand drawing colored lines, the flutter of your eyelashes, or the drawing itself? He didn't know. The drawing, by the way. Riley lowered his gaze to the sketchbook itself and his heart skipped a few hard beats. Is that him? It can't be. No, definitely not. Or-- It's definitely him.

Before he knows it, you're startled and he can't help but laugh. You should see your eyes at that moment, like a kid caught red-handed.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"- Ghsot blurted out stupidly, instead of offering you a drink. His face was serious and his eyebrows were furrowed.

"Now?"-you replied, glancing at him confusedly, then turning toward the supervisor talking to your coworker. Turning back to the ghost, you whisper, leaning in, "I can't, the supervisor's here... My shift ends at 5:00 p.m."

He nods, and you lean back, slightly taken aback, watching him. He, without the slightest trace of his previous smile, turns around and walks to the window, taking the farthest chair.

"He's going to sit there for three hours and wait for my shift to end?" - you ask awkwardly, embarrassed, but immediately chuckle softly. How silly of him.

All you had to do was pretend to Mr. Aaron that everything was fine and not stare at Simon like a crazy woman. Well. Even if it didn't look pretty - sitting there drooling and staring at a customer - you didn't care anymore. Your shift was over, and you'd even managed to excuse yourself half an hour early. Nervous, you go to the staff room and take a long spin in front of the mirror.

"Damn! Why am I not ready today!" - You sigh nervously, and when you hear a woman giggling, you turn around sharply as well. Your heart is pounding like you've been launched by a rocket into space, but it was only Mindy.

"Damn it, Min!" -you reply with annoyance, patting yourself on the side in embarrassment. "Maybe... Maybe I should tell Simon I'm not feeling well. I'll look like a complete fool," you think at the same time.

"What are you thinking?" - Mindsy asks, innocently flapping her eyes. She was certainly annoying at times, but right now she was the only person you could complain to.

"I got called out of the blue for a date, and... I look like I crawled out of a dumpster. Seriously. I thought it was going to rain tonight, but..... Mud... and.. So I wore the first thing I could get my hands on. " - You make an embarrassed excuse, involuntarily lowering your gaze to the floor from your growing embarrassment. You don't know what to do, and Mindsy giggles like nothing happened. You flare up like a match and just want to respond to her laughter with a wry, "What's so funny?" but before you can say anything, the blonde pulls off her pink top.

"what are you doing on?" you ask confused.

"can't I help my friend?" she replies, staying in her bra and carelessly pulling a handkerchief out of her bag and tying it on herself in a bandeau top style. Honestly, she was so stupid, but when it came to style, she was incredibly resourceful.

"friend"-you whisper under your breath, as if you can't believe you can call her a friend, though now you realize that yes, you can.

"I'm not sure I can"-You hold her top in your hands, looking uncertainly at the blonde woman adjusting her makeup.

"Shut up, hurry up and get changed, and come here I'll do your makeup."-The girl replies, smacking her lips in front of the mirror and admiring her makeup quite a bit.

"You always have your makeup bag with you"-you giggle in response and quickly throw off your work uniform, putting it away carelessly in a drawer. You put on your blue jeans and the pink top Mindsy gave you over the top. Thank goodness you wore the same size clothes.

Honestly, it was weird as hell to wear someone else's clothes, and-- The feel of Mindsy's gentle hands was also suggestive.Unconsciously you smile as the image of you being a star in a movie plays in your head.Min hums a tune, and soon with a smug smile she pulls away.The makeup was lovely, and consisted of light pink blush, unobtrusive glitter on your eyelids, mascara to open up your fawn look, and a light gloss on your lips.

"Come on, run along, pretty girl, your prince on a white horse is waiting for you"-winks Mindsy and you, carelessly grabbing your bag, quickly leave the room, shouting to Min: "see you tomorrow!".

It seemed to Ghost that the hours had gone on impossibly long, he'd had three drinks, and all three times his fallout had fallen on strict espresso. But the Worst part was waiting to get ready. Scenarios played in his head as you were getting ready for the restaurant, you sitting in your lace shirt on the sofa and putting on lip gloss, your legs in lace stockings thrown one over the other and you relaxedly getting ready while he was already standing there in his suit. Simon gets hot, making him shift from foot to foot, sighing early and pulling back the neck of your sweatshirt, trying to get air under your clothes. As you walk out of that hellish staff room, his breath catches. He Nervously grabs your arm and pulls you behind him. You sigh raggedly, taken aback by his reaction.

The gears are turning in the ghost's head as he tries to figure out what you should do. A movie? He doesn't like movie theaters, go to a restaurant? That would tire you out, so only a bar or a walk sounded in his head. Glancing over at you, he immediately marked the Bar aside, because to Simon, pubs were always dirty places, with alcohol, and men who might stare at girls like you.

"There's an alcoholic ice cream store nearby," he blurts out, slowing down so that his gaze is directed at you, and inwardly Riley is very nervous.

"Alcoholic ice cream? I've never had anything like that before"-you giggle in response, and Simon immediately pulls you in. What's the rush? You don't know, but you follow him.

The store was small, but quite spacious. "Definitely for kinky drinkers," you think to yourself.

"There's Champagne and raspberry, tequila and lime, coconut rum, cognac and chocolate," you can't even make up your mind, your stomach rumbles with hunger and you don't have time to make a choice as this crazy man grabs every kind of ice cream for two. This snake smiles, and in a cocky, husky voice says, "Ice cream party? "

"Are you suggesting we get drunk on ice cream?" - You raise one eyebrow, your lips curving into a smile.

"No, I have a bottle of bourbon at home, let's go to my place," Simon carries the ice cream in his hands, careful not to drop any of the cans, and you grab a couple of them, wanting to help yourself steady yourself.

"Damn, you know what I want after a hard day's work, you're a wizard, aren't you?" -you say jokingly, and your eyes dart a little nervously to the last price tag. "Why is this ice cream so expensive?" - you think to yourself, but you raise an eyebrow in surprise when Simon holds out his card like nothing happened and pays for everything. He sure knows how to surprise.

"Where would you like to start?" - Ghost asks, looking into the bag and pulling out a brandy ice cream for himself.

"With raspberries," you follow his movements carefully and pick up a brightly colored box and a small plastic scoop. While Simon fiddles with the packaging, you taste the first spoonful.

"This is fucking delicious! " you mutter and hurriedly send spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into your mouth until your jaw freezes. You let out a ragged groan and giggle awkwardly, and Simon hurries after you, finishing his ice cream.

As you stroll through the dark courtyards and backyards, eating the most delicious ice cream of your life, you don't notice how intoxicated you are, and you find yourself in Riley's familiar apartment. You're sitting on the couch, stretched out in a relaxed pose, the TV is on pause, and Simon is in the kitchen heating up the pizza you just had delivered.

Time passed, and all that could be heard was your lecherous laughter and Riley's periodic barking. The bottle of bourbon disappeared in a matter of hours, as did all the ice cream and pizza.

"I feel like a balloon, Si" you laugh, clutching your stomach and gasping. The asshole paws at you like a cat, smirking through his teeth and whispering almost in your ear: "You should know how I feel when I have a hot girl like that around me."

"I'm a hot dog," you laugh again, then fall silent. You are so drunk. You say, "You're such an asshole," in a low, almost without hesitation, voice. You stare at his lips. Everything is happening slowly and yet so fast at the same time. His rough hands lift you easily off the couch and carry you confidently, even impatiently, straight to his hideout, dropping you carelessly onto the bed. Your hair spreads across the pillows and you let out a ragged groan, "Hey!" But no sooner do you resent it than he kisses you. Like a hungry dog. His hands shake and he piles on top of you, almost crushing you with his weight. He pulls away. You smile softly and playfully say, "Hey, you're heavy." He hesitates, but then you say, "Come here, damn it." You open your arms and he immediately snuggles up to you, kissing your face. You giggle in response, looking up at him with half-closed eyes. He pulls away, assumes a sitting position, and nervously throws off his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. With rough hands covered in tattoos and scars, he carelessly grabs you by the top of your head.

"Stop!" - you squeaked, but not before he ripped the fabric with ease. Holy shit, it was Mindsy's top. But his action was so hot. You bite your lip, thinking to yourself that you'll buy her a new one. It's a little awkward, but you'll give her some kind of certificate and she won't be offended.

"Oh, God," you plead, arching your spine. Simon, like an insatiable, hungry dog, covers your body with kisses.

His caresses, rough and tender, every part of your body is art to him, your skin glistens, and in his eyes you are no less than Aphrodite.

Simon feels a slight shame, he feels like he is spoiling you with his twisted mind, his dirty hands touching your pure body and his lips corrupting your mind. But he can't stop, trying to be as careful as possible.

"Too big, Si," you whisper nervously, and he catches up immediately, stroking you gently through your hair, sliding his hands smoothly over your stomach, stroking you just as gently, as if you could vaporize at any moment.

"It's okay, baby, I got you," he whispers back.

Honestly, he didn't want to wake up this morning. Sleeping next to your soft and so beloved body, your natural gentle scent, the comfort that surrounded him. Next to you, he didn't remember the traumas of childhood and violent fights.

He really fucking loves you.

(The second part is in progress, but your reaction is very important to me. Write comments, put reactions so that I understand that you really like it. The most interesting part of this story is ahead.)

[luvv4j4ybe11]

Hear me out

Reader who came from earth to pandora because she had a hard life there (fighting in the army from a young age etc) and she always looks tough but one day she bursts into tears in front of neteyam since he's the only one she trusts

She doesn't know what it feels like to be loved or cared for, her parents abandoned her or died when she was little but neteyam is there to hold her :),

YES YES OML I love this idea sm, madi pookie! Hearing you out all the way😝

Warnings: angst with fluff, cursing, angst without plot(kinda?) and I think that’s it. lmk if I missed anything, and enjoy, my love<3

This idea is so “Jonny” and “Stay ready” coded so we’re gonna listen to this while we read!

You knew today was gonna be a rough day, based on the heavy feeling you felt weighing down on your whole body, but you didn’t know it’d be this bad.

With you, crying in your bestfriends lap with your arms wrapped around him tightly while he whispered soft, reassuring words to you to calm your sobs, but they js made it worse.

How could he still be so caring? Even when you were crying pathetically in front of him?

The more those thoughts swelled in your head, the more tears burned in your eyes, threatening to flow over your tear stained cheeks. Neteyam felt horrible, he knew you were hurting, but he didn’t know it was this bad. All he could do was rub gentle patterns on your back while whispering gentle words into your ear, occasionally kissing your temple and forehead to sooth you.

Once your sobs finally soften, you unwrap you arms from his strong frame, sitting up and wiping your face free of tears. He doesn’t say anything, just looking at you with the most precious smile as he takes in your breathtaking features. Even when you were crying you still managed to be so beautiful.

“I’m sorry, that was-“ you started, but you were quickly cut off by the firm grip on your wrist, “don’t. It’s ok, babygirl, I promise. You never have to apologize to me when it comes to what you need.” He says simply, the words made you smile as tears of happiness flowed from your face, instinctively making neteyam reach over to wipe your face free of the tears.

You let out a small ‘thank you’ before glancing to his lips, then back to his eyes, now suddenly becoming away of how close you two are. And how he didn’t move his hand away from you face, instead he placed it so he was cupping the side of it.

It felt as if everything on pandora was pulling you into his comforting embrace, telling you to just let it happen, to let your guard down. His thumb brushes your bottom lip softly, glancing from your lips to your eyes before looking at you directly, “can I kiss you, yawntu? {beloved}” It was quiet, only ment for your ears to hear. You nod your head “yes” at the question, your whole body internally shaking with excitement as he leans in and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is slow, yet passionate. You hum softly into the kiss, instinctively pressing your body closer against his to feel more of him against you. He does the same, wrapping his strong arms to pull you closer to him, but still being careful to not hurt you.

Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly when you feel him squeeze the flesh of your waist. It goes on like this for what feels like forever, you never knew that a single kiss could leave you so happy and euphoric, yet here you are.

Reluctantly, you both pull away, both of you panting heavily as you try to catch your breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I’ve met you,”

“I’m glad the feeling was mutual then.”

A/N~ WAHH this was such a cute idea! I loved writing this sm<3 madi ilysm btw😝💕

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[koisuko]

some mk1 men ( maybe. johnny...) with a reader who listens to metal music and is super dark dressing and gothic/emo but their personality is the opposite super sweet, extroverted and fun! nsfw or sfw :)

ooo can do!

Tw: none, silly little fellas, gn reader ft: Jonny Cage, Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi Takahashi, Liu Kang

Johnny Cage

Something tells me that Johnny won’t really mind your appearance. Your style and choice of music might pique his curiosity, prompting him to ask in his smooth classic way about the band you like.

“What ya listening to sugar?”

When he starts to get to know you, past your dark exterior, it was like doing a complete 180. He’s probably seen dark goths and emo’s in his career but likely chalked them up to their stereotypes. He was surprised, and would likely tease you about it often. He finds your personality cute, and likes the way it contrasts your exterior style. Especially with the music taste, how dark and aggressive the music is compared to your soft and sweet personality.

Kung Lao

It’s certainly something he’s not accustomed to, but something tells me he would be really into it. Your style is something new, refreshing from his village living, and it drew him in. In regard to your music taste, it would take some time for him to warm up to it. Best believe he’s dancing with you to it.

“Play that one again!”

He would find your personality adorable, likely teasing you on your soft interior. I’m sure he would find your style and your personality attractive. Having a bit of both is always nice.

Raiden

Your style is interesting to him, something he’s not used to but he isn’t one to judge. I would think he would not really care about your style, seeing past it in his cute little humble way. Your taste of music isn’t his cup of tea, but he would more than likely indulge in it simply to make you happy and spend time with you. He would be supportive of your music taste, dancing simply to be with you.

“Can I listen with you?”

Like the others, your personality is adorable to him. This would likely be the most compatible aspect to him, how soft and sweet you are to everyone around you. Best believe he’d enjoy some cuddles while you blast metal through your ear buds.

Kenshi Takahashi

He loves your style, it really suits your appearance. He’s not one to really care about how you look, or how you dress. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy goth styles. Although, he wouldn’t personally dress in that way. As for the music, he’d likely enjoy it, but it wouldn’t be his favorite. He would chuckle at your enthusiasm in showing him every song on your playlist.

“Sure, baby, show me the next one.”

Again, like the others, your personality would be enjoyed. A bit of a surprise to him as he’s seen many goths in his lifetime and met a few. He’d find it lovely, enjoying the brightness you bring to every room. I would think he enjoys someone is the life of the party, to make up for his more reserved personality.

Liu Kang

I’d like to think he is very similar to Raiden, not really paying much attention to your exterior. And I mean, you could have the strangest style, dressing like a literal clown, and he would still treat you like anyone else. Whatever makes you happy, he will love just the same. Your music style would be no different. If it makes you happy, he will like it too. Perhaps it’s not his cup of tea, preferring more calm and relaxing music over the aggression of metal music. But regardless, he would listen to it with a smile on his face.

“I truly adore the happiness this brings you, my treasure.”

Your personality, he will love just the same. If anything, he would find it beautiful, like the balance of night and day. He would remain a protective figure while you make everyone smile, hanging back with his hands folded and smiling at the joy you bring others.

Notes: sorry this is so short, I struggled a bit with it but I hope it’s at least to your liking❤️maybe I’ll redo it sometime.

[deadgirlsnoring]

*PLAYGROUND LOVE * | SUB!JONATHAN BYERS

NSFW | mdni

“Oh c’mon Jonny, I know it doesn’t take this long to take one picture.” You teased, a small grin plastered on your face. It was amusing to see his face when he was all flustered.

His eyes grew wide and he looked the other way, while his cheeks flushed a very noticeable shade of pink.

“I’m just teasing, lemme see.” He was taking photos of you, you came up with the idea of course. Jonathan wasn’t a very go for it type of guy. He never admits he doesn’t wear the pants in the relationship, but it’s clear to everyone but him.

Your legs were crossed on your bed, draped in a sheer robe with just your undergarments on. All you wanted was little Jonny to have something to keep in his wallet, a reminder of what was waiting for him.

He was a shy boy, so of course you had to keep minimal clothing on. He wouldn’t even be able to take the pictures if you hadn’t put on the robe.

Such an easy boy to rile up.

While you took the camera away from him to analyze the photos, you could see a tent growing in the side of your view.

The boy looked confused when you suddenly got up off the bed, eyeing him with that look in your eyes.

You tossed the camera on the bed, your vision only allowing you to see him and only him.

“D-Do you like it?” He was trying not to look in your eyes, trying to avoid getting lost in them.

“Of course I do bunny, you’ve always been a good photographer.” Jonny’s lips curl up into a grin, fluffing his hair over his face. He doesn’t like it when you see him blush.

A small hum left his lips as a thank you. “I wanna take some of you hunny. You’re gonna let me, aren’t you Jonny?”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in, nodding his head. Your hand made its way into his hair, your fresh manicure scratching his scalp just the way he liked it.

“You know I will, I always do.” He whispered, letting out a sigh when your teeth grazed his earlobe.

“Take it off, all of it.” His hands flew to his buttons but you captured his lips in a kiss, making it ten times harder to undo it.

Jonny couldn’t breathe, the kiss was too heavy and he was already at a loss for breath. The grip on his head, the way he could feel himself grow the more he smelled your cherry infused lipstick.

“Mmph, fuck.”

You only let go due to the fact that he had to take off his shirt, a line of spit in between your lips showed, and the drool dripping in the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck, just lemme—godd, pleasee mommy.” Your plump lips enclosed on his pink left nipple, while you abused the other with your finger tips.

He was the most sensitive boy, you couldn’t help yourself.

Poor boy couldn’t even get his shirt off before you dug in. It took a while, but he did it. Leaning his head on your shoulder.

Godd, the way you smelled.

You smelled edible, you made him want to take you wherever you guys were. Not caring about who was watching. You could put him in a trance, a sex driven soldier, only wanting your approval and nothing else.

It was something about you being semi clothed and him having nothing on that made you want more.

Jonny placed small kisses on your neck, wherever he could reach, all while rutting himself onto your clothed pussy.

Your lips pressed hard, aggressive kisses on his skin while twisting his nipples in a way that made his stomach hurl in, a choked gasp escaping his lips.

You twirled the two of you around, pushing his frail self onto your bed. While disregarding your robe, you pouted your lips, grabbing the camera.

“Give me your best smile Jonny.” You teased, a giggle falling from your lips. The boy was already lust driven, even though you hadn’t even done enough.

“Don’t be pathetic, you better give me a fucking smile bunny.” He let out a whimper at your words, and you snapped the photo.

You cooed at him, grabbing his face with both of your hands, making sure your knee found its way to his unclothed member.

The boy shuddered, groaning deeply. “So hard, god help me.”

“Oh baby, god can’t help you now. Spread em.” He scooted back on your covers, spreading his legs like you told him.

His pre cum was enough lube, gripping him oh so tightly. “Mhmm, fuck more more.” You used your other hand to cup his chin and make him look in your eyes while you aggressively stroked him up and down, making sure to squeeze the tip as you rose up.

“You want more? Say it again.”

He spoke as best as he could with your fingers digging into his skin.

“Please gi.. give me more.” He hiccuped, trying to get himself out of your tight grasp.

Jonny’s hips thrusted up to meet your ruthless rhythm, loud cries escaping through his lips. All while you had a grin on your face, taking in everything he was giving you.

“That’s more like it, such a good boy aren’t you.” You let go of his chin watching as he nodded his head over and over again. To lost in the pleasure to realize all he needed to do was nod once.

Those nails pierced through his skin, scratches all over his chest. You didn’t care, this was your best boy.

Marking him up was only to show how possessive you were of him, and he soaked it up every time.

“S’close, just.. just like that mommy. Ohh fuck!” His hips met your hand at a relentless pace, trying to catch his release as fast as he could.

The moans he let out, the whimpers. God. They could make you cum on your own.

You roughly grabbed his neck, squeezing at your hearts content. “You better fucking cum Jonny. Right fucking now or I’m gonna stop.” How could he cum when you were going slower now?

His voice was raspy due to the hardness of your grab, his right hand wrapped around your wrist, and those eyes. He was looking at you with those big eyes.

“Please.” Jonathan whispered, it came out soft, almost inaudible. You sped your hand up, leading to his eyes rolling back, he couldn’t breathe, but he liked it sooo much.

“God Jonny, why can’t you be a good whore and cum when I fucking tell you to?”

“Didn’t know being a slut, meant you were dumb too.”

His hips stuttered, his hot load shooting out onto his chest, and coating your hand.

You let his throat go, trapping him in a hard kiss. It was disgusting, gross the way your mouths moved together. He couldn’t catch up, just letting you do whatever you pleased.

Taking a step back you let yourself examine him, he was a dream.

“Just wait a little bunny, I know you’re tired.”

Grabbing the camera again, you snapped a photo. It was perfect.

“What do you need from me baby?” His throat was sore, “Kiss me please.” Instead of your usual, it was slow, soft even.

The two of you moved in sync, perfect sync. No harshness at all, two people in love.

xo, cemeterygirl

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Semi-Final Two

Propaganda...

Mr Knightley (2009):

Johnny Lee Miller as Knightley is JUST SO. I mean the way he says "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" IS JUUUST. The dance scene. The tentative shy smiles. The fact you can see in his eyes the entire time " I am completely in love with this woman. She'll never love me back BUT I DO NOT CARE I'LL LOVE HER FROM A DISTANCE ANYWAY" IS JUUUUUUST

We need to appreciate Mr Knightley more for both his snark and for those soft eyes just so full of love for Emma

GIF by dearemma

I was just going to send in the actual dance but the little panic he has when Emma says she knows his secret is just soo charming. There was some thread on twitter a few years ago about how a romcom man's most important quality is knowing how to look at a woman and JLM is just the master of it in this Emma

I really feel like the pictures say it all. He stands there, head tilted to one side. He is listening to you. His posture is relaxed. His gaze open, frank, candid. He's not trying at all. He just is.And that's why he is Knightley.

GIF by night-unfurls-its-splendour

Some propaganda, not just for Jonny Lee Miller, but the general interpretation of 09 Knightley. I have some excerpts here from my review of the 09 adaptation:

What I really think is great about the 2009 interpretation of Mr. Knightley is what an easy and comforting presence he is, without being apologetic when he scolds Emma. I think this is communicated especially well by how often we are actually shown Mr. Knightley taking his almost-daily walks to Hartfield, how smoothly he comes and goes, and how happy Emma is every time she sees him coming up the path (usually, just at the perfect moment when she needs something to put her back to rights.)

Here is Emma, feeling lonely after Miss Taylor's wedding. And in the background, walking up to Hartfield--there's Knightley. He's always been there for her, and he always will be.

And also this Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight this outfit and why I love it: This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding of her home.

Additionally, Jonny Lee Miller captures Knightley’s playful qualities, and his exasperation is so endearing

GIF by christophernolan

GIF by sashajames

GIF by christophernolan

I can’t be the only one tickled by this Knightley’s frustration with Emma! JLM FTW!

Jonny Lee Miller is mesmerizing in any role he inhabits. It’s 2009 Knightly all the way.

no but can you actually go vote for mr knightley he was FOUNDATIONAL for 16 year old me my favourite portrayal of my favourite austen man cannot fall at this hurdle!!!

He is my ultimate Austen Dream Man, I'm with him until the end. Honestly this adaptation is my very favorite of them all (P&P 1995 is a VERY close second) because it made me fall in love with Emma as a story? Honestly no other adaptation or indeed even my reading of the book made me love it quite as much. My crush on JLM goes back to 1995 and I do think he is one of the better actors of his generation - his range alone is just impeccable. The fact that he can go from Sick Boy to Mr. Knightley to Sherlock to Jordan Chase is really something. Of all the actors I know, his range is the most impressive. But i love how bright and sunny this adaptation is. The colors, it is as vibrant as Emma should be! The Kate Beckinsale Emma is dark and terrifying to me, not at all suitable an adaptation. I like the Paltrow Emma a lot, but it's got the same issue the 2005 P&P has for me -- it's just too short. This is tonally just right, and the casting is lovely, and JLM is just at his dashing best. His face is so expressive, he is so capable of communicating so much without saying a word. His open jealousy of Frank Churchill is delightful to watch. His face when Emma tells him his secret is out at the ball! JLM is maybe the most underrated actor of his generation and I LOVE that he has been multiple Austen heroes. I maintain that in a future adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, an older JLM would make an EXCELLENT Mr. Bennet. He would convey the right amount of grumpy but fond beautifully.

Look. Do people realize JLM hates wearing period clothing AND hates dancing? And yet in Emma he's sashaying around in pink jackets looking amazing and is THAT convincing? That's called BRILLIANT ACTING!!

A tiny bit of Mr Knightley 2009 propaganda but I love that they put in that bit from the book where he looks like he's going to kiss Emma's hand when he's saying goodbye but then he hesitates and doesn't and I just...it's such a tiny detail but conveys so much!

GIF by myforeverworldofmovie

It’s the only Emma adaptation that really hits the romance notes well. Knightley’s crowning moment of awesome really feels like it (when he rescues Harriet from humiliation) and his subsequent dancing with Emma does make you feel a shift in their relations. Love this adaptation. - This Knightley and Emma in particular are equals. They quarrel, not because he’s telling her off, but because they can have an argument because they know each other, trust each other and care about each others opinions, and there is never a sense of domination of one over the other. This adds so much fire to the romance, and it’s so unusual for a romance of that era (or even one written today!!). - Emma is rich, clever and beautiful and as powerful as a woman of her age and situation could be at the time and she married Knightley for no other reason but because he’s her best friend and his company for the rest of her life will enrich her. - He even leaves his house to move in with her!

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

GIF by molinaesque

I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.  

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.