#but slow down on inflating the ego guys

[commissionsdarian]

In this realm where danger and laughter intertwine, my heart surrenders to your magnetic charm. Your wit, like a symphony of joy, captivates my soul, transforming every moment into an adventure of mirth.

Your mastery of time's elusive currents is both awe-inspiring and enchanting. With every step, you navigate seamlessly through history's tapestry, leaving me breathless with admiration. In your lethal dance, I find solace, for amidst chaos, your humor brings light.

Beyond your lethal touch lies a vulnerable heart yearning for connection. In those glimpses, I see your desire for understanding, and I wish to be the one who unravels the enigma that is you.

Across the expanse of time, my love for you remains steadfast. Let us defy the temporal constraints and create a love story that transcends the ages, where laughter and affection entwine in an eternal embrace.

Yours lovingly

This is incredible. Surprising, given the asks I've just gotten but. Fucking hell. This and that ask with the executioner speech, both amazing

[sideblog-ver3]

big dick steve (18+)

spider webs and vampire boobs

“if you were to throat fuck me, i’d probably vomit from my gag reflex.”

the rustling of steve moving his head on his cotton pillow filled the quiet room. “what the hell are you talking about?” his voice holding a bit of thickness in the back of his throat.

now you turned your head from staring at the ceiling to look at steve on your left. “well cause you have a big dick-“ “thanks for the ego inflation.”

you teasingly smack a hand into steve’s chest, he held it down with his own limb. “i can barely take half of you when going at my own speed. and i was just thinking about how when you put your hands on my head and give me a little push, i worry i might vomit. i’ve had girlfriends tell me it’s happened to them before. and if that were to happen to me i’d ask you to kill me right on the spot.” all seriousness coating your words.

steve’s big brown eyes stared you down as his bushy brows rose at your last sentence. your linked hands gently rising and falling with steve’s even breathing. “first, you’re being extra dramatic. second, if you even feel that way when i get more…forceful, you should smack my thigh or something. don’t just take it.”

you pushed up to your elbow and halfway leaned over steve, bed head framing your face, “no, yeah, i know that. you aren’t like forcing me all the way so i’m fine, but something i just think about those guys in porn. you know?” a squint to your eyes trying to determine is steve understands what you mean.

now steve pushing onto his elbow with a similar squint, “what kind of porn are you watching? and why?”

a painted finger traced over steve’s hairy chest, “nothing crazy. and it’s mostly just for inspiration. that one trick i did yesterday, got it from porn. and you seemed quiet pleased if i remember correctly.” smirking as you leaned forward to peck at steve’s rosy lips.

he hummed in content, “and i absolutely did. but anyway, why don’t we train you. if you want we can prep your throat better.” a palm rubbing at your bicep comfortingly.

“anything to suck your dick, baby.” already shuffling your way down his body and pulling away his comforter.

his bare lower body was a delicious sight to behold. dark hairy thighs on display, your mind wanting to bite into them. his thick, long cock starting to move on its own, going from soft to hard in a minute.

“excited for my training?” a teasing tone with seductive eyes directed towards steve who laid back down, hands folded behind his head. a cocky smirk tugging his lips. “anything involving you gets me excited quickly.”

“just don’t get too excited. gonna need your cock for a while, baby.” planting your hands to his thighs while positioning yourself.

“take all the time you need.”

you leaned closer to steve’s cock, allowing a small glob of spit to drip from your mouth. his dick twitching at the sensation. steve moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth opening in a small gasp.

moving in for the action, you swiped the flat of your tongue to the underside of his dick, going from his hairy balls to the top. hungry eyes watching steve’s every reaction, it only spurred you on for more.

“just getting started, baby.” finally wrapping your right hand onto his cock, fingertips not touching. you started with slow strokes, using your spit for lube.

steve quietly whined with each stroke, his stomach flexing to control himself. seeing that his cock was fully hard, now was the time to begin. sticking your tongue out, you kitten licked at the tip a few times, enjoying the twitch of reaction from the wet muscle.

“baby- fuck-“ a groan cutting steve off as you opened your mouth and took about four inches confidently. lips wrapping around the skin as you bobbed your head, right hand stroking at the lonely bits.

steve moved his hands from behind his head to sit on his torso. one touching his v-line while the other traveled to sit in your hair. you couldn’t help but stare at his long fingers, digits that fuck your cunt or get stuffed into your mouth and you happily suck on them.

slowly you pushed yourself forward, gaining another three inches. only about two more and you have him completely sitting in your mouth. his cock was heavy on your tongue, saliva slipping from the sides of your mouth.

you pulled away quickly when you felt the telltale sign of a gag. you coughed a bit when your throat was free, spit falling to land on your chest.

“not- not bad, but you could do better, doll.” steve grabbed a fist full of hair and tugged. a signal to show what he was about to do.

“yes, daddy.” allowing for steve to guide your mouth back to his awaiting cock. with a bit more force he shoved your head down onto him, nose almost brushing with his bush of pubes.

“atta girl.” he purred with his head thrown back and hips bucking up, tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

you closed your eyes and just focused of the feel and weight of him. letting your tongue toy with his underside and nails dig into the meat of his thighs. you took slow inhales through your nose, calming yourself and relaxing your throat.

giving yourself a minute of composure, you started to bob your head back before going in. out and in, out and in, out and in. more drool pooling from your filled mouth, soaking steve’s dick nicely for easily traction.

“al- almost there. swallow or spit?” steve looked down at you with a fucked out face. teary eyes just stared back up to him and you didn’t budge an inch.

“swallow. good girl.” steve took back some rein and pushed your head down as he fucked his hips up. you moaned in pleasure at the sensation, both from the grip on your hair and the roughness in your mouth.

“i’m- i’m gonna…” shots of warm liquid hit the back of your throat. you hummed on his dick, his groaned at the action.

steve released your hair and you slowly pulled off his cock, wanting to lick it clean of his cum, humming to yourself at the salty taste.

“see, all we had to do was train you.”

[enidette]

BRATTY carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — set in alexandria but both are 18+, brat taming, softdom!carl, fingering, car sex

when you and carl first started dating sex was probably the last thing on your mind. well, maybe not last. you had hardly any experience, your last relationship being with ron who quite frankly had no idea how to please a woman.

you’d think a guy like him would like to get his dick wet as much as he could, but no. even when you two did something it was him getting what he wanted and either ignoring your needs or being too ignorant to see them. you remember when you told carl all of this, inflating his ego in the process. he smirked when he realized he would be the first to make you cum.

it’s been a while since then and you’ve completely forgotten that conversation. but you haven’t forgotten why.

you’re sexually frustrated, very. you’ve told carl you want to take the next step, but things are always getting in the way. just like now. you’re both on a run where everything is logically too risky to mess around, but he looks so good when he’s fighting dead people.

but the fact you couldn’t jump his bones right then and there made you annoyed. it put you in a mood and caused an attitude you didn’t realize you’d picked up. it started when any time you’d take something from him you’d huff or roll your eyes.

“do you think we’re all set?” carl’s voice is monotone, trying to hide how fed up he was. you simply shrug and turn around with a bored expression, leaving carl to haul everything back to the car you were using by himself. you’re out the door of the shop you two were looting, almost to the car when he grabs your arm. “what’s your problem?”

you cross your arms and stare at him, “nothing?” that made his mood even worse, you trying to backtrack. you walk away from him again and get into the passenger seat. you hear rummaging and his heavy breathing, you know he’s loading the car. but you never look at him or offer to help.

he’s breathless when he gets in the driver’s seat, turning his head to look at you properly. his stare was intimidating, piercing blue eye boring into yours. he looked so hot, you wanted him more than he could imagine.

the two of you sit in silence for a bit. you eventually shrink into yourself, embarrassed with how intensely he was staring at you. he sighs and tilts your head so you’re looking directly at him. “what’s with the attitude today?”

you bite your lip in thought, thinking back you were a little bratty. but if that would earn you this side of him you would do it a thousand times over. “i don’t know what you mean.”

he raises his brow, “alright baby.” you watch with a pout as he puts the car in drive, completely ignoring you. maybe he’s just being a nice boyfriend, maybe he thinks you’re on your period again. he always respects you then. he’s so sweet to you, but you don’t want that right now.

your thoughts are cut off when he pulls over, on a gravelly road with so many trees that they made a bridge over the car. it blocked the remaining sunlight from the late day.

“why are we here?” you tilt your head in confusion, looking out the window. you heard rustling and carl’s seat go back before your arm is pulled and you’re tugged into a heated kiss. you’re surprised, but definitely not complaining. you moan into his mouth at the relief of finally getting what you wanted.

he chuckles against your lips, “slow down now.” one of his hands travels to your hip, tapping to silently ask you to get on his lap. you oblige eagerly, going to kiss his neck when he stops you. “you’re not calling the shots here.”

you pout in confusion, he always wants you to make decisions. he hums, trailing his hand down from your cheek to your waist. “i gotta do something about that attitude of yours. can’t let you having your way, can i?”

your eyes widen. his voice was laced with lust and all you could do was nod. “good girl.” he locks your lips in another kiss, an agonizingly slow one. you whine and fist his shirt, trying to pull him closer. he breaks the kiss and grabs your hands, “what did i say?”

you stay silent and look down at his lap, unable to hide the smirk on your face at the sight of his dick straining against his jeans. he drops your hands and pays the inside of your thigh, “spread them.” your face gets hot, but you obey his order.

he unzips your jeans and pulls them down just enough to expose your panty-covered cunt. he looks into your eyes when he cups your pussy, eliciting a gasp from you. you want to shy away but you just know that wouldn’t be allowed. but the scene is so lewd, his eye half lidded, looking at you like a predator to it’s prey. his pretty groans when he feels how wet you are for him.

and the feel of his pretty, slender fingers on your clit. barely touching over the fabric of your underwear, but the feeling is so foreign and it’s him. it makes your brain short circuit. his middle finger starts rubbing small circles, his eye trained on you as he does so. he’s challenging you to look away, you can tell.

your face is burning, your whole body actually. he applies more pressure, drawing a whimper from your lips. he marvels at how pretty you sound, for him. because of him. his focus stays trained on your face, pulling your panties to the side and ghosting his finger over your bare cunt. he lets out a breathless laugh at your erratic breathing, grabbing your chin when your head falls back. “look at me.”

you nod frantically, grinding down on his hand. he uses his other hand to hold your hips in place. “don’t move.” whines of protest fill the car much to his amusement. his finger teases your entrance, pushing in with ease with how wet you are. he bites his lip at the thought of how you taste, but he’ll save the idea for later.

his eye squints at you when you squirm, “s-sorry… not used to it.” he sighs and throws his hand on your hip behind his head. he takes the time to look over you, pretty lips letting out little moans, your legs on each side of his lap. your pussy soaking his hand. he inserts a second finger.

you stop moving and let out a small whine, silently asking him to keep going. “maybe i should make you wait a little longer.” you let your head fall on his shoulder at his words, grinding your hips a little. “you’re not making this better for yourself, baby.”

his hands go to your hair, tugging your head back to look at him again. “i changed my mind…” he trails off, unbuttoning the flannel of his you have on just enough to expose your breasts. “get yourself off. but look away once and you’re waiting until we get home to cum.”

you nod frantically, slowly grinding your hips back and forth on his fingers. his free hand goes to your chest, keeping eye contact he pinches your right nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. your moans fill his ears, such a sweet sound to him. his bratty girl just a dumb mess now.

“close…” you mutter, trying your best to not shy away from his gaze. he merely hums and switches to your left nipple. his fingers curl inside you, surprising you and ripping a loud whine from your throat.

his face comes closer to yours and your head instinctively leans up to kiss him. “y’like that? do my fingers make you feel good?” you nod, arms going behind his neck to pull his lips onto yours. your mouth falls open mid-kiss, coming undone around his fingers. his lips go to your neck and leave chaste kisses and he thrusts his fingers a little to help you ride it out.

he leans back, looking at your fucked out face with so much adoration. despite being the one to cause it. he sighs and brushes your sweaty hair from your forehead, “you know, you weren’t really looking at me then.”

your eyes snap up to look at his already smirking face. “i think i need to teach you another lesson.”

[crueisummer]

𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

chapter summary: You surprise Charles at a race, and he wins and asks you to be his girlfriend.

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Part 3!! I had a lot of ideas coming in with this one that's why it took so long xD Hope you guys like it! In my imagination, Max DNF and Charles won in Austria LOOOOOL jk. Anyway, thank you so much for all the support <;3

word count: 3.1k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

            𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬

01:35 ━━━━●───── 02:53 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

While sitting on the couch in your living room, engrossed in writing a song with a guitar on your lap and a notebook in front of you, your concentration was interrupted by the FaceTime ringtone. Glancing at your MacBook on the coffee table, you saw Charles' name and immediately answered the call, greeted by his gorgeous face.

"Hello, cheri," Charles greeted you as you set aside your guitar. He settled onto the bed, his head bouncing with a smile, and you couldn't help but laugh. Observing his wet hair and the towel around his neck, you deduced that he had just finished showering after receiving your text about being available for a FaceTime call.

"Aww, is my baby tired?" You teasingly remarked, knowing he preferred terms of endearment over his name.

"Very," he replied with closed eyes, his smile still present.

"I watched the qualifying today, and you did amazingly! P2!" You exclaimed with enthusiasm, as if you were the first one telling him his position, even though he was well aware.

"Merci, bébé. I was thinking of you while racing," he winked at you.

"No, you weren't," you playfully rolled your eyes, aware of his flirtatious nature, yet blushing at his words. Adding, "What time is it there?"

"It's about 9:30 pm here."

"3:30 here."

"Were you writing?" He inquired, noticing the guitar beside you.

"Yeah, just a bit. I've only figured out the guitar part for now," you shrugged.

"Can I hear it?"

"Sure." You reached for the guitar and played the chords for him.

"That sounds amazing. I'm sure you'll come up with the lyrics soon. You're like a genius," he complimented.

"Charles, please. You're going to inflate my ego," you jokingly responded, strumming the guitar. Suddenly, memories of the night you and Charles first met flooded your mind, and the lyrics began to form. Setting the guitar down on the couch, you quickly grabbed your notebook and pen, eager to jot down the lyrics.

"See? You're already writing it down," he smirked at you, shaking his head, secretly thinking, You are so talented.

As you caught up with each other, you suggested that Charles turn off the lights in his room, leaving only the lamp on, and make himself comfortable. About thirty minutes later, he was starting to doze off. Whispering a soft "good night" to him, he responded with a gentle smile and mumbled it back. You watched him sleep, waiting for him to enter a deep slumber before ending the call, recalling how last time you had accidentally woken him up by ending the call too soon.

Now, gazing at his peaceful expression, you wished he could always be like this. He had confided in you about the pressure he was currently facing—falling behind in points compared to last year, ranking 6th in the driver standings, and the heightened attention on him as they returned to Austria, where he had won the previous year—all while aiming to secure a podium win that would mark Ferrari's 800th. Last week, he finished P4 and was disappointed not to make it to the podium, and all you could do was offer comfort over the phone since you were in New York.

It had been two months since you and Charles had met, and you both agreed to take things slow. As part of that decision, you chose not to accompany him to the races. However, when he finished P4 last week, you couldn't help but wish you could be there to hug and support him.

"Please be here," Charles whispered, surprising you. He seemed to be sleeping already. Is he sleep-talking?

You responded softly, "Hmm, Charles? What did you say?"

"Here," He whispered again, and that single word was all it took for you to grab your phone and message your manager that you were heading to Austria. Once you were certain Charles had fallen into a deep sleep, you ended the FaceTime call and made the necessary arrangements. You packed your suitcase, booked a private jet and pilot, secured accommodation and transportation in Austria, all timed to coincide with Charles' arrival at the paddock.

Upon your arrival, Kika and Pierre joined you, handing over the VIP pass. The media immediately began taking photos, unsure of your identity but capturing the moment just in case you were someone significant. Your attire—a black tank top and skirt, a red Ferrari leather jacket, red Jordans, black sunglasses and Charles' Ferrari cap—made it evident that you were there to support a certain Ferrari driver.

"Charles says he's in the motorhome. He's asking why I'm asking where he is," Pierre said, looking up at the two of you, waiting for your response.

"Hmm, if you tell him you have a surprise, he might suspect something, and we don't want that," Kika contemplated aloud.

"Um, just tell him you need him to sign something," you suggested, pointing to the cap you were wearing.

"Wait, are you two official?" Pierre asked you.

“No, not yet.” You smiled sheepishly at them as they expressed their surprise.

“Wow. I bet he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend before the day ends,” Kika said confidently. “I would bet all my money on it.”

“I know he's been planning it for a while, but the surprise might be the cherry on top,” Pierre added, while Kika linked her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder.

You laughed at their reaction as Pierre led the way to the Ferrari motorhome. You pondered silently, realizing that it didn't really matter whether you were officially a couple or not yet. Charles had been patient, waiting for you to feel comfortable with him, and you both agreed to take things slow. But lately, you couldn't help but feel that both of you were ready for a committed relationship. So, why continue waiting?

A few employees were present, but there were no fans or media in sight. Kika took out her phone to record the moment, and Pierre called Charles, instructing him to come outside. With Pierre on your left and Kika on your right, you stood nervously in the middle, removing your sunglasses and cap to make it easier for Charles to recognize you. You waited for about a minute until three figures wearing red emerged from the building. Charles was the first one out, scanning the surroundings, and when his eyes met yours, his face lit up.

"Y/N?"

"Surprise!"

Grinning, you rushed toward him, and he reciprocated by opening his arms, embracing you tightly. Laughter filled the air as Charles stood there, slightly confused but delighted, while you savored his scent and held onto him. In your imagination, you had envisioned this surprise and his reaction countless times, but nothing compared to the reality of hugging him.

The three people around you laughed and gushed at the sight, and eventually, you pulled away slightly, keeping your arm loosely wrapped around his as you smiled and greeted him with a simple "Hi."

"What? How? When I fell asleep last night, you were still in New York!" He exclaimed, his eyes widening with astonishment. His confusion was undeniably adorable.

"Yeah, but you were sleep-talking, practically begging me to come here!" You replied, creating some distance between you and Charles, placing your hand on your hip. He didn't appreciate the space and closed the gap, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your head, as you faced your three friends, who were playfully teasing Charles.

"He begged you to come here!?" Carlos shouted in amusement.

"Just say you're happy she's here!" Pierre exclaimed.

“Wait, you guys are in a call while sleeping?” Arthur teased.

"For crying out loud, just kiss her already so I can turn this off!" Everyone turned their attention to Kika, who was still recording the entire interaction. Except for Charles, who gently placed his hand on your chin, guiding your face to look at him. As you turned to meet his gaze, his lips were already in close proximity to yours. He closed the gap between you and gave you a brief but tender kiss before pulling away.

Shortly after, Kika and Pierre bid their farewells, and you hugged and thanked them. Charles then introduced you to Carlos and Arthur.

"Ahh, so this is the famous 'Y/N' that Charles has been talking so much about!" Carlos remarked, smiling as you both stepped back.

You giggled and playfully asked, "Oh really? What has he been saying about me?"

"He's always bringing you up in conversations! Saying things like 'Did you know Y/N is like this...'" Arthur began, imitating Charles as the four of you shared a lighthearted moment.

"Shut up, mate! Go! Don’t you two have to be somewhere?" Charles exclaimed, playfully shooing Carlos and Arthur away. They pretended to be offended but waved goodbye as they left. Charles then took your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, and led you into the motorhome.

Curiosity filled Charles' expression as he guided you through the motorhome. "Seriously, how did you get here? Wha-?" he began to ask, but you interrupted with laughter, explaining most of it.

As he showed you the different rooms, you waved and greeted the staff. The motorhome had offices where people were working, tables and chairs in the middle, and stairs at the back. Charles led you up the stairs, pointing out the kitchen, and at the top of the stairs was the second floor, where his driver's room was located.

His room was small, with a closet on the left, a small desk beside it, and his bed on the right. You sat on his bed while he closed the door behind you. Commenting on the size, you remarked, "Well, this is bigger than what you described."

"Still, I don't like hanging around here," he chuckled, joining you on the bed. You looked at him, and he couldn't help but smile. "I still can't believe you're here. Did I actually sleep talk last night?"

“Yes! You whispered, ‘be here’ twice and I don’t know, it felt right for me to get here as soon as I can,” you explained and shrugged at the end. Charles' smile didn't fade.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asked softly, and you nodded in response. His lips were warm and soft as they met yours. They parted slightly, allowing your tongues to intertwine. The gentle tickle of his breath beneath your nose, his fingers gently combing through your hair—every sensation was heightened as you breathed each other in.

Charles firmly grasped your hips, urging you to settle onto his lap as he shifted back on the bed. Your bodies pressed against each other with passion, breathing heavily as your lips locked together. The taste of your shared breath lingered, accompanied by the feel of your combined heartbeats. With a slight fumble, he managed to remove your jacket, and his lips trailed a series of small kisses along your neck, leaving a trail of pleasure in their wake.

"Charles, you're going to leave a mark," you whispered breathlessly, reveling in the intense sensations evoked by his kisses.

"That's exactly what I want, my love," he replied in a rough, raspy voice. You entangled your hands in his hair and tugged gently, prompting him to withdraw and admire his handiwork. He looked at you, breathless, your lips reddened and swollen, your hair tousled, and a vivid red mark adorning the left side of your neck—a visible symbol of his possession.

Charles was about to speak when his phone suddenly began vibrating in his pocket. He reached for it and leaned against the headboard of the bed. Finally feeling your fatigue from the long flight, you put your head on Charles' chest and wrapped an arm around his stomach, closing your eyes and finding comfort in the rise and fall of his chest against you. You were almost asleep when you heard Charles bidding the caller goodbye.

"Babe, I have to go to the parade now. Do you want to stay here and take a nap?" Charles asked, running his fingers through your hair as you nodded.

"Okay, I'll be back in 30 minutes tops," Charles says, making a move to leave. At first, you resist, but knowing he'll get in trouble if he's late, you let him go. He kisses you on the forehead goodbye, and you're already fast asleep before he's out of the room.

"Y/N, amour. Wake up," Charles says, planting kisses on your face and arm to gently wake you up. You stir and open your eyes, and he smiles at you. "Sorry to wake you up, but you're going to watch me win now."

You laugh at his cockiness and ask him if you have time to freshen up. He nods, and you stand in front of him, finishing up your lip gloss. He tries to lean in for a kiss, but you stop him, reminding him of your lip gloss. He groans and kisses your forehead instead. Holding your hand, he leads you outside the motorhome.

"I'm going to be busy now. Will you be fine with Arthur?" he asks, taking a sip of water while his hand remains intertwined with yours. You nod, assuring him you'll be okay.

"Are you sure? You can ask Kika to sit here with you, though," he suggests, concerned about your comfort.

"Charles, don't worry. I'm a grown woman. I think I can handle spending time with new people," you laugh, teasing him. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Kika would want to stay and support Pierre."

Once everything is settled, the two of you enter the garage. Charles greets everyone while holding your hand, and you wave at them. He shows you to your seat next to Arthur. Charles introduces you to Joris and Andrea, who are sitting beside Arthur, and then he leaves for a brief team meeting.

As you observe the garage, Joris asks if this is your first F1 race.

“First race and first-time surprising Charles.” You smile at him, and he tells you he’s going to show you something. He tilts his camera to you, and you see a photo of Charles at his apartment, smiling while looking at his phone.

“He was texting you, by the way.” He says and you blush, asking him to send you a copy of the picture. He nods and adds, “You know, I’ve never seen him smile like that.”

“Bullshit. You probably say that to all the girls he brings here.” You joke and chuckle at him.

He raises his arms and says, “Hey, I don’t have any reason to say that to you in the first place. So, trust me when I say that he’s never looked at a girl like that, ever.”

Arthur then chimes in, saying he's never seen Charles talk about someone so much, especially to his mother.

Your eyes widen. He told his mother about me? You try not to show any emotion as you ask Arthur, “What has he said about me?”

“I’m pretty sure all good things. I know she doesn’t like to judge before meeting someone, so she’s been asking Charles to invite you for dinner, but he said the two of you are taking things slow, and I think she really liked that.” Arthur smiles at you.

“Charles hasn’t had a good track record when it comes to dating, and Maman tries not to interfere; but you know.” Arthur adds and nods his head, and you did too. Charles previously told you about his two previous relationships and how fucked up everything started and ended.

You're interrupted when Charles approaches your group. He takes you to the side for a moment of privacy. He informs you that he has to go to the grid and asks if you're sure you'll be fine.

“Charles, I’m fine, okay? Now, good luck out there.” You smile at him and pat his chest.

“That’s it?” He says frowning. He turns to his side and taps his cheek. You laugh at him and gently held his jaw, tilting his face to kiss him gently on the lips.

When you pulled away, you whisper to his ear, trying to copy his accent, “Good luck, amour.”

He grins like a kid and replies, “I have my good luck charm right here.”

During the race, you wear a headset to listen to the communication between Charles and his engineer. Arthur explains the race terminology to you, and you enjoy watching the pit stops. When Charles briefly takes the lead and Carlos follows in second place, everyone in the garage celebrates, and you join in. Not realizing the film crew on the garage and zooming in on you celebrating until you saw in one of the screens. You stopped jumping and blushed, realizing there were cameras here and that you’ve been made by the media.

As Charles crosses the finish line first, Arthur and the others grab you and run from the garage to the barricades. Charles parks his car, stands on it, and raises his fists in triumph. The lot of you cheer for your driver. He removes his helmet and balaclava and was just about to hug you when you grab his cheek and kiss him passionately on the lips. You felt him get taken aback but he kisses back instantly. The crowd around you cheers, and Charles pulls away and smiles at you. He goes on to shake hands with Arthur and others before preparing for his interview.

After a few minutes, they step up on the podium, and you watch as Charles gets handed the trophy and he raises it. He looks around and locks eyes with you. He winks, and you make a heart gesture with your hands. He laughs and shakes his head.

You're glad you came to surprise him, knowing in your heart that you're ready for the next step in your relationship. While you had agreed to take things slow, you knew he had been patiently waiting for a sign that you were ready to start a new relationship.

As night fell and you found yourselves on the balcony of your hotel room, gazing at the starry sky, a feeling of familiarity washed over you. Charles lovingly wrapped his arm around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as you look back at the day and think that your spontaneous decision to support him at the race was a clear indication of your feelings, and he knows it.  

Finally, Charles finally asked the question he had been longing to ask all day, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

A smile adorned your face as you turned to face him, his arms still embracing you. Without hesitation, you kissed him and replied, "Yes."

taglist: @notleclerc @elegantnighttragedy @buendiabebeta @i-have-no-idea-of-who-i-am @fangirlika @akahalloween31

[dilfstar]

the red means i love you . . .

ex!geto x f!reader 1.3k words. warnings ! blood, crazy suguru, dubcon, size dif, fucking near a corpse, piv, mention of murder, slight overstim notes ! id forgive him tbh

The plastic material of the grocery bags threatened to rip in your hands as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, the amount of food in them acting like 40 pound weights. A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you finally reached your front door. Quickly, you reached for your keys, the cold metal slipping through your fingers, clinking on the ground. “Fuck!” You set the bags down to pick up the keys, only to have a few things spill out… There’s no way your day could possibly get any worse, right?

Once you got inside and got everything put away, the faint sound of someone whimpering caught your attention. It could be the neighbor watching TV, but… it sounded so close. Your feet moved softly over the floors, cursing the landlord for deciding on wood when one of the boards creaks beneath your weight. “H-Hello…?” your head peaked around the doorway to your extra bedroom, an empty mess, covered in…blood?!

The sudden presence behind you didn’t go unnoticed, his delicate touch creeping up your side. “I’ve missed you, angel. Y’like my gift?” his hand gripped your chin, forcing you to stare at the corpse of the guy you just went out with, his mangled body burning into your retinas. “Thought I would show you who you really belong to…” His breath brushed against your ear, sending a sickly chill down your spine. His free hand moved to your stomach, skin on fire underneath his as he trailed it down lower, lower, lower. 

His fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts, gently tapping along the top of your underwear, threatening to sneak in. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t act like you didn’t miss me, baby…” he chuckled lowly, barely lifting the elastic, letting it snap back against your skin. You were frozen in his grip, too scared to move, to fight back. He was double your size on an average day and tonight? It felt like he towered over you. A pure beast ready to consume its prey. His footsteps echoed in your head as he brought you closer to the body, to the blood. A sadistic smirk snuck onto his face as he shoved you down face-first into the blood, almost growling at the sight of you covered in the crimson liquid, the way it stained your clothes. God, he needed you.

He was quick to pounce on you, tearing your shorts and panties down at the same time, most likely ripping some of the lace. He’ll pay for new ones later, don’t worry! The groan that left his lips at the sight of your cunt shouldn’t have made you soaked like it did. “See, you did miss me!” the blood sneaking into your mouth made you gag, the feeling on his thick fingers prodding at your hole pushed the urge to vomit away. His thumb drew lazy circles on your clit, the image of you already clenching around nothing while covered in blood giving him a sick sense of satisfaction. “Look at ‘er… seems like she missed me too, no?” his cruel laugh hung heavy in the thick air.

His middle finger dipped into your hole, the way your gummy walls squeezed around him so desperately inflated his ego beyond repair, his smirk morphing into something more sinister. Soon, he added another finger, thrusting them in and out of you painfully slow. You didn't want it- didn't want him. But you couldn’t deny how amazing it felt. He just knew your body perfectly, better than you ever could. He knew all the ways to make you tick, squirm, cum, all with a single glance. It was such a sick thing that he was the best possible guy for you, but also the absolute worst. He was horrible during your relationship, forbidding you from seeing friends, talking to any guys, having certain apps on your phone. It was beyond stupid.

Your moans were taunting you. The taste of the guy’s blood seeping into your mouth completely forgotten as Suguru attacked your cunt with his hand, stretching you open for him. The familiar coil twisted inside of you, your orgasm slowly sneaking up. Of course, he was able to tell. A soft whine escaped your lips when he pulled his fingers away, leaving you a soaked mess. “Please… Need it s’bad…” your voice sounded so desperate for him, like you needed him to live. Your neck ached from the position he forced you into, face down, ass in the air, presenting yourself to him. 

He loved seeing you like this, all ready to take him. The sound of his belt coming off made you happier than you would ever admit, the clinking of the metal connecting with the floor made you cringe. He pulled his pants down, lightly tapping against your clit with the head of his dick, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. His hands gripped your hips as he rutted against you like a dog in heat, grunting as your juices covered him. ‘’Gonna feel so good, angel…”

Slowly, he inched his way inside, a string of curses falling out of his mouth, your tight heat pulling him in. your warmth enveloped him deliciously, like a sweet haven for him to fall apart in. Your brain felt so fuzzy from his slow thrusts. “Jus’ move faster, please!” you cried out, trying to push your hips back onto him. 

His hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers wrapping around it harshly. He shoved your farther into the pool of blood as his thrusts became sharper, rougher, seeming like they were meant to hurt you instead of pleasure you. The stinging feeling of his nails digging into your skin was more pleasurable than the way he bullied his cock into you, pure jealousy driving his actions. 

“Don’t.. Tell.. Me.. What.. To.. Do..” Each word was punctuated with a sharp thrust, his hips drilling in and out of you like a machine. He pulled you up, his hand moving to press against the front of your throat as he rolled his hip up into you, the look of fear in your eye somehow making him even harder inside of you. His lips connected with yours in a harsh kiss, the vile taste of iron blending with your saliva, blood smearing onto his face. “‘M close.. S’close, Suguru!” your whines filled the room as his free hand moved down your stomach to your clit, rubbing messy circles along your clit. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt the way you clamped down around him when your orgasm hit, cunt refusing to let him go.

He shoved you down, quickly flipping you over onto your back and ripping the rest of your clothes off, throwing them in random directions. The way your face was flushed and the sweat on your forehead did things to him, his hands moving straight to your breasts while he pushed back into you. Your small sounds from the overstimulation only egged him on as he continued his rough pace. “So pretty f’me…” The red liquid covering your face made you appear as a piece of art in his eyes, a beautiful painting that deserves to be hung in every gallery. “All for me, yeah? My girl… you’re my girl.” 

He smirked down at you, rolling his hips against yours, pace slowly starting to turn sloppy as his orgasm neared. “Don’t think I can last much longer, pretty.” Your cunt throbbed around him at that, pulling him in impossibly deeper. His hips slammed into you a few more times before he pulled out, finishing himself off on your stomach. There was a sadistic glint in his eyes as his cum mixed with the blood on your stomach, his fingers swirling in it, turning it into a gross mixture that he brought up to your mouth. Your lips instinctively wrapped around the digits,  eyes squeezing shut as you tasted the nasty concoction. 

He still sat in front of you, holding your spread legs around his waist as he panted, staring down at you. “My angel, my darling, my princess. You’ll always belong to me…”

[chrrychills]

HIIII idk if ur taking multiple characters at a time(ɪꜰ ᴜ ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ᴘʟᴢ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀꜱʜʟʏɴ 🙇🏻) if you are can I plz get Ashlyn/Ben (sperate) x 𝙜𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙!reader like readers the lead singer in their band also a guitarist but is more towards singing. Their also really close with their bandmates🙇🏻🙇🏻 HAVE A NICE DAY AND REMEMBER TO DRINK WATER!!PLX AND TY

breathe out, so i can breathe you in .

ashlyn banner & ben clark « grunge band s/o!

ashlyn banner:

•she had always thought you were pretty cool. you had been into the whole grunge scene from a pretty early age, and she caught herself admiring you from afar as the two of you grew up.

•your bandmates really like her! you all understand that she's not the biggest fan of your music due to her hyperacusis, but they all still think she's super chill and like having her around.

•she loves hearing you mindlessly strum your guitar while she does other things, like schoolwork. it helps her concentrate.

•another thing she loves– watching you perform. later into your relationship, she bought noise-canceling headphones so that she could come to one of your concerts. (you cried the first time she showed up.)

•in love with your stage presence. like genuinely. she can feel the confidence radiating off of you while you're performing.

•if she has earplugs/headphones, she will definitely sit in on practices to watch you! she's usually doing schoolwork or something while you play, but she's listening!

•overall, she secretly thinks you're really cool but doesn't want to tell you and inflate your ego. 10/10, super supportive girlfriend!

ben clark:

•he loves listening to you sing. he could sit for hours, just listening to your voice and he wouldn't get bored.

•definitely asks you to teach him how to play guitar. he admires how long it took you to learn and how good you are at it.

•he shows up to every concert/performance. he's always at the very front of the crowd, staring at you with a smile and lovesick eyes.

•your bandmates love him. he can bake really well, so sometimes he'll send you with sweets for you and your bandmates while you practice. this automatically puts him in their good graces.

•really likes your guys' music! he has your songs in at least two different playlists.

•can (and will) spend hours on end writing out how much he loves you and your music. he sees his younger self in you, which is why he loves your passion for singing so much.

•so, so supportive. best boyfriend ever, 11/10.

lacey's notes: thank you for the request! this was super fun to write!

i am super sick right now so updates might slow down for a bit, but i'll try to keep posting! also please ignore how i literally forgot my OWN layout on like two of my posts.

[aliasrocket]

Hello! I wasn't sure if you were taking requests or not, so please feel free to ignore this if you aren't!

Would I be able to request a Rocket X Fem!Reader (established relationship) oneshot or imagine or headcanons?

Y/n works at a bar on Knowhere and Rocket and the Guardians will often drink there. Half the time, Rocket's just sitting at the bar, talking to Y/n and only ordering drinks from her.

Maybe some smut at the end??

If you take this request, thank you!!

Have a great day!

Omg omg ok I have a quite a number of these lemme see if I can remember them hehe also!! This is my first smut imagine you guys!!! Wish me luck!

credit me if you use this gif! / masterlist!! / request stuff <3

You work at one of the more well-known bare at Knowhere to no one’s surprise, though the bar had only been popular due to its lower prices and even lower pay, but, you weren’t complaining. You needed the money and the company wasn’t half bad. (That being Kraglin being one of the nicer ones to talk to you and Cosmo dropping by because of him. He works at a bar but often hops jobs when he’s not off being a guardian so you’re stuck with him for maybe another two weeks, probably more.)

You weren’t quite sure how it happened. A few times of talking and fucking were what crossed your mind first but when Rocket walked into the bar with his family like they do once or twice a week, you remember how lucky you are to have Rocket Raccoon as your boyfriend.

As per usual, he chats it up with his friends for the first few minutes and sets up the jukebox in the corner before picking up some drinks for his friends. The chilly air of Knowhere waltzed into the bar but you were far too busy pretending not to be completely dazed by your boyfriend’s roaming about the bar.

He finally sits down at the cocktail table where Kraglin had been working, and by this time your colleague already knew this was his cue to switch with you.

“I’m not disrupting your working hours, am I?” Rocket asked in a low, sultry voice as he rested his cheek on his fist, his elbow propped up on the table.

“Like you give a shit,” you scoffed with a smile. “The usual?”

“Yeap.”

And just like it had been every night, Rocket constantly shifted his attention between you and his family. Of course you didn’t mind because you knew how much it had made him happy and that’s all you could want for him and more.

“Oh, princess are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah why?”

He tilted his head, a small smile curving his lips. “You just look so tired.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Anyway work ends in …” you glance at a clock hanging above the doors of the bar. “An hour.”

“If you say so …”

You’ve danced this tango before, it was Rocket just painfully reminding you of how he rewards your hard work with a good fuck in your apartment.

The truth is, you’re exhausted, of course you were, your shifts were always over ten hours long five days a week and the only relief you get is during your one hour break and when he comes to see you.

But you can’t let him know that or he’ll make it into a whole thing in bed that prolongs your agony, so you suck it up until he has you in bed, moaning his name.

“Rocket …”

“Yes, baby?”

“Shit, faster, I—” you were interrupted by your own squeal as he gave your cunt a firm slap.

“That’s no way to ask your boyfriend to pleasure you, is it? Try again, princess,” Rocket teased, a shit-eating grin stretching across his face as his chin tilted upward. His ego was inflating before your very eyes and you did nothing to stop it and instead, encouraged it.

“C’mon, baby, whine for me,” he demanded in little whispers that ran in hot breaths beside your ear.

“Rocket, please fuck me, please, I can’t take it anymore,” you begged.

“Oh, okay.” Rocket shrugged, completely feigning innocence with a playful tone. “Since my baby asked so damn nicely …”

After removing his clothes, he loved the feeling of his cock sliding into you at an incredibly slow pace. You saw it in his eyes, the fire in them when you squirmed and gripped the sheets as you stood helpless against the slow straining and stretching of your walls as he sinks into you, so, very slowly …

And when he’s about halfway in, he ruts into you once, head rolling around his shoulders at the very pretty noise you make when he does. The sound alone was almost enough to relieve all the tension in his muscles.

It didn’t take long before he was pounding into you, giving you little to no time to adjust as he took out the day’s frustrations on you.

You moan a lot, almost at every fast thrust and it always sends him so much closer to his release than usual. He’s panting, sweat on sweat as he gently nips at your collarbone.

“Fuck, baby, how are you still so tight?” He asks between grunts, the bed creaking at how vigorous his rutting had been. “It’s like you were made just for me.

“D’you think I was made for you, princess?”

You don’t know how but you know he’s grinning without even looking into his eyes. Your eyes were shut tight so as to prevent him from taking more pride in the fact that had your eyes been open, they would have rolled to the back of your head by now from all the pleasure he was fucking into you.

“Yes, yes, just for you,” you slurred, your brain unable to gather any sort of proper thought as your body grew more limp in his hands.

“Just for me, hm?”

“Oh, fuck—y-yeah!” You screamed as he began to hit a certain spot in you. “Fuck, Rocket!”

“I’m close,” he said, continuing at a merciless pace inside you. “So goddamn perfect for me, princess, fuck!”

His teeth were bared and his claws were probably drawing blood on your hips as he thrusted in and out of you like a piston on high speed. Soon enough, he came, pulling out right on time and letting his load leak onto your mattress.

He does a strangely good job at cleaning up the mess, but hey, once again, you weren’t complaining.

This usually follows with a little reward on how you’d like to come and he does anything you ask him to.

And when you say anything,

You mean anything.

Thank you so much for reading!!

// tip jar. commission me for art/fanfic <33

[virtualcarrot]

[KKIR] Modern AU - Teaching Pains Pt1

Day 1: Meet Cute Ugly

Few Friday evenings bring Iruka as great a feeling of deliverance as this one does. Sure, he still has schedules to ponder and lesson plans to revise, but at the very least he shouldn’t be getting any more maddening emails from a part-time, freshly arrived colleague clearly set on sharing his opinions about their school.

Iruka usually considers himself a people person. One with a temper, undeniably, but still, he’s level-headed enough to keep it in check most of the time and also, he’s personable. He and his colleagues get along. Hell, he’s on his way to share drinks with them at their customary dive. They’re a tight bunch. They get each other.

All that’s to say, Iruka doesn’t feel particularly responsible for the fury that’s simmering in his veins at the moment. Mister University Professor, on the other hand, he of the self-inflated ego, can shoulder all the blame.

By the time Iruka’s pushing into the crowded bar, his irritation hasn’t simmered low enough that the familiar sight of his colleagues’ shades of purple, gray, black and brown hair all cluttered together on a small table doesn’t set it aflame again. Time to vent, it is. He knows Mizuki will try to say something mild and diffusing, but at least Anko can be counted on to rant along.

“Can you believe the gall of the new guy?” he exclaims on his way over once he’s within shouting distance. Kotetsu looks up, wide-eyed by surprise. “Who does he think he is? Barely arrived, hasn’t even learned how things work, hasn’t bothered meeting anyone, and is already criticizing how we do things! Why bother entering a joint initiative if it’s to dismiss everything about it? Does he think money grows on trees? We don’t have the budget KU has!” He gives Mizuki an absent-minded pat of greeting on the back and rounds the table to take the free seat left on the other side. “Completely disconnected from the reality of teaching, that one. Hope he’s better at passing on knowledge than he is at taking it in.”

There's a gray haired stranger sitting across from him.

Iruka narrows his eyes. ''You're not Mizuki.''

“Nope.”

Iruka takes stock of Kotetsu and Izumo's twin looks of horror on each side of the stranger, and Anko's rictus on his left, and feels the exhaustion of the week catch up with him in a way such that he's too tired to be mortified.

''You're him aren't you?" he asks tonelessly.

''Yep,'' professor Hatake Kakashi, of all people, replies.

Already done with the situation, Iruka grabs the beer sitting somewhere in Kotetsu's vicinity and downs it. He slams it down when he's done and takes a pause to mull things over before meeting Kakashi's eyes.

''This isn't how I'd have liked to phrase it but I stand by my words,'' he says.

Kakashi shrugs and points to the empty pint glass still cool in Iruka's hand. ''That was mine, by the way.''

Of course it was. Some days are just cursed from start to end. Iruka closes his eyes so he can roll them at himself in the privacy of his own eyelids.

“The house pale ale, was it?” he says with a sigh, and sets off to fix that mistake at least.

By the time he’s back, the intruder has left.

Anko gives him a slow clap.

“You really don’t blunder halfway, uh?” Kotetsu chokes out, half genuine awe.

Iruka makes the executive decision that this is a problem best left for Monday-him and settles down for the merciless mocking that is sure to follow.

-

Part 2

[love-toxin]

👉👈 b-billy hargrove with the "stupid fucking slut" sentence starter prompt 🥺🥺🥺

ellie's sentence starter prompts

xxvi - "Stupid fucking slut--don't you ever embarrass me like that again."

(cws: fem reader, drunk sex, car sex, creampie, degradation)

Billy's car is a sacred space. It's where he can go to clear his head on long drives, where you and him can talk and kiss and do things you'd never dare do in your houses, and it's where you and Max can sing your favourite songs as loud and as obnoxiously as you can just to make him roll his eyes on the drives home from school. Just to tease him.

This kind of teasing, though....you knew where it could go, and that's exactly where it went. Billy had dragged you by the scruff of your neck all the way out to the car after you'd run your mouth, thrown you in haphazardly, yanked your flimsy shorts down as hard as he could manage, and now you're here. Wet and aching and gasping for breath, your back sticking to the leather seats in his backseat as he grips your legs around his hips.

"Billy, they can see-" You're cut off by his lips smashing against yours, the drunken haze having washed over both of you as the party had dragged on. Billy is a lot drunker, though, on account of how much he likes to show off with his "Californian" way of drinking.

"Shut up," He huffs against your lips, before sitting back up to tug himself to attention. Not that he needs the extra help--he's been rock hard and needy the whole night, stuck to your side and only breaking away for a piss, a smoke, and a keg stand. So it's in part your fault for not making sure he was out of earshot when you started running your mouth, although you know now that the alcohol was definitely another part of it.

In retrospect, it was quite the harmless comment. You had just been giggling about how Billy always demands cuddles after sex to some girls you had met, your lips loose and pride swelling your chest at having the hottest and sweetest guy on your arm, unaware that he had just sauntered up behind you as the words left your mouth. Your insistence that he's so cute and likes to cling to you like a little monkey as he sleeps certainly didn't help you either.

"Stupid fucking slut--don't you ever embarrass me like that again."

His back stiffens as he sinks into you, hands grabbing for purchase on the backs of your knees to keep them stretched out, both of them nearly touching your shoulders for him to keep you completely open. Nothing can get in the way when he's already spreading you apart, listening for every whine and drunken babble of how big he is to inflate that already massive ego.

"So fucking dumb. Gonna cry about how mean I am? Huh?" His mocking is too hot to hurt, it's too true, and your voice comes out a sobbing whimper rather than words when he breaches that tight, soft spot as deep inside you as he can get. But he doesn't stop like he usually does, doesn't dip his head down to kiss you and ask if "you like it like that" cause he knows you do, he just wants you to say it. Instead, he opts for rearing his hips back and absolutely violating your cunt with a thrust so hard and deep that it pounds the only breath you have from your lungs and leaves you gasping for air. Your hands grapple at his back for something to grab and keep you steady, yet it only sharpens his thrusts when your nails drag harsh, red lines down his flesh and the pain sparks a groan out of his mouth. "Can't wait to feel these fuckin' burn in the shower tomorrow."

As he says it, he rolls his shoulders out like he's just warming up--and he is, unluckily for the lower half of your body. Billy's hips bash yours on every thrust like he's trying to get as deep as he possibly can, exchanging the slow sweetness he would usually use for this occasion in favour of a pace that stretches you so thin you feel you might fold so far you break beneath him. And he'd probably keep going until you finished.

"Billy!" Your cries accompany his harsh grunts, necklace swinging back to hit his chest as he doesn't slow his rhythm. He completely dwarfs you, body hunched over yours like he's shielding you from the whole world, like everyone but him.

"Scream like that, they'll hear you. Fuckin' whore." A hand comes down on your throat, but it stays there for barely a few moments before he's using it to steady himself as he kisses you.

"Like that, huh? Like bein' a good fuck for me? Stuff those fingers 'n your pussy to be all loose f'r me?" The one hand you have that isn't pinned travels shakily down your body, between your tits, between your legs--and Billy stops it, muttering a "Didn't tell you to, stupid" while swatting it away to replace your fingers with his on your clit. Even drunk, he can manipulate that little button of yours better than you thought was possible, and doesn't pay any mind to your shrieks and screams of wasted ecstasy as he rubs you into your first orgasm of the night. Keeps moaning out those orders of "cum, cum for me, cum on me" until your vision whites out and your head lolls back as your body takes the brunt of the pleasure overload. It's not like Billy's slowing down to ease you out and back in again, he fucks you through it with so much vigor you know it's because he's getting close himself.

Body tensing up, sweat dripping and falling against your own skin, muscles straining to keep him upright, to keep fucking you--these are all the signs you know point towards him losing his battle on holding out, and he clearly does when he collapses on top of you and crushes you beneath him so you can't wiggle away. Can't even move your hips an inch with him inside you, trapping you against his seats, his lips pinning yours to swallow his moans and yours as he lets loose the thickest load you might have ever gotten, courtesy of him. Billy fills you up, grinds it into you to keep it all there, and when he pulls out, you reward him with a drawn-out whimper at how his cum pools and puddles like it'll spill out with the slightest provocation. And it does--with help from Billy's fingers swishing around inside you, pressing deep and curling against those sore walls to see his seed leak out of you and soak his hand down to the wrist.

"...Fuckin' made a mess...you do that again, I'll make you lick it up." He mutters, extracting himself from you eventually once he's made up for the aches and pain and cramps with enough kisses to steal all your breath away. And while he tries to warn you about making a fool out of him ever again, you're already in another world, in your own head and lost in your own hazy thoughts--so he doesn't bother. A whisper that he loves you, a pat to get you dry, and his jacket thrown over your naked body to protect your innocence as he drives you home, that's enough for you for now. He'll have much more to say when neither of you are too drunk to....well, at least less drunk than you are now.

[chickensarentcheap]

I'm very rarely proud of my own stuff, but my confidence IS improving. And I must admit, there are times I feel extremely proud of how I incorporated Esme into canon events :)

@tragiclyhip @munstysmind @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @thebejeweledwatercat @karimac @kmc1989 @ninjasawakenedmystar @asirensrage @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @theesirenteller @alisbackalleybbq

Gaspar had warned him about it. That night at his place in Dhaka seven years ago. Confronting Tyler about ‘the girl’; stating that it was obvious that there was something going on and that it was starting to negatively affect him. It was all in his eyes: the way he looked at her when she spoke or walked into the room, the way he’d keep a cautious and protective gaze on her at all times. His face apparently ‘softened’ whenever she came near him, even smiling when she’d innocently and softly touch his arm or casually brush against him. That was all Gaspar had needed to see: accusing Tyler of becoming weak and soft and allowing ‘some girl’ to get under his skin and grab by the balls. It took less than an hour for him to attempt to plant the seeds of doubt in Tyler’s mind; reminding him of how ‘fucked up’ he was and how no woman would stick around to put up with it. Things always seem good at the start; your ego stroked and inflated by how much they want you and can’t get enough of you and they accept each and every piece of you.

Until time drags on and they get to know the REAL you. The sides that aren’t so pretty. The hair-trigger temper and the mounds of baggage, and the troubles with bad vices and addiction issues. Once they get to experience all of that, things start to deteriorate; they start thinking less of you and get annoyed by your presence and disgusted by what you do for a living and the smell of alcohol on your breath and the painkiller-induced haziness you always operate under. And they’ll walk out of your life. Leaving you even more broken than you were before.

“Two broken people cannot make a whole,” Gaspar had drunkenly reasoned. “They’ll only drag each other down and make things even worse. Make EACH OTHER worse.”

Tyler hadn’t said much in response; nursing a glass of scotch and nodding slowly at his friend’s words, annoyance and rage simmered inside of him. It had been a hell of a long day. He was tired and aching and hungry, and all he’d wanted to do was go upstairs and let his guard down even for half an hour. Climb into that small, cramped twin bed and tightly hold that tiny, warm body against his. No need for anything other than that. Face buried in her hair as he breathed in her now familiar scent and felt that smooth skin against his own. Just hold her; shut out the rest of the world and pretend it was some other time and place. But instead, he’d found himself humouring his friend’s drunken rambles and outrage over something that was none of his fucking business; his patience wearing thin and his temper on a slow boil. And his anger hadn’t been because Gaspar had been shit-talking him, but because he’d started attacking HER. A woman that had come into his life and made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years. If ever. Who his instincts had told him was good people; he could trust her and open up to her and let her see him for everything he was and what he could and couldn’t give her.

In the same way she had with him.

“What is wrong with you?” Gaspar had continued. “Why can’t you see it for it’s worth? What SHE’S worth? She’s using you. Sucking your dick and letting you fuck her so she gets safe passage out of Dhaka. She won’t survive without you. She knows that. And she’s pulling out all the stops, and you’re falling for it. For HER. Do you really think someone like that…'' He had motioned towards the stairs with his glass of scotch. “...would want someone like you? A guy with your issues? You kill people for money. You’re a drunk. An addict. Why the hell would a girl like her waste her time with a guy like you? She’s got you by the balls, and you don’t even realize it. Cut the ties now. Before it’s too late. Before she leaves you even more broken and fucked up than you already are.”

It was then that he’d had enough. Pushing his chair back from the table and walking away before he did react. Badly. He didn't need to hear any more; nothing Gaspar could say would change either his mind or the things he was feeling for her. It was terrifying but welcome; experiencing that level of attraction -to someone’s body and mind- and knowing they were the same things for you. It had been years since he’d allowed himself to feel anything. He’d been going through life severely depressed and drunk and high and suicidal. Taking jobs in the hopes someone would put him out of his misery because he was too much of a coward to do it himself.

Suddenly, he didn’t want any of that. He had hope for a future and wanted to get clean and discover what kind of life he COULD have. With her. He wanted to stick to their plan: take what money they would receive and get to know one another as they travelled the world. He wanted her to visit that little shack of his; introduce her to everything that was beautiful and incredible about his homeland. And he wanted to go to Colorado; see the mountains and the snow and get to meet her family and friends. Most of all, he had just wanted her. More time together. More chances to see her smile, hear her voice, and experience her laugh. To feel her tiny hands cradling his face when he leaned down to kiss her. Those lips soft and supple as they moved against his own. So many things he wanted more of. That he HAD to have more of. And no one was going to deprive him of any of them.

“Do you know how much they’re worth?”

Everything had gone downhill after that. Gaspar had underestimated him, and it had shown. Believing he’d somehow exchange two innocent lives for money and definitely not expecting that things between him and Esme had evolved past sex. He had no clue about those long conversations they had indulged in afterwards. The bearing of souls and sharing of secrets while tangled up in a mess of sweaty limbs and damp and wrinkled sheets. Gaspar had no clue that any of that had even occurred. Or the depth of just what Tyler had been feeling towards her.

Sometimes, it’s a blur; turning down the offer, followed by the fight in the kitchen. Gaspar ready and willing to kill him and Ovi stepping up to save all their lives. Other times, it is still so vivid: the rage, the hurt, the betrayal. He had done the right thing. Turning down the money favour of putting his life on the line to save theirs. And he’d do it all again. In a heartbeat.

[executie]

•••Some Spamton thoughts and headcanons•••

[how would he even fall in love?

I think with him it's pretty 'fast and hard' before his 'Big Shot' days. He was a struggling young man, I know he had friends at least, but I think he wanted a partner in the long run - just something he knew he'd want to have in the future. So I think a partner would be a heavens gift in his eyes - someone who loves a simple guy like him. He doesn't think of himself as a complete loser, I think he was just averagely normal and knew it. Maybe had some mental/neurodivergent struggles, maybe even stuttered or had a speech impediment of some sort.

Why 'fast and hard' - that's just specific for him, not much here. People fall in love differently, that's what I pick for him. But he falls hard and fast for his friends, not strangers or anyone who showed him just a bit of interest, bro knew he had value.

During 'Big Shot' days I think his ego definetly inflated and hurt him as a concequence. I definetly think he had a whore phase, cause who the fuck wouldn't in his specific place. Probably had his heart broken quite a few times during this period too from getting too attached too quickly from the lack of romantic experience. As time went on and his insecurity in his abilities grew, this definetly took a tall on his love life - I'd say he went back to falling only for closest friends/people who he conceded his stress and worries in (maybe Jevil, maybe Swatch, maybe someone else). I think he stopped falling for those that were after his success but never heightened his standards because he thought himself as a shitty partner at that point as well.

Then after a couple of years of constant stress and growing depression, maybe substance abuse (be it alcohol or nicotine, not necessarily drugs) his psyche was broken by him being thrown out of Queen's mansion (that's trauma number one).

Actually, no, his trauma number one was his friends turning away from him. It's pretty much confirmed he had NO ONE.

Trauma number two would be his insecurity growth and his uncertainty of the future, his abilities, definetly had impostor syndrome and some sort of personality crisis. That would happen while his success grew and his friends turned away from him.

Trauma number three is the phone not ringing anymore. That's when depression started.

Then him being thrown out.

I'd say that's when his psyche finally took damage that could not be reversed, bro is now slightly insane.

Then he tried to impersonate Swatch and took a swim in the acid river - that's another trauma. I think that's the first time his mind was properly smeared against the ground, leaving him scared and hopeless.

He never stopped trying to come back, of course, but that's just Spamton's iron will, the traumas just temporarily slowed him down.

And then years of homelessness beat him down to the level he is now - just harsh physical conditions.

I think what makes him absolutely and utterly amazing is his inner strength, perseverance and unwillingness to give up under any circumstance, just pure drive, because in his place I would not have gone for as long as he has.

And I can't even begin to imagine how fucked up everything he went through is.

Anyway, as for when his partner would come in: I like an AU where Spamton didn't come with Kris and co. but just returned to Cyber City. I think meeting with Kris definetly calmed him down in his insane pursuit of godhood, now he' would be ready to take things slow for once.

I say a month is enough reflection time for him to calm down and to come to terms with everything that happened regarding Kris; Spamton also definetly reflected on him nearly killing the kid - I don't think he was proud of that.

He is definetly a bitter, angry, hurt man, but with a good heart beneath all the pain and trauma he's endured.

So I say he is willing to keep hurting and using others mindlessly, before he befriends them.

So in the scenario where he would stumble across a future partner - he wouldn't trust them fully for a month or so, no matter how nice of interactions they have.

Than maybe they defend him in a street fight and he starts trusting them a bit more - maybe thinks they would be useful to keep around as a tough companion, but nothing more.

Than maybe they do something out of the goodness of their own heart and he genuinely appreciates it - I say that's them being genuinely interested in his shop, maybe helping him dumpster dive. I have a small nice headcanon that Spamton's future partner tries to help him by finding or thrifting and unwanted laptop to expand his business o line - maybe they don't find a laptop for him after all, or maybe they do - why the fuck not - but I say that's the moment he's touched by the reckless effort and decides they are now acquaintances instead of customer/salesman business partners.

And after that his future s/o feels easier around him as well, visits him more, they talk about things, share meals. Maybe hang out (definetly do more dumpster diving) or travel together somewhere nice, Spamton takes them to quite a few cool sightseeing spots. Maybe they sneak onto a roof of a skyscraper and have a meal there.

Maybe Spamton's now friend sneaks away cool dishes for him from a work event, and then finally fully acknowledges Spamton being homeless and pities him (not openly, they know Spamton's ego and heart couldn't handle it) and goes 'fuck it' and casually invites him to their house for lunch.

Maybe Spamton declines the offer for a month straight and then agrees just out of annoyance and then actually loves the experience, and maybe, surrounded by comfort and warmth of a home, having warm food in him, being in company of a person he trusts his life with (even if out of practical reasons) he fucking RELAXES for once in his horrible, grim life and thinks 'huh, I should do that more often'.

So they do, because god knows his friend is having a small crush on him already (they are weird and their tastes are insane), and maybe Spamton finally realised that he has made a friend and maybe that realisation hits him just a bit too hard and a small part of his broken heart gets put back in place. And maybe after that he tells the reader that he is grateful for them as a friend, and admits that for the first time in a long time, he feels content about anything in his life.

And maybe that's when he notices to himself that the reader is somewhat hot, and their strength is impressive, and their compassion and kindness is inspiring, and the contrast of him and Spamton is comforting and refreshing.

And maybe then reader shares a dark secret - about their past and their insecurities, their admiration for Spamton's strength and how they would have never been as tough as Spamton and that's why they think he's so cool and inspiring to them personally.

And maybe that's the moment Spamton takes a compliment genuienly and feels like the person in front of him appreciates Spamton for what he is - his strengths and weaknesses. And then just maybe, just maybe, realises he feels the same deep way about reader.

And that's when the LOVE kicks in hooooo boy.

His future s/o knows they have an infatuation with him. But then after they share a vulnerable moment, they start to get even closer, hang out more. Spamton becomes a regular guest in their home and they get used to him being close. And infatuation grows into comfort, feeling of safety and fondness. The closer they get - the closer they are physically - that results in intimate interest.

And Spamton feels just the same way, although processes it much worse - he IS a homeless mentally ill old man after all, and he knows it.

But when the confrontation of the live confession happens - that's probably when his mental shit hits the fan in his brains. Good thing his love interest is right there to comfort him :)

]

I wrote this in one go at 4am while sleep deprived help and don't judge me

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Darkwing Doubloon Versus The Sea Witch

So based on the poll, did a comedy-based drabble. Feel free to mentally think of OG DWD or 17. If enough people like it, I'll consider writing a full "episode".

Fear! Ha! Fear was not a word that Darkwing Doubloon was familiar with. It was the thing that held back weaker men than he! It was an obstacle that inferior buffoons couldn’t surmount! It was the disease that ravaged those who would do justice harm! Suffice it to say, DARKWING DOUBLOON, hero of the seven seas, pirate extraordinaire and legend in his own right wasn’t afraid of anything!

“So for the last time, quit asking me if I’m afraid.” The very same pirate audibly snapped at his crewmates, choosing to glare into the darkness instead of at them. “My knees are knocking because we’re knee-high in cold ocean water! The next guy who asks gets to go back on the ship and make sure Gosashire doesn’t shanghai it again.”

“You’re a braver man than me, Darkwing.” Launchpad replied as he took slow, steady steps behind his captain. Each of the four men had their own lit torch, but even with their combined light, the watery catacombs were nearly impossible to see through. The most they could make out was each other’s terrified face (except for Darkwing, who, again, wasn’t scared, no sir) and the occasional smelly barnacle on the wall. “I mean, we’re in the lair of a hideous, fearsome, sea-monster! One who controls every single creature that’s in the waves! One wrong move, and we could be swimming with the fishes!”

“I hope not! I didn’t bring my water wings.” Stegmutt held his torch in one hand, and his large tail in the other, taking up Darkwing’s left flank.

Gizmoduck was on Darkwing’s right, and even his historically-anachronist visor couldn’t help him see any further than his companions. “My precise calculations located the signal that’s been controlling the sea life from within this very cave… but none of them said how deep it was. I can’t even tell if we’re heading in the right direction!”

Always eager for a chance to puff up his already inflated ego, Darkwing strutted forward with his beak held high. “Luckily, my keen instinct tells me way more than your calculations could ever say! I am certain we’re headed the right way! And once we find this so-called monster that’s been controlling the fish to attack ships and steal their treasure, the grand and glorious battle between us shall be so ground, history books shall teach about it hundreds of years from now! Which reminds me. First mate Launchpad, you brought the quill and parchment to write down the grand and glorious battle?”

“Right here!” Launchpad proudly held out a waterlogged parchment scroll that now seemed more suited for the trash than of trashing titans. “Uh… I might have to write down a condensed version, though.”

“No matter! Might as well start off with the good stuff. Write down how amazingly heroic I am as I lead you all deeper and deeper into the lair of the monster. Though many have heard its siren call, no man has ever laid eyes upon the beast…”

As Darkwing began to ramble on about the mysteries that the sea monster had left in its wake, Stegmutt found himself more concerned with the mystery of his stomach growling. Fortunately, that had an easy answer, as he stashed some extra rations in his back pocket. The trick now was getting them out without dropping his torch or his tail. He fumbled and began to lag his companions, struggling in vain to keep his arms full and yet not full at the same time. After a few more grunts and groans, he found his problem solved when the rations were rather abruptly dangled in front of his face.

“Oh, why thank you!” He pleasantly chirped as he reached forward to take them… and then realized that this sudden help was probably not a good thing. He had no time to shriek in surprise before what had helped him suddenly yanked him under the water, leaving behind only a torch to be doused.

“Hmm, getting harder to see what I’m writing down here.” Launchpad mumbled, having used one hand for a torch, one to hold the parchment, and his mouth to hold the quill. “Stegmutt, you mind bringing your light in closer? … Stegmutt?”

With no reply given from the usually overly helpful chap, all three turned in his direction only to find the large dino-duck gone. They all looked around, futile as it was given the darkness, and made a collective gulp.

“W-where could he have gone?!” Gizmoduck stammered, trying to inch closer to his friends as tightly as possible. “He was just here a minute ago!”

“Obviously,” Darkwing roughly pushed Gizmoduck aside, “he fled back to the ship! His nerves got the better of him, that’s all. Not every man has the bravery to take down sea-monsters. Onward, men!” As plausible as the theory was, Gizmoduck and Launchpad couldn’t help but exchange nervous glances. “Now, where was I?”

“You were saying how no one’s ever actually seen the monster up close?” Launchpad answered, getting dangerously close to swallowing the quill.

“Right, right, right. Up until a month ago, the seas around these islands were as calm as the sweetest lullaby on the softest sheep…” He paused, then shook his head. “Definitely going to have to rework these metaphors. Point is, it’s only then that any passing ship suddenly got attacked by octopi, electric eels, and every manner of scaled sea creature that can swim! They were only ever after treasure and gold, and they all fled to this very cave.”

“But why would they even want treasure?” Gizmoduck asked out loud, trying to pop open one of his mechanical arms so he could try doing scientific doo-hickey things to find a better signal. “That’s what bothers me about this. I don’t think it’s a monster, I think it’s a person! If I could just get this darn thing to open… must be logged with sea water…” He too began to lag as he struggled in vain to jimmy open his arm. Once again, he got surprise help from an outsider that popped it open.

“Gee, thanks!” And once again, he too realized he shouldn’t be thanking whatever just helped him, as now he too was suddenly seized down below.

“Maybe they’re all just feeling shell-fish.” Launchpad chuckled at his own pun, but that made him accidentally spit out his quill. “Oops. Gizmoduck, you got another quill on you? You sure seem to have everything but the kitchen sink… Gizmoduck?”

Captain and First Mate looked at where Gizmoduck once was to find where he once wasn’t. As their eyes slowly met, Darkwing let out a shaky, nervous laugh. “C-Cowardice appears to be contagious! Clearly, he too has retreated to the ship!”

“M-M-Maybe we ought to do the same thing.” Launchpad began to tremble so hard, some of the embers of his torch touched the parchment. “We can leave this story on a cliffhanger and pick up in, ah, twenty years?”

“Nay!” Darkwing turned around an overly dramatic fashion, his cape smacking Launchpad in the face. “Darkwing Doubloon doesn’t believe in ‘To be Continued’! Whatever this foul, reprehensible creature is, man or monster, it will know no mercy to my blade! Oh, that’s a good one, be sure to write that down.”

Launchpad would have obeyed, but the parchment fire was a bit more distressing to deal with. He wasn’t sure how to put it out without making things worse, but – for the third time – a helper came along and simply smacked the fire out. Do you even need a full paragraph to know what happened next?

“I’m on a roll!” Darkwing cheered, oblivious that he was now speaking to no one. “This may be my greatest adventure yet! I hope this thing really puts up a fight! And the uglier it is, the more heroic I’ll seem in comparison! Launchpad, I want you to write down every single last gut-twisting detail of the monster’s… uh-oh.” He had glanced back to make sure Launchpad was writing diligently, only to discover Launchpad wasn’t there at all. His shoulders slumped, now terribly aware of how large the cavern was when compared to one single man. “Hooo-kay, fine.” he muttered, tugging on his frilled collar. “This might be a bad sign.”

Of course, he still wasn’t afraid. As said before, he didn’t know the meaning of the word! But as his steps forward slowed down inch by inch, he was willing to purchase a dictionary if he got out of this alive… When! When he got out of this alive! He was going to make it out and make his legend shine brighter than the closest star! He was a hero that never backed down from anything! He had a daughter who would endlessly make fun of him if he ran back now –

He felt something yank on his cape, and for a moment he was relieved he was alone, as the high-pitched scream he made was not something he’d care to share. “I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! AND HANDSOME! AND RICH! … TWO OUT OF THREE AIN’T BAD!” He whipped out his sword and frantically swung in the direction of whatever was holding him hostage, keeping one of his eyes shut in his frantic antics… only to realize the fearsome being that had caught him was just a jagged rock that had snagged his cape. He exhaled very deeply, even allowing a dry “ha” or two to escape him. “Sheesh, those scaredy-cat deserts are mine are rubbing off on me! There’s nothing to be afraid of, except the damage to my good taste.”

He knelt and began trying to tug his cape loose, but it was difficult to do so without tearing it up, and he was loathe to let his excellent sense of fashion suffer. As was the same for his captured companions, he got unexpected help untying his cape. But this time, Darkwing was able to stop his gratitude before it left his beak.

What now held his cape was a big, long, thick, black tentacle. He clicked his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “Lemme take a shot in the dark here. You took away my crew.”

The tentacle appeared to nod.

“And now you intend to do the very same thing to me.”

Another nod.

“Noted. Appreciate the brevity.”

With that out of the way, the tentacle wrapped itself around his leg and proceeded to drag him underneath the water. But since he’d known what was to come, Darkwing was able to hang onto his wits enough to try hanging onto anything his hands could grab. The tentacle didn’t make this easy, and almost seemed to smack him into every rock, wall, and extremely sharp piece of coral it could find. As Darkwing’s expletives bubbled away in the water, an idea came to him – he unhooked his scabbard from his belt, and with seconds to spare, looped it around an oncoming rock that was just tall enough to get him some breathing space. He gasped for much-needed air, and then glared irritability at the tentacle still tugging him.

“You’ll have to try harder than that to get one over Darkwing Doubloon!” He announced as he drew out his sword and made several blind attempts to stab in the dark. His troubles doubled as a second tentacle splashed out of the water and tried to ensnare his wrist. “Hey! That was NOT an incentive!” With twice the tugging, it was twice as hard to hold onto his scabbard, and his body felt as if every bone was crying out in protest. “Owowowowow! Though I have to say, this is doing wonders for my back, it’s usually in knots…”

Oh-ho! Such a pity that not everyone could be as quick-thinking and brilliant as DARKWING DOUBLOON! With an excited grin, he dropped his sword and grabbed both tentacles at once. It took only seconds of careful but quick execution, and not only was he freed, but both tentacles were now tied up together in a knot that would make any sailor proud. The tentacles immediately began to withdraw, and Darkwing drew himself up proudly, even giving his sword a fanciful twirl. “Yep, yep, yep – that about wraps things up here! Now, to follow those terrible tentacles and find out what’s become of my crew!”

After going back a few steps to retrieve his fallen hat – really, what was any pirate with a good huge hat? – he ventured onward towards a faint light in the distance. His best guess was this was the cave’s final room, a theory that grew along with the light. He pressed himself up against a corner wall to peek in as much as he could without being seen.

The large treasure horde was being light by dozens of hanging candles, which also helped to illuminate the mountains of stolen jewels, gold, and treasure chests that had been seized from ships. They also helped show off the trio of captured pirates, who were each dangling in a tiny bamboo cage that creaked with every tiny motion they made. The walls were aligned with bookshelves, which was an oddity to Darkwing, as what good was any book in a waterlogged cavern? A looming shadow was wading into the center of the room, heading towards a throne constructed from purple shells and red coral – right next to the throne was a partially broken stone pillar, but what was more important was a bright, shining tiara sitting atop it. The golden piece was outfitted with three large rubies, and perhaps on the surface seemed no more important than any of the other treasures lumped here and there… but Darkwing was clever enough to know that no one put things on pillars unless they were purposeful! If that wasn’t some ancient artifact of evil, he didn’t know what was.

As the tall, looming figure began to take a seat, grousing as they labored to undo the tentacle tie, Darkwing knew no moment would be better for his big entrance. He checked his pocket, and thanked himself for making sure his trademark smoke bombs were extra, super-duper waterproof. A Darkwing Doubloon without smoke bombs, could you even imagine…!

He flicked three out onto the dry surface of the cavern room, and they instantly billowed his favorite color, startling his would-be foe.

“I am the terror that sails the seas!”

He jumped out from the cavern wall, still hidden in the smoke, but already brandishing his sword. His crew would have begun hooting for joy on his arrival, but they also knew their captain well enough by now never to interrupt his opening speech.

“I am the stubborn barnacle that clings to the ship of evil!”

Now the smoke began to dissipate, allowing the monster and the hero to finally look at one another.

“I, am… ONE HUNDRED PERCENT SINGLE.”

Seconds ago, had anyone ever asked Darkwing his ideas on romance and affairs of the heart, he would have given a pithy remark that his one true love was the sea. But seconds ago, he hadn’t seen the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, at least from the waist up. She was tall! She was slender! She had rich green eyes that were more gorgeous than any emerald in the king’s treasury! She had dark raven hair that hung ever so perfectly on her side, with just the right amount of white streaked in! She… well, he couldn’t really comment on her outfit as he wasn’t sure what was cloth and what was scales and staring too intently at those places on a lady might be deemed inappropriate. And this was a lady! A real lady! A real, gorgeous, elegant, hominahominahomina lady!

Darkwing internally noted that he and the sea had decided to see other people.

As for the mystery maiden, she raised an eyebrow at his odd introduction, not sure what to make of it. She spared a quick aside to her victims, only to find them as puzzled as she was. She looked back at him, rested an arm on her throne, and much to Darkwing’s delight, her voice was just as enchanting as the rest of her. “I’m sorry, who are you, again?”

“Ha! Where are my manners?” Darkwing swiftly returned his sword to its scabbard, having need of it no longer. He walked straight up to the throne, and then got to one knee, removing his hat for the moment. “I’m known in these waters The Darkwing Doubloon – but simply Darkwing will suffice – and it is my most esteemed pleasure to meet such exquisite company.” He took her pale hand – my, such long claw-like nails surely meant she took good care of herself! – and kissed the top of it before sporting a flashy grin.

One more time, she looked at her victims, and they had taken on a See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Say No Evil response to whatever insanity was happening before their very eyes. Darkwing was more than content to ignore the silent peanut gallery, and just waggled his eyebrows. “Catfish got your tongue?”

“Admittedly, this is usually the part where people start screaming.” She answered, vaguely gesturing to her… frankly, all of her. “Like your friends did. You know, ‘ahhh, help me, don’t eat me, I want my mommy’?”

Darkwing gasped, hand clasped to his chest in horror, and was already on his feet. “They did what? For shame! They know better than to treat a lady so shamefully!” He turned to his friends and wagged a finger as if they were all collectively his children. “We’ll be having words back on the ship!” Ignoring their shared expressions of disbelief, he popped his hat back on his head before speaking to his lady fair. “On behalf of the disgraceful actions my crew has shown you, I sincerely and humbly apologize.”

Something akin to a grin began to sneak up on the woman’s face, and with a shift of her waist, she dropped her tentacles in front of his face. “I don’t suppose you’ll also apologize for this?”

Somehow, the tentacles belonging to his ideal bride hadn’t quite connected in his brain yet, and after making a spooked noise, he looked back and forth between the extra appendages and who they were attached to several times. Amazingly, this was not a deal-breaker. He chuckled shyly, nervously trying to gently tug the tentacles apart. “It seems like we got off on the wrong foot… or several of them.” He cleared his throat, as she tapped her nails along her armrest. “You see, m’lady, there’s been these awful robberies on the high seas around these areas, and we were sent here to investigate these affairs. Would you happen to know anything about it?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her sensual voice took on a low growl. “You could say I do.”

“Fantastic! What’s say you and I discuss it about it with little bit of dinner, candlelight, and – YIPE!” the freed tentacles were now snuggly wrapped around Darkwing’s legs and had chosen to hang him upside down in front of the woman’s face.

“I know that for many a moon, you mortals have been dumping your garbage into my waters!” She snarled, her cold hand gripping Darkwing’s beak. “Over and over, you pollute my home without a second thought! So I decided that if your kind is so eager to give away their possessions, it’s only right I should take what I want from them!” She then pushed his face away, making him the world’s first human pendulum. “I, Morgana MaCawber, the Sea Witch, shall take what is rightfully mine until no mortal dares to tread the ocean again! What say you to that, Darkwing?”

“First, I’m glad I had a light lunch.” Darkwing gagged as he swung back and forth helplessly. “Second, I give a hoot! I don’t pollute! That’s the truth!”

Morgana snorted in contempt, before tossing Darkwing over her shoulder and letting him land in a particularly painful pound of pennies. After spitting out copper, he weakly tried to defend his position. “I mean it! There’s no one who loves the ocean more than I do! I respect it as I would my own mother! No, more than that, because the ocean can never ground me!” There was a possible pun in there, but no time to dwell on that, he had a gal to impress! He scrambled up the bookcases so he could cling to the closest cage, which happened to be Launchpad’s. “C’mon, guys, vouch for me! I’m officially upgrading you from first mates to wingmen!”

Gizmoduck stuck a thumb in his ear. “Maybe I’ve got swimmer’s ear going on, but are you listening to yourself right now?”

“Guys, guys, it’s fine.” Launchpad kept his voice down to a whisper. “This is all part of Darkwing’s plan. He’s trying to get her to lower her guard, then he’ll snatch victory from the tentacles of defeat! Right?”

The long beat of silence didn’t inspire confidence, nor did Darkwing’s lack of eye-to-eye confirmation as he swiftly said, “Sure.”

[multifandomfanfiction]

You’re On Your Own, Kid Chapter 2

TITLE: You’re On Your Own, Kid Chapter 2 PAIRING: Bob/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 2/? SUMMARY: Caroline Kazansky’s birth was the Navy’s worst kept secret. Taken in by Admiral Kazansky after being dropped on his doorstep months after her birth, her true father has been kept a secret from her. Her father is none other than her adoptive father’s wingman, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. So what happens when she’s called back to Top Gun? And what happens when she catches the eye of a shy WSO?

They heard Penny ring the bell and everyone around them cheered.

“Oh, come on,” Hangman said as he took his shot. He stood up and said, “What do we have here?”

A woman walked in with two men following her.

“If it ain’t Phoenix! And here I thought we were special, Kami.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “You’re special alright, Hangman.”

Hangman ignored her comment and leaned back on the pool table. “Turns out the invite went to anyone.”

“Fellas, this here’s Bagman,” Phoenix said.

“Hangman.”

“Whatever.”

Caroline could get to like Phoenix. She loved anyone who put Hangman in his place.

“Boys, you’re looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

“Please don’t inflate his ego any more than it already is,” Caroline said.

“Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War.”

“Cold War,” Coyote corrected her.

“Different wars, same century,” one of the guys with Phoenix said. His uniform said “Fitch.”

“Not this one,” the other said. His uniform read “Garcia.”

Caroline laughed. “I think I just found my new best friends.”

“Who are your friends?” Coyote asked.

“Payback,” Fitch said.

“Fanboy,” Garcia said.

“Hey Coyote,” Phoenix said.

“Hey.”

Phoenix turned to Caroline, who wasn’t in uniform.

“Caroline Kazansky,” Caroline supplied.

Fanboy’s eyes went wide. “You’re the Admiral’s daughter!”

Caroline had a feeling she was gonna get sick and tired of hearing that.

Phoenix cocked her head to the side. “Who’s he?”

“Who’s who?” Coyote asked.

Phoenix turned to the bespeckled aviator who was wiping peanuts from his uniform pants.

“When did you get in?”

“I…I’ve been here the whole time.”

So not only was the aviator cute, he also had a cute accent.

“The man’s a stealth pilot,” Hangman joked.

“Literally,” Coyote said.

The joke was lost on him unfortunately.

“Oh, Weapon Systems Officer, actually.”

And he was a WSO? This guy kept getting better and better.

“With no sense of humor,” Hangman said. Hangman handed his pool cue to Phoenix and walked away.

“What do they call you?” Phoenix asked.

“Bob,” he said.

“No, your callsign,” Payback told him.

“Uh…Bob.”

“Bob Floyd. You’re my new backseater? From Lemoore?” Phoenix asked.

Bob nodded. “Looks like it. Yeah.”

Phoenix handed him the pool cue. “Nine-ball, Bob. Rack ‘em.”

Bob stood up. “Okay.” He took the pool cue from Phoenix and came to stand by Caroline.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Bob said.

“I’m Caroline.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Caroline blushed. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

God, Rooster would tease her if he knew she was blushing right now.

Speak of the devil.

Rooster came strutting into the bar.

Caroline squealed and dropped her pool cue. “ROOSTER!” She ran to the man who caught her in his arms.

“Hey Caroline.”

“Oh my god. I’ve missed you. When did you get in? What’s up with the mustache? Is that one of your father’s shirts?”

Rooster chuckled. “Slow down, motor mouth.”

“Sorry…I’ve…”

“Missed me. I missed you too, Lina.”

Rooster was the only person she let call her Lina.

They walked over to the pool tables.

“This is how I find out you’re stateside?” Phoenix asked him.

“Yeah, I just thought I’d surprise you.”

Phoenix leaned over to take her shot and jammed her pool cue into Rooster’s ribs, causing him to double over. “Guess I surprised you back.”

Rooster looked up at her. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

Rooster patted her on the arm.

Hangman returned to the pool tables and handed a beer to Coyote and Caroline. “Bradshaw. As I leave and breathe.”

“Hangman,” Rooster said as Hangman took the pool cue from Bob. “You look…good.”

“Well, I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.” Hangman took his turn at the pool table and stood up to his full height. “In fact, I am too good to be true.”

Caroline turned to Bob and held out her beer. “You want one?”

Bob shook his head. “Oh, no. I don’t drink.”

One more point in his favor.

“So, anybody know what this special detachment is about?” Payback asked.

Everyone turned to Caroline. “What? I may be an Admiral’s daughter but that doesn’t mean my father tells me anything.”

“A mission’s a mission. They don’t confront me. What I wanna know: Who’s gonna be team leader? And which one of ya’ll has what it takes to follow me?” Hangman asked.

Caroline rolled her eyes. Every one of them had a chance to be team leader.

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave,” Rooster said.

Hangman approached Rooster and got right in his face.

Caroline was tempted to step between them, but she knew her godbrother could handle himself.

“Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel. But that’s just you ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch, waitin’ for just the right moment…that never comes.” Hangman walked away and Caroline breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, he hasn’t changed,” Phoenix said.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t.” Rooster walked off, probably to get himself a drink.

“Check it out. More patches,” Fanboy said.

“That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha. Shit, that’s Fritz,” Payback listed off.

“What the hell kind of mission is this?”

“That’s not the question we should be asking. Everyone here is the best there is. Who the hell are they gonna get to teach us?” Phoenix asked.

Rooster pulled the plug on the jukebox and started playing around on the piano.

“Hey guys. Come on,” Phoenix said.

They joined Rooster at the piano and Rooster tapped the top. “Hop on up for me, darlin’.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, but obliged her godbrother.

Penny rung the bell and people started yelling “Overboard!”

Caroline turned to the bar and saw a man she’d only ever seen in pictures. Her father’s wingman Pete “Maverick” Mitchell being dragged out by Hangman and Coyote.

That could mean only one thing.

Maverick was teaching this mission.

Series Taglist: @maverick-wingman​ @justanothermagicalsara @xcastawayherosx​

Lewis Pullman Taglist: @tallrock35​

[gummybugg]

🗡️Writeblr Battle Royale!💥

Super glad I to got to work with @quisyop on this battle scene between my oc Blair (from Crater City) and their oc Io (from Orbit of Thieves)! Thanks @writeblrbattleroyale for hosting this event! Really enjoyed it and yall should Really check out the other opponents' fights :'D

Without further ado, welcome to the violence and gore of the battle between Blair vs Io! 🎉⚔️

POV: 1st person, Blair

Warning: mentions of blood and gore

...

I woke up with a splitting headache that would put jackhammers to shame. I must have had a massive hangover.... Except, I found myself in a place I had never been before. 

Somewhere vast but enclosed. Somewhere bright but also dark. Somewhere starch but gruesome. Reminded me of the dentist’s. It sent shivers down my spine. 

Maybe I really had blacked out drunk. I was in some sort of stadium like I’d seen in an old gladiator movie. Man, do I really gotta fight a lion?

Someone overhead was speaking, interrupting my thoughts, but I couldn't make out all the words due to its intense reverb. Looks like someone needs to get their speakers checked. I would have offered to take a look at them with no extra charge, except I didn’t take this whole killing-game-thing too lightly.

"Welcome to the battle my...contestants. Welcome to....bloodshed. I am M, your humble game master. In front of me are our contenders....The only way out is either killing your opponent or dying. These two are a...interesting duo! I just can’t wait for the show!" 

Soon, "Livin' la Vida Loca" by Ricky Martin began playing in the overhead speakers. Well, at least they have good music taste.

I wonder what M stands for. Maybe their name is so embarrassing that they only want to be known by a single letter. Or maybe if you utter their name you'll get cursed. Or die. Or summon Satan! Gah, focus on the task at hand, Blair, your life is at stake! 

I saw Elijah in the stands among a sea of blank faces. I waved back, but he didn't seem so enthused. He yelled something at me but I couldn’t really make it out too well.

M announced my name and the name of my opponent. I couldn't exactly hear what their name was or see what they looked like so far away (about 50 feet, more or less), so I decided to go and ask them.

Surely they don't take that ego-inflated asshat M that seriously. Battle to the death? Come on, I have better things to spend my time on. Like running from authorities. 

"Hey, dude!" I waved at the figure in the distance that seemed unmoving. 

As I approached him, I began to piece together a better picture: this guy was much taller than me. He had a dark complexion, gray hair, and a serious vibe. And he was wearing formal attire. Why didn't anyone tell me this was a formal event? I looked down. Yep, I was still in my t-shirt and cargo shorts. How terribly underdressed!

There was no response from the man, even though we were six feet apart at this point. 

"Hi, so–" I kept my hands visible. 

Then he performed one of those roundhouse kicks and made me fall on my ass! My croc flew up in the air. I grabbed it before it hit the ground, then proceeded to bat his face as he attempted to strangle me. 

"Io knocks Blair down and strangles him!" The speakers blare. 

"What is wrong with you? Are you irradiated or something?" I gasped, struggling to get back on my feet.

"Stay still!" He clocked my jaw with the hilt of his gun, then placed his hands around my neck, "I said, stay still!"

"Why are you so mean?" I spit out a tooth. Metallic fluids filled in the gap. 

I wedged my hands between his grip on my neck, pulling him down for a kick in the chest. This didn't seem to slow him down because he lunged at me again. I dodged in an effort to slash his arm with my balisong. But he was too slippery! I couldn't even grace the hairs on his body!

"Wait, you can't kill me! I don't even know your name!" I called, wiggling around him. I clawed at his face to unsteady his aim.

Then a gunshot sounded. 

I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. Blood soaked through my shirt. Something must have grazed my shoulder…? Well, at least it blends in, I reasoned.

Oh, shit. Wait, he really does have a gun, doesn’t he?

"Hey, what was that for, man?" I beat him with my croc, the jagged jibbitz drawing blood on his cheek. I peeled back a small chunk of his eye with the edge of a heart charm. 

"You bastard, get that shoe–" He took my croc and tossed it across the stadium "–outta my face!"

"Hey, you owe me 60 credits for that!”

Then he aimed a gun at my face. 

Rude. 

“And you owe me your life. Goodbye, Blair." He sneered, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. 

Oh, I don’t like it when they sneer. 

With record speed, I swung open my balisong. A few tricks ought to knock his ego down a few pegs! I decided to perform a classic: the old Van Gogh trick. A toss of the knife up in the air to be snatched next to my ear. 

But before the knife could slip comfortably into the crook of my neck, a bullet ricocheted off the blade midair and right into some guy’s head in the audience. His head exploded like a piñata, showering those behind him in red. The crowd cheered. Well, except the dead guy. 

My knife clattered to the ground.

“Io’s bullet ricochets off of Blair’s blade!” M announced. 

Oh, so that’s what his name is. And what was with the old-timey ammo? Didn't everyone use electric weapons these days? Well, at least he’s human and not a droid. Right? I'm at least 80% sure he's human. 

“How did you…?" Io narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight. I wasn't sure how I pulled off that stunt either, but I wasn't gonna tell him that. "Doesn't matter," he positioned his aim. The ground pulsed dramatic shades, syncing to the beat of the song. It was like some sick and twisted dance battle to the death.

Click. 

Click. Click. Click.

The sweet sound of an empty gun. 

"Uh-oh! Seems Io has run out of ammo!" M inserted himself. The crowd gasped.

"Shit!” He rubbed his temple. 

My eyes caught the large crates in the distance behind Io, who fumbled with his gun for a moment. They were probably chock-full of that precious old-school ammo. 

But Io didn't take his eyes off of me. In fact, he raised a brow at me. But just before he could follow my gaze, I pulled a fast one. I grabbed my knife.

It spun swiftly around my finger, flicking upward in a triple somersault. But gravity wasn't on my side, since it launched the first two joints from my left pinkie at Io's face. 

Well, you win some, you lose some. 

"What the–did you just throw your finger at me?"

"And Blair uses a secret family technique: confuse-your-opponent-by-slinging-a-severed-finger-at-them!" M announced as the crowd oohed and ahhed.

The look on Io's face was horrifying. Truly a look of pure bloodlust. He wiped the severed finger off with the back of his hand as if it were a chip crumb. My finger lay on the ground in a small pool of red, all alone. 

"Uh, oh."

I booked it to the large, wooden crates, which sat on the other side of the stadium. I had to get there before he did, or else I’d turn into Piñata Man. Thankfully my years of running from the law finally paid off. Suddenly I was the poster boy for the Presidential Challenge, and no one could stop me! 

"Come over here, you slippery bastard!" Io swung his gun at my head as he got closer and closer. He was definitely a fast one. 

"Yeah, for you to turn me into swiss cheese? Everyone knows string cheese solos!" I called into the wind. Whether or not he heard what I said was out of my control. I had a pile of crates waiting for me to guard!

Along the curved wall of the stadium were ads for movies I had never heard of before: Chess vs Brooke, Mary vs Ametrine, Herschel vs Jackson… Then I saw our reflections bounce off the reflective gaps in between each poster. Io ran with the speed and grace of a gazelle before being attacked by prey. Except I was the poor excuse of a bush that he was chasing after. 

"And Io and Blair are racing to the crates! Who will get there first?" The speakers announced. "It was about time they noticed. I thought the materials were going to go to waste…"

Io finally threw his gun at my head, but missed due to my tendency to run in a zigzagging motion. 

From the sidelines, Elijah cheered me on, a stained paper bag in hand: "You better not die, Blair!" 

"Not in the plans!" I shouted back. 

I was about as nimble as a baby hippo, but used this feature to my advantage–suddenly stopping, dropping, and rolling to catch Io by surprise–causing him to trip. I rolled back, putting all my weight on his spine, planting his face on the ground. Quickly, I pinned one arm with my knee and one right arm with my hand. 

"You don't know what you're doing, Blair!" He wriggled like a worm in a petri dish. Probably because the ground tasted like ass. I held the blade of my balisong to his neck. 

Io seemed confused at my special fighting techniques I picked up from the city streets because he mentioned something about my freakish skills and complete lack of self-regard. I shrugged it off; it was just a couple of flesh wounds. The pain was just now setting in, though, so I was getting a bit antsy.

"In a shocking turn of events, Blair has Io pinned!" M sounded as if he were smiling. At least someone got a kick out of our pain. "Will this be Io's last few moments?"

"Get off of me!" Io wriggled more viciously. 

"Listen, I really don't want to kill you," I pressed the blade into his skin. "But your attitude is telling me to reconsider." 

"I don't need your pity." He spat on my croc. "Eat shit."

This felt…too easy.

But I couldn't just release him. No, this man was even more unpredictable than me. I couldn't take any chances. 

It wasn't like I enjoyed any of this. Just yesterday I took Elijah to his favorite restaurant after news of a new lead. Info on the guy who tried to kill him for his debt that one night. I'd get to avenge Elijah, finally. I was so close. We were so close.

Is this what my life has come to? Fighting violence with more violence? Am I really as heartless and impulsive as they tell me?

It’s not supposed to end this way.

I dug the blade deep into Io's neck with a sickening squelch, watching the blood pool around his head in the shape of a halo. Reflecting back was the blank stare of a cold-blooded killer. I pressed harder into the wound my hands had inflicted.

My blood–no, Io’s blood–sputtered on the arm that pinned him down. My eyes were unmoving. They did not look away until the pressure of the liquid calmed. 

There was not a single twitch. No retort. No fighting back.

Maybe there really is no other way to save things. I am doomed to repeat these violent tendencies.

"It seems Blair has delivered the final blow! What a conclusive ending to such a speedy battle!" M's voice echoed in stereo, the audience absolutely losing their minds. 

I don't think I like this anymore…Does this make me a monster? I was just doing what I had to do to survive. What does Elijah think of it all? My thoughts spun faster and faster. 

I turned to the crowd, but his face was nowhere to be seen. Had I just imagined it? Was he ever there to begin with? 

I looked down at Io's lifeless body. Nothing had changed. He was still dead, and my hands were still connected to the weapon.

The crowd cheered my name. My name. The name of a murderer. 

I released the balisong from my grip. Io's sticky blood coated each finger like a coat of cheap paint, the same way kids play with red paint when pretending to be a vampire. But I wasn't a kid, this was real life. I wasn’t a vampire, but a murderer. 

“Congratulations, Blair, you have made it to the second round!” M roared, the crowd continuing to chant my name. The stadium lit up in an array of bright colors, and confetti poured down from the invisible ceiling. Cannons and fireworks went off, making me jump. Their popping sounded similar to that of a gun firing. 

I buried my face in my hands. They smelled of metal. They stained my lips. I saw red through my fingers as I tilted my head up to the source of M's voice. 

What has he done to me? 

No.

Why did I let him get to me?

...

🚗 Want to rot your brain with each sporadic Crater City post? Join the taglist! Maybe I'll finish this wip someday, who knows! (ask to be added/removed): @writeouswriter @lyra-brie @digitalsatyr23

[macksmediadiary]

The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022) - 2/6

#movie #action #comedy

I think the strongest read of this movie is as a dumb hollywood blockbuster that uses Nicolas Cage's unique status as the driving force of its comedy and plot, under which reading it's fairly successful, but this is boring. The second strongest read of this movie is as a statement about the way hollywood's financial black hole warps the space of film around it, which is more interesting to talk about, so I'm going to focus on why it's almost that, but less that than the first thing.

So in this reading, the central premise of this movie is not that fictionalized inflated-ego Nick Cage is a spy because of reasons, it is that the viewer will follow two film lovers attempt to craft the type of movie they desire but see why they end up making a mediocre film out of necessity. A significant amount of attention is given to drawing parallels between the film you are watching and the film Nick and Javi are creating, most sharply in two scenes. First, when they take drugs and discuss putting a drug sequence in their movie, decide how to pay it off, and the film immediately pays it off that way. Javi even says "what if this was the movie?" Second, when we find out the characters literally did make a movie with the same plot as the one we are watching.

This should signal to the viewer that when the characters are discussing their movie, they are discussing the movie the viewer is watching. The writers use this direct channel to describe their movie as, at its core, wanting to be an adult character-driven drama about the relationship between two men, but in order to market it, must have a kidnapping subplot shoehorned in, that the characters say will make it an entirely different movie. The characters sort of agree to make the compromise on the grounds that a movie that starts as a character drama then morphs into an action blockbuster "has something for everyone," but notably the events of the plot have forced the characters to say this to each other as a lie, and the viewer is being told that they do not believe what they are saying. The obvious takeaway is that the writers had to lie to themselves that this formula would still be compelling as a character drama in order to be okay with making the boring movie we're watching.

And, speaking in my own voice now, the action in the movie is boring. As I was sitting watching Nick and Javi take down the gun cartell, I was bored, and found myself reflecting on the movie itself, which is how I thought of this reading in the first place. "Maybe I'm supposed to be bored," I thought, "maybe this incredibly uninspired action is taking up so much runtime in a row in order to make me lament that it was necessary to interrupt the actually well-written character drama with it." There is genuinely nothing you couldn't find in any other movie in the action subplot, and it in no way coheres with either character's arc aside from Javi saying he needed to confront his cousin, a confrontation he loses and learns nothing from. The best bit is the setup-reminder-payoff of the knife in the back of the truck, and the payoff of that is the moment the film moves from one to two levels of fiction as the knife throw goes to over-the-top slow-mo action shot, which is, in a vacuum, worse, and in context, a strong indicator towards the present reading. So back to that reading.

The problem with this reading is that it doesn't really do anything with its supposed theme. What exactly is the statement? "I wanted to make a compelling character drama about a guy whose passion for cinema and need for attention drive a wedge between him and his daughter, but you fucking apes need explosions, so now I can't?" Because the characters really are lying to each other, this movie does not deliver on its character drama, and it's because of the space the action takes up. In one scene Nick is still so unable to be the father he wants to be, his new best friend calls his attempt pathetic. Then a lot of action happens. Then his next scene with his daughter, she just respects him, and he sincerely has changed his habits. That's bad character drama. It's good action movie writing, but now it really is a different movie, where there's not a resolution of actual character growth, and instead a nod to the action mattering on a personal level, which adds pathos to the action, not the drama or characters. The Climax is a knife throw, not a character's apotheosis, the film's genre is action.

I don't know what other theme to pull from this reading. The film says nothing about why these goals can't exist together. They can. Watch Everything Everywhere All at Once, Arcane, Logan, I don't know, there are so many movies that use the synergy between action and character drama to advance the drama. The film isn't drawing any special attention to specific conflicts of interest, or specific problems, it's at best gesturing towards the idea that character dramas lack mass appeal. But that's not a theme, that's market data.

I wish mature character-driven dramas were more common and more popular. But you can still make them, they do sometimes do well, and this movie does nothing to contribute to discourse about them.

So overall, despite all the signs, this movie does not actually read well as a commentary on hollywood. The best reading is the face-value reading, which is extremely okay! There is nothing wrong with a nice dumb action movie. The problem is that this movie invests a lot into the characters talking about cinema with no real point, and very little into the action itself, and ends up only being a passable action movie.

On the other hand, its comedy is very well written and acted, and I came away from it with more good humour from that than disappointment. Putting Nicolas Cage as himself to make all his quirks believable was a great move, and while I'm sad that I didn't get to watch the character drama the movie pretended to be for half an hour, I'm glad I got to see Pedro Pascal's awesome comedic acting with a good comedy script for all the time the movie was focused on comedy.

[mattsunism]

just some work antics with the one and only matsukawa issei. (nsfw)

you sigh with mock disappointment, one leg swinging over to straddle the tall curly-haired man. you can feel his cock straining through his slacks, and the heat in your stomach grows as you think about how you manage to take it every time.

you try to maintain your composure, as your desire to embarrass the man was stronger than how horny you were.

“i can’t believe you got a hard on right before the wake. you got a kink you’re not telling me about, issei?”

“shut up. why’d you have to wear this dress?”

matsukawa grumbled annoyedly, turning his head to look out the window. his hands didn’t seem too affected, however, as they continued to make their way up your dress, making sure to caress every inch of skin as they did.

the feeling of all the fabric being bunched up at your waist rubbed you the wrong way so you opened your mouth to complain, but all that escaped was a breathy moan as matsukawa’s thumb brushed against your clit through the fabric of your panties.

fuck. you’re soaked. he lets out a low groan as well, and he shifts in the seat under you in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“fucking hell, a thong? you’ll be the end of me.”

matsukawa’s too focused on drinking in the sight in front of him, as he would’ve normally quipped back something just as witty. normally. but the situation the two of you were in was nothing near normal.

one of his hands is at your waist, holding you up, while the other is on his dick, his tip lined up with your aching pussy.

he rubs his swollen tip against your folds, relishing in the way they squelch lewdly at the contact. the view is so hot (minus the fact that he has a fucking glow-in-the-dark condom on, thanks to the gift hanamaki had gotten him as a joke for christmas) that he swears he could just cum right then and there, but wills himself to hold back.

“fuck, look how wet you are, hm?” his voice is raspy from lust, and you whimper lowly at how good the words sound falling from his lips.

you think you’ll lose your mind at how matsukawa’s teasing your aching hole, so you drop your hips down. but as if he’d read your mind, matsukawa snaps his own hips up so that he’s fully buried in you, his balls slapping against your ass with a sound that’s almost pornhub worthy. he curses at the feeling of your tight pussy wrapping around him so tightly while you shudder at how he fills you up, and you can’t help but ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

“nasty-looking smile you got on, eh mattsun?” you breathe out, enjoying the effect you have on the handsome man (something that you’d never admit out loud - after all, you don’t need his ego inflating any more than it already is).

“it’s cus you look good like this,” matsukawa murmurs, a pussy-drunk smirk on his face. his free hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and travels down your face to your lips. his thumb brushes your bottom lip gently, the pad of his finger rising ever-so-slightly to rest in between your lips.

it’s like second nature to you, considering how many times the two of you’ve done this before. you part your lips, letting him to do as he pleases. his thumb slides into your mouth, your tongue welcoming him as you wrap your lips around him and suck lightly. this always manages to turn you on even more, and you can’t help but hope that he fucks you so hard that you’re stumbling for the rest of your shift.

but your hips are moving in time with his, matching his slow thrusts, and you feel yourself growing frustrated at how it just wasn’t enough. you want more, and you begin to grind down, desperate for him to hit that sweet spot that you love so much.

“i wish this fucking dress wasn’t on you. wanna see your tits so bad,” matsukawa groans, his eyes eyeing them through the fabric.

you pull his thumb out of your mouth, annoyed at how much he’s been talking. after all, you guys only had ten minutes, max, before the boss would notice that he two of you were missing.

“why can’t you just shut up and fuck me like you mean it?”

matsukawa raises an eyebrow in disbelief at your words, scoffing slightly.

“sorry princess,” he drawls, his now-free hand coming down to your waist.

“i’ll do that” - he grips you, tight, before thrusting into you harshly, eliciting a moan from you - “right now.”

he spreads his thighs (as wide as he can in your small ass car) to give him more room, and snaps his hips up to fuck into you.

he’s practically manhandling you now, lifting you up by the waist and then slamming you down onto his cock, bouncing you up and down on his length as if you were nothing more than a paper doll.

you feel like your brain is melting at how good you’re feeling, and allow your head to lean forward and rest on matsukawa’s shoulder, too fucked out to have the energy to keep it up.

you’re moaning and mumbling incoherent curses into matsukawa’s ear, and the latter shivers at the stimulation. he feels your pussy clench, and knows that you’re on the brink of cumming, so he stops.

he just fucking stops.

with what little energy you have, you force yourself to raise your head and look at the curly-haired man with furrowed eyebrows, only to find that he’s staring back at you with equally furrowed eyebrows paired with a shit-eating grin.

“sorry, i’m not really in the mood anymore. probably cause i can’t fuck you like i mean it, huh? i’ll just get myself off in the bathroom, so why don’t you just find someone else?”

he pushes the car door open before sliding out from under you, pulling up the zipper on his pants.

you’re too stunned to even pull down your dress, mouth gaping open as if a fish out of water. your eyes go down to the very prominent outline in his pants, before meeting his eyes again.

“what the fuck?” you rasp out, still reeling from the feeling of his cock.

he’s standing right in front of you, wedged in between you and the car door so that you can’t be exposed to any prying eyes, his arms folded across his chest.

“actually, why don’t just get yourself off right now? after all, little baby can’t function unless she cums, right? cmon, why don’t you give me a show as an apology?”

maybe it’s cause his words were true, or maybe you were just too turned on by his words to refute him, but you nod dumbly, before you let a hand drop to rub at your puffy clit.

you refuse to break eye-contact, so you stare into his dark eyes as you make a mess out of your clit, your other hand following to stuff two fingers into your wet cunt.

it’s torture for matsukawa, just watching you, but some sick side of him is reveling in the hold he has over your usually prideful self. in fact, that was the only thing holding him back from giving in and diving back into the back seat to fuck the living daylights out of you.

“want you, issei,” you gasp, your hips bucking forward, desperate to have his thick dick back in your dripping pussy. “it’s not as good.”

“cmon, you can add a third. you can cum with that,” he coos, suddenly turning sweet.

you do as he says and tremble slightly at the added stimulation, although it was nothing compared to what you had before. you’re embarrassed at how loud your pussy is, and you whimper at the feeling of your slick dripping out of your cunt and down to your ass. but he’s right, and maybe it’s the way he’s staring so adoringly at you, but you soon feel your orgasm crashing over you, and you tremble at how hard it racks through your body, relishing in the fact that matsukawa’s watching the whole thing.

your cheeks are flushed and your hair is messy, but he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. every hookup in college, every relationship, they’re all nothing compared to you - and you’re not even his.

it’s embarrassing to admit, but he cums in his pants without even having to touch his dick, his knees weak at how your lips part and your thighs tremble as you ride out your high, your fingers rubbing at the bundle of nerves mercilessly, just like how issei always does it.

“fuck,” he groans, and he practically jumps you, slamming the door shut behind him. he kisses you roughly, and you welcome him with open arms, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. he ignores the buzzing of his phone in his back pocket and pulls out another condom from his back pocket (yes, another glow-in-the-dark condom), breaking the kiss momentarily to rip the packet with his teeth.

i will never shit on these condoms again, mattsun thinks with a content sigh, mentally thanking hanamaki before allowing his lips to find home on yours.

for those who are asking the REAL questions, no... they did not get fired. mattsun did have to stay at home for 3 days faking the flu just so the two of you could solidify your story that you left work to rush mattsun to the hospital.